
By Catherine Snodgrass
ISBN ISBN 1-55316-113-0
Published by LTDBooks
www.ltdbooks.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any person or persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
The Wishing Tree by Catherine Snodgrass
ISBN 1-55316-113-0
Published by LTDBooks
www.ltdbooks.com
Copyright © 2003 Catherine Snodgrass
Artwork copyright © 2002 Trace Edward Zaber
Previously published by RFI West.
Published in Canada by LTDBooks, 200 North Service Road West, Unit 1, Suite 301, Oakville, ON L6M 2Y1
All rights reserved. The use of any part of this publication reproduced, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written consent of the publisher is an infringement of the copyright law.
National Library of Canada Cataloguing in Publication Data
Snodgrass, Catherine, 1953---
The wishing tree [electronic resource] / Catherine Snodgrass
Also available in print format.
ISBN 1-55316-113-0
I. Title.
PS3569.N62W58 2003 813'.6 C2003-904987-6
Texas, 1878
Grace Marshall thought she was alone. Her brothers and sisters had left for school hours before. Her mother had taken the wagon to town for supplies. And Pa? He was somewhere on the far side of the empty cornfield knee-deep in muck.
A hot breeze tickled the damp curls sticking to her neck. It wasn't enough to dry the sweat. It never was. Swelter in the summer; freeze in the winter. Work and toil. Everyday. All day. The circle of life...or death. Like a hangman's noose.
She bent to haul yet another piece of laundry from the basket. Lord, how her back ached! Barely kissing twenty and her body was failing her. She tossed the long johns over the line and stabbed them in place with the wooden pin.
There it is again. That feeling that she wasn't alone.
Shielding her eyes against the afternoon sun, she scanned the horizon. She didn't have to look far.
A lone rider watched her from the knoll. Broad, dusty, bedraggled. His black horse looked in better shape than he.
Despite the distance, she felt their gazes lock. It was then he moved, urging his mount forward. He was coming her way, stepping into her world, and somehow Grace sensed her life would never be the same again.
This time the creak of leather reached her. His saddle, the holster strapped to his thigh, those dusty cowboy boots in the stirrups. The stubble of a beard darkened his sun-tanned face. A bedroll was perched on the horse's rear. This man looked like he'd been on the road for a while.
Closer still, other details hit her. The red kerchief tied around his neck. The Colt .45 glinting from his well-used holster, the hilt of a bowie knife in a scabbard behind that, and the butt of a Winchester rifle rocking along with the stride of the horse.
Grace's heart quickened. What if he were a bank robber or a gunslinger? He had come to their home to steal what little they had. To take advantage of the womenfolk. Why, just the thought of being ravished was enough to make her scream, even if she wasn't quite sure what that meant. All she knew was that it was different than what normally happened between a man and his wife. It was horrible to be ravished. Ma said so. And this man looked like he could crush her with one of those big, powerful hands. He'd haul her to the nearest pile of hay, lift her dress, and...and...
She fanned the heat from her cheeks and reined her thoughts to a standstill. Ma was right. Grace spent too much time reading those blasted dime novels Pa brought home. A waste of precious time and money, Ma said. But Grace had caught Ma devouring the contents on more than one occasion.
Nearly to her, the man tipped the brim of his gray cowboy hat in greeting. "Ma'am. I'm looking for Damon Marshall."
Grace looked up. Eyes a shade darker than the sky studied her. Rider and horse guarded her from the sun. "That'd be my pa."
"Name's Jake Tanner. Mind telling me where I can find him?"
Her gaze fell to the gun in his holster.
"I've been on the road for two days, Miz Marshall. A smart man doesn't travel unarmed. I've just come to collect on a note he gave my brother."
She narrowed her eyes. "Begging your pardon, Mr. Tanner, but you look a little worse for wear for having been on the road only two days."
A hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He scratched at his whiskers to cover it. "Sorry, ma'am. I was out with the herd before heading this way. Didn't think to clean up first."
"You look more like a gunman than a cowboy."
He glanced around the Marshalls's dilapidated farm then crossed his forearms over the saddle horn and leaned forward. "And what kind of notorious act could your farmer father have done to bring a gunman to this place?"
Point taken, even if his tone mocked her. Grace pointed to the sprawling field beyond the house. "You'll find him on the far side of the field."
He flicked the brim of his hat once more and nudged his horse in that direction.
Grace pulled a bed sheet from the basket and draped it over the line. Peeking around the edge, she watched Jake move away. He looked as good leaving as he did coming.
The breeze caught the line of clothes and tangled the sheet around her. Grace slapped it down and shoved a pin over the line. The sheet curled around her again. Grace grabbed a fistful and tugged. The line snapped. A full morning's work lay on the grass. Now she'd have to start all over again.
She glanced around. Still alone. No one would know the difference. It was grass, for crying out loud, and she had a lot more work to do.
She plucked the heavy cording from the ground. Weighed down with wet wash, it took two hands to haul it over her shoulder. Stretching on tiptoe, Grace tried to thread the end into the hole on the wooden brace. It might as well have been a needle. The line was too heavy. She was wasting as much time trying to tie the dagblasted thing than she would if she'd taken the wash down in the first place.
A pair of hands covered hers. Dark, long-fingered, callused. Startled, she jumped, then craned her neck backward. Jake Tanner. He tied the cord off with nary a blink, standing so close Grace could count the whiskers in his growing beard.
"Ma'am." He tugged the brim of his hat her way, and swung back into the saddle.
He was almost out of hearing range when Grace finally remembered her manners and hollered a thank you. Without turning, he raised his hand in response.
Grace allowed herself a smile. He was just about the best thing she'd seen in Sleepy Eye...ever. She'd be thinking about him for a long time to come. Oh, yes...a long time.
\*
Jake didn't know what made him turn around. The young woman wasn't that much to look at. Of course, it was hard to tell as work-worn as she was right now. She wasn't short or tall-just average. The same could be said of her shape, except that her bosom was lost in that faded gray dress she had on. Patches of it were damp from the wash and clung to her. Even that did nothing to bring out a hint of a figure. Her brown hair defied a thousand pins, strands of it drifting down her neck, around her face, into her eyes. And those eyes, again nothing special-big, round, brown, just like every single head of cattle on his ranch.
So why turn around for another peek?
It didn't matter. Doing so called him back to her side to help her with the broken clothesline.
Thinking about it made Jake smile. She had pluck. He'd give her that. And more common sense than any other woman he'd ever met. Most would have tossed all the laundry back in the tub to wash. A waste of time as far as he was concerned. It was only grass, not a hog wallow. The laundry was on the ground for a total of five seconds. Still clean by his standards. Finally, he'd found a woman who agreed.
He twisted around on the saddle to check again. Yep, there she was hanging clothes as if nothing had happened. She looked like a half-drowned puppy. The laundry fought her in the fast building breeze. She sidestepped it and tripped over her own tub. Jake bit back a laugh as she tumbled to the ground. She glared up at the line of wash, then dusted herself off and went back to it.
Yep, pluck...and determination. From the look of this farm, she needed both. The barn was a little bigger than the clapboard house, but not by much. Both looked like they were held together by will rather than by nails. Jake didn't know how in the world the place held... How many young'uns had A.J. said the Marshalls had? Seven? Plus two adults?
He shook his head. His brother was right. This was a wasted trip. But a debt was a debt and a man had to make good on it. If Jake let Damon Marshall get off without paying, how many others would start to take advantage? As it stood, he'd had plenty of time to pay for the cow. The damn thing had been with the Marshalls for a year. A.J. should never have let it get this far. But then, they'd had other problems to deal with.
Jake skirted the horse around the field down a narrow road. It was the only place not mired in mud. The field itself, though newly plowed, looked hopeless. Just row upon row of goo and dirt clods. He didn't know how these people were going to carve out a life in this mess. But that's what the weather did to people. A blessing and a curse. Jake knew that all too well.
The land took a gentle slope downward. A line of trees nearby hid the river. This was where Marshall had made his mistake. He'd planted on a flood plain. No man could be that stupid. Jake could only guess that Marshall hoped to take advantage of the water in the dry season by using it to irrigate. But one good downpour even miles upriver could wash it all away.
He and Marshall saw each other at the same time. They both raised their arms in greeting. Marshall dropped the plow harness from his shoulders and started Jake's way.
Jake waited by his horse. He could do little else. There was no place to tie the reins and he wasn't about to destroy Marshall's hard work by tromping the horse over the field.
He watched the man's progress. Every other step sucked his feet into the sludge. In a week, maybe two, the mosquitoes in this place would be eating him alive.
"Hello there, neighbor. What can I do for you?"
"I'm Jake Tanner. My brother, A.J., sold you a cow about a year ago. I've come to collect on the note."
Marshall slowed, his head bent to the task of getting through what remained of the field. The gesture was clear. Marshall didn't have the money. Jake's spirits dipped lower.
Marshall took the last step onto the road, swept his hat off, and mopped the sweat from his forehead with a threadbare piece of gray calico. The same color as the daughter's dress...the same material and in just about the same condition.
"About that...you see..."
Here it comes. Jake didn't want to hear it. Didn't want to put the man through an awkward explanation. A.J. was right. He should have stayed home and let the matter go. True, they needed the money, but not near as much as the Marshalls.
"We've had some rough times this last year. I kinda hoped to get her with calf then sell it to pay the note, but..." He let the excuse die. "I suppose you'll be wanting the cow back. She's a good one. Puts out the sweetest milk."
The last thing Jake needed was another cow. No matter how sweet the milk.
Marshall scuffed the road with his boot. "We really need her for the milk. If I could have a little more time." Forcing a smile, he waved his hand over the field. "I doubled my area. I'm hoping to have a good crop this year."
Jake scanned the rows of clods. Only a miracle would turn this place around. Still, a man had his pride, and Jake wanted this done. "Do you have something to trade for the cow?"
Marshall scratched his head, then smoothed his hair back in place and hid it under a hat so full of holes Jake doubted its effectiveness. "Got a couple of good layin' hens, but my wife would skin me alive if I gave you one. She sells the extra eggs to the general store. Kept us from starving a time or two."
Awkward. Real awkward. Jake stared down the road in the direction of the cabin. There was a thought. "What about one of your children working off the debt?"
The man gave a nervous laugh. "Out of seven young'uns, I got two boys. One's just about at the age to start helping me. The other one's the baby."
"I wasn't thinking about one of the boys. I've got plenty of ranch hands. What we are shy on are womenfolk. My brother lost his wife last year. The woman we hired to help us is heavy with child and leaving soon." He pointed in the direction of the house. "I was thinking about your daughter."
Marshall's forehead wrinkled. He slapped his hat on. "Grace?"
Grace? Her name was Grace? The image of her falling over the washtub hit Jake. It was all he could do to keep from laughing. "Yes. She looks plenty sturdy."
"She is that. Girl's got a strong back." Marshall mopped his neck. "Real good with the young'uns. A fair cook. A big help to her ma."
"That's what we need. Since you've had the cow a year, she can work a year to pay the debt. If she's willing."
"Oh, she'll do what she's told. Once the year's up?"
Jake thought he heard a different question. Did he have to bring her back? No matter how much help she might be, she was just another mouth to feed. There were other daughters in the house to help out.
"After a year, we'll offer her pay to stay on."
A smile broke the man's weatherworn face. He stuck out his hand. "You got yourself a deal. You'll stay to supper. We'll tell the women afterward and you can head out by first light."
They shook hands to seal the bargain.
Jake smiled. It was a good deal after all. A.J. could eat his words. "Now, Mr. Marshall, if you'll show me a place to tie up my horse, I'll help you with the plowing."
It was hard work to be sure; even Marshall's older boy came out to help after school. By the time they made their way back to the cabin, Jake was ready to call it a day. His mouth watered as he, Marshall, and the boy slipped behind the barn to wash up for supper. Whatever was cooking was heavensent. He was hot, dirty, and starved.
"Smells good."
Standing at the rain barrel, Marshall stripped to his waist and poured a ladle of water over his head. The second ladle went down his throat. "Grace makes the evening meal. Girl's a good cook."
"She makes the best biscuits this side of the Mississippi," the boy added. "I could eat a pan all by myself."
Jake could too this evening. He was covered in mud up to his knees. At least he had an extra set of clothes in his bedroll. The boots? Looked like he'd spend as much time cleaning them up as he had plowing. As they were, he'd have to leave them outside the front door and go to supper in his stocking feet. Marshall and the boy did the same thing. Then they crowded around the table to eat.
Fried chicken, corn, biscuits and gravy were piled in the center. Jake caught a whiff of apple pie. His mouth watered in response. Sure beat anything he cooked up.
Grace couldn't help staring at the man across the table from her. He had more manners and patience than anyone she'd ever met. He needed them since her mother sat him between her next younger sisters. They ogled him. Asked him one stupid question after another. Then giggled like the schoolgirls they were. Through it all Jake was a gentleman. He ate the meal Grace cooked like it was the best thing that had ever passed his lips. She was glad she managed to get it on the table without a mishap. Stepping over children-that was a miracle.
"So, Mr. Tanner," Ma began, "what brings you to these parts?"
Before he got the chance to answer, Pa broke in. "I bought that cow from his brother last year."
Oh, he was one of those Tanners. They had more money than anyone could count. At least that's what Grace had heard.
Ma set her fork aside while Pa sopped up the last of his gravy with a biscuit. She looked sick or like she was going to cry. Grace couldn't tell for sure since she'd never seen her mother do either of those things...unless she was expecting.
Grace glanced around the table. Another baby? That was just what they didn't need.
"Relax, Mother. Everything's taken care of." Her father tilted his chair back on two legs and hooked his thumbs on his suspenders.
He looked mighty proud of himself. But Ma wasn't buying it. She gave him a look that asked what in the world he had done now. Company kept her from demanding to know.
"Grace will be going to work with the Tanners until the debt is paid. They're in need of a woman to run the house and care for the children."
Grace's jaw dropped. She was going to live with the Tanners? Glory be! Fresh cotton sheets every night. Beds so soft you sank into them-alone. She wouldn't have to share with her two sisters anymore. And a house so big you needed a map to get from one room to the next. She couldn't believe her good fortune. Finally, finally, she was out of this godforsaken place.
"Absolutely not," her mother said.
Grace's hopes fell with her chin. Her heart squeezed so hard, it was all she could do not to cry. She stared at her tin plate and prayed she wouldn't start blubbering like a baby.
"Leave it to a man to come up with an addle-pated plan like that." Apparently, company manners were no longer important. "Whose idea was this?" Ma's gaze nailed Pa. "Yours?"
He fidgeted in his chair. "Well, no."
Her head whipped around to Jake. "Yours?"
Not as easily blustered-he obviously didn't know her mother-Jake looked her straight on. "Yes, ma'am, it was. You see-"
"Do you have a daughter, Mr. Tanner?"
"No, I-"
"Do you honestly think I would allow my daughter to live with a bunch of cowboys for a year all alone, much less travel with you unchaperoned for...how many days to your ranch?"
"Two, ma'am."
Ah, he was backing down. Not too many people could stand up to Ma when she got going. Not even Pa.
"Two days alone and one night with you on the trail. Alone, Mr. Tanner."
He spread his big hands on the table and pressed forward. "Mrs. Marshall, I would never take advantage of any woman. Neither would my brother or any of my men."
Her mother stretched toward him, placing her fingers over his arm. Jake was doomed.
"Mr. Tanner, I have no doubt your word is good. A lesser man would have taken the cow from us and left by now." She leaned back. "Just her living with all those men and traveling with you alone is enough to ruin her reputation. You know how people are-they always think the worse."
"Now, Mother..."
She held up her hand, silencing Pa. "Mr. Tanner, you've offered us an honorable solution to this problem and we are grateful. You have something we need and we have something you need. That's the way of things, isn't it?"
"Well...yes, ma'am."
His response was slow. Grace didn't blame him. He was right to suspect a trap. Experience taught Grace to be careful when her mother used that tone.
"That's what I thought."
She gave him a small smile. She was ready to strike. Grace longed to warn him that something else was coming.
"Then I would expect you to continue to do the honorable thing." Ma pulled in a breath. "Mr. Tanner, the only way my daughter is leaving here with you is if you marry her."
The silence in the house was complete. Not even the crickets dared make a sound. Grace's mouth dropped open. All she could do was stare at her mother.
What was she thinking? She'd only met Jake Tanner hours before. But that wouldn't matter to Ma. She and Pa had never met until they stood before the preacher. That's just how things were done back then. Obviously, it looked like that's how Ma intended things to be done now, too.
Grace dared a look Jake's way. His gaze shifted between her and Ma, then finally settled on her. She was surprised he still sat there. Only his manners kept him from grabbing that cow and heading for home.
She watched him watch her and wondered what he was thinking and why he didn't tell her parents they could go to blue blazes.
He scratched at the stubble on his face, looked at her mother, then her father, and back to her. Then again. Then to every face at that table.
"All right...I'll marry her."
Jake tore from the house like the hounds of hell snapped at his feet. The last thing he wanted or needed was a wife. But it looked like that's what he was getting. By tomorrow this time he'd be a married man.
He could hear it now. The snickers and jeers. Comments about trading a cow for a wife. He hoped Grace didn't hear any of it. He wouldn't have her hurt. That's what got him into this mess in the first place.
Those big brown eyes of hers did it. Jake never should have looked at her. The second Marshall mentioned she was leaving with him, Grace's eyes lit with excitement and anticipation. Her mother ripped that joy away with the next breath. The expression on Grace's face-no, that wasn't right-her face never gave away her feelings. It was her eyes again. She might have shot her gaze to the plate in front of her, but it wasn't quick enough to hide her pain and the tears that flooded her sight.
To her credit Grace never cried, never said a word. When she pulled her head up, not a trace of disappointment lingered. Then her mother crossed the line she'd been edging toward. Jake knew something was coming, he just didn't expect that.
Anger and shock flickered in Grace's eyes. She almost said something. Almost. Hope kept her quiet. She wanted out. Who could blame her?
Jake scanned the tiny house that served as living quarters for nine. It didn't take more than one pass to see every inch of it. Dark, suffocating, cramped. A sleeping loft had three small beds stuffed into it. The area below had one larger bed shoved in one corner while the opposite end contained kitchen and table.
Then Jake made the mistake of looking at the gaggle of children wedged around that table. His first impression? Hungry. Not for food, though. From the look of the supper table tonight, they might not eat often, but they ate good. Their clothes, while clean, were threadbare, held together by will more than anything else. The longing in their eyes, especially those of the older girls, was for something more. They wanted escape, freedom from a life that held no pleasure and no hope for any in the future.
Jake compounded his errors by settling his gaze on Grace. Of course she wanted out. Who wouldn't? He hadn't been there a full day and already he was itching to leave. And in her eyes, those cow-brown eyes, Jake finally understood how Laurette felt. That didn't excuse what she did, but he understood it.
He snagged his horse's reins from the hitch and led him to the barn. Thinking about Laurette wasn't going to get him anywhere. That was in the past. It just didn't matter anymore. By tomorrow this time, he'd have a new wife.
Jeremy sure would be tickled when he heard that. The boy wanted a mother. More importantly, he needed a mother. One of his own, not one borrowed from his cousins.
Oh, Emma was a good substitute. His brother couldn't have done better in a wife. But now...well, her death hurt them all. The children, A.J., Jake...yep, the weather could sure wield a double blade. The good rains brought enough sweet grass to drive their herd north. They also brought a twister the likes of which Jake had never seen before.
At least Emma had died in A.J.'s arms. Their last words filled with love-just the way it should be. But A.J. still hadn't recovered, physically or emotionally. Jake wouldn't be surprised if it haunted A.J. the rest of his life. Hardly fair to everyone else, especially the children, but considering how much A.J. had lost, Jake couldn't fault him.
Yep, they needed a woman's touch around the place. Someone to soften the rough edges of life...at least for the children. They needed some order-they were starting to get a little wild. Jake didn't know if Grace was the right woman for the job, but she was better than nothing. At least as his wife, she'd stick around for a while.
Jake laughed at himself. Even he wasn't fool enough to believe she'd stay forever. Laurette had taught him that. If Grace wasn't satisfied with her life now, it was only a matter of time before life on their ranch dragged her down.
Guilt nudged him. Grace was trading one workhouse for another. Things might be better for her there than here, but it was still hard work. How was she going to feel about that?
It didn't matter. She was there to pay off a debt, nothing more. When the year was up, she could go about her business if she wanted. The innocence her mother fretted over intact.
Jake was lucky there. Considering the fact she wasn't much to look at, barely a woman, there wasn't much to tempt him. True, she'd be his wife, easily accessible to his needs. More convenient than hooking up with a woman in Austin. Nicer, too. In the dark, what did it matter?
He slid the saddle from the horse's back and tucked it into a pile of hay near the door. It mattered all right. It mattered a lot. She was coming to their house to work, and that's what she was going to do. If Grace had any trouble understanding that, he'd be glad to set her straight before things got too far out of hand. She was nothing more than an indentured servant, certainly not the type of woman he would take to his bed, much less as his wife.
His conscience laughed at him. That was exactly what he was doing. All because a pair of cow-brown eyes tugged at his heart.
\*
"Grace, quit fidgeting. We've got a lot of work to do before the preacher gets here in the morning. And none of it's going to get done if we don't finish pinning this dress." To drive home her point, her mother jabbed another pin into the material.
"Stop it, Ma." Grace pulled the hem away. The stool teetered beneath her. "This is the silliest thing I've ever heard of. That man doesn't want to marry me."
Her mother pinched another piece of the age-old satin at Grace's waist. "No man wants to get married. And most of them don't know what they want until some woman tells him." She drove in the pin and gathered up another wad.
"By the time we're finished fixing up your old wedding dress, we'll have enough material to make two." Not the right thing to say, but at least her mother stopped long enough to glare at her.
Grace bent down to her level. "Ma, I just met the man. He's a stranger. I don't love him. And he sure doesn't love me."
Oddly, tears flooded her mother's eyes. A rapid flutter of her lids cleared them. She cupped her hand to Grace's cheek. "Ah, sugar, can't you see what I'm trying to do for you? No woman really knows a man until she marries him. Love? It doesn't count near as much as survival. Gracie, the Tanners are rich beyond anyone's dreams. This is a chance for you. He'll be a good match. He's an honorable man. He's an eligible man. Who are you going to marry up with here? Little Timmie Clifford? Old Man Mooney?"
Pausing, she chewed on her lower lip. "Mooney did ask for your hand, you know. Said he liked the way you'd been cleaning house for him and wanted you there permanent."
Grace's stomach turned at the very thought.
"I fought your pa hard on it. I just couldn't see you..."
Grace grabbed her mother's hand in both of hers and kissed her palm. "Ma, I appreciate you wanting the best for me. But I've got to talk to Mr. Tanner...please."
"Oh, all right." She stripped the gown from Grace's shoulders. "Don't be long."
Grace stepped into her day dress and buttoned it as she walked through the door. Once her eyes adjusted to the darkness, Grace headed for the barn. Too late she forgot about the bucket on the edge of the porch. It clattered down the three steps with enough noise to wake the dead-and smacked into one of their cats. The poor cat screeched, jumped straight in the air, and scrambled into a nearby tree. Birds scattered for new cover and squawked all the way.
The barn door squeaked open, shooting a pale shaft of light across the yard. Jake leaned against the doorjamb, a black shadow against the light.
"Are you a danger to others, or just yourself?"
He was laughing at her! Well, she'd heard worse. At least he wasn't fuming. "I need to speak with you, Mr. Tanner."
"Come ahead. I'm just tending to my horse." Jake waited in the doorway until he was sure enough light guided her without mishap. He thought about moving the kerosene lantern closer to the door, but that was courting disaster.
When she was close enough to find a clear path, he returned to brushing down his horse. He wasn't counting on her finding the one thing between them. Sure enough, the second she crossed the threshold her foot caught the saddle. Grace tumbled face first to the floor.
The hard fall knocked the air from Grace's lungs. It seemed forever before she was able to wedge her hands beneath her and push herself up. Jake never made a move to help. Grace didn't know if she was grateful he didn't treat her like porcelain, or angry he didn't rush to a lady's aid. But when she looked up and saw him draped over the back of his horse watching her, she decided irritated suited her just fine.
She shoved herself to her feet. "The least you could do was help me up."
"I think I'm safer over here."
A hint of a smile tugged at his lips. He ran the currycomb across his horse's back. The animal's skin quivered.
"He looks like he really enjoys that." Grace brushed the hay from her dress and eased forward.
"He does."
Grace longed to run her hand down that long, silky neck. "I've never seen a more beautiful animal. What's his name?"
"Uhm...Doesn't have a name." At least not one Jake readily shared since it always generated a fair amount of teasing.
She crept forward. "A horse as fine as he is should have a name. Something powerful like Thunder or Lightning or Breeze...I bet he runs like the wind."
"That he does." Jake tucked the comb into one of the saddlebags draped over the stall. "You wanted to talk?"
Grace watched him check each hoof. Where should she begin? It would be better if his attention was on her, not the horse. This was serious business. This was the rest of their lives.
"It just seems like you agreed to get married mighty quick. Are you really that hard up for a woman at your place?"
"Yes...we are."
He stood, giving her the attention she wanted only minutes before. Now that she had it, now that those deep blue eyes of his were focused on her and her alone, Grace found herself wishing he'd look the other way. Her knees quivered, threatening to make her fall...again.
"It...it just seems to me hiring someone would be a little less...drastic."
"As you recall, I offered to hire you."
"No, you offered to take me in payment for a cow."
"Your father is the one who made the debt. I was just giving him a way to pay it without taking the cow. Marriage was your mother's idea, not mine."
This was getting them nowhere. Jake wasn't making this easy. Grace didn't know what she wanted from him or why she had bothered to come out here.
"It just seems like a mighty big sacrifice. I have a bit I've tucked away over the years. How much was the cow? Maybe I could pay for it. I have what I earned keeping house for the older folks around here."
He moved closer, slowly, like a mountain lion stalking its prey. Grace forced herself to stay in place and keep her gaze fully on his. Every hair on her body prickled to life. She longed to brush the uneasy feeling away, but even that movement seemed too much to ask of herself.
"What about you? As I recall, you did nothing to stop this. You were plenty willing to go along with this until your little attack of conscience brought you out here."
Grace eased back in an effort to put some distance between them. It was no use. He just moved with her. "I was swept away in the rush. Once Ma gets a notion to do something, not much stops her. The important thing is that I'm here now, willing to make it right."
She bumped into the stall. Even that didn't stop Jake. He stood there just beyond her reach. One breath and he could trap her against the wooden slats. Her heart fluttered in a mix of fear and excitement. But Jake held his ground, cornering her simply by being there.
"Quit lying to yourself, Grace."
Her name sounded sweet on his lips. His voice gentle.
"I saw the look in your eyes. You want to leave here so bad you can taste it."
But not this way. It was wrong. Deceitful. The men could talk honor all they wanted, but Grace wasn't without a bit of her own. She forced herself to look into those deep blue eyes of his-eyes that burned through her skin.
"Just tell me how much the cow was and I'll pay for it. You're welcome to everything I've got."
"I don't want your money. I just want you."
Grace curled her fingers into her palms to keep from shaking. "As a housekeeper, not a wife."
"I'll take you however I can get you."
Desperate men did desperate things, but Grace refused to believe that someone as rich as Jake Tanner would have to resort to buying a wife. He could pay a thousand women to come work for them.
"Why me?"
He dropped his head and chuckled. "You're the one whose father owes me money, remember?"
"I'm not stupid, Mr. Tanner. That was the reason I came here in the first place. If it's the money, I'll give it to you. Just tell me how much and we can be done with this."
He pulled a long piece of straw from her hair and stuck it in his mouth. "You might want to call me Jake."
Goodness, he was a trial! Didn't the man see what she was trying to do for him? He rolled the end of that straw between his teeth like he had all the time in the world.
"So the idea of marriage doesn't appeal to you?" he asked.
Truth be told, Grace had never much considered marriage. Oh, she figured she'd get married one day, but since there weren't any eligible men nearby she didn't think beyond that.
"The cow, Mr. Tanner?"
He took his time answering, all the while playing with that straw, looking over her face. Grace was tempted to run to the house, grab her meager stash of coins, throw the pouch at him, and tell him to be on his way just so she could get away from the power in his eyes.
"A hundred dollars. The cow cost a hundred dollars."
Grace's mouth dropped open. That was a fortune! A body would have to work day and night for the rest of her life to get that much money. The hoard of change she had saved over the last several years would barely make a dent.
No wonder her father gave the Tanners a note. What surprised her was that her mother allowed it. They were always hard-pressed for money. No cow was worth that-no matter how sweet the milk. Ma would just trade eggs for milk from someone else's cow. Or did Ma agree, knowing they couldn't pay for the cow and that one of the Tanner men would someday come to collect and Grace would be shoved to them for trade?
No...Ma was tricky all right, but that would have been downright underhanded.
She watched Jake watch her, calmly waiting for her response. What reason would he have to lie?
"I'll tell you what, Grace." He twirled the straw from one side of his mouth to the other. "I know this wasn't exactly what we planned and certainly not what your father and I agreed on, but you want out of here and I need a woman to help out around the ranch. After a year's up and the debt's paid, you can go wherever you want."
Now that raised Grace's hackles. The nerve. He talked about honor, and then offered to shame her with divorce. He probably did lie about the cow, but for the life of her Grace didn't know why. No one could be that hard up for a housekeeper.
Forcing herself to remain the lady her mother claimed her to be, Grace stared Jake straight in the eye. "I've got honor too, Mr. Tanner. You marry me tomorrow, you're marrying me for life."
Smiling, he tapped the straw on the end of her nose. "That's what I'm counting on, Grace." Then, like a cat gleeful over his catch, he shoved the straw back between his teeth.
If there was any doubt before, Grace had none now. For whatever reason, Jake Tanner lied. And it had better be out of desperation.
"I'll see you get your money's worth for the cow." She brushed by him, and looked back over her shoulder. "Whatever that worth might be. And that straw you're gnawing on? I'd swear I saw one of the dogs peeing on it earlier."
Lifting her skirts, Grace continued. To her satisfaction, she heard him spit. Jake caught up with her before she reached the door. She expected anger, but found humor lighting his face. He braced his arms across the door and blocked her exit.
"I lied." A smile danced in his eyes. "The cow cost a thousand dollars."
Stunned, she drew back. Laughter overcame her. Ducking under his arm, she let it carry her back to the house. It had been a long time since she'd laughed this hard. It had been a long time since she'd laughed at all.
Jake watched her disappear back into the darkness. He was in big trouble. Laughter transformed her. Her skin glowed, her eyes sparkled, and his interest stirred to life.
That wouldn't do. She was coming to work, nothing more. Getting involved would only complicate things. He'd already had one love in his life; he sure as hell didn't need another. Especially considering the first one didn't pan out as he'd planned...dreamed. Never again.
Grace would be a wife in name only. A mother to Jeremy. An aunt to A.J.'s children. A housekeeper-nothing more.
Jake shoved the barn door closed. He should have taken whatever money she had and called the debt paid. No one at home would be any wiser. They could have hired another housekeeper to replace Justina. But he didn't take the chance for freedom. Instead, he lied about the cost of the cow and knew that the only way Grace could pay a debt that grand was by coming with him. Funny thing was, he'd swear she knew he was lying.
He saw the spark of amusement in her eyes as she brushed by. Rather than call him out as a liar, she threw banter his way.
Jake should have let her go. But that light that danced in her eyes, that unexpected jest tugged him around. Before he could stop himself, he was blocking her path, throwing another taunt at her. It wouldn't happen again. Her laughter held too much power over him. This time in this marriage, he was going to be the one in control.
His body argued back as he turned down the lantern for the night. The sound of her laughter lingered in the air, haunting the night. If he were smart, he'd saddle up his horse and get the hell out of there.
Jake never claimed to be the smartest man in the world, but there was one thing he could pride himself on-his word. He wasn't going to go back on it now. No matter how much he feared it.
Nope, he was stuck with it...with her. For however long she intended to stay. She was the help, nothing more. As long as he remembered that, he'd be fine.
The sooner they got back to the ranch and away from this smothering, run-down farm he'd have his work and she would have hers. Days could pass without them crossing paths. Weeks. Months. What Laurette complained about in their marriage, Jake could use as an advantage in this one.
Using his saddle as a pillow, he tucked his hands under his head and allowed himself a smile. Yep, this was going to work out real fine. They'd have a housekeeper. The young'uns would have a woman's touch again. Jeremy would have the mother he longed for. And Jake would never have to worry about being hounded by mothers looking to hitch their daughters to him. Grace was dowdy enough to keep other men at bay. And, frankly, his place was better than the life she had here. She might be content for a long time, maybe even forever.
Jake twinged. Forever was a long time. A long time to not touch a wife with a golden laugh.
He jumped up and strode toward the cabin. She had to understand this would lead nowhere.
His foot clipped the bucket she'd knocked over before, sending it skittering across the yard. The door creaked open, backlighting Grace in a wash of antique gold.
"Looks like I'm not the only one with two left feet."
"I need to talk to you."
She shut the door behind her and took one step down. Now she was equal to him, eye to eye. A touch away. Jake was grateful the night was a moonless one. Looking at her this closely...
"You understand this is a business arrangement, don't you? Our marriage will be in name only. Nothing more. There will never be any..." Now how could he say they'd never share a bed? She was an innocent. "No children."
In the pale light that filtered through the window, he saw her tilt her head ever so slightly to one side. "You never want a son to carry on your name?"
"I have a son...Jeremy. I am a widower."
"I see."
Was that a catch in her throat? Another blessing for no moonlight. Seeing tears in her eyes right now would destroy all his good intentions, all his self-preservation.
"So you understand? I wanted to make it clear."
"Yes." She swallowed hard. "I heard Pa tell Ma once that a man has needs. Wouldn't you be having needs?"
Jake scratched the back of his head and studied his boots. "Well...yes, ma'am, I suppose I would."
"You wouldn't shame me by taking those needs elsewhere, would you?"
"No...I wouldn't shame you."
"Well...then...there you have it. That should leave no doubt."
Grace turned away and into the house. Oh, but there had been a trace of doubt and of hope. Especially after the little play of words in the barn. Now there was nothing. What could she expect of a man, a stranger who had only ridden into her life hours before?
Ma looked up from her hemming. "What did he want?"
Grace slipped the wedding dress from her mother's fingers. "Just to make sure I understood this was to be in name only. I think he was giving me the chance to call this off."
Her mother grabbed her wrist. "You didn't take it, did you?"
She snapped free of her hold. "No, Ma. The fish is still on the hook."
"Good." Sighing, she leaned back in her chair. "Things will work out. You'll see."
"I'm sure you're right." Nothing could be more wrong. "You look tired, Ma. I'll finish the dress. You take yourself to bed."
Her mother left without argument. So much sewing to do before morning and what was beginning to feel like a jail sentence. She knew she had no place to complain. Other women had it worse than she.
Grace pulled her head up. Jake Tanner better understand a few things too. She tossed the dress to the table and marched to the barn. He jumped to his feet when she swung open the door.
"I expect respect, kindness, and consideration from you, Jake Tanner. I'll not be treated like the hired help, though hired help I might be."
She left the door swinging and stomped back to the house. Once there, Grace lit a second candle and adjusted the dress on her lap. A single tear dropped onto the satin. Then another. Grace let them fall. One good cry and that was it. Her bed was made and she'd lie in it...alone.
\*
Jake stared at the barn door long after Grace had left. She had fire in her for sure and experience had taught him fire led to passion. It kicked his interest level up another uncomfortable notch. Coupled with the memory of her laughter, Jake was in big trouble.
The dress was still miles too big. It puddled around Grace's feet and threatened to send her tumbling headfirst into who-knew-what. She had enough trouble keeping upright on her own without this added hindrance. At least it covered her worn-out boots.
Grace rubbed the weariness from her eyes. Her mother would be awake soon to start the day. If she thought for a second the dress didn't fit, one or both of them would be back at it, needle in hand. Ma could never admit defeat. If she had to, she'd be sewing on the gown while the preacher spoke the words.
Grace shrugged off the dress and draped it neatly over the chair. Ma couldn't do anything if Grace was gone. And Grace was going to treat herself to a bath at the river. What sense did it make to have on a pretty dress if the person wearing it were filthy? Besides, just because the wedding was rushed and a tad bit unwanted didn't mean she couldn't make the best of the day. A good start to what was truly an unfamiliar and possibly rough road.
Grabbing the bar of lye soap and a threadbare length of toweling, Grace stepped into her day. Pink dawn greeted her. The rooster's crow. Bird songs. And a plaintive mew from one of the cats; the remains of a mouse rested between its paws.
"Good cat."
Grace bent down to scratch it behind the ears. A deep purr was her reward. The action was also the signal for the dogs to come trotting her way looking for breakfast.
"Ma'll feed you in a bit."
Three of them settled down on the porch to wait. The fourth, Lulu, fell into step beside Grace. She was smaller than the rest. Tan and white where the others were black and brown. A breed so mixed no one could venture a guess. But she loved Grace with a devotion only a fool could deny.
"I sure am going to miss you, little girl."
Saying it squeezed Grace's heart. Eyes glowing with adoration, Lulu just looked at her. They strolled toward the river, content in each other's company like it was any other day. Like Grace's life wasn't going to be altered in just a few hours. Her fondest wish had been granted. She was leaving the old homestead. Grace had no idea what lay ahead, and if she thought about the big picture, her heart beat with a fear that threatened to steal her breath. All she could do was put one foot in front of the other just like she was doing on this river road.
Lulu stopped, ears perked, front paw lifted. Grace followed the direction of the dog's point. From the bushes and trees edging the river, she saw a horse's backside. Jake's horse. It had to be. There was no other that size and color in these parts. That meant Jake couldn't be far.
She continued on. Sure enough she caught sight of him through the branches. He was shirtless, staring at the tree trunk. Closer still, she realized he wasn't admiring the bark, but he was shaving.
Who would have thought such a simple gesture would touch her the way it did? He didn't want a wife, he wanted a housekeeper. This marriage wasn't to his liking, yet here he was making himself nice. Just like she was. Maybe this would work out after all. It was that good step forward Grace wanted.
Lulu edged closer, alert to the presence of another. The little dog could be a snarling mass of teeth when she thought Grace was in danger. Of course, Jake wasn't a threat, but Lulu didn't know that. Grace searched the ground for something she could use as a leash. Nothing. Not even a slender twig. She would have to carry her until she was sure Lulu would not be a threat to Jake or the horse. Before Grace could pick her up, Lulu shot off toward the river.
"Lulu, no! Jake, watch out!"
She wadded her dress in her fist, clomped after the dog and dodged potholes as she went. Jake squatted down to the dog's level. Lulu skidded to a stop, backed up, and leaped into his arms. He teetered for balance under an assault of dog kisses.
Grace slowed to a walk. Watching the two romp gave her time to catch her breath. It was hard not to get caught up in their joy. By the time she reached them, she was smiling, too.
"I see you two have already met."
"She introduced herself last night and didn't leave my side until I came down here." Jake set Lulu on her feet, then stood and brushed flecks of grass and leaves from his breeches. "She's a good little dog."
Grace barely heard him. Every thought was focused on his broad bare chest. He looked like he was carved from nature-hard, smooth, deep. A light dusting of hair shadowed the valley between the mesas where his dark nipples rested. It stopped, only to pick up once more around his navel. Grace didn't look beyond that.
Ladies didn't gawk at half-naked men, even if they were about to marry them. But, lordy, he was fine to look at. Her mouth had gone dry, her jaw dropped. She clamped it shut and prayed he wouldn't tease her about it.
Jake plucked his shirt off the branch. It'd been a long time since a woman had looked at him with such...appreciation. No, that wasn't true. Most looked at him like he was penny candy. He was used to it. Single men were hard to come by. What he wasn't used to was his reaction to...to the innocence that came with that look. She...it was real.
Grace wanted nothing from him, didn't put on airs, and wasn't planning to trap him. There wasn't any need-she already had him. But even if she didn't, Grace wouldn't have done those things. It wasn't in her nature to play false. If he'd discovered anything about her this last day, it was that.
There was absolutely nothing predatory in her eyes. She knew nothing of the physical between a man and a woman. They had an agreement, an arrangement. He'd set the rules last night. And now? It was all he could do to button his shirt.
Grace swallowed, trying to wet her mouth and throat. The silence was awkward. Someone had to say something. They couldn't just stand there gawking at each other. "I came down to wash up, too."
"The river's running a little swift today. Going in probably isn't a good idea."
"There's a crook in the river up a bit where the water pools and it's calm. I was going there."
"I still don't like it. One fall and you'd be gone before you know it."
"And we can't have that, now can we? You'd be back where you started. Course, you could take up with my next youngest sister. Mary-Belle is sixteen; seventeen real soon. A little young for you, but she should suit your purposes nicely."
Jake braced his arm against the tree and framed Grace with his body. "Or I could hitch you to a tree and we wouldn't have to worry at all."
Laughing, Grace gave him a playful push. He caught her hand and held it against his chest. Goodness, how he loved her laugh! It did more to tear down his defenses than the look she'd given him minutes before. He was sorely tempted to slip his other hand around her waist and pull her to him. It was Grace who broke the spell, slipping free while he was still too entranced to think straight.
"I don't have much time. The preacher will be here before we know it. If you're going to be tying me to a tree, you'd best be getting to it."
He pushed away. "Go on. I'll be here fishing. Just call out if you get in trouble."
Her eyes sparkled. "And let you see me buck naked? I'd rather drown. Come on, Lulu. Time's a-wasting."
Naked? Just the thought set him quivering like a schoolboy. He watched her disappear through the brush. The dog followed faithfully at her heels and Jake fought the urge to follow. He lost.
Jake told himself it was for her safety. To make sure this pool of water was protected from the river currents. To see that there was no danger from water moccasins. But by the time he parted the bushes not ten feet from where they'd been, he knew he couldn't lie to himself anymore.
Splashing water stopped him. She didn't deserve to be spied on. He glanced at the river. She also didn't deserve to bathe in a muddy river. It was all right for a cowhand, but a lady should never have to resort to that. Grace should have better than this, and Jake would see she got it. But how long would it be before better wasn't good enough?
Jake let the bushes fall into place and returned to his fishing.
\*
Grace called this small pool of water her own private place. Silly, she knew, but here small pebbles kept the mud from clouding the water. It was so clear she could see her toes. Of course, the pebbles didn't make it comfortable for sitting, but that was a minor problem...especially today.
She took her time scrubbing from head to toe, and then stretched out to let the river rinse her. When her eyes started to droop, Grace reluctantly left the water and dressed.
Watching the play of light on the river, she sat in the shade of the tree, braided her hair in a long plait and then pinned it around her head like a halo. Not exactly the look she wanted, but ribbons and curls were frills she just couldn't afford.
"Grace, you about done? The morning's on us," Jake called out.
Yes, she supposed it was time. "I'm coming." She scrambled to her feet and through the bushes.
Jake waited by his horse. For the first time he noticed the redness in her eyes, the dark circles beneath.
"You look like you didn't get a wink of sleep last night."
"I spent it sewing on my dress for today. Not one of my favorite tasks."
Yet she'd spent the night doing just that, trying to make something special out of what they were about to do. It tugged at Jake's heart.
He held his hand out to her. "Come on. I'll give you a leg up."
Grace's gaze drifted over the animal. It was a lot bigger than their mule. She didn't see how she could possibly make it into the saddle.
"I think Lulu and I will walk."
"Nonsense. Cupcake won't hurt you." The name slipped out too easy, yet the light in her eyes chased away regret.
"Your horse's name is Cupcake? I thought he didn't have a name."
"The children named him because of his sweet disposition."
Laughing lightly, Grace ran her fingers down the horse's neck. "Cupcake...perfect."
"And up you go."
Without warning, Jake wrapped his fingers around her waist and hoisted her up. Grace had no choice but to grab hold of the saddle horn and sit down. It still felt like she was on top of the world and ready to fall.
Shaking, she eased her leg over the side. Astride felt better. Unfortunately, it also hiked up her skirts and showed more leg than a lady should. And Jake didn't miss looking, even if it was a quick look.
"I really ought to walk."
"You'll be fine. Just relax."
Relaxing wasn't the problem. It was exposing herself, but Grace couldn't tell Jake that.
He walked to the edge of the river and hauled out a string of catfish. He wrapped them in leaves and tied the string to the rear of the saddle. They'd be eating good tonight!
Jake swung into the saddle behind Grace and took up the reins. "Come on, Lulu. It's time to head home."
With a click of his tongue, they started down the road. It was a tight fit in a saddle made for one. The pistol shoved between them didn't make it any more comfortable.
Grace twisted her head around. "Could you please move your gun? It's poking me in the rear."
"That's not my gun, Gracie."
She shot a glance down to his groin. Her lips formed the word "oh", but she never said it. Instead, she turned around but not before Jake saw her cheeks pinken with embarrassment. No doubt they matched his own.
He was in quite a predicament. Each minute he spent with her Jake discovered more things that made him want her. Her laughter might tear into his defenses, but touching her destroyed him.
Her waist was small. A surprise well hidden by her dowdy dress. A glimpse of her calf made him want to cup his fingers around it, even if it was disguised under a dark stocking. But this-her body pressing into his and rubbing against him with every stride of the horse-this was killing him.
Despite her river bath, Grace smelled fresher than any woman Jake had seen in a long time. No perfumes or oils masked her. No flirtatious scents drowned him. She was real, not phony. So typical of the Grace he was coming to know already.
Her neck tempted him to press his lips against the graceful slope. One tiny earlobe begged to be nibbled. Jake would never be able to hold out. Not with miles of riding between here and his ranch. Hell, he could barely make it from the river to the Marshall cabin.
"Oh dear. Jake, stop."
He pulled the reins and looked up from his lustful wanderings. Buckboards and horses crowded the area around the barn. People swarmed the porch and yard.
"They've come with the preacher to see us marry." Grace twisted around. "They can't see us like this. They'll think...they'll think I was sinful. That we had to get married. And, besides that, my limbs are showing."
The last was said with a whisper, as if it was the most shameful thing she'd ever done. Another pink flush covered her cheeks. How anyone could ever think this woman would sin was beyond him.
"Gracie, it's too late. They've already seen us."
Sure enough, several people pointed their way.
"My limbs! They'll see!" She squirmed in a vain attempt to get down. Her voice was edged with panic.
He wrapped an arm around her waist to keep her still. It only worsened his own predicament, and that was definitely something the neighbors didn't need to see. "Be still or you'll fall and they'll see more than a little leg."
That seemed to do the trick, but worry still twisted her face.
"We'll walk the rest of the way." He swung to the ground, then helped her down. "As for why we were at the river...I'll take care of everything."
Grace had no choice but to take him at his word and hope the neighbors would believe him. They could be a backbiting, gossipy bunch when they wanted. And that went for the men as well as the women. They couldn't think bad of her. They just couldn't. Whatever Jake had to say would have to be golden. Already their heads were bent close in whispered confidences.
Jake hated the people before he met them. Hypocrites. All of them. They'd come to gawk at the man marrying Grace Marshall. To eat whatever food the Marshalls laid out while they talked about their daughter behind her back.
Oh, he was sure there were good neighbors mixed in, but the bad ones soured a person on the lot. And they could be cruel. Hell, a few of the busybodies in his own town still gossiped about him and Laurette. Sometimes she got the bad end of the stick, sometimes he did. But in every case, Jake ignored them.
He could ask Grace why she cared what they thought when she was leaving this place for good in a few hours. But he already knew. Bad talk bothered her-that was all that mattered.
False smiles grew the closer he and Grace got. A few waved to them. Grace waved back. She might want to run the other way, but she held herself high, not once letting her neighbors know how worried she was.
Jake waited until they were almost within their circle, and then lifted his arm. "Welcome! I'm glad you could join us today. Though I really hate to have you see me on the wrong side of my future wife."
He unhooked the string of fish. "I'd forgotten what it's like to be married. Grace let me know real quick. Here I am enjoying the best fishing I've had in years and..." He lifted his palms and shrugged.
Laughter rippled through the group, but it was Grace's shy smile that signaled success. As he launched into a tall tale of how they met, she ducked into the cabin and left him to the backslapping sympathy of the other men.
\*
Grace felt like dancing. High on her toes. Whirling around and around until she fell down dizzy. Jake was willing to make himself the brunt of jest. To let the others believe him henpecked to save her reputation.
She plucked the wedding dress from the hook, clutched it close, and spun around the floor. It was a wonderful start to the rest of their lives together.
"Finally, a little joy," her mother said as she squeezed through the front door. "See? I told you all would be well."
Yes, it would be.
"Come...let's get you dressed. The preacher's here and everyone's waiting."
Now Grace regretted that she hadn't taken more care altering the dress. She wanted to look nice-beautiful, if that were possible.
Ma clucked her tongue as she tucked and poked, and then got up needle and thread to make a few adjustments of her own. "We've got a little time. Nothing's going to happen without you."
True enough, but all the last minute nips and tucks in the world weren't going to salvage how the dress looked on Grace. She might just as well be wearing a flour sack.
Mary-Belle's girlish titter reached them before she bounced into the cabin. The last thing Grace needed was her chatter. She was nervous enough as it was. Nevertheless, Mary-Belle plopped into the chair beside them.
"You'll never guess. Not in a hundred years." She clapped her hands. "So I'll tell you. Mr. Tanner just bought you a wedding present." Mary-Belle squealed again.
Ma stopped in mid-stitch, then decided to ignore her and go on.
"What are you talking about?" It was a mistake to get Mary-Belle talking, but Grace had to know.
"Well," she scooted to the edge of the chair, "Old Man Mooney took a shine to that string of fish, so your Mr. Tanner offered to trade fish plus two dollars for Mooney's horse. Mooney didn't think that was near enough, but Mr. Tanner said it was all he had. Then Mooney said, 'A horse ain't no good without a saddle.' So Mr. Tanner threw in that big knife he carries."
It was a practical decision. They couldn't very well travel two days on one horse. It just wasn't good for the horse, riding double all that way. Not to mention how uncomfortable they would be. Jake probably didn't take kindly to her sitting on him the whole time. Although, Grace rather liked being nestled in his arms.
She'd never been that close to a man before. Never much paid any attention to a man down there. Baby making wasn't a mystery-not in a cabin where her parents' bed was spitting distance from her own. Now she found herself wondering how a man could get along with his tallywhacker hard like that all the time. If Mary-Belle hadn't been there, she might just ask Ma about this.
Grace looked from her sister to her mother. What did it matter? Mary-Belle was sixteen. She might want the answer, too.
"Ma, I have a question." She got the words out quick before her courage failed her.
This time not only did her mother stop in mid-stitch, she quit altogether, biting the thread and putting the needle back in the pin cushion before she bothered to look up. A crimson flush covered her from neck up.
Mary-Belle leaned forward, her eyes wide while she waited for the answer. Grace couldn't blame her-her mother took overly long.
"A man doesn't go around like that all the time." She cleared her throat. "Only when he's wanting to bed his woman."
Grace fumbled for the chair behind her. Heat flushed her body. Jake wanted her! It couldn't be. He was pretty firm last night what his intentions were.
Yet there was the ride from the river. And the way he gave himself up to protect her. Now he was buying her a horse? She reminded herself again that the horse was driven by common sense, but her heart burst with joy anyway.
"Come on...time's a-wasting." Her mother shoved a small bouquet of wildflowers in her hands. "Your brothers and sisters picked these this morning."
Held together by a piece of string, the flowers gave Grace something to hold onto so her hands wouldn't shake so. Now, not only did she have this wedding to get through, but just thinking about the night to come gave her a case of jitters.
She picked at the dress. Her mother's last minute fixes didn't help. It still hung on her, but at least she wouldn't trip over the hem. And it was the prettiest dress she'd ever worn. If only she had a mirror to see how she looked.
Mary-Belle swung the door wide. Sunlight shot a path to Grace's feet, and guided her to her future. She stepped into it and froze.
The gown wasn't white! It was yellow! A dingy, nasty yellow. And now, because the hem was shorter, her worn-out boots showed. She wasn't pretty. She was an ugly girl wearing a faded wedding dress that didn't fit. How could she stand by Jake's side looking like this?
She gathered her skirt in one hand and with it her nerve. It was too late to do anything more than that.
The neighbors lined up in neat little rows before the preacher and Jake. Grace forced each foot in front of her, ashamed of how she looked, embarrassed by what they must be thinking. Two women glanced at her feet and tucked their heads together. More gossip.
Grace couldn't bear to look at Jake, to see the disgust in his eyes. She just kept moving along that line until she saw the tips of the preacher's polished black boots.
Jake caught her hand, drew it through his arm and pulled her into place beside him. Her shaking had only grown worse. She couldn't bear to look in his eyes...until he covered her hand with his own. Forcing her gaze upward, Grace saw his smile.
"You look real nice, Grace." His voice was raised just enough so that no one should have any trouble hearing him.
If she never cared a fig about him, Grace loved him for the lie now. She'd remember this moment, this day for the rest of her life.
The preacher began. Grace listened to the drone of his voice, words of honor and commitment. Was Jake thinking of the last time he stood before a preacher? Had that marriage been born of love or necessity? A thousand questions ran through her head.
"Kiss the bride."
Grace jerked back to reality. The deed was done. But...kiss her? She'd never been kissed in her life.
Jake took her shoulders and turned her his way. He looked at her for the longest time, so long she was ready to tell him he didn't have to do it. In fact, she wasn't sure she wanted her first kiss to be in front of everyone she'd ever known.
Then his arm slid around her waist and pulled her upward as he bent down. Grace braced her hands on his chest. Then his lips touched hers and the world as she knew it slipped away.
His mouth was soft, hot. His kiss insistent. A flick of his tongue brushed against her lips and begged for entry. A second lap parted them and he slipped inside. Butterflies tickled her stomach as he danced his tongue around hers. Thinking, breathing was impossible.
Clapping broke the spell and pulled them apart. Grace held on to his shoulders while she recovered her senses. If a kiss had this much power, what must joining with a man be like?
No wonder her parents had so many children. Ma knew full and well when her fertile time was and obviously did little to prevent it. How could she refuse if it was as wondrous as this kiss had been?
Jake finally released her waist. Their guests were ready to celebrate. Sawhorses and wooden planks served as makeshift tables. Each woman retrieved her basket of food from their wagons and buckboards and started setting up the early dinner.
Grace should help. After all, this was for her. But she and Jake seemed to have been forgotten. Actually, only her. Jake and the preacher were in the middle of a good conversation about the going price for cattle in Dodge City.
Then she spied Old Man Mooney lounging in the shade near the porch, and Grace knew exactly what she wanted to do. Excusing herself, she hurried over before someone else could take up his time.
Jake watched Grace walk away. The preacher's story droned in his ears. He smiled and nodded, and the man kept on. Good. It gave Jake time to think and collect what little of his senses he had left.
It was one thing to ease her worries by telling Grace she looked nice. But to kiss her? The neighbors only needed so much convincing, kissing wasn't necessary. It didn't matter that his lips barely touched hers or that contact lasted for less than one tick in time. It mattered that he wanted to crush her body to his. That he was driven to part her lips and slip his tongue around hers. That he craved to peel that hideous looking dress from her body and...
The preacher laughed. Jake joined him. It was something to take his mind off his bride. But not enough.
Nothing was working out the way he planned. Jake was getting in deeper and deeper. Each second he was around Grace, his defenses fell a little more. And they still had two days riding ahead of them. Two days and one very long night.
She disappeared into the house, and had that little dog hot on her heels. Jake was getting to be just as bad.
He watched the mounds of food grow on the tables. They were settling in for a long celebration. And all Jake wanted to do was be as far from this place as possible. None of them looked like they cared. Several had already started eating. That made it pretty clear what they'd come for.
Grace was outside again, this time back in her serviceable day dress. It might be gray and dowdy, but sure looked a heck of a lot better than that nasty yellowed wedding dress.
Jake hailed her with a lift of his arm. "Sorry, Grace. I hadn't planned on a celebration. We need to get on the road. We're expected back at the ranch."
She gave him a single nod. No hesitation. Not so much as a glance to those who had come to see them wed. Who could blame her? There wasn't much to keep her here-just a little dog who adored her.
He took his time getting the horses ready. No one offered to lend a hand nor did they move to pack a little something for Jake and Grace's trip. They just sat around the plank tables and shoveled food into their faces.
Not that it mattered. He and Grace had enough grub to last the trip home. Jake always packed more food than he needed. A man could never tell what would happen on the trail. He doubted any ever came home with a wife.
As for the sleeping arrangements-he was glad there were two beds in the layover cabin. Sharing one was not an option. The last thing he needed was to be close to her in the night where his body would take over for his common sense. The stars might keep his secret, but he doubted the sun would. In the light of day, it would be bright, hot, and yellow, burning a hole through his conscience.
Jake patted the new horse's neck. It was smaller than his mount. Older too. But definitely sturdy and lady broke. Grace should have no trouble handling it.
He went to the barn for one last check. When he returned to the horses, Grace was there. Her soft words lifted on the air while she hesitantly ran her hand over her horse's coat. Jake couldn't tell if she was trying to calm herself or the animal. Since the animal was pretty mellow to start up, it had to be herself.
"You have ridden before, haven't you? Alone, I mean."
Her gaze glided his way, but she never broke contact with the horse. "Oh, yes. Pa's plow horse and our mule. But neither was near as fine as this. I've never seen a coat as glossy."
The praise puffed up Jake's chest more than he cared for it to. What did it matter what she thought of the beast?
"Yeah...well, she's for you," he said, more abruptly than he'd intended. But if it put distance between them, that's all that counted.
"She's wonderful." Grace pulled something from the small bundle of clothing under her arm. "And this is for you."
Jake glanced down, speechless. His knife and scabbard. She'd bought them back from Mooney. Probably took every cent she'd saved. Her selflessness and the emotion it wrought tugged at his feelings. This was worse than his body demanding satisfaction. This involved his heart, and that just wouldn't do.
"Thank you, Grace. That was real thoughtful." He slipped the knife from her fingers and slid it onto his belt. "We'd best be going. Get your things."
She raised her bundle. "This is all I've got. Ma's getting a small basket of cuttings from the herb garden to start my own once we get to your place. Unless you already have one."
