She clung to control by a gossamer thread. “I can’t—”
“You’ll be makin’ a lot of cowboys mighty unhappy.”
Tempted, oh so tempted, still, she resisted. “No—”
“Startin’ with me.” His eyes held her mesmerized, like that first night in her tepee.
That gossamer thread bound her to him. Do it, Andie. Do it.
“Run get dressed,” Reese was saying. “We’ll have to pull out within the hour to make it.”
“But, what…” Do it, Andie. It’s a dinner invitation, not a marriage proposal, for heaven’s sake.
Oh, Samuel…
Do it!
She dropped her gaze to the dress. “If we’re riding horseback, I’d better carry the dress and change there.”
“We aren’t. Edwin Howell’s sendin’ his carriage.”
An hour later Andie emerged from her tepee light-headed and faint of heart. She had rushed through a bath taken behind a wagon sheet Night Hawk and Jordan hung on limbs that shielded a quiet pool of water. She scrubbed her fingernails and tried to wash camp smoke out of her hair and guilt out of her heart.
Oh, Samuel! What am I doing? What am I doing?
Towel-drying her hair never worked; it left it full and curly. But she had no choice. They couldn’t be late. This dinner was too important to Reese. Too important. She shouldn’t be going.
Still resisting the idea, she finished dressing and stepped into the camp circle, only to have the drovers jump to their feet like they were in church. Embarrassed to her toes, she obligingly lifted her skirts and twirled once. She felt like a schoolgirl just out of pigtails with a dozen papas to worry over her.
“Thank you. It’s lovely, and so are you. Everyone of you.”
It was their turn to blush, and they did so in unison. She scanned the group, thanking each man individually, until her wandering eyes alighted on Reese. The sight of him in black broadcloth suit, white shirt, and string tie, took her breath away. He wore polished boots and carried a black Stetson, obviously brought along for a special occasion; his heated perusal left no doubt that he considered this the special occasion.
What was she getting herself into?
When Pop produced a bouquet of yellow daisies, she squeezed back tears. Then Tom Lovejoy, ever one to throw a wrench in things, stepped close.
“Ain’t it just my luck? The prettiest gal in Texas, an’ she’s goin’ out with another feller.” Plucking a daisy from the bouquet, he stuck it into curls she had pinned on top of her head.
Standing back, his blue eyes twinkled. “Don’t mess with it, Mister Catlin. Leastways not till after that fancy dinner you’re takin’ her to.”
Andie ducked her head. Jordan was there, at her side, his eyes round as saucers. “You look awful pretty, Ma.” His attention went to Reese. “Don’t she, Mister Catlin?”
“You got that right, son.” Reese’s voice was strained, but it echoed the awe in Jordan’s. Andie didn’t dare look at him.
“Before you come back, Ma, maybe Mister Catlin will dance with you under the stars.”
“Jordan!” Suddenly she knew she had to get away from these well-meaning, but joke-loving men and a child who thought he had found him self a pa. “Shouldn’t we be on our way?” Her question was more like a plea, one Reese readily accepted.
Injunctions followed them out of camp.
“Behave yourself, Mister Catlin.”
“Don’t keep ’er out past dawn!”
Grumpy followed them to the carriage. “A word o’ warning,” he told Reese. “Since you claim not be the marryin’ kind, just, well, you know what I mean. Treat her right.”
The sun had set by the time they pulled up to the carved stone portico of Howell’s mansion in Fort Worth, but dwindling light did nothing to diminish the grandeur of the place, nor Andie’s jitters. “I shouldn’t have let you talk me into this.”
“I need you along, Andie.” Reese squeezed her hand when he helped her down from the carriage. “Lookin’ at you takes my mind off bein’ nervous.”
They had barely exchanged glances on the ride to town, and she couldn’t meet his eyes now, with guilt worrying her mind and anticipation burning in her stomach.
