by Jodi Thomas
Miss Emily patted her arm. “It’s so nice to see you back in town, dear. Some people around here have missed you.”
Rue Ann wasn’t sure who the some people were. It was best to let sleeping dogs lie where that was concerned. Instead she hugged the woman who dressed in black from head to toe and had done so as far back as Rue Ann could remember. If Miss Emily had worn any other color today, it would’ve been another shock. Her mother had told her that Miss Emily’s fiancé had died a week before they were to wed. It had so devastated the sweet lady that she remained locked forever in the moment of her grief. Sadness of it all swept through Rue Ann. She wouldn’t want that to happen to her.
“It’s nice to be missed.” She kissed Miss Emily’s pale, wrinkled cheek that was so thin the skin seemed scarcely able to cover her bones without tearing.
“How are you doing, dear? I’ve been quite worried about you.” Again, more of the tender patting.
Now why would Miss Emily worry? Studying at a women’s finishing school shouldn’t cause anyone to fret.
“I’m in the best of health, thank you.”
“There you are, Sister,” exclaimed Miss Charlotte, the other half of the matching Barlow set. Only this sister dressed all in white. They were salt and pepper. “Oh, Rue Ann. It’s been ages since we’ve seen you, hasn’t it, Sister?”
Miss Emily nodded in agreement, setting the black hat with yards of netting bobbing on her silver hair.
“Didn’t I see you talking with Mr. Cutter a few minutes ago?” Miss Charlotte continued without pausing for air, “I daresay he found the sight of you breathtaking. He’s been quite lonely, you know. That is, until he began courting Celeste Wiggins. Now the two are inseparable.” Miss Charlotte leaned close and whispered loudly in Rue Ann’s ear, “It’s rumored the two will wed soon.”
Pain once again rose swift and without warning. Rue Ann forced air past the huge lump in her throat.
So Logan Cutter was stepping out with Celeste.
Rue Ann had no idea how she’d handle this unpleasant situation. The fact that Logan and Celeste were keeping company drove the dagger deeper. She struggled to find a reply.
“Miss Charlotte, it’s no business of mine who Mr. Cutter chooses to spend his time with,” she finally managed quietly. “Lord knows he’s a free man.”
But why did he have to be involved with Celeste? The woman had spurned Rue Ann’s overtures of friendship at every turn.
Rue Ann had always felt like an ugly stepsister next to Celeste. Her mass of red curls was impossible to tame, and the row of freckles marching across her nose like so many foot soldiers gave her a childish air. Rue Ann had accepted long ago that she’d never be a raving beauty. Nor did she want to, she sternly reminded herself.
Logan Cutter had traded his relationship with Rue Ann for a thousand dollars. That was what she’d been worth to him. He was nothing but a Judas, and she was better off without him.
If only she could convince her heart of that.
Logan Cutter stared after Rue Ann until she vanished into Whipple’s Dry Goods Store. His mouth had gone dry. She was every bit as desirable as she was three years ago.
He thought he’d been prepared for the inevitable meeting after hearing that she’d returned to Shiloh. He’d tried to steel himself against the power of those jade green eyes and auburn hair that reminded him of beautiful autumn leaves.
But the minute she’d met his gaze, he was lost, thrown back to an innocent time when they’d lived and breathed each other’s presence.
If only he knew what had happened, he might make some sense of her sudden disappearance from town.
Logan gave himself a hard mental shake. Why dwell on has-beens? He needed to forget the taste of her lips and move on with his life. As indeed he was trying. Celeste Wiggins was everything a man desired in a wife. The woman was quite something with her silky golden hair and expressive lavender eyes. But for some reason he couldn’t bring himself to ask her to marry him. Why he held back, he couldn’t say exactly.
He only knew one thing—she wasn’t Rue Ann.
Someone touched his shoulder. “There you are, Logan. What size nails did you say you needed to pick up?”
The voice belonged to his older brother, Matthew Cutter, who had ridden into town with him to pick up some supplies. Matt and his wife lived on a small fifty-acre spread next to Logan and were trying to make a go of farming. Although it pretty much looked like all they’d succeeded in raising was a bumper crop of kids. Six of them so far.
