Courtship, Montana Style. Charlotte Maclay

the most irritating way of telling him he was full of beans without saying a single damn word. He’d been doing that since Walker was a rebellious, snot-nosed fourteen-year-old who’d showed up at the Double O with no prospects and nowhere else to go. Sometimes Walker wondered if it had been Oliver Oakes who’d adopted him—or Speed. The answer was probably some of both.

      A hushed sound came over the room. Almost magical.

      Walker shifted his attention to the entrance to the kitchen, a swinging door he always propped open.

      She’d spruced up, too, as if that were possible. She didn’t look like any housekeeper he’d ever seen as she moved into the room as smoothly as a dancer arriving on stage. The summery dress she wore had a full skirt that floated at her knees, revealing calves that were both firm and smooth. The capped sleeves and scooped neck of her top showed off ivory skin that had rarely been blessed by the sun but looked just right for a man’s caress.

      Walker’s hands ached to do just that, and he folded them into fists.

      “Supper’s ready.” His throat had closed down so tightly, he was surprised he’d been able to speak.

      “Yes, the boys told me.” She smiled demurely.

      Walker’s reaction wasn’t demure at all.

      Behind her, her youthful entourage brought in the baby and her portable car seat, which they placed on a chair beside her. They hovered, groveling, hoping for some small crumb of attention, which she scattered among them bit by bit.

      “Fridge!” Yanking out his own chair, Walker sat down, angry at himself because he wanted some of that attention to come his way. “Think you could serve supper sometime before we all pass out from hunger?”

      Elizabeth watched in amazement as the boys exploded into action. A huge plate of pork chops appeared in the center of the big table, surely enough to feed the entire population of Grass Valley. The bowls of mashed potatoes and vegetables confirmed her belief that a hungry army of neighbors would be showing up at the door any moment. When Scotty produced a pan full of a dozen baked apples, the scent of cinnamon filling the room, and Speed added a mountain of steaming biscuits, she knew it had to be true.

      With much chair scraping and jockeying for position, the boys took their places at the table. All eyes landed on her.

      “It all looks delicious,” she said, not quite sure what was expected of her. If she’d been at home, a servant would discreetly arrive, probably with a tureen of soup, and served her mother first then the rest of the guests. When that course was completed, her mother would ring a tiny bell and the servant would reappear to clear the bowls away.

      Here she was supposed to be doing the cooking and serving, not sitting like a guest at the table.

      “Why don’t you help yourself, Lizzie?” Walker suggested. “The boys will pass you what you need.”

      She might be wrong but she still couldn’t quite believe… “Shouldn’t we wait for the rest of the guests?”

      A puzzled look lowered his dark brows. “You’re it as far as I know.”

      “You mean to tell me the six of us are going to eat all of that food?”

      His grin softened the hard angles and planes of his rugged face, making him appear more approachable and more handsome. “Guess you haven’t been around teenage boys much.”

      Returning his smile, she reached for the nearest serving dish, which was mounded high with mashed potatoes, a treat she hadn’t allowed herself in years in an effort to watch her weight. “Hollow legs, I gather.”

      “Arms, legs, stomachs and sometimes their heads,” Speed added, nudging Fridge with his elbow. “Help yourself, boys.”

      Passing Elizabeth each dish first before serving themselves, the boys demonstrated considerable self-restraint. If she hadn’t known better, she would have thought she landed at an exclusive boarding school not a working ranch. Somehow she suspected they were all on their best behavior and that tickled her.

      From the way Walker kept glancing around from his seat at the head of the table, she imagined he was surprised by the way the boys were acting, too—out of character for active adolescents.

      “Are all of you boys from Montana?” she asked in the hope of getting them talking and therefore more at ease.

      Fridge claimed Chicago and Scotty named Minnesota while Bean Pole remained shyly silent.

      She tried a few more conversational gambits but the boys were either too busy eating or tongue-tied by her presence. It might take several days before they were entirely comfortable with her, she realized. Walker, too, unless he was always this quiet.

      She’d only made it halfway through her gigantic meal when Suzanne started to fuss. Elizabeth picked her up.

      “Looks like Susie-Q would like some dinner, too,” she said. She scooted back from the table. “I’ll get her bottle.”

      “Can I feed her?” Scotty asked. He jumped to his feet. “I used to feed my mom’s baby, until they all moved away without me.”

      Elizabeth swallowed a gasp. The boy’s mother had moved and left her child behind? What a dreadful—

      “Feeding a baby’s not so hard,” Fridge said. “I could do it.”

      “Why don’t we let Scotty do it this time?” Elizabeth suggested. She reached out and touched the boy with her hand. “And then later tonight you can have a turn, Fridge, if you’re still interested.”

      Scotty looked pleased with himself and Fridge seemed grateful.

      Softly, Bean Pole asked, “Could I feed her tomorrow?”

      Feeling a band tighten around her chest, Elizabeth nodded. “Of course you may.” These young men were so emotionally needy, it nearly broke her heart. They made her own problems pale by comparison. “Susie-Q is going to be in seventh heaven with all you boys paying her so much attention.”

      She glanced to the head of the table. An almost imperceptible nod from Walker told her she was doing the right thing by letting the boys help in the baby’s care.

      WITH THE BOYS FULLY ENGAGED in feeding Susie-Q, Walker and Speed were stuck doing the supper dishes.

      “That was some dinner, wasn’t it?” Walker commented as he rinsed a plate and slid it into the dishwasher.

      “Yep. I thought there for a minute somebody had slipped us a whole bunch of new boys who knew how to use a fork right and kidnapped the old ones.”

      Walker chuckled. “Guess we’ll have to have women out to the ranch more often so the boys can practice their manners.”

      “Sounds like a plan to me, long as they’re as purdy as Miss Lizzie.”

      “That might be a little more difficult to arrange.” He couldn’t think of a single female in Grass Valley, married or not, who would match up with Lizzie. There probably wouldn’t be all that many in Billings, for that matter.

      After giving the table a final swipe with a damp cloth, Speed rinsed it out and laid it across the arm of the faucet.

      “There’s something I think you ought to know, boss.”

      “What’s that?”

      “Well, now, I’m not quite sure what it means but when we was getting Miss Lizzie’s gear out of the trunk of her car, a box stuck in the back popped open.” Thoughtfully, Speed ran his palm across his evening whiskers.

      “And?” Walker prodded.

      “Looked to me like there was a fancy wedding dress stuffed into the box. You know, all white lace and stuff.”

      Staring at his foreman, Walker tried to grasp the meaning of Speed’s discovery.

      Why in hell would a Merry Maids housekeeper travel from Nevada