skeptical, and imperious into the bargain. She was going to be a handful, that much was clear, and he didn’t have the first idea how to cope. If it hadn’t been for his pride, he’d have let Angus and Concepcion take her to raise, but he knew they’d make a McKettrick out of her, and he’d wear an apron and a bonnet before he let that happen.
“Aunt Geneva said she’d rather eat poached snake eggs than hand me over to you, but she didn’t have a choice.”
Holt crouched, to put himself on the child’s level, and he couldn’t help grinning a little. “Poached snake eggs, is it?” he reflected, with a shake of his head. “Geneva was always definite in her opinions. But tell me—why did she think she didn’t have a choice?”
Lizzie paused to consider her answer, but her expression revealed nothing of what she was thinking. He figured she’d make a hell of a poker player—it ran in the family. “The doctor said she was sick. There was a lump growing inside her, and she didn’t reckon she had much time. She didn’t want me to be left alone.”
Holt’s voice scraped at his throat as it came out. “And your mother was already gone.”
Lizzie looked away, blinked, looked back, steady as a hangman. “Yes,” she said. “A fever took her.”
Holt wanted to touch Lizzie’s hand then, maybe even draw her into his arms, but he hadn’t earned the right to do that, and he knew she’d balk if he tried. “When was that?” he asked.
“Last winter.” Lizzie studied him hard, frowning. “You’ve got a house, don’t you?”
“Yes,” Holt answered, thinking of that sprawling, lonesome place, out in the middle of nowhere. He’d bought it out of spite, because he knew Angus wanted the land surrounding it, and every acre had been an albatross around his neck ever since. Dammit all to hell, if he’d just stayed in Texas, where he belonged, he might have found Olivia in time, managed to change things somehow…
“Good,” Lizzie answered. “Aunt Geneva said you mostly slept in places where you shouldn’t have, back when she knew you.” She paused. “I reckon she meant on the ground and in barns.”
Behind him, Angus chuckled, then made a whooshing sound, as if Concepcion had elbowed him. Bless the woman.
“You’ll have a roof over your head, a room and a bed and all you want to eat,” Holt promised.
Lizzie tilted her head to one side, and then proceeded to negotiate. “How about a dog?”
Holt nearly grinned. “We can probably rustle one up someplace,” he said.
“Old Blue just had a litter,” Angus put in. “I’ll bring one over as soon as they’re weaned.”
“Hush!” Concepcion said.
“And a pony,” Lizzie pressed, probably drawing confidence from the support of her grandfather. “I want a pony, too.”
“That depends on how well you ride,” Holt said firmly. He was determined not to lose control of this situation, assuming he hadn’t already.
“I ride,” Lizzie said, “like a Comanche.”
Angus laughed again, and he must have dodged Concepcion’s elbow because this time there was no loud expulsion of breath.
“We’ll see,” Holt said, as much for Angus’s benefit as for hers. If that old man thought he was going to meddle in this, he had manure for brains.
Lizzie wasn’t through with him yet. He wouldn’t have been surprised if the kid had asked for references. “Do you have a wife?”
Holt considered his housekeeper, Sue Ellen Caruthers, who had already proposed herself for the position. A leftover bride, she’d come to Indian Rock to marry either Rafe or Kade, he couldn’t remember which. The plan had come to naught, with Rafe already wed to Emmeline when she arrived, and Kade so besotted with Mandy that he couldn’t think straight. Sue Ellen had been testy on the subject ever since.
He shook his head. “No wife,” he said. Sue Ellen was a fair hand at the stove, and she kept the house clean enough, but she was possessed of a peevish and contrary
“Aunt Geneva said she’d rather eat poached snake eggs than hand me over to you, but she didn’t have a choice.”
Holt crouched, to put himself on the child’s level, and he couldn’t help grinning a little. “Poached snake eggs, is it?” he reflected, with a shake of his head. “Geneva was always definite in her opinions. But tell me—why did she think she didn’t have a choice?”
Lizzie paused to consider her answer, but her expression revealed nothing of what she was thinking. He figured she’d make a hell of a poker player—it ran in the family. “The doctor said she was sick. There was a lump growing inside her, and she didn’t reckon she had much time. She didn’t want me to be left alone.”
Holt’s voice scraped at his throat as it came out. “And your mother was already gone.”
Lizzie looked away, blinked, looked back, steady as a hangman. “Yes,” she said. “A fever took her.”
Holt wanted to touch Lizzie’s hand then, maybe even draw her into his arms, but he hadn’t earned the right to do that, and he knew she’d balk if he tried. “When was that?” he asked.
“Last winter.” Lizzie studied him hard, frowning. “You’ve got a house, don’t you?”
“Yes,” Holt answered, thinking of that sprawling, lonesome place, out in the middle of nowhere. He’d bought it out of spite, because he knew Angus wanted the land surrounding it, and every acre had been an albatross around his neck ever since. Dammit all to hell, if he’d just stayed in Texas, where he belonged, he might have found Olivia in time, managed to change things somehow…
“Good,” Lizzie answered. “Aunt Geneva said you mostly slept in places where you shouldn’t have, back when she knew you.” She paused. “I reckon she meant on the ground and in barns.”
Behind him, Angus chuckled, then made a whooshing sound, as if Concepcion had elbowed him. Bless the woman.
“You’ll have a roof over your head, a room and a bed and all you want to eat,” Holt promised.
Lizzie tilted her head to one side, and then proceeded to negotiate. “How about a dog?”
Holt nearly grinned. “We can probably rustle one up someplace,” he said.
“Old Blue just had a litter,” Angus put in. “I’ll bring one over as soon as they’re weaned.”
“Hush!” Concepcion said.
“And a pony,” Lizzie pressed, probably drawing confidence from the support of her grandfather. “I want a pony, too.”
“That depends on how well you ride,” Holt said firmly. He was determined not to lose control of this situation, assuming he hadn’t already.
“I ride,” Lizzie said, “like a Comanche.”
Angus laughed again, and he must have dodged Concepcion’s elbow because this time there was no loud expulsion of breath.
“We’ll see,” Holt said, as much for Angus’s benefit as for hers. If that old man thought he was going to meddle in this, he had manure for brains.
Lizzie wasn’t through with him yet. He wouldn’t have been surprised if the kid had asked for references. “Do you have a wife?”
Holt considered his housekeeper, Sue Ellen Caruthers, who had already proposed herself for the position. A leftover bride, she’d come to Indian Rock to marry either Rafe or Kade, he couldn’t remember which. The plan had come to naught, with Rafe already wed to Emmeline when she arrived, and Kade so besotted with Mandy that he couldn’t think straight. Sue Ellen had been testy on the subject ever since.
He shook his head. “No wife,” he said. Sue Ellen was a fair hand at the stove, and she kept the house clean enough, but she was possessed of a peevish and contrary
Similar Books
