Carolyn Davidson (9 page)

“You hafta wait till we pray before you eat, Uncle
Will,” Maggie said primly, folding her hands precisely at the edge of the table.

It had been more years than he wanted to count since Will had observed that ritual and he nodded, replacing his spoon.

Many Fingers stood by the door and Will’s mother eyed him grudgingly, her mouth pursed as if she must perform a distasteful deed. Will spoke up, taking the task from her willingly, lifting a hand to signal the Indian. “Why don’t you sit at the end of the table?” he asked.

Many Fingers hesitated, his gaze following the older woman as she carried two more bowls of stew from the stove. “You might as well, I guess,” she said. “If you’re going to be working here like Will says, you’ll have to eat your meals in the house. I don’t serve supper in the barn.”

As a welcome it left something to be desired, but her attempt at jocularity was a good sign, Will decided. She’d apparently accepted the man’s presence, and that was all he could expect for now.

The food was blessed and was consumed quickly. “I’d expected that stew to last for a couple of days,” Will’s mother said. “It’s a good thing I cooked up plenty this afternoon.” She paused, hands full of crockery, eyeing her son. “I put clean sheets on your bed. You can take your things up and show Cassie where to put her clothes.”

“Cassie?” His mind a blank, Will looked across the room to where Cassie was cutting a pie in wedges. He’d had it in his head that Cassie would sleep in Josie’s room, and even the appearance of Josie’s child had not nudged that thought from his mind. Now he faced the facts. This is what Cassie wanted to talk about.

If Clara Tolliver thought he and Cassie were truly married, she’d certainly expect them to sleep in the same room. In the same bed, as a matter of fact. And how that would
go over with Cassie was another thing he’d have to consider.

“I found a bunk in the tack room,” Many Fingers offered. “Already put my bedroll on it.”

Cassie turned, her hands filled with plates of pie. Her face was flushed, and she refused to meet Will’s eye. Carrying four pieces of pie at once took her concentration and she placed them on the table quickly, sliding into her place once more.

“Aren’t you having any, Cassie?” Will asked. She looked at him and shook her head. The blush staining her cheeks had not eased, and he attempted a reassuring smile.

“Why’s your face all red?” Maggie asked brightly, grinning at Cassie. A forkful of pie went into her mouth and she chewed industriously as she watched the young woman.

“I guess I got a little too much sun today,” Cassie managed tightly. A look of pure desperation shot from her blue eyes to where Will watched her misery in silence.

He pushed his chair back from the table. “I reckon I’d better get things settled before it gets to be full dark,” he said, motioning at Cassie. “Come on, Cass. We’ll carry this stuff upstairs.”

“There’s candles in the bedroom, Will,” his mother called after them. “It’ll be dark before you know it.”

Their footsteps were loud on the bare stair treads and down the short hallway to the last room. The open door revealed a double bed with two plump pillows perched at the headboard. His old dresser sat against the far wall, between the windows, and his books still stood upright, a wooden bookend at each end. A canning jar filled with an assortment of pebbles and rocks of varied hues caught his eye, and he felt a pang of love for the mother who had saved his boyhood treasures.

“Come on in, Cassie,” he said over his shoulder, edging
to one side to give her room. She followed him in and he closed the door. Her eyes flew to the handle and he shook his head. “Don’t even think about it, Cass. We need the door closed for a few minutes.”

“It’s not proper for us to be in a bedroom together, Will,” she said in a harsh whisper.

He grinned. “Cass, we’ve been sleepin’ together for almost two weeks already. Unless you want to go down there and tell my ma that we’re not the married couple she thinks we are, we’re stuck with this until I can figure something out.”

“Once we sleep in this room together, we’re stuck with the story, no matter how you slice it,” she hissed at him.

“Well, I can’t come up with any better idea,” Will said softly, attempting to placate the angry woman before him. “I’m afraid your reputation is about shot, Cass. It’s my fault, I admit it, but I don’t know what I can do about it tonight. Do you want me to go downstairs and tell my mother we’ve traipsed clear from Texas without being married?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know what I want, Will. I just know I don’t want to sleep in that bed with you tonight”

“Look, Cassie. I’m tired. You’re tired. I’m not about to have a fuss over this. I’ll sleep on the floor.” Ground from between his teeth, the proposal was probably the best she was going to get, he decided. “Take it or leave it, Cass.”

