The Courting of Widow Shaw (17 page)

Glory took out a large bowl, poured flour then added eggs and milk. She began stirring up the biscuit batter, all the while thinking about her shy friend Mattie and the other girls at Rainbow House. She wondered how Merry was faring, and hoped that she would truly leave Rainbow House to return to her folks’ farm. For Merry, it would be the best thing.

And Glory now realized, perhaps for the others,
staying on was best for them. Funny, how she’d judged them so harshly, not fully understanding their plight. Glory would never condone their way of life, but she understood them all much better now.

Glory lit the cast-iron stove and set her biscuits to cooking. She found a sack of coffee and proceeded to fill a pot with water. Once done, she cracked eggs into a skillet and added a few strips of pork rind for flavor. She also added herbs that she’d found, pinching off a few tiny leaves and mashing them up into the mix.

“Something smells awfully good.”

Steven’s voice startled her. She turned to find him leaning against the doorway, smiling at her. “Morning.”

“G-good m-morning.” She busied herself with the meal, ignoring Steven’s smile, the lean of his body and the way he’d only half dressed, his pants and shirt not yet buttoned up. Heavens, he appeared handsome with mussed-up hair and that sleepy-eyed look.

Why was it a woman couldn’t do the same? If a woman came out looking like that, one would think she’d fallen off a wagon into a cow-chip pile. “Will eggs and biscuits do?”

Steven entered the kitchen. “Honey, your cooking’s got to be better than anything I could whip up. Whatever you want to do is fine with me.”

She nodded, feeling his overwhelming presence in the room. He stood close by, watching her.

She ignored him.

“I reached for my gun when I heard noises out here,” he said.

She whirled around to face him. “Should I have wakened you?”

He chuckled and his dark eyes gleamed. “You did. Only once I realized it was you making a ruckus out here, I didn’t mind. I sort of liked waking up, having you here.”

“Steven,” Glory said, putting warning in her tone. He’d promised last night she’d have nothing to fear. “Don’t say those things.”

“You don’t want the truth?” he asked, reaching for two plates from the counter.

“I—I, no. Not that kind of truth. My truth is far different. I’m wanted for murder, Steven. I don’t know what will become of my life.”

“You still don’t remember anything?” he asked, setting the plates on the table, but keeping a vigil on her face, his expression now somber.

“No, I can’t recall. I close my eyes at night and pray for something, anything to come to me. But nothing does.”

“Maybe, now that you’re out here, away from town and all the bad memories, maybe something will come to you.”

“I hope so.”

Steven scratched his chest. Her gaze fastened to that area, where his fingers pulled taut the hairs, making them curl up. Glory found it hard to tear her eyes away. A lump formed in her throat when he caught her staring.

“You should button your shirt, Steven,” she announced boldly. Mercy, how did she ever find her tongue enough to say such a thing?

He glanced down at his unfastened shirt and something profound seemed to dawn in his knowing eyes. “Seems to me, I got myself in a haystack of trouble for asking the same of you.”

“Oh,” Glory gasped, her hand covering her chest.

He grinned, an all-out wide opening of his mouth that befuddled her mind. “You do like me, Glory.”

Mortified, Glory closed her eyes and whirled around. “No, I don’t Steven. I don’t like you one bit.”

Steven didn’t relent. “Some truths are harder to bear, Glory. You don’t want to, but you
do
like me.”

Glory piled his dish with food and set it in front of him. “Think what you want, Steven. Only I know what’s in my heart.”

He glanced at the food and took up his fork. “Your head says you hate me, but your heart, now that’s a different matter.”

Glory took her plate and sat down to face him. She’d not allow Steven to win his point. They had to live here together, for however long, and the rules had to be set down. “You promised last night that I’d have nothing to fear from you. Was that the truth or a lie?”

“I don’t lie.”

“You’ve lied many times, Steven. To the sheriff. To people in town. You’ve lied to shelter me.”

“That’s different. I won’t lie to you.”

“Fine then, no more talk of such matters.”

Glory was about to take a bite of her eggs when Steven stated quite bluntly, “The truth is you won’t ever have anything to fear from me, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want you, Glory. It doesn’t mean I don’t crave your body next to mine at night. That’s one truth that I’ll have to bear. And it won’t be easy, so maybe it’d be better for you to hang on to your hate, honey. It’d be better for us both.”

