Evie turned her attention back to Mr. Ambrose…and wished she hadn’t. He was staring at her in the most peculiar way, his dull gray eyes wide in his gaunt face. She concentrated on keeping any emotion from showing on her face, but there was no way on earth she was willing to contemplate any sort of future with this man.
“Coffee?”
“Yes, please.”
“Tell me a little about yourself, Mr. Ambrose,” she encouraged while she poured Hilde’s fine coffee into thin china cups and offered one to him. “What do you do?”
He accepted it, using the handkerchief so he wouldn’t have to touch the saucer. He took a sip of the coffee and made a face, as if the beverage was too strong. “I was a schoolteacher before I became ill.”
“I see. How long did you teach?”
“Ten years, first in New York, then Atlanta. It was enjoyable…for the most part. Children, when taught well, are our finest gifts and our best future. I will admit that I am a bit of a taskmaster. When I give an assignment I expect it to be done.” His gaze roamed her face. “I believe all children should be well-behaved and speak only when spoken to.”
She didn’t quite know what to say to that. She didn’t believe that philosophy for a moment. Children, in her experience, did better when they were able to express their thoughts.
She happened to look out the window and saw Lucy ride up to the front of the house. How appropriate. Now, not only could she tell her niece what she thought of the men she’d chosen, but she could show her as well and put a stop to this nonsense once and for all.
“As I said, Mr. Ambrose, I did not write either the advertisement or the subsequent letter in response to your reply. Quite frankly, I am not interest in getting married.”
“My dear Miss Miller, that is simply not acceptable.” He heaved in a breath—a wheezing breath—and let it out slowly, the bright spots of color on his cheeks beginning to dull, but not very much. “I have come a long way, with the express purpose of marrying you.”
“I am sorry, Mr. Ambrose, but I believe the letter my niece wrote suggested we meet and get to know each other. There was no promise of marriage, unless, of course, we happen to get along and both agree.”
He stared at her and then the corner of his mouth lifted upward in what she assumed was a smile, but it didn’t quite meet the definition. “Then I would like the opportunity to do so. Get to know each other, that is.”
Just the thought of getting to know this man made her stomach knot, but still, he had come a long way. “You maystay here at Montaña del Trueno if you wish. I can offer you a position as a ranch hand, considering the circumstances. The position includes a bed in the bunkhouse and meals, plus a dollar a day.”
If possible, his face paled even more, except for the color on his cheeks, which seemed to be permanent. “Miss Miller, I can assure you that I am no ranch hand.” The tone of his voice clearly conveyed his displeasure. Indeed, he seemed offended that she should make such an offer. He put his cup and saucer back on the tray, none too gently. “I do not ride. Nor do I keep company with cattle, filthy beasts that they are.”
Evie bit the inside of her bottom lip to keep from smiling. Her plan, such as it was, seemed to be working. “There are other things to be done on a ranch, Mr. Ambrose. One does not need to know how to ride.”
That sparked his interest. “Other things? Such as?”
“Well, the barn needs to be mucked out daily, chickens need to be fed, pigs slopped, wood chopped. Things of that nature.”
He flinched with every task she mentioned then took a deep, wheezing breath, his thin chest moving with the effort. He opened and closed his mouth several times before he managed to ask, “Are you suggesting that I…clean up…after filthy animals?”
“It’s not a suggestion, Mr. Ambrose. It’s all part of living and working on a ranch. These are the things that need to be done.”
He stood abruptly and stalked across the room, retrieving his hat from the chair beside the table where he’d been rearranging her photographs, and placed it on his head precisely so. “Miss Miller, your proposal is—” Indeed, her offer seemed to be so offensive to him that he couldn’t even express it in words, though he did shudder. “Hardly necessary. I have secured a position teaching here and purchased a small house.” He glared at her as if she’d done something wrong, which she hadn’t. “Onfurther consideration, I would like to rescind my request that we get to know each other better. Good day.” He gave a slight nod and left the room in such a hurry, she was afraid he’d collapse, necessitating a stay here, where, she was certain, he expected to be waited on hand and foot.
“Excuse me, miss,” she heard him say to someone in the hallway just moments before the front door slammed.
“Who was that?” Lucy entered the parlor, her brow wrinkled.
“That,mi corazón, was Mr. Barnaby Ambrose.” Evie rose from her seat and walked to the window. “The latest in your mail-order husbands.”
Lucy joined her at the window as she watched him climb into the buggy he had rented from the livery in Serenity—she recognized it as well as saw the name emblazoned on the side—and shake the reins. In moments, he was gone, leaving a trail of dust in his wake. The sense of relief rushing through her made her shiver.
She turned toward her niece. “Do you see what I have been dealing with?”
“Oh,TiaEvie, I am sorry.” She laughed. “I had no idea.”
“It isn’t funny, Lucy. I thought I told you I wanted this to stop. I don’t want any more potential husbands showing up, expecting…whatever it is they’re expecting.” .
“I sent the letters like you asked me to, Tia, but I think it was too late.”
She studied her niece. “Then I suggest you send a telegraph to whoever hasn’t shown yet and tell them not to come.”
