The Seduction of Roxanne

by Linda Jones

  "When do you plan to buy that farm?” she asked casually.

  "Soon, I reckon,” he said. “There's a parcel for sale near my kinfolk. Did I tell you I got cousins nearby?"

  She shook her head.

  "Well, I do, and I'm headed out that way to have a look at the land that's for sale later this week."

  "Really?” The sooner he put his guns aside, the happier she'd be.

  He nodded, and looked at her as if he had something important to say. She stared, as anyone might stare at something or someone who defied nature and was absolutely, positively perfect. Perfect face, perfect hair, on occasion perfect words. She held her breath and waited.

  "Can we eat now?” he finally asked. “I'm starving."

  Cyrus sat back and listened to the conversation. His deputy was handling himself well, if not brilliantly. Roxanne and Calvin spoke of simple things: the weather, his farm, the food. Cyrus supposed he should slip away and leave these two alone, but he stayed put even after his ham and biscuits were gone.

  Roxanne's attention was completely on Calvin as he talked about his plans for a farm. On this one subject, the deputy was competent and comprehensible. It was a shared dream, Cyrus realized, this simple farm Calvin and Roxanne both wanted.

  Roxanne had more color in her cheeks these days, he noted as he stared at her profile, more sparkle in her eyes. She didn't love Calvin yet, but the idea certainly tantalized her. He saw unbridled need in her face, a need for companionship and stability and perhaps even adoration. She hungered for all that, perhaps, dreamed of the life she wanted and deserved. Calvin could give her everything she desired.

  She smiled at something Calvin said, flashed that wide, unrestrained grin that brought out delicate dimples in her cheeks and a flush of new color, as well. Soon she wouldn't be his responsibility anymore. If he could succeed this time, if he could fulfill his promise to Louis, maybe he could forget about the promise he hadn't been able to keep.

  "Sheriff?” The tentative, feminine voice came from nearby, surprising him. He'd been so intent on Roxanne that he hadn't even heard anyone approach.

  Cyrus looked up to see Jane Rice standing over him, her eyes wide and her hand cradling a plate that was covered with a linen napkin. He stood quickly, jumping to his feet so that he towered over the girl who stood barely five foot two.

  "Good afternoon, Jane,” he said, wondering if there was a problem somewhere in the park or beyond that required his attention. “Is something wrong?"

  She shook her head slowly and looked at the ground. “Nothing's wrong. I just thought you might like some of my lemon sponge cake.” She didn't lift her head, but cut her eyes to him demurely. “Do you like lemon sponge cake?"

  Why were women always trying to feed him? Roxanne's apple pie, Maude Hipp's chocolate cake, and now this. “Well, I'm pretty full right this minute."

  Clear disappointment rushed across Jane's face, for some reason he didn't quite understand. Her hint of a smile vanished, and her shoulders tensed visibly. He cursed himself for being so curt.

  "Perhaps I could save it for later,” he suggested, taking the plate from her.

  Jane's smile sneaked back as she released the plate.

  Cyrus placed the plate of lemon sponge cake on the blanket, noticing that as Calvin continued talking of plans for his farm, Roxanne's attention was divided between the agricultural details and Cyrus's own conversation with Jane Rice. Jane offered a chance, he realized belatedly, of escape. Calvin was handling himself well, and Roxanne was well on her way to falling in love with the dimwit. Cyrus knew he was definitely not needed here.

  "Would you like to take a walk?” he asked Jane. “Maybe that will help me work up an appetite."

  She smiled brightly and took his offered arm.

  Cyrus glanced down at Roxanne, only to find her looking up at him, unsmiling. “If you'll excuse us,” he said, and without waiting for an answer he walked away with Jane Rice on his arm.

  They were as alone as two people could be, and still Calvin went on and on about his farm. Roxanne knew what he would plant in the fall and what he would plant in the spring. She knew how many cattle he expected to have to start with, and what kind of house he wanted to build. Even now, with Cyrus gone and no one else within earshot, he didn't say a word about his feelings. It was almost as if he didn't have any.

