Promise Me Texas (A Whispering Mountain Novel) Page 22

  “I’ll take none.” He couldn’t help but like the con artist. Andrew had learned a long time ago that most people are acting in the play of their lives. If they could only sit in the audience and watch, they might not have near the drama on stage.

  When Beth opened the door, the priest was finishing his prayers.

  She smiled at Father Benjamin, handed him a cup of coffee, and asked if he’d consider joining the others for breakfast in the kitchen.

  “Only if I’m not in the way, Mrs. McLaughlin,” Benjamin answered, his hands steepled in front of him.

  “Oh, you won’t bother me. We have two little boys eating in there now. Maybe you could keep them out from underfoot while the doctor is here. Madie has offered to be a runner if we need anything, and the cook will have her hands full getting lunch ready for all the crowd.”

  “I’m glad to help.” He bowed slightly and backed out of the room. “Bless the bond that ties you two together, my children.”

  Andrew couldn’t hide his grin.

  Beth relaxed in her chair across from him. “What a nice man. We’re not Catholic, but I still feel blessed to have a priest beneath our roof.”

  “May good things come of it,” Andrew answered, wondering how he could hint that they might want to count the silverware before Father Benjamin left.

  CHAPTER 28

  COLBY DIXON WALKED IN AT SUNSET AND LIT THE first lamp, hardly recognizing his own house. The warm glow across his new furniture made him happy. He’d spent the first day back cleaning up the old place and the second day ordering furniture from a catalog. Most of it had to come all the way from Austin, and, thanks to the trains, it only took a few days. Good solid furniture a man could be proud of, but it looked plain in his plain house.

  He had known from the first that he’d need help if he planned to get the house finished before spring roundup started. So, unlike his father, he rode into town and hired three carpenters. They came out the next morning loaded down with lumber and paint. All three were family men and thankful for winter work.

  They called him Mr. Dixon, though he’d said it wasn’t necessary. Even when they finally used his first name, there was respect. He felt it. He didn’t think he deserved the honor, but he bore the responsibility of it. He wanted to be a fair boss and work harder than any man he hired. The trail boss on the cattle drive had taught him that.

  Day by day the place changed. One man built a wide porch while another put in a new stove and redid the fireplace. The third painted and repaired walls and flooring.

  One Friday, when he drove them back to town and paid them from money he’d drawn from the bank, they all thanked him, saying the pay would help them make it through the winter.

  Colby thought of all the money his dad had squirreled away while the ranch fell apart. “If you’ve got the time, I could use help with the corral fences, and the barn needs a new roof.”

  All three promised to be out Monday morning ready to work.

  Colby waved and headed to the hotel for a meal. This time he took a bath first and dressed in new clothes he’d bought. He knew the sensible thing to do was to ride home—even in the dark he wasn’t likely to get lost—but somehow the hotel with its china and tablecloth made him feel like he was back at McLaughlin’s place with friends around him.

  As he took his bath, he remembered the conversation he’d had with Andrew in the bar one evening and the last one he’d had with Madie before he left.

  When he dressed he promised himself he’d have more, with them, or maybe someday with his own family. The new clothes were quality work clothes but nothing fancy. He’d thought of buying new boots, but the ones his pa had bought him just before he left for the cattle drive looked to be still in good shape. As he examined them for any holes, he remembered how his pa said he’d better be wearing them when he came home.

  A seam along the top of the boot had pulled free, just far enough for him to slip his finger between the broken stitches. A sliver of white shone through between the pieces of leather.

  Colby tugged, thinking his pa had paid too much for boots padded with paper. But as he tugged, he realized the folded paper had been hidden inside on purpose.

  In the lamplight of his hotel room, he unfolded the note and smiled. His pa had sent the deed to the ranch with him, trusting that he’d bring it home. No one would ever take his land away.

  “Thanks, Pa,” he whispered, realizing he was staring at proof that his father had loved him.

  When he went down to the restaurant, everyone greeted him, but his mind was on the paper in his pocket. He’d go to the bank tomorrow and put it in the safe.

