Outlaw’s Bride (16 page)

Fortunately for both of them, Patch arrived at the door, bearing a tray that held a bowl of broth and a glass of milk. Ethan settled his mother back against the pillows and carefully straightened the blankets under her arms. But he didn’t look at her. He didn’t think he could face the terror and pleading in her eyes. “You eat some soup, Ma, do you hear me?” He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek, then left the room as quickly as he could.

Patch caught a glimpse of the exhaustion and despair on his face before he got away. She had stood outside the door, holding the tray of food for Nell, not willing to intrude on Ethan and his mother. Her heart had gone out to him.

As a child, she had never seen Ethan’s vulnerability, only his strength. Needing his mother and being able to comfort her in turn made him seem more human somehow. She saw him suddenly less like a god to be adored from afar. He could feel pain. He could suffer.

Until this moment, Patch hadn’t realized how little she knew about the man she had idolized as a child. Only now did she see how much more there was to Ethan Hawk than the friend who had tickled her ribs and ruffled her hair when she was twelve years old.

Patch wished there were something more she could do to help Nell and Ethan. She didn’t know how Ethan could stand to watch his mother die. It was killing Patch.

She sat down beside Nell without saying a word and began spooning broth into her mouth, a teaspoon at a time. To her surprise, Nell managed almost half the bowl before she turned her head away. Then Patch held the glass of milk while Nell drank a swallow or two.

Patch set the tray of dishes down on the table beside the bed long enough to be sure Nell was comfortably settled to sleep, then picked it up as she turned to leave the room.

“Patch?”

“Yes, Nell?”

“Take care of him for me. And Leah.”

“I will. Rest, Nell. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Send Leah to me, will you?”

“All right.”

Patch found Leah in the kitchen with Ethan. “Your mother would like to see you.” Patch saw the dread in Leah’s eyes, but there wasn’t much comfort she could give. Nell wasn’t getting better. She was much, much worse.

Once Leah was gone, Patch confronted Ethan. “Isn’t there something we can do? I feel so helpless!”

“Doc Carter says there’s no medicine that will make her better. She has the same thing my father had. There isn’t any treatment.”

Uncomfortable with Ethan’s prognosis, Patch busied herself collecting the things she needed to care for the wounded doc. “After I make a quick change of clothes, I’m going out to the barn to take care of Dearie,” she said. “If you’d like, you can send Leah out to join me after she speaks with your mother.”

“Thanks, Patch. I will.”

Patch was on her knees in the hay when Leah’s wide eyes appeared in a space between the slats of the stall.

“I could use some help,” Patch said.

“What’s wrong with her?” Leah asked as she slipped into the stall and squatted down beside Patch.

“Someone shot her in the leg.”

“What are you going to do?”

“First I’m going to take out the bullet and bandage
the wound. Then I’m going to take care of her until she’s well. You can hold her head down and keep her busy at that end while I work on her leg. Make sure that blindfold stays tight over her eyes.”

“All right.” Leah reached out a hand to rub the doe’s nose. “I’ve never seen a deer so close up before. I mean, one that wasn’t dead.”

The doe’s nose twitched as she smelled Leah’s hand.

“I think she likes me,” Leah said with a flashing grin. The grin disappeared as she added, “Ethan will never let us keep her.”

Patch noticed the “us” with satisfaction and said, “I’ll take care of Ethan.”

“You’re braver than I am,” Leah muttered. She rubbed the doe’s coat, keeping her eyes downcast as she said, “Sometimes I don’t think Ethan likes me.”

Patch wiped the blood off her hands onto a towel she had brought with her and reached for Leah’s chin. She tipped it up, forcing the girl to look her in the eyes. “Right now, you and Ethan are still getting to know one another. Love takes time to grow.”

“Like a watermelon or a pumpkin?” Leah asked.

“Something like that,” Patch replied with a laugh.

Love takes time to grow
.

Patch couldn’t remember a time when she hadn’t loved Ethan. But it was becoming apparent that what she had felt as a child was a mere seedling
that had been sprouting leaves and flowering vines since she had come to Texas.

Which made her wonder, as Leah had, about Ethan’s feelings for her. She knew he desired her sexually, but beyond that she was as much in the dark as Leah was. It was not a comfortable feeling.

