Texas Moon TH4 (11 page)

"As Daniel's brother, you are just as capable of funding the library if you so desire," she said sweetly before walking out.

That drew the line where it belonged. He wasn't any more capable of asking for charity than she was. When he walked out five years ago, he had taken out every penny he had ever earned from Mulloney Enterprises. He wasn't likely to ask for more now.

Now that seduction was no longer a possibility, Peter found it easier to back his hostess into a verbal corner. He wanted to know more about the haughty Miss Harrison. She was more than attractive. She was hardworking. She could cook and keep house. So why in the name of all that was holy hadn't some man snatched her up years ago? He followed her into the kitchen, determined to find out.

"When I'm as rich as my father, I'll fund your library." He took the plates out of the cabinet. "But in return you have to tell me why a woman with as many attributes as you hasn't ever married."

She didn't even bother looking at him as she sliced the cold chicken. "Because I have more brains than most women, Mr. Mulloney, and I know better than to shackle myself to some lying, no-account layabout. Does that answer your question?"

"I'm not sure it will win you a library. If you're as smart as you say you are, then you know the entire male population can't be burdened with those characteristics."

Her knife moved on to slice sharply through a loaf of bread. "No. Some are pigheaded and arrogant. Others are self-righteous idiots. Then there are those who think they're God's gift to women. Should I go on?"

He smiled wryly. "I think I get the idea. Does that mean you're so perfect that you never get lonely in the middle of the night?"

She set out the platters of meat and bread and the leftover apple pie. "That's none of your business, Mr. Mulloney. I've seen enough suffering in my lifetime to know when I'm well off."

He held out her chair and seated himself across from her. "There aren't many women who would forgo the pleasures of matrimony, Miss Harrison. You are taking an isolated stand."

Those piercing eyes lifted to fasten firmly on his face. "I never said I wouldn't marry, Mr. Mulloney. I meant that I'd have to be offered one whale of a lot of money before I'd consider it."

That neatly put the subject in a package and wrapped a bow around it.

Chapter 9

Janice knew she shouldn't have said it the minute the words were out of her mouth. Peter Mulloney no doubt had women chasing after him for his money since he was twelve years old. Her comment would give him a thorough disgust of her and neatly dissolve any fragile hopes she might have had of leading him into matrimony. Well, the hopes had been built on little more than the desire she had seen in his eyes. They had been foolish hopes from the very first. All he wanted was what all men wanted, and that certainly wasn't the legal commitment of marriage. At least she had the courage to be honest. That was more than he had.

He looked as if he had been struck by lightning. Janice felt an odd sense of satisfaction that she had said something that had really hit him where it hurt. Generally, men were too full of themselves to believe anything she said. She picked up her empty plate and carried it to the sink.

The action must have stirred him back to the moment. He helped himself to another piece of chicken. "Does Jason Harding know your opinion of men, Miss Harrison?"

He was too quick by half. Janice poured hot water into the basin and added enough cold to be comfortable. "He never asked me, Mr. Mulloney."

She thought she heard him chuckle. She'd never known him to even express humor before. He scarcely knew how to smile. She gave him a suspicious look.

He met her look impudently. "Remind me not to ever ask your opinion unless I'm ready to hear it."

For a minute she almost returned his smile. He made her feel warm inside, as if he understood her. And then she realized the impossibility of such a notion, and she turned back to her dishwater. "I'll do that, Mr. Mulloney."

Surprisingly the conversation didn't dwindle from there. Janice wondered if her declaration had released him from some obligation he had felt toward her. He seemed more congenial than at any time since she had met him. When he asked her what she had been sewing, she didn't hesitate in answering.

"I'm making new curtains for Betsy's room. I want to surprise her when she returns. She wants those ruffled kind that Melissa Harding has in her bedroom. My only problem is that this place doesn't come equipped with curtain rods and I'm not certain how to go about hanging them."

Peter pushed his chair back and carried his plate over to the sink. "I don't know much about curtains, but show me what you want and I'll try to figure out how to hang them."

She was slightly embarrassed to show him the plain muslin nailed to the walls in Betsy's room, but he didn't seem to notice anything odd about the arrangement. When she explained how the new curtains were supposed to be gathered up on a rod, he caught on quickly.

"You just need some kind of stick to go through that pocket you've made there, and then the stick needs to hang on some kind of bracket, right?" He showed her what he meant by cupping his hand against the wall and balancing one of Betsy's paintbrushes in it.

Janice nodded dubiously. "I think so. Mr. Holt probably sells the rods down at the mercantile. Do you think he'll have the bracket things?"

"There's no need to give Mr. Holt your money. I bet I can whittle out what you need from some of that wood out back. Let me take a look at what you've got."

If anyone had ever told her that the arrogant, fabulously wealthy Peter Mulloney would be sitting in her front room whittling curtain rods, she would have laughed herself to death. But as she ran the gaily-colored gingham through her sewing machine, there he sat at her hearth, shaving away at a piece of wood. He seemed quite at peace with himself, and not at all the impatient, irritable gentleman she had known back in Cutlerville.

The sight of a handsome male at her hearth was doing terrible things to her insides however, and Janice tried to keep her attention on her work. But as companionable as their silence was, she couldn't resist this chance to find out a little more about this man.

"Once you've discussed your business with Jason, what are your plans, Mr. Mulloney? Will you be going back to Ohio?"

