Home by Morning (21 page)

Edwina didn't answer, her head bent over the book as she scanned the first page. “Laws amighty.” She gave Lucinda a stunned look. “It's good. Listen to this: ‘Our land is sacred to us. It is soaked with the blood of our People and marked with the tracks of those who died defending it.' Isn't that beautiful? And sad. From what I've read so far, this is really good.”

“It sounds like Thomas. He has a rather violent outlook on life.”

A knock on the door sent them both jumping with guilt. “Quick. Put it back in the box,” Lucinda whispered. “Who is it?” she called in a louder voice.

“Yancey. You might oughta come.”

“Probably Joe Bill,” Edwina muttered. “He's always getting into mischief.”

“Is something wrong?” Lucinda waved for Edwina to put the lid back on and shove the crate into the corner.

“It's Mrs. Bradshaw,” Yancey whispered through the gap between the door and the frame. “She's crying again.”

Again?
Lucinda and Edwina looked at each other.

At Lucinda's nod, Edwina went over and opened the door. “Is she hurt?”

Yancey shrugged. “I ain't about to go see. Her and Quinn was talking in the closed dining room, then he leaves, and I hear her crying in there. Think I should get the sheriff?”

“The sheriff is out beating a tom-tom somewhere,” Edwina snapped. “Is she still in there?”

“I ain't going to see. Crying women give me the shivers.”

Lucinda came up behind Edwina. “Attend your duties, Yancey. And say no more about this. Do you understand?”

“Yes, boss. I gotta restock the coal bin in the washroom anyway.”

As soon as the old man clumped out of earshot, Edwina turned to Lucinda, her blue eyes tearing. Ever emotional, the pretty Southerner was. Lucinda envied her that openness. “We should go to her, Luce.”

“Of course we will. But we mustn't dally too long. The jewel will be hungry again in a few minutes.”

They were crossing the lobby when Tait came through the front doors with a package under his arm. When he saw them, his face reddened and he shifted the package to his other arm, as though trying to hide it. Not very subtle.

Naturally, Lucinda stopped to find out what he was hiding. The parcel had postal stamps all over it, but she didn't remember ordering anything. “What's that?”

“Nothing. Some equipment I sent for.”

Tait was usually scrupulously honest—especially with her. But her female nose for male misbehavior told her he was hedging. She narrowed her eyes at him. “What sort of equipment?”

He opened his mouth—to lead her off the scent, no doubt—then closed it and gave a crooked smile. “It's a surprise.”

She instantly perked up. “For me?”

“In a way. But the whole family will benefit. Good morning,
Edwina,” he added with a smile to the woman he'd hadn't yet acknowledged, even though she stood less than a yard away. “Where are you ladies off to in such a hurry?”

“To talk to Mrs. Bradshaw.” Lowering her voice, Edwina nodded toward the closed dining room doors and added, “She's in there crying.”

Taking that as her cue to do the same, the jewel opened her eyes and took a deep breath. But before she let loose the first squawk, her gaze found her father, and she immediately broke into a toothless grin.

“About Quinn,” Tait said to Edwina, even though he was making kissy noises at his daughter. “I was wondering when he would break it off with her.”

“Break it off?” Both Lucinda and Edwina crowded closer to Tait. The jewel waved a pudgy arm.

“You mean he's not going to court her anymore?” Lucinda asked in a whisper.

“He was never courting her.” He cooed at his daughter.

She cooed back.

It disgusted Lucinda how taken with the man the child was when it was her mother who did all the work. “You're trying to change the subject,” she accused.

“Of course I am, sweetheart. It's none of your business why Quinn won't court her, or why Mrs. Bradshaw is in the dining room crying. I suggest you let it go.” He punctuated that with a kiss on Rosie's tiny nose, which sent the child into thrashing pleasure. Then he straightened and looked at Lucinda with piercing intensity.

She saw laughter and a flicker of something else in his dark gray eyes. Mischief? Arousal? Surely not.

Footsteps sounded on the stairs. Lucinda recognized the halting tread of Mrs. Throckmorton.

