by Maren Smith
He dropped her into the water and knelt down to start scrubbing. The dark-haired child fought him like a dervish, kicking and clawing and shrieking. She bit down on his thumb when he tried to wash her grubby face and held on with all the ferocity of a pitbull. Buster promptly pulled her feet out from under her and dunked her head under water. She let go of his thumb and came up coughing and sputtering. They then glared at one another.
"Now you looky here, girl," he told her. "Like it or not, you're getting a bath! You bite me again, and I'm gonna thump you in the head. Are we clear?" Though she didn't say a word, Buster could almost have sworn he saw her eyes narrow. The minute he got her clean, he tied her to the front porch with a piece of rope around her waist, and then went in search of her siblings, who had absconded off together to heaven only knew where. And 29
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naturally, for the first time all day, the baby of the trio was perfectly silent.
Two hours later, just as he was starting to wonder if they hadn't run off into the woods and become cougar suppers, Buster heard a giggle. Standing on his front porch, he looked down at the floorboards under his feet. And then he rolled his eyes.
Sure enough, stepping down to the ground and lowering himself to his belly, when he looked under the stairs, there they were, lying in the dirt, buck naked and just as dirty as before, playing with potato bugs.
He crawled in after them. "You cussed, ornery little..." he bit his tongue and grabbed the two year old by the ankles. She squalled as he pulled both her and her slightly older sibling, who'd latched onto the blonde girl's arm, out from under the porch. He put them both back in the tub and scrubbed them down a second time.
Dinner that night was scrambled eggs because he was too wore out to want to bother with anything else. All three girls ate their food, dressed in his shirts and fastened to their chairs with a length of rope around their waists. And later that night, because there was no place else to put them, he bedded all three down in his bed alongside him. One day down, he thought, only six more to go. And then they'd be someone else's problem.
In the meantime, he was going to have the preacher's pretty sister, Margo, all to himself. Now that was a thought conducive to happy dreams.
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Buster closed his eyes with a smile, and an instant later felt a trickle of warm liquid soaking into the bedding beneath him. His smile faded as he took his first whiff of the pungent odor of urine. When he groaned, the two year old began to cry all over again.
* * * *
Sugarfoot nuzzled up against the fence and lipped at the clump of sweet clover that Constance held up for it. As the horse chewed, she rubbed the velvet-soft nose and listened while Judd, his dark hair and the tassels of his buckskin jacket waving in the afternoon breeze, one foot braced up on the bottom rung of the wooden fence and his forearms leaned against the top, talked to her.
"I figure I've about got enough now to start my own business. Yes, sir. Lumber is the way to go, and mills are in short supply. Everybody's coming out west, and everybody needs a house, barn, place to work, go to school and pray. I'll have to work long and hard to get myself established. The first year or two might not be the easiest, but I'm determined to make this work."
"Papa says, determination makes the man," Constance said, stroking Sugarfoot's neck. "I'm sure you'll be very successful."
He smiled at her, and she ducked her head, looking away, a warm flush stealing up into her cheeks as he leaned towards her. As if they were conspirators in the closest of secrets, he said, "Do you think I'll be successful in everything that I'm determined to accomplish?"
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"Well ... so long as you are determined to accomplish the right things, then I suppose you will." She blushed even hotter, already suspicious of what his next determination was going to be. He'd certainly made no effort to hide his intentions and that, coupled with his intimate nearness, made her a little uncomfortable.
She edged a little to once side, trying not to feel as if she were a little girl standing in the shadows of a mountain. His arms were huge, as were the hands folded lightly over the top of them. Standing at least a good head taller than herself and, even hunched as he was against the fence, he towered over her. Even his foot looked huge, especially when compared with her own. Anyone would be uncomfortable in her situation, she told herself. The man was a giant!
Albeit a very gentle seeming giant, chewing on a blade of sheep's clover and smiling down at her the way he was. But a giant nonetheless!
"Marrying you feels like the right thing to do, Constance," he said. "It certainly does."
"You must be very tired." Constance leaned her head in towards her horse's. "That sounds like exhaustion speaking." He chuckled. "I'm not tired. The sight of you has refreshed me. I suspect a kiss from your lips might very well be intoxicating."
"There's plenty of other women in Longview who would, without a doubt, love to entertain a proposal from—" she looked him up and down, marveling again at the sheer size of him "—you."
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"What's the matter?" he said, his smile fading slightly. He looked down at himself, and then back up at her. His hand went to his beard and mustache. "Oh, I—I'm sorry about this. It's hard to keep clean and tidy up in the hills. I promise you though, I do clean up right smartly."