“I don’t even have a nightgown,” she whispered, her eyes widening, her lashes blinking rapidly.

Unless he missed his guess, Cassie was about to become a wailing woman. The tears making their way down her cheeks looked to be a prelude to a veritable waterfall, if he knew anything about it. And Cassie having a bawling fit was not what he wanted to cope with tonight.

He took two long strides and pulled her against his body. His arms wrapped around her firmly, giving her no chance to dispute his possession. “Now, hush,” he said sternly against her forehead. “None of that, Cass. We’ll settle everything tomorrow. For tonight, you can wear one of my shirts to bed. Tomorrow we’ll go to town and get you some clothes, get you dressed up proper.”

“What will your mother say when she finds out I don’t have any clothes?” It was a subdued wail, and Will tugged her face against his chest to muffle the sound.

“You’ve got your dress,” he reminded her quietly. “Will that do until I can buy you some things in the morning?”

“It’s torn and I couldn’t get it very clean when I washed it out in the creek,” she said, her words mumbled against his shirt. “I’ve only got the other pants and shirt you bought me, and if I go to town in them, I’ll be a laughingstock.”

Will’s fingers grasped her shoulders, and he shook her once. “No one will laugh at you, Cassie. I promise you.”

She looked up at him dubiously, her tearstained cheeks flushed, her eyes swollen. Wisps of dark hair hung on either side of her face, evidence of her failure to keep it properly subdued in its braid. She was a sight to behold, he decided, ragtag and disheveled. Probably the prettiest woman he’d ever laid eyes on, and that was the truth.

Her mouth trembled and he frowned, certain she was about to dampen his shirt once more. There was one way to satisfy his own urges and give Cassie something else to think about. Besides, it was what he’d been wanting to do for the past several days.

Bending to her, his mouth opened as it settled over hers, his lips capturing his prize with unerring precision.

She uttered a muffled protest and then, with a sigh of
defeat, leaned her weight against him and wound her arms around his neck. It was a surrender he had not even hoped for, an embrace he had not imagined he would receive, and it was not in him to deny himself the pleasure of accepting both.

He scooped her against his length, his kiss taking all the sweetness she offered, his tongue careful as he tasted the flavor that was uniquely her own. Her murmurs of assent urged him on and he left her mouth to seek the warmth of her throat. Lifting her in his arms, he made his way to the chair near the bed, settling himself with Cassie on his lap, his arms full of warm and acquiescent woman.

“Will, I’m so tired,” she whispered.

He smiled against her warm skin, his mouth leaving a trail of small pecking kisses on her cheek. “Here I thought you were likin’ my kissin’, and you’re just too sleepy to hold your head up,” he teased.

“I do like your kissing,” she admitted.

“We can get married, Cass,” he said carefully.

“Liking your kissing isn’t reason enough to marry you,” she told him, pushing away from his embrace.

“I think it might be.”

“I think we ought to tell your mother the truth,” she said, sitting upright on his lap.

“I mean it, Cassie. I don’t want you goin’ off somewhere else. I said I’d take care of you. If that means marrying you, I’m willing.”

Her look was dubious. “That doesn’t sound like the kind of proposal I’ve waited all my life to hear.”

“Well, it’s the best I’ve got to offer right now,” he said, his words stiff, his manner unyielding as he set her on her feet and rose to face her. Somehow, it hadn’t come out the way he’d meant it to.

Cassie’s eyes were accusing, her mouth still damp from
his kisses, and unless he missed his guess, she was not in the mood for any more.

Damn it all, anyway. He’d just offered marriage for the first time in his twenty-seven years and been turned down, if he’d heard her right. He ought to let her stew. At least he’d made the offer. It was more then he’d ever done for any other woman in his life.

“I’ll get you some warm water from the cookstove so you can wash up,” he said, turning to the door. “Maybe you’ll think better of it in the morning.”