“Gathering wool, little brother?” Matthew prodded, leaning against the hitching rail in front of the store.
“Of course not, why?”
“I asked what size nails you needed and you paid me no mind. You were a million miles away. What’s going on with you?”
“Just have my thoughts somewhere else.” His thoughts certainly weren’t on ranch repair. “I need a sack of ten-penny nails.”
“Do you want me to get them? I need to get back home as quick as possible. Lucy needs a sack of flour. She said if I dawdle, I won’t get that loaf of fresh bread or the apple pie I’ve had a hankering for.” Matthew pushed back the brim of his hat and scratched his forehead. “I saw you talking with Rue Ann.”
That figured. Probably half the town saw them. Just what he needed. He’d have to tell Celeste before someone else did.
“There wasn’t much talking going on. She was coming out of this dress shop here the very moment I was walking by and we collided. That’s all there was to it.”
“I can’t believe she threw you over for Theodore Greely.”
Logan was stumped as well. Rue Ann could choose from a dozen or so men who were far better suited than Greely. So why take up with a man of that ilk? He wished he knew.
“Yeah, well, she did and that’s that.” Logan tried to tear his gaze away from the door of Whipple’s Dry Goods. It seemed a lost cause, though. He wanted one more glimpse of Rue Ann.
“The shyster is nothing but a little beady-eyed stuffed shirt. Struts around town like he owns Shiloh and half of Texas. I still don’t know why Rue Ann’s father took the man into business with him. Typical lawyer, I reckon, but Greely sure rubs me the wrong way.”
Logan would gladly pay a fine if he could set the man back on his heels just once. He sighed. “Do you think your Lucy would fix me a pie if I asked her real nice-like?”
Nothing could improve his spirits like a homemade pie.
Matthew snorted. “If you’d quit mooning after Rue Ann and marry Celeste, you’d have all the fruit pies and whatnot you could eat. What’s the holdup?”
“That’s none of your business, big brother,” Logan snapped.
“You ask me, Celeste would make some man a mighty good wife. Might as well be you.”
“I didn’t ask you, though, did I?”
“You’re grouchier than a grizzly with a toothache. I wash my hands of the matter.” Matthew pushed away from the hitching rail. “You want to waste your time waiting for Rue Ann to come to her right mind, it’s no skin off my nose.”
“Keep your horseback opinions to yourself.”
“Fine. I’m heading to the mercantile. You coming?”
Just then Rue Ann emerged empty-handed from Whipple’s. Logan’s eyes narrowed. “You go on. I’ll catch up.”
This was as good a time as any to get some answers.
With long strides, Logan headed toward the woman who’d spurned his love. A look of surprise crossed her pretty features when she saw him coming. She whirled on her heels, lifted her heavy skirts, and in a near all-out sprint, aimed for her father’s law office.
“Oh no, you don’t,” Logan muttered under his breath, increasing his pace.
He caught up with her between the telegraph office and Doc Pritchard’s. Planting himself in her path, he grabbed her arm.
“Please unhand me this instant,” she demanded icily.
People had begun to stare, but Logan didn’t pay them any mind. “I will if
you’ll tell me why you didn’t have enough gumption to come to me before you just packed up and left town.”
She hadn’t even bothered to trouble herself with a note to tell him where she was going. He’d spent the better part of two years trying to locate her but to no avail. He would’ve done the right thing and married her. He’d have done anything for her, gone to any lengths, swum any ocean, fought any dragon.
If only she’d trusted, loved him, enough to have come to him when her back was against the wall.
Instead she’d simply vanished. A wealthy state senator for a father had made that happen.
Deep, heavy sadness washed over him, so powerful it nearly dropped him to his knees.
Rue Ann gasped. “Me? Gumption? Of all the nerve!”
Whatever she was trying to pull wouldn’t work.
