Lorraine Heath (2 page)

“I would think that would make your condition that much harder to live with.”

“Much in life is hard to live with, Maddie. All we can do is make the best of the situation, take the hand we’re dealt, and try and bluff our way through. Isn’t that what you were doing tonight?”

And what she’d probably be doing tomorrow night and the night after that. A shudder of revulsion raced through her body. She’d still be a virgin tomorrow. She’d stand again upon that wobbly table, smelling the smoke, studying the crack in the wall. Only tomorrow, Charles Lawson wouldn’t be there to take her away.

He enfolded one of her hands in both of his. His were warm, hers cold. His steady, hers trembling. His large, hers small.

“Two years ago, my wife died during childbirth. I loved her, Maddie.” He smiled in remembrance of a happier time. “I still do, and I miss her something fierce. I don’t expect to ever love again, but I have three children. I want them to grow up knowing a mother’s touch.”

He closed his hands more securely about hers. She felt the slight tremor in his hands as he cleared his throat.

“I’d like for you to marry me.”

Maddie felt her heart lurch within her breast, her breath leave her body. She didn’t know this man, but then would she have known any of the men who would have helped her step down from that table? “Marry you?”

“I know I’m asking a lot of you because there’s much I can’t give you: my heart, children of your own. But I can give you respectability, food on the table, a roof over your head.” A miniscule light sparkled within his eyes. “I own a small stagecoach inn just north of Austin. It provides me with a modest income, but it needs a woman’s touch as much as my children do. You’d work from dawn till dusk—”

“But why marry me? You could hire me to care for your children.”

“It’s important to me that my children come to think of you as their mother. And as I mentioned earlier, I still enjoy an occasional touch. I would want you to sleep in my bed, to hold you at night. That, as innocent as it would be, would still be inappropriate if we weren’t married.”

“You must know other women—”

“Those women … most women … want a man who can do more than hold them at night. I’d be asking them to give up the same things I’m asking you to give up, but I’d give them nothing of equal value in return for their sacrifice. At least for you, I’m offering a life better than the one you’ll have if you go back to Bev’s.”

“But you don’t even know me, the kind of person I am.”

“Don’t I?” he asked, gently. “What was so damn interesting about that crack on the wall? I think you’d spend your life looking for cracks and trying to hold your tears at bay.”

Momentarily taken aback by his keen insight into her feelings, she withdrew her hand from his and clenched it within her lap. He shoved himself away from the table. “Sleep on it. You can let me know in the morning.”

“I don’t need to sleep on it, Mr. Lawson.” She met his gaze squarely. Within his eyes, she recognized the desperation that had brought him to this moment of asking a woman willing to sell herself to numerous men to be content with only one man. To be content with one man who could never truly be a husband to her. “I shall be honored, sir, to become your wife and a mother to your children.”

She watched as relief washed over his features. She thought she detected a slight glistening in his eyes before he turned away and studied the fire in the hearth. When at last he spoke, his voice was hoarse.

“Good. My children so enjoy gifts. It is my hope, Maddie, that you shall be the finest one I ever give them.”

As the stagecoach rumbled over the rough road, Maddie watched the passing scenery with disinterest. She’d been a fool to marry a man she didn’t know, to marry a man based on feelings she thought she detected in his eyes. She clenched her jaws, her fists, and her heart. She knew at last why he needed a mother for his children. He, himself, was a drunken sot.

The night when he made his proposal, he slept on the settee in the hotel room while she slept comfortably in the soft bed. The following day, he took her shopping.

Then they went to a small Methodist church where an austere, unquestioning minister performed the ceremony. They exchanged their vows quickly, with little emotion. Afterward, they browsed the cow town for little trinkets to give the children upon their arrival home.

That evening, after dinner in the hotel dining room, Maddie excused herself while Charles stayed behind to finish his whiskey. She went upstairs to prepare herself, not in the manner a woman usually prepared for her wedding night, but in a way she hoped would leave some special memory of her first night sharing a bed with a man.

She slipped on a nightgown with tiny flowers embroidered on the bodice. As she began to loosen her hair, Charles stumbled in, weaving across the room until he fell into the bed and passed out.

That night, Maddie slept on the settee. The following morning, he awoke as though nothing had happened. She’d seen other men nursing their hangovers, but Charles appeared to have none of their symptoms after a night of heavy drinking.

“You neglected to inform me you imbibe,” she said tersely.

His cheeks flamed red, and he looked around the room as though only just realizing where he was. It took him several moments before he gathered the courage to meet her gaze. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what got into me.”

Whatever had gotten into him on their wedding night, apparently got into him last night as well. Shortly after they arrived in Waco, she went for a leisurely stroll through a town she’d heard much about but never before visited. She returned to the room and discovered Charles sprawled across the bed, dead to the world.

She refused to speak to him this morning, had been tempted, so tempted to return to Fort Worth or to just stay in Waco. But she supposed the same drunk every night was better than a different drunk every hour.

Leaning forward, Charles dug his elbows into his knees and took her hands in his. “Maddie, I need to put things right between us before we arrive.”

Ignoring him, she suddenly found interest in the rolling, tree-covered hills.

