Summer Moon

by Jill Marie Landis

  Inside, Reed finished his meal and thanked Charm.

  “Kate and Daniel are out by the corral. He sure loves horses.” She took his plate and deftly shoved it in the dishpan and soaped it off.

  Of course he does, Reed thought. A Comanche lived his life on the back of his horse. Entire villages were moved by horse travois. Boys learned to ride as soon as they could walk. Horses were trained to hunt. The animal was a symbol of Comanche wealth, live currency that bought brides and settled debts. Some warriors acquired vast herds.

  Charm was watching Kate and the boy through the window over the dry sink. He thanked her again, complimented her cooking, and walked out of the kitchen. Unobserved, he sat on the veranda rail and watched.

  Kate appeared to be talking to the boy, stubbornly refusing to give up on him. He watched her stand protectively behind Daniel as he climbed the fence rails, saw her reach up and smooth out the wrinkles on the back of his shirt.

  She was good for him, no doubt about that. There was something in Kate, perhaps her gentleness and patience, that were traits Becky never possessed. Becky had been incredibly selfish, maybe even incapable of loving anyone but herself.

  He had discovered that shortly after they were married. She had been beautiful, outgoing, and an incorrigible flirt. He had loved her the moment he saw her. Once they were married she had him heart and soul, but she never had the life that she thought the Benton wealth should have afforded her.

  Back then, he had been naive enough to think that if he could get her away from all the trappings and things his father’s money could buy, that she would love him for himself.

  He saw the old dog-run homestead cabin on the edge of the ranch as a private place, a romantic, rustic spot where the three of them could really become a family.

  Becky saw it as a run-down shack. A trap. She thought he was punishing her by depriving her of all she ever wanted.

  It was hard to admit that his father had been right about her. She had never really loved him at all. She had loved the Benton money, the vast holdings, her status in town as a Benton’s wife.

  Reed watched Kate help Daniel down. When she turned away, the boy continued to watch her. Reed couldn’t help but notice that Daniel watched Kate with something more than respect in his eyes. There was acceptance, perhaps even a bit of admiration there, too. Daniel was starting to care for Kate. There was definitely a bond between them now.

  Kate had made so much progress with Daniel that Reed was moved. He stood up, walked over to the stairs. Beneath the shade of the overhang, he watched as they walked around the corral.

  What if Kate suddenly took it in her head to leave? There was absolutely nothing to stop her. The papers Jeb Cooley had drawn up were in his saddlebag. Legal documents that, once signed by both of them and filed, would render the forged marriage license null and void.

  They would both be free. Sooner or later Kate would recover from the shock of his father’s deception. Sooner or later she would want a life of her own.

  Hell, maybe she was already dreaming about marrying the damn minister.

  Could the old man have been right about Kate? Had his father somehow sensed that she would be good for Lone Star? She would make any man a good wife. Was she the right mother for Daniel?

  The boy bent over and picked up something small from the dry ground and handed it to Kate. She held it in the palm of her hand and studied it carefully. They stood there for a time, heads together, looking at whatever it was.

  Reed could almost hear Kate lavishing compliments on Daniel. The exchange surprised Reed more than anything he had seen yet today. For Daniel to share a gift with Kate, no matter how insignificant, was a great step.

  Maybe she will consider staying on permanently.

  Maybe the marriage does not have to be dissolved.

  For Daniel’s sake, maybe we should stay wed—in name only.

  Shaken by his train of thought, Reed dragged his fingers through his hair. He was in worse shape than he figured if he was even considering the possibility.

  As he watched Kate and Daniel walk back to the house, he knew that she would be an easy woman to love, if he let himself. He wanted her on a physical level, for she was lovely and definitely moved him in that way. She was also warm and sensitive, and as she had said herself, loyal. But she had been hurt and embarrassed by what had happened between them. Was she willing? It was hard to say.

  Even if she was, he didn’t know if he could put his past behind him. All he had to do was think of Becky, of all the ways he had tried to make her happy and how he had failed, of her betrayal, and he was pretty damn sure that he never wanted to take a chance on love again.

  But as Kate walked across the open area behind the house, as he watched the graceful, easy sway of her hips and heard the low, provocative sound of her voice, his attraction to her made contemplating a closer relationship with Kate very, very tempting.

  The boy was the first to notice him and stopped immediately in his tracks. His gaze locked on Reed’s guns.

  Kate touched Daniel lightly on the shoulder, urged him toward the house. When he balked, she looked up. Her eyes met Reed’s, and his hand tightened on the porch rail.

  After a noticeable pause, she took Daniel’s hand and led him forward as if there was nothing wrong, but the look on the boy’s face, his hesitance to approach, told Reed there was still no love lost there.

  Once they crossed the porch, Kate opened the door for Daniel, took his chin in her hand and forced him to look at her. She leaned close and spoke slowly.

  “Go inside, and Charm will give you some cookies.”

  She made certain her voice carried to the kitchen where Charm was still working. The girl immediately came to the door, smiled in assurance, and Kate knew without exchanging a word that Charm would look after Daniel.

  Reed began to wonder if his sudden return would upset the applecart. Things seemed to be running smoothly enough without him.

