Lorraine Heath (3 page)

Maddie once again felt her throat constrict, her heart expand. She looked at Charles, and he was smiling.

“I’ll love you, too,” Maddie promised, knowing it wouldn’t take much for her to love all these children.

“I’m eight years old, and I don’t need a mother,” a small male voice announced defiantly.

The harsh clearing of Jesse’s throat caused the boy to look up guiltily. The brusque sound startled Maddie. She lost her balance and toppled to her bottom. The boy laughed until another curt clearing of Jesse’s throat caused him to stop.

“That’s Uncle Jesse’s warning sound,” Hannah whispered near Maddie’s ear, her small hands cupping the words. “When he does that, you’d best straighten up or else.”

“Or else what?” Maddie asked, her voice low although she knew everyone in the barn was privy to the words being spoken.

Hannah lifted a small shoulder. “Don’t know. We always straighten up.”

Maddie smiled. “It is a scary sound, isn’t it?” She glanced up, her smile fading. Jesse was watching her intently, too intently.

“I won’t call her ‘Ma,’ “ Aaron said.

“You don’t have to,” Charles said. “She and I have discussed it. If you prefer, you may call her Miss Maddie, but regardless, I expect you to give her a chance and treat her fairly.”

“I ain’t gonna hug her.”

“Maybe you could just shake her hand so she’d know she was welcome,” Charles suggested.

Aaron studied his father. Then his glance shot up. “Did Uncle Jesse shake her hand?”

“No, he didn’t.” Charles twisted his body slightly and smiled at his brother. “But he came fairly close to hugging her.”

Maddie felt the heat rush to her face. Jesse averted his gaze and studied the pile of hay, a deep crimson covering his face and creeping down into the opening of his shirt. She wondered if blushing was a family trait.

“Well, then, I reckon I could shake her hand,” Aaron said grudgingly.

He stuck out his hand. Maddie placed her hand in his. His fingers closed quickly around hers. Then he released his hold and shoved his hand behind the bib of his coveralls as though hiding it would save it from disgrace.

Charles stood. Reaching down, he brought Maddie to her feet. She slapped the dust off her skirt and picked the hay away, anything to avoid looking at the man standing beside her husband.

“Jesse, the small trunk on top of the stagecoach is Maddie’s. Will you carry it to my room, then see to changing out the horses? The whip said they want to leave within the hour.”

“I’ll get right on it.”

Charles touched each child’s head. “There’s other gifts in Maddie’s trunk. Why don’t we go see what they are?”

The children squealed in delight and scampered off. Maddie watched as Jesse ambled out after them. He stood a little taller than Charles and was broader across the chest and shoulders, as though he’d spent his life working outdoors.

While in Fort Worth, she’d seen the town’s mascot, a black panther, pacing in front of the courthouse where he’d been chained. This man’s movements very much reminded her of the panther’s. Sleek, powerful, predatory. She found it disconcerting that this man wasn’t chained.

Charles placed his hand on her waist. “Would you like to see your new home? It doesn’t have a white fence around it, but I think you’ll be pleased.”

With his arm around her, they walked toward the inn that served as a resting spot for travelers and a home to the family who lived within.

The house was constructed of solid cedar logs. Cypress shingles graced the roof. Contentment surged within Maddie as she stepped onto the wide veranda that circled the house. Above her, another veranda, accessible through doors from the inside and stairs outside, circled the entire second floor.

Smiling, Charles pushed open the door. Maddie slipped past him into the foyer. Stairs ascended to their left, double doors sealed the room to their right. Charles opened the double doors. “This is where our overnight guests generally spend their evening.”

In awe, she stepped into the room. It was designed for the comfort and relaxation of weary travelers. A sofa rested before the fireplace. To one side, a half-dozen chairs circled a mahogany center table. Against one wall, a grandfather clock clicked a steady tattoo as its pendulum swung lazily from side to side. A spittoon sat in one corner, a cabinet housing liquor in the other.

“On the other side of the house is a smaller room the family uses in the evenings. It’s not as fancy, but I think it’s more cozy. I’ll show it to you later.”

He escorted her back into the foyer and stepped through a wide opening into a large dining room. “This is where we serve our guests their dinner.”

