by Diana Palmer
“Thanks,” he replied.
Neither of them spoke, having too much trouble finding the right words.
When Luke and Crissy came back, two pairs of eyes looked toward them with open relief.
“Shall we eat?” Luke murmured.
Crissy reached up and took Tom’s hand. “You have to sit beside me, Mr. Tom, so you can tell me about Indians.”
“Native Americans.” Elysia corrected her without thinking and then flushed at Tom’s keen glance.
“Is that right?” Crissy asked her companion.
“Actually it is,” he told her. “Or, if you prefer, indigenous aborigines.” He grinned. “Those two words get a workout lately.”
Crissy tried to pronounce it and finally succeeded.
After they were well into their meal, Tom explained the divisions of Sioux to his young daughter. “There are Lakota, Nakota and Dakota,” he said, “which refers to the use of the l and n and d in each of those languages. Then, there are Brule, or burned thigh, Sioux, Nez Perce, Blackfoot and Sans Arc.” He explained to her that Sans Arc meant “without bows” and came from a sad incident in that tribe’s history during which the group were advised by a shaman to put their bows and arrows into a pile. They were subsequently attacked, with tragic results.
“Tell me about your great-grandfather,” Crissy persisted.
“He was one of the warrior subchiefs,” he explained. “He fought and was wounded in the Little Bighorn fight.”
“Massacre,” Crissy said knowingly.
He gave her a long look. “A massacre is when one group is totally unarmed and defenseless. Custer and his men had plenty of weapons.”
“Oh,” Crissy said respectfully.
“Back in the old days, trackers could tell by the shape of a moccasin which tribe he was tracking. The arrows were unique to each tribe, and even to each warrior.”
“Goodness,” Crissy exclaimed. “Can you track?”
He chuckled. “I can track my way to the nearest burger stand,” he mused. “But out in the woods, I don’t think I’d be much good at it. Now my sister’s husband is a real tracker. And he’s got Native American blood, too. Their little boy is just your age. He looks a lot like you,” he mused, studying Crissy. “He has green eyes, too, despite his dark skin and hair.”
“Have you seen the Cades lately?” Luke asked.
Tom shook his head. “I’ve been too busy, what with this move to Jacobsville. But I thought I might go up there for a few days next month. I don’t know what I’ll do with Moose while I’m away, though,” he added thoughtfully.
“You got a moose?” Crissy asked, wide-eyed.
“That’s his name,” Tom said, correcting her. He chuckled. “Moose is sort of like a walking disaster. I’ve been around dogs most of my life, but he’s unique. Kate saw him once and called him an albatross.”
“What’s that?” the little girl wondered aloud.
“There was a poem by Coleridge. The ancient mariner was forced to wear one around his neck—”
“I read that in school.” Luke interrupted. “It was one of the only poems I liked.”
“We could keep your dog for you,” Crissy volunteered.
“No, you couldn’t,” Tom said before Elysia or Luke could speak. “Moose would shatter every fragile thing your mother and uncle have, and you’d have to recarpet the floor. He’s a digger. If he can’t get his paws into dirt, he’ll try to un-earth the carpet. Everything I own is saturated in lemon juice to keep Moose out of it. He really hates the taste of lemon.”
“Why do you keep him?” Luke asked.
Tom made a face. “I don’t know. I like him, I guess. He was a stray. I felt sorry for him. Now I feel sorry for myself. But he’ll grow up. One day.”
“We have two cats that somebody abandoned,” Luke murmured, with a speaking glance at his sister. “I was going to take them to the pound, but she—” he gestured toward Elysia “—wouldn’t hear of it. They went to the vet instead, for shots. Good thing she makes a good living at her boutique, or their appetites would bankrupt her.”
“They eat an awful lot,” Crissy agreed. “Especially Winter.”
“Winter?” Tom ventured.
“It was when we found her,” she replied. “And the other one is named ‘Damn—’”
“Crissy!” Elysia burst out.
“Well, that’s what Uncle Luke calls her,” Crissy muttered.
