by Jillian Hart
What a rare gift, she thought, remembering how close she’d been with her own grandmother when she was just a little girl. One couldn’t help what family one was born into, and she’d found that real bonds and real ties of affection among family were rare and all the more precious.
It was what she’d been hoping to find since she was nine years old.
While Joshua grabbed his coat from a wall peg and jammed one arm into it, she stared at the breakfast he’d set before her. She’d never had a man do such a thing. Not her father. Certainly not her husband.
Even when she looked away from him and studied the plate before her, she didn’t see the food. She saw how his big calloused hands had set the tray on her lap. Serving her.
A cool puff of air rolled into the toasty room as Joshua opened the door and shut it quickly behind him. The cheerful sun was deceptive; it hid dangerously cold air. Through the window she could see the spread of clean snow frosting the trees and hillsides and the endless span of prairie butting into the gleaming mountains. The mantle of snow sparkled like fallen stars for miles, giving the land a haunting beauty.
“Eat up, girl!” Adelaide called from the table. “I don’t wanna have to beat Jordan away from you. That boy’ll eat everything including what’s on your plate.”
The older woman seemed cantankerous, but Claire recognized that it was only an act. She couldn’t help liking Adelaide a little bit more. “I’d hate for you to have to hurt him. I’ll eat.”
“Good girl.” Adelaide’s sparkling green eyes beamed approval.
Not that she was the least bit hungry. Claire did appreciate the generous plateful of scrambled eggs, buttery biscuits, hashed browns and crisped bacon. The steaming cup of sweetened coffee was at least a place to start. She cradled the mug in her hands and let the heat warm through.
When she sipped deep, the bold taste was simply heaven. She’d made coffee every day since she was nine years old, at her aunt and uncle’s house. Every morning she ground and measured the beans and put a pot on to boil. And every morning of her marriage had been the same.
No one, ever, had made coffee for her. Somehow it tasted ten times better, although it was the same beans from the crock in her cupboard. Perhaps it was Adelaide’s kindness that made the difference.
She could see Joshua through the window. A large, expensive sleigh sat in the driveway, just outside the front door. The man who wasn’t quite grown into his frame yet must be the lazy Jordan. He didn’t look so bad with his smiling face and relaxed manner. She remembered the young man from the funeral. Joshua clapped him on the shoulder, as if in approval, and then pointed toward the sleigh.
As she munched on a strip of bacon, crispy and done just right, she watched him join his brother in lifting things from the sleigh. What were they doing? She couldn’t make out what they were lifting, probably because she kept watching the man who’d saved her.
The wind tangled through his shaggy hair, but it didn’t diminish the granite might of the man as he disappeared from her sight. The door sprang open. It wasn’t Joshua’s dark woolen sleeve she spotted, but a light brown one. The younger brother’s.
“Gran, you want this anyplace in particular?” Jordan Gable had his brother’s velvet-rough baritone, but it wasn’t as deep and rumbling. He ambled into sight with a heavy sack on his shoulder.
A sack that read Flour on the side in bright red lettering.
Claire’s mouth dropped open. What was going on?
“Try the pantry, smarty.” Adelaide looked up from her book. “Did you remember my tobacco?”
“How could I forget?” Jordan paced out of sight. There was a bump as the sack met the floor. “It’s gonna cost ya.”
“What are you up to, boy, trying to skin an old woman?”
“Yep.” The young man bounded into sight, tipped his hat in Claire’s direction and held a red packet high above his head, the promised tobacco. “There’s the trouble of getting up before sunlight. That’s gotta cost somethin’. And then the delivery charges for me comin’ all the way out here.”
“I’ll give you delivery charges.” Adelaide grinned, as if she enjoyed the arguing. “Cascara bark in your mornin’ cup of coffee oughta be payment enough.”
Claire bit her lip. Bark from the mountain tree was an excellent laxative.
