Mail Order Cowboy (Love Inspired Historical) by Laurie Kingery Page A

’bout Mr. Nick? Uncle Josh says t’ be respectful to my elders.”
    â€œFair enough.” The angle of the shadows on the wall told Nick hours had passed even before he reached for the pocket watch he had left on the upended cratethat served as bedside table and saw that it was four o’clock.
    He’d slept the day away! Milly, her sister and Bobby had no doubt taken on tasks he should have been doing.
    â€œWhat needs to be done?”
    Bobby traced a half circle with the toe of one dusty boot, apparently also uncomfortable with the idea of giving an adult orders.
    â€œI—I dunno, s—Mr. Nick. Mebbe you best ask Miss Milly.”
    â€œAll right, I’ll do that.”
    He found Milly in the kitchen, shelling black-eyed peas into a bowl in her lap. Sarah, her back to the door, was kneading dough. The delicious odor of roasting ham wafted from the cookstove.
    â€œOh, hello, Nick,” Milly said. “Did you have a good sleep?”
    â€œToo good,” Nick said. “I want to apologize for lying abed so long when there’s so much to be done.”
    â€œHorsefeathers,” Milly Matthews responded with a smile. “You must have needed it.”
    Her lack of censure only made him feel guiltier, somehow. “Did you get some rest, ma’am?”
    She shook her head. “I’ll sleep tonight.”
    â€œAs I should have waited to do. I only meant to lie down for an hour. This won’t happen again, Miss Milly, Miss Sarah.”
    â€œDon’t be so hard on yourself, Nick,” Sarah admonished, looking over her shoulder.
    â€œThank you, but I intend to be more of a help from now on. What should I be doing now?”
    Milly’s hands paused, clutching a handful of unshelled pods. “It’s a couple of hours ’til supper—not enough time to get started on any rebuilding projects…. It might be a good idea if you and Bobby were to saddle up and go for a ride around the ranch so you can get an idea of how far the property extends and make a survey of what needs to be done. Oh, and you’ll be passing the creek that runs just inside the northern edge. You and Bobby could take a quick dip and get cleaned up,” Milly added, eyeing his cheeks and chin.
    â€œA dip sounds good.” Nick ran his fingers over the stubbly growth, imagining how scruffy he looked. He was glad he’d kept his razor in his saddlebag. He didn’t want to look unkempt around this lovely woman he was trying to impress.
    â€œTake your pistol with you,” Milly called as he headed for the door. “You never know what you might meet out there in the brush.”
    â€œDo you mean Indians?”
    She nodded. “Or rattlesnakes. They like to sun themselves on the rocky ledges that line one side of the creek. There’s a little cave in those ledges. Sarah and I used to play there and pretend it was our cottage until we saw a snake at its entrance.”
    â€œThen I’ll be sure and take my dip on the other side.” He’d had enough encounters with cobras in India to have a healthy respect for poisonous snakes of any kind.
    â€œDon’t let Bobby dillydally in the creek,” she admonished. “Supper’s at six and Reverend Chadwick brought a big ham with him on behalf of the congregation.”
    â€œIf Bobby wants to stay in the creek, I shall eat his share of the meat,” he said with a wink.
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    Nick was as good as his word, riding into the yard with Bobby at quarter ’til the hour. By the time they’d unsaddled and turned the horses out in the corral, the grandfather clock in the parlor was chiming six times.
    â€œHere we are, ma’am, right on schedule,” Nick said, pronouncing it in the British way—“shedule” instead of “schedule.” She watched him, noting the way his still-damp hair clung to his neck while he sniffed with obvious appreciation of the savory-smelling,