She tried to find a good thought among her worries. Even though Teagen was none too friendly, he
had
agreed to take her in. Without the letter he might not have done that. She hated that the letter was a lie, and the fact that it was only one of many didn’t make her feel much better.
She glanced over at the big man driving the wagon. He seemed coldhearted, but she’d read his letters and knew he worried about his little sister and the ranch he owned. He looked all granite on the outside, a man chiseled from stone. A man who’d written he’d never open his heart to a woman. A man who’d been her only friend, and he hadn’t even known it.
She tried to smile at him. “What happened to your hand?”
He didn’t smile back. “Nothing,” he answered without glancing at the makeshift bandage.
Surely, somewhere in him there was room for a little kindness. At least she prayed there would be, because if Teagen ever raised his hand in anger like Eli used to, he’d kill her with one blow. If he didn’t prove to be the man in his letters, at least maybe she could buy enough time for the girls to rest while she decided her next step.
Jessie tried not to think of the times she’d been hurt by her husband’s thoughtless words or drunken swings. Eli hadn’t meant it. In fact, most of the time he hadn’t even remembered when he sobered up. Deep down Jessie knew Eli tried. He’d never said he loved her, but he had been considerate each time she was pregnant, making sure she didn’t work too hard and that she had plenty to eat. As soon as each girl was born, he’d gone back to his drinking, showing no interest in the girls or in the store his parents set up for him.
She took a deep breath and pushed memories of Chicago far back in her mind. Somehow, out here, she’d make a new start. Because of Teagen’s letters, she had read every book she could find about the West. Looking around at the rolling hills and wildflowers growing along a road, she couldn’t help but wonder where the wildness was. Except for the man beside her, all she saw appeared tame, harmless.
Closing her eyes, she listened. Silence. Peace. She heard the soft clop of the two horses traveling on dirt, a bird calling in the distance, the jingle of the harness. The freshness of this place washed over her like a gentle rain.
“Jessie?”
One word pulled her back.
She watched as Teagen tugged on the reins, then handed them to her when the horses stopped. Without explanation, he stepped down from the wagon and grabbed a canteen beneath the bench.
“What is it?” All the wild stories she’d read about Texas tumbled into her brain.
A hint of a smile lifted one corner of his mouth when he looked up at her. If she hadn’t known it was impossible, she would think he read her mind.
“There’s a stream just beyond the trees. I’ll get you and the girls some cool water.”
Jessie nodded, trying to decide what he wanted her to do with the reins. Hopefully nothing. She’d been born in Chicago and considered herself an expert at dodging wagons and carriages, but she’d never driven one.
Bethie wiggled off the bench and tried to reach one of the horses’ tails.
Smiling, Jessie realized these animals must be part of the Whispering Mountain breed of horses Teagen so often described. “The finest in Texas,” he’d written. Somehow those bold words penned with such obvious pride always made her smile.
The horses shifted, pulling the wagon with them as they moved into the grass beside the road.
“Stop,” Jessie ordered. “Be still.” She tugged at the reins, but the animals didn’t seem to notice.
Bethie plopped down in the floor of the wagon and began to cry.
Jessie dropped the reins on the footboard in front of her and reached for her daughter. With the shift of the wagon, the horses moved forward again pulling it off the narrow road and onto the incline leading down to the creek. Holding Bethie tighter, she fought to stay on the sloping bench.
“Stop!” she shouted at the horses, but only succeeded in making the baby cry harder.
The horses moved farther as if they hadn’t heard her yell. The right wheel rocked into a hole, almost tipping the wagon. Supplies shifted, bumping into her sleeping daughters.
Suddenly all three girls were crying and screaming. Jessie reached for the reins just as they slipped away. She turned to order her older daughters to jump before the wagon rolled, but as she formed the words, Teagen was suddenly standing at the side of the wagon.
He walked right past her and the screaming children, patted one of the horses on the shoulder, grabbed the leather harness and turned the animals back toward the road. In seconds all was righted.
Retrieving the reins, he tied them around the brake while she climbed down the other side and ran to the girls in the back.
