Faith cast him a long look. “Didn’t you? Or were you throwing me to the wolves?”
“And what is that supposed to mean?” His voice was soft, carrying only to her ears, but she cared little if his mother overheard them talking.
“It doesn’t matter, Max. None of it matters. Come inside, and I’ll dress your wound one last time. You can find a doctor in Boston to treat it when you arrive there. And then I’m going to bed.
“Tomorrow is going to be a long day. You’ll have to sort out all your things and get packed up. I’ll take you to town early Monday morning. Or I can run you in to the hotel tomorrow if you like. That way you won’t have to worry about missing the train.”
“Faith.” It was harsh, his utterance of her name. “Will you reconsider?”
She shook her head, and brushed past him. His hand rested against her arm for a fleeting moment.
“Don’t touch me, please,” she whispered. “Let me tend your shoulder and then you can get your mother settled in her room.”
In ten minutes she’d accomplished her task, aware when Hazel entered the back door and watched from across the room. Leaving Max to clean up the mess, Faith left the kitchen.
Chapter Thirteen
“I don’t like to see you out here alone. It doesn’t seem as if things are as safe as they used to be.” His jaw jutted forward, and Faith had to smile.
Brace could be as stubborn as a mule, she decided. Somehow he’d managed to appoint himself as her guardian angel, and if his furrowed brow was any indication, he was set on resolving the issue of her solitude at the farmhouse. He stood on the edge of her porch, hands stuck in his back pockets, looking distinctly uncomfortable.
“I’m quite handy with a gun, you know, and I’ve been alone before,” she said calmly. “Having Max here for a while didn’t make me suddenly helpless, Sheriff.” What it had done was make her dependent on the man, but that was a weakness she wasn’t about to admit.
“He knows I’ll look after you,” Brace told her, shifting his stance. His gaze focused on her as if he found something vastly fascinating about her face and form. He’d been her friend for a long time, but since Max’s departure more than three weeks ago, Brace had almost made a pest of himself, showing up at the farmhouse door several times.
There was always a viable excuse for his visits. Then, once his business was done, he’d manage to make himself helpful, lingering to talk as long as he could to keep Faith in conversation.
Once it was to bring her newspaper from town. Another time to deliver a catalog order that could just as well have waited for her next trip to Benning. Today he’d snatched the excuse to deliver a warm winter cloak from the general store, one Max had ordered for her before he left town.
She’d fingered the fine woolen fabric, admired in silence the lined hood and considered shipping the garment off to Boston. Only the knowledge that such a gesture would be childish and only cause him pain kept her from indulging herself with the whim. Hurting Max was not her aim in life.
So instead, she folded it and held it against her breast, where it warmed flesh that had been chilled by bereavement. The day was warm, yet held a hint of autumn, and she felt oddly cold, deep within where lay a dark, forbidding chasm. She might never again know the warmth of a man’s embrace, and that knowledge made her ache.
It seemed she was doomed to carry night and day the pain of Max’s leaving her. Pale and drawn, she’d peered into the mirror this morning and recognized misery staring back at her. No wonder Brace watched her with such obvious concern.
“Are you feeling all right?” he asked, shifting away from the edge of the porch to stroll to the far end of the wooden structure. He turned and lowered himself into the swing that hung there. Long chains held it dangling from the porch roof, and he set it moving with his foot, then patted the cushion beside him. “Come on and sit down for a minute, Faith. You look like you’re about whipped.”
“Thanks,” she murmured, crossing to take her place on the other end of the wide seat. “I’m not sure that’s much of a compliment.” She placed the cloak on the seat between them and laced her fingers together in her lap. “I’ve been working in the garden. The sun always wears me down.”
“I’m thinking it’s more than heat that’s got you looking so weary,” Brace said quietly. He touched her shoulder with his fingertips. “I don’t mean to pry, but I’m thinking you’re unhappy, Faith. I had a hard time believing that Max would just go off and leave you here alone.”
