Forever in Texas

by Jodi Thomas

  “I built my house on the edge of the canyon, just below the rim,” Ford said as he carefully led them down a path marked on both sides by a fence made from twisted mesquite branches. “The cliffs offer some protection, plus I never tire of the view.”

  “It’s beautiful!” Hannah couldn’t find more eloquent words to tell him. She wanted to see such a place in daylight. She found it hard to believe that such flat, monotonous land could suddenly give birth to such beauty. Somehow, he’d found a place where the canyon widened before continuing. He’d built his house in the small spread of land just below the canyon’s rim so that from a distance a rider wouldn’t even realize it was there. The space was wide enough for the house, a barn, several smaller buildings, and a pasture banked on one side by the canyon and on the other by a rock wall.

  Thick adobe framed the front of the home with a chimney that had been built of area rock. The back of the house appeared to be shoved into the canyon wall, as though the place had grown naturally out of the rock.

  Hannah jumped off her horse without waiting for Ford. She wanted to see what a place like this one would look like inside. Sometimes, when she and her mother had traveled, they’d seen houses built like this one, but never so wide.

  “I’ll light the lantern,” Ford said as he dismounted and pulled down one of many lanterns hanging from hooks along the front of the house. “The place isn’t locked. You make yourself at home, and I’ll take care of the horses.”

  He handed Hannah the light and moved away. She could hear him taking a deep breath as though he hadn’t been able to breathe deeply until now. He was home.

  For a long moment she stood at the doorway, afraid of what she might find inside. She’d heard many of the people on the frontier lived little better than animals. Was this a house or a cave? Carefully, she set the carpetbag down and released the latch.

  Opening the solid door, she raised the light ahead of her. Sneeze jumped from the bag and bolted over the threshold before she could stop him. Hannah took a step to follow. The room seemed to stand at attention in warm colors of dark orange and brown.

  Hannah moved onward.

  The light from her lantern filled the dark space, revealing beautiful handmade furniture. Heavy, durable furniture. A couch long enough to sleep on stood in front of a fireplace, and a massive rocker was turned toward the dawn windows. Richly colored rugs covered pinewood floors and hung on the walls like huge paintings. This was Ford’s house.

  She smiled. If rooms had souls, this one must surely be kind. Moving to a long table stacked with books and papers, Hannah lit another lamp, then another beside the fireplace. She wanted to see everything. Sneeze followed her from corner to corner, until he spotted a blanket that had been tossed over one end of the couch. There the cat found his bed and curled up, no longer interested in exploring.

  “How do you like my house?” Ford asked from the doorway. He carried an armful of wood in one hand and his bag in the other. “I built the walls a foot thick to keep the place warm in the winter and cool in the summer. Most of the furniture I fashioned myself, and I buy the rugs from an old woman over near Tascosa who makes them.”

  “It’s clean,” Hannah answered, realizing that he’d never know how wonderful that was to her. She could smell the aroma of fresh pine and polishing oil and newly washed cotton.

  “Thanks.” Ford knelt and started the fire. “I have one of the ranch hands’ wives come in once a week to do laundry and sweep up, but I like order so there is usually little for her to do.”

  “I like order, too, when I can find it.” Hannah wondered when there had ever been order in her life. Even the room she’d always shared with her mother had been cluttered with their few possessions. After her mother died, the room had been only a place to sleep when she was too tired to work anymore. “Or maybe I only dream of order.”

  Ford stood. He dusted off his pants and looked to be at a loss for something else to say. For a long minute they just stared at one another, feeling like two mutes at choir rehearsal.

  When he suddenly moved, he noticed she jumped back a step. Ford lifted his hands, palms up. How could she think that he was about to hit her? Ford wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer. “I thought I’d show you the rest of the house. The rooms are big, but there’re not many. A kitchen is on the left, with a little dining area where I usually take my breakfast so I can watch the dawn.” He moved to the right. “I built two bedrooms on this side of the main room, with a connecting dressing and bathing area.” He pointed to two doors along the same wall. “There’s an old Franklin stove in the dressing area to heat water so you don’t have to haul from the kitchen when you want a bath.”

