The Texan's Reward

by Jodi Thomas

  He could see why she’d like someone like Harrison. He was thin, but not a weasel like Jacob thought might answer her ad. He acted and talked like a gentleman and seemed honest with Nell about what he wanted and was willing to give to the partnership. Jacob would have been forced to strangle any man who had shown up with flowers and candy.

  He smiled, guessing how Nell would have reacted to such a fool.

  Jacob always sized up his opponent. Randolph Harrison had a straightforward look about him except for the few moments he’d squirmed in the sheriff ’s presence. He didn’t want love any more than Nell claimed to. He would be a hard worker, Jacob guessed. Probably better with figures and management than Jacob could ever be. Nell didn’t need a fast gun or a good tracker now. She didn’t need him.

  Jacob dumped the last bucket of hot water over his head. Apparently, Nell didn’t want him running her ranches any more than the idea appealed to him.

  “But,” Jacob mumbled aloud, “Nell deserves more than a man with granite in his gaze.” Hell, Jacob thought, she deserved more than even he could offer. She wanted respectability. She wanted marriage. He could give her that as well as Harrison.

  Jacob hurried. He scrubbed his body raw, dressed in the only clean clothes he owned, then rushed Jessie through both a haircut and shave. In less than two hours he was back in the saloon ready to pick up Harrison and go back to Nell’s. They might be far too early for supper, but that would give him time to talk to Nell. If she was still asleep, he’d wait.

  He walked through the bar twice, even checking under the tables in case Number Twelve had taken to drink after he left. But Harrison was nowhere to be found.

  The barmaid walked past him, smiling at the change in his appearance. “Evening, Ranger.” She flirted, brushing his clean jawline with the tips of her fingers. “Want some company now? You sure do smell good.” She rubbed the tip of her nose along his throat. “Dalton, I swear you’re one fine-looking man when you take a notion to be. We could go upstairs for a spell. Just spend some time together, with or without clothes.”

  “No, thanks.” Jacob removed his hat and acted as if they were just passing time. “You wouldn’t happen to know if the man I was having a drink with earlier went upstairs?” Harrison hadn’t looked all that interested in finding entertainment for the afternoon, but maybe he’d changed his mind after Jacob left. The girls here considered themselves barmaids by profession, but a few didn’t mind earning extra money if the opportunity presented itself.

  She shook her head. “He left a few minutes after you did. I was standing by the door and noticed he rode out toward Fat Alice’s place.” She giggled. “Hope he knows that house isn’t in business anymore.”

  Jacob shoved his hat on. “I’ll remind him right before I kill him.”

  CHAPTER 5

  NELL TRIED TO PAY ATTENTION, BUT RANDOLPH HARRISON had been talking for an hour, and all the numbers were starting to melt together in her brain. At first, she’d been impressed at how he researched and planned out details of organizing her ranches. The idea of having a team of men who moved from place to place when needed to help a small stationary group at each property made sense. The hands assigned to just one ranch would learn that place and how to run the most cattle on that land, while being able to pull in help when needed. She also liked the idea of not having to be constantly hiring and laying off cowhands. When times were slow, the team could move from ranch to ranch doing needed repairs or building and improving each property.

  The way Mr. Harrison had it figured, when the extra men were not needed, he’d have a list of things that could be tackled at any time, like adding extra wells and building new fences and corrals. When they were needed, they’d move in fast, in a large enough number to solve any problem before it got out of control.

  “More tea?” Gypsy asked for the fourth time. She appeared so pitiful trying to stand still beside the tea set. The old woman preferred wearing her housedress to clean, but when company was expected, Nell encouraged her to wear a proper dress. She never stopped pulling at the material, as though the wool slowly smothered her. She reminded Nell of one of those tiny bugs that skims across the top of a lake, never landing, never pausing for more than a moment.

  Standing still and being polite were as foreign to Gypsy as a corset. She liked cleaning and kept the house spotless, but she usually regarded dust and visitors with the same contempt. Nell thought the old hooker looked worried that her young employer might be overdoing, as Mary Ruth always called it when Nell stayed out of bed a moment longer than the nurse thought proper. At least Gypsy knew better than to mother Nell.