“I owe you an apology for last night.”

Grateful they were the only two people traveling within the confines of the coach, she snapped her head around and pierced him with her gaze. “Do you want to get a jump on things and apologize for tonight?”

Blanching at the hurt and disappointment clearly visible in her eyes, he ran his thumbs lightly over the tops of her knuckles. “I deserve that, I know. I fight these spells, I truly do. They don’t usually come this quickly together.” He squeezed her hands. “I’ll fight them harder.”

So much of her past was painful, filled with moments best forgotten, but she wanted, needed him to understand her aversion to his distasteful habit. “My father’s … friends … would get so ugly when they’d had too much whiskey to drink.”

He brought her fingers to his lips. “Did I get ugly?”

“No, you didn’t even smell sour as they often did. If you hadn’t walked so crooked and passed out, or been sprawled across the bed as you were, I might not have known you’d had too much to drink.”

“I’ll take more care in the future not to walk so crooked and not to pass out. And I promise not to sprawl across the bed.”

His eyes held such sincerity she wondered if she’d ever stay angry at this man for long. But more, she knew she owed him a debt of gratitude. He’d saved her from a fate worse than dealing with a drunken husband.

“Were you thinking of your wife?”

“No.” He released her hands and gazed out the window. “Actually, I was thinking of you, hoping I hadn’t done you a disservice. So much of life is unfair, Maddie. I hope you won’t come to regret the choice you made.”

Teetering with the motion of the roiling coach, he moved awkwardly across the narrow space separating the seats, sat beside her, and pointed out the window. “There’s home.”

As the stagecoach slowed, Maddie glimpsed a two-story structure surrounded by majestic oak trees with banners of moss swaying in the slight breeze.

“It’s so large,” she said.

“It does seem huge when the floors need to be scrubbed or the windows washed, but when we have guests, it seems very small.”

“It’ll always seem big to me.”

She felt the excitement and apprehension churn her stomach as the stagecoach rolled to a halt, rocking slightly before settling into stillness. She patted her hair, making sure it was still neatly secured in a dignified bun beneath her hat. She smoothed out the skirt of her serge traveling dress and took a deep breath.

“You look wonderful,” Charles said, touching the crease in her brow.

“I should have confessed … I haven’t been around children much.”

“You’ll do fine.”

She nodded, gathering from his smile the courage she would need to meet the children who would now call her mother.

A resounding click echoed around her as the door to the coach opened. She lifted herself off the seat, bending at the waist as she prepared to leave the coach.

She saw the large hands first, coming to assist her, clamping down on her waist, steadying her. Instinctively, she placed her hands on the chambray cloth covering the broad shoulders. Then she lifted her gaze.

And there she remained, suspended in time, falling into the obsidian depths of the blackest eyes she’d ever seen.

The man lifted her out of the coach, an errant breeze blowing his black hair across his brow. Slowly, so slowly, he set her feet on the ground, no more than a whisper’s breath separating their bodies. She was now looking up into his rugged face. Where the sun had beat down on it before, the shadows now played, disguising his features, softening the sharp edges.

Charles stepped out of the stagecoach. “Jesse.”

The man’s gaze remained fixed on Maddie’s, and she wondered to whom Charles was speaking.

“I’d like you to meet Maddie … my wife.”

Jerking his hands off her waist as though she’d suddenly caught fire, the man stepped back. “Your wife?”

Charles slipped his arm around Maddie and drew her against his side. “Yes, we were married in Fort Worth.”

The man’s thick black brows furrowed deeply, and she wasn’t certain if it was the term wife or married that was foreign to him.

“The doctor must have had some good news for you then,” he said.

She was surprised to see her husband pale at the man’s words.

“No, nothing’s changed, but I don’t want to discuss it here,” he snapped impatiently. “Where are the children?” “In the barn.”

“The barn?” Charles latched onto Maddie’s hand and began pulling her through the yard. “I don’t like them playing in the barn.”

Maddie stumbled over a rock, regained her balance, and somehow managed to keep pace with Charles’s frantic steps. Considering what had happened to him, she fully understood his panic at the thought of his children playing around animals. He fairly flew into the barn. She rammed into him when he stopped abruptly.

“Last stall.”

She jumped as the deep voice echoed throughout the huge cavernous structure. She threw a pointed look over her shoulder which she hoped would serve as a warning to him not to make it a habit to sneak up behind her. Then she was jerked forward as Charles once again pulled her along. Dutifully, she followed.

The sight of the last stall brought with it the strong scent of hay, the fading scent of livestock and manure. A boy, with hair the same shade as Charles’s, was hunkered before a pile of hay. He picked up one coin after another and set each aside, his lips moving as though he was counting. In the hay behind him, the bottom of a pair of coveralls was visible. The coveralls tumbled out of the hay, and a small girl righted herself, flicking her golden hair out of her brown eyes.

“Cain’t find it,” she announced and scooted over toward the boy.

“Look again. It’s gotta be there. Uncle Jesse said there was ten, and we only found nine.”