"Oh, it's not that," she said honestly. "There's nothing wrong with the way you look. I only meant—"
"You like the way I look, do you?" Turning to lean sideways against the fence, he grinned down at her rakishly. Her face turned a bright, bright red. "I only meant..." He held up his hand, "Now, there's no need for you to go explaining yourself, Connie, my girl. I know what you meant, and trust me. It won't be an issue." He stepped closer, reaching out to cup her chin in his hand as he added, "I promise, I'll only have eyes for you. No matter how many hundreds of woman throw themselves after me." His teasing arrogance made her retreat a step. Abandoning the horse and the fence, growing even more unnerved the longer she remained beside him, she started back to the house. "The sun's going down. I have dinner to prepare, and you're probably anxious to head on your way." They both looked to the house when they heard a door slam. Buster stalked down the front steps, that doubled up strap in one hand, headed for the barn. Even from as far back as they were standing, she could hear him muttering angrily under his breath. No doubt still lamenting his lack of peaceful quiet, she clenched her hands tightly together, pity for Serenity almost overwhelming her.
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"Constance," Judd said softly, catching her shoulders and turning her back to face him. "Trust me, it's not your sisters that I find myself wanting."
Frowning slightly, she blinked up at him. "Why not?" He almost laughed. "What do you mean, why not? Is there some reason why I can't be attracted to you? Why I can't want to get to know you?"
"I'm not pretty like they are." As true as the words were, they still tasted foul on her tongue, and Constance looked away, as if now that she'd brought his attention to it, he couldn't help but note her lack of appeal.
"According to whom?" he demanded. She stared at him in suspicious surprise. "You can see, can't you? I'm fat!"
"If I can do this—" he said, and Constance stiffened with a gasp when he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her very close, "—then you're just fine for me." And as he held her to him, Constance could almost believe him. She seemed to fit right there in his embrace, tucked up next to his heart, which beat strong and steady against her chest.
"What kind of dance will we be attending?"
"Harvest festival," she said weakly.
"Then come on my arm. I'd like nothing more than to kick up my heals to the mus
ic with you. And it'll give you a chance to get to know me better, the way a woman ought to know the man she's going to marry."
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It was very hard not to succumb to the rakish smile he gave her; the genuine friendliness sparkling in his eyes. Constance felt her resolve weakening along with her knees.
"I have to get supper ready," she finally said, and again tried to leave him.
"You do all the cooking?" he asked, stubbornly falling into step beside her.
"Margo helps me sometimes."
"I'll bet the meals you create taste heaven-made."
"Mr. Faris," she said with no small amount of exasperation, but he stopped her protests by catching her hand and pulling her back to stand before him.
"Judd," he said. "I see no need for formalities between us."
"This isn't necessary, you know."
"What isn't necessary?" he asked.
"If you want to talk to my sisters, you should just go talk to them. There's no reason you should feel as if you have to be nice to the fat one before either Grace or Serenity will consider you."
He raised an eyebrow at her. "I beg your pardon?"
"You don't want me," she said exasperated.
"Or is it that you don't want me?" Judd countered. "You know, if you make the attempt to get to know me, you might actually find we suit rather well."
"And you might actually find that we don't." But she felt herself wavering, particularly when he passed his thumb over the backs of her knuckles.
"I don't think that will be possible." 35
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She looked at him and then looked away, glancing back over her shoulder, but her father had entered the barn already and was nowhere in sight.
Judd abruptly dropped down onto one knee, holding one of her hands in his and throwing his other arm wide open. At first she thought he'd stepped in a gopher hole, right up until he began to belt out the chorus of Annie Laurie in a deep baritone voice. "Her brow is like the snowdrift, her nape is like a swan! And her face it is the fairest, that 'ere the sun shone on!"
Constance quickly clasped a hand over his mouth and looked around, her gaze darting first to the barn and then the house.
Judd pulled her hand from his mouth. "I can serenade you all night long." He grinned and wiggled his eyebrows up and down. "Among other things. Although those will likely need to wait until we're married."
A distant clamoring from down in the barn signaled the moment when Buster finally got his hands on his eldest daughter.
"Say you'll attend that dance with me?" he said as, faintly, Serenity began to cry out her remorse to the leathery tempo of the strap.
Constance looked from him to the barn and back again. Her round face settled with resignation. "I'm a horrible dancer," she warned.
"Then we'll be a well-matched pair," he told her. "Don't worry. It's all the more proof I need to show how perfect you are for me."
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Snorting her opinion to that, she shook her head and once more started walking towards the house.
He got up and quickly caught her hand. Half laughing, he said, "Let's try that again. You," he said firmly, "are perfect." She stood there a moment, staring at her fingers, engulfed by his larger ones, feeling the warmth of his hand enclosing her own, and the uncomfortable lump in the pit of her belly that dreaded that inevitable moment when she would be passed over for someone better.
"Say it," he coaxed.
"What?" She blinked at him, startled. "That I'm perfect?"
"There you go. Practically painless." He raised her hand to his lips, caressing the backs of her fingers with a kiss. "When you get to know me better, you'll better understand what I will and won't tolerate hearing you say. Particularly about yourself."
She went as stiff as a wooden plank when he cupped her face in both hands, gently caressing her cheeks with his thumbs before leaning in to kiss her chastely on the forehead.
