Teresa Bodwell

by Loving Miranda

  Chapter 9

  Miranda stood up in the stirrups and let Princess run. It felt wonderful to be out in the open with the wind blowing through her hair. She’d regret it later when she tried to brush out the knots, but sometimes she had to let go no matter the consequences.

  She watched ahead for holes or other obstacles as Princess flew over the gray-green autumn grass. She felt the pounding hooves from her knees to her hips as she leaned into the wind. Back home, Mercy was working on lessons with Jonathan. Thad and Mercy had both talked about wanting a real school for the children, but Miranda couldn’t help feeling Jonathan enjoyed having his mother to himself, whether it was for lessons, chores, singing, or playing games. Her heart ached seeing the two of them together and knowing that Ben Lansing might try to take the boy away.

  She refused to dwell on that thought. Instead, she urged Princess into a faster gallop, building up speed as she approached the creek and leaped over it. They raced across the open field a hundred yards from a group of cows, and Miranda laughed at their startled bellowing. This ride was exactly what she needed. A bit of time alone with her thoughts, away from the family and their watchful eyes.

  She eased Princess slower until they were trotting and then walking toward the old Lansing place. She sighed. Mercy and Pa were in the habit of watching out for her; they couldn’t get used to the idea that she was here to help them. But Miranda knew something they couldn’t understand: what she wanted most was to feel useful and needed.

  She leaned forward to stroke Princess’s neck, wondering whether to head home. The ride had cleared her head as she’d hoped it would, and there were plenty of chores waiting for her. Curiosity kept her riding toward Lansing’s barn. She wanted to see how badly the house had been damaged by the fire. Besides, she might see Buck, or one of the other hired men. It would be nice to talk to a plain man for a change instead of a fancy-talking city slicker who set her heart racing and her mind crawling, or stopping altogether.

  Buck was a gentle soul. He might not be as handsome as Ben, but he was a good, honest, hard worker. And he kept himself pretty clean, for a cowboy. It was bad luck that looking into Buck’s eyes never made her heart thump against her chest like a wild beast. Maybe she’d try flirting with Buck anyway. Maybe if she showed a little interest, it would change the way he looked at her.

  The remains of the house finally came into view beyond the barn. Little more than a foundation with a stone fireplace in the center. Near the barn, Miranda spotted a man and a horse. Perhaps she would see one of the hired men, after all. She clucked her tongue, prodding her horse to trot.

  Too late, she saw it was not Buck mounting the dappled gray. It was Ben Lansing.

  Ben thought for a moment he was imagining her—the small, wild-haired blonde on the dark mare. “Miranda?”

  She hesitated before bringing her horse closer.

  “What brings you here?” he asked.

  “Went out for a ride and ended up here.” She glanced down at his steed and grinned. “I hope you didn’t buy him.”

  Ben shrugged. “He’s not so bad. Goes where I want and works hard.”

  “So long as you aren’t in a hurry.” She chortled. “Old man Meier can’t seem to get rid of the critter.”

  “I’m in no hurry. Been enjoying the views.” And none as lovely as the one he had now—Miranda smiling and looking as though she were holding back a laugh.

  She turned away toward the remains of the house. “You wouldn’t know to look at that pile of rubble that it had been a fine house.” Miranda dismounted. “Do you mind if I look around?”

  Ben watched her take in the sight. “There’s not much left to see.” He swung down from Lightning. “I’ll join you.”

  They tethered the horses near the barn and walked over to the charred remains of the house. “Do you know whether they salvaged anything?” Ben asked.

  She shrugged. “Mercy told me there wasn’t much. Some silver, I think. A few trinkets they put aside for Jonathan.”

  Half of the back wall stood—several large logs that Lansing had brought down from the mountains. Miranda stepped over what she thought had once been the threshold. “It’s hard to picture it. There were steps going up here.” She swept a hand up. “This stone fireplace was in a parlor near as big as our whole cabin, least before Thad added on the bedrooms. I never saw nothin’ like it in this territory. Furniture come all the way from Boston. Fancy lace curtains and oil paintings on the wall.” She looked at Ben. “Nice pictures. Were they . . . did you paint them?”

