Читать книгу Cowboy Lawman's Christmas Reunion - Louise Gouge M. - Страница 12
ОглавлениеEvangeline studied her image in Susanna’s long mirror and brushed a whisk broom down the length of her bombazine gown to smooth out wrinkles and remove lint. Although black wasn’t her best color, she should have worn mourning while traveling instead of the light brown suit. Then perhaps Susanna wouldn’t be trying to play matchmaker, a useless endeavor, especially with Justice. After one bad marriage, Evangeline would never again put herself under the power of a man. However, with all of the children around, she hadn’t spoken to her cousin about the matter. To keep others from getting such ideas, she’d have to wear black whenever she went to town, both for church like today and for her work in the library.
Yesterday’s incident in the barn was alarming, especially when she saw how angry Nate was at Gerard for his mischief, even to the point of threatening her son. Justice stood there adding his official presence, which made matters worse. Later, Susanna explained to Evangeline how important this time of year was for the whole ranch because their livelihood depended on getting the cattle safely down from the mountain and to the trains. Before leaving, Nate needed to be sure his home was secure, not endangered by a boy who didn’t understand ranch life. Evangeline could accept that. She only hoped Gerard did, too.
She joined Susanna in the kitchen and donned the offered white apron.
“Will you beat the eggs, Evie?” Susanna stood at the blazing cast-iron stove and used a fork to turn bacon in her skillet. “The biscuits will be done soon.”
Evangeline looked around for the implements to do as she asked. All she located was a basket of dirty eggs on the work counter.
Susanna must have noticed her mild revulsion. “Wipe them off with a damp cloth.” She jutted her chin toward the sink where dishwater sat in a tin pan. “Then break them into a bowl and beat them with a fork.” Another jut of her chin pointed to a crockery bowl on a shelf.
“Very well.” Evangeline squeezed out a thin cloth and proceeded to clean the newly gathered eggs, trying to hide her disgust. A glance at Susanna revealed she was trying to hide a grin. Very well, indeed. If her cousin, who’d also been raised with cooks and servants, could overcome her squeamishness about henhouse soil, so could Evangeline.
After breaking the cleaned eggs into the bowl and removing the bothersome bits of shells, she took a fork and stirred them. While some yolks broke, the yellow refused to blend with the whites.
“Harder,” Susanna encouraged.
Evangeline obeyed with enthusiasm, causing yellow slime to splash on the hand holding the bowl. With her cousin still chuckling under her breath, she figured out how to modify the action, and soon the eggs were a consistent creamy yellow. “There.”
“Good.” Susanna carried a plateful of cooked bacon to the table, where Lizzie was showing Isabelle how to set around the silverware and plates.
Feeling a bit more confident, Evangeline took the bowl to the stove and started to pour the eggs into the pan on top of the bacon grease.
“Wait.” Susanna rushed to her side. “We have to drain it first.”
Evangeline managed to pull the bowl upright before much of the liquid eggs slid into the sizzling pan. Susanna dumped the greasy, unappetizing mess into a bucket beside the sink.
“Never mind, honey. The pigs will be thrilled to have such a treat.” She returned the hot skillet to the stove and finished cooking the scrambled eggs to perfection.
Soon the family had gathered around the table. After Nate offered a prayer, the food was served, and everyone seemed eager to clean their plates. Even Gerard appeared to be in a good mood. He winked at his male cousins and closed his eyes in bliss as he ate his raspberry preserve–covered biscuits, causing Natty and Frankie to giggle...and copy him. Evangeline’s heart lifted at this glimpse of the boy he used to be. Perhaps things would improve now.
Yesterday, after unpacking their purchases and eating dinner, Susanna had driven Evangeline and her son over to Marybeth’s to fetch the other children. As expected, Gerard was smitten with the two-day-old foal and stayed out of trouble the rest of the day. Even Nate was impressed. If only Justice could see Gerard at such times, he wouldn’t be so hard on him.
