Texas Blue

by Jodi Thomas

  Em giggled as she removed her gun belt and hung it on a high peg in the mudroom.

  Rose ended the discussion by popping her head into the kitchen and telling everyone to hurry up with the food. When she spotted Em by the back door, she closed the distance between them. “We’ve got an extra guest. One brought his mother.”

  Em smiled. If there were a crown for the perfect hostess, Rose would be wearing it. She was an organizer and a planner who worried about every detail. “I noticed a woman get out of the wagon. There’s room in the barn if you want to put her there.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” Rose was two years younger than Em but considered herself far wiser. “We have a major crisis on our hands.”

  “She can sleep down here in Jamie’s bed where I was going to sleep. I’ll bunk in with Tamela. She won’t mind.” Tamela had agreed to make Rose and Beth a few new dresses while she was playing her part as Emily McMurray. In exchange, Em promised to buy several dresses from her friend’s little shop. As a two-time widow, Tamela needed the money. She had no interest in the men coming to court, however. She’d already told the girls she had her eye on the new blacksmith in town for Christmas.

  Rose shook her head. “We can’t have two Emilys wandering the same hall, and you know anyone who sleeps in the room off the kitchen can hear whenever anyone takes the stairs. Little Mrs. Allender strikes me as the nosy type. She’ll be watching to see who is coming and going.” Rose looked long-suffering. “To top it all, she brought a bird. We’ll be lucky if we make the week without one of Bethie’s cats eating it.”

  “How about putting the bird in with Reverend and Mrs. Watson? The way she drinks and he snores, they won’t notice a bird.”

  “No, that won’t work. We’ve got to think of her and the safety of that bird. If she’s downstairs, she’s bound to leave her door open and it will be an invitation for the cats to murder.”

  “Well, I don’t care what you do with the bird, but I’m not bunking in the barn.” Em wished she’d followed her instinct and really burned the bridge.

  “What about the little room next to Papa’s study? It used to be a bedroom before Mama turned it into a sewing room. You could sleep there with the bird. That door is always kept closed, and we’ll cover the cage at night. You won’t even know it’s there. The men will be upstairs. All you have to do is wait until they go to bed, then slip in from the kitchen. No one will notice you.”

  “I’ll feel like a burglar in my own house.”

  “It’s only for a week. Six nights really.”

  Em knew the only other choices were the bunkhouse or the barn, and she couldn’t go to either. Uncle Travis’s place down by the river would have been fine, but she wasn’t sure she could stay down there all alone. She almost wanted to laugh. She was running one of the biggest ranches in Texas and she was not only afraid of the dark, she was afraid of being alone. “All right. I’ll take the sewing room. Where are the men?”

  “Everyone’s in the dining room. Reverend Watson insisted on making a toast with the only two bottles of wine we have in the house. Everyone may all be asleep before he finishes talking, so I slipped out, claiming I had to check on the food. You could go around to the front and slip in the sewing room now if you like. I’m sure the reverend will want to pray for a while after the toast. I’ll bring you a plate when no one is looking.”

  “Fair enough, but tap lightly, I’ll keep the door locked.”

  Rose nodded and was gone before Em had a chance to change her mind. She circled through the mudroom, where all the family who worked the ranch cleaned up before entering the house. Years ago when her papa and his brothers were boys, they stripped in the yard and washed by the well, but now the mudroom had been enlarged and offered a curtain for privacy if needed and a huge bathtub if desired.

  There, with cold water, she washed, then collected clean clothes and a nightgown. She walked around to the front door, careful to avoid the windows off the dining room.

  Once in the sewing room between her father’s study and the dining room, Emily closed all the shutters and drapes, lit a lamp, pulled off her clothes, and slipped into a white nightgown. It was the only time during the day that she felt like a woman. Soft lace brushed her chin and toes.

  Rose tapped on her door a moment later, bringing her food. When she entered, she whispered, “Are you sure you’ll be all right in here? There’s not even a fireplace.”

