Mary

by Raine Cantrell

“Rafe, then. I’ve carried water up those stairs before you came, and I’ll be carrying it up when you’re gone. Sit down and eat,” she said in a firm voice. “I don’t want to be tripping over you or arguing at every turn.”

  “As the lady wishes.”

  “That’s right. This lady does for herself.”

  Rafe caught the quick smile that came and went on Sarah’s mouth. By silent agreement, they waited until they heard Catherine’s steps on the stairs. Rafe pulled out a chair for Sarah. He didn’t understand her hesitation.

  “You will keep me company, won’t you? You three are of the opinion I should be banished from my child’s side. It would be easier to bear with company.”

  Rafe saw that, once seated, she made no move to eat. There wasn’t any reason to wait to talk to her.

  “I had hoped to find Judd’s widow before this,” he began in a soft voice. “I won’t speak ill of your husband, for a dead man can’t defend himself, but you know that your husband was a gambler.”

  It was not a question. Sarah, with her parched throat and too-dry lips, couldn’t have answered if she wanted to.

  “I first met Judd in a poker game in Lordsburg a few years back. But the first time I saw him was at the livery, the day before the game was slated to begin.”

  He remembered. Dear Lord, what was he going to tell her? Sarah began to crumble her bread.

  Rafe covered her slender hand with his own larger one.

  “If I bring bad memories with my story, I apologize. But I need to tell this in my own way.”

  His pause forced her to look at him. There was sympathy in his cool gray gaze, but there was something akin to admiration, too.

  “All right. I’ll hear you out.”

  “Thank you. I don’t think you’ll be sorry. I had other business in town, and was about to leave when a friend mentioned a high-stakes poker game and asked me to sit in. I had gone back to the livery to make arrangements to board my horse for a few days more.

  “I saw a woman try to grab a buggy whip from the man seated beside her. She wanted to stop the cowardly attack on another woman and a horse. I’ve always admired courage, and learned at an early age that it comes in many forms. A woman who tried to go against her man—”

  “I did nothing.” Sarah stared at her plate. She didn’t see the stew. She saw that woman’s face. The bruises…“Judd refused to help her. He wouldn’t let me do anything. It was you who put a stop to that senseless beating. And when you killed him, you ended that woman’s misery.”

  “I didn’t want to kill him. But I’m a man who’ll live by laws when there is law. And when there are none, I make my own.”

  “I never forgot that day,” she murmured. “Never.”

  “It eases my mind to hear you say that I put that woman out of her misery. I gave her money to see her and her children on their way, but it’s the Lord’s truth, she didn’t thank me for killing her man.”

  “Then she was a foolish woman.”

  “Perhaps. But I never did stay for the poker game. It was a few months later than I ran into Judd again. He stepped in for another player in a game up north in Socorro.

  “A good poker player studies the men he plays with more than the hands he is dealt. I was winning, and Judd had been steadily losing. The last raise was mine, and his to call or fold. He threw in a deed to a mining claim to cover my raise.

  “Now, mining circles are small, no matter how vast an area they cover. I knew that claim. I had tried to buy it a year before, from Old Pony Temple, who first filed the claim.

  “You may not understand how a miner finds what he’s looking for on a claim. I won’t bore you with details, but Old Pony’s eyesight had been failing for a time. I assume that Judd won the claim from him, but he didn’t know what he had, either. He thought it was a worthless deed because there was no sign of color. Gold,” he added when she glanced at him.

  “I let the bet stand, because I had seen reddish sand at the digging. When I had the claim filed in my name, I had the sand assayed. I had figured it was worth more than Judd dreamed. That reddish color sand is carbonate of lead, with a silver content so high, no one around there had seen its like.

  “I made a great deal of money from that mine before I sold off a few shares.”

  “What has this to do with me? Judd lost a poker hand, and you got rich. Nothing new for me. You were smarter and saw other possibilities than what other men viewed.”

  “There is a debt between us.”