Rose came first, her tears already finished. “Where are we?” she asked. “What happened?”
Emily mumbled behind her. “Horses.”
“It’s all right, Rose. We’re fine.”
Teagen joined them behind the wagon and offered to help Emily. The seven-year-old backed up into the boxes.
“I’m not going to hurt you, child,” he said. “I’ll give you a hand down.”
Frightened, Emily didn’t move until Jessie stepped in front of Teagen and lifted her to the ground. “She’s afraid of strangers,” Jessie whispered. “She’ll warm up to you when she gets to know you.”
Teagen shoved his hat back and shrugged. “Most folks don’t.”
She fought a grin. He’d said the words so honestly she had no doubt that he thought them to be true.
“Girls, I’d like you to meet Mr. McMurray. He’s a friend of your father, and he’s offered to let us stay with him for a while.”
Jessie almost laughed. Rose and Emily looked like she’d just introduced a monster to them. “He’s taking us to his ranch. No more trains or boats or stagecoaches for a while.”
Rose looked up at him with interest. “Do you have more horses and a cow?”
“Yes.” Teagen knelt down to the five-year-old’s level. “Lots of cows and a few goats, pigs, and chickens and a half dozen barn cats.”
Rose nodded as if he’d given the right answer. “What are their names?”
Teagen frowned. “Who?”
“The cats? Cats all have names.” Her head nodded, sending her long braids dancing. “It’s a fact, Mister.”
Teagen considered her for a minute and finally answered. “I haven’t had time to name them. Could you do it for me? That can be your chore. Everybody on a ranch has to have a job.”
She let out a long sigh. “I guess, but it’s hard to think of the right name for a cat. Pigs are easier, and that is a fact.”
To Teagen’s credit, he seemed to take the problem seriously. “Then you’ll have your work cut out for you. We’d better get going.” He settled Rose just behind the wagon bench, telling her she could stand if she held on with both hands or sat on one of the trunks.
When he turned to Emily, she backed away, and Jessie picked her up.
As Jessie hiked her skirt a few inches and began to climb up, Teagen’s hand braced her back. She froze midway up and looked at him. “Thank you.”
He seemed to understand that she meant more than a thanks for the help up. “No problem,” he answered back in the same low tone she’d used. “You should have told me you didn’t know how to handle a wagon.”
With her foot on the step they were at eye level. “I know.” For balance, she placed her hand on his shoulder. “Would you have time to teach me? It seems a skill I need to learn.”
He studied her before he finally said, “I’ll make time. A woman able to handle a team will come in handy on the long trail to California.”
She looked away, and the moment between them was gone. Taking her seat, she straightened her skirts as he circled the wagon. Maybe it had been her imagination, but for a heartbeat in time she thought she’d seen the Teagen she’d written to for years in his eyes. The man who cared and worried about people, not this cold, indifferent man who seemed bothered that they’d interrupted his day.
Before they started again, she gave each of the girls a long drink of water, then used the last of the canteen to wash Bethie’s hands.
“I’m ready,” Jessie said when she realized Teagen was sitting, his foot propped up on the footrest, waiting.
He lowered his boot and made a sound that set the horses in motion.
Fifteen minutes later when she asked him to stop, he didn’t say a word. He simply climbed from the wagon and handed the girls to her. Emily allowed him to lift her down, but she didn’t look at him.
“They have to . . .” She had no idea how to tell him.
“To see to nature’s call,” he said. “I know. I have a little sister. She was almost grown before we could make it between town and the ranch without stopping.”
When they returned, he didn’t smile but helped the girls, then her, back onto the wagon. Jessie tried to think of something to say to him. Suddenly he seemed a total stranger to her. She could almost quote every word he’d ever written in his letters, yet she didn’t know him. Didn’t even know the color of his eyes.
Blue, she finally guessed. Blue-gray, like the winter sky in Chicago.
They crossed a bridge, and Jessie knew they were now on McMurray land. Teagen had written that he and his brothers had burned the original bridge when their father died. Burned it so no one could take their property while they were still boys.