But before she could greet her guardian, Tait put his arm around her shoulders and turned her back toward the hallway. “If you'll excuse us?” With a nod to Edwina, he quickly ushered Lucinda out of the lobby. “May I see you in our rooms for a moment, Luce? It's important,” he added with that devastating smile.

Flustered, she jiggled the baby to ward off a crying fit. “Rose is hungry.”

“Excellent timing. Hurry, sweetheart. You know how cranky Rosie gets when she doesn't eat on time.”

But before they reached their room, an imperious voice rose behind them. “Where are you going with my granddaughter?”

Rosie let loose a chorus of delighted squeaks and coos. The infant had deplorable taste.

“It's time for a feeding,” Lucinda called back as her husband relentlessly steered her down the hall.

“I'll bring her up to your room as soon as she's finished,” Tait promised, without slowing his stride.

“But I could help.”

“You do too much as it is, Mrs. T.,” he lied. “Please allow us to indulge you every now and then.” Opening the door into their room, he shoved Lucinda inside, then turned back to give his best smile to the old woman leaning on her cane at the end of the hallway. “An hour. Maybe less.” Then before Lucinda's guardian could offer further protest, Tait closed the door and locked it. “That was close.” Ignoring Lucinda's look of astonishment, he tore into the wrapping on the parcel. “Hurry. Take off your dress.”

She couldn't even summon a response.

Rosie could, and it rose in a lusty cry, her tiny fists waving in impatience.

“Trust me, Luce.” He winced as their daughter's cries escalated into furious wails. “Get your dress off. Now.”

The last time she had heard that was just before Rosie was conceived. Had it been almost a year? It seemed like the little tyrant had been with them forever.

Knowing the shrieks wouldn't stop until the baby was fed, Lucinda set her outraged daughter on the couch, unbuttoned the front of her dress, and slipped it down her arms. “I don't know what you have in mind,” she said over her shoulder as she undid the tabs on her chemise, “but Rosie won't brook delay in her feeding schedule. For any reason. Not even for you.”

“I'm not asking her to. You undressed yet?”

Ignoring him, Lucinda let the chemise fall to expose her breast. Picking up her irate baby, she sank onto the couch just as Tait pulled his “surprise” from the box.

“Use this.” Beaming, he held up a device that must have come straight from an Inquisition dungeon. “It's called a breast pump.”

Lucinda was aghast. “Like a milking machine?” She had
heard about milking machines and the terrible things they did to cows. “I will not put a catheter in my breast.”

“It's not a catheter.” Tait dug in the box for a small pamphlet that explained how to use the mechanism. He held it toward her. “Read this. You'll see.”

With a sniff, she settled Rosie at her breast. To be attached to some farm implement was unthinkable. And highly insulting. “I can't believe you would suggest such a thing,” she said, struggling not to cry. Was that how he saw her now? Little more than a milk-swollen bovine?

Her husband—the cad—sat beside her on the couch. “It's not a machine, sweetheart. Just a little pump. See? You put this over your nipple, then push up and down on this little lever. Just like a hand pump on a water well.”

God.
This got worse and worse.

Blithely unaware of her growing distress, Tait wiggled the lever, studying it with that rapt expression he wore when confronted with some new and innovative locomotive part.

“How could you ask me to use that thing?”

The quaver in her voice must have finally pierced his fascination with his new toy. “It's perfectly safe, Luce. I read about it in
Scientific American Magazine
. They've been around since the first patent was issued almost a decade ago.”

Tears spilled over. “I'm not a cow, Tait.”

“Sweetheart.” With a look of chagrin, he tossed the pump aside and put his arms around both her and Rosie. “I didn't get this to insult you, Luce, but to free you. You said you wouldn't use a wet nurse, so I thought this might work.”

Confused, she drew back to look at him.

“If you pump enough milk for a feeding and save it, I could put it in a bottle and feed Rosie at night, so you could sleep.”

Sleep?
Lucinda stared from him to the pump on the couch, then at Rosie, happily nursing in her arms.

Sleep.

“Wash it first.”

A
few days later, Rayford Jessup's stepson, Jamie, burst into the sheriff's office, a look of panic on his face. “You must come, Father! Straight away! There's trouble at the saloon by the hotel!”