Chapter Twelve

G
lory spent the day inside the house, happy to have a plan in mind to keep from thinking about Steven’s declaration this morning. No matter what he claimed, Glory had to hold firm to her resolve. Steven Harding had been brutally honest. She supposed she should be grateful that he’d warned her outright, but his warning did nothing to quell her burgeoning curiosity.

It doesn’t mean I don’t crave your body next to mine at night
.

A shudder ran through her. She recalled those bold words and the look in his eyes when he spoke them to her.

Steven made her feel things she thought she’d never feel again. He made her wonder if there could be more between a man and a woman than what Glory had come to know with Boone. Something inside told her Steven was a much different man than Boone. Sadly, she realized, she could never truly find out exactly what those differences were. She couldn’t and wouldn’t explore her feelings for Steven.

Glory kept busy and tried to forget her plight for the time being, pouring her concentration into something
far more productive. She made curtains for the kitchen using the blue patterned material that Lorene Harding had given her. It had taken her only half the day to fashion them to fit over the window. There were no curtain rods in Steven’s ranch house, so she’d tacked the material up and made ties that could be pulled back and hooked to allow sunlight in. Standing back to gaze at her creation, she decided she liked the afternoon light coming in from the west window.

The rest of the day, she worked on a dress for herself. Finally, she’d have a practical dress to wear that covered her decently from neck to ankles.

Lorene had thought of everything, from a variety of sewing needles and matching threads to buttons and yards of thin lace. Lorene had even included a copy of
Harper’s Bazaar
that showed patterns that Glory could reproduce and enlarge to fit her size.

Glory hummed a happy tune while cutting out the pattern and afterward she took each and every stitch to heart, making sure they were tidy and even. She had always prided herself on her sewing talents. Today, her mood couldn’t be more lighthearted, so when Steven walked into the parlor, she smiled up at him with a big grin.

“What’s got you in such a happy mood?” he asked, removing his hat from his head.

“I think I’m just happy to be doing something.” She continued to make one straight, even stitch after another, keeping focused on the shoulder seams of her newest creation.

“I saw the curtains you made for the kitchen.”

She looked up from her stitching, wondering if Steven liked them. She couldn’t tell from his tone.

“Pretty. I never thought I’d…that is, I never thought the room could look so nice.”

“They do brighten the kitchen, don’t they?”

He nodded slowly, then ran a hand through his hair. It was early in the day. She hadn’t expected him for dinner until nearly sundown and from the perplexed look on his face, he hadn’t planned to be here so early, either. “You know how to shoot a gun, Glory?”

Shocked, she peered at him intently. His question was the last thing she’d expected to hear. She hadn’t been raised to uphold violence of any sort. What kind of fool notion spun around in Steven’s head this time? “No, Steven. I don’t know how to shoot a gun.”

“Well, it’s time you learned.”

“I don’t want to learn.”

“Doesn’t matter what you want.”

Glory blinked back her surprise. What was Steven telling her? Was he ready to cast her out on her own? Or was it something even more urgent? Perhaps he’d heard that she’d been discovered here. Perhaps her days of freedom were numbered. “I’ve lived nearly nineteen years of my life without knowing about guns. I don’t plan to change that now.”

Steven smirked, wry amusement lifting his upper lip up crookedly. “Nineteen whole years?”

“Well, almost nineteen, coming next winter.”

“Glory, don’t fight me on this. I’ve been giving it some thought. It’s necessary.”

“Why, Steven? Why is it necessary?”

“Because I’ve got to leave you alone tomorrow for most of the day.”

“You’ve been gone all day today and I’ve done quite well.”

He shook his head. “I’ve been here, watching and working. But tomorrow I’ve got to pick up my horses miles from here and I can’t very well take you with me.”

“You’re getting your horses tomorrow?”

“They were due to be delivered here, but I can’t chance that, so I thought to intercept them at the Stadler place. I know for a fact that they’ll deliver to the southern ranches first, before coming up here. I figure I can ride hard and get to old man Stadler’s ranch by noon. There’ll be no need for anyone to come up here, then.”

