Читать книгу The Rancher's Christmas Proposal - Sherri Shackelford - Страница 9
ОглавлениеTrain Depot, Wichita, Kansas, 1886
For one brief, idyllic interlude, Tessa Spencer had believed her days of living on the run were behind her.
That time was over.
Perched on her steamer trunk, she considered the list of cities chalked across the destination board, searching for inspiration. Her hasty exit had left her with few options and even less money.
Earlier that morning, a member of the notorious Fulton Gang had been asking some very pointed questions about her at the Harvey House café where she worked serving tables. She’d packed her belongings and set off for the train station before the outlaw’s coffee had cooled. Since her regular shift began with the dinner service, she had until this evening before Dead Eye Dan Fulton discovered she’d flown the coop.
Her stomach pitched. Time was slipping away at an alarming rate.
“Ball,” a small voice said.
She searched for the source of the interruption.
“Ball.”
She glanced down.
A bright-eyed toddler with shiny blond hair smiled up at her. The boy was smartly dressed in a sky blue sailor shirt tied with a red scarf, his feet encased in gleaming black patent leather shoes.
Tessa frowned. “Where are your parents, little fellow?”
“Ball.”
The wooden sphere he proudly displayed was obviously well loved, the painted stripes faded.
“Yes,” Tessa replied. “That’s quite lovely. Except you’ve gone and gotten yourself lost, haven’t you?”
Most likely the boy’s frantic parents had already begun their search. Keeping an eye out for stray members of the Fulton Gang, she studied the passengers milling beneath the awning of the train station, seeking any sign of a disturbance.
The boy tugged on her apricot-colored skirts. “Ga.”
“You’d best be careful,” she admonished gently. “Being lost is a lonely business.”
The toddler extended his chubby hand, offering up his most prized possession.
Tessa waved off his gift. “Oh no, I couldn’t possibly take your toy. Although I thank you kindly for the offer.”
The boy grinned. He clambered onto the trunk, and she instinctively aided his ascent. He perched beside her and scooted close, pressing the warmth of his small body against her side.
“Best to stay put when you’re lost,” she said. “Or you only become more lost. That’s what my dad always told me.”
The boy tilted his head and stared at her. “Da-da.”
“Yes, Emmett is my da-da.” Tessa rolled her eyes. “He’s a bit of a rogue. Not that he thinks of himself that way. Oh no. Emmett fancies himself a righter of wrongs, earning his living playing cards with folks who can afford to lose. Except lawmen don’t appreciate that fine moral distinction, do they? And now he’s run afoul of Dead Eye Dan and the Fulton Gang, which is even worse—I’ll tell you that.”
Heedless of her startling confession, the boy merrily kicked his heels against the trunk. She braced her hands on her knees and locked her elbows straight. Yep. She’d gone loopy, all right. At least talking to this little fellow was better than talking to herself, and she’d done plenty of that since Emmett’s disastrous attempt at robbing a bank. He’d been tasked with concealing himself inside and letting the others in after closing. Except the bank vault had already been emptied when the Fultons arrived, leaving Emmett the only suspect.
“As you can imagine,” she continued, “Dead Eye Dan is fit to be tied if he’s come looking for me. I don’t know where Emmett is hiding any more than he does, but I’m not sticking around to argue the point.”
Obviously Dead Eye didn’t know about her falling out with Emmett. Her throat tightened. She hadn’t realized until recently how gloriously unsuited she was to a solitary life. The longing to see Emmett once more had become an almost physical ache. His love had been negligent, but as she’d learned over these past months, a slipshod sort of affection was better than nothing at all.
A nearby commotion snagged her attention. A towering gentleman in a cowboy hat and boots held a crying toddler—a girl, about the same age as the boy who’d taken up residence beside her. Though handsome, everything about the man was slightly askew. His hat sat at an angle, his collar was bent on one side, and the hem of his trouser legs was partially snagged on the stitching of his boot. He frowned and studied the area immediately surrounding his feet.
Tessa reluctantly stood. Though the boy’s conversation was limited, he’d been a welcome diversion from her own difficulties. “Come along little fellow. I believe your da-da has discovered your absence. You will be my good deed for the day.”
The boy eagerly took her hand. “Ga.”
The distinctive word was obviously all encompassing. “Ga to you as well.”
The gentleman’s back was turned, although the woman beside him noticed the boy soon enough. From her sharp chin to the pointed tips of her black boots, she was about as welcoming as a barbed wire fence.
