Secret Surrender--Jarrett Family Sagas--Book Four

by Vivian Vaughan

  “I shook hands with the donor,” was the way he put it. He was a slight, balding man of middle years, whose bushy moustache made up for his lack of head covering. From his precise manner of speaking one might judge that Travis would likely return home from a semester at San Augustine Academy speaking a language his family couldn’t understand. “I could never renege on my word as a gentleman, madam.”

  “Can’t you see my position, Master Wintrope? Travis needs this education—”

  “Indeed, madam. The boy’s record with Master Taylor is exceptional. We at San Augustine would be privileged to help further his education.”

  “Thank you,” Molly responded, wondering whether she shouldn’t correct the master’s impression that she was a married woman. Cleatus had perked up when the headmaster addressed her as “madam.” Other concerns prevailed, however. “I must know what is expected of us in return for his schooling.”

  The headmaster shook his head. “Not a thing, madam. Not a thing. The money came by way of a party who wishes only to see the boy educated.”

  “Nothing was said about adoption?”

  “Adoption? My dear lady, I should say not. Why would you entertain such an archaic idea?”

  Molly kept her silence, thinking that for such a learned man Master Wintrope was a shade naive. Else he didn’t live around the kind of busybodies she did. She thought often of Rubal’s inquiry as to why she wanted to live in Apple Springs. She still wanted to, she supposed. But in the past few weeks, even her pride in her home had begun to fade.

  “Travis will fit in real well up here,” Cleatus observed after they had seen the boy settled in the home of Miss Eliza Benjamin, a spinster who lived near the school and boarded several boys. Cleatus clucked to the mare, and they were off.

  Molly waved to Travis, keeping up a brave front until they were out of sight. Then she dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. The fear that had plagued her since they first received the letter from Master Wintrope resurfaced. “You’re sure you didn’t pay for Travis’s schooling, Cleatus?”

  “Now why would I do a thing like that and not tell you?” He reached a hand along the back of the seat, beckoning her to move out of her corner and sit beside him.

  She remained where she was, at the far side of the carriage. “Because you’re trying awfully hard to take charge of my life.”

  Cleatus flicked the reins to speed up the team. She could tell he was miffed. “You didn’t hold it against that Jarrett fellow for taking charge.”

  Molly stared at the red-rutted road. Evening was settling quickly around them and the road ahead was long. “I refuse to discuss Rubal Jarrett all the way back to Apple Springs.”

  “Then come here and sit beside me, Molly. I don’t want to discuss him either.”

  A few minutes later, she became alarmed when he began to steer the team off the road, edging the carriage toward a small clearing. “What are you doing?”

  “Thought we’d stop a while and eat the rest of that food Sugar sent along.”

  They’d stopped on the way up for a picnic. But Travis had been with them. To stop now, in the middle of nowhere, alone with Cleatus Farrington, sent chills down her spine. How foolish, she chided. If he were nothing else, Cleatus was a gentleman. But he was also a man who fancied himself in love with her.

  “It’s too late to stop,” she objected. “We can eat while we ride.” She moved to open the basket at her feet, but he had already pulled the carriage to a rocking halt. He set the brake and turned toward her. When she pressed herself into the corner, he followed, scooting across the seat. Before she could decide how to stop him, he reached from both sides, encircled her, and drew her into a tight embrace.

  “Cleatus, don’t…” She struggled to free herself.

  But he only held her tighter. When he attempted to kiss her, she ducked her head.

  “We should go,” she mumbled. “It isn’t safe—”

  Using persistent force, he tipped her face, covered her lips, which were open to speak, and thrust his tongue inside her mouth. She went rigid.

  “Clea—” she murmured, but that only opened her to further exploration. His kiss was forceful, just short of bruising, demanding, desperate, and in the end despicable.

  She concentrated on freeing her lips, only to find that he had worked his hand between them. Suddenly he was gripping one of her breasts in his palm, massaging, teasing the nipple.

  Maneuvering both hands up his chest, she finally managed to push him away. He fell back against the seat, his face to the ceiling, his breathing heavy.

