Texas Blue

by Jodi Thomas

  She was shocked he wore no long johns underneath his trousers. Any man in this country would have on his wools until spring. His shirttail covered his private parts, but his leg was bare.

  “What are you staring at?” he asked. “Is it that bad?”

  Em swallowed. “No. Your leg is just so hairy.”

  “Well, I can’t help that. You’ve been doctoring hairy legs all day. Just pretend I’m a horse and get on with it.”

  Em pulled a chair out and sat as she began wiping off blood. “When we get back to the house I think this will need a few stitches.”

  “Will you do them?” he said in almost a whisper. “I don’t want anyone to know I’m hurt.”

  “All right.” She didn’t want to ask him why. It was no concern of hers. If he did manage to get one of her sisters interested in him, then they’d probably never mention the day they’d spent together. For a moment, she let herself wonder which sister would even look twice at such a man, then decided neither of them would. He wasn’t the kind of man who’d fit on a ranch no matter how much he learned.

  She pushed the gash closed and wrapped it as tight as she could. As she worked, he put his hand on her shoulder so that he stood steady. She endured the touch until she tied off the bandage, and then she said cold as ice, “I’m finished. Remove your hand, sir.”

  He pulled away immediately. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I was only bracing. I meant you no harm.”

  She looked up at him. “I’m aware of that. It’s the only reason you’re still alive. I don’t like to be touched.”

  He pulled his trousers over the bandage. “I get the point. It won’t happen again.”

  She stood and cleaned up the mess they’d made while he finished dressing. The silence seemed to stretch miles between them. He opened the door and waited for her to walk out, then slowly climbed on his horse and waited for her to do the same.

  Em didn’t want to explain anything to this stranger. She didn’t want to talk about what had happened in the cabin. Her life was no concern of his, and his silence shouldn’t matter to her in the least. Maybe this cold way to end the day was for the best. The last thing she needed in this world was a greenhorn for a friend.

  She mounted and began the journey home, this time letting the horses pick the way. Em told herself it was because the mounts were tired, but she knew they still had the heart to race home. She slowed because of the stranger by her side. She didn’t want to cause him any more pain than necessary.

  Finally, she realized she might have caused pain with her words, but she couldn’t bring herself to take them back. As they reached the barn, she said, “Sumner will help me dress that cut. We’ve got a corner next to the tack room that’s clean. You don’t have to worry about the old guy saying a word about your injury; he barely talks to anyone, including me.”

  Lewt’s words were no more than a whisper. “You said you would stitch it.”

  She acted like she hadn’t heard.

  He followed her in, handed the reins to the cowhand who’d already taken her horse, and followed her to the small area that looked like it might be used to store supplies for the bunkhouse and the cowhands. Far too much time would be lost if the hands had to ride into town every time they needed a blanket or shirt.

  She talked with Sumner while he tugged off his ruined trousers, now soaked in blood. This time he sat on a bench, too tired to argue with her.

  Em lit a lantern for better light, unwrapped the bandage, and cleaned the wound properly. By the time she finished, Sumner was by her side with an armload of supplies.

  “Want me to do it, Miss Em?” he asked.

  “No,” she answered as she met Lewt’s stare. “I’m the reason he got hurt. I’ll do it.”

  When she pushed the needle through his skin, she expected Lewt to yell or swear. She’d patched up her share of cowhands and learned to turn a deaf ear to their language when they were hurting, but Lewt didn’t say a word. He jerked a bit, then seemed to set his jaw against the pain.

  Em finished as fast as she could, pulling the flesh together and lathering it with ointment. As she wrapped the wound, she said the first words she’d said to him for over an hour. “It’ll heal fine.” Her fingers slid over the tight muscle of his leg as she wrapped the bandage.

  He nodded as she tied the knot. “Thanks.”

  She stood. “Sumner will help pull you a clean set of clothes from the store. There’s boots behind you on the shelf. Most are well used, but they’ll do better than those.” She glanced at his ruined half boots. “Pull a pair that fit. They’re good clothes for this part of the country and far more durable than that suit you had on. If you go out riding again, they’ll serve you far better.”

