by Jodi Thomas
“I'll face the men. There's a group of troublemakers looking for a reason to act. I've dealt with them before. If they're not too liquored up, I should be able to send them on their way.”
“I'll face them with you, Reverend.”
“Get in there and be safe, Spinster Whitworth!”
The sternness in his voice sounded like an old man. He couldn't be much older than her, Karlee thought. But he obviously was a man not given to bending.
“I think not,” she challenged.
As always when emotion rose within him, Daniel's throat closed. He couldn't force the angry word out.
Karlee had no such problem. “I wouldn't climb in there if it were the only way to Heaven. And you're not putting your no-name daughters in that hole while I've strength left to fight. We'll face the drunks together, for I'll not be boxed again. And that's my final word, Reverend.”
Daniel almost laughed in amazement. He might be a preacher by calling, but he'd spent most of his life being a blacksmith by necessity. He could easily send her to meet her Maker with one mighty blow, if he were a man given to violence. She might not be a thin woman, but he was well twice her size.
“You have no idea what's going on in this town. The preacher who built this house was shot in the streets.”
Karlee raised her chin. “Well, if they've come down to murdering women and children, I might as well go now and avoid the dread of dying.”
Daniel took a deep breath and reminded himself he was a man of peace as he handed over his daughters to a woman he felt sure could fight off a war party. “Stay out of sight,” he ordered trying to gain back a few degrees of control.
The spinster nodded once and was wise enough not to smile at her victory. She hurried back to the kitchen with the twins in tow as Daniel slid the panel closed once more and moved to the front door.
Before the kitchen door completely closed, Karlee heard boots stomping across what had to be a long front porch. She leaned her back against the hallway door, but angry shouts from the front of the house rattled it.
She had to think of something fast without frightening the twins. With a forced laugh, she grabbed the corner of a quilt she carried and waved it across the clean end of the table. “Would you like to live in a tent?”
The twins forgot about anyone beyond the kitchen and ran to crawl beneath the homemade tent.
Karlee arranged the blankets around the table. “Now if you'll both be real quiet, I'll give you a surprise.”
She heard them laugh and knew she'd found a game. They'd be safe beneath the table.
A sudden rattling at the back door reminded her that she might not be so secure. Frantically, Karlee searched for something to use as a weapon. She wouldn't go quietly to her death in this nowhere town, and no one would hurt her little cousins as long as she breathed.
Karlee scanned the L-shaped kitchen. In a corner furthermost from the door was a fireplace, but no tools to use for weapons. The large room was furnished with a rocking chair, four chairs and a table long enough to seat ten. Nothing more.
Just as the door creaked open, Karlee grabbed the still-warm skillet dotted with burned pancake dough. She stepped behind the door as an enormous, hairy man poked his head through the opening like some huge bear checking a new den.
Karlee raised the iron skillet and swung with all her might, figuring a skillet was like a gun. She wouldn't have picked it up if she hadn't planned on using it.
The bearded man took the blow to the side of his head without even time for surprise to register on his face. For a moment, he just stood still, like a mighty oak unaware of a final ax cut.
Karlee lifted the skillet, prepared to hit him again. But slowly, he crumbled, open-eyed and out cold.
She moved around him, her weapon ready, pride straightening her shoulders.
Two blonde heads popped out from beneath the blanket, their eyes curious at the sound.
“Our surprise!” they both shouted as they crawled from the blanket tent. “Uncle Wolf!”
“Uncle Wolf?” A sickness settled over Karlee thick as cold molasses.
The girls jumped on what they thought was their sleeping uncle.
A fine brew, Karlee thought, another great idea soured into a half-baked scheme. The curse of her life had followed her to Texas.
THREE
DANIEL TOOK ONE LOOK AT WOLF HAYWARD sprawled across his kitchen floor like some bear rug children had dressed up to resemble a man. Without hesitation, he knew who was to blame. The Spinster Whitworth. Daniel had faced a dozen drunks on the porch without striking a blow. She'd managed to clobber his best friend.