But as things turned out, she enjoyed herself. The meal was delicious—breast of veal glacé, creamy potatoes, and garden vegetables. A butler served glasses of sherry before dinner. After pecan cake and coffee, Verna Howell excused the men for brandy and cigars, and, Andie hoped, a discussion of business.
Verna was a lovely, congenial woman, of an age Andie’s mother would be were she still alive. She talked freely of her children, her grandchildren, her friends, and Fort Worth society. By the time Reese and Edwin Howell rejoined them, Andie was fit to be tied. Fortunately, Reese made excuses and they left soon after.
“Well?” she questioned before the carriage cleared the drive. Her tensions of earlier had given way to concern for Reese’s business. “Don’t keep me in suspense. How did it go?”
Reese applied the quirt, setting the matched team on the road back to camp. “I’d give my eyeteeth to know what Matthews wrote Howell about me. If I hadn’t known better, I might’ve thought he was tryin’ to sell me on takin’ him on as a partner, rather than the other way around.”
Relieved, Andie clapped her hands. “That’s wonderful!”
They left the dusty cowtown behind. The moon was full and the air soft and fresh. She had become so accustomed to dust and the smell of cattle, she rarely thought about fresh air. Tonight the air seemed perfumed by comparison.
“Another funny thing,” Reese mused after a while. “I got the impression Howell thinks you’re part of the deal.”
Her breath caught. “Me?” What had the cowboys done now?
“He kept sayin’ how important it is to have a good woman to help build an empire. Said he couldn’t have accomplished near what he has without his Verna’s being willing to work like a slave—those were his very words—until they got things goin’. Said he owed all he is and all he has to her.”
“What a lovely tribute.” But it wasn’t so much Mister Howell’s words as it was Reese’s interpretation that set Andie’s head to spinning. She tried to scoff it off. “I’m sure most men would say the same thing.”
When she felt his eyes on her, her jitters returned. Already her arms burned with his nearness, and the back of her neck tingled. She felt like a schoolgirl riding beside her beau. She immediately chastised herself.
“You didn’t know Mister Matthews,” Reese was saying.
Grateful for the impersonal topic, she plunged in. “He didn’t like his wife?”
“Until she ran off, I reckon. He claims a wife is the sorriest thing a man can have on a ranch.”
“The nerve of him! No wonder she left.”
Reese chuckled and the sound tripped down her spine. When he spoke again, however, he was serious. “I always thought the moon and stars hung on Matthews’s words.”
“No man is right all the time. Or woman, either.”
“I’m beginning to see that.”
“Then Mister Howell accomplished something far more valuable tonight than financial assistance.”
“Actually, a much younger man set me to wonderin’,” he replied, ignoring her sarcasm. “Jordan Dushane.”
“Jordan?” Caught off guard, she dropped her gaze and nervously reached to tuck a curl behind her ear. Of a sudden Reese captured her hand. She tugged; he tugged.
“I’m just trying to hold your hand, Andie.”
“Why?” Already his hand had warmed places inside her that hadn’t been touched in years.
“Because you’re a beautiful woman and I’m…” He squeezed her hand and she sat helpless, enjoying it, hating it, confused.
“I’m attracted to you.” His voice was tight, as though his chest were as constricted as her own.
“To me?” She jerked free. “A husband-hunting hussy.”
“Hussy? I never said—”
“You thought it.”
“I did not.”
“Don’t deny it, Reese. You thought I wrangled this job to snare a husband, namely you.”
“Maybe so, but I never thought you were a hussy.”
“There, you said it. You think I’m out to—”
“Not any more.”
His voice had lowered; he sounded sincere and all the more threatening for it. “What changed your mind?” she asked at length.
“You.”
“Don’t expect me to believe that.” But her heart wanted to.
“I’ve seen your problem before.”
“My problem?” she asked, wary.
“Lived with the same thing most of my life. My ma died when I was young, and Pa never stopped loving her.”
“That’s wrong?”
“It’s wrong to grieve your life away. Pa did that, an’ everyone around him suffered. Way I see it, the Man Upstairs gives us one chance at life, and He doesn’t promise it’ll be a bed of roses.”
