Love Finds You in Last Chance, California (35 page)

She turned toward him. “Why’d you say that?”

He drew back and crossed his arms. “Say what?”

“You implied that Justin might be involved in the loss of your stock.”

He shrugged. “It’s possible. He’s a stranger who came at the same time they disappeared. That speaks for itself.”

“Lots of strangers come through. That doesn’t make them thieves.”

“They don’t all have knowledge of good stock or access to them. Phillips has both.” His stiff posture relaxed and he smiled. “Let’s don’t worry about one of your wranglers, Alexia. He’s not important.” He edged a little closer and touched her arm. “Have you thought any more about what I asked you?”

She drew her arm away and scooted back. “About what?”

“I’ve come to care for you more deeply than I realized. You’re all I want in a wife. I hope you’ve had time to reconsider my proposal.” A cunning expression nudged out the smile and made its way into his eyes. “You won’t regret it, I promise you. I have much to offer a woman.” He touched one of her loose curls and stroked the side of her face.

She jerked her head back and pushed his hand away. “You have no right to touch me. I haven’t changed my mind. I have no desire to marry you, and you need to quit asking.”

Carter’s smile faded and something nearing a snarl took its place. “So all this time you’ve been toying with me?”

Alex scooted farther from his reach and crossed her arms across her chest. “I haven’t toyed with you at all. In fact, I haven’t encouraged your suit. I told you the first time that I didn’t love you.”

He glared. “You think you’re too good for me? You have no idea what you’re giving up.” The last words hissed through his teeth.

She stood and took a step back, being careful to keep her voice low. “I think you need to leave, Mr. Foster.”

A low growl erupted from between his parted lips and he jerked upright. “You’re smitten with that good-for-nothing cowpoke, aren’t you? He’s nothing but a two-bit thief. You turn me down and you’ll live to regret it.”

Alex glanced around, glad to see the nearby families occupied. “I’ll not regret anything other than allowing you to malign Justin Phillips in my presence. Leave. Now.”

Uncle Joe approached from the side and laid his arm across her shoulders. “You heard Alex, Mr. Foster. You’ve worn out your welcome, and she’d like you to leave.”

The man turned with a muttered curse and stalked away, but his final words continued to ring in Alex’s ears.

Alex and Uncle Joe stood at the end of the buckboard on Monday morning, waiting for Christy Grey to catch her breath after the long, painful drive to the ranch. Beads of perspiration covered her white face from the jostling along the way. Uncle Joe had done his best to prepare the bed of the wagon, lining it with Martha’s heavy quilts, but the broken ribs were still causing her intense pain.

Uncle Joe hovered over the side panel, his brows drawn down in concern. “Young lady, you want I should pick you up and carry you?”

A small grimace flashed across Christy’s face, and she shook her head. “No, thanks. If I can get on my feet, I’ll make it into the house.”

Alex placed her booted foot on a wagon spoke, swung over the sideboard and into the bed. She knelt in the tight space beside Christy’s legs. “How about I slip my hand under your neck and help you sit?”

“That might help.” Christy reached up, grasped the side rail of the wagon, and gripped it until her knuckles turned white. “I’m ready.”

Alex slid closer and positioned her hand under Christy then raised her head as the woman pulled her weight up. A groan tore from Christy’s throat, but she kept moving until she sat upright. “I made it.” The words trembled and her breath came in short gasps.

“Put your arm around my shoulders.” Alex gripped Christy’s wrist with one hand and put her other arm across her back. “Uncle Joe, when I get her scooted forward, you take her arm.”

The next few minutes passed on ponderous feet as they made slow progress to the rear of the wagon and down to the ground. Christy stood almost erect, with one hand pressed over her rib cage and the other gripping Uncle Joe’s arm. Martha stood on the porch holding Toby in her arms, a silent witness to the woman’s travail.

Uncle Joe shifted his weight onto his cane but retained a grip on Christy’s arm. “Still think we should’a had one of the wranglers help. Could’a carried you right into the house. Afore my fall, I’d a done it for you. Blasted hip won’t let me do anythin’.”

Christy shook her head, and her chin rose in a stubborn tilt. “I didn’t want anyone else. I wish I didn’t have to depend on any of you.” She glanced from Alex to Uncle Joe then dipped her head. “Sorry. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but I don’t belong here.”

Martha bustled forward and stopped a few feet away. “Go on with you. Anyone who’s hurt and needing a helping hand is welcome—leastwise, they are till they prove there’s a reason we shouldn’t help them.”

Christy took a tentative step and grunted then another. “Seems I’ve already proved that. I can’t imagine why you’re willing to have me here.”

Martha patted Toby’s back and hugged him. “Reckon you wouldn’t be asking that question if you didn’t see you’d done wrong. That’s a good enough reason for this family to be willin’ to help.” She turned and hustled back toward the steps.

Christy gazed after her and gave a small shrug. “I don’t understand, but I’m beholden to you, just the same.”

Uncle Joe clicked his tongue. “Makes no difference now. Let’s get you in to bed. Martha’s got a room fixed up proper. If you’re hungry, we’ll have a bite to eat brought in; then you can sleep.”