  “I’m fine. I’ll keep the door locked and be gone at first light. There are a half dozen quilts in the corner to keep me warm. I doubt anyone will be up before I leave. If they see me in the house, I’ll simply say I was hired to work with the horses and I came to talk to you or Emily about ranch business. Everyone knows to keep quiet and not give me away.”

  “Of course”—Rose nodded—“but try to be invisible as much as possible and keep that hair tucked under your hat. With luck no one will even notice you’re not a boy.”

  Em frowned at the insult. True, she wasn’t as rounded as either of her sisters, but she didn’t think she looked like a boy, not if anyone took the time to look.

  Setting her plate down on the sewing table, she asked, “How are the men? Don’t tell me they’re as bad as the last batch Duck brought home or I’ll have to shoot the lot of them to save you a week of torture.”

  “No. They’re fine,” Rose answered. “Very good in fact. The horseman named Boyd Sinclair only talks about himself, but I think that’s because he’s nervous. I thought that you might like him until his comment that McMurray horses were almost as fine as his stock.”

  Em took a bite of potatoes to keep from swearing.

  Rose continued, “The younger one, Davis Allender, is very polite, and his mother seems sweet. The tall one, Lewton Paterson, is quiet.”

  “Shy?” Em asked, surprised.

  “No,” Rose corrected. “Not shy, more of a watcher. I get the feeling he’s taking measure of everything around him. I wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d turned over the plate to check the markings. I’m not sure I like him. Maybe he’s unsure of himself or maybe he’s just trying too hard. I feel like he weighs every word before he speaks.”

  “You’ve always been a good judge of people, Rose. Trust that judgment now.”

  “I will.” She moved to the door. “Hope you can get some sleep. If I remember right, Mama could pretty much hear everything going on in the old part of the house from this room. Maybe that’s why she made it her sewing room.”

  “Maybe so.” Em locked the door behind her sister and settled down to her meal. She could hear voices from the dining room and it didn’t take long to distinguish every person.

  The air in the room was still, but grew colder. Em collected three quilts from a corner and curled up in her mother’s soft chair. This was the room the girls would come to at night when the house was quiet. Their mother would be working late if Papa wasn’t home. They’d each grab a quilt and sit around her chair. She’d read to them, or, better yet, tell one of the stories from her favorite books.

  Em loved growing up here. The warm memories almost erased her early days when they’d lived in Chicago. The days before Mama came to Papa. Em pulled up the footstool and decided this would make a fine bed for tonight.

  “Good night, bird,” she whispered.

  The bird didn’t answer.

  Within minutes, the voices from the other room lulled her to sleep. With luck the week would pass without the strangers even noticing her. They’d be gone and she’d have peace once more.

  CHAPTER 6

  LEWT PRETENDED TO DRINK HIS WINE, BUT HE WANTED to be stone-cold sober at all times. Too much was riding on the outcome of this one week. He set his glass down and took in each person around the table. He supposed Duncan had hurt his pride when he’d said Lewt was the last man in Texas that he’d introduce to his cousins. At the end of this week, the ranger would eat those words. Lewt would fit in. He would. He’d play the part of a gentleman. He’d watch the family. He’d lea
rn about ranching.

  The food was excellent. He had a feeling the middle daughter of Teagen McMurray had a great deal to do with not only the meal, but the running of the house. She’d been the one to show each man to his room in what she called “the old part of the house.” Rose McMurray was striking with her long black hair and dark eyes, but he’d already guessed she was one of those women who didn’t realize her own beauty or its effect on men. He watched her play the hostess for the evening, making sure everyone was served. He could almost see himself married to her. He wouldn’t have to worry about her skills at running a house, and she’d be most pleasant to take to bed—once they were married, of course.

  He almost laughed aloud. All this fresh air was doing him no good. He was starting to believe in his own dreams.