“I know that.”
“He expects us to make the best of things. When difficulties come along, we can’t get bogged down in ’em. We have to use them for steppin’ stones to something good.”
“You’re quite the philosopher.”
“Nope. Just a man who was a kid one time. The Lord took my ma an’ Pa spent the rest of his life wishin’ he’d gone with her.”
She didn’t know how to respond. Without warning, he had opened his heart and let her see the boy inside and she wondered why. What was he asking of her? Before she could question his motives further, he startled her with an abrupt demand.
“Tell me about Samuel.”
“Samuel?” She recoiled at bringing ugly memories into this starlit night. But Reese persisted until she relented. “He was sick a long time. He suffered. A lot.”
“I didn’t ask about his illness. What was he like before? What did he look like?”
“Jordan,” she answered simply, because it was true, not because she remembered. “Jordan’s a lot like his pa.”
“Fair?”
She nodded.
“How big a man was he?”
“Big? I…uh…He wasted away.”
“From what?” The question was simple—and devastating.
She turned to Reese, stricken. “I don’t know. I can’t remember. I mean…I know he laughed a lot, but I can’t hear the sound. I know he was tall, but I can’t picture him as a well man.” She lifted her face to the star-studded sky. “All I remember is the end. He suffered so long.”
Silence stretched between them. She regretted her outburst. She had never talked about these things before. That she had now confused her. Then Reese took her by surprise again.
“If you can’t remember him, how can you still love him?”
Anger sped to her rescue. “Because he’s my husband!”
“He’s dead.”
Moonlight glinted off the cold surface of Reese’s brown eyes, and in that instant she hated him. She swung away, sat stiffly, stared over the horse’s rumps. The nerve of him! The absolute nerve of him!
He didn’t pursue the topic, and they continued down the road in silence. Starlight glinted off the harness leathers and off the polished surface of the carriage. The country was hilly, the road bouncy, and her senses began to cool. Reese’s shoulder bumped hers from time to time. Lifted by the gentle breeze, the soft yellow muslin of her skirt billowed over his leg. His masculinity weighed heavily on her mind—his heady, musky scent, his warm chocolate eyes, his robust, healthy body.
Why, oh why couldn’t she picture Samuel tall and masculine and healthy? When finally Reese spoke again, his tone was contrite.
“Mad at me?”
“No.”
“You can tell me to mind my own business if you want.”
She squeezed back tears. “I’ve never talked about it before.”
“Maybe it wasn’t time…before.”
She pondered his meaning. After a while, she admitted, “It’s bothered me for a long time. I can’t picture him like he was. It’s as if he never existed, except as a dying man.”
“Maybe you have to find something to live for, before you can let go of those bad times.”
“I have something to live for—Jordan.”
“For yourself, Andie.”
He fell silent after that, and she thought about all he’d said. She was seeing a different side of Reese Catlin tonight. His toughness and compassion made a powerful combination. “You surprise me,” she said.
“How’s that?”
“Your insight.”
He chuckled. “Cowboys have an advantage in that department. With only our horses for company, we tend to think more than most folks.” He glanced her way. “Comes in handy, time to time. No offense?”
“No.”
Suddenly she realized he had guided the carriage off the road. She watched him set the brake. “What are you doing?”
He chuckled and the sound tripped down her spine. “You think I’d head back to camp without dancin’ with you under the stars?”
“Oh, no. I can’t.” When he rounded the carriage and offered his hand, she refused it. “Please, Reese. No.”
“Jordan won’t like it if I don’t dance with you under the stars.”
“That boy.” Her voice caught in her throat.
“Come on.” His tone was light; he sounded harmless. When she still hesitated, he tugged on her elbow until it was either climb down or be pulled off the seat, or so she told herself.
Even after her feet touched the ground, he held her, still as a heart beat. Moonlight glinted from his eyes; she ducked her head, too conscious of his hands on her waist.
