Wolf Creek Widow (Wolf Creek, Arkansas Book 4) (16 page)

“Well, I have no way of knowing how she feels, but I do know that love will tie you in knots,” Colt said with a sage nod. “It will make you weigh every word either of you has ever said and think of all the ways those words might be taken another way. When you’re in love, you don’t know which way is up.”

“Who said anything about love?” Ace snapped.

“What else could we possibly be talking about?” Colt replied. “The only thing I can tell you is that time will tell you both if what she feels is real love or not.”

The conversation hung in the air for a few minutes as both men digested it. “Why couldn’t I have fallen for a pretty Cherokee girl?” Ace asked finally. “Life would have been a lot simpler.”

“What do you mean?”

“I grew up in a mixed-race family. I know what it’s like to see a father devastated about the way his wife and son were treated. I know firsthand how hard it can be for a kid torn between two cultures. If I truly love someone, wouldn’t it be wrong to put her or any kids we may have through that?”

“If you haven’t asked your mother if she would change anything, maybe you should,” Colt suggested. “I’d also say that the decision isn’t all up to you. The lady has a say in it, too.”

* * *

Meg watched Ace striding down the covered sidewalk; he was looking neither to the left nor the right. Her heart skipped a little beat at what a magnificent portrait of self-confidence and dignity he made in his Levi’s and chambray shirt. No one would ever suspect that he’d once been a tormented man who questioned his very existence in the world.

More than anything she’d wanted in a long time, she wanted to run to him and have him envelop her in his strength and calm, knowing that he would protect her from any harm that came her way.

Just then, he saw her standing there watching him. He seemed to pause midstride for just an instant, as if he were acutely aware of her. Even from a distance, the intensity radiating from him was like a bolt of lightning to her senses. In that moment, she knew that whether or not it was too soon, she loved him. Now and forever.

The muscle in his jaw was knotted, and there was no smile of welcome on his face. Nothing gave the slightest hint that he felt the same except the sudden heat in his light blue eyes. A need blazed there that he was unable to hide, even with his many years of impassiveness to lean on.

Other than brief greetings, no one spoke. Nita seemed acutely aware of the tension between them, yet wisely stayed quiet. They loaded everyone into the wagon and set out for Jackson’s Grove, where the folks of Wolf Creek had all their major events, like the spring picnic, the box-lunch auction, the ice-cream social and the fall harvest celebration, which would be coming up in two more weeks.

Ace drove through the slight trail that wove through the tall grasses toward the grove of trees. A hawk dipped and soared in the cloudless cerulean sky, riding the shifting currents of air as it searched out its midday meal. Sun-dappled shade welcomed them as he pulled the wagon beneath the trees.

Ace tied the horses to a sapling and rounded the wagon to lift Meg down. Their gazes met, hers questioning, his once more unreadable. Suppressing a sigh, she leaned forward, placing her palms on his chambray-covered shoulders. His hands went to her middle, and she realized with a bit of a start that even though she’d put on a couple of pounds, she’d lost so much weight during her recovery that he could almost span her waist with his big hands.

Just weeks ago, she would have stiffened at his touch and thought of what hands that size could do to a woman. But this was Ace. Instead of tensing up as she once would have, she smiled at him and murmured a soft “thank you.”

The spell binding them shattered, and they set about unloading their picnic. Nita instructed the children to stay in the back while she spread a quilt beneath a peeling, white-barked sycamore tree whose golden leaves rustled in the gentle autumn wind. Then she and Ace lifted them from the wagon. Soon they were seated in a circle, plates in their laps, enjoying Nita’s fried chicken, biscuits and dewberry jam, and the wedge of red-rind cheese and cold sarsaparillas she had purchased at the mercantile.

Ace tied a dish towel around Lucy’s neck and coaxed her into tasting the cheese. The minute it hit her tongue, she made a terrible face, shuddered and promptly spit it out. She looked at him as if to ask why he’d done something so terrible to her and said, “Nasky.”
Nasty.
The word Meg always used to deter Lucy from putting things into her mouth that she shouldn’t.

Everyone laughed, which of course Lucy loved. She joined in, clapping her tiny hands in glee. The poignancy of the moment filled Meg with both joy and sorrow. This was what a real family should be like. Parents and grandparents together, enjoying each other, enjoying the life God had given them.