  Hannah followed him through the first bedroom door.

  “When I built the place three years ago, I guess I thought I’d be having company sometimes. You’re my first overnight guest. I haven’t had much need for this room.”

  She looked around the large room, which was furnished in the same heavy, hardwood, handmade way as the living area. She admired a four-poster bed, a plain square armoire, and two tables on either side of the bed.

  They walked through a small space between the bedrooms that he’d called the dressing area. It held a tin bathtub and the stove, plus a mirror and shaving stand. Wood was stacked neatly in one corner, and the room’s only shelf held a row of towels. Beneath the shelf, Hannah noticed a chamber pot and an extra washbasin.

  Ford held open the door, passing through to the other bedroom. “This is my bedroom, but I thought you should take it. There’s a fireplace in one corner that will keep you warm, and I can put a lock on the door closing off the dressing area from the other bedroom so you’ll have your privacy, just like I promised. The sheets should be clean and you’ll get the morning sun.”

  “But…”

  “I can wash up in the kitchen so the dressing area is yours.” He looked nervous. “And I’ll let you know when I need a bath.”

  “No, you keep your room. I can have the other.” She couldn’t believe he was giving her the best of the two when the least was more than she’d ever had.

  He shook his head slowly, as though he’d hear no more argument. “I’d feel better if you had the bedroom with a fireplace.”

  Hannah agreed with a nod and a whispered “thank you.”

  He went to his armoire and cleared out the first two drawers before it dawned on him that she would have nothing to put in the empty space. Slow down, he reminded himself. Why was it every time he was around a woman even near his own age he thought he had to do everything in double time? He seemed to assume that if he didn’t hurry she’d be gone before he ever had a second chance.

  Taking a deep breath, he handed her one of his nightshirts. “Why don’t I allow you time for a warm bath while I cook us up something?” He dug in the back of his bottom drawer and pulled out a wool robe Gavrila had given him for Christmas last year. “You’re welcome to whatever else I have that you need,” he mumbled as he handed her the clothes.

  Hesitantly, Hannah reached for the clothing. Twenty-four hours ago she’d taken what she needed at gunpoint, and now he was giving it to her. “Thank you,” she managed, then smiled. “I’m glad I didn’t have to take these off your dead body.”

  He caught the direction of her thoughts and laughed. “So am I.”

  Without another word he was gone, leaving her time to look around his room while she waited for the water to boil. She could find nothing in the room that she thought valuable enough to take when she left. Everything was clean, orderly, nice, but not of any great value. What was priceless in this house she could never pack away in her carpetbag. It was peace.

  * * *

  An hour later she tiptoed on bare feet from the bedroom. Her hair hung long and damp past her waist, but she felt warm in Ford’s nightshirt and long robe. The tub had been the first bath she’d had in over a week, and Hannah was sure she’d scrubbed off several pounds of dirt.

  When she entered the kitc
hen, she’d expected to find it like the rest of the house, neat and orderly. But it looked like a chuck wagon that had rolled over several times. Pots were everywhere, along with supplies stacked on top of more supplies.

  Ford looked up from a cutting board where he’d been slicing thick pieces of bread. “Sorry about the mess. While I was gone, my men brought in the rest of the winter supplies for both me and the bunkhouse. It must have started snowing before they had time to put anything up.”

  Hannah moved around the cutting board and looked at the little table by the window. It was set for two. Her plate was covered with at least half a dozen scrambled eggs and enough bacon to feed several men. Ford’s plate was piled even higher.

  “I made coffee, but you might prefer milk. Fellows say I make the worst coffee in the state.” He pulled out her chair as he spoke.

  Awkwardly, Hannah moved into the chair. No one had ever performed such a simple politeness for her, yet Ford acted as though it not only was proper, but an expected kindness.