“Please.” She stood frozen in place by a mushrooming sense of alarm. “No, Reese. Please.”
“Just one dance,” he urged. Moving into dance position, he pressed the flat of his palm against her back. She tried not to think about it, but couldn’t stop.
His nearness overwhelmed her. It trilled down her spine like hot fingers. She trembled and her legs grew weak. She felt his gaze on her face but dared not look up. Instead she focused on a shadow that wisped across his neck. Get it over with, she thought. Just get it over with.
“What do you do for music?” he asked, ignoring her resistance.
“Jordan hums,” she mumbled.
“That figures. What tune?”
She swallowed her trepidation. Get it over with. “‘Skip to My Lou.’”
Reese chuckled and again the motion buffeted her senses like a gusting summer breeze. “How ’bout ‘Green Grow the Lilacs?’” he suggested and immediately started humming. His enthusiasm undiminished by her objections, he swept her around the prairie, skirting prickly pear and rocks, she with stiff spine and locked knees, until finally the song ended.
Relief surged through her. But when she tried to pull away, he held her fast, changed tunes, and danced her in a wider circle, ever faster and faster.
She had no choice but to match his long stride. He sang this time, full-throated, and she felt as if she were drowning in agony.
Did you ever hear tell of sweet Betsy from Pike,
Who crossed the wide prairies with her lover Ike,
“Come on, Andie, sing.”
With two yoke of cattle and one spotted hog,
A tall Shanghai rooster, an old yaller dog?
Suddenly, without design, she glanced up, looking him full in the face for the first time. What prompted her to do it, she couldn’t say, curiosity, perhaps, or desperation. He was grinning broadly. And he was so handsome, he took her breath away. Strangely, she felt herself relax. He was a good dancer, smooth even on the rough ground. She felt light of foot, as if they danced on moonbeams.
Or among the stars, she thought, for the sky was clear and the stars looked close enough for them to reach up and grab a handful. There must have been a million stars. They glittered from the pupils of his hazel eyes and glanced off the planes of his high cheekb
ones, burnishing his familiar sunburned skin to a pink glow.
“Having fun now?” He laughed, and the sound settled over her, soothing her ragged emotions, filling her with joy. Joy. She laughed in return.
As she gazed upon his handsome face, a shooting star fell behind him. It seemed to lodge on the blond lock that always hung over his forehead. She reached to brush it away. Instead of hair, she grabbed a handful of stardust. Then she saw him. Samuel.
Do it, Andie. Laugh. Dance.
But you need me.
No. I’m no longer sick. Can’t you see?
Yes, but…
As if it were a mask being lifted by the star, the image of Samuel’s healthy face drifted heavenward. He smiled down at her.
Good-bye, Andie. Be happy.
“Andie! What is it?”
She shook her head and focused on Reese Catlin’s face.
“What’s wrong?”
Reaching, she touched his dark mustache, stroked it. No stardust there. Only soft, silky hair.
“What’s wrong?” he asked again.
Dazed, she tried to shake off the feelings that gripped her, then wondered why. They were wonderful feelings. “I remembered something,” she said by way of explanation.
“Must have been good.” His eyes caressed her face. They were filled with concern and more—a yearning so intense, so raw, it sent a shiver down her back.
“Yes,” she said, because something sweet and begging had lodged in her throat and prevented her saying more.
Still his eyes held hers. “I’d never heard you laugh before. I thought you were laughing at my singing.” His husky voice echoed the yearning that spread like wildfire inside her. When he pulled her forward, she gave no thought to resisting.
Mesmerized, she watched his lips descend. “I love your singing.”
If she had thought the magic of the evening was over, she would have been wrong, for when Reese’s lips touched hers, she felt like the shooting star had landed in her head. He must have felt it, too, for he drew back mere inches. Wonder filled his eyes.
He threaded his fingers through her hair and traced the rough pads of his thumbs across her lips.
“Dangit, Andie. I’ve wanted to kiss you for so long.”
A Wish to Build a Dream On Page 6