“Her name is Petunia,” Elysia said, smothering laughter. “But she likes shaving lotion, so every morning when Luke uses his, Petunia leaps into his lap and tries to lick him.”
“Moose has several other names, too,” Tom murmured, “But I won’t repeat them in mixed company.”
Luke chuckled.
“Would you like to see our cats?” Crissy asked when they finished dessert. “They live in the barn.”
“Go ahead,” Elysia told the other three occupants of the table. “I have to clear away.”
Tom hesitated, but Crissy caught his hand and coaxed him out the back door.
Luke hesitated before he followed. “You okay?” he asked his sister.
She managed a smile. “I suppose so. Not that we’ve settled anything, but we’re not attacking each other, either. I don’t mind if he sees Crissy.”
“They seem to be forming a bond.”
“I noticed.” She sighed. “Luke, you don’t think he’ll try to take her away from me?” she asked worriedly.
“No, I don’t. He isn’t that kind of man.”
“I do hope you’re right. I’ve only been around him for a few…”
The sound of tires on the gravel outside caught their attention. A tall, dark-haired man was just getting out of a racy red foreign sports car.
“Why, it’s Matt!” Elysia exclaimed. “Whatever is he doing here?”
CHAPTER FOUR
Matt Caldwell was a handsome devil, dark-eyed and lean-faced and dark-browed. He moved with a lithe, sure gait and he was the favorite target of most of the single women in Jacobsville. Not that Matt ever seemed to notice any of them, except Elysia, and only on a friendly basis. His full name was Mather Gilbert Caldwell. But everyone called him Matt.
He grinned as he approached the people on the front porch, showing perfect white teeth.
“Are you a delegation?” he queried.
“You’d better hope we’re not a lynch mob,” Luke chuckled. “What brings you out here?”
“I’m looking for your dinner guest. Where is he? I’ve got a message for him from his sister.”
“It must be a pretty important one to bring you out here,” Elysia said. “And how did you know he was here?”
“Mr. Gallagher,” he murmured dryly.
She groaned. “He’s out in the barn with Crissy.”
“Mind if I deliver the message?”
“Of course not,” Elysia said.
He caught her by the hand and pulled her along. “You come, too.”
She let him lead her away with an amused glance toward her brother.
“Is it bad news?” she asked as they approached the barn.
“Not at all.” He glanced down at her. “Why is your dinner guest in the barn with Crissy?”
“She’s introducing him to our cats.”
“I heard she and Luke spent today out at Turner’s Lake fishing with Tom.”
“They did.”
“Is he Luke’s friend, or yours?” Matt asked, pausing to stare down at her.
She fidgeted. “That’s personal. You and I are just friends, Matt.”
“Of course we are,” he agreed. “But friends take care of each other. Our Mr. Walker has a cold, nasty temper and he seems to be going out of his way to antagonize you. I felt a little guilty about it, so I came out to see why Luke brought him home.”
His wording went right by her. “Crissy likes him,” she said.
“Crissy likes me, too,” he said pointedly.
She couldn’t say any more without giving away secret
s. She grimaced. “Matt, be a dear and stop grilling me, could you?”
“Is he why you left New York so suddenly?”
She glared at him. “Hey. That’s too personal!”
“Sure it is. We’ve already agreed that we’re friends, haven’t we?” His dark eyes narrowed. “Crissy looks a lot like him, don’t you think?”
“Matt!”
He let out a long sigh. “Well, she does. I’m not blind or stupid, and I knew more about Fred Nash than most people. He wasn’t in any shape to become a father…”
“Oh, God, not you, too?” she groaned.
“Yes. Me, too. For heaven’s sake, hasn’t it dawned on you that I was responsible for Tom being in Jacobsville? That I planted the seed in his mind, encouraged him to do a market study of the area and move down here?”
She actually gasped. “You didn’t!”
“I did,” he said firmly. “He had a right to know. Not that I said anything about Crissy to him. I thought fate would take care of that. And it has. He knows, too, doesn’t he?”
