Dinner was a quiet affair. Michael and Manuel talked about the ranch, fitting the brothers into their work crew, and the need for rain. She now knew that Texas always watched for rain. They waited for rain the way a child hoped for a visit from Santa Claus—eager and expectant.
Megan closed her eyes and recalled the many and varied shades of green in Ireland. Light green, dark green, restful, restoring greens in the trees, in the grass, in the flowers. Rain had been a simple, inevitable, constant part of every day. The scraping of Michael’s chair on the floor brought her back to the here and now.
“Thank you for the fine eating, ladies.” He reached for his hat hanging from a nail in the wall. “We’ll be in the south range for the rest of the day. See you at supper.”
Then he was gone. His broad back disappeared through the door, and Megan winced at the sound of his boots on the porch stairs. Each resolute step sent a sharp jab to her chest. She curled around the pain and closed her eyes.
She heard Manuel kiss his wife, heard the light tap of his hand on her bottom, heard the whisper he sent piercing into her ear.
There had been no kiss for Megan, no hug, no promises of what they might do later in the dark. Her heart was breaking. Could you die from a broken heart? It would be a painful way to go for certain sure.
Lupe watched her with a mix of pity and sorrow. “Patience, mi amiga. It will be all right.”
“But I don’t know how to fix this. Oh, Lupe, I’m so sorry.” Her voice warbled.
“I know. I know. Now the best thing to do it keep busy and not wallow in your trouble.” Lupe’s voice was brisk, business-like. “Let’s get these dishes done, and I’ll teach you how to make one of Mike’s favorite meals—enchiladas. Oh, that man does love a good enchilada.”
The afternoon passed in a flurry of flour and tomatoes. Megan lifted her head in surprise at the sound of men returning from a day on the range. Peering out the kitchen window, she watched as Michael grabbed a towel from the clothesline and headed for the river. Last week, he might have called to her to join him. They would have walked to the river hand-in-hand like two children sneaking off for a bit of naughty fun. She loved watching his long, muscular legs, the hard plane of stomach, his tight buttocks as he waded into the clear water. When he emerged all clean with water sluicing down his body in little rivers, he would smile a mischievous grin and pull her close. He would issue instructions. Sit down on that towel and raise your skirt for me, darlin’. Or Wrap your legs around me, sweetheart, I’m going to take you standing up. Or Bend over. Memories of those delicious games sent heat and moisture pooling between her thighs.
Mike returned from the river and sank onto the porch swing with a glass of whiskey in his hand. Megan hesitated. Should she join him or leave him be? Well, nothing gained by being a coward. She shut the door quietly behind her and joined him on the swing. His foot sent them on a gentle rhythm, and he took her hand and pulled it onto his thigh.
“Do I smell enchiladas?” he asked with a grin.
“You do. Lupe taught me how to make them.” Megan glanced at her husband through lowered lashes.
“Thank you, darlin’. They are a favorite of mine.” They sat in silence, rocking back and forth on the swing. The evening quiet was broken by the sound of approaching horses. Michael looked at her with surprised eyebrows before rising from their shared seat.
Mike met the riders in the yard. “Hello, Sally Ann.” He nodded at the tall girl before helping her down from her horse. “Walter.” Mike held his hand out to Sally Ann’s father. “Care to join us for a cool drink?” Mike gestured toward the porch.
“Yes, thank you, but Sally Ann has something to say to you and your wife first.” He directed a scowl at the girl.
It felt like a thunderstorm the tension crackled so aggressively in the air. Megan rose. “Please, have a seat. I’ll go get some lemonade for Sally Ann. Would you like some, Mr. Murphy, or would you rather have a glass of whisky with my husband?”
“I’d love the whiskey, but first Sally Ann has something to say.” He gave his daughter a compelling nod.
Sally Ann shuffled her feet and tried to find a home for her hands. She settled on holding them clasped at her waist.
“Now. Before I ask Mike for the use of his woodshed.” Her father growled and glowered.
The girl jumped and instinctively protected her bottom with her hands. She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry for my behavior at the dance. It was mean and rude. I hope you can forgive me.”
