Rubal turned his attention to Molly. She was eyeing the three men, her lips pursed. He could tell the four dollars a week tempted her. He played his trump card. “They agreed to help out around here on days they can’t work in the forest—paint, fix the front step, things like that.”
She turned stricken eyes to him. She was tempted. He could see it. But it didn’t look to be a sweet victory. He’d brought her another basket of trouble, that was evident. But dang it, sometimes a person had to wade through mud to reach clear water. Then Cleatus spoke again, and Rubal figured what he’d reached was deep water. Cleatus motioned to the porch.
“Come on out here. We don’t have to settle this within hearing of the whole town.”
Rubal scanned the dining table again. The three girls he met at church were ogling him. Master Taylor and his wife were glaring at him, and three older women stared, aghast. Their eyes danced with visions of gossip in the making. Of a sudden, the schoolmaster shoved back from the table, pulled out his wife’s chair, and guided her toward the strangers in the foyer. Reaching Molly he paused only long enough to issue a warning.
“Mrs. Young is working on the papers, Miss Durant. After this, you can be sure we will rush the process. Children in this community will not be subjected to such…” he squinted from one logger to another, giving Rubal the final stab of his fury, “…improprieties.”
“Wait a cockeyed minute—” Rubal grabbed the schoolmaster’s sleeve. Molly held him back. Her voice could have frozen lava.
“Mr. Jarrett, would you take my new boarders to the kitchen? Sugar can fix them a bite to eat and show them their rooms.”
Icy though her tone, her words were clear and steady, and Rubal was suddenly so proud he felt like hugging her. Instead, he favored her with a professional—he hoped—bow of compliance. “Sure thing, Mol—…uh, Miss Durant.”
Cleatus wasn’t nearly so agreeable once Rubal left them alone. He and Molly stood together watching the schoolmaster stomp down the walkway, dragging his much-shorter wife by a firm grip to her arm.
“I thought you agreed to send Jarrett back where he came from,” Cleatus fumed.
Molly watched Master Taylor and his wife reach the road and head north.
“That man has you bewitched,” Cleatus continued. “Come to your senses, Molly. Don’t take in those loggers. Send them packing. Send him packing.”
Molly touched the spot on her cheek Jubal Jarrett had kissed at the dawn of this day. A day filled with confusion and anxiety. With anger when he hadn’t returned for dinner. With worry when he was two hours late.
She studied the broken step in the fading light of day. Not only had he brought her paying boarders and paying diners, but he had noticed the little things—the broken step, the peeling paint…the lonely children. “I can’t turn them out on the street, Cleatus.”
“Then send them over to Trimble.”
“Trimble’s a company town. They won’t let other loggers live there.”
“No one would know the difference.”
“You’re saying they should lie…I should lie?”
Sighing, he tried to embrace her, but she resisted. “They’re staying, Cleatus. All of them.”
“Even Jarrett?”
“Cleatus, please understand. I need the money.”
“No, you don’t, honey.” He reached for her again. This time she allowed him to hold her, feeling guilty for not doing so earlier. “Marry me, Molly. I can take care of you. I want to take care of you.”
She watched his Adam’s apple bob. “And the children?”
His arms tightened.
“You heard Master Taylor. They’re going to take the children away from me.”
“Can you blame them? After that man stormed in here with three loggers—expecting you to let them stay under your roof? Don’t you understand what that looks like, Molly? Don’t you care?”
His last question cut her to the quick. She tore herself free. “Of course, I care. That’s what this is all about. I care about the children. I care about keeping my family together.” She glanced again at the broken step, then down the unkempt walkway, where weeds gleamed like silver spears beneath the full moon, to the gate that hung on one hinge. “I care about my home. Jubal said they would help around the place.”
She stared forlornly at Cleatus. “I can use their money, Cleatus, and their help.”
“Molly, be reasonable. I understand your sentimental attachment to this old place, but it’ll never be worth anything. Marry me. Let me build you a new house.”
