Maggie's Beau

by Carolyn Davidson

  Her eyes were bleak when she met his gaze. “I don’t know. And I know that sounds foolish, that I would walk back into that house after what all I put up with there. But, the fact is, I keep thinking about my mama.”

  “I can’t stop you, Maggie. I won’t even try, I guess,” he admitted. “But would you wait till Joe and Rad get back? They’ll be here by day after tomorrow.”

  She tilted her chin and shot him a disdainful look. “Do you think I’d leave you in the lurch, short-handed as you are right now? I guess you don’t know me very well, Beau Jackson.”

  Well, that gave him another day or so to change her mind. “I guess I know you about as well as anyone else, sweetheart. I know you’re loyal, especially to your mother. I suppose I wasn’t sure that loyalty extended to me.”

  Her look softened and she leaned closer, lifting her hand to brush her palm against his cheek. “I’m about as loyal as that old hound I brought with me. I’d do most anything in the world for you. I never liked anybody in my life the way I like you.”

  “Have you ever loved anyone, Maggie? Besides your mother and maybe your sisters?”

  “I don’t feel that way about you, Beau,” she told him sharply. “That’s a different kind of thing altogether. Lovin’ my mama just came natural.”

  Sorely tempted to correct her, he whispered the word. “Loving, Maggie. Loving. I don’t feel the same way about you that I felt about my mother and father. It’s still love, but it’s a man and woman thing.”

  Her mouth formed the word he’d spoken. “Loving.” It emerged in a whisper and she repeated it. “You’re talking about loving me? In that man and woman kinda way?” She drew back from him. “I thought you just liked me, like a friend. That’s what you told me, that you wanted to be my friend.”

  He nodded. “I do. I thought we were friends. But that doesn’t mean we can’t be more than that one day.”

  “What day’re you talkin’ about?” she asked suspiciously, her careful pronunciation forgotten. “Is this about the way you were touchin’ my bosom when we were goin’ to town?”

  He’d might as well sink or swim, he decided. “I’m talking about asking you to marry me.” There, it was in the open, and for a moment, he feared he’d frightened her beyond measure.

  Her eyes refused to meet his, her hands clenched into fists and she shot to her feet. “You don’t have to do that. I don’t want you feelin’ sorry for me, enough so’s you think you have to marry me.” Her shoulders slumped as she turned from him.

  “I wouldn’t marry anyone out of pity,” he told her. “I thought I loved a girl once, and almost married her, but she found someone else while I was in the army. And then after a while, when I came to Kansas and bought this place, I saw a woman I might have loved, but she was already taken. And I don’t poach, Maggie.”

  She’d turned back as he spoke, her gaze intent on him. “No, I don’t think you’d ever be lookin’—looking at a married woman. But I’ll warrant there’s plenty of women hereabouts who’d be happy to have you come calling.”

  “Maybe,” he agreed. “But I’d only marry a woman if I loved her.”

  “Are you telling me…” She shook her head. “Nah, you’re pulling my leg.”

  It took every bit of willpower he owned to sit still, but he would do nothing at this point to scare her off. “I wouldn’t lie to you. I love you. I want you to marry me. I want to take care of you and have babies with you.”

  She bit at her lip. “We’re talking about doing that man and woman thing, aren’t we?” A visible shiver possessed her and she hugged herself, as if the room had lost its warmth. “I don’t know if I can do that. It’s not that I’m afraid. I just don’t like the idea of having a man owning me.”

  “No man owns another human being, Maggie. Not anymore, at least not in this country.” He stood then, and she dropped her arms to her sides, her cheeks flushing as he approached. “That’s one of the reasons there was a war, so that people could be free. I don’t think that should only apply to the Negroes who were slaves, but to women, as well. I might own my horses and my cow and even the pup you gave me, but I’ll never own the woman I marry.”

  “If I didn’t want to do all that stuff, I wouldn’t have to?” she asked, her eyes suspiciously damp.

  “I’d never make you do anything you didn’t want to,” he vowed. “I’d try to persuade you, maybe,” he allowed, with a grin that refused to be stifled, “but I’ll never force you to sleep in my bed.”