  Unlike Marla the cook, Gypsy had come with the house when Nell inherited. Fat Alice tried to find all her girls respectable jobs, or husbands, but Gypsy didn’t seem to belong anywhere but here. So she’d stayed when Fat Alice closed the business and even after the old madam passed away.

  “Sure you don’t want more, Mr. Harrison? I could go warm it up again.” Gypsy lifted the pot and prepared to dart to the kitchen.

  Harrison shook his head. Gypsy turned to Nell.

  “No, thank you,” Nell said, as if it were the first time she’d asked.

  In truth, Nell welcomed the distraction of Gypsy’s questions. She hoped Mr. Harrison would change the subject. She wanted to say that she cared about the ranches, though at the moment didn’t want to think about them in quite so much detail. If she married him, Nell would have to limit their meetings to an hour once a month or he’d surely bore her to death.

  He wasn’t bad to look at, in a slender, pale kind of way. His face had good lines, and he held himself straight and tall. He’d wear a uniform well. She could almost see him in one as he stood waiting to continue.

  She nodded politely, and the lecture continued on what breed of cattle would be best for this part of the country. One thing to his credit, he’d done his homework. He knew cattle, even if he didn’t look like he’d ever worked a herd from the back of a horse.

  When he paused, Nell asked, “Tell me a little about yourself, Mr. Harrison. Were you ever in the army?”

  He looked down, avoiding her gaze for the first time. “No,” he said softly. “I’m afraid I have very little to tell. I have no family and no place I call home. I’ve worked hard at every job I’ve had and traveled enough in my life to want to settle down. You’ll have no unwanted relatives or past debts fall at your door if we marry.” He raised his eyes to meet her stare. “I promise you.”

  She had no doubt he meant every word, but she realized he had told her little. Maybe he didn’t like talking about himself or discussing such things with an audience. Nell smiled at Gypsy. The housekeeper dusted the teapot as if it had collected a layer of dirt in the hour it had been in the room. “Gypsy, would you please remind Marla to set the sheriff a place? I’m not sure I let her know.”

  Gypsy looked relieved to have something to do. She lifted the tray, then set it back down and picked up only the pot. “I’ll reheat the tea while I’m doing the telling.” She smiled. “So I may be a while.”

  A pounding sounded from the entry before she could exit through the kitchen door. She fluttered like a lost butterfly between whether to answer the knock or rush to deliver Nell’s message.

  Rand solved the problem by standing and taking a step toward the kitchen. “I’ll inform the cook,” he announced in his take-charge voice. “Gypsy, would you mind getting the door?”

  Nell closed her eyes. Thank goodness. Peace. He’d left, taking his endless numbers and figures with him.

  But peace only lasted seconds, for there was no mistaking the stomp of boots coming her direction. Nell didn’t open her eyes. She simply waited for the storm that was Jacob Dalton to blow across her.

  “Where is he?” Jacob demanded as he stepped into the great room that centered the house.

  “Who?” she asked as she opened her eyes to a rare sight: Ranger Dalton all clean and combed. She couldn’t hide her smile as she realized why Mr. Harrison had of
fered to inform the cook and not answer the door. He must have guessed Dalton would show up.

  “Number Twelve.” Jacob circled the room, glancing into the many small alcoves that had been built for private conversations when Fat Alice ran the house. Now, all the areas were lined with books or plants.

  The teacups rattled in the corner as Gypsy set the pot back on the tray. “Would you like some tea, sir?” She asked just as Nell had taught her.

  Jacob turned to the old prostitute. “Are you drinking again, Gypsy? Your hand looks none too steady.”

  “No,” she whispered. “But I’m thinking about it. My nerves may need a sip. It’s been a long day, and I don’t see no end in sight.”

  “Well, the day I start drinking tea, I’ll buy you a pint.” Jacob smiled at her. “Would you mind closing the door on your way out? I’d like a few words alone with the lady of the house.”

  Old Gypsy glanced at Nell. Her eyes were full of compassion and need to protect her mistress, but her feet were heading for the kitchen door.

