Beautiful Bad Man by Ellen O'Connell Page A

front of the room’s tall windows, Mrs. Tindell appeared more frail than frightening.
    A second, more careful appraisal hinted at a spine of steel keeping her slender form so rigidly straight. Light brown hair framed delicate features, but none of the lines in her face came from smiling, and the gray eyes held no warmth.
    Norah stopped a few feet in front of the desk. She was not invited to sit.
    “Mary tells me you’ve come about the housekeeper’s position,” Mrs. Tindell said in an unexpectedly deep voice. “She forgot to get your name of course.”
    Of course. Norah reminded herself that she owned more than three hundred acres of good farmland and could go back to it tomorrow if she wanted.
    “I’m Norah Gifford Hawkins, ma’am. My husband was killed three months ago, and yes, I’ve come to see about the housekeeper’s position.”
    Norah answered a string of increasingly personal questions politely, then asked one of her own the first time Mrs. Tindell paused long enough.
    “Before we go further, I’d like to know the terms of employment with you, Mrs. Tindell.”
    The woman looked offended. “The terms are of no concern to you unless I decide to employ you.”
    Norah nodded. “I understand. I’m sure you have other more qualified applicants.”
    She turned as if to leave, amazed at her own nerve, but she’d had enough of questions that were none of this woman’s business.
    “Wait.”
    Norah stopped and looked back over her shoulder.
    “Room and board and ten dollars a month. Sunday and Wednesday afternoons free after serving luncheon to the family.”
    Ten dollars! No wonder the woman worked people like slaves. For that Norah would even polish the wink out of the brass horse’s eye.
    She turned around and gave an imitation of Caleb Sutton’s smile. When she rejoined the Carburys and Butlers, she’d celebrate. Until then nothing mattered except getting the best terms possible.
    “That sounds reasonable,” she said, “depending, of course, on what is expected.”
    Becky had married for better or worse. By day’s end, Norah was employed and feeling the same way about it.

Chapter 5
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    E VERY DAY HE spent with Preston and his men increased Cal’s desire to quit. He didn’t like Preston, didn’t like Van Cleve, and didn’t like the work. Packing up, saddling up, and riding into Hubbell to catch a train west sounded better every day.
    Trouble was every time he decided tomorrow would be the day, the image of Preston dancing his horse over Norah Hawkins rose in his mind. Finding out the Girl had turned into a woman like that had been a bitter disappointment, but leaving her to Preston’s tender mercies didn’t sit right.
    The fact he had that feeling in the first place and couldn’t make it go away in the second place annoyed him no end.
    Van Cleve solved the problem by summoning Cal to his study again. This time Cal took the indicated chair, but he still accepted the glass of whiskey with his left hand. The rancher’s approach was no longer affable. He stayed behind his desk and got straight to the point.
    “Preston tells me you’ve been visiting the Hawkins woman. He says you used one of my wagons and took her a load of my wood.”
    Cal sipped at the whiskey, enjoying the warmth it spread in his veins. “He must be a spy of the first water. I did that all right.”
    “So. Am I going to get my money’s worth? Will she sell?”
    “No. She knows you had her husband killed. Maybe somebody could hurt her bad enough to make her sign a paper, but I’m not even sure of that.”
    Van Cleve slammed his glass down so hard whiskey spilled over the polished surface of the desk. “I didn’t kill her husband. I told you. I don’t give those kind of orders.”
    Cal took another swallow, letting silence speak for him.
    Van Cleve leaned forward, wagging an index finger. “I don’t care if you knew her back when, no more helping her hold out by giving her ranch property. When you draw pay