Читать книгу Bride By Arrangement - Karen Kirst - Страница 14

Chapter Six

Noah had just finished brushing Samson down that evening when Jane skipped into the barn.

“Hi, Wolfie,” she crooned, her dark sausage curls quivering. Skirts swishing, she marched past the wolf dog and over to where Noah was replacing the brush in the tack room. “Hi, Sheriff. Or should I call you Pa?”

Pa? He spun around and peered down into her freckled face. It took a whole lot of effort not to gape at the pint-size child. “Uh, Sheriff will do for now.”

How was it that her ma was frightened silly of his pet and this little squirt wasn’t fazed? And how come she wasn’t intimidated by him when a majority of the townsfolk had refused to interact with him prior to this sheriff gig?

Jane considered this and nodded, her blue eyes twinkling. “Sheriff, Momma sent me in here to fetch you for supper.”

“She did, huh?”

“Yes, sir. We’re having ham, greens, pickled beets—” her nose scrunched on that one “—and more rolls like we had yesterday. Momma said that since you liked them, we should make them again.”

“Is that so?” He strode to the entrance, and she hopped along beside him. Noah felt tongue-tied in her presence. He wasn’t used to seeing kids, much less engaging in conversation with one. “Did you make dessert?”

She nodded emphatically. “Molasses cookies. Momma says there aren’t many supplies here, so we have to make do with what we have and be thankful for what the good Lord has provided.”

Noah would have to rectify that if Constance agreed to his plan.

“How’s Amelia today?”

She tossed him an imperious look that put him in mind of her mother. “My sister’s name is Abigail.”

“Oh, right.”

Bursting into the cabin ahead of him, Jane announced his presence. He stopped on the threshold, jolted anew by the presence of other people. Every single day for several years he’d come home to an empty cabin and a quiet that at times had mocked his decision to be alone. Now it wasn’t empty or quiet, and he was having trouble adjusting.

Constance was at the stove, flushed and beautifully disheveled, the fixings for their evening meal crowding the counter. Her hair was even messier this evening than last, and he wondered if she was missing Chicago already.

His gaze slipped to the dark-haired, brown-eyed girl in the rocking chair beside the fireplace. Dressed in a ruffled nightgown, she sat with her legs tucked beneath her. Her loose hair hung in limp strands. She looked a lot less miserable than before, but she hadn’t lost her wariness of him. He shifted his stance and, whipping off his hat, held it against his chest. Words lodged in his throat. What would his fellow Union soldiers say if they knew he’d allowed a tiny child to fluster him?

The tang of vinegary greens and salty meat hung in the air. In the center of his table sat a fresh batch of those rolls that melted like pillows of buttery goodness in his mouth. This was one aspect of having a wife that Noah could get used to really quick.

Wiping her hands with a towel, Constance smoothed her hand over her hair and came around the counter, her deportment a testament to her social standing and privilege.

“After our conversation last evening, I was expecting you earlier today.”

Noah’s chest squeezed with a funny sort of wistfulness. No one had expected him home or cared what time he arrived for a very long time. No one had fixed particular dishes with him in mind, either.

“Let’s speak outside.”

Hanging his hat on the coat stand, he waited for her to follow. After instructing the girls to stay away from the hot stove, she joined him. He motioned to one of the rocking chairs. She sank into it, her skirts sighing into place, her head seeking rest against the slats.

“I have a proposal to make.”

Her head jerked back up.

He held his hands up in a gesture of innocence. “Not that kind of proposal.”

Her honeyed gaze studied him a moment before sliding to the fields and grazing cattle.

“You’re determined to stay in Cowboy Creek,” he said.

“I am.”

“And you’re not looking to marry for love.”

Her disdainful expression aroused his curiosity. He’d assumed most females strove for that elusive emotion. “I thought that was what I was doing the first time I got married. I was proved wrong. All I want now is stability and security for my girls. I want someone who will be kind to them. Take an interest in their raising.”

He recalled Jane’s prayer. “Did your husband treat them poorly? Or you?”

“As you’re not to be my husband, I’m going to choose not to answer that.”

Oddly disappointed, Noah paced to the nearest post and, lifting his arm, propped a hand against it. Constance had spoken of what her daughters needed, but what about her needs?

Constance pushed out of the chair. “The food’s getting cold.” Maintaining her distance, she lifted her chin. “What is this proposal you mentioned?”

