Reed shook his head. Damned if Kate hadn’t succeeded in pulling them all together somehow, this odd little band—preacher, whore, spinster, and wild child.
She had done what his father had wanted. She had brought life into this cavernous house, given it a family—not exactly the one his father had imagined, but a gathering of souls who shared laughter and meals and left their loneliness at the door.
Unnoticed as he stood alone watching them, Reed felt like an outsider, an intruder in a place where he had never intended to be again.
The preacher was taking a turn now, dramatically gesturing toward the east, going on about “. . . a widow aunt, a dowager of great revenue, and she hath no child.”
The speech sounded pretty, but having missed the beginning, none of it made much sense to Reed. It was hard to concentrate on the minister’s words, for he was arrested with Kate, with her glowing complexion and the fact that Texas agreed with her. If not Texas, then something or someone definitely did.
Her eyes were wide, dark and shining. Her hair was wound up in a loose, indifferent way that tempted a man to reach for the pins and let it fall around her shoulders.
I have missed her.
He hadn’t realized how much until now.
He settled his shoulder against the door frame and crossed his arms, content to watch. It nagged at him like a burr in his sock that they made such a handsome couple—the preacher and Kate—and as he stood there watching, all his initial suspicions about what might be behind these little gatherings came back to him.
From the look on Kate’s beaming face, he wouldn’t doubt that she had already set her cap for the preacher. She had set out to get a husband when she answered his father’s advertisement. Maybe the preacher would serve.
Suddenly, for the very first time ever, he saw her smile, really smile.
His insides turned to water.
Her entire countenance changed. She lit up the room.
The preacher noticed, too, and was winding up with a flourish. His stance and cadence changed as he took a step closer to Kate. Then he reached for her hand.
That’s when Reed pushed away from the doorjamb.
“. . . To do observance to a morn of May, There I will stay for thee,” the reverend said.
Kate turned to the preacher. As he held her hand, she continued to smile up at him. Her cheeks were bright pink, her voice was as sultry and sensual as Reed remembered.
“I swear to thee by Cupid’s strongest vow, By his best arrow with the golden head, By the simplicity of Venus’ doves, By that which knitteth souls and prospers loves, And by that fire which burned the Carthage queen, When the false Troyan under sail was seen, By all the vows that ever men have broke, In number more than ever women spoke, In that same place thou hast appointed me, Tomorrow truly will I meet with thee.”
Reed had heard enough.
31
He stepped farther into the room, his footfalls loud enough to turn heads.
He had no idea how Charm, Daniel, or the preacher were reacting to his surprise appearance. He was too intent upon Kate to notice.
As for her, all color drained from her face. Her lovely smile instantly faded.
It wasn’t until he crossed the room and stood before her, staring into her shocked, upturned face, that she finally managed to speak. “What are you doing here?”
He hadn’t expected a warm welcome. Nor was he about to explain how Jonah had kicked him out of the Rangers. He turned to the preacher, a tall, good-looking man with pewter-colored eyes, and dressed like a gentleman in black, straight-cut trousers and a jacket with bound edges. Despite the heat, he appeared perfectly comfortable in the suit jacket. Reed felt trail-worn and dusty in his wrinkled brown shirt and denim pants.
“Mr. Benton, I’m Reverend Preston Marshall. Kate has been kind enough to invite me to join her and Miss Riley for supper on occasion.” Marshall offered his hand and a warm, friendly smile.
“Call me Reed.” He shook the minister’s hand and nodded, wondering just how many other occasions there might have been. Noting Marshall’s empty left sleeve, he finally remembered what he had heard.
The man had been a war hero in the South, once quite wealthy. He had moved to Texas after he lost everything but his faith. He looked like a good enough sort, but not the kind of man Reed would have ever associated with. But there he was, standing in the middle of the parlor.
My parlor now.
