Gifts of Love

by Raine Cantrell

  The total surrender of her response to him drove Mace wild. He wanted to lose himself in her, but he wasn’t so lost that he didn’t hear the kitchen door open. He jerked his head back, turning to shield Erin with his body.

  For a long moment there were no sounds but their harsh breaths, then he heard the closing of the door. He let Erin go, willing his body’s demand to cease as he headed for the door.

  “Mace?”

  “Don’t touch those dishes. I’ll be right back.”

  Erin’s rioting senses took a few minutes to absorb what he said. “Dishes?” she whispered, shaking her head. “The man kisses me senseless and all he can say is don’t touch the dishes?”

  Outside, Mace confronted Ketch. “Why didn’t you say something?” he asked the man.

  “You didn’t look like you was wanting an audience or interruption, boss.”

  “Well, I got both, didn’t I? So tell me what you wanted.”

  Ketch looked off toward the mountains. He was hemming and hawing now that he had Mace’s attention, but he wasn’t sure how to word what Owhi told him.

  “Owhi brought plenty of smoked salmon. Said he’d be by when this first run is over to see if you have work for him. Funny thing about Owhi, the man’s losing his trackin’ ability.”

  Leaning against the porch post, Mace waited for the rest. Ketch was once again staring off at the mountains. He cleared his throat and dug his boot into the earth. Mace grew concerned. Ketch was never one to hesitate to say what was on his mind. This had to be serious.

  “Owhi have trouble?”

  “Not like you’d be meanin’.”

  “How’s that, Ketch?”

  “Told you, he’s losing his tracking ability. Has some dumb fool notion.”

  “Never knew Owhi—”

  “Well, this time he’s a fool,” Ketch cut in, his stand belligerent. He turned toward Mace with hands on slim hips, legs apart, and glared at him

  “You wanna spit out what’s bothering you, Ketch, or are we gonna stand here and dance around it all day?”

  “Think you’re so damn smart? Iffen you’d heard what I did, you wouldn’t be actin’ so smug. Owhi was down by the springhouse. He said he seen something there that made me wanna get on him like a south Texas wind.”

  “That bad, huh?” Mace nodded, wondering if Ketch had lost his mind. He was blabbering. No two ways about it. And that was not Ketch’s way. Moving closer, Mace flung an arm around his shoulders. “Maybe I can help if I know what you’re talking about?”

  “It’s Erin.”

  “Erin?” Mace repeated, dropping his arm, instantly on alert. “What about Erin? What does she have to do with Owhi?”

  “It was her tracks that he was looking at down at the springhouse.”

  Mace turned his back on Ketch and slid his hands into his pants pockets.

  “Ain’t got nothin’ to say, boss?”

  “What’s to say? She’s always down there. Can’t imagine what got Owhi excited. Ain’t many who don’t know that I married.”

  “Yeah. That’s true enough. But ain’t many know why you got yourself hitched. Ain’t many who know you’re sleeping apart from your bride. And there ain’t many who’d dare say what needs saying.”

  Ketch was satisfied to see Mace spin around. “Got your attention now, ain’t I? Well, boy, we’ve been together a long trail. Guess I’m ’bout the only one to do this.”

  “Then do it, or say it, or whatever the hell you’ve got in mind,” Mace grated from between clenched teeth. He braced himself, knowing what was coming.

  “Owhi says four moons will see us with a new little one.”

  “Guess that’s about right.”

  Ketch hid his surprise that Mace didn’t deny it. But he started this and had to finish it. “Can’t be yours.”

  “Ain’t mine.”

  “Boss, I’m sorry. It’s my fault, ain’t it? Ridin’ you to get hitched. Can’t say it enough, but I’m sorry.”

  “Not as sorry as I am.”

  Ketch watched him walk away, his shoulders slumped, and felt again the hurt of seeing the pain in Mace’s eyes. He glanced at the kitchen door and thought of Erin. Figuring he’d barely managed to confront Mace about this, and muddled it, there was no way he could talk to Erin. Not now, no how. But that little gal needed someone. He would bet his best boots and saddle on that. At best, he had his answer to why Mace rode her so hard. Mighty rough for a man to swallow what she done. And for a prideful man like Mace it had to be doubly so.

