Texas Lawman

by Carolyn Davidson

  “Maybe,” he answered. “I’m of the opinion that marriage is a contract that shouldn’t be entered into lightly. And unless a man has the time to invest in a marriage, he hasn’t the right to expect a woman to haul more than her share of the load.”

  Sarah stepped up onto the porch and crossed to the wide front door. “I doubt you’d be selfish,” she said bluntly. “You seem the sort of man to play fair, no matter what the occasion.” She looked up at the fanlight over the door. “A woman chose that.”

  He followed her gaze. “What makes you say that?”

  “The colors, the design. It’s absolutely worthless, except for the beauty of its reflection inside the house.” She met his gaze. “It’s not of much real use, but it’s a touch of unexpected beauty.”

  He reached past her to open the heavy door, and she noted the lack of a key in his hand. “I take it you don’t lock your doors.”

  “Haven’t found any need to,” he said. “Although, with you staying here, I may have to make some adjustments to my routine.”

  “Not unless it’s common knowledge that I’m here,” she answered. “I don’t think we’ll be in any danger, do you?”

  His eyes narrowed as he looked down at her. “I wouldn’t want to bet on it. Your brother-in-law is not a happy man right now.” He stood back and ushered her into the wide foyer, touching Stephen’s shoulder as the boy passed in front of him. The child flinched noticeably at the lawman’s touch, and Sarah’s mouth firmed as she tightened her grip on the small hand she held securely.

  Brace followed her inside and then leaned against the door. “What do you think?” he asked. Spoken casually, the words held a touch of pride. His dark eyes softened as he scanned their surroundings: the table against the wall, the bench beside it, the staircase that climbed to the second floor. On either side were doorways and open arches, and Sarah yearned to explore the rooms beyond her vision.

  “You have a housekeeper?” she asked, noting the clean floors, the gleaming wood of the banister and the lack of dust in the corners.

  “Someone comes in once a week. Looks like she was here yesterday, doesn’t it?”

  Sarah turned to face him. “Just how often do you come home?”

  He fidgeted a bit, she thought, and then his smile appeared, curving one side of his mouth as if he were unused to such a display of good humor. “Couple of times a week, I suppose,” he answered. “There’s not much here to keep me comin’ back, Miss Murphy. It’s got furniture, but without folks living in it, a house feels pretty empty, don’t you think?”

  She nodded toward the nearest archway. “May I explore?” she asked, unwilling to step beyond good manners, though her instincts were crying out to look into the room that beckoned her. Something about this house, this man, drew her. He’d offered a haven for Stephen and herself, and though she’d accepted tentatively, the first glimpse of his home had decided her.

  I’ve come home. The thought was almost frightening, and she trembled as he nodded his permission. At her side, Stephen clung to her hand, and together they crossed the threshold into the parlor. It was well furnished, warm and welcoming, unlike many formal rooms. A fireplace stood against the outside wall, apparently unused for some time, its hearth swept clean of ashes. Light curtains allowed the sunlight to cascade across the carpet, where the colors glowed in a rich display.

  “It’s lovely,” she whispered, turning in a slow circle, Stephen clutching her fingers and following her lead.

  “Come see the library,” Brace said, issuing the invitation in a measured tone. Instinctively she recognized that the room he was about to show her was important to him, and she followed his lead across the foyer to a matching room on the opposite side of the house.

  Two walls were lined with bookshelves, and the third boasted a bay window with a wide, cushioned seat that begged a reader to curl there with her favorite book. A desk stood against the fourth wall, and furnishings that promised comfort were grouped before a fireplace.

  “What do you think?” he asked again, watching her closely, as if her opinion was of great importance to him.

  “It’s wonderful,” she said. She lifted one hand to include the shelves of books. “Have you read all of them?”

  She thought his eyes darkened as he shook his head abruptly. “No. I don’t seem to find the time,” he answered. Yet a look of intense longing made her wonder that he didn’t spend his evenings here, that he didn’t utilize this room that was of such obvious importance to him.