She glowered up at him.
“Of course he knows,” he answered his own question. “He isn’t blind, either. And he’s been giving you fits ever since he moved here. Damn, I’m sorry.”
She slumped. “Matt, you were only trying to help. But it’s all such a mess.”
“Most messes can be cleaned up with the right broom.” He tilted her face up, smiled and bent to kiss her on the cheek. “Cheer up. The world isn’t going to end. In fact, things are going to work out beautifully. All you have to do is give them a chance.”
The squeak of the barn door opening brought both heads up. Tom was standing there with Crissy beside him, glaring blackly at the newcomers.
“There you are,” Matt said genially, still clinging tightly to Elysia’s hand. “Kate phoned. When she couldn’t find you, she found me. She has news.”
Tom stilled. “Bad news?”
“Hell, no,” Matt said, chuckling. “She’s pregnant. You’re going to be an uncle again.”
Tom whistled through his teeth. “Imagine that. They’ve tried for years to have a second child.” He laughed with pure delight. “I’ll bet they’re both over the moon.”
“Kate sounded that way when I spoke to her,” Matt agreed. “She said Jacob’s already planning a new nursery. He wants a girl this time. I think Kate does, too.”
“They’ll be happy with whatever they get. They’re both crazy about kids.”
“Their son will like having a playmate.”
“And Kate is a wonderful mother,” Tom added. “I’ll call her as soon as I get home. Why are you holding Elysia’s hand?” he added so abruptly that it caught Matt by surprise.
“Was I?” He loosened her fingers with a smug look that neither of them saw.
“He can hold my hand if he wants to,” Elysia told Tom.
“I noticed,” he said coldly. “You must like him. You haven’t thrown anything at him. What’s the matter, can’t get your shoe off?”
“Just you give me a minute and we’ll see…!” She struggled with a loafer, using Matt’s arm for a prop, but she was immediately tugged upward.
“Stop that,” Matt muttered.
“Did she throw a shoe at you, Mr. Tom?” Crissy asked, wide-eyed.
“Yes, she did,” he replied curtly. “A high-heeled one, at that. She could have knocked my head off.”
“That was the idea, all right,” Elysia said sharply.
“Now, now.” Matt stepped between them. “This isn’t setting a good example for the shortest member of our little friendly group.”
Tom and Elysia stopped glaring at each other and glanced at Crissy, who was watching them with growing worry.
Tom wiped the anger from his face and smiled nonchalantly. “It’s just a slight disagreement, cupcake,” he said. “Nothing to worry about. Isn’t that right, Elysia?”
She cleared her throat. “Of course.”
“Then why did my mommy throw a shoe at you?” Crissy asked the tall man.
“Because he called me a—!”
“Ellie!” Matt interrupted.
Elysia clenched her teeth and forced a smile in Tom’s general direction. “Never mind.”
“Don’t you like each other?” the child asked plaintively. “Mommy, you have to like Mr. Tom because he’s my friend.”
Those green, green eyes would have melted stone, which Elysia wasn’t. She went down on one knee. “I like Mr. Tom,” she told the child. “I really do.”
“And do you like my mommy?” the child asked the man.
He drew in a short breath. “Sure. I think she’s just spiffy.”
“Huh?”
He glanced at Elysia with cold green eyes. “Terrific. Super. A truly wonderful person.”
“Thank goodness,” Crissy said, smiling her relief. “Now you have to stop yelling at each other, okay?”
Tom and Elysia stared at each other. “Okay,” they chorused gruffly.
“Let’s have a cup of coffee,” Matt said quickly. “Elysia, do you mind?”
“Not at all.” It was something to do, to get her out of range of that…that man!
The men followed slowly back toward the house with Crissy in tow. By the time they arrived in the dining room, Elysia was calm and coolly friendly, even to her daughter’s hated friend. But she was relieved when Tom left, just the same.