  The youngest of the three had introduced herself as Beth, but Lewt noticed the others called her Bethie as though she were still a child and not a woman fully grown. She had wonderful auburn hair that curled about her pretty face. Her green eyes seemed to hold laughter in their depths. Lewt found himself smiling every time she looked at him. She’d give him beautiful children, he decided, since he was imagining. He could see himself dancing with Beth, and she’d be accepted and loved by all. Beth would always be the belle of the ball.

  Emily, the oldest, didn’t have Beth’s beauty or Rose’s skills at running everything, but she did have a shy charm about her. Rose said that Emily loved horses. If he chose her, his house would be quiet and probably peaceful. Who knows, they might even build a summer place on the ranch so she could be near the horses she loved. She was also taller than her sisters, and he thought she’d look grand on his arm as they walked through downtown Austin.

  As he watched Emily, he noticed she didn’t look up at Boyd when he talked of horses. Either she wasn’t as interested in horses as her sister thought, or she wasn’t interested in Boyd. The latter Lewt found more possible.

  Lewt smiled to himself. Who knew, maybe he could outcharm both Boyd and Davis, and then he’d pick which girl would suit him best. He’d pay her compliments and carry her around on a pillow all week and by Thursday or Friday, they’d be making a trip to town to talk to the preacher. Or, if Reverend Watson hadn’t turned in his license when he retired, maybe he’d do the honors in this very room. Lewt guessed her family would want a big wedding that would take weeks to plan, but he’d insist he couldn’t wait and he was sure she’d go along. When the train headed back to Austin next Saturday, one of these ladies would be his wife before anyone had time to look into his past.

  Lewt laughed to himself. If dreams were gold, he was getting richer by the minute.

  If he were married, his bride and he would stay at a nice, respectable hotel, or maybe with her uncle, the judge, until he found a suitable house. Then he’d . . .

  “Mr. Paterson, would you like a slice of cake?”

  Lewt stared at Rose for a moment. He’d been so lost in his plan, he’d forgotten about the others. “Yes, thank you, Miss McMurray.”

  “Please,” Rose said loud enough for everyone at the table to hear. “We’ll get very confused if you spend the entire week calling all three of us by Miss McMurray. Don’t you think it would be all right to go by our first names?”

  “I don’t know about that,” Mrs. Watson said, playing her part as chaperone, but the others agreed that as long as the Miss remained, it would be proper to switch to first names. They were already introducing themselves all over again before Mrs. Watson could get in another objection.

  Davis’s mother, Mrs. Allender, giggled and declared, “Now we have a party. Much better than a formal dinner.”

  Rose smiled down at Lewt as she handed him a slice of cake. “I’m Miss Rose,” she said just to him. “Just plain Rose.”

  “Lewton, but friends call me Lewt, and there is nothing about you, sweet Miss Rose, that is plain.” She was the one, he decided as he watched her move on to the next guest. She’d be everything he’d want in a wife.

  Beth leaned across the table and offered her hand. “Please, Lewt, call me Beth.”

  Lewt took her small hand in his. The view from her not-so-modest neckline when she leaned over was just low enough to be interesting. “I will,” he said, thinking he might as well say I do right now. He had no idea what love was, but this was probably as close as he’d ever get to it. Her skin was creamy smooth and her eyes the color of summer green. Miss Beth was the one.

  Then shy Emily took his hand. She was polite and charming, but not overly friendly. She’d make him earn her love, and he liked a challenge. She was the kind of woman a man would never want to raise his voice around. She’d be a treasure to have at his side.

  Hell, he thought, I might as well become Mormon and marry all three of them. The problem wasn’t going to be figuring out which one he wanted. The problem was trying to determine which one to leave behind. It crossed his mind that maybe all women outside saloons were like this. No wonder their fathers and brothers and even cousins watched them so carefully.