Jake didn't have a clue what the women did. There was a small orchard and the vegetable garden, but herbs? "I don't know. I don't get involved in women's work. You do whatever you want."
He expected her smile to fade with his ugly tone. Instead, it grew.
"Whatever I want?"
"Yeah." He motioned to the horse. "We've got to go. Day's wasting. I'll give you a leg up."
"No need." She grabbed the saddle horn and swung herself up. "She's low enough for me."
Jake opened his mouth to remind her of her precious limbs showing, then clamped it shut. She was wearing breeches under her dress.
Grace laughed lightly. "They're Pa's. Ma gave them to me. We didn't want my-"
"Yes, I know." And he didn't want to get into that discussion again. Hell, the way they went on about it you'd think she was buck-ass naked.
Her mother hurried over, carrying not one, but two baskets-neither of which were small. A doubled piece of rope linked them at the handles. Without so much as a blink to either of them, she draped the contraption over Grace's horse like saddlebags.
"One's got everything you need to start a nice size garden, plus a few extra things. The second one's filled with vittles for the trip."
That was it. No fond embraces. No teary eyes. Grace's mother squeezed her knee then stepped away. Her father lounged in the shade of the barn. Their guests finally paused long enough to notice they were leaving. The preacher rushed over to say good-bye. No one else bothered to move from his or her seat.
Jake shook his head and swung onto his horse. Two of Grace's sisters watched from the porch. One he knew as Mary-Belle. The other one's name escaped him. Neither looked happy, but Jake didn't know if it was Grace's departure that saddened them, or the fact that they were stuck here.
Lulu darted toward them and did a little jig. Finally, someone truly sorry to see Grace go. The dog reared back and jumped. Then jumped again. And again. She wanted to go. Jake didn't blame her.
He glanced to Grace. Unshed tears shimmered in her eyes, but she wouldn't ask. She didn't have to. What did the weight of one faithful companion matter?
Jake got down. Grace's father reached Lulu first. Before Jake could grab her, the man kicked the dog out of the way. Lulu yelped. Her little body rolled and skittered in the dirt and shot up a small cloud of dust. She scrambled to her feet and stared mournfully at Jake and Grace while she cried. Limping, she edged toward them. Grace's father blocked her path, foot reared back for another blow.
Grabbing a fistful of the man's sleeve, Jake yanked him to a halt. "I'd expect no less from a man who trades his daughter for a cow," he said through clenched teeth.
Jake scooped up the whimpering dog and put her in one of Grace's baskets. By chance he saw the look in Grace's eyes. Not gratitude-pain. He'd misspoken and there wasn't a soul who hadn't heard him. The shame and embarrassment Grace had wanted to avoid was upon her and would linger long after she left in the form of gossip.
Jake wanted distance from her. His words achieved that. He hated himself for it even while he told himself it was better this way. And no matter how badly he wanted to take them back, he let them stay. It was his shield for that long, dark night on the trail.
Grace stared at the back of her horse's head, not at the man who rode the trail before her. In one fell swoop he'd wiped out all the good deeds he'd done before. She was a servant, nothing more. Worse-a slave. Paid for by the cost of a cow. And now everyone in Sleepy Eye knew it.
Gone were the illusions that he had traveled from afar seeking her hand. Tossed to the wind were any notions that theirs was a love match.
"It makes sense," they would say. "Look how plain she is. How clumsy. Now, if it were Mary-Belle..."
She would be fodder for the gossips for years to come. All because the Marshalls couldn't pay their debts proper. She was worth nothing more than a milk cow.
It crushed Grace's heart. But she refused to cry about it even if she wanted to. She could have said no to this whole arrangement. Her own selfishness had got her into this mess. Wanting better than what she had. Coveting. That's what it was. If she wanted to be angry with someone, she'd best start with herself.
Fine. She'd readily admit her mistake. They made a perfect couple-he marrying for a housekeeper, her marrying for money. A real trade-off. Grace guessed they deserved what they got.
But there was one thing she was certain of. He might think of her as a hired hand, but he'd stood up before the preacher just like she had. And Grace would be hanged if she let him treat her like she was one of the help. They were going to be equals whether he liked it or not... Starting right now.
She nudged her horse forward until they were side by side on the trail. Jake looked at her from the corner of his eye, but said nothing. That was fine with Grace. There wasn't anything to say. What was done, was done.
Jake stole another peek at Grace. What was she up to? That damned gray bonnet hid most of her face. He couldn't tell if she was hurt or angry. He'd bet both and held his breath waiting for her to light into him-which he rightly deserved. But the silence grew with each mile they put behind them. So did his tension.
He'd never known a woman to be quiet for so long. They were always chattering about something. Not Grace. She hadn't uttered a word, much less a sound. He knew his thoughtless words cut deep, but there wasn't so much as a sniffle or a tear. In that respect she truly earned her name.
All Jake wanted to do was shake her until he got some kind of reaction from her. The quiet was killing him, feeding his guilt. But he'd be damned if he was going to be the one to break it. She had to talk sometime.
She didn't. Not even when she had to stop to relieve herself. Ignoring him, Grace reined in her horse, put Lulu on the ground, and ducked behind a tree.
Jake waited. Nothing. Grace returned to the horse and tethered it to the tree. Then she retrieved the food basket. Under the shade of a second tree, she shook out a faded yellow-checked cloth and set out the food.
There was no invitation to join her. It was like he didn't exist. Unimportant. Insignificant. Unworthy of sharing the air she...
"It's mid-afternoon, Jake. I know you're anxious to get home, but you need a bite. Far as I know you had no breakfast and we've been riding steady all day. Now come on. The quicker we eat, the sooner we can be on our way."
She took him by surprise. Opening the door between them when he least expected it. Jake wasn't sure it was any better than the silence. Still, he tied his horse next to the other one and joined her.
Grace offered him a breast of fried chicken and a slab of cornbread. She shared her own meal with Lulu. It was no wonder Grace was thin as she was. All she did was pick at her food.
"You should have let me know you needed to stop." He broke off a crumbly piece of the bread and popped it in his mouth.
Grace kept her focus on the dog as she fed her a morsel of chicken. "There are things a lady likes to keep private even from her husband, whether he be a real husband or a pretend husband."
There it was, that back slice he'd been waiting for. Jake had to give her credit for wielding it when his guard was down. The edge found the crack in his emotions and pried them open.
Now what? He had the distance between them he thought he wanted. It was worse than the craving that built when he was near her, and that was bad.
"I didn't like the way your father was treating the dog. I only wanted to put him in his place."
"Well...you succeeded. The neighbors will be chewing on that one for a long time."
"I didn't mean for them to hear."
Her gaze clicked up to his. "Then maybe you shouldn't have raised your voice."
"When I see someone abusing a dumb animal, I usually don't stop to use my supper table manners."
Grace looked down at the dog. "Hear that, Lulu? He considers you dumb. You are as unworthy as me."
"Don't twist my words." Jake slammed the cornbread to the cloth. It exploded into a thousand crumbs. "Don't ever twist my words."
Lulu zipped in to take advantage of the situation. Jake let her; his stomach had soured. Grace never budged, which irritated him all the more.
He crawled to her, using her skirts to pin her legs in place. Still she didn't move, didn't bother to show any fear or concern that he trapped her. Not even when he shoved his face within inches of hers.
"Who cares that those busybodies think I married you in trade for a cow. It'll be a coon's age before either of us sees them again. What was I supposed to do, Grace? Let him continue to beat a little dog just because she loves you enough to want to be with you? I could never live with myself if I let that happen. Could you?"
"You mean that adorable dog who just took off with your chicken? Those bones could choke her, you know."
"Lulu, no!" He scrambled to his feet, scattering what was left of their meal.
Grace sank against the tree trunk. That was better. She could finally breathe. But that was all she could do. Her head still swam from Jake's nearness while the rest of her body simply quivered.
It was impossible to stay mad at him, especially when everything he said made sense. The neighbors didn't matter. She'd never had much use for them anyway. Now that she was gone, they could talk a blue streak about her. Why should Grace care? And if it saved someone else from their venom, more the better.
As for her father...he did have a mean streak in him when it came to animals. He always took his frustration and anger out on those poor creatures unable to defend themselves. Many were the times Grace had stood between him and some animal. She had been more than glad when Jake stepped in on Lulu's behalf. In that second, her heart twanged with the first hint of what might have been love. Jake destroyed that the next second when he opened his mouth.
What was it her mother always said? That men never thought before they spoke. That certainly was true of her father. He was forever putting his foot in it with Ma. But Grace hated to lump Jake in with her father. They were two different men. But then they were still men.
Grace watched Jake cavort with Lulu-drawn into a game of chase that the dog reveled in. She still had the chicken clutched in her teeth. Her lips were drawn back in what had to be a dog-smile, her eyes shone, and her tail never stopped wagging.
And Jake enjoyed the game. Only joy in his face, not anger. Trying to coax Lulu into giving up her prize, he was now on all fours. The dog mimicked his position, belly-crawled to him, and dropped the food into his outstretched hand.
Jake scooped her into his arms. His reward? A flurry of licks to the chin. As he walked back, he tore the chicken apart and fed the tidbits to Lulu.
Grace's eyes misted over. If he was this great with a little dog, what a wonderful father he would make. No...what a wonderful father he was. He already had a son and had made it quite clear he did not intend to beget another. Unless that was more man-talk without thinking.
She blinked to clear her vision. Time would tell.
He flopped down on the cloth across from her. Lulu parked herself in his lap and eagerly chomped each bite he offered until there was nothing left.
"And when are you going to eat?"
Jake smiled as he looked up. Before he could answer, the smile faded. He stared off into the distance. Lulu jumped to her feet, a growl deep in her throat. Then Grace heard the steady gait of hooves headed their way.
Easing to his feet, Jake drew his Colt and motioned Grace behind the tree. She didn't waste any time doing so, but still couldn't resist peeking around to see who was coming.
Jake crouched low, taking a position in front of her. Then the rider appeared. A big man, broad of shoulder, towering over the world on a glossy brown horse.
"Hoyt!" Jake shoved the pistol in its holster and raced forward.
The other man tossed off his cowboy hat and let out a whoop. Sunlight set his red hair ablaze. He jumped down and met Jake halfway, crushing him in a backslapping embrace that clearly shocked Jake.
"Boss, I sure am glad to see you."
"Why? What's wrong? I've just been gone a few days."
"Yeah...but..." His gaze fell to Grace when she stepped from behind the tree. He swept his hat from his head once more. "Ma'am."
Jake caught his arm and drew him toward her. "Hoyt, this is my wife. Grace, Hoyt here is one of my best ranch hands. His wife, Justina, has been keeping house for us. They're expecting their first child soon."
She greeted him with a nod, and a red flush mottled his cheeks.
He scuffed the toe of his boot in the grass. "And here I thought all this time you were after a cow. I shoulda known you had a bee in your bonnet."
"I didn't want any kidding from the rest of you," Jake said, giving a nervous chuckle. "Fact is, I've had my hat set on Grace since we met last spring. We've been writing regular and I figured, well...it was about time I spoke up...before some other fella beat me to it."
Grace wondered how long the lie would hold this time.
Hoyt's flush deepened. "Well, I can see where you'd be worried. A purty little gal like her and all."
Now it was Grace's turn to be embarrassed. Never in all her days had anyone ever called her pretty. She wanted to toss her arms around the big man's thick neck and hug him. Instead, she stared at the ground to cover the urge to giggle like her sisters.
Jake clapped Hoyt on the back. "What's this all about?"
Hoyt recovered himself and focused on Jake. "Things have been a mess since you left. We got a fair amount of rain. The river came over the bank. We moved the herd to higher ground, but the lightning was something awful. Spooked the herd. They plum broke through the barbed fence and took off a-running. Took us two full days to round 'em all up. Then A.J. got to worrying that you might have got stuck in the flood. He sent me to find you. Sure am tickled to see you well. You too, Missus." He tipped a nod her way.
"We stopped for a bite. You must be hungry, Mr. Hoyt. Please...help yourself then we'll be on our way," Grace offered.
"Don't mind if I do, ma'am. I rode straight through. Just stopped long enough to rest my horse. And just call me Hoyt."
Grace sensed the man ate with as much gusto as Lulu, but held back because a lady was present. He counted every chew until he thought it was safe to swallow, then sighed and took another bite. His restraint was admirable even if he did look bored, awkward, and more than a little comical. It made him all the more endearing and Grace wouldn't think of hurting his feelings by laughing at him. A day would come soon enough when he would relax and not tiptoe around her. Grace intended to enjoy his consideration while it lasted.
Having Hoyt along certainly livened the day and made the hours on the trail roll away. He and Jake tossed work back and forth, how many calves were in the herd, how much they'd get per head in Kansas. Then the conversation shifted to tales that rolled off Hoyt's tongue so fast Grace barely had time to quit laughing from one before he started another.
Jake tried to focus on the trail and not on the sweet sound of Grace's laughter. It was nigh on to impossible. Each note lit a spark deep inside. Watching her, he realized that it wasn't just beauty that changed with her laughter, it was everything about her. Her whole person shifted. Light glowed around her. And he wanted to be a part of it.
He couldn't remember the last time he'd been with a woman. He squelched his needs by throwing himself into his work. Not that he couldn't find a woman. There were plenty around who made their interest known. After Laurette, Jake had indulged himself, bedding one after the other, seeking to fulfill only his needs. Soon each encounter left him more hollow inside. Without the emotions, the tenderness, or even the reactions of his partner, all it became was release. Jake wanted more, wanted some kind of involvement on the woman's part. It didn't exist with saloon girls. He refused to accept the flirtations of married women, and maidens wanted more than he was willing to give.
But now he was suddenly, unexpectedly married. For all his talk of this being in name only, the prospect of a physical relationship did have its appeal.
"Looks like a storm a-brewing," Hoyt said.
Jake looked up from his rambling thoughts. Dark clouds piled around them. Now that the storm had his attention, a bank of clouds crept forward, hid the sun, then slowly edged toward the riders. There were five more miles to cover before they reached the layover shack at the edge of Jake's property. He doubted they'd make it before the clouds reached them. All he could do was hope the rain held until they were safe behind doors.
A cool breeze, gentle at first, stirred the trees. But gentle soon turned to blustery. In the space of a few minutes it was downright cold.
Grace fumbled with her bundle and pulled out an old wool coat. Lulu curled deeper into the basket. Hoyt just shivered. Jake doubted he'd thought to bring much with him as big a hurry as he was in. As for Jake, he'd bear it. Warmer clothing was tucked in his bedroll and he didn't want to lose time pulling it out.
The first drops struck as the shack and its small barn came into view. Shelter was a mile away. It might as well have been ten.
Hoyt urged his horse into a gallop. Jake followed suit, motioning Grace to come on. But her mount refused to do more than trot.
He doubled back. Nothing Grace did had an effect on the stubborn animal. He'd seen mules that were easier to cajole. Thunder, lightning, drenching rain, even a sharp whack to the rear couldn't spur it on. They were going at the horse's pace whether they liked it or not. By the time they reached the shack, everything was soaked.
Hoyt waited in the doorway. "I got a fire going in the stove." He grabbed Lulu and the baskets and ducked inside.
Jake didn't give Grace a chance to get down-he pulled her off the saddle himself. "Get inside and warm up."
"What about you?" Her chin quivered with every word.
"I've got to tend to the horses." He shoved her bundle into her arms and gave her a gentle push toward the door.
Grace had never been so cold in her life. She stood just inside the little house while a puddle of water formed at her feet. Every stitch of clothing was soaked, even what she had in her bundle.
A small wood cook stove on the opposite side of the single square room glowed with warmth through its grate. Grace couldn't feel it and wondered if she ever would. She stripped off the breeches and hung them on the peg in the wall, then did the same with her coat.
Rubbing her hands together, she hurried toward the stove. A shivering Lulu was curled in a tight ball beside it. She never budged when Grace joined her. Grace could appreciate that. Once the first rays of heat pierced her wet clothes, Grace didn't want to move either.
A blast of cold air when the men rushed in stole what little warmth she was able to generate. But at least they were in for the night and safe.
Boots and bedrolls hit the floor with a thud. Then the men scurried for the heat while the howling wind slammed rain against the shack. Grace prayed the walls held.
She gave her back to the heat and looked around. Pegs dotted the walls. Grace liked that. It was space put to good use.
A narrow plank table with two ladder-back chairs was shoved against the wall. Plank shelves lined the wall above that for stores and kitchenware. It looked fully stocked. If the weather didn't clear, they'd need it. Whoever owned the place was obviously prepared. He might not appreciate strangers coming onto his property.
The only other things in the cabin were two beds. The mattresses were rolled up and stored at the foot of each. Bedding was tucked inside. Two beds. Three people, and two of them were married. Grace wouldn't think about that now. One thing at a time.
She rubbed her upper arms. "What if the owner comes in? I doubt he'll much like us taking over his place."
Hoyt chuckled through his shivering and motioned to Jake. "Owner's standing right there. I don't think he minds."
This was Jake's place? She let her gaze wander once more. It was no bigger than her family's house. Where were the children? The other brother?
Hoyt edged closer to the stove. "It sits on the edge of the ranch. We use it when we're out on the range and bad weather hits. Sure comes in handy."
It sure did. Grace would have hated to spend the night in this storm. They'd likely have frozen nearly to death. But the edge of Jake's property? They still had a day's ride left. Just how big was his place? Ma was right. He was rich.
"I'll get supper out soon as I warm up." She wished someone would have argued the point. All she really wanted to do was crawl under a blanket and go to sleep. Then she felt selfish when Jake grabbed a kettle and ran outside to fill it with rainwater.
Grace set aside a portion for drinking and washing. The rest she put to boil, expecting to use it for coffee or tea. Then Jake produced carrots, snap peas, wild onions, and tiny potatoes. Grace cut them into bite-size pieces along with what remained of the chicken. Searching further, she found flour for dumplings. Perfect for a cold, rainy night.
Jake sat with Hoyt and tried to stay out of Grace's way, yet still get some of the heat from the stove. She was resourceful, that's for sure. What he saw as a couple of vegetables to boil with cold chicken, she turned into chicken and dumpling stew.
He watched her work and tried to concentrate on her efforts and not the way her wet dress clung to curves previously unnoticed. It wasn't easy. In fact, it was nigh on to impossible. It made a man want to reach out and draw her against him just to see how well she'd fit.
Jake didn't know whether to bless Hoyt's presence or curse it. Having him along certainly eased the tension between them, but there was still the night to come. Hoyt would expect them to bed together. The very notion held more appeal than Jake was ready to admit. Looking at her trim little body with breasts and hips molded for a man's hands didn't help.
A losing battle, that's what it was. She was his wife. He had a right to make love to her if that's what he wanted. And it had been ever so long since he'd buried himself in a woman's softness.
Jake's body awakened to the idea. He'd make it pleasurable for Grace, too. As for Hoyt, once the man fell asleep, not much could wake him. Convincing Grace might be a different matter, especially since he was the one who set the rules for their marriage last night.
But who would've thought skinny little Grace could be so curvy? So damned pretty when she smiled? So handy when it came to survival?
Grace dished out the first serving. "I don't know about you two, but I'm still soaked to the skin. So, if you don't mind, I'm having my dinner right here where it's warm."
She passed the tin plate to Jake. He was hungry before, but the smell made his mouth water. And the first bite? Heaven. The dumplings melted in his mouth.
"Sorry there's no bread for sopping."
"Gracie, I'd be willing to bet that a king never ate as good as us right now." Jake stabbed his fork into another dumpling.
Hoyt gave a healthy nod and kept on eating.
Grace smiled and sat down with her own meal. While the day darkened to night, they ate huddled around the stove, Lulu expectantly at their feet. By the glow of the stove, they polished off the contents of the pot.
Hoyt cocked his chair back on two legs and patted his belly. "Ma'am, I can't remember when I ate so good. But don't be telling my wife that. She'd skin me alive."
The image made Jake laugh. Justina barely came up to her husband's chest. He clapped him on the shoulder. "Help me rig up a couple of lines. Everything we have is soaked. We can hang it overnight to dry."
Grace set the dishes and cookware outside to wash in the pounding rain. Lulu dashed out, squatted, and then shot back to the stove. Grace eyed the outhouse. She'd finally gotten warm, but she was also ready to burst. Hiking her skirts to her knees, she made her own dash for relief. By the time Grace got back to the shack, she was soaked and shivering once more.
In her absence the men had strung two lines of rope between the beds. Clothing and the bedrolls draped along in a makeshift wall to dry-Grace's included. She squirmed at the idea that one of them had handled her things, her unmentionables.
Jake caught her fingers and tugged her behind the line. "You're cold again. Strip down and get under the covers. I'll stoke the fire."
Then he ducked out, leaving her to the privacy the hanging clothes created.
Grace eyed the bed, all fluffy-looking and inviting. All made up and just waiting for someone to snuggle in. Strip down. She'd never slept naked in her life. It wasn't like she had a choice tonight. Everything she owned was wet.
Piece by piece she peeled her clothes away and draped them over the already crowded line. Then she crawled under the covers. Pure bliss. Comfort turned to panic when Jake rounded the end of the line. Grace hugged the blanket to her chin and tucked it tight against her back. He was undressing! He was coming to bed with her!
She knew something like this would happen as soon as she saw there were only two beds. With Hoyt there they had an appearance to keep. But just how far did Jake intend to go?
There was only his silhouette against the faint glow of the stove. His movements to show he was adding his clothes to the others on the line. Then he turned toward the bed.
Grace scooted to the far edge until she hit wall. Cold air drifted in as he lifted the covers. The narrow mattress sagged with his weight and there they were-naked in bed together.
"It's all right," he whispered. "Come close and we'll both get warm." He slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her against him.
Everything about him was hard. Grace lay tucked into his body, marveling at how well they fit together. Within seconds the warmth they generated surrounded her. It was comfortable. She burrowed into her pillow. Sleeping with her sisters was nothing like this. And to think she feared him joining her.
Jake inhaled the scent of her-sweet, fresh-and ached to bury himself into her softness. Who would have thought a minute could last an eternity? He counted each one that passed while he waited for the telltale snore that came with Hoyt's sleeping. By the time it came Hoyt wasn't the only one asleep-so was his bride.
He was sorely tempted to wake her, but quickly dismissed that idea. He might be so rock hard he ached with every throbbing pulse, but Jake wanted her willing, not angry. There was always tomorrow night. In the privacy of their bedroom. With no one to interrupt or disturb them. He dropped a kiss to her shoulder and closed his eyes.
Tomorrow.
Sleep wasn't as easy to accomplish as Jake hoped. He was too aware of the woman next to him. Of how perfect she fit against him. How much he ached to be with her.
He lay there through the night, tried not to toss and turn, and wondered if he'd ever be flaccid again. By dawn he was up, dressed, and ready for the road. Any good mood that might have existed was soured by lack of sleep and a desire so needful Jake thought he would burst.
"Come on, you two. The sun's up and getting higher every second we waste."
For added emphasis, Jake clapped his hands. The sharp crack bolted Grace upright, clutching the bedcovers to her chest. Her hair tumbled about her bare shoulders, adding sweet temptation to the list of Jake's ills. What little restraint he had left was fading fast.
Confusion clouded Grace's face. Still half asleep, she shot her gaze around the area, trying to orient herself. Puzzlement faded as she woke more fully. "I'll have breakfast ready in a bit."
Jake tossed her clothes to the bed. "Forget that. We'll eat on the road. I don't want to waste any time." His bootsteps thudded against the wood floor. "Come on, Hoyt. We've got horses to tend to."
Jake waited until the big man rolled out of bed, then swung open the door, and with Lulu hot on his heels, headed to the stable.
Grace rubbed the sleep from her eyes and listened while Hoyt dressed. He moved at a normal pace, neither dawdling nor rushing. It gave Grace time to wake up and collect her wits. She couldn't recall a time when she'd slept as hard or as comfortably.
Memory of her bare body pressed into Jake's the night before heated her cheeks. Another thought occurred to her. She waited until Hoyt shuffled from the cabin, and then tossed back the sheets to check.
She was still a maiden. Jake had kept his word. Grace didn't know whether to be insulted or relieved.
The door swung open. "We haven't got all day, Grace. Hurry up." Then she was alone once more.
"Goodness, he's in a grumpy mood."
Something that did not improve as the day wore on. That, coupled with a nasty, sticky heat, made for a miserable ride. Grace gave up on conversation. Jake didn't try. And Hoyt? Grace supposed he could make himself happy wherever he went. His chatter and occasional attempt at song went on with or without anyone else's participation.
Jake pushed hard, rushing them through a midday meal. Grace couldn't blame him. Home was just ahead. She'd probably be anxious to reach it too if it were hers.
She laughed at herself, but wasn't amused. It was her home. There was nothing left behind her.
Her first glimpse of Jake's ranch took her unaware. It was barely a dot in a valley nestled against the backdrop of rolling hills. Of course, dusk didn't make it any easier to pick the place out.
She might not have noticed it at all if not for the gigantic oak tree sitting all alone in the field behind the house. It stood out on the blanket of green grass that covered the land.
Posts stuck at intervals in the ground hinted of a fence. Closer still, Grace saw there was a fence-one made of barbed wire. It stretched as far as the eye could see.
"Where are all the cows?"
"Cattle are out on the range, ma'am." It was Hoyt who replied. "In a couple of weeks we'll have 'em all rounded up and tucked away over there."
He pointed toward the ranch. Grace could only presume he meant they'd be within the fence. There was really no other place for them. Thankfully, the area was downwind from the house, but she imagined the smell still got a little ripe.
As distance closed between them and their destination, Grace wondered how she could have missed the ranch in the first place. It was three buildings in all. The barn and two houses! Thin trickles of smoke drifted from the stovepipe in one. The other showed no signs of activity.
"Looks like chow's on." Hoyt tipped his hat Grace's way. "It won't hold a candle to your cooking though, ma'am. Much as I love her, Justina's cooking ain't the best. If it weren't for Cookie's trail cooking, I'd starve." He tossed back a hearty chuckle and left the rest to Grace's imagination.
She dared a peek at Jake. He stared ahead, offering nothing further to the conversation. "Which house is yours and which belongs to your folks?"
A half smile lifted one corner of his mouth. "My parents and sister's family live in Virginia. A.J., Emma, and I came out here about ten years ago to raise cattle. The second house you see is the bunkhouse. Everyone's out with the herd. Built this place up from nothing. Although from the look of things right now, there are a few who'd say we'll have nothing again real soon."
They were almost to the ranch. Even the dim light couldn't hide the true condition of the buildings. The barn looked like it was held together with luck more than nails. What paint remained on the house and bunkhouse clung to the wood in chips so small a breeze blew them away.
"Our buckboard's gone," Hoyt said. "Looks like Justina already took herself home. "Guess I'll be heading there myself." Hoyt steered his horse away from them. "Jake, I'll meet up with you on the east range tomorrow morning...Ma'am." He flicked the brim of his hat and rode off.
A second later, the front door to the house burst open. "Pa!"
A small boy leaped from the porch and raced for them. Jake smiled-the first genuine one Grace had seen all day-and swung from his horse in time to scoop the boy into a bear hug. Giggles filled the air. It was hard not to get caught up in their joy. Even Lulu's tail was going full force as she quivered for someone to notice her.
Then Jeremy saw Grace. His pale blue eyes grew to the size of small saucers.
Jake set the boy on his feet. "I've got someone for you to meet." But when Jake reached for Grace, Lulu jumped into his arms.
Chuckling, Jake put the dog next to Jeremy. "This is Lulu. And this..." He girdled his hands around Grace's waist and swung her from the saddle. "This is your new Ma."
His eyes widened, round and big. A smile followed-one Grace swore spread from ear to ear. Then he hurled himself against her and wrapped his arms around her as best he could.
"It worked! It worked! The wishing tree worked!"
Jake gave him an indulgent smile. "Now, son-"
"It's true." He burrowed deeper into Grace's skirt. "I went to the wishing tree and asked for a ma and here she is."
There was no arguing with him. At least Jake was smart enough not to spoil a child's dreams.
He squatted down to the boy's level. "Now take her and Lulu inside to meet the rest of the family."
Jeremy didn't waste a second doing just that. With his small hand tucked into hers, he tugged Grace into the house.
She got a glimpse of a settee, two chairs, tables, and lacy curtains-an honest-to-gosh sitting room. Small, cozy, a woman's room. Grace wanted to ease into the nearest chair and feel the peace. Jeremy had another goal-the room beyond where all was awash with light.
If hard pressed, Grace couldn't say what struck her first-the size of the kitchen, the pump right at the sink, the huge polished table, the people who sat there, or how quiet it was at a dinner table with four children and one adult.
The man was obviously Jake's brother. But if Grace had passed the man on the street, she doubted she would have matched the two despite their resemblance. A.J.'s hair was lighter, his build smaller-in fact, his flannel shirt fit like a bag. And where Jake's sky-blue eyes sparked with life, A.J.'s held no emotion whatsoever.
"This is my new ma!" Jeremy grabbed a chair with both hands and pulled it out for her. "I'll fetch you some supper."
The children's eyes widened. Jaws dropped. Any interest they had in their food was forgotten.
"Where's Jake?" A.J.'s tone was demanding. The set of his mouth tight.
Grace tried to shrug it off. She had expected surprise at a new and sudden addition to the family...but anger? "He's tending to the horses. I suspect he'll be in soon.
"You Marshall's daughter?" A.J. snapped.
Her lips tightened, but she held her tongue. "Yes. I'm Grace."
He snorted and shook his head.
Jeremy slid a tin plate in front of her-red beans swimming in some kind of white sauce.
Grace's stomach turned. Maybe it tasted better than it looked. Forcing a smile, she picked up the fork and stabbed at a bean. It popped from the plate and hit the floor. Lulu dashed for it, then spit it out and backed away.
That wasn't a good sign. Neither was the fact that no one else was eating. Nevertheless, Grace tried again. She scooped a healthy portion onto her fork.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," the oldest girl said. "Papa cooked tonight."
A.J. glared at his daughter. But Grace noticed he hadn't put much of a dent in his meal. Still, how bad could it be? She eased one bean into her mouth.
Pretty bad. Grace was glad for the girl's warning. One bean was awful enough. A mouthful would have been horrid. As it was she didn't know whether to swallow or spit. She choked it down and shoved the plate away.
"You forgot to soak the beans. They aren't supposed to be crunchy."
Something in his gaze shifted, as if he looked at her differently. Still he said nothing, merely blinked.
"Do you have pigs?" she asked.
There were nods around the table.
Grace stood. "Then scrap these plates and give it to the pigs. We'll let the rest of the pot simmer overnight. Maybe they'll cook down."
"But what about supper? I'm starving."
The littlest boy's eyes welled up with tears. At his age, he probably did feel like he was starving.
His older brother nudged him. "Cry baby. Mama shoulda named you Whine instead of Wayne."
Tears spilled over.
"Enough, Joe." A.J. flicked his hand toward the plates. "You and Belinda mind your manners and do what you're told."
Grace appreciated his show of support even though his initial rudeness stung. She gave her attention to the three little children left at the table. Some part of her longed to bury her head in her arms the way Wayne did.
"There now," she patted the boy's shoulder, "I'm sure we'll find something."
Belinda and Joe tromped back in and tossed the plates onto the sinkboard.
"They always eat mighty fine at the bunkhouse tonight," Joe said. "Suppose there's something over there?"
Grace smiled. There was the solution. "Let's go see."
They stood as one. Jeremy slipped his hand through hers. Wiping his cheeks clear, Wayne did the same.
"There's nothing there. Cookie takes it all with him when they go." A.J. crossed his arms and leaned back.
Grace leveled a steady stare his way. "You would have them go to bed hungry?" She bit back the rest of her thought. Nothing could be gained by demanding to know what kind of father he was. He read the intent anyway and his guard slipped back into place.
"I'm out of options, Miss Marshall."
"Yes. The beans made that obvious. And it's Grace or Mrs. Tanner."
He looked her up and down. The lines around his mouth deepened. "So it is...Children, off to bed."
They started to slink away. Grace held Jeremy in place. "You may do as you wish with your children, but Jeremy isn't yours to maltreat."
"Maltreat? How dare..." He splayed his fingers over the tabletop and shoved himself to his feet. "He isn't yours, either."
"Yes, he is. Your brother saw to that."
Now it was the littlest girl's turn to cry. Tears trickled down her cheeks as she looked from one battling adult to the other. "It doesn't matter. We're not hungry. We'll go to bed, Papa. Please don't fight."
She ran to her father and wrapped her arms around his waist. Then she flashed blazing eyes at Grace. "You go away. We don't want you here."
Jeremy flung his arms around Grace. Tears puddled in his eyes. "It's not true. Don't listen to Carrie. Please don't go."
"I wish you'd never wished for her!"
Fists doubled, Jeremy whirled around. "You shut your mouth right now or..."
Grace yanked him to a stop. "Enough!"
All this fuss over...what? And A.J. looked as mad at her as Jeremy was at Carrie. She heard bootsteps echo across the wooden floor-Jake. No need to turn around to check. It couldn't be anyone else.
Jake stopped in the doorway. War hovered in the air. The stench was unmistakable, or was that supper?
"What's going on here?"
Belinda pointed at A.J. "Papa cooked tonight."
Jake winced. A.J. was a worse cook than Justina.
A.J. pulled his gaze from Grace. "Justina took to her bed this morning. Mrs. Cyrus sent word that her time had come."
"Pa cooked breakfast too," Joe added.
It was an accusation, not a compliment. Poor kids were probably starving.
Grace squeezed Jeremy's shoulders. "Why don't you and your cousins go to the henhouse and see if you can find some eggs?" She flashed A.J. an ugly look. "Unless you've already ruined them too."
He gently peeled Carrie away. "Go on."
Her lower lip trembled. The girl was always crying about something. "But if we eat eggs tonight, what will we have for breakfast?"
They'd had enough discussion. Jake had just walked in and he was tired of hearing it. "We'll worry about breakfast in the morning. Right now, let's get some supper."
The youngsters shuffled out the door, Belinda in the lead.
A.J. snapped up his cane. "Jake, I want to talk to you." He hobbled to his end of the house and expected his brother to follow.
At least Grace's anger had faded a tad. The cane did it, raising her sympathies. But if A.J. sensed any pity from her, they'd be at odds in a heartbeat.
Jake traced the apple of her cheek with his thumb. Grace stared up at him, her lips slightly parted. Tempting, so tempting. He'd spent the day remembering the night and the softness of her body against his. Now it was night again.
"I'm sorry, Grace. Things haven't been right around here since Emma died. She and A.J. were sweethearts since the day they met in the schoolhouse. I don't know if he'll ever get over losing her."
She forced the fog from her head. It wasn't easy to think straight, much less talk with his hand burning a hole in her face. She didn't help matters by leaning into his palm either. But it felt so nice, so comforting. Just like when they slept last night. And now, alone, her whole body strained to be closer to him.
"I...I know it seems like that now," she managed to say. "But with time the pain will be less I'm sure. You managed to survive the grief of losing your first wife."
Jake dropped his hand. "It wasn't the same, Grace. Cruel as it may seem, the grief existed long before she died."
About a dozen questions ran through her mind as he walked away. Asking them just didn't seem important-the answers would come in time.
\*
Jake found A.J. in the room that used to be the baby nursery. Now it was A.J.'s room. Elbows on knees, chin resting on his fist, he sat on the edge of the narrow bed. He refused to return to the bed, the room, he and Emma had shared. Instead, he made it into a shrine to the woman he loved. When A.J. wasn't in there crying, he was out in the work shed building one piece of furniture after the other. There was so much in there now Jake doubted A.J. even knew what he had. He just kept building and shoving the pieces wherever there was space.
Each time he thought about trying to slow A.J. down, Jake remembered A.J.'s reaction when Jake pulled him out of the wreckage the tornado left behind. Emma's lifeless body clutched in his arms, his mangled leg. Jake had never seen a man fall into hysterics. Watching him grieve was enough to tear any man apart.
"You wanted to talk."
A.J. shifted his gaze Jake's way. "What the hell did you do, Jake?"
"I thought that was obvious." He braced himself against the doorframe and tucked the tips of his fingers into his trouser pockets. "Marshall had a debt to pay and I saw he paid it."
A.J. jerked upright. "By sacrificing yourself?"
He shrugged a shoulder and stared at the floor. "We needed a woman around here. Jeremy needs a mother. And besides that..." He forced himself to look directly at his brother. "I'd been thinking about getting married again."
A hearty laugh filled the room. "That's a bald-faced lie and you know it." He pointed over Jake's shoulder. "You don't even know her."
"I don't see where time makes much of a difference. I was with Laurette for two years and I can't say I ever really knew her."
"She'll get in the way."
"She's help we need. Thinks fast. Knows how to handle children and a house. A damn fine cook, too."
A.J. sagged, defeated. "I hope so, 'cause she ain't much to look at."
"Then maybe she'll stick around. An ugly woman's got no place to go." Shocked at the words he'd just spit out, Jake stared at his brother. That wasn't how he felt. He'd used exhaustion, A.J.'s anger, and his growing desire for Grace to be cruel.
How could he tell A.J. that when Grace smiled she was prettier than all the stars on a Texas night? How could he explain the inexplicable need to draw back that heavy curtain of hair and kiss her fragile shoulders? Hell, he couldn't even explain it to himself.
He pinched the bridge of his nose. Lord, he was tired. Arguing with A.J. didn't help. At least he could be glad of one thing-Grace wasn't around to hear.
\*
Grace hugged the wall just outside the bedroom. She was plain. She knew that. But to hear someone say it, to hear Jake say it...a knife to the heart would have been less painful. Keeping her step light, she returned to the kitchen and forced the hurt, and the tears that came with it, away.
"Joe, go tell the men supper's waiting." She jerked her thumb toward the hallway.
The child never budged. "You just came from there. Go tell them yourself."
Grace grabbed his earlobe and pinched. The boy squealed and hopped to his feet.
"Don't you ever back talk me again or I'll take a switch to your backside good and proper. Now get in there."
As extra warning she gave another squeeze and sent him scurrying down the hall, and clutching his ear all the way. Grace imagined he'd do his share of telling once he got near his father. He could tattle all he wanted. Grace was ready to battle them all.
"Belinda, bring the plates to the stove so I can dish out the food. The skillet's too hot. It'll burn the table." Plus the wooden spoon gave Grace a weapon just in case she wanted to whack a man. Either would do. They just needed to open their mouths.
To her surprise, and their good fortune, Jake and A.J. said nothing. Instead, A.J. slipped into his chair while Jake helped the children pass out the food. It wasn't much-scrambled eggs, bacon, and bread with blackberry preserves. The only things the Tanners provided were the eggs. Everything else came from Grace's mother. So far, for rich people, the Tanners didn't have a lot to show for it-just a big fancy house with a bunch of fancy furniture.
Grace had never seen anyone eat with such gusto. By the time she finally sat down, they were nearly finished.
She eyed them each in turn. "I believe a pack of dogs would have taken more time eating than all of you."
"Sorry, ma'am...Grace," A.J. answered. "That's got to be the best meal I've eaten in a long time. Justina tries, but she's little better than me in the kitchen."
He offered a weak smile. A peace offering Grace took.
"'Bout the only time we eat good is when Uncle Jake does the cooking," Belinda added.
Grace lifted an eyebrow his way as she speared a piece of egg. "I thought you didn't get involved in woman's work."
"Yes...well..." He fidgeted, and then made a big show of clearing his throat. The children giggled.
"Enough with you." The laughter in his eyes destroyed his sternness. "Take your plates to the sink and we'll help Grace clean up."
"Your brother can help you with that." Grace bit into her bread and waited for the protest to come. It wasn't a long wait.
"How can I help? I'm-"
"Crippled?" She tilted a look his way. "You'll never heal that leg if you don't get up and use it."
Mouth wide, A.J. pulled back. Grace doubted anyone had dared to speak to him that way. She didn't care. If he wanted pity, he could go somewhere else.
"As for you children-I believe you had school today. That means you have lessons tonight. Wipe the table down and get to it. The night's getting long."
They obeyed without question-even the men. A minor victory, one that set the tone for their future together. Grace was pleased. She'd taken a chance and it paid off when it could have been much worse.
She watched Jake put his plate on the floor for Lulu to finish what remained-bacon and bread broken into small pieces mixed with a bit of egg. Such gentleness, such consideration. Neither excused his earlier comment, no matter how true it might be. Grace doubted she'd ever be willing to forget it.
Her attention focused on the children. They were sharp, she had to admit. Belinda hunkered down over her reading, shutting out the rest of the world around her. Joe whizzed through his ciphering, and then passed it to Grace to check. Every figure was perfect. Carrie practiced her lettering with the tip of her tongue peeking from the edge of her lips. And the littlest, Jeremy and Wayne, too young for school, watched the mystery in awe until their eyes started to droop.
Grace gave a soft chuckle. "Come on, you two... bedtime. I'll be right behind you to tuck you in."
Without protest, the two wandered to Jake's end of the house where they shared a room. Grace waited a few minutes, and then followed.
This side of the house mirrored A.J.'s-a hallway with two rooms on each side. She lifted the lantern and peeked inside the first on her right. It was small with a narrow bed and a dresser. A wedding ring quilt tucked the feather mattress in place. Nice, cozy.
"It was meant to be a nursery."
Grace jumped at the sound of Jake's voice behind her. If he noticed he'd startled her, he said nothing.
"Justina's been using it to rest." He added a smile and slipped the lantern from Grace's fingers. "She's very heavy with child and it hasn't been easy for her."
Jake draped an arm over her shoulders and guided Grace into the hallway." I thought I'd help you tuck the boys in. The other three have already headed for bed. This is our room."
He didn't give her much of a chance to look at it. Instead, he drew her into Jeremy's room across the hall.
Again, the beds were narrow-one against each side of the wall with a dresser between them under the window. Each boy was snuggled deep under blue and white quilts, both half asleep.
Grace bent down and kissed Jeremy on the forehead. Content his life was full now, he smiled and rolled to one side.
She did the same to Wayne. But instead of curling into sleep, he clutched the covers to his chin.
"Aunt Grace, I really miss my mama." Tears pooled in his dark blue eyes.
Grace combed his hair back with her fingers. "I expect you do."
"I've been to the wishing tree hundreds and hundreds of times to ask for her back."
With a flick of her thumb, she brushed away the tears from his cheeks. "You know that can never be, little one. All will be well. Now you get some sleep. The day will be upon us soon enough." She dropped a kiss to his forehead, and he snuggled down.
Grace avoided Jake's gaze as she left. So much grief for a family. How could a body not feel it? Looking at Jake now would be more than she could bear.
"Your things are in the bedroom. I lit the lamp for you and poured a basin of hot water."
He waited for some response from her. All Grace could do was nod. That given, he left her alone.
It took a few seconds for Grace's eyes to adjust to the darkened hallway. Then the other light from the bedroom beckoned. Grace crossed the threshold and stopped.
In all her born days she'd never seen a bed as big as this one. It looked like it could hold six people all nice and comfy. Four thick round posters guarded the corners and the smooth cherry wood headboard gleamed in the lamplight.
Nightstands with milk-glass lanterns on each sat on either side of the bed. A marble-topped dresser was to her left and a tallboy to her right. Multi-colored rag rugs were scattered at the foot of the bed and on both sides. Grace wondered if this was how kings lived.
She unpacked her meager possessions and placed them inside the gleaming dresser. The baskets were out of place in this room. She was out of place...but not for long. If this was a bedroom for royalty, she was going to enjoy it.
After dressing in the only nightdress she owned, Grace sat crossed-legged in the center of the bed to brush out her hair. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror.
Ugly. Emotion swelled her throat.
No more. Turning her back to the reflection, she fluffed the braid from her hair.
\*
Jake drummed his fingers on the kitchen table and stared at the darkened passage leading to his bedroom. Go or stay? She was his wife. It was his right despite his high-handed talk two days before. He hadn't known her then. Hell, he didn't know her now. But what he was learning made him want her all the more.
Everything about her drew his interest. Not just her sweet, bright smile-her ways. True there was a stubbornness when riled. Jake had never known a woman yet who couldn't be stubborn. It was the other things. Fixing up a mouth-watering meal out of nothing. Ordering A.J. to work when others were inclined to let him sit there and wallow in self-pity like a pig in shit. And the children... all her attention their way during lessons, all compassion for a grieving child. She was born for mothering.
In the space of a few short hours, their house was back in order. Peace floated to every nook and cranny. A woman was back in charge-and not just any woman.
Jake shoved away from the table and scraped the chair legs hard against the floor. It was time. He couldn't bear it any longer. It had nothing to do with asserting his husbandly rights and everything to do with needing to be a part of her, and that peace she created.
He would make it sweet for her. Explain he was a fool for thinking married in name would be good enough. She'd melt her body against his and all would be well...forever.
\*
Grace heard Jake's bootsteps thud down the hall and stop in the doorway just behind her. She forced herself to keep brushing. Her curiosity would not win out. Jake could stand there until he rotted for all she cared.
His breath caught. God, she's beautiful.
Burnished gold shot through hair that drifted down her back. Each lift of her arms outlined her breasts through her threadbare cotton nightgown. Jake ached to curl his fingers around them. He eased closer.
Grace's heart quickened. Just what was he up to, moving so sneaky-like? She was a breath away from demanding he explain himself when she felt his fingers at her temple.
Furrowing deep, Jake combed his fingers through her hair. Soft, heavy, shiny. The kind that could lose a man in its tangles.
The feather mattress sagged under Jake's weight; the bedposts groaned. There was little doubt about his intent now. Not when the heat of his body pressed against her and his fingers lingered in her hair. He could have just as well tied her up-the effect was the same.
His breath caressed her ear. Grace dared not breathe. His lips touched her, and then traveled in a line of soft kisses down the curve of her neck. A shiver wiggled through her. Sweet pleasure.
He slipped his arm around her waist and drew her down with him until they were side by side. She should do something, but his lips were at her throat. The buttons on her nightgown seemingly fell open of their own will.
One shoulder bared, he dusted his fingers over it, searing her flesh. Grace couldn't think, couldn't speak, couldn't...
"Ma."
Jake jerked upright. Grace snatched the edges of her nightgown closed and jumped off the bed.
"Yes, Jeremy?" She was halfway to him when she heard Jake follow.
"Can I sleep with you...just for tonight?"
Grace bent down to his level. "Now why would you want to do that when you have a comfortable bed of your own?"
He stared at the floor. "I'm just scared you won't be here in the morning when I wake up."
Jake curled his fingers over the boy's shoulder. "That's silly, son. Of course she'll be here."
Something snapped. Grace blessed Jeremy's interruption. Jake Tanner was nothing but a two-faced skunk, saying one thing, doing another. And she was letting herself fall right into his sweet touch.
Straightening, she steered Jeremy toward the bed. "Don't you worry, little one. I'll be here when you wake...After all, an ugly woman's got nowhere to go." She shot Jake a glare meant to kill.
"Out!" She jerked her arm toward the door.
Shut out of his own bedroom and Jake had no one to blame but himself. Lately it seemed his mouth was getting him in as much trouble as young Joe's did him. And Jake was going to have a hard time digging himself out of this one. Grace definitely wasn't going to give him a chance to do so tonight. Especially since she now shared that great big bed with one very delighted little boy.
He wandered across the hall and stretched out on Jeremy's bed. Guilt was his bed partner. A noisy one at that. Sleep was impossible. At the first hint of dawn, he gave up to get an early start on fixing breakfast. Grace had beat him to it. She had rolled out dough in the semi-dark-all buttoned up, shut away, and unapproachable.
"You'd see better if you lit a lantern." Jake reached for the box of matches on the shelf above the washbasin.
Grace didn't bother to look up. "You waste too much oil as it is. The light's good enough for this."
Jake let her have her way on this one. He couldn't make amends if they were going to argue over lantern oil. "Anything I can do to help?"
"I thought you didn't do woman's work." She patted the dough into a rectangle, and then carved it into smaller squares. Still, she refused to make eye contact.
"Actually, that wasn't quite true." He offered a slight smile she did not see. "Justina doesn't get here until later. I usually make breakfast and get the children up and off to school."
"Imagine that...another half-truth from you." She slapped the biscuits onto the baking sheet.
Jake caught her arm in a gentle hold. "Grace, I-"
"Long as you're here, we can put you to work." She jerked free, snatched the pot of beans off the stove, and shoved the handle into his hands. "There's no hope for these. Go slop the hogs, clean out the pot, feed the chickens, and gather the eggs."
"Sure you don't want me to scoop out the stables, till the garden, and beat the carpets?"
"We'll save that for later." Giving him her back, Grace went back to the biscuits.
\*
The screen door closed softly. Grace's shoulders slumped, but her insides still quivered. Finally he was out of the room, but it was temporary at best.
Hurt and angry as she was, all Grace could think about the second Jake walked in the room was the way he had held her the night before. Those sweet, hot kisses. His long fingers deep in her hair. Looking at him, all scruffy and unshaven, didn't help. She hated herself for her weakness.
An apology or explanation was on his lips. Grace tried to convince herself she didn't want to hear it. But in truth she did. She wanted him to beg her forgiveness on bended knee. To wrap an arm around her waist and pull her tight against his hard body.
She shoved the sheet of biscuits into the oven and slammed the door as hard as she could. He'd be back any minute. Then what?
"What the hell's all the noise?" A.J. didn't give Grace a chance to answer. "Is there any coffee yet? I could sure use a cup."
He looked like he could use the whole pot. And Grace thought he'd looked bedraggled the night before.
She poured a mug and set it in front of him. "Didn't sleep well last night?"
A.J. wrapped both hands around the mug. "Something like that."
Talkative as always. Grace wasn't in the mood to draw him out, especially considering how poorly they got on the night before.
"Long as you're up, you can rouse the young'uns, then do the milking."
Bloodshot eyes glared up at her. "Can't a man wake up first?"
He did look pretty sad sitting there clutching his mug. Grace didn't know whether to laugh at him or be mad. Neither. Never had she seen a man filled with such confusion. Grieving for his wife was natural, but A.J. made it a religion. He wanted to honor her, keep her memory alive. The effort to do so weighed him down more than the grief. And Grace realized she had seen a hint of it in his eyes the night before. A.J. longed to be happy again. Hints of that danced in his eyes, lingered in the few things he said. She imagined that fear of dishonoring Emma held him back and built anger.
She returned to the sinkboard to peel potatoes. Seconds later, she heard the chair scrape against the floor. When she dared a peek, A.J. was headed for the bedroom.
"Where are you going?"
Sighing, he faced her. "You wanted the children up and the milking done, remember?" Shaking his head, he walked on.
There was too much turmoil in this house. It was going to take a strong woman to survive. Grace wasn't sure she was that woman.
By the time A.J. returned with the milk, the children, dressed and ready to start the day, had started to filter to the table. A.J. set the pail of milk in the basin. Taking up brush and ribbon, he braided Belinda's and Carrie's hair.
"Amazing," Grace mumbled.
A.J. clicked his gaze to hers. "Don't you dare say a word to the men."
There it was, that hint of delight dancing in his eyes. Somehow Grace had to find a way to keep it there.
Hearing Jake's footsteps at the back door, Grace turned to her work.
Jake set the basket of eggs next to the milk. Grace's disposition hadn't improved much. If anything, it was worse. She zipped to the stove the second he walked into the house. Her back was stiff as a pole while she whipped diced potatoes around in the fry pan. It was a wonder the bacon grease didn't splatter everywhere.
He braced himself against the sinkboard and crossed his arms over his chest. She had to talk to him sometime. "Would it help to say I'm sorry?"
"For saying the truth?" Grace's gaze never drifted from her task.
"It wasn't the truth." Strands of hair no pins could contain drifted down her neck, tempting him to curl one around his finger.
Grace banged the wooden spoon against the rim of the cast iron pan. "We both know that's a lie, but for the sake of argument if you didn't think it was the truth, why did you say it?"
"Because I was stupid. All men are stupid. Didn't your mother ever tell you that?"
There it was-that smile he treasured. He leaned close, his lips almost touching her ear. "You are the most beautiful woman in the world when you smile. The trouble is you don't smile enough."
On impulse he brushed her hair away from her neck and dropped a kiss to the slender column. He ducked away before she lashed out with that wooden spoon of hers.
A shiver coursed through Grace's body. She prayed Jake did not see. It was bad enough that he'd caught the blasted smile. It came of its own will, dissolving her anger. He'd wormed under her defenses once more and gave her pretty near the apology she'd wanted.
Breakfast passed without incident. It was hard to talk with a mouthful of food and every Tanner there had a healthy appetite. Once he was through, A.J. slinked back to his cave. The youngsters took off for school. The little ones ran out to play with Lulu hot on their heels. And Grace was alone once more with Jake.
She dove into her work, clearing the table, filling the sink with hot water from the kettle. If she kept busy enough, maybe-just maybe-Jake would go about his business.
He watched every move she made and made her more nervous with every step she took. She knew what he wanted. Her heart knew. Her soul knew. But her head couldn't figure out why. He was adamant this was in name only. Now to change his mind? It didn't make sense. She had the power to say no and she knew he would abide by that, but Grace also knew she didn't have the will.
Jake cornered her over the sink and pinned her with hands braced on both sides. Grace plunged her hands into the scalding water. Gasping, she yanked them out.
"You all right?" Jake dusted his fingers down her arms and pulled her hands into his. "You need to be more careful. Look...they're all red now."
Turning her, Jake lifted her fingers to his lips and gently kissed each digit. Grace was fading fast. It was too sweet, too magical. His words, his touch, and her driving need to be surrounded by him all conspired against her.
"You know." He traced his tongue across her palm to the underside of her wrist. "I don't have to ride out to the herd for at least another hour. I know how I'd like to spend that time."
Grace closed her eyes and fought in vain against the heat rushing through her. "The dishes-"
"Can wait." He wrapped one arm around her waist and tugged her close.
"The boys-"
"A.J.'s here."
"But, Jake, it's daylight."
A nip at her earlobe set Grace's knees to quivering. Anything more and... "Jake, you said name only. I don't-"
"Another stupid thing." He swooped her off her feet and cradled her in his arms. "I want to be with you, Grace. Deep inside you. To be a part of you."
Jake covered her lips with a kiss that penetrated any remaining defenses. Hesitant at first, Grace tentatively flicked her tongue against his. There was a groan deep in his throat, and then his pounding stride as he carried her into their bedroom. He paused long enough to kick the door shut, and then draped her across the unmade bed.
He deepened the kiss and kicked off his boots-one clunk quickly followed by the second. Grace didn't have it so easy. She peeled her lips from his only to have them drifted down her neck.
"Jake," she said in a rush of breath. "My boots."
It was as if he didn't hear. His fingers drifted to her collar and stripped buttons from their holes as if they didn't exist. He peeled the top from her shoulders, did the same with the skirt and then, only then, did he jerk the knots free on her boots. He tugged them from her feet and tossed them beside his on the floor. Her petticoat followed. All that remained, all that kept what little modesty she had intact were her stockings and her shift.
Grace felt vulnerable, exposed, frightened, and more excited than she'd ever been in her life. She was alive, hot, burning for something only hinted at before.
Jake reached for her garter.
Grace stopped him with a single touch to the shoulder. "No...you first."
It wasn't a request she had to make twice. Jake peeled his shirt away. She swallowed hard. God Almighty, he was a glorious man to look at. Then he dropped his breeches. She drew in a breath and quickly averted her gaze. Never in her wildest imaginations did she ever realize a man could be so big. This was something her mother never warned her about.
"Jake...it's my first time." Goodness help her, but her voice quivered. The last thing she needed to do was to start crying, but she was suddenly so scared.
To his credit Jake didn't laugh. He merely smiled and knelt between her legs. "I know, sweet thing. I'll be as gentle as I can."
But Jake needed the reminder. He was hot for her, heavy and hard to have her. Seeing her half naked, her skin flushed with anticipation, didn't help. He needed to slow down, to please her, and by all means be gentle. There would be times for wild, crazy shenanigans later. He could see them weeks from now romping...
Jake shook the thought away. Now...he had to concentrate on this moment, on maintaining control. He cupped her calf and rolled the garter and stocking down her leg. Soft, so soft, yet strong. They'd wrap around his waist...
He swallowed hard, demanding the image leave. Smoothing his hand down her other leg only added to his dilemma. He rubbed circles up to her thighs and bunched her shift as he went. Grace sighed with each caress, and made tiny sounds that urged him on.
Her hips were a perfect fit to his palms. He longed to knead his fingers deep into her flesh and urge her on as she rode him. The dark triangle beckoned and he parted the folds with the tip of his finger.
Grace bucked under his touch. She grasped the headboard in an effort to keep silent. Impossible. Each swirl pulled her insides higher, tighter.
Jake peeled her fingers open and yanked the shift over her head. God, she was beautiful. Perfect. Lacing his fingers through hers, he covered his mouth over one taut nipple and drew hard.
Grace arched toward him. Wanting, feeling, opening all to him. The tension mounted, higher and higher, paused, and...
"Oh my!" A wondrous pleasure washed over her. She held Jake tight, praying the moment would never die. It subsided slowly, in waving ebbs of joy, leaving her breathless in its wake.
Jake shifted in her arms. She felt the weight of his body and nuzzled to him. The heat of him pressed to her. He hesitated. Grace blessed him for it, and then nipped at his ear.
"Just do it," she whispered.
A shudder raced through his body. Did the woman have any idea what she was doing to him? Jake covered her lips and dove his tongue deep into her mouth. She met him halfway. Slowly he pressed forward. She tensed, digging her nails into his back. Jake froze. She shook her head and pushed her pelvis against his. It was too much for any man to bear. With one thrust, he pierced the barrier.
Grace broke free, a gasp stuck in her throat. The pain was there. He could do nothing about it. He waited until the moment passed then moved, slowly back and forward once more. Pleasure eased her into the pillows. It was the last straw.
Her body pulsed around his and met each demanding thrust he gave. She was hot, tight, slick and completely in charge. He felt the tension build, shooting forward from his lower back. Jake fought the rush, praying for time to please her again. One soft cry destroyed his intent.