Peter cast her a swift glance, but she didn't see it. "I've not been back there in years, Miss Harrison. I'm thinking of making my home in New Mexico."

He wasn't about to tell anyone about the gold, not until it was his. He'd seen disaster strike too often once the whispers of gold started. He noted with interest, however, that she wasn't close enough to Daniel to know that Peter had left home years ago.

"New Mexico? Santa Fe? I've heard that's an interesting town."

"The mountains. You ought to see them in the spring. They're covered in flowers and wildlife, and a man can look as far as the eye can see and not find another human being."

"Sounds lonely. I find it hard to picture a city man living like that for long."

"I don't find it hard at all. I had a place up there for the winter, raised mustangs. Never saw a neighbor from one day to the next. Can't say I'd do it for a lifetime, but it suits me fine right now. What about you? Do you like teaching out here where the cowboys shoot up the town every Saturday night?"

"I like living where people respect me for what I do, and I can make something of myself. A woman can't do that easily back East."

It seemed to him that women got plenty of respect back East, but Peter had the feeling he was missing something. He began sanding the rod. "It seems to me there are more rich men back East than out here."

"I never said I was looking for a rich man, Mr. Mulloney. I'm perfectly capable of looking after myself. You're the one who thought I ought to be married."

Her answer was quite complacent and not the least bit angry. He found it hard to believe that any woman didn't consider marriage her lifetime goal, but he didn't mean to argue. She did seem to be getting along quite well without a man of her own, whereas he grew mighty tired of living without a woman. The difference might be that she didn't know what it felt like to have a man in her bed. It gave him something to think about while the conversation drifted on.

They were trying out the new curtains and rod in Betsy's bedroom when the knock sounded at the front door. Beside him, the schoolteacher froze. He gave her an impatient look when she didn't hook the rod in the bracket. Seeing her expression, he peeked between the curtains to identify the visitor was.

"From the shape of her, I'd say it was your friend from the mercantile. Want me to see what she wants?"

Janice instantly recovered. "No! Heavens no. Ellen is a good girl, but she gossips dreadfully. Stay in here. Don't let her know you're in the house."

She fled the room, leaving Peter helpless to do anything else but sit on the bed for fear he would make a noise that would alert the visitor of his presence.

Janice flung open the door and caught Ellen's arm, pulling her into the house. "Ellen! Whatever are you doing out at this hour?" A dozen possibilities danced through her mind, but only one was logical. Ellen's reply confirmed her suspicion.

"You haven't seen Bobby, have you? Mr. Harding said it would be all right for him to stay in town with me now that I'm so close to my time, but he didn't come home tonight."

"Sit down. Get yourself off your feet. Let me make you some hot tea. You haven't been all over town looking for that scoundrel, have you?" Janice pushed her guest into a chair and looked about to be certain no evidence of Peter's presence lay about. The whittling knife lay by the hearth along with a clump of shavings. There wasn't any way she could disguise them. She'd have to think up a story if Ellen noticed.

Ellen looked uneasy. "I just stopped by. I don't need anything. It's just... Well, Bobby was complaining about that Mr. Mulloney. And I thought... You know how Bobby is. He's got this quick temper...."

Janice patted her shoulder. "Mr. Mulloney can take care of himself, I assure you. And as much trouble as he's in with the sheriff right now, he won't hurt Bobby if he can help it. Don't you worry about a thing. Bobby's probably just out with the boys somewhere. He'll be home soon."

She wanted to offer the girl the bed in Betsy's room. Bobby's temper was notorious, but so far he hadn't been known to take it out on Ellen. Normally, she wouldn't take any chances, but she couldn't see any easy way to get Peter out of the bedroom so Ellen could go in.

Ellen struggled to her feet. "I'm sure you're right. I just worry all the time these days. Isn't that silly? Mrs. Danner says it's because of the baby. I sure will be glad when it's born. I'm sure Bobby will be glad too." She shrugged slightly with embarrassment. "He can't... you know. Not while I'm like this."

Janice was afraid she very much did know, but she didn't feel inclined to comment upon it. After all, she was supposed to be an old maid. She hugged Ellen's shoulders instead. "Bobby will be so proud when he sees that baby, he'll have that new house built in no time. Do you need me to walk you home? I don't like for you to be out alone like this."

Ellen giggled. "Then you would have to walk home alone, and I'd be obliged to walk back with you. We'd be walking all night."

Janice got the girl to the front door, but Ellen wasn't eager to leave yet. They talked a few minutes more, standing on the porch in the warm June air. Most of the town had retired for the night. Being Sunday, even the saloon was closed. Janice breathed a sigh of relief when she noticed a familiar figure striding down the street.

"There's Sheriff Powell. Let me have him help you home. Then we won't have to walk back and forth all night." Reassured by Ellen's giggle, she signaled the sheriff.

Powell hurried toward her. "Anything wrong, Miz Harrison? Did that Mulloney fellow go back to your lean-to tonight? I been looking around for him."

"He was helping me hang curtains, Sheriff. I'm sure he's sleeping by now. Would you escort Ellen home? We got to talking and it's kind of late and I hate for her to be out there alone."

Five years of teaching school had not only taught her how to speak with authority, but to cover up what wasn't being said with a firmness that left her audience completely convinced she'd answered their question. She'd covered many gaps in her education that way. It served her well tonight.