Texas Brides Collection (47 page)

Reuben removed his hat. His calloused hands traced around the band. Lines etched his face, partly from grief and partly from a life spent away from Raider’s Crossing that Charlotte could only guess at. Propriety reined her in from stepping across the aisle and telling Reuben exactly what she thought of him.

He’d grown tall, as she’d guessed he would. Broad as a fence, with arms that looked strong enough to hold up a wagon by the axle. Walnut brown hair as untamed and unruly as its owner, and green penetrating eyes that held plenty of secrets. Reuben’s well-kept mustache lent a maturity to his face. If he weren’t one of the Wilson boys, she reckoned he’d be yet another eligible man in town. Which didn’t interest her one bit.

“They say he’s a changed man.”

Charlotte started at the whisper in her ear. “We’ll see about that, won’t we, Mrs. Booth?” She should know better than to entertain conversation with the postmistress who happened to know all sorts of interesting tidbits about folks in town.

“I heard he killed a dozen men in Colorado and New Mexico. And he’s got a red-skinned wife hidden somewhere.” The older woman’s voice carried in the crowded chapel.

“If he’s made his peace with God, his past won’t matter anymore.” As for the wife? Well, that was Reuben’s own business. Her words sounded trite and pompous. She dropped the conversation, hoping Mrs. Booth would fall silent. This would teach her to accept a ride from James instead of accompanying her parents to the funeral.

“A fine young lady like you would do well to stay away from the likes of him. Good thing those brothers o’ his aren’t around, either. Scalawags, the lot of ’em.” Mrs. Booth clucked and hissed, shaking her head. “Except for poor Benjamin…”

Charlotte wanted to distance herself from the gossip, but she was wedged shoulder-to-shoulder with the other residents who’d come to pay their respects. James sat on her other side, and she guessed he probably wondered if anyone had noticed his new buggy. She wondered where he’d gotten the money for it.

She forced her feet to keep still and clamped her hand on James’s offered arm. He started rubbing slow circles on the back of her hand. Charlotte slipped her hand free from the unwanted demonstration of…affection? James’s expression didn’t exactly show affection. In fact, she couldn’t quite put a name to the look on his face. It made her want to find her parents.

Other young ladies in town saw James as a fine match for an unattached female. He came from good, hardworking people and had made quite a name for himself in Laramie, or so he claimed, writing for the newspaper. Now he was back in town and writing for the
Raider’s Crossing News
.

A good name was something to be proud of, unlike some names that sprang to mind. Like the one attached to the man across the aisle from her.

Charlotte glanced at Reuben and saw his expression boring into her. Her face tingled. She straightened her posture and refused to pull her gaze from his.

I know what you’re all about, Ruby Wilson. No childhood loyalties will keep me from surrendering the land we bought from your mother. Leave Raider’s Crossing, and we’ll all be better off
.

A man could do only so much to make amends. Reuben sighed, the sound an echo of the prairie wind. He would never be able to make up for his ma’s undeserved grief.

The tiny community had gathered for a brief service, but their faces were a blur to him among a sea of dark suits and dresses, showing respect to his ma. He would not look at them, only at the cross that hung at the front of the tiny church.

What do I do, Lord?

“Find your brothers, Reuben, and buy our old farm back.” Ma’s last request came to him again. “Make your pa’s dream come true.”

“I promise, Ma,” he’d said. At that moment he would have agreed to anything, to see the glow of pride in her eyes.

Long ago, when life was simpler, he and Colt, Caleb, and little Benjamin had lived a joyous boyhood as they traveled west and helped their pa build a home. Pa had promised they would raise cattle and keep as many horses as they could.

Where had those days gone? When did joy sneak away like a bandit in the night?

Whispers drifted through the crowd after the closing prayer, and Reuben forced himself to look directly at the source of the voices. Mrs. Booth, the loosest jaw in town, and Charlie Jeffers. Reuben found himself locked in a battle of glares with the younger woman while memories dragged him away….

“Charlie! Girls ain’t supposed to ride like boys!” Fifteen-year-old Reuben bellowed at a honey-haired girl with spindly arms. She rode astride a straggly pony as she gave Reuben and his brothers hot pursuit across the rolling hills. He reined in his horse and watched the pair approach.

“Can, too!” Her bonnet flopped around her neck. “I can do anything you or Colt or even Caleb can!” She set her jaw and gave him a look hot enough to fry an egg.

“Go home and help yer ma.” Girls! Always getting underfoot. Arguing, then sniffling and bawling when they didn’t get their way.

“Stop treating me like Benjamin.” Her lower lip started to quiver. “B’sides, I’m your blood sister.”

Reuben spat on the ground and glared at Colt. He’d been the one to let Charlie in on their little ritual. “Blood brothers—and sister—till the stars die,” they’d promised.

Now Reuben felt the heat of the same expression. He and his two younger brothers had always been fascinated with the customs of the natives in the land, but it never occurred to them the silliness of proclaiming themselves blood brothers. The only one who’d really been bonded to them through the ritual was Charlie.

Did she remember? He let himself stare until a blush swept over her face. Her once-thin features had bloomed, and her awkwardness had transformed into curvy womanhood. A brief thought fluttered through his mind. Did she still wear trousers on occasion? The caught-up hair that still reminded him of honey in sunlight and the prim neckline of her dress told him she’d put childish notions behind her.

Reuben had come to town with money in his pocket, with hopes of one day buying back his family’s land, but he wanted to test the waters before he plunged in with talking about a sale. The folks in Raider’s Crossing held grudges, he discovered. They also took care of their own.