He leaned his head back and examined the batten board porch ceiling. His words were musing, and a glimmer of a smile curved his mouth. “You know, old Max’s mama is a right hateful lady from what I saw of her. She acts like she’d lead Max around by the nose if he let her. I’ll warrant he’ll be happy to get her home and off his hands.”
Faith fervently hoped so, but was having a hard time working up much sympathy for Max’s dilemma. “It was his choice to travel back across the country with her,” she said with a shrug. “She told him that his business was in serious disorder without him there. I suppose his mother was right in reminding him of his responsibility.”
Brace glanced at her and shook his head as he rocked the swing with his foot. “I don’t know about that. I don’t see how he could just walk away. You deserve better than being left alone, Faith.” A calculated look touched his face, darkening his eyes as he took her measure.
With a candor she had not expected, he made a deliberate suggestion. “Have you ever thought of ending your marriage?”
She caught her breath, meeting his gaze, then shook her head. “I considered it was pretty well ended when I left Boston. I really never expected Max to show up here, you know. To tell the truth, I’d probably have been better off if he hadn’t, if he’d sought a divorce three years ago and freed himself to marry again.”
“I’m just surprised it took him so long to hunt you down,” Brace said sharply. “I don’t know how any man could have a woman like you in his life and then just let her walk away without doing some fancy footwork to get her back.” His gaze softened as he spoke, touching her with admiration, resting for a moment on her hair, then lowering to where her fingers twined together in her lap.
“You’re not wearing his ring,” Brace said quietly. “Does that mean anything?”
She shook her head and grimaced. “Not really. But to be honest with you, I don’t feel very married right now.” Though I should, she thought. Now that I have every reason to believe Max left me with a part of himself to keep me company. Her monthly was late enough to make her condition a fact, yet even before she’d missed it by one day, she’d known.
From that magical moment in Max’s arms, when her heart had still beat with the rapture of loving and being loved, she’d known. And the conviction that their time together had borne fruit had not faltered.
“Faith…” Brace looked at her with a hunger he made no attempt to conceal. It was a look she recognized, and she ached at the denial she would voice aloud. Abruptly, he repeated her name, and his voice was raw, roughened by emotion.
She inhaled, perceiving the bent of his thoughts. “Don’t,” she said softly.
“I’m not trying to force myself on you,” he told her, his hand leaving her shoulder to circle her wrist, as if to reinforce his words. “I wouldn’t do anything to bring you harm or to shame you. I think you know me well enough to realize that.”
She found tears blurring her vision, and she cleared her throat. “I like you, Brace. You’ve been a good friend to me. But I’m a married woman. Unless, or until, Max dissolves our marriage, I can’t look at another man. I can only be your friend.”
He was silent for a moment, his fingers releasing her, only to caress the back of her hand with an almost absent gesture. Rocking the swing in a steady movement, he turned to scan the yard and the trees beyond.
“You’re gonna have a good crop of apples this fall,” he said quietly. “I’ll come out and give you a hand when it’s
time to pick them.”
“I’d appreciate that,” she whispered. And then she dredged forth the memory of an earlier conversation they’d shared. “Have you heard from your family about the woman they were wanting to send out here for you?”
As if relieved at her query, he chuckled, breaking his contact with her as he turned a bit in the swing to face her. “Yeah. My sister wrote me another letter, a couple of weeks ago. I’ve been meaning to ask you to read it over and help me think of something to tell her, kinda help me get her off my back.”
“Bring the letter out, and we’ll come up with a good excuse,” Faith said. “I’ve been neglecting something else we spoke of. I haven’t looked at your bankbook lately.”
“And that reminds me of something else,” he said, enthusiasm touching his words. “I was thinking maybe if you have the spare time we could start some reading lessons. I’m pretty good with numbers, but I’ve got a craving to learn from books.”