“Yes, you. You were the one who didn’t trust me to take care of you, who didn’t give me so much as a fare-thee-well.” Logan hardened his heart against the effects of her nearness, which lured him like a prideful she-wolf to a steel trap.
Fire flashed from the green depths of her eyes. And then strangely he thought he saw tears gathering, but decided it was a figment of his imagination because they vanished as soon as they formed.
“I said let me go,” she ordered from between clenched teeth. “You’re not going to get your pound of flesh today or any other.”
Logan believed there was a golden hour in every relationship where problems could be fixed. This was theirs. Even if they couldn’t return things to the way they were before, at least maybe they’d pass on the street without crossing to the other side. That would be a good start.
“I’m not after a pound of flesh. I simply want to know what happened. That too much to hope for?” Cutter asked.
“I know what you did,” she whispered angrily.
The anguish in her tone, the hurt in her eyes, bruised something deep inside him.
“What are you talking about?” He searched his mind for a hint of whatever he’d done. For the life of him, he couldn’t remember. Had the months erased his memory?
Rue Ann looked over his shoulder. Her green eyes widened as she jerked her arm from his grasp. “Now is not a good time.”
A stern male voice came from behind. “Sweetling, did you forget that I told you to meet me at three-thirty? You’re four and a half minutes late.”
Logan turned and stared into Theodore Greely’s hard, granite eyes. The man reeked with disapproval as he returned his ornate watch to his vest pocket. Logan had never wanted to hit anyone as much as he wanted to now. The two men sized each other up like two curs who couldn’t stand the scent of the other.
Forcing himself to unclench his fists, Logan smiled frostily. “It’s my fault. Miss Spencer and I were talking.”
“I’m sure you have nothing to say that would be relevant to anything.” Greely jerked Rue Ann’s arm. “Come along, sweetling.”
Rue Ann lowered her gaze as Greely propelled her, with force it seemed, toward her father’s law office.
Logan watched, powerless to intervene. Until the lady wanted and asked for his help, his hands were tied. Things were in a sorry state, and his confrontation with her hadn’t accomplished a thing except to raise Greely’s dander.
It wasn’t over yet, though. He still wanted an answer to his burning question.
And he meant to get it one way or another.
Chapter 2
The last thing Rue Ann wanted was to risk running into Logan Cutter again. But she had little choice in the matter.
Their nearest neighbors, the Williamsons, invited her and Theodore to the betrothal party for their daughter. And since Bethany had managed to snag one of the town’s most eligible bachelors, they’d spared no expense. The Williamsons were beyond delighted for a chance to crow a little.
The end of January wasn’t the most ideal time for such a social affair, but the crisp weather was clear and beautiful, especially on this night.
Buggies and buckboards packed every square inch around the barn. Seemed people from most all of the ranches had come.
Inside the Williamsons’ barn, Rue Ann cast a glance around the gathering, tapping her foot nervously. Feeling like a spring that’d been wound too tight and was about to come undone, she hugged the hostess. Pressing close beside her, Theodore Greely must’ve felt some anxiousness himself because he was clingier than usual. His cloying scent circled around her head.
For the umpteenth time, Rue Ann asked herself why she was marrying the man. She didn’t love him, would never love him. But her father had handpicked Theodore to be her mate, and no one ever dared cross the powerful Devlin Spencer, who ruled the Texas Senate and his family with an iron fist.
No one crossed him without serious repercussions anyway.
Besides, weren’t security and comfort good enough reasons to marry? Some people had tied the knot for less. All she had to do was smile and pretend. She could do that. Except for the months she’d known Logan Cutter, she’d done that most of her life.
Failing to see the man in question, she relaxed. With a bit of luck, he wouldn’t show up.
Maybe he’d stayed at his ranch, the one bought and paid for with her father’s money, and would pass on this social affair. Though, given Celeste’s penchant for parties and the like, Rue Ann couldn’t see the woman missing an opportunity to gloat.
And maybe Logan had given up trying to talk to her. They really had nothing to say to each other. He’d made his choice. He could offer no excuse that would undo the moment of his betrayal.