  Ben nodded. “I did give them a painting I’d done of a foxhunt and a pencil drawing of our father.”

  “Yes, I remember those. The foxhunt hung right here in the entrance, next to the stairs. And your father, he . . . Arthur didn’t look a bit like him, but you do.”

  “Funny you should say that. Father always said I was the only son who didn’t look anything like him. I think it was because I have my mother’s dark brown eyes.”

  “But Arthur’s face was so round and your face has strong lines . . .” She blushed bright red and turned away from him so quickly she nearly fell over a large rock.

  He caught her arm and she looked up at him, surprise making her eyes even larger than usual. She blinked and righted herself, pulling gently away from him. “Sorry, I was going to point out the dining room over there. Do you see where those broken bricks are? That was another large fireplace, only I reckon someone took the good bricks. Back there, where the one wall is still standing, that was Arthur’s study.” She walked toward it. “There was a heavy oak desk that didn’t completely burn. Mercy found some ledgers in the desk.”

  “Ledgers?” That could help him find his money. “I’d like to see them.”

  “I don’t know if she still has them. She told me they were pretty badly damaged.”

  Ben scowled.

  “It’s nicer when you smile.”

  He glared at her. “Not much to smile about here.”

  “I’m sorry.” Her eyes dropped. “You’re right. I wasn’t thinkin’.”

  He touched her shoulder. “Don’t apologize.”

  She looked up at him. His heart skipped a beat. The uneven rhythm pounding against his chest was the only evidence that time continued moving as they stood, his hand resting on her shoulder. Her eyes gazing into his.

  “I’m sorry, Ben.” Her eyes dropped to his chest, and she wondered if he, too, was struggling to breathe. She forced herself to smile back up at him. To appear calm, although her pulse was racing. She swallowed. “I’m sure seeing your brother’s house like this is difficult for you. I should go.”

  Ben leaned forward until his nose nearly brushed hers. The heat from his palm against her shoulder had radiated on down through her body, causing pulses in strange places. She managed to draw in half a breath before his left hand settled on her hip and the world suddenly spun upside down.

  She tilted her face up to meet the kiss she was certain was coming. He jerked his head back and seemed to notice his hands on her for the first time. He stuffed them into his pockets as he stepped back, nearly stumbling over a pile of debris.

  “I’ll come out to the ranch another day and check on those ledgers,” he said. “You might ask your sister to save them for me, if she still has them.”

  When Miranda’s heart started beating again, she nodded. “Of course.” She looked around, focusing on anything other than Ben. Dammit, Miranda, you’ll have him thinking you wanted him to kiss you. She pulled herself up taller and threw him a smile she hoped conveyed her indifference. “I’ll be sure and give Mercy your message.”

  She led the way back toward the barn. When they were a few feet from the horses, they both started to speak at once, then grew silent. She took Princess’s reins and met Ben’s eyes over the horse’s back. When no witty phrases came to mind, she turned and made a show of checking Princess’s bridle. The silence extended for at least a minute until she mounted her horse.

  “Tell you
r sister I’ll come see her in the next day or two.”

  “I’ll tell her,” Miranda called over her shoulder as she pulled away.

  “I’ll see you then.” Ben’s voice faded behind her as she urged Princess away from him.

  Later that afternoon, Miranda sat on the porch steps, shucking corn. The sunshine wasn’t half as warm as the feeling of family that Miranda sensed around her. What a difference a few days had made. She could no more picture herself leaving Pa and Mercy than she could imagine trading Princess for a zebra.

  Everything would be perfect here as soon as Ben Lansing left town. Surely, that would be soon. The man wouldn’t want to be stuck here for the winter. Her chest ached as she thought about him. Only because he was causing her sister so much anguish. It had nothing to do with the way he’d nearly kissed her. Hell, that made it sound as though he wanted her. The man was discussing business—it was Miranda who had crazy ideas about kisses and touches that made her tremble and want more.

  “You found the last of the corn.” Mercy lifted an ear from the pile on the top step.