  “Can I think about it?” she asked, turning toward the window.

  “Are you crying? Did I say something to…”

  “No.” She shook her head, and her voice trembled. “I just never thought anybody like you would say all those things to me. I didn’t want to get married off just to get away from my pa, like Emily and Roberta did.” She spun to face him, and his heart ached for the tears that she shed. “I don’t even know if they’re happy. And I don’t want to marry up with you and then find out I made a mistake and be stuck with it.”

  He could resist no longer, and if she fled from his touch, he would have to go back to the beginning and woo her anew. His arms enclosed her and with a firm touch, he drew her into his embrace. She stiffened and he closed his eyes, willing her to soften to his caress. His hands against her back, he bent to press his lips in the curve of her neck, where the open collar of her dress exposed the soft skin of her throat.

  Maggie’s breath hissed past his ear and he hesitated. “I like the kissing stuff, Beau. Maybe I’d like the rest of it.” Her hands crept up to clench the fabric of his shirt and she tilted her head a bit, offering him a scant few inches of bared flesh. “My mama said it was wrong to crawl into a man’s bed, lessen you was married to him.”

  “Your mama was right,” he agreed in a husky whisper. His tongue tasted the flavor of her throat and found there the scent of woman, of Maggie. “Would you like me to talk to the preacher in town?”

  “Maybe I don’t love you,” she warned him. “But it surely feels fine when you kiss on me like this. And I guess I can’t think of anybody else I’d rather live with than you and Sophie.”

  Her hands moved to touch his hair and he felt the tension leave her body, sensed the softening of her flesh as she leaned more fully against him. “Would you kiss me on the mouth, Beau?”

  Would I? Like a thirsty man being offered a cup of water, he accepted her invitation. His lips pressed gently, carefully, moving with caution, finally catching hold of hers in a teasing manner. With teeth and tongue, he explored the tender flesh, patient as she allowed the intimacy, encouraged as her own lips responded. She opened to him, touching him with the tip of her tongue, hesitant and yet eager.

  “I never thought before, you know, when I heard Emily and Roberta talking about it…that kissing would be like this.” Her whisper was breathless, and she leaned back to look fully into his face. “You’re making me feel all hot and tingly in some strange places. And every time this happens, I like it better.”

  His right hand left her back, only to slide against her ribs and across her breast, to where black buttons held her dress in place. His fingers were agile, and the buttonholes gave way easily. Maggie’s head tilted downward as she watched his progress. Beneath the dress, her breasts were covered, though the fabric was threadbare. No buttons allowed entry there, only the fragile material of a well-washed undergarment.

  “What if I tear this thing?” he asked, amusement vying with impatience.

  “It’s the only shift I’ve got,” she said. “My other fell apart, and I been washing this one out in my basin every night and hanging it to dry over my chair.”

  “Well,” he said, impatience winning out, “I guess I’d better buy you a couple of new ones, hadn’t I?” His fingers shredded the fabric with little effort, exposing the skin beneath. Her breasts were round and firm, and his memory of their fullness became reality as he slipped his hand against bare skin, his fingers flexing gently.

  She shivered,
and as he watched, her eyes closed, a faint flush creeping up from the treasure he cradled, to blossom in her cheeks. “I surely like what you’re doing to me.” Her words were choked, and her head tilted back, exposing the long line of skin from her throat to her breasts.

  “You’ll like this, too.” His body urging him to completion, he bent his head, his mouth open against her pale skin, where the sun had not shone its rays. His lips captured the small bit of flesh that lured him, and he touched it with the edges of his teeth, then drew it into his mouth, suckling gently.

  She moaned and her body convulsed against him, moving in a rhythm he could not mistake. His hand slid from her waist to press against the firm rounding of her bottom and he paced her erratic wiggling with the firm thrust of his hips. And then held her fast, warned by the intensity of his own arousal. In another moment he’d have her on the floor, skirts up around her waist and his trousers undone.

  “Maggie…Maggie.” Sounding like a rusty hinge, his voice called her name, and she shuddered, drawing in deep, shivering breaths.