  “I know you don’t love me, Molly.”

  She sat stiff, hating what had happened, resenting it. She had allowed Rubal to touch her breasts and more. She had invited Rubal’s wet, hungry kisses, invited his tongue to delve and probe. She had allowed Rubal to do this very thing. And so much more. Why couldn’t she let Cleatus? Cleatus, who truly loved her.

  “I’ll be good to you, Molly. You’ll learn to love me. In time, you’ll learn.”

  “Oh, Cleatus.” She reached toward him. Instead of finding his hand, however, she touched his thigh and before she could pull away, he captured her fingers, pressing her open palm high on his leg in an intimate way that made her squirm.

  When he moved her hand, terror shot through her. She jerked, trying to free herself, certain of his destination. Desperately she fought touching him…in such a private place. Where she had touched Rubal. Visions of her and Rubal’s intimacies assailed her, leaving her weak and embarrassed. She felt her face glow in the semidarkness.

  But Cleatus’s strength prevailed and to her surprise, he only lifted her hand to his lips, where he kissed her knuckles, her fingers.

  She relaxed. “I’m sorry, Cleatus.”

  “So am I, honey,” he mumbled against her hand. “But you’ll come around. And I can wait.” As he spoke he pulled her hand over his shoulder. Slowly, he reached toward her again. His fingers skimmed her neck. She tensed.

  His fingers traveled up to her chin. He traced the outline of her lips. In spite of herself, she felt them quiver beneath his touch. When he tried to push his finger inside, she pursed her lips together, praying he would give up—take the message—of his own volition.

  But he didn’t. Instead he moved closer, and tried to kiss her again. She could tell he was trying to be gentle; but unlike Rubal’s innate gentleness, Cleatus’s attempts seemed awkward, forced. They left her cold.

  Was there no hope for her? No hope? Cleatus tried to be aggressive, but Rubal did it better. Cleatus tried to be gentle, but Rubal—In despair, she shrank back into the corner. “Take me home, Cleatus. Please.”

  He sat silent for a moment, except for his labored breathing. She could almost see the grim set to his mouth. She knew he was angry. Finally, he turned her loose, then released the brake, and set them on their way.

  “I’m sorry, Molly,” he mumbled after a while. “What will it take to convince you how much I care for you?”

  “Nothing,” she whispered. “I know. I’m sorry I can’t return your feelings.”

  “That damned Jarrett. Coming in here, turning you against me.”

  “I’m not against you, Cleatus. And Rubal Jarrett really has nothing to do with this.” It wasn’t exactly a lie, she thought. Rubal had shown her that her feelings for Cleatus were platonic, at best. Unfortunately, Rubal had also reinforced her feelings for himself.

  Was there no hope for her?

  They rode in silence through the darkening night, the carriage lamps their only source of light, since trees formed a continual canopy above their heads, closing out the sky. Usually she loved riding at night, usually she loved being out in the forest. But tonight the atmosphere was ominous, threatening. She felt as though the world were closing in on her.

  And yet, she should be rejoicing. Travis was in school. One of her goals had been realized, if only for one semester.

  The truth of the matter became suddenly clear. “If you thought by sending Tr
avis to school, Cleatus Farrington, you could have your way with me…”

  “Molly. For the last time. I didn’t send Travis to school. And I wasn’t trying to have my way with you. Damnit, don’t you know how much I love you? Don’t you know how hard it is not to…not to…”

  “Don’t, Cleatus. Please don’t say anything else.”

  At length, she changed the subject. “The only other person I can think of who would send Travis to school is Master Taylor.”

  “Those are my thoughts.”

  “So, what does he expect in return? And why for only one semester? It’ll break Travis’s heart to have to come home after one semester.”

  “Molly, uh…this might not be the best time to mention it, but the Harvey House people made an offer before they left town.”

  Molly’s breath caught. Her mouth went dry.

  “I know you don’t want to think about selling, but it would allow Travis to finish school.”

  “What about the others?” Her words escaped stridently from a constricted throat.

  “Aw, Molly, haven’t we argued enough for one night?”

  “And you keep saying we have a lot in common.”

