by Diana Palmer
“Well, I’m delighted to have you,” Mrs. Dunn said. “And I’m sure Andrew will be. He’s away for the week, on business, you know. He does sales work for a local brick making concern. He’s been in Galveston lately to take orders. That’s where he found our lovely Noelle.”
He glanced at the young woman. She was younger than he’d thought at first—probably not yet out of her teens.
“This is my grandson, Jared, Noelle. And, Jared, this is Andrew’s young cousin, Noelle Brown.”
Jared looked at her without speaking. “How did he chance to discover the relationship?” he asked finally.
“A mutual acquaintance pointed it out,” Noelle said. She clasped her hands together tightly at her waist.
“An observant one, no doubt, as you certainly share no surface traits with my stepbrother, who is blond and dark-eyed.”
“His mother was auburn-haired,” Mrs. Dunn pointed out, “and his mother’s people were Browns from Galveston. Naturally when he made mention of it, an acquaintance there told him of Noelle’s existence, and her sad plight.”
“I see.”
“Dear boy, what has happened to you?” she asked, nodding toward the cane.
He leaned on the cane a little heavily. “A slight accident.”
“Only that?” Noelle asked sweetly. “What a relief to know that you weren’t slammed in the leg with a fence post, sir.”
He cocked his head and stared at her pointedly. “You’re very plainspoken, Miss Brown.”
“I’ve had to be,” she replied. “I had four brothers, sir—none of whom ever made allowances for my lack of muscle.”
“Don’t expect me to make allowances for your youth,” he countered in a dangerously soft tone.
Her eyes went to the gray hair at his temples. “You may also expect that I’ll make none for your age.”
One dark eyebrow lifted. “My age?”
“Well, you’re quite old.”
He had to choke back a retort. Probably to a girl in her teens, he did seem elderly. He ignored her latest sally and turned back to his grandmother. “How have you been?” he asked, and his tone changed so drastically that Noelle was surprised.
Mrs. Dunn smiled warmly at him. “Quite well, my boy, for a lady of my years. And you look prosperous as well.”
“New York has been good to me.”
She looked at the leg. “Not altogether, apparently.”
He smiled. “This happened in New Mexico Territory. An accident.”
“Surely you weren’t thrown from a horse,” she began, such an accident being the first sort to occur to her.
Noelle looked at him as if she expected that a man in such an expensive suit, an attorney, moreover, who lived in a huge eastern city, wouldn’t know which end of a horse to get on.
“Horses are dangerous,” Jared replied, deliberately evasive. He was enjoying their young houseguest’s evident opinion of him. He could almost see the words in her green eyes: milksop; dude; layabout; dandy…
Her eyes met his and she cleared her throat, as if she’d spoken the words aloud. “Would you care for some refreshment, Mr. uh, Mr. Dunn?”
“Coffee would be welcome. I find travel by train so exhausting,” he said, with a mock yawn, deliberately assuming the facade of a tame city man.
Noelle turned quickly and left the room before she burst out laughing. If that was Andrew’s formidable stepbrother, she was in no immediate danger of being thrown out. Although, just at first, there had been something in those steely eyes, in the set of his head, in his stance, that had made her very uneasy. Probably she was being fanciful, she thought, and continued on to the kitchen.
“Now,” Mrs. Dunn said, when Noelle had closed the door and her footsteps could be heard going down the hall, “what happened?”
“I had a disagreement with an armed cowboy in a small community called Terrell,” he said, sitting down across from her. “My shot broke his arm, but a wild bullet got me in the leg. It still pains me a bit, but in a few weeks, I’ll be as good as new. So will he, fortunately,” he added grimly. “Maybe he’ll be more careful about who he pulls a gun on from now on.”
“Gunfights, in such a civilized age,” his grandmother said coolly. “For heaven’s sake, this is just what Edith wanted to avoid! It’s why she begged you to go East to school in the first place.”