  He ate alone, but the girl serving food stopped by whenever she wasn’t busy.

  She was pretty, but far too thin for his liking. When she hinted that she’d be off work soon and hated walking home after dark, Colby acted like he didn’t hear her. The town was so small anyone could pretty well see every house, so she’d be safe enough.

  He turned in early and started a list of what he’d need to order the next morning if he planned to build on another bedroom along with a washroom to the back of the house. One of the carpenters had drawn up a plan on the back of a paper bag.

  Colby figured he’d need a real bed in both bedrooms in case of company, and nightstands like the one in the hotel. A comfortable chair for him to sit in and read by the fire would be nice, and maybe he’d frame in a bookshelf. Maybe this trip to the store, he would remember dishes. He’d been eating his meals out of the pot he cooked in.

  He fell asleep trying to remember all the stuff Mrs. McLaughlin had bought for Andrew’s house. She’d made it look nice.

  Madie crossed his tired mind. He worried about her having a baby so young. Worried that no one was making sure she ate right and got plenty of sleep. He woke several times during the night trying to decide between writing her another letter and riding back to Fort Worth to talk to her. He had no doubt she’d need some more of his advice.

  CHAPTER 29

  ANDREW WOKE TO THE FIRST SUNNY MORNING IN three days. It had been cloudy when he’d been shot, and the snow seemed to hang around with the pain. Dr. Sage Roak, Teagan’s sister, had cut the bullet out that first morning and, as Beth had promised, she’d been the last person he saw before he passed out.

  He didn’t remember much of the day after that, or the next. It seemed people moved him from first the study, then the parlor. The study desk was hard and the little bed in the parlor was too short, but Andrew barely noticed.

  All were worried about Teagan and Travis. They knew they would find LaCroix, but Sage and Jessie worried because the senator was sneaky. Beth said she was more worried that Lamont might have lost his mind. Andrew tried to assure them that it would take a few days to catch him, then maybe more to get him to a town. He also suggested that the McMurray men would refuse to turn him over to any small-town sheriff. They’d take him all the way to Austin.

  Everyone agreed, but his reasoning didn’t seem to stop their worry.

  By the third day he felt well enough to complain. Tobin surprisingly seemed to understand that Andrew was tired of being the center of attention. He and Sage’s husband, the sheriff of Anderson Glen, loaded Andrew in the wagon and took him down to a little cabin Sage and Drum had often used before they had the twins.

  It was small, with a potbellied stove in the center, but the solitude fit him. The stream outside his window almost made him believe he was hearing traffic, and the birds in the evergreens and cottonwoods sounded like noisy neighbors.

  For the first few hours Madie and Beth were like bees buzzing around the place, bringing in a wagonload of what they thought he needed. Beth circled by, always checking on him, mothering him as they unloaded all they’d shipped from Fort Worth.

  By the fourth day he was able to hobble around on a cane and begin writing again. Beth stayed with him the first few nights in the cabin, sleeping in a hammock she strung in one corner. She made trips to the main house every day. Madie
and the boys came out to visit and Sage stopped by, but for the most part, he was comfortable and alone.

  He found he liked walking the path beside the stream. There were no people or stores to look at, but he laughed at rabbits and squirrels. Horses came in for a drink on the other side of the stream, and he often heard other animals who never stepped out of the darkness at night.

  As he watched Beth cooking breakfast on the fifth day since he’d been shot, he finally thought of something to say that didn’t relate to his recovery. “I’m surprised you packed the typewriter. It’s too heavy to be hauled around. You do know that when your father suggested we stay until spring, I had no intention of taking him up on the offer.”

  “I guessed your intentions, but you don’t know my father. I figured you might need it.” She glanced over at the corner, where she’d made his office complete with a desk, bookshelves, and two chairs. “When you’re ready, we can get back to mailing out material so you won’t miss work. Someone from the ranch usually takes the mail in once a week. When Sage came out yesterday, she brought a letter for Madie from Colby. It was in care of you, but someone had scratched out the address in Fort Worth and put in Whispering Mountain. So if any of those envelopes come back from the publishing houses or magazines, they’ll eventually make it here.”