* * *
He became a regular visitor to the ranch after that. Sometimes he came when Luke was there alone with the child, but occasionally he showed up for Sunday dinner. Elysia tolerated him, but she couldn’t forget the horrible things he’d said to her, his cold treatment of her. Even understanding his past didn’t make him any more welcome in her home. She knew that he was just pretending to tolerate her company so that he could spend time with his daughter.
She still wasn’t sure if he might try to claim custody of Crissy, and it made her nervous. She saw the way he looked at the child, with pride and tenderness. Crissy was equally fond of him. It was going to complicate Elysia’s life, but she didn’t know what to do. Tom had every right to see his child. But it cut right into Elysia’s heart every time she saw him. The past might be over, but her feelings for him had never wavered. They grew harder to contain as she saw that rare tenderness he displayed with Crissy. With no one else was he as open, as vulnerable. To make matters worse, when Elysia came into a room, he seemed to freeze over.
She didn’t know that it was jealousy motivating him, that seeing her with Matt that evening had provoked all sorts of doubts about her feelings.
She was getting Sunday dinner when Tom came into the kitchen to ask for cups to go with the carafe of coffee.
“They’re in that cupboard.” With her hands busy making rolls, she had to nod with her head toward the cabinets.
“I’ll get them.”
She kneaded risen dough, trying not to notice how nice he looked in slacks and a dark jacket with a delicately red striped shirt and paisley tie. He wore his hair short and neat but she had fantasies about how he might look with his hair tousled or down around his shoulders like his Native American ancestors…
“Crissy wants to know if you’ll let her come home with me to meet Moose,” he said.
She froze. She knew she shouldn’t be thinking of making up excuses, but she was.
“I know you don’t approve,” he said quietly. “But she’s my child, too.”
She glanced at him worriedly and then away again. “It isn’t that I don’t approve,” she faltered.
He put the cups down and went to stand close behind her. “But you want her to like Matt, is that it?” he demanded.
She whirled. “Whatever made you ask that?”
He searched her wide eyes. “You’re involved with him, aren’t you?” he demanded.
She grimaced. “No, I’m not,” she said through her teeth. “But I wish I were. He’s handsome and sexy and…”
“Experienced,” he said for her, bitterly.
The tone of his voice slowed her down. She looked at him quietly, seeing emotional scars that probably were invisible to most people. They were vivid to her, perhaps because they shared the same sort of past.
“Experience doesn’t make a man,” she replied. “There are many things much more important.”
“Such as?”
“Tenderness,” she said promptly. “The ability to carry on a conversation. Intelligence. A sense of humor.”
He glared down at her. “I suppose Matt has all those qualities,” he said.
“He’s my friend,” she told him. “Only my friend.”
His green eyes narrowed. “And what am I?”
Her heart jumped. She didn’t want to be pinned down with such a question. She turned her attention back to her dough.
“We were friends once,” he continued, as if she’d spoken. “I valued your opinion. We got along well together.”
“All that changed,” she reminded him.
“Yes. I got drunk and made the mistake of my life,” he said bitterly. “I’ve lived with it, but it hasn’t been easy. Probably not for you, either,” he added perceptively. “You were no more a rounder than I was.”
She looked at him wide-eyed. “Excuse me, that’s not what you said when that French Don Juan made some loud remarks about me on the street.”
He grimaced. “I was jealous,” he said flatly.
Her hands stilled in the dough as she stared at him. “You were what?”
He shrugged. “I hated his guts,” he said shortly. “I couldn’t imagine you with a man like that, but I wasn’t thinking clearly. You’re very attractive,” he added reluctantly. “I can’t blame other men for wanting you, too.”
His almost unnoticed slip fascinated her. She glanced at him hesitantly. “Do you…want me?” she asked daringly.
His heart jumped in his chest. His face hardened.
She backtracked. “Sorry. Unfortunate question—”
His mouth cut off the words. He’d moved so quickly that she didn’t even see him coming. He kissed her a little clumsily, because it had been a long time. But after a minute, as she began to respond shyly, he started to get the hang of it again.