“I think it’s best you remain here while searching for a husband.”

Her winged brows swooped upward. “I thought you wanted me to stay in the hotel.”

“Our town’s population is predominately male. We’re working to change that by bringing in bride trains, but we’ve a ways yet to go. A woman such as yourself will be inundated with a passel of prospective grooms.”

“You mean a city woman with no knowledge of being a rancher’s wife?”

His mouth grew dry. He wasn’t about to admit it was her beauty and grace that had him worried. “For these men, any woman of marriageable age will do.”

Her sooty lashes swept down, but not before he glimpsed a despondency that made his scars burn as if they were fresh and raw. His assumption that the wealthy widow must be endowed with a healthy sense of self-worth had been wrong. Imagine that.

He knew nothing about this woman. And he found himself wanting to know everything. A dangerous prospect.

“Will, Daniel and I can help guide you in your decision. We know which men are dependable, hardworking and honorable, and which ones we wouldn’t trust to take care of a dog.”

“We’ve determined you don’t want anything to do with me or my girls.” She stared at where their boots nearly touched. “Why do you care who we wind up with?”

Because Daniel was right. While Noah had no part in bringing her here, he felt responsible for her. He wouldn’t know peace if she made a regrettable choice.

“Just because I look like a stone-hearted beast doesn’t mean I lack sentiment. I would never forgive myself if you wound up with a man who mistreated you or the girls.”

Her startled gaze whipped to his, her lower lip trembling. “I don’t think you look like a beast. Nor do I believe you’ve a heart of stone. You may have changed greatly from that man in the photograph, but the war and your injuries didn’t strip your humanity away.”

Noah couldn’t speak. There was something in her voice and in her gaze that transported him back years, to the innocent, hopeful dreamer he had once been. A man with a bright future ahead of him. A man who’d counted on being a husband and father someday.

“You’ve been snooping through my house?” He seized on the bitterness and anger that had been his faithful companions since the day he woke up in a field hospital. No way could he allow former dreams to live again. Love. Family. Intimacy. It wasn’t possible.

She flinched. “No! I wouldn’t! The tintype is on the mantel, out there for anyone to see.”

Noah turned away, rubbing the uneven flesh detectable beneath his shirt. Having her underfoot was going to be tougher than he’d thought. “I’ll fetch the tub and water for your baths.”

“What about supper?”

“I’ll eat later.” His stomach growled in defiance. “Make a list of everything you need. I’ll go to the mercantile first thing in the morning.”

Walking away was difficult when his conscience was insisting he apologize.

* * *

Shaking with emotion, Grace watched him disappear into the barn. She couldn’t decide if she’d rather shake him, slap him or hold him. The man infuriated her. Snooping through his house... Honestly? But he also struck a chord of compassion deep inside.

The man was as prickly as a cactus. While his behavior screamed stay away, his pure blue eyes told another story. Loneliness stalked him, devouring him from the inside out. When was the last time someone held his hand? Hugged him? Kissed his cheek?

Her first instinct had been to call after him that she hadn’t agreed to stay. As always, the danger Frank posed directed her actions. Staying here with the sheriff, all the while knowing she was a burden, was not ideal. It would be safer here than at a public hotel, however. Her brother-in-law wasn’t one to give up without a fight. When Frank Longstreet wanted something, he went after it with cold-blooded ruthlessness. The hunt thrilled him. More than once through the years, she’d seen him set his sights on unavailable women. Engaged women. Married women. He employed his charming assault, wearing them down until he triumphed and then casting them aside, uncaring that their lives and reputations were wrecked.

The fact that Ambrose was his brother had held Frank mostly at bay throughout her marriage. In the year since his passing, Frank had steadily intensified his campaign to win her. He claimed he wanted to actually marry her. He expected her to be overjoyed. Refusing him had been the easy part. Grace knew that by fleeing Chicago, she’d become prey to his predator. She could only hope she’d covered their tracks well enough.

She wasn’t sure exactly what he’d do if he found them.

Tamping down her worries, she rejoined the girls and called them to the table, not interested in eating herself. Her anxiety over Frank and her ongoing deception had her stomach twisted in knots most days. She was determined to keep up her strength, however. The girls were dependent on her for everything. A pang of longing for her church family hit her. While few were aware of her private struggles, she knew she could depend on them for support if she but asked.

