The Texan's Reward (12 page)

of something else . . . of anything else.

The feel of his lips pressing against her mouth consumed her thoughts. The memory seemed so strong, she

could almost feel his lips touching her now. She wondered if he were thinking of her and the kiss they’d shared

at the same moment. Somehow, Nel knew this time was just like when she’d been a child and had needed him.

She’d sensed him on his way long before she could get word to him.

A noise pulled her from her thoughts. Mr. Harrison and Marla carried the new window upstairs hours ago and

were now working on fixing the gate. It surprised Nel how they worked together so smoothly and in silence

most of the time. Marla usual y started supper by now, but today she stood beside Harrison, holding the gate in

place, waiting for him to finish tightening the new latch.

They were a matched set, Nel thought. Both tal and thin with ebony hair shining in the sun. If they married,

their children would be beanpoles with straight black hair. Not that Harrison and Marla would ever even talk,

much less fall in love and marry. Both had little to say.

Nell had never heard Marla say two words to any man, or any boy in their younger days. She wasn’t sure Marla

said more than that to Mr. Harrison, but it didn’t stop them from being a team.

Harrison removed his jacket and collar. His undershirt was stained with sweat, and Nell guessed without asking

that he had no other shirt. How proper he’d been only twenty-four hours ago when he’d arrived. She now

guessed most of his stiffness had been fear, and the fainting spel probably more hunger than panic over the

ranger’s threats.

The bookkeeper straightened, lifted the tool box, and walked with Marla to the porch. Nell didn’t hear either of

them speak as they neared. Marla disappeared into the house, but he halted, one foot on the step, the other

remaining on the ground.

“I think the latch will hold,” he said, rolling his sleeves down. “Anyone planning to ride by now wil have to stop

to open the gate or risk a broken neck jumping the fence.”

“Thank you.” Nel didn’t know what else to say. She knew he was trying to help out, stil hoping they’d make a

bargain of marriage, but he’d done far more than necessary. She would have been happy if he’d just managed to

straighten out her books. Despite his silent nature, she’d learned a great deal about the man today. He liked to

keep busy. He was kind. He must be, for Harrison put in the window with the sheriff tel ing him how it should be

done, without once suggesting Parker help more and talk less.

Mr. Harrison wiped his throat with a handkerchief embroidered with an H. “I enjoyed the work. It’s been a long

time since I’ve worked outside. It felt good.” His pale skin had reddened in the sun.

“Ask Marla to get the aloe cream down for you.” Nell looked down, embarrassed at having stared. “It’ll help with

the burn.”

“I’l do that.” He stepped up on the porch and studied her a moment before adding, “If the ranger hasn’t

returned before nightfal , I’l go back to the boardinghouse and col ect my things. If you’ve no objections, I’l use

the team that’s stil hitched up so I’m only away a short time.”

Nel had been watching the road and almost didn’t answer. “That’s fine. It is kind of you to offer to stay.” The

image of Jacob hurt, lying in the dirt, wormed its way back into her mind.

“You’re more than welcome, Miss Smith.” Harrison studied her.

Nell knew she acted strange. He probably thought her il . She looked into his eyes for the first time. Something

about him seemed very formal, but a secret lay beneath his guarded eyes. She no longer believed it had

anything to do with her. “Mr. Harrison, you may use any of the horses or wagons you wish. You’ve no need to

ask my permission. Fat Alice said she kept them in case she had to move in the middle of the night. I’m afraid

they are in desperate need of exercise. I can’t get Marla to take even the buggy when she goes to town.”

“She’s afraid of horses,” he answered more to himself than her.

Nel raised her eyebrows. She’d never noticed, and the shy cook had said nothing when questioned. “How do

you know?”

He set the tool box in its usual place near the back of the porch. “I saw the way she cut a wide path around them

when she climbed in the wagon.” Before she could ask more, he added, “Oh, by the way, I talked to the

mercantile owner as well as the hardware manager. As of tomorrow, you’ll have credit from both, providing I

produce a signed note from you with a list of those authorized to charge. They asked that you pay the bil at the

end of each month, and I assured them that as your bookkeeper I’d be by in person to do exactly that.”