“How many horses are you getting?”

“Half a dozen. I’ll add more later on. But for now, it’s a start.”

Glory continued making her stitches. “Won’t it look a bit suspicious for you to intercept your horses?”

He shrugged. “I’ll make up an excuse, like I had business that took me right by Stadler’s place and I was anxious to see my new stock. Won’t be a problem as long as I shove the cash in their hands. Money has a way of quieting people’s questions.”

Glory let out a long weary sigh. None of this could be helped, she supposed. “I’m sorry to be such a disruption in your life.”

And Glory meant it. Out of his sense of duty, Steven had set his life aside in order to help her. As soon as she could, she’d leave him to work his land, allowing him no more distractions, no more worries.

Steven stared into her eyes. “Glory, if you don’t want to be a disruption, then let me show you how to handle a gun. I’ll sleep better tonight.”

“And I won’t sleep at all.”

“Sure you will. The gun I’ll give you won’t even make a dent under your pillow.”

“My pillow?” she nearly shrieked. She set down her sewing to regard him. From the determined look on his face, Glory knew he wasn’t jesting.

“Meet me outside when you’ve finished up what you’re doing.”

“But dinner…”

“Will wait. We’re losing daylight, Glory.”

Steven waited for Glory out back behind the house. When she finally appeared out the back door, a sour look contorted her face. Steven ignored the look, this being too dang important for both of them.

“Are you sure this—”

“It’s got to be done, Glory,” Steven insisted. “Here, get used to holding this.” He set a Remington .44 caliber army pistol in her hand. “It’s small enough to hold easily and not all that heavy.”

Glory peered at the gun as though it was plagued with disease. She took in a full breath, making her chest push out the lace on her gown. His gaze automatically riveted to the soft swells of her breasts. Damn, he’d sure be glad once she made herself that “proper” dress that she’d been hankering to do. Steven had more willpower than most men, he figured, but Glory sure pushed him to his limit at times.

“It won’t bite, Glory,” he said abruptly.

Glory blinked her eyes closed. “It reminds me of what happened to my father.”

Steven covered his hand over hers, the cold gunmetal a dark contrast to Glory’s warm and delicate fingers. He spoke softly now. “Guns can save lives,
too, honey. I’m hoping you’ll never have call to know that. I’m hoping you’ll never have to use it—”

Her eyes flashed open. “I can’t imagine using this on anyone,” she breathed out passionately.

They stared at each other for long moments and the truth hit Steven hard, like a blow right between the eyes. He knew now, deep down in his gut, right then and there that Gloria Mae Shaw had not taken a knife to her husband. He knew right then and there that she could never have killed Boone Shaw, not even to defend herself. No, she’d never have hacked up a body with such deliberate and cold intent. Never.

The truth was in her eyes, on her face and in a heart that beat so damn sweetly that Steven had to turn away, the revelation of her innocence causing havoc to his mind.

If she were innocent, he’d have to prove it.

Glory deserved her freedom. She deserved a new start on life. She was young and beautiful. She could have all the things a young woman wanted—a happy home and family.

Steven had an obligation to her. But he had to remain focused on keeping her safe. He took her hand and guided her down a path that went well beyond the ranch house. They walked over a shallow streambed, finding dry spots to step in as the water trickled by. Steven picked up several small granite rocks and once they’d finally reached the clearing he’d remembered, he set those rocks atop a big boulder, Glory’s target. Hell, he’d be happy if the woman learned enough to aim the gun straight, and hitting a target would be something short of a miracle.

“Okay,” he said, taking several steps back from the makeshift target. “Ready?”

A small smile lifted her mouth, but there was no joy in her eyes. “As much as I’ll ever be, Steven.”

“It’s okay, Glory. You’ll probably never have to use it, but if it comes down to you or them, I surely hope you’ll use what you learn today.”

Glory didn’t respond. She’d resigned herself to this, he assumed, but she certainly didn’t like it.

He stepped behind her, trying like hell to ignore the scent of wild roses, the press of her backside against his groin and the silky strands of her braid tickling his chin. “Lift the gun and aim it toward the small rocks.”