Rafe set his book aside, glad to have something to do. Things had been so quiet in Thomas's absence that he had been spending the better part of his days reading.

Grabbing his gun belt off the desk—it was too uncomfortable to wear a holstered weapon while he sat and read—he buckled it on and bustled Jamie out the door. “Is anyone hurt?”

“I'm not certain. It sounded like there might have been some hitting, but it's hard for us to see over the adults.”

“Us?”

“Me and the other children.”

Rafe almost stumbled. “There are children involved? What are you doing out of school?”

“Miss Adkins quit.”

“She did? When?”

“This morning. She told us she was leaving to get married, but I think it was because of Joe Bill and Lillie. They're quite disruptive.”

The whole town knew of the animosity between the blind girl and the Brodie boy. Since Jamie was often caught in the middle of it, Rafe and Josie got a daily report over supper.

Down the boardwalk, a crowd gathered outside the Red Eye. Even from this distance, Rafe could hear the blind girl's shrill cries and the voices of the other children milling through the crowd.

He quickened his pace. “What did she and Joe Bill do this time?”

Jamie ran to keep up. “Nothing. They didn't start it.”

“Who did?”

“A man outside the saloon.”

Up ahead, Tait came out of the hotel and pushed his way through the crowd, shouting and shoving onlookers aside. By the time Rafe and Jamie arrived, he had managed to clear a circle around the combatants.

“Stay back,” Rafe told Jamie and the other children, then elbowed his way past the gawking saloon patrons.

Lillie Redstone stood in the center, swinging her blind stick around like a sword. Her father would have been proud. Joe Bill stood beside her, his slingshot loaded and ready to fire. But neither child was menacing the other. Instead, all their anger seemed directed at a man at the front of the crowd.

Rafe stepped forward. “Put the stick down, Lillie. Joe Bill, drop the slingshot.” He spoke in the same calm voice he used with restless or frightened horses.

It didn't seem to work on the little colored girl.

She rounded on him with what sounded like a snarl, and jabbed the end of her stick uncomfortably close to his groin. “Who that?” she cried.

With an expression of relief, Joe Bill eased the tension off the rubberized bands on his slingshot. “The sheriff.”

Lillie's scowl gave way to a hopeful grin. “Daddy?”

“No, Mr. Jessup.”

“What's going on here?” Rafe shoved the onlookers back.

Immediately, as if reminded of her purpose, the blind girl assumed her battle stance. “He hittin' Tombo.”

Only then did Rafe see the man crouched against the front wall of the Red Eye, blood streaming from his nose and a cut in his lip. One eye was almost swollen shut, and he held an arm around his stomach.

“I didn't do nothing,” Tombo Welks protested weakly. “I swear.”

The object of the children's ire—a man Rafe didn't recognize—pointed to a half-starved, bleeding horse tied to the hitching rail in front of the boardwalk. “Goddamn dummy was trying to steal my horse. You ought to arrest him.”

“He savin' him!” Lillie cried, jabbing in his direction with her stick. “You the dummy, hit a horse that way.”

“How could you see me hit him, you blind-assed nigger?”

That's when Rafe hit him. He shouldn't have. He knew he was setting a poor example for the children, but the impulse came over him so fast he acted before he could control it. A man shouldn't talk to a child that way. Plus, the bully had abused a horse. Rafe couldn't allow either.

“Everybody clear out!” Rafe ordered.

Children scattered. The crowd thinned, except for Tait and another fellow new to town—obviously a cohort of the stranger groaning at Rafe's feet.

“You had no call to hit Frank,” he accused. “Sheriff or not.”

Rafe looked at him until the man edged back. Then, with quiet emphasis, he said, “I'm only the temporary sheriff. The regular sheriff is a Cheyenne Dog Soldier. He's away right now—probably sharpening his war axe and skinning things—but if you'd care to wait in jail until he gets back, he'd probably like to hear your reasons for defending the coward who called his ten-year-old daughter a blind-assed nigger.”

“Daughter?” The man's gaze swung to Lillie. His face paled. He took another step back.