Just like the dandy who’d been eyeing Charlie like she was a prized possession. And eyeing Reuben like he was a fox trying to get into the henhouse. Reuben gritted his teeth. Courting Charlie Jeffers would be like expecting to rope the moon. Finding his brothers and getting the family land back would be nearly as difficult.

He barely remembered stumbling to the cold outside, shaking the preacher’s hand, and thanking him for his words about Ma. Reuben wouldn’t have been able to speak, and he didn’t deserve to. He couldn’t have spoken of the few happy childhood memories he owned. Just as well. He’d probably have cried in front of the town.

An older yet familiar man, who of a certainty had to be Mr. Jeffers, shook hands with Charlie’s suitor. The suitor smiled at Mr. Jeffers then offered Charlie his arm. The couple left for a smart-looking buggy. Reuben seized the moment to approach Charlie’s father.

“Mr. Jeffers, thank you kindly for coming.” He touched the brim of his hat and nodded at Mrs. Jeffers. “Ma’am, thank you, too.”

Sam Jeffers regarded Reuben’s hand for a moment, then reached out to give a hearty shake. “Welcome back, son.”

“Thank you.” Reuben swallowed hard. “I–I’ve been meaning to ask you somethin’ since I’ve been back.”

“Yes?” Sam huffed through his gray mustache.

“I was wonderin’ if you’re needing a hand about your place. I’ve been working some ranches in Colorado, and I ain’t afraid of hard work here.” Reuben dwarfed the man by at least six inches, but somehow in his presence Reuben felt as if he were ten years old.

“I reckon I’ll need some help with the horses, plus the barn needs patching ’fore a late storm sets in.” Sam looked him straight in the eye. “You come on out at suppertime, and we’ll talk some more.”

Reuben nodded. “Yes, sir. That’ll be fine, sir. I’ve got a room in town.”

“Is that so? If you work for me, plan on staying in our bunkhouse. It’s not much, but it’s warm. Our other hired hands go home to their families, so you’ll be on your own.” Sam squeezed Reuben’s arm. “Etta puts supper on the table at five, so bring your appetite.”

“Thank you, sir, ma’am.” Reuben watched them leave the churchyard, and he felt strangely alone.

He’d gotten used to his own company these past years after losing track of Colt and Caleb. Reuben moved back to the wooden coffin and squatted next to it on the hard ground. He had ordered a stone with honestly earned cash in anticipation of a burial come spring. But the man had accepted the money with a suspicious look in his eye.

“Lord, it’s a beginning. At least Mr. Jeffers—Sam—will look me in the eye. Thank You for the chance to make things right again.”

Reuben bowed for a few minutes more in wordless prayer, letting regret sweep through him until silent sobs threatened to wrack his body. He did not care that a couple of men stood nearby, waiting to carry his mother’s coffin to be held with the others until the ground thawed.

“Mr. Wilson?”

He forced his face into a semblance of composure and glanced up. “Reverend. I was just takin’ a moment—”

“You’ve walked a long road to get here.”

Reuben nodded. He had arrived by stage and meant to buy a horse, but he figured the reverend was talking in a different sort of way. “Yeah, I have. I–I’m not the same person I was when me and the boys lit out years ago.”

“People around here, they don’t change much, I’ve noticed.”

“I have, thanks to God and an old preacher named Reverend Mann. He told me I needed to start making amends for what I’d done.” Reuben turned his focus to the wooden box before him. “It meant jail time, but Reverend Mann was right. A man sleeps easy with a clear conscience.”

“Well, maybe in time people here will see the change in your life.” Reverend Toms patted Reuben’s shoulder. “Won’t happen overnight, but you give them a chance, and they’ll come around. God’s grace covers all of us willing to accept it. I’ll be praying you find your family.”

“Thank you, sir.” He watched as Reverend Toms left the yard to return to the parsonage. The preacher had been in Raider’s Crossing since Reuben was a boy. He imagined the older man entering the tiny home he shared with his wife. Their children were probably grown and gone.

Would Reuben ever have the security of home and know the warmth of a family? Right now he felt as desolate as the grave. Warmth didn’t linger among the dead.

He supposed he’d better get moving, back to the rooming house, and prepare himself to face the Jeffers clan. Maybe he could glean a bit of comfort from them. Although he didn’t deserve any kindness, he hoped even Charlie would welcome him.

H
e’s coming here?” Charlotte’s voice cut off with a squeak. She set the kettle back on the stove and whirled to face Momma. “Your pa’s talking about hiring him to help out. You know we need an extra hand around here, especially with your brother gone.” Momma matter-of-factly kneaded the bread dough a final time.

“I figured Pa had already hired someone.”
Reuben Wilson, coming here?
Her thoughts swirled around; then a gnawing feeling settled in her stomach.

“Thirteen years can change a body.”

“Yes, you’re right.” Charlotte handed the bread pans to Momma. “But how do we know for certain?”

Momma reached out a flour-covered hand and touched Charlotte’s arm, stopping her from moving back to the stove. “Child, I’m not telling you to give him your heart. No one’s asking for that.”

“I know,” Charlotte whispered. She managed a smile and hoped the subject would change.

He’d made her out a fool once, but not again. At thirteen she’d trusted him with her fragile heart, only to have it tossed at her feet in a million pieces two years later when he and his brothers disappeared. Then when he reappeared, she realized she’d only squashed the pieces together, and her whole heart threatened to crumble again. This “put her in a mood,” as Momma would say.

James had left after a short conversation in the front parlor earlier in the afternoon, a fact for which she was grateful. No, maybe she wanted him here by her side at supper, at least to drive home to Reuben the fact that her life did not include him.
Stop it. You’ll not use another man to prove a point to someone else
.