“Sometimes reaches as high as the thirties,” he muttered, eyes never leaving the fire. His long legs stretched in front of him with lazy elegance.
“How is Julia?”
“Sleeping, I hope.”
She racked her brain for anything more she could say to distract him so when she brought up the subject of his former love, he would not suspect Mary had told her. No great ideas came to her. She pushed her hair behind her ear, thinking she might as well just jump in.
“You had a fiancée, I heard.” She peeked at his features. They remained impassive. “Was she beautiful?” Did that just come out? “I mean, uh, how long ago was that?”
“Years and years.”
“What was her name? I bet it was pretty.”
He sniggered. “Eunice.”
“The poor girl.” Gracie wrinkled her nose. “Children should be given beautiful names.”
“You like kids?”
“Of course. They’re wonderful, precious gifts of God. Why do you look so surprised?”
“Just thought you were more like Eunice,” he admitted.
“Really, Trevor, I hope you’ve not been comparing me to that woman.”
His annoying eyebrow arched in the flickering light from the fire. “That woman?”
“You know what I mean! She left you. How could she be so cruel? I would never do that to someone I loved.”
“I’m glad to know that about you,” he said quietly. His fingers drummed against his thighs. “I owe you an apology.” His eyes met hers, seared through her, and all the indignation she felt at being compared to that faithless Eunice fled.
“I’m sorry for calling you a liar. That was wrong of me.” The words sounded as though they stuck in his throat a little but she was thankful he forced them out.
“Thank you so much. I cannot tell you how much your apology means to me. I am so sorry that woman left you, Trevor. You didn’t deserve it. You’re a wonderful man.” Disbelief flitted across his face, but she launched on. “You’re compassionate and kind. Gentle. But strong and forceful. You have that dangerous edge, as well.”
“Dangerous?”
“But in a good way.” She nodded forcefully to drive the point home. “You’ve a wonderful gift with the horses. I have never heard of breaking a horse by simply speaking to it. Surely a man who deals with animals in such a way must be good at heart.”
A rare smile curved his lips. Gracie drew her legs up beneath her skirt as they lapsed into comfortable conversation, the glow of the fire their companion. Time passed, and before Gracie expected it, the clock sounded eleven times. She should go to bed. It wasn’t proper to be up this late with a man who was not her husband, and although she loved to stretch boundaries, perhaps this one was better left in place.
She yawned, hand covering her mouth in an attempt to look ladylike, but Trevor laughed at her anyhow.
She loved his laugh.
“You seem like you’re ready for bed, little Gracie.”
“Don’t call me that. I’m a woman.”
His grin widened. “Yes, ma’am. Just meant you look tired.”
“I am. Trevor, I…” Standing up, she tugged at her robe. “Thank you. I couldn’t sleep and you were the perfect company.”
“And you, Gracie.”
He wanted to kiss her; she recognized the look in his eyes. If they were married they could kiss anytime they wanted. But we’re not, she reprimanded herself sharply and moved to the door.
Marriage to anyone at this time was out of the question.
Chapter Fifteen
Spinsterhood had its benefits.
The next morning after breakfast Gracie decided it was time she tried her hand at making herself trousers. It couldn’t be too difficult, could it? And really, who would stop her? Not a husband and certainly not her parents, who sent her off without any thought to what she wanted.
She locked the door to her bedroom, then selected an old wool skirt from the closet to be her first pair of pants. As an afterthought, she checked to make sure her jewels were still down in the bottom of the closet where she’d nudged the bulky box months ago. They were. She closed the door. The dark corner made a perfect hiding spot. No one would see the box unless they looked there specifically.
Not that she feared a thief in this desert place.
She dragged skirt, scissors, needle and gray thread she had grabbed from Mary’s sewing box over to the window seat. Frosty sunlight streamed in, the day bright despite its chill. Perfect for sewing.
