RuthAnne held up her hands between them. “Now, now, y’all. Let’s just have a look at how he’s healing. I see the doctor took out your stitches. Doesn’t look like it’ll scar much.”
“Barely at all, he said. It’s amazing.” Josie breathed in relief. They both squeezed RuthAnne’s hands, gazes locking over her in an easy truce.
They might bicker, RuthAnne noticed, but there was so much love between them it washed over her in a wave. She knew she witnessed a very private moment and averted her eyes toward the north. The Rincon Mountain range towered above, its wide half-circle seeming to erupt from the desert floor. She could see it for all of its glory and how the fickle desert at the bottom became scrubby chaparral up its slopes, the peaks peppered with piñon pines and rocky cliffs toward the summit.
“It’s beautiful here. I’ve never seen such a view.”
“Josie told me, ’build me a house here, and I’ll stay with you forever.’” Ross pulled his wife close in front of him, his hand finding the bulge of their baby. Josie rested her head back against his shoulder.
“So far, we’ve done just that.” She sighed. “Don’t go cracking your head open again and miss all of the fun your son’s going to bring us, got it, Sergeant?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
RuthAnne saw a flicker of worry behind his pale eyes, and she turned again to admire the view. Two small clouds of dust on the road heralded visitors.
“Are you expecting company?” She squinted against the sun’s glare. “Riders are coming up the road.”
Ross looked over and sighed. “That’d be the cavalry come to fetch me.”
“You’re going with them?” RuthAnne’s voice trailed off as she saw the way the man on the lead horse sat squarely in the saddle, as if at one with his mount. Bowen. The brim of his hat cast a shadow over his face, but she knew the man who plagued her every waking moment even at such a distance. She blushed, heart racing at the unexpected prospect of seeing him. The other rider, who could only be Reggie, followed at a canter.
“Your doctor said at least two weeks of rest, Ross MacEvoy! I had plans for you...” Josie scolded, but he laughed.
“Plans, including rerunning fence line along the back 80 like I did for you yesterday? If I’m well enough to dig post holes, I’m well enough to do my job.” He winked at RuthAnne, patting his wife on the rump before she stormed into the house. “Oh, I ain’t as injured as I let on. I’m a fast healer. Besides, Bowen wanted folks to think I was worse off than I was, so we might have a bit of surprise on our side.”
“Well, you’ve done surprised everybody,” Josie called through the open bay windows. White muslin curtains blew to the outside in a swirling breeze.
Ross just grinned. RuthAnne sat heavily in the rocking chair on the wide porch and waited for company to arrive. She just hadn’t counted on being completely ignored once they got there.
A few hours later, RuthAnne helped Josie bring out platters of arroz con pollo, beans, and fresh corn tortillas. The men hunkered down at the table, seated on pine benches carved by Josie’s father. They spoke low as Josie set down pitchers of freshly-squeezed lemonade, the lemons picked from the four trees by the well.
Across the way, chickens pecked and squabbled in front of the hen house. The horses were stabled for the night, and cows were out lowing in the fields beyond. It was a picture of farm life but for the men in uniform looking ready to bolt at a moment’s notice.
RuthAnne stood in Bowen’s line of sight and waited for him to acknowledge her presence, for some hint of recognition or remembrance of their parting. Receiving none, she turned on her heel and marched back into the house to fetch the glasses and plates. Setting the tray down a bit harder than necessary on the chopping block, she loaded it up with the thick Mexican glassware, blue-edged and heavy. They clinked together and threatened to topple to the hardwood kitchen floor as she gathered them up.
“Let me get that for you,” Josie said.
“I’ve got it.” RuthAnne lifted the tray, met her new friend’s eyes, and slammed it down again. Josie covered a bubbling laugh. “Haven’t seen him for four days, and this is the treatment I get?”
“Oh, honey. He’s on the warpath. Doesn’t have time for romancing you. You’ve got a lot to learn about loving a cavalry man.”
“I don’t love him. I can’t stand him.” She kicked a booted foot into the cabinet and hopped on her heel, pain shooting from her toe.
