Lone Star Loving (22 page)

Still in her dressing gown, Lisette McLoughlin looked from the bedroom window and watched Maisie's carriage depart down the hill. “Where do you think they're going?” she asked her husband as he walked into the room.

“To Karl's.” Gil paused. “I'm thinking that fancy Mexican gal is going to throw a shoe, once she finds out your nephew broke up his own father's marriage.”

Frowning, Lisette recalled the terrible happenings, once her brother Adolf had discovered his second wife had taken his surviving son to her bed. It had almost killed the already lame Adolf.

Finally, Lisette replied to her husband, “I don't care much for Maria Sara Montana. Don't ask me why. Mother's intuition when it comes to her children's friends? I hope she isn't taking advantage of Charity's friendship.”

“I hope not, too.”

“Anyway, the situation between Karl and Maria Sara isn't our problem. We have enough to worry about. With that smuggling business.” Lisette continued to watch the carriage. “On the positive side, it's good to see Charity and Maisie in spitting distance of each other.”

Gil chuckled and rattled a drawer knob. “My guess is that's exactly what they'll be doing. Spitting at each other. Those two are more alike than either would ever admit to.”

“Ja
. Willfulness did carry down through the generations to Charity.” Lisette added a chuckle of her own as she watched the carriage become smaller and smaller in the distance. “We misnamed our girls, I'm thinking. I named our sensible and studious triplet after Oma, when I should have demanded ‘Margaret' for the most stubborn of them.”

“Maybe I should have named Charity after you. You've been known to be pretty willful yourself, pretty wife.”

Lisette turned to her husband. Fresh from a bath, he stood nude as he searched through his bureau for undergarments. Even after all their years of marriage, the sight of his naked, battle-scarred body still thrilled her.

“We are alone,
Liebster.”

His blue-gray gaze flew to the blue of hers. The union suit dropped from his grip. She moistened her lips as a slow smile played across his mouth and his blue-gray eyes canvassed her form.

“It has been weeks since we made the best use of a Saturday morning, my husband . . .”

“My sentiments exactly.”

Reaching behind him, never averting his gaze, he clasped a bottle of bay rum, then splashed a goodly portion on each side of his face.

“You don't need that to excite me,” she said.

“I know.”

Gil's feet ate up the space between them. He kissed her passionately, his hands going to all the places he'd had so many years to relish. And it was past noon before they spoke about anything. . . except for what would pleasure each other.

As he helped her into her corset, she said, “Gil, why do you think Fierce Hawk has been gone so long?”

Her husband's hands stilled on the laces. “What makes you think of that son of a bitch?”

“I wish you wouldn't call him names. He is Charity's choice as, uh, as attorney.”

“They're lovers. But you knew that, didn't you?”

Lisette nodded. “Our daughter told me. Did she tell you?”

“No. But I guessed it, and she denied nothing.”

“I think they're in love.”

“Charity never did have the sense God gave a gnat.”

Whirling around, Lisette shook a finger at her husband. He bent to nip it. But she forced herself not to be deterred by the eroticism in his action.

“Don't talk about our daughter that way,” she said. “She is bright as can be.”

“Bright, yes. But devoid of horse sense.”

“She can't help being the way she is. And, Gil, I'm happy to have her home.”

Tucking the tail of his shirt into Levis, he stomped across the bedroom to retrieve his boots.

“Aren't you pleased to have her back?” Lisette asked.

It was a half minute before he answered, “I am. Now that I've had some time to digest it. I just wish we could rejoice in her homecoming. But we can't. Not with her crime muddying everything up.»

“Her ‘crime' has nothing to do with your attitude, does it? You're angry because she brought a lover with her.”

“You got that right.”

“Would it make you feel better if they married?”

“Lisette McLoughlin, have you lost your marbles? There is no way I'd welcome him into the family.”

“If you don't, we may end up losing a daughter over it. Because I think they are meant for each other. And I think they'll be together forever.”