“Yikes! I say, what delivery charges? A package of the best tobacco at the mercantile for you. I’ll just finish up bringing in the stuff. And don’t trouble yourself, Gran. I’ll get my own cup of coffee.”
Jordan slammed the door behind him good-naturedly.
“You gotta know how to motivate a man.” Adelaide chuckled as she opened her package. “It never hurts to have a wicked knowledge of local medicinal herbs to use as punishment. With men, you gotta be ruthless and keep ’em in line. Cascara bark is the secret to a good marriage.”
“Not for the regularity?”
Adelaide laughed heartily. “The threat of it works wonders. There was a few times my dear husband suspected I’d doctored his coffee, and it kept him respecting me. Think I’ll leave a few pieces of bark in your cupboard. Just in case you decide to get yerself another man right away. You can’t let ’em get the best of ya. If he makes you mad, then make him pay.”
She was kidding, right? Claire couldn’t imagine such a thing. “I’m not marrying. Ever again. One husband was enough for me.”
Jordan clambered back in, carrying smaller sacks, one on each shoulder.
“That’s exactly how I felt.” Adelaide pulled a cigarette paper from her skirt pocket. “After I buried my dear love, I didn’t want to bother with training another husband. They’re like mules. They’re stubborn, but they can learn. You just have to be disciplined with their training.”
The faraway look that gentled Adelaide’s face made Claire wonder how long she’d been a widow, and if the marriage had truly been good enough to justify that amazing look. Or more likely, time had softened the truth, making Adelaide’s memory better than the reality.
The back door banged open. Claire was used to the sound, for Ham liked to slam doors. But already she knew the rolling, confident rhythm of Joshua’s gait. She felt his approach like spring on a February wind even before he turned the corner.
“Got the coal bin stocked full.” He slipped off his hat, respectful and polite. “Claire, the doc said you’re gonna be taking it easy for a while. I hope you don’t mind we took it upon ourselves to stock up your pantry, since you won’t be up for a long ride to town and back.”
It was charity, she could see that in his eyes, not hard or demanding or calculating. This made it harder somehow to accept his kindness. “I am obliged to you. It will be a while before I can get to the bank, but I know Ham always left a little cash under the tablecloth. Perhaps you can take that as part payment.”
“Why don’t you hold on to that money? Finish up your breakfast and then you and I have to talk.”
Here it comes, she thought, her stomach too weak still to hold much more than the coffee. “You may as well tell me now.”
Jordan slipped outside and Adelaide stood to disappear into the kitchen. Whatever Joshua had to say wasn’t good news. Or, perhaps what he wanted wouldn’t be beneficial for her. Still, she set her chin, determined to face whatever needed to be dealt with, regardless of her ringing head and weakness.
She’d survived Ham, she’d survived the night, and nothing at this point could break her. There was nothing left to break.
He approached slowly, like a stalking cougar. “Ham’s brothers spent what was left of the night in the Bluebonnet jail, but I figure they won’t stay there long.”
“Then you did find them outside last night?”
“Yes. And there’s more. They weren’t alone.” A muscle ticked in his jaw and his big hands fisted. He lowered himself onto the ottoman, his big frame tensed and his forearms dug into his knees. Although he was perfectly still, he seemed like motion leashed. “A band of rustlers took off with your livestock.”
“Rustlers?” She closed her eyes. She hadn’t even considered the question of what to do with the cattle.
She knew there were rustlers in the county, but she had been lucky so far. Their ranch had never been hit. She always figured it was because the rustlers knew Ham at least by reputation, and no one in their right mind would want to anger him. But Ham was gone, and that left her herd undefended.
“Is the whole herd gone?”
“They tried to wipe you out, but the storm made it hard for them, as far as I could tell.” Deep frowns bracketed the corners of his mouth as if he were angry. As if maybe he’d been thinking to strike a deal with her over the animals. “After I came back from leaving your brothers-in-law with the sheriff—”
“Not my brothers-in-law,” she corrected, stopping him.