  “I think I’ll try the milk.”

  “One milk.” He pulled a jug from the cool box and poured her a big glass. Then he set the freshly sliced bread on the table and joined her.

  Hannah could never remember being so hungry. She forced herself to take the first few bites slowly, complimenting him on his cooking before she continued.

  Ford smiled with pride. “I had to learn to cook some of the basics or I’d have starved to death the first few years out here. Now I can afford to buy most everything I need, like bread and butter, but at first I had to make do with what I knew—which was just enough to keep me from starving.”

  “Didn’t you eat with your family?” Hannah asked as she reached for her milk.

  “My father invited me a few times after he married. Even said his new wife was a wonderful cook. But being invited and being welcomed are two different things. I always told them I needed to get back to work, and they never seemed to mind my not coming.”

  Hannah could see the hurt in his eyes. He might look to be a strong, fully grown man, but there was still a little boy somewhere beneath all the muscles. “But why?”

  Ford shrugged. “It wasn’t my stepmother’s fault. My father only had room in his heart for one child, and Gavrila was his darling from the minute she was born. Even when I was growing up, he usually had me doing chores until dark, and I always had to take my supper alone on the porch.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “That’s probably why I always eat in the back of the kitchen now. It’s homey.”

  He shoved his plate closer to the center of the table and leaned his chair back as he sipped his coffee. “Funny thing was, when my father and his wife died in a stagecoach accident down by El Paso, his will left everything to me.”

  “Maybe he loved you?”

  Ford shook his head. “Maybe he figured I’d feel responsible for Gavrila. He knew if he left it all to me, I’d take care of her for the rest of her life, and that’ll cost far more than the inheritance he left.”

  Standing, Ford stared out at his sleeping land. “I can’t believe I’m rattling on like this. I must be starved for company. Sorry.”

  Hannah covered her second piece of bread with cream gravy. “I understand. For some reason it’s easier to give a stranger the overall view of your life than it is to talk to people you’re around all the time. I’ve noticed that on trips. Most folks you sit beside can hardly wait to tell you their life story before the next stop.”

  Ford didn’t speak for a long time. He just looked out at the night and thought about all he’d like to tell her. At the same time he wished she knew nothing about him, as she had last night in the hotel. He almost wished they could forever be two strangers who crossed in the darkness. “But we’re not strangers,” he said aloud. “If this farce is to work, there are things you have to know. Things a man would naturally tell his new wife.”

  “All right,” she answered. “Tell me just who Ford Colston is.”

  “That’s no easy order.” He knew he had to be complete and direct or he could cause her problems in a few days when folks started meeting her. “I own both the house in town and this ranch. We run a few hundred head of cattle, and I started breeding Appaloosas two years ago. I serve on the school board, which you know, and am in church every Sunday. Other than that I keep pretty much to my own company.”

  “Ever been in love or engaged to be married? If there is some unhappy woman in town tonight because you spoiled her plans, I’d like to know now.”

  “No,” Ford laughed. “I wish I could say there was. All the young ladies in this settlement have managed to stay clear of me. With men outnumbering women so greatly, I’m not even on anyone’s dance card. If I were, Gavrila would convince them I’m wild and ungentlemanly enough to be erased quickly. How about you, Mrs. Colston?”

  Hannah stared down at her empty plate. He was so honest, it was hard to lie to him. Maybe she could keep it simple and try the truth. “I was engaged once, for a week.”

  “What happened?” Ford poured himself more coffee.

  “He died the morning of our wedding.”

  “I’m sorry,” Ford whispered, wishing she’d look up at him. He reached to touch her arm, and when she pulled away he saw a cut just above her wrist.

  Hannah wanted to scream that she wasn’t sorry. Not after the way Jude had handled her the night before he died. She would have killed him herself by nightfall if Jude had been able to carry out his threat of making her marry him.

