Ransom here…he’s all I need. Even as he stuffed bacon in his face, all the while mindful of his manners, the words had Ransom’s cock grow stiff as a railroad spike. He shifted awkwardly, for he had no place to put it for a long while.
Decorating a school room in the middle of the day gave no chance for romance. But it might be the start of something. She’d asked for him, after all. And if he had his way, he’d get the day to last as long as he could.
Maybe past nightfall.
“When do you want me to start, Miz Eliza?” He tried to use a voice as guileless as her gaze moments before. “I don’t want you to be tardy for school.”
“I’ve called a break for the holidays. We can start soon as you’re done eating. Several of the children will be joining us.”
His spirits fell, and he hoped his face didn’t.
“They’ve spent days making chains out of colored paper,” Eliza said, and then spent a long delicious minute slurping down the last of her tea. He watched the tip of her little pink tongue, and his crotch burned with unfulfilled life.
No way could he get up now. “I’ll have seconds first, then we can be on our way.”
“Fine then. I’ll just retrieve my bonnet and shawl while you finish up.”
As she got up from the table, her body swayed deliciously under her homely skirts, and he memorized every muscle. The other lodgers didn’t give her any nevermind at all, and from that, Ransom guessed they were all stupider than dirt.
****
While Eliza waited on the porch, she watched Ransom shrug into a new overcoat inside the little foyer. He had cleaned up nicely. The edges of his harvest-colored hair curled across his shoulders, and her fingers longed to explore his deep, carved cheekbones. His hands had calluses, his manner was careful. Likely he tamed horses.
Or maybe he followed the law. Something tweaked in her mind. Maybe she could hire him on to get Granny’s horses found and jail the bastards who’d thieved them.
Eliza could hardly breathe, and it had nothing to do with the cold morning air. She knew the High Plains. Before long, the day would warm up enough for comfort, but despite the blue sky, she reckoned they were due for snow.
Maybe a blizzard. Her heart swelled. Such a weather disaster would bind her to Pleasure Stakes and prevent her return to the Stony Brook.
Prevent Ransom from leaving town, too.
What was happening to her? She hadn’t paid a man this much nevermind in years. His table manners had been fine enough to take home to dinner, no worse, no better than any of the Stony Brook ’hands. While he’d eaten with vigor, it wasn’t the hunger of a starving man, just one who rarely got grub so well-cooked. Besides all that, the husky quiet of his voice fell on her ears the way velvet slid across skin.
Down her spine skimmed another kind of warmth. His reaction to the tea cup touched her heart. How he must miss his granny. The words grunted out of her. Missing Granny wasn’t something Eliza did often.
Outside, Ransom held his arm to her, and she placed her hand in the crook. Even through the brand new cloth, she was sure she felt his skin sizzle and wondered if he felt the same. From a tiny misstep as his foot reached the boardwalk, she reckoned he had.
“Thanks for your help,” she said, shy, as they headed down the street toward the school. “I hope you’ll come to the pageant tonight.”
He nodded. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
“You’re so tall.” She hoped she didn’t sound as breathless as she felt deep down. “You’ll hang those paper chains higher than ever before.”
“You been teaching here long?” he asked. The rasp in his voice tickled her toes, and then some.
“This is my third term,” she said, tongue quivering, too, at the sound of him. “I answered a newspaper advertisement.”
“You from around here? You got the talk.”
She smiled. “Lone Star born and bred. But I spent far too many years in Boston at boarding school. It’s good to be home.”
“Your granny’s close by, then.”
“Not close enough to get into each other’s hair.” She laughed and waved to neighbors starting their busy day. “I’m determining whether I wish to visit her for Christmas. I might, if the weather holds.”
I hope it doesn’t, she prayed silently, wishing Pleasure Stakes had a church so she could pray for real. Worshipers gathered in the schoolhouse come Sundays, pushed the desks aside and brought in rough benches.
“Nice to have some kin.”
His hoarse tones wrapped around her like soft wool, and she recalled he had no one. Her lips trembled as she changed the subject.
“Around here, Saul Hamers manages to bring in a pinchot juniper for Christmas Eve,” she said. “I’d sure like to be on hand to decorate it.”
Ransom emitted an uncommitted answer, and she marveled at his quiet footsteps. His boot heels hardly made any sound or dust at all. In spite of his burly size, she sensed him graceful and light on his feet.
