by Jodi Thomas
Jacob dodged him and disappeared into the blackness. Tonight, all he wanted to do was find a quiet place to think. He’d apologize to the preacher in the morning.
CHAPTER 14
FROM THE LANDING AT THE TOP OF THE STAIRS, NELL stared down at the open room below. Her dining table, to the left of the study, was already loaded down with breakfast. On Mondays, Marla always made pecan pancakes. Gypsy and the cook usually took their breakfast in the kitchen, and Nell ate her meals by the window in her bedroom. Only today, and every day that she could from now on, Nell promised herself she’d dress and eat downstairs. At least while she had someone to carry her to ground level.
This morning, Marla filled the table with dishes for company, extra bowls of eggs, ham, and bread just in case her pancakes weren’t hardy enough. She’d left a chair empty and made gravy, knowing the sheriff would probably show up.
Mr. Harrison had already taken his seat at one end of the table. He studied the paper as though he found it fascinating. Nell noticed he glanced up and smiled when Marla refilled his coffee. Nell couldn’t tell if Marla raised her head enough to smile back. Harrison’s shirt looked freshly washed, and Nell guessed Marla had done it for him late last night, then dried it by the stove.
Nell listened as the preacher told Gypsy about his fight with the devil in the dark. The old man reminded her of an actor onstage making his words come alive. Gypsy stared at him with wide, almost colorless eyes.
“He came at me while I was sleeping beneath the stars,” Brother Aaron’s voice rose, “with eyes as red as fire and smoke coming out of his nose. The first thing he did was strike me with his head. I’m sure he thought to kill me with one blow. Rage circled like a storm around him when he noticed I didn’t die, and he hurried off, hoping to escape before I woke up enough to fight back.”
“I think I’ve seen that fellow you’re talking about,” Gypsy answered as she leaned on the corner of the dining table while the preacher pulled out one of the chairs. “He used to come in some nights, back years ago. Big guy with meanness scribbled all over him.”
The preacher was far more interested in his story than in her comments. “He must have been ten foot tall and broad as a door.” Brother Aaron waved his hands wildly. “He was out to get me, I tell you. If I’d have been a weaker man, I’d have died of pure fright.” The reverend raised his shaggy white hair to reveal a knot on one side of his forehead. “But I’m stronger than he thought. I lived through the war, and the devil will have to send an army if he plans to take me away from my quest of saving sinners.”
Harrison raised his gaze from the paper he’d been reading, and the preacher’s voice grew louder to include the swelling crowd. “Lord . . .” Brother Aaron looked to heaven. “I’m ready to come home whenever you call me, but I’ll not let the devil draw me down. This warrior of your word will fight as long as there is breath in me. I’ll give up sleep if I have to so the devil will not be able to come on me unannounced.”
Gypsy glanced up as if expecting to see who he was talking to.
“Lord,” Brother Aaron continued, “I know the devil got a hold on me because of the drink, and I’m mighty sorry about that. But I swear to you, just like I did back in Abilene, that I’ll never touch Satan’s nectar again.”
In confusion, Gypsy’s brow creased into a hundred wrinkles.
“Liquor,” Harrison clarified, looking slightly bored.
She nodded and turned back to the preacher. “Did the devil get you drunk before or after he tried to kill you?”
Her question pulled the preacher out of his conversation with the Almighty. “That’s it!” he shouted. “I would never have taken a drink if it had not been the devil offering it to me. He must have been planning to kill me and put the drink in front of me so I’d be too blind to see his plot. Oh, he’s far more evil than even I thought. Drink made me let down my guard.”
“I’ve said the same thing myself on occasion.” Gypsy offered the preacher a cup. “You want a little hair of the dog in this coffee? I keep a bottle in the kitchen for breakfast and mornings after I’ve had a hard night fighting the devil.”
Jacob opened the door and entered as the preacher pushed back from the table and jumped up. “Get thee behind me, Satan!”
Gypsy looked around him. Then she smiled at the ranger, her attention redirected. “Morning, Dalton, you want coffee?”
Jacob pulled up a chair next to Harrison. Both men nodded their greeting.
