by Jodi Thomas
A woman in her mid-twenties hurried in with white lace and red ruffles flying. She was tall with raven hair and ivory skin. Pretty, in a staged way.
‘‘Winter!’’ the intruder shouted, lifting her arms in greeting.
When he didn’t move toward her, she slowed and touched him on the shoulder, as if trying to brush away his coldness.
‘‘I know I’m late and this is the last day, but I couldn’t stay away. I had to come to you in your hour of darkest need.’’
He seemed to be made of stone as the woman in frills wrapped her arms around one of his like fast-growing ivy. She moved against him, pressing his sleeve between her breasts.
‘‘I know I was cruel to you, but I thought you’d care enough to try harder.’’ Her voice rose to a cry and her body rocked against him. ‘‘Then I decided you were too broken to ask again and I’d have to be the one to come to you. How could you believe I’d be so heartless as to let you down?’’
Winter looked over the woman’s hat to Kora. There was no emotion in his stare, making Kora wonder if he’d ever seen the intruder before. For an instant, Kora wanted to laugh, for this strong man she’d married flashed her a ‘‘help me’’ expression she’d thought she would never live to see.
‘‘I’ll make it up to you, darling.’’ The woman backed a step away from him and pulled off her white kid gloves. ‘‘While I was riding out here, I thought I’d go to Dallas as soon as possible after we’re married and buy all new furnishings for this place. If it were fixed up, it could be livable.’’ She glanced around. ‘‘Of course, we could always build another house. A far bigger one and let a foreman have this. As soon as we’re back from our honeymoon, I’d make the house twice as grand as Miss Allie ever thought about it being.’’
Winter stared at her as though she spoke in an unknown tongue. ‘‘I don’t have a foreman,’’ he mumbled.
‘‘Oh, but we will,’’ the woman said matter-of-factly. ‘‘But that man on the porch will have to be fired. He acted as if he didn’t even notice me or hear me when I spoke to him. Honestly, Winter, the ranch is yours, but a hand like him simply can’t be tolerated.’’
‘‘Mary Anna,’’ Winter finally found his voice, ‘‘the will said a month from the captain’s death, not his funeral. You’re a day late.’’
Mary Anna shrieked in horror. ‘‘That can’t be! Oh, that can’t be! You’ve lost the house. Oh, Winter, how dreadful!’’
‘‘No, I didn’t lose anything.’’ Winter folded his arms in blockade. ‘‘And the man on the porch isn’t a hand. He’s a guest.’’
‘‘That’s the way to stand tall, dear.’’ Mary Anna seemed very near tears. ‘‘It can’t be all lost. There’s some way around that will. The captain was a crazy, bitter old man and everyone knew it. We’ll hire a lawyer. Or we can sell off some of those cattle you’ve got and buy the house back.’’
‘‘I won’t be selling any cattle,’’ he whispered between tight lips. ‘‘I don’t want to buy the house away from its present owner.’’
Kora saw something new in him then, an Irish temper blended with a warrior spirit. The mix of his ancestry was disquieting. She knew it was time to move before she witnessed more than a hint of his fury. She could almost see the anger in his voice crackling the air like dry lightning. His eyes narrowed and the muscles beneath his sleeves tightened.
‘‘He won’t have to buy back the house.’’ Kora could see that she startled Mary Anna with her words. ‘‘The current owner would give it to him if he asked.’’
The woman seemed thrown off balance as she realized someone else was in the foyer. She whirled, staggered slightly, then appeared to brace herself for something horrible.
Mary Anna glared at Kora with first fear, then disgust. She lifted her nose, as though being forced to talk to the help. ‘‘I wasn’t aware we had company.’’ She moved closer to Winter. ‘‘We prefer to have our discussions alone, miss.’’
Kora knew Mary Anna thought her the housekeeper. She recognized the look… that blank stare folks who think themselves above others give their help. A look that seems to see through someone they think of as unimportant.
Kora swallowed hard and faced Mary Anna. ‘‘I said he won’t have to sell cattle or buy back the house.’’
‘‘And why is that, Miss…?’’