  “We do. As soon as we can stop arguing about those children, we’ll be fine.”

  “Not if I have to give in to you.”

  The Blake House was lit up like a Christmas tree when they pulled into the side yard. Cleatus drew rein.

  “I thought you stopped taking in boarders.”

  “I did.”

  “Then who are those men sitting on your front porch?”

  In spite of all her efforts, Molly’s spirits skyrocketed. Rubal. Rubal. Rubal.

  No. No. No. When would she ever get him out of her system—off her mind and out of her heart? If tonight was any indication, it wouldn’t be for a very long time. If she couldn’t become intimate with a man who loved her as much as Cleatus did, there was surely no hope for her. Dutifully, she turned to Cleatus, her pulse racing with the prospect, however slim, of finding Rubal Jarrett on her front porch.

  “Thank you for taking us, Cleatus. It meant a lot to me. And just in case you’re the one sending Travis to school, thanks for that, too. I owe you a lot.”

  “Molly—”

  “But not…not what you tried tonight. Give me time.”

  “I will,” he agreed, and even then she thought of Rubal and knew that Rubal wouldn’t sit back and give her time; Rubal would have taken the bull by the horns and forced the issue. Before he left.

  Cleatus further infuriated her by sheepishly inquiring, “Can I at least kiss you good-night?”

  She offered her lips, reluctantly, and pulled away after a brief peck, eager to rush to the house, anxious lest the men on the porch see her allow Cleatus Farrington privileges. Anxious lest Rubal see and misunderstand.

  Cleatus wouldn’t agree to letting her approach the porch full of men alone, of course. She knew he was probably thinking the same thing she was praying for—Rubal’s return. Against all her efforts, she practically ran down the walk, with Cleatus on her heels.

  There were three of them—a tall, raw-boned man who sat on the top step smoking; the other two rocked in chairs across the porch. Molly’s eyes flew to the swing.

  It was empty.

  The large man rose from the step. “You must be Miss Durant.” He offered his hand; the other two came to their feet. “I’m Ranger Ringgold, boardin’ here for a while.”

  “She isn’t taking boarders.”

  Molly turned to the stone-faced Cleatus. Her heart pounded. Rangers. Rubal had gone for the Rangers. She scanned the two as yet unidentified men. Her eyes strayed again to the empty swing, then to the lighted foyer. Her heart raced, while her brain commanded her to be reasonable—

  But Cleatus always said she couldn’t be reasonable. Cleatus— Turning, she tried to reassure him. “Good night, Cleatus. Thank you again for driving me to San Augustine.”

  “Molly, I’m not leaving you with—”

  “Good night.” Her heart raced. “Be sure to come up for supper tomorrow.”

  With an indignant huff, Cleatus set down the picnic basket and turned to leave. Ranger Ringgold stopped him.

  “Any chance you’d be Cleatus Farrington, the banker?”

  Cleatus turned, glared at the men who resembled Rubal Jarrett in dress and arrogance.

  Fury rose inside Molly. Rubal sent them. Rubal put them up to this. She went to Cleatus’s aid. “Cleatus escorted me to San Augustine and back. Is there anything wrong with that?”

  “No, ma’am. What I meant to say was…uh…” He introduced the two men rocking on the porch. “Ranger Walters. Ranger Pettis.”

  Cleatus shook hands with each man in turn, suspicion furrowing his brow.

  “Mr. Farrington, we would appreciate it if word didn’t get out about us being in town.”

  Cleatus stared at Ranger Ringgold so long and hard Molly wondered whether he were trying to stare the man down. “Do I have a choice?” he questioned at length. “You’re the law.”

  “Can we trust you to keep this between us?”

  “I’ll let you know after you tell me what you’re doing on my fiancée’s front porch.”

  Molly bristled.

  Cleatus shrugged. “It’s not me you should worry about; I can hold my tongue. It’s her damned customers. They spread gossip faster’n a forest fire.”

  “Customers?” Ranger Ringgold questioned.

  “Molly feeds the townsfolk—dinner and supper. She’s going to quit, soon as—”

  “Until we wrap up our business here, Miss Durant, we’ll have to ask you to close your doors to outside guests.”