He tensed, ready for release. Instinctively she lifted her pelvis to take him. He pushed in deep, bringing her up to his plane once more. A shudder engulfed them. He tossed his head back on a silent cry. Grace grabbed his face between her palms, pulled him close, and kissed him hard.
\*
A woman's scream pierced the air, waking Grace from a wonderfully sound sleep. She shook the haze from her head and scrambled for something to wear. A second scream ruined that plan. Grace tossed on her shift, pulled on her dress and dashed out of the room still buttoning.
She and A.J. reached the woman at the same time. A pool of blood at her feet, she stood in the middle of the kitchen. Judging from her advance state of pregnancy, this had to be Justina.
"What in the world?" she and A.J. spoke in unison.
Justina looked from Grace to A.J. and back again. Confusion, fear, and pain twisted her face.
Grace raced to her side and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "I'm Jake's wife, Grace. Everything's going to be all right. A.J., help me get her to the nursery on our side of the house."
Thankfully, he didn't hesitate. Justina cried out again and doubled over.
A.J. bent down with her. "Justina, you have to help us. Grace and I can't carry you."
Grace doubted anyone could. Justina was all of five feet tall, but what she lacked in height, she made up for in width.
"Señor A.J., please forgive. The pain she stop. I thought the baby not come. The midwife, she say..." Another contraction swallowed the words.
"I'd say that baby's definitely coming," Grace told her. "And unless we get you in that bedroom, you'll have it right here. I doubt that's something you want all the young'uns to see."
That seemed enough to get her moving, but a path of blood marked their progress. They settled her quick-A.J. plumped up pillows while Grace stripped away her shoes and stockings.
"Rest now. I'll be back in a few minutes." Grace smoothed the woman's hair and scooted A.J. out the door. "I'll boil up a pot of water while you get some clean linen."
He stopped short of the kitchen. "There isn't any. Justina felt too poorly to do it."
A string of curses perched on Grace's lips. "Then gather the dirty. I'll scrub it and hang it out to dry. With any luck it'll dry before we need it. In the meantime, you'll have to fetch the doctor."
"How? Milking a cow is one thing, but I've got no business fetching anybody." He limped by.
Grace snagged his sleeve and stopped him in his tracks. "A.J., look at all this blood." She waved her hand over the puddles. "Your wife birthed four children. I helped my mother deliver her last two. You know there was never anything like this. Justina has a serious problem. She needs the doctor."
He stared at the mess on the floor and shook his head. "You go get him. I'll stay here."
She curled her fingers around his arm and edged closer. "How's she going to feel about this? She's your friend and you're close to her, but you know she's going to want the comfort of another woman. Even if that woman is a stranger."
Still shaking his head, A.J. covered his eyes with his hand. "You don't understand."
"I do understand. You are Justina's only hope. Jake and everyone else is out with the herd. Without you she and her baby are going to die."
"I haven't left the house since Emma-"
"Then I'd say it was time."
He dropped his hand and looked at her straight in the eye. "How do you expect me to saddle a horse?"
"I'll help you."
He looked her up and down.
Grace grabbed his hand and tugged him toward the door. "I'm stronger than I look. Come on. Time's a-wasting."
Somehow they managed. Thankfully, the horse was a tolerant creature. Grace avoided A.J.'s gaze and gave him no time for any other excuses. It was hard on him, but under the circumstances she didn't have the time, patience, or inclination to molly-coddle him. She had added a pregnant woman and laundry to the list of chores for the day and had somehow managed to sleep most of the morning away.
She stopped at the hen house, wrung the necks on two hens, and then plucked them the fastest way she knew how-by giving them to Jeremy and Wayne.
A quick check on Justina while water boiled for wash. Scrub the blood off the floor before it soaked into the wood. Mop Justina's brow. Hold her hand. Laundry. Justina. Gut the chicken. Reassure the boys and set them to watch for A.J. and the doctor. Rush to Justina's side. That was the extent of her day. Hours passed with no sign of A.J. or the doctor.
Weariness pressed an ache between Grace's shoulder blades. She was glad when the children were back from school. Belinda was young, but she was still old enough to lend a hand. Time was running out.
Grace wiped her hands on her apron and met them at the back door. "Belinda, I want you to de-bone the chicken and put it back in the broth. Once that's done I'll tell you how to make dumplings. Grab Joe and have him start churning butter. The cream's in the coolest part of the root cellar."
The girl just scuffed her toe on the floor. "Uh... Joe...uh..."
He dashed passed them and into his bedroom. Before Grace could go after him, there was a knock at the front door.
"That's all I need right now...a visitor." As if to prove her point, Justina called for her.
"Belinda, Justina is in the nursery trying to have her baby. Go mop her brow with a cool rag and tell her I'll be right there."
There was another knock and another shout. Justina was in need; the visitor was an annoyance. Grace marched across the room and whipped open the door. The woman jerked back, startled.
She was dressed to ladylike perfection: lavender gingham with a lacy cream collar, cream-colored lace gloves covered her hands. Each strand of her black hair was tucked under a pretty lavender bonnet. One white feather dipped from the crown. And the odd thing was...her eyes matched her outfit.
Grace craned her neck for a look outside. No horse or buggy. Whoever she was, she had walked.
"I'm here to speak with A.J. Tanner, Joe's father. I'm Millie Barnett, his teacher."
"He's gone to fetch the doctor. I'm Grace Tanner. May I help you?"
Her eyes widened ever so slightly. Grace swore she stopped breathing. Her mouth moved but it was several seconds before any words left it.
"Grace Tanner?"
"Yes...Jake's wife. We've just been married."
Relief washed across Millie's face and relaxed her shoulders. She smiled, forced back a small laugh, and then drew breath to speak. A squeal from Belinda stopped her.
Grace spun around. Belinda smacked into her and clutched Grace as if her very life depended on it.
"Aunt Grace, there's a snake coming out of Justina!"
"Good heavens, no!" She peeled Belinda's fingers away one by one. "It's not a snake, child. I'll explain later. Dry your eyes and get working on that chicken." Grace snapped her gaze around to Millie. "The woman's delivered the afterbirth before the child. I'll need your help."
Millie sputtered for a response and stumbled after Grace. "I...I've never...I don't know how..."
Grace pointed to the laundry line. "Grab those sheets off the line and make sure they stay off the ground." She stopped long enough to scrub her hands and arms and expected everyone to do as they were told-even Millie. No one disappointed her. By the time Millie crept into the birthing room, her bonnet and gloves were gone.
"Good. Just hold Justina's hands and mop the sweat. I'll take care of the rest."
Tears drifted down Justina's cheeks. " Señora Grace, my baby-"
"Hush now. Just let me help."
All Grace wanted to do was cry. Justina trusted her, and Grace didn't have a clue what she was supposed to do. The cord lay on the blood-soaked sheet. There was no sign of the baby or, thankfully, the afterbirth.
"There is another pain, Señora Grace. Should I push?"
What other choice was there? "Yes, push."
Justina strained with the contraction and collapsed. "It is no use. This baby will never come out."
The door creaked opened. From the smile splashed over Justina's exhausted features, Grace knew it had to be the doctor. She looked up. His snow-white hair was yellow with age. His shoulders stooped from years of tending to people's ills. He set his medical bag on the chest of drawers and bent over for a closer look.
"Got a little bit a problem here, don't we?" A smile crinkled the corners of his aged eyes. "You've done a fine job, Mrs. Tanner. If you'll show me where I can wash up, I'll take it from here."
Experience, calm, and authority surrounded him. She was more than happy to let him take over. All Grace wanted to do was find a little peace and quiet for just a few minutes. She found it in the sitting room and eased her aching body into the nearest chair. Comfort surrounded her, followed in quick succession by the smell of dust. She dared a peek, and then closed her eyes once more. The room was filthy.
"Mrs. Tanner, about Joe."
Grace looked up to find Millie standing over her and tugging her gloves into place. She told Millie, "I believe you'll find his father in the barn."
"Apparently, he's gone to find Justina's husband." Millie replied.
Quite a change from the morning. Grace pushed herself upright. "Oh. Then, may I offer you some tea or coffee while we talk?"
"That won't be necessary. I can see you've got your hands full. The fact is I've had trouble with Joe the last several weeks. Mostly acting up in the classroom. But today he failed to turn in his arithmetic assignment. He said he didn't have time."
Grace cocked her head to one side. "That's not possible. He did his numbers last night. They were perfect."
Millie shrugged. "Then, after school he saw fit to destroy my flower garden."
A headache throbbed at Grace's temple. She massaged it. "I'll talk to him."
"Please...I'm sorry we didn't meet under more pleasant circumstances. Good day, Mrs. Tanner."
Grace saw her to the door, and then collapsed against it. What more could go wrong?
A baby's cry cut the air. Grace smiled. Finally, something good had come of all of this. She prayed the baby would be strong and Justina's recovery quick. Now for the next problem.
The kitchen was a shambles. Dishes from breakfast were still stacked up to wash, a pile of laundry sat in the middle of the floor, pots of water boiled on each burner. Belinda and Carrie sat at the table pulling meat from the cooked chicken. The tips of their tongues perched in the corners of their mouths.
Carrie flashed a smile Grace's way. "This is fun."
Yes, when you're young. "There will be more fun later. Where's Joe?"
"Under the wishing tree." Belinda looked up. "Are you going to whoop him or have Papa do it?"
"Mind the business in your own yard, young lady." Goodness gracious, she was starting to sound like her mother-something she'd swore she'd never do.
Grace picked her way across the field in back of the house. There in the center was an ancient oak tree. Its arms spread hundreds of yards in all directions. Its trunk so wide and gnarled it would take at least six men, arms outstretched, to circle it. Birdsong exploded from its branches. At her approach squirrels darted into the limbs and rabbits sprinted from its shade.
She found Joe on the side facing away from the house-a pretty view of the trees and hill country just beyond. But the boy watched none of it. He cried into arms braced on bony knees, unaware he had company.
Grace's foot found an acorn. It cracked. Joe's head popped up, and then he buried it once more.
"I guess Pa wants to see me," he mumbled. "I know I got a whoopin' coming."
Grace sat in a niche between two massive roots. "No. He doesn't know yet. I spoke with Miss Barnett."
He snapped his arms to his sides. "No, no, no! Miss Barnett was supposed to talk to Pa, not you. He has to know. He has to talk to Miss Barnett. There's no other way left."
Joe jumped up and kicked the tree. "Stupid, stupid tree. Why don't you work? You're a liar! A big, ugly, stupid liar."
Rearing his fists, the boy punched. The bark gouged deep gashes in his hands.
"Stop it." Grace grabbed his wrists and hauled them to his sides. Sobbing against her, he collapsed.
"Why won't it work for me, Aunt Grace? Why?"
"There now," she cooed. "Just tell me what this is all about."
Cradled in her arms, he cried heart-rending sobs reminiscent of his brother's the night before. Grace let him spend himself.
"Miss Barnett is so pretty." The words finally came. " Her skin is like buttermilk. She always smells like flowers. And when she sings, you'd swear it was angels, Aunt Grace. I thought... I wanted...I wished she could be my new ma."
It was enough to make a body's heart break. In all her days Grace had never seen a family so torn up with grief. "Then why would you do such a thing to her garden? Why make her think your lessons were no good?"
He leaned away. "I had to get her here. She couldn't be my new ma if Pa don't talk to her no more. He never leaves the house. And since Mama died, Miss Millie don't come by any more. It was the only way."
Using the corner of her apron, Grace dabbed tears from his cheeks. Considering how A.J. felt about his Emma, she seriously doubted any woman would turn his head right now, but she wasn't about to dash Joe's hopes.
"There's always a way. A good way that won't hurt another person."
"But how?" He sniffled.
"You leave that up to me." She spit on the cloth and wiped the blood away from the cuts on his hands. "In the meantime, you hightail it back to Miss Barnett's. If you hurry, you can catch her on the road. Apologize and help her put her garden back to rights. That'll be a good start."
Joe nodded. "Aunt Grace, did you ever wish for something with all your heart and never get it?"
A hard question, but she refused to lie to him. "Yes, Joe. I wished I could be pretty."
He tossed a bear hug around her. "Then wishing does work. Just look how pretty you are now."
Emotion clogged her throat. If only she could see herself through the eyes of a child. She patted his bottom.
"Off with you now. And be back in time for supper."
With the world's worries lifted from his shoulders, he sprinted for the road. Just like magic.
Grace stared at the flashes of sunlight that sparkled through the branches above. If only everything could be settled so easily. If only there was real magic in this old tree. The things she'd wish for. Good things. Beauty. Wisdom. Strength. Love. Jake's love. Strong, healthy children with him.
"So...if there's any real magic in you, Mr. Wishing Tree..."
A nicker pulled Grace to her feet. She glanced around the trunk. Jake was just coming across the field heading toward home. A smile warred with tears. All she wanted was to throw herself in the comfort of his arms and unburden her day's worries.
\*
Jake couldn't have cared less about rounding up strays. Every minute was spent in a glorious daydream about Grace. Her smile, the way pleasure washed over her face, the feel of her tight little body meshed perfectly with his. He should have stayed with the herd for the night. Relieved one of the men. But all he could think about was her. Seeing her face, being with her again and again.
A patch of wildflowers sealed his decision. Jake picked the field clean, tucked the stems under his saddle, and pointed his horse toward home. Each time he thought about the joy the flowers would bring her, he smiled.
Hell, he smiled so much he'd swear his face would crack. He couldn't help the schoolboy feeling. He didn't want to help it.
Jake spied her under the oak tree, lifted his arm in greeting, and steered his horse in her direction. Grace wadded her skirt and petticoat in her fists and ran toward him. The joy he hoped to see in her eyes didn't exist.
Then he saw the blood. It was everywhere, staining her dress from bodice to hem. Was she hurt? One of the children? A.J.? He kicked his horse into a trot.
Closer now, he saw the tears streaming down her face, blinding her. She stumbled, fell, recovered, and continued.
Jake jumped from the saddle and swooped her into his arms. "Good God, Grace, what the hell-"
"It's just been an awful, awful day," she sobbed.
Words poured from her. About Justina, the laundry, the house, the work, the teacher. Each an echo of complaints he'd heard from Laurette all those years ago. All day he thought about Grace, actually convincing himself she was different and he had dreamed of a marriage like this. And here she was, no better than Laurette.
How long would it be before she packed her bags and took off with his heart? He'd made the mistake once. He refused to let Grace make a fool of him a second time. Jake had let a sweet smile and a soft body worm under his defenses. No more.
Grabbing her shoulders, Jake set her away from him. "We had an agreement. You're here a year. Don't forget it."
A knife to the heart would have hurt less. Grace pressed her fists between her breasts to stop the pain. "Is that what this morning was about? You...you take my innocence just to make sure I'd stay on as your hired help?"
He jabbed a finger in her face. "And that's another thing. You'd better damn well not be pregnant. If you think you're going to leave here with a child of mine, think again! You'll stay here until I say you leave, and don't you dare forget that, either."
Grace balled his shirt in her fists and yanked herself up to his face. "Don't you forget. You married me, Jake Tanner. In that bed this morning, you took me as a husband takes a wife. I'm here for life. For better or worse. You get to choose which one it will be. And let me tell you something else, mister...I refuse to be your whore. And no one, no one tells me what to do or how to live, especially not a low-down, dirty, lying, conniving cowboy like you!"
She shoved him back as hard as she could. Jake barely stumbled. He watched her pivot on her heel, grab up her skirts, and march into the house. Each twitch of her skirts beckoned him and raised his interest level to impossible proportions.
Jake hauled himself into the saddle and rode in the other direction.
Jake hurled the bouquet of wildflowers on the ground. A fool, that's exactly what he was. What amazed him most of all was how quickly he'd fallen into the trap. He'd been so careful, so alert over the years, never once slipping. Yet he let a couple of "I do's" trip him up. How could he be that gullible?
There was no one to blame but himself. Any hate this generated was also toward himself. For now Grace was an innocent in all this. She was young, new to the world. She had no idea what she did or did not want. But the signs, the words were all there, a frightening repeat of his marriage to Laurette, with one very big exception. He didn't love Grace and he'd be damned if he ever let himself slip that far. Bedding her once was enough. No more. Never again.
"Hold up there!" a voice called out.
Jake reined his horse in and stared in the direction of the other rider. His jaw dropped when he realized it was his brother.
A.J. laughed at his reaction. A big, booming laugh that none of them had heard in seven months.
"Believe me, no one is more surprised than me. Someone had to get the doctor for Justina. Grace can be pretty persuasive and insistent."
Jake snorted, and then regretted it. A.J. draped his forearms over the saddle horn. A big brother stance Jake knew all too well. In the space of less than a day their roles had reversed to their original state. Under ordinary circumstances Jake would have been grateful. He was grateful. But the last thing he wanted was to get into a discussion with A.J. about all this. Just thinking about Grace and what the future held made his emotions raw. Talking about it was out of the question.
"I'll admit I was plenty riled at her." A.J. chuckled. "Mostly because I knew she was right. I was the only one to get the doc. But once I was away from the ranch I felt..." He shrugged a shoulder. "Good...better...happy even. After I got word to Hoyt to hightail it back to the ranch, I just rode for a while soaking up the sun. I owe her."
"Just don't get too chummy with her. Remember, she's only here a year." Jake cursed the quickness of his tongue. He should have just let it go.
A.J. cocked back his hat with the tip of his finger. "Then why are you sharing a bed with her?"
Jake looked everywhere but at his brother. "That was a mistake. I just...she's just like Laurette-"
"She's nothing like Laurette."
"That's where you're wrong." He jerked his thumb in the direction of the house. "You should have heard her back here, crying and carrying on about all the things that went wrong today and all the work."
A.J. leaned back. "I'd say she had a right to. Have you looked around the place lately? Jake, Justina and her baby..." Tsking, he shook his head. "There was blood everywhere. I've never heard a woman scream like that. Add that to everything else Grace had to do. You pluck her fresh off mama's apron strings and drop her into the middle of the biggest mess in the county and expect her not to cry? Did it ever occur to you to help her?"
Jake sputtered for an answer.
"She is nothing, nothing like Laurette." A.J. was on a roll. "Princess Laurette wouldn't have cared whether Justina and her baby lived or died. And she sure as hell wouldn't have come down from her high-horse long enough to help. She barely lifted a finger to do normal chores. Just having her around drove Emma crazy! Frankly, we were glad when she walked out."
News to Jake. Oh, he knew there was no love lost between the women, but this was out and out hatred. Not that Laurette didn't deserve it. Everything A.J. said about her was true and more.
"You're about as dumb as I am, Jake. Makes me wonder if our mama raised any children that lived. But let me tell you one thing right now. If you don't want Grace, just say the word. I'd take her in a heartbeat. And as far as that crap about her not being pretty? You'd better open your eyes." He adjusted his hat against the sun and gave Jake a nod. "In a heartbeat, little brother."
Jake watched A.J.'s back until he couldn't see him any more. What had just happened here? Whatever it was, Jake damn well didn't like it. Grace was his wife...his. And he'd be damned if he'd let another man take her-even his brother.
He steered his horse home. It looked like he was the one at fault this time-all right, again. He'd jumped to conclusions and let old hurts blind him to...well, everything.
Jake was crazy where Grace was concerned. One minute he wanted to bury himself in her arms, the next he wanted to shove her as far away as possible. He didn't want to care about her, he didn't want to need her, and he damned sure didn't want to love her. But that's exactly what was happening. In the space of a few short days, she had somehow managed to worm her way under his skin and was heading for his heart.
It seemed like he had two choices: accept what Grace had to offer or watch another man step in to take it all, and then live with the consequences the rest of his life. If that happened, he'd not only lose a wife, but a brother, because there was no way Jake could watch A.J. with Grace.
He spied the wildflowers where he'd dumped them earlier. If ever he needed a peace offering, it was now.
\*
Grace raked one of Jake's shirts over the scrub board. It was a release her anger desperately needed, even if it did make her knuckles as red as her eyes. Each time she told herself no more tears, a new batch welled up. The words, the hate ran through her mind over and over and gutted her insides each time. No matter how much she scrubbed, rinsed, and wrung, the pain refused to die.
There was no one to blame but herself. Jake had been honest from the beginning. She was the one who believed the sweet words, the kindness, and that wonderful time in his arms was more than it really was. Grace so wanted the traditional marriage of love and children that it was easy to ignore the facts. For all intents and purposes, she was innocent of the world and its ways. Jake was a man of experience. It was the oldest trap in the world and she fell right into it. What man wouldn't take advantage of something so easily offered?
Grace slapped the shirt into the rinse water. No more. If Jake Tanner wanted a workhorse, that's exactly what he was going to get.
"Mrs. Tanner?"
Stretching the kinks from her back, Grace wiped the tear tracks away and faced the doctor.
"Justina and the baby?"
"Doing well for now. Her husband and I have put clean sheets on the bed. Both are resting. She'll be able to nurse, but she needs to stay in bed for a few days to rebuild her strength. The birth was extra rough on both of them. She lost more blood than is normal. Thanks to you, both should thrive. Although I doubt Justina will be wanting to give birth again any time soon." He chuckled and scratched his yellow-white hair. "She said you'd be having a baby before she would again."
Grace forced herself to laugh with him as she showed him to the door. It did little to hide her fears and the memory of more hurtful words.
She heard the back door open as Doc's buggy creaked down the road-A.J., but not the man she would have expected. A smile brightened his face. That glow lightened him. Now she could definitely claim he was Jake's brother. Both had that devilish glint in their eyes.
He filled the room and passed out hugs to the children as they hovered over their schoolwork. His limp was more noticeable, but the cane was gone. Then he saw her. His smile deepened. Arms spread wide, he strode forward and wrapped Grace in a hug so tight she could scarcely breathe.
"I don't have enough words to thank you, Grace. Being out again, the sun on my face, I feel like the dark clouds are finally moving away." He kissed her cheek and held her at arm's length.
"But you're limping worse than ever."
"I'm saddlesore."
His laughter was contagious.
A.J. lifted her chin on the crook of his finger. "That's much better. Now...why the tears? Did Jake-"
"I need a calendar, A.J.," she said in a rush of breath.
As a healer her mother taught them well to be watchful of their fertile times. Grace could never understand why she didn't follow her own advice. Her mother always insisted they mark their cycles on a calendar. If Grace could see one now, she'd find if she was safe from pregnancy or not.
"We only have last year's. I can get you one from the mercantile tomorrow, if you like."
Grace gave him an absentminded nod. The calendar would only confirm her fears. Her body was ripe for planting-the signs were all there. It would be a miracle if she wasn't pregnant. Despair sagged her shoulders.
"Hey...where's that smile?" He chucked her under the chin.
Here was the sympathy she'd been hoping for, but from A.J.? Last night they were at odds, now they were friends? It was welcome, yes, but too new for confidences.
Grace picked at a hangnail. "It's just been a very trying first day, that's all."
"And I'm sure dealing with Jake didn't help matters any."
She jerked her head up. He knew? "How-"
"I ran into him as I was coming home. I'm sure he won't be long behind me."
Those hated words sliced into her again. Grace hugged herself against them. "He can stay gone for all I care."
A.J. pursed his lips and nodded. "It's been a mighty long day and from the look of things I'd say you've worked yourself ragged. Might help you feel better if you changed out of that bloody, wet dress into a fresh one."
Grace glanced down. She was a mess. She'd planned to wash the dress and petticoat that night when everyone else was abed.
"I...I don't have another day dress, A.J. Just my Sunday outfit." Her mother taught her not to be prideful, but it still hurt to let him know she had nothing.
His mind seemingly far away, A.J. looked through her. Taking a deep breath, he straightened. "Come with me. I have a solution."
Grace hesitated, and then followed him to his side of the house. He paused at his and Emma's room, his gaze distant.
"Jake accused me of making this room a shrine to Emma. He's right. I loved her with all my heart. I still do. It's time to let her go. I doubt she'd approve of how I've been acting since she's been gone." Twisting the handle, he shoved the door open. "Everything in here is hers. Now it's yours."
A yellow and white quilt on the four-poster bed captured the setting sun. White lace curtains drifted in the breeze. It looked like Emma had just stepped away and would be back at any second. Even her combs and brushes waited on the pale maple dresser.
Grace clasped her hands under her chin. "A.J., I couldn't."
"You can and should. You are the lady of this house. Trust me...Emma would have wanted it this way. She loved to sew. You should find something you like in the wardrobe. Take it all, everything. Emma's gone. It's time I accepted it." He squeezed her shoulder and walked away.
Spotless, gleaming, fresh. The only room in all the house that received attention. A.J.'s devotion and his grief were here. Grace didn't feel worthy to cross the threshold.
Toes first, then feet, step by step she entered the room. Tatted white doilies covered the surface of each piece of furniture. Pillows were plumped in the corner rocking chair. A full-length swivel mirror stood in the corner. All waiting for a woman who could never come back. Dark clouds? A.J. was living in a thunderstorm. To give this gift to Grace humbled her beyond words.
She made her way to the wardrobe and slid the panel open. Dresses every color of the rainbow hung there. Each was a work of perfection with lead shot sewn into every hem to keep the breeze from catching the skirt. And shoes, honest-to-gosh shoes, not boots. Petticoats, underlinen, gloves, stockings, fancy nightgowns. Grace prayed they would fit.
"Oh, Emma, I'll try to do them justice, and I swear I'll try to do right by this family you've left behind."
Buttercup yellow edged with brown ribbon was Grace's first choice. Considering how much work she still had to do, she reached for something more practical-green gingham with dark green ribbon and lace. And the underthings, she had to try those on.
Sealing herself in privacy, Grace dressed. It was like finding treasure. Once the last button was in place, she slipped her feet into the shoes and laced them up. She felt like a princess. But did she look like one, or like a child playing dress-up in her grandmother's clothes?
Grace tiptoed to the mirror for a peek and gasped. She was beautiful!
I guess wishing does make it so.
It was hard not to smile, harder still not to giggle. Grace gathered the dirty clothes. She didn't try to hide the laughter that bubbled up. Only one thing could have topped her joy-to have Jake see her this way.
\*
Jake took his time getting into the house. Every second he delayed was more time for Grace to calm down and be in a better frame of mind to forgive. And, goodness knew, he needed that.
After bedding down his horse for the evening, Jake stopped at the rain barrel to wash the dust away. Even at this distance he could smell supper. Laundry snapped in the breeze. A baby's cry cut the air.
Flowers tucked behind his back, Jake edged closer, hoping to catch a glimpse of Grace and judge her mood. She was nowhere in sight. A.J. washed dishes while Belinda and Joe dried. The other three children put them on the table as quick as they were ready. Hoyt walked the fussy baby to and fro behind them and tried his best to quiet it.
He eased the door open and stepped in. The others barely glanced his way. Then he saw her. Face glowing, she breezed into the room.
Jake had to blink twice before he realized it was Grace. She wore one of Emma's dresses, a perfect form-hugging fit. Yes, she was a beautiful woman. There was no disguising that now. His nasty words haunted him.
Grace ignored Jake, tossed her dirty clothes beside the washtub and rushed straight into A.J.'s arms. Laughing, A.J. hugged her close...too close. Jake crushed the flower stems in his fist.
"I just don't know how to thank you."
His brother gave her a squeeze, then set her back. "Your smile and the look on Jake's face are thanks enough."
Grace focused a narrow-eyed gaze Jake's way. "All I see is his normal sour look."
Jake bit back a response. He had every right to glower. A.J.'s hands had no business being around Grace's waist.
Clearing his throat, Jake extended the bouquet. "These...uhm...these are for you."
In two strides she was before him, fists braced on hips. "And I suppose you're sorry...again." Grace jabbed two fingers in the center of his chest. "This time sorry isn't going to fix things." She yanked the flowers from him. "The pigs are going to love these."
Jake waited for a slam to follow her exit. The fact that it didn't come, that she could be so calmly cold, added to his fury. Looking at A.J., that blasted smirk of his, only made it worse.
A.J. plunged his hands into the dishwater. "Dress fits her real nice, doesn't it?"
"She's not Emma. Putting her in Emma's clothes doesn't change that."
A.J. slapped the rag onto the sinkboard. "Grace has nothing, Jake. When are you going to get that through your head? She deserves nice things. She might as well have Emma's. God knows, Emma doesn't need them anymore."
Logic be damned. A.J. made it clear earlier that day what his intent was. He didn't waste any time either. Jake sure as hell wasn't going to stand here and watch A.J. make Grace over into a new Emma.
He marched to his end of the house.
"Now whose turn is it to hide out?" A.J. called to his back.
Jake braced his hands on the doorjamb. That's exactly what he was doing-running to his room like a pouting child. But he sure didn't need A.J. pointing it out to him.
"I'm getting the rocking chair from my room before Hoyt wears a groove in the floor."
\*
Grace didn't know what alarmed her more-that tiny baby nestled in Jake's big arms or Hoyt kneeling in front of the washtub. The baby looked pretty content, sound asleep while Jake rocked him. But Hoyt...he was just about doubled over the scrub board. He was trying to scrub Justina's dirty sheet. She appreciated the help, but the next thing in the pile was Grace's old dress and under that...
Jake watched a flush redden Grace's cheeks. He could only guess at the cause since her gaze was riveted to Hoyt. Manners were the only thing keeping her from shoving him out of the way.
"Grace, I think this little one is ready to go back to his mama."
She tore her gaze away and looked up. Jake didn't give her the chance to refuse. He just nuzzled the baby into her arms.
"I'll take care of the laundry," he whispered.
Grace clicked her gaze to his. "But my underthings are in there."
He leaned close to her ear. "Well, I have seen them before. I promise I'll dunk them in the water so fast no one will know they're there."
What choice did she have? Hoyt was reaching for her dress. Jake jumped in to replace him.
There he was being all sweet and considerate again. Did he enjoy twisting her inside out? Flowers, helping out, settling the baby, and now saving her from embarrassment. She was beginning to think he was two different people. It was enough to drive a woman crazy.
Not this time. Not her. Jake Tanner had hurt her for the last time. She wouldn't give him the chance to twist her words and her heart around. He could cook and clean and do laundry until he dropped. He could pick the fields clean of wildflowers. Grace refused to budge.
It was a devilishly hard decision to stick to. All through dinner he was charming and afterward, too, cleaning up the dishes. Grace faltered, and why shouldn't she? She still longed for those things she'd wished for under the tree. Then she reminded herself of their heated exchange. That too was a mistake for the hurt it dredged up.
True, he was being wonderful now, but the words still hung in the air. There was no way he could convince her he misspoke. There was too much hate in his face when he said them. And why? She'd given him everything he asked for and more. She'd given him her heart.
"I thought it would be nice to invite Miss Barnett to supper Sunday after church," Grace said.
The children brightened. The men looked at her as if she'd grown a third eye.
"Why?" they asked together.
"Because it's the polite thing to do. She can ride home with us after services." She stood and stared down at them and dared them to defy her. "I'll send a note with the young'uns in the morning. Now off to bed for the little ones." Grace lifted a brow Jake's and A.J.'s way. "And the big ones, too. I've still got ironing to do."
"Anything I can do to help?" Jake scrambled to his feet.
Grace looked him up and down. "Yes...stay out of my way." And give me room to gather my wits about me.
\*
Jake intended to stay out of her way, but there was no way he'd leave her alone-not with A.J. hovering over her, waiting to serve her every need. He'd stay up all night if that's what it took to outlast him.
Grace said nothing to either of them. She brought the laundry in from the line, draped the wet over the furniture, and ironed until the sweat trickled down her face. Finally, Jake couldn't stand it any more.
He yanked the iron from her grip and set it on the stove. "That's enough. It's time for bed."
She cast those big brown eyes innocently up at him. "But you brought me here to work and that's what I'm doing."
A.J. darted to the safety of his room.
Jake fanned his hands in front of him. "Haven't you punished me enough already?"
Grace tucked her arms over her chest and cocked out a hip. "Not nearly as much as you've punished me. You brought me here to work, Jake. You made that clear. But you're the one who made me your wife this morning. You can't undo that. The fact that you want to shames me more than I can bear."
"Sweet..." When he reached to hug her, Grace batted him away.
"You threatened to take away a baby we don't even know if I'm carrying. The things you said..."
He straightened and stared down his nose at her. "I apologized." Why was she being so stubborn?
"For the third time in as many days. Each time the words are harsher. I hate to think what will happen next."
He dusted his fingers down her arm to her elbow. Grace shivered under his touch, but did not pull away.
"Just go to bed, Jake. I'm very busy."
Pulling out a chair, he sat astride it and draped his arms over the back. "Not without you."
"Then it's going to be a very long night."
A long night indeed. Jake had never known a woman to be so stubborn. Even with Laurette he could manage to coerce her to bed. But then look how that had turned out. But if Grace wanted to play games, he'd play them. They'd see who outlasted who. He beat A.J. and he'd win this time, too. This argument would be settled tonight.
\*
"Wake up." Jake opened bleary eyes to his brother. His pillow was the table.
A.J. snorted. "I don't know who's worse-you or her." He jerked his head toward the rocking chair where Grace slept.
Jake massaged the crick from his neck and stifled a yawn. "What time is it?"
"The sun's just coming up. I think she's just gone to sleep-the iron's still warm. I'll wake her."
"No." He rubbed the sleep from his eyes. "Let her sleep. I'll get breakfast. You get the young'uns up and tell them to be quiet."
The guilt was awful. If he'd just gone to bed and left her alone, Grace wouldn't have spent the night working. Now was a good opportunity to make it up to her. Everyone cooperated, even Justina's baby, a tiny miracle in and of itself. Jake thought they had it made-until he passed out the lunch pails.
Carrie tugged on his trouser leg. "We need a note to ask Miss Barnett to Sunday supper."
He looked to A.J. for help. A.J. turned palms up and shrugged.
"Mama had some pretty paper. I'll get it." Belinda dashed off before Jake could stop her.
There were all manner of rules ladies had for sending invitations. Special words, neat handwriting. He might have the words, but the handwriting?
He grabbed the inkwell and pen from a drawer and yanked out a chair for A.J. "You write. At least she'll be able to read it."
Belinda slid pink paper and envelope in front of them.
A.J. stared at them as if he'd never seen such things before. "What do I say?"
Jake tapped the paper. "I'll tell you."
A look questioned his ability to do so. Nevertheless, A.J. poised pen over paper.
"'Dear Miss Barnett. Please join our family-' No, that's not right."
A.J. wadded the paper, tossed it aside, and started again.
Jake nodded. "'We would be honored-' No."
Sighing, A.J. crumpled the sheet and began once more. "We only have so much paper."
"I'm trying to make this sound like Grace...'You are cordially invited-'"
"Grace wouldn't say 'cordially'." A.J. looked at Jake from under his eyebrows.
"She would if she was writing a note." He tapped the paper. "Just write. 'You are cordially invited to join us for supper Sunday.'"
"Sunday supper," A.J. corrected.
"We hope you will join us," Jake added.
Carrie leaned closer. "Love, A.J. and Jake."
"No!" they said together.
Carrie frowned and parked her tiny fists on her nonexistent waist. "But Miss Millie and Mama were friends, and Mama said we love our friends."
"Just sign it 'the Tanners'," Jake told him.
The note sealed and ready for delivery, Jake placed it in the children's care. They ran out the door, bright smiles plastered on their faces.
Grace waited until she heard Jake and A.J. leave, and then let the laughter bubble out. It kept a smile on her face throughout morning chores. Justina was up and around, able to take a more active mother role. That freed Grace to a normal day of cooking, cleaning, and preparing for what she hoped would be a Sunday guest.
The hardest part of the day was moving Emma's belongings into her room. She wanted to go slowly, but A.J. had been pretty insistent it be done soon. Now that he'd made the decision to crawl out of his grief, he wanted to take the next step-sleeping in their room again. It wasn't going to be easy. He didn't need extra things in there to remind him of his loss.
Once she was done, Grace wandered to the workshop where he'd been for the day. She half expected him to be there worrying over the night to come, and was surprised to find him working on a piece of furniture. In fact, the building was filled with different pieces of furniture.
"You built all this?"
A.J. smiled. "Jake and I built every stick of furniture here and in the house."
She brushed her palm over the smooth surface on his latest project. He was building a porch swing. "And what happens when you run out of house? Have you ever thought of selling it? I bet the big city folk would go crazy over this."
He planed at a rough patch on the arm. "We thought about it once, but the ranch seems to take up so much of our time."
"But you haven't been involved with the ranch for seven months." Grace could have bit her tongue.
A.J. sucked on his top lip and stared at the furniture piled up around him. "True, and I'm not sure how much help I'd be now. Some days the leg hurts more than others. Out with the herd, a man's got to be in top shape. Jake's definitely been supporting this family."
"And now, with this, you can, too." She held her breath. It wasn't her place to tell a man how to live, but the beauty and care in what she saw was worth a fortune.
"Jake will be heading to Austin soon for supplies." He tapped a dowel into place. "I think I'll see what we can set up."
Grace braced her forearms on the edge of the table and watched him work and waited for the right time to tell him the room was ready. The last thing she wanted was to destroy his peace.
She cleared her throat and jumped in. "I've finished moving things out of your old room. She has some wonderful pieces of needlework. I set some aside for the young'uns when they decide to start off on their own. They might like to have something of hers. Is there anything of Jeremy's mother that I should put aside for him? I really don't know what is Emma's and what is Laurette's."
A.J. made a sound somewhere between a snort and a laugh. "She took everything with her when she left."
"Left?" She wrinkled her forehead in confusion. "I thought she died in childbirth."
He shaved a long strip, and then set the plane aside. Easing into the nearest chair, he propped up his bad leg. "She did, Grace, but she left first. Took off as soon as she found out she was carrying Jake's child. He tracked her down in New Orleans and brought Jeremy home."
Grace fumbled for the stool behind her.
"She wasn't a nice person. Complained all the time. Lazy. But none of us ever expected her to take off the way she did. Jake..."
She held up her hand. No more. No wonder Jake had acted the way he had. Of course, he'd accused her of being like Laurette. That's what he was used to. To hear her complain about everything that went wrong...if only she'd known.
But they couldn't live their lives keeping everything all bottled up. Marriage was sharing. Her parents had taught her that. Grace wasn't going anywhere. The vows she took were sacred. Jake had to understand that or they would continue to be miserable. He couldn't live in fear she would leave, and she couldn't live in fear that he would throw her out.
"I have to talk to Jake." She stumbled blindly to the door.
A.J. caught her skirt and pulled her to a stop. "He's out with the herd. It's spring roundup. I doubt he'll be back until Monday when the herd comes in."
It seemed forever. Grace brushed a chill from her arms. "But what about church on Sunday? I thought we could go as a family."
He dropped his hand and leaned back. "I haven't been to church since Emma died, Grace. It seems blasphemous to walk in those doors after being away for so long."
A frown knitted her eyebrows. "You mean those children haven't been to church- ?"
"Jake's been taking them. Now that you're here..." He shrugged a shoulder.
Monday...days before she could clear the air between them. She squatted and placed both hands on A.J.'s knee.
"Please tell me where the herd is. I've got to talk to Jake."
He cupped his hand against her cheek. "Don't go running after him, sweetie. All the talking in the world isn't going to change things. You can tell him until you're blue you won't leave, but he's got to believe it in here." He touched his chest. "The two of you...the two of you need to fall in love first."
"But..."
He pressed his fingers to his lips. "Let me handle Jake. I promise it will all work out."
A single tear slipped down her cheek. Grace nodded. "But you have to promise me something."
A.J. flicked away the tear with his thumb. "What's that?"
"Go to church with us on Sunday."
He sighed, and then gave a single nod.
\*
Jake watched Grace and A.J. through the window. He spied them as he rode up to the house with another offering of wildflowers. Seeing them all cozy, her hands on his lap, his hand to her face, was more than he could bear. Jealousy, betrayal, and an overwhelming sadness engulfed him.
He never should have left the house that morning. It gave A.J. the chance he needed to stake a claim to Grace's heart-his second time in less than a day. What woman wouldn't want a man like A.J.? He was always the calm one, always sensitive to a woman's feelings. Oh, he could get riled when the mood struck, but Jake had never known him to be consumed by out and out rage. A.J. deserved to be happy again. To find a woman who would be as devoted to him as Emma. But why Grace?
He tossed the flowers to the pigs and let his horse carry him back to the herd. He never should have left in the first place. But that patch of flowers and his hope they would heal the rift between him and Grace pulled him away. Too late.
Jake gave a humorless chuckle. There was work to tend to. He'd neglected it too long. But through the day and night, thoughts of Grace made him useless. He missed the tension between them, even if it was laced with anger.
Sleep was impossible. He lay there counting the stars and wished Grace was by his side. Just the thought of A.J. touching her, holding her, lying with her tore a hole in his gut the size of Texas. And he knew that if he had to follow Grace to the ends of the earth, he could never let her go.
All he had to do was win back the trust he'd destroyed. He'd prove to her he could be just as good a gentleman as A.J. He'd take his time, and court her proper.
All of Jake's good intentions to take his time and court her faded when he was finally able to get home that Saturday night. It was late enough. Jake thought he could sneak in. But there she was wearing only a pink wrapper, toting buckets of hot water to the tub in the corner of the kitchen.
She looked up when he walked in. Their gazes locked, and then she pulled the curtain closed around the tub.
It took three strides to reach her. Jake hesitated, and then stepped into the privacy that small space provided.
Grace yanked the edges of her wrapper together.
Jake caught her hands. "No," he whispered. "Please don't hide yourself from me."
He dusted the material from her shoulders. It fell in a pink puddle around her feet.
"So beautiful. So perfect." He cupped her breasts and flicked his thumbs over the tips.
Grace closed her eyes and sighed. She didn't know if this was part of A.J.'s plan or not, but at this point she didn't care. Jake was here and she wanted him.
He dropped a kiss to her shoulder. Grace grabbed the edge of the tub and arched her neck. He took the invitation, nipped a path to her throat, covered her lips in a penetrating kiss and then plunged onward to the curve of her breasts.
A small cry left her lips. Jake answered with one of his own. She felt his tongue lap her navel. Her body quivered in response. He gently nudged her legs apart and knelt between them. Grace held her breath, waiting for him to join their bodies. Then his mouth nuzzled into the apex of her thighs. A flick of his tongue sent arrows of pleasure shooting to the depths of her soul.
Grace tossed her head back on a smothered cry. Her hands slipped. She teetered for balance, and then fell under the water. Her foot cracked against Jake's chin. The curtains tore from their rings. She yanked upright, gasping for breath and found him sprawled on the floor.
"Jake!"
Jumping from the water, Grace yanked on her wrapper and knelt beside him. Her fingers fluttered over his face. He was out cold. Unconscious.
Grace pulled his head onto her lap and smoothed back his hair.
Footsteps beat a path their way. A.J. stopped at the threshold.
"What happened?"
A flush heated Grace's cheeks. "He...uh...slipped on a bar of soap."
"Right...And fell on his chin?"
Jake winced as he scraped his razor over his bruised, swollen jaw. A kick from a horse didn't hurt this much. Of course, he could normally tell when a horse was in a kicking mood. He never expected his wife to knock him out cold.
"Does your head still hurt?"
He glanced in the mirror at Grace's reflection. She stood behind him, face twisted like she was the one in pain.
Jake slung shaving soap into the basin. "What do you think?"
Grace nibbled at her bottom lip. "If it matters much, I think the swelling's gone down quite a bit." She reached to touch the knot on the back of his head.
He jerked away and lightly grabbed her wrist. "Thank you...you've done more than enough."
Her eyebrows crinkled in concern. "Aw, Jake, are you mad?"
A smirk lifted the uninjured side of his mouth. "Surprisingly, no. Considering your tendency to be less than graceful at times, I should have known better. I'm just grateful that that foot of yours has never found my crotch."
Laughter sputtered from her lips and washed the worry lines away. She was especially pretty today in a dress of buttercup yellow. It brightened everything about her. Even the little feathered hat, that looked ridiculous on Emma, somehow fit Grace.
"I can't wait to show you off today."
Wonderment replaced humor, and it was all Jake could do to remember they had somewhere to be.
"Then we need to get a move on or you won't get the chance."
Grace hurried off before she could give in to the impulse and kiss him. Everything was fine...again, but for how long?
She couldn't blame him for his foul mood this time. He had taken quite a whack to the chin and head, and had every right to be irritable when he finally regained consciousness. What worried Grace were those other dark periods. She longed to broach the subject with him and would have if not for his injury the night before and A.J.'s insistence that she wait. One thing was certain, though-A.J. had better do something soon because Grace was tired of tiptoeing around Jake.
She found A.J. wringing his hands at the dining table. He didn't look like he could help himself much less anyone else.
"Relax." Grace patted his shoulder in passing. "I promise God won't smite you for walking into church."
"I hope not," he mumbled.
After a quick check on her ham, Grace rousted the rest of the family. Justina's cheeks were rosy this morning, a picture of health. The baby was hearty, a blessing, too. Much as Grace worried about them, she was glad they were going to their own home today.
By the time the children were settled around Justina and her baby in the rear of the wagon, Jake was ready to go. Just a glimpse of him in his Sunday clothes was enough to take her breath away. With a broad smile, he swung her onto the wagon seat then jumped up beside her.
They were a small parade heading into town-the wagon with A.J., Hoyt, and the ranch hands riding alongside. It was attention Grace wasn't sure they needed. She'd hoped to be able to slip into a pew with little commotion.
The thought made her laugh. Five children, five adults, and a baby? There was no sneaking with a crowd like that.
"What's so funny?" Jake cocked his head, waiting for her answer.
Grace kept her hands folded on her lap and watched the road. "There are so many of us. Everyone's going to look at us."
Jake looked around. "No more than usual, really."
She leaned closer and kept her voice low. "I just don't want to make A.J. feel uncomfortable."
"With Justina's baby and you along, I doubt anyone will even notice A.J."
At least Jake had the good sense not to laugh at the stricken expression on her face-one of the few smart things he'd managed to do since he met her. He didn't know why Grace would be surprised. She had to know what a curiosity the new Mrs. Tanner would be.
By now the children would have told all of their schoolmates, who would have taken the news straight home. The fact that Grace was a stranger to these parts would make her all the more interesting. Only the sick, lame, or lazy would skip church today. Everyone would want to take a gander at her.
Jake's story would be the same one he'd told Grace's neighbors the day they married. He met her when her father bought the cow. A small part of him knew that wasn't far from the truth. If he'd met her a year ago, Jake doubted he would have been able to get her out of his mind.
As he suspected, just about the whole town showed up at the church. They milled around the entrance in small knots of people most probably speculating on who the new Mrs. Tanner was. At the first sight of the wagon, heads turned their way. A few took steps toward them. Jake reined the team to a stop and braced himself.
"Come on, everyone, looks like we just made it." He jumped down and girdled his hands around Grace's waist.
She barely had time to set her toes on the ground when the first attack began-the Cyruses.
"Why, Jake Tanner...what do we have here?" Mrs. Cyrus's eyes sparkled as she sized Grace up.
They were saved by the peal of the church bell. At least Jake thought they were. He didn't count on the old woman's persistence.
"You must be Grace. I can tell you, you've got tongues wagging around this town." She linked her arm through Grace's and led her to the church. "Now tell Mrs. Cyrus all about yourself."
Mr. Cyrus clapped Jake on the back. "Sly old dog. How long how have you had this bee in your bonnet?"
"Save the tale for the congregation, gentlemen."
Paul Harrington wasn't what Jake called a typical preacher. He was young, where most he'd known looked as old as Moses himself. He preached a good sermon, not one to put you to sleep. Short and to the point. When he shook a man's hand, it was firm, no nonsense, with a look straight in the eye.
His hands were callused. He wasn't afraid of work. With his bronzed skin and dusty blond hair, Paul could have blended well with Jake's ranch hands. He could joke with the men or sit down to tea with the ladies and still be equally comfortable. When womenfolk had no luck pairing Jake up, they set their sights on Paul. So far, in the eight months since he arrived at Cottonwood Bend, Paul had managed to avoid any matrimonial entanglements.
The reverend extended one hand to A.J. "Good to have you join us again. You've been missed." Contact was brief and sincere, nothing to make A.J. uncomfortable.
Paul shot his gaze to Jake. "Looks like you tussled with a steer."
"Just took a fall."
Up ahead Grace's cheeks flamed with embarrassment. Jake hurried to catch up with her.
"No one's going to believe the story if you blush every time we tell it," he whispered as he cupped her elbow.
Her flush deepened as they slipped into the only available seat-the honored first pew. Jake shook his head. At least it kept the rest of the gathering from having to turn around to gawk at Grace.
Grace watched Reverend Harrington ascend the pulpit and shuffle his papers together. He was the youngest preacher Grace had ever seen, and not bad looking either. Judging from some of the young ladies in the congregation, that fact hadn't gone unnoticed. Grace craned her neck for a glimpse of Millie Barnett to see where her interest wandered. It went no further than the hymnal in her gloved hands, but that didn't mean he wasn't a threat to Joe's matchmaking plans.
"Before we begin services today, we have a few announcements to make. I want to thank the Ladies' Quilting and Sewing Circle for the beautiful vestments in our church today."
Applause tittered through the church. Grace tried not to look around. It wasn't easy. Church for her was also the schoolhouse or sometimes a tent outside the mercantile. With high ceilings, a big stained glass panel at the entrance, smooth pews, and hymnals, this building took a person's breath away. As quaint and picture perfect as the rest of the town.
Cottonwood Bend dwarfed Sleepy Eye. Everywhere she looked there were shops and houses, some two floors high, with fences and beautiful flower gardens. Hitching posts. Boardwalks shaded by overhangs. And more trees than she could count.
"And finally...I'm sure we'd all like to welcome our newest member of the community. Jake Tanner, would you like to make the official introduction?"
Grace shook her wandering mind clear and stood when he gently tugged on her hand. She'd been so busy daydreaming, she hadn't heard the other announcements.
Jake curled an arm around her waist, tucking her close. The story was the same he'd told the townsfolk at their wedding. Somehow it didn't sound as sweet this time, no matter how sincere Jake's voice.
Mrs. Cyrus tapped her shoulder after they sat down. "I could tell this was a love match from the sparkle in your faces."
Grace smiled at her, and tried to hide the sadness her compliment brought on. If only there were at least a little truth to Jake's story. As things stood they were barely friends.
Throughout the sermon Jake watched Grace sitting in ladylike splendor absorbing everything Paul had to say. And afterward when she became the center of attention and object of everyone's interest. This was too familiar, too much like the first time he'd brought Laurette to this church, well, with one big exception-Grace hated it. Oh, she was pleasant enough, cordial, but there was no fluttering of eyelashes, fanning of her face, or forced laughter. She was truly a lady, something Jake was ashamed he hadn't taken the time to notice sooner.
Pride and panic warred with one another. One part of him wanted to clutch her close and never let her go. Another part wanted to keep as far away from her as possible and protect a heart that was slowly being captured.
One look at A.J. squelched that plan. Here was a man ready to snatch up what Jake was afraid to accept. And one thing Jake was sure of-as much as he feared heartbreak again, he knew seeing her with his brother would kill him.
By the time they were ready to leave, Grace had invited three more to dinner: the Cyruses and Paul. Jake didn't want Millie Barnett for dinner much less anyone else. People took time away from Grace and Grace away from him. And time was something he was rapidly running out of.
Already the division was starting-men in the wagon, women in the Cyruses' buggy. And, naturally, Millie and Mrs. Cyrus had to get something, most probably food.
Women were a mystery. For the life of him, Jake could never understand why they had to take food to someone's house when they'd been invited to supper. Were they afraid the food they were getting wasn't good enough? His mother had taught them it was all about good manners, but it just made no sense.
His irritation must have been apparent, for Grace hurried his way.
"We'll just be a minute or two. Why don't you go ahead? I'm sure the reverend and Mr. Cyrus would like to get in out of the sun."
"And leave you women to arrive in your own sweet time?" Mr. Cyrus tossed back a body-shaking laugh. "We'll never eat."
Grace gave him her sweetest smile. "I'll do my best to hurry them along." Her gaze shifted to the other side of the wagon. "Where's A.J.?"
Jake looked over his shoulder. A.J.'s horse was still tied to the post, but A.J. was nowhere to be seen.
"He went to see Mama," Belinda said.
Concern masked Grace's face. She made a move to follow.
Jake caught her arm before she could dash off. "I'll see to him."
Although her gaze questioned Jake's ability to handle the situation, she gave her agreement in a single nod, and then went back to the Cyruses' buggy to wait for the other two women.
The cemetery was in a small field not far from the church. Cottonwoods marked the boundaries on three sides, and a white picket fence was inside that. A.J. was the only visitor today. It was his first visit since the day they'd laid Emma to rest and, with her, their unborn fifth child.
A.J. dusted his fingers over the top of the granite marker. Emma Frances Tanner. Beloved wife, mother, sister, daughter, friend. Maybe it was a little much, but that's how Jake felt. You couldn't get any better than Emma.
He gave his brother the privacy he needed and prayed A.J. was thinking about all the good times, not the argument right before the tornado that took her life. At least she'd died in A.J.'s arms, knowing, hearing he loved her.
Jake edged closer.
A.J. squatted beside the grave and placed a single white rose in the center. "I love you, Em. I'll always love you. Good-bye, sweetheart. I'm sorry I've kept you here beyond your time."
It was enough to make the strongest man tear up. Jake was no exception. A.J. straightened and turned his way. For the first time in seven months his eyes were dry.
"Thank you for...well, everything. I know it hasn't been easy for you taking on the burden of..."
Jake studied the tips of his boots in an effort to hide his emotion. "You'd do the same for me."
"Let's hope I never have to." He clapped Jake on the back then jerked his head in the direction of the wagon and buggy. "Let's see if we can get those women moving before Grace decides to invite the rest of the town to supper."
\*
"Quite a meal, Grace." Mr. Cyrus patted his round belly. "Clydeen, break open one of those bottles of elderberry wine you brought. It's the perfect topper to that delicious peach cobbler."
Grace smiled. They sat around the front porch and talked off their supper while they enjoyed the sunset. Everything went very well, even if she did have three extra guests she hadn't counted on. At least it gave her the chance to keep a closer eye on Reverend Harrington. So far he hadn't paid much notice to Millie. For that matter, neither had A.J. All that was about to change.
Millie accepted a small glass of wine with a smile. "I feel terrible that I couldn't have brought something more than flowers."
"But the flowers really dress up the supper table. Makes it feel like a holiday," Grace said.
Millie gave a light laugh. "You are too gracious. I would have preferred to bring something else, but Mrs. Busby doesn't allow anyone to cook in the boarding house, just herself." She laughed again. "I suspect you're better off anyway. I'm not much of a cook. I love to sew though, and I do still get to do that."
"I'll say. She took over the Ladies' Quilting Circle when Em..." Mrs. Cyrus stumbled over her words.
A.J. leaned forward and patted her hand. "It's all right, Mrs. C." Settling once more, he smiled at Grace. "Emma and Millie had their heads together over a sewing basket since the day Millie arrived."
"Sewing is a true chore for me." Grace stared at the wine. She'd never drunk spirits before. Her mother had been pretty firm in her opinions about alcohol. Not that that had stopped Pa.
Following everyone else's example, she took a sip, and then fought to keep from shuddering as the liquid slipped down her throat. Jake's smirk didn't help. She focused attention back to Millie. So...she and Emma were friends. At least that meant she was no stranger to A.J. A plus as far as Grace was concerned.
"I thought you had your own place. I didn't know you roomed at the boarding house. Does Mrs. Busby allow you to keep a flower garden?" Grace asked.
"Oh no, she'd never allow that either. If it's not hers..." She shrugged. "I have a small garden around the schoolhouse. Something to pretty it up."
Grace dared another sip. This one went down easier than the first. "Mrs. Busby...is she the-?"
"Prune-faced hag sitting in the back pew." Mrs. Cyrus snorted. "Say it like it is, Grace. None of us have much use for the old gossip. I swear I've seen her take from the collection plate at church instead of put in."
Reverend Harrington leaned forward. "And that's why we pass the plate from the back to the front."
Everyone laughed but Mrs. Cyrus, who took a hearty swallow of her own wine. "If I had my way, I'd open up my own boarding house and put her out of business."
Her husband patted her hand. "Now, dear. There are only so many hours in the day. We can't run a general store and a boarding house."
Millie lifted her glass in toast. "If you ever decide to open that boarding house, let me know. I'll be first in line to rent a room."
Grace blamed the wine on the plan mounting in her head. At least that's what she'd tell Jake and A.J. if they got riled. "Are things that bad?"
"For the most part, yes. I understand about rules and I'm willing to abide by them, but there are times like these when I think she could be a little more understanding." Millie finished her drink and set it aside. "She's terribly nosy and, although I have no proof, I think she goes into my room while I'm at the schoolhouse."
"Have you thought of planting something shocking in there just for her?" A.J. laced his hands behind his head and leaned back, smiling. "Imagine what she'd do if she found a man in there."
"The old coot would have a fit. That'd keep her tongue wagging for months." Mrs. Cyrus clutched her hands to her bosom and laughed.
More importantly, Millie laughed. A good sign for sure. She was not only friend to Emma, but A.J. as well. Then Grace remembered her first meeting with Millie. The shock on her face when she'd heard Grace was Mrs. Tanner, and the relief when she'd learned she was Jake's wife. Grace smiled. It was enough to make her dare to take things another step.
"Saturday nights are the worst," Millie told them. "I lock my door and slide the dresser in front. The cowboys come into town and..."
There was no need to say any more.
Grace scooted to the edge of her chair. "I have an idea. Why don't you stay here? There's plenty of room, and I would really enjoy the company of another woman." She forced her gaze to remain on Millie and not wander to Jake or A.J.
"Oh...I couldn't." The longing on Millie's face said differently.
"I promise you those young'uns won't be a problem. Besides, you like to sew and I hate it. I like to cook and you hate it. I can't think of a more perfect solution. This will be your home."
Mrs. Cyrus patted her arm. "Just think, Millie. You can have the quilting bee here again instead of at the schoolhouse."
Millie's violet eyes lit with delight. "I do like the idea."
Grace pushed to her feet and tugged Millie's to hers. "Come...I'll show you the room. If you don't like the furniture there, A.J. has tons of other pieces he's made. Just pick something you like and it's yours."