  “I’m thinkin’ I like this more than I oughta,” she said after a moment. Her hands fell from his head and she levered herself against his shoulders. He released her, his eyes unwilling to lose sight of the breast he’d held within his mouth. Her skin glowed with the gleam of pearls he’d seen in a jewelry store once, and the dark crest puckered tighter as he watched.

  “I think we’d better get married right away,” he said, his words harsh. “Whether you love me or not, I don’t think you’ll turn me away, Maggie.”

  Her fingers were clumsy as she buttoned her dress, and he watched silently, aware that his control had been tested to its limit. “I’m going into my room now,” she said, her voice holding a tremor that matched that of her hands. “You’re a powerful man, Beau. You must’ve done lots of this sort of stuff. You sure know how to make me all wobbly and shaky inside. And I need to think about this without your hands on me.”

  She turned from him, then looked back from the doorway, her wistful smile as unknowing a temptation as ever existed. “Play me a song, Beau. One of those pretty ones about loving and such.”

  Bending, he picked up his guitar, and nodded his assent. Even as she walked from the room and down the hallway toward the kitchen, his fingers touched the strings and formed a chord. His right hand picked out a melody and his voice was low and husky as he sang words of finding a love beneath the limbs of a weeping willow, in the arms of a blue-eyed woman.

  Maggie’s footsteps moved slowly across the kitchen floor and his keen hearing picked up the sound of the storage room door as its hinges squeaked open.

  It did not close again, and he sang for her, his voice not much more than a whisper, as his heart soared within him.

  Rad and Joe rode into the yard before dinner the next day, their horses lathered, both men leaping from their saddles. From the corral, Maggie heard their raised voices, and that of Beau as he shot angry queries at the pair of men. Something was wrong. The colt tugged at the lead rope and whinnied loudly, tossing his head and kicking his heels.

  Maggie wrestled with the horse, speaking softly, even as she strained to hear. “You’re just fine,” she cooed, holding tightly to his halter. “All that racket doesn’t mean diddly squat. There’s just you and me here, boy. Now settle down. You hear me?” Her hands worked at the yearling’s head, rubbing and assuring the fey creature of his safety. Above all else, young horses needed a sure and steady hand, and Maggie determined not to allow the fuss beyond the barn to influence her tending to this animal.

  She led him through his paces, talking in a low voice, reassuring him constantly, and then, when he’d performed to her leading, she relented and loosed him into the pasture. “Now, what on earth do you suppose all that was about?” she asked beneath her breath as she hurried through the barn.

  In the yard, near the porch, five men gathered in a huddle, Beau at its center. “You lost me somewhere!” His words vibrated in the air as he faced Rad, head-on. “You had the money, and now you don’t. What the hell are you trying to pull?”

  Maggie slowed her steps, unwilling to interfere, then turned back before Beau could see her. Somehow, Rad had lost the money from the horses, and that fact made her heart ache for Beau. What his plans were for that income didn’t matter. He didn’t seem to be headed for the poorhouse that she could tell. But he no doubt had a place for such a considerable amount of cash.

  And now those plans had come to naught. She stepped back inside the barn and drew her coat tightly around herself. The men shifted position, and Joe Armstrong seemed to be the center of attention. Maggie watched as his head shook slowly, and then he spoke, shrugging his shoulders and shoving his hands deep into his pockets. “All I know is he had the money with him when he was playin’ poker, and when I saw him next, it was gone.”

  “You lost my cash at a damned poker table?” Beau roared.

  A look of disdain swept Rad’s face and his laugh was harsh. Breaking away, he stalked toward his horse, mounting with an agile movement. “I don’t give a damn what you believe, Jackson.” His voice was savage with intensity, and the horse reared as Rad turned it in a tight circle. “I’m headin’ out,” he yelled. “You can find yourself another cowboy.”

  “That’s my horse you’re riding,” Beau called.

  “I’ll leave it at the livery stable. It’s nothin’ but a nag anyway.”

  Beau swore, hands on hips, his voice a grating sound that sent a chill through Maggie. Shay reached for him, one hand gripping Beau’s shoulder, and spoke words Maggie could not hear. She watched in horror as Rad rode toward town, cringing as he prodded his mount into a wild gallop.