  Remembering how she’d once thought Jude to be a good choice for a husband, Hannah couldn’t help but think that maybe Ford might turn on her also. She forced herself to straighten, pulling her nerves together. “We need to talk about other things,” she said. “Of rules.”

  Ford could feel her mood chill as drastically as though someone had opened the back door and the temperature in the room had dropped ten degrees in a second’s time. “Of rules,” he repeated as he stood and pulled a medicine box down from the shelf.

  “I’d like a lock on both doors…the one to my bedroom and the one to the dressing area…before I go to bed.”

  “It’s not necessary, but agreed.” Ford held his palm up and waited for her to extend her arm. He was more interested in treating the cut than in any rules she might list.

  “And I’d like your word that you’ll not touch me in private.” Hannah allowed him to doctor the wound she’d gotten while moving through an alley in the rain the night they’d met. She’d been so frightened and hungry that the cuts had seemed unimportant.

  “Agreed.” Ford could feel himself walling up as he always did with people. He needed to put space between them before she hurt him. “And in public?” His face was stone but his hands caring as he wrapped a clean bandage around her wrist.

  “I think, to look like we are newlyweds, we should be as close as possible when in public. I don’t want anyone wondering about us or asking questions.” There was a safeness about touching him in public, but she wasn’t sure what would happen if they touched any other time. She’d turn Jude’s rules around completely, always touching in public, never in private. “Also, you can call me ‘darling.’ It sounds believable enough. No one has ever called me that.”

  Ford tried to keep surprise from showing on his face. He wasn’t sure why she’d wanted the endearment. Maybe in a month’s time he’d know this woman a little better. He’d called her that earlier just to irritate his sister, and Hannah not only hadn’t minded, she’d asked that he repeat it.

  “Well, darlin’, I’d better get those bolts on your doors so you can go to bed. I don’t know about you, but it has been two days since I’ve had any sleep.”

  He didn’t bother putting on his coat as he walked out the back door and crossed to the barn for the toolbox. He needed to think, and for some reason, he needed to feel the cold.

  By the time he’d finished with the locks, Hannah was sound asleep on the couch. Ford watched her for a while, wondering what to do. If he left
her there, she wouldn’t feel safe, for she wouldn’t be behind her bolts. If he carried her to bed, there might be hell to pay in the morning.

  Finally he decided he was too tired to just wait around until she woke up and walked to bed on her own. Gently he lifted her and carried her to the bedroom that had been his since he’d built the house. He pulled the covers back with one hand and placed her, robe and all, between clean sheets. Then he lit the corner fireplace, locked the bedroom door from the inside, and passed through the dressing area to the other bedroom.

  Despite the late hour, sleep didn’t come easy. Ford couldn’t get the memory of the way Hannah had looked sleeping in his bed from his mind. He remembered the feel of her in his arms after the wedding and the way she’d jumped when he’d moved too fast toward her once. Finally, he realized one fact—that even if he wanted her to be a true wife, which he didn’t, she’d never come to his bed. A public wife for a month was all he’d ever have.

  He felt as though he’d only just closed his eyes in sleep when someone jumped on him in full running force and began shaking him with all their might. Just as he forced one eye open to daylight, his dreams were shattered completely by Hannah’s screams.

  Chapter 5

  “FORD! WAKE UP! Bandits are trying to break in the house!”

  He shook his head, forcing sleep away. Hannah was above him, her hair flowing wildly around her as she tried to pull his shoulder up, not realizing her weight on his chest was the principle reason he wasn’t moving.

  “Wake up before we die!”

  Gently he closed his hands around her waist and placed her far enough away from him so he could sit up in bed. He rubbed his eyes and tried to make his mind focus. It seemed only a moment since he’d fallen asleep. The light from this canyon-side bedroom was never direct, but judging from the amount filtering through the curtains, it must be long after sunrise. “We may need to talk about how you wake me each morning, darlin’. There must be a compromise somewhere between a whisper and a full attack.”