Jake watched the women scurry into the house. It seemed everything was decided upon whether he and A.J. liked it or not. Frankly, it wasn't a bad idea. Millie would be company for Grace when he took the herd north in a few weeks, and another woman around would keep A.J.'s eyes elsewhere. And it wouldn't be a bad idea to sow that seed now.
He waited until Mr. Cyrus and Paul excused themselves and then nudged A.J.'s leg. "Grace isn't very good at being subtle, is she?"
"What do you mean?"
"Trying to hook you up with a new wife."
A.J. arched one eyebrow. "Who said Millie was for me? Remember...you're the one who wants Grace gone. Maybe she's just trying to find you a replacement."
\*
Grace watched as pleasure lit Millie's face.
"It's perfect." Millie clasped her hands under her chin. "I love the big windows. I can't wait to move in."
"What's to wait for?" Mrs. Cyrus said. "We'll move you tonight."
"But I-"
"Why not? Grace is willing. We have enough muscle and a wagon to move three people."
"Let's hurry before we lose the rest of the daylight." Grace waved them from the room. She got as far as the nursery when A.J. snagged her arm and pulled her aside.
"I think we need to talk."
Summoning the most innocent look she could muster, Grace looked up at him. "About what?"
He lifted his eyebrows. "Oh, I think you know."
She said nothing, just cocked her head to one side.
A.J. sighed. "Grace, I only lost Emma seven months ago, and while some people might think that's an eternity, it feels like yesterday to me. I might be better able to handle her death than I was a few days ago, but I still mourn her. I'm not ready to think about another woman, much less consider marriage. And as for Millie-she lost her husband and son two years ago last winter. She told Emma the grief was more than she could stand. There wasn't a night she didn't cry for them and still cries. That's how she came to be here. She just wanted to get as far as she could from Boston and everyone, everything that reminded her of them. She doesn't tell too many people about it. Says she simply can't bear their sympathy. So, please don't try your hand at matchmaking, Grace."
"I would never think of doing such a thing. I know how you mourn Emma." Grace pressed her hand against the front of his shirt. "A.J., I've had a few changes of my own to deal with. A week ago I was a daughter living in a houseful of women. I thought I'd like the time alone, but lately I've discovered I miss their company."
"And that's all this is about?"
She gave him her brightest smile. "Of course." On impulse, she stretched to tiptoe and kissed his cheek.
\*
Jake backed away from the door. The last thing he ever expected to see was Grace kissing his brother. Obviously he'd messed things up worse than he'd thought. And A.J. had wasted no time making good his threat to take Grace as his own.
They stood there in the dark, voices low in conversation. Jealousy boiled under Jake's skin. Company was the only thing keeping him in check, that and the fact that losing his temper would put Grace further from his reach.
He sidled to the kitchen and waited. Within a few minutes, she breezed into the room like nothing unusual had happened. He had to talk to her, had to know how things were between them, had to know where her heart truly was, had to know if there was the slightest chance for them.
Millie's move stole that opportunity from him for the moment. But Jake was determined to have his say even if he had to wait hours to talk to Grace. Come morning he'd be leaving for the roundup. He couldn't walk out of the house not knowing.
Precious hours crept by. The women giggled like schoolgirls while the men hauled Millie's possessions and arranged the furniture to her liking. In the end, the Cyruses and Paul stayed the night to avoid traveling in the dark. Still, the women chatted. It was enough to drive a man insane. He could stand no more.
"Grace, the night is late."
Mouth agape, she looked from him to her guests. "I'm so sorry. I didn't realize."
Bidding Grace and Jake good night, their company scattered to their respective rooms. Grace reached for the flour bin.
"Now what are you doing?" he demanded to know.
"Making bread for breakfast."
He snatched the scoop from her, tossed it back in the bin, and closed the lid. "Make soda biscuits. I need to speak with you...alone."
There was another maddening delay as she turned down the lanterns. Finally, they were alone, the bedroom door shut tight against intrusion.
"You know I leave in the morning to round up the cattle. Once the branding's done, I'll be taking the herd north to market and will be gone for several months."
Seated in front of the mirror, Grace pulled the pins from her hair and shook out the tresses. The lamplight shot streaks of gold through it. Jake curled his fingers into his palms to keep from touching her.
"Yes...I know." Just the thought left an ache in Grace's heart. There was so much to settle between them and here he was leaving before they could truly get the chance to do so.
"I'm just going to come right out and ask it, Grace. Do you have feelings for A.J.?"
The hairbrush stopped in mid-stroke. "Feelings? What-?"
"Yes, Grace, feelings. Please don't pretend you don't know what I mean." He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her to her feet. "I need to know. Who is Millie for?"
Grace blinked while the question soaked in. When realization hit, it was all she could do to keep from laughing. Her silence didn't help him. Concern clouded his features.
"I know I haven't been...I've said some stupid, hurtful things..." he attempted.
She pressed her fingers to his lips. "I care for A.J. as I would a friend. Although I'd never admit it to another soul, Millie is for him."
A sigh erased the tension from his shoulders.
"I'm not Laurette, Jake." She kissed him full and then snuggled under his chin. "I don't have the experience of the world that you do and, frankly, from the way I've seen you behave lately because of that woman, I don't think I want to. I married you, Jake. I'll be true. But I also know you can't keep twisting me up inside like this. Say what you mean and stick to it. If that means you truly only want me here for a year-"
He pulled her chin up on the crook of his finger. "You know that's not so."
Yes, she did, but he had to know it, too. He had to realize that whatever happened, she would never leave. "You've got the whole town saying we're a love match."
He smiled and traced the curve of her cheek with his thumb. "Not saying...believing."
"It makes me wish it were so."
"Others started out as strangers with less in common than us. Just because we didn't start as a love match doesn't mean we can't make it one now."
"Do you think love can grow where it doesn't exist?"
"It can if you want it to. That's what you're hoping for with A.J. and Millie."
"True, but do you want it to?"
His smile grew into a deep-throated chuckle as he draped her across the bed, and then crawled over her body. "What do you think?"
Grace yanked his shirt free from his breeches. "Show me one of those things we have in common."
"You aren't going to kick me in the jaw again, are you?"
"I promise." She dotted kisses along his jawline. "As long as you promise to...uhm...visit me there again."
"Oh, sweet Grace, I promise."
They took their time undressing one another, tossing each garment to the far corners of the room.
Jake marveled at the glow of her skin in the lamplight and wondered how he could have ever thought her anything but beautiful. He craved her body, her touch, her lips, and ached to be one with her. Reining himself against the impatient pulse in his loins, he bent his head to that place.
Grace balled the sheets beneath her fists. There was no place he did not touch, no place she did not want him to touch. Feathery kisses and deep caresses in hidden places pulled her out of her body and sent her soaring. She never knew her heart could beat with such longing, such intensity. A touch to the clouds would not have been as sweet. The pleasure completed her and she reached for Jake, made them one.
Jake ground his teeth together in an effort to hold back. She was too perfect, too hot, too wonderful. No woman compared and none would, for he knew in his heart it didn't get any better than this. The words were on his lips. He forced them away. Spoken in the heat of passion they would lose their impact and even he would doubt the sincerity when the fires waned.
She arched against him, pulling him deeper. He thrust and paused, and then took her as his.
Together they moved. Two as one. In perfect harmony. Jake felt her rise again and ground against her. Grace gasped, clutched his shoulders, and wrapped her legs around his. He was lost. Liquid fire built in his loins, burning with an intensity that begged for release.
Grace held Jake as tight as her body allowed and still it wasn't close enough. He was bringing her back to that glorious edge, this time with him. It exploded upon her with a force that threatened to consume her, melting them together. He plunged forward, once, twice, a third time, his back arched with the force of his release, and then he collapsed in the cove of her arms.
The after-love of kisses brought them fulfillment once more. A third time left them exhausted. A fourth...
Laughing, Grace pulled her lips from his. "Enough. It will be dawn soon and I doubt your horse will appreciate you falling asleep on him."
Jake pulled her against him spoon-fashion. "I'm going to have a hard time staying away from you this next week, sweetheart. Those four months on the trail are going to kill me."
She cuddled close. "Then I guess we'll have a lot of catching up to do when you get back."
"And before I go." He nipped at her ear.
Grace giggled and let him make love to her again. It wasn't love, but it was a damn fine start.
It was killing Jake to leave Grace now when all he wanted to do was be near her. The sun needn't bother to rise. She glowed this morning, despite the lack of sleep. He had a hard time keeping his hands off her. Unfortunately, with a houseful of guests, he had no choice.
She poured him another cup of coffee and draped her arm over his shoulder as she did so. He caught her fingers and kissed them.
A.J. lifted his eyebrows. Thankfully, he kept any smart-aleck comments to himself. No one else at the table seemed to notice. The children chattered away while they ate, Lulu at the ready for anything that dropped. The Cyruses were absorbed in conversation with Paul. And Millie flitted around the room with an energy that was exhausting. She ate nothing more than a biscuit with a cup of coffee, and then rushed about getting herself and her materials together for school.
Jake searched for some hint that Grace's matchmaking skills were having an effect. But if A.J. noticed anything about Millie, he was keeping it to himself.
"Dear, please slow down," Mrs. Cyrus said. "You're wearing me out."
"Not to mention annoying me," A.J. snapped.
Millie stopped in midstride, her good mood clearly shattered.
Grace ruffled A.J.'s hair while she filled his cup. "Don't mind him, Millie. A.J. is a little testy in the morning. He takes some time to wake up."
"I just prefer to ease into my day, not leap into it like I was killing bears with a stick."
"I'll try to remember that," Millie resumed her pace, "and not allow my good mood to ruin your foul one."
A.J. hid the hint of a smile behind his cup.
Maybe Grace was right-there was a possible match here. But Jake doubted it would happen soon. A.J. might be in the mood for a woman, but a wife? And Millie was definitely wife material. Odd that Jake hadn't noticed that before today. Equally odd was the fact that in all the time Millie had been around, Emma had never once tried to pair her up with Jake.
He downed the last of his coffee and reluctantly pushed away from the table. "Well, I'd better head out."
"Before you go, I'd like your help loading some of that furniture into the wagon." A.J. mirrored his actions. "I thought I'd go into Austin and see what type of business I could round up."
Jake's eyes widened.
A.J. jerked his thumb Grace's way. "Her suggestion. And a good one, too."
Mr. Cyrus wiped his mouth and patted his belly. "I'll say. Let me see what you've got. I might want a few pieces for the store. Everyone's always talking about those pews you two put in the church. I think they'll snatch up anything you bring in."
Jeremy tugged at Jake's shirtsleeve. "Can Ma and I go, too? I want her to meet my Grandma."
"Grandma?" Grace's gaze flitted between the brothers. "I thought your folks-"
"Laurette's mother," Jake replied.
"Can we go, Pa?"
Judging from the panic in Grace's eyes, Jake didn't think that was a good idea. He just wasn't sure how to tell the boy no. Thankfully, he didn't have to.
"Someone has to watch the ranch." A.J. squatted to his level. "And your cousins have to be in school. And it would be very rude to leave Miss Millie here all by herself the first day she's come to live with us. But I'll tell you what...you and Wayne gather your things and you can ride along with me. You can spend tomorrow visiting with your grandma."
Problem solved, but Grace still didn't look any happier. She fiddled with the dishes on the sinkboard for a few seconds, and then zipped off to their room. A glance over her shoulder, a click of her head invited Jake to join her there. He had a feeling it wasn't for a quick get together.
Grace paced at the foot of the bed-long, impatient strides.
Jake propped his forearm on the doorjamb. "I take it there's a problem?"
She wheeled around and stomped his way. "A few days ago, A.J. couldn't saddle his own horse. Now he's off to Austin on a wagon with two horses, a load of furniture, and two children?"
Smiling, he tried to wipe the worry lines from her face with the pad of his thumb. "He couldn't saddle his horse because he didn't want to. He's a man, Grace. Somehow you've managed to pull him out of that room he's been hiding in these last seven months. Now that he's living again, you can't put restrictions on him."
"But does he have to do it all at once?"
"That's the way he's always been. All over the place, in a big hurry, squeezing every second out of life. Actually, a lot like Millie. He just takes a little waking up in the morning-as you've already noticed."
That put a smile on her face. Jake hauled her close and kissed her. Grace molded her body to his.
"I'm going to miss you something awful, sweet Grace," he said, once their kiss was sealed.
Behind them, A.J. cleared his throat. "You're not going to get the chance to miss her if you don't get going."
Grace's grin was anything but shy. It hinted strongly of lust. Watching the twitch of her skirts as she walked away, it was all Jake could do to keep from yanking her back into bed.
"Looks like that kick to the head did considerable to turn you around."
Jake jerked himself away from his lustful wanderings. "Grace and I told you...I slipped on the water."
A.J. snickered. "She looked like a drowned cat when I got there. I know from experience how tricky that blasted bathtub can be."
\*
Grace watched the preparations from the kitchen window. Her visitors were on their way home. Millie and the children were off to school. Lulu and the little boys played outside while Jake and A.J. stuffed the wagon with furniture. Quiet settled in. Grace hated every second. It gave her thoughts the chance to dig deep. Worry gnawed at her insides.
Jeremy and Wayne had no business going to Austin, no matter how pleasant their company would be for A.J. on the long trip. Trouble was, Grace had no reason at all for feeling that way. She just didn't want them to go. Some part of her wasn't sure she wanted A.J. to go.
That feeling was easier to explain. She was afraid he was doing too much, too quick. Even then his leaving hadn't bothered her until he'd mentioned taking the boys with him. She out and out did not want them to leave and there was nothing she could say or do to stop them-not without good cause.
Her gaze shifted to the tree in the field beyond. "If I was sitting beneath you now, I sure know what I'd wish for."
She closed her eyes and imagined herself beneath those branches. The shade was cool, so was the ground beneath her, the trunk against her back a good brace. Birds chattered from above. There was the temptation to stretch out and sleep. Grace was there.
"I wish Jeremy and Wayne would not go to Austin on this trip."
A.J. called to the boys. They were ready to leave.
Grace opened her eyes and gave a half-hearted smile at her own whimsy. Then she went outside to see them off.
Each boy hugged her tight before climbing onto the seat. Even A.J. had a hug for her. And off they went. Grace didn't bother to watch the wagon down the road. It was time to say good-bye to Jake.
He pulled her close for a kiss, then another, and then peeled himself away. She watched him ride off until he disappeared into the line of trees. For the first time in her life, Grace was truly alone. Even Lulu was curled up on a rug in the corner of the kitchen, sound asleep.
This is what Grace had craved for as long as she could remember-a chance to be alone. No mother nagging at her, no children demanding attention, no one. It was the worst experience of her life. Without the distractions to her musings, Grace was lost. She truly could not concentrate on what needed to be done.
Not that there wasn't a pile of chores. Breakfast dishes stared at her. Today was the normal laundry day, and she should get back on schedule. All the bedding needed to be stripped and could probably stand to have the feathers washed. There was gardening to do, cooking, butter to churn. And all Grace could do was stand in the middle of the room. It was the most horrible feeling of her life. The very air around her mirrored her feelings-heavy and quiet.
She hated to think what night would be like without the comfort of Jake by her side. And this was only for a few days. Soon he'd be on the trail for months. Night after night without him, wanting him, worrying if he was all right, praying he'd come home safe. Year after year. Forever. Each year she'd dread the upcoming trip, then have to endure being apart, and longing for the man she loved.
Grace fumbled for a chair and sat down. At least she was smart enough to admit it, even if it was only to herself. It was hard to believe it had just been a week since he rode into her life. It seemed a lifetime. When had she started to love him?
She chuckled to herself. From the instant his hands covered hers when he helped her re-hang the clothesline. Ma would have called her a fool. Or would she? Maybe Ma saw something there all along and just used the opportunity to push them together. Who could say? And what did it really matter? They were married.
But how did Jake feel? He wanted her-that was obvious and very fine indeed. But she wanted, needed his love, too. If he did feel love for her, why not tell her last night?
Grace laughed at herself. She didn't bother to offer any declarations of love the night before, so why would Jake? Everything was too new, she supposed. If she didn't feel comfortable spouting off love, why should he? Especially considering how his first marriage had been.
Poor Jake. How much had he loved Laurette? Shared with her? Only to have her betray him. No wonder he was afraid to trust. Grace resented the woman for what she had stolen from him-from them.
At least Jake was willing to try. That's as far as Grace could take things for now. Any announcement of love might only box him in a corner. It was going to take time and time took him away for four months out of the year.
Grace shoved herself to her feet. She had to get busy or she would drive herself crazy, not to mention get woefully behind on her chores.
The last piece of laundry was out to dry when she heard a horse clomp to a stop near the barn. Probably Hoyt. He had stayed behind for Justina and would be working around the ranch. A quick glance confirmed her suspicions. Grace lifted her arm to wave and held it there, frozen in surprise. Jeremy and Wayne were with him.
One by one he lifted the boys to the ground. They grabbed their bundles and ran to her.
"Ma! Guess what?"
Grace glanced at the tree, eyes wide with wonder. She was tempted to rush to it and hug its gnarled trunk. Did she dare risk her luck and ask it to keep Jake here and not on the trail?
She knelt down and opened her arms to the boys. "That was a quick trip. How was it?"
Giggling, they fell against her.
"Guess what, Ma? Grandma's coming to visit."
Grace forced her smile to stay in place and looked up at Hoyt.
He pulled a yellow paper from his shirt pocket and handed it to her. "I ran into A.J. and these two at the general store. This telegram came. She's arriving on the late stage. Should be here by supper. Mr. Cyrus said he'd bring her out here."
Grace stared blankly at the words. There wasn't much to read since Hoyt had said it all. It was signed, Maude. "And I suppose A.J.'s gone on to Austin?"
"Yessum."
Chicken.
"I'll be gettin' to work on that barn now, ma'am. Unless you got somethin' else for me to do."
"No, that's fine." Her reply was absentminded, her thoughts on all she had to do. She slipped the paper into her apron and mentally ticked off her list. Meeting the woman was inevitable, but by herself?
"Come on, boys," she said with a sigh. "We have a lot of work to do."
They skipped ahead. Grace wished she had a smidgen of their enthusiasm. With any luck, Millie and the children would be back from school before Maude arrived. At least she wouldn't be a surprise to the woman. Mr. Cyrus would have bent her ear plenty on the drive out here. That would save some awkwardness.
Grace rushed around the house, dusted and cleaned places she'd already gone over two days before. Everything had to be perfect or as close to perfect as she could get it. She wanted Maude to like her, to feel welcome here, comfortable. A spotless home and a table of good food might not be the way to win her over, but it couldn't hurt. She'd see Grace was a better wife than...
Grace jerked herself to a stop. This was Maude's daughter she was thinking ill about. For all she knew, Maude might think Jake and Laurette had the perfect marriage. She wouldn't have known what had really happened, and it wasn't Grace's place to tell her.
Like her? Grace would be lucky if the woman didn't resent her.
"They're here!" Jeremy called out.
Grace checked the position of the sun through the kitchen window. Who was here? Millie and the children? Or Maude? She sure wouldn't find out standing there. Crossing her fingers behind her back, Grace walked to the parlor. Pulling the lace curtains back with the tip of her finger, she dared a peek. It wasn't Millie.
Jeremy shot out the door before Mr. Cyrus could give the woman a hand down. "Grandma!"
Maude was an impressive woman, distinguished looking. She was tall, full-figured, and wore her emerald green outfit with a style Grace associated with the wealthy. There was the barest hint of silver in her blonde hair. Every strand was pulled into a chignon and tucked under her hat. She looked young to be a grandmother. Her smile was bright, her arms open wide. There was no disguising her love for Jeremy. If for no other reason, Grace would like her for this.
Then she turned her ice-blue gaze Grace's way. She glanced over her, and then gave a hesitant smile. Tucking Jeremy's hand in hers, Maude started toward the house.
Grace wiped her sweaty hands on her apron and met her halfway. "Good afternoon. I'm Grace. Jake's wife. I'm very pleased to meet you, Mrs.... I'm sorry. I don't know your last name."
"Garvey. Maude Garvey," she said, still smiling. "Just call me Maude."
Grace ushered her into the sitting room. She peeled off her gloves. Heavy rings dotted her fingers. Sighing, she removed her hat. Obviously she was used to making herself at home here. That was a good sign.
"Mr. Cyrus has been telling me quite a bit about you."
"I'm afraid there isn't much to tell, really."
"More than you might realize." She eased into the settee and pulled Jeremy onto her lap. "Goodness, you've grown. I see Mr. Cyrus has brought in my bags. I'll bet if you and Wayne look, you'll find a big bag of penny candy."
He jumped down and raced away.
"Remember, it's to share," she shouted to his back.
"But don't spoil your supper," Grace added, for all the good it would do. "And none for Lulu!" All she needed was a sick dog on her hands.
Maude sighed again. "This has always been my favorite room. Simple, comfortable. Emma took great pride in her house, but especially loved this room. Did you know her?"
"No...I'm sorry to say."
"Hmm...you would have liked her, I think."
Grace craned her neck for a look down the road. Still no sign of Millie and the children.
"I understand you're newly wed?"
She was trying to be pleasant. The least Grace could do was shake off her nerves and sit a spell. "Last week."
Maude fiddled with her rings as she spoke, twisting one around before moving to the next. "Mrs. Cyrus tells me she's never seen two people more in love."
A flush warmed Grace's cheeks. The best response was no response. Let her draw her own conclusions.
Mr. Cyrus mopped the sweat from his brow and stuffed his handkerchief into his pocket. "It's a hot one today. Looks like a storm's brewing too. Maybe we'll get some relief. "Well, ladies. I've got to get going. Maude, I put your things in the kitchen. I'm sure you and Grace can take it from here. We'll see you on Saturday."
Grace scrunched up her face in confusion. "Saturday?"
"Yep, big day for the Tanners. Roping and branding. Just about everyone will be here to help and celebrate. Guess Jake forgot to mention it."
She was going to flat out strangle him.
"Oh, before I forget." He ran to his buggy and came back with a seed calendar. "A.J. said to give you this." He tossed it to the shiny little table between her and Maude then left.
Grace wanted to die of embarrassment. Once she choked the life out of Jake, A.J. was next on her list. Did men go through life with no thought whatsoever in their heads?
"I take it Jake is out with the herd?"
The question pulled Grace's attention back to her guest. "Yes, I expect him back Friday evening."
"No sooner?"
When Grace shook her head, Maude wrinkled her brow.
"And A.J.?"
"In Austin."
Her frown deepened. "Oh, dear. I had hoped to speak with Jake. It is rather urgent. Is there no chance someone could get him?"
"All the men are with him. One stayed behind, but I doubt he'd know exactly..."
A clap of thunder cut off the rest of her sentence. Jeremy and Wayne stampeded into the room to burrow under Grace's arms. Hail beat against the house. Seconds later the kitchen door crashed against its hinges as Millie and the children ran inside, drenched to the skin.
Millie whipped off her hat and strode toward Grace. "I don't like the look of things out there. I think it would be a good idea to..."
Hoyt burst inside. "Into the cellar! Twister coming!"
Carrie screamed and clutched at Millie's skirts. Jeremy and Wayne cried and did the same to Grace. It was impossible to move. Belinda grabbed Lulu and cowered in the corner while Joe stood paralyzed with fear. Then the hail stopped and all around them was deafening silence. Seconds later, they heard it, roaring like a train toward them.
Grace snatched Maude's sleeve and tugged her to the door. "Everyone, move! Now!"
This is what hell must be like. The darkness, confusion, and panic. Grace forced herself to stay calm and not yell at the children. They were frightened enough as it was. But if Carrie didn't stop her screaming...
"Enough!" Millie swung the child onto her hip. Carrie burrowed her face against Millie's neck and sobbed.
Hoyt yanked open the cellar doors. They scrambled down. The horses cried. They were trapped in the barn. Grace shoved the boys to safety and ran to the barn door.
"Are you crazy?" Hoyt shouted against the wind.
If she was, so was he-he was right by her side. Together they pulled the latch and the horses ran into the field. There was another cry and the clatter of wheels. The Cyrus buggy raced by without its passenger. Mr. Cyrus lay in the dirt road just beyond the house.
Hoyt pushed Grace toward the cellar. "Get in. I'll go after him."
Using her arm to protect her eyes, Grace watched Hoyt dash to the old man's aide. Then she saw the twister and knew why Carrie screamed.
\*
Jake watched the twister snake its way closer to the ranch and prayed he could beat it. He'd watched the weather all day. Hot and sticky he could deal with, but the stillness roused his suspicions. The cows lay along protected clefts in the ground.
Jake monitored the storm as it built. And when the sky shifted from blue to a greenish cast, he knew he couldn't stay put. This was twister weather. At that instant nothing mattered but getting home, and making sure his family was safe. If his men thought he was crazy, they could find work elsewhere.
He cut through the line of trees at the edge of the field. The horses were loose. The twister's tail kissed the road.
Jake dug his heels into his horse's sides. The cellar doors were closed, the outside latch open. They were safe. He leaped from the saddle and smacked his horse on the rump. The animal tore off to the safety the others had found.
"Open up!" He beat the heel of his boot against the doors.
Millie shoved one of the doors open against the wind. Jake ducked inside. It took a fraction of heartbeat to see who was missing.
"Where's Grace?" he shouted above the din.
"Mr. Cyrus was thrown from his buggy," Millie yelled back. "She and Hoyt-"
"Damn it all!" He grabbed for the latch.
Millie balled his shirt in her fists and yanked him to his haunches. "You can't! It's too late!"
Jake dug his palms into his eyes and listened to the roar overtake them. The cellar doors rattled against their hinges as if a giant tried to force them open. Debris slammed into the house. He was conscious of Jeremy nestled under his arm. Of the children crying. Lulu's whimpering. And Millie's attempts to keep them calm. But all he could think was, Please...not Grace!
Tears stained his hands and panic choked his throat. An eternity passed while they waited for the sound to fade. Now he knew how A.J. had felt. He understood his unrelenting grief. If anything had happened to her...
Jake pressed his hands into his eyes to stop the image. The hell of it was, she never knew how he felt. Hell, he didn't even know until he saw that twister.
The jars lined along the shelves rattled. Lulu ducked under a basket in the corner. Jeremy burrowed closer. This was it. And Grace was out in the middle of it. Then... silence.
Jake flung the doors open and burst from the cellar. The house stood. So did all the out buildings. The only damage he could see was the swath of trees uprooted where the twister had touched down. The wishing tree was undamaged.
He sprinted around the house searching for Grace. He didn't have to look far. Grace and Hoyt stumbled up the road, and had Mr. Cyrus limply strung between them. A line of blood trickled down the old man's face.
Jake stomped toward them. "What the hell were you thinking?"
Grace looked up. Her face was smudged with dirt, as were her clothes. More of her hair was down than up. If she looked surprised to see him, she didn't show it.
"He's hurt. We need your help."
Of course they needed his help. Cyrus was twice her weight. How she thought she could carry him was beyond Jake.
He replaced her at Cyrus's side. In no time, they had him in the sitting room. Sighing with relief, Cyrus leaned his head on the back of the chair.
Jake was still shaking. How could Grace sit there calmly and tend to Cyrus's injuries? All it did was make him angrier. How could she have so little regard for her safety?
"I just have one question," he stated.
Grace wrung out her cloth, and then blotted at the wound. She didn't trust herself to look at Jake. He was furious and had every right to be. But if she looked at him now she'd lose what little composure remained. Of all the things she'd ever done in her life, this was the most stupid. Seeing Jake afterward...it was all she could do to keep from throwing herself into his arms.
"Have you completely lost your mind, Grace?"
When she didn't answer, couldn't answer, he turned his fury on Hoyt.
"I can't believe you let her put her life in danger." He jabbed a finger at him. "You're fired! I don't want to see you around here again!"
Grace gasped. "Jake, no!"
He braced his hands on his hips. "So...you have a voice after all."
Mr. Cyrus pushed himself upright. "Jake, relax. I know you're upset, but-"
"You're damned right I'm upset."
Grace watched a vein tick in his temple. With each second his anger built and her self-control crumbled. She needed his arms around her, his comfort, even though she deserved his rage.
"Jake, she helped save my life," Mr. Cyrus said.
"At the risk of her own! Good God, Cyrus, she could have been killed!"
It was too much. Grace crumbled into a sob and tossed herself against him. "I was so scared."
Jake's anger melted, but not his fear. Sitting in the nearest chair, he cradled her on his lap. From the corner of his eye, he watched Hoyt and Mr. Cyrus slip into the kitchen.
"Hush, sweetheart. It's okay." He pulled the remaining pins from her hair and combed the tangles free. "But I've got to tell you, you scared me half to death. Just the thought of losing you..."
She pulled up to look at him. Tears spiked her eyelashes, but her crying had stopped. "You're home. Why?"
He dried the tear tracks from her cheeks with his thumb, and then traced the bow of her lips. "I saw the storm forming. I didn't like the look of it and got worried. Just the thought of losing you-"
"And came all the way home? And you say I do crazy things? What if the thing had switched direction? What if you were caught? What if...?"
He pressed his fingers to her lips. "What if you quiet down for a few minutes and let me talk?"
Grace would have been riled if it weren't for the humor dancing in his eyes. She kissed his fingers and pulled them to her waist.
"I don't know what I was thinking." She nuzzled deeper into his arms. "I saw him lying there, Hoyt struggling to help. I just couldn't leave him there. If I had, I'd never be able to live with myself."
"And I'd never be able to live with myself if something happened to you." Jake pulled in a breath. This was it, the one thing he'd swore he'd never tell another woman. But this wasn't any woman-this was Grace. No more games. No more lying to himself. "I love you, Grace. Trouble is, I didn't realize it until I thought I might lose you. The more fearful I got, the more I realized I was in love with you from the instant you tangled with that line of laundry."
Grace giggled. "Not one of my better moments, I'm afraid."
He pulled up her chin on the crook of his finger. "But you got back up and tried again. You've been honorable, forthright, and downright brave from the second we met. You were everything I'd ever wanted in a woman, a wife, and I was too blind to notice until..."
Grace silenced him with a tender kiss. "I love you, too."
"Even when I haven't made it easy?" he asked with a smile.
"Even then...once I knew the reason." She massaged the frown from between his eyebrows. "Don't fault A.J. for telling me. He just wants us to be happy. How could we be if I didn't know what troubled you?"
"I can't promise you all good times, Grace. But I can promise you I'll always love you."
A smile brightened her eyes and added gold to their brown depths. "Then what more could I want for?"
He kissed her slowly, gently, tasting every inch of her mouth, inhaling her scent, the essence of her, saying in that oral caress all he could not express in words. Then, reluctantly, when he would have rather hauled her off to bed, he set her on her feet. They still had children to calm, horses to corral, and god-only-knew what else.
It was then he realized-Jeremy and Wayne were here, not with A.J. Puzzled, he stopped short of the door. Maude sat with Millie, drying tears. Seeing her in the storm cellar didn't register until now.
"Didn't A.J. go to Austin?" he asked Grace.
"Maude arrived by stage. Sent a telegram first. Hoyt brought the boys home. She said she needed to speak with you about something urgent."
Whatever it was, it could wait. "Hoyt, help me corral those horses, and then we'll see about getting Mr. Cyrus home."
Hoyt plucked his cowboy hat from where he'd tossed it earlier. "Can't, boss. You fired me, 'member?"
It'd be just like him to throw his words in his face. "All right...you're re-hired. But if you ever let her..."
The other man tossed back a hearty laugh. "Boss, you tell me what magic you've got to tame a stubborn woman and I'll use it."
Grace watched the men from the corner of her eye. At least Hoyt was forgiving. He was too good a man to lose. She surveyed the damage around her, emotional and physical. Mr. Cyrus's head had stopped bleeding-he'd be fine for now. But the children-to go through another twister on the heels of one that took so much from them? Grace didn't know how to reassure them. Wide-eyed, sniffling, and downright scared to death, they clung to Millie and Maude. Who could blame them? Grace's nerves were still shot.
She sat down. Within seconds, all five children hugged her skirts. "There now...we're all safe."
"My papa?" Carrie hiccoughed.
Grace smoothed her hair away from her face. "He was far down the road, nearly to Austin, and is just fine. You'll see."
Carrie burrowed deeper. Only seeing her father would reassure her. Grace had to find something to take their minds off this.
"Where's that bag of penny candy Grandma Maude brought?"
Jeremy wiped his nose on his sleeve. "We never found it."
"Well, I think it's time to look again. We all could use a treat."
That did the trick at least for the time being. Grace sucked in a deep breath, gave the other two women a half-hearted smile, and walked outside to retrieve her laundry.
Much as she expected, it was everywhere but on the line. There was no faking it this time. Each piece was filthy. One by one she picked up the pieces. The door squeaked open-Millie and Maude adding their help. By the time the horses were back in the barn and Mr. Cyrus's buggy retrieved, they were done.
Grace stared at the basket of laundry and did the only thing she could-she laughed. So much for getting ahead of chores. The best she could hope for was keeping her head above water.
She didn't count on Millie and Maude. Before she could protest, the two had water boiling and the scrub board out. Any assistance Grace could offer was gently waved away.
Emotion clogged Grace's throat. Neither was dressed for chores, yet here they were bent to the task. She snagged a piece of candy from Jeremy when the children ran by, waved good-bye to Mr. Cyrus and Hoyt, and then met Jake at the corral. He leaped the fence, grabbed her by the waist, and swung her around until she laughed so hard her sides ached.
Then, solemn once more, he pressed his forehead to hers. "I'm going to have someone else bring the herd in."
Much as she wanted him to stay, Grace found herself shaking her head. She traced the lines bracketing his lips. "No, Jake. We can't live like that. You have duties."
"I have a duty to you."
"You can't keep dropping everything to rush home. You won't have much of a business if you do." She smiled. "I can take care of myself. I promise no more foolish stunts."
He leaned back and tapped the end of her nose. "Somehow I doubt that."
Hand in hand they returned to the house. He would stay with her forever, and all she had to do was say the word. Grace couldn't bind him that way, no matter how her heart ached to keep him home. If she did, he would only grow to resent her. No, if Jake wanted to stay home, it had to be a decision he made for himself, not because he worried for her.
At the back door he kissed her-stole her candy was more like it-then darted into the house before she could smack him.
"Maude," he squatted down to her level, "Grace said you needed to talk to me. I'm heading back out, but I'll be glad to make some time for you."
She let the sheet drop into the suds and gave him a look so sad Grace thought the woman would cry. Whatever bothered her quickly faded. With a smile, she cupped her soapy hand to Jake's cheek.
"There's nothing to talk about. I've seen all I need to see. I'll be heading home in the morning."
"So soon?" Grace asked. "But you've just arrived. Can't you visit a little while longer?"
Maude's smile broadened but it didn't reach her eyes. "I'll be back another time. Right now there's something I must take care of first."
\*
Maude lifted her arm and waved good-bye to Jeremy and Grace. Then the stage lurched forward and carried her away. She sank against the worn cushions and wrapped her fingers around the strap to keep from jostling into the man next to her.
This whole business made her sick to her stomach. She should have told Jake the truth from the beginning. Instead Maude let the lie stick until too much time had passed to reveal it. Fact was, she never thought it would matter. Never imagined Jake would seek another wife. A foolish notion.
Sighing, she closed her eyes. They were happy. What good would the truth do? As long as she kept quiet, no one would ever be the wiser. Tears slipped from beneath her lids. It wasn't a matter of her keeping quiet.
Despite a full day of traveling, Austin came up on her sooner than she wanted. With only one carry-all, Maude chose to walk the mile to her house. It gave her time to plan how she could best handle the problem. Again, the distance passed too quickly.
She eased open the front gate, let her shoes click a steady pace on the stone path, then stepped inside her house. Gert, her housekeeper, snatched up the bag the second it reached the floor and held out her hand for Maude's hat. Footsteps pattered their way. Gertie's back stiffened.
Maude sympathized.
"You could have waited until I caught my breath, dear."
Laurette hovered in the doorway between the foyer and the sitting room. Arms were crossed, foot tapping in that perpetually angry stance of hers.
"Well...what did he say?" she demanded to know.
Maude refused to meet her daughter's gaze. "I didn't tell him. As far as Jake is concerned, you are still dead."
Laurette snapped her fists to her sides and charged toward her mother. "How could you do this to me? First, you deny me money, and then-"
"I can't give you what I no longer have. You've got it all, Laurette."
"That is why you were going to Jake, remember? To plead my case, smooth the way for me to ask for his help," she screeched.
"It's foolish to think he would help you after lying to him all these years. Just leave things be."
Laurette's pale face turned red with rage. "Leave things be? Mother, Ezra Fleming is going to kill me if I don't give him the money I owe him!"
"You mean the money you gambled away."
"A lady has to support herself some way." Laurette hiked her nose and set her lips in a grim line. "Jake was my last hope, Mother. How could you do this to me?"
Sighing, Maude yanked off her rings and slapped them into her daughter's palm. "Here. That's the last of it. Sell them and don't come back."
Laurette stared at the rings. A tear splashed on top. "It's not nearly enough."
"It will have to do. Just leave Jake alone."
Laurette hurled the rings across the room. They smacked against the wall, ripping a hole in the wallpaper. "The hell I will. I'm going to get that money one way or the other."
"No!" Carrie jerked free of Grace's gentle hold. "I don't want Miss Millie's sewing ladies here. There ain't enough room in the cellar."
Hysterics Grace thought were long gone came back in full force.
"And where's my papa?" she wailed. "My papa's dead and you don't want to tell me. The twister got him just like Mama."
A headache beat against Grace's forehead. A.J. was supposed to be home two days ago. His telegram that he was delayed in Austin said nothing more than that. It wasn't enough to calm a frightened child-nothing would be until A.J. came home.
Millie draped her arm around Carrie's shoulder and drew her to the back porch. "Come look at how blue and pretty the sky is. We are safe. Your papa is safe. The ladies and I would love it if you joined us."
Carrie twirled her pigtails around her finger and craned her neck outside for a better look. Apparently satisfied with what she saw, she sniffled, rubbed her cheeks clear, and followed Millie to the parlor. If the seven ladies around the quilt minded the two little girls or resented Carrie's fit, none of them showed it. They simply pulled the children into their fold.
Grace got out of there before someone decided to place needle and thread in her hands. There were a dozen things she could do to occupy her time. Hundreds. Thousands! Anything to keep from sewing.
Despite a pile of ironing, Grace started in the cellar where the ladies were least likely to find her. She needed to do a quick check of their canned goods anyway.
Grace dusted the jars as she counted. Emma left nothing to chance. Each jar was labeled and dated-enough to last well beyond this year's canning season. There was a nice selection too, something Grace's family never had. Okra, greens, turnips, peas, pickles, cucumbers, corn, beans, tomatoes. And the fruits! Straight from the Tanners's own trees! Peaches, pears, apricots, apples-all dried or canned. And berries from the forest. Grace knew the smokehouse was stocked too. A real feast. Ma would think they'd hit the big time.
Grace laughed. Ma would dole it out and make it last till Grace had grandchildren.
Underneath the shelves, Grace found baskets of potatoes, onions, and yams-all in good shape. A sealed tin of seeds was next-ready for next year's planting. Then there was the crate.
It took two hands and a little muscle to pull it from its niche. Once free, the top lifted easily. Paper lined the box. Grace peeled it back. Her breath caught. It was filled to the brim with yard goods of every color and material imagined. A real treasure for all the clothes it would make.
"Millie is going to love this."
Smiling, she sealed the lid and shoved it to the steps. That's as far as she could take it without help. She couldn't wait to see the look on Millie's face.
The clatter of wagon wheels greeted her when Grace poked her head out of the cellar. She wasn't the only one who heard it. Hunted rabbits moved slower than Carrie. The other children weren't far behind.
A.J. hugged them each in turn while they spouted off tales of the twister. His limp had worsened, but Grace had never seen a bigger smile on a man. Hard to believe he was the same person. And, best of all, the wagon was empty.
A.J. swung Wayne around, and then set him on his feet. "Grace Tanner, if you weren't married to my brother, I'd kiss you full on the mouth."
He seized her in a bear hug and lifted her off the ground. "They bought it, Grace. Every stick of furniture I had. You should see the orders I brought home. And it's all because of you."
Grace could think of only one thing to say. "He loves me, A.J. He truly loves me."
He set her at arms' length and smiled. "Of course he does, Grace. He'd be a fool not to." His voice was so soft, so sincere, it was all she could do not to cry.
"Come. You're just in time to help me move something." She tugged him to the cellar.
A.J. went no further than the doorway. Humor was replaced by a look Grace could only call haunted. She knew the crate belonged to Emma, knew how he felt about simply putting her things to better use, and knew he preferred to have her possessions removed without his help. How could she have forgotten?
"I'm sorry, A.J. I-"
"What are you going to do with that?"
"I thought Millie could use it. The children need clothes and she's awfully handy with a needle."
He just stared at the crate. Grace longed to shove it back under the shelf and forget it existed.
"Well..." He worried his fingers through his hair. "I guess someone should get use out of it. There's a small fortune in material there. I was pretty mad about it when I learned she'd spent money on yet more fabric. Had the biggest fight. Then the storm hit...It was a stupid thing to argue about." He shook his head. "I'll take it up to Millie later." He clicked his gaze up to hers. "When there isn't a passel of women around to make something out of nothing."
Rather than deny the obvious, Grace kept her mouth shut.
Standing astride, A.J. braced his hands at his hips. "Good God...Jake was right. You are matchmaking." He snorted. "Somehow I expected better of you, Grace."
Summoning the most indignant pose she could, Grace lifted her skirts and her nose. "I don't know what you're talking about, A.J. Tanner." Before he could break her down, she breezed past him, and then picked up her pace to duck in the house. The rumble of a thousand hooves stopped her short of her goal.
Giddiness overcame her. She rounded the corner of the house with a speed that rivaled Carrie's. Even among a couple thousand head of cattle, ten men and horses, and four cutting dogs, Grace picked Jake out in less time than it took to think about it.
To her he was larger than life itself-he always had been. Seeing him now, so like that first time, her heart leapt. He weaved with his horse and herded the cattle into a tight group along with the rest of his men.
They streamed through the open gates on the two lower pastures, one after the other, dogs nipping at their heels, cowboys shouting a constant, "He-ya!" until the last straggler trotted through.
The cowboys waved their hats and let out a whoop, and then pointed toward home. The chuck wagon clattered by and raced them to the bunkhouse. Some didn't make it that far. They screeched to a halt at the nearest watering trough and jumped in.
"Those have got to be some of the biggest, fattest, meanest looking longhorn I've ever seen," Mrs. Cyrus said from the shade of the porch.
A.J. propped his feet on the railing, crossing them at the ankle. "Twenty-five hundred the last time they counted."
Lulu's ears perked at the sight of the cattle dogs. Tail a-wag, she ran off to investigate. They found their own trough near a patch of shade, took a long slurp, and settled down.
Grace waited long enough. Wadding her skirts in her fists, she ran to meet Jake.
Grace was all things beautiful-rainbows, fireflies, daisies, and sunshine. Never had Jake ached for a woman more. Over and over he asked himself how he could be so lucky. What had he done to deserve her? Now, with her running his way all he could think of was how thankful he was he woke up in time to see it...her.
He scooped down, lifted her effortlessly into the saddle, and planted a kiss on her to shame the most jaded among them.
Grace scrunched up her nose and pushed away. "You...stink!"
Jake's laughter bellowed. "Five days and nights with the herd? Yep, I'm sure I do."
He dismounted and took her with him. "But I'll bet there's a hot bath and a pretty woman waiting for me later on," he said in a voice meant only for her.
"Later on my Aunt Fanny."
Jake caught the twinkle in her eyes too late. With one push, he toppled into the horse trough. He came up sputtering for air.
"There's the bath. Now for the pretty woman." He clamped his fingers around her wrist and yanked.
Grace squealed with delight and fell in. This is what love was about. And to think it took a near disaster to realize it. Never again. Never.
\*
There was quite a crowd gathered on the ranch this morning, and they'd been there since dawn. Excitement crackled in the air. Even the children had a hard time settling down to breakfast. Grace didn't force them. Branding was once a year, and they should enjoy it.
But there were those who came to work, too. A.J. interviewed men looking for a day job. He marked each man's name and skills in a ledger. They'd earn based on the work they put out. And Grace didn't doubt for a second that A.J. would let them snooker him. She'd also bet everyone would go home with a little something, even if it were just a full belly.
As for herself, Grace didn't have to do a lick of work. She could sit back, play hostess, and enjoy the fun. Cookie was taking care of everything else. Of course, that didn't stop her from offering.
The beet-faced old codger blustered and cursed a blue streak at his helpers, but the second Grace crossed the threshold his tongue stopped wagging.
"Morning, Cookie." She lifted a lid on a pot of stew and inhaled. "Delicious. My mouth's watering already."
Impossible as it seemed, his face turned a darker shade of red.
"What needs to be done? Peeling potatoes? Rolling out pie dough?"
He wiped his hands on his apron and shuffled her way. "Now, ma'am. Here ya are all purdy and the like. You been watching them young'uns and keeping herd on those two big fellas. Heard ya even saved ole Cyrus's worthless bu..." He made a big show of clearing his throat. "You just rest a spell. I reckon it's the only time of the year you can."
"Thank you." She beamed a smile his way. "Call me if you change your mind." That duty over, Grace stepped back into the sunshine. A gentle breeze kept it from being too hot. Thank goodness they were upwind from the cattle.
Jake sidled up beside her. "I heard you in there. You realize he'll be fawning at your feet later."
She giggled and gave him a playful shove. "Go on with you."
A wink and he was on his way. It had to be a sin to be this happy. If that was so, she was definitely going to blazes.
Grace wasn't the only lady getting ready to enjoy her day. Millie's sewing ladies were out in force, Mrs. Cyrus riding herd over them all. From the porch shade they had a pretty good view of the first stage of branding. A few wandered closer, parasols perched high to protect them from the sun. Judging from the commotion in the pastures, the porch seemed a safe enough distance for now.
"It's just like a county fair." Millie's violet eyes were bright and seemingly took in everything she saw. Her dark hair was down today, as was Grace's, with one yellow ribbon holding it in place. But where Grace's hair fell in a mass of waves, Millie's bounced with life and caught more than one man's eye. Unfortunately, none of those men were A.J.
Mrs. Cyrus patted the chair beside her. When Grace sat, she whispered. "Don't look so down in the mouth. They notice each other."
"They're not even looking at each other," she whispered back.
"That's what I mean. Seems to me they're spending an awful lot of effort to not notice each other." She squeezed Grace's hand. "Mark my words, child. You'll see. I have far more experience in these matters than you."
How could Grace argue with that?
A cheer roared up from the pasture. The cowboys were starting to cut the bulls from the herd. Onlookers climbed on the fence to shout encouragement. Jeremy and Wayne joined them. She heard Jake's, "Off!" loud and clear-A.J. echoed it. Still, a mother's presence wouldn't hurt.
Trying poorly to hide her concern, Grace hurried to the pasture. She saw a flash of tan and white and covered her eyes. Lulu was in with the cattle.
Mr. Cyrus chuckled. "Relax. She's just doing what comes natural. Pretty good at it too. Besides, you know Jake wouldn't let any harm come to that little dog."
Grace dared to peek. Lulu was having the time of her life. It looked like Jake was too. Selecting the bull and moving it out for the next cowboy to herd on, he and the horse dodged this way and that. Man and beast in tune with each other. A perfect combination. Just like Jake and Grace had been the night before.
"Come walk an old man back to the house. That shade's looking mighty good." Mr. Cyrus hooked his arm through hers. "And don't worry about those young'uns. They've been told once. They'll listen."
After a glance over her shoulder to reassure herself, Grace fell in step with him.
"I owe you my life, Grace."
"Hoyt was there too."
He stared off in the distance. "But he never thought to roll into the ditch. That was you. You saved us both. That twister missed us by inches."
"I was just doing-"
"What anyone else would?" He chuckled. "No, little Gracie. You weren't. And I'm not ashamed to let the whole town know it."
Grace didn't know what to say. Praise was foreign to her. They walked in silence until they were nearly to the porch.
Mr. Cyrus covered her hand with both of his. "Clydeen and I want you to know that if there's anything you ever need or want, don't hesitate to ask. As long as we have breath in our bodies, you'll want for nothing. You understand?"
Grace shifted her gaze to Mrs. Cyrus. The older woman nodded and then flicked a tear from the corner of her eye.
"I understand."
"Good...A.J., I have a proposition for you."
Grace paid little attention. She already knew what was afoot. The Cyruses had purchased the old Porter house across from the general store and were making it into a boarding house. They wanted A.J.'s help in repairs and furniture.
The more Mr. Cyrus talked, the bigger A.J. smiled. And that's when Grace saw what Mrs. Cyrus had been talking about-Millie couldn't keep her gaze off him. She looked like a schoolgirl dealing with her first crush.
"What do you think, Grace?" A.J. asked.
She shook her thoughts clear. "I think..." Grace tapped her finger against her chin and made a big show of looking heavenward.
Millie cleared her throat. "I think it's a grand idea. They want quality work and that's what you'll give them."
A.J. shifted his gaze up to hers. Yep...Mrs. Cyrus was right. This time there was no denying it.
"Hey, everybody, it's branding time!" Hoyt shouted, and waved them to the corral.
Jake heated the ranch's double-T branding irons over a hot fire. A stack of wood lay nearby to replenish it. Off to the side, two of the cowboys sharpened their knives. Cookie lounged against the railing with a bucket. Calves and cows waited in the adjoining pasture.
"Day's getting on," Jake told them. "And I'm starving."
Hoyt eased his horse into the herd, roped a calf by the hind legs and dragged it to the fire. There two of the older boys threw it to the ground. One knelt on its neck, the other took hold of its hind leg and held it straight out.
The knife-welding cowboy cut three notches in the calf's ear, then castrated it and threw the testicles in Cookie's bucket. Jake laid the hot iron on its hide. The scent of burning hair drifted to Grace's nose. She gagged and forced down bile. Then Cookie reached into the bucket, hauled out one of the prairie oysters and swallowed it whole.
Grace's stomach rebelled. Clutching her hand to her mouth, she dashed to the outhouse. There wasn't a chance no one noticed but, thankfully, they left her alone to recover. By the time branding was over, her stomach was settled enough to rejoin them.
Whispered comments behind hands followed her to the table. It wasn't hard to figure out what they were saying.
Wood planks on barrels stretched across the backyard. Each was piled high with Cookie's food. Ribs, chicken, roast beef, ham, corn on the cob, creamed cabbage, fried okra, breads, pies. Anyone who walked away hungry today was stupid. It looked like that wasn't going to be a problem.
She slipped onto the bench beside Jake. He squeezed her hand, and then brought her fingers up for a kiss.
"You all right?"
Somehow Grace managed to nod. Not easy when a plate of fried prairie oysters sat in front of her. She fought the urge to vomit and turned away.
"Could someone please move that?"
In less time than it took to ask, the plate was gone. Someone gave her water, and another shoved bread and chicken onto her plate.
Grace forced a laugh. "Goodness...all this fuss. I'm just a little..."
The group held its breath. Jake braced his chin on the pedestal on his arm and smirked while he waited for her to continue. A.J. lifted an eyebrow and did the same. Conspirators all.
"Tired," she finished, and popped a tiny piece of bread in her mouth.
A.J. stabbed at his roast. "Well...I've never heard it called that before."
Laughter tittered through the group, but Jake still watched her. She longed to tell him it was so, but it was just too soon to be certain. No doubt he'd corner her about it before the day was through.
Eating and relaxing did help. The food would be there till it was gone. The men played horseshoes or checkers. The quilters brought their loom outside. Nice. Homey. What home should be like. She watched Justina and other mothers with their babies and daydreamed.
"All right," Jake whispered against her ear. "I can't take it any more. Are you expecting?"
She cupped her hand to his cheek. "It's too soon to tell. But I swear you'll be the first to know."
He dropped a kiss to her nose and wandered over to answer A.J.'s horseshoe challenge.
Justina replaced him by Grace's side. "Señora Grace, there is a lady in the sitting room. A real fancy lady. She say she want to talk to the lady of the house."
Thanking her, Grace stretched to her feet. The stench of rose water perfume hit her the second she opened the back door. It threatened to destroy her newly settled stomach. She lit a candle along the way and hoped that would help clear the air. Putting on her best manners, Grace went to greet her guest.
Fancy lady, indeed. This woman was beautiful! Her outfit was the color of pink watermelon laced with black. Ringlets of gold cascaded to her neck. There was a familiarity about her Grace could not quite place. Maude. That was it. The woman looked like Maude. A sister perhaps? She snapped to her feet the instant she saw Grace and reached for her hands.
"Emma! How wonderful to see you again!"
Grace gently pulled free of her grasp. "I'm sorry. You've mistaken me for someone else. Emma Tanner passed away seven months ago. An accident. I'm Grace, Jake Tanner's wife."
Clutching her throat, the woman fumbled for the chair behind her. "It can't be. I'm so, so sorry. Please forgive me. You're the spitting image of her. You could be twins."
Tears puddled in her clear blue eyes. She pulled a handkerchief from her reticule. "This is all such a shock. I should have written first. Well..." Steeling herself with a deep breath, she smoothed her skirts and stood. "I've taken up too much of your time as it is and caused enough awkwardness. I'll be going."
The woman was nearly to the door when Grace remembered her manners. "Please...won't you join us for supper? There's tons of food."
"Well...I should at least pay my respects to A.J."
"Good. We're all out back."
She followed without pause. They crossed the threshold in tandem. There were gasps then a horrible silence fell as heads slowly turned their way. Jaws dropped, eyes widened, and Grace's heart raced with anxiety.
Jake stared at the woman beside Grace for what had to be hours. It was impossible. Impossible! At first he thought her a ghost until he realized everyone saw her too.
His world shattered. A rage unlike any he had ever felt boiled beneath his skin. He wanted to throw something, anything. Wanted to wrap his hands around her throat and squeeze until the life really went out of her.
"Son of a bitch!" A.J. broke the silence. A.J. did what Jake could not trust himself to do. He hurled the horseshoe against the post. A clang vibrated in the air.
She lifted one corner of her mouth in a sly smile. "It's good to see you again too, A.J."
That smile was aimed toward Jake as she slinked his way. "And what about you? Aren't you glad to see me?"
Jake hauled in a breath in a vain effort to control himself. She was closer than propriety allowed. Close enough he could carry out his wish and wrap his hand around her throat if he wanted. He wondered if anyone here cared enough to stop him.
"Well, aren't you?" She hooded those cold blue eyes and placed her hand square against his chest.
Jake picked her wrist off him. "I'd rather go through an outbreak of yellow fever than to ever see you again, Laurette."
Grace looked pale. Jake feared she'd pass out at any minute. But she stood there, dignity intact. More of a lady than Laurette could ever hope to be.
A thousand questions demanded answering. Jake couldn't think past his fury to put them into words. And still Laurette stood too close and tempted him to wring her pretty little neck.
He was conscious of movement around him-his guests preparing to leave.
Grace waved them back to their seats. "Please... everyone...stay. There's no reason why...this..." She could barely breathe much less find the right words to describe this fiasco. Swallowing hard, she pressed on. "Cookie's spent all day and half the night putting supper out for us. We can't let it go to waste."
Cookie shuffled forward. "Now, ma'am, don't you worry now about that. We'll divvy it up and it'll be just fine."
Several people nodded their agreement and started to gather their things once more. All joy was gone-destroyed by one selfish person. Grace panicked. They had to stay. Their presence was all that was keeping her sane.
Jake cut around Laurette and took a stand by Grace's side. He longed to drape an arm around her shoulder, to tug her close. Fear she would jerk away kept him from doing so. He had enough to deal with right now. Grace's rejection would be his undoing.
"No. Grace is right. This is not going to spoil our day."
Laurette snickered. "No, we definitely can't have that, can we? Little Grace wouldn't like that. How sweet. Perfect. Just like Emma. In fact, very much like Emma."
A.J. took a stride in her direction. Millie barred him with her arm.
Jake leveled a glare Laurette's way. He didn't know what game she was trying to play, had been playing, and he sure wanted the answers. But not here, not now.
Still keeping A.J. at bay, Millie nudged her way forward. "I don't know who you are and, frankly, I don't care. But I think it's time you crawled back into whatever hole you came from."
Laurette narrowed her eyes. "Forming a lynch mob, are we?"
Millie mirrored her actions. "Don't tempt me."
Snickers tittered behind her. Laurette was never much a friend to the townsfolk. In fact, she had been downright uppity on those rare occasions when she went to town. A pity Jake realized that all too late, but he was definitely smarter now-even more so in the last few minutes.
She hiked her nose in the air and fluffed the lace on her cuffs. "You needn't get huffy with me. I wasn't saying anything but the truth."
A.J. pulled Millie behind him. "You wouldn't know the truth if it hit you in the face."
"You'd be surprised what I know that you don't." Laurette curved a smile his way.
"Enough," Jake said through barred teeth. "I want answers."
Impossible as it was to believe, she lifted her nose higher. "I'd prefer a more private tête-à-tête."
There she went again, using those high falutin' words that impressed no one but herself.
Jake jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "Inside."
That maddening smirk reappeared. She prissed by Grace and gave her the once over before ducking through the door.
The pain on Grace's face was agonizing. Jake longed to reassure her. To explain what was going on. How could he when he didn't know himself?
People moved to leave again. There was no sense stopping them. Everyone's mood for fun was gone. Each in their turn stopped by to pay their respects before leaving. The men shook Jake's hand or clapped him on the back. The women hugged Grace and whispered what he guessed were words of encouragement. Jake likened it to bereavement calls. Sadly, the deceased was his marriage to Grace-murdered in its infancy.
Grace accepted the well-wishes and sympathy in stone-faced silence. God only knew what was going through her mind. He'd feel better if she'd scream or cry or throw something-anything but this deadly quiet.
At A.J.'s request, the Cyruses stayed. Jake didn't question his reasoning in having them remain. There were other matters to concern him. He looked over to the field where the children played around the wishing tree. Somehow he had to get Laurette out of here before Jeremy came in. Explanations to him could come later.
They trooped into the house single file, Millie taking up the rear. Laurette lounged at the dining table and twirled a pot holder on her finger. She tossed it aside and stood once they entered, but said nothing. Her feigned innocence snapped Jake's last nerve.
