“Lots of practice.” He grinned back at her over his shoulder.
The sight of him sent a thrill of pure joy through her. Imagining him with a child of his own, of their own, sent a pang of longing so close to pain throbbing right through her heart.
“Have you never wanted...children of your own?”
He didn’t answer.
She thought perhaps she’d offended him until she saw him staring at a man lounging against the outside of a building across the street, partly hidden by a support post.
“You know that guy?” Edgar asked, voice low.
“No. Why?”
He stood, bringing Beau Jr. and tucking the boy against his side easily, as if he did it every day.
He took her hand and for a moment her heart soared.
Until he said, “He’s been watching us since we stepped out of the hotel.”
A shiver went through her. Could he be one of Underhill’s men?
“He might be trying to figure out where the kid came from. Are you a good little distraction? Are you?”
Edgar’s high-pitched baby talk eased her a little. He wouldn’t let anything happen to the child. She knew that, knew him.
She could trust him to take care of her.
“What should we do?”
“Nothing. He ain’t making any moves. I’d better check with the boys. Where’d your parents get to?” He switched midstream to talking to the little boy again, though his eyes strayed over the tot’s head across the street.
“Do you want me to walk down this way a bit—”
He caught her arm before she’d moved an inch. “I want you to stay right where you are.”
She was caught in the intensity of his eyes until a feminine voice rang out, “There you are. Beau Jr., were you a good boy?”
Edgar turned to release the toddler to his much more relaxed parents, manufacturing a smile.
He was protecting her. Not only Emma, but her, as well.
There was something between them. She knew there was.
Should she tell him about Underhill’s accusations? She didn’t know if they would hold water this far from Memphis, but she didn’t want anything to come between them, not if there was a chance of making this relationship real....
Melody and her husband had barely turned away when Seb came running up the dirt-packed street, dust flying being him. He was red faced, as though he’d been running flat-out.
Edgar stiffened beside her, his arm coming almost naturally in front of her. Protecting her again. “Trouble?”
“Ricky,” Seb gasped.
* * *
Edgar ushered Fran to the room she was sharing with Emma with barely a peck on the cheek and a squeeze of his hand—not the good-night he’d been hoping for.
He left the girls under John’s watchful eye and followed Seb down to the marshal’s office‚ where his brother was in a holding cell with two other men.
Ricky bore the marks of a fistfight, a purpling bruise on his jaw and a scraped cheek.
“What do you think you were doing?” Edgar demanded, stomping right up to the bars.
Ricky got to his wobbly feet. He reeked of alcohol and was decidedly tipsy. Just what they needed.
Seb and Matty came behind Edgar but stayed in the jail doorway.
“Havin’ a little fun,” Ricky slurred.
“By starting a fight?”
“Didn’t start it. Finished it, though.” Ricky belched, sending a waft of nasty-smelling hot breath in Edgar’s direction. Ricky laughed.
Two others in the cell with him snarled, though neither made a move. One of them clasped a slab of meat over one eye and the other looked completely soaked.
His brothers shuffled their feet, and Edgar looked back to see the marshal thumping his way into the jail, making the small outer room pretty packed.
“We don’t take too kindly to rowdy cowboys damaging property,” the older mustached man said.
“I understand.” Edgar straightened his shoulders, trying to think how his pa would handle this mess. “My brother’s sorry—”
“You don’t speak for me! I’m right here!” Ricky rattled the bars, his sudden irrational anger bursting forth.
Heat flared in Edgar’s cheeks. His temper sparked but he tamped it down, knowing that whatever happened tonight could get back to Bear Creek. Or maybe they’d need to do business in the future here in Tuck’s Station. Couldn’t his brother think of things like that before he did something stupid like this?
“Shut up,” he told Ricky.
“Pa might’ve left you to run the cattle, but you ain’t my pa, and you ain’t in charge of me.”
Edgar wondered if his brother meant to sound so childish. It sounded like something a two-year-old would say.
A glance at Seb and Matty showed they were just as flabbergasted and embarrassed as Edgar was. Only Ricky seemed oblivious as he kept rambling on in the cell.
“There’s going to have to be restitution,” the marshal went on.
“How much?”
The number the man quoted had Seb whistling low. It would eat up pretty much all of the profits Edgar would have made from driving the extra cattle to sale.
“I can take care of myself—” Ricky went on, still slurring his words.
“Yes, and look where it got you,” Edgar mumbled, his temper getting the better of his mouth.
Ricky rattled the bars close behind where Edgar stood. “What? What’d you say to me?”
He reached through the bars and took a swipe at Edgar. Of course, the alcohol slowed him down, and Edgar was easily able to duck backward and avoid the hit.
Matty moved in, getting between them to try to calm Ricky down.
“I’m gonna have to hold him overnight,” the marshal said.
“He don’t care,” Ricky yelled, getting loud again.
