When he went back to work, she tried to get Texas’s attention without being too loud about it, hoping he wasn’t already sleeping. When he poked his head over the cliff edge, she called up, “Join us for dinner? And bring your harmonica. I would love to hear some music tonight.”
“I’ll bring the rabbits,” he replied.
Oh no, Bo’s playmates! But he added, “Just caught a pair north of here.”
Pleased that Texas would be joining them for dinner, Violet returned to the cabin to do what she’d never done before: clean the house. Fortunately, it was a small house. She swept the cabin and the porch, and aired out the bedding. She even gathered some of Morgan’s pretty flowers and, finding an empty jar, set them at the center of his table. She then peeled the vegetables and left them in a bowl. Finally she made up both beds neatly, then went for her bath, hoping she still had enough time to make an extra effort with her appearance. She couldn’t manage her usual coiffure, but she dug out her hairpins and twisted her braid to form a bun, then pinned it at her nape. The last touch was tying a pink ribbon about her neck to match her pretty pink blouse.
Morgan arrived first to get his bath towel. He stopped in the doorway, looking surprised. “You cleaned?”
“You said that I would get bored,” she reminded him. “So I made sure I wouldn’t. And I invited Texas to join us for dinner. He’s bringing the meat.”
“But you actually cleaned?”
She didn’t blush, she threw his towel at him instead and pointed in the direction of the bathing pool. He laughed as he left, confirming he’d been teasing again by exaggerating his surprise. Texas arrived next with the two skinned rabbits.
“Place looks nice for a change,” he remarked. “So do you—not that you don’t always, but—”
He was blushing so much she cut in, “Thank you, I understand. I didn’t leave camp today and needed to keep myself busy.”
“I’ll just get these started,” he offered, and moved over to light the fire.
“Can I help?”
“Appears you already have,” he said, noticing the bowl of peeled vegetables. “I’ll just chop up everything so it will roast quicker. Morgan will probably want to make some gravy to top it all off. That boy does like his gravy.”
She went out on the porch to wait for Morgan. When she saw him approaching, she noted that he was carrying just the towel because he’d already donned his shirt, which was wet in spots because he’d washed his hair and beard. Had he made an extra effort because he’d noticed that she looked a little more elegant tonight? It would be nice to hear him say so, but she doubted that he would compliment her.
When he stood next to her on the porch, she whispered, “He started the meal. I hope he cooks as well as you do.”
“Better. He learned from Jakes, our bunkhouse cook back home.”
“He still expects you to make the gravy.”
He grinned. “He loves my gravy.”
She almost laughed, wondering which one of them was the real gravy lover.
Later, while they ate the hearty meal, Texas asked her how she spent her days in London. Her cleaning the cabin today might have given him the wrong impression about an English lady’s daily routine, so she said, “Walks in the park with my cousins, reading, calling on other ladies of leisure with my aunt. There were a few social gatherings even prior to the start of the official Season this summer, which is a whirlwind of balls and parties I was looking forward to attending.”
“Did you have servants?”
“Oh, my, yes. There are more than a dozen in my uncle’s house—footmen, upstairs and downstairs maids, the cook and her helpers, several ladies’ maids, and my uncle’s valet.”
He seemed incredulous. “All in one house?”
She smiled. “It is a big house.”
“And the men over there of your acquaintance, what sort of work do they do?”
“The rich don’t work over there, do they?” Morgan answered Texas’s question by asking her one.
“Lords don’t, it would be considered scandalous, but rich tradesmen do, the same as here in America.” She paused before pointing out, “You’re rich, yet you intend to keep on working. It’s all a matter of preference, wouldn’t you say?”
“And what country you live in. In ours—yeah, it’s yours, too—people don’t look down on a man for working even if he’s rich enough not to need to.”
It was beginning to sound as if they were heading for an argument, which was the last thing she wanted, so she smiled and said, “Quite right,” then to Texas, “I’m hoping that when you finish eating, you will play us one of the songs you’ve composed. Perhaps one with a waltz tempo so Morgan and I can dance.”
Morgan put in, “He’s going to be eating until he walks out the door, aren’t you, Tex?”