"Why?" he demanded to know.
Her heels clicked against the wood floor as she slowly walked his way. "Why what?"
He crossed his arms and glowered down at her. "Pick a place and start."
"I'd prefer to speak with you privately...if you don't mind."
"I do. All things considered, I'd prefer witnesses present."
"Really?" She arched one finely plucked eyebrow. "I assure you, you'll regret it."
When he didn't move, she sighed.
"Very well." Summoning the most prim pose she could muster-hands cupped before her, she focused on a spot somewhere over his head. "I came here today because I didn't receive any money from you this month. I-"
"Damn you!" Jake was on her so fast she actually had the good sense to take a step back. He seized her elbow in a tight grip and shoved his face within inches of hers. "I've never hit a woman in my life. Don't force me to make an exception for you."
He maneuvered her toward the sitting room. Laurette had to trot to keep up, or risk falling.
"Let go of me." She jerked free and rubbed her arm.
"Talk!"
She dismissed him with a sniff and paced a circuit to the other side of the room. "I see you have the little drudge you've always wanted. Judging from her scrubwoman's hands, I'd say you'll probably get quite a few years out of her. Those babies will be shooting out of her one right after the other." She snapped her fingers. "She'll never have the sense to know what makes them. Just like one of your stupid cows. Just like Emma."
Jake tucked his hands behind his back before he gave in to the urge to slap her.
"Tell me...did A.J. ever realize how jealous you were of him?"
He wouldn't dignify that with an answer. "You're supposed to be dead. Why aren't you?"
"Oh...that." She flicked her hand in the air. "I paid off the doctor to tell you I was dead. By the way, I've been wondering...what was it I had?"
Jake's laughter held no humor. "You'd think after all these years, your child would be your first concern." And unless she pressed the issue, he would tell her nothing about Jeremy. "You still haven't told me why?"
"Why what?"
Fists curled at his side, Jake stomped toward her. "Damn it, Laurette! Quit playing games! Why everything? Why did you run out? Why did you fake your death? And, most importantly," he cornered her against the arm of the chair until she had to arch back to look at him, "why are you here now?"
Tears puddled in her eyes. Jake didn't doubt they were phony too. She'd become quite a little actress in the last five years. Hell, as far as he knew, she'd probably always been one.
"I ran out because I didn't want to be like Emma!"
Jake pulled back. He knew the women hadn't been on the friendliest of terms, but this...
Laurette ducked away, resumed her pace and wrung her hands as she did so. "One baby after the other. Work from before sunrise until well after midnight. Washing, cooking, cleaning, ironing, sewing, gardening, wiping dirty noses." She shuddered. "Day after day after day stuck in this house. I couldn't live like that. When I found out I was pregnant, I saw myself turning into her."
Jake dug his fingers into the back of the chair. "So you ran. Took my child with you and ran!"
Laurette whirled around to face him. "What have you got to be angry about? You've got the child! I just wanted to be free."
"Then I would have been glad to divorce you. It would have been much more permanent than your death."
She traced the edge of the lampshade. "You say that now, but you know you never would have been able to let me go."
Jake tossed back a hearty laugh. "Lady, you have a mighty high opinion of yourself. I talked with a lawyer. He was trying to serve you divorce papers when I found you. When you get back to Austin, you look him up." If she was rattled, she hid it well. "Good God, Laurette, how could you do this to your mother?"
She jerked her head up. "Oh...Mother knew. She knew all along. You can ask her yourself. She should be here soon. She did her best to try to stop me from coming, but-"
"Why are you here? What do you want?"
A deep sigh lifted her shoulders. Dusting her fingers over the upholstery, she studied the design in the pattern. "Regrets. I missed you. I wondered about our child. I'm tired of the life I'm living. I...want to come back."
"To this horrible place you could not stand." He snorted. "You are a piece of work, lady."
"People change, Jake. I knew you'd be angry. Mother was supposed to calm the waters for me-"
"And it only took you five years to come to this conclusion."
She walked slowly toward him, stalking him. "I made a mistake. I know I was wrong. I want to make it up to you." She flicked his shirt buttons with the tip of her nail. "I long for you, Jake. I ache to be in your arms."
He slapped her hand away. "I have a wife. One I love very much. She means more to me than you ever did."
Laurette flipped her skirts and danced around him. "You're forgetting...I am your wife."
"I'm not forgetting, I'm cursing it. And it's something I intend to correct at the earliest possible opportunity. I'm sure my lawyer will be getting in touch with you."
Jake marched to the front door and swung it open. "Good-bye, Laurette."
"I'd think twice about divorce, dear husband. I'll see it never happens. By the time I tell the judge and jury how you abandoned me, stole my baby, and paid me to stay away...Why, you'll be lucky they don't throw you in jail."
"No one in this town would ever believe that."
"What kind of a fool do you take me for?" That damnable smirk was back. "You're the wealthiest man around here and that isn't saying much. People depend on you for jobs. And I heard what a selfless heroine your little bed warmer was. I know I'd never get a fair trial here. I'll take it to Austin where it will be your word against mine. And I can be very, very convincing."
She danced her fingers over his chest and left.
Jake slammed the door behind her. A string of curses went unsaid. A stiff shot of whiskey sounded mighty good right now and he knew just where to find one. He waited until he heard Laurette's buggy squeak down the road, and then crossed the yard for the bunkhouse. A.J. was already there.
Cookie hauled out a second glass when he saw Jake coming, poured a good measure, and then set it across from his brother's. A.J. didn't look up. His gaze stayed fixed on the table.
"I'll be puttin' the bottle away now, gents," Cookie said. "I don't think Miss Grace would be likin' either of you to get snockered." The cabinet door clicked shut, and Cookie left them alone.
Jake slugged down his drink then buried his head in his hands.
"Did you know she was alive?" A.J. asked.
Jake jerked his head up. "You know damn well I didn't."
"Yeah, I suppose I do...Is it true?" A.J. tossed down his drink and popped his glass beside Jake's. "Were you jealous of me and Emma?"
"That you and she were together...no. Of what the two of you had...yes. The love, the dedication, the way you both just couldn't wait to be together. That's what I wanted, but I never wanted Emma for myself."
"You have that with Grace."
Yes, he did. But it was new, fragile. It hadn't stood the test of time A.J. and Emma's marriage did. And now a ghost from the past reared its ugly head.
A.J. kicked back in his chair. "I always thought I did right by Emma. Now..." He gave a humorless chuckle. "Sure makes a man think twice."
Jake spread his palms on the table. "What are you saying? That I should let Grace go?"
"I'm not talking about you, Jake. I'm talking about me." The chair legs banged on the floor. "Let Grace go?" He snorted. "And you say you love her."
Jake's gaze was steady. "I love her enough to see she doesn't turn into-"
"A drudge like Emma?" A.J. skidded back and stomped away.
This was getting out of hand. Laurette was cutting the heart out of his family. He had to talk to Grace before another second passed.
Boot heels cutting divots into the grass, he marched across the yard. Jake loved her with an intensity that frightened him. All he wanted to do was hold her close. So tight each of their lives depended on the other's breath. He wanted to drown in the circle of her arms, lose himself in her body's heat. She was the woman he was looking for all those years ago when he settled for Laurette.
Let her go? Hell no! He'd bind her to the wishing tree. Lock her in the cellar. Shower her with anything her heart desired to see she never left.
Jake pinched the bridge of his nose. He'd crawl to her in the mud like a bad dog seeking her favor just to keep her with him.
He swung the screen door back on its hinges. It banged into the house, startling the Cyruses-and Maude. Jake let it slam shut-a perfect greeting for his mood. Maude had nerve coming here, especially since she would have had to have passed Laurette on the road. She was lucky he didn't throw her out on her ear. The only thing stopping him was that she was Jeremy's grandmother.
"Laurette said you'd be here. At least that's one thing she didn't lie about." He braced his hands on his hips and glared down at her. "How could you keep something like this from me?"
Anguish twisted her features, and tears trickled down her cheeks. Jake had little sympathy. It was nothing compared to what they'd been through today.
"I guess time got away from me."
"Five years!"
She winced. "At first I thought she would change. That she would realize what she was losing. I thought if she heard about her son, it would-"
"You've talked to her about Jeremy?"
"Of course...I couldn't..."
He cut her off with a slice of his hand. More of Laurette's lies and whatever sick game she played.
Maude heaved a sigh as she dabbed her handkerchief across her cheeks. "After awhile I just felt you were better off without her. When she showed up at my doorstep the other day... She's in trouble, Jake, and wanted your help. She asked me to come talk to you."
"You were here for a full day, Maude, yet you never uttered one, single word!"
"After meeting Grace, getting to know her, I knew she was a better wife for you than Laurette could ever be."
Jake braced his knuckles on the edge of the table. "That's just it...Thanks to this little scheme, Grace isn't my wife. If you really cared about me or Jeremy, you would have said something then."
She bowed her head as sobs overtook her.
"I think it best you leave, Maude."
"But Jeremy..." She sniffled.
"Just leave."
Maude wiped her face and shuffled from the house.
Jake let his shoulders sag. He couldn't take much more of this, and he still had one more person to face-the one he feared the most.
"Where is Grace?"
"When Millie took off to see to the young'uns," Mrs. Cyrus said, "I think Grace went to your room. Jake...what are you going to do?"
A good question. "I honestly don't know."
The creak of the rocking chair reached Jake once he stepped into the hallway. Slow, steady, like a heartbeat...or a clock ticking off seconds. It scared him.
Grace didn't look up when he stepped into the room. She stared out the window, watching the fading sunlight. Her grip on the curved armrests was tight enough to turn her knuckles white. And yet...she rocked.
Jake reached to peel her hand free then thought better of it. One step at a time. Trouble was he didn't know what to say or how to start. Grace certainly didn't help things along any. She just stared and rocked. Back and forth. Back and forth.
Jake jammed his feet on the rockers. "For godssake, Grace, say something. Do something. Scream. Shout. Cry. Something. Anything."
"I've cried so many tears over you since we met, I don't have any left."
Her voice was dead, one tone. It matched how Grace felt inside. She'd given Jake everything she had to give and more. She suffered his temper and foul mood. Reveled in the brief spurt of love he gave. Now this.
With Laurette's arrival Grace built a wall around her heart and shoved all feeling behind it. That was the only way she could survive. It was just too much pain to deal with.
Grace listened to Jake and Laurette argue as long as she could. All the woman said about her was true. It was like being forced to look, really look, in a mirror for the first time. All the fancy dresses and ribbons in the world couldn't change it. Grace was what she had been raised to be-a scrubwoman, a brood mare.
Grace felt sorriest for A.J. To hear ill of the wife he loved was one thing, but the dawning in his eyes when he realized Laurette might be right was a pain no widower should have to bear.
"Grace, honey, I-"
"Didn't you even check her body to see if she was dead?" she spit out. "Good heavens, Jake! She was your wife. You laid with her. She bore your child. Didn't you even think to give her a decent burial?"
"She was already buried by the time I got there. I visited the grave. There was even a marker on it. With all that I didn't think to dig her up and have a look. I left flowers, had a preacher say a few words, and brought my son home."
Of course, Laurette would leave nothing to chance.
Grace shifted her gaze to his. "Is that why you suddenly decided to love me? Because you thought I might be carrying your child?"
"No." The word came out more harshly then he intended. He slipped his hands over hers. "How could you think such a thing?" Because of the threat he'd made the week before. She didn't have to remind him. It lay unspoken in her big brown eyes.
Grace didn't want to talk about this any more. Feelings were starting to spill over that wall she'd erected. They squeezed at her heart, choked her throat. All she wanted was for them to go away.
"I'll fix this, Gracie. I swear I will. I'll divorce her, and then we'll get married again."
He dropped his hands to her thighs, gently kneaded, and pulled those dreaded emotions to the surface. Grace shoved him away and stood.
"Well, maybe I don't want to be married to you."
She was nearly out the door, when he caught her around the waist and tugged her back.
"Grace, honey, don't do this to me."
Wiggling under her defenses, his breath was a caress against her ear. She shoved an elbow into his ribs and tried to free herself. It had the same effect as hitting a rock.
"Don't do this to you?" Those tears Grace worked so hard against rushed in. She swallowed hard. She was determined to win this battle. "Jake, I'm ruined. Shamed in front of the entire town. And if I should be carrying a child-"
"This isn't our fault and everyone here knows that. There isn't a person here today who didn't offer their support."
She slowly shook her head. "People are the same. That doesn't change when you move to a different town. They'll be talking about this for years, smiling at our faces, whispering behind our backs."
"If they do, it'll be to talk about how we were wronged." Grabbing her shoulders, he turned her to face him. "Aw, Grace...I don't care what people say."
Fighting once more for control, she tilted her chin up. A big mistake. Her pain, her suffering was mirrored in his face. It was all she could do to keep from flinging her arms around him. She knew where that would lead-and they weren't married.
"But I do." Her chin quivered. "My reputation was all I had and now it's gone." She jammed her arms between them in a vain attempt to put some distance between them.
"No...it isn't."
"Yes, it is. And the longer I stay here with you, the worse it gets. I have nowhere to go. No way to support myself. If I go home-"
"This is your home. You'll stay here." Please stay, Grace! "No one can talk ill of you. I won't be here. I'll be on the trail."
Relief flooded through her. She hated the thought of leaving this place, because the children especially wouldn't understand. But to stay after she and Jake knew they weren't married was an unpardonable sin. She had to salvage what she could of this whole mess. With him gone, it wasn't a problem.
"I love you, Grace. More than I could ever say. I'm going to find a way to marry you again even if I have to die trying. But I can't fix this in a few days. I've got to take the herd north. I have to know you'll be here when I get back."
"That's four months. Four months before you can even start to straighten this out?" And what if she were carrying his child? It would be born a bastard and carry that shame forever.
He grabbed her face between his hands. "Grace... please," he whispered.
"Jake...I..."
He bent to kiss her. Grace pulled away. She couldn't. Not now.
There was a shadow in the doorway-A.J. "I'll take the herd north. You fix things here."
Jake shifted around. "You can't do that."
A.J. just stared at him, all emotion sealed away, just like Grace. "It's about time I started pulling my weight around here instead of feeling sorry for myself."
All the bitterness of the last seven months was back. But this time instead of being driven by grief, guilt fed it. Jake might not be able to square things for him and Grace, but he wasn't about to see his brother suffer because of Laurette.
"Emma was hard-working, but she was far from a drudge. She loved you, making this house shine, welcoming people here. And the children. Don't you remember how excited she'd get each time she knew another was on the way? You and Emma had your differences and your arguments, but you could work out anything together. Don't let Laurette take those memories away from you."
A.J. stood there, thinking. Slowly a weak smile appeared, and then he nodded. "Thanks. I'll be leaving with the herd first thing Monday morning."
Then Grace had to leave. There was no other choice for her. The break would be painful, but no more so than if she stayed. She didn't trust herself to stay away from his arms and didn't trust Jake at all right now.
It made more sense that he would love her because he thought there was a child between them. Any other reason was too far-fetched. Grace was ashamed she hadn't realized it earlier. She was too hungry for a loving marriage, too willing to believe, too easily led. Not anymore. This was going to end now, before she got in so deep she'd settle for anything Jake had to give-even his crumbs.
Without explanation, Grace followed A.J. to the kitchen. Jake wasn't far behind. This was her decision. She refused to discuss it with him.
The children played just outside the door. Innocent victims of adult problems. Saying good-bye wasn't going to be easy.
"Mr. and Mrs. Cyrus." They regarded her solemnly. "I hate to take you up on your offer this soon, but I'll be needing a place to stay. I was wondering..."
Jake grabbed her arm and jerked her back. "What are you doing, Grace?"
Her gaze didn't waver from his. It was the hardest thing she'd ever had to do. "I can't stay here with A.J. gone."
"I'll move into the bunkhouse."
She shook her head. "It wouldn't be proper us not being married and all."
He lifted her to her toes. "I told you. I'm going to marry you again just as soon as I can."
"Well, maybe I don't want to be married to you." There-she said it again. And it hurt more than she could say. But she forced herself to stand there. To dam back tears that longed to burst forth.
Jake dropped his arms and stared. He never knew the flip side of love could cause such misery. Why was she doing this to him...to them?
"I'll find a way to pay for the cow."
Jake seized a chair with both hands and hurled it against the wall. The legs cracked and skittered across the floor. "I'm sick to death of hearing about that damned cow!"
Grace laced her fingers to hide their shaking. Steeling herself with a deep breath, she turned back to the Cyruses. "I know you said the Porter house needed a lot of fixing up. I'm not afraid of hard work. I don't need much. Just a place to stay and a little to get by on. I'll help make the place presentable and manage it for you."
Jake grabbed her again, spinning her around. "No! Your place is here. Your job is here. The children need you. I need you."
"You wanted a wife to help around here. Now you have one."
"I don't want Laurette."
"Why? Because she won't work as hard?"
"Because I don't love her!"
Grace covered her ears. He had her so twisted up inside she couldn't think straight. If only she could believe him and know she was whom he wanted and not a child that may or may not exist.
"I have to go," she choked out on a sob.
"Aw, honey." He pulled her against him in a tight embrace. "Everything's going to be all right."
Grace reined her emotions to a halt and shoved away from him. "Mr. and Mrs. Cyrus, I do need that answer."
Mrs. Cyrus slowly nodded. "Of course, sweetie. You go get your things and we'll be on our way. Maybe A.J. can bring us over that furniture before he leaves."
The furniture. A.J.'s new business venture. If he went on the trail, he would lose all he'd gained. Grace glanced his way. He had to realize it too, yet didn't seem bothered. Well, that couldn't be her problem. Grace had enough to worry about.
She made a move for the bedroom. Jake barred her way.
"What about the children? How can you hurt them this way?" Jake prayed playing on her sympathies would get her to stay. He was running out of options fast. Each step further she took from him, his panic grew.
"Maybe you can have Justina and Hoyt move in to help until A.J. gets back."
This was it. She was really leaving. And unless he opted for one of his more hair-brained schemes-locking her in the cellar-she would be gone in less than an hour. His body, his mind went numb. His worst nightmare, his worst fear had come true. It left a bitter taste in his mouth.
"I was right. You are no better than Laurette. You take a man's heart, twist it all up, then toss it aside and run off."
Jake expected her to crumble. To fall into his arms weeping, vowing that he was her one and only love. What he got was a look so filled with contempt it chilled him to the bone. She gave him a heartbeat or two to absorb it, and then calmly walked to the bedroom.
"Well," A.J. propped his head on his arm, "that was a pretty stupid thing to say. I think that oughta just about do it. You shouldn't ever have to worry about seeing her again."
Mrs. Cyrus thunked him. "Everyone needs to calm down a spell. Jake, you've definitely raised her hackles this time. You just take care of this nasty business with Laurette and I'll see what I can do to get our Gracie in a forgiving mood."
He dismissed the idea with a jerk of his hand. "Just forget it," he said through clenched teeth. "She wants to go? I say let her."
The floor rattled with his exit. He slammed the screen door so hard it bounced off its hinges and shattered the glass on the inside door. He didn't have any idea where he was going, but he was getting the hell out of here.
\*
It took Grace longer to pack this time. She couldn't say if that was because she had more to pack or because she was dragging her heels. What else did she expect? That a miracle would happen and all the nastiness would disappear in a poof?
She hauled her small trunk into the kitchen. A.J. was hanging the screen door. Jake was nowhere to be seen. It was just as well. Grace couldn't bear up under any more arguing.
"I guess I'm ready." She barely finished the words when Millie walked into the room with her trunk.
"I am too." She gave Grace a half-hearted smile. "I can't stay here alone with A.J. That would give people something to talk about."
"And one scandal is enough for now," A.J. said and tested the door. Satisfied it was secure, he faced her. "I have a favor to ask."
"Anything. Name it." He was her friend if nothing else.
"Jake took off. Mad as he is, I doubt he's going to be in any shape to watch the children when he finally decides to come back. I can't be handling the herd and them too. I need you to take them with you. Just until he's in a better frame of mind."
She lifted an eyebrow. "Has he ever been in a good frame of mind?"
"You can't blame him, Grace. He loves you. If you can't see that, then you're just as big a fool as he is."
Grace pursed her lips. Who was he to judge? "There's a little more to it than that."
"There always is...The children?"
"Have they been told? Jeremy needs to know about his mother."
He shook his head. "Let's face one disaster at a time, shall we? I doubt we'll see Jake any time soon. You might as well save the moving until tomorrow. It'll make it easier on all of us."
Even the Cyruses and Millie agreed with that. Grace was outnumbered. There was no more fight left in her. They'd move in the morning after church. Another obligation where she was forced to hold her head high. She supposed she'd just have to get used to it.
The bed she shared with Jake was lonely that night. Some part of her longed for him to burst through the door and claim her as his. She lay awake, her heart racing with each sound the house made. But he never came and in her heart she knew he was gone for good.
Tears she had shoved away soaked the pillow. She didn't realize how much he loved her until it was too late. Until his face was twisted in the agony of confessing his greatest fear.
"You take a man's heart, twist it all up, then toss it aside and run off."
Grace wanted to blame Laurette, then Jake, but she knew she was the one at fault. She was the one who pushed Jake away instead of fighting for the man she loved. And even after she realized that his love for her wasn't a lie, she walked away instead of stepping into his arms.
False pride. That's all it was. She worried too much about what others thought and ignored what was true and right. What did it matter that they weren't married? That wasn't their fault. Which was more of a sin? To live with the man you loved and be happy, or live apart and be miserable?
From the comfort of the rocking chair, Grace tried to rock her worries away. No, she wasn't like Laurette. She'd made a vow to Jake. Even if the law and the church didn't say they were bound, that vow did. So did her promise afterward to never leave him. If she truly loved him as she claimed she did, she'd stick by him when he needed her the most. That's what marriage was about. And they sure didn't need a piece of paper to tell them so.
Laurette hurled her reticule across the hotel room and narrowly missed the oil lamp. She wished she'd knocked it over and the place were ablaze. The whole town could burn for all she cared.
Nothing was turning out as she'd planned. All she wanted from Jake was money, then she'd slip away and no one would be any the wiser. If he were generous enough, she might even tell him that she'd dissolved their marriage years ago. A safety measure to assure her freedom should he discover she wasn't dead.
All her good intentions faded once Laurette discovered he'd remarried. Then to see the mouse he'd married. How dare he think to replace her with someone so drab! It was more than her pride could bear. And from that instant all Laurette wanted was to prove she could have Jake any time she wanted.
That didn't work out her way either. Now, not only was she in dire need of money, but she had also antagonized her sole means of getting some.
A movement in the darkened corner of the room startled her. Slowly a man's form unfolded from the chair. Laurette's heart leaped to her throat. Ezra Fleming had tracked her down.
Step by step he closed upon her until Laurette was pressed against the window. His eyes were like two black dots, cold, final. He flexed his long, slender fingers then cracked his knuckles.
"I trust you have spoken to your long lost husband and the answer is no?"
Laurette fumbled for something to say. "I...it's...I hit a snag is all."
He moved closer. Laurette gave him her back and stared at the street below.
Ezra slid his fingers over her shoulders. "I'm growing impatient, my dear. I would hate to see anything happen to that pretty little neck of yours."
She closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against the cool glass. "I just need a little more time, that's all."
"Hmm." He tugged her away from the window and drew the curtain. "Then I'll need a little compensation now. Undress yourself and be quick about it."
Laurette did as he ordered. What did it matter as long as it kept her alive? He was just another man in a very long list.
Fleming smiled. "Nice. Very nice. I'm sure I can find an accommodating brothel for you and get my money back that way."
"I'd rather die."
"That is the only other option if I don't get paid soon." He motioned her to the bed.
Laurette prayed he'd be quick about it. He wasn't. When he finally rolled off her an hour later and started snoring, she slipped on her clothes and returned to the window.
Brothel be damned. She'd find a way to get that money. Then she spied Jake walking into the saloon across the street.
\*
Jake swung through the saloon doors. Customers were light for a Saturday, but then it was early. It gave him a chance to find a quiet, dark table in the corner of the place. To turn his back on the world and lose himself in a bottle.
From behind the bar, Florine watched his progress. She had a girl at his side the second he yanked out a chair.
"What'll it be tonight?"
Jake didn't bother to look at her. He kicked back the chair and rested his heels on the table. "Whiskey, and leave the bottle. Tell Florine to run a tab."
"And your name, cowboy?"
He grunted. "She knows who I am."
The girl's footsteps retreated. A few minutes later he heard her heels click a path back to him.
"Here you go, cowboy." She set bottle and glass before him. "Anything else?"
He jerked out the cork and poured. "Yeah, when this one's empty, you bring me another. Otherwise, don't bother me."
The whiskey didn't go down as smooth or as quick as Jake thought it would. He nursed each sip, relishing the liquid warmth that seeped through his veins. But it wasn't enough to erase the afternoon's fiasco. Grace's words, his own, ran through his mind over and over until the pain was branded on his soul.
How could everything get so twisted up? Nothing he meant to say came out right. Hell, it didn't come out at all. He'd only made a bad situation worse. There was no fixing it now. His mouth and his temper had done it this time. If there was any doubt about that, the stiffness in her back as she'd walked away from him erased it.
Jake tipped out another drink. He had a long way to go before the bottom of that bottle. Maybe by the time he reached it, his mind would be as numb as his body.
Behind him the saloon started to fill. The rumble of voices built to a hum. Poker chips clinked. Cards shuffled. Cigar smoke hovered in a cloud. Someone beat a tune out on the piano. And no one tried to engage him in conversation-if anyone saw him at all in the dark corner.
He heard a saloon girl's heels tapping his way. Jake expected her to check his bottle and dart away. Instead, her footsteps stopped beside his chair.
"You're lookin' mighty lonely tonight, cowboy. Lookin' like you could use some cheerin'."
Jake looked up. Her cleavage was a nuzzle away. When he didn't take that bait, she slid onto the edge of the table and crossed her legs.
He laughed to himself. Grace would be scandalized at the show of limbs.
"What do you say?" She rubbed her foot against his thigh. "I could make you forget all your troubles."
Or create a whole bunch of new ones. A layer of makeup did little to hide her youth. She looked like she was barely out of the schoolhouse. But Jake could see where she'd be able to offer a man forgetfulness. Her rounded bosom, the tiny waist, and those long shapely legs that continued to tease his thigh. None of it was enough to raise his interest. She wasn't Grace.
He supposed he could close his eyes and pretend. That would last all of five seconds. It was more than a body, more than just release. Jake needed, craved the heat, the passion, the very essence of Grace's soul to wrap around him. He was dead without her. Somehow, some way he had to get her back-if it took him the rest of his life to do it. Because he had no life without Grace by his side.
"So..." She leaned forward, flashing her bosom again. "You like what you see."
Before Jake could tell her exactly what he thought, Florine dashed over. She grabbed the girl's arm and pulled her to her feet. "I think you'd best get back to serving drinks. There's nothing here for you. Now scoot."
The girl picked up her tray and left, but not before flashing Florine a dirty look.
"Sorry about that, Jake."
"She's new. She'll learn. But she looks like she needs a good paddling and sent home to mama." He tossed down his drink and poured another.
Florine pulled out a chair and sat across from him. "Never seen you or A.J. have more than a drink or two since I've known you. You're going to be feeling it by the time you get to the bottom of that bottle. Which, from the look of it, is going to take you all night."
"I guess that's my business."
"Guess so." She braced her forearms on the table. "I heard what happened today. Damn shame. How's your wife taking it?"
"Which wife?" Sarcasm dripped with each word.
Florine kicked his foot. "Don't get smart with me. The only wife who matters. Before tonight the whole town was talking about the two of you. Do you love her or was all that gossip?"
He slumped in his chair and twirled the empty shot glass like a top. "I love her like crazy, Florine. And every time I turn around I keep messing things up with her. I can't think straight where Grace is concerned. I go to say one thing and something else comes out all wrong. Then this happens. It's a shambles."
"It's not going to get any better drinking this rot gut." She slid the bottle out of his reach. "Why don't you go home while you can still find your way? Things will look brighter in the morning."
Without Grace there? Never. "Just give me the bottle and let me be."
Shaking her head, Florine did as he asked. Jake snatched it from her and poured.
"Never known you to wallow in self-pity. Enjoy it while you can. You'll be feeling it come morning."
Finally alone. Self-pity. What did she know? And if it was, so what? He'd been to hell and back today. Wrong. He'd just been to hell, there was no coming back.
The drinks went down faster this time around. Maybe not in one gulp, but certainly one right after the other. The bottom of the bottle was getting closer...and Jake felt miserable.
Using his arms as a pillow, he rested his head on the table and stared at the amber liquid. Another enemy disguised as a friend. If only the room would stop spinning. He closed his eyes. A little sleep and he'd leave.
"Anybody hear what happened at the Tanner ranch after we left?"
Jake forced his eyes open. Was someone talking to him?
"Boy-howdy, Jake was fit to be tied."
The voices were coming from the table behind him. Jake hauled himself upright. He recognized them. Judd, Hank. Friends of his...cowhands.
"Grace didn't look none too pleased either," someone else said. "What do you suppose she'll do?"
It was Cisco. Who else was behind him? There was a lull in the conversation as they placed their bets.
"She sure is a beauty, that Grace," Judd said. "Real sweet too. I talked to her for a spell today. I tell you...I sure wouldn't mind offering her a little comfort-if you know what I mean."
Knowing chuckles went around the table. Jake tightened his jaw.
"What about that Laurette?" Hank asked. "She's a beauty too. I don't know how Jake managed to get so lucky having two pretty wives. She might be needing a little comforting too right about now."
"Aw...she ain't all that much," Judd said. "I had her a couple of times. Often wondered if the kid wasn't mine, then decided not. He looks just like his cousins."
"Hell," Hank snickered. "Maybe A.J. got a shot in there."
"She was easy with it, that's for sure," Cisco piped in. "Always good for a quick romp, but there's nothing much there. Grace though looks like she'd shine when a man loved her. She's the kind of woman a man would want to take his time with, spend hours in bed with."
Jake grabbed the whisky bottle by the neck and slammed it into the center of their table. Shards of glass exploded. They scrambled for safety, but Jake was faster. He snatched Cisco by the throat and pinned him to the wall. The man clawed at Jake's fingers, gasping for breath. None of his friends tried to help.
"You lay one finger on her, you so much as look at Grace, and I'll beat you to a pulp and let the vultures finish you off!"
Florine ran up behind him. Grabbing his arm with both hands, she tugged. "Jake, let him go! You're going to kill him!"
He tossed Cisco to a heap on the floor and staggered for the exit.
Florine hauled him back. "Oh no you don't. You're not getting on a horse in that condition." Spinning him around, she pointed him toward the stairs. "You're going to sleep it off."
Leaning heavily on the banister, Jake tried to negotiate the steps. Florine's tight arm around his waist was all that kept him upright.
"I jus' wanna see Grace. I needa see her. I wanna go home." Couldn't she understand that? Did he even talk?
"I'll send someone for A.J. to fetch you home."
Jake reached the top step and nearly toppled over the railing.
Florine tossed his arm over her shoulder. "I knew this would happen. You better not start puking."
What was she rambling about? Where were they going? He had to get home.
She shoved open a door at the far end of the hall and pushed him to the bed. Jake grabbed the mattress, trying to keep it still.
"Where'd you put me?"
"My room. Sleep. I'll send for A.J."
"Naw...I want Grace."
She tossed up her hands in defeat. "Grace too."
"Good." He patted the bed. "I gotta place for her right here."
Shaking her head, Florine shut him in.
\*
Grace heard the rider coming long before he started banging on their front door dashing all hope that it was Jake. She tied on her wrapper and grabbed the lantern. Jake was hurt! She just knew it!
Still half-asleep, Millie bumped into her in the hallway then followed her.
A.J. beat them to it. "Stay back. I'll see who it is. And put out that light!"
Dressed only in breeches, pistol dangling from his fingers, A.J. marched ahead. Grace and Millie hung back just out of sight, alert to danger. Those dime novels raced through Grace's head. As an afterthought, she trotted to one of the drawers and pulled out the biggest butcher knife she could find in the dark.
"What are you doing?" Millie whispered.
"Defending myself."
"With a spoon?"
Grace glanced at her hand. In her haste she'd grabbed a wooden spoon. "I'm going to beat him to death," she whispered back.
Millie snickered.
"Who is it?" A.J. snapped.
A mumbled response from the other side of the door reached them. A.J. yanked it open.
"What are you doing here this time of night?"
Grace and Millie peeked around the corner. A man stood there backlit against the light of a full moon. "Florine sent me to get you. Jake's pretty liquored up. She'd appreciate it if you and Grace would come get him before he starts puking his guts up."
"I'm on my way."
When A.J. reached to shut the door, the other man held it open. "Grace too. Jake won't come unless Grace is there."
A.J. nodded and shut the door. "You heard him, Grace. You get dressed. I'll hitch the wagon."
She just had one question. "Who's Florine?"
"She owns one of the saloons in town," Millie answered. "Very nice lady. You'd like her."
A.J.'s jaw dropped.
Millie nestled her arms under her bosom and cocked out a hip. "I work the saloon week nights after school."
His face lit in a big smile. "I thought there was a wild side to you. What do you do to the drunks? Make them sit in the corner?"
She folded her hands primly before her. "I make them write on the board, 'I will not drink liquor.' We've tried taking a switch to them, but they don't seem to feel it."
Laughter carried him to the bedroom. Millie's smile followed him.
Grace poked her shoulder. "All right. How did you meet her?"
"We met over a bolt of material. She joins my little sewing group when she can. The other ladies didn't like it much at first, but once they got to know her they looked forward to having her with us. She's not like the other barkeeps in town. Florine looks after the men. Makes sure they get home safe and keeps them from doing things they might regret in the morning."
Grace narrowed her eyes. "What kind of things?"
Millie fanned her fingers at her throat. "Why, Grace, I have no idea." But the sly look in her eyes and a hint of a smile said differently.
"That's not what I'd call getting dressed, Grace." A.J. buttoned up his shirt as he zipped by. "Millie, do you want Jake delivered to the schoolhouse for punishment or here?"
"I think I'll let Grace handle this one."
He shot a glance over his shoulder. "Might be more than either of them bargained for this time."
\*
They rode to town in silence. Grace didn't know what occupied A.J.'s mind, but didn't care to press him about it. Her own thoughts kept her busy.
She had little experience with drunks, but she did understand there was no talking to them. Hard as it might be, Grace was determined to keep her mouth shut and just get Jake home. Any talking on her part could wait until morning.
Taking a snooze, Jake's horse was tethered in front of the saloon. Grace didn't see how Cupcake could sleep with all the noise. The din of voices was bad enough, but whoever beat the off-key tune on the piano needed to be shot.
Just as A.J. pulled up, a woman Grace guessed to be Florine stepped through the swinging doors. She wasn't what Grace expected in a saloon girl.
Her dress was fancy-all shiny and sparkly red and gold, a little low in front, but not too revealing. Just a dress. Her strawberry blonde curls were pinned in place just like any lady's would be, a few left to dangle around her neck.
She smiled and extended her hand to Grace in introduction. Millie was right-Grace liked her right away.
"I'm sorry, Grace, but he was pretty insistent. He's also a mess. He'll be feeling it in the morning." She pointed to the alley. "Take the side stairs straight back. The last door on your left. That'll keep you from walking through that crowd." She jerked her thumb toward the customers.
Grace let A.J. lead. Whatever she was about to face, she didn't want to do so alone. If Jake was going to be unreasonable, A.J. could deal with it.
The only light in the hallway came from below. It was enough to see where they were going, barely. A.J. limped ahead. Grace wasn't far behind. He paused at the last door on the left, and curled his fingers around the knob.
"Let's hope he can stand on his own two feet. He'll be a load to haul to the wagon otherwise."
"Then I'll guess we'll have to drag him. He oughta like that."
He smiled and shoved open the door. It was as far as they went. Jake lay sprawled across the bed, but he wasn't alone.
"What in the hell is going on here!" A.J. demanded to know.
Jake peeled open bloodshot eyes to stare at his brother. Seeing Grace, he gave her a dopey grin.
"Gracie, honey, you came." Reaching for her, he struggled to right himself. Confusion clouded his face.
"For what? This?" Grace motioned to the bed. To the naked woman curled against him. To Laurette.
Pain ripped through Grace's heart. She spun around, blinded by tears, and dashed for the main staircase. Grace didn't care who saw her. She had to get out of there fast.
\*
Jake shoved Laurette to the floor. He didn't have time to question how she got into the room-he had to get Grace. Still half drunk, he stumbled after her. She was almost down the steps. Conversation in the bar screeched to a halt-they were the entertainment now.
Jake staggered down the stairs and caught her arm. Fist doubled, Grace swung and clipped his jaw. He reeled from the blow, and then grabbed her wrist before she could deliver another.
"Grace, honey. You don't understand."
She shot a hated glare over his shoulder. "I understand plenty."
She shoved the full weight of her body into Jake. He teetered for balance, and then toppled backward right into Laurette. A bedspread was wrapped around her in queenly splendor. Using her toes, she shoved him back. He tumbled to the bottom of the stairs and landed with a thud.
Grace lifted her skirts and stepped over him. He caught her ankle. She jammed her heel into his wrist, nailing it to the floor.
"Leave me be!"
A.J. pushed by, wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her free. "Come on, Grace. Let's get the hell out of here."
Grace shrugged off his assistance and marched on. Behind her, Jake scrambled to his feet. She was nearly free when a big man blocked her exit.
"Ma'am." He tipped a nonexistent hat to her. "I'll be more than happy to see you find your way home."
Jake's roar split the air. He thundered toward them. "I told you to stay away from my wife."
The man darted for the safety of night. Grace ducked through the doors before they swung closed. Jake wasn't far behind her. All she wanted to do was put as much distance between them as she could.
She grabbed Cupcake's reins, hoisted herself into the saddle, and kicked him into action. The stirrups were too long, the saddle too big, but Grace held on and trusted the horse to take her home.
Jake fell to his knees in the dirt and watched Grace disappear. The world spun around him. Clutching his stomach, he heaved its contents onto the ground then sat on his haunches. Every time he turned around it was something else. Most of the time he sabotaged himself. This time it was easy to pick the culprit.
He hauled himself to his feet and trudged back into the saloon. Laurette hadn't moved from her perch on the stairs. She stood there, bedspread wrapped around her and little else.
"Why bother to hide what you've already shown to half the men in here?"
Laurette didn't so much as flinch, much less deny it.
Jake leveled his gaze at A.J. "What about you? You have her too?"
A.J.'s lips thinned to a tight, white line. "I have better taste than her. Which is more than I can say for you right now. You coming home now or going back to your wife?" The last word came out through clenched teeth.
Jake didn't blame him. It looked bad. He was innocent and there was no way to prove it. His word, his reputation, had seriously diminished these last few hours. He'd behaved like a lunatic on more than one occasion.
"My wife's at home."
"A shame you couldn't remember that earlier." A.J. trudged to the door. "I'll be in the wagon. You've got about thirty seconds to join me or I'll leave you behind."
Jake zeroed in on Laurette. She stood there all high and mighty, one piece of material away from being naked. She truly looked like the whore she was.
"I don't know how you got in that room, but if you don't leave us alone, I'll-"
"Kill me?" she asked, one eyebrow arched with her smirk.
"Don't tempt me."
Jake smacked open the doors and crawled into the back of the wagon. He counted the spinning stars on the ride home, counted his mistakes along with them. Once there, A.J. unhitched the team and left him there.
He lay there waiting for his stomach to settle. The night air cooled his sweat, soothed him. Inch by inch Jake crawled from the wagon. The world tilted around him.
Was Grace crying? How could he explain this time? No one would believe him and Jake didn't have the energy to deal with it right now.
He looked from the house to the field and the tree beyond bathed in eerie moonlight. Forcing one foot in front of the other, he staggered toward it then collapsed in the soft dirt beneath it.
"Do you work tree? 'Cause I've got a mess of wishes and I need a lot of help."
Grace rocked in the privacy of the sitting room. She could no longer bear to be in the bedroom she had shared with Jake. There was no place for her in this house. Jake had made his preference very clear.
And who could blame him? Laurette might be lazy, but what man wouldn't want to be with a woman so beautiful? Why he chose this method to tell Grace would haunt her the rest of her life. It would take just about that long to trust another man.
Her trunk was back in the kitchen waiting for morning. But Grace had no idea where to go. Staying here was out of the question. She couldn't bear to see Jake and Laurette walking the streets of Cottonwood Bend or sitting in church. Her heart wouldn't be able to take it. Home was out of the question. Grace didn't care to listen to her mother harp on this subject. And there was no telling who her mother would try to marry her off to next. Old Man Mooney would definitely appeal to Ma after this mess.
Austin was a likely place. She'd blend into the crowd and no one would be any the wiser. Of course, she had no means to support herself. Being a barmaid didn't appeal to her. She couldn't walk across the yard without tripping, so handling a tray of drinks was a disaster waiting to happen. And the first time a cowboy got personal with her, Grace would wind up punching him and that would be the end of that job.
Maybe A.J. had some suggestions. He would be disappointed she was leaving-there were the children to consider. Hopefully, he would understand.
Grace tucked the quilt closer. Chills racked her body. Odd when it was such a warm, pretty night.
The screen door squeaked. A.J. was home. Grace strained her ears for some sign that Jake was with him. All she heard were A.J. and Millie talking about the night. It was just as well. Grace was too exhausted to deal with Jake any more.
Clutching the edges of the quilt together, Grace hauled herself to her feet. If she could talk out her plan with A.J. tonight, she might be able to get some sleep.
"Emma's been gone less than a year," she heard A.J. say.
Grace pulled back into the darkened room. A.J. and Millie stood within inches of each other-his hands at her waist, hers around his neck.
"She was my friend," Millie told him. "I miss her something awful. I know how you feel probably better than anyone else, A.J. You know that I'm not ready to be a wife and mother again, or to even fall in love. But, A.J., I sorely miss the comfort of a man's touch. That's what you can give me-because you understand."
"I've never been with anyone but Emma."
"My husband was the only man I knew." A single tear slipped down her cheek.
A.J. caught it on his finger. "The memories...I'll probably fall apart afterward."
"Me too...but we'll fall apart together."
Grace watched him kiss her then-slow, sweet. Then Millie took him by the hand and led him to her room. Emotion clogged her throat. Why couldn't things be that straightforward with her and Jake?
At least something good came out of the evening. But Grace couldn't stay here listening to the muted sounds of them making love.
She tiptoed to the back door and into the night. The wishing tree looked silver in the moonlight, magical. Maybe there she'd find the peace her troubled mind needed. Grace never expected to find the source of all her misery asleep in the very place she wanted to be. Or rather, passed out.
A shiver racked her body. Grace could feel warmth pouring off Jake, not to mention the stench of whatever he'd drank tonight. Still, chasing these body quaking chills away did appeal to her. Jake would never know. A stampeding herd wouldn't wake him.
Cocooning herself within the quilt, Grace stretched out beside him and used his body to brace her back. Just for a minute or two until she was warm. He owed her this much.
Jake stirred, mumbled something in his sleep, and rolled around her. Tucking her into the cove of his body, he kissed her head through the quilt, and settled down.
Grace let the tears fall. For tonight, their last night together, she'd pretend it was her Jake believed he was holding. There was no sense taking it any further-wishing just wouldn't make it so.
Sleep was her friend. Sweet dreams gave Grace all she could not have in the real world. Dawn destroyed all that. She cursed the light that pried open her eyes and the birds chirping happily above. Reluctantly, she eased from Jake's arms and draped the quilt over him.
"Good-bye, Jake," she whispered, and then walked away before she gave in to the urge to kiss him.
Light shone in the kitchen window. Someone was up. Whoever it was, Grace didn't want to have to explain where she'd been. She ducked into the hen house, gathered the eggs in her skirt, and went on.
The sound of pots and pans rattling greeted Grace when she stepped through the door. A.J. and Millie were playfully wrestling over a pan. They jerked apart when they saw her.
A flush crept to Millie's cheeks. "We didn't know you were up yet."
A.J. avoided Grace's gaze and slid the pan to the stove. "But I'm relieved to see you are. Please hurry. Millie's trying to cook."
Grace brushed by them and put the eggs in a bowl. "There's no need for you two to tiptoe around me. I heard you talking last night and I know where you went afterward. Your secret's safe with me."
Tension faded with their sighs. They moved closer, Millie in the shelter of A.J.'s body yet not quite touching.
"I see your trunk is out again." A.J. jerked his head in that direction. "What are you going to do, Grace?"
She managed a half-hearted smile. "I was hoping you could tell me."
\*
It was the sense of being alone that pulled Jake awake, but confusion kept him from moving. He was under the tree, a quilt over him, Lulu by his side...and he had no idea how he got there.
Rolling to his back, Jake squinted into the tree branches. One by one the night's events came back. Ignorance and confusion would have been better. If things were terrible before between him and Grace, they were impossible now.
He massaged the ache in his temples and wished he could do the same to the rest of his body. It felt like someone was inside trying to beat a way out. His stomach churned, the sliver of sunlight topping the horizon blinded his eyes, and his muscles ached worse than if he'd been thrown from a bull. There wasn't a part of him that didn't hurt.
He levered himself onto his elbows, an effort equal to scaling a mountain. Lulu stretched herself awake and slurped a dog kiss against his face. He didn't have the energy to fend her off. At least he still had her favor.
Which was more than he could say for the rest of the family.
That's what made the quilt so hard to figure out.
Considering everything that had happened the night before, it had to have been one of the children who brought it out. He doubted A.J. or Millie would care. And Grace would just soon smother him with it as cover him.
Groaning, Jake forced himself to his feet. It was going to take a small miracle to fix this mess, but somehow he had to do it or die trying. From the look of the bruises and swelling in his wrist, that might just happen.
Who would have thought someone so tiny could pack such a wallop? Like a wildcat in a Texas twister. Laurette was lucky Grace didn't turn on her-she'd never survive.
Not that Grace didn't have any reason to be riled. He'd kill any man who even came near Grace. Finding a naked one in her bed would be cause to feed his body parts to the coyotes. No explanation or excuse would be good enough.
Jake pulled himself up short. That was exactly how Grace felt now. He didn't know how to convince her otherwise, especially when he had no reasonable explanation for Laurette being there.
One thing Jake did know-all the harsh words, the yelling, the demands were getting him nowhere. With each and every conflict Grace drew farther away from him. The only thing...the only one chasing Grace out of his life was him. If he ever hoped to hold her heart, he had to change.
Lulu sniffed the air and trotted on to the house. A few seconds later Jake smelled breakfast. Much as he loved Grace's cooking, his stomach revolted. When he saw Grace again, he wanted to look...and smell his best. This morning wasn't it.
Jake ducked into the barn. They'd be leaving for church soon. He'd wait them out. But the wait took longer than he anticipated. Each minute that ticked by the stench around him built until even he couldn't stand himself.
Filling an old trough with water from the rain barrel, Jake stripped and climbed in. The cold water stole his breath and Jake swore his private parts screamed and ducked for cover. It was a tight fit. Hanging his legs over the side helped, but also left those vulnerable areas exposed. The best he could do was sit there with his knees to his chest.
The barn doors swung open. Light cut a shaft across the floor. Jake scrunched down, hoping to make himself smaller-a hopeless cause.
He watched his brother retrieve the tack for the wagon, then the horses. A.J. managed well this morning despite the bum leg, but as the day wore on Jake knew the limp worsened. Although stronger, A.J. just didn't have enough strength yet for herding, cutting, and riding all day. There was also his new business venture to consider. Jake couldn't...wouldn't ask him to risk that or his health for the herd.
A.J. glanced up, looked away, and then jerked his gaze back to Jake. "Well," he gave a humorless chuckle, "don't you look a sight."
What could he say? If there wasn't so much at stake, if he wasn't so miserable, this would be funny. "I couldn't stand the smell of myself any longer."
"I'll bet you couldn't." A.J. walked past him to hitch the wagon.
"A bar of soap would be nice."
"We'll be leaving shortly. You can get it then."
A.J. wasn't giving him any leeway here.
Jake scooped water over his shoulder then bit back a shiver. "I've got bruises everywhere I look," he said, more to himself than to his brother.
"That's what usually happens when you fall down a staircase," A.J. said, his focus still on his task.
Jake sighed. If he was going to make Grace understand, he had to start with A.J. first. Get him back on his side.
"I didn't sleep with Laurette last night. If you took the time to think about it, you'd know I'm telling you the truth."
"Really?" He looked up then, his blue eyes cold. "And how am I supposed to know that?"
"First, I had every stitch of clothing on including my boots." Jake put up two fingers. "And second, I downed a full bottle of whiskey. I don't know about you, but twenty naked women couldn't have-"
"You accused me of sleeping with Laurette."
Another memory hit him. Jake dropped his head. "I'm sorry. The men were talking. I was-"
"Drunk?" He snorted. "Oh, yes...the whole town knows that."
"Everyone's entitled to a mistake or two."
A.J. braced his hands on his hips. "And you've been racking them up lately, haven't you?"
Jake looked him square in the eye. "Yes...I have. And I'm done making them. Soon as you get back from church, I'm going to talk to Grace."
A.J. climbed onto the wagon and steered the horses for the exit. "Grace won't be coming back. Millie has family in Boston. Grace will be going there. Judging from the way you've acted since you met her, I have to say she's better off."
A blow to the stomach would have hurt less. Jake sat there stunned, trying to breathe and not succeeding. It seemed forever before he could react and only then when he heard the wagon pull away. Grabbing the quilt, he wrapped it around his waist and ran outside in time to see them already down the road.
Panic surrounded him. Jake tamped it down. He was going to stick to his resolve. Stay calm. He would talk to Grace. All he had to do was get to the church before she left.
A quick shave, a decent bath, and fresh clothes and Jake was ready. He took a shortcut across the fields, through a small patch of woods, around the cemetery, to the edge of the church. A.J. was just pulling the wagon to a stop.
Jake tethered his horse and waited behind a tree until Grace passed by. The children skipped off to play with their friends before services. A group of women stopped Grace and Millie to talk. Maude was among them. She drew Grace aside and pointed to the very tree where Jake waited. Jake ducked out of sight.
"Thank you for speaking with me," Maude said as they neared. "I wanted the chance to apologize. I have no excuse for my part in all this. Even saying I did it for Jeremy sounds hollow now."
"It isn't my place to judge," Grace said.
"That's kind of you to say. I do hope one day you'll forgive me."
"Also not my place and none of my business. I'll be leaving on the afternoon stage."
"I'll be leaving then too." Maude let her head drop and stared at her hands. "But please don't be so hasty. Don't let my mistake make one for you."
She excused herself and wandered on only to be replaced by Paul Harrington.
"Miss Grace, a word please."
She consented with a nod.
"Miss Grace, I hope you will forgive my impertinence."
"Of course." But she prayed he wouldn't be overlong with his sympathies or any lecture he intended to give.
"With all the talk yesterday before the...uh... incident." He mopped a bead of sweat from his brow. "What I want to say is...well, if you find yourself in a...uh... family way, I would consider it an honor to have you as my wife."
Grace felt her mouth fall open and clamped her lips shut. Long fingers wrapped around her elbow. She looked up at A.J. He smiled at the reverend and tipped his hat.
"Why thank you, Paul," A.J. said. "That is a very kind offer and I'm sure Grace appreciates it. But we've decided that if Grace is carrying a Tanner child, we're going to keep it and her in the family. I'll marry her myself."
"As it should be," Paul said, nodded to them both and returned to the church steps.
Grace covered her mouth to hide her shock. "How odd. Why would he offer himself like that?"
"Ever look, really look in the mirror, Gracie?" The corners of A.J.'s eyes crinkled with his smile. "There isn't a single man in this town who wouldn't want you for his wife. Your looks draw them and they start scuffing their toes in the dirt, but the beauty you have inside captures them. That's what makes a real woman-beauty inside and out. Come on, we don't want to miss the services."
Jake slumped against the tree. A damnable mess. The reverend, his brother, the three men at the bar last night, and god-only-knew who else. And Grace was available. It was enough to drive a man insane and all Jake could do to keep himself in check.
One by one he forced his fingers to uncurl from fists. Deep breaths cooled the fire jealousy built. By some deep something, Jake knew this was his last chance. If he messed up now, Grace would be gone forever.
The church bell announced the start of services. A line of people trickled inside. Jake waited until the last one disappeared. As always in good weather, the doors remained open. A clear, welcome invitation to anyone who passed by. He didn't think any of them were ready for what he was about to do. Jake wasn't sure himself.
Stay calm. Hold your temper. Easier said than done, when he knew Grace, his Grace was the most sought after woman in town.
Jake caught Paul in the middle of announcements. His mouth fell open in mid-sentence when Jake's shadow appeared in the doorframe. Slowly heads turned his way, except one. A nudge from Millie changed that.
Somehow Grace knew Jake was there. She didn't need Millie to tell her or to confirm it. She could feel him, feel his gaze at the back of her head, feel the very essence of him fill the church. Grace spared him a glance just to prove to him and others that his being here was of no importance to her. It was a mistake.
As much as he had hurt her, Grace couldn't help being overwhelmed by the mere look of him. He was clean, fresh, and sharp in his Sunday best. His shoulders filled out the jacket, making him seem larger than life. Her heart raced at the memory of being nestled against that hard chest, his breath tickling her ear.
She folded her hands over her hymnal to quell their shaking. Good looking he might be, but she would not cave in. He had Laurette, he wanted Laurette, and he could keep her. Jake Tanner wasn't worth fighting over.
Oh, but yes he is. Grace damned her busybody conscience and turned her back on him.
Jake wandered down the aisle, borrowing bibles as he went. A crazy notion, but he didn't know what else to do.
"I see the good reverend has a full congregation again this morning," he told them. "Just can't miss what those Tanners might do next, can you?"
People shifted in their seats and mumbled among themselves.
Jake smiled. "Well, that's good because I've got a few things to say and I don't want to have to repeat them twice."
At the altar he stacked the bibles, placed one hand on top and the other over his heart. "I, Jake Tanner, do solemnly swear that I did in no way, shape, or form touch Laurette whatever- name-she's-using last night. I don't know how she got in my room, but I intend to find out and deal with it in my own fashion. The only woman I love is Grace. Even if the law says she's not my wife, my heart says she is and I defy any man or woman to take that from me."
He dropped his hands and tucked them behind his back. "If I didn't make it clear last night, let me do so again today...I don't take kindly to every man in sniffing distance trying to put their brand on my wife. Your friendship is appreciated, but anything more..."
The veiled threat hung in the air. There was nothing more to say. Jake turned now to Grace. On impulse he went down on one knee and draped his forearms over the other.
"I'll be heading to Austin from here. I'll see an attorney tomorrow then be home to take the herd up north. By the time I'm back, this business with Laurette should be over or close to it. I expect you to be here."
She said nothing, did nothing, just sat there staring at her fingers. Jake's anger rose. He tamped it down and stood.
"If you aren't, I will search the ends of the earth until I find you, then bring you home with me where you belong."
Grace could scarcely breathe. Every part of her body quivered, from anger, anticipation...maybe both. She listened to his footsteps tap up the aisle. If Jake Tanner thought he could speak to her that way, could make it all better by swearing on a stack of bibles in front of the whole town...
She shoved to her feet and marched to the head of the aisle. "What do you intend to do? Hog-tie me?"
Jake's shoulders stiffened. Slowly he turned. A tick at his jaw told her how close she was to hearing his temper. Grace braced herself. She could give as good as she got.
Jake let a slow gaze travel the length of Grace's body and back. Magnificent! No wonder the men panted after her. Visions of her wrapped around him in passion assaulted his senses. She was seconds away from having him toss her over his shoulder and carry her off. He'd take her as far as the nearest field, lift her skirts, and...
"If need be," he said, lifting one brow.
Grace tilted her chin. "You can't have your Kate and Edith too." The pun sparked groans throughout the church. A few snickered.
Jake's gaze on her remained steady, locking deep into hers. "I don't want Kate...or Edith. I just want you. Four months, Grace. Be here...or I will find you." He bowed, pivoted on his heel, and marched from the church.
Grace ran after him. "I won't be here! I'm not falling for your sweet-talking lies any more! You can search the ends of the earth all you want, you will never find me! You hear me, Jake Tanner!"
He didn't spare her so much as a glance. He just got on his big, black horse and rode away.
Grace hurled the hymnal in his wake. The spine split. She kicked it, spilling pages onto the dirt, and then reared back to give it another whack. An arm around her shoulder stopped her.
"Sweetie, please, I think it's dead," Florine told her.
Grace bent to pick up the mess. She didn't want to talk to Florine or anyone else for that matter. All she wanted to do was get on that stage, head for Boston, and never, ever lay eyes on the likes of Jake Tanner again.
Florine squatted down to help her. "Jake said he was doing a fair job of messing things up with you. Looks like you're not doing too good yourself."
What business was it of hers? Why couldn't people just leave her alone?
"He loves you, you know. Told me last night he loves you something fierce." Florine caught her arm, forcing Grace to look her way. "He is innocent. The only woman he wanted last night was you for all the good it would do him. Sweetie, he'd had too much to drink to take pleasure with any woman."
Grace gently pulled free and shuffled the pages together. "I saw Laurette-"
"Yes, I know. One of my girls let her up the back stairs. Laurette paid her to do so. Jake never knew she was there. As for the girl-she's looking for work elsewhere this morning."
The news filtered in, weighing Grace down with guilt. Jake was true and she had let him down, never even gave him the chance to explain. When he did, she called him a liar. And yet he stayed true, had declared to the entire town she was the only one for him, and vowed nothing would keep him from having her by his side.
One question remained-what did Grace want to do? They were still unwed and might still have a child on the way. Did she dare flaunt every teaching in her life and stay with him?
A.J. and Millie stood at the top of the steps watching her. They had it right. A common need, a full understanding. Tradition meant nothing to them, surviving did. And for now they had decided they needed each other to do that. If only things could be that simple for her and Jake.
Grace brushed off her skirt as she scanned the road. It was as simple or as hard as she made it. Jake made his intent clear before God and everyone. He had no doubts. It was up to her now-be stubborn and miserable, or thumb her nose at society and be happy.
