Chapter Seven
Rachel awoke to sun shining through the curtains.
For a moment, she simply lay in her bed and did her best to adjust to the new surroundings.
Ruth had come in late last night with a plate of food, which she had firmly directed Rachel to eat while she made up the bed.
There was something about that firmness—caring in a way that offered no room for argument—that had reminded her achingly of Edith.
Though she didn’t know Ruth well yet, she could already tell that she was going to like the older woman.
She glanced over at the far side of the room. It was empty. Ruth must have gotten up early to begin her ranch chores. Her bed was made up neatly.
I’m late to meet Mr. Summers, Rachel thought. He had wanted her at sunrise, and the sun was well and truly risen. A pang of fear hit her gut, sharp and sickening. Was she going to get in trouble? If she had still been at home, Nathan would have come in and dragged her out of bed by now…
But no one had come in to drag Rachel out here. Maybe that meant it wasn’t going to happen. Maybe that meant that things were going to be more lenient—more forgiving—than what she was used to.
Sitting up in bed, she wrapped her arms around her knees, bowed her head, and closed her eyes.
God, I don’t know what I’m doing here yet, she prayed.
I only know that something had to change.
I couldn’t go on living the way I was. Help me figure out the best way to make a good life while I’m here.
Help me find security and happiness. And…
guide me in being helpful to Adam Summers.
If he is who he seems to be, then he rescued me from a terrible situation, and I owe him a great deal of gratitude.
I want this to be a beneficial arrangement for him too.
Help me find a way to trust him.
She got out of bed and went to the suitcase she had brought with her.
Lacking furniture, she had simply stood it on the floor at the end of the bed.
Ruth had promised they would see about a place to put her clothes in the coming days, assuring her that a wardrobe or a dresser from one of the other buildings could be found and moved here, but until it was, Rachel had no choice but to delay unpacking.
Fortunately, she didn’t have many things to speak of anyway.
The dress she pulled out was identical to the one she had fled her home in—simple brown muslin.
At least it fit her well. She had made all her dresses herself, and tailored them herself as well, so although the hemline was a bit short on her, in all other ways the dress was perfectly suited.
It curved with her body while still being loose enough to protect her modesty.
She shook it out and put it on, wishing she had a mirror to check her reflection.
She looked over at Ruth’s side of the room again, but there was no mirror there.
Ruth must not care very much about checking her appearance.
It surprised Rachel a little bit. She was a handsome woman, with her sun-browned skin and her tidy braid.
She hurried to rearrange her own hair in a neat bun. Even though she didn’t seem to be in any trouble for being late, she wanted to get to the house as quickly as possible. It wasn’t good to be late on her very first day. She pulled on her boots and rushed out of the house.
The sun was shining and the dew was still wet on the grass as she ran across the lawn, but she couldn’t relax and take the time to enjoy it. She jogged up the porch steps and knocked at the door to Mr. Summers’s house.
He opened it. He was wearing a button-down checkered shirt and worn trousers, and his blue eyes lit up as he smiled at her, immediately putting her at ease. “Morning,” he said. “I was starting to wonder if you were still around at all. We didn’t see you for dinner last night.”
“I…well, I wasn’t hungry,” she fibbed, swallowing hard and looking down. “Thank you for sending the plate over. I think Ruth must have brought it back. It was gone when I woke up this morning.”
He nodded. “Of course,” he said. “And the invitation stands, if you’d like to come to dinner tonight. Or any night. You’re always welcome. You don’t have to knock on this door when you visit either, by the way. You’re welcome to just walk in. That’s what everyone does.”
“I don’t know if I could do that,” Rachel admitted. “It seems too forward. After all, you did bring me here to be your maid, Mr. Summers, and that isn’t the way a maid behaves.”
“Call me Adam,” he said.
She shook her head vigorously. “No, I really couldn’t.”
He cocked his head to one side. “Could you do it if I ordered you to?” he asked, with humor in his voice. “If I told you that was the way I insist all my hands address me? Could you do it if I told you anything else would make me uncomfortable?”