Grace was putting milk glasses at the place settings when Noah reentered, hefting a huge copper tub. His shoulder and arm muscles strained as he maneuvered it into place near the work counter.

Jane left her seat to run over to him. “Is that for us?”

“Sure is.” Choosing a wide pail from beneath the counter, he strode for the door.

“Aren’t you going to eat with us, Sheriff?”

Jane’s confusion was understandable. Grace wasn’t sure how to explain the circumstances—that Noah didn’t want to marry her or anyone else, had no interest in being a father and was only allowing them to stay to assuage his conscience.

He twisted around, his expression unreadable. “I’ve got to fetch water for your bath.”

Seeing her daughter’s crestfallen expression, Grace waved a hand over the table’s contents. “The meal’s hot. It won’t taste nearly as good lukewarm.”

Reluctance stamped on his features, he set the pail on the floor and came to the table. Jane scooted into her chair beside him and clasped his big hand. “It’s your turn to say grace.”

He blinked at her, disconcerted by her outgoing manner, before bowing his head. Grace closed her eyes as his husky voice washed over her.

“And thank You, Lord, for allowing Alexandra to feel better,” he said at the end. “Amen.”

All three females stared at him. Jane piped up. “Her name is A-bi-gail.”

Noah’s gaze slid to Abigail, whose head was bent, a curtain of dark hair obscuring her face, and nodded solemnly. “Right.”

His lips twitched. In the process of smoothing a napkin over her lap, Grace’s fingers stilled. He was teasing them? The hardened ex-soldier who never smiled harbored humor somewhere behind that thundercloud demeanor?

Unsettled, she blindly spooned portions onto the girls’ plates before filling her own.

“Have you ever been to Chicago?” Jane asked.

“Can’t say that I have.”

“It’s huge.”

“It’s loud.” Abigail spoke to Noah for the first time.

He paused midchew, his startled gaze sliding to Grace’s for a split second before returning to Abigail’s. “It’s not loud here.”

Nibbling on her roll, Abigail stared at the slightly drooping bouquet inches from her plate.

“Men sell flowers on the streets. Newspapers and candied nuts, too.” Jane swallowed a bite of ham. “Momma took us to a fair one time, and there was a man drawing pictures of people for money. She paid him to do mine and Abigail’s. We hung them in our bedroom because Grandmother didn’t approve.”

Grace attempted to mask her unease. She’d emphasized the importance of not telling anyone her real identity. But they were only six years old. How easily the truth could slip out by accident.

Before she could change the subject, Jane spoke again. “Our bedroom was much, much bigger than this cabin.”

Noah’s brows hitched up. “That sounds like a very big room.” To Abigail, he said, “Aurora, did you have lots of toys in your room?”

Grace wasn’t surprised that she didn’t correct him. It took time for her quieter daughter to warm to strangers, much less assert herself. “I miss Pepper.”

“Who’s Pepper?”

“Our pet rabbit,” Jane answered for her, a habit Grace had tried to correct. “Momma wouldn’t let us bring him. She said he’d miss his home in the garden shed.”

They’d left most of their belongings at the estate. She hadn’t wanted to alert the staff of their impending departure. The night before their train left, Grace had taken advantage of the Longstreets’ absence—they’d attended a social function hosted by a business associate—and had hurriedly packed as many trunks as she’d dared, taking only the essentials.

The girls’ rabbit had been the least of her worries. Now that they’d made their escape, she recognized how difficult leaving their home, friends and pets must be for them.

Abigail placed the last bit of roll on her plate and turned big sad eyes to Grace. “May I be excused?”

If she hadn’t been ill, Grace would insist she finish her meal. “Of course. I’ll save your plate in case you get hungry later.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Unsurprisingly, Jane chattered throughout the meal. Noah didn’t seem to mind, although Grace caught him wearing a nonplussed expression from time to time. She found herself hiding a smile. Who would’ve imagined the big tough sheriff with a wild beast for a companion and the guts to face down dangerous criminals would be thrown off balance by an innocent child?

There was more to Noah Burgess than the many titles he wore—Union soldier, rancher, town founder, sheriff. There were unmined layers and complexities that made up the man. A part of her mourned the fact she wouldn’t be allowed to learn his depths. She was certain there’d be surprises along the way, some challenging, some heartbreaking, some perhaps even delightful.