A dark brow arched, whether in a question or disapproval of her outspokenness, she couldn’t tell.
“I rousted a few of my brothers out of their beds and got them to come with me,” he went on to explain.
“What? In that bitter cold? That late at night?”
“I’m a rancher, I’m used to it. I did what needed to be done. I do it every day and night on my own place. We’ve rounded up about twenty head of strays and penned them up in your horse corral. It’s close quarters, but they’ll be easier to watch and harder to stampede.”
“Twenty? The rustlers ended up with most of the herd.”
“Between five hundred to seven-fifty in market value, depending. I didn’t get a real good look at what you’ve got. But that’s not the worse part of all this.”
“The Hamiltons. They’re the rustlers, aren’t they?”
“I figure they’re part of the gang. The trouble is, I think this means Ham was, too. With the law for sale in this county, I don’t think you’ll get far pursuing it.”
“You mean to let them have the cattle? That’s not right.”
“I did take a look at the brands. They’ve been doctored, and you know what that means?”
She nodded. They weren’t her cattle at all. They were stolen. And that was a hanging offense in Bluebonnet County. It explained a lot, in terms of how Ham had such good luck with his herds. “What do I do?”
“I’d normally say bring in the law and explain everything, but from what I saw last night, that would be asking Logan to throw you in jail. Sell ’em. I’m going to the auction down in Great Falls next week. I can take them for you. We’ll hope I don’t end up in the clink over it.”
“There’s no way to return them to their rightful owners?”
“If there was, I’d have done it by now.” Joshua stood, the only stability in her view as the room began to spin. “I’ll handle it, Claire. It’s the least I can do, considering what went on that night.”
His rough, rich tone came with an apology. As if he mistook her sadness for losing her husband. He couldn’t know what she’d lived with. He was a man, what did he know about marriage and sacrifice? “You made Ham stop hurting me. There’s no need to be sorry about that.”
“I see.” He studied her a long while, and she wondered what he thought.
It was her weakened physical state, that surely had to be it, for her head had stopped ringing and her heart began to open, as if seeking warmth and affection, as if believing there was hope in men after all. When she knew there wasn’t.
Joshua Gable was a decent man. There was no getting around that fact. He had a good relationship with his family, he worked hard, and he had a respected reputation. He was a fair man and that was rare in this selfish, self-gratifying world. And made more attractive because of it.
And, she’d learned the hard way, the heart sees what it wants to, is blind to all else. So she’d do well not to put too much weight on his good qualities. “There’s something I’ve done and I feel horrible about it. What I said when you offered to stay the night and help. I was ungracious and I’m sorry. I never expected you to stay without compensation.”
“You expect the worst from me.”
“I was wrong. I am very grateful for what you did. It was cold last night. You must have had only a few hours of sleep. And then all the supplies you brought…” She fell silent, unable to find words powerful enough to thank him without sounding as if she were worshipping him.
“I can see what your life was like here. Don’t worry about thanking me.” He fidgeted, betraying the only hint of discomfort she’d ever noticed.
So, was the respected Joshua Gable humble at heart? Or uncomfortable with the attention? She couldn’t help liking him as a person, because maybe beneath that mask he wore there was genuine goodness. And that, too, was rare.
Then his capable calm was back and firmly in place. “The thing is, the Hamiltons seemed to know I was out here that night. Considering they want me dead.” He radiated cool sensible logic, not blazing anger.
“They said that?” It surprised her only because there was no reason to target Joshua. “They couldn’t know about that night.”
“If you said nothing to them, then I’ve got some questions to ask. There’s no doubt about their threats. And I’m bettin’ that my hauling them to jail the way I did, didn’t improve their opinions of me.”
“You’re in harm’s way because of me.” She’d been numb from her miscarriage and ill from it, that she hadn’t taken time to consider his end of things. “What will you do? The Hamiltons know how to hold a grudge. And how to get even.”