The screen door flew open with a squawk. Betty and Cynthia and Jimmie Sue skipped across the porch.
“Be careful of the step,” Molly warned. “And thank you for coming.”
Betty tossed a grin over her shoulder. “We’ll be back for the dance Saturday night.”
“Dance?” Cleatus’s mouth fell open. “Dance! That does it. Jarrett’s gone too far this time.” He turned toward the foyer, but Molly restrained him.
“I’ll handle it, Cleatus. Now, I think it’s time for you to leave.”
“Leave? Leave you alone with four single men in the house?”
She eyed him dangerously.
He reached for her, pulled her close. Distracted by his last question, she allowed it.
“You certainly have a low opinion of me. Same as everyone else in town.” Her reaction to Jubal on this very porch not twenty-four hours ago came back with a rush. Weren’t they right? Weren’t they all right?
“Marry me, Molly.”
His lips touched hers. At least Cleatus still wanted to marry her, in spite of his opinion of her low moral standards. Somehow this idea offended, rather than consoled her. She twisted her head, moving her lips, offering her cheek instead. But that reminded her of Jubal’s kiss in the kitchen this morning. She tensed.
“Marry me, Molly. Say yes tonight.”
“You know my conditions, Cleatus. We keep the children and we live in this house.”
“Molly, Molly, what will it take to convince you to put away your childish dreams?” He reached for her lips again, and suddenly she knew if she didn’t let him kiss her good-night, she would never get rid of him.
That’s the way Rubal found them. Standing in the middle of the porch, Cleatus’s arms around Molly, his head over hers, his lips on hers. She stood with her back to the foyer, so he couldn’t tell whether she was enjoying it, or merely enduring it. Either way, he didn’t like it one danged bit. Pushing open the squawking screen door, he stepped out.
“Sorry.” But he didn’t sound the least bit sorry and he knew it.
Molly jumped out of Cleatus’s arms like she’d been snakebit.
“Can’t you tell when you’re intruding, Jarrett?” Cleatus growled.
Rubal studied Molly. She looked skittish and refused to look at him.
Defiance gleaming in his eyes, Cleatus reached for Molly again. She shrugged him off. He glared at Rubal. “See what you’ve done to her? You storm in here like a wild boar, destroying everything in sight. You won’t be happy until you tear up the whole pea patch, will you?”
“Cleatus—” Molly began.
He shook off her hand. “If it were up to me, I’d pack you and those three in there into that damned wagon and send you packing tonight.” He glared at Molly, frustrated, hurt. “What do you say, Molly? Is it them…or me?”
“Cleatus, don’t. You can’t ask me to choose between my livelihood and…and the man I…”
When her words faltered, his eyes narrowed on her. Silently, he prompted her to continue.
Rubal held his breath. She didn’t love Cleatus Farrington. How could she even think she did? If she said so, it would be a lie.
When she still didn’t continue, Cleatus disregarded Rubal’s presence. “Say you’ll marry me, Molly. Say it tonight, and I’ll throw these bastards out on their tails.”
Molly felt torn in half. “You know my terms. Keep the children together and live in my house.”
&nbs
p; For mutinous moments Cleatus glared at Molly. Rubal felt sorry for the man. Or he would have, except for the fact that Molly had virtually agreed to marry him. The terms didn’t sound half bad, leastways for a man as hell-bent on marrying as Cleatus turned out to be. Rubal considered the change in the man, and realized it must be his own presence that had prompted Cleatus to step up his pursuit of Molly.
Finally Cleatus tore his eyes from Molly, turned and stomped off the porch, forgetting in his fury the broken step. His foot plunged through, he tumbled forward, catching himself with his hands. Awkwardly, while the two watched silently from the porch, he extricated himself, then turned to condemn Molly. “What did I tell you? This place is falling apart.”
Molly took two steps, grasped the pillar closest to the path, and stared after Cleatus, watching him go.
Rubal didn’t speak until Cleatus disappeared down the street. Then he cleared his throat. “He’s right. I’ve brought you nothing but trouble.”