Patch finished what she was doing as quickly and as painlessly for the deer as she could. She left Leah in the barn making friends with Dearie while she headed back to the house. There were some chores she had to do before she left for her supper at the Trahern house.

She tipped most of Nell’s leftover milk into a bowl for the calico cat, but saved some for Max. Ethan had made a small wooden-slatted cage for the mouse, which spent its days on the kitchen windowsill. Patch usually moved the cage inside to the counter beside the pump at night. She did so now and poured a small amount of milk into Max’s dish.

“I didn’t know mice drank milk,” Ethan said.

Patch smiled. “I have to admit it’s an experiment. I just thought he has as much right to it as the cat.”

They both watched while Max sniffed at the bowl, lapped at it once, then stuck both front paws into the milk and began drinking in earnest.

Patch laughed. “I guess he likes it.”

The calico cat came bounding over as Patch set the larger bowl of milk on the floor beside the stove. The cat was a lot more dainty—her paws
didn’t go into the bowl—but she lapped the milk with equal relish.

Patch took off the apron she had donned to fix Nell’s supper and laid it over a kitchen chair. “Would you mind hitching up the buggy for me while I finish getting ready.”

“I thought it was settled that you’re not going.”

“I thought it was settled that I am.”

Ethan put his hands on his hips and glared at her.

She put her hands on her hips and glared back.

“Ethan, I’m not going to argue with you about this. You’re not my father or my brother or … or my husband.”
Yet
. “There’s nothing you can say that will change my mind. So please, just tell me whether you’re going to hitch my horse to the buggy, or whether I need to do it myself.”

“I’ll do it,” Ethan said through tight jaws.

“Will you bring my trunks to Leah’s room first?”

Ethan nodded abruptly and left the room.

Patch made sure she left something prepared in the kitchen for Leah and Ethan’s supper, then headed for Leah’s bedroom to change her clothes. Leah was there waiting, her hazel eyes wide with awe at the number of trunks and bags Ethan had brought inside.

“Arc all these trunks filled with clothes?”

Patch laughed at the look of amazed reverence on Leah’s face. “Mostly.” She opened the trunk in which she had packed her wardrobe and sifted through things until she found a princess dress of slate blue silk and a white silk fringed shawl. In
another bag she found a pair of riding boots made of kid, with patent leather tops. In a third, smaller bag she found a cameo pendant framed in gold. It had been a graduation gift from her father and stepmother.

“Ooooh.” Leah’s admiration of the gown was obvious. She reached out to touch the silk, realized her fingers were dirty, and drew back. “I’ve never seen the likes of that.”

“It needs to be pressed before I can wear it. Do you think you can find your mother’s iron?”

Leah was clearly reluctant to leave the room for any purpose.

“Go find the iron and wash your hands, and you can help me unpack a few of these things before I go.”

Leah rushed to obey. When she returned, she said, “I put the iron on the stove to heat. It’ll be ready in a minute.”

“You can unpack that bag,” Patch said, pointing to a faded carpetbag. “Most of those things can be put in the top drawer of the chest, the one you emptied for me to use.”

Leah’s eyes were bright with excitement. Most of the items she recognized for what they were, although she had never seen such fine quality. A pair of kid gloves. A muslin fichu. A fan of ivory, embroidered in black silk. And two bolts of cloth, one of dark green wool and another of mint green silk.

Leah fingered the silk lovingly.

Patch draped the silk across Leah’s shoulder. She turned the girl to face the oval mirror standing
in the corner. “You’d look lovely in a dress made of this silk. Maybe we can—”

Leah sidled away. “Wouldn’t have no place to wear it.”

Patch saw herself years ago, wishing and wanting till her teeth hurt for a fine silk dress, yet not daring to hope. She made a vow to herself that, whatever happened between her and Ethan, she would make sure Leah had a dress made of mint green silk before the girl got too much older.

Patch was keeping an eye on the sun. It was on its way down when she finished dressing. Before she left the bedroom, she donned a straw bonnet trimmed with blue silk ribbons. The envy in Leah’s eyes when she stepped into the parlor was enough to convince Patch she looked fine, but she wanted Ethan’s approval. Only he was nowhere to be found in the house.