Harrison pointed with his coffee. “The reverend was telling us that he ran into the devil last night in the dark outside the barn.”
Nell laughed from above. Mr. Harrison wasn’t buying into the preacher’s story, but Gypsy circled the old man asking to see the bump again. She wanted to touch where the devil hit him.
Jacob didn’t comment but stood and walked to the bottom of the stairs. “Are you ready to come down?” He grinned. “I’d be honored to escort you.”
“Yes, please,” she answered and watched him take the stairs two at a time. “I’m afraid I might miss some of the reverend’s story.”
“I doubt that it’s possible for anyone within a hundred yards to miss his sermon. I heard his story from the road.”
When he lifted her out of the chair and into his arms, she brushed his sand-colored hair off his forehead and noticed a bruise at the hairline. “You have a run-in with the devil as well?”
He winked. “I’ll never tell.”
As he carried her down, the preacher whirled around with his eyes closed, his great black coat flying like wings. “I understand, Lord. I get the message. You’re speaking to me loud and clear. The path is before me, and I’ll not hesitate. You’ve brought me to this place for a reason.”
Everyone waited, having no doubt the preacher would tell them the news when he finished. Jacob reached the bottom of the stairs but made no effort to cross the room.
Brother Aaron opened his eyes and smiled at Nell. “The Lord hath made it plain to me that I’m needed here, and here I’ll stay until my work is done.”
Jacob frowned. “You wouldn’t know how long this tour of duty will be, do you, Reverend?”
The old man shook his head and returned to his place at the breakfast table. “A man builds up a powerful hunger talking to the Lord.”
Nell patted the ranger’s shoulder. “I’ve room for one more. At least for a while. There’s plenty of hay in the loft, and I can afford the food.”
“I’d argue, after listening to him snore half the night,” Jacob whispered. “But another gun might come in handy if our night shooter returns.”
“You think Brother Aaron would kill someone?” Nell whispered as Jacob slowly crossed the room with her.
He turned so that his lips brushed her ear as he answered, “The old man told me yesterday at one of our many rest stops that he fought under General Lee during the war. He said he was with the man from secession to surrender. Told me he was shot three different times. The last time he was in an army hospital for six months. That’s when he decided, if he lived, he’d head west, spreading the word to sinners. He planned to work his way to California, but Texas has kept him busy for twenty years.”
Nell looked at the reverend again with renewed respect. “You think he’s telling the truth?”
“About the war, yes.” Jacob was so close he could have kissed her cheek with little effort. “About the devil living in Texas? No.”
Nell brushed Jacob’s hair back once more, fighting the urge to kiss his bruise. “I’m not so sure. There are sides of you, Jacob Dalton, that I didn’t know existed. It might be interesting to see if there is a halo or horns beneath all that hair.”
“Does that mean you’ll reconsider my offer of marriage?”
“If I do, will you agree that if I don’t pick you as my husband, you’ll be nice to the one I do choose?”
He frowned. “I don’t like the idea that someone else is even in the running.”
“Jacob, you’re not in the runn
ing unless you agree.” She saw a fire deep in his eyes and knew she’d put it there.
“All right,” he agreed, still holding her gaze. “How about I agree that I won’t kill him? Would that be enough? I don’t know that I can go so far as being nice. It goes against my nature.”
She laughed. “Fair enough.”
He walked slow enough that Gypsy had time to bump the wheelchair down the stairs. Jacob sat Nell at the head of the table, and they both turned to watch Wednesday slowly making her way toward them. The journey wasn’t easy for someone who couldn’t see her feet.
“How’s our little pregnant weekday?” Jacob asked.
“Much better today, I think.” Nell smiled as the girl waddled along.
Wednesday wore a morning shift, the kind women often wore around the house when no company was expected. Nell had ordered the thing months ago, thinking she’d like it, but she’d never worn it. The garment reminded her of something halfway between a dress and a gown, not dressy enough to be seen in public, not comfortable enough to sleep in. However, now that she saw it on a pregnant woman, Nell was glad she hadn’t thrown the dress away. Wednesday must have hemmed it up a foot to make it fit her height.