Why did she care what Justice thought? Yes, he was the sheriff and had the power to arrest her if he ever learned why she’d fled New Orleans. But he couldn’t arrest an energetic boy simply for being mischievous. Could he?
After breakfast, they all climbed into a surrey and drove to the church in town. Evangeline greeted some of the people she’d already met and was introduced to even more, including the charming pastor, Reverend Thomas. His Virginia accent differed from Susanna’s Georgia drawl and Evangeline’s broader Cajun intonations, but there was no mistaking his southern origins. She also met the rest of the vast Northam family, including Colonel and Mrs. Northam, their youngest son, Bartholomew, nicknamed Tolley, and Tolley’s wife, Laurie.
Having played hostess for her father and husband, Evangeline put her keen memory skills to use and filed away something unique about each person so she could remember their names in the future.
“Justice.” Susanna stood in the aisle by the pew and waved to him as he entered the church. “I saved you a spot.” She indicated the space beside Evangeline.
If Evangeline weren’t in church, she’d be tempted to smack her cousin’s arm...hard. As it was, she saw Justice wince and look around like a scared mouse trying to escape a cat. The crowded sanctuary offered few remaining seats, so he had no choice but to obey the summons.
Justice brushed against Evangeline’s shoulder and skirt as he sat. “Morning, Mrs. Benoit.” His deep, rich voice caused a pleasant shiver to roll down her neck and arm. She eased the effects of her involuntary reaction by noting he’d lost some of his Cajun inflections in the past eleven years. She doubted he’d deliberately changed his speech to fit in. Justice was never one to follow the crowd.
“Good morning, Sheriff Gareau.” She was rescued from having to make further conversation when the pastor took his place at the front of the congregation and announced the first hymn.
Sneaky Susanna had arranged for them to share a hymnal, but it wasn’t entirely unpleasant. Justice’s baritone voice had always been strong and sure, unlike poor Nate’s. Even standing down the row from him, she could hear his off-key voice and she gave a quick shake of her head. At the end of the verse Evangeline glanced up when she heard Justice clear his throat, in time to see him smother an amused smile. She couldn’t keep from responding with one of her own.
Dismissing such foolishness, she sang the alto line in the second stanza of “A Mighty Fortress Is Our God,” and a tiny thrill wove its way through her heart. So often while growing up, they’d stood side by side in the church where their families had worshipped and harmonized as they now did, enjoying hymns of praise to the loving God they both believed in. The God Who dwelt among His children in this humble community church as surely as He did in the grand New Orleans cathedral. If only she could erase the past eleven years...
No. That would mean she wouldn’t have her two precious children, whom she loved more than words could say. She must protect them at any cost, must protect all three of them from the strong, imposing lawman beside her, whose manly, orange-scented cologne made it difficult to concentrate on anything other than him.
Forcing such foolishness from her mind, she bowed her head and prayed, as she always did in church, for God to speak to her today. Then she settled back to enjoy the rest of the service.
After announcements, the offering and another hymn, Reverend Thomas began his sermon with Romans 13:8. “Paul tells us we should ‘Owe no man anything...’”
Stuck on those words, Evangeline didn’t hear the rest of the verse. Owe no man anything? And yet she owed thousands of dollars. Her guilt, compounded by the presence of the man beside her, routed out every good feeling she’d experienced that morning.
* * *
Justice always enjoyed the services in this homey little church, but today, Susanna’s matchmaking caused him a great deal of discomfort. He couldn’t avoid Evangeline’s scent of gardenias, a fragrance he recalled from his early teen years when he’d plucked the snowy-white blossoms from his mother’s bushes for the beautiful young girl he loved. When the two of them sang the familiar hymns, they fell into the natural harmonies they’d enjoyed so many years ago. Even their silent communication over poor Nate’s legendary tone-deafness tugged on his heartstrings because he remembered the harmless laughter they’d shared as children over the foibles of being human. They’d never been cruel, only good-humored toward others, as youngsters tended to be when the future seemed bright and certain before them. Over the years, Justice often wondered how differently things might have turned out if he hadn’t gone on his Grand Tour. Would his father have died so young after being swindled out of his money? Would Mr. LaPierre have given Justice permission to marry Evangeline instead of granting that privilege to Lucius Benoit? He’d never know.
