A rat! She screamed and jumped back. Immediately, she began to search around her for any other little beasties that might be lurking.
“Ready to leave yet?” Mr. Barrington’s deep voice sounded directly behind her.
Startled by the sound of his voice, she turned. The man moved as quiet as a cat. “There is a rat in your cabin.”
He held the two sleeping boys in his arms. “A couple, more likely. I’ve not had time to set traps.”
Abby stared at him as if he’d lost his mind.
Moving past her, he strode across the room toward the bed. Gently, he lay both children down.
Quinn stirred for a moment. “Pa?”
Mr. Barrington smoothed back the hair off the boy’s face, then tucked the blanket under his chin. “Go on to sleep now, boy, we’re home.”
“Good,” Quinn said.
Mr. Barrington started at each boy a beat longer and then rose. In the dimming light his face was all angles and shadows. “You didn’t answer my question.”
She couldn’t read his expression but there was no missing the challenge in his voice. “What question?”
He took a step forward. “Are you ready to leave?”
Smoothing her damp palms down her skirt she concentrated on keeping her voice steady. “Why should I? The place is lovely.”
He let the seconds tick by, then shook his head. “You’re a bad liar. But I suppose that’s a good thing.”
It was a backhanded compliment at best, still it pleased her.
“We both best get to bed,” he said. “Tomorrow, like every other day out here, is going to be a long one.”
The mention of bed swept away her fatigue and had her nerves dancing. “Where do we sleep?” Grateful for the fading light, she could feel the color burning her face.
“I’ll bunk with the boys for now. You can have Frank’s loft,” he said quickly. “It’ll give you some privacy.”
She glanced up toward the loft. She prayed she didn’t roll out of it in her sleep. “Okay.”
“Do you have any other bags?”
She retrieved her bundle. “No, this is all I have.”
“It’s light for such a long trip.”
She shrugged, unwilling to discuss her midnight flight from her uncle’s house. “I don’t need much.”
His eyes narrowed. “You running from the law?”
A grim smile twisted her lips. “No. But there’s no going back for me.”
The news deepened his scowl. “Don’t expect any happy endings out here, Abby. What’s between us is strictly business.” He turned and left through the front door.
Large tears welled in her eyes. Tipping her head back she refused to let them fall. Her lantern in hand, she climbed the small ladder to the loft. On her knees, she stared at her new room. The loft’s crude floor was covered with a pallet and several thick quilts. There was just enough room for one person to sleep.
She thought about her nightgown, her brush and tooth powder still wrapped in her tablecloth. She longed to wash the grime of the day off and brush out her hair, but in the darkness the task was impossible.
This day was over as far as she was concerned and she was glad of it.
Her clothes and shoes still on, she crawled up on the pallet and, lying down, she pulled the blankets up to her chin. Using her bundle as a pillow she put her head down. She blew out her lantern.
Despite her exhaustion, thoughts collided in her mind. Outside she heard an animal howl. Tales of wolves mauling pioneers dug their way out of her memory.
“Look at it this way, Abby,” she whispered. “It can’t get worse.”
The next morning, it got worse.
Chapter Six
When Abby woke hours before dawn, she was freezing. The roof overhead creaked and groaned and a cold chill whisked through the loft. She burrowed deeper under the thick quilts.
For the last ten years, she’d risen before dawn to begin breakfast. In San Francisco the mornings had been her favorite time. A little peace and quiet, just her, her pots and pastry recipes before the day began.
But here the day’s tasks felt as formidable as the mountains she’d crossed.
Abby had told Mr. Barrington Montana would not get the better of her. But she’d never prove that to him lying in bed.
Abby rose from the bed and reached for the lantern and match. She lit the wick. Squinting against the light, she wished she could sleep another half hour, even as she tossed back the covers. Because of the rat, she’d kept her clothes and her boots on all last night. Rubbing her hands on her arms, she summoned the courage and climbed down the ladder to survey her kitchen.
Mr. Barrington’s deep, even breathing filled the quiet cabin and like a moth to a flame she turned and looked toward his bed. He lay on his side, his long muscular body filling the bed. His arm was draped over the boys, who huddled close for warmth. There was no doubt the man loved his sons.