She knew suddenly that of all the things she could wish to have in the future, this was what she wanted, what she and her little family needed. She dipped her head and blinked fast and hard to hold back her tears. Families should not have fathers who attacked and robbed people and tried to kill them, or mothers who tried to smooth over outbursts of rage and blame and bore the brunt of misplaced anger. “Are you all right?” Ace asked in a low voice.

It had been a good day. She would not let memories of the past ruin it. She raised her head and smiled at him, knowing that her eyes were shining with tears. “I’m fine.”

She broke off a piece of buttery biscuit and put it in Lucy’s mouth. As she munched happily, Ace pulled all the meat, gristle and the tiny, sharp bone from a chicken leg and handed the large bone to her.

Ace had promised Teddy that he would let him fish for a while. With their stomachs full, he took the cane fishing pole from the rear of the wagon and led the boy to the nearby creek. Meg helped Nita pack up the picnic items in the now-familiar basket. Lucy was rubbing her eyes, and Meg decided to try to let her have a short nap before they drove the short distance back to town for their promised treat at Ellie’s.

Nita decided to try her hand at fishing and left Meg and Lucy alone. Wearing a contented smile and marveling at what a wonderful day it had been, she stretched out next to her baby daughter and began to sing “Froggie Went a-Courtin’” in a hushed tone. Lucy was asleep by the end of the third verse. A gentle breeze tickled the leaves overhead, and stippled sunlight danced across Lucy’s plump cheeks. Smiling and running a finger along their sweet curves, Meg closed her eyes...

* * *

She knew she was dreaming because she was looking down on herself as she lay in her bed, sleeping. The spot next to her was empty. How long had he been gone this time? Would he come tonight? She tossed restlessly, and the Meg watching moaned as her chest tightened in anxiety.

From somewhere far away, she heard laughter. She felt the presence of someone next to her and knew her husband had come home. Something grazed her face, and she clenched her eyes tight and swatted at it, even knowing that her protests would anger him.

“Meg.”

The timbre of his voice was deep, melodic. Soothing. Nothing at all like Elton’s voice. Once again, she felt the brush of something against her skin and reached out to slap it away. She didn’t want to open her eyes and look at him.

“Wake up, Meg.”

This time the voice penetrated the veil of sleep cloaking her. It wasn’t Elton’s. Her eyes flew open and she found herself staring into a familiar blue gaze. Ace was next to her on the quilt, propped up on one hand. In his other he held a stalk of wild wheat that had turned golden brown. As she looked up at him and tried to get her bearings, he tickled her beneath her chin with the piece of wheat.

“What are you doing?” she asked breathlessly.

“Trying to wake you. You’ve been asleep for almost two hours.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh, no!” she cried and then glanced over at the sleeping baby to see if she’d awakened her.

“I hated to bother you, but if you want to have your pie at Ellie’s, we need to get a move on. I want to get home in time to take care of the animals before it gets dark.”

Home.
Meg looked up at him, wondering if her place was beginning to feel like home, or if it was just a chance choice of words.

“I’m sorry. I never meant to fall asleep.”

“Don’t be,” he told her, getting to his feet and offering her a hand up. “You needed the rest.”

Without even pausing, Meg placed her hand in his and let him pull her up. As she stood, her foot caught in the hem of her skirt and she stumbled into him. His arm went around her. All her senses were besieged by the essence of him. His unique outdoorsy scent. His touch. His strength.

One hand rested on his forearm; the other was against his chest. The muscles beneath her palms were rock-solid. She looked into his eyes and saw cautious awareness. Drawing in a shaky breath didn’t help. Instead of calming her, she inhaled the warm scent she always associated with him. She imagined she could hear the beat of his heart, but realized that it was more likely the blood thundering in her own veins.

“Where’s Teddy?” Her voice was little more than a whisper.

“He and my mother are on their way. She was trying to land a pretty big perch when I came to wake you.”

As if on cue, Teddy came running up from behind Ace, calling, “Mama. Mama. I caught a fish, but it was too little to keep.”

Relief warred with disappointment at the interruption. She forced a smile she hoped showed pleasure at his announcement. “That’s wonderful, Teddy.”