The minister read from Romans 13:8, and Justice listened carefully, as his godly father taught him. “‘Owe no man anything, but to love one another: for he that loveth another hath fulfilled the law.’” Father also taught him never to contradict the Word of God. But it was difficult with Evangeline seated next to him. How could he love her? Yes, he knew the verse referred to Christian love, not the romantic sort. And he knew the law to be fulfilled referred to the commandment Christ called the second most important, to love one’s neighbor as oneself. Yet he would have a hard time being around Evangeline and loving her in Christ without thinking of the love they’d promised to one another so long ago. Thus, he should stay as far away from her as possible. Not easy when he’d be working on the Christmas village in the library’s back room. And then he’d promised Nate to keep watch over Gerard. There was no way he could win in this situation.
After the final hymn, he nodded to his seatmates and strode up the aisle, ignoring Susanna’s call. She’d trapped him for the church service, but he wasn’t about to get invited to dinner and have to spend Sunday afternoon in the same house as Evangeline.
He snagged his hat and winter jacket from the cloakroom and shook hands with the preacher before exiting into the churchyard. Nate’s brother Tolley and his wife, Laurie, were walking toward their home three blocks away, so he caught up with them. Tolley carried their one-year-old son on his hip, and Laurie grasped his other arm.
“Nice day.” Feeling more than a little foolish, Justice fell into step beside them.
“Yes, it is.” Tolley looked at him expectantly.
Laurie, being the more perceptive of the two, elbowed her husband. “Sheriff, won’t you come for dinner? We’re having our usual pot roast and sure would enjoy your company.”
“Sheriff.” Susanna bustled after them, waving her hand in the air.
“Thank you, Laurie. I’d be pleased to accept.” Relieved to have successfully escaped Susanna, Justice inhaled a deep breath of the fresh autumn air. Safe. At least for today.
“Sheriff, are you going deaf?” Susanna caught up with them and took a moment to chuck her young nephew under the chin. “Hello, sugar.” She turned her attention back to Justice. “Don’t you recall my inviting you to Sunday dinner?”
“Did you?” Justice recalled it well. He also recalled not exactly accepting. “I’m sorry, but Laurie here has invited me, too.”
Susanna gave her sister-in-law one of those looks women gave each other when they were put out. “Laurie, surely you knew I wanted him at my house today.”
“Oh, dear.” Laurie batted her dark red eyelashes. “Well...” She looked up at Justice.
“Tell you what,” Tolley broke in. “He can eat with us today, and next week he can join all of us for our monthly gathering at the big house.”
“That might work.” Though he wanted to shake Tolley’s hand in gratitude, Justice instead tipped his hat to Susanna. He’d probably be forced to attend next week, but at least he’d be among a larger group where he might be able to avoid Evangeline. “Thank you for thinking of me,” he said to Susanna. “We poor bachelors depend on the kindness of our married friends to keep us fed.”
She crossed her arms and tapped one foot on the hard-packed dirt road. “Very well. Next week, then. And I can count on you to keep an eye on Evangeline as she begins work at the library tomorrow?” Her expression held that private meaning she was so good at. Only a few people knew about the Christmas village, and this younger Northam couple was not among them.
“Yes, ma’am.” He was sunk as surely as if he’d stepped into quicksand. He’d never be able to escape Susanna Northam’s matchmaking. And now he couldn’t avoid Evangeline, the woman who’d irreparably broken his heart and made him determined never to give it to another.
* * *
Early Monday morning, the little family waved goodbye to Nate as he rode off toward the hills to the south. While Wes, the trusted cowhand he’d left behind to tend chores, hitched up the buggy, Susanna and Evangeline prepared the children for school.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to drive you into town?” Susanna finished washing the last breakfast dish and handed it to Lizzie to dry.