Charm put the checkers into a small, carved wooden box and carried it with the painted game board to a bookcase across the room. She paused, looked at Reed, and gave him a nervous smile.
When Reed’s gaze touched Daniel, he saw that the boy had not moved. Like Kate and Charm, Daniel looked far healthier than before and had even put on some weight. After less exposure to raw sunshine, his skin had faded and he looked less like a Comanche.
If it weren’t for his long hair hanging almost to the middle of his back, there would be no outward sign of his years of captivity left at all.
Then Reed noticed the crutch resting against the arm of the settee and felt an unexpected pang. He tried to shake it off, but it clung to him like a burr on wool.
“How’s his ankle?” He trusted Kate to be frank and not pretty up the truth.
“It’s better, but I’m afraid he’s going to keep that limp.” She smiled reassuringly at Daniel. It was certainly not the same charming smile she had given the preacher during the performance, but it held concern and warmth nonetheless. Daniel did not smile back.
The reverend cleared his throat, a reminder that he was still there. Grudgingly, Reed gave him his attention.
“I’m sure you and Kate have a lot to talk about, so I’ll be going now. It was a pleasure meeting you, Reed, and I’ll look forward to seeing you again soon,” Preston said.
“You are more than welcome to come back next week if you can,” Kate urged. Reed realized she did not think she needed to ask his permission or his opinion on the matter.
Reverend Marshall thanked Kate and Charm for another wonderful meal. Reed told him good-bye and was not surprised when Kate walked the man to the door and led him out onto the porch.
He was straining to hear what they were saying through the open window when Charm walked over to him. Her fingers were knitted together. She seemed so nervous he was sure that if he said boo she would jump.
“Mr. Benton?”
“Charm. You call me Reed, too.” He tried to make it easy on her. “What is it?”
“Is . . . is Captain Taylor all right?”
Reed saw everything Charm had not said on her face—the worry, fear, and deep concern for Jonah. The man had been her savior, perhaps the only person besides Dolly, and now Kate, who had ever really cared about her. It was no wonder she had feelings for his friend.
“He was just fine two weeks ago. I haven’t seen him since then.”
She looked relieved by his answer, but not by much. She thanked him and then asked if she could fix him a plate of leftovers.
“Thank you. I’d appreciate it,” he said.
“Will you watch Daniel?” She must have seen the hesitation in his eyes. She added: “We don’t ever leave him alone downstairs.”
He glanced at the boy while trying hard to ignore the rise and fall of Kate’s voice on the breeze, the snatches of conversation, which were not enough to actually piece together what was being said, just enough to make him damn curious.
It’s none of your business, he reminded himself.
None whatsoever.
Daniel had not moved a muscle. Reed walked to the settee and sat at the other end. He draped his arm over the curved wooden back and watched the boy. His father’s boy. Perhaps his own.
Alone with Daniel, Reed felt awkward and out of sorts, as if he had been tossed into a deep pond with his hands tied behind his back. When the child had been little, Reed had known just how to make him smile, just where to tickle him. The boy would squeal with laughter whenever he rubbed beard stub
ble against Daniel’s smooth skin.
Becky had never minded that he wanted the boy with him all the time, or that he took him everywhere. He carried him around the homestead on his shoulders, let him play close by while he worked.
Daniel had been his constant companion. The apple of his eye. Now he didn’t know if the boy could even understand one word of English yet or not.
“Daniel?”
There was no response. Daniel kept staring intently at the window, as though he was listening to Kate’s voice. Whenever the good reverend spoke, the child frowned harder.
“Something you don’t like about him?” Reed asked in a hushed voice. Daniel stared at him for a moment, then looked out the window again.
Just as stubborn, Reed wasn’t about to use any of the Comanche words he had picked up over the years—or any Spanish, either, though it was likely Daniel had been exposed to the language.
So they sat side-by-side, stiff and silent, stoically ignoring each other as they waited for Kate.
Mere inches lay between them, yet they were worlds apart.