“I figure I can handle them. But what I need to know is what side of the fence you come down on.” There was that tick in his strong granite jaw, a ripple of emotion that betrayed a hint of anger.
He was a man very much in control of his impulses. She couldn’t help wondering how deep that anger went. It was a good thing she was smart enough not to trust any man again, especially one who came across so temptingly, not that she was tempted. “Mr. Gable, I think I’ve made it clear. My husband’s death has severed any ties between the Hamiltons and me. Those people never made me feel like family, and they are now no family of mine whatsoever.”
“They know how to put pressure on a person. They’ll try to take your house and your land.”
“Let them try.” Her chin shot up. “What’s troubling you?”
“I figure if your enemy is my enemy, then we’d be smart being friends.” Joshua stood, as if something important had been decided, but what, she couldn’t tell. “Granny insists on staying here for a spell, until you’re stronger. One of my brothers and I will rotate keeping an eye on things for you.”
“Thank you. I know it’s not enough. I don’t think there’s a way to pay you back enough for what you’ve done.”
“Pay me? I’m not doing this for money, Claire. Sometimes you have to do what is right, whether it’s in your best interest or not.” He turned at the door. “Someone’s comin’. I best go see who it is.”
Before leaving her, he gave one curt nod, but there was kindness in the hint of a smile that broke the hard line of his mouth. The impact of it almost cracked her heart open even wider, but she managed to hold on to her common sense just in time.
Chapter Nine
“Missy, what are you doin’ up?”
Claire ignored Adelaide’s question. She knew she shouldn’t have crawled off the couch, not after she’d lost so much blood.
But it wasn’t simply curiosity that had gotten the best of her. It was the hard, coiled knot of dread in her stomach. She had to know what trouble was coming down her road and to her front door. No matter the doctor’s orders or Adelaide’s wise care, she had to face the Hamiltons and whatever disaster they’d come to rain down upon her.
The pair of dark bays drawing a medium-size sleigh were miniature figures too far away to recognize. That it was only one vehicle was hopeful. As least the Hamiltons wouldn’t be showing up as a group with their guns drawn and their threats. One vehicle. It was too much to hope that perhaps the coming visitor had nothing to do with the Hamiltons at all.
“I need
wash water.” She limped into the kitchen, careful not to move her left leg overmuch. Pain still lingered in her groin and thighs, and she winced when she reached too fast for the kettle.
“Put that down!” Adelaide jammed her chair back with a squeak of wood and tossed down her book. “There’s no way you should be up.”
“The doctor said I could get up some if I’m better this morning. I’m better.” She plucked a folded towel from the upper shelf and tried to hide the way her arm trembled.
Adelaide stormed around the table, spry as a twenty-year-old. “You are as weak as a kitten. Look at you! You’re ready to fall over. You are not well enough for whatever it is you’ve got a mind to do.”
“Sometimes a woman has to fight when she’s down. There’s no other choice.”
“What’s got into you? Whatever needs to be done, Joshua can do it. And if he can’t handle it, I can.” Adelaide winked, taking Claire by the forearm. “Look at you, ready to go tumblin’ down at a sign of a strong wind. You need rest, missy. You fight the world when you’re stronger.”
“I don’t need to fight the world. Just the Hamiltons.”
“Joshua already did that.” Adelaide tugged surprisingly hard in the direction of the necessary room. “Tell you what. You come wash up. We’ll get your hair brushed and plaited. Once your hair’s up and you’re in some fresh clothes, you’ll feel better and see reason. Come.”
See reason? Claire bit her lip. Adelaide might mean well, but she didn’t understand. She had strong grandsons who would stand up for her in a heartbeat. Men like Joshua who would wait in the below-zero weather for hours on end to defend a stranger’s property. What more would he do for his own grandmother? Adelaide had known hardship, but she’d never been alone. And never would be. How lucky.
But Joshua Gable was not her husband or relation. He was more stranger than friend. And whatever sense of doing what was right fueled him, it would soon be gone.