by Jodi Thomas
“I’m not drunk,” Colby said when he looked up. “So you’ve no business thinking you have to come after me. I’ve been my own man for three months on the trail and I can manage without a caretaker.”
“I was passing and thought I could use some silence after being in the house with two little boys and two women who never stop talking. I come here often, but if you’re going to rattle, I’ll be moving on to a quieter place.” He motioned for the waiter. “A pint of ale tonight, Cliff, if you please.”
Andrew had no idea what the waiter’s name was, but he guessed the man would play along, and he did.
“Evening, sir. We got an ale in today from England. It’s a wee bit more expensive than the one you usually drink, but I think you’ll like it.” The waiter winked as he slid the glass down the bar.
Andrew didn’t know what good—or bad—ale tasted like, but he took a sip. “Perfect,” he managed with a smile.
For a few minutes Colby sat staring at his beer while Andrew drank his first, and probably his last, pint of ale.
“Want to tell me what’s eating you?”
“No,” Colby said. “You a preacher waiting to hear my confession?”
“No.”
“Well, you look like one.”
Andrew was finally starting to take offense at everyone’s hatred of his clothes. Colby probably didn’t change his shirt more than once a week on the trail and didn’t bathe but once a month, yet the kid felt the need to complain about a fine black suit Andrew had bought in Chicago.
He chose to let it slide. If he was going to get mad at people making comments, Colby would have to stand at the back of the line. “I thought about being a preacher once.” This time Andrew was telling the truth. “I spent a cold winter in Maine reading the Bible and thinking of how to say things that sounded like I was quoting the Almighty.”
Colby finally looked up. “How’d it work out?”
“It didn’t. To do any good at preaching, you’ve got to talk to sinners, and I learned real fast that sinners aren’t always willing to listen. The third man I tried to get to change his wicked ways threatened to help me move along to meeting my maker.”
Colby smiled.
Andrew shook his head. “It wasn’t funny. After I insisted on preaching and he put a few dents in my head with a bar stool, I had no doubt he was serious. I learned two things in one day. Never try to preach in a saloon, and never cuss in a church. Both are career killers.”
The young cowboy relaxed with a short laugh and took another sip of his beer.
Andrew did the same with his ale. Something was eating away at the kid, but he was too young to push it aside and too old to complain about it.
They walked home talking about Levi and his brother and wondering what would happen to them if they didn’t find their father.
Andrew told Colby about the men watching the street. “Any chance they’re waiting for you?”
Colby shook his head. “I can’t think of any reason they would be, unless they’re kin to the thugs back in Dallas and want to take their turn at trying to beat me to death. All I got on me is a few dollars and an almost-new pair of boots.”
“I noticed them. Nice boots, but probably not worth the risk of being tried for murder.”
Colby agreed. “My pa handed them to me the day before I left on the cattle drive. He told me to wear them ’cause he didn’t want me coming home crippled up from wearing holes in my old boots.”
He pulled his pant leg up to show the top of the boot marked with a Double D brand tooling. “Pa said they were handmade and would last twice as long as any others I’d ever had. He even made me swear I’d be wearing them when I came back.” Colby shrugged. “It was like it was more important that they come home than I did. Which wouldn’t surprise me. That’s kind of how the old man thinks. People don’t mean much to him, never have.”
“You feel like that? You the same as your old man?”
Colby shook his head. “Sometimes I wish I didn’t care about folks. It’d be easier, but I can’t seem to stop. I’m worried about the boys, not knowing if finding their father is a good or a bad idea. I worry about Madie getting her feelings hurt. Hell, I even worry about your wife.”
“Why my wife?”
“She’s a brave lady, that’s a fact, but she’s afraid of something. Can’t you see it? She goes around locking the doors and windows. She wears her Colt even when she’s cooking. You may have seen the men watching the house, but she senses danger. She knows trouble’s coming.”
Andrew didn’t argue. She’d said almost the same thing to him. He remembered the way Lamont LaCroix had glared at her, like she belonged to him.