  “No. Not a one, Mr. McCade.”

  “I beg to differ. I didn’t know about Judd’s death until a few months ago. Unfortunately, I had to go east. And it seemed no one knew what had happened to his widow.”

  “Why were you looking for me? Judd was the one—”

  “Judd would have lost anything I gave him. And any woman who managed to buy land and a house and hold them against a gambler like Judd deserves to profit from his mistake.”

  Rafe waited for more denials, and when none were forthcoming, he heaved a sigh of relief.

  “I don’t have much cash with me, but I’ll wire my lawyer to release the funds to you.”

  “I still don’t understand why you want to do this.”

  “Haven’t you heard the expression about not looking a gift horse in the mouth?”

  “Mr. McCade, you’re not a horse.” Sarah fought a smile and lost. “If I remember the story, the horse brought more trouble than gifts.”

  And her words brought back to Rafe the whisper of his name from the Apache’s lips. He had enemies. But which had the money and the knowledge to set up a raid to kill him?

  “Let’s hope that I’ll bring no more trouble to your home, Sarah.” He rose. “If you will excuse me, I’ll bring my supper and Mary’s upstairs. And you might think about what you’ll do with five thousand dollars.”

  “Five thousand—”

  “That was the amount of my raise that Judd covered with the claim. A fair exchange, don’t you agree?”

  But Sarah didn’t answer. Nor did she watch him leave. She sat straight in her chair, eyes unseeing. It was not the amount he named that held her still. Judd had won and lost more in a matter of days. But this money would be hers, all hers.

  “Sarah? Sarah, what did he say to you?”

  Sarah started. “Sit down, Catherine. But first, tell me how the child is?”

  “The fever’s high. I helped Mary bathe her body again. But please, what did he say?”

  “I shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth.”

  “He bought you a horse?”

  “No, silly. He made me a gift. A most welcome one.”

  “What?”

  “Freedom, Catherine. Rafe McCade has given me the kind of freedom I’ve dreamed of having. Sit down. I’ll tell you while we eat.”

  Chapter Eight

  The lamps were gone from the room. Rafe saw the lone candle cast a feeble, wavering light over the upper corner of the bed. Mary knelt on the floor, the bucket close by, her voice so soft it took him a few moments to understand that she was murmuring reassurances to Beth.

  “She’s awake, then,” Rafe said, coming into the room.

  Mary did not turn around, nor was she surprised by his presence. It was uncanny how she had sensed him standing there in the doorway.

  “Her sleep is restless. She’s cried out a few times. Nights seem to be the worst when there is fever. The tea I made for her is of chamomile and a bit of mint. It should help the fever and wound, as well as help her to sleep. Beth’s almost finished her second cup.”

  “I brought you something to eat. I’ll sit with her now.”

  A flash of resentment flared in Mary’s mind. The feeling was uncalled-for, and she rarely lied to herself. It stemmed from the quiet command in his husky voice, that absolute expectation of being obeyed.

  What right did she have to refuse him?

  None.

  That one word scored deep, as deep as the emptiness of the old longings that she had
tried so hard to remove from her life.

  Mary rose without complaint. She tilted her head from side to side to release the aching knot at the base of her neck. Then she turned to face him.

  The dust-ridden stranger was gone. He had not shaved, and the dark shadows on his lower face created the look of a lean, dangerous wolf. She could barely make out the slight thickness indicating a bandage on his upper arm.

  She had the strange feeling that he would resent her asking about his wound, and so she kept silent.

  That truant lock of hair had fallen across his forehead. Her arm ached to lift and put it back to join the rest of his thick hair.

  Foolish thought.

  You have nothing to give this man, nothing to give any man.

  Rafe held out the plate to her. He noted her pointed look at his own supper.

  “I had a feeling you wouldn’t leave Beth, so I came to keep you company while you ate.”

  “Do you often read someone’s thoughts?”

  Mary started for the end of the bed, only to find him blocking the way.