“Are we on your land?” she asked, already knowing the answer.
“We are,” Teagen answered. “You can see the house from here.”
“Thank you for letting us stay.” Jessie felt safe, truly safe, for the first time since her parents died.
Teagen looked over Bethie’s head. “We might have only known each other by letters, but I considered Eli my friend. I’m doing this for his sake.”
Jessie nodded and looked away. How could she tell him that Eli Barton had never even known Whispering Mountain or Teagen McMurray existed? She’d written the letters. She’d been his friend.
Only, if she told him, she had a feeling all she’d be to him was a liar. If he believed her now, then he’d realize she’d lied in the letters. If he didn’t believe her about writing the letters, he’d think she was lying to him now. Either way, she’d lose.
“It’s a beautiful place,” she said as the ranch headquarters spread out beneath the hills. “So beautiful it takes my breath away.”
“The Indians call this place what translates to Whispering Mountain, even though folks that have seen the Rockies say those are hills not mountains. The Apache believed the hills will whisper a man’s future to anyone who dreams on the top of the mountain.”
She studied him. “And you, Teagen McMurray, do you believe?”
He shook his head. “I’m living the life I was meant to live. My brothers married and enjoy traveling away, but my heart draws its beat from this place. I wouldn’t survive long anywhere else. Sometimes I think it’s more that the land owns me than I own the land.”
Jessie smiled. His words reminded her of his letters, almost poetic when he talked of his ranch.
As they neared the wide ranch house with barns and corrals on either side, he added, “My housekeeper will be surprised to see company.” He hesitated a moment before continuing, “She’s not too friendly to strangers. Hell, in twenty years she hasn’t warmed up to me yet.”
Jessie laughed nervously. The wagon pulled up in front of a white porch wide enough to set a dining table on. A woman with silver streaks in her hair stood tall by the back door. Her blue dress and starched apron left no doubt of her identity.
Teagen climbed down. Jessie and her daughters didn’t move. She’d told the girls they would be staying at a ranch, but even she had no idea it would be so grand. Just the house was four or five times bigger than the bookstore and their living quarters above.
He carried the first box of supplies and set it on the porch near Martha’s feet. When he turned for the second box, Jessie heard Martha say matter-of-factly, “Did you pick up a wife and kids during your morning shopping, Teagen? Buying them would be the only way a man ornery as you would ever find a family.”
Her words seemed to have no effect on him as he turned and walked back to the wagon. He grabbed the second crate and carried it to the porch before he answered, “No, I just invited them to stay awhile.”
Martha’s mouth fell open as she watched him walk back to the wagon. “You invited company?”
Teagen raised his hands to Jessie.
She stood and allowed him to lift her down.
The girls followed her lead, Bethie giggling, Rose curious, and Emily looking like she might cry at any moment. They circled around Jessie’s skirts as if the dusty wool of her traveling clothes would protect them.
Teagen grabbed another box, then motioned for them to go ahead of him. She had no choice but to walk directly toward the stern woman in blue who looked more like she belonged as a prison warden than in a kitchen.
“Martha.” Teagen set the box down with a thud. “I’d like you to meet Mrs. Barton and her three daughters.”
The matronly housekeeper’s eyes narrowed. “Barton, as in Eli Barton of Barton Books. The fellow who sends all them books from Chicago.”
Jessie nodded. “My husband died almost three months ago. We’ve had a very long journey to get here, and I hope we won’t be too much trouble.” Touching each of her daughters, she added, “This is Rose, and Emily, and Bethie.” She expected questions, but to her surprise, Martha smiled.
The housekeeper opened the door and said, “You all must be tired. You can wash up back here in the mud room, and I’ll fix you something to eat.”
Jessie felt like she might kiss Miss Martha. “Thank you,” she managed.
Bethie, at the mention of food, wrapped her hand around two of Martha’s fingers.
“No thanks needed,” Martha insisted. “As the housekeeper, it’s my pleasure to welcome you.” She looked down at the child now holding her hand. “I make the best biscuits and gravy you ever ate. Bethie, is it?”