“I don’t mind.” Faith said. “I’ll enjoy the chance to spend time in a stable again.”
Charlie lifted Joy off the pony and swung her into his arms. “Let’s go, lassie. Mary’ll be after me with her ruler if you’re late for school.”
Faith led the shaggy pony back to the barn.
Reese found her there a little while later, seated astride the pony, her toes almost touching the ground as she trotted up and down the length of the barn. Faith’s back was to him. She was laughing at Brutus’s futile attempts to dislodge her as he scrubbed his side against one of the stalls.
“It will take more than that to get me off, you mean little imp.” Faith warned. “I’ve kept my seat on better mounts than you.”
“What a picture that conjures up.” Reese said.
Faith whirled the pony around, almost losing her balance at the sound of Reese’s voice. Embarrassment flooded her face. “What are you doing here?”
Reese’s gaze traveled from the tips of her dusty boots, up the length of her legs, hips, waist, lingered a moment at her breasts, then focused on her face. “I came to see what was keeping you. I never dreamed I’d find you like this.”
Faith heard the husky tone, recognized the heat in his eyes, and tried to smooth her skirts back over her exposed limbs. She wet her lips. “I promised Joy I’d groom Brutus for her.”
“Groom him for what?” Reese approached the pony, eyeing him warily, careful to keep out of the reach of his teeth.
“Groom him.” Faith repeated. “I was going to brush him, but then I thought how fun it looked to ride astride instead of in a side saddle…”
“Oh, it is.” Reese’s eyes darkened. “Fun to ride astride.”
“I never have before.” She looked almost guilty as she attempted to slide off Brutus’s back.
Reese slid his hands around her waist, easing her off the pony.
“Oh, yes, you have. Numerous times.” He pulled her to him, kissing the corner of her lips. “But never in a barn. Until now.”
“Reese, we can’t.” Faith murmured, already kissing him back and beginning to undo the buttons of his shirt.
“Of course, we can.” He backed her into one of the clean stalls.
“Reese! Faith! Are you in there?” Sam’s voice carried through the length of the stables. “Breakfast!”
“Maybe tomorrow.” Reese muttered.
Faith shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
“Reese!” Sam interrupted again, his voice closer.
“We’ll be there in a minute, Sam. We’re just putting Brutus away.” Reese grabbed Brutus’s reins before reaching over to kiss Faith one last time. “Meet me here in the morning after breakfast. I’ll teach you to ride astride. We’ll practice every morning.”
“On a horse.” Faith insisted.
“We can do that, too.” Reese led the pony into his stall. “If you insist.” He turned away from Brutus to face her. “But only if you’re a good girl and practice.”
“Reese…” Faith tried to warn him.
“And, sometimes, we won’t even need a horse…” He leaned toward her. Brutus leaned forward too, opened his mouth and took another chunk out of Reese’s arm. “Dammit!” Reese spun around to confront his attacker. The pony shied away, looking bored, uninterested.
Faith took a sugar cube out of her pocket and held it out to Reese.
“Don’t reward him!”
“I’m not.” Faith smiled at him. “I just thought you might like to make friends.”
“Not a chance.” Reese grumbled.
“We might be spending a lot of time in the barn.” Faith let her words trail off.
“On second thought…” Reese took the proffered treat, then grudgingly extended his hand to Brutus.
* * *
Reese announced his intentions at breakfast. “From now on, I’ll be giving Joy’s riding lessons.”
Charlie looked up from his plate.
Reese explained. “Faith wants to learn to ride…western style. I promised to teach her.”
“Do you have the time?” His uncle asked. “I can teach her as well as the little one.”
“I’ll teach her. Them.” Reese amended quickly. “I’ll find the time.”
“Okay by me.” Charlie added. “But if you change your mind…”
“I won’t.” Reese smiled down the table at Faith. “I just wanted everybody to know. Faith and I will be spending some time together each morning after breakfast.” Reese finished his meal and got up from the table.
Faith did the same, carefully heading in the opposite direction from Reese, her face, a becoming shade of pink.