Kora smiled, knowing she should feel at least a tiny bit of guilt for enjoying the woman’s sure-to-come shock. But she’d taken a great dislike to Miss Mary Anna. Everything about the lady, from her dress with one too many ruffles to her overblown speech, told Kora that Mary Anna made self-centeredness a life’s calling.
‘‘Not Miss,’’ Kora said quietly as she leaned and picked up the gloves Mary Anna had tossed aside. ‘‘Mrs.’’ She glanced at Winter and caught the hint of a smile. ‘‘Mrs. Winter McQuillen.’’
Color drained from Mary Anna’s face so completely her patches of rouge looked like warpaint.
‘‘No!’’ She shook her head and directed all her rage toward Winter. ‘‘You didn’t marry another!’’
All the anger vanished from his eyes as he winked at Kora. ‘‘It appears I have, Mary Anna. Kora became my wife before midnight last night.’’
Mary Anna glanced from Kora to Winter and sighed. The back of her hand covered her eyes as she melted slowly with practiced grace.
Winter caught the unwelcomed guest and lifted her unconscious body into his arms, then looked at Kora for instructions.
‘‘Put her in the study.’’ She moved ahead of him to open the door wider. ‘‘I’ll get some water and a cool cloth.’’
‘‘Brandy would do more for bringing her around,’’ Winter mumbled as he dropped her on the study couch that had only minutes ago been his bed.
Kora ran to the kitchen. She searched the cabinets for brandy or any spirits. After a few minutes, she gave up and filled a bucket with water. Dropping the dipper inside the pail, she hurried back to the study.
Mary Anna was sitting up with one arm draped around Winter’s neck. He knelt in front of her with a decanter of brandy in one hand and her fingers pressed against his chest with his other hand.
Looking over his shoulder, Mary Anna didn’t remove her arm as Kora entered. ‘‘Not a bucket and dipper!’’ she scolded. ‘‘I never drink out of anything that isn’t china or crystal.’’
Kora thought of tossing all the water at her at once, but she guessed that probably wasn’t proper.
‘‘Honestly, Winter, where did you find this girl?’’ Mary Anna glared. ‘‘And left-handed, too. My aunt says lefthanded women and redheaded men are an abomination against heaven.’’
Kora was glad she couldn’t see Winter’s face, for she wouldn’t have wanted him to see her. She knew better than to offer company a drink from a bucket, but she’d been in a hurry.
‘‘I’ll take it back,’’ Kora whispered as she turned.
‘‘Since you’re going back to the kitchen, dear’’-Mary Anna’s voice dripped honey-‘‘would you mind brewing me some hot tea? The ride out here this morning was dreadfully cold.’’
Without a word, Kora ran back to the kitchen. Not allowing tears to fall, she put the kettle on and searched for any china. But the kitchen had been run by men for years, and china must have long ago been packed away or broken.
It appeared whatever she served tea in would look as plain as herself. She sat down at the table in front of her half finished grocery list and tried to think.
Just as the kettle boiled, Winter opened the kitchen door. ‘‘We won’t be needing any tea,’’ he said as he folded his arms and leaned against the counter.
‘‘Good.’’ Kora wiped her hands nervously on her skirt. ‘‘Because I couldn’t find any china.’’
Winter shook his head. ‘‘She’s one picky lady, isn’t she?’’
Kora nodded.
‘‘I guess that’s why I find it so unbelievable she chose me. Mary Anna Monroe could marry anyone in the county, yet she rode o
ut here to offer to marry me. After the dressing down she gave me a few weeks ago at her aunt’s home, I figured I’d be her last choice for a husband.’’
Kora didn’t want to hear more. He’d said enough. She opened the back door and walked out. With long strides to nowhere, she crossed the backyard. Chickens darted around her, but she ignored them as she passed the outbuildings, then the barn, then the corral. Finally, at the edge of an orchard, she stopped and took a long breath.
The morning was sunny but cold, and the trees were still dormant in winter as Kora took in the fresh air. She would manage, she told herself. She’d managed before, she’d do so now. All her life, fate had been slapping her down, pulling the rug from under her so many times she was almost afraid to try and stand. But stand she must, before another blow of life’s fist hit her and she was lost. She could take Winter’s bragging on the other woman. She could take anything she had to in order to survive.