There had been a day, a long time ago, when Patch had dressed up just for Ethan. It had made her heart soar when he looked her up and down and said, “You’re going to be a beautiful woman someday, Patch. Take my word for it.”

Patch wanted Ethan to look at her now and tell her she had become everything he desired, and more. More importantly, she wanted him to acknowledge her as a lady. Because back then, she had fallen far short of Ethan’s standards for ladylike behavior. In fact, she had gotten into a fight and ruined the beautiful dress she had been wearing. Even now she could remember Ethan’s words of comfort and counsel.

“It isn’t what you wear that makes you a lady,
Patch. It’s how you handle yourself around other folks. It’s more than manners—although you have to learn them. It’s knowing you’re entitled to respect, and respecting the rights of other people.”

Patch had tried to grow into the kind of woman Ethan could admire. She had spent the past eight years trying to become his ideal. It hadn’t been easy.

She hadn’t minded giving up fighting. If she never got another black eye, it wouldn’t break her heart. She hadn’t minded giving up trousers. Too much. Although she still resorted to them when she needed to ride astride. She hadn’t even minded learning manners. Having courteous, preplanned responses to every situation helped her immeasurably to maintain her self-control. Because she loved Ethan, she had always thought the sacrifices she had made were well worthwhile.

But she wanted Ethan to notice the changes. And he hadn’t. Yet.

Patch pursed her lips, wondering why Ethan hadn’t come back inside. It wasn’t like him to sulk.

“Do you know where your brother is?” she asked Leah.

“He was out on the porch last time I saw him.”

Patch stepped onto the front porch and closed the door behind her. It was that gorgeous soft pink and gray time between daylight and dark. Everything seemed to cast a longer shadow. Patch thought she saw something move beside the house. “Ethan?”

“I’m right here.”

Patch whirled to face him. He had stepped onto the porch behind her. Her swinging skirt wrapped around her legs, holding her paralyzed for a moment.

“I’m ready to go,” she said.

“You look beautiful.” Ethan hadn’t known he was going to say the words until they were already out. He walked in a circle around Patch. She stood perfectly still, but he could feel the sexual vibrations radiating from her. He wanted to pick her up and carry her off somewhere, to take his time undressing her and then bury himself deep inside her. He wanted to be as close to her as two human beings could be to each other. He stopped behind her and breathed in the scent of her, something sweet and soft, like she was.

“You can still change your mind,” he murmured in her ear. “You can stay here with me.”

It was all Patch’s dreams come true. Ethan admired her. He wanted her. But the timing couldn’t have been worse. “I have to go, Ethan. I won’t stay late.”

Rationally, Ethan knew why Patch was going to supper at Jefferson Trahern’s house. But it was one more piece of straw in the load he had been collecting since he had gotten out of prison. Lately, it seemed like so much of what happened in his life was beyond his control. His mother dying. His persecution by Trahern. His desire for Patch Kendrick. It left him feeling riled and edgy. Loaded to the muzzle with tamped-down rage.

He stalked around her until he was looking her
in the eye. “A real lady wouldn’t be haring off into the dark all alone,” he taunted.

Because he knew Patch so well, his barb stabbed her where she was most vulnerable. “A real lady would never get involved with an outlaw!” she shot back.

“A
rapist
outlaw!” Ethan hissed. “Watch yourself, Miss Kendrick. You never know when I might go crazy and attack you!”

Ethan snaked a hand around her waist and pulled her snug against him. Patch felt more anger than arousal, but Ethan was exhibiting equal measures of both.

Patch could see he was on the edge. She didn’t want to push him over. “Let me go, Ethan.”

“You came all this way to marry me. Are you saying you don’t want me anymore?”

“Not this way!” she spat at him.

He released her as suddenly as he had taken her in his arms. They stood glaring at each other, panting.

“You know why I have to do this, Ethan. It isn’t fair to blame me—”

“You’re the same reckless brat you always were, Patch. Just dressed up in finer feathers,” Ethan accused.

“Durn you for a long-eared—” Patch clapped her hand over her mouth. How had she allowed Ethan to provoke her into swearing at him? “I don’t know who set a burr under your saddle,” she said. “But I’m not going to hang around to get stomped. I’ll be glad to discuss this further with you at another time, when you’re calmer.”