“I have avoided it—mostly,” he said, dropping the cane idly by his side. “There are still uncivilized places…and men who reach for a gun before they look for a man with a badge. In court cases, tempers run hot.”
“That’s probably why you chose law as a profession,” Mrs. Dunn said curtly. “It’s a dangerous job.”
He smiled. “So it is, from time to time. I’m going to open an office here in Fort Worth. New York has lost its appeal for me.”
Her blue eyes, so like his own, softened. “Are you, truly, Jared? It would be such a joy to have you home all the time.”
“I’ve missed you, too,” he confessed.
She bit her lower lip. “No one knows about your past here,” she said gently. “I’ve never told anyone, least of all Andrew. But these scrapes you get into… What if any of your adversaries turn up in town?”
He chuckled. “What if they do? Gunplay is a thing of the past, except in saloons and during robberies. I’m hardly likely to find myself a target for young gunmen, except in dime novels,” he added dryly.
“Don’t remind me,” she muttered, recalling that he’d been featured in one with a lurid cover and six guns in both his hands—ridiculous, since he’d only ever worn one gun, even in his young and wild days.
“I’m a respectable attorney.”
“You’re a hard case,” Mrs. Dunn said shortly. “And neither of us is as respectable as we want people to think we are. Why, I was working in a saloon in Dodge when your mama had you. And now I belong to the Women’s Benevolent Society and the Temperance Union and the Ladies’ Sewing Circle and the prayer group. However would people look at me if they knew my real past?”
“The same as they look at you now, except with more fascination, you naughty woman,” he murmured dryly.
She laughed. “I hardly think so.” She shook her head. “Oh, Jared, how hard are the lessons we learn in youth. And all our indiscretions follow us like shadows into old age.”
He searched her tired, lined face with compassion. Her life had been a much harder one than his own, although he carried scars, too. Despite the fact that he’d never killed without reason, the violence of the past occasionally woke him in lurid detail, and he had to get up and pace the floor to subdue the nightmares.
“You have your own demons,” she said, recognizing the fleeting pain in his eyes.
“Don’t we all have them?” He sighed heavily. “What about our redheaded houseguest?” he added. “Tell me about her.”
“She’s very kind,” she said. “She can cook if she’s ever needed in the kitchen, and she doesn’t mind hard work.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
She grimaced. “She’s sweet on Andrew, and vice versa. He was attracted to her at once. When he found out her circumstances, he insisted that she come here. Her family died in the flood that hit Galveston in the fall of 1900, and she’s been living in Victoria with an elderly uncle. But he has the offer of a good job in Galveston and she was terrified to go back there. Perhaps the uncle wanted to be rid of her. So Andrew invited her to come and live with us.” She tucked a fold of her dress into place. “He knew you wouldn’t like it, but he said that he did contribute to the household accounts and he’d be responsible for her keep.”
“He contributes ten dollars a month,” Jared remarked. “The rest he spends on new boots and fine livery for his carriage.”
“Yes, I know. But his father was good to Edith.”
/>
“And to you. I remember. Andrew is the cross we must bear for his father’s kindness.”
“That was unkind and uncharitable.”
“I’m not a kind man,” he reminded her, and for an instant, the old, wild look was in his eyes.
“I might agree if I didn’t know you so well. You’re kind to the people you love.”
“There were only ever two—you and my mother.”
She smiled gently. “You might find a woman who could love you and marry one day, Jared. You should have a family of your own. I won’t live forever.”
“Andrew will,” he muttered darkly. “And I expect to find myself responsible for him until I die.”
“Cynicism does not suit you.”
“I find that it sits heavily on me of late,” he returned, tapping the boot on the foot he’d crossed over his knee. “When I started practicing law, I wanted to be on the side of justice. But lately, more and more, I find myself on the side of money. I’m tired of helping the rich disinherit the poor. Ambition has paled for me in recent months. Now, I want to do some good.”
“I’m sure you already have. But you will find worthy people here in need of representation.”