She swallowed hard. “I…if it’s what you insist on, I suppose I’ll have to do it. Adam.”
Even though she had been thinking of him that way in her mind, to say the name out loud brought heat into her cheeks.
It was too forward. How could he ask that of her?
What kind of place was this, where everyone simply spoke to one another as if they were friends?
He must realize that the two of them weren’t friends, so why would he act as if they were?
I don’t understand him at all.
“Come out to the henhouse,” he said. “You should meet Mason. He feeds the chickens and collects the eggs as one of his morning tasks.” He stepped out onto the porch with her, pulling the door closed behind him, and jogged down the steps into the grass. She followed along.
His legs were so long that it took her two strides to keep up with each one of his, even though she could tell he wasn’t trying to outpace her.
He wasn’t walking quickly, but he moved with a long lope that made him almost impossible to keep up with.
Eventually she gave up and broke into a jog alongside him.
He looked back at her. “Oh,” he said with a chuckle. “Sorry. Mason always tells me I go too fast, and you’re not much taller than he is. I guess I’m used to Ruth. She’s awfully tall for a woman.”
“She is,” Rachel murmured. “I didn’t get to spend much time with her last night, but she seems very nice.”
“I’m hopeful that the two of you will get to be good friends,” Adam said. “She really is wonderful. A fantastic person to have around on a ranch like this one.”
They’d reached the henhouse. It was a small beige and brown structure with a ramp for the chickens to walk up and down and an opening in the back where a person could reach in.
A boy with flaming red hair squatted there, peering into the opening.
After a moment, he stuck his hand in and withdrew a pair of eggs.
He deposited them in the basket that was hanging over his arm.
“Mason,” Adam called out. “Stop that and come here a moment. I want you to meet Miss Rachel.”
The boy looked up. He had a scowl on his freckled face. “There aren’t any more eggs anyway,” he said, kicking at the dirt. “Doing this every day is a waste of time.”
“That’s enough,” Adam said, very firmly. “You know better than to talk back to me, and if you don’t like your chores I’ll assign you something else. Maybe you’d prefer it if I collected the eggs and you shoveled manure?”
Mason didn’t back down. “Maybe I would,” he said, his chin in the air. “At least that would be a little variety for once.”
“Say good morning to Miss Rachel,” Adam pressed him.
“Morning,” Mason grumbled. “Can I get back to work now? I have a lot to do.”
“Get back to it, then,” Adam said. “But tonight I want you to scrub the kitchen floor.”
“What!” Mason grabbed his egg basket with a second hand. Rachel wondered whether he had been about to drop it.
“You’ve got to learn to control your mouth,” Adam explained. “If you can’t carry on a conversation without talking back like that, it’ll mean more chores. Do you have anything else you want to say?”
Mason glowered at him, but after a moment, he turned and stalked off.
Adam sighed. “I’m sorry about him,” he said, planting his hands on his hips and watching Mason go. “The attitude is a real problem. It comes and goes. Sometimes he’s a delight to be around, but other times—especially lately—he gets like this, and I just don’t know how to manage him.”
Rachel bit her lip. On one hand, it wasn’t exactly her business. But on the other hand…hadn’t Adam brought her here, at least in part, to help with Mason? That was what he’d said. Maybe he did want her opinion.
“If you ask me,” she said slowly, “I don’t think punishing him like that is the right way to go about things. I’d bet it makes him feel like you’re his enemy. Like you’re angry with him.”
“For that behavior? I am angry with him. He can’t act like that.” Adam shook his head. “Especially when I’m trying to introduce him to someone. This is the place I most feel like I’m failing. He has no ability to be polite. No manners at all.”
“Well, he must feel very lost,” Rachel said slowly. “And in times like this, I think God asks us to lead with patience and mercy, not with judgment and harsh words.”
