"I wired her after the housewarming. Then I wrote the Foundling Home and explained what had happened."
This was it. That woman was coming to get him. Hayes and the angel lady—he couldn't bring himself to look at her—were ready to turn him over, to send him back to New York. His mind rolled over the things in the room he'd used upstairs: the shirts she'd made him. They'd know he planned to run if he packed them. He'd miss them. He looked down at the one he had on and ran a hand across the front.
"Booker told them about Bard, Lucas," Thea said. "About the way he treated you. That indenture agreement is no good, of course, so that means you're free again."
Sure. Free. About as free as a chicken in a stinkin' coop.
"Mrs. Hayes and I have talked it over," the big man said from the end of the table. "We want to know if you'd like to stay here with us."
Lucas's attention shot from Hayes's face to the angel lady's waiting expression. Zoe stopped eating and regarded each of them with solemn perusal.
Thea twisted her napkin. "We'd like to adopt you, Lucas. But only if it's what you want."
All three gazes locked on his heated face.
"What's the catch?" he managed to say, finally.
Thea turned an anxious look on Hayes.
The man took a bite and said around it, "No catch."
Lucas couldn't quite grasp the concept. "You mean—" he surveyed both of their faces "—I'd be your kid?"
Thea nodded. "Yes. Legally."
"An' I'd never have to go back to the Home? I'd never have to go nowhere but right here?"
Hayes nodded. "Stay as long as you like. A few more years and you'll be old enough to be on your own. Until then, we want you here."
Lucas still couldn't believe his good fortune. Was this really about to happen? "What about Mrs. Vaughn?" he asked skeptically. "What if she don't want me to stay?"
"I don't think that will happen," Hayes replied. "She wants to see you permanently settled, too. She's a fair and caring person."
Lucas nodded in agreement. Mrs. Vaughn had always treated him well. He'd wait and see if it worked out before he let himself think about it too much. "Okay," he agreed.
Thea smiled and exchanged a glance with Hayes. Zoe gave a beaming smile and went back to her breakfast. And Lucas looked at the people around the table in a whole new light.
Family.
* * *
They stood in the shade under the mercantile's awning, avoiding the dust that blew up from the street with each passing rider or wagon. Booker drew a watch from his front pocket and checked the time. "She should have been here by now."
Red Horse sat on the long bench that fronted the building and pulled a sleepy, bonneted Zoe onto his lap.
Lucas perched on the top step and squinted down the street.
"Something must have happened," Thea said.
Booker slid the watch back. "I'll go check the telegraph office. Maybe she sent word that she'd be delayed."
Thea nodded and watched him cross the street.
Three of her friends from church, all finely dressed, approached and stopped in front of Thea. "Thea! Where have you been?" Agnes Birch asked. A huge purple brooch held a lacy handkerchief pinned to her enormous breast. "You weren't there to conduct the ladies' missionary meeting."
"No, I couldn't get away that evening," Thea explained.
Penelope Dodd stepped up beside Agnes. "Some of us went and helped Widow Barnett clean out her husband's things and get her house ready to sell."
"Oh, yes." Thea nodded, feeling a little guilty. She hadn't realized Mr. Barnett had passed on. "That was so nice of you. I'm sure she appreciated it."
"We all wondered where you were, Thea," Malvina Beck, the livery man's wife, added. "I have to wonder if you're safe out there with that—" her voice lowered to a whisper "—Indian on the premises."
Surprised, Thea hoped Red Horse hadn't heard that last comment.
Agnes leaned forward and her chin waddled when she spoke. "It's not wise to let that innocent little girl near a savage, Thea."
"That's ridiculous," Thea denied. "Red Horse is Mr. Hayes's friend."
Agnes clucked and waved her pudgy hand. "Well, it seems Mr. Hayes is turning you into an Indian-lover and a recluse, my dear. If you stay away from town much more, we'll have to think you've dropped out of society."
Thea could only stare at her in shock.
Lucas looked up from his seat on the step, and she read the disapproval on his face.