“Yes. I think I will.” He narrowed one eye. “Is Andrew serious about Noelle?”
She grimaced. “Who can tell? Andrew is fickle. He was trying to court Amanda Doyle for a brief time… You remember her father, Jared—he has a big house in town and three daughters. He fought in the cavalry in the Indian Wars.”
“Yes,” he said as an impression of a dignified old man flashed before his eyes. Like himself, Doyle had grown up in wild times, but his daughters had been protected from everything unpleasant and his wife was a socialite.
“But Miss Doyle would have nothing to do with Andrew,” his grandmother continued. “It was about that time that he went to Galveston and found Noelle.”
“And devastated her with his swagger, no doubt,” Jared murmured dryly.
“Dear boy, he does cut a dashing figure with his exaggerated war record and his blond good looks and his arrogance.”
“And his youth,” Jared added, chuckling. “Your houseguest seems to class me with the aged and infirm.”
“She knows nothing about you,” she reminded him. “And you seem to be encouraging her mistaken impression of your character.”
“Let it lie,” he said. “She seems to be no more than a bad-tempered child, but if she came here expecting someone to support her for the rest of her life, she’s going to be badly disappointed.”
His grandmother flushed. “I never thought of the imposition it would mean to you, bringing her here,” she said, embarrassed.
He held up a hand. “You were coerced,” he said simply. “I know Andrew, remember. But we know nothing of this girl. She could be anybody.”
“Andrew said that her uncle was well-known, and the family was a respectable one,” she told him.
He didn’t want to know anything about the girl. She irritated him too much already.
“And it occurred to me that Andrew might have brought her here because he was considering marriage,” his grandmother added.
He didn’t like that. He laughed coldly. “Andrew isn’t ready to settle down,” he added deliberately, more for his own benefit than hers. He leaned back and rubbed gingerly at his sore leg.
“Do you intend asking her to leave?” Mrs. Dunn asked slowly.
“I might,” he replied. “It depends on what I learn about her. Let’s say that she’s here on suffrage until I make a decision.” He smiled at her. “I’d like to hear more about these new organizations springing up in Fort Worth, the ones you’ve been writing me about. What exactly is the Civic Betterment Project?”
Chapter Two
IT RAINED ON Jared’s first morning at home. He walked to the window of the dining room while he waited for the family housekeeper, Mrs. Ella Pate, to get breakfast on the table. Mrs. Pate did all the cooking and washing for the family. The elegant house was well kept and had all the most modern conveniences, including a very nice big bathroom with sound plumbing.
The tangles of pink roses on the bush outside the window were in glorious bloom, but they didn’t impress the man on the other side of the windowpane. He saw neither the silver droplets of rain sliding down the glass nor the roses. His eyes were on the past, which being in Fort Worth had brought back most painfully to his mind.
This house wasn’t the one that Jared’s mother had lived in with his stepfather; it was newer. But even if the house was different from the one his mother had died in, being with his grandmother had kindled painful memories of his late mother and the past. He hadn’t expected that.
“Aren’t the roses nice, Mr. Jared?” Mrs. Pate asked pleasantly. “Old Henry keeps the bushes in order for us, although Miss Brown likes to putter around out there—in men’s overalls—when he isn’t looking. She has the touch with vegetables, not to mention flowers.”
Mrs. Pate’s starchy comment about Noelle’s choice of clothing amused him. He could imagine how straitlaced Fort Worth would take to a young woman in men’s clothing working in full view of the street. He wondered what else she had the touch for, but he didn’t say a word. She came from poverty, and he still wasn’t certain if her reasons for being here didn’t have something to do with improving her own situation.
His grandmother came through the dining room doorway with Noelle just behind her.
“Good morning, Jared. Did you sleep well?” she asked brightly.
“Well enough.” He glanced at Noelle, who was helping his grandmother into the chair. Very solicitous, he thought, and wondered at once if she was putting on a show just for him.
“Thank you, dear,” Mrs. Dunn said. “Breakfast looks delicious, Ella.”