  He led the way back to the hallway and then toward the kitchen. “The dining room is next,” he said, pointing at another wide archway, beyond which sat a gleaming table, surrounded by eight chairs. A glass-fronted buffet against the outside wall caught her eye, and she noted the gleam of china and silver behind the upper doors.

  “Do you use it?” she asked, and was not surprised at his abrupt movement of denial.

  “No. I don’t entertain.”

  “What a waste,” she told him, unaware of the yearning quality that imbued her words. They walked on, and she could barely resist a final look at the gleaming perfection of the room. Then she found her pleasure in its beauty almost eclipsed by the warmth of the kitchen into which he led her.

  Windows hung with checked curtains and possessing wide sills caught her eye, and she murmured beneath her breath at the sight of pots of flowers in dire need of watering. That’s a man for you, she thought. With a sigh she stepped before the sink and pumped water into a handy pitcher. From there she headed toward the abused plants, pouring refreshment into the dry dirt they inhabited.

  “I’m not real good at that sort of thing,” he said, humor lacing the words. “I think sometimes I should just give up on having anything that needs care. The woman who lived here was real big on flowers and such things, and I promised her I’d take care of them.”

  Sarah shot an amused look in his direction. “She’d have done better to take them with her.”

  “Couldn’t,” Brace said bluntly. “She got on a train and headed east to be with her children. Wasn’t any way she could haul along half the garden with her.”

  Sarah looked around the sunny room, finding small touches that appealed to her feminine side, such as it was. She’d long since given up the idea that she’d ever be the sort of woman to wear silk finery. But that didn’t stop her from admiring the suggestions of a woman’s hand in putting together this house.

  “Can you cook?” Brace asked, and she laughed.

  “I’ve been told I’m pretty good at it. I’d say I can find my way around a kitchen about as well as you’d expect.”

  “To tell the truth, Miss Murphy, I have no idea what to expect from you. You haven’t come anywhere near my first impression, that’s for sure.”

  She turned to him. “And what was that?”

  He looked down at Stephen, and his smile was tender, she thought. “I didn’t take you for a woman who’d be so besotted by my house,” he said. “I had a notion you were trying not to be any more girlish than you could help.” He slid a hand into his pocket and leaned against the doorjamb. “In fact, I was pretty certain you were—” He grinned suddenly, halting as if he hesitated to speak his mind. “Well, now. Let’s just say I was wrong about a couple of things. And probably right about a couple of others.”

  “Oh?” A glance down at Stephen, who was following the conversation with interest, silenced her then. He had enough upset in his young life. He didn’t need to hear a lawman dissecting her character this morning.

  “To get back to the question, ma’am,” he said politely. “Can you cook? Or maybe I need to ask instead, are you willing to put together a meal?”

  She looked around the room. “Out of what?”

  “The pantry has a good assortment of food. Nothing fresh, but maybe you could turn out some jars or cans, enough for you and the boy to get along with for the rest of the day.”

  “What about you?” she asked. “Or don’t you plan on staying long?”
>
  “I’m going to leave for a while, but I’ll be back. I think some fresh milk and a loaf of bread might be a good idea. If I’d been thinking, I’d have stopped at the general store.”

  “I think you were in a hurry,” she told him, recalling their rushed exit from the hotel, the buggy he’d hired at the livery stable and his casual yet thorough search of their surroundings as they’d made their way here to his home. His horse had been tied to the rear of the vehicle, and she hadn’t questioned his motives.

  “I’d rather not have been followed,” he admitted. “You’re just half a mile from town here, but there’s a lot of trees and some pretty heavy brush along the road.”

  “We’re not starving,” she said, recalling the food Stephen had put away in the hotel restaurant. “I think we can hold off until you come back.”

  “I have something to show you,” he said, casting a furtive glance at the boy, who had yet to move from her side. And then he crouched in front of the lad. “Do you think you could take a look upstairs and maybe find the bedroom you’d like to sleep in while you’re here?” he asked.