S
he awoke with Will curled around her back, his breath warm against her neck, his big hand flopped across her hip. Cassie sighed and gazed pensively out the window across the room, where the night sky had begun to turn a sort of pinkish gray color at the horizon.

It was too much to expect of him, that he would sleep all night on the hard floor while she occupied his bed. But at the same time she felt an overwhelming guilt as she pictured the two of them nestled in the middle of his bed. What if his mother could see them?

Of course, that wouldn’t be any shock to Clara Tolliver, seeing as how she thought they were truly married.

Cassie shoved at Will’s warm hand, immediately missing the comfort of his touch as it slid from its place. She sat up and he mumbled, only her name coming through audibly, and then he turned to his back, clearing his throat and stretching his long legs to full length.

“Will? You told me you’d sleep on the floor.” Faintly accusing, her whisper brought him bolt upright in bed.

“Don’t start, Cassie.” He rubbed his head with both hands, scratching at his scalp and then running his fingers through his hair as he brushed it back. “That damn floor
was harder than the ground, I swear. You managed to sleep all night with me right behind you. There’s no sense in gettin’ all riled up this morning.”

Her guilt increased as he spoke. It was true enough. He’d only done what he’d been doing for the past nights, sleeping next to her. He hadn’t even kissed her, except for shutting her up last evening, and in her book that didn’t really count as a kiss.

“We’re in a mess, Will,” she said, feeling the tears well up behind her eyelids. “Maybe I’d better just keep going once you take me to town this morning. I can probably find a place to stay. Isn’t there a nice family that needs a nurse for their children or something?”

“How would I know, Cass?” he grumbled, rolling back over, tugging her down to the mattress. “I haven’t been home in over ten years. Half the people in town wouldn’t know me if they saw me face-to-face. And the other half probably don’t remember me, anyway.” He yawned widely and rubbed his chin against her hair. “There’s a nice family right here, honey, and a little girl who needs somebody to tend to her, in the room right next door to us.”

“Maggie?” She thought wistfully for a moment of the child she’d found so appealing last night. Round eyed and rosy cheeked, Maggie had won her heart the first time those dimples had flashed her way. The tangled curls needed a good brushing, she’d decided right off, her fingers itching to get hold of the dark ringlets and tie a ribbon in their depths.

“Your mother might not want me to take care of Maggie,” Cassie argued mildly. She’d never felt so wishywashy in her life. Here she was, surrounded by his warmth again, already almost talked out of making her own way, letting him coax her into doing things his way.

“I have a feelin’ Ma would pretty much let you do anything
you want, Cass. She’s tickled pink to have you here. I think she’s got the idea that being married guarantees my stickin’ around.”

Cassie stiffened, pushing herself upright again, and over the side of the bed. Standing on the oval braided rug, she turned back to face the man who occupied half her pillow. “That’s the whole problem, Will. You’re not married. And neither am I, and probably not likely to be. I want to marry a man who loves me, not somebody who gets stuck with me.”

“Oh, I don’t know, honey,” he drawled. “I don’t mind gettin’ stuck with you. I’ve been thinkin’ ever since we saw that sheriff the second day out, maybe gettin’ married would be a good idea. It’s about time I settled down and started thinkin’ about makin’ a home.”

She looked disbelievingly at him. “You’ve been thinking that for the past couple of weeks? I don’t believe you!”

He grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners, his gaze working its way down the front of her makeshift gown to rest on the length of her bare legs. “Well, I’m sure thinkin’ it now, honey. The sight of you in my shirt is causin’ all sorts of ideas to creep into my mind.”

Cassie looked down at herself in dismay. The shirt covered her wonderfully well, as far as it went, ending just above her knees. From there on, rounded calves curved into slim ankles. She shuffled her feet closer to the bed, as if she would conceal as much as she could from his view.

Will reached out one hand and clutched a handful of his shirt, just below her waist, and tugged her closer. “Sit down here, Cass.” He drew her to the edge of the bed and she sank to the mattress. His fingers loosened their grip and fell to rest against her knee, warming her flesh through the material of his shirt as it billowed around her slender form.