  “I can pay . . .”

  “It’s not necessary. Despite all the questions, you put in a good day’s work. I figure you earned them.” She turned her back and waited on the other side of the tack room while he dressed. She told herself she’d just touched a man where no proper lady ever would, but it had been necessary. He needed doctoring. He didn’t belong out here. Though not invited by her, he was a guest. She should have taken better care of him. Some of the things they’d done today could have waited, but she’d pushed.

  When he stepped up beside her, she was shocked at the change in him. If she didn’t know better she’d think he usually wore western clothes and never a suit. The heavy wool trousers fit his long legs well, and the shirt made his shoulders look broader than the black suit jacket had.

  “Thanks for all you taught me today,” he said. “I’ll see you at dawn tomorrow morning.”

  “You want to go again?”

  “Of course. Unless you’ve changed your mind about letting me tag along.”

  “I haven’t,” she said, then added, “I can use the fifty dollars.”

  He turned and placed the worn coat on the nail beside the door. Though his back was to her and his voice low, she had no trouble hearing his words.

  “I really am sorry about touching your shoulder. I meant you no harm.”

  “I know,” she whispered back. She wouldn’t . . . couldn’t talk about what had happened between them. It would mean explaining something that had happened many years ago, and she never planned to talk about that with anyone. Not ever. She forced her thoughts to the present. “If the cut bleeds, have Sumner look at it in the morning.”

  Without a word, they walked toward the house. Em could see the lamps being lit.

  “Despite everything, M,” he said softly, without looking at her, “I liked riding with you today. I think I felt more alive today then I have in years.”

  “Fresh air,” she said.

  “And honest company,” he added.

  Em swallowed. How could he think she’d been honest? Didn’t he know she’d just taken him alone to show him up?

  She waited on the porch as he stepped inside. She didn’t want to go in. It was almost time for supper, but she wouldn’t be joining her sisters tonight. She’d wash up, then go back to the barn until Rose put a light in the mudroom, and then she’d circle the house so that no one would see her entering the sewing room.

  Em had a feeling when she finally closed her eyes tonight she’d have trouble sleeping. Her head seemed too full.

  CHAPTER 9

  LEWT WASHED UP ON WHAT LOOKED LIKE A CLOSED-IN porch, then joined the others for dinner. The meal was excellent, the conversation lively, but he found himself holding back. Part of him wasn’t ready to share with strangers all that had happened to him today. Rose seemed pleased that he’d wanted to take a look at the ranch, but Bethie said she missed him terrible. Lewt didn’t know that he believed either one of them.

  He hadn’t lied to M. In a strange way he’d felt more alive today than he could ever remember feeling. He liked breathing air that wasn’t polluted with cigar smoke and cheap perfume. He liked feeling like he was doing some good even though it was hard work. Tomorrow he’d probably be lucky if he could get out of bed.

&nbs
p; If he was going to list his likes, he’d have to add liking being with M. She played no games, never flirted with him or tried to manipulate him. He knew she didn’t like him and within a few minutes he’d figured out that if he tried to impress her, she’d probably send him back to the barn. So for the most part, he just tried his best and kept his mouth closed.

  Half the time he felt like a bumbling idiot around her, and the other half she was reminding him that his feelings were accurate. He didn’t know how to pretend with her, how to play games. About the time he decided she was more man than he’d ever be, she’d pulled away from his touch. He’d seen the hurt flash in her eyes for a second. All he’d done was touch her shoulder. Her reaction was that of a wounded animal. He’d give a rich pot to know what had made her react so.

  “How was your day?” Rose asked as she passed him a basket of bread.

  “What?” Lewt had heard the words, but he couldn’t climb out of his thoughts long enough to think of an answer.

  Rose smiled. “When Sumner told me you rode out to check the herd, I was surprised. Exhausting, isn’t it?”