Adam frowned. “I’m not sure God has anything to do with this. He’s a stubborn boy who needs to learn how to behave, and strict discipline is what will do it. Nothing more.”
***
Adam’s words were still on Rachel’s mind that night when she made her way back to the lodge after her day’s work was complete.
She hadn’t gotten to see Mason again—their chores had kept them apart.
Rachel had spent most of the day cleaning various rooms of Adam’s house.
It was a sparsely furnished home, so it wasn’t that difficult—sweeping hadn’t required the moving of much furniture, for instance.
But it did look to her as though he hadn’t done a lot of housekeeping lately.
Most of the surfaces had a fine layer of dust on them.
In the kitchen, she had found clean dishes, but they were put away haphazardly, as if whoever had done that job last had just shoved things wherever they would fit.
She had spent some time rearranging the cupboards, putting all the same types of dish with one another, though it hadn’t occurred to her until she was finished to think that maybe Adam wouldn’t like that. He hadn’t asked her to move his things.
Still, he’s been pretty easygoing with me. He hasn’t with Mason…but that doesn’t mean he’ll be impatient with me. If he doesn’t like that I moved things around, I think he’ll probably just tell me that.
She opened the door of the lodge, thinking of collapsing on her bed and falling asleep early, but she was met with a surprise.
Ruth was already back from her own day’s work.
She had moved the things off her bedside table and dragged it across the room so that it was beside Rachel’s bed, and now she was in the process of moving a chair over there as well.
On top of the table were two plates, both of which had some chicken and vegetables on them.
“Evening,” Ruth said, throwing a smile her way. “I know Adam wants you to come and eat at the house, but I thought maybe you and I would take a night to get to know each other better first, if that appeals to you. I know he can be a bit overwhelming at first.”
Rachel smiled. “This is thoughtful of you.” She walked into the room and, after a moment of considering what she was meant to do, sat down on the edge of her bed. “This meal looks delicious.”
“I’m sure Adam will want you to start helping out with the cooking soon,” Ruth said. “He didn’t mention anything about that today?”
“No, he wanted me to focus on cleaning.” A tinge of worry pricked at Rachel—had she neglected something?
But Ruth was nodding. “That makes sense. No one has cleaned that house in a dog’s age.” She sat down and began to eat with gusto.
Rachel would have liked to pray before the meal, but she didn’t want to make a big production of it while Ruth was being so kind to her. She would thank God later. She began to eat as well. The chicken was perfectly cooked and juicy. “Adam is a good cook, isn’t he?”
“He’s had to do it for himself for a long time,” Ruth said. “I think there was a time when he imagined I might take that on, but cooking was never a skill of mine.” She chuckled. “Sometimes I think Zachary must be as glad to be rid of me as I am to be rid of him.”
“Who is Zachary?” Rachel picked up her fork and started on the vegetables—beans and carrots, each with a pleasant hint of lemon.
“He’s the man I was supposed to marry,” Ruth explained. “But neither of us cared for each other very much. I did him a favor when I ran away. And then Adam’s father took me in, and here I am!” She grinned. “I guess your story isn’t so different. Adam has a way of taking people in.”
Rachel frowned. Ruth was right, she supposed…Adam had found her struggling with a bad situation and had taken her in. He had offered her a home when she had nowhere else to turn.
But that didn’t mean their stories were the same.
After all, Ruth was still here. She had made this her permanent home. And Rachel wasn’t going to do that. This ranch was nice, and she was beginning to feel more comfortable, but that didn’t mean she was going to stay.
“I wanted to ask you something,” she said slowly, setting down her fork.
“About Mason—and Adam. When I spoke to him earlier, I tried to make the point to him that God would want us to be patient with Mason. He seemed unreceptive to the idea. And it made me wonder…” She swallowed. “He is a man of faith, isn’t he?”
Ruth looked away from her. “That isn’t for me to answer.” Her voice was low and dark. “And to be perfectly honest, Rachel, I don’t think you ought to ask him about that either. I think it’s best if you let it be.”