She heard the rapid pounding of small feet. Then the children rounded the corner.

“Uncle Jesse won’t let us open the trunk until you get upstairs,” Aaron explained, breathless from his race down the stairs.

“Then I guess I’d better get upstairs,” Charles said. He squeezed Maddie’s hand. “I hate to impose so soon, but we need to get a meal ready for the whip and his guard. Would you mind seeing to it? I’m certain Jesse already has something cooking. You’ll probably need to do little more than set the table.”

Maddie felt the disappointment reel through her because he had not invited her upstairs. She’d helped him select the gifts, had wanted to be present when the children first saw them. She forced herself to remember that she was here to help Charles. He had no real feelings for her, nor she for him. She was to be his helpmate, not the love of his life. Shoving her disappointment aside, she responded in the only way a woman of her circumstance could. “I’ll be happy to.”

“Wonderful. We won’t be long.”

She watched as he took the girls by the hand and walked out of the room. Aaron followed, begging for hints. Gradually, his elated voice faded away.

Loneliness crept through her as she glanced around the dining room. A long oak table with several chairs surrounding it dominated the room. If more than one stagecoach arrived, ample seating would be available for all the guests. She walked toward the wooden hutch where china dishes were visible through the glass molded into the doors.

Opening the door, she studied the tiny blue flowers adorning the delicate dishes. She touched the china and smiled at the smooth, cool texture. She lifted a delicate cup from the shelf.

“We don’t use the good dishes.”

The deep, unexpected voice caused her to jump back, the cup slipping from her hand. She reached out, capturing the cup inches from the floor. But it wasn’t the knowledge that she’d saved the cup that caused her heart to skip a beat. It was the fact that a large, warm hand was cradling hers as she cradled the cup.

As slowly as he’d helped her down from the stage, Jesse unfolded his body, straightening her stance with no more than a movement of his hand beneath hers. His eyes held hers, and she found herself swimming in a black ocean, an ocean beckoning to her, drawing her farther from shore, into deeper waters, waters she’d never before swum.

“We only use the good dishes when we have guests,” he said, removing his hand from beneath hers.

His words caused the ocean to recede, leaving her standing unsteadily upon the shore. “I thought we were having guests. The stage driver—”

“The whip and his guard work for the stage company. They aren’t considered guests. They’ll eat in the kitchen with us, just regular dishes.”

He took the cup from her palm, set it back into the hutch, and clicked the door into place. “I’ll show you the kitchen.”

She followed him through the room into the east ell of the house. The kitchen had a high-beamed ceiling. Copper pans and iron pots hung from one wall. A spicy aroma teased her nostrils.

“It smells good,” she offered.

“It’s just son of a—” He glanced over at her. “Son of a gun stew. We’ll use the bowls in that cabinet there.”

She repressed her smile. She’d often fixed the same stew, but the men who’d been in her company didn’t refer to it as son of a gun. She didn’t think this man normally called it that, either. The stew wasn’t fancy, but it stuck to a man’s ribs. The tender strips of beef were surrounded by tomatoes, onions, potatoes, and anything else within easy reach. It simmered until the aromas blended and became indistinguishable from one another. Her father had taught her that if she could detect the smell of an ingredient, the stew wasn’t fit to eat.

She removed several bowls from the cabinet and placed them one by one on the scarred wooden table. From the corner of her eye, she watched as he lifted the lid on the heavy iron pot and stirred the contents within.

“So you and Charles are brothers,” she said, trying to fill the void of silence. His hand stilled as he glanced at her, and she wished she’d kept silent.

“You didn’t know he had a brother?”

She moved her head slowly from side to side, once again swimming within the black depths of his eyes, eyes she was certain scrutinized every aspect of her being, eyes she feared could look far beneath the surface of a person to uncover the hidden truths. She adjusted the positioning of the last bowl as though it made a difference where it was placed on the table. “The little boy—”

“Aaron?”

She forced a small smile. “Yes, Aaron. He said Texas Rangers don’t cheat. Was he implying you’re a Texas Ranger?”

“Was. I’m not anymore. Gave it up a little over a year ago.”

Little wonder he scrutinized her so closely. Resolutely, she convinced herself that what he was before had little bearing on what he was now. No badge decorated his chest; no gun was strapped to his thigh; no rifle rested in the crook of his arm. “What do you do now?”