  “What did Colby say?”

  “At first, we all waited for Madie to tell us. Finally, she admitted she couldn’t read and asked me if I’d read the letter to her. Colby wrote that the rangers didn’t find his father’s killer, but they were thinking that with a ranger presence on his ranch now and then, whoever wanted the land won’t try again.”

  She leaned on the edge of Andrew’s chair, close but not touching. “Colby’s back at his ranch and told her he was making improvements. After that he mostly wrote a list of things she was not supposed to do. I found it a little insulting, but Madie didn’t seem to mind.”

  Andrew smiled. “He worries about her. They formed a friendship while they were together.”

  “I think it may be stronger than that,” she agreed. “I see what a sweet girl she is. She watches everything I do and tries to imitate me like I’m her hero. She’s so kind to the boys. I’ll not put up with Colby hurting her feelings.”

  “I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that. Colby’s turning into a fine man. I should have told you before that you were right to go back into that hospital and bring him out. He’d be dead by now if you hadn’t.”

  Sitting near him, Beth seemed to want to continue visiting, and he realized what a foul mood he must have been in since the bullet hit his leg. He was surprised she hadn’t started just dropping his food off at the door.

  He turned his chair to face hers, almost close enough to brush knees. “Tell me what else is happening back at the house? Any word from your father?”

  She shook her head, then changed the subject. “You’ll be happy to know Father Benjamin has offered to teach Madie to read, and he’s been doing the boys’ lessons with them every morning.”

  “I’m surprised he’s still here. Doesn’t he have a mission to get back to?” Andrew thought Benjamin’s game dangerous. One slip and the McMurrays would know the truth, and they wouldn’t be too happy about the lie.

  He closed his eyes, knowing the one he and Beth told was far worse.

  Beth didn’t seem to notice his worries. “No, lucky for us, Father Benjamin is between assignments.”

  Andrew decided to simply add, “Yeah, lucky for us.” No telling what the con man was stealing.

  Silence stretched between them. Since the shooting, they’d seen a great deal of each other, but somehow they’d become strangers. He missed her touch, her kiss. He’d fallen asleep every night with the memory of how she’d looked that morning in her room. Her camisole had been opened and the thin cotton she wore did nothing to hide the curve of her body.

  “I worry about you,” she finally said as her fingers brushed over his leg. “If you start back to work, go slow. That leg needs time to heal.”

  “The work will keep my mind off it.” He wanted more on his mind than a wound. He longed to talk to her. Not about the shooting or their make-believe marriage. Not about anything that was really important. He fought the urge to capture her hand in his, but he’d feel like a fool saying simply that he needed her near.

  “Can I get you something before I leave?” she asked as she stood and stepped back into her role as nurse.

  He fought to stay still. “Some writing paper would be nice. I’d like to send Colby a note.”

  She smiled at him, that sweet smile he was starting to hate. That smile that said he was hurt and she was nursing him back. “I thought I might go help with the quilting today while you take a nap. I’ll return with supper before dark.”

  “Fine,” he answered, turning away.

  “Want to go in with me? Sage and Drummond are staying the night. They brought their twins. Their boys are a little older than Levi, but they became friends over milk and cookies. The house seems alive with the sound of children running and laughing.”

  “No. I’ll stay here.”

  She circled around the room to leave but ended up right back in front of him. “What’s the matter, Andrew? What do you want?”

  “I want you to sleep with me tonight. In the same bed, like we did the night before the shooting.” His need for her had formed words before he thought.

  “But—”

  “You won’t hurt my leg. I’m not bored, looking for something to do. I simply miss the nearness of you.”

  “All right. I’m tired of hiding the hammock away every morning.” She turned and went back to loading up laundry to take back to the main house.

  He felt even more miserable for asking. Maybe she felt grateful to him for saving her life and thought she’d be nice to him. He didn’t want that. The need to hold her was an ache greater than the one in his leg, but he didn’t see the longing returned in her eyes. He needed her, but only if she wanted him in the same way.

