One Texas Night (12 page)

After a few minutes, he asked, “Are your eyes open?”

“Is it here yet?”

“Almost.”

“Just let me know and I’ll open them then.”

Hank couldn’t resist—he tugged her to him. He wanted to pull her shirt off and repeat all they’d done before, but for now, he had to let her set the pace. Just because he couldn’t advance physically with making her his, didn’t mean he couldn’t move forward.

“Listen, sunshine, I’ve been thinking.”

She was busy settling atop his chest.

“Are you listening?”

She made a slight sound, half yes, half yawn.

“I don’t think I’m going to build another bed. If you’ve no objection, I think we should just share.”

He felt her nod.

“I mean from now on, not just while I’m laid up with this leg.”

She nodded again. “I understand. Except for the few months I had after all my sisters left, I’ve always shared a bed. It has advantages. Someone to cuddle with on cold nights. Someone to talk to when you can’t sleep.”

“Aggie, sharing a bed with a man is different.”

She stilled. “I know.”

He waited for her to say more. The easiness between them was gone. She lay stiff at his side. “You know,” he whispered, “I would never hurt you.”

“I know,” she said again. “This isn’t what I thought it would be like between us.”

He understood. When he’d handed her his gun, he’d thought he was making a partnership that at best would keep her safe and offer him company. But now, it was already more, far more.

Without a word, he leaned down and brushed his lips over hers, loving the sweet dawn taste of them. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held him to her as she turned the kiss to liquid passion.

Hank fought to keep it light, but his hands slipped back over her bottom, tenderly gripping each hip and holding her close.

She broke the kiss and shoved away, and reason fought its way into his brain. He tried to find the words to say he was sorry for something he wasn’t, but before he could speak, she unbuttoned her shirt.

“Touch me again, dear.” She opened the flannel and in dawn’s first light he saw her beauty.

All reason vanished as he lowered his mouth to her breast.

She cried out in surprise, then arched her back and allowed him his fill of her flesh.

By the time sanity returned, the sun had cleared the horizon. He kissed her long and hard, letting his hands continue caressing her breasts, now moist and full from his careful inspection. She’d complained only when he pulled away.

In the lazy stillness while they each remembered to breathe, Hank spread his hand across her stomach and made lazy circles over her flesh. “There’s more,” he whispered, loving the rise and fall of her abdomen as she breathed.

“I figured there might be.” She moved her cheek against the side of his head.

“You’ll let me know when you’re ready.” He didn’t bother to say “if you’re ready.” After the way she reacted to his second touch, there was no doubt where they were headed.

She sighed.

“It might mean children.” He’d heard of a few ways to prevent pregnancy, but doubted any one would work all the time. “You wouldn’t mind children?”

She frowned. “I wouldn’t mind your children. I think I’d love them dearly.”

He tried to keep the sadness from his voice. “That’s more than my mother did.”

“That’s not true.” She shoved away, unaware how the sudden sight of her beauty stopped his heart.

He shrugged. “I’m afraid it is. My mother left me before I could talk and never looked back.”

“No,” Aggie shouted as she scrambled off the bed. “No!”

As she backed against the wall, he saw the quilt for the first time. “Where did that come from?” He knew nothing of crafts, but he could see that he must be looking at a work of art. No clumsy blocks, no crazy designs, but an intricate picture painted with tiny bits of fabric and fine stitching.

“Your mother. She loved you and must have spent years making these.”

“These?”

“Didn’t you know they were in the trunk? Beautiful masterpieces of the seasons. The finest work I’ve ever seen.”

Hank shook his head. “I never looked. I figured it would be her clothes and I didn’t want to see them. I didn’t want to be reminded of a mother who never touched me.” All his old feelings of being abandoned washed across his thoughts. “Besides, quilts in a trunk mean nothing.”

Aggie had reached the edge of the quilt. Without a word she turned the fabric over and he saw a small square in the corner. Even from five feet away he could see the stitching. Three words: “For my son.”

He sat staring at the quilt as Aggie buttoned her shirt and ran upstairs to get the others. When they were all spread out on the bed, Hank could no longer deny they were for him. Each one had the same three words carefully embroidered on the back. She might have left him, but she hadn’t forgotten him.

A knock sounded a moment before they heard the front door creak. Aggie jumped like a rabbit at the sound of gunfire, and in seconds she was dressed.

“Hank?” the sheriff’s voice boomed. He opened the bedroom door while Aggie stood behind it finishing buttoning her shirt. “Oh, there you are. I didn’t think you’d be in bed. You all right?”

Hank tried to think of some reason he’d still be in bed after sunrise. He knew a very good one, but he wasn’t about to tell the sheriff. “I was just getting dressed.”

Aggie slipped out behind the sheriff, then managed to act like she was just walking in. “Oh,” she said, “good morning, sheriff.”

“Morning, ma’am. I got some good news. They found that other fellow in Fort Worth who Stockton hired to bother you. He was still drunk in the same saloon, claiming he thought the offer was a joke. So you can stop worrying.”

“Good.” Hank drew a long breath. “How about some coffee?”

The sheriff nodded. “I wouldn’t mind if I do. I saw Blue in the barn. I’ll run over and tell him the news and be right back.”

He disappeared. Aggie ran to put coffee on and Hank dressed. When the sheriff returned they were both at the kitchen table.

After a cup of coffee and small talk, the sheriff stood. “I best be getting back.” He lifted his hat. You folks have a good day.” He took a step toward the door, then added, “That sure is a fine little rocking chair you’re building out there, Hank.”

Hank smiled, remembering how he’d worked all day on it and Aggie had been so busy she’d never asked what he was making. “It’s for my wife. The one on the porch is too big for her.”

