A Kiss for Cade (7 page)

“The last thing John or Addy would have done was ask Cade or anyone else for money.”

“Well, you know Lawrence and I will help if we can. We’ve got a little set aside, if you need it.”

“Thanks, Gracie. I appreciate it, but that isn’t the answer. Money is tight, but when that shipment of yard goods comes in, I’ll make a decent profit—enough to see me through another couple of months.” After that, she didn’t know what would happen, but the last thing she wanted was for Cade to know about her shaky financial situation. Zoe handed her friend her purchases. “I know I can count on you.”

“And I know you. You’re like Addy and John. Pride will keep you from ever asking for help.”

“I have no desire to be a martyr. Don’t worry. I’ll ask if I need it. Just don’t mention it to Cade.”

“You don’t think you can keep something like this quiet in Winterborn, do you?”

“I will only have to keep my money troubles from Cade a week or less. I’ll be shocked if he’s around that long.”

As the door closed behind Gracie a moment later, Zoe climbed back up the ladder to finish cleaning.

She hoped she would never have to ask friends for money, but with suppliers breathing down her neck, and being two months behind on the bank payments, she couldn’t hold out much longer. She was already taking in washing and ironing. When would she find the time to do anything more? She dusted harder, blinking back tears. Taking charity wasn’t something she liked to consider anymore than losing the children. She couldn’t trust Cade to be sensible. Heaven knows she had reason to believe he wouldn’t be. Would he do the right thing and let her have the children? Ha! He’d never done the right thing in his life.

Still, maybe he understood how limited his options were.

She knew one thing for certain. Those children were hers. If he refused to recognize it, he would be in for the fight of his life.

Chapter Seven

C
ade opened his eyes Sunday morning to the sound of rain dripping off the eaves. A damp-smelling breeze ruffled the rumpled curtain at the open window. He stared at the dingy, water-stained ceiling. Thunder and lightning had kept him awake most of the night, and the heavy downpour had left a puddle in the middle of the warped pine floor. Late summer rains. They helped the crops but did little for thoughts of the upcoming winter.

Cade stretched full length, recoiling as his feet encountered soggy bed linens. The old jail roof was leaky as a sieve. Poking a foot out from under the sheet, he closed his eyes. If he’d wanted this kind of misery, he would have slept outside. He put off getting up and lay listening to the sounds of the awakening town.

The church bell rang in the distance, calling morning worshippers. The smell of frying bacon and fresh coffee drifted to him. He inhaled, smiling when he heard the unmistakably shrill voice of Hattie Thompson shouting to Woodall that he was going to be late for church. No doubt, Woodall was dallying as he finished his morning ritual.

Funny how everything had changed, but nothing was different.

For no reason at all, a childhood incident popped into Cade’s mind—the time he and Addy had sneaked some of Pa’s communion wine. Pa would have skinned them alive if he’d known how his children had gotten tipsy in the barn loft that day. He grinned. Zoe had refused to be a party to the nonsense. She’d stayed sober and covered for them, telling his folks they were sick from eating too much sweet potato pie at dinner and had gone to bed early.

He sobered. They had paid dearly for that trick. His temples still throbbed thinking about the miserable thumping headache he’d had the next day.

Zoe blackmailed him, making him answer to her for a full week. He’d rolled out of bed before dawn in the biting January cold and waded through snow up to his hips to gather eggs and muck out her daddy’s barn.

Cade shifted his hip on the thin mattress. It hadn’t been so bad, though. Zoe had brought him cinnamon rolls fresh from the oven and steaming cups of black coffee. They’d sat in the warmth of the barn stalls, surrounded by dry hay and milking pails, and talked for hours. There wasn’t anything he couldn’t tell her in those days. They knew everything there was to know about each other.

“Addy,” he whispered, “why would you pick me, of all people, to decide your kids’ future?”

Rolling out of bed, he sat on the edge of the bunk and scratched his head. He still smelled like a lily from all the soap and shampoo Walt had used on him Friday night. He shook his head, trying to dilute the scent of Edna’s fancy bar soap. He didn’t know what she made it with, but the flowery scent stuck to him like a burr.

He got up and dressed, strapping his gun belt around his waist. Sidestepping the rain puddle, he moved to the battered washstand and poured water from a chipped pitcher into a bowl.

He lathered his face with soap, and then he reached for his straight razor. Cade couldn’t believe he was shaving again. Twice in one week. He never thought about it when he was on the trail, but because of Red and the kids, he now had to worry about his appearance. His hand froze when an almost imperceptible sound caught his attention.

