Love on the Range (Brothers in Arms #3)(29)

Wyatt knew Molly was waiting for him near the back door of the house, so they could go in together. He stepped back out into the ranch yard. The pine and snow were the scent of winter to Wyatt. He wanted to be home at the RHR with its massive fireplace. He wanted the winter days, when the cattle were on good grass, and the branding, roundup, and cattle drive were all done.

Instead, he was about to try to talk his way into a job for a possible murderer. Wyatt had probably done more half-witted things, but he couldn’t remember when.



“You’re hired! Both of you!”

Wyatt expected the man to jump up and down clapping.

Hawkins tore his eyes away from Molly to glance at Wyatt. “It’d be great if you’d take the foreman job, Wyatt.”

Then he looked back at Molly. “I’ve had the word out in town for more men and a few have come in. But no one’s applied for the housekeeping job.”

Though he didn’t say a word wrong, Wyatt didn’t like the way Hawkins’s eyes lingered on Molly. The idiot seemed more interested in the house than the ranch. And why not? He never spent time working his own land, his own cattle. He probably didn’t even know how to judge how things were going.

But the house, well, clearly the man could see dust and feel it when he struggled to get his own meals. The kitchen was filthy, dirty plates and burned-up pans everywhere. Half-eaten meals. Hawkins could clearly see his need for a housekeeper. He might’ve seen his need for better cowpunchers if he’d ever looked outside.

“I appreciate it, Oliver.” Wyatt stuck out his hand, and Oliver Hawkins looked back at Wyatt as if he’d forgotten Wyatt was there.

He narrowed his eyes and said, “I like those working for me to call me Mr. Hawkins.”

Wyatt only hesitated a moment. Now wasn’t the time to kick up a fuss. But by golly that time would come.

“I’ll remember that, Mr. Hawkins.”

Hawkins shook Wyatt’s hand briefly as if he were granting the help a favor. Yes, sirree, that time would come soon.

When Wyatt had come in asking for work, lacing in his complaints about his family, Hawkins appeared not to have one speck of trouble believing that. He accepted Wyatt’s story of being furious about his own ranch being taken over by greedy relatives almost like a man who had that story in his own life.

Of course, that could just be Wyatt being suspicious.

Hawkins was a loud, braying fool. He was always well dressed with neatly clipped brown hair and blue eyes that matched Win’s. He leaned toward boasting but usually with a big smile on his face. He had a fair amount of shallow charm that wore out fast. A man very much like Clovis Hunt. Wyatt had never been able to abide Hawkins, and though it’d made him sad because it was his own father, he’d learned early not to trust or abide Clovis.

“I’m going to get to work.”

“Excellent. You know which is the foreman’s house, don’t you?”

“Yes, but would you mind if I take Ralston’s house? It’s closer to work.” Just barely, but Wyatt tossed that out as an excuse. Truth was, he wanted to search Ralston’s house, and he wanted to be as close to the big house as possible, to listen for cries for help or gunshots.

“Whichever one you want, it makes no difference to me.” Hawkins had turned away from Wyatt and was walking toward Molly, smiling.

Wyatt walked toward the back door to the sound of Hawkins saying, “Let me show you to your room, then give you a tour of the house.”

Wyatt and Molly had worked out a way to communicate using a lantern at each of their windows. But that only worked at night.

It took every drop of his self-control to go on outside and leave Molly alone with a man they suspected of murder.





Fourteen




Molly set a lamp in the window of her bedroom. She was on the side of the house near the barn, and near where Wyatt would sleep. Win had suggested that. She’d known every bit of the house.

The housekeeper’s quarters were two nice-sized rooms. After a week of working for Mr. Hawkins—she’d been just as sternly instructed to call him that as Wyatt had—she’d learned her way around.

He’d ridden out twice: once to town because he carried home a few supplies, and once he said he just liked to ride. He didn’t say where, and she didn’t ask.

When he was gone, she had the run of the house, and she’d found the safe behind a picture in his office but couldn’t find one in his bedroom. There was an entire third floor in the house, and Mr. Hawkins had told her to leave it be. Just as Rachel had said, Molly was so relieved not to have to tackle another full floor of cleaning that she’d just gratefully acquiesced, but if she couldn’t find that safe in his room soon, she would have to expand her search to that floor. She was dreading it. She’d heard strange rustling noises from the third floor. She wondered about rats or squirrels being in there, but in truth, it gave the house a haunted feeling.

Despite practicing on Wyatt’s safe at the RHR, she couldn’t get Mr. Hawkins’s office safe open. Last night she’d signaled for help. Wyatt had come to her window, and they’d planned. Tonight, he was coming in to help her.

A lantern light shone back at her, then blinked out, Wyatt’s signal that he was coming.

Molly doused her lantern, nervous to let him help with the search. It was worrisome to think of Mr. Hawkins catching her wandering at night, but she’d never be able to explain letting Wyatt in.