“Ah, a Christmas tree.” Ransom’s breath danced in a little white cloud on the air. “I’d like to see that, truth to tell. Been a long time since I beheld such a sight.”
Eliza’s heart twinged at the wistfulness in Ransom’s voice.
“How long do you plan to stay in Pleasure Stakes?” she asked, an idea trilling. “You thinking of hiring on at the railroad?”
He shook his head. “Just passing through.”
Passing through? A funny little panic throbbed in her veins at the thought of him gone. She’d hardly slept all night, not just at meeting him but at the thought she’d see him today. She bit her lip, trying to sound bashful.
“Maybe…maybe. If you’ve no plans, that is, you might wish to keep Christmas with Granny and me. She’s plenty of room. And.” She stopped, keeping her voice coy, “She does a blistering job of decorating the place.”
Joy like Christmas morn itself split his face into a grin.
“Why, thank you kindly, Eliza. Your offer does hold some merit.”
Her heart soared even though he hadn’t committed to a thing. “I’d like it, to be sure. If you don’t mind me asking, what is it you do? For your occupation?”
For a long time, all she heard was the bustle of another busy day and Ransom’s near silent footfalls. The heat of mortification tickled her neck at her prying. Goodness, she knew better. Ladies whether in Boston or Texas knew when to hold their tongues. And now she’d likely jeopardized the invitation to Stony Brook.
His gabardine coattails rustled in the morning breeze as they walked into the schoolhouse.
“Truth is, Miz Eliza, that don’t matter much.” Hand on the door post, he stopped and looked down at her, so tall and strapping he almost filled the frame. “What does matter is, I need to learn to read. Promised my gram-maw on her dying day. Maybe I could hire you to teach me?” Despite their browned skin from a life in the sun, his cheeks flushed. “Or am I too old for such a thing? And you’re leavin…”
Eliza’s heart sang. School might be on break, but she wasn’t about to shirk her duties now. Getting to the Stony Brook would happen or not, because she was staying in Pleasure Stakes to knock some learning into Ransom’s head. She stopped like ropes grabbed at her heels.
“Why, Mr. Ransom, no brain is too old for learning. And no, I’ve not decided my plans for certain. I’d be honored to teach you.”
“I can pay.” He looked down at her, hand poised over his pocket.
Being in his presence was payment enough, but Eliza didn’t dare mouth such unwomanly words. “No need. Place a donation in the offering plate come Sunday.”
He chuckled deep in his chest. “Not a churchly man, ma’am. How about I buy something you need for the schoolhouse?”
“Fine idea.” She pretended to think hard. “A map of the world would do the children well.”
“All righty then,” he repeated and swung open the door, bowing to let her in first as elegant as any Bostonian. “I’ll take a look in the Montgomery Ward and Company catalog. Find you something nice.” The clean scent of him treated her nose for a moment and lingered on the air afterward. Oh, that he might sometime have the chance to find something nice just for her. She held back a sigh, praying for a few minutes more alone with him before her pupils arrived to help.
“Hey, Miz Eliza!”
A childish voice chirped behind her and her heart thumped in disappointment. Little Nicky Connor burst through the door, his toddling sister Tessie in tow.
“I’m here to help. Who’s that?” He pointed to Ransom.
“That’s Mr. Ransom…” she started, then realized she didn’t know his full name. Alarm rustled before she forced it to quiet down. Most honorable men she knew hadn’t minded sharing their monikers. What if he was a gun for hire? A bounty hunter. An outlaw? Nerves skittered, but she put them right to rest. No man with such confident shoulders who held his head high and looked you straight in the eye was a troublemaker. She had good instincts about things like that. Ransom was simply a private man. None of her nevermind what he called himself, was it?
“Ransom’ll do,” Ransom said same time as little Tessie bounced fast away from the stove, howling like mad. His knees hit the floor, and he gathered the tiny girl close, then examined her reddening finger. “You’ll be fine, darlin.’ Get some cold water, young man,” he said to Nick as he looked up at Eliza.
“Butter,” she insisted and answered his unspoken question. “I got up before dawn to light the stove and get it warm in here. It’s how I start my day. Every day. Even Sunday. They hold church in here.”
He shook his head, and the sight of his hair dashing about those shoulders had her heart pittering.