“Ace says we can fish another day before it gets too cold.”

“Good.” She looked from him to the other adults standing nearby. Nita was watching her closely. She bent to wake Lucy. “Let’s clear all this up and head back to town. I’m craving a piece of Ellie’s chocolate pie.”

Chapter Thirteen

T
he trip back into town took less than five minutes. Ace was tying the rig to the hitching post, and Meg and Nita were unloading the kids from the wagon, when a feminine voice spoke from behind them.

“Well, well, look who’s in town for a nice little family outing.”

Meg froze. She would recognize that voice anywhere. It belonged to none other than her mother, Georgina Ferris. Meg cast an anguished look at Nita, who glanced at the newcomer and said, “I’ll take the children on inside if you like.”

“Please,” Meg said through stiff lips.

Nita held out her hand and Teddy obediently placed his into it, sparing his grandmother nothing but a brief glance.

“Oh, don’t take them in,” Georgina whined to Nita’s back. “Let me have a look at them. I haven’t seen them since right after Lucy was born.”

And that was just how Meg wanted it.

Nita paused, glancing from the older woman to Meg.

“Take them on in, please.” She glanced at Ace, who was standing on the other side of the gray mare, clenching his hands so tightly in the horse’s mane that his knuckles were white. The expression on his face resembled a dark thunderhead before a storm.

Meg gave him a shaky smile and braced herself for the scene to come. She turned slowly to face the woman who had given birth to her, but had never been a mother. The man who had taken her father’s place in her mother’s life stood beside Georgie. Tall and gaunt, the sack suit Charlie Green wore hung on his thin body and looked exactly like the sack from which it took its name. The two of them had always reminded Meg of what she imagined nursery-rhyme character Jack Sprat and his wife might look like. She smothered a nervous giggle at the thought.

Charlie’s gaze was fixed on Ace.

As usual, Georgina was dressed far too flashily for Wolf Creek. Her bright emerald green dress was sewn from satin and trimmed with delicate lace. Quick to indulge her every appetite, she’d always been overweight, but Meg thought her mother’s face looked thinner than the last time she’d seen her. Still, whatever style statement she hoped to make with the shelf bustle was undermined by the extra pounds it added. Meg was relieved to see that the bodice was made more or less decent by the lace tucker edging its low cut.

Her straight blond hair, so much like Meg’s, was twisted and curled into an elaborate style that was inappropriate for a woman her age. A satin hat, the exact color of her dress and adorned with a cluster of pink velvet roses and three pheasant feathers, sat at a cocky angle atop the tortured mass. A fake emerald hat pin held it in place.

Her face was dusted with powder at least a hue too light, and her eyebrows were enhanced by a charcoal stick. Bright color rode high on her cheekbones, and lip rouge in a deep carmine hue gave her lips a full, pouty look.

“Hello, Georgie,” Meg said, calling her mother by the name she preferred over “Ma.” Her voice held a definite chill as she acknowledged her mother’s companion. “Charlie.”

Addressing her mother once more, she said, “I heard you’ve been ill, but you’re looking...like your old self.”

“Can’t keep a good woman down,” Georgie said with a cheeky grin. “I heard you were in town, and I was hoping to run into you.” She held her arms wide. “Come give your mama a hug.”

Meg stood firmly in place. She didn’t think she could have moved to save her life. The small act of rebellion made her the focus of Charlie’s attention.

“You heard your mother, girl. Get over here!”

Without a word, Ace stepped around the hitching post and took his place beside Meg.

Georgie’s nostrils flared in anger, even though the green eyes that looked Ace up and down held a glimmer of admiration. Her mama had never failed to appreciate the attributes of an attractive man.

“I think we passed the hugging stage years ago, Georgie,” Meg said, praying that she could hold herself together for a few more minutes.

“Still have that mouth on you, I see,” Georgie said with a put-upon sigh.

When Meg had gotten old enough to understand her mother’s behavior for what it was, she’d felt no qualms about taking Georgie to task about it. All it had earned her was a smack across the face and a moment’s satisfaction.

“I heard about Elton’s...murder.” Georgina coughed delicately into a lacy handkerchief and then cast a look of wide-eyed innocence at Ace. “Is this who killed him?”

