That was close to how it had happened, but Josh merely shrugged. “Get started, will you, boy?”
Luke nodded and darted outside almost as quickly as he’d come in.
“But the wagon,” Kate said, looking puzzled. “How will they get it back?”
“They don’t. I bought it.”
“What?” she said again.
Josh let out a compressed breath; he was in no mood for a long discussion.
“I couldn’t very well get the load here without it. You can use it next time you need supplies. Send someone to meet them halfway again. It’ll be cheaper.”
“Use their wagon?”
“Your wagon,” he said, wondering why she didn’t understand; she was usually so quick.
Kate frowned. “But what about the horses?”
“They came with the wagon,” he said with a tinge of sarcasm. “I could hardly hitch Buck to the thing.”
Kate’s eyes widened as she stared at him. “You bought the wagon and the horses?”
Josh tried to hang on to the last of his patience. “Don’t get in a pucker over it. I didn’t use your money.”
“Well that’s a considerable relief,” Deborah put in, her tone very dry. “That means they’re yours, and you can pay for their keep.”
Josh wasn’t amused. It was suddenly too much, and he was too tired to deal with this abrupt change from delighted greeting to censure. He didn’t know why the hell he was doing this anyway, any of it. He should have left the dust of Gambler’s Notch far behind by now.
“You said you needed those supplies,” he said irritably. “And now you’ve got them. If you don’t like the way I did it, then maybe you—”
“I’m sorry,” Kate said swiftly. “I did need the supplies, and you saved me having to start all over. And it would be difficult, trying to buy goods when people are stocking up for their trip west.”
He hadn’t even thought of that, but he supposed few enough folks could afford the two hundred dollars or so each it cost to take the train west, making the big prairie schooners the transportation still most commonly used by those yearning for the land beyond the Rockies.
But Kate had thought of it.
Arly always told them I was stupid. Useless. A nuisance. They don’t trust me. They don’t think I can run this place.
The Barton brothers were the stupid ones, Josh thought, his anger fading as he remembered what Kate was up against. And he owed her. Owed her his life. He understood a little better now why she’d done it, why she wasn’t consumed with any great need to see him die for killing her husband, but that didn’t lessen the debt any.
He turned his head at the sound of Luke returning, still at a run.
“All done,” the boy said proudly.
Josh nodded. “I’ll get started unloading.”
“I’ll help!” Luke was back outside in an instant. Josh shook his head tiredly; the boy’s energy was making him feel even more weary.
“Josh, at least sit and rest for a while first. You look so tired.”
Kate’s concern washed over him like balm, and for the moment he forgot how angry he’d been just a short moment ago.
“I’ve been sitting,” he told her with a wince. “Besides, if I stop now, I may never get started again. Best if I just keep moving.”
He turned and walked back outside. Surprisingly, Luke was more help than he’d expected, racing back and forth with the smaller items: bolts of cloth, lengths of stovepipe, and individual cooking pots out of a larger crate Josh pried open for him. Still, it was a lengthy process, and a rough one; the wagon was packed to capacity with a very bulky load.
Josh was shoving a large, heavy crate that he guessed had to contain Art Rankin’s shipment of iron for horseshoes to the back of the wagon when Marshal Pike, cheerfully whistling something that sounded vaguely like the refrain of “Beautiful Dreamer,” paused in his walk to observe the struggle.
“Well, now,” he said cheerfully, “isn’t this a sight I never thought to see?”
Grunting, Josh ignored the man and his cheer. He leaned into the crate with his shoulder and managed to shove it a couple of feet. Pike was grinning now, and Josh didn’t like the looks of that.
“The Hawk taking to shopkeeping. Why, nobody’d believe such a thing, were I to tell them.”
Josh glared at the man over the top of the crate. “Then don’t.”
Pike tugged at his mustache, still grinning. “I haven’t. Leastwise, not yet. Had to come see for myself if it was true, what folks are sayin’.”
Josh didn’t want to know what folks were saying. He didn’t want anything except to get this done, eat a decent meal—Kate had been cooking something that had had his stomach growling for the past hour—and go to sleep for two days.
“Looks like it’s plumb factual, though,” Pike said, chuckling audibly now.
With a final surge born of annoyance, Josh shoved the box to the back edge of the wagon. Rankin, he thought, could tote the thing himself the rest of the way. Then he jumped down to the ground and turned to look at Pike dourly.
“All right, Marshal. You’re set on telling me; that’s clear enough. So what are folks saying, besides that I’ve taken up shopkeeping?”
Pike glanced at the mercantile, sniffing as if he could detect the aroma of Kate’s cooking clear out here. Perhaps he could, Josh thought, wondering if that thick mustache somehow improved the man’s sense of smell.
“Why, they’re saying it’s plumb amazing,” Pike said.
Exasperated by this game the marshal was obviously enjoying at his expense, Josh clenched his jaw. Pike had pretty much left him alone up to now, and he didn’t want the man angry at him, but he was in no mood to be toyed with.
“What,” he said tightly, “is so all-fired amazing?”
Pike grinned widely. “That The Hawk has been tamed by a sparrow.”