The musicians had finished warming up and launched into a waltz. The beautiful strains of the fiddle reached into that quiet place in her soul and calmed her jitters. She swayed to the rhythm, enjoying the feel of her ruffled satin skirt swishing around her ankles.
She didn’t object when Theodore swung her out into the midst of dancing couples.
For once she didn’t have to pretend. She loved waltzing. And good fiddle music just added the icing on the cake. The only problem was her partner. Theodore was cold, stiff, and unyielding. It was like dancing with a fence post bound with leather that had been left out in the elements until it was dry and cracked and beyond hope.
She closed her eyes. If she tried really hard, she could imagine the arms around her were the kind that could heat a woman’s blood. Strong and caring, they could easily carry the burdens of the world.
For a second she allowed herself to feel cherished.
These arms should belong to—
“I can’t believe this,” Theodore spat angrily, interrupting her daydream. “He has a lot of gall showing up here.”
Rue Ann’s eyes flew open. “Who?”
She followed his gaze to the barn entrance, and her heart dropped into the pit of her stomach.
Logan Cutter stood with his feet apart as though bracing himself for trouble. His dark hair, shining with a deep luster in the lamplight, brushed the collar of his coat, which had seen plenty of wear. And his defiant, stormy gaze met hers across the crowded floor.
Rue Ann sucked in her breath as doom settled over her.
Then her gaze lit on Celeste Wiggins, gorgeous in the latest fashion, a formfitting gown that seemed designed from nothing more substantial than moonbeams and starlight. The satiny folds sparkled and shimmered with each movement. The woman clutched Logan’s arm as though she feared he’d take off, running straight for Rue Ann.
“Did you know he was coming?” Theodore’s punishing grip on her wrist left her wincing.
“You’re hurting me.” Rue Ann struggled, breaking free. She drew herself up and shot her intended a glare. “Believe it or not, I’m not privy to Mr. Cutter’s comings and goings. I’m the last one he’d share his plans with.”
“He has no business here,” Theodore snapped. “I’ll wager he’s only interested in spying on you.”
“What a foolish statement. It’s no surprise that he’d come. You know how Celeste thrives on social occasions, no matt
er the circumstances.” Although she strongly suspected Logan would’ve preferred to stay far removed from the festivities if the black scowl was any indication.
“Your father will be furious. There’s no love lost between them. It’s high time Cutter got it through his head that you belong to me,” Theodore snarled, again grasping her wrist. Wrenching her to him, he set off across the dance floor to another waltz.
Rue Ann struggled to keep her feet under her. When at last she gained her footing, she ordered, “Stop this instant. Get it straight right now. I’m not your or anyone else’s property.”
She was so busy trying to make her point that she didn’t see the dark-haired figure until he politely tapped Theodore’s shoulder.
“The lady isn’t a sack of potatoes to be manhandled.” The low timbre of Logan’s voice held warning.
Theodore drew himself up and glared. “This is a private matter and I’ll thank you to keep out of it. You forget that Rue Ann is engaged to me, not you, Cutter.”
“The only thing I’m forgetting is how good it would feel to knock you from here to Galveston and back, and that’s because I haven’t done it yet. I can rectify that situation in about two seconds ... Teddy.”
Theodore’s face turned a ruddy color at Logan’s derisive tone.
“I can’t believe this—” Rue Ann began, only to be interrupted by her father.
“Gentlemen, take it outside. This isn’t the time or place.” Devlin Spencer glared his disapproval.
“With pleasure,” Logan directed his wintry smile at Theodore. “After you ... Teddy.”
Rue Ann died with mortification. Two grown men were fighting over her as if she were some kind of prize they gave out at the county fair. She looked for a hole to crawl into. But she saw nothing except some bales of hay scattered around the barn for guests to sit on. Not exactly a place to hide.
Just then Celeste swept regally into their midst and fixed a cold stare on Rue Ann. “I hope you’re satisfied now. See what you caused?” Then she turned to her escort. “Logan dearest, can you please get me a cup of punch? I’m ever so parched.”