Cassie watched him, silent in the dim light of the bedroom,
confused and more uncertain of her future than she’d ever been. And that was saying a whole lot, she thought sadly. Through the years traipsing from one place to another with Mama, and then both of them living with Remus Chandler after Cleta had given in to his coaxing and married him, she’d never felt more forlorn than she did right this minute.

She’d always had her mother to look after things, except there at the end, when their positions had been so abruptly reversed. Maybe that night when Cleta had breathed her last had been more confusing than this morning, but the panic welling up in Cassie’s throat right now was enough to make her wonder.

“I hear my mother in the kitchen,” Will said, his expression somber as his eyes met hers. “Maybe we need to talk about this later, Cassie. For now, let’s just get downstairs. I’ve got chores to do. I’d be willin’ to bet my brother Eben is out in the barn already.”

He rolled from the other side of the bed, and Cassie’s eyes opened wide as she caught sight of his long underwear, one button undone in the rear, a small curving portion of his backside showing in the exposed area. Quickly she averted her eyes. That small, pale slice of skin was about as intimate a sight as she’d ever beheld. She’d had a glimpse of his upper body when he washed up on the trail, furtively noting the curly mat of hair that covered his chest, her gaze taken with the rippling muscles across his back. But that memory didn’t hold a candle to seeing a portion of his backside, when it came right down to it.

How she’d managed to get herself into such a pickle was about as worrisome as anything that had ever happened in her life. Will Tolliver made her heart swell within her chest when he held her close to him, made her stomach churn as if it was full of speckled butterflies when he kissed her, and
all in all made her yearn for a nameless something she had never held within her grasp.

He’d taken over her life, it seemed, making choices for her and taking her on as if tending to her was sort of a crusade.

Maybe he didn’t love her, with all his talk of getting married, but unless she missed her guess, she was well on her way to losing her heart to the man.

Lifting her head, she watched as he buttoned his shirt, then tucked it into his trousers. The bottom of his long underwear was out of sight, his shirtsleeves were fastened snugly and he bent to pick up his boots. Stepping to where the pitcher of water waited on the table by the door, he poured a small amount into the china bowl. Then he lowered his head, splashing the water on his face, his fingers running through his hair to dampen its dark length. He straightened, peering into the mirror, then felt the surface of the table until his fingers touched the brush that lay there. A few quick movements brought a semblance of order to his hair and he turned from the mirror to face Cassie.

“Get dressed and come on down,” he told her. “I’ll be in for breakfast.”

She nodded, thankful for the dim light in the room, aware of the flush that warmed her cheeks. “I’ll be right down.” This is what it would be like to be married to the man, this intimate sharing of a bedroom, watching him dress and knowing what was beneath the clothes he wore. At least, knowing most of what his clothing concealed. She was only too aware of the parts he’d not exposed to her sight, the long length of his muscled legs, the male strength of his loins.

“Oh, Lordy, what am I going to do?” She sighed as the door shut behind him. “Will Tolliver, you’ve got me in a pickle, that’s for sure.”

* * *

The sight of Many Fingers shoved up against the outside wall of the barn greeted Will as he left the back porch. Setting out at a run, he hollered at the broad-shouldered man who held the Indian in a throttling grip.

“Eben, for cryin’ out loud!” The words surged forth on separate breaths as Will’s long legs covered the dusty earth beneath his boots. “Eben!” He shouted the name as his hands gripped his brother’s shoulders, spinning the man about to face him.

Many Fingers slid to the ground, his already ruddy complexion a darker hue as he fought to regain his breath. “I told you…” he gasped, holding up a hand for emphasis as he glared at Eben Tolliver.

“For cryin’ out loud, what the hell’s goin’ on here?” Eben shoved Will from him, his big fists clenching, ready to do business. And then he took a closer look, blinking as he caught sight of the wide grin of the man who’d halted his assault.

With instinctive delight, Eben reached for the brother he hadn’t seen in ten years and clutched him firmly, the slap of his palm sounding loudly as he clapped his hand against Will’s back.

“Damn, it’s good to see you.” Will pushed Eben from him, his eyes aglow at the welcome sight of the stocky man his younger brother had become.