For the next hour Gracie cut and stitched, and by ten o’clock she had a ragged pair of trousers and sore fingertips. She frowned as she twisted the pants one way, then the other. One side appeared to be shorter than the other. And the seams zigzagged crookedly up the sides. She groaned and threw the mangled skirt on her bed.
How was she supposed to join the modern world when she couldn’t even make a pair of pants? It was a good thing God had put her in a wealthy family because she seemed to lack the necessary skills to make it as any kind of specialized laborer.
She pressed her nose against the cold window. In the far distance a herd of cattle ambled across the sagebrush desert, thick flanks urged along every so often by a nudge from Trevor’s horse. Even from this distance she could read the confidence in his posture, the control in his hand. He sat on his mount tall and proud, sunlight streaming over him in graceful lines.
Her door shook slightly, followed by a brisk tapping. She rose and unlocked the door. She pulled it open.
Mary held out frothy pink material. “Here’s the nightgown I altered.” Her eyes lighted on the crumpled trousers Gracie had tossed on the bed. She smiled. “Are those your pants?”
Gracie opened the door wider so Mary could step into the room. “They more resemble a mutilated skirt.”
Mary clucked her tongue, picking them up so she could inspect them. “They’re not too bad. I could fix them for you, if you’d like.”
“Really? But I don’t want you to get in trouble with Uncle Lou.” She slanted her eyes to Mary. “Trousers would be much more convenient, however, and I could make it worth your time.”
“Are you trying to bribe me?” Mary continued to hold up the pants, turning them around, feeling the seams. “We’re going to have to take these stitches out,” she muttered, expression distracted.
“Thank you, thank you!” She launched herself at Mary and squeezed the smaller woman, careful to be gentle.
“Don’t tell Lou,” Mary cautioned, and Gracie found herself wagging her head in agreement like an eager puppy. Trousers of her very own. She was suddenly overcome with the urge to jump on the bed like she had as a child and crow with delight.
Mary left with promises to have the pants done by evening. She already had Gracie’s measurements from earlier alterations, relieving her from having to be measured, poked and prodded again.
The sun had not yet reached its zenith. Gracie checked the time. Ten-thirty and nothing to do. Saturdays usually moved slow but today Gracie almost wished she had a list of chores to accomplish. Perhaps Uncle Lou would let her look at his accounts, though she had just snuck in the other night and fixed his arithmetic. She still needed to broach the subject of the unlabeled profits but in the meantime perhaps she could ride into Burns again.
If only she could go alone, she was certain she’d discover something intriguing. She needed to get there without having someone looking over her shoulder constantly. Mind made up, she skipped downstairs, marveling every few steps on the strength of her knee.
Thank you, Jesus.
Bursting into the brittle sunlight, still pulling on her wool coat, she had to squint before she located Trevor. That could be him, galloping her way. She kept her eyes on him as she leaped dow
n the porch stairs.
Suddenly Trevor’s horse stumbled. Shrieking, it began to buck. Gracie started running. If she could grab the reins… The horse threw Trevor. He landed in a sickening heap, his hat fluttering down beside him. The horse galloped away but her attention was focused on Trevor’s still form. Her chest ached, unbearably tight.
If anything happened to him…
She heard shouts just as she reached his prone body. Ignoring them, she bent down and pressed her face close to Trevor’s mouth, but felt no warm breath upon her cheek. Her fingers shook as she stroked his shadowed cheek, feeling the stubble beneath her fingertips. She traced his scar, so much softer than the rest of him.
“Trevor,” she whispered. “Please don’t die.” He appeared small and vulnerable at that moment, a strange paradox considering his hands were at least twice the size of hers.
The wind lifted her hair, whipping tendrils across her face.
“Oh, God, please make him okay.” She touched his cheek. “He’s special, Lord. Uncle Lou needs him, and Mary. Don’t let him die.” She leaned closer to his ear. “Trevor, you are needed here. Open your eyes. Wake up!”