She spun around with more spunk than he’d seen in her since she pulled that shotgun on him the day he arrived. Her eyes narrowed. “A dance?”
He shrugged.
“What made you think I’d agree to holding a dance…?” She glanced from side to side at her beloved, dilapidated house. “Here? A dance here?”
“I thought…well, I mean…uh, I figured you generally held dances on a Saturday night.”
“He told you.”
Rubal froze. “Who?”
“Your brother.”
Swallowing the bile that rose in his throat at the thought of lying to Molly again—and at the consequences if he confessed, he looked her square in the eye. “No one told me anything, Molly. I’ll swear to that. I mean all boarding houses hold dances. It’s been going on since Texas was a republic. Hell, General Sam Houston himself danced Saturday nights away at boarding houses. Haven’t you heard about Miz Long’s boarding house down at Richmond—?”
Molly turned abruptly away. “Stop. Please stop. It doesn’t matter. I’m just touchy about that.”
“Dang it, Molly, I’m sorry. I wouldn’t have promised the boys if I’d known you’d be against it.”
“It’s okay.”
“They were eager as all get out…uh, I mean they were ready to agree to working around the place, fixing things…” He glanced at the step that to his mind Cleatus Farrington should have repaired days, probably weeks or months ago. “Like that step, and the fence. If they have time, they’ll even paint the house.”
“I can’t afford the whitewash.”
“Couldn’t,” he corrected. “Now you can. If you spruce the place up, no telling how much business you’ll get.”
Molly ran a hand through her hair, clasping it to the crown of her head. Light from the moon shone in a shaft of light across the porch, augmented by streams of lamplight from the parlor. For the first time tonight, Rubal noticed that her hair wasn’t in braids. His heart skipped to his throat.
“Look at me, Molly.”
She glanced up. He studied her face, so despondent, so lovely. Her hair was pulled back in a loose bun; several loose curls framed her face. His fingers twitched when he considered taking a curl in his hands. He pressed his lips together, recalling the night before.
“Molly, about last night. I’m real sorry—”
“I don’t want to talk about last night, Jubal.”
As always when she called him by his brother’s name, he felt like the worst kind of heel. “I just wanted you to know I’m sorry. I was tough on you. And it was none of my business.”
She smiled at that. His gaze followed hers through the screen door to the darkened foyer. From the kitchen a low rumble of voices could be heard. Sugar was feeding the loggers. And if Rubal guessed right, Willie Joe and Little Sam, and most certainly Lindy, were huddled around listening, talking…in Lindy’s case, probably flirting with that young red-headed logger named Jeff. Rubal made a mental note to keep an eye on that situation.
“None of this is your business,” Molly replied. Far from condemning, her tone was light, almost grateful. “But you barged right in, anyway. Why?”
Her question caught him off guard. Hadn’t he asked himself the same thing any number of times this past day. “It seemed like the thing to do,” he responded vaguely. “Guess I’m just the meddlin’ sort.”
“I don’t think so. But Cleatus was right. You’ve sure torn my life apart.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“Don’t apologize. It was bound to have happened sooner or later. I’ve been holding on by a thread, while the town finds fault with everything I do. They won’t stop until they’ve taken the children.” She shrugged. “Maybe Cleatus is right. Maybe they would be better off in foster homes.”
“No, Molly. Nothing beats your own flesh and blood.” He reconsidered. “At least, when there’s love enough to go around. I respect Cleatus’s views, but what was right for him, would have been dead wrong for me and my family.” Stepping closer he took her by the shoulders. “And for yours, Molly. Foster homes wouldn’t hurt only the kids. Losing them would hurt you, too.”
When he tried to pull her to his chest, she stepped away. “I’ve thought about that. What if I’m being selfish?” Moving to the end of the porch, she sat in one of the rocking chairs in the shadows. He took the swing nearby, wishing she had chosen it, too.
“What if Cleatus is right about…about everything?” she continued. “He says I’m being bullheaded about this house.”
“I don’t think you are. It’s a fine old house. They don’t make ’em like this anymore.”