  “Very.” He smiled at the beautiful lady, silently thanking her for erasing the awkwardness. “You do have a beautiful ranch, Miss Rose.”

  “Thank you, Lewt. I sometimes forget what a wonderful place this is, and then I leave for a few days and remember. When Emily and I were away at school we used to lie in bed every night and take turns describing details of the ranch and laughing about all the things we’d do when we got home. Those were the two loneliest years of my life. If it hadn’t been for my sister, I’m not sure I would have survived. Every break, when we’d come home all excited and leave crying, my mother felt our homesickness. When it was Bethie’s turn to go, the thought of her having to go alone broke our hearts. Mama talked my papa into letting her have tutors come in. He said any finishing Bethie needed could be taught by us.”

  She patted his arm. “Now don’t you think our little sister’s education was lacking. She speaks French and can write poems as fine as the old masters, in my opinion. And, thanks to private tutors, she can play the piano so beautifully the angels cry with joy.”

  Lewt smiled and tried to follow Rose’s soft voice, but his mind was wondering, thinking about how he’d worked with M to doctor a few of the stock, then later how he’d watched her long fingers slide over the cotton of the bandage across his leg. His touch might frighten her half to death, but her touch certainly didn’t have that effect on him.

  “Lewt, you must try one of these buttermilk biscuits. Bethie made them, you know. She’s a grand cook, though her art and sewing take up much of her time.”

  He took a biscuit and tried to keep his mind on the conversation as Rose continued to praise her sister. It crossed his mind that maybe Rose was building up Bethie a little too much.

  Lewt looked down the table as Beth laughed at something Davis said. Maybe the green-eyed beauty had told her sister she was interested in him. That’s it, he reasoned. There was a chance the impossible might just happen.

  The reverend had made a rule that the seating changed every night, so Lewt knew he’d be sitting next to either Beth or Emily tomorrow night. Beth might be interested in him, but he planned to take his time and visit with each of the girls. It was only fair.

  He smiled at Rose and tried to think of something to say. She was truly lovely, and black-haired women had always been his favorite. Her dark eyes seemed those of a very old soul. If he married Rose, they’d have long talks in the evening and she’d worry about him as all caring wives do.

  But as he looked into her dark eyes, he remembered the blue eyes he’d seen this afternoon and how frightened they’d looked. He could think of nothing to say but, “A woman with an initial for a name showed me around today. Do you know her?”

  Rose looked confused for a moment, then laughed. “You mean Em. E-m. She’s taking care of the horses while Papa is away.”

  “Em,” he said. “Short for Emily?”

  “I guess,” Rose said before taking a bite, then adding when she finally swallowed, “Maybe they started calling her Em so they wouldn’t get her confused with our Emily. Two Emilys on the ranch could be confusing.”

  Lewt had spent his life reading people, and he had no trouble realizing that if Rose wasn’t lying, she was definitely leaving something out. He didn’t want to push it. After all, Em was just someone he needed to reach a goal. As soon as he figured out enough to bluff his way through a conversation about the ranch, he’d never see the tall woman who dressed like a man again.

  He gave Rose his full attention. “I hope I didn’t miss anything today while I was out riding.”

  She smiled sweetly. “Oh, you did. We planned a party for Friday night. Beth is so kind, she never wants to leave anyone out, so we’ll have the house full of people. She’s even thought of organizing a small band so we can dance. If Beth is in the room, everyone always has a grand time.”

  Back to singing Beth’s praises. Lewt was starting to wonder if something wasn’t wrong with the girl if her big sister had to keep pointing out her good side.

  “And”—Rose beamed—“this afternoon, we all gathered round the piano and sang songs. You should have heard Mrs. Allender. She has a voice angels would envy. Boyd joined us for a few minutes, then spotted a book on horse breeding he hadn’t read. We didn’t see him for the rest of the afternoon.” Rose giggled. “Just between you and me, I’ll bet he was sitting just outside the door listening.”

  “Did Davis and Emily join in any of the singing?”

  “Davis did, but Emily said she’d be our audience while she sewed.”

