Lorraine Heath (23 page)

Last night had been an unexpected gift. It had been unlike anything she had witnessed between her parents. It had not resembled anything Boyd had hinted at.

The knock resounded against her door. She hoped it was Austin, but even as she strolled across the room, she recognized the steady staccato rap as belonging to her husband.

She bundled more snugly within her wrapper and opened the door. His gaze darted around the door frame before finally settling on her, and she wondered if he found it as difficult as she did to speak of mundane, inconsequential things after the intimacy they had shared.

“You didn’t come down to eat breakfast,” he said gruffly. “I just wanted to make sure you were all right.”

She couldn’t bring herself to admit that she experienced a slight tenderness when she walked. “I’m fine. Just fine.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Are you hurting?”

The heat flamed over her cheeks as she lowered her lashes. “A little.”

“I’m sorry for that. I’ll … I’ll do what I can to make it better next time.”

She dared to lift her gaze. “If there is a next time. Maybe we were lucky last night.”

If she didn’t know him as well as she did, she would have thought she’d hurt his feelings from the expression that had flitted across his face.

“Yeah, maybe so,” he said. He shifted his stance. “Are you going into town to get your damn prairie dog or do you want me to fetch her?”

The brusqueness in his voice hurt more than a dull-bladed knife plunged through her heart. After his abrupt departure last night, she had feared that she had somehow disappointed him. Now, she knew without a doubt that she had. She swallowed her tears. “I’ll fetch her.”

“Fine.”

He turned on his heel, took two long steps, halted, and glanced over his shoulder. “I need to talk with Tyler today. I’ll ride into town with you if you have no objection.”

Like a pebble thrown onto still waters, the joy rippled through her. “I’d like that. It’ll just take me a few moments to get ready.”

“Take your time. I’ll saddle our horses.”

She slipped into her room, pressed her back against the closed door, and splayed her fingers over her stomach. She wanted to give to Dallas as much as he’d given her. If only fortune had smiled on them last night.

Dallas had shared so much of himself with her, had given her such immense gratification, that she didn’t see how he could not have given her a child as well.

As Dallas rode beside Dee, he took pleasure in the smallest of things: the graceful slant of her back as she sat her horse, the loose strands of hair that toyed with the wind, the anticipation that sparkled within her eyes as they neared town.

Dallas had decided in the early hours of the morning, as sleep eluded him, that he would steer clear of his wife until she knew whether or not they had
gotten lucky.

That resolution had lasted until dawn’s fingers crept into his room, and he awoke alone with the thought of a day not shared with Dee stretching out before him.

He couldn’t deny that he wanted to be in her bed every night, buried deeply inside her, but he also recognized that he wanted more than that.

He wanted her warm smiles at breakfast, her laughter as she galloped across the prairie on Lemon Drop, the squeeze of her hand, the joy in her eyes, her soft voice when she spoke to him.

If he couldn’t share her nights, he had decided sitting at the breakfast table with no one but Austin for company that he would content himself with sharing her days and evenings.

She fairly stood in the saddle as the site for the hotel came into view.

“Oh, Dallas, they’ve started building it.”

“Of course they have. That’s why you broke the ground for them yesterday.”

“Still, I didn’t think it would happen so fast.”

She turned to him with such a radiant smile that it was all he could do not to reach across and plant a sound kiss on her mouth.

“Can we go in closer and watch?”

“It’s your hotel, Dee. You can hammer the nails into the wood if you want.”

“Can I?”

“Sure.”

As they brought their horses to a halt, Tyler Curtiss left the throng of workers, smiling broadly. “Morning!”

Before Dallas could dismount and assist his wife, Tyler was enjoying the privilege, his hands resting easily on Dee’s waist.

Jealousy, hot and blinding, shot through Dallas like molten lead, catching him off guard. Even when he’d suspected Houston had harbored feelings for Amelia, he’d never felt jealous. Anger, certainly, but nothing that made him want to snatch a man’s arm off simply because he’d helped his wife dismount.

Tyler stepped away from Dee and waved his hand in a wide circle. “What do you think?”

“It’s wonderful. I can’t believe you already have a portion of the frame up.”

