Read Online Ana Seymour by A Family For Carter Jones - Free Book Online
Authors: A Family For Carter Jones
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fine, Jennie,” he said softly. “Take your time.”
She let out a long breath, irritated that her heart refused to slow to anything near normal. With a lift of her chin, she returned his gaze directly and said, “I’ll be down in five minutes.”
Dorie Millard had worn her hair styled in the same blond ringlets framing her face ever since Jennie could remember. She was two years older than Jennie, approaching old-maid status by Vermillion standards, but her single state wasn’t for lack of offers. Jennie reckoned she’d be hard-pressed to find an eligible male in town under the age of fifty who hadn’t asked for Dorie’s hand. But the doctor’s breezy daughterseemed perfectly happy to continue being the unmarried belle of the church ice-cream socials and the harvest dances at the back of the feed mill.
Jennie watched with unusual interest as Dorie turned her sunshiny smile on Carter, waiting for the inevitable male response. But to her surprise, Carter seemed to divide his attention equally among the ladies present. In fact, he addressed just as many comments to Dr. Millard and the silverheels, or at least Dennis. Brad and Smitty weren’t much for conversation.
She wouldn’t admit to herself that she was gratified by Carter’s apparent failure to be charmed by Dorie. After all, it was possible that he was just being polite. He was a politician, used to having to stay on good terms with everyone. With three women at the table, he probably knew enough not to play favorites.
Nevertheless, she couldn’t help noticing that Carter’s eyes followed Jennie herself when she began to help Barnaby clear away the dishes. And while Dorie was in the middle of one of her most vivacious stories, Carter was smiling at Jennie and seemed not to be paying the least attention.
She hummed a little ditty to herself as she went swinging through the door to the kitchen, her arms full of plates.
“The dinner went well, didn’t it?” Barnaby whispered when they were both on the kitchen side of the door. He seemed to sense her good mood.
Jennie smiled. “It certainly did, young man. Thanks to your help.”
Barnaby looked pleased but embarrassed. “I only put out the dishes,” he mumbled into his chest.
“You did a fabulous job.” Jennie reached over to give his small shoulders a squeeze. “You served the meal like a real waiter from the most elegant restaurant in Virginia City.”
He looked up at her with a grin. “Maybe we should open our own eatery. That would give old Pruneface Potter something to really complain about.”
Margaret Potter did have something of a prune face. Jennie struggled not to smile, but felt obliged to say, “You shouldn’t talk that way about your teacher, Barnaby.”
The lad shrugged, unchastened. “Shall I spoon out the apple crisp?”
Jennie nodded. “A ladle of cream on each one. I’ll bring the rest of the plates.”
She turned back toward the dining room, still smiling. She could hear Dorie’s merry laugh before the door swung fully open. Her friend was standing directly behind Carter, her hands on either side of his neck, pulling up on his starched collar. “I don’t know how you men stand these things,” she said in a teasing voice. “Why, look…you’re as chafed as a newly saddled bronc. Now would you care to repeat those words about women suffering for vanity?”
Carter looked uncharacteristically embarrassed and had his hands up trying to hold the collar in place as Dorie tried to tug it off. The three miners were grinning, Kate looked mildly shocked and Dr. Millard sat shaking his head at his daughter with a look of longsuffering resignation.
“Miss Millard, I think I’ll keep my ensemble as is, if you don’t mind,” Carter protested.
Dorie laughed again and pushed the four inches of collar back down into the neck of the shirt. “You see, you men suffer for vanity, as well.”
Jennie felt an uneasiness in the pit of her stomach as Dorie’s slender fingers
She let out a long breath, irritated that her heart refused to slow to anything near normal. With a lift of her chin, she returned his gaze directly and said, “I’ll be down in five minutes.”
Dorie Millard had worn her hair styled in the same blond ringlets framing her face ever since Jennie could remember. She was two years older than Jennie, approaching old-maid status by Vermillion standards, but her single state wasn’t for lack of offers. Jennie reckoned she’d be hard-pressed to find an eligible male in town under the age of fifty who hadn’t asked for Dorie’s hand. But the doctor’s breezy daughterseemed perfectly happy to continue being the unmarried belle of the church ice-cream socials and the harvest dances at the back of the feed mill.
Jennie watched with unusual interest as Dorie turned her sunshiny smile on Carter, waiting for the inevitable male response. But to her surprise, Carter seemed to divide his attention equally among the ladies present. In fact, he addressed just as many comments to Dr. Millard and the silverheels, or at least Dennis. Brad and Smitty weren’t much for conversation.
She wouldn’t admit to herself that she was gratified by Carter’s apparent failure to be charmed by Dorie. After all, it was possible that he was just being polite. He was a politician, used to having to stay on good terms with everyone. With three women at the table, he probably knew enough not to play favorites.
Nevertheless, she couldn’t help noticing that Carter’s eyes followed Jennie herself when she began to help Barnaby clear away the dishes. And while Dorie was in the middle of one of her most vivacious stories, Carter was smiling at Jennie and seemed not to be paying the least attention.
She hummed a little ditty to herself as she went swinging through the door to the kitchen, her arms full of plates.
“The dinner went well, didn’t it?” Barnaby whispered when they were both on the kitchen side of the door. He seemed to sense her good mood.
Jennie smiled. “It certainly did, young man. Thanks to your help.”
Barnaby looked pleased but embarrassed. “I only put out the dishes,” he mumbled into his chest.
“You did a fabulous job.” Jennie reached over to give his small shoulders a squeeze. “You served the meal like a real waiter from the most elegant restaurant in Virginia City.”
He looked up at her with a grin. “Maybe we should open our own eatery. That would give old Pruneface Potter something to really complain about.”
Margaret Potter did have something of a prune face. Jennie struggled not to smile, but felt obliged to say, “You shouldn’t talk that way about your teacher, Barnaby.”
The lad shrugged, unchastened. “Shall I spoon out the apple crisp?”
Jennie nodded. “A ladle of cream on each one. I’ll bring the rest of the plates.”
She turned back toward the dining room, still smiling. She could hear Dorie’s merry laugh before the door swung fully open. Her friend was standing directly behind Carter, her hands on either side of his neck, pulling up on his starched collar. “I don’t know how you men stand these things,” she said in a teasing voice. “Why, look…you’re as chafed as a newly saddled bronc. Now would you care to repeat those words about women suffering for vanity?”
Carter looked uncharacteristically embarrassed and had his hands up trying to hold the collar in place as Dorie tried to tug it off. The three miners were grinning, Kate looked mildly shocked and Dr. Millard sat shaking his head at his daughter with a look of longsuffering resignation.
“Miss Millard, I think I’ll keep my ensemble as is, if you don’t mind,” Carter protested.
Dorie laughed again and pushed the four inches of collar back down into the neck of the shirt. “You see, you men suffer for vanity, as well.”
Jennie felt an uneasiness in the pit of her stomach as Dorie’s slender fingers
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