“What should I do to help her?” He couldn’t believe he was asking for advice from a cowboy who couldn’t even talk to women.
“Hold on to her tight, I guess, and let her know that you’ll stand with her. Levi told me of the man who came with the sheriff to take her away. If he didn’t believe she was your wife, he might come back for her.”
They turned into the alley behind the town houses. “I’ll keep watch of those men from upstairs,” Colby whispered. “I’ve got so much thinking to do I wouldn’t sleep anyway. They looked like rough types, not the kind of men a senator would send.”
Andrew was tempted to add that they were more like the kind an outlaw would send. If Chesty Peterson knew he was alive, he might come to the conclusion that Andrew had something to do with the trouble the night of the robbery. Only Chesty was in jail, at least for now. He’d heard the outlaw brag around the campfire that no jail would ever hold him, but Sheriff Harris didn’t seem like the kind of man who’d accidentally leave the cell open.
Knocking lightly on the back door, Andrew was relieved when Beth opened it. He didn’t miss the rifle in her left hand as he passed her. She’d been on guard while he’d been gone.
As he bolted the back door, he heard Colby apologize for missing supper and for making her worry.
She handed him a plate she’d kept warm for him, and he vanished up the stairs.
Andrew watched her as she turned around toward him. For a moment they stared at each other.
He knew she wouldn’t stay here in the house with him for long. As soon as the little boys were settled she’d head back to her ranch. But maybe the kid was right. Maybe he did need to make her feel safe. The only problem was he had no idea how.
“Thanks for bringing him back.” Beth set her rifle on the table. “I could smell the beer on his breath.”
“He wasn’t looking for trouble. Just went somewhere to think. He’s all right, you know. From the few things he said about his pa, I got the feeling life isn’t easy back home, but the funny thing is, he told me he worries about you.”
“Me? I can take care of myself.” She didn’t sound sure of herself. “My sister Rose and her husband, Duncan, come to Fort Worth so often they keep an apartment. They always visit with Killian O’Toole and his wife.” She gripped the handle of her Colt as if for security. “If something happens and we get separated, look for me there. O’Toole’s a judge so he shouldn’t be too hard to find.”
“I’ve read about him in the paper.” Andrew wished he could tell her that nothing was going to happen, but he couldn’t lie. Maybe for the first time in her life she didn’t feel safe, and somehow he felt like he’d let her down. “Beth, look at me. I’m here now. If trouble comes, I’m not running. We’ll protect the boys and Madie. Whoever those men are looking for, they’ll have to face us first.”
“What if it’s me they want? I don’t think we fooled Lamont, not for long anyway. He’s hit a run of bad luck lately, and I think he thought marrying me would turn everything around. Now he may be blaming me for his trouble.”
Andrew shrugged. “If he’s after someone, he’ll come after me, not you. He loves you.”
She shook her head. “I don’t think any man has ever loved me. Several said they did after meeting me, but it wasn’t true—not after such a short time. It wasn’t me they
were in love with. Lamont wanted me, and probably my family, to help him in politics. That’s all. He doesn’t love anyone but himself.”
When she moved to the window and looked out, he joined her, pressing close to her back, and gently pulled her away from the light shining in. “Do you think you and Madie might rig up some curtains tomorrow?”
“Of course.” When he didn’t try to kiss her, she asked, “The two men are still out watching, aren’t they?”
He brushed her shoulder lightly. “I’m not sure. Colby and I couldn’t see them in the shadows, but that doesn’t mean they’re not out there.”
They fell silent as they watched the street. She was so close he could feel her breathe. Andrew wondered, if he strapped on a gun, would she feel safer? She’d lived around heroes all her life, and he knew he couldn’t hope to measure up. She’d told the boys stories of how her father, her uncles, her cousins were all legends in Texas. No wonder no man who asked for her hand in marriage could win.
