“He’s doing a good job with those children,” Clara Morgan said, setting her cards on the table while she reached for her glasses. She hated having to wear them, to admit she was getting too old to play cards without them.
Everyone at two tables was staring at her when she’d finished, casting her doubting glances. She’d been thinking a good deal about Travis in the last day or so. Her weekly trip to his ranch had netted her a juicy piece of information that she’d been sitting on all morning.
“I’d say he’s doing the best he can, which is a far sight short of what those youngsters need,” Hester countered sharply. She sorted the cards in her hand and then glanced upward. “The man needs help, but the fool’s too damn proud to admit it.”
“You’re just upset because he turned down the pear preserves you offered him.”
One fine day Clara intended on having a nice long talk with Travis Thompson. He’d mocked Hester’s good intentions and was paying the price. What folks said about hell having no fury like a woman scorned was true.
Hester muttered something Clara couldn’t hear, but she knew Travis was a sore subject with the president of their ladies group. Hester had gone out of her way to visit Travis and the children shortly after the funeral, and he’d practically chased her off the Triple T. Travis had tried that with Clara as well, but it hadn’t worked. She’d taught that boy English when he was in junior high, and she’d surrender her pension before she’d allow him to boss her about.
Briefly Clara wondered if Travis even remembered that he’d been in her class. Junior high had not been a good time in Travis’s life. Now wasn’t a good time, either.
Travis had been a troublesome youth, Clara recalled. His reputation as a rabble-rouser and a troublemaker had preceded him from grade school. She never knew what happened to his mother, whether she’d abandoned her family or died. Whichever it was, Travis’s father had taken to drowning his sorrows in a bottle of whiskey. She admired Travis for the way he’d looked after his younger brother, Lee. She only wished he’d taken as good care of himself. My oh my, but that boy could fight. He didn’t back down, even when he knew he was going to lose, and lose badly. Clara had lost count of the times he’d been suspended for fighting.
By the time he was in high school, Travis had been brought before the courts for any number of minor offenses. Criminal trespassing for one, spray-painting the back of the library for another, repeatedly letting the air out of the sheriff’s tires. No one had much good to say about the boy, not that his deeds were unforgivable. It was his attitude, the belligerence, hostility, and disrespect, that people remembered.
A girlfriend might have helped, but Travis never dated much, as she recalled. Plenty of girls would have welcomed his attention, despite what their parents would have said, but Travis never showed much interest.
Like everyone else in town, Clara had heaved a sigh of relief when Travis enlisted in the marines. It would do him good. Make a man of him. In retrospect she had to admit she wasn’t all that certain military life had changed him. He kept mostly to himself these days, and few, if any, of the good people of Grandview had forgotten his past.
Clara had never defended Travis, how could she? She’d lost her patience with him countless times herself. What had endeared him to her was the way he’d loved and cared for his younger brother. When she’d learned of Lee’s death, her heart had immediately gone out to him.
“You’ve gotten quiet all of a sudden, Clara,” Hester said, pulling her from her thoughts.
Clara hesitated, deliberating how much she should say to her friends about what she’d learned from the children. It was unfortunate that several in the group hadn’t forgiven Travis for the way he’d rejected their generosity. Their hearts had been in the right place, and Clara knew most of them had been shocked at how ungracious he’d been.
She had the advantage of knowing Travis a little better than the rest. He was acting like an injured bear. The pain of losing Lee had him snapping at everyone and everything around him. It was as though he had to hover over and protect what was left of his family, and he didn’t want anyone interfering.
“It seems Travis is marrying,” she announced, waiting for her news to settle over the group. The reaction didn’t take long.
“What did you say, Clara?” Hester asked loudly.
“Travis Thompson’s getting married.”
“Travis…marrying?” Martha Johnson demanded. “Who?”
“Certainly no one I know in Custer County would marry the likes of him,” Hester muttered. When everyone paused at the uncharitableness of the comment, she added in her defense, “The man told me to stick my pear preserves where the sun don’t shine.”
“Hush, let Clara speak.”
Now that she had their full attention, Clara regretted having said anything. Her peers would have found out soon enough without any help from her. “Apparently she’s from Louisiana. Travis drove into Miles City to pick her up at the airport.”
“Louisiana?” Hester repeated slowly, as though Clara had declared Travis’s wife-to-be had arrived from the farthest reaches of civilization.
“I left a note suggesting our group would hold a reception for them after the ceremony.”
Her words were followed by a stunned silence, then, “You did what?”
“Clara, after the way he treated us following the funeral, how could you?”
“I for one will have nothing to do with any reception,” Hester declared righteously, her mouth pinched.
The venom in those words jarred Clara. She rose awkwardly out of the chair and straightened to her full height. A militant light came into her eyes, and she struggled to keep her voice even. “That man is willing to lay down his life for those children. It seems to me that we, as his neighbors, would be generous enough to do everything we can to help him.”
The others looked ashamed of themselves. “Clara’s got a point.”
“Perhaps,” Hester Johnson agreed reluctantly. “The man certainly needs someone. I’ve heard rumors of how poorly those dear children are faring.”