He slowly moved the razor to his left hand, letting his right slide to his gun. He stared back at his reflection in the mirror and shifted slightly so he could see each kid.

Four small children stood there, staring at him as if he were the bogeyman.

Cade’s tension subsided, and his hand casually dropped from the holster. Setting down the razor and picking up the soap mug, he whipped up a rich lather, pretending to be oblivious to his early morning visitors.

Brody stood straight as an oak, twisting his hat in his hands. Red jelly rimmed Will’s upper lip, and he held a biscuit in his hand. Holly’s and Missy’s wide eyes sized him up.

He found the intense scrutiny amusing. Should he break the ice and let them know he saw them, or just allow them to satisfy their curiosity?

Carefully drawing the razor over his lathered cheek, he talked to his image in the mirror. “Well, Cade, your sister sure has left you a passel of fine-looking children.”

Will quickly covered his mouth to stifle a giggle. Brody elbowed him sharply. Holly’s face turned as red as a hot poker. Missy buried her face in her sister’s side.

Tapping the razor on the rim of the bowl, Cade continued talking to himself. “A man would be right proud to have kids like that.”

He bent closer to the mirror to shave under his nose and then down his left cheek. “I’d like nothing better than to stay here in Winter-born and be their pa, but I can’t. I travel from town to town and never know where I’ll lay my head at night. Good kids like that need roots. They need a ma and a pa who can fry chicken, bake biscuits, and tuck them into bed at night.”

Sloshing the razor through the water, he paused. “Pop says the Brightons would love to have them. Don’t know much about Seth Brighton, but I heard he’s a fine pa to his own kids. Seems to me he’d make a fine pa for Addy’s kids.”

He frowned when he saw Holly’s bottom lip jut out like a sore thumb. Brody didn’t look any too happy about the prospect, either. The looks on Will’s and Missy’s faces pulled at his heartstrings.

Drawing the razor back through the water, Cade said, “I hear Seth’s got a fine bunch of ponies at his place. I could talk to him and see if the boys could have a horse of their own.”

Brody’s and Will’s faces momentarily brightened.

“And Bonnie raises those cats. Hear she’s got a new litter that’s cute as buttons.”

Holly and Missy expressions turned vaguely interested.

“Yes.” Cade finished shaving and laid the razor aside. He studied the children’s reactions in the mirror. “All and all, I’d say the Brightons would make a fine ma and pa for Addy’s kids.”

Four chins lifted with open hostility. Reaching for Missy’s hand, Holly nodded to Brody, who in turn grabbed Will by the collar, and they marched out as soundlessly as they had arrived.

Cade dried his face on a rough towel, glancing toward the empty doorway. Something close to loneliness came over him. He hadn’t experienced the feeling often. He wasn’t accustomed to needing anyone. His horse and the open road were his family, yet it was as if Addy spoke through Holly’s eyes, a silent reminder that he wasn’t getting any younger.

A man his age should have namesakes of his own. He needed a reason to come home at night. He should certainly have more than one horse. He should have several, plus more cats than old Bossy could provide milk for.

But the kids needed more than ponies and cats. They needed love. He could give them love; what he couldn’t give them was permanence.

He’d ride out and talk to the Brightons, see if they had enough love and permanence to go around.

His choice seemed easy enough. So why wasn’t it?

Chapter Eight

Z
oe glanced up from her bookkeeping Monday morning to see Cade standing on the back porch. She ignored her quickening pulse. She blamed the strong coffee in front of her for her sudden heart palpitations.

Peering through the screen, she frowned. Early morning was the only time she could work on the store’s ledgers without interruption. What was he doing here before seven? His smile caught her breath, and she hurriedly turned back to the ledger. Numbers danced before her eyes, and she couldn’t remember what five times seven was.

“The children aren’t up yet,” she said.

“Good. I came to talk to you.”

Wonderful. A shoot-out at daybreak—just what she needed. Laying her pencil aside, she got up and unlatched the screen door. Sunrise glistened off early morning dew, scattering diamond patterns across the grass. Honeysuckle trailing up the building’s back wall perfumed the tiny kitchen.

When Cade entered the room, the limited space got even smaller. His presence seemed to fill every corner as he pulled off his hat and looked around.

Glancing toward Will’s and Brody’s pallets, he whispered, “Looks like a houseful.”

Zoe knew he’d expect a cup of coffee, but she’d had to scrape the can this morning to make her own. There’d be no more coffee for her this month. She sat back down at the table. “You wanted to talk to me?”