Mail Order Cowboy (Harlequin American Romance) by Pamela BAUER Page B

job?”
    “First thing, you need to show her that you’re smart. One thing she can’t stand is foolishness.” She wagged her finger at him. “And you have to show her you mean business. I’m warning you, it’s going to be a challenge.”
    “You sound as if you want to help me,” he said with a smile.
    “I do,” Gabby said. “But it’s going to be tough.” Gabby went on. “Hannah’s a bit hard-headed at times. You spend an hour with me and I’ll tell you what you need to know to fit in around here. But first we need to get you some clothes and a haircut.” She appraised him for several seconds and added, “Well, maybe the hair’s all right.”
    “And my mustache?”
    “It looks like it’s been there a long time.”
    Wood smiled and thought to himself. Oh, if you only knew how long.
     
    “WHERE IS HE?” Hannah asked as she stepped into the kitchen and saw Gabby at the stove.
    “Are you talking about Wood?” Gabby looked up from gravy she was stirring.
    “Yes, I mean Wood.” She slipped her baseball cap onto the rack near the door. “I don’t suppose we’re lucky enough to have him on the bus that left Stanleyville at ten.”
    Gabby shot her a reproving look. “He’s resting. I think by tomorrow he’ll be able to help you with the chores.”
    “I don’t want him helping me with the chores,” she retorted. “What I want is to send him packing. Oops, forgot.” She gave her aunt a contrite look. “Can’t pack when you have nothing to pack, can you?”
    Gabby made a gesture as if she might whack Hannah with her wooden spoon.
    “Just go tell him lunch is ready, will you?”
    Reluctantly, Hannah went to fetch Wood from the bunkhouse. “Okay, Wood Dumler, time to get up,” she called out, marching into the bunkhouse in a military fashion.
    When there was no answer, she mumbled to herself, “My goodness, you do sleep soundly. Wood!” she shouted.
    Still, there was no movement from the bunk area. As Hannah crossed the wooden floor, she saw him spread out on a cot, his stomach to the mattress, his torso bare. “I suppose I should be grateful he’s at least wearing pants,” she murmured as she approached the bed.
    It only took a moment for Hannah to realize why he slept on his stomach. Dark, ugly bruises covered his back. She clutched her midsection, sickened by the thought of what kind of pain had been inflicted to cause the discoloration on Wood’s back. He said he had fallen from a horse, but unless he had been dragged on the ground, she doubted any fall would produce so many contusions.
    This time when she called out his name, he awoke. He seemed surprised to see her standing there. As he rolled to his side, he grimaced, obviously in discomfort. As soon as he saw the sympathy on Hannah’s face, he tried to act as if nothing was wrong.
    “Why does your back look like a stampede of cattle crossed it?” she asked.
    “Perhaps one did.” He reached for the shirt at the foot of the bed.
    “Don’t be flip with me, Wood.”
    “Flip?”
    “I want a straight answer.”
    He stood, so that he towered over her, then leaned close and said next to her ear, “I encountered the wrong folks on my way to Minnesota.”
    If he had wanted to shock her, he succeeded. “You’ve been beaten.” Hannah shuddered as she realized that he must have been bound and gagged. It would explain why there were rope bums on his neck and wrists.
    He turned around, as if suddenly modest, to slip on his shirt.
    “You need to put some dressings on your back,” she advised him.
    He reached over to the nightstand and grabbed the tube of analgesic creme she had given him that morning. “I’ve been using this.”
    “You need something stronger. Come with me.”
    “You don’t have to...” He started to protest but she hushed him.
    “Come with me,” she ordered.
    He did, following her across the yard and to the house. Gabby’s eyes twinkled as she watched Hannah drag their guest by the hand, through the