Without looking in Karlee's direction, he knelt to check Wolf for a pulse. Daniel needed no explanation. The skillet in her hand and Wolf on the floor said all that needed saying.
Daniel let out a long-held breath. At least the huge man was still alive. Blood pounded beneath the layer of skin and hair at his throat.
As Daniel walked to the pump, Karlee followed like a orphan pup, but he didn't say a word to her. Wolf was the one person he could trust in this town. Daniel had come to Jefferson at the hairy ranger's request. She'd probably scrambled the man's brains.
The more he saw of this old maid, the more he believed she must have been stuffed in the trunk by his wife's aunts and put on the first boat. But he couldn't remember them disliking him so.
“I'm sorry,” she whispered from behind him. “I didn't mean to kill Uncle Wolf, whoever he is.”
Daniel drew water and fought the urge to keep an eye on her and the weapon. He was starting to fear what she might do next even more than he worried about the mob forming outside. She was a woman whose only talent seemed to be unpredictability.
“Is he your brother?” She leaned over the counter at his side.
Her action tightened her dress over her ample chest, forcing him to concentrate on not looking. “No,” Daniel managed to mumble.
“Well, he's no kin of my side of the family. I'd have remembered someone with that much hair. With the wind blowing, I thought he was a walking willow come to call. So, if he's not your brother, or from your wife's kin, why do the girls call him ‘uncle’?”
Daniel forced the words out slowly. “He's my brother Adam's wife's older brother.”
“Oh.” Karlee nodded as if his words explained everything. “I guess that's why he never shaves and lurks about the back door after dark. Being a brother to your brother's wife must be a trying job with no time to visit a barber or learn manners.”
Daniel looked at her then. Her face was front-row serious, but her bright green eyes danced with mischief. He wasn't sure if she were attempting to tease him, or a concentration of the “odd” traits had cursed her double in a family where everyone was half-off. He used to tell his wife that he'd definitely got the “pick of the litter.” This wife's cousin seemed more likely the “bottom of the barrel.”
Lifting a bucket from below the pump, Daniel moved across the room, thinking he'd tell her as soon as there was time that he had no sense of humor left. It was buried with May. If… if he ever had a moment's peace with this redhead shadowing his every step.
He splashed first a little, then all of the water over the huge man on the floor.
Wolf jerked and roared loudly. He scrabbled from the waterfall, then shook his head like a wet dog and looked around for answers.
The twins giggled at him, then darted beneath their blanket tent.
Karlee slowly moved the frying pan behind her skirt and stayed well protected at Daniel's back.
“What happened?” Wolf asked as he took Daniel's offered hand.
“You just met my wife's cousin. She's used to folks who knock.” Daniel glanced at Karlee. “Miss Whitworth, I'd like you to meet Wolf Hayward. He's a friend and the best Ranger Texas ever had.”
Wolf took a wide swipe of his hand over his shoulder-length hair and full beard before making a deep bow and erasing any improvements he might have made in grooming. “Thank you for
not killing me, Miss Whitworth. You are right, a man oughta knock before poking his head in a home. I'd been drinking some tonight, I must confess. You sobered me right up.”
The Southern drawl to his voice made Karlee smile as he continued, “My mother always said drinking would lead a man down the path to Hell, but I swear when you hit me I saw the Pearly Gates of Heaven there for a minute. You may have given me the only glimpse I'll have. For, unlike the reverend here, I'm not a peace-loving man.”
Karlee laughed. She'd expected anger, or maybe even an attempt at reprisal, but not appreciation.
Wolf pointed to the twins playing beneath the blanket. “Did you come to help out with the wee wild ones?”
Karlee stared at Daniel. “We haven't had time to talk about it, but if the reverend will allow me, I'd like to help. I haven't been around children much for the past few years, but I'm sure I could learn.”
