by Kaki Warner
The days warmed. Leafless trees budded, bluebonnets laid out a carpet of blue on greening hills. And still no word from Ty.
Lottie got through the days by staying busy. But once supper was over and Becky left for the Spotted Dog, the empty house seemed to close in on her. If the night was warm enough, she would sit on the steps of the front porch just to hear the distant plink of the saloon piano and know she wasn’t entirely alone.
Those still evenings were when she missed Grandpa most—his whiffling snore as he dozed in his chair, his low voice when he read aloud from his worn Bible, even the musty old man smell of him that seemed to have soaked into the plank walls through the years. All those hard days and long nights surrounded by the sounds of cattle and horses and yodeling coyotes. The music of her youth. She didn’t miss the hardship, but she did miss that.
Greenbroke had a different song. Fewer coyotes, more people. The rattle of wagons passing by, the saloon piano, sometimes the sound of laughter and voices. And later, if she was still awake and it was running on time—which it rarely was—the late train coming through with its lonesome whistle signaling the end of another day.
The sameness of it was both stultifying and comforting.
But one perfect spring evening in late May, when the Milky Way hung like distant smoke across the moonless sky and the gentle breeze was heavy with the perfume of spring flowers, Lottie stayed on Becky’s porch longer than usual, rather than retreat to her lonely bedroom. Sitting on the top step, she leaned against the porch post, eyes closed, enjoying the cricket and whip-poor-will serenade. The late train came and went, the chuffing heartbeat of the departing locomotive fading as she drifted into a light doze.
“You sleeping, or what?” a familiar voice asked.
She jerked upright, eyes flying open.
And there he was. Standing at the bottom step, saddlebags thrown over one broad shoulder, a pale slash of white teeth in his shadowed face.
“Ty!” she cried, flying down the steps.
“Whoa.” Startled, he dropped the saddlebags as she plowed into him. Strong arms pulled her tight. Deep laughter ruffled her hair. “Hell of a welcome.”
Her joy was so big it filled her to overflowing. She couldn’t speak. Could hardly think. All she wanted to do was hold on, drowning in his scent and the feel of his warm, sturdy body against hers.
He must have sensed her clinging desperation. After a moment, he stepped back. Hands resting on her shoulders, he bent to look into her face. “What’s wrong?”
She struggled to rein in her emotions. “N-nothing. I’m just glad to see you.”
“Then why are you crying?”
“I’m not.” Dragging a hand across her eyes, she felt the dampness and tried to smile. “I’ve missed you, is all. I thought . . . since I hadn’t heard from you . . . I thought . . .” Her voice grew higher and wobblier with each word until finally it gave out altogether.
“Aw, honey,” he murmured, pulling her close again. “I didn’t forget to write. I was busy. And I have a lot to tell you.” A squeeze, a quick kiss that ended too soon, then he loosened his grip and looked up at the house. “When I went by the market and saw the lamps were out, I hunted down Becky at the Spotted Dog. She told me you’d moved in here.”
“Several weeks ago.”
“She’s working tonight?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” Picking up his saddlebags, he took her hand and led her up the steps.
“But she’ll be back later,” she reminded him as he opened the front door.
“I wasn’t planning on staying the night.” He dropped his saddlebags inside the door, closed it, and looked around. “Nice place. Cluttered some, but much better than a storeroom, I bet. Got anything to eat?”
After being apart for weeks, the first thing he wanted was food? Hiding her disappointment, Lottie led him toward the kitchen. “Leftover stew and cobbler.” Luckily she’d had little appetite earlier, so there was plenty left, even for a man with Ty’s prodigious appetite.
After hanging his black Stetson on a peg by the door, he sat in the chair facing the stove and tracked her every move as she heated the stew. It reminded her of Grandpa’s hound who was always hungry. Except Ty’s eyes were flame blue, rather than soulful brown, and showed a different kind of hunger. One that made her feel clumsy and breathless.