  And then Beau headed for the barn at a trot, sweeping his hat from his head. Behind him, Shay shook his head at Joe, and both men followed at a run. Maggie stepped back into a corner, and it was a measure of Beau’s anger that he walked past her, unseeing. His stallion’s halter was changed for a bridle, and within minutes, the horse was saddled.

  “Wait up, boss,” Joe said, bringing a fresh horse from a stall. “I’ll ride with you.”

  “You’ve got two minutes,” Beau warned him, the words harsh and biting. Then he turned to the back of the barn, where sunlight shed its rays across the floor.

  “Maggie!” The sound of his voice shouting her name brought her from her corner and she moved quickly to where he stood.

  “I’m here.”

  “Take care of Joe’s horse. He needs to be unsaddled and dried off. Don’t let him eat or drink till you get him cooled down.”

  “I’ll take care of it,” she told him, and fled from the barn to where the weary horse stood near the house. His sides were heaving and lather was flecked white on his flanks. It was obvious that he’d been sorely used and Maggie took his reins and led him back toward the barn. She slid his saddle to the ground, tipping it on end, then led the gelding around the yard, holding the bridle near his head, speaking softly as she walked with him.

  In less time than she’d have thought possible, Beau rode from the barn, ducking his head as his stud headed out the door, Joe fast on his heels. Maggie watched, worry gnawing at her. She’d not thought Beau capable of such fury. And yet, if she had heard it right, Rad had somehow lost the money from the shipment of horses.

  “He’s not mad at you, missy. He wouldn’t have raised his voice to you if he’d been thinkin’.” Shay stood before her, his gaze dark with anger as Maggie slowed her pace. “Rad’s got himself in a peck of trouble. It looks like he lost the money in a card game, and Beau’s after his hide.”

  “I know he was upset,” she said, her gaze meeting his. “He was counting on that money.” She looked after the men, the only sign of their passage a cloud of dust moving in their wake. “He doesn’t have his gun, does he?”

  “He won’t need a gun.” Shay turned away and Maggie shivered at the menace revealed in those few words. He won’t need a gun.

  It was after dark when the two men retur
ned, riding to the barn, where Pony met them. Maggie watched from her window, reassured as Beau slid to the ground and spoke for a moment with Joe before he turned to the house. They’d come back on their own, with no sheriff in obvious pursuit, and neither man seemed to bear bruises from a fight. She stepped back from the window pane and sat on the side of her bed. How Rad could be dishonest was beyond her ability to conceive. Beau had trusted the man. And perhaps that was the worst of it. Placing your trust and having it betrayed was more hurtful than a beating any day of the week.

  In the kitchen, beyond her door, Sophie’s low tones blended with those of Beau’s. He sounded weary, Maggie decided, his voice a growling rumble. The clang of the coffeepot on the iron stove and the scrape of a chair against the kitchen floor told her that Beau had been persuaded to sit and perhaps eat the supper Sophie’d kept in the warming oven.

  “Is she awake?” His words penetrated, and Maggie rose, moving quietly toward her door. His chair moved against the floor again, and then soft footsteps neared.

  “Maggie?” His voice low, so as not to awaken her should she be asleep, he called her name.

  “I’m here.” Turning the knob, she opened her door and faced him. His eyes were bleak, and she mourned the hurt he’d suffered. “Did you find him?”

  Beau shook his head. “He must have turned into the woods somewhere. He wasn’t at the livery stable and neither Joe nor I saw any tracks leading off across country, anywhere near town. It wouldn’t have been hard to lose us. We were both dead set on getting to town. Didn’t even think about him cutting off and taking cover anywhere near here.”

  “Did he steal your money, Beau?”

  “You better believe it,” he said, his words bitter, his eyes narrowing with a hint of anger. “Joe said he’d left Rad in a bar, playing poker, and when he showed up at the hotel in the middle of the night, he spun a tale about two men jumping him on the street. Joe knew better. Rad didn’t have a mark on him. Hell, his clothes weren’t even rumpled.”