“They’re doing just fine, considering what they’ve been through,” Clara countered.
Hester didn’t look convinced, but it was apparent she didn’t want to argue. “How’d he meet this…woman from Louisiana?”
“I have no idea.”
“Surely he mentioned her?”
Everyone seemed to be waiting for Clara to respond. “I can’t recall that he has.”
Scotty had been the one to announce that his uncle was off to the airport in Miles City to pick up his bride-to-be. The news had been as much of a shock to Clara as it was to the ladies at the Grange.
“A wedding reception would be a good way for us all to meet Travis’s bride,” Clara reminded them.
The women shared a significant look, then each one nodded in turn, their decision made. With the exception of Hester Johnson, who apparently hadn’t changed her mind. Slowly she shook her head from side to side, silently declaring she would have nothing to do with the project. Clara smiled to herself, sincerely doubting that Travis would do anything to convince her friend he wasn’t a sin-riddled troublemaker. It was unfortunate that he’d turned down those pear preserves.
Travis couldn’t sleep, not for the life of him. Darkness closed around him as he lay in the middle of the double bed, his hands supporting his head as he stared up at the ceiling. He didn’t know what to do. Mary wasn’t anything like what he’d imagined or what he’d hoped.
For one thing, she was so dainty and delicate. For another, he couldn’t ever imagine himself falling in love with her. Not the way a man should love his woman. His imagination had always been healthy, but for the life of him he couldn’t picture that fragile body of Mary’s stripped bare and stretched out on this bed next to his. He’d touch her, and in his mind’s eye he could see her pull away from him, frightened half out of her wits.
Sweet heaven, he wouldn’t blame her. The two of them were as diffe
rent as anything he could imagine. His size alone must terrify her.
Sex was only a small part of marriage, Travis reasoned, but damn it all, it was too important to gloss over lightly. He couldn’t live with himself if he ever hurt Mary. When the time was right, he wanted to initiate her to the pleasures their bodies could bring each other without her shying away from him.
If only she wasn’t so dainty. He’d watched her when she’d returned to the kitchen after the kids had given her a tour of the house. He’d studied her closely then, half expecting her to complain about the mess. She hadn’t. Instead she’d removed her coat and insisted upon helping with the meal. He’d frowned as he realized how unbelievably small she was beneath that pretty wool coat.
For both their sakes, he should explain that he didn’t feel this marriage would work out between them. By all that was right he should send her packing. She could catch the first flight out….
Before he could accept the idea of sending Mary away, another thought filled his mind. He recalled how, after dinner, Beth Ann had crawled onto Mary’s lap with a book of fairy tales in her hand. Mary must have been exhausted. Not only had she spent several hours traveling across the country, but she’d ridden two more in his truck. They’d arrived at the ranch in time for her to help him get dinner on the table, and then she’d topped off the day by reading Beth Ann bedtime stories. The fact his niece had gone to sleep without sobbing for the first time in months hadn’t escaped his notice, either.
This frumpy librarian was a natural with the children, and when he’d commented on it, she’d blushed and claimed story time at the library in Petite had been her favorite duty.
Travis had to admit she read a story better than anyone he’d ever heard. Beth Ann had been mesmerized by the tale of Sleeping Beauty. Soon Jim and Scotty had crawled up on the sofa to join their sister. It took one hell of a lot to hold the attention of those three, but Mary had managed without hardly seeming to try.
For the first time since Lee’s children had come to live with him, they hadn’t made a fuss about going to bed.
Travis rolled onto his side, and the bed creaked. He expelled his breath and bunched the thick goosedown pillow under his head.
Shit, he didn’t know what to do. If he went ahead and married her, then he might as well accept the fact it would take a good long while before anything physical could develop between them. If ever. That thought was downright discouraging.
Of course, he could go on doing what he had been for the last several years, satisfying his carnal needs with Carla whenever he was traveling. But the thought left a bitter taste in his mouth. Furthermore, he’d already promised Mary he intended to keep his vows, and that included being faithful to her. He didn’t know where he’d learned the importance of vows, certainly not from his mother, and not likely from his father, but he felt marriage should be taken seriously.
Travis must have tossed and turned for another hour before he heard a noise coming from the direction of the kitchen. He held himself still and listened again. The sound was so faint he had to strain to hear it.
Throwing back the covers, he came off the bed and reached for his jeans. As he suspected, Mary was sitting at the table, silhouetted by the moonlight, staring into the dark.
“Mary?”
She twisted around and looked up at him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“You didn’t.”
A soft, powerful silence followed before she spoke. “I know. I heard you.”
“I kept you awake?”
“No. I couldn’t sleep myself.”
Travis pulled out the chair across from her. “What are you thinking?”
She hesitated so long, he wondered if she’d heard him. “That you’re probably looking for the kindest way possible to send me back to Petite.” Her voice was calm and even, but Travis would have sworn that quality had been hard won. She looked so vulnerable, sitting there in the moonlight, holding herself stiff. Watching her was oddly painful for him. He had been having exactly those thoughts, but not for the reasons she assumed.