“I have books aplenty in the parlor, Brace. We can spend a couple of hours a week, whenever you have the time to spare.” She shot him a warning glance. “But let’s not speak again of paying me for being your friend.”
“All right.” His eyes lit with pleasure. “I enjoy spending time with you, but I won’t take advantage of you, Faith. I hope you know that.”
“That’s the least of my worries,” she said, and recognized it as truth. Brace was a man to be trusted.
As if it were a signal, he stood, drawing his pocket watch out to flash it before her. “Bought me a watch,” he said, grinning boldly. “Remember when you told me about telling time on the big clock in town?”
She nodded, pleased that he’d taken her suggestion. “You have a brain like a sponge,” she said. “Reading will come easy, once you put your mind to it.” As he stepped to the ground, she stood and followed him to the hitching rail where his horse waited.
“Thanks for bringing the package,” she told him. “When you see Mr. Metcalf, tell him I’ll be in to deliver eggs on Saturday.”
Brace nodded, lifting himself into the saddle with an agile movement. Tilting his hat a bit over his eyes, he gathered his reins and turned his horse toward town.
Faith watched his back, noted the width of his shoulders, the easy way he sat in the saddle, and wondered why he had never appealed to her as more than a nice man, a friend to be cherished. Max had spoiled her for anyone else, she thought gloomily. The cloak drew her gaze and she walked to the swing, picking it up and holding it once more against her breast.
Dark blue, with crimson cording down the front and edging the collar, it boasted intricate fastenings, six in all. She’d seen their like in the catalog among the best quality ladies’ fashions, and admired them, even as she’d known such luxury was beyond her reach. Now she held a garment that was top of the line, if she was any judge of such a thing. And Max had seen to it that she would be warm in the winter to come.
The house was silent as she passed through the rooms, and as she knelt before a cedar chest beneath the bedroom window, she pressed her lips against the fine material of Max’s gift. The lid was heavy and she held it open with one hand while she placed the cloak atop two quilts.
Smoothing it with her palm, she sighed. It wouldn’t do to be prideful. She’d wear it for warmth and think of Max when the nights grew cold and harsh winds blew around the farmhouse. When she slept in her bed it would cover her, lying atop the quilt, and when she went to town she’d wear it with pride.
She’d be grateful for its folds. They would help conceal the child she would bear, come spring.
Boston, Massachusetts—October, 1898
“This beats being in cahoots with another shipping line, Max. Buying our own ships will make a difference all the way around,” Howard said firmly. “We’ll increase our import capabilities, and on top of that, we’ll no longer be paying out good money for someone else to oversee the transport of goods.”
“And what is that going to mean, as far as additional work in this office?” Max asked. He leaned back in his desk chair, resplendent in another new suit. His summer’s work had put additional muscle in his shoulders, making new clothing necessary. A visit to the tailor had solved that problem, and his first new suit had been sent to his home within two days time, allowing him to relax once more in clothing that fit well.
He was tanned and trim, his trousers having to be altered to fit as well, and his brother had viewed him with a lifted brow the first day back in the office building the family owned. “It doesn’t appear that the wilderness did you any harm,” Howard had said with a laugh. “You’re looking like a sodbuster, brother dear. Brown as the proverbial berry.”
Max had plowed through the backlog of work, doggedly clearing his desk, aware that Howard lurked about, ready to propose a new venture for the business that had been in the family for almost a century. Now his brother stood before him and waffled a bit, as if he disliked admitting that his plan would produce problems.
“We’ll have to buckle down for a while,” he said finally. “Both of us, Max.” His voice became defensive as he stood firm. And then he added a final thrust. “I’ve done double duty for the past months, you know.”
“And I did more than my share while you were ill three years ago,” Max stated mildly, “not to mention the late hours I’ve worked since I got back in town.” Defensive himself, he held up a hand to halt the hasty words that were sure to come. “I know. I know. You couldn’t help being laid up for six months. But then I couldn’t do much about the family emergency that took me away, either.”
