His Brother's Wife (6 page)

Grace looked between him
and Jesse before grabbing the towel from the counter. “That’s not
necessary, Rafe. I don’t mind.”

“I do.” He took the towel
from her hands, his fingers brushing against her own as he did. She
stared up at him for long moments before relenting. Rafe looked
over his shoulder at Jesse when she walked away. “Get over
here.”

Jesse grumbled all the way
across the room, dragging his feet and mumbling under his breath.
“I got a wife so I wouldn’t have to do this stuff no more, Rafe.
Why I got to do it now?”

Rafe held back a smile.
“Because I said so.” He glanced over his shoulder, watching as
Grace wiped the top of the stove off. He leaned toward Jesse and
lowered his voice. “Look, she’s been on a stagecoach for Lord knows
how long and came in here, cleaned the kitchen then cooked all that
food. Don’t you think she might be just a little bit
tired?”

Jesse sighed. “Yeah. Guess
she is.”

When the dishes were done
and had been dried and put back on the shelf above the sink, Grace
was nowhere to be found. Jesse helped himself to the pie without
another thought and Rafe was tempted to do the same. “Don’t eat all
of it. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Jesse shoved a piece of
pie in his mouth and mumbled as Rafe walked into the other room.
Grace wasn’t there. Climbing the stairs, he checked her room,
peeking around the corner. He found her then, sitting in the rocker
by the window, sound asleep.

Waking her would have been
the right thing to do but seeing her sitting there with the glow of
the moon shining down on her he didn’t have the heart to do it. He
stood staring at her for long minutes, studying her features,
memorizing the shape of her lips and the way her hair tumbled
around her face.

Lord, how did a woman that
fine looking end up in a mail-order bride catalogue? And how would
he ever get anything done with her in his house? Just looking at
her made his pulse race, caused his blood to heat and his groin to
ache with need.

The tiny voice in the back
of his head that warned him of impending danger spoke up loud and
clear then. It reminded him of how dangerous the opposite sex was,
the faces of two others swimming in his mind's eye. His chest
tightened as he thought of them and how manipulative they had been.
He was sure Grace would be no different. The reminder was
enough.

He glanced at the bed,
noticing the blankets and sheets were missing. Turning to the hall,
he retrieved clean ones from the spare room and remade the bed,
turning down the blankets before looking back over at
her.

He debated on waking her
again before crossing the room, placing both hands on the arms of
the chair so he was eye level with her. The moment he looked at her
face, that voice was back, whispering words he wanted to refuse to
hear. Words that told him she may be different. That she might be
the one he'd been waiting for.

He lifted his hand,
brushing a stray curl from her cheek. The moment he touched her
hair, his fingers itched to thread their way through those golden
strands. He slid the back of his fingers across her cheek, feeling
the softness of her skin.

Looking away, he stared
out the window into the darkness and wondered what he was doing.
He’d seen plenty of beautiful women before and would probably see a
dozen more before he died but this one…

He looked back down at her
face, his gaze drinking her in. This one was different. He’d known
it the moment he saw her sitting in front of the stagecoach station
smiling up at him. The look she’d given him had nearly staggered
him at the time. The joy on her face directed at him caused his
chest to tighten. And it had been so long. So long since a woman
had looked at him like that. Like she was happy to see
him.

Memories of the past
flooded his mind and he closed his eyes, forcing the images, and
the heartache they brought with them, away.

He reached down, hooking
an arm under her knees before reaching around her and lifting her
from the chair. She mumbled something under her breath and tucked
her head under his chin. He stilled the moment she snuggled in
closer and savored the feel of her in his arms.

He took his time crossing
the room to the bed. The scent of her filled the air around him and
he lingered, lowering his head until his face brushed those golden
curls framing her face. She smelled like roses warmed in the sun,
her perfumed skin soft and smooth. She felt so delicate in his arms
he loosened his hold on her for fear of hurting her.

Reaching the bed, he laid
her down and stood staring at her for long minutes, brushing her
cheek again with his fingertips before pulling off her boots and
tugging the sheets up over her and leaving the room.

When he closed the door
and turned toward the stairs, Jesse blocked his path, his features
set in hard lines, his eyes narrowed.

“She’s mine,
Rafe.”

Rafe wondered exactly what
Jesse had seen and walked away from Grace’s door. When he reached
the stairs he stopped and looked back at his brother. “I know she’s
yours, Jesse. I just put her to bed. She’s had a long day. So have
you. Let’s get some sleep. The sun will be up before we know
it.”

The house was quiet as he
turned out the lamps and walked into the room off the kitchen. He’d
been sleeping in there since he’d come back home. It was small but
he didn’t have much in the way of possessions anyway. He closed the
door and sat down on the bed to take his boots off.

As he undressed, thoughts
of Grace filled his mind. He couldn’t seem to think of anything
else for some reason and that had to stop. Like Jesse said, she was
his and regardless of the fact Rafe knew a marriage between the two
wouldn’t happen, it was clear, Jesse thought of her as his
wife.

And so should he. If he
wanted any peace, he’d have to. He’d have to push Grace as far away
as he could get her and hoped she stayed there regardless of how
much he wanted her for himself. He wasn't the marrying kind. The
proof of that lay buried in his memories and he fought to keep them
there. If he was smart, he'd forget about Grace Kingston and keep
his distance. He just hoped his heart would let him.