"A.J., I think I'd like to be going home now." If she could catch him before he left, they could put this last worry to rest.
As the family rode back, Grace sat on the edge of the wagon seat and looked for some sign of his horse. Nothing. He was already gone.
"Do you want me to go after him?" A.J. asked.
Did her disappointment show that much? "No, he'll be home tomorrow. It can wait."
\*
Jake counted every clop of Cupcake's hooves. Each step took him further away from Grace. If anyone gave out blue ribbons for willpower, Jake should have gotten a ton of them. All he wanted to do was go back and snatch Grace up.
Still he kept on course for Austin. Kept his promise to himself not to lose his temper. He should be proud. Instead, he was miserable. As day faded into dusk, his worries grew.
What if Grace left? Then what?
He forced away the idea. He wouldn't dwell on the bad, he'd think of them together. Of how briefly happy they'd been before Laurette danced back into his life.
A covey of quail burst from the brush, startling Jake and Cupcake.
Jake patted the horse's neck. "That's okay, fella. Scared me too."
The nicker of another horse filtered to him. Cupcake's ears twitched. Jake squinted into the trees and low brush edging the road. Too late he caught the glint of sunlight off metal.
Reaching for his Colt, he jumped down. A bullet slammed into his gut before he touched ground.
Jake fell in a heap and lay there feeling his blood pool around him. The shooter took off, with his horse beating a path down the road.
Jake rolled to his back. Cupcake stood in the field beyond. Jake pursed his lips. The whistle was faint yet the horse trudged to his side.
Gasping against the pain, Jake grabbed the stirrup. Somehow, some way he had to get home. He had to get back to Grace.
Saddling her old nag and following Jake had had its appeal when he had left the day before. Staying put was a hard decision to live with-especially through the night when Grace longed for him by her side. Or worried that he would worry she would make good her threat and leave.
Morning helped. Chores kept her busy, but she wandered to the window often to check the road.
Grace wanted this resolved. Wanted the chance to stand by him and believe in him the way she should have Saturday when their fragile new world exploded. Wanted to make good those vows she swore she'd keep no matter what.
None of this was Jake's fault. Especially not Laurette's wondrous return from the dead. He was bound and determined to keep their marriage intact. It was Grace who was ready to hightail it out of here. And why? Vanity, the most stupid reason in the world.
One look at the very beautiful Laurette and Grace labeled herself an ugly duckling unworthy of anyone. She ignored Jake's appeals, his pleas, his declarations of love...all because she thought she wasn't beautiful enough.
"Staring down that road isn't going to get Jake home any faster. It'll be closer to supper time when we see him." A.J. wiped his hands on a piece of toweling.
"Why not grab Jeremy and Wayne and go into town with me? We'll pick up Millie and the rest of the children and head over to the Porter house. Mr. and Mrs. Cyrus want to talk about the repairs, and Millie wants to see if they'll let her help decorate the place."
Grace picked a wood shaving from his hair and flicked it to the porch. "Sounds like fun." Maybe she had a few suggestions of her own to offer. In fact... "I was thinking they might want to put a vegetable garden in back to help feed boarders. Now would be the time to start one."
"It's beginning to sound like the Tanner house, not the Porter," he said. "I wonder how the Cyruses are going to feel about that?"
"Probably planned it all along just to keep us Tanners out of trouble."
He laughed. So different from the man she met when she'd first arrived. His eyes always sparkled with mischief now. She hoped he and Millie...
Grace pulled her rambling thoughts to a halt. That was A.J. and Millie's business, and their own lives to live. They wanted this secret; Grace had given her word. There would be no interference from her.
Still, it was difficult to keep from smiling when they met Millie and the rest of the young'uns at school. A.J. and Millie sat on the wagon seat with Grace in the middle. Anyone could tell they wanted to sit side by side, or at least Grace could. She didn't see how the rest of the town didn't notice. Everyone talked about how Grace and Jake sparkled around each other. Millie and A.J. glowed.
Some secret. But Grace kept her mouth shut.
The Porter house was a beautiful two-story place: white clapboard, wide front porch, tall elm trees shading all four corners, and white picket fence marking its boundaries. Inside was a shambles. Tattered rugs and curtains, peeling wallpaper, and enough dust and dirt to fill three houses. Nothing a little loving care wouldn't fix, according to A.J.
They paired off to discuss different tasks-the men and boys to the workshop out back, the women and girls to the general store to talk material and gardens. It was hard not to get caught up in the excitement.
"Before we do anything, that place needs a good cleaning top to bottom," Grace told the other two.
They nodded in agreement and pulled out yet another bolt of cloth.
"Leave it to you to think about cleaning."
The sound of Laurette's voice behind her made Grace's skin crawl.
"Young woman, I think it best you leave." Mrs. Cyrus let the chill tone say what she was too polite to speak: You aren't welcome here. Go away.
Laurette ignored it and Mrs. Cyrus. Apparently, her target was Grace and Grace refused to be baited. She had more upset than she could bear with this woman. "I'll be next door, Mrs. Cyrus." She skirted Laurette and stepped outside.
Laurette followed and blocked her path. "Rumor has it you're carrying a little Tanner."
Her laughter carried to everyone in earshot. Heads turned their way.
"Won't Jake be delighted to hear he has two children on the way?" She folded her hands over her belly and smiled.
Something inside Grace exploded. The lies, the hurt this woman caused...
Curling her lips into a snarl, Grace grabbed a handful of blonde hair and yanked. Laurette screamed and clawed Grace's arm. Grace kicked her shin, throwing her off balance.
"You lying little tramp! I've had all I can take from you!"
She pulled her, screaming and kicking up a cloud of dust, to the nearest water trough. Cheers and catcalls followed them.
"Take it back, Laurette," Grace said through barred teeth. "Take it back now."
"Somebody help me," Laurette wailed.
Grace shoved her head under the water. Laurette flailed her arms in a vain attempt to free herself.
Grace yanked her back up. Laurette gasped for breath.
"You ready to take it back?"
"Somebody please," she cried. "She's trying to kill me."
"Let her," Florine called back. "It would put us all out of our misery."
Grace dunked her again. She saw A.J. squeeze through the crowd. Then, in the corner of her eye, she spied Jake's black horse. Cupcake nudged forward.
"Grace..." Jake's voice was gentle, a quiet plea for her to end it.
She yanked Laurette up, shoved her aside, and then cut through the crowd to reach Jake. Blood soaked his shirt, breeches, boots, and dripped to the dirt.
She bit back a gasp and reached for him. "Someone get the doctor."
"Grace...I..." His eyes rolled back as he toppled forward into her arms.
Grace struggled under his weight. With A.J.'s help she eased him to the ground, and cradled his head on her lap.
"It's all right, Jake. You're home. You're with me."
His eyes fluttered open. He wrapped one bloody hand around hers, and then his head lolled sideways. Grace fluttered her fingers against his neck, searching frantically for a pulse. It was weak, but it was there.
Footsteps beat a path to them. "Hurry, Doc. Jake's been gut shot!"
Grace bit back the bile that rose in her throat, and let A.J. pull her away.
"Come on, honey. There's nothing you can do," he said softly, his voice choked with emotion. "If he's gut shot, there's nothing anyone can do. He's as good as gone."
She yanked free of his gentle hold. "Don't you say that! Don't you even think it!"
Grace searched from face to face. They all thought he was a dead man. No one believed he'd survive.
She bumped into Cupcake and hugged his neck. "No," she cried. "I won't let him die. I refuse to let him die."
Millie reached for her. "Gracie, honey, please-"
"NO!" She hoisted herself onto Jake's bloody saddle and dug her heels into the horse's sides. "Home!"
As he had before, Cupcake took Grace where she needed to go. All she had to do was hold on. Hope was ahead. Her only hope.
Minutes later at the ranch, she slid from the saddle, picked up her skirts and ran to the wishing tree. There, under the shade of its welcoming branches, she collapsed to her knees and hugged its bark.
"I wish...I wish..." Sobs racked her body. Grace heaved in a breath. "Please...please...save Jake. I'll do anything...I'll give anything I have...just please save his life."
Grace was finally able to pull her emotions together. There was nothing more she could do here. She brushed the leaves and dirt from her bloodied skirt. Jake needed her now.
The horse had gone no further than the outer rim of shade. Grace snagged the reins and swung into the saddle. Her skirt hiked up to her knees. Anyone who wanted to could see every inch of her limbs. A month ago that would have shocked her. Now?
So the world knows I have legs. How else did they expect I walked around?
She patted the horse's neck as they started down the road toward town again. "You are just the best boy. I don't know what I'd do without you. You really are a Cupcake. A sweet name for a sweet horse."
He flicked his ears in response. Grace didn't know if that meant he agreed or not. She took it as a yes.
A small crowd had gathered outside Doc's place. At the center were Millie and A.J. with Reverend Harrington and Mr. Cyrus close by their sides. Some of the ranch hands were next. They paced the wooden walkway, draped over the hitching posts, and guarded the doorway. Hoyt, Judd, Cisco, and Hank. Grace didn't spare those last three a glance. They'd tussled with Jake last night. How did she know one of them didn't shoot him?
She caught a glimpse of Laurette watching from her hotel window. Soon as she saw Grace, she ducked back and let the curtain fall.
Grace steered Cupcake toward Doc's. A.J. took the reins and tied them off while Hoyt helped her down.
"Where are the young'uns?"
"Florine and Mrs. Cyrus are watching them," Millie replied.
Grace gave a single nod and strode to the door.
Judd blocked her way. "Ma'am," he swept off his cowboy hat, "you don't want to go in there right now. A wife don't need to see her husband like that."
"Do I look like I care how much blood he has on him?" She gestured to her dress.
He broke eye contact and shuffled aside.
Doc issued a second challenge the moment Grace stepped over the threshold. He wouldn't be bullied. Grace had to try for sympathy.
Gold brocade draperies separated the front room from the back. He bellowed for her to leave from behind those draperies, a quaking sound that would have frightened just about anyone-Grace included. Sucking in a breath to steel her resolve, Grace walked on.
"I said get out!"
"No."
Fury yanked his head up. When he saw Grace, he went back to work. "Good God, Grace. You've got more blood on you than Jake does. If you insist on staying, I need a fresh basin of water. Then roll up your sleeves and wash your hands. I might need a hand here soon."
Grace did as he asked, and then returned to the bedside. Jake lay on a tall bed stripped to the waist, Doc's fingers deep in his side. His breathing was shallow, his skin tone an ashy gray. An ether mask covered his nose and mouth.
A frown wrinkled her forehead. Jake looked like he hadn't shaved since yesterday. He wouldn't meet a lawyer unshaven. That could only mean one thing.
"How old is the wound, Doc?"
"Not fresh. It tried to scab over, but broke open every time he moved. I'd say some time yesterday."
He never made it to Austin. "Was it deliberate?"
"I can't say for sure. I didn't take the time to see if he was robbed."
Grace glanced at his shirt and vest. She'd check later. "You're digging in his side, Doc. I thought he was gut shot."
He picked up what looked like long tweezers with scissors handles. "Panicked people should keep their mouths shut. One bullet right to the liver."
She clasped her fingers under her chin. "Then he'll be all right?"
"Didn't say that either, Gracie." He eased the instrument into the hole in Jake's side.
Grace winced. She couldn't watch... She couldn't not watch.
"Don't worry. He can't feel a thing. Besides being out cold, I also made sure he had enough ether in him to keep him that way." Tongue tucked in the corner of his mouth, the doctor maneuvered the instrument deeper then slowly pulled it back.
"Got it! Nice, clean, all together. Sometimes they break apart." He tossed the bullet into a bowl next to the basin of water.
Grace released the breath she was holding. The clink was like the sound of angels to her ears.
"I'll sew up that hole, then you can clean him up and put a bandage on it. The next few days will tell. If he makes it through that-"
"I'd like to take him home, Doc."
No answer. He set to work stitching, flashing through the job with a skill that would have put Millie and any of her quilters to shame. When he was done, he stepped aside and let Grace do her job while he washed himself and his instruments. Her work must have satisfied him. Every so often Grace caught him nodding.
"You'd make a good nurse, Grace, but I'd still like to keep him here a few more days."
"He'll rest better at home in his own bed." She wrung out the washcloth, and then took it and the water basin to the sink for cleaning.
Doc followed. "Moving him could cause him more harm."
"Not if we do it my way." Grace wiped her hands and faced him. "I'd rather move him now when he's relaxed and unconscious. If we wait, he'll feel everything. I couldn't bear to see him in pain, knowing I caused it."
"How do you intend to move him?"
"Leave it to me." She hurried outside before the doctor could change his mind. No one had budged since she left them. All looked to her for news.
"The bullet is out and he's all stitched up. Now it's time to get him home." Grace pointed to the ranch hands. "You ride ahead. Get the mattresses from our room and the two old nurseries."
She levered her finger A.J.'s way. "Get the children home. Load the mattresses in the wagon and all of you men come back. It'll take some muscle to move him...And hurry. I don't know how much longer he'll be out and I want him comfortable in his own bed before he wakes."
\*
The wagon rattled back into town less than an hour after it had left. Ranch hands flanked either side. Using the bedsheet as a stretcher, they carried Jake to the makeshift bed and eased him down without a bump.
Grace crawled in beside him and cradled his head. "It'll be as soft as riding on a cloud," she said, smoothing his hair. Yet she measured every breath he took on that short ride home.
At the ranch, the men carried him mattress and all to the bedroom. There, with A.J.'s help, Grace stripped Jake of his boots and breeches. Lastly, she tucked a sprig of the wishing tree under his pillow.
"I suppose it couldn't hurt." A.J. draped his arm around her shoulder and led her away. "You need to relax a little. You're going to have a long couple of days."
Grace was numb. She couldn't think beyond the next step. Millie shoved a cup of tea into her hands. Mrs. Cyrus added a biscuit with a slice of ham on it. She finished both and never tasted one bite.
A.J. covered her hands with his and forced her to look at him. "I'll be taking the herd north. I'll write out the route. If you need to reach me, you can wire one of the towns along the way. I also need you to make sure that load of furniture gets to Austin."
She stared blankly at him and nodded. Business had to continue. Their livelihood depended on that herd getting to market. A.J. went on, telling her about money, the bank. Everyday things. Things important to their survival while he was gone. She hoped Millie paid attention, because she couldn't concentrate beyond the walls of the bedroom where Jake lay.
Slipping free of his hold, Grace snagged the rocker and carried it to their room. Even though she longed to lay by Jake's side and will him to recover, this was where Grace would do her waiting.
Jeremy slinked into the room and crawled onto her lap. "Is that mean lady my real mother?"
Lying would be wrong, but Grace sure hated telling him the truth. "Yes, little one, she is."
He cuddled closer. "I thought she died when I was born."
"That's what everyone thought. She didn't tell the truth."
"Did she lie because she didn't want me?"
Another hard question. "I think she didn't want anyone and just wanted to run away."
"I wish she'd run away again and never come back. I don't want her to be my real mother."
"You know what..." She tucked her arms around him and rocked. "She might be your real mother, but I'm your Ma."
He wiggled deep in her arms. "Is Pa going to be all right?" His voice was small, fearful. Who could blame him? It was a lot for a child to deal with.
"I hope so."
"Maybe you should go to the wishing tree."
She combed her fingers through his tousled blond hair. "I've already been."
"I'll go too." Jeremy jumped down and tore down the hall. The screen door punctuated his flight.
A few reassuring words fixed his world and all its problems. If only everything in life were that simple.
Grace changed into a clean dress, then, once again, leaned back in the rocker to watch Jake. He lay so still, his color gone. Frightening. Each breath he took was a blessing, and she counted the seconds until the next one.
She didn't know how long she sat there like that. Long after Doc came by to check on his patient. Long after the sun set and Millie lit the lantern for her against the night. And long after monthly cramps attacked her body.
Grace tried to tell herself there was never a child to begin with. She'd allowed herself to get caught up in everyone's excitement. Yet some part of her wondered if this was the price the tree wanted-one life for another. It was something she'd never know for certain even if...when Jake recovered.
Hugging herself against the ache, Grace wandered to the window. Another bright night. If someone would have told her a month ago she'd be this superstitious, Grace would have laughed. Now? It was hard not to be when every wish under the tree was granted.
What was it her mother used to say? Be careful what you wish for.
Jake shifted in his sleep. Grace edged closer and pressed her hand to his beard-roughened face. Warm. The fever Doc had warned her about.
Jake's eyes opened to glassy slits. A sigh rolled his cheek into her palm, trapping it against the sheets. Grace waited until he settled, and then slipped her hand free and stretched out beside him.
"I'm home?" he mumbled.
Grace traced the furrows in his brow. "Home...safe with me. Right where you belong."
"Never made Austin...Sorry."
She pressed her fingers to his mouth. "Shh... Rest. As long as we're together that's all that matters."
"God knows I love you, Grace."
"Shh...I love you too."
He tried to purse his lips and failed. Sleep pulled him under once more.
Exhaustion drooped Grace's eyes. She didn't fight it. Lying beside Jake was the best medicine she could think of-for both of them.
Morning showed little improvement. If anything, Jake was worse. Fever consumed him and racked his body with shivers three heavy quilts couldn't control.
Grace spoonfed him water and chicken broth. He didn't have the strength for more than a few spoonfuls at a time. Bathing the heat from him just made him colder.
Adding her warmth under the pile of covers made little sense. He burned enough as it was even though his teeth chattered. But, surprisingly, that's what seemed to offer him the most comfort.
"I need to talk to A.J." His voice was raspy, weak.
"He and the men are fixing the roof on the Porter house today. They'll be leaving with the herd in the morning." Grace reached for the cup of broth and spooned up a taste.
Jake screwed up his face and turned away. "I swear you're trying to kill me. That stuff is nasty."
She smiled and set it aside. "Millie made it."
"How can anyone screw up chicken water?"
"Maybe it's just your taster. Would you rather have milk toast?"
He flashed her a dirty look and tucked the covers up to his chin.
She dropped a kiss to his forehead. "Rest. I think I hear Doc pulling up. We'll be back in a bit. Maybe he has something else to bring down your fever."
But she knew there was nothing other than the powder she'd forced down him earlier.
Wiping her hands on her apron, Grace hurried to the door to let him in. The sooner the doctor could reassure her Jake was making progress, the better she'd feel. She stepped onto the front porch ready to greet him with a smile she truly didn't feel. The smile never reached her lips.
Doc's buggy reached her first, followed by the Tanner wagon. Millie sat in back, her head bent while she looked at the person laying beside her. Hoyt drove. Ranch hands escorted. And A.J. was nowhere to be seen. That could only mean one thing...
Grace picked her way down the steps as they pulled up. Seeing A.J.'s hand in Millie's gave her some relief. At least he was alert.
"What happened?"
Judd swung off his horse. "He fell off the ladder."
"Fell?" Millie's eyebrows arched into question marks. "Someone pulled the ladder out from under him!"
Hoyt fanned the air. "Just calm down, Miss Millie."
"Calm down? Calm down?" Her gaze shot daggers his way.
"First Jake is shot. Then A.J. hurt. That seems like an awfully big coincidence."
Yes...it did. And there was only one person who would benefit if both men died-Laurette.
"You saw someone pull the ladder from under A.J.?"
Millie ignored Judd's outstretched hand and jumped from the wagon. "It was recess. I could see the Porter house from the school. A.J. was on the ladder and it was jerked out from under him."
"We found a rope tied to one of the legs," Judd told her. "The other end was behind the stable in back. Never saw who did it."
"We know who did it," Millie said.
"But the sheriff needs proof, ma'am," Hoyt told her.
That didn't set well with Millie. She crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her foot, looking very much like the town school marm.
But Grace had to agree with her. This was no coincidence. Someone...Laurette was trying to do them in so she would inherit the Tanner property and all that went with it.
Grace almost laughed. She doubted Laurette could handle all the work that went with running this ranch. It really made no sense that she would go to such extreme measures to get a ranch she hated. Unless her plan was to sell it. And what about the children?
No...even Laurette wouldn't be cruel enough to hurt children. She was underhanded, yes. But murder? Maybe in the heat of rage, but not stalking her victims like prey. That too involved the one thing she hated most-work.
"How bad is he?" she asked.
"Snapped his leg clean in two. Same place as before," Doc said, edging around the wagon. "Good news is that everything went back into place nicely. He should be good as new once it heals. Come on, boys, let's get him inside."
A.J. wasn't as aware of his surroundings as Grace first thought-a result of the medicine Doc had given him to deaden the pain while he set and splinted his leg. But he never lost sight of Millie. She hurried ahead of them, opening doors, ushering them to A.J.'s bedroom-very much in charge of his comfort. If there was any doubt in anyone's mind before about the two of them, this erased it.
Doc settled one patient, and then checked on the other. Grace used the time to catch a breath of fresh air. The children were just coming down the road from school. A buggy followed slowly behind them. The driver was dressed in a gray-brown suit with a ruffled white shirt, even a top hat. For all his fancy duds, Grace didn't like the look of him.
He pulled up even with the children, bent over, and said something. Joe nodded and reached for the seat.
"NO!" Grace wadded her skirt and ran down the steps.
The children turned as one and hurried toward her. The fancy man looked up, waited until they reached her, then clicked the reins and started her way.
Grace snapped her arm in the direction of the house. "Get inside. Each of you pick a corner and stand there until you're told to leave. You all know better than to talk to strangers much less hitch a ride with them."
"But, Aunt Grace, he was just going to give us a ride," Joe said.
"In." A sharp swat on the backside sent him scurrying.
The man was beside her now. He tightened the reins, tipped his hat, and jumped down.
"I beg your pardon, ma'am. I meant no harm. I'm looking for the lady of the house. Would that be you?"
Grace nodded.
He smiled, revealing a row of crooked teeth. "Mrs. Tanner, I was in town today when your brother-in-law took a fall. I understand your family's had a run of bad luck these last two days."
She kept quiet. He obviously wanted something. Grace intended to offer nothing.
He waved his hand to the herd. "Nice herd. Large. A shame both your men are laid up. There's no one to take them to market."
Grace narrowed her eyes. He didn't look much like a cattleman. In fact, he didn't look like he'd seen a hard day's work in his life. His skin was fair and his hands uncallused.
"Mrs. Tanner, my name is Ezra Fleming, and I'm willing to buy that herd off of you and take them up north myself."
She nestled her arms over her chest and lifted one brow. "Now why would I want to do a thing like that?"
"Well, ma'am, they're just costing you money here. Money you're going to run out of soon because you can't get them to market. I'm willing to pay eight dollars a head for them all."
Grace let out a slow breath. What kind of fool did he take her for? Did he think just because she was a woman he could take advantage? "Eight dollars a head? Sounds like a fancy way to say cattle rustling. The answer is no."
A frown deepened the furrow between his eyes. He took a step forward, using his height to try to intimidate her. "Now don't be stupid, little lady."
Grace heard the tread of boots across the floor. The screen door burst open. Weapons cocked. Fleming jumped back.
"Now I don't know who you are," Judd said, "but I do know the boss don't like anyone threatening his wife, much less standing that close."
There was another, slower step. Across the porch, down the steps. A barrel of a pistol appeared over her shoulder. Hot fingers slipped around her waist.
"That's right," Jake said. "The boss don't like it. I believe my wife has already given you her answer, and that was no. The road is waiting for you."
Fleming took a few seconds as if to study the situation, then stuffed his head into his hat and left. Weapons slid into holsters, but no one moved until he was a good way down the road.
Jake sagged against her. Judd and Hoyt rushed down to help him. Jake waved them away.
"No...I can make it back."
"You're a bad liar, Jake Tanner." Grace draped his arm over her shoulder and walked with him. That's when she noticed his feet were bare. His shirt was buttoned part of the way and then in the wrong holes. The holster hid the fact that his breeches were unbuttoned.
"Satisfied now?" Doc stood just inside, hands clasped behind his back while he rocked on his toes. "Or do you want to do a little jig? That'll finish ripping out those stitches."
"I heard her shout. What was I supposed to do?"
"Looked like she had plenty of help out there without you." He tried to replace Grace, but Jake waved his help away and eased into the nearest chair.
Doc tossed up his hands in defeat. "I've never seen a more stubborn bunch in my life. You ladies are going to have your work cut out for you taking care of your men."
Eyes wide, Millie fanned her fingers against her throat. "Doctor, you are mistaken. A.J. isn't my man."
"Pardon me, ma'am." Cisco swooped off his hat and shuffled closer. "I don't mean no disrespect, but... You were watching the Porter place from the schoolyard. Now that's a pretty fair distance yet you were able to pick out A.J. on that ladder. You tore off to his side, had his head cuddled in your lap before most of us could get to him. You ordered us around like we was in the army, turned the classroom over to Florine, and haven't left A.J.'s side since this happened except to tear into the sheriff. I'd say that makes him your man. And judging from the way he was taking in all the attention, I'd say you're his woman."
A red flush traveled up her neck, over her face, to the tips of her ears. Millie's jaw worked, but no sound came out. She lifted her chin as if to say, "So there," then turned on her heel and let long strides carry her to the bedroom.
Puzzled, Jake stared after her. "When did that happen?"
"When you weren't looking." Grace weaved her arm through his. "You need to get back to bed."
Jake struggled to his feet. Coming to her rescue had drained him more than he was willing to admit. The fresh bandage Doc had put on earlier was already stained with blood.
"Boss, before you go..." Judd, Hank, and Cisco blocked the passage.
Judd stepped to the forefront, hat in hand. "We figure we owe you an apology. Liquor makes a man say things he shouldn't. And we...we just want you to know we'd never let any harm come to Miss Grace at all."
"Or Miss Millie either," Cisco added.
"Laurette was my wife and that didn't seem to stop you."
They studied the floor, and then each other.
Hank cleared his throat. "Laurette weren't no lady, Jake. And that's a fact."
It was hard to dispute the truth.
"But, boss, you gotta know none of us would disrespect you by takin' on with her," Cisco told him. "We was plumb likkered up and spoutin' off. Ain't a lick of truth to any of it."
Jake didn't know whether to believe him or not. He let it go. Nodding slowly, he let Grace lead him back to bed, Doc tsking behind them all the way.
His head barely touched the pillow when they heard a muffled explosion in the distance followed by the low rumble of twenty-five hundred head of cattle headed their way.
Jake struggled to right himself. The effort twisted his face with pain.
Grace shoved his shoulder to the mattress. "Stay."
"The herd's stampeding." His voice was raspy. Sweat beaded his upper lip.
"I know." It was impossible to mistake the sound for anything else. The floor quaked beneath her feet as they neared.
Grace darted into the hall in time to see the screen door bang shut.
Hoyt pushed her back. "Stay inside! And for godssake, keep A.J. and Jake in here." The door waved in his wake as if trying to decide whether to close or open.
Lulu dashed for the exit ready to join the chase. Millie grabbed her by the scruff of the neck and plucked her out of harm's way. Eyes wide with fear, the children buried themselves in Grace's and Millie's skirts.
Jake was up again, stomping his feet into his boots as he tried to button his breeches. A.J. hugged the doorjamb and dragged his splinted leg behind him. Doc clucked like a hen with chicks, but they weren't budging.
It was all over in a few minutes. Grace could hear the ranch hands shouting commands as the herd disappeared. No telling how long it would take to round them up. In the silence that followed, they heard the bellow of one lone calf.
Grace peeled Jeremy and Wayne away. She was almost afraid to look outside. When she did, she wished she hadn't. The yard was a shambles. Muddy divots clumped up where grass used to be. A corner post on the porch swung in the breeze. The railing was gone. God only knew where Doc's buggy and the wagon were. A calf stood in the middle of the road wailing for its mother. Another lay dead nearby.
Grace knelt and called to it. It trotted toward her and suckled her fingers. She buried her head against its scrawny neck and cried.
Jake surveyed the damage from what was left of the porch. It wasn't hard to figure out who was responsible. But he couldn't figure out why. Clutching his side against the pain, he went to Grace. She'd been through hell and back with him and yet here she was-still by his side. He didn't know how much more she could take. Hell, at this point he didn't know how much more he could take.
"Come inside, sweetness. There's nothing more we can do out here."
She rolled into the haven of his arm. "Why? Why is she doing this?"
"You think Laurette is responsible?"
"Who else hates us enough?"
Who indeed? He could understand her wanting to kill him rather than see him divorce her. Well...no, he couldn't. Murder was a pretty drastic measure to take, especially when she hadn't given a damn about him or Jeremy until a few days ago.
No, Laurette had another motive for coming back. Maude had said she was in trouble. He should have pulled a more detailed explanation from her. Whatever brought Laurette had to be fairly dire in its own right.
Who was she really? He thought he knew her yet every time he turned around he discovered he had been married to a stranger. Murder? He didn't know what she was capable of. And he wasn't sure he wanted to find out.
With the calf tagging along behind, they returned to the house. He hoped they could find its mother. If not...well, they'd bottle fed calves before. They could do it again.
Leading the team and wagon, Millie came around the side of the house. "Doc's horse and buggy are by the barn. I think we survived out back. Looks like they didn't go near it. No damage of any kind."
"Which is more than I can say for you gentlemen." Arms crossed, Doc braced himself against the doorframe. "Let me put it to you this way..."
Jake raised his hand for silence. No one had to argue with him about this. Sheer will was all that was holding him up. Without a word, he headed for bed. The thunk of A.J.'s crutch against the floor told him his brother had followed suit. The last thing he heard before he shut the door was Doc telling Grace and Millie to have a seat.
\*
"Ladies, I'm going to be blunt." He parked his knuckles on the table and levered his long body over them. "Millie, if A.J. doesn't stay off that leg, he's going to lose it. Plain and simple. Grace, if Jake doesn't stay in bed, he will die. There's no other way to say it."
Grace blinked back tears. She knew how bad off Jake was, she didn't need Doc rubbing it in her face. Or maybe she did.
Jake was pale-as if all the blood had drained out of him. He could barely make it down the hall. She was the one who had to be strong for him. And yet there she was, sitting in the remains of the front yard and depending on him for support. No more. It was time she stood up to these horrible challenges, instead of whimpering like a child.
"Doc, is there anything you can give Jake and A.J. to make them sleep for a day...or two?"
"There might be. Why?
"You just take care of them and let me worry about the rest."
It was dusk by the time the ranch hands were back with the herd. Calf and mother were happily reunited. The cattle moseyed into the corral like they hadn't a care in the world. The men didn't fare as well. Dust, dirt, and sweat covered them. Even the horses were lathered.
Grace waited for them by the ranch house. It was a big thing to ask. A huge leap of faith. Hopefully, her trust would not be misplaced. If she messed this up, Jake would probably help her pack or remind her about it until her dying day. Maybe her little bribe would help smooth the way.
Cookie was the first to arrive. Grace met him by the barn.
"I've got vittles all ready for you and the men."
He smiled and swiped his sleeve over his forehead. "Miss Grace, you're an angel."
We'll see.
The others soon followed and in less time than it took to tell them supper was ready, they were sitting around the long table stuffing their faces.
She waited until they leaned back. A few reached to undo the top buttons on their breeches, and then thought better of it with a lady present. Satisfied they were as full as they could get, Grace pulled a peach cobbler fresh from the oven. Eyes rolled, groans echoed off the walls, but no one refused it.
Smiling, Grace edged to the head of the table. "I have a favor..." No, that wasn't right. They were hired hands. "I have something I need you to do for me...for us."
Full to bursting, they tilted back their chairs and gave her their full attention.
"Someone's obviously got a grudge against us."
"Yeah," Hank said, picking his teeth. "And we know who that is."
Grace wouldn't name names without proof. "If they steal from us, they steal from you. We can't let that happen. We...you and Jake have worked too hard to build up this herd. No one has the right to take that away."
The legs on Judd's chair smacked the floor. He leaned forearms on the table. "I'll be glad to find that fancy man and teach him a lesson or two. He'll think twice before setting off a blasting cap around here again."
She bit back a smile. "That won't be necessary. Besides, we have no proof it was him who stampeded the herd."
Hoyt stood and propped himself against the wall. "So, Miss Grace, what do you want?"
Drawing in a deep breath, she spit it out. "I want you to take the herd north to Dodge City and I need you to do it first thing in the morning."
"In other words," Hoyt stuffed a piece of straw between his teeth, "you don't want Jake and A.J. to know we're doing it."
Grace gave a single nod. The men fidgeted, and shuffled in their seats-anything to keep from looking at her. Time to hit them hard, appeal to their vanity, their loyalty.
"Both are strong men, determined men, just like all of you. They'll do whatever it takes to see themselves and you survive, even if it means they suffer. I can't let...I refuse to let that happen. And neither should you. I ask nothing of you that Jake or A.J. wouldn't do for you and yours if the situation were reversed."
There were nods all around, slow but all there despite their hesitancy.
Hank rubbed his face. "Never gone without one of them. Who's going to get the price we want?"
Hoyt tossed the straw to the floor. "I'll do it. I've seen Jake and A.J. do it enough times. Be patient. Stand firm."
"And nothing less than forty dollars a head," Grace added. "I understand from Jake that's the going rate."
Eyebrows lifted. More nods followed.
"Now hold on just a minute." Cookie bellied up to the table. "This is all fine and well and I don't have a problem with it at all. I can't say the same about Jake or A.J. What do you suppose they're gonna do when they find out we've up and left with the herd?"
"Don't you worry about that. I'll take care of Jake," she said, with much more confidence than she felt.
Smirking, Judd scratched his beard. "After what I saw at Florine's the other night, ma'am, I believe you'll do just that."
The men chuckled and nodded their agreement. Now...if only Grace could be as sure of herself.
Doc's opium powder lasted exactly one day. At least that's when A.J. finally stirred. But Jake? He paid the toll for not staying down when he should. And this time his body demanded a higher price.
Fever racked him, sending waves of heat Grace's way each time she neared. Jake barely acknowledged her presence. He alternately burrowed under the pile of quilts or tossed them aside gasping for breath.
She was at a loss to know what to do. All the cool sponge baths in the world weren't going to break his fever, and the doctor could do nothing more. He came by in the morning to change Jake's bandage, said the inevitable, "It has to run its course," and then left.
Grace couldn't bear to look at the wound anymore and cringed with every word. Jake never complained-he was too weak. He sipped water, broth, even tried Grace's special version of milk toast with sugar, cinnamon, and tiny bits of fruit. Each bite was an effort and he never took more than five bites at a sitting.
A.J. fared better. He was up and around from time to time with little pain. Pretty agile on those crutches too. He said little about the herd being gone. Just accepted it and spent the time he was up working on furniture. All in all, he and Millie seemed fairly content. Now that their romance was out in the open, so was their affection. It was hard not to smile at the two of them, harder still not to get caught up in the children's excitement.
Grace mopped Jake's forehead. At least he slept soundly. She tucked the quilts under his chin, and carried the basin to the kitchen. The place was a mess-clean but cluttered. There weren't enough hours in the day to nurse Jake and take care of everything else. Grace did what she had to do and let the rest sit. If visitors didn't like it, they could either leave or lend a hand. Far as she knew, most people around these parts would fall into the second category.
In the days since the men were hurt, Mrs. Cyrus had sent bread and pies home with the children everyday. Florine stopped by with a couple of her girls to do laundry and churn butter. And Reverend Harrington turned out to be pretty handy with a hammer. The porch was fixed, good as new, and now he tackled the barn.
On tiptoe, Grace stretched for a look out the window. She could hear him pounding away, but couldn't see him. The door to A.J.'s workshop was open too. Either they were in there or by the barn, but somewhere the two had their heads together.
Grace put two glasses and the pitcher of lemonade Millie had made the night before on a tray. They all deserved a break.
She found them where she expected-near the barn. Using the corral post as a backrest, A.J. sat with his leg propped on a coil of rope. Reverend Harrington...Paul... stood on a ladder nailing a new plank into place.
Grace had a hard time calling him Paul. To her he was simply Reverend or the reverend, although he definitely didn't look the part around here. His clerical collar and clothing were gone, replaced by the same work clothes every ranch hand wore, except he filled them out better. And as far as Grace could see, his preacher outfit hid a lot.
"Are you two ready for a break?"
"Looks like you're the one who needs one." A.J. took the tray from her, and then set it on the grass.
Paul scrambled down from the ladder and joined them. "How's Jake this morning?"
"No change. Maybe worse." It wasn't something Grace wanted to admit to herself much less to anyone else. "Doc says there was a lot of damage. He could be bleeding inside. I've never seen a wound look nastier."
Red streaks shot across Jake's midsection from the site of the injury. Morning and night she and the doctor drained it of pus. And still...
"You know," the reverend poured a glass of lemonade down his throat, and then wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve, "if my mama were around, she'd come up with a poultice or a tea that would set Jake right in no time."
"Yes, my ma is pretty good at healing too." Grace's reply was absentminded as she thought of all the people who came to her mother for healing. They'd go to her before thinking of going to the doctor, a fact that didn't sit well with the old geezer. Grace had always taken it for granted. Healing never interested her that much. She didn't have the knack for it. Jake was paying for her inattention now.
"Why not send her a telegram to ask her advice?" A.J. said.
Grace stripped a blade of grass with her fingernail. "My parents couldn't afford to send a telegram back." She scanned the passing clouds, and wished for the answer there.
"We could take Jake to her," Paul suggested.
She shook her head. "He'd never survive the trip."
He stretched on his back and laced his fingers under his head. "Is there anyone who can bring the medicine?"
"Ma can't leave the little ones. She wouldn't let Mary Belle travel by herself. And Pa has too much work on the farm."
"Then I'll go get it." He jumped to his feet and brushed the grass from his breeches.
Grace stared up at him. The man was crazy. A day and a half there. Another day and a half back? "Jake won't last that long."
He snapped his head up and cut her a stern stare. "I never expected to hear someone of your caliber whine, Grace. And I certainly never expected you to give up. If you wait much longer, you can be sure there will be nothing left to do."
She couldn't meet his gaze. He was right-she was giving up. It was hard not to when exhaustion and worry weighed her down. Not even the magic of the wishing tree seemed to help.
Grace scoffed at the superstition. She was willing to put her faith in a tree that did nothing, yet she refused to consider asking her mother for help.
"I'll telegram my mother telling her what I need and asking her to have someone meet you halfway with medicine."
\*
Grace had never expected that someone to be Mary-Belle or that her mother would allow her sister to accompany the good reverend all the way back to the ranch. Yet there she sat, pretty as could be, in the buggy next to Paul. To make matters worse, Doc was coming down the road right behind them.
"Your sister?" Millie asked. She and A.J. enjoyed dusk on the new porch swing.
"Yes...Mary-Belle."
"They look pretty chummy," A.J. said. "Do you suppose your mother made Paul marry her before they left?"
What he meant as a joke alarmed Grace. Here the reverend was doing them a favor, and trying to save Jake's life. The man had given up his time to help them around the ranch until A.J. and Jake recovered. He'd even humbly offered Grace his hand in marriage should she find herself in a family way. To have her mother push off another daughter was unthinkable.
Grace watched them approach. Even Ma wouldn't be that bold. Mary-Belle was a little young for marriage. Paul was a preacher, instantly trustworthy in her mother's eyes. Not a disreputable cowboy like Jake.
They pulled to a stop in tandem with Doc. Paul jumped down and trotted to the other side of the buggy to give Mary-Belle a hand down. There was something different about her. A maturity that didn't exist weeks before, or maybe it was Grace's perspective that had changed. She was no longer the older sister in charge. They were now equals.
For the first time ever, Grace wanted to hug her. She gave in to the impulse. Hesitant at first with this new burst of affection, Mary-Belle hugged back.
"Ma sent me to help. Reverend Harrington says there is no time to waste. I'll need a basin of hot water."
"I have a pot on the stove. Come."
Mary-Belle pulled her mother's healing basket from behind the buggy seat. No, not her mother's basket. This one was newer, larger, and earned Grace's instant respect. She might not have had the knack for healing, but Mary-Belle did. This basket was a right of passage.
"Grace, what's going on here?" Doc's gaze fell to the basket.
He already knew the answer. "This is my sister, Mary-Belle Marshall. She's a healer."
His eyebrows slammed together. He puffed up his chest indignantly.
A.J. never gave him the chance to talk. "You said there was nothing more you could do, Doc. My brother is in there dying. I can't let that happen if there is something, anything I can do to save him. Paul and Grace think Mary-Belle can help. Now you can stand by and quietly let her do what she needs to do, or you can leave."
The old man stared down at what he had to see as his competition. To her credit, Mary-Belle didn't flinch. She simply met his gaze.
"I'd prefer to stay and see what she intends to do."
"Without a word," A.J. added.
Doc tilted his head and swept his arm before him. "After you, Mary-Belle."
"It's Belle, please. I really don't care to be called Mary-Belle."
Something else Grace didn't realize about her sister. How could they have lived together all their lives and be such strangers?
She zipped ahead of the two, anxious that Jake be covered before they enter the bedroom. Healer she might be, but Grace wasn't certain Mary-Belle...Belle was ready to see a fully naked man. She tucked the sheets to his waist, and then stepped aside.
Belle set her basket on the bedside table and peeled Jake's bandage away. She didn't flinch or screw up her nose in disgust, but let her gaze pass over the wound as she nodded.
"I'll need that hot water now, please."
Grace turned to get it, but Millie was already there with the basin. She set it next to the healing basket and left.
Next Belle brushed Jake's hair from his forehead and pressed her lips there. Nodding again, she pulled herbs and plants from her basket along with mortar, pestle, and linen. So much like their mother-calm, confident. Grace could only watch and admire her skill as she ground her ingredients and mixed a poultice.
Satisfied with her efforts, Belle dabbed the yellow-gray paste to Jake's wound, and then covered it with a patch of linen. She pulled a small bowl and spoon from her basket, steeped some leaves in it and passed it all to Grace.
"Once this cools, you need to try to get it down his throat. We'll need to sit him upright and try to wake him. He must drink the full cup, even if it takes an hour to spoon it down his throat. Then again in another four hours. Perhaps Reverend Paul will be able to help us."
The best they could do was to prop Jake up on a tower of pillows and quilts. Waking him was nearly impossible. He barely acknowledged Grace and ignored any offer of tea.
But Belle would not be refused. She pinched his nose closed until he had no choice but to open his mouth or smother. Even then there was little fight left in him. He accepted the tea, and then drifted off to sleep.
They set up watch around his bed. Every hour Belle changed the bandage and reapplied the poultice. Every four hours Grace shoved tea down Jake's throat. By morning she swore he had some color in his cheeks. Belle refused to say either way, but she just kept to her task and only broke away for a little something to eat.
It was mid-afternoon when the sweats hit Jake. Belle steeped mint leaves in a basin of hot water, and then passed a baby-soft cotton cloth to Grace. Finally, something Grace was familiar with.
Left alone with Jake, she bathed the sweat from him each time it glistened upon him, and urged his fever to break and release him. His arms, his legs, his chest, his forehead. Down and around. Over and over. Until minutes turned into an hour, and then two. It could take days and Grace wouldn't care. Whatever it took to bring him back.
She wrung the cloth into the basin, and was ready to mop them from head to toe all over again. When she looked up, it was to see his eyes slit open, watching her every move
"Well...hello there." Smiling, she dusted her fingers through his hair. "How are you feeling?"
Like he'd been to hell and back. He was stiff, sore. Hard as he tried, Jake couldn't remember much beyond coming in here to lie down.
"Thirsty," he croaked.
"I'll get some water." She tucked the sheet around his waist. "Mary-Belle and Doc will probably want to look you over first."
Her sister was here? And caring for him? Grace took off before Jake could ask her any questions. Minutes later, Mary-Belle walked into the room with Doc tagging along behind. She went to his side without a word and pulled back the bandage.
"Good. Very, very good. Although you'll still need to take care for awhile."
Doc peered over her shoulder and nodded. "I never would have believed it if I hadn't seen it myself. You are quite a healer, Belle."
"As long as it doesn't deal with childbirth. I've always been glad to leave that to Grace." She smiled up at Grace as she walked in with pitcher and glass. "He's back on the mend for sure now. I still want him to drink the tea for another week, but he can start eating soft foods. I'll even let him get up and move around tomorrow."
Jake had news for her. He was going to have to move around today. He had a powerful need to relieve himself. With Doc's help he pushed upright and gulped down a glass of water.
"Now...if all of you wouldn't mind, I need a few minutes of privacy."
They looked at him like he was crazy. A lift of his eyebrow communicated his purpose. On her way out, Grace set the thunder jug by the bed.
Jake slid his legs over the side. The effort made him dizzy. In all his life, he'd yet to use a thunder jug. Real men went to the outhouse. This might be the exception. Newborn kittens had more strength than he did. Jake had his pride, but he wasn't stupid either.
Yet he sat there, staring at the thunder jug, having to pee so bad his eyeballs were ready to burst and just couldn't let go. He'd never been able to use the damned thing. As a child he'd just open the bedroom window and whiz. His mother could never figure out why flowers wouldn't grow in that spot.
He eyed the window. Tempting. But he wasn't a boy anymore. What if one of the children saw-or the ranch hands? Somehow he had to make it to the outhouse.
Step by step he closed in on the wardrobe, and then slid the doors open. He stared, disbelieving. All of his clothes were gone!
"Grace!"
Footsteps tapped a hurried path his way. She whipped open the door, ducked in, and snapped it shut.
"What are you doing out of bed?"
"Where are my clothes?"
"Answer my question."
"Answer mine."
A stand-off. Wonderful. "Just get me some breeches."
"Why?"
Jake couldn't believe this. They were his clothes, and he had every right to them. Why was she being so damned stubborn about this? Why are you? Just tell her the truth. Embarrassment tied his tongue. He was twenty-eight years old and couldn't use a blasted chamber pot.
He pointed to the infernal device. "I need a bigger target." When she still didn't move, he added more firmly, "Now, Grace."
She slipped away and returned in less than a minute with breeches, a shirt, and his boots.
Jake ignored the last two items and slid on the breeches. Picking his way down the hall, Grace close by his side, he slowly reached his goal. When he saw she intended to follow him the whole way, he stopped.
"I can make it from here."
"How? You've been using the wall to brace yourself."
"Just relax, Grace." A.J. levered himself onto his crutches. "I'll go with him."
Millie snorted. "And who's going to catch you when he falls?"
Ignoring both women, they continued on, each just as slow as the other.
Outside the house, A.J. snickered. "Still can't pee in the jug, can you?"
"Just shut up." Nothing like a brother to throw your faults in your face. Still, he appreciated the fact that A.J. at least had the courtesy to wait until they were out of earshot to pick on him.
\*
Grace watched Jake and A.J. make their way back to the house. Even on crutches A.J. moved faster than Jake. They'd spent a long time outside, just sitting, talking. She would have said something, but thought the fresh air would do Jake some good. His bandage showed no ill signs for his activity. He was truly on the mend.
She let the curtain fall. "Belle..." Emotion clogged her throat. How could words say all she felt?
Belle slipped her arm around Grace's waist and laid her head on Grace's shoulder. "It's all right. You don't have to say a thing."
Grace pulled in a breath. "But I do. You saved his life. I don't know...there aren't enough words to tell you how grateful I am. It's a shallow thing to say but...if there is anything I can ever do-"
"Don't send me home!" she said in a rush of words.
Stunned, all Grace could do was stare.
Belle hugged herself and turned away. "There's nothing for me there. Everything I have is with me. I really have no desire to marry. Ma would never hear of me leaving home unless I did. I thought if I could stay here..."
Doc's chair skidded across the floor. "You could work for me." He grabbed her upper arms in a gentle hold. "Young lady, I've seen you work a miracle this past day. Whatever you know, I want to learn. Who says you can't teach an old dog new tricks?" His tea brown eyes twinkled with delight.
"I'll send Ma a letter telling her I need you here. We've got lots of room. Or, if you like, once the Porter house is all fixed up, you can get a room there. It's only a hop, skip, and a jump from Doc's."
Nothing matched the joy on Belle's face. Grace understood it all too well-Belle was free. And in some respects Grace envied her bravery. Belle was striking out on her own, depending on nothing and no one but her own wits.
And Grace wouldn't change places with her in a million years. Jake walked in. Grace smiled.
Nope...not in a billion years.
Jake felt like he'd walked ten miles. Seeing Grace's smile made every step worth it. He longed to swoop her into his arms and swing her around and around until they fell down laughing.
She was here. She hadn't made good her threat and left. A.J. told him that in the week he fought for his life, Grace rarely left his side. The toll clearly showed. Dark half-circles lay beneath reddened eyes and she'd lost weight she sorely needed.
Jake passed his gaze over her. Quite a woman. Outshining any he had ever met. She'd saved them all from financial ruin by sending the herd on. Somehow managed to convince Paul to handle the heavy labor so he and A.J. could recover. And risked turning Doc against them all by bringing her sister here to heal what the Doc could not. If it needed doing, she found a way to handle it. By all indications she was here for good. But was he forgiven enough for her to stay? The question burned to be asked.
Reaching for his arm, Grace rushed to his side. "You should get back to bed. You need your rest."
How could she look so exhausted and smell so sweet? "I'd really like to sit out here for awhile."
A lift of her hand was all it took to send Paul hurrying to their room. A few seconds later, he brought out the rocking chair, all padded with one of the quilts. Jake's shirt lay across it.
Grace plucked up the shirt and helped him into it. He drew the line at her buttoning it, although the babying did touch his heart. Once he was in the chair, she settled the quilt around him.
Jake caught her fingers and forced her gaze to his. He couldn't wait any longer. He had to know now. "You stayed. Why?"
A smile softened her features. She cupped her free hand to his beard-roughened cheek. "Because I love you," she softly replied.
Jake closed his eyes to hide the tears that welled up. He wasn't sure he deserved her, but he was damned glad she was his.
He felt her lips against his forehead and kissed her fingers. "I love you too, Gracie."
"You rest."
She slipped away to tend to supper. Whatever it was made his mouth water. He was getting hungrier by the minute.
The young'uns trooped in to wear him out with questions. They weren't satisfied until they saw his wound. Finally, Mary-Belle-no, they were calling her Belle now-pulled the bandage away. They edged closer, screwed up their little faces in disgust, and backed away.
A fresh bandage, a cup of some strange tasting tea, and Jake didn't know if he was ready for bed or ready to eat. Then Grace handed him a small bowl of stew and a hot biscuit. One bite and he knew he'd found heaven right here on earth-everything melted in his mouth.
Belly full, Jake felt himself drift to sleep. He didn't fight it. The drone of voices around him was his lullaby, one in particular. By the time he opened his eyes, only she remained.
Grace stood under the light of a single lantern, ironing. Feeling his gaze upon her, she looked up and smiled.
"I thought you'd be awake soon. I didn't know if you'd want to or not, but I have hot water waiting if you'd like to have a bath."
Jake hated to have her haul water for him, but it did sound perfect. Nodding, he scratched his beard.
"I'd offer to shave you..."
He widened his eyes in mock fear.
Grace giggled. "But I think you'd be safer doing it on your own when you're ready."
A deep sigh of relief sent more laughter bubbling to her lips. Jake smiled. The sight of her, toting those buckets of water to the tub wiped it away. When he'd married her, he thought he'd be making her life easier. Instead, she worked just as hard or harder. That was going to change.
She poured the last pail and stood back. "All ready."
Jake stripped down behind the curtain and sank into a blissful sea of warm water.
"I'll be close by if you need something."
When she started to move away, Jake hooked his finger around her skirt. "There is something I need-you. Join me."
Eyes wide, she glanced at the bath. "In there?"
"Yes."
"There's hardly enough room." A pretty flush pinkened her cheeks.
"I need you, Grace."
She shook her head slowly. "We can't be doing that, Jake. You're too-"
"I need you. I need to be deep inside you. Feel you around me. Not to make love, Grace, but to be a part of you." He tugged gently at her skirt. "Please."
Checking to see that the curtain was fully drawn, Grace undressed-hesitantly at first, then with more determination. The glow of the lantern through the drape cast a golden hue on her skin. His Grace, his wife...his life.
Holding his outstretched hand for balance, Grace stepped into the tub. Jake guided her until they were one. A simultaneous sigh bound them further. Tucking her head under his chin, they lay together, one, until long after the water had grown cold.
Grace arched her body into Jake's. He thrust forward, hard, deep. Spasms of pleasure rippled between them, uniting their hearts and souls. It seemed to last forever; it didn't last long enough-quite a contradiction. All Jake knew was that he couldn't stand not to be with her.
In the days since his recovery, he took every chance he could to do just that-morning, night, and on this perfectly lazy day...afternoon.
A soft, steady rain fell, cooling the air and making everything smell fresh. A.J. and Millie were tucked away in his shop. The children were playing in the barn. Paul tossed out ideas for a church social while Belle and Doc made notes on the different plants she used to heal.
He eased his weight from Grace and tucked her into the cove of his body. Sighing, she cuddled close.
"I swear you are determined to plant a baby in me."
"Someday." He kissed the top of her head. "But for right now I just want to keep you all to myself. I don't want to have to share you with anyone."
She giggled. "I'd say that between Lulu, the children, the house, A.J. and Millie, my sister, the Cyruses, Doc, and Paul you pretty much have me to yourself."
A chuckle rumbled in his throat. "And that's the way I want to keep it for now."
Grace lay beside him until he fell asleep. Jake's strength grew each day, yet he tired easily if he overworked himself. Rather than lecture, Grace was happy to distract him with other pursuits. So far Jake hadn't complained.
As if he ever would.
She dressed, tucked her hair into place, and returned to her housework. If the three at the table had any idea of how she and Jake passed their time, none showed it. Belle divided her attention between Paul and Doc. Grace didn't know how she did it-both were equally demanding.
There was a different quality to her sister. A serenity that had not existed before. No...that wasn't quite it. Maturity was a better word. Schoolgirl giggles no longer burst from her at a heartbeat's notice. She was calm, watchful, quiet. Humor still lingered in her eyes, but it was tempered. Whatever it was, it allowed her to handle these two very different men with ease.
As for their parents-their mother did send a short note in reply to Grace's letter, saying it was a fine idea. Harsh as it sounded, they were probably glad to get rid of the extra mouth to feed.
"Hey, Ma!" Jeremy burst through the door, eyes bright with excitement. "Come see. It's a rainbow! And the end of it's touching the wishing tree!"
Belle clicked her gaze up to Grace. "Wishing tree? And you used to tease me about saying, 'Starlight, star bright.'"
"Just come look." Grace waved her outside, and then hurried ahead.
A big, beautiful rainbow loomed overhead. One end topped the crown of the wishing tree; the other disappeared into the clouds above. All the carrying on brought everyone out. It was too special, too wondrous to miss.
Jake draped his arm around Grace's shoulders; she slid hers around his waist. Watching the rainbow, the symbol of a promise kept, he had to say they were truly blessed. Each second it grew brighter and bolder with color. Then the clouds hid the sun and it was gone.
"Well...isn't this a homey little scene."
The sound of Laurette's voice sent a chill down Jake's spine. If he were a superstitious man, he might have said her presence brought the clouds back and chased away the rainbow.
Jake and Grace turned in unison. She stood behind them on the back porch. Apparently, she'd let herself in the house and tromped through to find them. Sheriff Brady and another man dressed in a black suit were with her.
Laurette tugged her pale blue gloves off a finger at a time. "This is my lawyer." She jerked her head toward the man beside her.
He stepped forward. "Go ahead, sheriff. Serve him those papers."
Keeping his gaze focused on Jake's shirt buttons, Brady stretched his arm toward him. "I'm sorry, Jake. I gotta give you this."
Jake stared at the parchment, all folded nice and neat. No telling what Laurette was up to. Whatever it was pleased her to no end-her cat smile proved that. There was no avoiding it.
Sighing, Jake reached for the paper. Lulu jumped up between them, snagged it and ran into the muddy field.
"Sorry about that." Paul scratched his ear to hide a smile. "I've been teaching her to fetch the stick. She can be a little overzealous."
"Then have her bring it back," Laurette snapped.
He turned palms up and shrugged. "She hasn't quite got the knack of that yet."
"It doesn't matter. I'll tell you what it says." She slapped her gloves into her palm. "It is a document from the judge ordering you to allow me back into my home and return these...these...women back to where they came from. One third of the house and the herd is to be signed over to me. If you refuse, the sheriff has orders to arrest you and any who try to interfere."
Jake wanted to strike her dead where she stood. To wrap his fingers around the slender column of her throat and squeeze until every ounce of breath left her body. This was her true reason in coming back-she wanted money.
Stay calm. Hold your temper. It's never gotten you anywhere in the past, and it certainly won't help you now.
He crossed his arms over his chest and stood with legs astride. "You could have saved yourself a lot of trouble, Laurette, and done this in the first place instead of trying to have me and A.J. killed. Of course, with us dead you would have everything instead of one third."
Millie elbowed her way to the forefront. "And I'll be darned if I'm going to stand by and let you take that much. A.J. and Jake have worked too hard for what they've got to be giving it away to the likes of you."
Laurette looked down her nose, not easy considering they were of equal height. "And what, pray tell, do you intend to do about it?"
"I'll marry A.J. right here, right now. And I'll make every second you stay in this house a living nightmare." She looped her arm through A.J.'s. "Go ahead, Reverend. I'm ready whenever you are."
The poor man looked to someone for guidance. Finding none, he ducked into the house for his clerical collar and book. When he returned minutes later, no one had budged. After a quick glance around, he stood before the couple.
"Dearly beloved-"
"This is ridiculous." Laurette pivoted on her heel and headed for whatever contraption brought her.
Her lawyer caught her arm and pulled her to a stop. "You have the order. It's your right to stay."
She jerked free and kept on. He cast his eyes heavenward, and then followed.
The sheriff tipped his hat to the Tanners. "Sorry, Jake, but I had to do my job."
"I understand."
He nodded and left.
Jake's shoulders rose and fell on a sigh. Another mess. He had to get to Austin and straighten this out once and for all.
"Do you want me to continue?" Eyebrows raised, Paul lifted his book.
A.J. yanked his arm from Millie's grasp. "No, I don't." His eyebrows slammed together. He stuffed a finger before her eyes. "Don't do that again."
Millie jammed her fists onto her hips. "What was I supposed to do? Let her come in here like she owned the place?"
He thumped his chest. "I decide when we get married."