But as soon as she put a coffee mug and loaded plate in front of him, he forgot about watching her and attacked the stew like a man on the brink of starvation.
They didn’t speak. He focused on getting food into his stomach as fast as he could, and she focused on him, enjoying his appreciation of the meal, and the way his dark hair slid across his brow, and how his Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed. When had a man’s throat become so alluring? And for the first time in weeks, a feeling of contentment stole over her, pushing aside all the worries that had dogged her since she’d seen him last.
“That was tasty.” He pushed aside his empty plate after demolishing two days’ worth of leftovers for both her and Becky. “You said you had cobbler?”
In no time, he finished that, too, along with a slightly shriveled apple Mrs. B. was going to throw out. After her hungry childhood, it pained Lottie to waste food.
“How long has it been since you’ve eaten?” she asked, piling his dishes into the sink.
“I got a box lunch at one of the train stops.” As he spoke, he rose and came up behind her. Sliding his arms around her waist from behind, he pulled her back against his chest. “I’ve missed you, Miss Lottie,” he whispered in her ear.
Apparently, the big meal hadn’t satisfied all of his appetites, which he proved by turning her around and taking her mouth with his. It was a long, lingering kiss that demanded a response, then soothed, then teased, then grew hungrier. And this time when his tongue touched hers, she wasn’t shocked, but joined in the play until they were both breathless and trembling.
After several minutes, he pulled back, breathing hard. He gave her a hopeful lopsided grin that did odd things to places she couldn’t name. “You said Becky wouldn’t be back until later?”
Despite the hammering of her heart and the tingles racing up and down her body, Lottie knew she had to stop this before it was too late. Part of her was frightened by the feelings he awoke in her. Another part wanted to see where those feelings would lead. But a lifetime of restraint held her back. Good girls didn’t.
“You said you had a lot to tell me?” she countered.
He sighed and, with a chiding look, grabbed a towel from a peg. “You wash, I’ll dry.” After they’d put away the dishes, she poured more coffee, and they carried their mugs out onto the porch.
A sliver of moon sat on the eastern horizon. The crickets were quiet now, drowned out by drunken Bar M cowboys, shouting out the lyrics of “The Yellow Rose of Texas” and happily spending their paychecks on bad cards, rye whiskey, and willing women. The air was cooler now, and Lottie was glad for the coffee.
“How long will you be in town?” she asked, as they settled on the top step.
“Not long. I have to be back in Austin tomorrow.” As he spoke, Ty looped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her against his side. “I had to see you. And to tell you I went to my uncle’s ranch.”
Lottie felt a chill that had nothing to do with the coolness of the evening. She carefully set down her cup and clasped her hands in her lap. “Oh?” She kept her tone light, but inside, she was terrified that a decision she didn’t want to make was rushing toward her. “And how did you find it?”
“Dismal. The house is useless, the barn has no roof, all the fences are down, and the well has caved in. I guess twenty years lying idle takes its toll.”
Lottie tamped back her relief. “What are you going to do?”
She felt his shrug in the arm across her shoulders. “I don’t know. I don’t have the
money to fix it right now. Wouldn’t even know where to start.”
“But the land is good?”
“Fair. It can maybe support one cow per acre. Half the number you could graze on an acre around here.”
Lottie stared down the front walk, her mind racing through ideas, picturing survey plats, and trying to remember recent land prices. All the things she had been studying with Griffin.
“I should probably sell and buy somewhere else.”
Her first reaction was, Yes! Sell and buy land here so we can stay in Greenbroke! But the practical side of her couldn’t allow him to make what might very well be a costly mistake. “Where exactly is your uncle’s land?”
“West. Near the base of the panhandle.”
She didn’t remember if Carill had surveyed that area. But she did know the value of holding on to land. Any land. Which was partly the reason she didn’t want to sell her grandfather’s ranch unless it was absolutely necessary. But if selling the land Ty’s uncle had left him would give them a start here . . .