“Right. That’s why you’re slamming around my kitchen. At this rate, you’re going to break all of my dishes, Ruthie. You want my advice?” Josie waited a beat and gave it anyway. “Let them have their little meeting. Then, if you do what I did to my poor Ross there, you’re sure to get his attention. Likely all of it.”
“What do you mean?” Her eyebrows raised with interest as Josie went on, explaining her plan. A hint of a smile found RuthAnne’s lips. “What if he sees through it? He and Ross are all but joined at the hip.”
“Ross likes to talk, but he don’t tell those boys everything. Some things a man’s got to keep to himself. Especially when his pride’s involved.” Josie gave a wink. “You go on out now, act like you’re not bothered by them and their man club. We’ll see who’s boss before the day’s over.”
RuthAnne mulled Josie’s words as she took out glasses and dishes. Rather than silently demand Bowen look at her, she averted her gaze, kept quiet, and backed away from the table. She even pretended not to hear him call her name as she disappeared back into the house.
“Now, what the devil was that all about?” Bowen grumbled, pouring himself a glass of refreshing lemonade.
Reggie looked up, catching Ross’ eye. “We need to finish our plans, Cap. Keep your head in the game here.”
The sun had arced across the sky and perched just over the Tucson Mountains to the west, setting the high thin clouds ablaze with color. To the east, the fingers of twilight were spreading greedily. There was no time for anyone to head out now. They would all be staying at the MacEvoy ranch until morning.
Reggie piled his plate full of the steaming chicken and rice. He sopped up the refried beans into a tortilla, alternately talking and taking large bites of the savory meal.
Bowen picked at his plate, his attention focused on the house. He watched the two women mill around, hearing their lilting voices, a titter of laughter as they went from room to room lighting candles and lanterns against the growing darkness. RuthAnne helped open more windows to let in the cool evening breeze. One woman short in stature and heavy with child; the other tall and lean as a young mare and just as likely to kick out as canter away. Both women were beautiful to him in different ways.
RuthAnne stood with her back to him, hands on her hips as she told a story. He couldn’t make out the words, but caught her meaning as she gestured to her shoulder. She was talking about him! After a moment, he realized she was making fun of him. His tortilla went dry in his throat as he stood up, hitting the table with his knee. Ross reached out to catch a glass before it toppled to the ground.
“Bowen? You all right?” His men watched him warily.
“Fine. I’m fine.” He sat down heavily, nearly knocking over the lemonade pitcher. “Go on. Let’s finish this so we can get the horses fed before dark.”
Reggie and Ross leaned over the drawing he was sketching on the brown paper spread out between them, neither saying a word about the obvious object of Bowen’s distraction.
After a moment, RuthAnne breezed out with a coffeepot and ceramic mugs. “You all must need some stimulation. All that plotting and planning can be draining.” Her smile was winsome as she poured and set cups for Ross and Reggie.
“Much obliged, ma’am.” Reggie took the mug and inhaled the rich aroma, long and deep.
“Captain?” She stood beside him, her dress barely brushing his arm. He looked up, frowning sharply, and nodded. RuthAnne raised an eyebrow and poured for him. As he reached for his mug, she turned slightly, causing his hand to tip it over and on
to his shirt. Hot coffee splattered and stained. He yelped at the heat, falling prostrate into the dirt. Everyone laughed, save for RuthAnne, who knelt over him with a hand towel.
“Good heavens! You’re the clumsy one, aren’t you?” She attempted to mop him up, but he simply grabbed the towel away and began scrubbing his white cotton shirt with abandon.
“Bowen Shepherd. That’s coffee, not water. You’re just spreading the stain around. I’m the laundress. Remember? Come on inside. I’m sure Ross has a shirt that’ll fit you. Might be a tad bit big, but...”
“Big? I’m twice his size!” Bowen barked.
“Hmm. Come on with me before you cause a scene.” RuthAnne marched away, up the stairs and inside the house. Bowen stood, speechless, towel in hand.
“Well, go on. Follow her!” Ross ordered his commanding officer.
Muttering and cursing under his breath, Bowen did as he was told.