Her lips pinched, the woman extended her arm toward them, palm up. “The child is safe. There’s no need to fuss.”
Tessa narrowed her gaze and scrutinized the details. Emmett always said a good lookout needed to know who belonged where and why. Folks tended to pair up by status and temperament, and these two were opposites in both, meaning they were clearly not husband and wife.
The man whipped around. At the sight of the boy, his face flooded with relief.
He crouched and balanced on the balls of his feet. “Owen. You gave me a fright.”
His obvious affection touched something kindred in Tessa, and she blinked rapidly. With her hopes of ever seeing Emmett again growing dimmer by the day, the sight was all the more poignant.
Everyone should have at least one person in their life who minded when they were lost.
The woman slanted a glance down the blunt edge of her nose. “Don’t reward the boy. He’ll only run off again.”
Her tone pricked Tessa like a nettle. Memories from the year following her mother’s death came rushing back. Only eight at the time, she’d been sent to live with distant relatives who begrudged having another child underfoot. Unaware of their simmering resentment, Emmett had arrived for a visit some months later. He’d discovered her huddled on the front porch, her arms covered in bruises.
Lawless or not, life with Emmett had at least been far more peaceful and far less painful.
“See, Alyce,” the gentleman assured the toddler in his arms. “I told you we’d find Owen.”
The two siblings greeted one another in a flurry of incomprehensible gibberish. They were a striking pair with their large, cobalt blue eyes and matching blond hair. Twins by the looks of them. The resemblance was even more pronounced by their clothing. Alyce wore a starched blue empire-waist gown cut from the same sky blue fabric as her brother’s sailor shirt.
The children must have inherited their mother’s looks, because the gentleman’s hair was a deep, rich brown, and his eyes were the translucent green of a tender new leaf.
“Ball,” Owen offered by way of explanation.
The gentleman flashed a boyish half grin, sending a little flutter through Tessa’s stomach.
“The name is McCoy,” the man said. “Shane McCoy. Thank you for returning Owen. He’s quite the escape artist.”
“Tessa Spencer,” she replied, extending her hand.
The quick clasp of his fingers sent a stirring of gooseflesh up her arm.
He angled his body toward his companion. “This is the children’s aunt, Mrs. Lund.”
“Pleasure,” Tessa replied, her tone clipped. The woman had her on edge.
As though addressing someone beneath her notice, Mrs. Lund gave only a slight incline of her head. “God rest Abby’s soul. She always did have a knack for leaving her troubles on someone else’s doorstep.”
Tessa absently rubbed her arms. The poor man was a widower. No wonder he was overwhelmed. Especially considering his sister-in-law hadn’t offered any additional help. Without a word of explanation, Mrs. Lund had set off in the direction of the ticket office.
“You must excuse her,” Mr. McCoy said. “She’s still in mourning.”
Tessa smothered a snort. Not hardly. She’d seen people express more grief over the loss of a wooden nickel.
Unlike his acerbic sister-in-law, the bleak look on the widower’s face mirrored her own despair. As much as it shamed her to admit it, she’d gladly assist Emmett with one of his swindles if only to see him once more. She’d taken for granted how much her world had orbited around caring for him. Oh, he was a capable grown man, certainly, but of the two—she’d always been more of the parent. Maybe that was why the haunted look in Mr. McCoy’s eyes resonated with her.
At a loss, she gestured toward the heap of bags and coats at his feet. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Thank you for the offer,” he replied, his light tone not quite ringing true. “But as you can see, I’m beyond help.” He nuzzled the top of Alyce’s head. “Isn’t that right, my dear?”
Alyce bussed his cheek with a delighted squeal, and something inside Tessa melted a little. “I don’t believe that for a moment.”
Mr. McCoy flashed his boyish grin once more. “Perhaps not.”
Certainly it was the early fall sun warming her cheeks. If only her own troubles weren’t quite so overwhelming. The little family was obviously in need of a good deed, and good deeds were her new stock-in-trade.
The previous year, she and Emmett had attended a tent revival on a lark. The edifying experience had set her on a path of atonement. While she hadn’t been completely sold on the itinerant religion, the preacher’s words had given voice to the nagging unease in her heart.
That little voice had turned out to be her conscience. Each day with Emmett, that pesky voice had grown louder until she’d realized there was only one way to silence the clamoring. Since Emmett’s moral compass had never been set to true north anyway, he’d taken her desertion badly.
Tessa squared her shoulders. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. McCoy. I wish you all the best on your journey.”
She wasn’t certain if he was coming or going, and she didn’t suppose it mattered.