Charlie waited until they’d both left the table, then addressed the others. “Sam, Joe, boys, find something to do away from the barn from now on.” Joe, the blacksmith, and the two ranch hands nodded in understanding.
“But, Pa,” Sam protested, “I clean the stables every morning. After breakfast.”
“Get up a bit earlier. Clean ’em before breakfast.” Charlie ordered.
Sam groaned.
Reese’s grandfather reached over to pat his youngest grandson on the shoulder. “One day,” Duncan promised Sam, “ye’ll understand and appreciate such thoughtfulness.”
* * *
In the days that followed, Faith fell more love with Reese and with the people living on the Trail T. She studied them all, learning the many ways each person contributed to the ranch. The kitchen was Sarah’s domain, the meals a communal affair. The children ate early, in the kitchen. The adults, including the two ranch hands, sat down to supper at the huge, dining table. It was a Jordan family tradition, begun by Reese’s father. Benjamin Jordan had spent his childhood eating alone, under the supervision of a nanny, who ate with the staff in the kitchen. Benjamin hadn’t been invited to sit down with his parents until after his sixteenth birthday. There was no such formality at the Trail T.
Mary taught school. It was her first love, the thing she did best. Charlie was the ranch ramrod, supervising the men. Sam worked with the horses. He had a special affinity for the animals. When he wasn’t doing lessons, he was working in the barn or the stables. Joe was the blacksmith. He made many of the household tools and kept the horses well shod. Reese’s grandmother, Elizabeth, tended her vegetable and herb gardens in the spring and summer, the chickens and geese, in the winter. And Duncan, Reese’s grandfather, who was past seventy, but spry, kept the family traditions. It was his job, and his passion.
Faith felt an overpowering need to belong, but she was careful in the tasks she chose. She didn’t want to intrude, disrupt, or usurp anyone else’s role. She spent her first few weeks on the ranch searching for her place—her vital role. And then she found it in Reese.
She noticed Reese groping for the entrance to his right jacket pocket as they returned from their morning ride.
Faith laughed. “Don’t you remember, Reese? It’s gone. Brutus stole it.” Reese’s first confrontation with Joy’s pony had been weeks ago.
Reese looked down at his side. He’d been trying to stash his cigars in a pocket that didn’t exist. “I keep forgetting.” He turned to look at her. “My favorite jacket. I’ll have to remember to order a new one.”
“A new one?” Except for the missing pocket, it was practically brand new.
“To replace this one.”
“Why not replace the pocket instead of the jacket?”
Reese shrugged. “It’s simpler this way.” He awkwardly tucked his cheroots into his left pocket. “Come on.” Reese dismissed the jacket. “There’s something I want to show you.” He turned to leer at her. “In the barn.”
By the time Reese had shown her the mare ready to foal in the back stall, Faith had forgotten about his jacket pocket. But she remembered it later that night when she found a crumpled sheet of paper on the floor near the bedroom dresser. Written across the front, in Reese’s heavy scrawl, was a list of things he needed to do.
At the top of the list, we
re the items: Telegraph bank, Washington, Senator Darcy, and so on, in order of importance. And at the bottom, added in pencil, were: shirts, cigars, brandy, jacket.
Faith smiled. It was late. After supper, Reese had gone to help Charlie and Sam with the mare. In his haste to change out of his good clothes, Reese had dropped his list. Knowing he would miss it, she tiptoed downstairs to his study. It wouldn’t hurt to check his supply of cigars and brandy while she was there.
* * *
“I thought you’d be upstairs sleeping.” Reese apologized, stamping the dirt from his boots in the kitchen doorway. He’d seen the lamplight glowing in the window, smelled the aroma of coffee simmering on the stove, but he hadn’t realized Faith was there until she raised her head from the table.
Faith straightened in her seat and wiped the sleep from her eyes. “I made some coffee for you.” She got up to pour him a cup.
“Thanks.” Reese wearily shrugged out of his coat.
“I warmed some of the leftover roast and potatoes, too. Are you hungry?”