“You're ten?” Joe Bill looked at Lillie in surprise. “But you're so small.”

“I nearly 'leven, same as you. But I sho' 'nuff smarter.”

The boy wisely didn't argue the point. Lillie Redstone was smarter than most kids in town—except maybe his Jamie and Lucas Brodie. Smarter than a lot of adults, too.

Rafe waited to see if the man had anything else to say. When he didn't, he nodded. “Then unless you want to share a cell with your friend here, I suggest you step out of the way.” Bending, Rafe roughly yanked the woozy man to his feet.

“You're locking him up? Isn't a man allowed to defend his own property?”

“Sure. But abusing horses and children is a whole different matter.”

“Abusing? He never touched the brats, and he only gave the horse a kick for trying to bite him. There's no law against disciplining a horse, is there?”

“I'll have to check.” Rafe studied the broken animal shivering at the rail. The scars showing through his matted coat bore testament to a lifetime of cruel treatment. “But if not, I'm sure by the end of the day there will be.”

He started to lead the prisoner away, then stopped and turned back. “Unless you want to join your friend in jail, I suggest you ride out”—he glanced at Lillie—“before her daddy gets back. He's real protective of his little girl.”

Muttering under his breath, the man stomped toward the horse tied beside the beaten one. As he swung into the saddle, Rafe waved the last stragglers back into the saloon. “Thanks for backing me, Tait. Come along, children.”

“You puttin' us in jail, too?” Lillie asked in a quavering voice.

“It wasn't her that started it,” Joe Bill argued, which surprised Rafe, considering their history. “She was just sticking up for Tombo.”

“He my friend.” Lillie groped until she found the cowering man's shoulder. “He took care of me when I was lost in the woods. Now I take care of him. Git up, Tombo, and stop that cryin'. You sound like a titty baby. Joe Bill, help me. He's your friend, now, too.”

Strange, how things work out. Before the fracas, Joe Bill and Lillie had been on a course headed for mutual destruction. But by the time they dutifully gave Rafe their accounts of what had happened, then suffered through a stern lecture about taking matters into their own hands rather than summoning the proper authorities, they seemed to have reached an accord. Not a particularly friendly one—yet—but it was a start.

“Do we still have to go to school now that Miss Adkins left?” Joe Bill asked.

“I hope so. I jist love school.”

“You would. You're a girl.”

“I like it, too,” Jamie said, backing Lillie.

“We'll find someone else to teach you.” Rafe wondered if he could convince Josie to take on the task. She seemed at loose ends, rattling around in Ash and Maddie's big house, especially with Henny and Gordon Stevens—the English
couple who had come from England with her—doing most of the heavy work. A woman needed a place of her own. Maybe now that Ethan Hardesty had finished his home, Rafe would ask him to build one for him. Something close to the Wallace house so Rafe could oversee Ash's breeding and training program, but far enough away to give them some privacy. Henny could continue to run the big house, and her husband could take over the stable chores. It would be a while before Ash and Maddie arrived in Heartbreak Creek with the baby earl, and Josie needed something to occupy her time until then. She was smart and patient. She would make a good teacher.

“Doesn't seem fair,” Joe Bill complained. “If your teacher runs off, you shouldn't oughta have to get stuck with another one.”

Apparently Joe Bill wasn't an enthusiastic student.

“Can Tombo go with us?” Lillie asked. “He needs schoolin' bad.”

It seemed the children had taken up a cause: watching out for Tombo Welks. Which, judging by the pleased grin on the man's bruised face, meant Tombo Welks would be watching out for them, too. Feeling pretty good about the way he'd handled it, Rafe rewarded the three children and Tombo for their courage and loyalty by buying them each a string of rock candy. Sadly, Joe Bill and Lillie ruined his gesture by getting into a shouting match about whose string was longer. Luckily, Curtis came to collect Lillie before it came to blows, and he offered to have Winnie patch up Tombo while he delivered Joe Bill and Jamie to their homes.

After they left, Rafe grabbed a deck of playing cards from the desk and went to the cells in back, hoping Frank, the horse beater, was as stupid as he looked.