“The bonus Dallas offered the men if they get the hotel finished within three months had the men sawing and hammering at daybreak,” Tyler explained.

Dee turned her attention to Dallas. He shifted his stance, uncomfortable with her scrutiny.

“You’re paying them a bonus?” she asked.

“Figured the sooner they finished, the sooner you could get your ladies here, get them trained.”

Tyler looked as though a good strong wind might blow him over. “What ladies?”

“Dee plans to have women managing her hotel and lady waiters serving food in the restaurant.”

“Lady waiters?” He grinned crookedly. “You wouldn’t have had to pay a bonus if you’d told the men that.”

“These are respectable women,” Dallas said, “not whores. Any man who doesn’t treat them properly will answer to me.”

“Marriageable women?” Tyler asked.

Dee glanced quickly at Dallas, then at Tyler. “They’re not coming with the express purpose to marry, but I expect a few of them might decide marriage is in order.”

“Where are they going to live?”

“In the rooms we’re putting above the restaurant.”

“Then I need to get the men back to work and get this hotel finished.”

Dee stepped forward. “Mr. Curtiss?”

He spun around. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Can I hammer a nail into place?”

“Yes, ma’am. You can do anything you want. Women waiters. Who would have thought …”

Standing back, Dallas watched as his wife confidently walked around the construction site, greeting each man individually. She hardly resembled the woman who had stood in his parlor, hesitant to pledge herself to him.

He wondered if she ever looked at the men she was coming to know and wished she had been given the opportunity to choose the man who would be her husband.

A man handed her a hammer while another gave her a nail. Two other men held a board in place. She pounded the nail into the wood, satisfaction spreading over her lovely features.

He wondered if she might have invited another man to return to her bed last night, if once with Dallas was enough; if once with another man might have never been enough.

He despised the doubts that plagued him because he would never know if given the choice, she would have chosen another.

Squatting in the tall prairie grasses, Rawley Cooper held the prairie dog close and watched as the lady walked through the skeleton of the newest building.

She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. He figured she looked like an angel—if angels existed. He harbored a lot of doubts about things like angels and heaven … and goodness. But the lady made him want to believe.

She stepped through a hole in the frame and backed up a few steps, holding her arms out, as though she couldn’t believe how big it was.

Then she turned, smiled softly, and began walking toward him.

His heart started beating so hard that he could hear it between his ears, and it hurt to take anything other than a little breath. He stood, clutching the critter close against him. It yelped and struggled to get free, but he held it tight.

“Hello, Rawley Cooper.”

She had the sweetest voice. He wished he had a hat so he could tip it at her like he’d seen some men do yesterday.

She knelt in front of him. She smelled like she’d brought a whole passel of flowers with her, but he couldn’t see that she was holding or wearing any. She took the prairie dog out of his arms. “How’s Precious?” “Fine.”

Her smile grew. “I appreciate your watching her for me.”

He wanted her to hug him the way she was hugging the prairie dog, but he knew she wouldn’t, knew no one ever would. He backed up a step. “I gotta go.”

As fast as his legs would churn, he ran toward the buildings where he could hide in the shadows.

Sitting in a rocking chair on the veranda, Cordelia closed her eyes and listened as the music circled her on the wind. The crescendo rose, grew bolder, louder until she could envision a man galloping across the plains, dust billowing up behind him …

“Dallas,” she said softly and peered through one eye at Austin.

Smiling broadly, he stilled the bow. “Yep.”

She closed her eye. “Give me another one.”

Dallas had escorted her home and then gone to check on his herd. Austin had joined her on the veranda, the violin tucked beneath his chin as he played tunes of his own creation, melodies that he based on the characteristics of people whom he knew.

She had guessed every song correctly so far—Houston, Amelia, Maggie, Dallas—but this melody was different. It carried no pattern. Strong for one moment, weak, weak, growing weaker with each note.

She opened her eyes, jumped to her feet, rushed to the edge of the veranda, and waved at her brother as he approached. “Cameron!”

“That’s right,” Austin said as he stopped playing.

Cordelia jerked her head around. “What?”