Reese grunted. Faith moved closer to take his jacket. Reese held up his hands to ward her off. She looked so soft and clean in her white flannel nightgown and heavy robe, while he… “Don’t get too close. I smell.”
Faith wrinkled her nose. He did. His clothes were covered in dirt and blood and other odors she chose not to identify. Reese tossed his jacket across a chair on his way to the sink.
He pumped water in the basin and was about to wash dip his face in when Faith stopped him. “Wait!”
She tipped a kettle over the basin. A stream of boiling water mingled with the ice cold. A cloud of vapor drifted upward. Reese stared at her as she reached in to swirl the water, testing the temperature as if he were a child. “All right.” She confirmed. Faith set the kettle on the table, then handed Reese a towel and a bar of soap.
He continued to stare, unable to comprehend the incredible luxury. He’d been washing in cold water for years. He couldn’t remember anyone waiting up with coffee and hot water.
Faith smiled at him. He noticed her braid hung over one shoulder. “Reese,” she prodded, gently, “wash up. I’ll fix you a plate.” She turned back to the table. “How’s the mare?”
“What?” He sloshed more water over his face.
“How’s the mare?” She pulled a shirt from a basket on the table. “Put this on.” She handed it to Reese as he moved to sit down across from her chair.
It was one of his.
“Fine. We lost one of the foals, though. She had twins.” His words were softly spoken.
“I’m sorry.” Faith placed a plate in front of him along with his cup of coffee. She sat down across from him.
“Aren’t you having any?” Reese looked over at her. She pulled another shirt from the basket and opened a small box. It was full of buttons. A gold thimble adorned her finger.
Faith shook her head as she bit the end of the thread. “I’m not hungry. But I thought I’d keep you company.” She smiled and tried to gauge his reaction. “If you don’t mind.”
Mind? Reese thought. Mind? When there was a warm, sympathetic woman smiling at him, listening earnestly to his every word? He stopped eating. He watched as she bent her head over her sewing, as she carefully anchored a button into place then laid the shirt aside.
She stood up.
He dropped his fork and reached across the table to catch her wrist. “Stay. Please.”
“I’ll pour us some more coffee.” She told him. “Then you can tell me all about it.”
Her invitation was overwhelming. He told her all about the foaling process, then when he feared he’d bored her to tears, she asked a question about the ranch and he launched into a discussion on management practices. He talked until his throat felt scratchy and strained. And still Faith listened, calmly sewing on buttons and mending tears in a small mountain of garments. Most of them, his. She tossed the last shirt into the basket, sat up straight and stretched her aching muscles.
“You’re tired.” Reese said.
“And so are you.”
“I’ve kept you up too late.” His brown eyes were dark, filled with expression.
“I enjoyed it.” Faith got up from her chair, bustling around the kitchen to dispel the sudden tension. “I need to check on Joy. There’s hot water in the reservoir and I pulled the tub in, in case you wanted a bath. And I hung your robe next to the tub. Would you like some more coffee? Some brandy?”
Reese shook his head.
“Well, I’ll leave you alone to bathe.” She hesitated in the kitchen doorway. “If you need me, just call. I’m going to make sure Joy’s all right.”
“Faith?”
“Yes?”
“It won’t take me long to bathe. If you want to wait, we could check on Joy together. Before we go to bed.” His voice was low, husky, endearing.
Faith swallowed the lump in her throat. Her heart surged with happiness. “I’ll wait.” She told him. “If you’re sure you don’t mind?”
“I’m sure.”
An hour later, they tiptoed up the stairs to Joy’s room. Faith smoothed the wisps of hair off Joy’s sleeping face and planted a kiss on her forehead. Reese fingered the plaits of the little girl’s blond braid, tucked her dolls close beside her, and pulled the covers up tight, just as he did every night. Quietly, he followed Faith out the door.
In his own room, in his own bed, Reese slept with his arms around Joy’s sister.