  “Yes, sir,” Stephen answered, as if used to obeying without quibbling. He released Sarah’s hand, a bit reluctantly but without argument, and went from the kitchen to the wide staircase. She took a single step toward the doorway to watch him as he made his way up the stairs, and then she turned back to Brace.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “There’s a gun in the pantry,” he told her. “I’m assuming you know how to handle a shotgun.”

  She nodded. “I’d appreciate it if you’d give me back my handgun, though.”

  As if he made a momentous decision, he looked at her for a moment, then nodded slowly. “All right, but if push comes to shove, if there’s any trouble, you’ll be better off with a long gun. Scattershot will do the trick if someone gets close to the house.” He slipped her pistol from his waistband and turned it in his hand, then placed it in her palm, his other hand beneath hers.

  And then he covered it for a moment, capturing her fingers in his clasp. “Be careful, Sarah.”

  He’d gotten himself into a pickle. Not only had he hauled a woman into his house, but he’d taken a child from his legal father and hidden that child. Brace rode slowly back to town, the mare and buggy stored in his shed until he decided his next move. His black mount made short work of the half mile he traveled, and in moments the general store was before him.

  His office door stood open, Jamie propped there watching him. Brace lifted a hand in greeting and Jamie pushed away from the wall. “Hey, Brace,” he said in greeting. Hands stuffed in his pockets, he rocked back and forth on his heels. “You had company a while ago.”

  “Lester Clark?” He wasn’t surprised, just thankful that Sarah and the boy were safe for now.

  “He’s madder’n hell. Said you stole his kid.” Jamie shifted uncomfortably. “Was it legal? Takin’ the boy, I mean?”

  Brace tried his best to look patient. “Now, what do you think, Deputy?” And then he answered his own query. “Hell, no, it wasn’t legal. Just the right thing to do. The boy is wearing bruises from one end to the other.”

  “What are you gonna do about it?” Jamie asked, squinting for a moment, then pulling the brim of his hat down.

  “Keep Stephen and his aunt out of sight for a couple of days. At least until the judge comes into town.”

  Jamie’s lips twisted in a knowing grin. “I’ll bet you’ll be staying out at your place for the next few nights, won’t you?”

  Brace’s jaw firmed, and he noted the involuntary response Jamie could not disguise, his grin fading as he sensed Brace’s anger. “Didn’t mean anything by that,” he said quickly. “I suspect you’ll be out there keepin’ an eye on those two.”

  “You’re right there,” Brace told him harshly. “And no one had better find out that’s where they are.”

  “Not from me,” Jamie said hastily. “I’ll just hold the fort here, unless there’s some reason or another to hustle on out there and notify you.”

  “About the worst that generally happens on a Friday or Saturday night is a fight at one of the saloons,” Brace told him. “You can handle that.”

  “You takin’ off for the rest of the day?” Jamie asked. “I figured you might, in order to get your guests settled in out at your place.” He grinned widely. “About the first time you’ve let anybody walk through that front door, ain’t it?”

  Brace shot him a look designed to quell his curiosity, but to no avail.

  Jamie was intent on poking into the subject. “Never could figure out why you wanted such a big place, anyway,” he said lazily. “Seems like you’d rattle around in that house all by yourself.”

  “I don’t spend a lot of time there,” Brace admitted. “But one of these days—” His words were cut off by a shout from the front door of the hotel. Bart Simms was on the porch, waving a piece of paper in one hand, his fist making emphatic movements in the air.

  “You’d better get yourself back in here, mister. You’re gonna pay this bill, or I’ll know the reason why.”

  “Trouble,” Jamie said in an undertone, standing erect and patting his gun with a proprietary touch. “I’ll handle it, Sheriff. Go on along and tend to your business.”

  Brace shook his head and reached out a restraining hand as Jamie would have stepped into the street. “Hold it.”