“Likewise,” he said. “What about you? Are you on the first leg of some grand adventure?”
“Actually.” She let a small, self-indulgent sigh escape. “I’m not certain where I’m going.”
“You’re all alone, then?”
His innocent question had her eyes burning once more. If only her last words with Emmett hadn’t been harsh. Her change of heart concerning his dubious activities had driven a wedge between them, and she should have tried harder to make him understand. If they’d been on better terms when the Fultons had approached him, she’d have talked him out of consorting with the dangerous gang.
The Fultons.
Her heartbeat picked up rhythm and her gaze darted around the platform. “Being alone isn’t such a bad thing.”
She’d been standing here like a dolt instead of keeping an eye out for trouble. A dangerous mistake.
Satisfied her lapse hadn’t been fatal, she assumed her most serene smile. “I believe I’ll go wherever the wind takes me.”
She sure hoped the wind picked up soon.
“I miss those days,” Mr. McCoy replied a touch wistfully. “Enjoy the freedom.”
Alyce snatched his ear and tugged, replacing his melancholy expression with an indulgent chuckle.
Tessa’s gaze lingered on his face. My, but he had striking eyes. She gave herself a mental shake. What sort of woman mooned after a widower? Quite a few, judging by the admiring gazes he received from several female passengers strolling past.
Bending to Owen’s eye level, she smiled. “Stay out of trouble.”
“Ga.”
Unable to resist, she ruffled his hair, prolonging the moment. Her gaze locked with Mr. McCoy and they remained frozen, cocooned among the porter’s calls and the shouted greetings tossed toward departing passengers. Never in her life had she felt such an immediate connection to someone. Or was her continued solitude simply taking its toll?
“I’m in your debt,” Mr. McCoy said, breaking the taut thread of awareness stretching between them.
“Anyone would do the same.” She tightened the ribbons on her bonnet and turned away. She mustn’t leave her trunk unattended for long. As she knew firsthand, there were thieves lurking everywhere. “Perhaps we’ll cross paths again one day.”
Tessa tossed the last comment over her shoulder, wondering if he’d felt the same instant kinship. Probably not. Her shoulders sagged a notch before she straightened them. That sort of nonsense wouldn’t do at all. She wasn’t the sort of person who indulged in fits of melancholy. His obvious affection for his children had stirred up her guilt over Emmett, nothing more.
Mr. McCoy appeared lost and overwhelmed, emotions she understood all too well. Though the encounter felt unresolved, she resumed her seat on her trunk, retrieved her ledger and carefully searched out an offense.
Distracted shop owner while Emmett stole a hat.
In the opposite column she wrote “Returned lost toddler to his father.”
Tapping her pencil against her bottom lip, she considered her admiration of the children’s father and then discarded the lapse as an offense. He was a fetching gentleman and she’d always been drawn to kindness. No harm in that. Maybe someday, after this was all over... She shook her head. No. That was a foolish thought.
Love always came with expectations, and if one fought against those expectations, life was a misery. Her mother had expected a child would domesticate Emmett, but he’d left all the same. Emmett had expected her unwavering loyalty for his rescue, though he conveniently forgot he’d left her with those awful people in the first place.
While there were things about her years with Emmett that she’d genuinely enjoyed, her ledger of offenses was thick and her bank balance thin. She sensed Mr. McCoy was someone who lived by a rigid code of honor. A man who’d expect the same in others.
She closed her book with a snap, blocking out her pages of dishonorable deeds.
After tucking away her ledger, she studied the chalked destinations once more. Her spotty schooling had left her without much knowledge of geography, and she was at a loss. She’d settled in Wichita only because she’d liked the sound of the name.
“If You’re up there...” she began, lifting her face to the warming sun. “If You’re up there and You have any ideas, I sure could use one now.”
A distinctive wooden toy struck the base of her trunk.
“Ball,” a familiar small voice declared.
Planting her hands on her hips, Tessa leaned forward. “You are a troublemaker, aren’t you?”
Looking inordinately pleased with himself, Owen grinned. “Ga.”
Tessa squinted at the sky. “You and I need to work on our communication.”
* * *
The train whistle blew, startling Alyce, and Shane murmured soothing nonsense. He forced his thoughts away from the lovely Miss Spencer and concentrated on the task at hand. I am doing the right thing. Maybe if he kept repeating those words, they’d feel right, they’d feel true.
Unaware of the changes about to upturn her young life, Alyce fiddled with his collar and kicked her feet. I am doing the right thing.