“I’d much rather you spend the time cutting out the children’s new clothes so I can help you sew them this evening.” Evangeline tugged on her leather driving gloves. After dropping off the children at school, she would be starting her first day as the town’s new librarian.
“I’m sure you’ll be glad to see a certain sheriff again.” Susanna still hadn’t let up on her matchmaking. She sniffed dramatically. “Your lovely gardenia perfume is sure to attract his attention. Why, it must have cost you a small fortune. Well worth it, I’d say.”
“You know better than that. Don’t you remember when our mothers taught us to make our own perfume one summer? It’s much less expensive.” She ignored her cousin’s suggestion about wearing the perfume for Justice’s sake. It was the fragrance she always wore, a reminder of the better parts of her old life, nothing more.
Their dinner pails packed with sandwiches and apples, the children donned their jackets and climbed into the buggy, all except two-year-old Frankie, who cried over being left behind with his mother.
The breeze blew brisk and chilly, but the sky was a rich blue shade. Evangeline gazed west across the San Luis Valley at the San Juan Mountains, then east to the Sangre de Cristo Range. If not for her fears of being dragged back to New Orleans, she could relax and enjoy this beautiful country.
“Let’s sing.” Isabelle didn’t wait for agreement, but broke into “Boys and girls all sing this song, Hoo-rah, Hoo-rah. Girls grow pretty and boys grow strong. Oh, hoo-rah ray. Goin’ to eat my peas, Goin’ to eat my ham. Gonna eat biscuits with butter and jam. Oh, hoo-rah ray.”
The others joined in, and Gerard and Natty tried to out “hoo-rah” each other in the silly folk song. They fell into giggles, bringing joy to Evangeline’s heart. By the time they reached the one-story clapboard schoolhouse in town, they were making up their own verses, most of them nonsense.
She tied the lead rope to the hitching post and escorted the children inside. The school had three classes, two grades in each one. Natty and Isabelle scampered off to the first and second grade room, and Lizzie to her third and fourth grade room. Evangeline was left to escort Gerard to join the fifth and sixth graders. She recognized the teacher, Miss Prinn, from church, and the sturdy middle-aged woman welcomed Gerard.
“You may sit here.” She indicated an empty seat in the second row.
All happy songs forgotten, Gerard looked around furtively, as though searching for a way to escape. The other children eyed him with friendly curiosity.
“He will be fine, Mrs. Benoit.” Miss Prinn gave Evangeline a severe look, dismissing her.
“Yes, of course.”
With a library to organize, she subdued her maternal worries and drove to the mercantile. There, Mrs. Winsted helped her load four wooden boxes of books into the buggy.
“I’d send Homer over to help you, but he’s unloading a new shipment of merchandise.” The woman brushed gray hairs back from her face. “Can you manage?”
“Yes, thank you.” At the least, she could carry a few books into the library at a time.
The short trip down the street and around the corner onto Center Avenue brought her to the library. Seeing the sign brought an unexpected thrill to her heart. She’d already planned how to organize the books.
After unlocking the door, she went to fetch the first box of books. She tried to lift it, but it proved too heavy. The wind whipped her lightweight skirt and petticoats around, adding a struggle for modesty to her concerns. Her black straw hat chose that moment to fly away, headed straight for the fountain.
“Oh, bother.” Planning to give chase, she misjudged how far she’d slid the box off the back of the buggy and it teetered, spilling books onto the ground. Some fell open, and their pages fluttered wildly in the wind. She gasped. What a horrible way to begin her new job. Kneeling to check for damage, she shook grit from the precious tomes.
“Ma’am, I believe this is yours.” Justice stood tall above her and handed her the wayward hat.
Her heart seemed to stop beating. Yet still she lived. “Thank you.” She clutched the hat in one hand and continued picking up books with the other.