After Preston bade her good-bye, Kate silently closed the front door and lingered in the entry where Reed could not see her. She needed time to gather her wits, to calm her racing heart.
Reed was home. But for how long? A night? A few days?
Jonah had not mentioned Reed would be returning so soon. His appearance had caught her unawares. She reached up and patted her hair to see if the loose top knot on the crown of her head was still in place. Flushed and bothered, she was perspiring along her hairline and tried to blot the edge of her damp forehead with her fingertips.
Charm was rattling pots and pans in the kitchen. Outside, Scrappy was hammering something. Now and again, the heady scent of wildflowers floated in on the breeze.
Reed was back. How long did he intend to stay this time?
She had been in the middle of her final speech as Hermia when she sensed someone watching her. A chill arched down her spine long before Preston had taken hold of her hand, almost as if she had known Reed was there. Without seeing him, she had sensed that he was in the house. When he had stepped into the room and she had turned toward the sound of his footsteps, when she saw him walk in with that dangerous air about him, she was reminded of that very first day.
She had fallen in love with him before she had ever met him, in love with the word pictures Sofia had so falsely painted, in love with the bundle of letters she had kept with her constantly. She had fallen in love with the man in the photograph they had sent her.
But the man waiting for her in the parlor now was not that man at all. There was no such man. The real Reed Benton was another breed all together—a man who could turn his back on his family and his past, a man who had been deeply hurt and convinced that he needed no one. He was stubborn and so hardened by tragedy. And yet he was the same man she had given her virginity to so willingly, a man who wanted to love his son but didn’t know how.
She knew nothing of his kind. Before him, before Lone Star, her world had been one of cloistered nuns, of babies and girls and properly trained, well-educated young women on the verge of making their own way in the world. Bells had summoned her to prayers, to Mass, to meals. She had virtually lived the life of a nun without the spiritual benefits.
What did she know of dealing with a man as hard and scarred as Reed Benton?
By the time she finally pulled herself together enough to face him, another five minutes had passed.
She took a deep breath and slowly walked back into the parlor.
Reed was slouched down, nearly hugging the arm on one end of the settee. Daniel was jammed up against the opposite arm. Each stared straight ahead, ignoring the other.
When she walked in, both of them turned her way, but neither smiled. They looked like two peas in too tight a pod. If the scene hadn’t been so pitiful, she might have laughed at their matching expressions.
How was she ever going to get the two of them together?
And when she did, how was she ever going to walk away from them with her heart unscathed?
Fast Pony never thought he would be so glad to see the tall, angry man return, though he was not about to let Tall Ranger see his relief. If anyone could keep Soft Grass Hands from going off with One Arm, this man could.
He had dared to slide his gaze over to watch Tall Ranger while they waited for Soft Grass Hands. From what he could see, Tall Ranger did not like One Arm talking to her any more than he did.
The woman had started acting strange when Tall Ranger walked in earlier, and now that she was back, she seemed content to stand and stare at Tall Ranger. When Fast Pony realized she was also watching him, too, he wondered if she was up to some kind of mischief. Then a terrible thought came to him.
What if One Arm had named his bride price outside? What if she had come to tell them good-bye?
Wouldn’t One Arm have to offer Tall Ranger some horses for her? Maybe that was what the two men were talking about.
He felt desperately confused, not knowing all the ways or the words of the whites. Since they had brought him here, he never knew what was going to happen next, which was a very unsettling way to live.
Soft Grass Hands looked very scared. As scared as he felt.
The two grown-ups talked in short clipped tones, hoarding their words like precious winter stores. Soft Grass Hands had stopped smiling, but Tall Ranger seemed to relax the longer they spoke.
Fast Pony heard them say his white name, but he acted as if he did not know they spoke of him, wondering what was going to happen next.
Soft Grass Hands took his hand and led him back to the room that was not the cooking room, but where they ate whenever One Arm came to join them.