KATE FELT JOSH’S gaze on her as she served up the meal of chicken and dumplings. It was early, barely dusk, but she’d begun cooking soon after Josh had begun to unload the wagon; she’d never seen a man look so tired before. And he looked worse now after unloading all those supplies and toting them inside, stacking the ones that she had no room for on the shelves in the storeroom, eating away at his already limited sleeping space.
And she felt badly that she’d questioned what he’d done. If he’d felt it necessary to buy the horses and the heavy wagon, then she was sure he’d been right. It certainly wasn’t her place to challenge him when he’d been doing her a tremendous favor. Whatever he felt he owed her because of her help in saving him from the hangman’s noose, he’d surely more than paid it back by now.
“What’s this?” Luke asked as she set a plate before him. She’d invited the boy to stay when Josh had thanked him for his help, saying he’d worked as hard as any man today.
“Chicken,” Josh said, rather solemnly.
“And dumplings,” Kate added, amused by Josh’s tone—chicken was a rarity in this land of beef—and the fact that she thought she’d heard his stomach growl.
“You eat chickens?” Luke asked, looking at his plate doubtfully. “I thought they were just for eggs.”
“They usually are, out here,” Kate explained. “Back in the States, folks eat them all the time.”
“Why?” Luke asked.
“Because there are lots of them,” Josh said. “Now eat yours.”
Kate sat down as Josh spoke, sounding, she thought, like a father directing his son to be quiet at the table so he could begin his own meal. The thought made her want to smile, and at the same time filled her with a wistfulness she’d never experienced before. She didn’t dare contemplate the cause of that feeling, just as she didn’t dare think about the foolish, scandalous thing she’d done this afternoon, something she’d ne
ver in her life even thought of doing before, hugging a man like that. Yet she’d done it, throwing her arms around Josh in front of both Deborah and Luke, clinging to him, and she just barely a widow.
She’d told herself it was the heat of the stove that had her cheeks so flushed, but she knew it was really humiliation. At first she’d been thankful Josh hadn’t talked about it, but then she realized he was probably as embarrassed as she had been, and thinking all kinds of pitiful things of the widow who had treated him so familiarly. She tried to keep her mind occupied with her cooking because she couldn’t bear to think about what she’d done.
Nor did she dare think about the odd sensations that had coursed through her when he had held her against him, when she’d felt the hard, solid male body against her own. Arly had only frightened her with his massive bulk and strength; Josh, while he was much less burly was nearly as tall and seemed just as strong, didn’t frighten her at all. At least she didn’t think that was the word for the feeling that went through her every time he got close. She wasn’t sure what it was, but it wasn’t the fear she’d always associated with Arly.
“This is delicious. Thank you,” Josh said when he finally slowed after nearly cleaning his plate.
“You’re welcome. You more than earned a good meal, both of you, today.”
Luke tried to smile around full cheeks. Josh took a swallow of coffee, then asked, “Where did this bird come from?”
Kate smiled. “It was a gift from Deborah.”
“A gift?”
“She felt bad about what she said this afternoon.”
Josh gave her a sideways look. He looked back at his plate, took the last bite of his chicken, finished the last, plump dumpling, then set down his fork.
“She was right,” he said at last. “I didn’t think about you having to pay for the horses’ keep all year, when you really only need them a few times.”
“I may need them more,” she said, “if the Barton brothers won’t do business with me.”
“They will,” Josh said. “I made that clear to them before they left Granite Bluff.”
“See, Miss Kate,” Luke said, his first words since he’d warily tested the chicken and found it much to his liking, eating nearly as fast as Josh had. “I told you Josh’d handle it!”
“Yes,” Kate agreed, “so you did.”
She glanced at Josh, who was staring down at his plate as if the boy’s words had made him uncomfortable.
“That new dress in that load,” he said suddenly. “I hope it’s for you.”
Kate blinked. “Me? Of course not. It’s for the store.”
“You don’t like it?”
“Well, certainly, it’s very nice, but—”
“Then why don’t you take it? Arly isn’t running things anymore.”
“That would be foolish. It’s to sell, not for me. I have no use for new clothes.”
“Mesquite,” Josh said, and Kate flushed at the reminder of their other conversation.
Silence reigned for a while before Luke asked, hopefully eyeing the pot on the stove, “Is there more chicken?”
“You haven’t eaten your vegetable yet,” Kate said, then laughed when Luke wrinkled his nose.
“My ma used to say that,” Luke said.
Kate went very still. The boy had said it simply, with no sign of grief or pain, but the words still tore at her.
“Mine, too,” Josh said quietly.
“Really?” Luke looked at Josh, then at his plate which was empty of the serving of turnips that remained on his own plate. “Is that why you ate ’em?”
Josh nodded. “Since she’s not here to remind me anymore, it seems like the right thing to do.”
“Oh.”
With a resigned sigh, Luke picked up his fork and dug into the cooked turnips. Kate quickly picked up Josh’s plate and turned away, fighting the tears that threatened. How could it be that this man she’d always heard of as a cold-blooded killer could be so understanding with a young boy, that he could find exactly the right words to guide him?