  Lewt leaned back. Apparently, he’d missed nothing. He would have had a hard time not looking bored, and the only songs he knew were not proper for anywhere but saloons. This act of being a gentleman wasn’t as easy as he thought.

  Rose tugged at his sleeve. “Tomorrow, if it doesn’t rain, we’re going riding and plan to have a picnic on the summit of the hill the Apache named Whispering Mountain. Did you know there is a legend that my ancestors used to believe that says if a man sleeps on the summit of Whispering Mountain, he’ll dream his future? My papa tells a story about how his father climbed to the summit when he was just married and settling here. He dreamed his death in a battle beside a mission. He spent the next twelve years of his life building the ranch and preparing his three sons to take over when he died.”

  “I’ve heard that story.” Lewt smiled. “Duncan talks about how three little boys, his father one of them, took over and held the ranch against raiders.”

  “My papa was twelve when his father was killed at the Battle of Goliad. Teagen McMurray had to become a man the day they learned his father was dead. My mama, when she met him years later, said he was hard as granite. She was a widow with three tiny girls who saw his heart from the first. Even today when she looks at him, anyone can see the love in her eyes.”

  Lewt lowered his voice. “So Teagen McMurray isn’t your real father?”

  “He’s our real papa and he’d shoot anyone who questioned it. Our ‘real father’ lived in Chicago and was given to drink. I don’t remember much about him except that he liked to yell at my mother. When he died of pneumonia one winter, Mama brought us here. She married Teagen and we became a family. Sometimes Papa grumbles and complains that it took us too long to get here. He says he was lonely for a long time waiting for us to come.”

  Lewt felt an ache deep down, as if a wound had bruised his heart. He didn’t know Teagen, the head of the McMurrays, but he knew what the man meant. When he’d been a boy he used to dream that he belonged someplace else, with other people. He’d dream that somewhere there was another world where people cared if he was warm or had food. Once in a while he’d almost believe that if he stepped sideways or jumped around a corner that world would be waiting for him, welcoming and warm.

  Only it never appeared, and survival left little time for dreams.

  He smiled down at Rose as she ha
nded him a slice of pie. He had to marry one of these women. They knew how to build that comfortable loving world he’d never known. He told himself he wasn’t using them. Whichever one he married, he’d be good to. Better than good, he’d be caring. He never make her sorry she’d married him. Somehow, he’d figure out how to be the kind of man who’d marry a lady.

  As they left the dining room, shy Emily took his arm. “We thought we’d all play cards tonight, Mr. Paterson. Do you play cards?”

  The day’s exhaustion vanished as he said, “Now and then.”

  Playing cards with this group was like fishing with a shotgun. Lewt offered to deal and as he did, he took control of the game.

  First, he let Boyd Sinclair win. The rancher puffed up and informed the girls that they were no match for him. Lewt resented his superior attitude, but the ladies seemed to think it funny.

  When Lewt shuffled again he tossed Boyd the winning hand, but to Lewt’s surprise, Boyd folded. The girls consoled him once again.

  Lewt frowned. Apparently he didn’t understand the rancher as well as he thought he did.

  Halfway through the evening he dealt a few hands where Beth won. She giggled with delight. Everyone, including Boyd, congratulated her on her brilliant play.

  As the night aged and they all enjoyed the card game, Lewt found himself enjoying the game he was playing. He could tell a great deal about a man by how he acted when he was winning and, more important, how he acted when he lost. In life everyone wins and loses. The man who doesn’t handle himself well at losing usually can’t handle himself much better at winning.

  Davis Allender rarely won a hand, but he never complained. In fact, he cheered the others on. By the end of the evening all three women were giggling and showing him their hands, and then he’d advise them. Boyd fought to win most of the time, but Davis walked away from the evening the real winner.

  When the women said their good nights, Beth kissed Davis on the cheek for helping her. Lewt would have thought he’d be jealous, but to his surprise, he wasn’t. Beth was beautiful, but he had two others to pick from, and if she liked Davis, he didn’t mind.