  Ketch walked to the barn to finish his chores, but he found himself feeling tense, just the way he did before a storm broke.

  “Only the one that’s comin’ ain’t gettin’ blown away by no wind,” he muttered.

  Chapter Eleven

  Leaning over the dry sink, soaking her blistered hands in a fresh pan of icy well water, Erin closed her eyes and wondered why Mace never returned.

  After she had waited a while, she had opened the back door but there was no sign of him. If something happened to his horses or cattle, he would have told her. It was a strange quirk of his, now that she recalled it, to always let her know where on the ranch he was working.

  Having removed the linen cloths, she ignored the pain in her hands and cleaned the kitchen. Washing the dishes caused the blisters to break but she managed to block out the pain. For like a sore tooth the tip of a tongue couldn’t leave alone, her thoughts skidded and returned to the way Mace had kissed her.

  She hadn’t sensed a bit of anger in him. But then, she chided herself, who was she to judge? They shared the same house and meals, and little else. Mace had made no attempt to breach the wall between them.

  Until today.

  Why? The question plagued her. A longing to talk to Maddie filled her. Maddie knew about men. What Erin knew would just about fill a thimble.

  Which reminded her that she still had to finish the seams on the new shirt she was making for Jake. Taking her hands from the water, she dried them carefully and saw that all the blisters were weeping. There were herbs and salves in small clay pots on a shelf in the pantry, likely belonging to Mace’s wife, but no one had bothered to tell her what they were for.

  Mary Blue Sky. That was her name. And for Erin she held the place of wife even in death. Mace Dalton had seen to that.

  But her need for something soothing to ease her hands sent her into the pantry. She opened and sniffed the contents of the pots, a few filling her with the scent of flowers, others pungent enough to make her wrinkle her nose. How harmful could any of them be?

  She stuck her fingers into one and lifted out a bit of greasy salve. Bracing herself, on the chance she was wrong, Erin chose a blister, held her breath and dabbed the salve on. No sting. She quickly soothed it over the backs of her hands, deciding to take this one to her room. Quickly rearranging the others on the shelf, she stood back, sure that no one would notice this one missing. With Mace, she never knew what his reaction would be to her touching what had belonged to his wife.

  With a rueful curve of her lips, she made her way to her room and amended her thought. Mace had no objection to her handling the dishes or cleaning the furnishings that he had built for Sky, it was the personal belongings that seemed to grab hold of his temper.

  She had nearly an hour before supper had to be started and for once there were no other chores waiting. Erin closed her door behind her, breathing deeply to ease the tension that was always present when she left this room.

  Afternoon light filtered softly through the lace curtains on the window. Sky’s sewing basket, one of the items Mace had handed over with reluctance, sat on the floor near the straight chair where she had left it the night before.

  As she lifted it to her lap, the twinge of envy that never seemed to leave her when she touched the personal items that belonged to Mace’s wife was somewhat stronger today. Perhaps, Erin told herself, it was because she had been the one Mace had kissed and held as if he wanted her.

  There were
times, like now, when she was ashamed of her feelings of jealousy. She consoled herself with the knowledge that no one knew about them. And it wasn’t as if she was trying to steal the memories of the woman away from anyone. She wasn’t. Becky liked to talk about her mother, recounting things that Mace had told her. Since it made the child feel good, Erin merely listened. Jake had no memories of Sky, since she died giving birth to him. Erin still didn’t understand why Mace blamed himself for his wife’s death. She sensed it pained him to talk about Sky to the children, but he often did, which made her admiration for him grow. It was so hard not to envy the woman he loved. If a wish could be granted, she wanted a tiny part of that love from him

  She knew she was dreaming a fool’s dream, for Mace’s teasing and gentleness were reserved for his children. How could she make him care?