"Well, I wouldn't be deciding too soon. It'll be a cold day in hell before I'd ever marry the likes of you, Albert Jebediah Tanner."
Jake winced. A.J.'s full name. He was going to have a hard time smoothing things over with Millie. She was mother-mad. One door slammed, then another as she weaved her way through the house.
"What was I supposed to do? Marry you and let her try to kill you too?" A.J. didn't bother to try to follow. Probably the smartest thing he'd done in a long time.
Grace was Jake's biggest concern. She was as quiet as the day Laurette first reappeared. He curled his fingers around her upper arm and gently squeezed.
Staring off in the distance, she gave a humorless laugh. "The house and the herd...and me gone, of course." A wicked little smile curved her lips. "I wonder what she'd do if we gave her what she wanted."
His heart leaped to his throat. "What are you saying, Grace?"
"I'm half tempted to clean out the house and all the out buildings of everything, and then let her have the house...empty. Or, since she's only supposed to have one-third, chop off one-third of the house into kindling and give it to her."
Joe tugged at her skirt. "But, Aunt Grace, we can't leave the wishing tree here alone with her."
Her smile softened. She cupped his head. "Of course not. How silly of me? You children run off and play. There's nothing to worry about."
Assured their world was secure, they scampered away. If only everything were that easily fixed.
"Enough is enough. I'll be leaving for Austin first thing in the morning to see my lawyer," Jake told her.
Grace focused her gaze on him. "Not alone you're not. A.J.'s got a load of furniture that has to go. We'll take it together."
Paul snapped his book closed. "And have you both killed? I don't think that would be very prudent."
"Then what would you suggest?" A.J. parked his crutches in front of him and draped his forearms over them.
"The way I see it, you've got to catch these people unaware." Paul braced himself against the fence post. "Jake, you head out tonight. No one will see and no one will suspect you to leave this soon. Grace and I will head out in the morning with the wagonload of furniture. Belle, you stay with Doc and make everyone think your sister deserted you. We'll get the Cyruses involved and pass the word that Grace had enough and left."
Paul cocked his head to one side, and then snapped his fingers. "Tell them she ran off with me. That scandal ought to keep people distracted for a few days. Enough to keep everyone safe. We'll straighten out the story once this is settled."
It was a good plan on the surface. Although Jake didn't like the idea of people thinking Grace ran off with the preacher. Especially since the good reverend had offered Grace his hand not two weeks before. Maybe that's why it would work-the seed had already been sown.
"Not a bad idea...for a preacher," Jake said with a nod.
A sly smile cut a swath across Paul's face. "I wasn't always a preacher."
\*
Jake reached Austin as the city was rousing itself for the day. He rode through the night, not hard, but steady. The fear of ambush kept him from resting. He felt it now. At least he could get some sleep before he met with the lawyer.
He found a hotel in the center of town, one where he was reasonably certain they didn't know him. No sense in alerting Laurette at this point.
In a room tucked in the farthest, highest corner of the place, Jake sagged onto the bed. It cradled him in comfort, but his sleep was fitful at best. He missed Grace beside him. He worried she and Paul would be attacked along the way. Every noise in the hall or outside made him jump. Finally, he gave up.
A tip to the housekeeper got the wrinkles pressed out of his Sunday suit while Jake ate a hearty breakfast. By the time the lawyer got to work, Jake was waiting for him.
Despite the years that had passed, Calvin Pearce remembered Jake. That didn't mean it made circumstances any easier to explain. To his credit, the only reaction the man showed was to peel off his glasses and rub his weary eyes once Jake was through.
"I'll be honest with you, Jake." He laced his fingers on the worn pine desk. "We could be in for quite a fight. Unless we can find proof to back you up, it'll be her word against yours."
"Wouldn't she need proof too?"
Calvin turned up his palms. "Sometimes a teary-eyed female can be pretty persuasive."
And Laurette was very good at covering the truth. Look how she fooled him all these years.
"Then a fight it is."
Calvin nodded once, and then dove into the paperwork. By noon, everything was in the hands of the court. They were where they were six years before-waiting to serve Laurette.
"Any idea where to find her?" Calvin asked.
Jake shook his head. He hadn't bothered to get the name of her lawyer. She could be anywhere-here, back in Cottonwood Bend, or for parts unknown until she was ready to pull her latest stunt.
"Let's start at her mother's house."
Jake expected a challenge of some kind when they reached Maude's home. Instead, the front door opened as they walked up the cobblestone path. Her housekeeper stepped to one side and ushered them in with a wave of her arm. Normally, the woman had a smile for Jake. Today she just kept walking, showing them to Maude, and then slipping away with a slow shake of her head.
Maude sat in the rear parlor, her back to the door while she stared out over her garden. She looked like she'd aged ten years since Jake last saw her.
"I saw you coming down the road."
Her voice was so soft that Jake strained to hear.
"I suppose you're looking for Laurette."
Calvin whipped off his hat. "We are, ma'am."
"This is all my fault. It always has been. If Laurette hadn't been so spoiled as a child, this never would have happened in the first place. She would have stayed with you, been a good wife and mother." Maude loosed a slow, sad sigh and levered herself from the chair. "I should have told you from the start, Jake. I just..." She let her head drop, and then dragged it up again. "I was a fool to think she'd changed. After all these years, it's still money she wants...money she needs. I've given her all I had. There's none left."
"So now she's come to me."
"She's desperate, Jake. She always is. Each time she swears it's the last, but it never is. I guess Laurette just can't help herself."
Maude reached for her fingers then dropped her hands. The rings she had a habit of twisting were no longer there. "I'd give her money and she'd gamble that away. Or, worse yet, she'd win and play again. Always going back to the card table. Always looking for the big win. Only this time, she got in deep. When I had no more to give her, she borrowed and lost every cent. Those kind of men..."
She didn't have to say any more. Laurette was a dead woman if she didn't pay them back. Of course, she was desperate, but that didn't excuse her actions. And Jake refused to let Laurette's problems be his.
"We need to find her, Maude."
"I don't know where she is." She dabbed at the corners of her eyes, and then pulled in a breath to steady her emotions. "But if I see her, I'll let your lawyer know. I won't let you and Jeremy down this time, Jake."
On impulse, he hugged her. There was nothing to do now but wait.
\*
The ride to Austin was quiet and warm. Grace was glad Millie had talked her into taking one of her parasols. Now that they were alone, Paul had little to say. Neither did Grace for that matter. She was content to enjoy the ride, even if the rocking wagon made her drowsy. Her eyes drooped. She felt her head nod and jerked upright.
He chuckled. "I'll be glad to find you some room back there." He motioned to the wagon bed, piled high with furniture.
"It's tempting."
Shading his eyes, he glanced at the sky. "Let's stop and have that picnic you packed for us. I've done nothing but think about it since breakfast."
Grace laughed and gave him a playful nudge. "You men and your stomachs."
He pulled to a stop near a shady clearing, tied the reins around the brake, and helped Grace down. Lunch was nothing more than ham, a loaf of bread, and some cheese, but he ate like it was a feast. Grace smiled and wondered if all men were the same when it came to their stomachs. Then she recalled Jake chasing Lulu when he brought her to the ranch-her smile widened.
"Thinking of Jake?"
She cocked her head to one side. "Yes. How did you know?"
"Because your eyes sparkle whenever you're near him."
"And yet you offered your hand in marriage to me."
He shrugged. "A preacher needs a wife. You're a good woman. It made sense at the time and seemed like the right thing to do. I was more than relieved when the offer was declined."
"So...you regret it."
"Not regret. Just glad you declined. You are for Jake, no one else will do...for either of you."
Sweet. "You'll find your someone, some day."
"Maybe I already have," he slyly replied, and gave her a wink.
There was a lot to this man, hidden just below the surface. Grace's curiosity finally got the better of her. "Tell me, Reverend Harrington, what were you before you were a preacher?"
"Ah, now, Miz Grace," he said in a thick drawl. "You wouldn't want me to go spillin' all my secrets, would ya'll?"
She fanned her fingers at the base of her neck and fluttered her eyelashes. "Heaven forbid."
He jumped to his feet and started to gather the picnic remains. "We need to get back on the road."
"Now I wouldn't be in such an all-fired hurry to do that," a voice behind them said.
A pistol cocked. Paul crouched low and reached for his boot. He pulled his arm back and shoved Grace behind him.
Fleming stood less than five feet away, and had a gun pointed straight for Paul's chest. His fancy clothes were gone, replaced by dark breeches, shirt, and a string tie.
"No one's going to get hurt as long as you both do exactly as I say." He motioned them to the road with a jerk of the barrel. "Move."
Keeping Grace tucked safely in back of him, Paul did as they were told. When they reached him, Fleming shoved him aside and grabbed Grace.
Wrapping his arm around her neck, he jammed the barrel against her forehead. "Just in case you decide to be a hero. Move. Get in the buggy and drive where I tell you. Any funny moves and I'll put a hole in her head."
Grace looked for something, anything to use as a weapon. She spied the parasol handle poking from the wagon seat. A sharp glance from Paul squashed that idea. One by one they climbed into the buggy.
"Now drive, preacher man, nice and slow. This trigger is mighty gentle. I'd hate to hit a rut and have it go off by accident."
Grace watched the tension in Paul's jaw. The tight line in his lips. Anger she didn't expect from a religious man. He picked up the reins and clicked the horse to action.
They moved like they were out on a Sunday drive, down the road from the direction they'd come. They traveled onto so many twists and turns Grace couldn't keep track of them. They split off to the right on a path barely recognizable as a road it was so overgrown. Then to the left on another shrub-crowded path. A small shack, boards gray and faded with age, lay ahead.
"That'll do. Pull up. Put your hands where I can see them."
Paul did as ordered and folded his hands on his lap.
Fleming dragged Grace from the buggy, and then motioned Paul down. "Right to the shack and open the door."
He dug his fingers into Grace's upper arm and nudged her forward. Two steps ahead, Paul swung the door wide. The instant Grace's toe crossed the threshold, he grabbed her arm. Yanking her aside, he smacked the door into Fleming.
The gun fired, hitting the ceiling. Dirt rained down. Paul reared back and slammed the door into Fleming's arm. Another bullet whizzed past Grace's ear, lodging in the wall behind her. She bit back a squeal.
Fleming roared with anger and frustration and shoved the weight of his body against the door. Paul lost his footing on the dirty floor and fell. Fleming jumped forward and kicked him square in the jaw. He toppled back, unconscious.
Grace knelt beside him and pulled his bloodied head to her lap.
Fleming wiped his sweaty face on the back of his sleeve. "You might tell your preacher friend when he wakes that if he tries that again, I'll kill him."
One stride took him from the shack. He shoved the door closed behind him and slid the bolt in place.
Grace waited for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. Tiny cracks between the boards provided little light. That's when she saw the hilt of a knife shining from Paul's boot.
\*
Jake watched the street from his hotel window. Still no sign of Grace and Paul. And it was night. They should have arrived hours before.
He tried to be logical and not panic. They could have gotten a late start. Maybe they'd hit a rock and had to fix the wheel-with a load of furniture that wouldn't have been easy. But then the biggest fear hit him-that they'd run into trouble along the way. That they both lay in a pool of blood, dead or dying.
Jake shoved that image aside. Killing Grace or the reverend would serve no one's purpose. Jake and A.J. were the ones in the way of Laurette's good fortune.
Pulling a chair next to the window, he set up vigil. From this point he could see the main road through town. The store that ordered the furniture was on the corner. He'd see the wagon when it pulled into town.
Of course, if they had had trouble on the road, they might have made camp.
That thought didn't set well with him. Paul had made his intentions clear to Grace once. Who was to say he wouldn't be pushier in the night?
"I wasn't always a preacher."
A simple statement that nagged Jake until he thought he'd go mad. Who was Paul Harrington before he was a preacher? What did they really know about him? He'd breezed into town late last summer right after the old preacher had died. A friendly sort. Emma liked him. Hell, they all liked them. But this last week Jake had seen a different side to the man. A rugged worldliness that didn't exactly fit with churchmen.
For all he knew, Paul Harrington could be a part of this whole scheme of Laurette's. Or one of the men after her for money. And Jake had placed the person most dear to him in his hands.
He raked his hands through his hair. Nonsense. But the thought refused to die. Jake waited as long as it took for the sun to come up, then saddled up and went to find them.
Halfway home he found the wagon, parked neatly under the trees that overhung the road. From the droppings under the horses, the wagon had been there awhile. Picnic leavings were scattered in the clearing-a small basket and a yellow-checked cloth. It suggested a coziness Jake didn't want to think about.
He scanned the area for some sign of them or trouble. Nothing. No sign of struggle. No traces of a fight. Absolutely nothing. It was as if they just got up and walked away.
Jake slid from the saddle to study the road. A muddle of footprints stopped at the edge. The road was too hard-packed to determine anything else. The prints could have been left there when they stopped to eat.
After marking the spot with a "V" notch on the tree, Jake tethered his horse to the back of the wagon and headed home. He'd come back with trackers and coon dogs. He would find them.
He reached the ranch at dusk. The place was crowded with visitors-the Cyruses, Doc...even the sheriff's horse was hitched outside.
Good. Then we'll waste no time getting back.
Jake leaped from the seat and strode toward the house. A.J., Millie, Belle, and Doc turned his way as he swung open the door. He marched a direct line to Sheriff Brady. "I'm glad you're here. I..." He stopped short when he saw Laurette sitting at the dining table swiping tears from her eyes.
"What the devil?"
"Now just hold on there, Jake." Brady waved him back. "Laurette asked me to bring her here. Seems her mother's been kidnapped and-"
"She wants money," A.J. finished.
Jake stared down at her, crying like there was no tomorrow. She had a lot of nerve. "Is there nothing you won't do?"
She turned her ravaged face his way. A bruise marred one cheek. "Jake, please..."
He cut her off with a slice of his hand.
He jerked his gaze to Brady. "Grace and Reverend Harrington are missing. I found the wagon deserted halfway to Austin. Looks like they left in a hurry-they stopped for a picnic and didn't clean up. If we get some tracker-"
"Jake..." He shook his head. "She and the reverend ran off together after you took off for Austin."
"No," A.J. said. "That was a story we told to keep them safe until they got to Austin. It was the reverend's idea."
The others nodded in agreement, but Brady wasn't swayed. "Look, Jake, I know this isn't easy to accept. Far as I'm concerned, she and the reverend ran off together. That's the story everyone heard yesterday."
"There's nothing to accept. Grace is missing!" What did it take to get through his thick head? Jake curled a fist at his side. "Get someone on the road to find Grace now."
Brady crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes. "My friend, you vowed in front of a church full of people that if Grace ever left you, you'd hunt her down and bring her back. I'm not about to help you do that."
"This is ridiculous." Doc stomped toward them. "Billy Brady, I helped bring you into this world. You've known me all your life. Have you ever known me to lie to you?"
The sheriff backed off a step and blinked at the old man. "No sir."
"That's right. Everything Jake says is true. I was here when it happened. Grace and the reverend didn't run off. If Jake says they're missing now, they are."
Brady chewed on the inside of his cheek while he thought. "All right. I'll send a couple of my deputies out."
Laurette choked out a sob. "He took them, too."
"Who?" Jake and Brady shouted the question together.
She dropped her hands to the table and closed her eyes. Tears poured down her cheeks. "I told you already. Ezra Fleming."
Jake grabbed her shoulder and gave her a hard shake. Her eyes flashed open, wide and fearful.
"Where did he take them?"
Laurette jerked free. "I don't know. He took them yesterday. Said he was tired of waiting for me to pay him. Said you Tanners had more lives than a cat. He told me to take you the ransom note. Said you'd pay or they'd die. I refused. I told him..."
She edged away from Jake. "I told him I didn't care if they did die. He hit me." She touched the bruise. "Then he took Mama and said he'd kill her if I didn't do as he said."
The sheriff rubbed his chin and let this new information sink in. "And you have no idea where they are?"
Laurette shook her head. "None." She grabbed Jake's sleeve. "You've just got to help me. If you just give me the money he wants-"
"After all your lies, all your deceit, you think I'm going to put money in your hands? How do I know you won't take off with it and gamble it all away?"
"Jake...it's my mama," she choked out.
"And how do I know that's not a lie?"
She clutched her handkerchief to her mouth. "What do I have to do to convince you? You know how I feel about her." Laurette shoved away from the table and stood, arms rigid by her sides. "I don't care about the money. I want Mama safe and I need you're help to see that happens. You help me and I'll help you."
"The only help you can give me is a quick and clean divorce."
Pulling in a breath, Laurette raised her chin. "It's already done. I divorced you three years ago."
A.J.'s curse said it all, but as far as Jake was concerned it was just another lie.
"And why should I believe you? Why go to the elaborate hoax of faking your death if you wanted a divorce?"
She snorted. "I never thought you'd divorce me-that's why. I got away from this place. I had no intention of ever returning. Mama kept talking about telling you. You don't honestly believe I'd risk you finding me and dragging me back, do you? I convinced a lawyer that you'd deserted me and got the divorce."
Jake shook his head and laughed without humor. Hell. She'd put them through hell. He felt like throwing something, anything to release the rage cramping his muscles. Instead, he forced himself to stand there and let the hate in his eyes do his talking.
Laurette averted her gaze and slunk back into her chair.
Brady let out a long sigh. "Do you think we could set a trap for him? Make him think he's getting the money?"
"I don't think anything. That won't make him tell us where they are." He darted past him and aimed for the door. "I'm going to find Grace."
Brady grabbed his arm. "Are you crazy? It's pitch black out there. You're not going to find anything. All you're going to do is mess up the signs for the trackers. I promise you we'll start out first light."
"She could be dead by then."
"She will be dead if you destroy those tracks. Use a little common sense."
Jake hated that Brady was right. Hated the helplessness that weighed his shoulders. Hated the fear and panic deep in his gut. Common sense? He had none where Grace was concerned-he'd proved that over and over again since he met her. This time he refused to let his lack of it kill her.
"I'll meet you in town then...first light of day. As for you," he zeroed in on Laurette, "you stay here where we can keep an eye on you."
Jake let long strides take him to the barn to bed down his horse for the night. Alone with his thoughts, Jake took his time brushing the sleek black coat. It calmed him, but not enough to induce sleep.
There was movement near the barn door. Talking was the last thing he felt like doing. Someone else had other ideas. He tossed the brush into the bucket.
"Whoever it is, go away."
Head low, Jeremy shuffled forward. "It's me, Pa."
Jake squatted and opened his arms. "Sorry, little cowpoke. I thought it was Uncle A.J."
The boy burrowed into his hug and crawled onto Jake's lap. "It is true that someone took Ma and Grandma?"
Leaning against a beam, Jake tucked him close. He was a little boy. He didn't need all this turmoil in his life. But lying to him wasn't right either.
"Yes, it's true, but we're doing our best to find them."
"My real mother scares me."
Jake didn't have a clue how to respond to that.
"Pa...I did something bad."
"What's that?"
He dropped his chin and stared at the floor. "I went to the wishing tree and wished my real mother would go away and never come back. I just wanted me and you and Ma to be happy again. And my real ma is mean."
Jake tucked Jeremy's head on his shoulder. "Don't worry. You didn't do anything wrong. You can wish all you want, but the wishing tree can only be used for good things, not bad." It sounded like something Grace would say, the right thing to say.
Jeremy pulled his head up. "Really?"
"Really."
"Then I should go wish for Ma to come home safe. Reverend Paul too."
When he tried to jump up, Jake held him in place. "That's okay. I'll wish for both of us."
He swung him to his shoulders and carried him piggyback to bed. All the wishing in the world wasn't going to bring Grace back. They needed action.
The house was dark except for a single lantern in the kitchen. Everyone was abed. Jake tucked Jeremy in then crept down the hall to Laurette's room. She jumped upright the second the door opened.
"Let's quit playing games here, Laurette. You know where he took them and you're going to tell me."
"But, Jake, I-"
"I'll give you enough money to pay your debts and see you comfortable. I just want Grace back safe."
"Fine...I'll tell you."
Night, and with it the scurrying of things Grace didn't want to think about.
"How's it coming?"
Paul slumped against the wall. "It's hard to tell in the dark. I've got the caulking away from a few of the boards, but they still don't want to budge."
"Want me to dig at it for awhile?"
"So you can cut your hand again?"
Grace stared at her hand. Even in the dark she saw the strip of white petticoat they'd used as a bandage. "It wasn't a bad cut."
"Well...I'd like to get you back to Jake in one piece."
She sighed and settled against the wall beside him. He certainly wasn't behaving very reverendly-like. Of course, being kidnapped and a taking kick to the jaw might have a lot to do with that.
"How's your jaw?"
"Hurts and I'll bet it's a pretty sight to see. If I catch the bas-"
"What happened to turning the other cheek, Reverend Harrington?"
He grunted and returned to scraping at the grout between the boards. When they started, it seemed the best chance of escape. The door was solid. Kicking any of the boards down was futile. They couldn't reach the ceiling to punch a hole in the roof and there wasn't a stick of furniture in the place to use as a weapon.
For the longest time after Fleming left, Grace sat with her shaking hands wrapped around the hilt of Paul's knife. If Fleming came back, she was ready. But he didn't.
The rattle of wheels froze them. They heard a woman's muffled cries. Paul slipped the knife to his side and scrambled for the door.
"Stay back. I'll jump him when he comes in."
Grace held her breath and waited. The woman's sobs grew louder. Footsteps scrunched on the path to the cabin, one sure and steady, the other stumbling.
"Shut up your incessant bawling, you old bat," Fleming snapped.
He slapped her once, twice. Grace winced with each blow. She heard Maude cry out, pleading for him to stop.
The bolt slid back. Grace tensed. They had one chance for freedom. The door squeaked open. A shaft of night silhouetted two figures.
"Get in there." Fleming shoved Maude before him.
She stumbled and smacked into Paul. The knife clunked to the floor. Fleming ducked out and sealed them in once more. So much for escape.
Grace and Paul dusted the floor looking for the knife. Their fingers reached it at the same time. He patted her hand, and then slipped the knife into his boot.
"Oh dear," gasped Maude.
Grace eased closer and wrapped her in a tight embrace. "It's going to be all right. We're going to get out of here."
Maude buried her head in her hands and sobbed. "This is an awful mess. He's holding us ransom until someone pays him the money Laurette borrowed. If he doesn't get it soon, he'll start killing us."
"He'll never get any money if we're dead," Paul said.
"But what if Jeremy is next?"
Grace refused to think about it. "Don't worry. We'll find a way out."
"That's for sure," Paul said. "Whatever his plans are for us, I doubt it's to keep us alive. When he gets what he wants or if he doesn't get it, we're dead. He can't afford to leave witnesses."
He scrambled for their escape route and started digging once more.
Grace pulled his arm down. "I haven't heard him leave yet. Won't he hear you?"
"We'll have to take that chance." He grabbed her shoulders and moved her in front of him, and then did the same to Maude. "Lean hard against the boards. Maybe that will help loosen them."
Maude sniffled. "Can't we just bust it down and make a run for it?"
Grace stared at her. "He has a gun. Remember? He's not afraid to use it." That reminder was enough to keep her quiet.
Paul worked without stopping, showering them with the caulking he dug from between the boards. Grace kept her head tucked and her shoulders hard against the wall until they quivered from the effort.
She didn't know how long they sat there. Maude drifted in and out of sleep. Grace longed to join her. Their survival depended on her staying alert to help Paul. She focused on the scraping, louder now, more intense. It sounded like he was making good progress. It sounded like...
"Paul-"
"I know. I hear it too."
Someone was on the other side of the wall helping them.
"Who?"
"Shh," he said, and went back to work.
Grace pushed her back hard against the boards. There was a little give. Straining, she shoved again. The wall collapsed against her weight. Grace fell with the boards, right into Jake's arms.
Suppressing a cry of joy, she tossed her arms around his neck. He held her close, kissing her head, her cheeks, and finally her lips.
Paul nudged them and they broke apart. "I don't think Fleming's far."
"His buggy is blocking the road." Jake helped Maude to her feet. "He's asleep inside, but probably not for long. I'm sure all this commotion has him up. Let's get out of here before he finds us."
One by one they slipped into the night. Jake led them into the trees at a pace just shy of running. Limbs slapped against Grace's face and caught her hair, her clothes. No one spoke. The only sound was the twigs snapping beneath their feet. Finally, the brush cleared. The road lay ahead, a beacon in the first light of dawn. Cupcake waited patiently for them. But with one horse and four people, they still had a long way to go.
"You and Maude take the horse and head back to the ranch. Paul and I are going back for Fleming. Help should be here soon."
Grace knew better than to waste time arguing. With a single nod, she and Maude followed the men across the open field. Mud sucked at their feet. Maude lacked the stamina to keep the pace. Exhaustion weighed her down before they could reach their goal. Grace doubled back to help her. She grabbed her arm and hauled it over her shoulder. The weight pulled her off balance. Grace tumbled back and felt the ground give way.
She clutched at the dirt, at tree roots, something, anything to keep from falling into the chasm. Everything skittered in a shower of rock and debris beneath her. There was a splash, Maude's cry. Seconds later, Grace lay in the icy river beside her.
Maude floundered, gasping for breath. Wrapping her arms around a rock, Grace seized a handful of her hair and pulled her to safety.
"Just hold on. Just hold on."
"I hurt."
Judging from the strain in her voice, Grace didn't doubt her. But other than keep her from falling back into the underground river, there was little more Grace could do.
"Grace!"
She jerked her head up to call out a warning to Jake. It was too late. She watched, helpless, as he and Paul fell the twenty feet into the cavern.
"Jake, are you-"
"I'm fine. Just had the wind knocked out of me. Paul?"
Pain strangled his reply. "Arm's busted."
Grace heard splashing-one of them crawling from the water.
"We've got to stay together," Jake told them. "Everyone try to get under the opening. I'm going to see if I can crawl out."
Grace listened to his ascent. From time to time the sunlight caught him. For every step he gained, rocks and dirt showered down and he'd slide back. It was useless. The hole was just too deep.
Paul collapsed on the narrow bank beside her. Grace pushed Maude next to him. Without light there was nothing she could do to see to Paul's and Maude's wounds. All she could do was keep them still.
She glanced up. Jake grabbed a tree root and hauled himself up a good five feet. There were still at least fifteen more to go. He reached for another. It snapped under his weight. He landed with an oof by her feet.
"You all right?"
"Yep," he said through pants of breath. "I'm just too heavy for the roots and dirt to hold me. You want to give it a try?"
Her gaze traveled upward. She'd be lucky if she didn't kill herself. "All right." What choice did they have? She had to at least try. "Give me a boost."
Jake hoisted her up to the first solid tree root. Grace grabbed with both hands and pulled. It sliced deep into the knife cut on her palm.
Grace clamped her teeth tight and tried not to cry out. The pain was too great. Gasping, she dropped the injured hand, swung from one arm, and then fell.
Jake gathered her close. "It's okay. You tried. Brady should be along soon. We'll just have to listen for him."
"It's going to have to be real soon," Paul said. "I'd swear this water's rising."
Grace patted the edge of the small bank. Six feet of space had turned into four. The river was rising. And it was running swift, too.
Jake squatted on his haunches. "This river has to come out somewhere. We'll make a rope out of strips from your petticoats. You hold one end. I'll tie the other around my waist and do a little checking."
"In the dark? With no idea of where you are?" Paul asked.
"Just a short way. I'm almost certain I see light downstream."
Grace squinted into the dark, but could see nothing. Reluctantly, she and Maude gave up their petticoats and then helped Jake make the rope. Once done, he tied himself to one end. Grace wrapped the other around her arm. She felt the drag on the line the second he stepped in the current. Its strength pulled her off balance.
Paul grabbed her skirt and tugged her back until he could add his muscle to the line. Still the current fought them, pulling Jake to who-knew-where. Bracing her backside against a rock, Grace dug in her heels. There was a yank and the line slacked.
Grace jumped to her feet and reeled it in. Nothing. Jake was gone.
She stumbled to her place beneath the hole in shock. In the distance she heard barking dogs. Paul shouted for help. The sound faded and no one came. Grace hugged her knees to her chest and used them as a pillow.
At some point she must have dozed off for the next thing she felt was Paul shaking her shoulder.
"Wake up. Help is here."
She turned bleary eyes upward and saw a rope snaking their way. Paul snagged it with his good arm.
"Okay, Maude. You first. Hold on."
He snugged the loop around her, and then gave a yank. In less time than it took to think about it, she was free of the hole and the rope on its way back down.
"Next." Paul tossed the rope over Grace, tugged, and up she went.
The sun blinded her. Hands reached to pull her clear. Shielding her eyes against the brightness, she looked up into Fleming's grimacing features. Help was nowhere to be seen. Even Cupcake was gone. And the barking dogs they'd heard earlier? Nothing more than a figment of their imagination as far as Grace was concerned.
She scrambled to right herself. Fleming stood astride her, pinning her skirt in place with his feet.
"Looks like I have everything I need." He tossed all of the rope into the hole.
She reached for the end and grabbed air. "You can't leave him down there!"
"Can't I?" Grabbing a handful of her hair, Fleming hauled Grace to her feet.
"That's far enough, Fleming!"
Jake? Grace twisted around. He barreled toward them, pistol raised.
Fleming whipped around, taking her with him. He jammed the barrel of his gun against her temple.
"Not a step closer, Tanner. I just want what's rightfully mine."
Jake eased forward. "Let her go and I'll see you have it."
"Gentleman's word?"
Jake nodded.
Fleming dropped the weapon. "Go on." He gave Grace a shove.
She took a step. Fleming's foot still nailed her dress. She yanked free, setting them both off balance. He teetered over the precipice, his arms flailed for balance, and he grabbed her.
"NO!"
She saw Jake break into a run and reached for him. Fleming fell, taking her down with him. There was a telltale splash, and then Paul broke her fall.
"It's okay. You're okay," he said.
"But are you?"
"I've been better. You've got a lot of weight for a little person."
"Grace?"
Grace forced her eyes upward. She was so tired. Tired of being in this hole. "I'm all right."
"Help's here. Stand back. We've got a torch coming down."
Jake belly-crawled to the edge of the hole. The sound of water reached him. He could see it in the torchlight. They didn't have much time.
Paul pulled her to one side. A torch fell to what little dry ground remained. Fleming was nowhere to be seen.
"Can you see?"
Grace strained her neck back. Tears puddled in her eyes. "Yes. I...I think I'm hurt. I ache all over."
Jake fought the rising panic. Grace's voice was weak. Paul was in no condition to help her. Brady and the other men knotted their ropes together, and then looped the end. He grabbed it and crawled in. No one questioned his right to do so.
"Keep it taut. It's a long drop." He levered himself over the side. "Watch your eyes. I'm coming down."
She focused on his dark shadow crawling closer down the hole then reached for him when he lit beside her.
"Come on, sweetness. Let's get you home." He dusted his arms around her waist and pulled her close.
Grace wedged her freezing arms between them. "Paul's hurt worse. He has to go first."
Jake didn't argue. He just helped Paul into the harness and made his way back to Grace. Her arms opened to him. "We'll be out of here soon, sweet love."
"Thank God, you're safe. When the rope broke-"
"It didn't break. I was out and untied it."
She sagged into his warmth. "All I ever wanted was for us to be happy and have beautiful, strong, healthy children."
Trying his best to ease her shivers, Jake tucked her close. "We're going to have all that, sweetness."
She nuzzled under his arm. "How do you know that?"
"Because," he kissed the top of her head, "I wished it under the wishing tree."
If Grace had had any energy left, she would have cried happy tears. It was by far the most romantic thing she'd ever heard him say.
"Here comes the rope, honey."
She balled his shirt in her fists. "I won't go up without you."
"You won't have to. Just hang on to me. We are never going to be apart again."
"That's going to be interesting on trail rides."
He draped the loop over them and clutched her around the waist. "Arms around my neck. Hold tight...Take her up! You're pulling two!"
Bracing her against the sides of the chasm, they made their ascent. As their heads poked free, several pairs of hands reached to pull them to safety. Someone tossed a bedroll over her. Again, Jake used his body to protect her from unnecessary movement.
"She's hurt too. Someone get that buggy back at the cabin. It's the only way we'll get these three home."
"Fleming?" Brady asked.
Jake tucked the bedroll around Grace. "No sign of him. He probably went downstream. The river opens up over there aways." He gestured the direction with a wave of his hand.
Brady sent a man to check. He returned shortly with word that Fleming's body was washed up on the bank.
Jake glanced up. Laurette cradled Maude's head in her lap. She showed no emotion over the news. Wrapped in Brady's bedroll, Maude rested. A tear in her dress revealed a six-inch bruise along her side.
Paul also looked pretty beat up. Blood stained his blond hair. He closed his eyes against the pain in his arm while a deputy tried to splint it.
Jake turned his attention back to Grace. Her dress was in tatters. Bruises, cuts, and scrapes marked her from head to toe. Her teeth chattered from the cold despite the bedroll.
Laurette gently placed her mother's head on the ground and walked over to Jake and Grace. "We had a deal, Jake. I'll be wanting that money first thing in the morning."
"You meet me at the bank and I'll see you get it. Make sure you take Fleming off your list of debtors. I doubt he'll need the money."
She cocked her head in a nod. "Agreed." Then she returned to her mother.
"What's that all about?" Grace asked through chattering teeth.
"I'll explain later. The good news is that we're still married. Laurette dissolved our marriage years ago."
Grace managed a smiled and fumbled for his hand.
Jake tucked it back into the bedroll. "The buggy's here. Stay warm. We're heading home."
\*
Laurette wasted no time leaving town. She snatched the money out of Jake's hands quicker than he could say "Here." Then she boarded the first stage to anywhere.
It put quite a dent in his savings and he was almost certain she'd have it spent in no time. Although Jake wanted to believe they'd seen the last of her, he knew he'd just opened a door of opportunity for her. It was only a matter of time before she came slithering back for more.
Under Belle's care, Grace slowly recovered. She had more cuts and bruises on her than anyone could count, but thankfully there didn't seem to be any damage. A week in bed showed her greatly improved.
Maude's recovery was slow but steady. She ventured from bed more each day. Jake often wondered if her spirit hadn't suffered more damage than her body.
Paul, too, was up and around, but any glimpses of his wilder side were hidden once more.
Grace smiled, her cheeks a glowing pink when she saw Jake. She patted the bed for him to sit. "You look like you could do with some rest. Did it not go well?"
He stretched out beside her. "She's gone and that's all I care about."
"Are we hurting for money now? I could take in laundry. Sell eggs. Or..."
Smiling, he pressed his index finger to her lips. "We'll be fine. Besides, you're going to be much too busy making all my wishes come true."
Laughing, Grace traced the crease of his smile then pulled his lips to hers. "Be careful what you wish for, Jake Tanner."
"Not where you're concerned, my sweet, sweet Grace."
Jake watched little Annie totter across the back lawn and then plop onto her well-padded bottom. She was a beautiful child, strong, healthy. Unfortunately, she was about as graceful as her mother. One thing for sure, she had the attention of everyone at the yearly branding celebration.
Lulu tried to keep herd on her, but swollen with another litter of puppies, she gave up. Those pups were one of the most sought after pets in the area. There wasn't a soul who didn't want one...or two.
The last two years had been good to the Tanners. Jake turned the herd over to his men and cut them in at a higher percentage of the profit. The furniture business kept him and A.J. busy enough as it was.
Jake swore Grace grew prettier every day that passed. Between her and Millie, the Tanner home was the center of all social activity. Belle turned out to be a blessing for Doc. With his health slowly failing, he needed her care as did his patients. She had also taken over management of the Cyruses boarding house, which doubled as a hospital when need be.
Word had come from New Orleans the previous year that Laurette was dead. Apparently she'd run afoul of another gambler. This one not as easy to manipulate as Fleming. With Maude, Jake retrieved her body and buried her next to her father in Austin.
As for Paul, whatever secrets he had remained hidden. Never again did any of them so much as see a peek of the rougher side of the man. Sometimes Jake wondered if they hadn't imagined the whole thing.
Hoyt ambled up, smacking the dust from his clothes with his hat. "We got another good herd this year, Jake."
He clapped him on the shoulder. "Thanks to you and the men. I don't know what I'd do without you."
"Ready to try a little cross-breeding? Won't be as hardy, but it'll fetch a higher price on the market."
"Soon as you and the men get back, we'll talk about it. Right now, we've got something else we've got to take care of."
Hoyt grinned. "Is the groom a little nervous?"
"Not nearly as much as the bride," Jake said with a laugh.
"After all this time." Hoyt walked away, shaking his head.
Jake wandered into the house, and then thought better of it. Things were crowded enough in there. Instead, he found his way to the wishing tree. Life was good. Their furniture business flourished. In Grace Jake had found the love of his life. There wasn't a day he didn't bless his good fortune. Not a day he didn't go to the tree to thank it. Some might call his behavior blasphemous. He just called it smart.
He caressed the aged bark and looked into its branches. "I wish A.J. and Millie will be as happy as Grace and I."
That done, he returned to the house. Grace met him halfway, evidence of their next child clearly on display in the swell of her belly.
"I think we're just about ready."
"They've been ready for years. Everyone knows it. They certainly haven't made a secret about it."
Grace looped her arm through his. "Everyone except A.J. and Millie. They needed time. They took it. Now look at them." She motioned with her head.
Jake glanced in that direction. Love and happiness glowed from the couple. It was contagious. He took one last look at the tree before joining the ceremony.
Thank you.
A breeze ruffled the leaves.
Jake smiled, gave Grace a lengthy kiss, placed a loving hand over the babe inside her. "Let's get these two married."
ISBN 1-55316-040-1
Copyright © 2001
The Journey, Late Winter, 890 a.d.
Andor brushed his hand across the overlapping planks of riveted pine. Every so often he caught a whiff of the tarred animal hair he and his men had used to seal the ship. His ship. A year in the making. Fifteen years of dreams. No other ship was finer - not even those of Olaf or Leif, which sat nearby waiting to follow him on this journey.
His gaze wandered to the prow. Astrid's carved likeness smiled down at him. It was a fitting homage to his woman, his wife, the mother of his unborn child.
A sudden night breeze swirled his hair about his bearded face. Andor pulled a small strip of leather from his kirtle to tie the blond strands in place. Then he wrapped his fingers around the amulet of Thor's hammer which hung from his neck.
"May Aegir bless this journey with these winds."
It seemed the gods had been watching over him since his first trip at the age of twelve. He felt as much anticipation now as he had then. Years of seafaring, trading, and raiding with his uncle had taught him much and made him wealthy. Now the gods decreed it was time to move on to other pursuits. Time to settle with a family and till the soil. The thrill of a new adventure in a pristine land surged in his blood. The weight of responsibility stilled the rush.
He mentally checked preparations made. All was packed for the trip across the sea. The walrus ivory, ropes from the hides of seals and walruses, skins, and furs for trading. The seeds, tools, household goods, and stores for settling. Cattle, sheep, goats, and horses would be loaded at sunrise. There was also a large box of sand on each vessel for the women's cooking fires. Nothing had been overlooked for a successful journey.
He admired the handiwork on the ship once more. It was a large, sturdy vessel almost eighty feet from prow to stern with each end curving gracefully toward the sky. At its widest portion it was eighteen feet. It was here he placed the hold to secure the animals and goods. Loose pine floorboards on the deck allowed storage underneath and easy access to bail out bilge water. A woolen sailcloth waited to be unfurled. If the winds were not with them, sixteen sets of oars lay ready to be put to use. Fully laden with all the possessions they owned, the ship would still ride high in the water, masterfully carrying them to the farmland Andor had claimed as his the year before in Iceland.
Iceland.
A country of lush green valleys and soothing hot springs was hidden behind that foreboding name. The instant Andor had seen it, he knew he had found home. His cousin, Leif, and Olaf, husband to Andor's sister, had felt the same. Together they returned to the land of Andor's birth to plan their future. And there Andor took the bride arranged for him during his absence.
It was an adequate match. Even though she was a bit frail, even though she was nine years his junior, even though there was no fire in the veins of his shy, young bride...well, that was also part of settling down. His days of fiery women were over. His hope of a love match gone with them. With adulthood came new responsibilities - those which made a wife a necessity.
Andor felt a slight tug on his hair. Only one person would dare taunt him so. With a smile teasing his lips, he looked down at his sister, Freyda. Her head just reached his shoulder. The moonlight caught the golden sparkle in her forest green eyes, so much like his own. Two years younger, married with a young son of her own, she was still his greatest confidante.
"What brings you out this night?"
"The same that brings you," she replied. "Thoughts of the journey weigh heavy on me. I saw you from the door."
"You are frightened." It was more of a statement than a question.
"Yes. 'Tis so very far. So very long." She hugged herself as if suddenly chilled.
"You traveled with Olaf many times since you wed."
"To trade, never to leave Northland forever. I shall miss Mother and Father. Björn and his family. And Hildy, of course."
Andor chuckled at the mention of their youngest sister. "Of course."
"They will never see Erik grow. They will never see your child," Freyda said with a sigh.
"We have little choice. There is no room here for us." Andor looked toward the fjord which would take them to the open sea.
"You will love Iceland, Freyda. The rivers are so clear you might see the bottom. You could even build your home over a tiny stream and have water without going outside. And the land - as green as those beautiful eyes of yours. 'Twould take a day's walk to get from the center of my land to the center of yours. 'Tis a wonderful place to rear a child."
Freyda smiled. "You make it sound like the land of the gods."
Andor chuckled again. "'Tis the closest we mortals will come to Asgard."
"Then if we hope to get a good start in the morning, we should try to sleep...before Astrid awakens and finds you gone. She does need her rest."
Andor nodded and fell in step beside her. Astrid did not carry the child well. Weariness and sickness plagued her, yet she refused to remain idle. The voyage would not be easy on her, yet to delay would cause them to miss the spring planting time. With luck and strong winds, they would arrive before the time and still have a wait for the babe's birth. It was good to leave now while Astrid was still light with child.
"Sleep well, brother." Freyda ducked into her bed closet.
"Sleep well."
Andor was careful not to disturb Astrid as he crept into the small room in which they slept. He slipped off his soft leather boots and pulled his kirtle over his head. He paused at the tapered trousers. It would only embarrass Astrid if she were to discover he chose to sleep in the nude.
Andor drew a deep breath, released it slowly, then crawled beneath the warmth of the furs. He longed to caress the slightly rounded bulge of her belly. Again Astrid's embarrassment prevented it.
He curled his body around his wife's. In her sleep she groaned a protest. Andor reluctantly pulled away, turning his back to hers as he waited for sleep to close his eyes.
Dawn's gray hours found the settlement stirring with activity. Astrid and the other women bustled about with last minute preparations. Smells of breakfast filled the longhouse, but anxiety refused to allow Andor to eat. He strapped his sword to his belt then tossed his red cloak around him, pinning it with a penannular brooch at his right shoulder. He reached for his helmet and shield, then recalled both were already on the ship.
"Do not be long, wife." Andor dropped a kiss on Astrid's upturned cheek then watched in amazement as a flush followed. Perhaps childbirth would make her less restrained.
"Only one or two things left to do," she replied. "The barrels of fresh water are being loaded now, and we must not forget our bed furs."
Andor gathered the mound of furs then turned to find Astrid close behind him. He smiled, kissed her fully, then laughed at her red cheeks.
As usual she could not be pulled into play and instead avoided his gaze. "Thora moves stiffly this morning."
Andor sighed and shook his head. Leif had beaten his wife again. It was all too common these days. "'Tis really not my place to interfere with a man and his wife."
"But the child she carries could well be hurt," Astrid said.
That much was true, but he doubted Leif cared. "I will speak to him."
As Andor stepped into the morning, his eyes scanned the bustle of people for Leif's black head. Instead, he found Thora, struggling under a load of furs.
She had been a beauty in her youth with brown hair that gleamed with gold when the sun touched it. Andor had once thought to make her his wife, but in his long absences other arrangements had been made. That was unfortunate for Thora. Life with her husband had taken its toll. Now, no luster sparked her eyes. At times she looked older than Andor's mother instead of the young girl Andor's heart had sought. She was as long with child as Astrid yet looked twice as large, giving Andor cause to wonder if the tales of Thora's infidelity were true.
"He beat her again."
Andor turned to the scowling visage of his red-headed brother by marriage. Olaf's blue eyes looked past the woman to the man responsible.
"If he cannot tolerate her, then he should set her free to find happiness as another man's wife. Rollo's perhaps," he said with a jerk of his head.
Andor looked back as Rollo hurried forward to help Thora. The towering young blacksmith was powerfully built yet gentle with all smaller than him. His desire to help Thora was nothing he would not do for others, but one person took offense. With a face as dark as a thundercloud, Leif strode to them.
Andor dropped his furs and raced forward to intercept Leif. Leif yanked a leather strap from his belt and raised it high. Thora whimpered and cowered to the ground, expecting to be beaten.
"No!" Andor shouted.
Leif froze, shocked that he should be interfered with.
"I asked Rollo to take the furs so that Thora might help Astrid. You know how sickly she has been." Andor prayed the gods would forgive his lie.
Leif lowered his hand. "Go."
The woman waddled away before her husband could change his mind.
Andor took a deep breath. He had gone this far, what more could hurt? "I wanted to speak to you of Astrid. This long voyage will be hard on her. There are few women on my ship. You have many on yours. I would like Thora to travel with us to help Astrid."
Leif considered it for a few moments. "Done." He stooped to pick up half the furs. "The rest are hers." He turned on his heel and walked away.
Rollo picked up the remaining furs. "I will carry these and yours to your ship. You may tell Thora of the change."
"I will," said Freyda from behind.
For the first time Andor realized that Freyda and young Erik were standing there. She lifted the hem of her shift and ran to share the news with the other two women. The spinning tools which hung from the brooches at each of her shoulders clattered in her rush.
"'Tis only a short reprieve for Thora," Andor said with a sigh. "Come, Olaf, we have a ship to set to water. Enough time has been wasted this dawn."
There was a tug on his trousers and Andor looked down at Erik. Born five years ago this month, the boy boasted a shock of red hair. He was Olaf's image born again.
"May I help launch your ship, uncle?"
Andor ruffled his hair. "A strong hand is always needed...Come."
Andor's walk to the vessel was a signal for others. They hastened to join him for the task. Several ran ahead to remove the wedges which held the roller logs in place. By the time Andor reached the ship, forty men stood ready to help him.
The ship moved slowly over the logs. As one roller was uncovered it was carried forward. When only the stern remained ashore, a rousing cheer burst from the men.
Now came the painful ordeal of saying farewell. Andor embraced his remaining family then stood aside while Astrid and Freyda did the same. He shook his head as the women began to cry. Always so sentimental. It was true he would miss his family, but not enough to cry like an infant.
Realizing the dawn was fading, the ladies hurried to their respective ships. The ramp was hauled in and, with a final shove, Andor's vessel bobbed upon the water. With Andor as helmsman, the men set their oars in the water. They glided down the fjord while Olaf and Leif followed in their ships.
Andor memorized the steep, green cliffs as they edged toward the sea. Home was now Iceland. The mouth of the fjord widened. The ocean beckoned.
"Rollo, take over," Andor said. "Raise the mast and hoist the sail."
The men set the long pole in a block to hold it in place. Once it was secure, they tugged the yard arm to the top of the mast. The great scarlet and gold sail, a gift made for Andor by his mother, filled with wind and pulled them into the sea.
"'Tis beautiful," Astrid said from beside him. In an uncharacteristic display of affection, she wrapped her arms around his waist. "Thank you for helping Thora."
He covered her with his arms. "'Twill not last. You know that."
"'Tis enough for now." She stretched on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. "On to Iceland."
Andor smiled. "Yes, to Iceland."
The trip down the coast was swift without event - a boring time for those onboard. To speed their journey, they rarely spent the night on shore. When they did so, Astrid made a good show of needing help so that Leif would not take Thora back. So far it was a plan that worked, but Andor worried what Thora's fate would be when they reached their destination.
The men and women passed their time working on crafts or listening to Astrid play her harp. Rollo carved combs from reindeer antlers while other men fished or fashioned jewelry out of old coins and glass beads. Their passage was peaceful. Even a three-day stay to trade at the Shetlands went well.
The ships were nearing the Faroes when rough seas tossed them from their sleeping skins that morning. Wind slammed against them, listing the vessel to one side.
"Haul in the sail!" Andor shouted. "Rollo, man the tiller! Keep us from those rocks!"
Andor fought the sail with twenty other men, battling the wind for possession. At the stern, Rollo and two of the strongest men steered the ship clear of jagged rocks. Even with the wind battering his ears, Andor could hear the sound of wood scrapping stone. He prayed it was only his imagination. He jerked his head in that direction and saw a terrifying sight - Thora leaning over the edge.
"No!" Wind swallowed his voice.
Andor dropped his sail line and struggled to reach her. Astrid edged toward her, her hand extended before her. She swiped air trying to grab Thora's cloak. The ship rocked. Thora lost her balance in favor of Astrid. Before she could return to her suicidal perch, Astrid caught a handful of her cloak.
Like a mother scolding a wayward child, Astrid pulled her charge further away. The ship rolled once more, throwing the occupants about while a massive wave crashed over them.
Watery tentacles threatened to pull Andor into its depths. He tangled his arm in the sail line and held on. When the water cleared, only one woman remained.
"Astrid!" Andor leaped over people to reach the spot where he'd last seen them. Thora lay curled like a babe, sobbing. He raced to the rail, shouting his wife's name into the stinging needles of icy rain.
"Andor, look!" a man called out.
He spun around, hoping for a sign of Astrid. Instead, through the gray haze, he saw Olaf's ship smash into the very rocks they had just avoided. The ship turned on its side, caught by the gray spires, while the sea tried to scoop out its contents.
Andor looked around the deck, trying to decide what to do next. Astrid was not the only one who was lost. At least ten others had been washed away. His every instinct screamed to find her yet he knew that was impossible. He was leader of this expedition. He had to save those he could. That was his responsibility. His heart had never felt more torn.
"What do we do?" Rollo shouted.
Andor scanned the area and saw Leif's vessel slip past him. Obviously, he had made a decision and, at that moment, so had Andor.
"Steer close to Olaf's ship, but not near the rocks. We will lash our ship to it and try to right it."
It was work that helped Andor keep his mind off Astrid's loss. He never asked himself what he would do if he discovered Freyda, Olaf, and Erik were also gone. As they neared the other vessel, he leaped aboard, a seal rope clutched tightly in his grip.
Five of his men followed. They lashed the ropes to the crossbeams at each ship's floor, and Andor waved Rollo to pull back. Slowly the ship was righted, and a gaping hole in her side was revealed.
"Everyone onto my ship. Take everything with you." Andor jumped onto the hold to hand boxes up.
"Andor!" Freyda cried out, and tossed her arms around him.
He held her close, fighting desperately against the emotion that threatened to overwhelm him.
"Olaf is gone." She pointed to her husband's inert body. His neck was twisted at a strange angle.
"Erik?" Andor asked.
Freyda tossed back a pile of skins. The boy huddled beneath them, frightened and teary-eyed.
Andor caught them in his arms and carried them to the safety of his ship while the men salvaged all they could find, including the bodies of their fallen friends. Then Olaf's ship was released to let the sea claim what it was so determined to have.
"To shore, Rollo," Andor said. "We have our dead to care for."
It was as fitting a funeral as they could arrange so far from home - a simple grave for each person with all their possessions that remained to accompany them on their next journey. A few others had washed ashore with the evening tide, including Astrid whose lovely face was bloated in death. Andor was grateful he could give her a proper send off. As he placed her gently in her grave, he touched her rounded belly for the first and last time. At least mother and child would be together in the next life.
It was an emotional time for all, but Andor refused to allow himself to give in to tears. They had lost thirty people. It was time for decisions, not emotions. When the last grave was marked, he faced his people.
"We have lost much and come far, but I will gladly return those who wish to go home."
Leif took a stand beside him. "I have no desire to return just to start another journey next year, but I will give my ship and half my provisions for those of you who wish to leave. If that is all right with Andor."
Andor nodded. There was a murmur among the people and slowly each one made a decision. More than half chose home. Without question Leif's animals and half his stores were moved to Andor's ship. The thirty who remained waved their friends off.
"To Ireland?" Leif asked Andor.
Andor rubbed the weariness from his neck. "I have no desire for raiding."
"If not, we will not make it to Iceland," Leif said.
Andor sighed and looked over the horizon. "Then we shall go a-viking."
In his youth raiding had been an exciting experience. As he grew in years, his conscience did not agree with stealing from others. They were people just as himself. While he didn't understand their culture and did not want to, they spoke each other's language. Slaves and brides captured through the centuries had mingled with Andor's own, become a part of the world of the Northmen. To continue to pillage their villages was wrong, wasn't it?
Still, Leif was right - they had to survive. When they reached Ireland, Andor would leave the raiding to Leif and remain onboard to await their return. Perhaps his guilt would then not be so great.
Gillian glared at her husband's inert figure. One fist found what used to be her waist while the other clutched a broom. He was still recovering from another night of drinking. Whenever there was a cup to be raised, Evan was there to lift it. Last night was once too often for Gillian. She narrowed her eyes and jammed the broom handle in his ribs.
"Get up you lazy sot!"
Evan groaned. She poked him again.
"I said get up. You are a worthless excuse for a husband. I do not know why I married you."
"Because no one would have a shrewish harpy like ya fer a wife," he mumbled from under his woolen blanket.
"A harpy am I?" She poked him again.
Evan whipped back the blanket. "Stop it, woman. Yer puttin' a hole in me side. I shoulda strapped yer backside when I first married ya."
"And 'twould be the last thing you ever did. Get up!"
Evan winced. "Quit yer screechin'. How can so beautiful a lass sound like a fishwife? Leave me rest, woman. The chores can wait." He snapped the blanket over his head.
Gillian whacked the hump of his buttocks with the other end of the broom. "The cow needs milking. Tell her bellering soul she can wait."
She gathered her skirts in one hand and bounced from their small stone cottage. The wind blew one red curl before her eyes. Muttering a curse, Gillian snatched her green kerchief off a peg by the door to tie her heavy mass of hair back.
The cow called from her stall. "Hold on, girl. I will care for you shortly." She turned her head over her shoulder so Evan could hear. "Eight months gone with child, but you can be sure I will be handling the chores. The cooking, the cleaning, the sewing, the milking...and the plowing and planting, too!"
Evan slept on as Gillian knew he would. She grabbed the bucket and strode to the animals' stall beside the cottage. For her cow's sake, she tried to calm herself before milking, but neither the milking nor the calming would be an easy task. She caressed the animal and settled on the stool. After a deep breath, she strained forward to grab the teats.
It was true - Evan was a poor husband. Gillian knew he would be before she married him. But she was past the age when girls marry, and her father was afraid she would be left alone when it came his time to go. Gillian could not refuse a dying man's wish. She married a man of his choosing and called it a daughter's duty.
Evan had seen her dowry and her beauty - it was enough for him. After taking her virginity and getting her with child, he settled down to drink away the small fortune marriage had given him. Fortunately, Gillian's father had not lived long enough to see it.
"There's a girl." Gillian patted the cow's side then levered herself upright. "A half bucket. No wonder you were crying so."
She dumped some grain into the trough. "Eat up. I will put you out to graze after the plowing is done."
Gillian set the bucket of milk inside the cottage then draped the seed bag over her head. She was almost to the horse's stall when she heard shouts and screams a short distance away. On tiptoe, she squinted toward the coast. The prow of a ship bore down on the beach. Already men were leaping from it, running to the tiny village with swords raised high above their heads.
She gasped. "Gaill."
Ducking into the stable with the animals, she pulled the door closed. It was the only hope she had of avoiding detection. A dash to the cottage would only bring their attention her way.
She'd heard tales of these pirates from the north. They wantonly slashed and burned their way through villages, taking what they wanted and killing anyone who would stand in their way. They took innocent folk as slaves and raped women. It was even said they ate babies.
Gillian sucked in her fear and crouched at the head of her cow's stall. The cries of her village people grew closer as the hoard of raiders overtook them. Women and children screamed. Terrified footsteps pounded a retreat past Gillian's stable. Then she heard Evan shout, his voice still slurred from sleep and drink.
"What do ya think yer doin'? That barrel of ale belongs to me!"
Gillian buried her head in her arms. Their lives were being threatened, and Evan was worried about his ale. There was a scuffle, then silence. She refused to think of what fate had befallen her husband - he was no fighter.
Footsteps crunched on the dirt around the stable. Gillian heard them pause by the door. It creaked open, bathing her and the animals in sunlight. She tried to make herself a smaller target as she stared up at the biggest man she had ever seen. His muscular figure filled the doorway; his sword covered with blood.
Rollo looked down at the frightened young woman. Her wide blue eyes stared at him like she fully expected death to follow his arrival. How could he explain that he meant her no harm? That he had killed her husband to defend himself? He took a step toward her.
"Do not eat my babe," she said.
Rollo glanced at the belly as big as she was. "I only want the animals." He sheathed his sword and reached for the harnesses.
Gillian struggled to her feet. "You cannot. How can I survive? You killed my husband, did you not?"
Rollo nodded. "He came at me with a sickle." He pointed to the chickens. "Put them in their cages and bring them along."
Panic pressed Gillian against the stall. "Are you capturing me too, then?"
"I only mean to see you cared for. I killed your man. I will not see you starve because of it. You will come with me...willing or not. Not might hurt the babe."
Gillian's fear doubled. He was threatening her. Unconsciously she caressed the child within her. If slavery meant her baby's survival, what choice did she have? Alone, with no means of support, they would surely starve.
"You will not harm my child?" she asked, trying to keep the shiver from her voice.
"You and the babe will not be harmed."
How good was the word of a people who stole and killed? How long would she and her baby survive if she fought him?
She gauged his might and began to quiver. With one hand he could strike her down and do as he wished. Or she could follow as bidden and pray her acquiescence would gain her some favor.
"Well?"
Gillian gave a single nod. It took her only a minute to find the twig and leather cage that had been used when she bought her six chickens. It was where she had placed it the year before for safe-keeping. It took a little longer to load the fluttering mass of feathers. When she was done, she tilted her chin at the huge Northerner, forcing a show of bravery she did not feel.