They moved at a slow pace from the wagon to the porch, somehow navigated the steps, and got Christy into her room. Uncle Joe plucked Toby from Martha’s arms then slipped out and closed the door, leaving the women alone. Alex and Martha gently unbuttoned the back of Christy’s dress and helped her into a nightgown. She slid into bed with a soft moan and straightened her legs under the snow-white sheet. “Thank you,” she breathed in a soft voice. “I don’t know what else to say.” She closed her eyes and a single tear crept from under one lid and made its way down her cheek.

Martha patted the younger woman’s hand. “No need to say anything else. ‘Thank you’ works just fine.” She tucked the sheet under Christy’s chin and smoothed a lock of red hair from her forehead. “Looks like you could use rest more than food right now. One of us will check on you later and see if you’re hungry.”

Christy nodded and turned her face away, but not before Alex saw another tear join the first.

Alex and Martha silently exited the room and closed the door almost shut. They moved by common consent to the kitchen, where Uncle Joe waited with a happy Toby. The little boy sat in the chair his papa had fashioned, munching on a piece of bread and jam.

Martha leaned down and kissed the plump, rosy cheek then faced Alex. “I declare. I understand why you felt you had to bring her. Poor lost dear—she don’t think she belongs anywhere with decent folks. She’s not at all what I expected.”

Alex sank into a chair at the small kitchen table and nodded. “I felt the same way the first time I met her. She’s trying to hide a lot of pain beneath that tough exterior.”

Uncle Joe tapped his cane on the floor. “Uh-huh. I’d say it’s our job to help her heal while she’s here. God’s surely able to fix what’s ailin’ her.”

The next few days passed without incident. Christy kept to her bed most of the time with Martha and Alex taking turns helping tend to her personal needs. Justin had requested that Toby stay out of Christy’s room, and no contact occurred between Christy and Justin. He’d hoped this arrangement could continue until she was well enough to leave, but common sense told him differently.

Saturday dawned clear, sunny, and hot. Martha rose from the breakfast table and leaned her knuckles on the smooth pine surface. “It’s time for a change in this house. That Christy girl has kept to her room long enough. She may not want to come out, and Justin, you might find it uncomfortable, but she’s not staying another hour in there. It ain’t healthy.”

Three faces raised to stare at her, distinct expressions on each. Justin tried to keep the displeasure from showing on his—after all, this wasn’t his home, and he had no right to dispute Martha’s wishes. He hazarded a glance at Alex and noted her lips curving in a soft smile. The comments she’d made over the past few days proved the tenderness Alex felt for the woman. He didn’t get it—she’d threatened his son’s security and been nothing but trouble.

Ever since the church picnic last week, the atmosphere had been strained between himself and Alex. It couldn’t have set well with her when he’d accepted Lacey’s invitation. He gave a mental shrug—what did he know, after all? Maybe she was relieved he’d left so she and Carter Foster could talk in private. He’d noticed that Martha and Joe didn’t stay long and assumed they’d done so for Alex’s sake.

Most of Alex’s time had been taken with Christy the past few days, and they’d had no chance to talk. He’d stayed away from the house and taken on more of the outside chores, relieved that he’d not been asked to help with Christy’s care. Alex had accepted his absence and even seemed to approve. No doubt she saw him as just one of the hands and chafed at his intrusion into her household. How could he have been thinking of marriage just one short week ago when he’d watched her loving attention to Toby? Stupid daydreams.

“Come on, Alexia.” Martha beckoned before turning her attention back to the men. “I’ll leave the two of you to care for Toby and clear the table. If we need help moving Christy to the parlor, we’ll call.”

She and Alex disappeared down the hall that led off the far end of the kitchen. Justin heard a soft chuckle and swiveled his gaze to Joe. “What’s so funny?” His tone came out crankier than he’d intended.

Joe shook his head and grinned. “Don’t blame you, son. This has been hard for you. I’m just laughin’ at Martha. She’d go crazy if she didn’t have someone to boss.” He reached for a plate. “Come on. We’d best get this done, or she’ll nail our hides to the barn door.”

Justin matched Joe’s grin and lifted Toby from his chair. “You go play now, son. And don’t get in Miss Martha and Miss Alexia’s way, you hear?”

The little boy nodded. “Yes, Papa, I hear.” He scampered out of the kitchen, and the sound of his voice humming a tune floated back.

Alex stood in the kitchen and hung the pot she’d scrubbed and dried onto the rack above her head. The few days since Christy had hobbled to the main living area had passed with an uneasy peace attending them. Justin avoided the injured woman, and Christy refused to join the family at the table for meals. Only one bright spot shone in Alex’s estimation, and that was the developing relationship between Christy and Toby. Alex remained the little boy’s favorite, but he couldn’t seem to resist the invalid, bringing her one of his storybooks from time to time and begging that she read to him. For some reason Martha didn’t interfere, and if Justin was aware of the growing bond, he’d chosen to ignore it.

Christy had little to say around the adults, but the advent of the child into her life seemed to electrify her. Toby had been warned about not bumping her or sitting on her lap, but he’d wiggled his way under her arm and lay with his head on her shoulder. Any time he snuggled next to her with his book, her face lit up as if the sun resided within.