  They watched as Lester Clark turned and dropped his bag at his feet, then glared at the hotel owner. “I paid in advance,” he said, and then, for good measure, stalked back to where Bart stood and snatched the paper from his hand. “This isn’t worth squat,” he shouted.

  “Well, I may want to argue that,” Brace said, pitching his voice to carry across the street. He strolled to where the two men stood, and Bart cast him a thankful look. But Brace’s attention was focused on the other man. “You’re just bound and determined to occupy one of my cells, aren’t you, mister?” he asked.

  “You can’t arrest me,” Lester shouted. “You’ve already stolen my boy from me and hidden him away somewhere. All I want to do is get my hands on him, and we’ll be out of your hair.”

  “You’re not going anywhere until you pay your account at the hotel,” Brace told him, folding his arms across his chest, a pose he knew caused the few troublemakers in town to think twice before they crossed him.

  “I paid in advance,” Lester said stubbornly.

  Brace smiled. “Well, we can solve the whole problem, then. All you have to do is show me the receipt.”

  Lester blustered for a moment. “I didn’t keep it. Didn’t think I’d find a bunch of crooks in Benning.” His sneer was eloquent. “Course, when the local sheriff himself is beyond the law, that’s about what you’d expect.”

  “Either pay your bill or gather your gear and head across the street to the jailhouse,” Brace told him firmly. And then he waited, his full attention on the angry man before him. In less than a minute Lester dug into his pocket and withdrew a handful of money, sorted through the coins and chose two to give Bart Simms.

  “Thanks, Sheriff,” Bart said, glaring in impotent fury at his erstwhile tenant. “You know damn well we don’t charge in advance for our rooms.”

  “I’m aware of that,” Brace said, watching closely as Lester picked up his bag and headed toward the livery stable. “I think I’ll just follow along and see what our friend is planning.”

  “Where’d that young’un go to?” Bart asked in an undertone. “Like I told my missus, he was a pitiful sight to behold.”

  “That he was,” Brace agreed. “Don’t worry about him. He’s safe and sound.” Sleeping in one of my bedrooms tonight. Two of them had beds available, and he hoped to heaven that the boy hadn’t laid claim to the big double bed Brace used on occasion. He’d already wondered about letting Sarah Murphy have it, and decided that might not be the best idea.

  Where he would put the woman he hadn’t the faintest idea, but the deed was done. He’d invited he
r to stay, and he’d best be thinking about providing her with a bed. Of her own.

  “Good. I was hoping you’d remember the milk,” Sarah told him when he entered the kitchen bearing a full jug from his nearest neighbor. His bundles were deposited on the round kitchen table quickly—a loaf of bread from the neighbor’s wife and a dozen eggs from her white leghorn hens. A small crock held a round of butter, and Brace looked down at his offerings with satisfaction.

  “I brought some coffee from the general store, too,” he said. “You know how to make it?”

  “I suspect I can try,” Sarah said, amusement in every syllable. She brought a blue speckled bowl from the pantry and filled it with the eggs, then unwrapped the loaf of bread, lifting it to sniff with appreciation. “This is wonderful,” she said. “I’ll have some supper ready in no time flat.”

  He settled at the table, watching as she moved around his kitchen. It was strangely satisfying, he thought, to have a woman here. For a year or so he’d believed this might never come to pass. Silently he cautioned himself not to get too excited about Sarah Murphy’s presence in his kitchen. She’d probably not be sticking around for long. She had things to do, and he was merely offering his hospitality until her life was in order.

  “I can’t thank you enough for taking us in,” Sarah said, turning from the stove to face him. “Stephen found a litter of kittens in the shed, and he’s out there playing with them. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “No. Old Tabby manages to keep our rodent population under control with her offspring,” he said easily. “I’ve got the only feed barrels hereabouts that aren’t on the menu for those pesky mice.”

  “There’re mice out there?” Sarah asked, her eyes flitting to the back door and beyond it to the large shed. “They won’t bite, will they?”

  Brace laughed. “I can’t believe a woman like you would be afraid of a mouse.”