* * *
Faith had found her niche, carved it out of her concern for Reese and the people of the Trail T. She did as she had always done. She made the huge ranch house a home. She gradually took over the role of taking care of Reese. She took care of the small details that made his life more comfortable. Each night, there was plenty of water in the stove reservoir. She made sure his cigar box was kept full, the ashtrays, empty. She filled the brandy decanter from the casks in the cellar, straightened his desk, kept the scuttle full of coal for the fire in his office. She waited up for him on the nights he worked late, ready to make him coffee or a late night snack, to listen, or to make his body sing with passion until the wee morning hours. Faith took her responsibilities as seriously as he did. She took care of the ones she loved. And she did it so subtly, so carefully, she didn’t realize Reese was aware of it. Until the morning almost five weeks after her arrival on the ranch. The morning she missed breakfast.
“Where’s Faith?” Reese asked, as he entered the dining room and took his place at one end of the table.
“She’s not feeling well.” Mary responded, “I took some hot tea up to your room earlier.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he demanded.
“Faith said you were working, that I shouldn’t bother you. She said she’d be fine.” Mary’s reply was calm.
“She wasn’t ill last night.” Reese said. “What could be wrong with her? Unless…” He pushed back his chair and hurried out of the dining room. He took the stairs two at a time. He knocked once on the bedroom door before entering. “Faith? Are you ill? Should I send for the doctor?”
Faith was curled into a miserable ball in the center of the bed.
She rolled to one side to face him. There was a mark in the center of her bottom lip where her teeth had gripped it. “Oh, Reese, it’s nothing.”
Reese sat down on the bed beside her. “It must be something.” He smiled at her, “I’ve never known you to miss breakfast. Have you been sick? Vomiting?” He tried to keep the hopeful note out of his voice in deference to her misery.
Faith shook her head. Her eyes filled with tears.
Reese’s smile disappeared, along with his hopes. “Then what is it? You can tell me.”
“It’s my time.” She whispered, blushing furiously.
“What?”
“It’s my time,” she said a little louder. “Time for my monthly. It started this morning.”
“Oh.” It was all Reese could think to say. She wasn’t pregnant. He had failed. They had f
ailed.
“Reese,” Faith said softly, “I’m sorry for causing you so much trouble this morning.”
“It’s no trouble. I missed you at breakfast. I thought you might be…you know…” He faltered.
“What?”
“I thought you might be pregnant. Morning sickness is one of the symptoms. When you didn’t come down for breakfast and Mary said you were ill, I thought…” he explained.
Her face brightened, “I might still be.” She was hopeful.
At first, Reese thought she was joking, then he realized she really didn’t understand. “No, innocent, you can’t be.”
And he explained why.
She blushed again, even redder, this time, because she was so ignorant. She had heard these things whispered about her entire life, but being unmarried, she had been sheltered, kept from the realities of life. Until her mother had died giving birth to Joy.
Faith had accepted responsibility for Joy from the day she was born, but a doctor had delivered her and the wet nurse had fed her. “I’m sorry, Reese.”
Faith realized how disappointed he was. She wanted to be as disappointed, but a small part of her was secretly glad. The longer it took to conceive his child, the longer she would be able to share his life. Once, she conceived and delivered her child, she would be forced to live up to the terms of the contract. She would have to walk away from Reese and the baby, when all she wanted was to stay.
“I know how disappointed you must be.”
“It’s all right,” he told her, “We can try again as soon as you’re feeling better. These things take time, I guess.”
He smoothed her hair from her face. “Is there anything I can do? Anything you need?”
“No, I’m fine.” She sat up in bed and swung her feet over the side. “I’ll get dressed. We’re missing breakfast. Yours will be cold.”
Reese stopped her. “You climb right back into bed. And stay there until you feel better. Get some sleep. You didn’t get much last night.” He smiled, remembering.
“Neither did you.”
“I don’t need much,” he said. “And I’ll have a chance to catch up for a few days.” He touched her lips with his own. “Get some rest.”
He tucked the covers under her chin.
“How is she?” Several voices spoke at once when Reese reentered the dining room.
“She’s fine,” he assured them.
Golden Chances Page 18