  Nell tried to smile like she meant it. “Go ahead, Gypsy, set the dining table. I’ll be fine with Jacob. We’ll catch up with each other.”

  Gypsy paused at the door. “Should I send Mr. Harrison back in?”

  Nell and the ranger both shouted, “No!”

  Jacob smiled as he moved his chair close to where Nell rested on the couch. Her legs were covered with a quilt. Knitting lay neglected in her lap. She looked like a fine lady, but he knew the wildcat beneath the act. He knew the girl had more heart and courage than anyone around. He’d seen her fight, and love, and hurt. He recognized all her moods and planned to use that knowledge to his advantage now. The one word she’d said when Gypsy had asked if she wanted Harrison had told him all he needed to know. The bookkeeper would be on his way out the door in no time.

  “You’re not talking me into anything,” Nell said as he propped his hat on the arm of the couch. “So get any ideas you’ve planned out of your head.”

  “How are you?” he asked as if he hadn’t heard her.

  “I’m fine,” she lied. “I have less pain every day, and I can stand for a short time. How are you?”

  “Fine,” he echoed. “I was in El Paso starting a leave when I heard you’d gone nuts.” He said the words as calmly as if they were talking about the weather, then grinned when her head snapped around to stare at him in anger.

  “I didn’t go nuts. I’m moving on with my life.”

  “Not without me.”

  “Yes, Jacob, without you. You need to find some good woman and settle down. Have half a dozen kids. Be sheriff of some town if you’re tired of running back and forth across the state. Get on with your life and stop thinking you have to be my guardian angel. I’m grown now. I don’t need you anymore.”

  He surprised her by saying, “You said you loved me. In fact, I remember the exact words. You said you’d love me all your life.”

  Nell glanced down at her knitting. “I was thirteen at the time. And I’m sure it wasn’t a month later that I swore I’d hate you till I died.”

  When she looked up, he stared at her . . . frowning with one of those looks that had always made her squirm when she’d been a kid. Like he knew she’d done something and all he had to do was figure out what. She grinned, remembering how she ran away when Fat Alice had sworn to send her back East to school. Jacob had tracked her down, dragged her to the train, and threatened to paddle her behind all the way to Kansas City if she got off before she reached school. That first year she’d stayed in school half out of fear that he might carry out his promise and half out of fear that he might give up on her and not fight with her if she acted up one more time.

  “I’m too old to spank.” She winked at him. “And too rich.”

  “You’re not too old,” he grumbled. “And I don’t care how much money you have.”

  “I know,” she said. “You’re the one man I know who isn’t offering to marry me for my money.”

  He took her hand. “And you’re the one person in this state who has never been afraid of me.” He lowered his voice. “If you want a name, Two Bits, take mine, because I swear I’m never going to offer it to anyone else.”

  She didn’t know what to say. She knew he meant it, even though she wished it wasn’t true. In a few years Jacob would be thirty. If he’d planned to marry, wouldn’t he have found someone by now? She could love him no more if he were truly her big brother, but she couldn’t marry him. He saw her as a little girl, as a crippled friend, maybe as an obligation, but not as a woman.

  Before Nell could think of how to answer Jacob, Gypsy banged her way through the kitchen door. “Trouble’s coming in the back! That meddling sheriff ’s here, and he’s got some dressed-up toad of a looking fellow with him.”

  Nell couldn’t help but laugh. There had been a time in the history of the house that announcing the law coming would have sent folks scrambling, but not now. Parker Smith was a regular, particularly at mealtime. He was one of the few people in town who Nell could call a friend.

  Jacob stood as the sheriff shoved a man almost twice his size into the room. The stranger banged his valise on every piece of furniture he passed as he complained loudly about being hurried.

  “Evening.” The sheriff tipped his hat as he herded his charge forward. “I know I’m a mite early for dinner, but I wanted to get business over with first. Nell, do you know this man?”

  The stranger straightened, pulling his vest back over his middle and combing thin strands of hair across a shiny head. Cutting Nell off, he snapped, “Of course she doesn’t know me on sight, Sheriff. We’ve only corresponded by post.” He dusted the sheriff ’s grip from his sleeve. “And I’ll thank you to stop treating me like a criminal. I happen to be Walter Farrow, Miss Nell’s intended.”