The little mother-to-be reached the bottom of the stairs, took a deep breath, and hurried across the room as Marla set the girl’s milk on the table. “Morning, Ranger.” Wednesday took a drink of the milk and left a thin white line on her upper lip. “You were right; I slept like a log in your wife’s house.”
“Wife?” Nell asked Wednesday, but watched Jacob. “Moving a little fast, Dalton? I just agreed to consider your offer two minutes ago.”
“I may have jumped the gun, but I didn’t really say we were married. She misunderstood.”
“But . . .” Wednesday started.
“Lord!” The preacher raised his hands and shouted to the ceiling. “You’ve placed me in a house of wayward souls.” He looked around the table. “Is no one married at this table?”
Silence. Marla slipped into her place with her head down. Wednesday seemed busy filling her plate with eggs. Harrison looked like he’d lost interest in the conversation, and Jacob frowned, as usual.
“No,” Gypsy finally spoke. “But I’m willing if you’re offering, preacher. I’ve always had a fancy for white-haired men.”
Nell fought down a giggle. In her day Gypsy had a fancy for all men with hair, and a few without, but that was the past, and the house was respectable now. “Brother Aaron, the men sleep in the barn.”
He raised his fork. “And the devil lies between them and the women.”
“Maybe that’s why we need you, Reverend,” Harrison said calmly. “To act as chaperone.”
“What’s a chaperone?” Gypsy asked as she poured cream gravy over her pancakes.
Brother Aaron grinned. “That, Mr. Harrison, will be my mission. I’ll guard the virtues of these fair ladies with my life.”
“It’s a little late for me.” Wednesday downed half her milk. “But I thank you for the offer.”
“Not for me.” Gypsy smiled. “I’ve been waiting years for someone to guard my virtues.”
Nell had never felt so much like laughing since her accident. She glanced across the table and met Jacob’s gaze. To her surprise, he winked at her. She couldn’t help but wonder if the devil in the darkness Brother Aaron had fought with last night might be planning to get past the guard tonight.
She smiled back, thinking how nice sitting with him out by the windmill had been.
He’d done it again, she thought. He’d made her feel like a woman. Only now she knew a secret that she hadn’t guessed before. Maybe she was the one who made him feel like a man.
Lively conversation whirled over breakfast. Harrison, now that Jacob had returned, could get on with taking care of Nell’s books. The first thing he wanted to do was ride out to the Stockard place. Walter Farrow would be showing up again any day, and he’d expect Nell to have a price ready.
Remembering Farrow’s threat killed her appetite. Nell didn’t like the man, but that wouldn’t keep her from selling him the land if it truly was no good for ranching or farming. Sheriff Parker told her once that outlaws sometimes hung out at Stockard’s place. It was hard to reach, so lawmen didn’t often make the trip out that far from town. Stockard’s cabin had been built on a hill, not down in the valley where it would be safe from the weather. Parker said by the time he could ride up to the front door, anyone could have seen him coming far enough away to be long gone out the back.
Even the man who’d ambushed her, Zeb Whitaker, was reported to have spent a winter hiding out there. Zeb had been an old buffalo hunter who, once the herds were gone, had made his living robbing folks. Talk was, years ago he’d killed a man and stolen two saddlebags full of gold. Only while he tried to get away, his horse broke a leg. Zeb found himself on the run and on foot. After walking for two days, he passed a wagon with three young women in it. He decided to just take their wagon, claiming they were near dead anyway.
He probably would have gotten away, but he picked the youngest one to take with him as a bed warmer. Lacy, Nell’s best friend, hadn’t been any older than Wednesday at the time. Angered, the women fought back, clubbing the old buffalo hunter and leaving him for dead. When he came to, his gold was gone.
Nell knew all three women, and she believed none of them took the gold, but Zeb kept trying to track them down and get it back. Or maybe, as one of the women once told Nell, Zeb just needed someone to hate, and he picked them to blame for all his troubles.
Smiling at Jacob, Nell remembered how he’d shot Zeb. The ranger had been there for her and her friends the night Whitaker had thought to kill them all.