Inside, RuthAnne stood sorting through Ross’s wardrobe, searching for a suitable replacement. Bowen darkened the doorway, not setting foot inside Ross and Josie’s bedroom. He watched her delicate hands flutter like butterfly wings over the carefully hung garments. He could hear Josie singing in the kitchen, just down the hall. He stepped in with cautious feet.
“We’ll have to soak that shirt before the stain sets.” Her back was still to him; her hand hesitated.
He caught her eye for a split second as she watched him through the mirror on the dresser.
She sucked in her breath and quickly went back to sorting through garments. “You know, for all of your scheming to find that bandit, you should ask others their opinion from time to time. Maybe a different point of view would serve you well.”
“When I want your point of view, I’ll ask for it.” He stomped his boot hard enough to make perfume bottles rattle together on the vanity, but she refused to turn around.
“Well, here’s something you might not know. Seems a lot of people at the fort are asking me about El Tejano lately. What I know. What I remember. Perhaps what you are looking for isn’t out in the mountains but right under your very nose. Ah! Here’s a good one. It’s a little worn around the edges, but I don’t think he’ll mind the loan.” She held up the flannel collarless shirt, turning to where Bowen stood.
“What people?” He took a step forward, possessively reaching to grab her wrist but thinking better of it. Instead, he clenched his hands into enormous fists at his side.
“People. Men. Around the fort. You know, the ones I come into contact with every day. Take off your shirt.”
“Why?”
“I need to wash the one you’re wearing. Can’t rightly do that while it’s on your back. Anyway, the ladies and I have been planning a dance tomorrow night in honor of Ross’ recovery. Perhaps you’ll find what you’re looking for there. I’d bet the Wells Fargo payload that he’ll be there. Watching. Waiting. Maybe even make a move.”
He unfastened his buttons with large fingers, exposing his well-muscled chest. A splotch of red on his skin matched the outline of the coffee stain, and her eyes softened. Her fingers brushed his bare chest. “Does it burn much?”
“A bit. I’ll live.” His mouth turned into a slight smile, stepping toward her, closing the distance between.
She frowned at a scar on his side, rough and jagged. She brushed it with careful fingers, a nearly lethal blow, she judged. “Where’d this one come from?”
Bowen touched his hand over hers, the heat from his fingers striking sparks up her arm. “Our sweet Mariposa. This was our introduction, I’m afraid.”
“She could have killed you...”
“Lotta folks died that day. She was a terrified little thing.” His far-off gaze seemed to fill with the memory.
RuthAnne’s thoughts flicked to Mariposa, her pensive face, and her obvious affection for Bowen. “Isn’t that just like you? To be more concerned for someone else’s feelings, even when you’re leaning on death’s door..”
“That’s all ancient history. Now, who are all of these people who are so interested in what you know about El Tejano?” His eyes caressed her along with his fingertips.
A thrill skittered up her spine. RuthAnne swallowed to strengthen her resolve. “Bowen Shepherd!” she gasped playfully. “Don’t you dare try to seduce me with our friends right outside the door!”
“Darn it, RuthAnne.” He stomped his foot again, this time the force knocking bottles over. He grabbed her by the shoulders and held her at arm’s length. She couldn’t help but admire his sculpted physique as he breathed deeply; a spattering of hair lay below his neck, but otherwise his chest was bare. His shoulder wound was healing and now unbandaged. The bullet would leave another scar that they would always remember. His broad shoulders evolved into well-muscled arms. There was power in his hands as he held her firmly, but it took far more power for them to part. “I’m not trying to seduce you. I’m...”
“You’re what? Jealous?” She held the shirt out to help him dress. He slid his right shoulder carefully into place, the only hint that it still caused him pain. They were inches apart—he in his ill-fitting, unbuttoned shirt, and she with her loose golden hair that tumbled like a waterfall down her back. For a split second she imagined them a married couple getting ready for bed. Squeezing her eyes shut, she willed the vision away.
“I’m sorry.” He cupped her cheek with tender fingers. She didn’t pull away. “I didn’t expect to find you here. You could have knocked me down with a feather when I saw you here.”