Megan would have laughed except for the look of regret on Sally Ann’s face. The revelations and unhappiness of the last day had eclipsed the incident on the dance floor. Truth be told, she had forgotten about it.
“Thank you, Sally Ann. Let’s put it behind us and let tempers cool.” She smiled as relief swept like a passing storm over the girl’s face.
A look of masculine understanding was exchanged between the two men and the weather on the porch cooled to a peaceful breeze.
Megan produced the lemonade and whiskey. The foursome made the kind of pleasant conversation that passed from person to person like candy.
After a short time, Mr. Murphy said, “We won’t keep you from your supper.” He offered his daughter his hand. “Thank you for your understanding. Sally Ann can have a hot temper, but she’s a good girl for all of that.”
Mike helped Sally Ann mount her horse. Megan suppressed a little giggle as the girl winced when her bottom met the saddle. Spanking hurt, but it also helped. An idea, a plan, a little spark of hope bloomed in her head as she waved their guests away.
Lupe had certainly been right about those enchiladas. Michael ate one after the other before pushing his chair from the table with a satisfied sigh and an appreciative pat to his stomach. “Thank you, ladies. I know enchiladas are a passel of work. I’m going back to the barn. One of the horses might foal tonight, and I’d like to be on hand to help.” He paused. “Megan, go on up to bed when you’re tired. I’ll be up later.” He hesitated before turning from the table and heading out the door and across the yard to the big barn. No wink. No smile. No little kiss on her cheek. Megan looked down at her hands clenched in her lap and willed herself not to cry.
She and Lupe cleared the table and washed the dishes. Lupe chatted in her usual way, explaining to Megan the mysteries of the kitchen. Reminding her that she and Manuel planned to return to Mexico, and Megan would be queen of the house. It would be best if she knew the kingdom at her command. Megan knew that Lupe was doing her best to distract her, and she loved her friend for it, but nothing short of a meteor crashing through the roof of the house and igniting their world in a tower of flames could keep her mind off Michael and the mess she had created.
“Mike especially likes his food burned—burned to a black, crumbling crisp.” Lupe waited a beat before a look of understanding and apology flitted across Megan’s face.
“I’m sorry. I can’t stop thinking about Michael. I want the old one back—the one who loved me.” Megan’s voice, small and sad, trembled.
“Now. Now. He loves you still. He ain’t as fickle as that. I don’t think the man’s mad so much as sorry.” Lupe continued to bustle about the kitchen. “I’m going to set some beans to soak. Tomorrow we’ll make chili hot and spicy, just the way he likes it. He’ll be so busy eating his favorite foods that he’ll forget all about feeling pesky.”
Megan gave her friend a hug. “Thank you. I’m going up to bed. I didn’t sleep well last night.”
She pulled herself up the stairs by the handrail, feet and spirits dragging. After dropping the long white nightgown over her head, she stared at herself in the mirror. Her face was an oval of pale pain, freckles thrown across her face like stars scattered in the sky. The flame of her hair stood around her head like a raging blaze. Megan met the gaze of this dispirited girl in the mirror and held it in a long moment of contemplation. “Damn troubled water.” She hissed at her reflection. “I’m going fishing.”
Fighting sleep,
she sat on the edge of the bed and waited for her husband. The firm thud of his boots on the stairs brought her back to full wakefulness, and her eyes focused on the door.
The handle turned and the door nudged open. Michael peeked into the room and startled at the sight of her sitting alert and upright on the side of the bed.
“Why aren’t you asleep?” He placed his strong, tanned hands on his hips.
“I’m waiting for you.” She chanced a glance at his handsome face. “How is the horse? Is there a baby in the barn?”
“Mother and baby are fine.” He chuckled. “She’s a pretty little filly. She’s light brown with a white blaze on her face and two white socks. I think she’ll be a beauty.” He sat next to her on the bed. “Now answer my question. Why aren’t you asleep?”
“Spank me, Michael.” The words were spoken with quiet desperation.
“Spank you. Why would I do that?” He pushed her riot of curls over her shoulder the better to peer into her face.