Daniel started shaking his head before words could come out. “I don't think so. I can manage fine without assistance.” He'd look somewhere else for help. He didn't need Karlee scrambling up his household. He was a man who lived with order. He doubted she'd ever heard of the word or its meaning.
Wolf looked at Daniel as if he'd been the one whacked with the skillet. “Now, Danny boy, wait just a minute. With Willow married and in a family way, she don't have the time or the energy to chase after them two. You've got your hands full with this town. You can't cook and clean and take care of them while you're trying to settle things with a town full of men used to fighting. There ain't enough hours in the day.”
Wolf glanced at Karlee and winked, obviously considering himself a great orator. “I've been in the McLain family a long time, since before the twins were born. Danny's smart with books and strong as an ox, but he don't take to change well. That's one of the reasons I had to sign on as the third big brother, the kid needs a lot of looking after.”
“I do not.” Daniel frowned. “And I think I'm a bit old to be referred to as ‘the kid.’ ” Wolf was more irritating than Wes or Adam. At least they'd been born to the big brother role. Wolf had adopted it and, like every role he'd played as a spy in the war, he played this one well.
Wolf walked across the room as though pacing off the space between his thoughts. When he returned to the same spot, he looked past Daniel straight to Karlee. “Miss Whitworth, do you suppose you could use that skillet to make up another batch of pancakes? I haven't had food worth eating in a week.”
Karlee nodded and went to work. Daniel groaned, thinking it was almost too obvious what Wolf was planning. But a few home cooked meals wouldn't change his mind. He'd seen enough of the spinster to know she didn't belong here. He wanted an older woman who'd cook and clean and take care of the twins… and stay out of his way.
An hour later Wolf finished off his plate. He tried to smile his thanks, but Daniel knew he'd have to wait another day for any “food worth eating.” Somehow she'd managed to make a dozen pancakes without any of them cooking up round. Two had been stuck together in the flipping, and Daniel had almost laughed aloud when Wolf pushed his fork into the pair and batter oozed out around his plate.
Several of her creations had jumped skillet into the fire. They were now burning on the coals, generating a smoky, sweet smell throughout the kitchen. He thought the odor blended nicely with the smell of burned coffee beans caused when she'd returned an empty pot to the fire by mistake.
“I could cook up another plate,” Karlee offered as she removed the empty one from beneath Wolf's nose.
“No, thanks,” Wolf forced down the last bite. He had his cup halfway to his lips, before he reconsidered and sat it back down. “I couldn't eat another one or take another swallow of your coffee if there was a gun at my head.”
Daniel stood suddenly and stormed from the room.
Karlee and Wolf stared at one another, then watched the door leading to the rest of the house as if he'd return momentarily. But Daniel's footsteps sounded on the stairs. A door closed somewhere on the second floor with a slam.
Wolf frowned and Karlee felt her hopes sink. Daniel didn't want her here. He'd probably pay to send her back to the aunts when he discovered she'd arrived penniless. After the meal she'd fed Wolf, the hairy man would no longer be on her side. They'd likely take up a collection to have her on the first boat so there would be no chance she'd cook breakfast.
Karlee forced herself to face Wolf. The least she could do was thank him; he'd given her a chance, which was more than the reverend had done. “I…”
Wolf's raised hand stopped her. When he moved his finger to his lips, she heard a strange sound. Low, rumbling, like thunder trapped in a faraway canyon.
The eerie sound continued, growing louder.
“What is it?” Karlee whispered.
Wolf smiled as the sound rattled from above. “It's laughter,” he whispered. “Laughter from a man who hasn't laughed in far too long.”
The hairy man winked at Karlee. “You're staying, Cousin Karlee,” he mumbled. “If you're still willing. I think you might just be the medicine this family's been waiting for.”
“I'm willing,” she answered, wondering if she might be wiser to think about it for a while. This was unlike any household she'd ever been in. Guns behind sliding doors, drunks arriving unannounced, a Ranger who thought of the place as home.