Lamont crossed his mind. He was tall, and probably most women found him handsome. He was powerful and enough years older than she was to be able to know how to win her heart. Only he too had failed. She’d built him up in her mind over the years and the real man didn’t measure up. Probably no man ever could.
Beth McMurray was like one of those beautiful china dolls to be forever left on the shelf to look at, but not touch.
Andrew realized he felt sorry for her with her grand family and her wealth. Right now, she was alone, and maybe for the first time.
He moved his hand over her back, stroking her tenderly. “How about I tell you a story?”
She smiled. “All right, but a true story, Andrew. A story about you. I’ve rattled on about my family for days, but I know little about you.”
She leaned against the side of the window and he remained so close he would have touched her if he’d taken a deep breath. “I only have one true story worth the telling. I once fell in love with a quiet little woman named Hannah. She was afraid of everything: mice, the sound of a train, storms. But I loved her from the moment I saw her. I think we knew we’d be together from the first. I don’t remember asking her to marry me; we both knew we would and, with no family, we didn’t bother with an engagement. We married and rented a flat above a bakery. She laughed about growing fat from the smells.
“My friends said she wasn’t pretty, but she was to me. I was always afraid of holding her too tight because she might break. We worked together at a bank and walked home holding hands. In warm weather we’d buy wine and cheese and eat it in the park for supper. On cold nights we’d sit at a little café and talk until the owner closed the place. I wasn’t writing much then, but I told her my stories.”
He closed his eyes, letting the memories flood over him. They were fading, bit by bit, but still almost too painful to remember. “As it turned out,” he finally said, “I didn’t hold her tight enough because she died after we’d been married a year.”
“I’m sorry,” Beth whispered.
“Don’t be. It was a long time ago. I’m telling you the story because I’m lucky. I had a kind of all-consuming love for a time. A love so deep that it left a hole in my heart that can’t heal. I don’t ever want to feel that loss again, but I want you to understand that I wouldn’t trade having that one love for all the pain that followed. The memory that I was once truly loved keeps me going. It’s enough for this lifetime.”
She looked up at him. “I didn’t love Lamont like that. In fact, I didn’t love him at all.”
“I know, but you need to keep looking, Beth. Maybe one of those guys who tells you he loves you at first sight might be telling the truth.”
She shook her head. “No, like you, it’s a game I no longer want to play. This make-believe marriage is all I want to handle.”
He looked down at her and felt so sorry for her. Maybe what she feared wasn’t outside waiting to come in, but inside her.
CHAPTER 13
“COLBY? COLBY, ARE YOU ASLEEP?”
Colby Dixon turned from where he’d been watching the street to the shadow of the girl at his doorway. “No, Madeline, I’m still awake. Is something wrong?”
“Could I sit with you awhile? I can’t seem to stop crying.”
“I guess it would be all right if we leave the door open. I can’t sleep either.”
The plump girl with an old ragged quilt wrapped around her shoulders sat down on his bedroll. He leaned back against the wall and crossed his legs out in front of him. He guessed that a woman was not supposed to come into a man’s bedroom, but since there was no bed and she was more girl than woman, it wouldn’t matter. Besides, over the past week he’d gotten used to her being around.
He didn’t have long to wait before she broke the silence. “I worry about Micah and what to do since he don’t want me. You being older and all, I thought you might give me some words of wisdom.”
He patted her hand awkwardly and thought he was all out of any words of wisdom. If he’d had any he’d have used them on himself. Last year he couldn’t wait to leave home for an adventure, and now all he wanted was to go back. He’d even reached the point where he didn’t care how much his pa yelled at him.
Finally he realized she was waiting for some kind of answer. “It’s all right, Madeline. Don’t give Micah another thought. Don’t waste your tears on a no-good like him. Someday, when you’re older, you’ll find a good man to be your man. You wait and see if I’m not right. Micah wasn’t man enough for a girl like you, and you were too young to know it. Ain’t no crime in being dumb when you’re young. I’m just now growing out of that stage myself. Course, some folks never get over being stupid, and I’m guessing Micah may be one of them.” He smiled, proud of himself for sounding wise.