The sheriff looked at Aggie. “You’ll like that, Mrs. Harris.”

“I’ll need it,” she said calmly. “I’m going to have a baby.”

For a moment Hank thought he’d be embarrassed, but suddenly he couldn’t stop smiling. He shook the sheriff’s hand and limped to the door to say good-bye.

Aggie moved beneath his arm to steady him while they waved the lawman away.

When they were alone once more, Hank whispered, “I think I’m falling in love with my partner.”

“I’m afraid I am too.” She smiled up at him.

“But, Aggie, you’re not pregnant.”

She frowned. “We’d better work on that, dear, before the sheriff finds out I lied.”

Hank looked up at the bright morning sun. “Lucky for us it’s almost sundown.”

They turned toward the house and stepped inside. For the first time since he’d built the place, Hank locked the door and they made love beneath each season of quilts.

SILENT PARTNER

Chapter 1

Dust circled around Rowdy Darnell’s worn boots as he stepped from the noon train. The reddish brown dirt whirled, trying to wipe his footprints away before they were even planted in this nothing of a town called Kasota Springs, which suited him fine. If he could, he’d erase every trace of him ever having lived here.

Beneath the shadow of his hat, Rowdy looked around, fearing he’d see someone he knew. Someone who remembered him.

But only strangers hurried past and most didn’t bother to look in his direction. Not that they’d recognize him now. Prison had hardened the boy they’d sent away into a man, tall, lean and unforgiving.

Rowdy pulled his saddle from among the luggage, balanced it over one shoulder and walked off the platform toward Main Street. In the five years since he’d been gone, the place had changed, more than doubling in size, thanks mostly, he guessed, to the railhead. New storefronts and businesses framed a town square in huddled progress. To the north a line of two-story roofs stood behind the bank and hardware store. One end of Main was braced by the railroad, but on the other end houses and barns scattered out for half a mile, uneven veins leading into the heart of town.

Rowdy was glad for Kasota Springs’ growth. Maybe he’d be able to sell the nothing of a ranch his father had left him and be on his way. He had a hundred places he wanted to see and five years of catching up to do. The sooner he got out of this part of Texas and away from memories, the better.

He walked straight to the livery and picked out a horse to rent. All the corral stock looked better than any horse he’d worked with in years. Prison horses were either broken down or wild and crazy-eyed. A guard once told him horses too tough to eat were sold to the prisons. Rowdy almost laughed. The stock reminded him of the prisoners, he decided, wondering which category he fit into.

“You here for the rodeo?” the blacksmith asked a few minutes later when he pulled the bay Rowdy had pointed out from the herd.

“No,” Rowdy answered without looking at the man.

“I’m surprised. You look like you could rodeo. Got the build for it.”

Rowdy didn’t answer. He’d spent too many years avoiding conversation to jump in.

The man didn’t seem to notice. “If I were younger, I’d give it a try. All the ranchers have gone together and donated cattle. They say the all-around winner will walk away with a couple hundred head. Imagine that. Biggest prize I ever heard of. We’re expecting cowboys from three states to be riding and the cattle are in the far pen, ready.”

Rowdy moved to the horse’s head, introducing himself with a touch before he looked back at the blacksmith. “You mind if I brush him down and check his hooves before I saddle up?”

The barrel-chested man shook his head, accepted the dollar for the rental, and turned his attention to the next customers riding in.

Rowdy picked up a brush and began working some of the mud out of the horse’s hide. The familiar action relaxed him. One thing he’d learned in prison was that animals were a great deal more predictable than humans. Treat them right and they tend to return the favor.

As he worked, he watched a fancy red surrey pull up to the livery with three girls inside and one cowboy, dressed in his best, handling the rig. Another cowhand rode beside the buggy as if on guard.

“Sam!” the driver yelled. “Can you check this rigging? I’d hate to tell the captain I risked an accident with this precious cargo of sisters.” He turned back and winked at the two girls sitting on the second seat.

They giggled in harmony.

Rowdy noticed that the third girl sat alone on the backseat looking out of place. She didn’t laugh, or even look like she was paying attention. Her dress was far plainer than her sisters’, and her bonnet held no ribbon but the one that tied just below her chin. A stubborn chin, he thought. Sticking out as if daring anyone to take a swing at it.

“Give me an hour,” Sam yelled as he crossed into the barn. “I’ll oil the wheels and have it checked.”

The driver tied off the reins and jumped down. The silver on his spurs chimed as he moved. “Ladies, how about lunch at the hotel?” He offered his hand to the first giggly girl, a petite blonde with apple cheeks, while the other cowhand climbed from his saddle and did the same to the second one, a slightly plumper version of her sister.

When the first girl started to step down, the driver moved closer. “We can’t have you getting that pretty dress dirty. How about I carry you to the walk?”

Rowdy watched as the cowboys each lifted a laughing bundle of lace and ribbons. It took him a minute to realize the silent one in the back had been forgotten. She sat, stiff and straight as if saying to the world she didn’t care. When she raised her chin slightly with pride, Rowdy saw her face beneath the simple bonnet.

Plain, he thought. As plain as the flat land and endless sky of this country. She didn’t look all that old, but she had “old maid” written all over her. She’d be the one to stay with the parents long after the other two had married. She’d age alone, or worse, be forced to live from midlife to old age with one of the sisters and her family.

He glanced at the others, their voices drifting lower as they strolled toward the hotel. Rowdy wondered how often this third sister had been left behind, forgotten.

He moved around his horse and tossed the brush he’d been using in a bucket. For once in his life he wished he had clean Sunday-go-to-meeting clothes. He’d been an outsider enough to recognize another. The least he could do was offer her a way out of her awkward situation.

“Miss,” he said, shoving his hat back so she could see his face. “May I help you down?”