‘‘Having a nice walk?’’ Winter whispered from just behind her.
Whirling, Kora almost bumped into him. ‘‘You followed me!’’ Her heart jumped to her throat, and she widened her stance in preparation for whatever was to come.
‘‘Seemed like the only thing to do if I planned to continue the conversation.’’ Winter backed away slightly as if uneasy with closeness.
‘‘Shouldn’t you be in the study with your fiancée?’’
‘‘She left before I came in the kitchen.’’ Winter shrugged. ‘‘Must have been something I said.’’
Kora looked at him closely. He was almost impossible to read. She couldn’t tell if he was happy or sad.
‘‘You asked her first.’’ Kora straightened, prepared to face what would come. ‘‘If you like, I’ll leave.’’
Pulling a scrap of paper from her pocket, she handed it to him. ‘‘I wrote down that the house was yours. You can date it in six months and say I mailed it to you. Sorry all I had was a piece of butcher paper, but I scratched out the grocery list. I signed it, so everything should be legal.’’
She swallowed her pride. ‘‘If you could give me money for the tickets, I’d pay you back since I didn’t stay the agreed length of time.’’
Win turned the paper over in his hand. ‘‘Want to walk into the trees? There’s a little stream that runs through them. That’s why the captain planted the orchard here. No matter how long we go without rain, I’ve never seen this stream run dry.’’ He folded the paper and put it in his pocket.
Without another word, they moved into the line of apple trees. Finally, after several minutes, Kora realized he wasn’t planning to say more. Maybe he was waiting for her, but what else could she say? Mary Anna was prettier and had all the social standing any man could want. A farmer’s widow must look like what she was… a poor faded second choice compared to Mary Anna.
Yet he’d said something to make Mary Anna leave. Kora stopped walking and waited for him to turn. When he did, she lifted her hand and placed it on his chest in the spot she’d seen Mary Anna’s hand. He might only be her husband for a short time longer, but it surprised her how much she resented another woman touching him.
‘‘What did you say to her?’’ She had to know how much time she had left before Mary Anna was packed and back.
He looked at Kora as if he’d been deep in thought about something else and had to pull himself back to the topic. Slowly his hand left where it had been resting on his gunbelt and covered her hand, pressing her fingers into the hard wall of his chest.
‘‘Not much.’’ He didn’t decrease the pressure. ‘‘I just said if it were yesterday and she were here with her offer, I’d still want to marry you.’’ He held her fingers tightly, as if wanting to say more with his touch than he could with his words.
‘‘But-’’
‘‘I didn’t add any buts when I helped her on her horse. It doesn’t take much to know that you’re ten times the woman she’ll ever be. China, or no china. Left- or righthanded.’’
He pulled her hand from his chest and held it tightly as he put the scrap of paper into her palm and curled both their fingers around it.
Kora smiled. ‘‘So we stay married and I can stay in the house?’’
He looked down at her with dark searching eyes. There was a stubbornness in him from the hardness about his jaw to the tightness of his lean frame.
‘‘We are married, truly married forever, as far as the world knows,’’ he corrected. ‘‘I’m never backing out, so you might as well unpack, Mrs. Winter McQuillen. The choice to end our agreement will be yours, not mine. As I said last night when I asked, be it six months or forever, I only plan to have one wife.’’
His words left her reeling. Kora knew life’s blow would be coming to knock her down again as it always had before, but for one moment she wanted to believe that what he said was true.
‘‘I can’t promise I’ll stay.’’ Kora studied this man who held her hand so tenderly. ‘‘I’ve never stayed anywhere long.’’
‘‘Stay as long as you can.’’ His voice sounded hoarse. ‘‘But I promise always if you choose. I’m not a man who goes back on his word.’’
‘‘But you haven’t even known me a day.’’ Kora moved an inch closer.
‘‘I know you love your family. I know you’re a hard worker.’’ Win cleared his throat and shifted. ‘‘And I know how I feel when you touch me.’’