His brow drawing inward, Gil studied Lisette. “Do you really think so?”

“Ja.”
She went over to smooth silver-streaked black hair from his forehead. “I think they will be as happy as we have been.”
If they are given the chance for happiness.

“How could anyone else be as happy as we've been?” His hand closed over hers. “How could any man love a woman as much as I love you?”

“What a seductive tongue you have, husband.” Lisette winked at him. “But we shouldn't get off the subject of the younger set. Tell me something. If Charity were to say that she and Hawk are going to be married, what would you say?”

“ ‘How much is it all going to cost?' ”

Thrilled that he had backed down, she swatted his firm buttocks. “Don't play the penny-pinching Scotsman with me. I know better.”

He moved her hand around to the front of him, and she said, “Whatever am I going to do with you?”

“I have an idea . . .”

“Don't look at me that way, Gil McLoughlin. We've just done what you're proposing to do. And you are not as young as you used to be.”

“Wanna bet?”

A knock on their bedroom door pulled them apart. Gil accepted a folded piece of paper from the servant Graciella. After thanking the girl, he read the note, then said, “Our Margaret will be home tomorrow.”

“How wonderful!”

 

 

The Keller ranch—situated in view of Fredericksburg's most famous landmark, Cross Mountain—was nowhere near as sprawling or as wealthy as the Four Aces, but it showed prosperity. Barns and outbuilding sparkled with fresh paint, as did the modest main house. Polished and shining, a buggy and a buckboard were parked alongside the residence. In the distance horses, oxen, and cattle grew healthy and hale on the grasses painstakingly planted and tended by Karl Keller's mexican hired hands.

A lot of this prosperity, Charity knew, had come from her parents' generosity in the early years of their marriage. The Kellers hadn't been rich by any stretch of the imagination, so Papa and Mutti had helped Uncle Adolf and his first wife out. Then Aunt Monika died. After the three younger Keller boys succumbed to the cholera pandemic of 1883, the McLoughlins had given even more assistance.

The Keller ranch thrived. Uncle Adolf met and married a painted lady from New Orleans, Antoinette Harpe. And oh, how Uncle Adolf adored her! But she wasn't satisfied with her limping, older husband. She turned her violet eyes to her stepson. In the aftershock Uncle Adolf had left for a self-imposed exile in San Antonio.

Antoinette had left, too, and Charity didn't give a darn about her destination.

“Charity, are you all right?” Maria Sara asked, pulling her away from dark thoughts.

“Of course.”

She turned to the
Mexicana.
They stood on the front porch, Maisie and Jaime dozing in the wooden swing suspended from the ceiling. Karl had gone inside to collect a tray of refreshments.

“I think I will join those two in a short nap.” Maria Sara, yawning and patting her mouth, glided to a divan that hugged the porch wall. “I stayed up too late last night.”

“Only you?” Charity winked. “Or should you be adding Karl?”

Maria Sara curled up on the sofa.
“We
stayed up too late last night. Chatting.”

Humming a particular tune from
Lohengrin,
Charity cocked her head. She started to say, “I'm going to see what my cousin has to say about all this,” but saw that the blonde had fallen asleep. Charity entered the house and made her way to the kitchen. Burly and broad-shouldered, the blond giant was squeezing lemons into a glass pitcher.

“You look right at home in the kitchen,” Charity teased and pulled out a chair to sit in it. Resting her elbows on the table and dropping her chin onto the backs of her braided fingers, she eyed the starched shirt and slicked-back hair.
I'll bet he's wearing clean longjohns, too.

“Since I know you like to spend Saturday mornings in town, playing checkers with those old goats who hang around the poolroom, and since I know you
hate
anything that smacks of domestic skills, I'd say you're going to a few pains to impress Maria Sara.”

“Nosy.” Laughing, he lifted the lemon, squeezed, and shot juice onto Charity's nose.