“You wouldn’t need as much acreage per cow if you bought around here.”
“True. But the land would cost more.”
“It would be a better investment. Land around Greenbroke has already gone up almost fifteen percent in the last five years. Plus, with the railroad coming through three times a day now, you’d have a much easier way to get your stock to market than if you had to drive them so far their weight fell off.”
He tilted his head so he could see her face. “How do you know all this?”
“The banker, Mr. Griffin, told me. He says land in central and east Texas is a better investment than gold. They can always dig more ore, but they’ll never make more land. Especially along the rail lines.”
He studied her with that look men often wore around her—like she was speaking in tongues, or had grown an extra ear. “You’re really smart, aren’t you?”
Did that mean she was a freak? Undesirable in a man’s eyes? Lottie hid her irritation behind a thin smile. “Does that bother you, Ranger Benton?”
“No. It’s different, is all. I never met anyone as smart as you, and . . .” With a sheepish grin, he tugged at the knees of his Levi’s with his free hand.
“And what?” she challenged.
“And it makes me wish Becky wasn’t coming home tonight.”
She blinked in astonishment, then burst into laughter. If she hadn’t already been tucked against his side, she might have thrown herself on his neck. “So you don’t care?”
“Oh, I care. No man likes being at a disadvantage. Especially around a woman he cares for. But as long as you remember that no matter how smart you are, I’m bigger and stronger and can bend you to my will at any time, we’ll do just dandy.” Even though he said it with a grin, she wasn’t sure if he meant it or not.
“Bend me to your will?”
“Sure. As it should be between a man and his woman. Like this.”
And before she knew his intent, he had her on his lap and was kissing her again. Only this time, he was touching her, too. In unexpected places. Soft, circling touches on her breasts, long strokes up her back, gentle nips on her neck and ears.
“You’re driving me loco.” His teeth tugged at her earlobe. “I can’t stop thinking about you. And this.” More kisses in a hot trail down her neck. “I want to lay you down. Feel your heartbeat against my tongue. Watch your skin flush when I kiss you here.” A gentle squeeze on her breast had her back arching. “I want you so bad.”
“Yes,” she whispered, her mind spinning in circles. Do it. Do it now.
Ty stilled, then carefully removed his hand from her breast and straightened her off his chest. “No.” Breathing deep, he dropped his forehead to hers. “Damn.”
Lottie froze, not sure what she’d done. “What’s wrong?”
Muttering under his breath, he lifted her off his lap and set her back on the step beside him. “I don’t have the right to do this.”
“Do what?”
“This. Us. Treat you this way when I’m not even free to court you.” He turned his head and looked at her, his beautiful eyes reflecting back the pale starlight. “But, Lord knows, I want to, Lottie. I’ve never wanted anything as much as I want you right now.”
Tears burned in her eyes—relief, joy, a nameless wanting she didn’t fully understand. Reaching over, she cupped his cheek. “Then we’d better think of something soon. Because I feel the same way.”
That elusive smile stole the breath from her lungs. A quick kiss then he tucked her against his side again. “So start thinking. You’re the smart one, remember.”
But she didn’t know what to think about this breathless urge to forget all the rules and let him continue to bend her to his will. It was illogical. Something that went so much deeper than thought or reason. Something almost unstoppable. Was this the way it was between men and women? Or was she one of those wanton women Grandpa had warned her about?
She decided she didn’t care.
Once her nerves had settled, she said, “If you want to buy land around here, I’m sure Griffin would give you a loan.” She’d make sure of it.
“Enough to build fences, buy horses and cattle, and put up a house?” Ty shook his head, sending that fall of dark hair over his brow. “I doubt he’d want to finance a shoestring outfit, especially since it would take me years to pay him back.” He gave her a thoughtful look. “Is that what you want? To start another ranch? Your last letter didn’t sound very enthusiastic about the idea.”