Edgar’s anger snapped. He shoved Matty aside and put his fist through the bars, grabbing Ricky’s shirt. “I care what’s right. I care about those girls. If one hair on their heads gets hurt because of your foolishness, I’ll whip you so good...”
They both seemed to realize what he’d said at the same moment.
He cared about Fran. Not the cattle.
Ricky watched him with a smirk that made Edgar uncomfortable.
His heart pounded loudly in the sudden stillness.
The marshal pulled him away with a hand clapped on his shoulder before he really had time to process what he’d said so thoughtlessly. “What’s this about girls in danger?”
An hour later, parked in the hallway outside the girls’ room, back to the wall and Stetson over his face, the altercation with his brother replayed in Edgar’s head.
How had things gotten so wrong-footed with Ricky? He didn’t respect authority. The boy was twenty years old—plenty old enough to be responsible for himself. But he didn’t have a grain of common sense in his head.
Ricky could ruin everything. The sale of Pa’s cattle.
He’d already ruined Edgar’s night with Fran.
He thought back to her face across the supper table. She’d defended him to RuthAnn Hurst. Maintained a lively conversation with the rest.
And when she smiled that intimate smile, just for him...
Even now, his heart started pounding.
Remembering his objections to being married was getting harder and harder.
He hadn’t known Fran long. How could he trust someone who had only been a part of his world for a span of days?
She hadn’t lied to him. Not once. Not even when she’d been clearly uncomfortable answering the questions he’d asked.
Back at the jail, the marshal had been concerned about the possibility of them being followed. If the men coming after
Fran and Emma had had legitimate cause, there would’ve been some kind of notice to the local law. And there hadn’t been.
It had settled something deep inside Edgar. It wasn’t exactly a verification that Fran’s story was true, but it was close.
Seb had shared that he’d asked around town, as unobtrusively as possible, and found out there’d been a couple of strangers in town the past few days. Not causing trouble, but snooping around.
But the marshal didn’t have enough manpower to help them, especially once they moved the cattle out.
If anything happened, they were supposed to let the marshal know. Lot of good that did.
The man hadn’t seemed particularly inclined to help them anyway, not after Ricky’s bust up at one of the saloons.
What would Fran think? Before supper, she’d challenged him by saying his forceful way with Ricky wasn’t working.
Tonight’s revelation at the jail had been a shock. Had he been softening toward her all this time?
Was he actually beginning to trust her?
Maybe the next two days on the trail would clarify things for him.
He didn’t have to solve everything tonight. He was torn up about Ricky, tired from sleeping on the ground and watching cattle at night.
At the end of the cattle drive, could he really give their marriage a true chance?
He didn’t know.
But for the first time...he wanted to try.
Chapter Thirteen
Fran woke to a light tap at the door with a foreboding sense of panic building in her chest.
What had happened the night before? Edgar had never returned to let her know the resolution of Ricky’s situation. Or if they’d discovered anything about the man watching them on the street.
It was still dark outside the hotel window.
Another light tap on the door had her out of the warm bed, her feet bare and the plank floor cool enough to jolt her fully awake.
Had Underhill’s men found them?
“Fran?”
The surge of relief at hearing Edgar’s voice through the wood panel actually brought tears to her eyes.
She blinked them away and cracked the door open.
In the soft lamplight in the hallway, he was a welcome sight, rumpled shirt and Stetson and all.
She tucked her hair, loose down her back, behind one ear and made sure she was hidden behind the door. She didn’t have a wrapper after all.
“You girls ready to ride out?”
“What? You just woke me up, and Emma’s still sleeping...” She let her words trail off as she registered the corner of his mouth that had ticked upward. And then she played back his question in her mind. “No railroad?”
“No.” Nothing more, just the simple answer.
“Ricky all right?” she asked.
Shadows in his eyes darkened.
She wanted to throw her arms around him. Comfort him. But in her state of dishabille, that would be terribly improper. Even though they were married. Someone could pass in the hall and see.
She settled for a wobbly smile. “I’ll wake Emma.”
* * *
The morning had passed in a blur of rounding up the cattle in the near dark and passing out of Tuck’s Station.
They’d left town before the sun had come up. She suspected it was Edgar’s way of protecting her and Emma from whoever might be following them.
But it made for a drowsy morning, especially with the bright spring sun glaring in her eyes.
She was glad to take a midmorning break.
Emma had been quieter than ever. She hadn’t slept the night before. In their shared bed, Fran had felt her constant restlessness.
She was ready for this to be over. Would Underhill’s obsession with Emma never end? What possessed a man to enter such a crazed state?
She waved to Edgar as she stepped down off the wagon. Emma went to take a private moment in some nearby brush, and Fran just walked a bit away from the wagon, stretching the kinks out of her still-sore muscles.
The grass in this area was taller than her knees and dotted with wildflowers. It smelled fresh and springy, and she felt hope for the first time in a long time.