  Smoothing the thick blue flannel of Jake’s shirt, Erin knew that she would not ask Mace for anything for her child. How could she remind him that she was less than the perfection of his wife? Sky hadn’t been afraid of the cow, and she had known how to gather eggs without the hens pecking her. Sky had gardened and canned and made cheese. She had traded what they didn’t use. Sky had no qualms about wringing a chicken’s neck the way Erin did. Sky would never forget to latch the pigs’ pen, and if she did, the woman wouldn’t have spent four hours to round them up.

  And Sky could ride. She had often helped with the ranch work. Erin never could decide which of her crimes were the worst. But Mace compiled a long list for her.

  If she had another choice, there were times in the past six weeks when she had thought about leaving here. But there was no denying that she had come to love the children. And in their own way she knew they cared for her, too.

  Honesty compelled her to admit that Mace had shown her some consideration along with his barbs. He always asked if she needed anything whenever someone had to go to town. He certainly never balked about paying for the few items she requested. He had refused to take back the money she had left from her travel expenses, but in turn, she couldn’t ask him to buy flannel for her to make a few baby clothes. And she couldn’t ask Ketch or the other men to get it, since they didn’t know about her child.

  Setting aside the basket and shirt, Erin rose and untied her apron. She pressed the faded material of her skirt to either side and studied the slight swell and the thickening waist revealed in the mirror.

  She would need to let out the seams again. The thought made her smile. Cosi teased that she was already putting on weight from all the good cooking she did. And there was a decided appreciative male look in his eyes when he said it. For a moment she lost herself, basking in the man’s approval. When she realized what she was doing, Erin stopped. She was Mace Dalton’s wife, even if he seemed intent on forgetting it at times.

  Somewhere inside the man was goodness. She knew it as well as she knew that she would never be the woman to draw it from him

  But she couldn’t ignore his seeking her out. She just couldn’t forget the sweet heat of his kisses.

  “Kissing her,” Mace muttered, leaning over the corral fence but not really seeing the sleek coats of his cattle.

  What had possessed him? And what was he going to do about it? She likely figured she had him where she wanted him now. Well, Erin would be wrong. He was a man, not a boy to be controlled by his body. Wasn’t he?

  Pounding his fist against the wood post, he swore at himself. Touching her again had been a mistake. But damn, she had felt so good in his arms. Warm and sweet, soft and responsive. If Ketch hadn’t come in and left, he could have had her. Damn Ketch, too! Now he knew the truth. Mace wasn’t worried that Ketch would tell anyone. He wouldn’t. But then it wouldn’t be long before they’d all know. How would they treat her? Cosi, Ray and Pete liked her, respected her and went out of their way to help her. He had kept quiet about the chores they did for her, since they never once left their own undone.

  How could he want Erin, knowing what would happen?

  He had sealed off his own need for love, his need to love a woman of his own when he had buried Sky. Gentle, loving Sky. The memory of her haunted him

  With a groan born of deep inner torment, Mace stared blindly ahead. Guilt pounded at him. His desire had killed Sky.

  Just the thought opened the floodgates to hell.

  Sweet Sky, who knew with a look that he wanted her and would stop whatever she was doing to come to him. Sky, the girl whose love had grown as they had until there was no choice to be made; they had to be together.

  His eyes squeezed tight, but his mind brought him the sight of Sky’s joy when she told him she carried his child. And because he had cut them off from everyone they knew, he believed her reassurances that no harm would come to the child if they made love. As the months went on, their shared joy over her steadily growing belly seemed to increase their desire, as if they had both known they would need this to carry them past the time they couldn’t make love.

  Sky was a strong woman. He had never realized her strength until he came home and found that, alone, she had given birth to their daughter.

  Memories came, faster and faster until his head ached.

  He remembered Sky’s fierce need to give him a son. Her arms and the gentle healing he found within her body when his letter home to his parents telling of their granddaughter’s birth went unanswered.

  The winter storms they battled together with Ketch to save the cattle. Becky’s first smile, first step.