The women passed by and entered the dry goods store. Thea glanced back at Red Horse and Zoe. Both seemed absorbed with a string of painted beads. If Agnes and the others pushed, they could do Thea some real damage in the eyes of the townspeople. She didn't want them talking about her behind her back, thinking ill of her, but her life had changed. Couldn't they see that? A glimmer of anger sparked within her breast. How dare they be so judgmental toward a person they didn't even know?
Booker returned with a square slip of paper. "She wired," he announced. "Mrs. Vaughn's delayed until tomorrow morning."
"Oh, my." Thea glanced at Zoe, now falling asleep on Red Horse's lap. "It's so late. We waited all afternoon." They'd done all their shopping, and their purchases waited in the wagon.
Booker stared off across the street.
Lucas's stomach rumbled.
Booker turned to her. "We'll spend the night. Lucas's horse is in the corral with hay and water. Red Horse's pony will fend for himself another day. We'll stable the others and take a couple of rooms in the hotel. We can have dinner in the dining room tonight."
Thea considered the expense.
"Don't even say it," he warned.
Too hot and tired to argue, she nodded.
"All right then." Booker gestured with a long thumb to the store behind them. "Anybody needing anything extra to spend the night, go get it now."
"Maybe one or two things," Thea replied, and entered the store.
A short time later, they waited in the hotel lobby while Booker registered and checked their weapons. "I paid the stableman to store our purchases until morning," he said, and led the way up the stairs. "Let's all get washed up and meet in the dining room."
A young girl carried water into the room and left silently. Even though Zoe was exhausted, she good-naturedly allowed Thea to wash her and brush her hair with a new hairbrush. Thea did her own and met Red Horse in the hallway.
"You ladies look real pretty," he said, and escorted them down the stairs.
A burly manager, sausaged into a too-small shirt and bow tie, stepped in front of them, preventing their entrance to the dining room. "We don't allow Injuns," he said, and leveled his hostile gaze on Red Horse.
Beyond him she saw the few patrons turn their way with interest. "Red Horse is our friend," she said softly. The man could see Red Horse appeared the genteel picture of civility in his white shirt and tie. "He's having dinner with us."
"Not in here, he ain't. Our customers don't take to eatin' with savages."
Thea stared down at the pompous man. "He's no more a savage than you are!"
"It's all right, Mrs. Hayes," Red Horse said, and touched her elbow. "You go ahead and meet the major. I don't mind."
"I'll do no such thing," she huffed.
"Is there a problem?" With relief, Thea turned at the sound of Booker's voice. Dressed in dark trousers, a crisp white shirt and string tie, Booker couldn't have arrived at a more timely moment.
Irving Jackson, the owner of the hotel, dressed in brown trousers and vest, appeared at the same time. "What's wrong, Clancy?" he asked.
Thea turned to him. Jackson's presence always threaded dread through her system.
"The lady's tryin' to bring the Injun into the dining room," the burly man said with a sneer.
"I'm sorry, sir;" Jackson said to Booker, "Indians aren't allowed in the hotel."
"Do you know that a long and bloody war was fought over attitudes like that?" Booker asked calmly.
Lucas
hung in the doorway as if prepared to make a quick escape.
Jackson flustered. "I hardly see what—"
"No, I'm sure you don't." Booker regarded the man. "I've booked two rooms for the night. My family and I wish to have our meal in the dining room. If my friend is not welcome, then I'll have to ask for a refund on the rooms, and we'll eat elsewhere."
So there, Thea wanted to shout in Jackson's reddening face. He thinned his lips into a tight white line, obviously torn between losing the cost of their night's lodgings and offending other guests by allowing an Indian in their midst. Thea glanced into the room beyond and observed a few of the faces. Most merely looked interested in the outcome, but a few glared in outright hatred, among them Agnes Birch.
The proprietor must have noticed Agnes, too. "I'm sorry, Mr....?"
"Hayes."
"Mr. Hayes. But I would lose business by allowing you to stay."