The girl, Yellow Hair, carried in a plate of steaming food for the Ranger. When he sat down to eat, Soft Grass Hands spoke softly to Fast Pony.
He recognized the word outside and felt relieved. They were going to leave the dwelling. They were going out to walk across the land, just as they did every afternoon.
It was all he could do to keep from smiling, knowing Soft Grass Hands would leave Tall Ranger eating alone to take him outside.
She said something more to the man and then opened the door to the kitchen. With the aid of the walking stick under his arm, Fast Pony moved quick as a sidewinder, hoping to impress the Ranger with his speed.
It was good for one warrior to admire the skill of another. Even if they were enemies.
32
There were still a few good hours of the clear, sunny Sunday afternoon remaining as Kate and Daniel leaned against the horse corral watching a pinto filly run toward them.
A few days before, Scrappy had introduced Daniel to the leggy little foal and now, every time they went for a walk, Kate made certain she had sugar lumps, a carrot, or an apple in her pocket to lure the horse over to them.
Resting her arms over the rail, Kate watched Daniel’s slight smile as he fed the young pinto.
“You have a good friend there, Daniel, but she’s a greedy little girl, that’s for certain.” Kate sighed and watched the boy prop his crutch on the fence rail and slowly climb to the top, where he could sit and watch the filly gambol around the corral.
Kate instinctively stepped behind him, tempted to hang on to the back of his shirt lest he topple off the fence. Despite his injury, he was incredibly agile, but she stayed behind him just in case.
“Quite a surprise we had today.” She had grown used to carrying on one-sided conversations. She had no idea whether or not Daniel was surprised, but she had certainly felt the ground drop out from under her when she saw Reed standing in the parlor.
Reed had told her in the dining room that he had come back because his heart wasn’t in rangering anymore. He planned to stay on, even meet with the foremen, and he fully intended to run Lone Star now that his father was gone. She didn’t know whether to be relieved or not.
Daniel held out his hand and made kissing sounds as he tried to lure t
he filly back to the fence. Kate smiled.
“No matter what he said, I think he really came back because of you,” she said, thinking out loud. “He would never admit it, even to himself. But just you wait and see. I’m sure that before long, you and he will be doing lots of things together. He is going to see what a wonderful boy you really are, just the way I do.”
Daniel was already climbing down again, so Kate stepped back. He picked up his crutch and, wielding it deftly, hurried around to the other side of the corral where the filly was rubbing her head against the rail.
Kate followed slowly, watching him closely, at the same time thinking of the picture of Becky. Knowing how it had upset Daniel, she kept the photograph hidden in her dresser drawer. Since then, she had not tried to force him to remember his past, but she was still torn, hoping that she was doing right by him.
Raising a child, especially one injured in spirit, was a far cry from educating one. She had no books to help her, no mentor, and certainly no memories of a loving mother. Meg Whittington had been far from a glowing example of motherhood. The nuns, although firm and fair, had never done the little things Kate had sometimes seen other mothers do: cuddle and kiss and tease, dry tears, give praise.
She wanted all those things for Daniel, but was it fair to lavish love on him, knowing that her time here depended on Reed and on what he wanted for the boy?
What would Becky have wanted for her son? What advice would she give if she were here?
See to him as if he were your own. Make sure he is happy and healthy. Teach him to laugh again. Love my boy, my baby. Please. That’s all I ask.
She had no idea if the words echoing in her heart were her own or Becky’s. All she knew for certain was that she already cared deeply for the boy.
What would happen to him if she left?
By now Daniel had lost interest in the filly and was walking with his head down, searching the dirt—a pastime he seemed to thoroughly enjoy, especially when he found something for her, like a pretty rock, an iron nail, or some other treasure.
She wanted to come up with ways to get Reed and Daniel to know each other again. She had no idea how she was going to do it, but she was bound and determined to have Reed spend time alone with the boy.
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