What if he didn’t like the sound of her? Surely, he would have the decency to write and say so as a matter of courtesy. She could have told him a little more about herself, but why should she when the letter had only been a tentative feeler as to what he thought and needed.
How humiliating if Bob had got it wrong and his cousin was now not in the market for a wife? Maybe he had found a woman himself?
Chapter Four
Rowan fumed as he strode up to the main house. The absolute cheek of that Dorothea woman snooping around inside his cabin while he was away. George was slumped in a wicker chair but straightened up when he spotted him.
“Rowan what are you doing here?” George’s query was interrupted by a spasm of coughing. There was no doubt about it, the man’s chest problems were getting worse.
“Look, George.” He sat on the edge of the porch. “I don’t like to worry you when you’re not well. Can you get Edward to speak to Dorothea? I came home early today and found her snooping around inside my cabin.”
“I’m sure she wasn’t snooping.”
“It doesn’t matter what she was up to. Why go in there anyway?” He was so mad he could have swallowed a horn toad backward. He detested the woman, but surely, expecting her to respect his privacy wasn’t unreasonable.
“I’ll tell her.” George gave a weary sigh. Over the last week his health had markedly deteriorated. “My sister wants me to go to Colorado Springs and live with her there. The mineral water and climate are supposed to be good for people with chest problems.”
“You always said they would have to carry you away from this ranch feet first.” Rowan forced a laugh.
“Now Edward is back to take over, well, I do feel a little better about leaving things in his hands.”
What about my hands, he nearly said. “Edward still has a lot to learn yet.”
“I know, but you’ll be here to guide him.” Suddenly Rowan remembered what Bob had said.
“I was wondering whether I should have something in writing about my cabin and the land it’s on.”
He hated seeing the hurt expression passing across George’s face. “There’s no need for you to worry, Edward knows all about it, and is happy for things to continue as they are. He needs your help right now.”
And what happens when he doesn’t need my help?
“How’s the new bull calf doing?” The old man changed the topic.
“He’s doing well now,” Rowan said.
“It will improve our bloodline no end when he’s able to breed.” George’s comment was followed by a coughing fit.
“I know.” And Edward had whined about how much the pedigree bull cost.
“Do you want me to go over the accounts?” Rowan asked. “I could take the books home with me.”
“Thanks, don’t worry about it. Edward will do it. He can get a bit of use out of the university education I paid a stack of money for.”
“Okay, I’ll be off. I have to go to town tomorrow and see the feed merchant.” Not to mention posting his letter to Miranda Kingston. “Do you need anything?” Once, he would have asked George’s advice about mail-order brides, as he had always valued the older man’s opinion. Now, he somehow felt uncomfortable doing so.
“No, thanks.”
“Okay. Catch you later.” Rowan strode off. He had read about the medicinal value of the mineral waters in Colorado Springs. Maybe it was what George needed. If he went there for a few months, it could do him the world of good. It wasn’t as if he didn’t know anyone there. His sister and her husband ran a hotel catering for wealthy people who visited in the hopes the healthy climate and spring waters would cure their consumption.
***
Two weeks after Miranda wrote her letter to Rowan Carstairs, she called in at the mercantile which also acted as an agency for the mail. A good thing about Twisted Creek, the mail coach called in every couple of days.
“I’ve got a letter for you,” Alf said. “I wonder who it’s from?”
“How should I know? I’ll have to open it and find out.”
“You can do it here if you like.”
And have you peering over my shoulder. Alf was a bigger gossip than his wife and she certainly didn’t want her private business being blabbed all over town. If it was a letter from Rowan, it was between her and him, well, Sheriff Bob too under the circumstances. She trusted the sheriff not to breathe a word about it.
A quick glance at the bold handwriting on the envelope and she knew, even before turning it over to read the address on the back, it came from Rowan.
“Who did you say it was from?” Alf persisted.
“I didn’t. I’ll see you in a couple of days, I’ll have our usual order to put in.” She walked out of the store feeling as if Alf’s eyes were boring holes in her back. What an old sticky-beak he was. It was humiliating enough writing to a strange