“I know what you mean. He lied to me and I fell for it.” She gulped down a sob. “He lied to me from the first day I met him. He said he wasn’t married and that I was the prettiest girl he’d ever seen. He claimed he loved me.” She sniffed and added with a little cry, “When we went for a walk all alone by the river, he said he wanted to get closer. He said it wouldn’t hurt, but what he did to me did hurt. It hurt bad and I bled a little.”
Colby was glad it was dark, because he could feel the heat burning his face. She shouldn’t be talking about such things. He was almost three years older than she was. He should give her some good advice, but she was talking about something he knew nothing about. What happened between a man and a woman couldn’t be as simple as what happened between a bull and a cow, but he had no idea where all the differences lay.
Colby patted her hand some more, hoping that would help. He thought of telling her that if it always hurt women he guessed they wouldn’t go running after men, but then she might ask questions and the girl had no bridle on her runaway mouth.
“I didn’t even like the way he kissed, all slobbery and all, but I’d never been kissed, so maybe that’s the way to do it.” She straightened out the bedroll as if she could straighten out her life as easily.
“I don’t think a kiss is supposed to be slobbery. I think it should be something both enjoy.” He thought of a February snowstorm when he’d been twelve. It came in so fast the teacher said all the kids would have to spend the night. When the wind knocked a window out in the schoolhouse, they’d all bedded down in the half dugout behind the school that had been built in the early days and was now used for storage.
The younger kids slept downstairs around a crumbling old rock fireplace. Most of the wood was damp and the fire’s smells blended with the earthy odor of the old homestead. The older kids climbed to the shallow loft formed by the pitch of the sod roof. It was above ground by three or four feet so not nearly as warm, but no one minded; they were all having an adventure.
Boys on the left, girls on the right, the teacher had called up. After she went to sleep, Colby remembered they all huddled together and played games while firelight shadows danced on the uneven ceiling.
He’d kissed every
girl in his class that night, and one even told him he was the best kisser of all the boys.
When Madie kicked him, Colby realized he hadn’t been listening to her. “What?” he asked.
“I said, have you ever kissed anyone?”
“Of course.”
“Well, would you kiss me?”
“No. You’re just a kid. It wouldn’t be right.”
“I’m not a kid. I—”
“I don’t want to have that discussion again, Madeline. I’m almost eighteen and it wouldn’t be right for me to kiss a girl of fifteen. There’s a code of what’s right and, to tell you the truth, I thought about going back to that train yard and shooting Micah for breaking it. Men don’t kiss little girls.”
She looked frustrated a moment before she settled on crying again. “Some men think girls are grown at thirteen. My mother was thirteen when my father married her and brought her to Texas.”
“How’d that turn out?”
“She hates him. The day he kicked me out she threatened to kill him, but he said they had too many kids and needed to start clearing the nest.”
“And you were the oldest?”
She nodded. “When I have a kid I ain’t never turning him or her out. I’m keeping them until they want to leave, and then I’m giving them new clothes and new shoes to walk away in.”
“You and my pa have a lot in common. Sometimes I think I’ll be fifty and still doing every chore he tells me to do. Me and the mule seem to have the same ranking on the ranch.”
“I think my mom didn’t want me to go because I was doing all the washing and cooking around the place while she was expecting, and it seemed to me she was always expecting.”
He went back to patting her hand. In her cotton nightgown and her hair in pigtails, she looked young, but he couldn’t help but notice she already had her chest rounded out. Micah hadn’t had much going for him in looks or charm, and he’d talked her into bed. Colby didn’t want to think about what would happen if she was on her own again.
Maybe he could talk to Beth and they could find her a good job here in town. Or maybe Beth could take her back to Whispering Mountain to work. He thought of asking his pa if they could hire a cook. Lord knew they needed one. But the old man would never spend the money. Every time they had a good year, he bought more land or cattle. When a bad year came along, they ate beans and didn’t buy anything.