“I hope it tastes just as good,” Mrs. Pate said, with a grin.
“Let me have your cup, Jared, and I’ll fill it for you,” Mrs. Dunn offered.
He slid it over to her. His eyes met Noelle’s above the pot. She wasn’t looking at him. She was looking out the window at the rain and seemed lost in thought.
“Where are your thoughts, Miss Brown?” he asked.
She jerked her head around self-consciously. “I was wondering if Andrew would be home today.” She bit off any further explanation, angry because he made her feel like a schoolgirl.
“He said that he hoped to be back this evening,” Mrs. Dunn remarked. “He’ll be glad to see you, Jared.”
“Do you think so?” He creamed his coffee, leaving out sugar. “He wasn’t here when I passed through last year at Christmas.” That had irritated him, too—that his grandmother would have been alone at the holidays except for his impromptu visit.
“He was visiting some friends in Kansas City.” Mrs. Dunn refrained from mentioning that one of them was female. “Andrew’s job takes him away quite a lot.”
He sipped his coffee and then took the platters as his grandmother passed them to him, filling his plate with eggs, sausages, tomatoes and biscuits. There was a mold of fresh butter on the pretty rose pattern of the scallop-edged English bone china saucer. Mrs. Pate bought fresh butter every week for the family. There was also a variety of preserves, jams and jellies that Mrs. Pate and Jared’s grandmother had made last summer and fall. He was especially fond of the creamy peach preserves and took two spoonfuls of it from the elegant silver dish.
“It won’t be long until we’ll have fresh vegetables,” Mrs. Dunn remarked. “The kitchen garden is growing nicely.”
“Indeed it is,” Noelle remarked absently. “I’ve covered the young tomato plants against the chill, to make sure they aren’t hurt by any unexpected frost.”
“Henry asked me why there was so little weeding to be done,” Mrs. Dunn remarked.
Noelle cleared her throat. She
had to bite her tongue to keep from mentioning how heavily old Henry was hitting his whiskey bottle lately. She had found out accidentally, and she didn’t want to give Jared a worse opinion of her by running down his gardener. The family seemed to dote on the man. Noelle didn’t. She found his halfhearted gardening irritating. “I had some free time…”
“Mrs. Hardy down the block noticed you working in the garden in those overalls and mentioned it to me. It seems that her sense of proper ladylike behavior was ruffled.”
Noelle’s green eyes flashed. “I’m a countrywoman, Mrs. Dunn,” she murmured. “I’ve done everything from milking cows to scouring floors, and it’s hardly appropriate to wear a long dress in muddy ground.”
“Yes, but you must be more discreet here,” the older woman said worriedly. “Henry was employed to do the gardening, you know.”
Jared had to fight down laughter. His grandmother had been one of the world’s worst at taking jobs away from servants when she’d moved to Fort Worth with her daughter and that young woman’s new husband. It had taken her some time to learn the ways of polite society. He presumed she was hoping to spare Noelle some of the painful lessons she’d had to learn.
“I promise that I’ll try, Mrs. Dunn,” Noelle said respectfully, thinking all the while that she wasn’t giving up her gardening—or her overalls—no matter what.
Her tone was even, but she was mutinous. Jared knew it as he glanced at her, although he didn’t understand how he knew it.
“It’s for your own good that I say these things,” Mrs. Dunn assured her gently. “I don’t want you to have to learn the hard way. Wagging tongues and gossip can be very damaging indeed.”
Noelle sipped her coffee. “I’m not used to living in such a grand manner,” she commented.
“Grand manner?” Jared said sarcastically.
“A house with servants is grand to me, Mr. Dunn,” she returned, stung by his tone. Her complexion was just the least bit pale. She took her napkin from beneath her utensils belatedly, having noticed that everyone else had a spotless white linen napkin on their lap, not on the table. She spread it over her skirt and then peered at Mrs. Dunn’s hand to see how she held her silver fork.