A muscle jumped in Booker's chiseled cheek. "Very well, give me my money back."
"I can't do that. We registered you in good faith. The fact that you choose to leave has nothing to do with the quality of our service."
"Then we're staying." Booker turned and ushered Thea and Lucas toward the tables. "And we're eating."
"Sir!" Jackson followed. "Sir, you can't do this."
Under Booker's silent direction, everyone took a seat, including Red Horse. Thea held Zoe on her lap and felt her little body trembling.
"Sir, you must leave."
"Then I guess you'll have to throw us out," Booker replied.
Jackson glanced at each of them. The man he'd called Clancy waited at his elbow.
"You so much as touch my wife or children, and you'll reckon with me," Booker added, threat evident in his tone.
Jackson seemed to size up Booker, calmly seated at the table. His gaze flickered to Thea, his hesitation obvious. The thought came to her that he'd been at the housewarming the afternoon that Booker had pounded Ronan Bard into the dirt. Apparently at a loss as how to remove the Indian from the hotel without meeting a similar fate, Jackson stiffly turned and hauled Clancy away with him.
At the next table, Agnes huffed indignantly, threw her napkin on the table and stood. "Come on, Edgar. We're leaving."
"No need to leave, Aggie," Edgar Birch replied. He reached for his coffee cup. "We haven't had our dessert yet."
"We're leaving, and that's that!" She grabbed his arm and yanked the slight man from his seat. He grabbed his bowler from the next chair.
"Booker," Edgar said with a polite nod and an apologetic shrug.
Thea realized Edgar Birch had been among the men who'd helped bring the turbine from the train to the mill.
The other husband and wife who'd been seated with the Birches, rose and followed them from the room.
"She didn't need dessert, anyway," Booker said.
Red Horse and Lucas grinned, and the tension eased.
Thea glanced at Booker's friend. How awful for him. How must he feel being treated as less than any other man? "I'm awfully sorry, Red Horse," she said, but the words were inadequate.
She'd known Agnes Birch since she was quite young and had never imagined the woman's hateful reaction to a red man. This was the same woman who helped sew quilts for the missionaries to take to foreign peoples and tell them about God's love.
"Don't be sorry, ma'am. You would be treated much the same among my former people."
"Former?" she asked, refocusing her attention.
He nodded. "I'm too white for them. I worked for the army trying to bring peace, but they didn't understand."
She nodded thoughtfully.
The waitress came and took their orders.
Even after the struggle, Thea enjoyed eating someone else's cooking. Lucas commented that the apple pie wasn't as good as hers, and blushed at her smile. Clancy and the proprietor watched from the corner of the room. Thea glanced at them every once in a while and noted that Booker kept his eye on the pair, too.
It seemed Booker had made a few more enemies.
* * *
Thea brushed out her hair and glanced around the stark room. Zoe slept peacefully in the center of the feather mattress, candlelight illuminating her angelic features.
A gentle rap sounded at the door.
"Yes?" Thea replied.
"It's me."
Wearing only her chemise and drawers, she pulled a blanket around her shoulders and opened the door. Booker strode into the room. Thea regarded him.
"They just assumed I'd be sleeping in here," he said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder toward the room next door. "The two of them took over the bed."
Her eyes must have shown her surprise.
"I'll just get another room." He started back toward the door.
"No." She stopped him with the word. It would be senseless to spend any more on rooms for just one night. After all, he was her husband. "Zoe doesn't take up much room. Sleep with us."
He nodded and hung his hat on a hook near the wash stand.
Thea dropped the blanket and sprang between the sheets. She curled around Zoe and buried her face in the silky locks. Fabric rustled. Two thumps hit the floor in succession as he removed his boots. Fabric slid again.
The candle was blown out. The bed dipped and took his weight.
His fingers touched Zoe's hair and came in contact with Thea's nose.
"Sorry," he said, and withdrew his hand.
"It's all right." She turned her face toward the ceiling now that the light was out. A mistake. She could smell him. His hair. His skin. He'd used bay rum that day. Her husband lay a foot away in the darkness.
