Married To Claim The Rancher's Heir. Lauri Robinson

He had, and he’d also started to wonder if she just might be the one woman who could make getting married worth the troubles and headaches of having a wife.

      When the train had stopped in Hays, she’d sent a wire to Denver, stating her arrival would be delayed. Bringing her back to the ranch had shocked some people, just as he’d known it would.

      A sickening bolt stabbed him dead center, and, needing to rid himself of thoughts that could haunt him if he’d let them, Gabe took off toward the barn. There was plenty of work to be done. Always was. Work that made him forget. Just as it had for the past five years.

      He’d been at the house when Janette and Ruby had arrived because he’d been responding to correspondence concerning the purchase of cattle from a buyer in Denver. The letter was now written, ready to be delivered to the next westbound train, and that meant he needed to cull the cattle that would be driven to the train station next week.

      Work, what needed to be done, is what he focused on every day. Today was no different. Once he had a horse saddled, he rode north, to where half a dozen hands were already separating the young stock.

      * * *

      After Janette had scrubbed herself with the strong-smelling soap, Rosalie had entered the room and dumped water over her head until the tub was about to overflow. Then the woman covered Janette’s neck in baking soda and made her sit in the cooling water for a full five minutes. That part wasn’t so bad. It was what came next that had almost made her jump out of the tub. The vinegar Rosalie used to rinse away the baking soda had smarted so badly tears had formed in Janette’s eyes.

      However, by the time all the snarls had been brushed out of her hair, the initial stinging had eased, and her neck felt near normal. It didn’t look normal, still covered in a blotchy red rash, but the swelling in her lips and earlobes had gone down considerably.

      Thank heavens. The rash was enough to contend with.

      Not knowing if any stray strands of hay might have entered her traveling bag, Rosalie insisted Janette put on a borrowed dress. The older woman was about the same height, but much rounder and bustier. Janette couldn’t remember wearing something so ill fitting. Probably because she never had. She’d inherited her seamstress abilities from her mother, who had always made sure both of her daughters were well dressed. Luckily, Rosalie had a sewing kit, so with little more than a few stitches, Janette had the dress looking much more presentable, not to mention wearable.

      Rosalie also insisted that Janette not touch Ruby, stating some of the oils from the poison ivy could be on Ruby’s clothes. Janette made herself useful by hauling buckets of water into the washroom from the cistern pump in the kitchen and from the four kettles on the stove. While Rosalie scrubbed Ruby, Janette cut apart a cotton gown Rosalie had given her in order to stitch it into a simple dress for Ruby to wear while their clothes were washed and dried.

      “Thank you for being so accommodating,” Janette said while sitting in the chair by the washroom door. “Both Ruby and I appreciate it.”

      “A little bit of excitement is just what is needed around here.” Rosalie grimaced slightly as she squeezed the water out of the ends of Ruby’s hair with both hands. “Not that I’d wish poison ivy on anyone.”

      “I wouldn’t either,” Janette answered, telling herself her neck was not starting to itch again. Was not. There was no way she’d tolerate another vinegar dousing.

      “No one’s had poison ivy around here since Max left,” Rosalie said.

      “Max. My dada, Max,” Ruby said, her blue eyes as bright as her freshly scrubbed face.

      “Yes, your daddy was Max,” Rosalie said, patting Ruby’s cheeks.

      “Mama, Dada went to heaven,” Ruby said.

      Janette had to close her eyes at the ache that entered her heart. Mrs. Potter had explained Max’s and Anna’s deaths to Ruby before Janette had arrived in Texas, and Ruby could make it sound like they’d be coming back any day now. Withholding the desire to cross the room and hug the child, Janette opened her eyes in time to meet Rosalie’s gaze, which said the older woman had the same desire.

      “Is this heaven?” Ruby said.

      Janette held her breath, wondering how to answer.

      Rosalie chuckled. “Some claim it is. Especially your uncle Gabe. I remember when your daddy was your size.” While laying a towel on the floor, she continued, “And I gave him and your uncle Gabe baths, just like I am you. Now, come here, you little pumpkin, you’re as clean as a boiled egg.”

      As Ruby giggled, Rosalie lifted her out of the tub, bundled her up in a towel and then carried her across the room and set her on a small bench.

      “I’ll brush your hair while your auntie finishes stitching up a dress for you to wear,” Rosalie said. “Is that all right?”

      Ruby nodded as she answered, “Yes.”

      “I used to brush your daddy’s hair,” Rosalie said. “When he’d let me. I sure have missed him.”

      Janette tried to focus on her stitches, but the sadness in Rosalie’s voice made it difficult. The way Anna and Max had run away wasn’t her fault, yet Janette wanted to apologize for it.

      As if she knew that, Rosalie shook her head. “Do you like apple dumplings?” she asked Ruby.

      Frowning, Ruby cast a look her way, one Janette had learned to read over the past couple of weeks.

      “I don’t think she knows what apple dumplings are,” Janette said. “But I bet she would like them.”

      “Then we will make some, as soon as we get all of your clothes washed,” Rosalie said.

      “I can wash the clothes,” Janette said. “I’m sure the water—”

      “No,” Rosalie interrupted. “If you’re as finicky about those weeds as Max was, you don’t want to come in contact with anything that was even close to poison ivy.”

      Janette bit the thread in two and then flipped the gown around to hem it. “I thought you said it’s not contagious.”

      “It’s not contagious from person to person,” Rosalie explained. “But once a person breaks out from it, they are more susceptible to it happening again.” After a final smoothing stroke on Ruby’s hair, she set the brush aside. “I’ll wash the clothes and then make apple dumplings. They’re your uncle Gabe’s favorite.”

      The gurgle in Janette’s stomach said the apple dumplings didn’t sound nearly as good as they once had. “How long does the rash last?” Janette asked, still refusing to give in to the itching that was starting up again.

      “Oh, three to five days,” Rosalie said. “If you keep putting vinegar on it. Vinegar dries it up. Otherwise it could linger for weeks.”

      “I’ll put some more on shortly,” Janette said. The sting from the vinegar didn’t seem that bad in comparison with dealing with a rash for weeks.

      Rosalie grinned as she walked over to the tub and pulled the cork out of the bottom. She then started putting the room back in order.

      “I didn’t expect such modern conveniences,” Janette said. Anna had mentioned the Triple C, but not in detail. So had Max. Then again, when they had mentioned the ranch, it was in connection to Gabe, who they both swore was on the ornery side. Janette hadn’t believed them, not completely.

      Then, that is.

      “Every time Gabe travels to a city, he comes back with some newfangled idea or another,” Rosalie said. “I’m glad he does. The water is piped out from beneath the washroom and runs all the way to the garden. Same with the tub in the kitchen. It sure has saved me from carrying a lot of water.”

      Janette couldn’t quite believe he had created the drains just to reduce the amount of work Rosalie did. That didn’t seem like the Gabe she’d met, or the one Max and