  Kate lingered instead of going back inside. Reed was glad. “Does he understand you?” He stepped back, leaned a hip against the rail again, and settled his weight. Despite his attraction, she had a calming effect on him.

  “I think so. I believe he’s just too willful to speak.”

  “Why haven’t you cut his hair yet?”

  She looked startled at the suggestion. “Because it’s all he has left of his old life. We’ve taken away the rest. You can’t imagine what that’s like.” There was a deep abiding sadness in her voice.

  He could tell her thoughts were drifting back to her past, the life he had read about in her letters.

  . . . abandoned on the steps of an orphans’ home . . .

  He did not remind her that he, too, knew what it was like to have his life snatched away in an instant, to have to go on. His life had been taken from him one night beneath a Comanche moon.

  He looked down at the new dress she was wearing, the fabric covered with the tiniest of printed flowers. It wasn’t fancy, but it fit her well, outlined her curves and hollows and was an improvement over the worn, somber, spinster’s garb.

  “What about you, Kate? Do you miss your old life?”

  She tilted her head, stared at the corral, deciding. “Sometimes I do. I miss the girls. I miss the cold. And the forest behind the orphanage. Things seem much closer there, the buildings, the streets, the trees are all gathered together. It was almost as if nature held everything together. And I miss the sea.” She looked beyond the veranda, toward the horizon. “I’ve never seen such wide open sky before as here, and there weren’t these winds to contend with, either. Texas makes me feel . . . lonely, I guess.” She shrugged. “Alone against the elements.”

  “Some folks go crazy out here. The wind and the loneliness drives them right out of their heads.”

  She smiled. “I’m not going out of my head,” she assured him. “I just miss the East sometimes.”

  He moved away from the rail. Took a step closer. “Are you really lonely, Kate?”
/>
  Their eyes met. She looked thoughtful for a moment, and then a wistful smile tipped the corners of her mouth. “Sometimes, but I don’t know why. Charm is wonderful company, and there’s Daniel, too.”

  Another step, and he was close enough to touch her. “People need more than friendships, Kate.” He spoke softly, so that only she could hear him. “That’s only natural.”

  He watched the tip of her tongue slide across her full lower lip as she contemplated his words. Small lines appeared between her eyebrows as she stared back at him, frowning. “Is it?” she whispered.

  “Is it what?”

  “Natural. To want more.”

  He could see the idea disturbed her. She had, after all, been raised by celibate women.

  “Yes.” He was tempted to show her how natural it was, tempted to cup her jaw, turn her face up to his, and taste her soft, full lips. Instead, he made himself step back, walk over to the rail, and look out over the land until he’d gotten control of his emotions again.

  When he turned back around, she was rubbing her thumb over something she held in her hand.

  “What’s that Daniel found for you?”

  “Were you watching?”

  “Yeah.”

  She smiled again, a small triumphant smile, and opened her palm. “It’s an arrowhead.”

  She handed it to him. A pointed obsidian flint glittered in his hand.

  “The ground is full of them,” he said.

  “We find something new almost every day. Daniel has taught me so much.”

  “Without talking?”

  “People don’t need words to share what’s in their hearts.”

  He shrugged. “I guess not.”

  “I can see what’s in yours, Reed. It’s reflected in your eyes.”

  “And what is that, Kate?” If she could really read his mind, she would be blushing ten shades of red.

  “You wish that you could do more than stand in the shadows and watch your son. You would like to know how to talk to him, what to say to help him realize that he is home. That he is safe. That you don’t intend to lose him again. You want to start over.”

  Daniel again. His jaw felt tight. His heart ached. “You need glasses,” he said.

  “You wish you could make him understand that you are his father. You want to love him, but you don’t know how.”

  He stared at the arrowhead until the edges blurred, and he silently damned her for saying such things to him—then he damned himself for letting her poke around the hardened corners of his heart.

  Without a word, he handed it back and headed for the dark interior of the barn, where a man could think without somebody peering into the dark, secret places of his soul.

  Reed wasn’t alone long before Kate walked into the barn dragging Daniel with her. The boy was scowling.

  “Charm is trying on a new dress she’s made and wants me to pin up the hem. I was hoping you wouldn’t mind watching Daniel for a few minutes.”

  He knew what she was up to, but he had a strong feeling it wouldn’t do him any good to refuse. “It’s Sunday. I thought God-fearing folk didn’t work on Sunday,” he said.

  She blinked twice. “Well, sewing is more of a hobby for Charm than work. A pastime, really.” Then she took Daniel’s hand and drew him closer to the stall where Reed was currying one of the horses.

  “He loves them,” she informed him.

  “So Charm said.” He didn’t tell her that if the boy ever managed to actually get on a horse, he would probably be gone.

  “I’m sure you can find something for him to do. I’ll be back in no time at all,” she said.

  Reed watched her sashay out of the barn. So did Daniel. Reed couldn’t help but notice the smoldering anger on the boy’s face. His savior had just betrayed him. Delivered him right into the hands of the enemy.