“I disobeyed you. I lied by not telling the truth. I put myself in harm’s way. I put our marriage in harm’s way.” She stopped and gulped at a painful lump in her throat. “Spank me so we can move on. I’m scared. I’m sorry. I’m sad.” The lump refused to leave, and her voice emerged in a strangled plea. “Forgive me.”
He took her hand in his own and gently rubbed his thumb over her knuckles, soothing and calming. “Well, all of that is true enough.” He moved his thumb across her knuckles once more before he laced his fingers with hers. “I haven’t thought about much else these last couple of days. But I can’t spank you for it. When you snuck off to the river, that was plain defiance. You deserved to be spanked, but this is different. At least it seems different to me.” He looked at their hands, his large and dark and hers small and pale. “I asked more than once if you had a secret or worry to share. You didn’t trust me, darlin’. You didn’t trust me with your troubles.” He paused. “I can’t spank you for that, for a lack of confidence in me.”
“I was going to tell you. I planned to tell you.”
“Tomorrow. That’s what you said, and I believe you, but that’s not the way it happened.” His shoulders lifted and fell.
“But what could you have done?” Her voice was a near-wail.
“Well, we’ll never know. You didn’t give me the chance, but I believe I would have contacted someone in Boston, a private detective or the sheriff, and had him look into it. We would have known that the man wasn’t dead. We might even have known they were headed this way. When I saw those two men with their hands on you at the dance, my heart nearly stopped. We could have met them together and with knowledge.” He stopped and cleared his throat. “I can’t spank you for not trusting me. I can’t spank you into trusting me. You either do or you don’t. If I did such a thing, I wouldn’t be any better than your friend’s father spanking his own daughter to get information. Spanking should be an act of care and concern and love. If it’s not, then it’s nothing more than a beating. I won’t beat you, Megan.”
“I do trust you, Michael. It’s just that after a few weeks the whole terrible thing seemed far behind me. I didn’t want to trouble you, but I had decided to tell you.” Her voice sank to a sigh.
Tears coursed down her face and fell on their entwined hands.
Mike wiped the tears away. “Well, I wish you had let me decide if I wanted to be troubled or not. Megan, you are my wife. We took vows that are serious, lasting, holy. I don’t plan to turn my back on them or you.” He gave a cough that sounded half-moan. “Don’t think for a minute that lying with you in this bed and not reaching for you is easy. Good god, I’m hard as a rock all night long. I think we need a little time. Can you do that? Give me a little time.”
She gave him a miserable nod.
He helped her stand and pulled the covers down. “Get in bed. Go to sleep.”
Megan snuggled into her pillow and tried to stop the tears. He hadn’t forgiven her. She thought back to their vows. Why—she had trapped him into marriage, showing up out of the blue. He hadn’t sent for her. Lupe had. He married her out of kindness because that’s the kind of man he was. Her pillow was damp beneath her cheek. Her heart a throbbing shell.
Chapter 13
Megan
The sun slanted bright and bold across the floor when Megan opened her eyes the following morning. She threw her arm over her face to stop the glare of that insistent, persistent Texas sun.
“Jaysus, Mary and Joseph,” she muttered. The Texas summer sun was never gentle, never quiet, never muted. It beat down on man and beast with harsh heat day in and day out. Galway had been its opposite. The sun there sent weak, wavy lines peeking from behind clouds as fluffy as a goose down pillow. Truth be told, the heat exhausted her. Now that wasn’t fair. She shouldn’t blame her lazy lethargy on the weather. It was her sadness about Michael that stole her sleep.
She pulled her body from the bed and stared at the gaunt face in the mirror. Time to gather herself together. Michael rose every day and saw to the well-being of the ranch and all the creatures on it. She would too. She pulled a blue skirt over her hips and donned a light chemise under her blouse. It was too hot for even the lightest corset, and her bosom was small. Megan frowned at her breasts. What man wanted a woman who looked like a girl? If Michael had made a free choice, he wouldn’t have picked a wilting Irish girl, but someone like Sally Ann: tall, buxom, sun-tamed. Giving herself a final regretful look, she left the room with purposeful steps.
Megan entered the kitchen and found Lupe at work. Everyone on the entire blasted ranch was at work except her. Shame on her. Shame.