  “How long?”

  “Couple of days if we’re lucky. The state will reimburse you for any money you lose on our account.”

  Molly nodded.

  Ranger Ringgold offered his hand to Cleatus again. “Nice makin’ your acquaintance, Mr. Farrington.”

  Cleatus didn’t like the situation. Molly could see it in his pursed lips. He glared at Ranger Ringgold’s hand. “I’ll be around. After that last boarder she took in, can’t be too careful.”

  Before leaving, he drew Molly aside. “I don’t like the looks of this, Molly.”

  “I know. But it’s all right.”

  “How can you say that?” He frowned at her. “Unless you know why they’re here. They look a lot like—”

  “No, Cleatus,” she interrupted, denying the truth. Or at least, what she suspected to be the truth. They had come to arrest the timber thieves. And Rubal sent them here. Here to the Blake House. Her stomach did strange things at the thought. “It’ll be okay. Really. They’re the law.”

  “You know the stories about Texas Rangers, Molly. I don’t like the idea of you being alone with them.”

  She smiled, a wan smile. She considered telling him that she had managed to defend herself once already tonight, and was certain she could do so again, should the occasion arise. “Don’t worry. I have the children.”

  “You should all sleep in one room. That way…”

  “Cleatus. I’ll be fine. Good night. Thank you for driving Travis and me to San Augustine.”

  Cleatus stuffed his hands in his pockets, but when he swayed toward her, his lips puckered for a good-night kiss, she sidestepped.

  “See you tomorrow, Cleatus.” She watched until the yard gate slammed behind him, then turned to her boarders.

  “Did Sugar show you your rooms?”

  “Yes, ma’am. And fed us right good, too. Man by the name of Rubal Jarrett sent us here. Said you ran the finest boarding house in these parts.”

  Her heart raced, but she replied in icy tones. “The only boarding house in these parts.” Otherwise Rubal would never have stopped here, either.

  With Cleatus gone, she stood alone with the men, and the shock of their presence set in. They looked so much like Rubal. Not as tall, of course. And not as handsome, at least to her eyes. But they wore similar clothes, spoke in a simi
lar dialect, and each possessed a similar arrogance. Perhaps that’s what it took to be a Ranger. So be it. If they caught the thief who stole her timber, so be it. The thief who stole her heart wouldn’t be so easily brought to justice.

  As much as she wanted to inquire about the investigation tonight, she was too tired. When she reached for the picnic basket, Ranger Walters beat her to it, and when she stepped toward the front screen, Ranger Pettis opened it.

  In the foyer, she removed her bonnet, replacing the pin in its crown, before hanging it on the hall rack. The sight of the Rangers’ Stetsons brought another rush of unwanted memories.

  Likely while these Rangers were in town, she would be inundated by unwanted memories. Pray God, their stay would be short.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The three days the Texas Rangers spent at Blake House ranked among the worst and the best in Molly’s life. Worst, because their presence was a constant reminder of Rubal. Best for the same reason. Not only for Molly, but for the children.

  Hoping to escape notice by the townsfolk, which Molly could have told them would be a near impossibility, the three Rangers rode away from the Blake House Saturday morning at an early hour.

  Willie Joe and Little Sam, however, had seen them from their bedroom window and rushed downstairs, practically tumbling over each other in their haste to get out the back door.

  “It’s Rubal!” Willie Joe called. “Molly, it’s Rubal!”

  Molly and Sugar were clearing the table from the Rangers’ breakfast.

  “It’s mister, Molly!”

  “Boy, oh, boy!”

  Reaching out, Molly caught each of the boys by a nightshirt. “No, it isn’t.”

  “It is,” Willie Joe insisted. “I saw him.”

  “It isn’t Rubal, Willie Joe. We have three new boarders.”

  Little Sam rubbed a fist in his eye. “Mister didn’t come back?”

  Molly clutched him to her breast, her own eyes misting. “No, honey. Now you two run back upstairs and dress. If you help me weed the garden, I’ll take you fishing.”