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you a hand with your farm.”
    A genuine smile lit her face for the first time since the horrible incident this morning. “That would be lovely. When can they start?”
    “I’ll have to clear it with their mother, but I think they can come by tomorrow morning if that works for you, ma’am. Their names are Jess and Brian.”
    “Wonderful. I look forward to meeting them.”
    The porter hesitated and smoothed his mustache. “I don’t know if it’s your first time out west, ma’am, but you need to be careful. Close and bolt the shutters at night and secure yer barn.”
    Lilly smoothed her hands on her dress and glanced at the rifle above the fireplace. “Is there something I should be worried about?” The first thing that came to her mind was those three ruffians on the street, and the foul-mouthed but utterly handsome Mr. McGregor, with his wide and sensual lips.
    “Oh, just the animals. Uh, we ain’t had any Indian problems for a long time,” he continued quickly. “Well, ma’am, I have to get goin’. It was a pleasure meetin’ you, Miss Brooks.”
    She nodded absently, her mind already spinning with where to start the cleaning. With a sigh, she opened one of her trunks and withdrew a brown gingham dress and apron. She untied the shawl and tried to ignore the memory of the fear she’d felt in the alley.
    Cleaning this place couldn’t be that hard. Lilly and her sisters had always helped with the light housework. Her mother believed it would help them run their own households when they got married.
    A soft smile lit her face as she spied a dusty picture on the wall. Using her gloves, she gently brushed the layer of grunge from the surface. It was one of her Grand-mère’s paintings, a beautiful seascape that showed the ocean in winter. Homesickness filled her heart for the crash of the pounding surf and the smell of salty air.
    With a weary sigh, she unpinned her bonnet and began to search for a bucket.

    Two hours later, Lilly was up to her elbows in greasy foam as she scrubbed the crusty cast-iron stove. There wasn’t a decent cleaning rag, mop, or anything of the sort to be found anywhere in the cabin. Once she’d chipped away the rust, the well pump at the sink spat out a thick stream of equally rusty water. Another five minutes of pumping and clear water finally spilled out in a rush.
    The biggest disappointment was the initial search for a bathroom. After opening every door in the house, she resigned herself to the fact that there was no indoor plumbing. She found the outhouse, with its half-moon cutout on the door, behind the barn. A bucket of sawdust and lime was still half-full inside. Holding her nose against the musty smell, Lilly grumped as she imagined what it was going to be like exposing her nether bits to the winter air.
    Back in the house, all the windows and doors were open, allowing the cabin to air out. Lilly had identified the source of the stink. A sack of potatoes in the cellar had long ago gone to rot and turned into a nasty black sludge. The pile of dirty dishes sat soaking in the sink, and the dusty stoneware she lugged from the cupboards stood waiting for its turn. The back of her dress was soaked with sweat, and she kept promising herself a dip in the creek as a reward before bed. She couldn’t believe how difficult it was just to get the baked-on food off the stove. How in the world did the maids do it at home?
    The sound of wagon wheels pulling up to the house caught her attention. Peeking out through the kitchen window, she caught the tail end of a wagonette pulling around to the back.
    “Hello, Miss Brooks—are you here?” A woman’s voice yelled from the front yard.
    “Oh, goodness,” she murmured as she wiped her hands on her apron and attempted to smooth back her hair. She hoped she didn’t smell like rotting potatoes.
    Out front, three women were climbing down from their conveyance. The first was a large woman with bright red hair and a large body. She wasn’t