Even from two feet away, Meg felt the coiling of angry tension that vibrated through Ace’s body. Without thinking, she reached out, her hand finding his unerringly. She meshed her fingers with his. He didn’t pull away, but he didn’t return the pressure, either.

Georgina’s knowing gaze moved from their clasped hands to Meg’s face, a shrewd smile curving her painted lips.

“Do you speak?” Charlie taunted, ever the agitator.

“When I have something to say.”

“If you heard Elton was murdered, you heard wrong, Georgie,” Meg said, hoping to correct her mother’s impression and defuse the antagonism between the two men. She was pleased to hear that her voice shook only the tiniest bit. “But yes, Ace is the one who saved Sheriff Garrett’s life. And probably mine.”

Georgina shifted her gaze from Ace to Meg. “I did hear that you were hurt pretty bad, poor thing, but it looks like you’re doing just fine now. You need to put a little meat on your bones, though. You’re as skinny as a scarecrow. Men don’t like bony women.”

Once again, she shot Ace a sly glance. Heaving an exaggerated sigh, she shook her head in a display of sadness as fake as the emerald holding her hat in place. “I tried to tell you to think twice before you married Elton, baby girl. Those Thomerson men all have simply
terrible
tempers.”

“You may recall that there was a reason or two that I married him,” Meg reminded her, determined to hold her own with her mother. She pinned Charlie with a hard, accusing look.

“Oh, yes,” Georgina said, tapping her lips with a long fingernail. “Teddy was on the way.”

She glanced at Ace, and when she saw no surprise on his face, she changed tactics. “So you’re sharing all your deep dark secrets now, are you? Well, bravo! I’ve always thought it best to get everything out in the open if you hope to have a good understanding with your man.”

Answering would be futile. Instead, Meg watched her mother warily.

Georgie’s cool gaze never left Meg’s as she waggled her gloved fingers at Charlie. “Run along and get the wagon, Charles. I’m almost done here.”

Meg’s heart began to race. Georgie had decided to stop toying around. She intended to draw blood. Who knew what she might say or do next?

Charlie’s glare moved from Meg to Georgina, but he did as she asked. No one spoke until he was on the other side of the street.

“I promised my children a treat, Georgie,” Meg said. “I need to go.” Never releasing Ace’s hand, she turned to do just that.

Before she could take more than a step, cruel fingers bit into her upper arm and hauled her back around. She inhaled sharply at the venom she saw in her mother’s eyes.

“Don’t go high and mighty on me, missy,” she said in a low, harsh voice. “You might fool the town with your little story about him—” she gave a jerk of her head toward Ace “—staying at the farm to help you, but you don’t fool me. Blood will tell, darlin’. You’ll always be that wicked Georgie Ferris’s daughter. Like it or not, you’re just like me.”

Meg’s blood ran cold at the thought. A trembling seemed to start in her very soul. “You’re wrong, Georgie. I’m nothing like you. I’ll never be like you.”

“Think what you will. Everyone knows the apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree.” Her eyes narrowed. “And let me tell you another thing. There may have been a lot of men in my life, but I never lowered myself to carry on with the likes of him!”

Her meaning couldn’t have been clearer to Meg. Georgie was saying she’d never shared her favors with an Indian. She released Meg’s arm, giving her a little shove that pushed her against Ace.

The curve of Georgina’s lips was an awful parody of a smile. She grabbed up the emerald satin of her skirt and stomped across the dusty street.

Meg was too stunned to do anything but watch her go. Georgie had always liked a grand exit.

* * *

As soon as Georgina Ferris walked off, Ace felt the tension in him begin to slip away. Standing there listening to the venom spewing from the loathsome woman’s lips and not taking up for Meg—and himself—was one of the hardest things he’d ever done, but something told him that handling her mother was something Meg needed to do herself. Besides, it wasn’t his place. He was only the hired help.

He pulled his hand free and took her shoulders so that he could turn her to face him. Faint tremors still shivered through her, the result of her anger and pain. As she looked up at him, a single tear slid down her pale cheek. Unable to deny himself the need to touch her, he reached out and brushed away the moisture with a calloused thumb. He ached to pull her close and offer her whatever comfort she would allow him to give and knew he couldn’t.