She took her time scooping up another serving for him, leaving a small piece for Luke as a reward for eating the dreaded turnips. She had herself under control by the time she turned back. Or she thought she did; Josh still looked at her rather intently when she set the plate back down in front of him. But all he said, after taking another bite, was “Thank Miss Taylor for me.”
“Me, too,” Luke chimed in, holding out his now empty plate. Kate laughed as she served up the last piece of chicken and last dumpling for the boy, and watched indulgently as he attacked the food as if he hadn’t just finished a plateful.
This must be what women wanted, what some of them even had, this quiet peace with a man and a child at your table, hungry after a hard day’s work. She’d always looked at cooking as something she’d had to do, as something women just did, a part of the payment for the protection of a man in a harsh world. But watching Josh and Luke eat with such relish gave her an odd sense of satisfaction she’d never known before.
Perhaps, she mused idly as Josh and Luke talked, some chores weren’t such drudgery, if they were done like this, for people who appreciated what you’d done. Perhaps this is what other women thought of when they thought of marrying and having children—
Kate quickly lowered her gaze to her own cup of coffee, praying that her silly, foolish thoughts hadn’t shown in her face. She supposed there could be something more foolish than a woman who sat looking at a half-wild orphan boy and The Hawk, and thinking about marriage and children of her own, but she doubted you’d find it in Wyoming Territory. She felt so half-witted she was thankful when they’d finished eating and she could turn her attention to cleaning up.
When Luke had thanked her, and scampered off to check on Buck as the weary Josh had asked him, Kate hastily got to her feet. She set out the pan she used for washing the dishes, then turned to go for the water she’d set to heating before they’d begun to eat. She gave a little start when she saw Josh there before her, reaching to lift the heavy kettle for her. She stared at him while he poured the water into the pan; Arly would no more have thought to help her than he would have thought to thank her for the meal. Especially if he’d been as tired as Josh, not that he’d ever worked as hard as Josh had today.
“I . . . thank you,” she stammered out.
Josh merely nodded as he set the kettle down, as if he thought nothing of helping with woman’s work. He stood there beside her for a long moment. She looked up at him, noticing the rough stubble of his unshaven jaw, the reddened weariness in his eyes . . . and something else in those eyes, something that made them bright and intense despite his exhaustion. Something that made her very nervous, and reminded her painfully of the moment when, in her joy and relief, she’d embraced him so disgracefully.
“I . . . you should get some sleep,” she said, desperate to distract him—and, to be honest, herself—from such thoughts.
For what seemed like an endless moment, he still stood there, looking down at her, so close she could feel the heat of him, could almost sense the solidness of him by the way the bare two inches of space between them felt, compressed somehow. She felt oddly as if the room were beginning to spin, and realized she’d forgotten to breathe. She drew in a gulp of air, only to find it didn’t ease the swirling sensation in her head.
And then, suddenly it was over. Josh backed up, gave an almost sharp nod of his head, and said a rather brusque good night. And then he was gone, through the narrow doorway that led to the storeroom, closing it with silent care behind him.
Kate let out the gulp of air she’d taken, and fought the puzzling weakness in her limbs that made her tremble. And stood there wondering why she felt nearly as exhausted as Josh had looked.
Chapter 7
JENNA HAWK, JOSH thought, ha
d been one hell of a woman. And Kane had been man enough for her, which was saying a great deal.
At least she’d been able to save her people.
At the relentless thought, he slammed the book shut, barely managing to stop himself from hurling it across the room. He’d have room to do it, now that he’d had to move his bedroll into the store itself, in front of the cast-iron heating stove, because the storeroom was so full of the supplies for which there hadn’t been room on the mercantile shelves. He wasn’t really sure what stopped him from tossing the book. He still couldn’t explain it, and he still hated things he couldn’t explain.
At least Jenna had been able to save her people.
That realization—that this woman, this ancestor of his, had been able to do what he hadn’t—had been nagging at him ever since he’d given up on going back to sleep and read her story by the light of the kerosene lamp Kate had provided for him. It was just more proof to him that after all those years of Hawks breeding true, it had come down to the one who hadn’t. Him.
He didn’t understand this at all. He was exhausted, more tired than he’d ever been, except maybe the time he’d been riding for Frank Kerrigan’s Rocking K. He had gotten pinned down in a line shack during a little disagreement over a small herd of cattle wearing what had once been the Rocking K brand, altered with a running iron to a lopsided Circle R. He’d been awake for three days straight, holding the rustlers off until they’d gotten impatient, and ignoring their orders, had rushed him. He’d taken out three of them and gotten back to the ranch with most of the stock.
But even then he hadn’t felt as tired as he did now. He should have slept straight through until tomorrow night, but instead he’d awakened after merely a few hours and been unable to go back to sleep. And the feel of the book in the saddlebags beneath his head was of no help at all in easing a mind that he couldn’t seem to slow down.
He’d finally decided either Kate or Luke had to have put the book into the saddlebag before he’d left, and he simply hadn’t noticed. He pushed the thought to the back of his mind that there seemed to be an awful lot he wasn’t noticing lately.
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