  How foolish of her to be disappointed that his conversation didn't cause a thrill to rush through her blood. She hadn't come to her decision to marry looking for thrills, but for a home and family. Calvin obviously wanted that as much as she did. He was a nice man, and he knew what he wanted from life: his farm. If she had to settle for the occasional thrill, when the moon and the mood were right, that would be enough. More than enough.

  She shifted her attention from Calvin to watch Cyrus, as she had often since he'd left their shared blanket. He walked through the park with Jane Rice at his side, saying hello to those they passed, leaning slightly to the side as he spoke to his companion. She'd bet everything she had that not once had he spoken of chickens or corn, cattle or cotton.

  Was this the woman he'd danced with in the shadows at Merilee's party? Jane Rice? Surely not. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't see them as a couple. Jane was too young, too short, too ... ordinary for a man like Cyrus.

  She watched them walk over the bridge that spanned the narrow creek, stopping to look down at the trickle of water over rocks far below. Cyrus leaned against the bridge and listened attentively as Jane went on and on about one thing or another. The young woman spoke with her small, delicate hands and laughed more than once, more lively than Roxanne could ever remember her being. Jane was obviously smitten with Cyrus, and he was loving every minute of her silly, undivided attention.

  Roxanne forced herself to look at Calvin again. This was what she wanted. Right? A simple life on a farm. A new beginning. Still, when Cyrus and Jane began to wander back in this direction, she found herself watching them more and more, actually trying to read their lips. How pathetic!

  Cyrus walked slowly, long, graceful strides bringing him back to the blanket. Roxanne felt every step as he came near, as if his steps were attuned with her heartbeat. Nearer and nearer he came, with Jane still in tow.

  Without warning, Mary Alice came out of nowhere and practically attacked him, throwing herself at his legs. Nothing made Cyrus stumble; he caught the little girl and lifted her into his arms, and they were close enough for Roxanne to hear him say, “Here's my best girl."

  Mary Alice tried to shove a tea cake into Cyrus's mouth. Laughing, he allowed her to feed him.

  The three of them, Cyrus and Jane and Mary Alice, came to the blanket.

  "Excuse us,” Cyrus said softly as he set Mary Alice on her feet and reached for the sponge cake Jane had prepared for him. “I'll just take this and

  ...."

  "Don't be silly,” Roxanne said brightly. “Have a seat."

  It was an order; sweetly delivered, but still an order. Cyrus saw Jane seated, and with the same courteous demeanor helped Mary Alice to the blanket as well. When he seated himself, sandwiched between Jane and Roxanne with Mary Alice at his feet, the blanket was quite crowded.

  "So, what have you two been talking about?” Cyrus asked as he peeled the linen napkin away from the lemon sponge cake.

  "Oh, farming and such,” Calvin answered.

  Cyrus shot a sharp, somehow censuring glance to his deputy. “Is that so?"

  "It's fascinating,” Roxanne said. “Calvin has such wonderful plans.” She smiled, but it wasn't her best effort.

  As they passed the cake around Jane remained silent, Calvin merely mumbled now and then, and Cyrus was apparently lost in thought. Thank goodness for Mary Alice, Roxanne thought as the little girl carried the conversation. They heard about her new dress, her new doll, and how Edith Terry was still trying to get her to climb trees when she knew she shouldn't do any such thing.

  The little girl was clearly fascinated with Cyrus. She dire
cted most of her excited dialogue to him, and after she'd finished off her sponge cake she placed a hand carelessly on his boot, searching for a connection of some sort, Roxanne supposed. She was almost tempted to do the same, to reach out and lay a hand on Cyrus; on his arm, his knee, his other boot. Unfortunately she was long past five and had no excuse for such behavior.

  Mary Alice lifted her precious face to Roxanne, but she didn't move those possessive hands from Cyrus's boot. “My mama said that in just a few months I can go to your school and you can teach me to read and write."

  "That will be lovely,” Roxanne said with a smile. “You're such a clever girl I'm sure you'll make a wonderful student."

  Mary Alice beamed. “Papa says I'm smart as a whip."

  "Of course you are,” Cyrus said in a matter-of-fact voice.

