One Texas Night (7 page)

“It’ll be all right.” He shrugged, thinking he’d had far worse cuts.

She let out a huff of impatience and worry. “I’ll clean this twice a day if I have to tie you to the chair.”

Hank smiled. “Yes, ma’am. I had no idea I was marrying such a bossy wife.”

She raised her gaze to his and wrinkled her forehead. “I never thought I would be, but it seems so. You’ll just have to put up with it, I’m afraid.”

Loving the way she’d lost any fear of him, Hank put his hand at her waist, steadying his arm as she bandaged his wound. His gun belt was missing from around her hips and he wondered if she simply removed it while she slept, or if she felt safe enough with him not to bother with even the pretense of the Colt.

“How are we doing?” He repeated the same question he’d asked on the train steps twenty-four hours ago. “Any complaints, so far?”

She worked silently, her nearness affecting him more than any poking she was doing. Taking a deep breath, he let the scent of her fill his lungs. He’d smelled perfumed women in the saloons, and a few proper ladies who bore the scent of starch and talcum, but Aggie was like neither. She reminded him of spring water just when the land turns green, all fresh and new.

When she didn’t answer, Hank waited, figuring out that something bothered her. If he were guessing, he could think of several things—he’d left her their first day, the storm, no furnishings in the house to speak of, no curtains on the windows, none of her family close.

“There is one thing,” she finally said as she tied off the bandage.

“What?” He wouldn’t have been surprised if she said she changed her mind and wanted to go back to Fort Worth. Maybe the banker or the hotheaded Potter Stockton weren’t looking so bad after she’d spent the day here alone. He remained still, his hand at her waist.

“When you left, you kissed me on the forehead.”

If she was waiting for him to say he was sorry for
that,
she’d wait a long time. Finally, he managed to mumble, “You’d rather I hadn’t been so informal?”

She shrugged. “No, actually, I was thinking that if you are going to kiss me good-bye, I’d rather you didn’t do it on the forehead. It makes me feel like a child. I may be over a foot shorter than you, but I’m not a child. I wish never to be treated as such again.”

Now he said, “I’m sorry,” and meant it. “That was not my intent.” He watched her closely, unsure where the conversation was going. “Where would you like me to kiss you when we part?” He thought of mentioning that couples do kiss one another politely when saying good-bye, but in truth he could never really remember seeing any husband do so except at the train station.

She placed her hand on his shoulder and leaned slightly toward him. “The cheek would be all right, I guess, or even the lips would seem appropriate. After all, we are married.”

Hank had that feeling of walking on ice. One misstep and he’d disappear. He wondered if he’d ever be able to read this woman. She’d made it plain she wanted a partnership marriage and nothing more, and now she was telling him where to kiss her. It crossed his mind that if all women were as hard to read as Aggie, no wonder the saloons were packed with married men.

He dove into deep water. “Like this,” he whispered as he tugged her near and brushed his lips lightly along her cheek.

She leaned away, considering. “That would be acceptable, I think.” She smiled. “Your whiskers tickle.”

His arm slid around her waist once more but this time when he pulled her, she stumbled, landing on his knee. Before he could change his mind, Hank kissed her soundly on the lips.

When he raised his head, her eyes were open wide.

“Is that acceptable, Aggie?” he said, preparing himself for any answer.

Standing, she whispered, “Yes, dear.” She turned, suddenly giving all her attention to putting up the supplies.

Chapter 8

They ate their dinner of beans and peaches at the kitchen table without saying much. Hank would have thought he’d upset her, only her last words still sounded in his mind. She’d said the kiss had been acceptable.

He was thinking of when he should do the acceptable again when she asked, “Where’d you get your dishes?”

Glancing down, Hank noticed the mismatch of china. “I bought them in the discount bin a few months after I came here. When my dad died, I sold the farm and packed up what I could in a wagon. Somewhere between East Texas and here, the box of his china fell off the wagon.” He lifted one bowl. “This was the only piece that survived.”

Aggie smiled. “This makes me feel right at home. When my first sister married, she took Mother’s good china with her. The second packed away the everyday set. Papa bought more, but they left after the third wedding. After that he just bought odd pieces.” She lifted the china teacup she’d been drinking coffee out of. “As near as I can remember, my mother’s best set looked like this one with the tiny blue flowers around the rim.”

Hank had never noticed the flowers, but he was glad he’d chosen the tea set. He bought them because he thought the pieces somehow made his place appear more like a home. Now he thought the cup looked right in her tiny hand.

“After dinner,” he said when he realized he’d been staring at her for a while, “we could walk over to the barn. I’ll need to measure how high you want your bench. I’m guessing you’ll want to do some of the gunsmithing in the barn.”

“It’s late,” she said, glancing out at the night, “and it looks like it might rain again.”

“I know, but I want to get started on it at first light tomorrow morning.” He grinned and added, “While you’re cooking breakfast.”

She finally looked at him. “Let’s hope I’m better at it than you are at supper.”

Hank didn’t argue. She’d only eaten half the beans he’d served her. “Blue, before he got married, used to come over for meals from time to time. He said I made a good stew and in the summer I can fry up fish and potatoes regularly.” He’d already decided that if the mud wasn’t too bad he’d take her in for dinner at the hotel tomorrow night, but he wanted her to know he wasn’t going back on his offer to cook. “I plant a garden in the spring. For half the vegetables and a case of jars, Lizzy will can all we can eat next winter.”

“What about this winter?”

“I told her all I’d need were potatoes and carrots. They’re in a root cellar. I’m not real fond of the green stuff, even floating in stew, but if you like them, I’ll barter for black-eyed peas and green beans. Soon as it dries out, we can pick up all the canned goods we need at the Diggs’ place.”