“That worthless song was Cameron.” He shot to his feet and turned toward the house.

“Austin!” Cameron cried as he brought his horse to a halt and dismounted.

Austin swung around. “What?”

Cameron placed a foot on the step, then returned it to the dirt as though he wasn’t certain if he was welcome. His gaze darted to Dee, then back to Austin. “I know you’re angry.”

“Damn right, I’m angry. When I can’t be with Becky, you’re supposed to take care of her for me. That’s what friends are for.”

Cameron blushed beneath his hat. “She was dancing with my brother. How was I supposed to know—”

“You should have known, that’s all. The minute he took her off to the shadows you should have known. She won’t be seventeen until next month. Duncan has to be on the far side of thirty—too old and too experienced for her.”

Cordelia stepped cautiously across the porch. “What happened?”

“Nothing happened,” Austin said, “because I stopped it.” He pointed his bow at Cameron. “And you can tell your sorry excuse for a brother that if he touches her again, I’ll kill him.”

“Think he figured that out when you broke his nose.”

“You broke Duncan’s nose?” Cordelia asked in shock.

“I would have broken his whole face, but Becky stopped me.” Austin stalked into the house.

Cameron plopped onto the step, planted his elbow onto his thigh and his chin against his fist. Cordelia sat beside him and took his hand.

He turned his palm over and threaded his fingers through hers before looking at her with such a baleful expression that she nearly wept.

“You ever wonder how our family came to be the way it is? Pa ain’t feeling poorly. He’s drunk most of the time. Boyd’s got so much hatred in him that he gets downright ugly for no reason. I think Duncan’s straddling a fence. He can’t decide whether to set out on his own or follow Boyd.”

“What did he do last night?”

“Took Becky out behind the general store and tried to force his affections on her. Austin was playing music for folks—” Cameron shook his head. “And I was a girl.”

“A girl?”

“Yeah, there ain’t enough girls around so we had to draw bandannas out of a hat. If we pulled a red one, we had to tie it around our sleeve and be the woman. I nearly got my boots danced off.”

She pressed her cheek against his shoulder. “Is that why you weren’t watching Becky? Too busy dancing?”

“Maybe.”

She rubbed the back of his hand, remembering the many times she’d done so as a child, wondering now when he had acquired the hand of a man. Even relaxed the veins bulged, the muscles appeared strong.

“Are you happy, Dee?”

Sighing, she closed her hand around his. “Yes, I am. Dallas is … fair.”

He jerked his head back. “Fair?”

“I don’t know if I can explain it. He never expects more of his men—of anyone—than he’s willing to give. He’s up before dawn, working, and he labors into the night. He talks to me, but more he listens. I don’t know if I’ve ever had anyone truly listen to what I had to say.”

“Do you love him?”

She shrugged and spoke as wistfully as her brother had only moments before. “Maybe.”

She glanced up at the pounding hooves of an approaching rider. Dallas drew his horse to a halt beside Cameron’s.

Cameron leapt off the steps. “I need to go,” he said, bussing a quick kiss across Dee’s cheek. “Can’t you stay for supper?” she asked.

“No, I—”

“Your sister wants you to stay,” Dallas said, his voice echoing over the veranda.

Cameron nodded quickly. “Then I’ll stay.”

“Doesn’t anyone in your family eat?” Dallas asked as he watched Cameron and Austin ride away from the ranch, heading for the saloon in town. The hostility between the two that he’d first noticed when they’d sat for dinner had abated during the meal. “Your damn prairie dog eats more than he does.”

“He was just a little uncomfortable—”

Dallas turned toward her and raised a dark brow.

She dropped into the rocking chair and folded her hands in her lap. “You terrify him.”

Dallas hitched a hip onto the railing. He needed a porch swing with a bench that wasn’t too wide so he could sit next to Dee and enjoy the evening breeze as night moved in. As soon as the cabinet maker set up shop, Dallas would order one, specially made with his new brand carved into the back.

“Reckon you understand that feeling.”

She smiled. “I also know what it is
not
to fear you.”

He couldn’t argue with that. If she still feared him, maybe she wouldn’t have been so quick to kick him out of her bed.