“You’re joking?” No one living out by the tracks had ever had credit. “How did you talk them into such a thing?”

He smiled. “I told them I didn’t look forward to boarding the train to Cedar Point every time I needed to buy

your supplies.”

Nell was almost speechless. “And they thought you were serious?”

He turned slowly, looking her directly in the eyes. “I was serious. If I’m to be your bookkeeper, even for a short

time, my job is to straighten out your accounts.” He grinned. “And both those men needed straightening. They

realized I could have taken the train to Cedar Point, bought supplies, and been back before dark.”

Mr. Harrison said the words so simply, no one would have argued that he meant them. She’d tried to convince

the town’s merchants to al ow her to have an account. She’d even had the sheriff talk to them. “You threatened

them?”

He shook his head. “No, miss. I just stated a fact. There’s a difference, and they knew it. When Marla walked in

for supplies, they were right in thinking she wouldn’t board the train, and old Gypsy, even if she took the wagon

to town, wouldn’t travel al day to pick up supplies.” He raised an eyebrow. “But I would have, and they knew it.

I gave them a day to check with the banker to make sure you have plenty in your account to cover usual items.

Tomorrow Marla may put her purchases on your bil and not have to worry about having enough cash.”

Nell smiled. “Mr. Harrison, I could kiss you.”

He stiffened. “Please, Miss Smith, not until we’re officially engaged.”

Now Nel laughed. She admired Harrison, but he would never be the type of man with whom she’d fall in love.

But, as he’d pointed out, love wasn’t always a consideration in a bargain of marriage.

Il at ease with so much conversation, he excused himself and went inside to wash up.

When Harrison was gone, Nell straightened in her chair, trying to keep her back from aching. She wondered if he

were being polite, or if the thought of her kissing him, even as a thank-you, might be repulsive to him. She’d

noticed some people didn’t touch her. It seemed as if they thought they might catch whatever she had that kept

her from walking. She thought of reminding them that one doesn’t catch bad luck.

The sheriff ’s buggy rattled across the breeze, announcing his arrival even before he was halfway to the house.

He climbed out with stiff legs and grinned when he saw her on the porch. “I brought your mail out,” he yel ed, as

if she couldn’t hear him from ten feet away. “And three boxes of stuff you ordered. I swear, I used to think of

myself as the pony express delivering mail out here, but these days I’m more like a pack mule. Ever’ time I stop

by, they’ve got boxes stacked up for you.”

For a second, Nell gripped the arms of the chair as if to rise and help. Then, in less then a blink, she

remembered. Funny how sometimes for a fraction in time, she would forget her limits. She felt like a prisoner

who couldn’t remember the doors were locked.

Sheriff Parker brought each box and placed it in her lap so she could open them one at a time. Gypsy wandered

out of the house to help.

The first box held material. Soft white cotton for gowns and aprons. Solid blue fabric to bind the flour-sack

squares they’d quilted when the weather had been bad. Fine lace she’d bought for no reason at al .

“I’ll add it to the stash of material we’ve got,” Gypsy said as she carried the box inside.

The second box was crammed ful of seeds and smal gardening tools that Nel could use to tend her pots. By

summer she dreamed of lining the porch with flowers.

The third box was bulky but didn’t seem heavy. Inside the packing, Nel found a tea set made of white china with

flowers on the pot and cups. When she pul ed the pieces out, the sheriff looked like he’d wasted his time

bringing the box out. Even Gypsy mumbled that they had a perfectly good tea service she’d been doing her best

not to break.

Nell hardly noticed their complaints. She handled each cup and saucer with care, letting her fingers slide over

the tiny roses painted into the china. Then, reluctantly, she asked Gypsy to put the set away, and she resumed

her watch. She didn’t know why she’d ordered the tea set, maybe just because she could. There had been so

few times in her life when she’d had enough extra money to buy something she didn’t need.