Thank goodness Zoe separated them, or she'd probably be sorely tempted to do something stupid. Like reach across and see if he had anything on.
A hundred tiny moth wings fluttered inside her belly. Like press herself full length against him and enjoy every inch of his hard frame.
One of the moths found passage to her heart and tripped it double time. Like turn her lips against his jaw and feel the late-night rasp of his beard. Inhale against his skin and his hair and matted chest—
Yes. Very good thing Zoe was there.
Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and she made out his profile. Without moving her head, she rolled her gaze downward over the white sheet draping his long form.
The moths took a plummeting dive and created a tingle in the most disconcerting places. Thea tried to get comfortable.
Thank goodness for Zoe.
Zoe had brought them together in the first place. And now, unknowingly, innocently in her slumber, kept them safely apart.
Sounds from the street drifted up to the window, reminding her how strange this situation was. Finally, she turned onto her back. Her heels touched the edge of the mattress. How did Booker manage to fit?
Between them, Zoe sighed. Sometime later, Booker shifted his weight.
Sometime, long into the night, Thea slept.
Her midnight lover came to her during the night. He found his way into her dreams, into the need she fervently denied, and stroked her aroused body with his dark, ethereal fingers. Thea moaned and rolled over.
Her dark-haired, dark-eyed, sleep-woven lover kissed the freckles on her chest, nuzzled his rough cheek against her breasts, whispered incoherent words of dark desire. He wove an enticing web of passion around the two of them, indulging, delighting, enticing....
His hand on her thigh was hot. Hot. Thea's eyelids fluttered and she resisted waking. No. She didn't want to miss this. He felt too good, his hard body pressed along the length of hers, his searing arousal pressed against her hip. Too good to wake up and—
She opened her eyes.
Lavish heat encompassed her entire back and buttocks. The hand on her thigh twitched. Zoe slept on the side of the bed where Thea had been last night, and Thea...
Oh, goodness. She garnered enough courage to look over her shoulder. Booker lay sprawled behind her, over her, one bare, hair-roughened leg entwined with hers, his h
and resting familiarly on her thinly clad thigh. The sight of his naked hip gave her a start.
She dropped her head and took a few cleansing breaths. Maybe she could slip away before he woke up, before he discovered how brazenly she'd insinuated herself against his naked body.
Slowly, she drew her foot from beneath his ankle and slid her leg away. Turning to her stomach, preparing to rise on hands and knees and climb over Zoe, she turned to peek at him.
Wide-awake, the major stared back.
bookmark:Chapter 12
Chapter 12
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"Morning," he said, greeting her.
Mortified, she managed to croak a reply.
He reached down and pulled the sheet up to his waist. Thea hadn't taken her gaze from his, didn't trust herself to. "Hand me my pants, and I'll let you get ready," he said.
She scrambled over the top of Zoe, a skein of tousled hair falling across her face. She held it back and padded around the foot of the bed. His trousers lay over the back of a chair. She grabbed them and approached him from the other side of the mattress.
Booker rolled onto his back, raising one knee beneath the sheet, and took the pants from her. He sat up and she spun away. Looking for something to do, she found the blanket on the floor and wrapped it around her shoulders.
Zoe sat up, blinked at them both in dreamy-eyed confusion, and glanced around the room.
"Mornin', pumpkin," Booker said, and reached over to ruffle her hair.
Apparently satisfied with her surroundings and companions, Zoe fell back on the pillow.
Thea sat and pulled the child's head against her breast. Booker placed his feet in the trousers and stood, tugging them up over his muscled buttocks. Thea couldn't help herself; she stared. The skin below his waist was a dozen shades paler than the rest, but no less appealing. The taut muscles flexed, and much too quickly disappeared beneath the fabric.
My, my. She released Zoe for fear she'd inadvertently choke her.
Booker turned and met her transfixed gaze. He knew she'd looked. Knowing she blushed to the roots of her hair, she looked away.
"I'll go for water," he said, and shrugged into his wrinkled shirt.
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