“Will? Where’d you come from? Ma said she wrote you, but when she didn’t get an answer, we figured you’d headed out again, or got yourself shot or something.” Eben’s good-natured face lit up with an answering grin as he spoke. And then he turned to Many Fingers. “Where’d the Indian come from? He belong to you?”

Will laughed. “You’ll get yourself in trouble talkin’ that way, Eben. Many Fingers is my…” He hesitated, eyes fastened on the man who watched in silence. “I guess you
could say Many Fingers is my friend. We’ve been through a lot together.”

White teeth flashed against his skin as Many Fingers nodded. “Will Tolliver is a good man. He gave me a job here.”

Will’s brow lifted. “I did?”

The Indian nodded. “I’m going to take care of your horses.”

Eben looked from one to the other. “First time you’ve heard about this, Will?”

“No, now that I think about it, the idea got chewed over one night around a campfire. Guess I didn’t think about havin’ to hire him on. He’s just part of the package, so to speak.”

“What package?” Eben looked confused, as if he had missed an important element in this conversation.

Will grinned. “Let’s get the chores done first and then you can get a firsthand look.”

“Where you been, Will?” Side by side the two men strode down the wide aisle of the barn, one picking up a pitchfork, the other filling a bucket from the oat bin as they went. From the far end they worked their way back to the door, Will making a trip back to refill his bucket as they talked.

Many Fingers pitched pungent straw and manure from the stalls into a wooden wheelbarrow, wheeling it outside when it was in danger of overflowing. Steadily he worked his way past the brothers, until he’d emptied every stall of its contents.

“Been a while since I’ve cleaned all the stalls,” Eben said apologetically. “It’s been about all I could do just to feed and turn the horses out in the pasture, mornings. I’d about decided to leave them out full-time, anyway, what with the weather warming up the way it has lately. But I
worried that one of them might get out and Ma wouldn’t be able to chase it down. That fence on the north side of the near pasture is pretty well done for.”

“I think I’ve got my work cut out for me,” Will answered, putting the oat bucket away and turning to where Many Fingers appeared in the barn door. “About done there?” he asked.

Eben cleared his throat and approached the Indian. “I didn’t know you were a friend of Will’s. You should have spoke up right off.”

Many Fingers nodded. “Maybe so, but you caught me with my pants down.”

Eben laughed. “That’s what you get for takin’ your mornin’ leak in a stall.”

Will was hard put not to join his brother’s hearty laughter, once he caught sight of Many Fingers’ chagrin. Then the sound of the bell on the back porch clanging a summons to breakfast caught his ear, and he motioned to the other men.

“Ma’s got the biscuits done.” His long strides took him in seconds to where the pump handle awaited his grip. He grasped it, pumped twice and then wet his hands beneath its flow. A dish of soap on the edge of the trough caught his eye, and he chuckled.

“Ma left a reminder for us. What was it she used to say, Eben? Clean hands were a sign of an empty belly?” He scrubbed vigorously at his fingers, washing up to the cuffs of his shirt, then waited as Eben pumped more water.

“Yeah, she still says it,” Eben said with a sigh. “Ma hasn’t changed a whit, still treats me like a kid sometimes.” He bent low to splash water on his face and then washed his hands vigorously, Many Fingers following suit Then, waving their hands to dry them in the morning air, they headed for the house.

The back door closed behind them, and Cassie turned from the stove. Her face flushed from the heat, her hair curling in defiance of her best efforts to slick it back earlier, she was a temptation to behold.

From behind Will a low voice murmured an echo to his thoughts. “If this is the rest of the package, you’ve got yourself a mighty fine-lookin’ female, brother.”

Will frowned. He’d gotten used to Cassie’s round bottom encased in pants, and to give him credit, Many Fingers had seemed to ignore her womanly charms. Having Eben take note so bluntly wasn’t what he wanted to hear. The sooner he got her into dresses again, the better he was going to like it.

They took the wagon to town, Clara Tolliver having decided to ride along. She’d introduce Cassie around, she told Will, although he secretly wondered if she wasn’t just worried about the younger woman’s reception. Wearing male attire and showing up with Will, unannounced, Cassie might be the focus of gossip, Will’s mother told him quietly. And that would never do.