  After she left, he paced, forcing his leg to move, working the muscles until they burned. It was almost dark when she returned.

  As she set the food on the little table, he tried to keep his voice calm. “Beth, I’ve been thinking. I was out of my head asking you to sleep with me. I don’t know what came over me. Maybe you should sleep at the main house tonight. I’ll be all right here alone.” He wanted her to stop mothering him, and the only way he could think to make that happen was to cut the cord clean.

  “But—”

  “Get a good night’s sleep and come back with breakfast. We’ll begin work again. I could use your help with the typing, if you’re still willing.”

  She watched him, but she didn’t argue. “All right. If that is what you want, Andrew. Momma says arguing with a wounded man is like poking a bear.”

  “I’m not arguing. I just want to be left alone.” He couldn’t let this need he had for her open his heart. The injury had finally knocked some sense into him. This cabin would save his sanity while they were here on Whispering Mountain. He could work and be alone. She would be safe with her family. In a month he would leave, making a show of promising to be back soon. Having her near at night would be worse than a drunk watching over a full bottle of whiskey.

  Reason told him one fact. If the wreck had never happened, a woman like her would never be with a man like him.

  Beth gathered up her things. As she stuffed her bag, she pulled out a worn leather pouch. “Oh, I almost forgot, the housekeeper found this among your dirty clothes.”

  Andrew raised his eyebrow as he took the pouch bound with string. It looked familiar, but he knew it wasn’t his. Turning it over in his hands, he thought of where he’d seen it before. A campfire the night before Peterson’s men climbed on the train. They’d been talking about the robbery, and Chesty said something about as soon as they had money for a stake they’d all be going hunting for treasure.

  “I’ve got the map.” Peterson had laughed
, showing a few missing teeth. “Won it in a poker game in East Texas,” he’d bragged. “All we have to do is climb down in the Palo Duro Canyon, follow this map, and dig out as much gold as we can carry. There will be no more trains to rob; I’ll be so rich we can buy our own. Every man here will get a pocket full of gold.”

  Andrew looked at Beth as the memory of that night faded. “This belonged to Chesty Peterson. I saw it the night before the gang planned to rob your train. How did you get it?”

  “I didn’t. It was in your saddlebags. Except for the night I bought your horse I’ve never crossed paths with Chesty.” She looked like she was flipping through memories in her mind. “I saw him checking the saddle when he walked the horse out. He must have slipped it in then. Maybe he thought passing it on with the horse was safer than getting caught with it in his pocket.”

  Andrew slowly unfolded the oiled leather around what looked like a very old map.

  “What does it mean?”

  “It means if Peterson gets out, he’ll be headed our way. He might not bother to come after me, but he’ll come after the map.”

  Beth’s face paled.

  “It’s all right.” He pulled her close. “He’s in jail, on his way to prison for life, and he has no idea where we are.”

  She stood starched stiff.

  “Don’t worry,” he tried again.

  “Papa sent a telegram this morning saying they were escorting Lamont to Austin for a hearing. They caught up to him fifty miles from here trying to board a train. At the end of the note Papa added, Outlaw Chesty Peterson escaped. Rangers mounting a manhunt.”

  “And you didn’t tell me?” Andrew didn’t know whether to be angry or frightened.

  “I didn’t think it mattered. He’ll never find us, and if the rangers are after him there won’t be anywhere in Texas he can hide.”

  “If Colby’s letter found us, an outlaw can find us.” He held her against him. Now wasn’t the time to step away from her. It wouldn’t take much for Chesty to figure out that Beth was with him, thanks to all the news about her and Lamont. If he knew Beth was the one who bought the horse, he could read a paper and see that she’d married Andrew McLaughlin, the same Andrew McLaughlin who’d seen his map. The only man who didn’t die with the other outlaws. The stranger they’d taken in who rode a pinto with white stockings. Lamont had probably told the papers Beth’s last name. Peterson might go to Dallas or Fort Worth first, but eventually, he’d be riding toward Whispering Mountain.