“That’s what I told him. But he insists on building a new house…on my property.”
“He’s in love with you, Molly. He wants you to have the best, which, to his way of thinking, means something new. I can understand that.”
“You can?”
“Understand,” he repeated. “I didn’t say I agree with him.”
Rubal rocked the heel of his boot back and forth on the porch floor, slowly moving the swing beneath him. The scent of honeysuckle filled the night air, reminding him of Molly. Suddenly he realized that he had associated the scent of honeysuckle with Molly for a long time now. Honeysuckle had been in bloom the night he and Uncle Baylor attended the dance here at the Blake House. Honeysuckle had filled the night air then, too, and had remained in his memory, a stirring reminder of Molly Durant. Every time he’d caught a whiff of it, he had been reminded of her. It taunted him to return. He wished he’d listened sooner.
“I’m grateful to you, Jubal.”
He sneered.
“Really. I’m grateful. You showed me what I need to do and how to go about it.”
“What’s that?”
“Fight,” she said. “You showed me how to stand up for what I believe, for what I want, for the children.”
She grinned. “Even for this run-down old house.”
“Things worth having generally require a fight. Leastways, that’s been my experience.” And would continue to be, he knew. He was facing a passel of trouble himself—telling Molly the truth about his identity.
“Can you help me again?” Her question, voiced in a plaintive tone, took him by surprise. Emotion caught in his throat. His bootheel stilled. He leaned forward, resting elbows on his knees. Her skirts were but a breath away. Her hands were clasped tightly in her lap. He wanted to reach for them, but didn’t.
“You know I will,” he said at length. “Anything.”
“Probably not anything.” She laughed. “But this isn’t dangerous or illegal.”
“Shoot.”
“This house sits on a thousand acres of land. Most of it’s in timber, which Cleatus claims is worthless.”
“Whoa, Molly? You aren’t saying you want to sell your property?”
“Never.” He heard the bitterness in her tone. When she continued, he began to understand why. “Cleatus wants to sell most of it. He’s even located a buyer.”
“With your permission?
”
“No, but—” Molly fell silent, then finally admitted, “I can’t ask Cleatus to do this—he’d be against it.”
Rubal ran his tongue around his lips, thoughtful. “I might feel the same way.”
“I want to sell some of the timber, but I don’t know how—the people to talk to, what to ask, not anything, really.”
He looked across at her, thoughtful. “I’m new to the area, Molly. Cleatus knows more—”
“I’m asking you.”
“You’re engaged to Cleatus.”
“No, I’m not.”
“A technicality. Don’t you trust him?”
“Of course, I trust him. He’s the most honest person I know. It’s just that…well, he wouldn’t want me to do it. For one reason, he doesn’t think timber is worth anything.”
“He works for the only bank in this area, and he thinks that way?”
“He said Lutcher & Moore are Yankees.”
“The war’s over. Hasn’t he heard?”
“He said Texas timber isn’t like northern timber. He said it’s about to play out, and when it does…”
“Molly, there’s a lot of folks feel that way. But believe me, the people who know better all agree, timber’s goin’ to be big industry in East Texas for a long time to come. Why else would L&M want to build a railroad?”
She sighed.
“What’s the other reason you can’t go to Cleatus about this?”
“He wouldn’t approve of my reasons.”
Rubal threatened his fingers together and rested his chin on his knuckles. He waited for her to continue.
“Like you said, Cleatus is in love with me. He wants what’s best for me. I mean, he wants what he decides is best for me.”
“And that doesn’t include the kids or…” Rubal gestured with his chin. “Or this place.”
“He doesn’t want me to make money off the Blake House.”
“Is that why he’s against loggers staying here?”
“No. That was my mother’s idea. My stepfather was a logger. When he was killed in a logging accident, she stopped boarding loggers. I kept up the practice. Now, I can see that I shouldn’t have.”
“So, why’s Cleatus against you making money around here?”
Secret Surrender--Jarrett Family Sagas--Book Four Page 13