He was. It took Rafe less than an hour to divest the fool of his money and his horse.

A while later, Fred Driscoll arrived for the night shift. Rafe explained about the prisoner, adding, “If he gives you any trouble, come get me or send word. I'd rather you not shoot him. That requires a mess of paperwork. And keep an eye on Tombo. He got pretty banged up today.”

The next morning, a few minutes before the westbound pulled into the depot, Rafe went to Frank's cell again. The prisoner had just finished his breakfast.

Leaning his shoulder against the barred cell door, Rafe put
on a regretful expression. “I'm sorry about winning your horse last night.”

“You should be.” Frank gave him a sour look. “You're the one forced me to play cards even though you knew I was feeling poorly. Now I got nothing.”

“No, I'm sorry about winning. The horse died overnight.” That was a lie. The animal was happily eating his way through a mound of hay at the livery. But Rafe had no intention of letting Frank leave with the animal, and Tombo seemed to have taken a shine to the poor beast.

The prisoner grinned, showing the missing and broken teeth of a lifelong brawler. “Damn horse was useless anyway.”

Hiding his disgust, Rafe pulled a voucher from his pocket. “Here's a ticket for the train at the depot. It's scheduled to leave in about fifteen minutes. I suggest you get on it before the real sheriff comes back. He's not as nice as me.”

Frank took the voucher.

That evening at supper, such as it was—apparently, Henny had the day off—Rafe brought up the subject of the decamped Miss Adkins.

“She was a wretched teacher,” Josie said. “Deplorable. Even though he's only just eight, our Jamie is far ahead of the majority of the other students.”

“She mostly just read us stuff,” Jamie put in.

Josie's brows rose. “Read us stuff?”

“Books,” her son corrected. “She read books to us. Ones that were quite boring, actually.”

“Just so.” His mother sent Rafe a see-what-I-mean look.

Rafe cut into a burned piece of chicken. Being raised in privilege, Josie had planned many menus, but never prepared one, yet she wouldn't stop trying, God love her. “Prudence Lincoln should arrive soon. She taught when the school first opened. Maybe she'll do it again. Tait said she was very good.”

“What will we do in the meantime?”

He slipped an undercooked bean into his mouth and smiled as he crunched it into swallowable chunks. “I was thinking maybe you might take on the job.”

“Me?”

“You're a natural, honey. The smartest lady I know. Look what a great job you've done with Jamie.”

“He had tutors.” She set down her fork, took a sip from her glass, then pressed her napkin to her lips. Always proper, his Josie. With the manners of a true lady. No one looking at her would ever guess the wondrous things that prim mouth could do to a man in the dark.

Realizing he was on the verge of embarrassing himself, Rafe spread his napkin over his lap. She caught the movement and smiled in a way that made him shift in his chair.

“Perhaps I'll talk to Lucinda about it in the morning,” she said, picking up her fork again. “It's gossip day.”

Her easy agreement reinforced what Rafe had been thinking. She was lonely. Other than Henny, the nearest female was Audra Hardesty, and she was away all day at the newspaper office. But Josie had nothing—other than trying out new recipes on him and Jamie—to keep her busy.

Did she have regrets about leaving England? He knew that because of her father's situation and the circumstances surrounding Jamie's birth, she had lived a lonely life before he came. He had hoped the lively society in Heartbreak Creek would have made her feel less isolated here. But now he realized it was probably worse. She was a vibrant woman. She needed people around her. Women. Friends.

His concerns must have shown on his face. Even though they had been married only a few months, he was never able to hide his thoughts from his sharp-witted wife.

Leaning over, she took his hand. A simple touch, yet he felt it through every inch of his body.

He needed this woman. Needed her laughter, her touch, and her smile. Needed the warmth of her body against his in the night. If she wasn't happy here—even if it meant he grew webbed feet and never saw the sun again—he would buy tickets on the eastbound tomorrow and take her back to rainy England.

“Jamie,” he said, tearing his gaze from Josie's, but keeping a firm grip on her hand, “have you fed your horse yet?”

“I usually feed Blaze after I finish with supper.”