"I don't want to hear you say that again. I think you're fine as you are, and mine is the only opinion that should matter." She stared at him, her mouth agape, until he turned her around and sent her back to the house with a well-placed swat to the seat of her skirts.
"Go on, then," he said. "I wouldn't want to incur your father's wrath by causing supper to be late to the table." Constance almost stumbled she was so startled by the touch of his hand on her bustle-less rump. But she went. And she didn't even say a cross word about such inappropriate 37
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bodily familiarity, even though it did leave her stomach positively tied up in knots. A sensation that only got worse when he walked her to the front porch and Margo hustled herself out to greet them.
The older woman's cheeks were flushed and her eyes sparkled with barely concealed excitement. "Did you have a nice walk? Could I interest you in a cup of coffee, Mr. Faris, and would you like to stay for dinner?"
"No!" Constance gasped.
"Absolutely," Judd contradicted, cheerfully. "And to all three questions." He beamed another sunny smile down at Constance, pretending not to notice her disgruntlement. "I'm looking forward to sampling a bit of that home cooking I'm sure I'll come to love so much."
"She's the best cook in all of Longview," Margo said proudly. "I don't know where she got it from. I certainly didn't teach her anything useful. At least not in the kitchen." Beginning to wonder if her face would ever be anything other than bright red, Constance covered her face with one hand.
"If not for her talents, we'd have all starved years ago!" Margo boasted. She reached out to brush a stray wisp of a honey blonde curl back from Constance's cheek and tucked it behind her ear.
The touch was a comforting one. The gesture was wholly maternal, and one in which, at any other time, Constance would have found comforting. But not with Judd standing beside her, his arm snaked possessively around her waist. She could all but feel the weight of his ring around her finger 38
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already, and it was a little disconcerting since she'd never really expected—except in her dreams—to ever feel one there. And to be honest, it had been several years since she'd last dared to have that dream.
She felt a tickle of unexpected pleasure winding its way through her, and Constance had to give herself a stern mental shake. She quickly stamped the feeling down again. Even if all of what Judd told her was true, even if he wasn't simply using her to get closer to either Grace of Serenity, even if he really did honestly like her, that still didn't mean that he would continue to want her once the dance had come and gone.
There were a lot of pretty girls in Longview, although most were already spoken for. Still, so what if he'd seen her first?
When he got to the dance, he would also see Clarice Chapman. And when he did, all it would take would be a single wink of that man-hungry beauty's eyelashes, a flutter of her fan, and like nearly every other male within a four days' ride, bachelor or not, Judd would fall all over himself to do whatever she asked of him.
Still, a small voice inside her whispered, I can have him until then.
She'd probably never get to experience another round of courting once Judd got his fill and left for someone else anyway. So why shouldn't she let herself enjoy his attentions for a while? Where would be the harm in that, just so long as she didn't let herself come to believe it was real?
Constance glanced up at her giant of a beau, at his gentle, kindly face hidden as it was behind a thick black beard and 39
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mustache. No harm, she decided, relaxing just a little bit in his one-armed embrace. No harm at all.
* * * *
Supper was a simple meat and potato stew, with buttery cornbread cakes
fresh from the cook stove. It was hot and delicious, and two distinct smiles from Constance flavored each bite Judd took to heights so far beyond heaven that the English language had yet to develop a word to describe that kind of euphoria.
Judd was accorded a place at the table across from Constance and her sisters, Grace and Serenity, who sat to either side of her, rather gingerly too, he couldn't help but note. Cullen, the farm hand, sat next to him, and Margo and Buster each took up a crowning position at the ends of the table.
While Judd wouldn't have minded sitting next to Constance while he ate, across from her was all right, too. That meant that, every now and again, he could extend his foot beneath the table and play with hers just a bit. Of course, his first attempt, he missed her entirely and ended up tapping at Grace's by mistake. The redhead stiffened with a funny look on her face and leaned back as she ducked to look underneath.
"Sorry," he apologized. "Big feet." But Constance knew differently, for the instant he shifted over to touch the side of her shoe with his boot, her cheeks pinkened—he was really starting to like that about her—and 40
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she gave him the first smile of her two precious smiles. She even, ever so slightly, wiggled her foot and played back. It was right about then that the Henrys decided that the meal lacked conversation, and Judd's level of enjoyment of the meal dropped considerably.
"What brings you to Longview, Mr. Faris?" Margo asked.
"The end of one passionate pursuit and the start of another," he said proudly.
"We don't allow that kind of talk at this table!" Buster snapped, and glared at him sternly over the top of his platter.
"Can't you see there's women present?" Judd swallowed his surprise as well as what was in his mouth, and apologized. "I'm sorry, sir, ladies," he nodded across the table. "Although I was referring to dreams and aspirations."
"Like he said," Serenity intoned flatly, poking at a chuck of potato on her plate. "That kind of talk isn't permitted at this table, or in this house." Judd blinked, sitting back in his chair as, with exaggerated sweetness, she added, "Oh, but my mistake. You're a man. You're allowed to have dreams and aspirations."