  Roxanne glanced past Cyrus to an apparently adoring Jane. Was he blind? Did he know that simply by being attentive and polite he was leading her on? Cyrus, who'd made it clear he had no use for marriage, really shouldn't be leading innocent young women on.

  "You know,” Roxanne said, “Jane was one of my very best students not so long ago."

  Jane blushed as she glanced past Cyrus to catch Roxanne's eye. “Well, it has been a couple of years."

  A touch of awkwardness filled the air, though Roxanne couldn't be sure that anyone but she was aware of it.

  Soon the cake was gone, and Merilee came by to say hello and fetch Mary Alice. Jane's father came to collect her moments later, saying it was time they headed home. Jane seemed to be embarrassed that her father had come for her much as Mary Alice's mother had. That, together with the reminder Roxanne had provided, made it clear that she was still just a girl; and much too young for Cyrus.

  Cyrus ignored Jane's embarrassment and thanked her for the cake and the company, and as Roxanne watched and listened something in her stomach tightened and twisted a little.

  For a few long minutes the three of them, Roxanne and Cyrus and Calvin, sat silently on a rumpled blanket covered with scattered crumbs and a few bits of grass. The silence was as strained, Roxanne realized, as it had been when she'd made a point of reminding everyone how young Jane Rice was. She didn't want to ponder why she felt so awkward at this moment.

  Calvin picked up the conversation where he'd stopped, she supposed. She couldn't for the life of her remember exactly what they'd been talking about in the minutes before Cyrus had rejoined them. “I'll be leaving Thursday, I reckon, and be gone several days."

  Cyrus's head snapped up. “Leaving? What for?” Then he remembered. “Oh yes, you're going to check out that farm, aren't you?"

  "Yep,” Calvin said, comfortable again. “And to visit with the cousins. They don't make it to town often, and I really haven't had a chance to pay a nice long visit, like I should.” He stared past Roxanne to Cyrus. “That won't be a problem, will it? I shouldn't be gone much more than a week."

  "That's fine,” Cyrus said absently, and they fell into another bout of uncomfortable silence. Roxanne wanted to kick herself for being so foolish. Calvin Newberry was everything she required in a man, and yet it seemed that Cyrus claimed all her attention without even trying. Next to Cyrus, beautiful Calvin seemed downright dull.

  When one of the other deputies came by to ask Calvin to come take a look at his horse's foreleg, Calvin seemed happy to escape.

  Leaving Roxanne and Cyrus alone.

  "Well,” she said when Calvin was out of hearing distance. “She's a little young for you, isn't she?"

  Cyrus was obviously surprised by her question. He looked at her without answering, for a long moment, then he responded, “Jane?"

  "No,” Roxanne snapped. “Mary Alice."

  When Cyrus smiled at her she lost her temper.

  "Of course I mean Jane,” she hissed. “She's barely twenty years old and you're well past thirty."

  "I'm thirty-one,” he said, obviously amused.

  "And she's twenty,” Roxanne said gravely. She narrowed her eyes and did her best to stare Cyrus down. “Is she the woman you were dancing with Friday night? Really, Cyrus, you shouldn't trifle with the affections of such an impressionable young girl."

  "All I did was walk her around the park,” Cyrus said with a casual air, not a bit bothered by her anger.

  "She's not the woman you were dancing with behind that tree?” Roxanne asked, giving away her suspicions.

  A sly grin slipped across Cyrus's face. “Nope."

  Roxanne took a deep breath and tried to calm herself. How ridiculous she was! She'd thought herself, on Friday night, that Cyrus needed a woman, a wife, had even briefly considered Jane a candidate. And here she was practically interrogating him about the women in his life—a subject which certainly was none of her business.

  "I don't suppose it's any of my business,” she muttered. “Jane just seems so ... silly,” she added softly, unable to help herself.

  Just a few days ago she'd thought Jane to be a level-headed young woman and a possible match for Cyrus. Today, for no apparent reason, her opinion had changed. Besides, if Cyrus had no intention of marrying he shouldn't be dallying with the affections of a naive girl who was much too young for him.

  Cyrus rumbled something unintelligible beneath his breath, making a noise that sounded comfortingly like agreement with her unflattering assessment.