  Reed took a deep breath and let it go, shook his head as he looked down at Daniel. “This was inevitable, you know? She’s a stubborn woman. It looks like we’re stuck with each other until she decides otherwise.”

  Daniel ignored him. Reed held the curry brush out to him.

  The boy looked up, then back down at the brush. Reed indicated the horse with his hand, then held the brush out to Daniel again.

  “You want to brush him?” Reed demonstrated, making a few even strokes down the horse’s flank. “Do that.”

  This time Daniel reached for the brush, but slowly, as if it were a snake that he was afraid might strike, but he took it anyway.

  Reed’s heart tightened when Daniel propped his crutch against the side of the stall, but he didn’t seem to need any help as he slowly limped over to the horse’s side. He used the animal for support and hesitantly began to apply the brush.

  The only sounds in the barn were those of the horses moving about in their stalls and the rustle of doves nesting high in the rafters.

  A sudden, unexpected feeling of serenity stole over Reed as he watched Daniel work, a feeling of peace the likes of which he had not known in years.

  The need to touch the boy was overwhelming. He raised his arm, held his hand above Daniel’s glossy hair for a moment and then dropped his arm. Too soon. Too soon to leave himself open and vulnerable to more heartache. Daniel was here only because Kate had marched him out to the barn. Reed couldn’t risk touching him, igniting his hatred again, but he ached to turn time backward, to make things different. He just wished he knew for certain how to go about it.

  Uncomfortable with such raw new feelings, he shoved his hands in his pockets and glanced toward the barn door, wondering exactly how long it would be before Kate returned, refusing to be lulled into thinking that their troubles were over.

  Peace was only temporary, at best. He had been a Ranger far too long to believe any different.

  33

  Thirty minutes later Kate walked into the kitchen on her way to get Daniel and came to a sudden halt when she discovered Reed and the boy already seated at the table. Her heart turned over. She had forgotten what it was like to have him around, how her pulse sped up each time she saw him.

  Then she took in Reed and Daniel together. They were ignoring each other. Daniel concentrated on the cookies he had lined up on the oilcloth table cover while Reed sat slumped in a chair, his arms crossed over his chest, his long legs extended, boots crossed at the ankles.

  When he realized she was there, he straightened.

  She pasted on a smile, hoping she had made the right decision leaving him and the boy alone. For the most part, they looked none the worse for wear.

  “I’m sorry that took longer than I expected. Was he any trouble?”

  “None.”

  She knew better than to expect details. He gave her a look that told her he knew she had contrived to leave them alone. It wouldn’t do to press her luck.

  “Well, that’s good. Thank you for watching him.”

  She walked over to the cupboard, took down a cup and saucer and poured herself coffee from the pot warming on the back of the stove. She offered some to Reed, but he refused.

  Kate sat at the opposite end of the table. In moments like this, when he seemed so distant, she found herself wondering if the night they had made love had ever really happened at all.

  “What started the preacher coming around?” Reed asked without warning.

  Coffee sloshed over the rim of her cup. Collecting herself, she took a sip. “Do you mean Reverend Marshall?”

  “You have more than one preacher coming around?” She had no idea if Scrappy had already told him why she had sent him to town after Preston, but she had no reason to hide it. She had fully intended to tell Reed about the Greenes’ visit, but she wanted him to settle in first.

  “I sent for him because I needed his help.”

  He sat up straighter, leaned his elbows on the table. “What for? What happened?” His dark brows knit in concern as his eyes became even more intense.

  “Your former in-laws came to see Daniel.”

  The boy looked
up at the sound of his name and then quickly concentrated on the mess he was making with the cookies. There were crumbs and sugar sprinkled all over the table in front of him. He licked the tip of his index finger, dabbed up crumbs with it and licked them off.

  “Why didn’t you send for me?”

  “You left me here to handle things, so I did.”

  “What happened?”

  “They wanted to take Daniel home with them, but I will be completely honest with you. I didn’t like them. They were far too stern. They thought Daniel would be fine if they just beat the devil out of him. I didn’t want to let them take him, so I told them I couldn’t consider it until I spoke to you.”

  He nodded, waited for more.

  “When they questioned my authority, I . . . I told them that I was not just the housekeeper . . . but that I was your wife.”

  His brows shot up. He cleared his throat. “My wife.”

  “Yes, but they didn’t believe me. I told them to ask the minister in Lone Star. I sent for Pres—the minister to tell him what I had done.”

  “And he came running.”

  “In a manner of speaking, yes. I told him about the Greenes and explained . . . the rest . . . that we weren’t really married . . . but, well, I told him about everything. Well, most of it anyway.”

  He was watching her with an unreadable expression. She found herself shifting under his cool stare. “So the good reverend knows everything?” He hadn’t moved an inch.

  “Yes. He does, except for . . . except the personal things.” Embarrassment forced her to look down at her hands. “He promised to keep my confidence.”

  He was silent so long that she finally looked up. He was still staring at her.

  “Have you spoken to your lawyer? About the papers?”

  “I did,” he said.

  “And?”

  There was another long pause.

  “We’ll both have to sign an affidavit swearing that my signature was forged and that you were tricked into the proxy marriage. After he files them, the marriage will be null and void.”