“What can I do to help?” Megan tried for cheerful.
“Good morning, Megan. Your breakfast is on the stove.” Lupe resumed chopping something green.
Megan moved in for a closer look. “What are those?”
Lupe laughed. “Well, these are peppers. We need them for the chili. Chili and cornbread, the men are in for a fine supper tonight.” Lupe’s concern appeared in a small frown. “Go eat, girl. You look tuckered out.”
Megan took the plate to the table and pushed the food around with her fork. “Thank you. This is good.”
“I don’t see how you could know.” Lupe gave a throaty laugh. “You haven’t eaten anything. I know jefe would like to see you gain a little weight.”
Megan sighed. Tears pooled. The fork fell with a clatter. “Poor Michael. He shouldn’t be stuck with me, a skinny Irish girl with no bosom.”
“What in the world? Stuck with you? There’s not a lick of sense in that, Megan. Michael loves you.” Indignation laced her words. Her voice gentled as she watched the sad girl stare at her uneaten food. “You are simply tired and a bit unhappy with yourself, but don’t go putting thoughts in Michael’s head. You think he don’t like your bosom, ask him. He ain’t a mind-reader.”
“You’re right. Of course, you are. My uncle and that awful man showing up and causing trouble have put me in a strange mood. I’m sorry.” She carried her plate to the sink. “The beans are ready to pick in the garden.” She turned at the door. “Will Michael and the men be in for dinner?”
“No, Manuel said they were working the far north side of the ranch. They took food with them.” She glanced at the peppers laying on the counter. “Those men will be hungry for this chili. They surely will.”
Megan pulled her biggest bonnet over her riot of hair and stepped out. She sank to the ground next to the beans and picked and picked and picked. Lupe said it was a bumper crop, and she would teach Megan how to can. Another thing every woman in Texas, except her, knew how to do.
“Come have a sandwich,” Lupe called from the door. “Bring the beans with you.”
Happy to get out of the heat, Megan returned to the house.
“That’s enough sun today, Megan. We’ll wash the beans after supper, and you can sit in the shade and snap them this afternoon. I’ll show you how.” Lupe motioned at the two plates on the table.
Snapping bea
ns turned out to be easy, routine, methodical. Megan’s mind wandered down paths and meandered into the past as her hands worked. She rested her head against the back of the swing and closed her eyes. Just for minute. Just to rest her eyes. Just to take a little break.
Megan’s head jerked forward and her eyes shot open at the sound of horses and men returning. Their voices loud, jovial, glad the work day was over. She bent to retrieve the bowl of beans half finished. Well, she must have dozed off. Her brain was a foggy haze.
Michael strode across the yard. His eyes fixed firmly on his wife. “Megan,” he was asking a question. “Would you like to come with me to the river?”
But her attention was focused on another horse and another rider entering the yard. She stood and one hand rose to clutch at her throat. The other grasped the side of her skirt. Her knuckles turned white from the intensity of the grip she had on the flowered fabric. Her attention was riveted on this arrival. She hadn’t heard a word her husband said. She was dimly aware that Lupe had joined her on the porch and that the hired hands watched the new-comer as well. Even Caesar left the cool shade under the porch to stand by Michael and stare. He lifted his lips into a snarl, but Michael’s hand on his head brought quiet.
Mike saw at once that the tall man on the bay horse was an inexperienced rider. He sat tentatively while one hand gripped the pommel of his saddle. The man pulled on the reins asking the horse to stop but not really believing his command. Well, horses always know who’s in charge, and it was clearly not that rider. When he managed to bring the horse to a stop, he lifted the hat from his head and wiped his sleeve across his forehead, and Michael knew. Hair like a flaming torch reflected the late afternoon sun and eyes the clear blue of a summer pool swept the scene.
Megan shot off the porch like she’d been fired from a canon. “Brian. Brian. Brian.” She called as she raced toward the still mounted man.
Mike shot his arm out as she zoomed by and snagged her around the waist. He pulled her close to his body. Her feet lifted from the ground but were still pumping. “Let him dismount, sweetheart. Don’t startle his horse.”
Troubled Water: Lone Star Love Book One Page 11