Chapter Six

Grace woke to the sound of
banging. The incessant noise continued for long minutes before
stopping. It started again moments later and she rose up on one
elbow and looked out the window.

The sun was up, peeking
over the mountains she could see in the distance and she wondered
what time it was. She couldn’t hear any noise in the house and
moved to the edge of the bed before sitting up. From this angle she
could see Rafe and Jesse on the roof of the barn. They were already
at work. She gasped when she realized she'd slept later than she
should have.

Scrambling from the bed,
she undressed, washed best she could with the cold water from the
pitcher by the dresser, and slipped on a clean dress. Brushing her
hair and repinning it, she took a quick glance at herself in the
mirror before rushing out of the room.

Reaching the kitchen,
Grace stared wide-eyed at the state of it. Dishes with the remains
of breakfast still on them littered the table, the stovetop was
again splattered with food and coffee and the sink was filled to
the brim with pots and pans. She sighed, shaking her head before
moving further into the room.

She’d slept longer than
she thought if Rafe and Jesse had time to cook, eat, and start
their day without her. She was almost embarrassed at doing so until
she reminded herself of how hard she’d worked the evening before.
Cleaning the kitchen just so she could fix supper for them had worn
her out, not to mention actually cooking. She wasn’t trained in
that particular area. Her father had seen no need in it. If she
hadn’t spent so much time in the kitchens as a girl watching
Gertrude, their family cook, and helping when she’d let her, she
would have been in trouble. Thankfully the Samuels larder had been
stocked with plenty of canned goods. It only took a little time to
heat things and serve it all and thanks to Gertrude, making
biscuits and apple pie was a task she could do
blindfolded.

Walking to the counter,
she found the flour sack she’d used the day before to make an apron
and tied it around her waist. Pushing her sleeves up, she grabbed
the pump handle beside the sink and gave it a few hard pushes.
Nothing happened. A full five minutes later, it was apparent the
water wasn’t coming into the house. Looking around the room, she
spotted a bucket under the sink and grabbed it before heading for
the back door.

The wind was brisk and
cold as she stepped outside, chilling her skin instantly. She
hurried back inside, found her cloak and hunched her shoulders as
she ventured back into the crisp morning air, looking around the
yard for a well. She spotted it near what she assumed had once been
a garden.

As she crossed the dirt
yard she gave the farm a thorough look. It was in as bad a shape as
the house was. Everything looked neglected. The buildings were in
ill repair, fences half fallen in places and dirt everywhere she
looked.

Reaching the well, she
lowered the bucket and glanced toward the barn, spotting Rafe. He
was staring down at her. She smiled, threw her hand up and waved
but frowned as he turned without acknowledging her. Jesse wasn’t so
rude. He grinned and waved back.

When she pulled the bucket
up and filled her own, the sound of horses running caught her
attention. She turned toward the front of the house as three men on
horseback came into the yard. She glanced up to the barn roof. Rafe
leaned down and said something to Jesse before he started down the
ladder. Jesse followed behind him and made his way to her. When he
stopped, he grabbed her bucket of water and her arm. “Let’s go
inside.”

“Who are those
men?”

“Nobody you want to
meet.”

Grace let him lead her
into the house. When he shut the door behind her, she walked to the
sink and looked out the window, watching Rafe and the men in the
yard. “I assume you know who those men are?”

Jesse snorted. “Yeah. You
could say that.”

The man in front was
imposing even from a distance. He was tall, she could tell that
even as he sat on his horse. His hair was the color of old wheat
and hung to his shoulders in limp strands. A beard covered his face
and the hat on his head shielded his eyes from her view. The two
men behind him looked as if they hadn’t seen a bath in ages. Their
clothes were dirty and coated in filth. They were both looking
around the farm as if they were waiting for something. She had a
bad feeling about them. “What are they doing here?”

“Came to threaten us
again, I'd imagine.”

She turned to him.
“Threaten you? About what?”

Jesse sighed and started
clearing the table of the breakfast dishes. “That’s Ben Crowley and
a couple of his foremen. He owns that big spread we passed
yesterday, the one that borders our place. Well, for years, he’s
claimed my pa stole most of his land from him, which is a bold
faced lie. My pa would never do something like that.” He glanced up
at her before shaking his head. “Anyway, when pa died, Ben came and
said my pa had given him control of the ranch and all the grazing
land and that I could stay in the house but he was going to take
the cattle. I refused to let him have them, knowing he was lying. I
did what I could around here, tried to keep everything running by
myself, but then some of the cattle started
disappearing.”

“Disappearing? How
so?”

“Ben’s been stealing ‘em.”
He looked up after stacking the dishes and crossed to the sink and
laid them down. “Rafe says we lose about one a week
now.”

Grace peered back out the
window. It looked as if the men were arguing but she couldn’t hear
any raised voices. Rafe’s posture alone told her he was agitated.
His arms were folded across his chest, his head tilted to one side
and even from this distance she could see his jaw was clenched. “Do
you have proof he’s stealing your cattle?”

“No. And Marshal Avery
says until we do, there ain't nothin' he can do about
it.”

“Isn’t.”