This was the conversation Lottie had dreaded. Without stomping on his dreams, how could she make him understand how determined she was to avoid the poverty she’d known on her grandfather’s ranch? Rising, she held out her hand. “Come. I want to show you something.”
She sent him on to the kitchen while she ducked into her bedroom. When she followed a few minutes later, he was feeding kindling into the kitchen stove. “There’s still coffee left. Want some?”
“No, thank you.” She set the dented tin box she’d retrieved on the table, then sat down and waited.
Once he’d filled his mug, he took the chair across from her. “What’s that?” He nodded toward the box.
“Our family treasures.” Opening the lid, she lifted out a pair of round, wire-rimmed spectacles and set them on the table. “These belonged to my great-grandfather. In his last years, Grandpa wore them when he read.”
Next, she removed a chipped cameo and set it beside the spectacles. “This was my great-grandmother’s. After she died, it went to Grandma, then Mama, and now me.
“This was Grandpa’s.” She pulled out his dog-eared Bible and set it beside the cameo and spectacles. “He read from it every night. Even taught me my letters from it.”
After lifting out the last two items—a simple gold ring and a curl of dark brown hair—she pushed the box aside. “These are my mother’s wedding band and a lock of my father’s hair she cut before he went to war.” She laid them beside the other items then folded her arms and sat back. “And that’s it, Ty. Along with a tract of near worthless land and a burned house, this is all our family has to show for three generations and almost twenty years of backbreaking work.” She looked up, met his gaze straight on. “I want more.”
He studied her for a long time, those striking blue eyes revealing little of his thoughts. Then sadness settled over his chiseled features. “I don’t know if I can give you more, Lottie. Much as I might want to. Or how hard I might try.”
“Not alone, maybe.” Sensing his withdrawal, she leaned forward and gripped the wrist of the hand holding his coffee cup. “But with my help, Ty, you can.” She felt his resistance, saw it in his face. But before he could reject the idea out of hand, words tumbled out of her in a rush.
“Ever heard of the Standard Oil Trust? Their stock dividend has a payout ratio of over sixty percent
and climbing. The Edison Electric Light Company is talking about joining with several other Edison companies, and maybe merging with Thomson-Houston Electric, which would make them the most powerful electric company in the country. Griffin has helped me buy stocks in both. And our investment group is also investing in land. And mineral rights. And government land grants the railroads don’t want anymore.”
That wary look was back in his eyes. Realizing she was about to lose him, she skipped to the important part. “We’ve only been at this a few months, Ty. But our group is already making money, which we reinvest. If just a quarter of our investments pay off, we could be rich.” Flush with excitement, she gave his wrist a squeeze. “You want a ranch? I can get it for us, Ty. With a little patience, and a lot of luck, within a year or two, I could have enough money to buy you a nice spread not far from Greenbroke.”
“Buy me a nice spread?” Pulling his arm away, he sat back as though trying to distance himself from her and her words. “You plan to support me, do you, Lottie? Keep me around like a lap dog?”
The sneer in his voice shocked her. Is that what he thought of her grand plan? “No! Of course not! The ranch would be ours, Ty.”
“Except your name would be on the papers.”
“Not just mine. Yours, too. We’d be equal partners.”
“Two ramrods?” He shook his head. “That won’t work.”
“Fine. Then you handle the operation.”
“While you second-guess my decisions and dole out the money? That won’t work, either.”
Now anger was churning through her, too. Why was he being so unreasonable? Didn’t he see that if they worked together, they could have it all? “Then what, Ty? We work like dogs for most of our lives and maybe get by? Is that what you want?”
“What I want is to be my own man, Lottie. I don’t mind hard work, or taking a risk, or even failing. But I won’t be beholden.”
Shortsighted fool! She felt like screaming. Slapping some sense into him. Stomping from the room. How had this gone so wrong?
For long minutes, they sat at the table, unable to look at each other. Lottie saw no way to salvage this. She had offered a solution, and because of foolish male pride, he had rejected it without even giving it a chance.