As she batted at it, she gave a fleeting thought to the last time she had seen lemonade. How were Norman and Eleanor Narramore? When they had said their goodbyes, just before noon on the day Charity and Maisie had departed from Uvalde, the Narramores had wished her all the best, and Eleanor had said, “If you need help, please don't hesitate to let us know. We'll be at the Dollar Five Ranch in Kerrville.”

Charity decided that as soon as she reached home, she would write to them, let them know she remained free, and give the trial's location.
Maybe I'd better wait until I know the date.

“Has the cat gotten your tongue, Cousin?” Karl leaned toward her.

“Did you say something?”

“I did. I was thanking you. For your responsibility in bringing Maria Sara to Fredericksburg.”

“Think nothing of it.” Charity picked up a slice of discarded lemon, sprinkled salt on it, then sucked the last of the tart juice. Her mouth pursed, her eyes squinted, she said, “Like her a lot, do you?”

“Ja.
I do.”

“What do you think of Jaime?”

“Ah, he is a fine child.” Karl poured a cup of sugar atop the lemon juice. “Any man would be proud to claim him.” On a frown, he added, “I cannot understand why his father has not seen after the boy.”

“That makes two of us.”

Adding water to the mixture, Karl asked, “Do you know the man?”

“No. Maria Sara never talks about him.”

“I think she sees the boy's father each time she looks at Jaime.”

“Do you? I think Jaime looks just like his mother, what with his fair hair and blue eyes.”

“Maybe his father is fair.”

“I never thought about that. And I suppose it's none of my business.”

“Mine, either.”

Huh. She glanced around the kitchen, then said, “This place could use a woman's touch. Maria Sara is quite a homemaker. She's clean as a pin, and you've seen how she sews for Maiz. You ought to taste her enchiladas. Mmm, mmm. Are they delicious.”

“I have tasted her cooking. It is delicious.” He shook the spoon at Charity. “You needn't make a list of her virtues. I don't need a push in wooing Maria Sara.”

Charity salted another discarded lemon, blurting, “Maria Sara thinks you're a virgin.”

Karl turned beet red. “You are as meddlesome as Oma.”

Was she? Oh, dear. But . . . “You shouldn't let Maria Sara hear about Antoinette from anyone but you.”

Turning his back to get glasses from the cupboard, he replied, “I know.”

“She'll understand. I know she will.”

“Will she?” Karl's voice was low, agonized. “There are things . . . I am afraid she will not understand about me.”

“Karl, you're a grown man. She doesn't expect you to be some sort of paragon.”

“She is a lady. She'll be shocked if she learns—” A glass dropped from his fingers, crashing to the drain board.

“Learns what?” Charity asked as she gathered the glass shards and placed them in the waste can.

“There are things you don't understand about me.”

“I might if you were straightforward.”

Ducking his head and jamming his fingers through his hair, he replied, “You are an innocent girl. I cannot speak of . . .”

“I'm not innocent. I've taken a lover. So, go on. Tell me.”

“You?
You've
taken a lover?”

“Well, don't look so astonished. As Maiz always say, there's someone for everyone. Even me.”

“I didn't mean that you cannot attract a man, Cousin. What I meant to say was, I thought you would stay pure for marriage.”

“I didn't. Now—tell me what you're afraid of.”

He sank to a chair and covered his face with a hand. Charity barely heard him say, “I am depraved.”

Rocked from her moorings, Charity gripped the table edge. “Oh, dear.”

“I enjoy copulation over-much,” Karl explained. “With Antoinette I learned this. And I am afraid I will shock Maria Sara.”

Inside, Charity seethed against that Antoinette. What was wrong with Karl that he had been attracted to such a viper? “I guess that makes two of us, depraved. Must run in the family, or something.” Charity stood and put her arms around her cousin. “Karl, try to forget Antoinette. Go on with your life. Maria Sara needs you.”

“That is my hope.”

“I think that I should collect my great-grandmother and Jaime, and we should head back to the Four Aces. If you have any idea of making something permanent with Maria Sara, you two ought to have a good, honest talk.”