He hadn’t made any declarations. But didn’t actions speak louder than words? This morning had given her a tiny kernel of hope.
Contemplative, she sat down among the prairie grass, letting the sun warm her shoulders.
Then she thought she’d like to feel it on her face, so she laid down and spread her arms, face turned up to the sky.
It stretched, limitless and blue, like the possibilities before her.
Could she and Emma be happy on a ranch? She thought so. Could Emma find peace? Without a constant shadow over them, Fran was hopeful.
She’d gotten used to the work of a cattle drive. And although the daily chores of a homestead were probably much different, working alongside the cowboys had given her the confidence that she could do what needed to be done.
How would Underhill make his move? He was sly, deceptive, controlling, dangerous. She couldn’t trust that he’d given up.
But those worries seemed far away in the warm morning sunlight.
She closed her eyes for a moment and the sunlight shone pink against her closed eyes. Soft shadows—clouds from high above—flickered.
She smiled.
She could be happy here. She knew it.
A shadow fell over her face.
She opened her eyes, raising up on her elbows to face the man standing over her.
“What are you doing?” Edgar’s voice revealed his curious confusion.
“Enjoying the day,” she retorted, lying back down to stare up at the puffy clouds against the blue sky. “You’ve been driving all of us so hard I thought I could take a few moments for myself.”
He settled beside her in the grass, heads tucked together, only inches apart. “Tyrant that I am, I’m only giving you two more minutes,” he said. He sat his Stetson on his chest.
He took a deep breath. She felt more than saw the motion, as his feet were pointed in the opposite direction of hers, and she couldn’t really see his chest.
“How long has it been since you stopped to smell wildflowers?” she asked, genuinely curious. “You haven’t stopped working since I met you.”
“It’s not always so bad,” he murmured. “Things around the homestead slow down in the winter months. There’s time for reading, games... But in spring there’s planting, calves being born, steers to sell...”
They were silent for a moment before he went on. “And I guess my brothers are probably right—I’ve been working more and not taking time to slow down and have fun like I used to.”
“Too afraid some eligible girl might catch your fancy?” she asked, only half teasing.
He snorted. “Didn’t stop you,” he said, reaching over to tweak her nose.
“Ha.” She swatted at his hand, and he captured her fingers. Slowly, he interlaced their fingers, surrounding her hand with the warmth of his larger one. He kept her hand, their clasp resting lightly on his shoulder.
“Just didn’t—don’t want to let my pa down. With Maxwell gone to medical school and Oscar married, more work falls on him.”
“But doesn’t your eldest brother still live on the ranch?”
“Yeah, across the valley. But he’s busy with his own family.”
“And the other brothers? Seems like they’re all of age...able to help, take on more responsibility...”
He turned his head, the soft grasses beneath him rustling.
She turned to meet his gaze straight on. From only inches away, the intensity of his blue eyes caught her breath.
“And what of Ricky?” she asked softly. “Maybe he could bear a li
ttle more of the load?”
“You’re not going to let my excuses stand, are you?” he asked.
“Should I?”
That one corner of his mouth kicked up. “You’re intent on turning every cranny of my life inside out, aren’t you? The only one who challenges me.”
“Only what needs it,” she murmured.
He moved toward her and gently kissed her forehead, a brush of his beard against her skin.
She waited for him to apologize, or say the kiss had been a mistake, but none of that came. Was he beginning to soften toward her?
He pushed to his feet and extended a hand to her. She accepted his help to stand and brushed at the few pieces of grass that clung to her skirt.
“I’m not going to get a frog in my supper, am I?” he teased, making her giggle.
She knew they needed to push forward; he’d told her earlier that it was imperative to get the cattle to Cheyenne on time or the buyer would back out of the deal.
But he graced her with a long, level look, showing her some deep emotion in his gaze, before he released her hand and turned to mount up. He waited for her to get into the wagon before he rode off.
Something was changing between them. She could feel it.
If they could get things settled, would she really get the fresh start she wanted? Would Edgar accept her as his wife—for keeps?
That question distracted her for the rest of the afternoon.
* * *
Edgar might have gone a little crazy. It was the only explanation for the thoughts swirling through his head all day.
Ricky was hungover and useless. Angry and distant. But thoughts of Fran kept Edgar from being able to maintain an appropriate level of anger toward his wayward brother.
When he’d left Fran after finding her daydreaming in the prairie grass, he’d imagined her sprawled in the spring grasses back at his pa’s homestead. With him beside her.
They’d stopped briefly for lunch. All she’d done was hand him a cold biscuit and a thick slice of ham, but when he’d ridden out to spell one of the other cowboys he thought about what it would be like to see her rumpled and with her hair unbound over the breakfast table.
And that distracted him. Matty had to whistle at him, and Edgar realized he’d allowed a whole troupe of steers to escape past him. He spent the next several minutes rounding them back into the main herd and lecturing himself on keeping his mind on task.
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