  “Sit in the chair. You’ll be more comfortable there. I’ll sit on the floor. And no, now that you mention it, Mary, I’ve never noticed any ability to read someone’s thoughts.”

  It wasn’t exactly a lie. He had never consciously acknowledged any ability. It had come to him, the same way his handling of a gun had come, the same way he found worth where other men found nothing.

  Mary sat in the rocking chair. She watched the graceful flow of his body dropping into an Indian-style seat on the floor. So had men sat around campfires for as long as she could remember.

  He reached up and drew Beth’s small hand to his lips, then held the child’s palm against his cheek before he put it to rest on the bed.

  Mary’s breath caught. The act was as natural as his breathing. She thought of his strong-looking hand stroking his daughter, the husky murmur of his voice that soothed.

  More than the food Rafe had brought to her, Mary feasted on the nourishment of Rafe’s expressing his love for his child.

  There had been no artifice in the kiss he gave Beth. Mary felt certain he had not done it to impress her. Rafe had no reason to. Beth, resting more quietly now, was likely unaware of it.

  Mary thought of her own father. She knew he had loved her in his own way. He did not speak the words or use signs of affection. His love was simply there. Whenever she looked, there had been a quiet pride in his eyes.

  Harry had not been an affectionate man. She often thought of the first few years of her marriage to him as a banquet she had believed would never end.

  The more she needed Harry’s affection, his every expression of love, the more bitter Harry had grown. And so her love had died, and she had withered, the way her small herb garden would turn to dust without care, water and sun.

  She looked up to find Rafe’s intent gaze upon her.

  “Something’s made you sad again.”

  “Thoughts that have no place here,” she answered, and wished those dark thoughts away.

  “I wanted to tell you—” Rafe abruptly stopped. The candlelight bathed her lower face with slight shadow, but highlighted her beautiful eyes. Tell her what?

  He couldn’t remember. Whatever he had thought to say was simply gone from his mind. He couldn’t remember a time when that had happened. She was watching him expectantly, waiting for him to say something.

  “How long before Beth can travel?”

  “Travel?”

  “Be moved?”

  Mary looked everywhere but at him. Leave? He was already talking of leaving?

  But he had started to tell her something, not ask a question. What had he seen looking at her that made him change his mind?

  “I can’t answer you. Not now. It’s simply too soon to tell.”

  “You’re a cautious woman.”

  “Yes. Yes, I am.”

  “I didn’t mean only about Beth’s—”

  “I know.” Uncomfortable with the personal direction of their talk, Mary asked him to tell her about the attack.

  “I’ll tell if you’ll eat. You haven’t touched a bite.”

  Without embellishment, Rafe spoke, and Mary listened to the stark words that created the images of the attack. She forced herself to eat. She would need her strength to nurse Beth.

  She realized Rafe had come to the end of his tale.

  “I understand a little more why Beth wouldn’t let me take the doll. Twice while I was bathing her I tried, but she clung that much tighter.” Mary hesitated, then could not seem to stop herself. “You’re a brave man to risk your life for a child’s toy. Your daughter is a lucky little girl to have so much love.”

  “My insistence on bringing her to my home nearly got her killed. I don’t know how much love that shows.”

  “Don’t feel guilty. Perhaps I shouldn’t say this, but when you admitted that you didn’t know if she had been ill, I had a feeling that you hadn’t seen Beth in a while.”

  Mary wished she could recall the words. His silence was answer enough that she had overstepped herself. She rose and placed her plate on the bureau.

  “I made a mistake about you when I first came here.”

  “Mistake? I’m sorry if I poked into your personal business, Mr. McCade—”

  “Rafe. And I meant it somewhat differently than you’ve taken my words. The fella over at the emporium directed me to the merry widows. I thought I was bringing my daughter to a brothel.”

  “And still you came?”

  Rafe barely made out the hint of a curve to her lips, but he heard a smile in her voice.

