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Still he would not give up on Hoss. He had to come around, Carter thought, staring at his brother’s back. He turned back slowly and walked to the door.
“Be a dear and shut the door behind you,” Hoss called out, a hint of amusement in his voice.
Carter walked through it and pushed it further open. It was a childish action but it gave him a little satisfaction, especially when Hoss’s swearing followed him down the stairs.
Chapter Three
Stephanie was piqued, impatient to get to Circle One and find out why Carter had been so inconsiderate. It wasn’t like him to forget. They had agreed on Thursday, hadn’t they? She had waited in her rented room at the boarding house for two hours, and then another hour on the street. He had not sent a carriage for her.
She was worried. The last couple of times they had met, Carter had seemed distracted. She shivered under the summer sun, the idea that he could have gone off her, horrifying. She had had to dip into her savings, which she guarded with her life to get money to pay for the carriage to Circle One Ranch.
Now, the carriage slowly got off the main road, past the Circle One Ranch sign and into the long winding road leading up to the ranch house. Soon the house came into view, an imposing wood and stone structure of the most magnificent house Stephanie had ever seen. It never failed to lift her spirits but today, she had too much on her mind to pause and admire the house surrounded by well-manicured gardens.
Hurriedly, she paid the carriage driver and hopped out. She went straight to the front door and gave it a string of impatient hammers. Stephanie stood waiting for what seemed like a long time. She lifted her hand to knock again and stopped midair when the door was opened.
Mrs. Hunter stood looking at her, her mouth curled in displeasure. Stephanie swallowed her annoyance. The housekeeper treated her like something the cat dragged in. She had complained to Carter several times and he had laughed off her objections.
“Ms. La Rue?” the plump woman said.
“Good evening. Is Mr. Taft home?”
“Which one, there’s three of them?”
Stephanie was quickly losing her patience. “Mr. Carter Taft of course,” she snapped.
A hint of a smile crossed Mrs. Hunter’s face. “I’m afraid he’s not in, he left yesterday and is not expected back for a couple of days.”
The information took Stephanie aback. Why hadn’t he told her he would not be home? The noise of the door swinging brought her back to the present.
“Have a good day Ms.—”
“Wait,” Stephanie said, holding the heavy door with her hand. “Is Mr. Hoss Taft home?”
“I don’t know,” Mrs. Hunter said, her tone conveying her exasperation with Stephanie. “I don’t keep track of his movements.”
Stephanie glared at her one more time, before flouncing off. She took the path that led to the back of the house and towards the ranch house. Her fingers were curled in a fist. She could wring Carter’s neck! She had dismissed the carriage driver and now she had no way to get back to town.
The door was slightly ajar and she pushed it open and padded in. Hoss was not in any of the rooms. She found him in the attic, completely engrossed in a painting.
“That’s beautiful, I didn’t know you were that talented,” Stephanie breathed.
He twisted around and smiled when he saw her. His eyes roamed over her body, clad in an open necked dress that barely covered her bosom. Stephanie’s mind worked fast. She had always fancied Hoss. He was handsome in a rugged sort of way with blond hair that fell over his face.
She thought of her empty afternoon which stretched before her. Her lips creased into a smile and she looked into Hoss’s eyes.
“Do you mind if I come in,” she said.
“No, not at all,” Hoss said.
She bent a little to get a good view of the painting as well as to give Hoss a better view of her assets.
“I’m sorry you missed Carter. He left for Nebraska yesterday,” Hoss explained, his voice strained.
“Oh that’s fine, I should have told him I was coming.”
Stephanie studied the painting. It was actually quite good. She loved the front of the house, the way he had darkened the grass to show it at its best. Still, she thought she mustn’t lose sight of what had brought her there.
“Do you ever paint people?” she asked, letting her hand rest on the back of his chair, so that the tips of her finger touched his back lightly.