  The agony of the child they lost before Sky’s third month. His own vow, sworn and held to, that he wouldn’t touch her once she conceived again.

  Sky. Doe dark eyes pleading with him. Soft hands that stroked him until fire burned. Sky, whispering that nothing would hurt the child. Nothing had hurt Becky. Sky…needing him as badly as he needed her.

  Sky, smiling that she had given him his son. Sky, dying as he begged her forgiveness.

  Mace lost track of the time he stood there, but slowly the cut of the wind made itself felt and he reached up to rub his eyes only to find his own tears.

  With a deep cleansing breath he threw back his head and stared at the fast-moving clouds. He couldn’t give in to the desire he had for Erin. He wouldn’t relive the past again.

  He could never do it, for his need burned stronger for her than it ever had for Sky. He wouldn’t put Erin at risk no matter how he wanted her. And the wanting he held for Erin after what she had done to him still confused him

  What he needed was distance from the woman, more than the separation of rooms. He didn’t trust himself to stay away from her tonight. The knowledge was simply there and he didn’t bother to question it.

  There was a Grange meeting in town. He’d ride in early, have dinner and a few drinks and be with people who didn’t remind him of Erin at every turn.

  Nothing to stop him, he told himself, heading for the house. Ketch could handle whatever came up. Rubbing his cheek, Mace decided he needed a bath and shave.

  Once in the kitchen, seeing everything neat as a pin, he felt guilty that he had forgotten he was going to clean up. He didn’t hear Erin moving around and guessed she was out of the house. She slipped outside at every chance. He’d seen her more than once, just walking and looking up at the mountains. Sky had also loved the mountains. From their bedroom windows part of the range could be seen, and she had loved to view them in every light, often calling him to join her.

  It was Mace’s nature to move quietly, and he brought the big wooden tub out from the pantry, set the big kettle on the stove and filled it in a matter of minutes. He shrugged out of his shirt and tossed it in the basket Erin set aside for dirty laundry. He had found out after a week that if he didn’t put his clothes in it, she wouldn’t go into his room and take them. The same held true for the linens. And he found that he enjoyed the sun smell of freshly washed sheets on his bed. Kicking off his boots, Mace set them aside and took the linen towels from the stack on a shelf in the pantry. Erin kept them there since everyone used the
kitchen for baths.

  Filling the tub partway with water from the pump, Mace found himself wondering when Erin bathed. The tub was heavy, something she shouldn’t be lifting or dragging in her condition. It wasn’t often that he let himself remember the baby she carried, but now that he opened his mind to it, thoughts of other chores she did came to mind.

  For all that he deliberately looked to find fault with her, he knew she had fulfilled her part of the bargain. She cooked mouth-watering meals that made the men fight to be doing home chores rather than eat away. She kept the house clean, spoiled them all in small ways, and he had to admit that she loved the children.

  Most men would be counting themselves lucky to have a woman like Erin. He knew Cosi teased her, and at first when Erin smiled in return, he had felt jealous, but she didn’t make any attempt to single Cosi out.

  Mace opened his belt buckle and slowly drew it out from the pant loops. Setting it on the chair, he unbuttoned his pants, unable to stop himself from thinking about Erin.

  Absently, he tested the heat of the water and singed his fingers. Barefoot, with his fly half-open, Mace padded down the hall to his bedroom to get his razor and shaving brush.

  He couldn’t find the razor anywhere. Erin! She had disobeyed his order and come into his room. Slamming the bedroom door closed he strode down the hall to the kitchen, stopping when she rushed out of her room. Her hair was unbound. A thick, black silky cloud just settling around her. Mace felt his hands curl at his sides. Her eyes seemed to widen, and he realized that he was half-dressed but made no move to retreat to his room.

  “You frightened me,” she whispered, one hand at her throat.

  “You disregarded my orders.”

  “I couldn’t leave the kitchen—”

  “Not that,” he said, cutting her off closing the distance between them until she backed toward her room. “You went into my room and took my razor.”