“Let me help you.” He didn’t wait for an answer but knelt and joined her efforts. “You go on inside. I’ll bring them in.”
“Well—”
Again, he didn’t wait for her, but stood and grasped her elbow, then gently pulled her to her feet. “Permit me to assist you, Mrs. Benoit.” His formal address and tone did little to comfort her, and he looked down at her with a courteous but uninterested expression.
“Thank you.” She grabbed her small dinner hamper and a pail of cleaning supplies and hurried inside the building. After setting the basket on her desk, she rubbed her arm where he’d touched her. Such a firm grip. And yet, what should have been a reassuring gesture only made her nervous. Surely no criminal could escape his grasp.
As she propped the door open so he could enter at will, she noticed how easily he lifted the first heavy box and gave herself permission to admire his strength. After all, she supposed a sheriff should be strong.
Such admiring ruminations would not get her work done, so she turned her attention to the shelves. If she organized the books as planned, they’d fill less than a fourth of the dark-stained pine planks. Too bad she must keep her location a secret or she might consider writing to potential benefactors for donations. In the meantime, she already knew she wanted her desk closer to the window so she could catch all possible daylight.
She shoved the heavy oak desk, or rather, shoved at it. The beautifully carved monstrosity refused to budge.
“I’ll do that as soon as I bring in the last box.” Justice set his load down and returned to the buggy for another.
The final remnants of the happy energy that had infused her earlier disappeared. She’d be foolish to turn down his help, but from his frown, she could see he disliked this forced contact as much as she did. Of course he would be a gentleman and help her. Yet his distant, austere demeanor was very different from the laughing, fun-loving manner of the young man with whom she’d grown up.
“That does it.” He set the last box on a table beside the others and removed his hat and jacket. “I’ll send Adam Starling over to take your horse and buggy to the livery stable. Can’t have the little mare standing outside the library all day.”
“Oh. Of course.” Evangeline never considered such a thing. Servants had always taken care of the horses and conveyances for her. Then, after losing everything, she’d walked wherever she needed to go.
“Where do you want the desk?” Justice glanced about the room.
“About two feet from the front window.”
“You sure?”
Suddenly annoyed by this uncomfortable meeting, she snapped, “If you don’t approve, put it wherever you think is best.” Shame filled her. She had no reason to be snippy, especially since he was being helpful.
He huffed out a sigh. “As the winter wears on, it gets mighty cold sitting so close to a window. You’d be better off doing your work closer to the stove.”
“Oh—”
“Here.” He took her by the hand. “Step over to the window and feel the glass.”
His gentle touch sent shivers up her arm and down her back. He didn’t seem to notice her response, but tugged her to the window and placed her hand on the glass. Even through her gloves, she could feel the cold.
“Oh, my. Not the best place to sit.”
“Yep.” He dropped her hand as though he realized how tightly he’d been holding it. Or maybe that he’d been holding it at all.
She decided to rescue them both. “Well, then, I’ll take your advice. Can you move the desk by yourself? Or will you need help?”
He cast an amused glance her way. Then, with the strength of the biblical Samson, he easily shoved the heavy desk across the wooden floor without so much as taking an extra breath. “This all right?”
“Fine.” Did her voice actually squeak? Oh, my. Justice might not have required a deep breath after moving the desk, but she needed one after being so close to his imposing presence.
He gazed down at her for a moment, and she stared up at him, unmoving.
“Where do you want the tables?” An odd softness flickered in his eyes.
“Um, well.” She broke the visual contact and stared blindly around the room. “They’re fine.”
“Fine,” he repeated. Even so, he began to move the tables and chairs into a more sensible configuration. “What do you think?”
“Fine.” She couldn’t think of a different word. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He gave a firm nod before glancing at the door in the back wall. “You want to see the village?”
“Oh, yes.” How could she be standing here talking with Justice Gareau as though eleven years didn’t stand between this moment and all the good times they’d enjoyed so long ago?