  Miranda felt her cheeks heat, though surely Mercy couldn’t read her thoughts. “I’ll take care of that.”

  Mercy kept the corn away from her sister and sat down next to her. “I can be trusted with corn husking. I’ve even been known to boil water without ruining it.”

  “All right.” Miranda dropped the cleaned ear into the pot. “I’ll get started on the biscuits.” Miranda made to stand up.

  “Wait.” Mercy pulled her sister back down to the step. “Stay a minute, I’d like to talk.”

  Miranda retrieved another ear of corn, peeling the husk away as she waited for her sister to announce the topic of conversation.

  “Seems longer than a year ago when we first met Thad,” Mercy said.

  Miranda thought back to her first encounter with Thad Buchanan on the street in Abilene, Kansas.

  “It was more than a year, more like thirteen months.”

  Her sister smiled at Miranda’s weak attempt at humor, then smoothed her fingers over the corn she held, removing the clinging corn silk. “You liked him immediately.”

  “And you hated him.” Miranda grinned, remembering how hard Mercy had worked at avoiding the big man. Strange how things had worked out.

  Mercy dropped the cleaned corn into the pot and took another ear off the step. “No, I didn’t hate him. I was scared.”

  “He is very big.”

  Mercy laughed. “Big men don’t frighten me.” She ripped the husk from the ear in her hands. “It wasn’t his size—it was his eyes.” She turned to look at her sister. “I felt as though he could see . . . my soul.” She worried her lower lip. “That probably sounds silly. I . . . can’t describe it any other way. I hated feeling so exposed.” She sighed. “That and . . .” Mercy looked away, then seemed, for a moment, to be examining her boots. Finally, she looked at Miranda. “We’re speaking woman to woman now, you understand?”

  Miranda didn’t know how to respond to that, so she nodded.

  “Just between us, what frightened me most was that looking at him made me wish he was touching me”—she looked away again—“in the most intimate ways.” Mercy turned back to Miranda. “I had thought those feelings were buried with Nate; then I met Thad and it . . . I didn’t know how to react when all those feelings came back stronger than I had remembered them.”

  Miranda’s mind rushed to Ben and she bent to pick at a stubborn bit of husk, hoping her sister wouldn’t detect the heat glowing in her cheeks. If her sister had noticed the way she looked at Ben, perhaps he’d seen it as well. Aw, hell, he could hardly have missed the way I made a fool of myself.

  “But . . .” Mercy put her hand over Miranda’s, drawing her sister’s eyes to her face. “I don’t think that is what scares you about Thad.”

  Miranda blinked. “I’m not afraid of Thad.” She swallowed, relieved her sister hadn’t mentioned Ben. “What makes you think he frightens me?”

  Mercy raised one eyebrow.

  “I am not.” She smiled and held her sister’s gaze. “I’d forgotten how big and strong he was, at first. . . . But I’m used to him now, and I reckon he wouldn’t so much as smash a flea, unless the critter dared try and hurt you, or Jonathan.”

  Mercy favored Miranda with a half-smile and nodded. “You can count on him to look after you, too. Thad thinks of you as a sister, and he wants you to feel safe here.”

  “Are you truly happy with him?” Miranda asked.

  “Do you really need to ask?”

  Miranda looked at her sister. Glowing, Clarisse had said, and it was a good description. Still, she knew from experience a woman could fool herself into believing she was happy.

  “You do seem happy. But . . .” She pushed a curl behind her ear. “A year ago you were so certain that loving a man could only lead to pain.”

  “I was wrong.” Mercy leaned back against one of the posts that held the porch roof, her eyes far off again. “Pain comes, with or without loving. It’s the loving that makes joy, though. We all need joy, little sister.”

  Miranda still had trouble believing that she was seeing tears glistening in Mercy’s eyes. Something had changed her sister in the past year. Clarisse, Mercy, and even Pa seemed to think it was a good change. Miranda didn’t know what to think. There was a part of her that figured the independent life Mercy had as a widow was ideal. But deep in her heart, where her good sense held no sway, Miranda wanted exactly what Mercy had. A man who loved her, and the chance to raise a family with that man.