  “Yes, I came. With the doctor drunk, there wasn’t much choice.”

  “Not here or in a hundred small towns like Hillsboro.”

  “I didn’t insult you?”

  This time there was no doubt about her smile. Her soft laughter washed over him. “You weren’t the first to make that assumption. I admit I was angry the first time I heard what Sarah’s neighbors were calling us, a few months ago. It was right after Catherine came to live with us.”

  “Well, you must admit it’s strange to find three lovely young women living together.”

  “Thank you for the compliment, but what has that to do with anything?”

  “Women, widowed or single white women who are ladies, are rare in the territory,” Rafe explained, with a patience he did not feel. “Surely you know that?”

  “I knew. But you see, none of us chooses to marry again.”

  Rafe repeated the words to himself. To ask why none of them would marry again burned on the tip of his tongue. He had surmised a great deal about Sarah’s marriage to Judd, none of it good. He let her statement pass.

  “So, tell me why they gave you three the name.”

  The request was harmless enough, but Mary felt there was more to his questions than a way of passing time. He stirred strange notions that she had no business thinking about.

  “Is it something shocking?” Rafe tried to keep his mind on anything but her soft, deft hands, playing with the ruffle of her gown. He wanted to tell her to stop, to point out that she was directing his gaze to the rise and fall of her breasts.

  He had no business being drawn into sexual thoughts about her. Mary had done nothing to provoke them.

  Maybe that was his trouble. She stood in shadow, giving free rein to his imaginings.

  “Shocking? No,” she replied seriously, “I can’t think that our behavior was anything like that. Then again, we are all in our first year of widowhood, but not one of us will wear black, or gray if we can help it.”

  What about a year of mourning? He couldn’t help but notice the absence of that word.

  “I believe it was the music. And the laughter. You see, we’re old friends, aside from Sarah being my cousin. We’re happy living together. Before our marriages separated us, we sang a great deal, sometimes at parties. Now, in the evening when our chores are done, Sarah and Catherine will bring out their guitars and play.
We sing favorite songs. With the memories comes laughter.”

  Mary looked over at Rafe. She couldn’t tell what he was looking at, for the candlelight was behind him and his face completely in shadow.

  “Mr. McCade…Rafe, are you still in the same room with me?” she chided gently.

  “I’m still here. I told you my luck changed for the better when I brought Beth to you.”

  She nodded and began working her way around the room, trying to get to the other side of the bed to check on Beth’s fever.

  “I hope we all live up to your faith in us.”

  “I have no doubts, Mary. None at all.” He swung around to watch her as she bent over his child. “Here, give me the cloth. I’ll freshen it. I should tell you that Beth has nightmares. Sometimes all that quiets her is the doll. It’s fair to warn you that I’ll be bedding down in here with her.”

  “In here? You can’t. This is my room. I intended—no, I intend to sleep here to care for her.”

  Rafe looked directly into her eyes and felt something pass between them. Something, perhaps, that both of them didn’t really want, or thought they didn’t want. But it was there at this moment, between them, for the taking.

  “No sense in wasting your breath to argue. I’m staying,” he said softly.

  Rafe had to look away from her eyes. Suddenly, he could not bear to see her green eyes watching him with a longing that he didn’t believe she was aware of revealing to him.

  As he stood there, he had the eerie feeling that if he kept looking into those eyes of hers, he would fall deeply into them, and never find his way out again.

  “Is it your worry for Beth that makes you so stubborn and demanding?”

  “No.” Rafe closed his eyes for moments. He had to tell her. It wasn’t a matter of being fair, but of issuing a warning that could save lives. All day the thought had gone around and around in his mind, like a dog chasing the fleas on his tail. He had narrowed down his choices.

  “Rafe, what is it? Something is wrong.”

  “There’s something else you need to know. And the others,” he said with a nod toward the doorway.

  His husky voice was no longer soothing. Mary heard the hard edge underscoring his words. A ripple of fear crawled up her spine.