“Likewise, Captain.”
“Can we start again?”
He leaned down to her. His breath warmed her hair, her cheek. His lips carefully brushed hers in the most tender of greetings, saying at last what her heart longed for. “I’ve missed you.”
“That’s better.” Her heart raced as her thoughts tumbled.
“Now, say you’re sorry.” He dragged her closer.
“Why should I be sorry? You’re the one who spilled the coffee,” she teased and then darted around him and through the door. Forgetting the fact that his subordinate soldiers were outside waiting for him, Bowen chased her down to the water pump where he caught her in a bear hug and squeezed her until she howled with laughter and finally did apologize.
****
Still sitting at the table, Reggie stated glumly, “Looks like our captain’s a lost cause.”
Ross smiled. “More like RuthAnne’s been listening to some of Josie’s courting stories. Excepting, of course, with me, Josie dumped a whole tray of beans in my lap.”
“You mean that whole charade was on purpose?” Reggie gaped.
Ross shrugged and folded up their plans and slipped them into his pocket as Josie came out to join them.
Josie planted a firm kiss on Ross’ lips.
Reggie averted his gaze and sighed. “If I live to be a hundred, I’ll never understand women!”
Chapter 35
Dolly was fixing her hair when RuthAnne poked her head around the corner with a smile. “Let me help you with that.”
Dolly gasped and then sank into the chair. “You scared me to pieces! You ain’t supposed to be here, but I’m so glad you are. Katie’s gone to a sleepover with our new friend Bella’s daughter, if you can imagine. An officer’s wife befriending a laundress. And not just any laundress, but one with a questionable past!”
She laughed, and RuthAnne was pleased not to see a brick of Dolly’s protective wall appear. Dolly seemed nervous but happy since she and Whit had worked things out; since she had made her peace with God.
“When will you ever learn that having a questionable past just makes you more interesting at tea parties?” RuthAnne stepped in, squeezing her shoulders. She drew the brush through Dolly’s elegant red-blonde hair and pushed pins and curls into the appropriate places. After a moment, she stepped back to admire her work. “You look stunning!”
Dolly nodded, eyes widening with obvious amazement. She not only looked amazing, she looked like a bride.
&nb
sp; “I like it. Remember, if anyone asks, it was you who chose this one for me. I’ve always tried to stay away from white...you sure you don’t think it’s too assuming?” Dolly stood and flounced around the room in the sparkling faille gown, kicking back the small crêpe lisse train. RuthAnne had fixed loops of white satin ribbon diagonally from the empire waist to the floor, serving the dual purpose of hiding a stain caused by its previous owner and enhancing Dolly’s figure. She looked a lady, fit for a ball of magnificent proportions.
“The color? Sure. The style? Absolutely not. It’s terribly modern.”
Dolly squared her shoulders, showing through the bare sleeves of faille; the square bodice held just a hint of heart-shape, nicely accenting her bosom.
“Are you sure you’re brave enough to wear it?” RuthAnne said.
“Why, RuthAnne Newcomb, I believe you’ve got me figured out. Come on. Let’s get you fixed before Whit gets here. I can’t wait to see his face!”
“Whose face?” A deep, rich voice filled the room tickling the back of RuthAnne’s neck.
She turned, still in her riding outfit, to see Bowen standing in the doorway in his dress blues. He seemed a million miles tall as he filled the space with wide shoulders and a wider grin.
He blew a long, slow whistle of approval. “Well, that’s something. Dolly, you’re more than a jewel. You look like a diamond.”
“Bowen Shepherd! You go on.” She glowed with the praise and then remembered herself. “Get out of here, now, so we can get RuthAnne ready.” Dolly turned to her friend, a look of worry crossing her face. “I hope I didn’t sell your dress this afternoon. You should have seen the hustle and bustle around here!”
RuthAnne’s jaw dropped before she realized Dolly was teasing.
Dolly winked at Bowen, then shooed him out the door, calling after him, “Find Whit, and you two keep your distance. We’ll meet you at the dance when we’re good and ready.”
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