  “I’m glad for you. I am really. . . . Only I worry that he could hurt you.”

  “Hurt me?” Mercy tilted her head, her eyebrows coming together in a puzzled expression. “He loves me. Of course that means hurting me sometimes. The ones we love have the ability to really hurt us, much more than a stranger ever could.” Mercy stretched a hand toward her, and Miranda thought perhaps she meant to touch her scarred face, but she squeezed her shoulder instead. “That is no reason to avoid love. Trust me on this.” She pushed herself to her feet. “I’ll leave you to fix supper now, I’ve got to bring the cows in for milking.” She took a few steps and turned. “You were right about the cows, too. It’s nice to have milk and butter.”

  Miranda brushed the last strands of white silk off the ear in her hand as she watched Mercy walk away. Her sister had been given a second chance at happiness. Miranda closed her eyes and sent up a quick prayer for her own second chance. “I’ll be careful this time, Lord. If you give me another chance—I won’t waste it.”

  Chapter 10

  It had been a long while since Miranda had done hard work. It felt good. She stepped out of the small cabin her family called home, pulling the wet mop behind her. She’d cleaned everything from top to bottom. Now, some work in the garden, while the floor dried, then she could start supper. The water in the bucket was filthy, so she carried it out back to dump.

  All day long she’d wanted to find a moment alone with Mercy, but Thad had managed to find chores that kept him underfoot. Now he seemed to be gone and Miranda couldn’t find Mercy, either. She wiped her hands over her apron before carrying the bucket and mop out to the shed. There she considered the tools she would need for digging potatoes and onions. She sighed. Perhaps this would be a good day to work on putting up the beets.

  She’d have to do something with the apples, too. The trees had never given so much fruit before. Mercy would enjoy some apple butter, and that could be preserved. She glanced up at the sun, high in the sky. Too late to start all that today. Time enough for an apple pie for dinner. Pa’s favorite. She was going to need a lot more sugar next time they went into town.

  “Better make a shopping list,” she mumbled.

  She’d pick some apples after digging potatoes. First, she should check on Pa. Maybe Jonathan was bored and would want to work with her for a while. He seemed to enjoy anything that involved digging in the dirt. She hurried past the barn in the direction of Pa’s wor
kshop.

  “No!” Mercy cried out.

  “Yes, I think so.” Thad’s voice sounded menacing.

  A loud crash followed by Mercy groaning sent Miranda rushing into the barn. She grabbed the shovel they used for cleaning out the stalls.

  “What the hell are you doing to my sister?”

  Miranda cursed herself for not wearing her gun. She raised the shovel, ready to use it over Thad’s skull if need be. He was on top of Mercy in a pile of straw.

  “Stop!” Mercy yelled.

  Miranda managed to hold back, to keep from bringing the shovel crashing over Thad. He rolled away from Mercy, who quickly pulled her dress over her naked body.

  Miranda stood gaping at them, holding the shovel up in midair, still ready to strike.

  “What the hell are you doing?” she managed to say, though the answer to her question was obvious.

  Thad kept his back to her and she realized he was buttoning his pants. Miranda lowered the shovel. “Hell,” she muttered, looking down at the dirt under her feet. Maybe she could take the shovel and dig herself a deep hole to crawl into.

  “I thought you were busy in the kitchen.” Mercy’s voice was higher than usual.

  “I finished cleaning and came out to check on Pa.” Miranda cleared her throat. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Thad reach down to help his wife to her feet.

  “I reckon I should make sure Jonathan isn’t giving Pa too much trouble.” He caressed Mercy’s cheek. “I’ll bet the boy would like to pick some apples.”

  Miranda looked up in time to see Mercy nod and Thad stalk out of the barn. Mercy watched her husband walk away, then turned, her face flushed a red so bright it shone through her sun-bronzed skin. “Miranda!” Mercy growled. “What possessed you to . . .” Her sister took in a deep breath and released it. “We thought we were alone here,” she said more calmly.

  “I’m sorry, I just . . . I heard a noise in here and I thought . . . Hell, with the baby coming and all, I’d have thought you’d be more careful.”