“Are you all right?”

She tried to smile and failed. “Not really.”

“Would you like to go home?”

She drew in an unsteady breath. “No,” she said with a defiant lift of her chin. “I’m choosing not to let my past shape my feelings or my life anymore. Today is a day for fun and treats, and I won’t let Georgie Ferris ruin that for me.”

This time her smile was steadier. She shook out her skirt, lifted her chin and smoothed back the silky strands of golden hair that had come loose from her braid. Then, looking as confident as her mother, but in a different way, she caught up her skirt and strode toward the wooden walkway, tossing him a resolute look over her shoulder.

“What kind of pie do you think Ellie has today?”

* * *

There wasn’t much talk during the trip back home. The children were exhausted from their exciting day. Always planning ahead, his mother had brought some quilts to make a pallet in the back of the wagon, where she snuggled with Teddy and Lucy, since the temperature dropped steadily as the sun slipped toward the horizon.

Meg sat next to Ace on the front seat, lost in thought. That was good, since he had a lot to say and it wasn’t the time to say it.

His heart felt as if it had been shredded. He’d known that reality would set in sooner or later, and on some level, he’d suspected that things would become clear to her when they showed up in town together. He’d never imagined it would be Meg’s mother who would point out the very obvious truth.

The encounter with Georgina proved beyond a doubt what he’d been trying to make Meg see about his background and how people would treat her if they allowed their feelings for each other to grow into something strong and lasting.

She’d had enough heartache and pain in her life, and as much as he knew he loved her and wanted nothing more than to make a life with her and her children on her little farm, he knew it was impossible. He’d hurt enough people he loved in his lifetime, and he refused to add Meg to the list.

It was time to move on. He’d done pretty much everything he’d promised to do. Maybe he’d implied he’d stay longer, but there had been no set time frame. She was much better physically, and with his mother around to help with things, Meg would be okay.

The only thing left to do was decide when he was going.

* * *

Well, Meg thought, staring down at the hands clasped in her lap. Today had certainly been one for the books! A wonderful day in many respects, but the run-in with her mother had almost ruined everything.

She thought of Georgie’s insinuation that there was more between her and Ace than him helping her through a bad spot. Did the fact that she and Elton had been forced to marry incline other people to believe the worst of her? For the first time, she began to really consider how a person’s actions, both good and bad, could affect not only their lives, but also the lives of everyone they knew. Like the way her mother’s sordid life had colored her own decisions. How her mistake with Elton would be talked about even when her children were grown.

Sometimes even good things had bad results. Irishman Yancy Allen had loved a Cherokee girl enough to marry her, yet the world had looked down upon that union and the child born of it. Those things had influenced Ace. Poor Yancy had had no idea that something as simple as loving someone would cause heartache years later for his own flesh and blood and a woman he didn’t even know.

Meg sighed and knew without looking that Ace had shot her a curious glance. She knew him well enough by now to know a lot of things about him, like the fact that Georgie’s comment about Meg “carrying on” with him was a weapon chosen to inflict pain on them both. Her mother knew—had always known—what to say to cut Meg to the heart.

When would she stop letting Georgina Ferris hurt her? When would she find the courage to rise above her past and stop thinking of herself as inferior? Ace said she was courageous, that she had done well at making the best of things, but she still felt shame every time she thought of her mother’s way of life and the way Elton’s escapades would be fodder for the town’s gossip mill for years to come, bringing misery to her and their children.

Ace said he didn’t want her to suffer the way he and his family had suffered. Well, today should have shown him that his past was no worse than hers. She
was
beginning to understand what he meant when he told her she needed time to heal and to make certain she didn’t need anyone before choosing to share her life with another man. She had no desire to rush into anything. She’d done that once. She needed to talk to Ace about what she was feeling. Really talk.

* * *

When they reached the farm, Ace unhitched the mare and took care of the evening chores while Nita sliced bacon and fried it for their dinner. Lucy was whiny, and Teddy was cranky. Meg got them ready for bed early and fixed Teddy a quick sandwich with the bacon and the leftover biscuits, while Nita fried Lucy an egg.

After the children ate, Meg brushed their teeth and tucked them in. They were both asleep by the time Ace finished outside. Like the ride home, the meal was mostly silent.