Having left Owen with the pinch-faced Mrs. Lund, he arranged for the twins’ baggage as well as his own return ticket. Crowds of people surged around them, agitating Alyce and further darkening his mood. This was Abby’s dying wish—she wanted her children raised by her family. Only Abby wasn’t here anymore, and she didn’t see how the children’s smiles had faded beneath her sister’s dour countenance.
When he returned to where Mrs. Lund was standing, Owen was nowhere to be seen.
“Where is he?” Shane demanded.
Mrs. Lund lifted one shoulder in an unconcerned shrug. “Perhaps if he isn’t showered with attention upon his return, the boy will cease running off.”
Taller than average, Shane quickly spotted Owen pestering Miss Spencer once more. His rush of relief quickly morphed into anger. There was no way Mrs. Lund had seen Owen from this distance. For all she knew, he’d wandered onto the tracks.
Singularly unrepentant, she crossed her arms over her chest. “Proper discipline is what the boy needs, not coddling. I hope these sorts of antics won’t be commonplace with the children.”
Her voice grated on Shane’s nerves. The woman had all the warmth of a root cellar in winter, but she was also the twin’s closest kin.
“They’ve been cooped up,” he replied shortly. “They’re bound to wander.”
He and Abby had been childhood sweethearts. They’d paired up mostly because their ages matched and they were always seated together in the one-room schoolhouse. At seventeen, Abby had pressured him for an engagement. He’d thought them too young and he was already overwhelmed with his own responsibilities. His father had abandoned the family three years before, and Shane had taken over as the man of the house. Despite his best efforts to soften the blow, urging Abby to wait instead, his refusal had incensed her.
They’d gradually lost touch after her parents had died and she’d moved away. Years later, she’d arrived at his ranch, pregnant and alone. Compelled by honor and loyalty, he’d thought he was doing the right thing by marrying her, hoping their past friendship might grow into something deeper. Except she’d never stopped loving the man who’d betrayed her.
Mrs. Lund harrumphed, and her gaze shifted. “Have you made the arrangements with the bank?”
His jaw worked. “I’ll finish up this morning.”
That figured. Abby’s older sister may have lost sight of Owen, but she hadn’t lost sight of the money he’d offered for the twins’ care.
How had such a simple arrangement become this complicated? Ten years older than Abby, her sister had been married and gone by the time he and Abby had started school together. After Abby’s death, their correspondence had been brief, but Mrs. Lund had been well aware of her sister’s wishes and hadn’t balked. He’d put off the inevitable for as long as he could, but the time had finally arrived.
As though sensing his tension, Alyce squeezed her small hands around his neck. He absently rubbed her back in soothing circles.
“Everything will be fine,” he said, though his blood simmered. He turned toward Mrs. Lund and, with an effort born of sheer will, kept his tone calm. “It’s been hard on them, losing Abby. They need patience.”
“Fine talk coming from you,” she snapped. “A man foisting off his children as though they were so much chattel.”
“You know what Abby wanted,” he said quietly. “The ranch is isolated. If anything happened over the winter...”
“Or perhaps my sister regretted her choice of a husband.”
Her words slashed at his conscience. “We can finish this discussion later.”
As though his day couldn’t get any worse, he locked gazes with a pair of sparkling blue eyes. A flush crept up his neck. He didn’t know how much Miss Spencer had heard, but it was probably too much.
“We meet again, Mr. McCoy.” Despite her casual words, Miss Spencer clenched her hands before her stomach, her knuckles white. “I believe this little fellow belongs to you.”
Assuming his most stern expression, Shane switched Alyce to his opposite shoulder and reached down. “Owen, that’s twice today.”
The boy grinned, not at all sorry. Shane raised his eyebrows. Leave it to Owen to find the prettiest girl at the depot. The child was a positive flirt.
Miss Spencer’s gaze darted around the platform. “I believe Owen was chasing his ball and became a little lost.”
The tight coil he kept around his emotions eased a notch. Owen’s champion was smartly dressed in a traveling suit the color of a ripe peach. The cheerful hue brought out the luster in her flaxen hair and the flecks of gold in her sharp blue eyes. Though clearly nervous about something or someone, she exuded an air of confidence and grace.
Her presence felt out of place on the crowded platform. As though she belonged in a private parlor—sipping tea and waiting for her Pullman car. She was the sort of woman Abby had always admired. The rope around his emotions tightened once more. The sort of woman who’d find him boring and suffocating, no doubt, just as Abby had.
“Thank you,” he said. “For returning Owen. Again.”