  Another long moment of silence passed, but oddly enough the awkwardness was gone. Roxanne watched the people in the park, the children running and playing, the couples talking with their heads together. Her senseless hostility faded, and she allowed herself to enjoy a moment in time when somehow all was right with the world.

  "You know,” she said, her eyes roaming the park, “you never did finish telling me about your cousin and the farm."

  "My, aren't we nosy today?” Cyrus said lightly. “First you want to know who I was dancing with Friday night, and then you try to dredge up ancient history."

  She laid her eyes on him and smiled. “Not so ancient. Why, you just made a point of telling me that you're only thirty-one."

  "Feels pretty damn ancient,” he muttered.

  She leaned just slightly closer. “Surely you have at least one fond memory of growing up on that farm. I just can't believe that you hated it completely."

  "If it had to do with animals, plowing, or picking, I hated it."

  "Did little Cyrus have a lazy streak?” she asked devilishly.

  He cut her a narrow-eyed glance. “Perhaps. Mostly, little Cyrus was bored out of his mind. If Jean, that was Gil's wife, hadn't loved books and allowed me to borrow one now and again, I would've run away long before I was thirteen."

  She slapped him on the forearm, almost playfully. “You ran away at thirteen?"

  "Not a moment too soon, and that's enough of this topic of conversation,” he said, closing the door on his past with a mighty slam.

  She sighed and looked away, strangely content. She had a feeling Cyrus didn't tell just anyone about Gil and Jean and the farm he hated. But he'd confided in her. He was her friend, her very best friend. The thought warmed her from the inside out. He trusted her.

  Beside her Cyrus fidgeted a little, as if trying to make himself comfortable after sitting for too long on the ground. “Can I ask you something?"

  Her heart skipped a beat as she turned to him. “Anything."

  He looked into her eyes. “Why are women always trying to feed me?"

  "What?"

  "You, Maude Hipp, Jane, even Mary Alice. Do I look like I need fattening up?"

  She laughed, briefly and softly, her anger long gone. She couldn't stay mad at Cyrus for long. “No, you don't look like you need fattening up.” She scrutinized him, her eyes raking up and down critically, searching for faults and finding none. “But you do,” she said, “look like a man who needs taking care of."

  Her smile faded. Cyrus was looking her straight in the eyes again, in that penetrating way he had.

  "Do I, now?"

  She nodded once, in answer. F
or a moment she forgot that a lawman would make an unsuitable husband, she dismissed the idea of leaving Paris and settling on a farm far from town. She dismissed the idea that she didn't need thrills.

  How could this have happened? How could she be attracted to two men at the same time? Calvin, with his whispered sweet words and handsome face and simple plans, and Cyrus, on a level that was more physical and surprising, and certainly inexplicable. Cyrus, who didn't want a family, who wore a gun, who was a part of her painful past. Cyrus, who was her friend, who was always there, who was looking at her right now as if they shared a divine secret. In her mind, Roxanne knew that Calvin was right for her and Cyrus was not. Oh, but her heart ... her heart wasn't quite so sure.

  If only she could reach out and revive the man who'd paced beneath her window and opened his heart to her. That was the Calvin she was falling in love with, that was the man who had kept her awake half the night, who had given her good dreams for the first time in a very long while. Why did he have to be so different today, when she needed him to remind her of everything they could have together?

  Cyrus, she reminded herself again, was just a friend. Her awareness of him was just another step in her awakening, just another step in her return from numbness. He wasn't right for her, he wasn't the kind of man who could ever open his heart to a woman the way Calvin had.

  But looking at Cyrus right this minute, she had the most disturbing thought: if only he could love her....

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  Chapter Eight

  Cyrus hadn't spoken to Roxanne in three days, since the picnic in Mallory Park. That didn't mean he hadn't seen her, hadn't watched her, but he'd observed from a distance as he had for the past three years. Lately he'd gotten too close to her, and that closeness only fed his obsession. When he looked into her eyes all sorts of impossible thoughts taunted him, and he questioned his resolve to see that Roxanne got exactly what she wanted. That wouldn't do.