“Not butter,” he said. “Grease holds the heat in. Water’ll heal her up just fine. Burn isn’t serious at all.”
He continued to hold Tessie close as her weeping settled down, and for some reason, Eliza’s belly clamped with an undiscovered longing for a child of her own. For a man.
A man like Ransom. She tried to shove the thoughts away, but after all, he was a suitable mate for her. A real man of the West. Something she’d never found back east.
She’d never understood why she’d been led to Pleasure Stakes. Maybe Ransom was the reason all along.
****
At the Fallen Angel Saloon shortly after high noon, Ransom grumbled into his whiskey glass. All the while the sly cat-eyes of Miz Marvel watched him without blinking.
“You look mighty lonely, newcomer,” the madam said with a wink. Also blinking in a pretty way was the young whore who dangled on Miz Marvel’s arm. “Miz Belinda here is good company.”
Ransom rolled his eyes, not caring if they saw. “I reckon she might be. For some other man.”
Hell. Heck. If he couldn’t be with Eliza, Ransom wanted nothing more than to get left alone, but he knew damn well the two women at the table sensed rightly he had money and manly needs. Truth to say, just this time yesterday he would have been mighty interested in Miz Belinda. The whore had eyes like a fawn’s and white breasts reaching straight out for a man’s hands from her low-cut red gown.
But that all was before Eliza.
Women. He grumbled, stood up, chugged his glass to the dregs, and slammed it on the table. Miss Marvel flinched and Belinda pouted. He tipped his hat politely when all he wanted to leave behind was an unholy gesture.
Still aglow with Eliza’s praise these hours later, he’d decorated the schoolhouse up to the rafters. But afterward, she’d sat herself down with the kids, six all told, to make Christmas trees from goose feathers. His big clumsy hands weren’t up to the task. He hadn’t been needed anymore and had nothing else to do but drown his sorrows.
And his terrors. After tangling with that pretty little tyke, he’d had thoughts burst in his head that he’d always damned before. A kid of his own. A wife in his bed.
Nothing no self-respecting outlaw ought to think, do, or have. Even if he’d turned respectable, he had nothing to offer.
Hell.
Heck
. Outside in the early afternoon, he reckoned Miss Letha May might have some noonday dinner left over and headed home. Home. Now where had that thought come from? Was home some place Eliza lived?
At least he and Eliza had his first lesson coming up soon, and a ride planned with Nitro and Firewalker afterward, if he got his homework done.
Tarnation. Nope. Food could wait. The pageant started at five, with potluck supper after. And he needed something to wear. Damn if he didn’t sound like a girl. One last look at the schoolhouse down the street started up in his gut a feeling something like homesickness, so he slurped once more from his flask. At the trading post, he waggled a gold eagle once again at the old man to get what he needed, pronto.
At the boardinghouse, he did the same to Miss Letha May after gulping down a hefty dose of her rabbit stew.
“I need these duds ready for Miz Eliza’s pageant tonight,” he said of his new black wool trousers. “I need the hems to pass my ankles to the south.”
His landlady huffed but quickly pocketed the money. “I will do what I can, Mr. Ransom. But if your trousers run out of fabric, you’ll have no choice but to look like a schoolboy wading in the creek of a summer’s day. Nothing much I can do.” With a mouthful of pins, she bent to his feet and dug around.
After ciphering with a measure tape, she raised her head to look around his room. He watched approval flicker in her eyes at the sight of his tidy bed. What? Were all men expected to be downright lazybones? Gram-maw had taught him early on how to tend a tumble of sheets and blankets.
“Where you from, Mr. Ransom, if you got no luggage?”
Wasn’t much he cared to say, not if he had to worry about looking like a school boy in short pants in front of the school marm herself. “A long way off. And a long story, too,” he grumped.
Miss Letha May grunted with pleasure around her mouthful of pins. “Oh, goody, Mr. Ransom. I got plenty to work with.”
He grunted back.
“And that new frock coat, it fits your shoulders like it was made for ’em. You’ll be looking right as rain tonight.” She snipped and pinned, then mumbled out of nowhere. “You sweet on Miz Eliza?”
“What?” He tried to act offended at her snooping but fact was, he was. And likely folks could tell.
“Well, you wouldn’t be the first. And likely not the last.” She spit out a handful of pins. “She’s as pretty as a princess. Rich as one, too. Once menfolk find all that out, most hunt her down.”