“What’s so funny?” Jacob asked.
Everyone else at the table seemed too busy eating to respond.
“Nothing,” she said. “We’ll talk about it later.”
Jacob nodded. She didn’t miss the promise in his eyes.
Harrison stood and picked up his plate. “I’d better be on my way if I want to get to the Stockard place and back by dark. The sheriff said this morning he’d ride out in his buggy as far as the road goes, then I’ll make the rest of the trail alone.”
“I’d like to go with you,” Jacob said.
Both men glanced at Nell. There was no need for more conversation on the matter. They both knew someone had to stay near her.
Harrison raised an eyebrow as he said, “You’ll stay with her until I get back?”
Jacob nodded, recognizing his own words. “I’ll be here until you return.”
A few minutes later, Jacob and the preacher followed the bookkeeper out while Marla and Gypsy cleaned the table. Nell, for lack of anything else to do, showed Wednesday the material she’d ordered all the way from Kansas.
“I can sew,” Wednesday volunteered. “My ma says I sew better than anyone in my family, including my grandma.”
“Would you like to help me put a quilt together?” Nell asked. “Quilting is something I can do from this chair.”
“I wouldn’t mind.” Wednesday seemed happy to find some way she could be of help.
“Anything else you’d like to make, you’re welcome to the material. I think I’ve ordered far too much.”
“You mean it?”
Nell smiled. “I mean it.”
An hour later, Wednesday and Nell were having a great time. Gypsy finished her chores and sat nearby. Her hands were too crippled up with arthritis to sew, but she seemed to enjoy the company. Within minutes, she fell asleep in her favorite chair.
The preacher returned, claiming the sunny day was getting the better of him. He walked around picking up first one book, then another, until he finally settled on the newspaper Harrison had been reading at breakfast.
He walked out to the porch, reading as he moved.
Nell wasn’t surprised to see that he’d strapped an old Walker Colt to his side. She guessed Jacob had talked to him about the danger the women faced.
Around midm
orning, Marla brought tea and stayed to join them for a cup. Brother Aaron took his to the porch.
Though Marla could cook anything, she couldn’t sew. Her dresses were store-bought, and most were worn thin from washing. She seemed fascinated with the way quilt pieces fit together.
Wednesday hadn’t lied about her skills. Her short little fingers worked a needle faster than Nell had ever seen, and her stitches were straighter than any sewing machine could have made. The girl never seemed to look at her hands as she talked and worked nonstop.
“How’d you learn to do that?” Nell finally asked.
“It was either sew or go outside and work in the field.” Wednesday didn’t look up from her work as she squared the corners where two pieces slipped together perfectly. “As I got better, I found out I really liked it.” She leaned closer to Nell. “I could make Mr. Harrison a new shirt out of this cotton, if you like. He’s about the size of my second brother, so I don’t need to measure.”
“All right.” Nell wondered what it was about Harrison that made the women want to take care of him. She knew they all liked the ranger, but Marla hadn’t asked to wash Jacob’s clothes, and Wednesday hadn’t offered him a shirt. Even Gypsy was always filling Mr. Harrison’s cup and slicing him an extra-large dessert. Nell stopped sewing. Hadn’t she done the same thing? She’d offered him a job when she knew he needed one.
She grinned. It’s a wonder the man wasn’t the best-dressed, richest, fattest man in Texas if all women reacted to him the way they had. She couldn’t put her finger on what it was about him that drew women. He was polite, a little standoffish. Quiet, but when he talked, it seemed like he’d been asked to swear on a Bible to whatever he said. His only passion was his work, which he couldn’t wait to get back to. In three days she’d learned to trust him. He was a fine man.
The games she’d played with Jacob when she kissed him needed to stop. Nell had to be sensible. Jacob was a man full of life. He needed a wife who could love him with a wildness of passion she’d never be able to offer with her light kisses. Mr. Harrison would much better suit her as a husband. He knew business and figures. If she married Jacob, he’d be constantly torn between riding off to do his duty and staying home to help her. Harrison was looking for the security of a home and a business that needed work. Jacob would see the same fate as a prison.