“Emergency?” Howard asked, doubt ringing in the word. “It took you three years to get around to finding your wayward wife, and suddenly it was an emergency?”
“She wasn’t wayward,” Max said quietly, his tone a warning.
Howard backtracked readily. “You know what I mean. Wrong choice of words, I suppose.”
“I’m going to have her back here,” Max told him. “And I’m not going to sacrifice my marriage a second time to this business. If we have to hire additional supervisors, so be it. I’ll put in my work week, and expect you to do the same, but no more late hours and weekends at my desk at home.”
Howard sat down in a leather chair and considered his brother steadily. One leg crossed over the other. “I take it you’ve done a total about-face—reformed, so to speak. I feel like I’ve lost track here somewhere. Mother didn’t mention the fact that you were bringing Faith back to the fold. What did I miss?”
Max stifled the urge to vent his anger on the man before him. “Mother has caused a bundle of trouble all the way around,” he said after a moment. “Apparently, she was not kind to Faith during the years of our marriage, and I was too thick-skulled to catch on to the problems.”
“You know she’s an interfering creature,” Howard said with a shrug.
“More than I was aware of, apparently,” Max admitted. “Has she interfered in your marriage?”
Howard grinned widely. “Why do you think I chose to build a house all the way across town when I walked down the aisle with Melissa?”
“I should have been so intelligent,” Max said morosely. And then he straightened in his chair. “Spilled milk,” he said firmly. “Not worth fussing over.” His gaze was sharp as it focused on his brother. “But know this one thing. No matter what it takes, I’ll be making a home for my wife and somehow coaxing her to live in it with me. That’s my first item of business.
“You,” he said firmly, “can be in charge of hiring a new agent to keep track of shipping and schedules. Someone dependable and honest, with some experience behind him. I’ll look over the paperwork for the loans we require this afternoon, and we can get this thing set in motion by tomorrow.”
“We’ll need to set up a new office on the docks,” Howard reminded him.
“That’s up to you,” Max said with a wave of his hand, already engrossed in the sheaf of papers he held. “Find a clean place with enough room for three or four desks,
in a safe area.”
“That’s it?” Howard was nonplussed, his mouth twitching in amusement. “You sure don’t fool around once you make up your mind, do you?”
Max looked up, impatient with the delay. “See if you can locate that captain that left Pacific General. Buy him away from wherever he’s working. We’ll offer him enough money to insure his agreement to work for us. Tell him he’ll have the first ship to sail with our flag on it.”
Max narrowed his eyes, examining his memory. “What was his name? Richard Weathermore? Something like that, if I recall.” He waved a hand, pointing at his office door. “Get on with it. If you’ve settled this in your mind and made the decision to do it, then get it underway.”
Howard rocked back on his heels, his hands thrust into his pockets. “I just thought you might want to argue about it a bit, cringe a little at spending such an inordinate amount of money. At least waffle over the expense.”
“You have to spend money to make money sometimes,” Max said bluntly. “It’s a solid idea. Should have thought of it myself, I suppose. But since you’re the one with the intelligence this week, I’ll give you the credit.” His grin was sudden and rare, and Howard responded to it.
“Damn, it’s good to have you back, brother.” He turned on his heel and crossed the Aubusson carpet that covered the floor. At the door he turned back, his hand on the brass knob. “Congratulations on resolving your problems with Faith, by the way. Melissa always liked her, you know. So did I. Felt sorry for her during all the mess—”
He broke off as Max frowned. “I mean when the baby died, and all. And then to have her just walk away.” His grin was faint as he spoke his mind. “I didn’t think she had it in her to leave you, Max. I think she shook you up a bit.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” Max said quietly, leaning back in his chair, the sheaf of papers clutched in one hand. “Now make tracks, partner. There are things to be accomplished.”
Texas Gold (Mills & Boon Historical) Page 22