Maddie glanced at the taller man standing beside her. Until this moment, until the boy had referred to him as his uncle, she hadn’t seen the resemblance between the two men. Hard lines and creases were etched within Jesse’s face, features sculpted to a certain degree by nature’s elements. His mouth was as full and broad as Charles’s, but where Charles’s lips tipped up as though he was always ready to smile, Jesse’s remained a perfect line as though waiting for the situation to tell him how to mold them. The contours of their noses were identical, straight and bold. Their eyes were shaped the same, but carried different colors, Charles’s dark brown, Jesse’s deep black. Creases brought on by smiles outlined Charles’s eyes. She thought Jesse’s creases were more likely to have been brought on by squinting against the sun or wind.

A squeal resounded, and Maddie turned her attention back to the pile of hay. A tiny girl, previously hidden, scrambled out from beneath the hay. With a tattered rag doll draped over her arm, she squatted beside the boy.

“Did you find it?” he asked.

She shook her head vigorously, sending her riotous curls, as golden as her sister’s, into further disarray.

“What are you looking for?” Charles asked.

The children’s heads popped up and smiles filled their faces. Charles moved into the stall and knelt, relishing the feel of tiny arms going around his neck, wet kisses planted upon his cheek, exclamations of joy filling his ears.

The boy was the first to step back. “Uncle Jesse said there was ten five-cent pieces in this pile of hay. Said we had to stay here till we found ‘em all, but we can only find nine.” He shot an accusing glance at his uncle. “I’m thinking he lied.”

Jesse stepped into the stall. “I’m thinking you didn’t look hard enough. What’s that over there?”

When the boy went to investigate the indicated corner, Jesse slipped a hand out of his pocket and dropped a coin beside the smallest child’s feet. The little girl grabbed it up and clutched it in her chubby hand.

“I find!”

The boy spun around, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Texas Rangers ain’t supposed to cheat.”

“I didn’t cheat. I said there were ten coins, and now you have ten coins.”

“They ain’t supposed to trick people, neither.”

The boy stalked over and began gathering the coins.

“I didn’t mean to trick you.”

The boy glared at his uncle. “Then why’d you hold one back?”

Jesse looked at Charles. Charles lifted a brow, his expression stating clearly, “My boy’s not stupid. You got yourself into this mess, you get yourself out.”

Jesse hunkered down beside the boy. “I’m sorry, Aaron. I had chores I had to tend to. I asked you to watch your sisters so I could get ready for the stagecoach coming in. You didn’t want to, so I gave you a game to play that couldn’t be finished until I decided it was time for it to be finished.”

“It wasn’t fair,” Aaron grumbled.

“Neither is not helping out when there’s work to be done,” Charles said.

Standing up, Aaron studied his scuffed boots. “I don’t like watching my sisters.”

“Sometimes we all have to do things we don’t want to do.” Charles tipped up his son’s head with a finger beneath his chin, meeting his gaze squarely. “Next time Uncle Jesse asks you to help him, I’d appreciate it if you’d do so willingly.”

When silence was the boy’s response, Charles lifted the boy’s chin higher.

“Yes, sir,” Aaron mumbled.

“And I’ll talk to Uncle Jesse about not cheating anymore.”

Nodding slightly, Aaron looked toward his uncle, knowing he’d lost a little and gained a little. Jesse also nodded, acknowledging a partial defeat before standing and moving out of the stall, relinquishing the children back into his brother’s care.

Charles clapped his hands together. “Now, then. I’ve brought you all a very special gift this time.”

Reaching back, he held his hand out to Maddie. She placed her hand in his, surprised to find his trembling. He pulled her forward. She knelt in the straw and looked at the dirty faces.

“I’ve brought you a mother,” Charles said quietly as he squeezed her hand.

She smiled, not certain what sort of welcome she’d expected, but three children staring at her with mouths agape wasn’t it. Charles placed his hand on the blond head of the smallest child. “This is Taylor.”

Taylor stuck a grimy finger in her mouth. He gently rescued the finger and pulled the child onto his knee. “Taylor’s never known a mother. Can you say Ma?”

Shaking her head, she buried her dirt-smudged face against Charles’s chest.

“Can you tell her how old you are?”

She peered at Maddie with one eye open, the other still pressed against her father’s chest. Within her lap, she began to work her fingers, bending some fingers with the help of her other hand. When she’d accomplished her goal, she held up her hand, two fingers extended.

Maddie smiled. “Two years old. Isn’t that wonderful?”

Nodding, she moved her face away from Charles’s chest.

“Wouldn’t you like to give your new mother a hug?” Charles asked.

Taylor slid off his knee, walked to Maddie, and slipped her chubby arms around Maddie’s neck. Maddie placed her arms around the child, squeezing her. She’d never before been hugged by a child, had not realized that a child’s hug could claim her heart. She wanted to say something kind and loving to the child, but her throat was clogged with new emotions. Taylor released her hold, dropped onto Maddie’s lap, and claimed her place.

Charles pulled the other girl onto his lap. “This is Hannah. She’ll be five in a few weeks.”

“How wonderful,” Maddie managed to say.

“Will you bake me a cake?” Hannah asked.

Maddie nodded. “I’d like to do that very much.”

Hannah smiled and wrapped her arms around Maddie. “I love you.”