"To the ship," Rollo said.
She walked out the door with the chickens, and he followed with her horse and cow.
Gillian stole a glance to where Evan's body lay face down in the sparse sod. He had run outside in only his breeches - no shirt, no shoes - all to save a barrel of ale that didn't exist. He had drunk it the month before. His back was pooled with blood from the Northerner's fatal wound. The sickle he had brandished lay by his side.
Drunken fool.
It didn't occur to her to grieve. There was no emotional bond to wound her heart, not like there had been when her mother and father passed on. Her mind said, "What a pity," then her thoughts moved on to more incongruous things such as the pail of milk left in the cottage and the bag of seeds around her neck.
She had never been more frightened, there was no doubt of that. So much so she couldn't ask the towering giant next to her if she might retrieve her clothing or the things she had for the baby from the cottage. She fixed her gaze on the ship before her while her footsteps echoed the pounding of her heart.
Two Gaill men caught her attention. Both were bearded as was the man beside her. The first, dark and scowling, marched male captives up the ramp. Twelve in all, single, young, strong. Gillian recognized eleven as Evan's drinking companions. The twelfth was a novice monk, Seamus. She was grateful no fathers or husbands were among them.
The second man stood at the prow, surveying the scene before him. Gillian was too far away to see his features, but his stalwart stance identified him as a leader of men. He wore no helmet, only a headband to keep his shoulder length, blond hair secure from the wind.
He was powerfully built, his shoulders filled the tunic he wore. A red cloak was tossed back over those shoulders, and every so often it flared like a banner in the breeze.
A woman stepped up beside him - a smaller, feminine version of himself. Wife? Sister? It was difficult to know.
"Hasten, man!" the dark haired man yelled at her captor. Then he chortled. "If you were going to find a bride, you could have found one less used, Rollo."
Gillian looked up at her captor's impassive features, questioning him with her eyes.
"Do not worry," he assured her. "All is well. Have a care on the ramp. 'Tis a little steep."
She juggled the caged chickens to her left hand, and lifted her skirts with her right. A steadying hand grasped her elbow and took the cage. Gillian looked up, expecting to see Rollo. Instead, she found eyes the color of the forest looking back at her.
"Easy up. Freyda will settle you." He indicated the woman Gillian had seen by his side. She stood at the top of the ramp waiting for them.
Gillian accepted the help offered, surprised at their consideration of her when she was to be nothing more than a slave.
"Rollo, I should like the tale that goes with this lady's presence. Freyda, see she is comfortable."
The woman smiled and offered her hands in greeting. "By what name may I call you?"
"Gillian, daughter of Conor and Gwynneth." Again she was being treated more as an honored guest than as a slave. Cautious of trickery, she held her tongue.
While the leader and Rollo put her animals in the hold and set the chickens aside, Freyda led her to a row of skin bags lined with furs.
"This is where I sleep with my son, my brother, and Rollo. You will be warm and dry for our journey," she told her.
A young red-headed boy smiled at her. "I am Erik."
"And your brother?" Gillian asked Freyda.
"He is Andor," she replied.
"Where are we going?"
"Iceland."
Gillian eased down onto a pile of skins. She had heard tales of that place also. Fertile, green land. Mountains that smoked yet were topped with ice. But if barbarians could be respectful despite the stories she'd been told, perhaps Iceland's tales were also false. She swallowed the tears that threatened to choke her and prayed for the strength to keep her wits about her.
Andor listened to Rollo tell of his murder of the young woman's husband. It was not uncommon for him to take her in. As a boy, Rollo had once killed a nursing doe. The guilt so overwhelmed him, he sought out the fawn and raised it on his own. Rollo's problem now was what to do with her now that he had her. He had no need of a slave girl and no desire to wed.
Andor watched her as they rowed out to sea. She stared around her with those ocean blue eyes of hers wide and fearful. Eat her babe - where would she get a thought such as that?
By Freyda's reckoning, she was not long from delivering. They had until that time to prove that she and her child would come to no harm with them. But what to do with her?
He did not like the idea of having her as a slave, yet there was no question of her being cast aside. Andor supposed she could simply join his strange household of widowed people and one very gentle man.
He watched Leif saunter toward them, a smirk upon his lips. Andor knew he meant to tease Rollo. Although such jibes normally did not bother the younger man, this time Andor was sensitive to the emotional devastation Rollo was dealing with. Despite the fact he had merely been defending himself, Rollo would never forgive himself for what he deemed a senseless killing.
Leif pounded Rollo's back with an open palm. It had little effect on the burly blacksmith.
"Shall we prepare the bridal ale?" Leif asked with a hearty chuckle.
"Leave him be," Andor said. "She is not to be his bride."
Leif rubbed his pointed beard as he studied Rollo. "If 'twas a slave girl you wanted then, why not pick one not so big with child?"
Andor stood between the two. "I said leave him be."
Leif bowed his head in mock acquiescence before he turned away. His dark eyes rested on the red-haired beauty sitting where Freyda had put her. Andor had no trouble reading his expression. If she were a slave and not yet claimed, she was fair game for any man.
Gillian did not miss the gleam in the dark man's eyes as he walked toward her, and knew his intent was not to be courteous. His long, skinny legs closed the distance between them too fast for Gillian's liking. She scrambled to her feet and dashed for the rail. Better to drown in the sea than to have the ugly Gaill violate her.
Leif jumped forward and snagged her arm. Gillian swung wildly with her free hand, clipping his chin. His expression changed from one of humorous victory to utter rage. With jaw clenched in fury, he raised his arm.
Andor caught his wrist in a bone-crushing grip. "I cannot say how you treat your wife, but this woman you will not beat." He threw Leif's arm away from him, and pulled Gillian behind his protective stance and into Freyda's open arms.
"She is a slave girl," Leif said. "You said no claim has been made of her."
"I said Rollo makes no claim. I did not say I did not."
"And what might be this claim?" Leif demanded to know.
"I claim her as wife."
"By what right?"
Andor remained calm. "'Twas your wife who caused me to lose my wife and child. This woman is adequate compensation for that unpardonable loss." Leif would not dare argue with that logic. He turned to the woman behind him. "Gillian, daughter of Conor and Gwynneth, what say you? My wife has passed to the other world. Iceland can be an unforgiving land for one alone. Will you be the keeper of the keys to my properties and partner me?"
Gillian looked from Andor to Leif and back again. Honorable marriage to one, enslavement to the other. As with her decision to go with Rollo, there seemed little choice. At least Andor had done the unheard of by asking her preference, and he and his had been kind to her...so far. She had endured her life with Evan - it could be no worse with Andor. And it was not the first time Gaill had married Gaedhil.
"Marriage to you."
There was a flicker of a smile on Andor's lips before he turned to Rollo. "You took her in. I look upon you as guardian. What bride-price do you place on this woman?"
A crowd had gathered around. Rollo could not answer. Gillian's standing among his people would be reflected by the price he asked for her. Too low would be an insult, too high might anger Andor.
"Let me offer a bride-price then," Andor said.
Rollo gave a single nod.
In a voice loud enough for all to hear, Andor said, "I offer forty ounces of silver and one-quarter of my land."
There was a collective gasp, followed by the low hum of murmuring. The significance was not lost on Gillian - Rollo had just become an independent man.
"Do you agree?" Andor extended his hand to Rollo.
With a broad smile, the other man accepted. A handshake sealed the betrothal.
"She comes to you with a fine dowry," Rollo said. "Six chickens, a milch cow, a fine plow horse, and enough seed to plant your land thrice over."
He removed the bag from around Gillian's shoulders and passed it to Andor. So much had happened since she boarded the ship, she had forgotten she had it. Andor walked to a large wooden chest in his sleeping area. He unlocked it and removed a small, gold-festooned box which he also unlocked. Gillian heard coins clink as he measured out a portion into a pouch. Once he was done, the box and chest were relocked, and he returned to them.
"'Tis with great honor I pay this bride-price." Andor presented the pouch to Rollo.
Rollo bowed his head slightly to show his respect then handed the pouch to Gillian.
She frowned. "I do not understand."
Freyda slipped her fingers over her shoulder. "'Tis yours. Your bride-price. It stays with you always and passes to the children of your marriage."
With shaking fingers Gillian accepted the money. She felt a sudden rush of tears. It was she who had become well off, not Rollo. In less than an hour's time, she had seen more kindness among a people she had been told were barbarians than she ever saw in the year of living with a man of her own kind. Was it trick or truth? At that moment, she couldn't trust herself to guess.
"Our stores are low," Andor said to all. "We cannot have a wedding feast 'til we reach Iceland. But break out the ale so that my bride and I might drink before you."
There was a bit of scurrying about and in short time two cups of ale were placed in Andor's hands. In solemn regard, he gave one to Gillian then linked her arm through his. As they drank together, Gillian was aware of the muscle which flexed against her arm. He was as strong as she had first thought - in spirit as well as body.
Their cups drained, they faced each other once more. Each person aboard drank in their honor, then a cheer went out among the small group, and everyone settled back to their tasks.
"Freyda, see my wife has the things she needs. I must speak with Rollo."
Gillian stared at his back as he walked away with the other man. Maybe it was the heady effects of the ale, or perhaps it was simply events catching up with her. Whatever it was, her tongue had finally found itself.
"Is that it? Am I to be dismissed? You call this a wedding? I call it foolery. I know your ways are heathen and you have not embraced the Christian faith, but you have lost your mind if you think I am willing to accept this as proper."
She had drawn attention their way once more. There were titters of laughter among her captured villagemen.
"Maybe the wedding night will make her feel more proper wed," a man shouted from the rear.
Gillian jammed her fists at her sides and stomped toward Andor. "Is that what this is about? Tell her she is wed and she is yours to bed?"
Andor stared down into eyes the color of fiery blue diamonds. She had spice to her - he liked that. His property would be well protected by her in his absence.
"I married to protect you, but I am thinking it might be me who needs the protection...from you." With a smile, he put a hand on her shoulder and turned her around until he could pull her back against him. Gillian stiffened.
"The lady wants a proper Christian ceremony," he said, addressing the crowd. "Is there a man among those captured who might perform this deed?"
"Seamus trained as a monk," a man called out. "He'll be knowin' the words."
Andor lifted a questioning brow Gillian's way. She pursed her lips, still unsure as to how proper this would be. Finally, she relented.
"Unbind our captives," Andor said. "They will travel with us or jump to the sea, whichever suits them. Send Seamus forward."
A young man with the face of a ferret was pushed to them, and a second ceremony performed.
"Is there something else you require, wife?" Andor asked when they were done.
"No, 'twill do."
"Then I graciously request leave of you that I might conduct my business with Rollo." He took one of her work-roughened hands in his and bowed low over it. As he righted himself, he paused long enough to kiss her knuckles. After a wink to her, he stepped away with Rollo.
Gillian caught the sparkle of mischief in his eyes. He had deliberately mocked her and the sanctity of the Christian ceremony she had requested. She crossed her arms on top of her belly and tapped her foot. She felt Freyda's hand on her arm.
"I welcome you as sister. I hope we will be as close as Astrid and I were."
"Who is Astrid?"
"Andor's first wife. She, my husband, and several of our people were lost in a storm not long ago. She was trying to save Thora when a wave washed her into the sea."
Freyda motioned with her head, and Gillian saw an expectant woman sitting near the hold. Her head was bent low, as if she sought to hide herself.
"You and yours will come to no harm in Andor's home. You will be protected and well cared for. My brother is a good man."
Gillian thought it best to make that determination on her own.
"Come," Freyda said. "I have some bolts of cloth which will do for you and the babe. We must work quickly so the babe does not arrive with nothing to wear."
She took Gillian to a chest filled with cloth and soft leathers. The colors were striking - red, blue, green, and goldenrod. Gillian caressed the linen. It was well-made and would be comfortable against the skin.
Freyda pulled a length of blue out and draped it over Gillian's shoulder. "'Twill be difficult to size while you are with child."
"The wait is not long," Gillian said. "I can make do. My wee one has naught."
She nodded. "Then we shall plan for the child now and you after. If need be, we might borrow from Thora."
Still suspicious, Gillian listened to Freyda plan for the child, adding a preference from time to time. From the way of things, it looked like her baby would have more than she had managed to gather in the eight months previous. Gillian felt her discomfort ease, then drew herself up short.
Where is your grief, girl?
Evan had been killed only hours before. Why hadn't she cried? Why didn't she mourn? She rested her hands on her belly and stole a glance at Andor - her new husband. He and Rollo sat with their backs to her, their heads bent close in conversation. A strange man he was. To lose a wife and take another? To protect her, he said. And to have a helpmate for his lands.
Gillian narrowed her eyes. And for what else? What man didn't want that? They were all nothing more than rutting beasts. Well, you wed him so now you have to do your wifely duty, her conscience scolded.
It couldn't be as bad as the first time with Evan. Still, he was a stronger man. Gillian felt tears prick and blinked them back. She'd get through it, just like with Evan.
When night had fallen and she eased into her sleeping skins, Gillian kept telling herself that over and over. One by one those around her settled down. A few snores drifted to her ears. She prayed he would not seek her out, but he did. As he approached, Gillian's courage failed. She squeezed her eyes shut and lay stiffly on her back. There was a draft of cold air as Andor raised the skins and furs, then she felt the warmth of his body beside her.
"Please have a care." Her voice quivered with apprehension. "Be done with me quick and please do not hurt my babe."
Andor leaned up on his elbow to study her face in the pale moonlight. She was genuinely frightened. He recalled his wedding night with Astrid. She, too, had been afraid, yet her trust in him had been implicit. He had not disappointed her. There was no trust in this one. No desire. No love. Only his need, his responsibility, to protect her.
"I have only just lost my wife and the babe she carried. My heart is still too wounded to want another woman."
Her blue eyes flashed open. "But you wed me."
"To protect you from Leif, not to take you to my bed," he replied. "But we will not let the others know our secret or Leif might say our marriage is invalid. Agreed?"
Gillian nodded her consent, and Andor lay back down.
"There is one thing I would like of you," he said.
"That is?"
"May I touch the babe?"
She groped for his hand and placed it on her belly. The baby responded with a kick. Andor jerked back.
Gillian giggled. "'Tis all right." She put his hand back.
Andor marveled at the life rolling within her. His fingers followed the movement, softly caressing the mound.
Tears welled up in Gillian's throat. It was so tender a gesture, so unexpected. How had she known what she missed from Evan until this moment? She started to cry for the emptiness of her life with Evan, for the generosity of people who were supposed to be barbarians, and for this man who had lost his beloved wife and child.
Andor gathered her close. "Hush now. All will be well. I meant not to hurt you."
Gillian couldn't speak for her tears. All she could do was put his hand back on her belly and cry against his welcome shoulder.
by Catherine Snodgrass
ISBN 1-55316-115-7
Copyright © 2003 Catherine Snodgrass
1875 New York City
Libby Claiborne paused, her cup of tea poised halfway to her lips. Odd, this feeling that persisted. She had spent the day trying to shake it, yet it came back in full force the minute Clayton left her alone. She felt as if she was on the brink of some great event and that each step she took brought her closer and closer to it. She had no idea whether that something was rainbows or a giant chasm.
She slipped her cup onto its saucer with nary a sound and folded her hands beneath the linen napkin on her lap. Where was Clayton? He had excused himself ten minutes before after spotting what he called a business acquaintance, then darted away, leaving her alone in the crowded restaurant.
Every fiber of Libby's being told her he lied, of course, even though her heart begged it not to be so. Yet, she had known her stepbrother all her life. When had she ever been wrong about him? Tonight, no matter how cleverly disguised, the signs were all there, even if she tried to deny them. Clayton was plotting.
Perhaps that was the reason for the strange feelings. It made sense when she dared consider it. Clayton knew how much she detested these displays. Yet, nothing she said seemed to make a difference to him.
She should have seen it coming. He had been far too complacent these last few months, far too willing to let her do things her way. It was she who had been lulled into complacency-so much so she didn't hesitate to accept his invitation. Over dinner his charm was impeccable. She should have known it was a ruse. Why was she so blind to that which she could easily spot in others?
At one time, she had adored him. Then Libby would have done anything he asked. She did do anything he asked. That was before she discovered his true nature. No more. Clayton could plan to his heart's content. She would have no part in it no matter what threats he hurled her way.
Libby tossed her napkin on the table and snatched up her reticule. Enough was enough. They had been under his thumb too long. She was a woman now and it was time she took an open stand against him, time to stop being afraid, time to free her mother, grandmother, and herself from his prison.
A waiter rushed over to pull out her chair when he saw she meant to depart. She spared a hastily uttered word of thanks, then jumped up...and crashed into the most solid bodied male she had ever encountered. Fingers of steel grasped her upper arms to keep her from teetering into the dumbstruck waiter. Libby thought for a moment that the waiter's concern was for her until she watched his widened gaze drift over her to the man who held her.
"Mr. Blackburn, sir. Please forgive..."
A voice rich with humor replied as he brushed the waiter's apologies away, "My fault entirely. If I hadn't been so preoccupied with my own thoughts, I never would have run into this lovely young lady."
Libby dared a glance upward, slowly, her breath suspended with her heart as she did so. Her gaze drifted over the cream-colored silk shirt to the Adam's apple perched above a diamond-studded cravat. His lips twitched with the effort to keep laughter at bay. And finally, her gaze locked onto olive green eyes, earthy eyes that sparkled with the same humor that laced his words.
Their gazes locked in silent communion and in that moment, Libby felt a recognition she could not explain-two ancient souls greeting each other after a long absence. She forced herself to focus outward on the man, not inward, and in doing so, the feeling faded. The mischievous glint she first saw was gone now-replaced by that odd look most people gave when they first met her.
Her eyes, a vivid shade of violet, never failed to enthrall male and female alike. Had she been of a more flirtatious nature, she could have left a string of broken hearts and jealous enemies in her wake. Instead, Libby viewed her physical oddity with disdain for the awkwardness it created. She braced herself against the invariable comments he would make.
His hold on her loosened as his smile returned. "I seem to have made a tumbled mess of you."
He motioned to her hat, and for the first time Libby realized it had been knocked askew, along with her hair. One tendril of her black curls drooped over her eye while her emerald colored hat pulled the rest of it to the opposite side.
Libby dusted her fingers over the hat, afraid to touch it for fear her hair would come tumbling down. The gentleman reached out to help, then pulled back. His bewildered expression brought a giggle to her throat.
"You look as if I've been trampled and dragged through the mud. Is it all that bad?"
"No, not at all," he was quick to reply. "It's just that I want to help, but..." With palms up, he shrugged.
"If there is a ladies sitting room, I can make a few quick repairs, Mr.-"
"Blackburn. Nathaniel Blackburn. And you are?"
"Libby Claiborne."
His smile broadened. "This way, Miss Claiborne."
He reached to cup her elbow, then pulled back and motioned her forward with a sweeping gesture of his arm.
Anxious to keep the favor of both patrons, the waiter scurried ahead, leading them through the dining area at the back of the hotel where the private meeting rooms were located. The attention made Libby feel princess-like-the loyal servant clearing the path before her, the handsome prince faithfully escorting her. It was only after she settled her skirts enough to sit comfortably on the padded bench in the ladies sitting room that she realized-Mr. Blackburn had not uttered a word about her eyes.
Another plus in his favor.
"Goodness gracious. What happened to you?"
Libby glanced in the mirror to the small blonde woman seated on the padded stool next to her. An attendant smoothed the woman's hair while she studied Libby.
Remembering her purpose in being here, Libby focused on her image in the mirror. She did look a sight, but it was not as bad as she feared.
"I had a minor collision with a gentleman." She pulled the remaining pins from her hat.
The woman waved the attendant away. "Do quit fussing and help her. She needs it more than I."
"I can manage...thank you." But her quivering fingers belied those words.
"Must have been quite a gentleman," the woman replied.
He was quite something, that much was certain. Why else would she feel her skin prickle with heat then awash with chill bumps? At that thought, the sensation overtook her once more. She brushed away goose flesh and gave herself over to the determined attention of the attendant.
It was ridiculous, of course. The man was a stranger. It was his looks that mesmerized her-nothing more. What healthy young woman would not be affected?
Still, those olive colored eyes of his held a mystery she could not fathom. It intrigued her more than his handsome features. If she let her mind fold in upon itself, she could return to that instant when gaze met gaze. At that second, she gained entry to the portal of his soul and he hers.
"There you are, miss." The attendant slid the last hatpin into place and stepped back. "All put to rights."
Still transfixed by her reverie, Libby muttered her thanks while she fumbled in her reticule for a coin.
The blonde woman laughed. "Go. I'll tip her. If you hurry, you might just run into your gentleman again."
Well, naturally, he would wait to check on her welfare-manners decreed it. Libby glanced at the woman. What business was it of hers? Her fine-boned structure was enhanced by the stylish cut of the yards of royal blue silk embracing her. A smile, which had not faded since Libby's arrival, bore no animosity, yet her overt friendliness warned Libby something was not as it seemed.
She curled her fingers around her coin.
"Thank you, but I have it." She pressed the money into the young girl's hand, tilted a parting nod to the other patron, and left.
Even though she knew to expect Nathaniel Blackburn, Libby was quite unprepared for the sight of him lounging against the wall opposite the sitting room. He smiled when she appeared, bringing a tingling feeling of anticipation that started at the tips of her toes and shimmered upward until her entire body was encompassed.
He pushed away from the wall, a motion so fluid Libby likened it to a bird in flight.
"Ah, none the worse for my clumsiness, I'm relieved to see."
"It was I who was at fault," she said. "I was in such a hurry I simply failed to watch where I was going."
"We should not call fault or blame, but instead bless fate which placed each of us in the other's path." He caught her hand in a gentle hold and drew her knuckles to his lips.
Libby held her breath with the kiss he bestowed while the heat from that brand seared her heart.
"Libby...what the devil?"
She started at her brother's sudden arrival and slowly extricated her hand from under Nathaniel's lips. A glower clouded Clayton's dark eyes, but the bluster seemed to have little effect on Nathaniel. He righted himself with no urgency and, in fact, matched the smaller man with a sour look of his own.
"There is no cause for alarm. Miss Claiborne and I collided in the dining room. I was merely apologizing."
"You are unhurt?" Clayton asked.
"Of course."
Suspicion still hovered in his eyes, and for a moment Libby feared he would make a scene.
"You must forgive my brother," she told Nathaniel. "He has a tendency toward over-protectiveness." A mild word to describe Clayton, but she could hardly go into details.
"As any brother should," Nathaniel replied.
Clayton's scowl deepened. Libby laughed nervously, praying this would not turn into a physical altercation.
"Oh, do stop, Clayton. You look positively simian."
The light-hearted insult brought him around, as she knew it would. Much as she disliked him, she linked her arm through his and gave it a gentle tug.
"Come. It's time we went home."
"That's what I was coming to tell you, Libby."
He covered her hand with his, holding her in place. Dread seeped into her stomach, nauseating her.
"I've arranged a séance for tonight. A private room on the second floor."
"No." Had Nathaniel not been there she might had screamed the word, despite the possible consequences. Clayton knew how she hated these gatherings. They were false, not what she was about, not who she was, and certainly nothing she liked participating in. Yet, he continued to persist, despite her protests. Her earlier suspicions were correct.
The door to the sitting room swung open. "Did I hear someone mention a séance?"
Nathaniel gave a slight bow to the nosy blonde from the ladies sitting room. "Lady Raventree...a pleasure to see you again. Your ears are as sharp as ever." He motioned to Libby and Clayton. "This gentleman has arranged it."
Lady Raventree clapped her hands. "How delightful. I should love to join you. May I?"
Libby jerked free of Clayton's hold. "Why not? The more, the merrier."
"Splendid. I'll fetch my husband and be right back."
In the wake of her rustling skirts, Libby sliced a glare her brother's way. "For whom am I contacting the spirit world tonight?"
"Mrs. Jimson."
"Clayton, no. I've already explained to her-"
"Tut, tut." He wagged a finger at her as if she were nothing more than a naughty child. "The lady insists on it. Come along now. Time's wasting."
He stepped away expecting her to follow. Libby held her ground. She had spent a month with the woman, trying to ease her through her grief. There was nothing more she could do. It was wrong. All of this was wrong.
Clayton spun around to face her, eyes blazing with anger that she should defy him. Libby felt her resolve crumbling. Too much was at stake-the welfare, the very existence of those she loved. Resigned, beaten by a pattern she had known too long, she took a step toward him.
Strong fingers curled around her arm, holding her back. She looked up into Nathaniel's olive green eyes. Was that a hint of compassion she saw in those solemn depths?
"Mind if I go along?"
Strangely enough, she did not. She needed strength to get through the next few hours-something she instinctively knew she would receive from Nathaniel. His would be a calming presence in the turmoil to come.
"I would like that," she replied. "You will sit at my right."
Clayton stomped forward. "That's my place."
"Then sit at my left."
"I've promised that place to Mrs. Jimson."
"Then sit to her left or don't sit at all. You fidget too much as it is. If you don't like it, you can cancel the entire thing as far as I'm concerned."
Libby had him cornered. Either way she would win.
Clayton sliced another hateful glare to the man beside her. "He's Nedra Jimson's son."
She searched Nathaniel's face for confirmation or denial. His expression was unreadable, an indication by itself.
"Of course," she said with a smile. "Nathaniel...Nate...from her first marriage. You have a younger sister as well."
Nate answered her smile with one of his own. "Amanda."
"Newly wed and off on a wedding trip," she murmured. "Your mother speaks of you both with such pride."
"Then she, of all people, would not mind my presence."
"And it's fitting you should be there." She turned back to Clayton. "Let's get this over with."
Clayton's face tightened with the effort to keep quiet, an odd reaction considering how he normally loved to pack as many people as possible into these ridiculous séances. She glanced from him to Nate, whose gaze had not faltered from that of the other man. Animosity crackled in the atmosphere between them. Had they been a lower species Libby had no doubt they'd be circling one another.
A challenge was issued and accepted, unspoken yet nonetheless there. Each man drew in a breath simultaneously, nostrils flaring as they did so. Then, each shifted their gaze to her.
"Everything's ready," Clayton said. "We shouldn't keep the others waiting."
Nate cupped her elbow to offer escort. Clayton yanked her away.
"Keep your hands off my sister."
With calm, deadly precision Nate measured off his reply. "They are my hands and it is her body. Only the lady has the right to say where I put them."
It was uncalled for and much too familiar, yet the image evoked sent a chorus of shivers trembling through her. While the two challenged each other once more, Libby closed her eyes to ease the sensations that overwhelmed her. Images leaped to mind-his fingers curled with hers, his lips pressed to hers, their bodies twined together. She opened her eyes and gasped, finding the men staring at her.
Embarrassment flooded her cheeks. Had she said something while her mind wandered in sinful pursuit of pleasure?
A glance at Nate renewed the feeling. Her heart beat in breathless anticipation. Who was this man to her? An ancient friend from long ago? A future love? How she hated not knowing for herself what she so easily discerned for others.
One thing was certain-her attraction to this handsome stranger was overwhelming. She could succumb to his charm in less time than it took to think about it. Once spellbound, she could deny him nothing. His hands would be free to roam her body wherever and however he chose.
Libby fanned herself in an effort to cool her flushed face. "For goodness sake, can we get on with it? The two of you are giving me a pounding headache."
They reached for her at the same time. To avoid another confrontation, she took a step back, pivoted on the ball of her foot, and headed for the staircase. Footsteps padded on the carpet runner behind her. At least the men had the sense to keep a respectful distance.
A footman bowed as they approached the bottom of the stairs. The black marble steps swept upward like the wings of a giant raven. Libby shivered, but any attempts to analyze her impressions were squelched by Lady Raventree's return with a gentleman introduced as her husband.
Libby longed to brand the woman a liar, so intent was her impression of subterfuge. That, coupled with the fact that the resemblance between the couple was striking enough to call them siblings left no doubt in her mind that they were frauds.
She paused with her foot on the bottom stair. Where did that place Nate, since he was acquainted with them? A glance his way did nothing but jumble her thoughts.
"Libby?" There was more warning against hesitancy than concern in Clayton's voice, but then there always had been.
"I'm all right, Clayton. Lead the way." She lifted her skirts, preparing to continue.
Behind her, Lord Raventree snickered. "If she's a psychic, you'd think she would know the way."
Libby whirled around. It was bad enough that Clayton had coerced her into this-now she was dealing with detractors before she started.
She shot her arm forward, nailing the couple with one point of her index finger. "You are no longer welcome."
Raventree's jaw worked, yet words escaped him. His shock was feigned. He no more wished to participate than Libby did. It made her decree even more satisfying. Libby gathered her skirts once more and continued her ascent.
"Oh, please," Lady Raventree called out. "Do reconsider. My husband's views are not mine. I'm a believer. Had I known who you were in the lounge, I would have begged a private audience."
It was all too much-the swirl of emotions, the veil of lies. Libby balled her skirts beneath tight fists. From the top of the staircase, she watched Clayton soothe Lady Raventree while off to the side the woman's husband smirked. At this distance their mannerisms appeared genuine-the lady desperate for communication from the other side, the gentleman wanting no part of it. Yet, Libby knew differently. The aura of their deceit surrounded her whenever she was near them.
Nate stood beside her, surveying the scene below. She turned to him when she heard him sigh, a slow inhale and exhale which bespoke a heavy burden upon his wide shoulders.
"And what about you, Mr. Blackburn? Are you a non-believer as well?"
"Yes, I am a non-believer, but," he turned on a bright smile, "I am willing to be convinced."
She cocked her head to one side. "A challenge, Mr. Blackburn?"
He gave her a slight bow. "My mother is not the only one who grieves. She values your gift. I value her opinion. You'll find me open-minded enough to view your work objectively. As for my friends, I must apologize. They have been at odds since losing a child in birth."
The pain of loss pierced Libby's breastbone, washing away all other sensation. Her attention drawn again to the trio below, she studied Lady Raventree's expressions for validation. Desperation accentuated every move. But how could Libby offer reassurance in the forum tonight? Why breed false hope?
"I'll see you tomorrow...alone," she called down.
Lady Raventree's crystal blue eyes focused upon her, the gratitude and relief there saying what she could not. Clayton pressed a calling card into Lady Raventree's shaking hands, then trotted up the stairs. The image of her fingering the raised lettering followed Libby down the hallway to the room arranged for tonight's showing.
One peek at its interior washed all other thought away. Depression pulled her into a pit as dark as the room itself. She crossed the threshold from all the hope the cream and gold corridor presented to a place which echoed her mood.
This was no spur of the moment gathering. Clayton had planned this-from the yards of black muslin draping every inch of the walls to the black cloth covering the small round table in the center of the room, and black rug stretched across the floor. Black to absorb all light and sound. Black to call the spirits. Black as Clayton's miserable heart.
It had probably been an easy task for him to bring his stage earlier in the day. His worry would have been how to convince Libby without creating a scene in the restaurant. She should have realized, should have listened to her own heart as she told others to do. Instead, she failed herself once more, shoving aside the instincts she freely used to help others.
"Libby, dear."
Libby jerked herself from her thoughts to accept the outstretched hands of Nedra Jimson.
She passed a glance over her son. "This is a surprise."
"I simply wanted to see what this was all about, Mother."
"I was referring to the fact that you managed to tear yourself from your busy work schedule long enough to be here."
The undercurrent between them set Libby's nerves on edge. More tension-the last thing she needed. With a forced smile, she squeezed the woman's hands.
"Nedra, what's this about? I thought we discussed this."
She leaned closer, her light blue eyes alive with excitement. "Dear, you need not be so humble. Your brother explained the full extent of your abilities. How could I pass this up?"
She waved a slender hand toward the table and tugged Libby to it. "Come...let's do get started."
A woman of Nedra Jimson's bearing should use her elegance and personality in far better pursuits than trying to reconnect with a dead husband. A fact Libby had tried to impress upon her since their meeting a month before. She thought she had finally succeeded; yet here they were back to the beginning.
Libby paid scant attention as Clayton introduced her to the other four parties in the room. If pressed to close her eyes and name their gender, she could not do so. Her thoughts were turned inside herself.
She slipped into the seat at the head of the table. Each motion felt weighted as if she existed in a dream and those around her were part of the misty periphery of that unreality.
Palms up on the table, she offered her hands to Nate and his mother. And as everyone took their places, she steeled herself for the impact of that first physical contact.
Libby knew Nedra's heart, her pain, her hope. But Nate? True there was the earlier instance, but then she was not aware, not as in tune as now.
She stared into the dancing flame of the lamp perched in the center of the table. Only motion told her Nate had pulled out the chair beside her, for the black draperies surrounding them sucked in all other sound just as it did the light. Her heartbeat quickened, then he slid his palm smoothly into hers.
Warmth, comfort, reassurance. He did not press her knuckles into the wooden surface, but cradled her hand in his. Protective.
Clayton turned the wick down until it was the barest of flickers. "We will begin. Everyone close your eyes."
Libby did so. The image of Nate drawing her hand to his lips drifted through her head. If she concentrated hard enough she could feel again the heat of that touch drifting up her arm.
"Silence, everyone," Clayton said. "Libby needs silence to reach from this world to the next."
Ridiculous, Libby told herself. Any impressions she received were from those living, not those departed. Why did people need the farce of a séance for her to tell them what they wanted to know, when she could easily do so without it? She released a long sigh in the hope of easing her tension. With the following intake of breath came another more horrifying feeling.
Knife-like pain stabbed deep into the pit of her stomach. Libby jerked free of Nate's and Nedra's hands. Nate sucked in a breath. Her fingernails had gouged his palm. An apology lodged in her throat. She curled her fists into her midsection.
Too late. It was too late. Panic squeezed an ugly grip around her heart, making each quickening beat a thump against her breastbone.
"No...dear God, no," she whispered through gasps of air.
She was vaguely conscious of Nate's presence by her side, of Clayton's cranking up the lamp, of the fear paling the guests' faces.
"I...I have to go." She stood so fast she toppled the chair. The door. Where was the door? All around was black.
"I need out now!"
"Libby, stop it!
She ducked Clayton's reach and butted against Nate's hard body. At the touch of his gentle hands upon her shoulders, she spun around.
"Help me. I need to leave now. Before it's too late."
If he hesitated, it was so brief she could not notice. With her tucked protectively under his arm, he strode to the far wall and yanked open the door behind the black sheeting. A cool rush of air washed over her, yet the call that etched deep into her soul grew stronger. Stifling a muffled cry, she broke free of Nate and ran for the hotel exit.
Nate had to be out of his mind to chase a young woman down the streets of New York. All it would take was one overly ambitious policeman to see them and he would be locked up quicker than he could bat an eye. And then she would be gone, swallowed by the crowd that wandered along Fifth Avenue. In her current state, anything could happen to her.
Why the devil wasn't her brother concerned? A more troubling question-why was he?
He found it disconcerting to have so many emotions at play-emotions that surfaced unbidden. Libby Claiborne elicited strange responses from him-passion one minute, protectiveness the next. And now fear-fear for her, for her safety, her well-being. It made the task he'd set before himself doubly hard to carry out.
If only she wasn't so beautiful. One look into her eyes and he was smitten. Yet, there was supposed to be deceit behind her innocent smile. How many had fallen victim to her and her brother's schemes? How many well-to-do widows found themselves suddenly destitute because of this pair? This time they'd chosen the wrong widow to bilk. He and his sister would do anything and everything to keep his mother's inheritance in the correct hands-his mother's.
That left him with only one unsettling question. Why was he chasing after Libby Claiborne when he should be cheering her flight? The answer was just as disturbing. It was those eyes of hers-violets in a snow bank-wide and fearful.
There could be no feigning the panic he saw in her face. It instinctively called to him to pull her close and protect her from whatever had frightened her so.
She was always just ahead of him, ducking around passersby, before she stopped to scan the busy street. Not finding whatever it was she sought, she hurried on, her features frozen with that mask of panic. Nate pressed on, despite frowns from those around him. At this rate, it wouldn't be long before someone challenged him. He was surprised the chase had gone on as long as it had. If it were he watching the scene from the sidelines...
"Libby, wait!"
To his amazement, she spun around. Relief crept through her panic-stricken features. Her shimmering eyes reached out to him, pleading for help. This was no game. Her fear was real. His step faltered. The truth was what he sought. Why hesitate now?
He vowed to protect his mother at any cost. Little did he realize payment would begin so soon. Libby's trust was his entry into her world. All he had to do now was take it.
Nate raced forward before his prey could slip away. She reached out to him as he neared, her slender fingers quivering.
"A cab. I need a cab."
With a casual lift of his arm, Nate motioned to one across the street. The driver acknowledged him with a nod and maneuvered horse and conveyance toward them. He stopped with such precision all Nate need do was reach for the handle.
"Thank you. I'll take it from here."
Clayton swooped down upon them with the silence of an owl. Issuing a curt "get in" to Libby, he shoved her into the cab then slammed the door in Nate's face and ordered the driver on.
Nate watched the coach disappear, the horse's steps on the paved street swallowed by those that surrounded it. His hand stung. Glancing into his palm, he saw the neat slice left by Libby's fingernail. It wasn't large, hardly bigger than a paper cut. Nate rubbed it with his thumb. She'd gotten to him, deep beneath his skin. They were part of each other now.
He snapped his attention back where it belonged. Ridiculous notions, that's all it was. He had let himself be carried away with the moment, that was all. He shook his head over how easily he'd been duped. Violet eyes had nearly turned him from his objective. He mustn't let it happen again.
Nate tucked his hands in his pockets to warm them against the November chill. A raindrop splattered against his shoulder, then another until the sky opened up to drench him. Of course, it would start raining-his overcoat and hat were back at the hotel. Thankfully, it was only three blocks away. He flipped up his collar and trudged on while the downpour made puddles around him.
By the time he reached his destination, he was chilled to the bone and twice as damp. His disposition had soured with each step, bringing his tolerance to an end. At this point, he couldn't say which was worse-his mother's obsession with spiritualism or Amanda's equal obsession to stop it.
His sister and her husband waited for him in the foyer, their facade of Lord and Lady Raventree tucked away for use another time. Amanda paced a slow circuit while Andrew rocked precariously on the back legs of his chair. The coal brazier between them beckoned Nate with its warmth.
He stepped forward, hands before him to catch that first wave of heat. A footman barred his progress long enough to shove a hot toddy into his icy fingers, then slipped back unnoticed to the nether regions of the hotel.
"You look half drowned," Amanda told him.
"I feel half drowned," he replied. "The weather turned quick out there. Is Mother gone?"
"Left with her friends right after Clayton Ashby took off," Andrew told him.
"Did she see you?"
"No. She was too busy talking."
"Good. Everything went better than I expected."
"Except for the fact that our prey took off like bats from hell," Amanda said. "They're suspicious."
Nate stared at the cut on his palm, his gaze focused inward, remembering. "I don't know...Did you see the look in her eyes? She was genuinely afraid. She ran down those stairs like the devil was after her."
Andrew snorted. "Of course she did. You were right behind her. What happened up there?"
Nate sipped his toddy and closed his eyes as the liquid warmth slithered down his throat. Violet eyes, wide and fearful, appeared. He felt the panic, the desperation. It was no act.
He opened his eyes and slugged down the rest of his drink, unconsciously shivering against the onslaught of brandy. "I don't know what happened."
Amanda cast her gaze to the ceiling. "Good heavens, you sound as in awe of her as Mother. I never thought I'd be seeing your head turned by a pretty smile."
"My head isn't turned." Nate squared his shoulders, physically and mentally affirming his position. For extra measure, he tightened his jaw. "My course is true. Nothing will cause me to lose direction. Those two have bilked their last."
Andrew's gaze flitted across his features. "Personally...I think you've met your match. Let the authorities handle it."
Amanda looked at her husband from under a scowl. "Fat lot of good that will do when the likes of Horace Greeley touts their cause and sings their praises. We're handling this ourselves. No one is stealing my mother's inheritance. I will exhaust every effort to protect what my father left to her. Continue with me or step aside."
Andrew gave a slow shake of his head, as if conceding to a stubborn child. "Oh, you can expect me to continue. Someone has to act as the voice of reason-since the two of you have none. I swear, if I had known I was marrying into such a stubborn family-"
"You would have done so all the same," Nate finished for him.
A smile cut Andrew's frown. A chuckle followed. "That I would. I'll call for the carriage. I think we could all do with a warm bed."
Nate watched Amanda watch her husband walk away. A myriad of tender emotions danced in her blue eyes while envy stirred Nate's heart. Theirs was a definite match, born of love and lust and destined to last beyond eternity.
"You made an excellent match there, Amanda. Why not let this business with Mother go and concentrate on your own life and happiness."
She tore her gaze from Andrew and directed it upon her brother. "How can you say that? How can you so casually toss this problem aside? By your words you vowed to the only father you have ever known to take care of Mother when he passed. You would break that word?"
"I am not tossing Mother to the streets. If she's happy, if it takes her mind off her grief, why not let her be?"
"And fritter away all Papa left to her?"
Nate winced from the shrillness in her voice, and suddenly discovered that although he loved his sister very much, at that moment there wasn't much to like.
"I will care for her," he said. "If she should spend down to her last or even before, Mother will always have a home with me."
Amanda laughed, a caustic sound with no humor in its intent. "In that draughty old house? The place is falling down around your ears. Chester and Mrs. Knott are old. And you would add Mother? Who would care for her? You are never there. You are too buried in business. You don't have a wife nor any prospects for one."
Nate felt a tick in his temple-the beginning of another of those horrid headaches that plagued him of late. He was tired of all this. Tired of Amanda's screeching. Tired of chasing villains who may or may not exist. All he wanted was to reach the comfort of his bed before the aching began.
With a smirk lifting one corner of his mouth, he stared down at Amanda. "I might have more prospects than you realize. I'm certain I could find a wife if I cared to look. Perhaps I could even convince Libby Claiborne to marry me."
Amanda sucked in a gasp. "You can't be serious."
Nate fought the laughter that threatened over her indignation. This was the most fun he'd had in a long time. Playing through the game, he stretched his hands toward the brazier, letting the warmth strip away the last vestiges of chill from his fingers.
Amanda grabbed his sleeve, crushing the wet wool in her grip. "My God, Nathaniel, you're not planning to marry her are you?"
Nate swiveled his head her way. He focused on the bridge of her nose lest her piercing blue eyes distract him.
"It's perfect, don't you think? Married to me she will be under my control. All she possesses will be mine. Should she take from Mother, all I need do is return it. Really, Amanda, we should have thought of it sooner. It's decided. I'll marry Libby Claiborne."
She shoved his arm from her grasp. "How can you mock the sanctity of marriage? Nate, it is forever! Don't be a fool! I won't let you ruin your life, not even for Mother."
Nate squared his shoulders. "I'm a busy man. I don't have time for games. And so, little sister, there is nothing you can do to stop me."
She raised her chin to a haughty tilt. "Would you care to bet on that? We may have different fathers, but I can be just as determined as Mother and you. By my word, I'll see your farce of a marriage never occurs."
"I've made up my mind. As you pointed out, I did vow to take care of Mother. This is the perfect way to do so."
"I'm quite certain that when Papa made the request he did not intend for you to take it to this extent."
"Well, he isn't around to clarify, now is he? I know...Perhaps we could get the great and wondrous Libby Claiborne to contact him."
She snapped her skirts back and stomped toward the exit where Andrew motioned for them to come.
Nate chuckled in her wake. This should keep her going for a few days. He waited for her to make some mention of their discussion to her husband. The footman's reappearance with their coats and wraps kept her silent.
The short ride to his home was also quiet, Amanda's frosty demeanor equal to that of the weather. He pressed into the worn leather, hoping to generate some warmth to chase the chill from his bones and ease the ache building in his head. It was a futile effort at best, and by the time the driver pulled to a stop in front of the twin light posts marking the walkway to Nate's front door, he was shivering. The rain had lessened to an annoying drizzle, but the biting cold doubled.
Amanda slipped her arm through his and tugged him toward the house while Andrew paid the fare.
"You look frozen. We need to get you inside so Chester and Mrs. Knott can warm us all up."
Nate suppressed the urge to groan. They'd be warmed all right, and coddled and fussed over. It was more like having an extra set of parents than having servants. The couple was an institution in their own right-firmly established before he was born. They remained after his father's death, through his mother's very successful second marriage, and when Nate reached manhood, they followed him to the Blackburn house that was his birthright.
The door opened before they could reach it. Chester peeled off their coats once they crossed the threshold, then scooted them into the drawing room where Mrs. Knott waited with steaming mugs of apple cider and a warm plate of shortbread cookies. Nate was ten years old again, wrapped in loving warmth after a day's play in the snow.
"You spoil us, Mrs. Knott," Amanda said with a smile that the old lady readily returned.
"Then my job is done," she replied. "Now you finish up while Chester stokes a fire in your rooms and I put in the bed warmers."
"Good heavens, man, when are you going to hire some help for that poor old couple," Andrew asked when she left. "They are positively ancient."
Nate frowned and stared into the fire. Odd how another's perspective could change one's own. Chester and Mrs. Knott were old, but then they had always been so. That they would be incapable or overburdened by the duties they thrust upon themselves had never occurred to him.
His gaze fell to the threadbare carpet at his toes-another ancient item, one of which he was all too aware. It could be lumped into the moth-eaten drapes and peeling wallpaper. Nate had spent so much of his time ensuring the Blackburn shipbuilding business thrived that he'd seriously neglected the rest of his inheritance-a legacy his stepfather had kept intact for him.
It was a matter of priorities, Nate told himself. He simply chose to invest his funds in his business instead of his home. What did it matter? It wasn't as if he did any entertaining, not that he had time to do so if he wanted. The business was his life. Most of his time was spent at the shipyard. Still, the place was huge. Chester and Mrs. Knott could probably do with a little help maintaining it from time to time.
"Perhaps Nate intends to leave the hiring of servants to his wife," Amanda said.
"Wife!"
Nate gulped down his cider and set the cup aside with a thud as he stretched to his feet. "I don't really care to hash this scene out again, so I'll leave the two of you to gossip."
He let long strides put much needed distance between himself and the couple, but once he reached the foot of the staircase, his energy waned. Lately it seemed he was constantly battling dragons with a toothpick. A business struggling for survival against rival companies, a house falling in more disrepair each day, the death of his stepfather, his mother's grief pushing her into spiritualism. The only bright spot this past few months had been Amanda's marriage to Andrew. But that too reminded him of the emptiness in his heart.
Weary with his role, Nate trudged to his room. The railing's dark wood gleamed from polish, a startling contrast to the gray-green carpet beneath his feet.
"The place really doesn't look all that bad," he muttered to himself, and lightly caressed the railing.
Reaching the top, he grabbed hold of the post. The ball came off in his hand. Who was he kidding? The place was falling down around his ears. He seated the ball once more and walked on.
Even if he were serious about marrying Libby Claiborne, one look at this house and she would run the other way. The thought of her raised the tingling in his hand. He curled his fingers into his palm and forced the sensation away. As it subsided, his headache grew.
"Ah, there you are," Mrs. Knott said with a broad smile. "Everything's all ready. You tuck yourself in and get a good night's rest. Lord knows you could use one."
Finally...an ally in his quest for bed. Rest was definitely what he needed. He hoped it did not elude him as it was prone to do. "What would I do without you and Chester?"
She chuckled merrily. "Oh, young sir, I expect you'd manage. You've always managed. Stalwart as a rock, with a heart of gold, I've always said. Now off to bed with you."
Orders issued, she darted away to prepare Amanda and Andrew's room.
Heart of gold. Nate shook his head. It wasn't a trait he would associate with himself. Workhorse was more appropriate. There had to be more to life than this.
A cheery fire greeted him as he stepped across the threshold. His bed was turned down, beckoning him to lose his troubles in sleep. He stripped his clothing away and slipped into downy comfort. At least here, the signs of a threadbare home were nonexistent. The wooden floors shone around the perimeter of a plush evergreen carpet. The drapes were fresh and sturdy, joining with the solid windows to hold back the elements. All the furnishings from bed to wardrobe to night and washstands were dust free and without mars. It was a start. He'd worry about the rest of the place later.
Nate yanked the feather quilt to his chin and plopped to his side. The mattress sagged, curling around him on both sides until he was sandwiched. He struggled to regain his position. The bed ropes snapped and a half heartbeat later he, mattress, and bedcovers were on the floor.
"I give up."
He closed his eyes and made a mental note to start investing in his home first thing in the morning.
"At least the place is clean." He popped open one eye and glanced around as far as the firelight would allow, then settled down to sleep once more.
Despite his exhaustion, worries, responsibilities, and his pounding head made for a fitful night. It was one of the worst headaches he could recall. As if something inside was trying to get out. Caught in the wedge of his bed, he didn't even have the luxury of tossing and turning. When he did close his eyes, violet eyes haunted him.
"Help me."
Nate jerked up. He scanned the darkest corners of the room. It had seemed so real, that gentle voice of hers, like a whisper, not against his ear, but against his soul.
He snuggled back down, praying sleep would obliterate his unease. No sooner had he closed his eyes than he heard it again-that pleading for help that caressed his subconscious.
"Help me, someone, please."
"This is ridiculous." He snapped the covers and crawled out of bed.
He dressed in the warmest clothing he possessed, grumbling as he did so, then layered himself with overcoat and two pair of woolen mittens.
"You've lost your mind, Blackburn. Gone downright daft." He wrapped a muffler around his neck, plopped on a hat, then trotted downstairs and back into a night gone frigid.
The drizzle was constant, slicking the sidewalks in a dangerous sheen of water as he trudged down the street. If the temperature continued to drop, snow would layer the city by morning.
Except for a few souls trying to make their way home, Nate was alone-even the cabbies had tucked away. Rivers raced down flooded gutters. Ice began to nestle along the edges. Only signposts warned Nate when he neared a curb. He approached with caution; afraid he might step wrongly and twist an ankle in the process.
He was a fool to be out here. No one need tell him that, and he cursed his own stupidity in marching in such a determined line to...where?
Nate pulled up short. Just where the devil was he going? He glanced down the street and discovered he was already six blocks from home. Where was his destination? Her house? He had no earthly idea where Libby Claiborne lived. The hotel? She and her brother had already left.
It was crazy...pure insanity. Then he saw her-a huddled black-bundled figure trudging a path perpendicular to his. As he watched her determined march, she tripped and fell, struggled to her feet, then fell again. She lay there unmoving-a black speck sprawled in the gutter. With each second he delayed, the icy water rose to obliterate her face.
Nate ran toward her. She did not acknowledge his approach. For a moment he thought she might be dead. He yanked her face from the puddle, relieved when she gasped for air. Her eyes fluttered open.
"Nate," she whispered. "Please. Help m..."
The words faded as she lost consciousness once more.
"Come on, little one. Let's get you out of this storm and warmed up."
He rolled her into his arms and started down the street.
Nate had gone no farther than one block before he asked himself how he could have assigned her the tag of "little one." He'd met women twice her height who weighed less than she. Despite her curves, she was as solidly built as he, and after two blocks he began to wonder if she might not be just as heavy. By the time he reached his front door, pain stabbed between his shoulder blades and his arms shook from the effort of having to bear her all that distance.
Fearing he would be unable to pick her up again once he put her down, Nate took the stairs two at a time. Then, before the cheery fire in his bedroom, he sank to the floor and relinquished his burden to the warmth. A muffled sound escaped her.
Nate fell back on his haunches and flexed his aching shoulders. Sweat soaked the underside of his clothing while the first sprinklings of snow dappled the outer. He stripped off gloves and coat and draped them over a chair near the hearth, then did the same for Libby. She stirred, fighting to rouse herself. Nate helped her sit. She slumped against him.
With icy fingers, he felt for a pulse. It was slow and steady. So, what kept her from awakening? Had she hit her head when she fell?
Nate scanned her hairline-nothing. The hat, which caused her so much annoyance in the restaurant, was gone. Lost in her tumble or discarded in order for her to use the hooded cloak? He shrugged aside the question and leaned forward to pull the pins from her hair. The raven-colored mass fell to his fingers, draping them in satin. For a moment he was held spellbound until he recalled his purpose.
Gently, carefully, he furrowed his fingers along her scalp, searching for evidence of injury. Finding none left him both relieved and concerned. Something kept her out, but what?
A contented sigh heaved her shoulders. "Feels nice. I'm so cold."
He'd heard of individuals who died from exposure and she was cold...and damp. So was he for that matter. He could roll her from side to side before the fire until she warmed up, or...
He glanced toward the bed. Cuddled together in the valley of the feather bed, they would both be toasty in no time. Trouble was, what would she say when she finally woke? Would she scream foul or bless his ingenuity? What did it matter now? If he didn't do something soon, they'd both wind up freezing.
"Come on, Libby. Try to stay awake. We need to get these wet clothes off you so you can warm up. I'm going to put you in my bed with me. I promise I won't-"
"I know. Trust you. Hurry. Have to hurry." She fumbled for her bodice buttons and fell back. "Help me..."
He knelt before her feet and pulled the laces free from her kid boots. The soft leather was soaked through, ruined. A night before the fire would harden them to clay. Nevertheless, he placed them there, then added his own boots beside hers.
Nate glanced at her stocking-covered toes. How many had he rolled from the calves of woman? How many times had he dropped kisses and nips to the creamy flesh uncovered? It was his favorite pleasure, his greatest excitement. Those limbs pressed to his lips. The contour mapped by his tongue. The strength wrapped around his waist.
"I can't fight this much longer. So cold. Damn Clayton."
"Hush now. I'll help you."
Again, the sluggish nod.
Nate shook away his lustful wanderings and reached for her waistcoat. It was like undressing a doll, despite her help-the waistcoat, her skirt, the layers of petticoats, the corset-until she slumped before the fire in chemise, pantalettes, and those damnable stockings. The mere thought of them, of her here before him, like an ivory sacrifice, brought forth a primal response he found embarrassing in its intensity. Not daring to look, Nate peeled the cotton from her legs and tossed them aside. Only then did he dare to release the breath he had been holding.
He stripped down to skin, then lifted her into his arms and placed her in the center of the bed. After retrieving the feathered quilt and other bed coverings from where they had slipped to the floor, Nate crawled into the niche beside her. She curled her arms around him and nestled her head against his chest.
"Thank you. Just for a few minutes. Have to get to Mama and Grandma Rose. Need me."
As if by habit, he dropped a kiss to her forehead. "Not tonight, Libby. The weather has turned. It isn't safe. And you are in no condition to go anywhere."
"Damn Clayton. Thought I could make it."
"Hush now. Rest. All will be well with morning."
With a sigh, she wiggled into their nest.
Warmth enveloped them both, but comfort did not. The ache of her presence nagged at him below his waist, straining for the feminine form while his heart raced in anticipation of her nearness.
The valley of the mattress left no room to distance himself from her. What would she say come morning when she came to find herself in his bed? He would have to talk fast to explain his motives were true, and not to take advantage of her.
He rolled his back to her and tucked his pillow under his head. All he could do was hope she would remember before demanding his head on a platter. But if she behaved like most women, he would probably awaken with a scream, then find her clutching the bedcovers to her chin. Her reputation besmirched, her brother would immediately call for Nate to...
Nate pulled himself to one elbow. A plan tossed to Amanda in jest now seemed plausible. It would certainly solve their immediate problem of keeping their mother's fortune safe.
He turned his body back to hers. So beautiful. So soft. So very inviting. And so very wrong.
No matter what her profession, he was supposed to be a gentleman. To take what was not willingly offered lumped him in with the dregs of society.
He wanted her-that much was obvious from the minute they had met. Being with her would be a pleasure he would love to experience-if she were willing. To take advantage of her, no matter how much it might help his mother, was too heinous an act to consider.
His body strained toward her. Afraid his resolve would crumble if he stayed beside her much longer, Nate eased from the bed.
"Where are you going?"
"To sleep in the chair by the fire."
Libby struggled to one elbow. "Stay...please. You'll be cold. You'll...you're in pain. Your head."
"Yes."
"It happens often."
"Yes."
She lay down and lifted the cover. "Come. Keep warm."
With a resigned sigh, he joined her once more. If he couldn't have her one way, this would suffice. She drew him into her embrace and gently massaged his temples. Her movements were sluggish yet the caress chased the pain away.
"You keep damning Clayton. Why?"
"Put laudanum in my drink tonight. Wanted to keep me home."
"Why?"
"Bad...controlling...afraid."
Was Clayton afraid of her or she afraid of Clayton? The question was left unasked as peace surrounded him and a deep sleep pulled him under.
Through bleary eyes, Libby watched Nate fall asleep. She wasn't far behind him. Clayton's dose of laudanum had dulled her feeling of urgency to reach her mother and grandmother. But it also cleared the way for other emotions.
Who was this man who swooped down from the night to rescue her? Of course, she knew it was Nate Blackburn, but there was a deeper something here.
She lay in his bed nearly nude. That alone should frighten her beyond her wits. Yet, she felt safe, protected. And she was not unaffected by the sight of him unclothed. Even in a drug-laced fog, she longed to dust her fingers across his broad shoulders. To trace the molded angles shadowed in his chest. To pull him atop her and revel in his weight pressing down...into hers. If she closed her eyes, Libby could see them together. Could feel them together. Loving, touching, moving as one. If she closed her eyes...
Anything Is Possible! That's Catherine Snodgrass's motto. Blessed (or cursed) with a vivid imagination, Catherine has learned to turn that "talent" inward. She grew up reading Victoria Holt, Phyllis Whitney, and others, and loves to "go places" in her writing. Readers should expect different locales and deep emotions in Catherine's books. Her Paranormal Romance (published by LTDBooks), entitled Another Chance, Another Time, won the 2003 Independent Publisher Award for Best Romance. Catherine also believes that life is to be lived not watched, and has done some inner exploring of her own-hiking a new path, learning a new skill, and even conquering a life-long fear of singing in public to take a turn or two on the stage of the local community theater. Her work as a paralegal in family and tax law has helped her tune in to the emotions of others and further deepen that aspect of her writing. Having set her children off in the world to explore their own paths, Catherine lives in the beautiful desert of Southern California with her husband (a genealogist) and the animals she loves.
Stories that stimulate your laughter, Provoke your tears, Evoke your secret fears,Stories that make you think...The stuff that dreams are made of...LTDBooks
www.ltdbooks.com