Having afternoon tea had been one of the few things she’d loved at school. Being an outsider, Nel usual y

wasn’t invited to the parties or for weekends away, but everyone at the finishing school was not only invited but

expected to attend afternoon tea. And there, Nell could pretend that she wasn’t so alone.

The sheriff had just returned from filling his third cup of coffee when she heard another wagon. They both sat in

silence as Walter Farrow rounded the last bend and neared the gate. He pulled the reins and waited for

someone to unlatch it. When no one came, he stumbled his way out of the wagon and opened the gate himself.

He took one step to climb back on the bench seat, then reconsidered and led the horse into the yard. Walter

Farrow’s skill with handling a wagon was minute, and his observation abilities even less. He didn’t notice the

sheriff and Nel on the porch until he walked almost to the steps.

“Mr. Farrow,” Nell greeted him.

The big man removed his hat. “Miss Smith, I hope I’m not interrupting, but I felt I must come by and apologize

for my behavior yesterday.”

“No need.” Nell couldn’t keep herself from brushing her fingers over the rifle in her lap. “I consider it just a

misunderstanding.” She real y couldn’t blame Farrow when it had been Mary Ruth who wrote the letter

encouraging him to come, but he seemed a slippery sort. Maybe it was his greasy hair and sweating face. She

didn’t have a reason, but Nel didn’t like him.

He smiled as if all had been forgiven. “You’re most gracious, Miss Smith.” Farrow took the first step onto the

porch as Sheriff Parker Smith stood.

“Oh,” Farrow said. “I see you already have company.” One bushy eyebrow rose halfway to his hairline. “Or is the

sheriff a relative? I assumed you had no kin, but now I realize you both have the same last name.”

“Smith is a common name,” Parker mumbled.

Nel couldn’t help but smile at the old man. He wasn’t about to tel Farrow that she didn’t have a last name.

Parker stood at the top of the steps blocking Walter’s way, even though his body was half the width. If Farrow

wanted to step onto the porch, he’d have to go around the sheriff or mow him down with his big bel y.

Farrow backed down and turned his attention to Nel . “I was hoping to talk with you about the Stockard place.

I’d like to go out and take a close look around, but after yesterday I wasn’t sure you wouldn’t have me arrested

for trespassing.”

“I might have,” Nel admitted. “But you’re welcome to look around as long as you understand that I haven’t

decided to sel the land.”

He nodded as if expecting her answer. “I’ve spent the afternoon talking with the county judge. It seems my

uncle didn’t list his house in town in his wil . I don’t believe he thought he stil owned it. The judge believes I may inherit that property as next of kin.”

“I’m glad.” Nel couldn’t manage to sound like she meant her words.

Farrow looked frustrated. It was clear that she didn’t plan to discuss anything with him, or even invite him to sit

for that matter. “Well, I thank you, and I’ll be on my way.”

“I’l close the gate behind you.” The sheriff started toward the wagon. Farrow had no choice but to follow.

As soon as the man was out of sight, Parker returned to his chair and mumbled, “I don’t trust that man. He’s no

rancher. What would he want with the old Stockard place? It’s nothing but a skeleton of an old farm that ain’t

good for nothing but raising rattlers. He’s up to something. I heard someone say he’s already starting to hire

cowhands. Now what does a man without land need with hands?”

Nell guessed she’d be seeing Walter Farrow again. That type of man didn’t give up until folks started seeing

things his way.

“What do you think, Mr. Harrison?” Nel hadn’t turned around. She knew Harrison stood behind her. He’d

slipped into the shadows of the porch while Farrow had been talking.

“If you’ve no objection . . .” Harrison nodded slightly. “I think I’ll make use of one of those horses in the barn and ride out to the Stockard land. I’d like to know what Farrow finds so interesting.”

She turned then, smiling back at him. Randolph Harrison had read her mind. If she could have, she would have

done the same thing. Farrow was looking for something, and for some reason he thought it was on the old

forgotten ranch.

An hour later, as the sun set and the sheriff talked, Mr. Harrison left to get his things. He returned with his valise and joined the sheriff and Nel on the porch until Gypsy told them dinner was ready. Though the food was