“My pleasure.”
Her voice had a husky quality that stirred long-dormant yearnings. Though she kept a calm visage, there was something troubled about the way Miss Spencer kept glancing over her shoulder. The more time he spent with her, the more he realized there was an air of mystery surrounding his lovely Good Samaritan. That ambiguity made her all the more alluring, and he fought against his curiosity. Mysteries had a way of ending badly.
While Shane struggled for a suitable reply, Owen tossed the ball toward Mrs. Lund.
She squeaked and dodged sideways, then snatched the boy’s shirt and cocked back her arm. “You did that on purpose, you little—”
“No!” Shane shouted helplessly. With Alyce in his arms, he struggled to reach Owen.
Miss Spencer threw herself before the boy and grasped Mrs. Lund’s wrist.
Gratitude rushed through him.
Mrs. Lund’s face suffused with color. “Get your hands off of me!”
“I will not stand by and watch you hit a child,” Miss Spencer declared.
Sensing the trouble he’d caused, Owen whimpered behind her skirts.
“I wasn’t going to harm the boy.” Mrs. Lund sniffed. “Not that it’s any business of yours. A woman, traveling alone. You’re no better than you should be.”
Shane moved between the two combatants. “I won’t have you insulting Miss Spencer.”
“And I won’t have this...this person questioning my intentions.”
“What were your intentions?” he challenged.
His sister-in-law gasped. “How dare you question me!”
Now what? It sure looked as if Mrs. Lund was getting ready to haul off and wallop the boy. And if that was the case, then her actions changed everything. No matter how desperate, he wasn’t leaving the children with an abusive guardian. They might not be his children by blood, but he loved them all the same, and he was honor bound to ensure they were well cared for, no matter what Abby’s wishes.
Mrs. Lund’s mouth worked, and after several tense seconds, she gathered herself. “We had an agreement. There’s no need to fuss.”
Shane rubbed his forehead. Impossible situations. He had a singular talent for landing in impossible situations. With winter coming, he’d lose the help he hired from town. The weather isolated the ranch, sometimes for weeks. He’d kept Abby’s secret about the babies—everyone assumed he was their father—and he was bound to abide by her request concerning the children’s care. Yet he questioned her sister’s intentions.
People were always hiding their true motivations. Abby had claimed she still loved him, even though she was pregnant with another man’s children. Mrs. Lund had claimed she wanted to raise the twins, when clearly she was more interested in the money. Even he was keeping secrets—Abby’s secrets. Of the three of them, only Miss Spencer had no reason for duplicity.
As though only just deciphering the situation, Miss Spencer looked between the two of them. “You’re leaving the children with her?”
Mrs. Lund tossed her head. “After seeing how he manages them, I can understand Abby’s insistence that I raise the children. They are in need of a firm hand.”
Shane turned his back on his sister-in-law and faced Miss Spencer. The disappointment in her eyes sent his words spilling forth in a hasty confession. “I live on an isolated ranch. We’re cut off from everything during the winter. It’s just my men and me.”
Miss Spencer swayed forward. “Your ranch is isolated?”
“It’s just south of Cimarron Springs. Completely off the map.”
“That sounds quite remote.” Her voice grew breathless. “And inaccessible.”
“Uh.” He wasn’t certain if there was a question buried in her statement. “Yes.”
Shane reached for Owen, who clutched Miss Spencer’s skirts all the tighter. His chest constricted. He wasn’t leaving them with Mrs. Lund, even if that meant defying Abby’s wishes. Though she was the children’s closest relative, he’d known her for less than twenty minutes. In that short time he’d seen how truly unsuitable she was for the task.
Twenty minutes.
About the same amount of time he’d known Miss Spencer. His gaze lit on Owen’s lovely rescuer. She obviously feared something or someone, though she was doing her best to cover her anxiety. She wasn’t as excited about her travels as she’d have them believe. He sensed her independent nature and her stubborn resolve, but he had his own streak of obstinacy as well.
For a moment he imagined the world from her viewpoint, and his thoughts left him unsettled. An unmarried woman without the protection of relatives had few resources. Traveling alone was dangerous, more so farther west. Did she know the trouble she courted? Was she aware of the admiring stares she evoked? A very male sense of protectiveness tightened his jaw.
Mrs. Lund reached for Owen, who cowered away. “Come along,” she ordered. “We’ve wasted enough time.”
The boy burst out crying.
“No.” Shane spoke more forcibly than he’d intended. His gaze fastened on Miss Spencer. “I’ll find another way.”