But one thing seemed blended in the very air here… adventure. To Karlee, who'd spent the past few years taking care of aging aunts, the desire to breathe deep overwhelmed her.
An hour later the twins were tucked into bed and the kitchen was clean of all but the smells. Daniel had returned and talked to Wolf, but he hadn't said a word to Karlee. By the time the men left, she was starting to believe she was invisible.
She'd been a fool to hope, she thought. A fool to dream that this place would be where she'd stay for a while. When would she learn that all places were temporary?
She moved out the back door and welcomed the darkness of the moonless night. When she'd been a child, she really believed that she could stand in a room full of people and be unseen. After her parents died, she moved from relative to relative. A few, she soon realized, never took the time to learn her name, but simply counted the days until they could pass her on.
Silent tears rolled unchecked down her cheeks as she remembered a Christmas when all the gifts had been passed out and none were for her. When someone noticed, they'd said it was all right because she'd be moving the next day. But there was nothing waiting for her at the next home. She was just the poor relative each family took in as part of their Christian duty. The relative never remembered at holidays. The child without a birthday.
Karlee slipped to the darkest point at the corner of the house and pressed her body against the painted wood. She didn't belong here either. There was no adventure waiting here. One night changed nothing. As always she was too different, too strange, too alone. She pushed harder as if she could move into the frame of the house and finally belong somewhere. Maybe being invisible wasn't so bad. If she were invisible no one could hurt her.
She could just vanish. No one would notice. No one would care. Maybe, years after she was gone, one of her relatives would wonder, “whatever happened to that funny little redhead who couldn't do anything right?” But no one would answer, or think of her again.
Karlee closed her eyes, wishing that there was a real place called “Nowhere” where people who were “ nobodies” could go. She'd go there and be happy with all the other invisible people.
From house to house she was always given the chores no one wanted to do. The clothes no one wanted to wear. She'd been a fool to believe this time would be any different. The aunts had pushed her toward Texas not because they thought it would be better, but only to have her move on, out of their lives.
Adventures only happened in books and belonging anywhere was too much to ask for.
Fighting down a cry, Karlee faced the truth. Here was no different than anywhere else. She didn't belong.
<
br /> “Miss Whitworth?” a voice said from behind her.
She closed her eyes and concentrated on being invisible.
“Karlee, are you all right?”
Pushing harder into the side of the house, she tried not to think about having to face the reverend. Karlee knew what he was going to say. She'd heard good-bye a hundred times in her life. Maybe he'd tell her how much she was needed somewhere else. Or maybe he'd say he couldn't afford to feed another. Or maybe he'd just tell her it was time for her to go, as if somewhere in the overall makeup of the world there existed a chart of when she had to leave a place.
“Miss Whitworth?”
She sensed him standing just behind her. He shifted nervously, but she couldn't bring herself to make it easy for him. Not this time in her life. This man she barely knew would have to say what most had only hinted at when they handed her a ticket or loaded her suitcase in the back of a wagon.
He'd have to tell her to go.
Karlee waited, tears dripping off her face and onto the white frame of the house.
But Daniel didn't say a word. He waited, her short intakes in breath the only break in the silence of the darkness.
Finally, he rested his hand on her shoulder, at first so lightly she wasn't sure it was there, then firmer, comfortingly in an awkward way.
She tried not to shake with her grief. Over the years she'd learned to cry quietly, so that no one would know. But when he touched her, he could feel her sorrow, she knew he could.
His body leaned closer until she felt the heat of him through her clothes and his breath brush over her damp cheek. His hand moved hesitantly against her face, stroking her hair back away from her eyes.
The palm of his hand filled with her tears as he turned her face slowly toward him.
Karlee moved into his arms as though it were the most natural act in the world. She'd never felt a man's arms around her. The warmth of him. The experience of being enclosed in strength as he leaned against her.
He held her to him, letting his calm warmth seep into her. She leaned her head against his shoulder and breathed deep. There was a rock-solid feel to him that made her believe the world might settle into place enough to allow her to grow roots and belong.