Kora pulled her hand away and Win straightened. Suddenly neither could look at the other.
SEVEN
THEY WALKED BACK TO THE HOUSE WITHOUT ANOTHER word. Kora smiled at the warmth of the morning sun on her face, and the easy low sound the wind made in the grass. Everything on the ranch smelled fresh and clean, and untouched, as if God just made it this morning for them and no one had ever seen this land before today.
She slipped the paper into her pocket remembering what Winter had said to her. No one had ever made her feel special. His words had been choppy and hard for him to say, making them all the more powerful.
Winter also watched the horizon, only he appeared to be looking for something, not enjoying anything around him. The hardness in his eyes was back, and Kora couldn’t help but wonder if there had ever been a time when he’d cared or thought of anything except his ranch. Maybe Jamie was right, maybe he was dead inside with a stone for a heart. Maybe he’d only said what he did to make her stay.
He’d told her not to expect love. If Winter tried to be a good husband, that would be enough, more than she thought she’d ever have. Her mother used to say that a life has chapters in it and maybe this could be a quiet chapter for Kora. For the first time since she could remember, she wasn’t worried about how she’d keep food on the table tomorrow. For giving her that one peace, she owed Winter greatly.
‘‘I meant what I said about giving you the house.’’ She broke the silence.
‘‘I know you did,’’ he answered. His words were low, but his mood had turned dark.
Kora took a chance; it was time to learn about the demons in this man’s past. ‘‘What are you thinking?’’ It was a very personal thing to ask, and she regretted her curiosity.
Win’s eyes never left the horizon. ‘‘I was thinking, if trouble comes and I’m not here, run for the apple trees. You could hide there.’’
Kora watched him closely. ‘‘Do you always think of escape routes?’’
‘‘Just remember,’’ he answered in a tone that ended the discussion. ‘‘I’ll find you in the trees.’’
When she reached the top of the back porch steps, Kora turned, realizing Winter was no longer following her.
He stood in the dirt, his feet wide apart, his hand resting lightly on his Colt. ‘‘I’ve got things to do. It would be useless to go back to sleep now. You rest. I’ll be back by sundown.’’
Kora nodded, noticing how tired he looked for a man who thought sleep useless. They were doing it again, tiptoeing around each other as strangers do. Talking without talking.
‘‘Would you like me
to make a pot of coffee to keep us both awake?’’ Kora grasped for something to say that sounded right. ‘‘I don’t think I can sleep any longer, either.’’
‘‘I’d appreciate that,’’ he said as he turned toward the barn. ‘‘I’ll come back for a cup after I saddle up.’’
Winter didn’t glance over his shoulder as he heard the back door open. Hurrying across the yard and into the barn, he saddled his horse in record time. He told himself he wasn’t in a hurry to get back to her. He cared nothing for the woman. He told himself no one would ever mean anything to him. Especially not someone who didn’t hold on to something that she’d been given. She’d offered to give the house back like it was nothing of importance to her. He’d made a fool of himself by mentioning that her touch affected him. Yet, he’d told her where to run if there was trouble. He hadn’t thought of an escape plan since he’d lost his family twenty years ago.
Logan asked if he’d be riding out soon and Winter snapped at the man. He guessed the boys were watching his movements from the bunkhouse kitchen, but he didn’t care. None of them would put his job on the line by saying a word. By the time Winter reached the porch once more, he was almost running.
When he stepped into the kitchen, she turned as though startled to see him. She looked so tiny. Like she’d snap in two if he held her tight. How could he have married a woman who didn’t even reach his shoulder? Mary Anna had been only a few inches shorter than him. Maybe that was why he’d always asked her to dance at the socials. Realizing he’d married a woman he probably would have never asked to dance bothered Winter. After all, marriage should take a little more thought than a reel. Only in his case, it hadn’t seemed to.
‘‘Coffee ready?’’ he asked in almost a yell.
‘‘Yes,’’ she said so softly he guessed he’d frightened her again.
Hell, he thought, she’s going to spend the next six months jumping every time I’m in the room.
They sat down across the kitchen table from each other with a pot and two mugs between them.