“Work here.”

“And where do you live?”

“I have a room upstairs.”

Suddenly, she felt as though the house weren’t nearly large enough. “Are all the bedrooms upstairs?”

“Yep, there’s eight of them. Those on the east side are for the family, those on the west for guests.”

“I see.” Idly staring at the man who was staring at her, she wondered what was keeping Charles. Whenever her father had returned home and handed her a gift from his saddlebag, she’d barely taken time to say thank you before she’d run off to enjoy it. She’d expected to hear the children running down the stairs long before now. “Where would I find some spoons?”

Silently, with sleek movements she would have never expected of a man his size, he moved across the room to a wooden hutch and pulled open a drawer. “Spoons are in here.”

He didn’t take any out. He didn’t move away. She didn’t know if he was challenging or testing her, but she knew she had to establish her place in this family. She walked across the room and dipped her hand into the drawer. “Thank you.”

“Have you known Charles long?” he asked. She wrapped her fingers around some spoons. “Not long.”

“Were you a friend of Alice?”

He stood so close that she could see her face mirrored in his black eyes. “Alice?”

“Charles’s wife.”

“No, no. I didn’t know her.”

“Are you from Fort Worth?”

“No.”

The silence wove around them until she felt as though she was being wrapped in a shroud.

“Where are you from?” he finally asked.

“No place in particular. We moved around a lot.”

“Like Gypsies?”

“I thought you said you were no longer a Texas Ranger.”

“I took an oath to protect the welfare of this state when I joined the Rangers in seventy-four. I didn’t turn in the oath with my resignation.”

“And you think I’m a threat to the state of Texas?”

“Not to the state, but maybe to this family. I know a lot of women who would take advantage of Charles’s situation to better themselves.”

“That doesn’t say much for the company you keep.”

He narrowed his eyes, and she noticed a subtle tightening of the muscles in his jaw. Quite suddenly, she regretted the sharpness of her tongue. Generally, she kept it sheathed unless she was extremely nervous or feeling threatened. At this moment, she felt both.

“How did you say you and Charles met?” he asked.

“I didn’t say.”

A sound in the doorway caused Maddie to turn. Pride reflected in his eyes, Charles stood in the threshold, holding each daughter’s hand. Both girls wore dresses, white stockings, and black shoes. Charles had brushed their blond tresses to a sheen and placed violet ribbons in their hair. He’d scrubbed the dirt and smudges from their faces to reveal a scattering of freckles across the bridge of Hannah’s nose and the top of Taylor’s cheeks.

A disgruntled Aaron stood beside Hannah. His white starched shirt was buttoned all the way to his throat and a black string tie circled his neck beneath the collar. He wore pants that showed no indication they were worn for play. His brown hair was slicked down, a few errant strands sticking up in the back. He glared not at Maddie, but at Jesse.

“Uncle Jesse didn’t have to dress up,” Aaron announced.

“Uncle Jesse doesn’t need to impress a lady,” Charles said as he brought the children into the kitchen.

Smiling at Charles, Maddie felt the tears sting her eyes.

“I don’t want to impress one, either,” Aaron grumbled.

Maddie jumped as Jesse purposefully cleared his throat behind her.

Aaron guffawed. “Uncle Jesse says only guilty people jump when he does that.”

Hannah released her father’s hand, walked over to Maddie, and wrapped her small hand around Maddie’s fingers. “Don’t worry. I jump, too, and I’m almost always good.” Her brown eyes grew larger and rounder as she looked to her uncle for confirmation. Smiling warmly, he gave her a nod.

Maddie prayed the man would never smile at her like that. She could easily forget that he’d once been a man who enforced the law, and that could prove disastrous.

“Why don’t we all work together to get this meal served up, and when we’re finished eating, we’ll go see what those presents are,” Charles suggested.

“You haven’t given them their presents?” Maddie asked.

“Of course not. You helped me select them. You should share in the joy of giving them.”

The joy. And she did feel the joy, smiling at him, seeing the understanding reflected in his brown eyes. For the first time since she’d agreed to marry him, she reached out and squeezed his hand. She wondered if she’d ever feel happier than she did at this moment.