“What I don’t understand is why you chose me. We don’t have a thing in common other than books, and—”
“You had a brother that died.” He hadn’t realized it was the reason until exactly that moment. Yes, she’d written about her expertise in the kitchen, but it was what she’d told him about Clinton that had seared his heart. She understood the ache that consumed his soul.
“Yes.” Her eyes were incredibly round in the dark, round and guileless.
“You know what it’s like to lose someone you love.”
She nodded.
“I liked your picture, too,” he told her honestly.
“I’m not beautiful…. I wrote on the back of the photo that it was flattering…. I don’t feel I misrepresented myself. In fact—”
“Mary,” he said, interrupting her. He couldn’t bear to listen to her defend herself when the problem was with him. She was a cultured, gentle soul and deserved much more in life than he’d ever be able to give her.
“What?” she asked softly.
“Despite everything, are you willing to go through with the wedding?”
She hesitated. Travis had thought, or at least he’d hoped, she would answer him positively, without even needing to think over her response. “Before you answer, you should know something.”
“Yes?”
He needed her, and feared he’d lose the children if she declined, but he couldn’t be anything less than honest. “I don’t mean to be cruel, but you should know up front that I may never love you.”
“I…wasn’t expecting that you would.”
She sounded so matter-of-fact, so unconcerned by what had been plaguing him most of the night. All the doubts he’d entertained came back to haunt him. Mary Warner was a refined, delicate woman, and he was a hard-ass, redneck rancher. What chance was there of her ever finding happiness with the likes of him? Damn little, he decided. Yes, he’d been thinking of sending her away, but it wasn’t because he didn’t want to marry her.
He half rose from his chair, convinced her silence was all the answer he needed. “If we do marry, there’s something else you should know. There’ll be no divorce. I refuse to put the children through that, so if you’re entertaining second thoughts, then—”
“I wouldn’t leave the children,” she interrupted with a choked whisper. “Yes, I want to go through with the wedding. I have from the first, otherwise I would never have come. But…are you sure, completely sure, you want to marry me?”
Travis was so relieved, he sank back onto the hard chair without giving her question a second thought. “Yes, I’m sure. Damn sure.”
Five
Travis impatiently paced the living room, glancing at his watch every few minutes. What in tarnation was taking so damn long? He hated this whole wedding business but considered it a necessary evil. If it had been up to him, they would have quietly visited the justice of the peace and been done with it. He should have known better than to give Mary a free hand. Before he knew it, she’d contacted Pastor Kennedy at the Methodist church, bought each of the kids a new outfit, ordered flowers, and damn near ruined what he was hoping would be a perfectly normal day.
Wearing a suit was torture enough. His tie felt like a noose stretched around his neck, and he eased the starched collar from his throat in order to swallow more comfortably. The last time he’d donned this suit had been for Lee and Janice’s funeral, and the memories stirred awake the growing anger and frustration he experienced over their accident.
“Mary?” he called restlessly, pacing to the far end of the living room. The room was tidy; Mary’s impact on his home and his life had been immediate. Within a matter of days she had the place looking better than he could ever remember. “We’re going to be late.”
“I’ll only be a minute more.” Her soft southern drawl meandered from the hallway without a trace of urgency.
Jim and Scotty joined him, saggin
g onto the sofa cushions. They didn’t look any more eager to be wearing a suit than Travis. It was best they learned early that there were certain things in life a man had to accept in order to placate women. Occasionally donning church clothes was one of those things.
“Just how long is this wedding going to take?” Jim wanted to know.
“Too long,” Travis muttered under his breath. As soon as the ceremony was over, he fully intended on having a talk with Mary. Apparently she didn’t appreciate all that a rancher’s life entailed. He was willing to give in to her wishes over this wedding business, simply because he wanted their marriage to get started on the proverbial right foot. But he couldn’t be taking time off in the middle of the day for such frivolity again any time soon.
Weddings were important to women, Travis was willing to grant Mary that much, but there was a limit to his endurance.
The length of his stride increased. He paused and looked at his watch once more and sighed expressively.
The ceremony itself wasn’t anything more than a formality. As far as Travis was concerned, it was an obligation he’d prefer to avoid but couldn’t.
“Do women always take this long to pretty themselves up?” Scotty asked, loosening the knot of his tie by jerking it back and forth several times.
Travis shrugged. Hell if he knew, he’d never lived with one before now. If today was any indication, he could well spend the rest of his life in a constant state of agitation.
“Maybe it’s because Mary needs so much help getting pretty,” Jim offered smugly.
Travis turned on the boy and glared, fighting back a fiery rage. The tension between him and Lee’s elder son grew thicker every day. Travis didn’t know what the hell he was going to do about it, if anything. The kid was grieving, they all were, and this animosity toward him was the way Jim had chosen to release his pain. Notwithstanding, he refused to allow Jim to talk about Mary in a derogatory manner.
“I won’t have you say that about Mary. Understand?”
“Well, she’s not much to look at, is she?”
Morning Comes Softly Page 7