  Lewt sat back and tried to enjoy the cake but found himself jealous whenever Boyd or Davis even looked at any of the Misses McMurray. By the time the men went up the stairs to their three rooms and the women circled through the kitchen to a staircase leading to the new wing of the house, Lewt decided he’d go mad this week. The only two women he didn’t want tonight were Mrs. Watson, the drunken chaperone who sported a mustache thicker than most men could manage, and Mrs. Allender, who was so wide it would take two men to get their arms around the lady.

  Reverend Watson said that everyone could sleep in tomorrow morning because of the late night, but anyone interested could find coffee in the kitchen if they rose early, and he added that there would be a prayer service served with the biscuits. The old preacher seemed to think his role was head of the household, but none of the McMurrays appeared to feel that way. Lewt had an idea that these women were used to having their own way. The thought crossed his mind that if Walter Freeport the Fourth had slapped any one of them, he’d be shot dead before he could lower his hand.

  Boyd Sinclair, since he hadn’t slept the night before, planned to take the preacher’s advice and sleep the clock around. Davis commented that he wanted his mother to rest, so he planned to spend the morning reading in his room.

  Five hours later, Lewt was up at dawn. He didn’t care if everyone else slept. He needed to get to know the ranch. From the dinner conversation he’d figured out that they all loved the land, so it made sense that he learn as much as he could about how the place was run. Everything he learned, every step he took this week would help him if he ever got the chance to walk away from gambling and become a respectable businessman.

  He dressed in the black suit that he’d already grown tired of and followed the smell of coffee to the kitchen.

  At first he thought a lean man dressed in work clothes stood by the stove, but as she moved, he recognized the grace of a woman.

  “Pardon me,” he said. “I’m sorry, I thought . . .”

  She turned toward him, the black hat she wore hiding most of her face in the shadowy room. “You’re in the right place if you want coffee, stranger. I was just leaving.”

  Lewt took a step into the room, then stopped as he spotted a gun hanging low on her side. “I can come back later.”

  “Suit yourself. I always come in for coffee before I ride out to check the herd.”

  “You work here?”

  The woman grinned. “My papa knew horses and he taught me. I’ve worked the McMurray horses for years.”

  Lewt moved closer and pulled a cup off the shelf. “You live here on the ranch?”

  “Not that it’s any of your business, stranger, but I still live with my folks.”

  “Oh,” he said, thinking this place must be big enough to have a dozen houses tucked away in the trees or around the other side of the hills. If she rode in and wanted coffee, it made sense that she’d stop in here and not bother with the bunkhouse. For all he knew, she might
even be friends with the women here. If she was and she knew ranching, she’d be a gold mine to him.

  She filled his cup with what looked like coffee strong enough to pass for soup. “There’s bread on the table, but breakfast usually doesn’t happen for a few more hours. I’ll be in the north pasture by then.”

  He watched her make herself at home, and he did the same. When she cut a thick slice of bread and added butter and jelly, he borrowed the knife and did the same. For a while, they ate in silence.

  “I’m Lewt,” he finally said. “You got a name?”

  “Yep,” she said between bites.

  “Mind telling me?”

  “Em,” she said. “Folk just call me Em.”

  “Well, M.” It was far too early to try to figure out why her parents gave her an initial for a name. “Mind if I ask you a favor?”

  “You can ask.” She lowered her hat, but he swore he saw her smile for a second. “I’m not partial to handing out favors to strangers.”

  “We’re not strangers, M. We’ve had breakfast together.”

  No reaction from the woman, who didn’t seem to have a friendly bone in her slender body.

  “I was just wondering if I could ride out to the herd with you. I’d like to look around. You know, get to know the lay of the land. Maybe learn more about ranching.”

  Her head rose slightly, and he knew she was looking at his city suit and thin leather half boots.

  “It’s cold out there.”

  “I’ll survive.” When he’d borrowed Four’s clothes, he hadn’t thought he’d be doing much riding.