She pulled a small tablet from her pocket. “I’ve been making a list of things I need. If you’ll loan me the money, I’ll pay you back.” She looked down at her new clothes. “I’d also like to buy a few more sets of clothes like these. I don’t think I want to wear my old dresses. They don’t seem to belong here.”

He couldn’t agree more.

Hank stood and pulled a coffee can from the top shelf. “I have some money in the bank, but this is what I planned for winter expenses. There’s a little over five hundred dollars here. You’re welcome to however much you need.” He started to return the can to the top shelf, then reconsidered and shoved it between the spices so it would be within her reach.

“I’ll pay you back. Once we’re square, I’d like it if we both put the same amount into the can each year. Then whatever else you make on the ranch or I make working will be for each to decide.”

He wanted to argue that it wasn’t necessary, but she’d said each year like there would be many. Figuring he’d have time to talk out expenses later, Hank asked, “Did you decide if you want to use the room upstairs?”

“I thought I’d make it my indoor workroom, that way the kitchen won’t get cluttered. The light’s good up there and on cold days the kitchen fire will keep it warm.”

“I could frame you up furniture tomorrow. The good thing about winter on a ranch is there’s time to do all the chores I couldn’t get to in the spring and summer. The bad thing is I never seem to finish the list before calving.” He stood and lifted a lantern from the peg by the back door. “You want to walk with me to the barn and tell me where to put that bench?”

She nodded and followed him out of the house and along a path of smooth stones. Ulysses tagged along as far as the barn door. He growled and barked at the shadows, but before Hank could tell him to be quiet, Aggie touched his head and he moved to her side, standing guard as if something were just beyond the light waiting to hurt her.

They spent ten minutes walking around the barn, determining where would be the best place for a bench, and finally decided on a spot near the door. There she’d get the breeze, the morning sun, and anything left on the bench overnight would remain protected from the weather once the door was closed.

“I’d like to start tonight.” Hank knew it was late, but he wouldn’t sleep anyway. Too much had happened today, and Aggie would be too close, even three rooms away. “I’ll turn in before midnight.”

She looked up at him. “All right. I think I’ll turn in now. I feel bad taking your bed though.”

“Don’t worry about it. Somehow it wouldn’t be right if you were the one on the floor. I’ll talk Blue into helping me string another frame this week, but for now a bedroll will be nothing unusual for me to sleep on.”

She hesitated. “Well . . .”

They stood in the circle of light staring at each other. As he guessed she would, she broke the silence first. With her fingers laced together in front of her, she said suddenly, “It’s not fair.”

Hank fought down a smile. She fired up fast when something bothered her. “What’s not fair?”

She fisted her hands on her hips and looked up at him. “If I want to kiss you good night, I have to ask you to bend down first.”

A slow smile spread across his face. He grabbed a milking stool from the first stall and set it firmly in the center of the light, then he lifted her atop it.

They were equals. He stared straight into the devil dancing in her blue-green eyes.

He waited as she leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the cheek. When she straightened she said, “Good night, dear.” Her hand rested on his shoulder. She made no effort to remove it.

“Good night,” he said as his mouth touched hers. This time his lips were soft and slow. He fought the urge to pull her against him. He knew where a kiss could lead, but she was innocent. If he moved too fast, she might be frightened.

Too fast!
his mind shouted. When had he crossed some invisible line from accepting her as a partner and nothing more to thinking of what came after the kiss?

Gently pulling away, he smiled when she pouted. “I’ll put a stool in every room so all will be fair,” he whispered, so near he could feel her quick breaths on his cheek.

He couldn’t resist; his lips found hers once more. The kiss remained gentle, but his hands at her waist tugged her slightly so that their bodies touched. He felt her soft breasts press into his chest each time she inhaled, and the feeling was so right.

His fingers relaxed. Aggie could have stepped back if she’d wanted to. But she didn’t break the contact. Feather light, she placed her other hand on his shoulder and continued the kiss.

She was learning, exploring, he realized, and he had every intention of being her guide.

Ulysses barked at a shadow somewhere beyond the barn and Aggie lifted her head. For a second their eyes met and Hank didn’t miss the fire in her shy gaze a moment before she looked down.

“Aggie,” he whispered, ignoring the dog’s barking. “Aggie, look at me.”

Slowly she raised her head.

“There’s no need to ever be embarrassed or shy with me. I’m your husband.”

She nodded. “I know, dear. I’m not.”

“Then what is it?” Even in the shadowed light he saw the blush in her cheek and felt her fingers moving nervously over his shoulders.

“I . . .” She looked down again, then forced herself to face him. “I just didn’t expect it to feel so good.”

“The kiss?”

“Yes, that, but also the nearness of you. Even last night on the train I liked you holding me close. And the kissing part, I always thought it was something a man did to a woman. I guess I never considered it as something they did together.”

Hank had no idea how to answer. He should have stayed with talking about the weather. He’d never be able to explain what was happening to her. Hell, he couldn’t put his own emotions into words most of the time. “Would it help any if I told you I feel the same?”

She smiled. “Not much.” He saw it then, that twinkle in her eye. That warning that one day soon she’d understand him better than he did himself.

“Good night, Aggie.” Hank decided he’d be wise to stop this conversation while he could still form reasonable thoughts.

As he settled her on the ground, he knew beyond any doubt that he’d be wasting his time building another bed. They’d share the same one soon. It bothered him that he wasn’t sure if it would be his idea, or hers. And worse, he didn’t care.

Part of him decided it had to be impossible for such a beautiful woman to know so little, but then with four older sisters she must have always been chaperoned. And, for some reason, she trusted him.

He grinned. The perfect wife, a preacher once said, was a woman who made a husband want to be a better man. Hank stared out into the night and silently promised he’d be that and more for her.