What if he did die? Hadn’t she learned life’s cruelest lesson of all? In the space of a second, breath had fled Connie’s vulnerable vessel and she’d left this world. In only a moment.
She shook Trevor’s shoulder vigorously. Only feet away, Uncle Lou dismounted his horse.
“Trevor,” she said more urgently. “Open your eyes. You’re fine. A little bump is all you have, you’re fine.”
“Gracelyn.”
She hitched back.
“If you yell any louder in my ear, I’m going to strangle you.” Trevor’s eye cocked open. Grimacing, he grabbed Uncle Lou’s outstretched hand and shakily pulled himself up.
He was alive! She jumped to her feet and, not caring that Uncle Lou stood inches away, tiptoed up to kiss Trevor’s cheek. She loved the scrape of his roughened jaw against her chin. She wrapped her arms around his body. The steady beat of his heart calmed her nerves. Surely nothing was wrong with his head when his heart pounded so steadily against her ear.
“Gracie, you can let go now. C’mon.”
Vaguely she felt his hands gently pulling on her arms.
“I’m so glad you’re alive,” she babbled into his shirt, tightening her grip.
“What’s this?” Surprise caught Uncle Lou’s words and snapped them up into the breeze. “Is Gracie smitten with you, Trevor?”
“She might be,” he acknowledged grimly.
She pushed away from him. “Might? You know I feel more for you than a mere schoolgirl crush, Mr. Cruz.”
His mouth twisted. “No, I didn’t. Thought you were having fun with a cowboy, passing time until spring.”
“That is the most ridiculous thing.” She poked his chest. Hard. “Perhaps at first it was all an adventure but you know perfectly well you’re the first man I’ve ever kissed. Of course I would not deliberately tamper with your feelings. What kind of person do you think I am?”
“Someone who’s got other interests,” he said, face dark.
“Kissed?” Uncle Lou’s voice rose a notch.
Gracie took no notice of him. She focused solely on the exasperating man in front of her and stepped forward, into his heat. She went to poke him again, but Trevor grabbed her finger and somehow twined his fingers through hers so they were holding hands. His grip was firm and strong.
She frowned. “You’ve misunderstood my situation. You think I’m like that woman, that Eunice.”
“Gracie.” He lowered his voice. “Can we do this inside?”
“No. I’m quite done explaining my circumstance to you.” She squared her shoulders and marched back to the house.
Trevor watched her, knowing a scowl twisted his mouth.
“You kissed her?” Lou demanded, his scowl darker and meaner. “I’ve enough problems with my brother without you flirting with his daughter! You’re ten years older than her. What were you thinking?”
Trevor looked down at his hand, the one she’d stroked. It still felt warm. Sagebrush whispered around them, and Lou’s horse nickered softly as he tried to formulate an answer.
What could he say? That she’d gotten under his skin the moment he met her? That she was different, more vibrant and alive, than any other woman he’d ever known? And since when had he started thinking of her as a woman?
He bent and picked his hat up, brushed the dirt off, then placed it back where it belonged. “She’s not ten years younger than me.”
* * *
Thoughts of Gracie plagued Trevor the rest of the day, during round up, while he stabled the horses, as he washed and prepared for supper. He found himself snapping at Julia when he spilled her bottles of herbs and castor beans on the kitchen floor.
So Gracie had feelings for him. He might’ve guessed but it was hard to tell with someone like her. The jaunty girl she’d been on the train appeared less and less. Had the death of her friend changed her? Or was he beginning to know the woman beneath the light-hearted exterior?
Whatever kind of person Gracie was, he sure wasn’t looking forward to supper. Lou acted madder than a nest full of disturbed snakes and Gracie had left just as angry. Kept comparing herself to Eunice. He didn’t want to talk about Eunice with her. That relationship ended a long time ago and dredging the whole thing up again irked him. Why did she need to know anyway? Her parents should’ve made sure someone had a better handle on her curiosity.