Justice broke the mood by stepping over to the back door and pulling a key from his pocket. “We have to keep it locked so the youngsters won’t get nosy.”
“That makes sense.” She followed him into the dark chamber.
After he lit the kerosene lantern on a table, the room filled with light, revealing a rough but exquisite array of four-by-five-inch buildings. Although unpainted, each had a clear identity. A church, numerous houses, a livery stable and more. He’d carved people, horses, trees, all with remarkable detail.
“They’re beautiful, Justice.” Again she looked up into his once-beloved face. “You’re truly a gifted wood carver. I know the children will love their little village. I’ll be happy to help in any way you need.”
His eyes displayed a pleased expression. “I’ve been thinking about it. Could you paint everything?”
“I’d love to.”
“Good.” He ushered her toward the door. “I have some rounds to do this morning. I usually work on the village in the afternoon while my deputy is on duty at the office.”
“Oh. Very well. But first, please sit down and have some coffee.” Other than her sandwich, she had only Susanna’s cookies and some cold coffee to offer, but her Southern manners demanded some form of gratitude for his help.
He grimaced and huffed out a sigh of obvious resignation. He sat at the table across from her desk.
They partook of the refreshments in silence until Evangeline’s sense of etiquette took over. One simply did not sit quietly under these circumstances. She considered several topics of conversation. As unwise as it might be, she could think only of one.
“I’ve often wondered about your Grand Tour. Did you enjoy it?”
His deeply tanned face turned pale around the edges, and his lips formed a grim line.
Oh, yes, indeed. That was the wrong question to ask.
* * *
Stricken more than he wanted to admit, Justice could only stare at Evangeline, dumbfounded. Why would she ask about an event of so long ago, a trip he could barely remember because of the horrible home situation to which he returned? From the way her dark blond eyelashes fluttered, he could see she regretted asking about it.
“I’m so sorry.” Her blue eyes filled with tears. “I shouldn’t have—”
He waved a hand dismissively. “I suppose if we’re going to live in the same community, we should address the past and, well, get past it.”
She nodded and gave him a wobbly smile. “I suppose.”
He swiped a hand down one cheek before remembering the informal gesture wasn’t appropriate for a gentleman visiting with a lady. But then, so many of the elegant manners he’d been taught by his gentlemanly father had gone by the wayside as he’d adapted to the less formal West.
“Paris was beautiful. Rome was educational. Venice was breathtaking. London interesting, especially St. Paul’s Cathedral and Westminster Abbey.” In his own ears, he sounded like an uninspired tour guide, but she nodded politely as he spoke. Manners dictated it was his turn to try a polite inquiry. “Did you go to Europe after your marriage?” Somehow he managed not to choke on the words.
“N-no.” She looked away, perhaps to hide the odd hurt in her eyes.
He should press her for details. Should ask why Lucius Benoit hadn’t taken his beautiful young bride abroad to show her off. Instead, he cleared his throat. “I’d better go. I’m late to finish my rounds.” He stood and picked up his hat and jacket.
“Yes, of course.” She rose gracefully from her chair. “Thank you so much for your help.”
She reached out to him, and he took her small hand in his larger one. Against all that was sane, he bent to brush a well-mannered kiss across her fingers. A tremor shot from his lips to his neck and down his back. Then he caught a whiff of her expensive gardenia perfume, saw her exquisitely styled widow’s weeds and recalled she’d chosen to become a wealthy man’s wife so she could have a lifetime of such luxuries. The memory cut like a knife through his chest. By the time he straightened, he’d managed to paste on his no-nonsense lawman face.
“I’ll be back later to work on the village.” He donned his hat and walked toward the door on wooden legs. Despite her betrayal, this woman still had a strong effect on him.
“Thank you.” She closed the door behind him.
As he strode toward Main Street, a glance over his shoulder revealed she continued to watch him through one of the front windows. Oddly, it pleased him. He’d have to get over it, and fast.