  Nell swore she heard Jacob growl something about fiancés popping up like weeds. She offered her hand to the stranger, more interested in his pitch than angry at his lie.

  To her surprise, he bowed low and kissed her hand with lips soft and wet. She fought down a giggle, thinking his kiss reminded her of a slippery frog’s belly. Gypsy hadn’t been far off in her appraisal of the man. If he hadn’t had a firm grip on her fingers, she would have jerked her hand away.

  When he straightened, the stranger bellowed, “Walter Farrow, attorney at law, at your service, Miss Smith. I’ve been awaiting our meeting for some time, and may I say your beauty is far greater than even my imagination hoped. I’m so glad we finally meet face-to-face after sharing so much by mail.”

  Sheriff Parker Smith stepped beside the man. “This fellow claims you promised to marry him.”

  Walter glared at the sheriff. “I have the documents with me, sir, and I’ll thank you not to question my word. I’ll have you know I’ve been a member of the bar in Dallas for almost twenty years.”

  The man left Nell speechless with his intensity. His sudden turn from being so syrupy to her and then so angry with the sheriff startled her.

  Despite his age, the sheriff puffed up to fighting stance. “So there will be no misunderstanding about my intent, I’m not questioning your word, mister, I’m calling you a downright liar.”

  Nell was having too much fun to interfere with the truth just yet. Her days were usually filled with quiet boredom; now she felt as though she watched a grand play unfolding before her.

  The huge toad pulled in his stomach and tried to barrel his chest, but the effect did little to help. The sheriff only moved closer. Nell knew Parker had long ago figured out that the Colt on his hip made him any man’s equal in a fight. The question remained: Did Walter also understand?

  Randolph Harrison and her cook, Marla, slipped out of the kitchen. They both watched the sheriff and his companion with curiosity and apprehension. Marla paused, ready to dart back into safety. Randolph had removed his coat, and his sleeves were rolled to the elbow. He looked far more human, Nell thought, almost comfortable in his surroundings. The bookkeeper might have paled next
to Jacob, but compared to Walter, Mr. Harrison seemed a knight in shining armor.

  Nell glanced at Jacob, wondering at his sudden silence. To her surprise, he only looked mildly interested. Like her, he seemed to be watching to see what happened next.

  Walter Farrow lifted his briefcase to the table, rattling the forgotten tea service. “I contacted Miss Smith and offered to buy one of her properties that I believe, due to a misunderstanding, should have been in my hands already. She answered back by post that none of her land was for sale but that she would be willing to talk with me.” He produced a blue piece of paper with Nell’s signature and seal.

  Everyone looked at Nell. She nodded. “I remember such an offer. It was for the old Stockard place. You said your uncle owned it and you felt he meant to leave the property to you and not Fat Alice.”

  The sheriff shook his head. “That place ain’t been nothing but a hideout for coyotes and outlaws for twenty years. Stockard moved to a shack in town a few years before he died when an opening came up for town drunk. He used to try to sell folks sketches he scribbled out on paper for money to buy whiskey. I think he even tried to sell his land, but no one would offer him a dime for it.”

  “We got one.” Gypsy hurried over to the stairs and pointed to a framed scribbling about halfway up. “We got what you were talking about, Sheriff. An almost painting Alice used to call it. She traded it for food to last him through the winter.”

  “If it hadn’t been for Fat Alice, he would have starved to death in the mud.” Parker continued, “No one was surprised he left her his land. Place probably wasn’t worth the plot Alice bought to bury him in.”

  Walter Farrow appeared bothered by the interruption and showed no interest in the painting, even when Nell tried to offer it to him. He simply pointed at the Sheriff and added, “Be that as it may, Sheriff, Stockard left the land to Fat Alice, who left it to Nell, and I plan to own it. With her rejection of my offer to buy the land came notice that she was looking for a husband. I took the clipping as an invitation. I wrote back listing my qualifications and offered to marry her. I may be several years older, but I’ve a wealth of business sense to offer a young bride.” He puffed out his chest, once more straining the buttons of his vest. “And, after several letters, she accepted.”