Trevor trekked to Lou’s for supper, even though snow had started falling and the temperature had dropped at least ten degrees. As he walked, he thought of Gracie. Last night her eyes glowed when they talked, her cheeks had pinked with excitement, her lips had softened with pleasure. He couldn’t remember being so relaxed and stimulated by a member of the opposite gender before.
And she was smart. She didn’t realize it, but he knew intelligence. Had been taught to recognize and use it.
He opened the door and, after stomping his feet on the rug, strode to the dining room. Maybe he could trust Gracie with his past, but maybe not. Lou was right in pointing out her youth. She might not understand who he was, who he could be again so easily. No, telling her was just too risky. Better to leave the past where it belonged, dead and buried.
Mary and Gracie were carrying in the food when Trevor stepped into the dining room. Mary looked lovely, as always, but it was Gracie who held his gaze. She wore a soft green blouse and a velvety skirt that hugged her hips before flowing to her knees. The color of the blouse did something to her skin, made it rosy. And her hair was down, soft waves framing her face.
Trevor swallowed. Lou should tell her to change that skirt, he thought as she turned and left the room again, Mary in tow. The way it fit her was indecent. But he couldn’t swallow the lump in his throat and when his knee knocked against a chair he almost cursed.
He sat down, not meeting anyone’s eyes.
“Ya got it bad, boy?” James chuckled. “Which one is it? Not that hoyden, I hope.” He laughed again, grating on Trevor’s already raw nerves.
“Nobody’s got anything bad around here James, so shut your mouth.” Lou glared at him, and Trevor looked up just in time to see James’s smirk.
“You ain’t got nothin’ to say yourself, Mr. Fancy Pants. I see the way you look at that girl, too. Sure ’nough, we’ll have babies here ’fore long.”
“That is disgusting.” Lou lowered his brows. “She’s my niece.”
James snorted. “Ain’t the one I mean, boy.”
“You aren’t fighting in here, are you?” Mary walked in and set the roasted chicken on the table, then sat next to Trevor. That left Gracie beside Lou, directly across from Trevor, with James at the head.
“Sha
ll we say grace,” Gracie offered, a perky smile flashing across her face.
“Do what you want.” Lou spooned mashed potatoes onto his plate.
“Very well. Lord, we thank You for this food and the wonderful day we’ve had. In Jesus’s name, amen.”
Silverware clinked as everyone ate. Gracie looked like she was trying to keep her thoughts to herself. No such luck.
“Isn’t it wonderful the war is over?” She flashed him a bright smile. “Now all our boys will come home and life can go back to normal.”
“They’ll be coming home to disease,” he muttered.
“A virus really,” Gracie chirped, earning a scathing glare from James. She smiled at him. “How’s your reading coming along?”
“Fair enough,” he grumbled.
“Are you on Walden now? Or have you not finished Poe?”
James grunted.
“When we went to town the other day the baker said she knew of Trevor.” Her fork swished through the air. “Said he was a mischievous boy and made some trouble back in the day. What did you do? Rob a bank?” She chuckled, then seemed to notice the suddenly frozen atmosphere. “You didn’t, did you?”
“No,” Trevor scoffed as relief coursed through him. Townspeople knew enough about him and Lou and their odd circumstances that they’d probably guessed who Striker was. Strangely enough, no one had leaked it yet.
“That’s too bad. It would be rather exciting to know a reformed bank robber.” Gracie propped her chin on her hand. “I did learn some intriguing news about Striker.”
“Missy, you gotta learn to mind your own business here.”
“That’s what the clerk told me.” Her eyes sparkled. “That the town is protecting Striker.”
An unnatural stillness fell over the table. James broke it by coughing and starting a conversation about cows. Gracelyn, mercifully, let the subject of Striker drop and became immersed in a discussion with James about the details of ranching.
Protecting him?
Love on the Range Page 14