Cowboys and Highlanders

by Scott, Tarah

  Jack’s eyes darkened and narrowed. “You’d cut off your nose to spite your face? I don’t think so. You’re too eager to dispel the rumors.”

  “The damage has already been done. Tell the truth, Jack.” She stepped closer. “I’m sure in your arrogance you think Train is blowing smoke. I assure you, I am not.”

  She turned away. A few men in the group gathered around Jack. She heard their laughter when she walked away.

  “You’re playing a rough game, sunshine.”

  “I know, Cake. But if I win, I get everything I want.” She tied on an apron. “What are we cooking today?”

  “I thought it was time you tried fixing your husband’s favorite.” He pointed his pudgy finger at her. “On one condition. You take it out to him this afternoon. No more sneaking around. I’ve loved that boy my whole life and I can’t stand the thought of him out there sulking all afternoon.”

  She gave him a salute. “I don’t want to see him hurting either.”

  Later in the day, Marion approached the house without a sound. She watched Train drive a post into the ground to form a paddock for him to work the new horses. His shirt was hanging on one of the completed posts. She shivered. It was too cold, yet Train didn’t appear bothered. Beads of perspiration trickled down his back as he lifted the giant hammer and gave the stump a resounding whack.

  She pulled her coat tight and sat beside the picnic basket on the porch. Her lips twitched while her breath created a fog in front of her face in the chilled air. He was ignoring her and she knew it. There was no way he couldn’t smell the mouth-watering aroma of Cake’s fried chicken. Actually, her fried chicken. Cake had shown her how to make the breading and the trick to keeping the chicken from becoming too oily, another recipe for her notebook.

  “Are you going to talk to me?”

  Train dropped the hammer to the ground and turned around. His chest rose and fell from exertion. He ran his fingers through his hair, then put his hat back on. He took his flannel shirt from the post and slipped his arms into the sleeves.

  “I brought lunch, and a confession.”

  “I don’t want to hear it.” He picked the hammer up. “I’m not going to alleviate you of your guilty conscience.”

  She carried the basket and set it on the post. He stopped his swing before he demolished the lunch. “I don’t need to clear my conscience. I confess I made the lunch. It’s not as good as Cake’s. Train, I have spent every day for weeks learning how to cook. Added to what Allison taught me, I’m trying to be a good wife.” She dropped her hands from the basket, waiting for him to look in.

  He hesitated, frowning.

  “Go on.”

  He peered inside and took a chicken leg.

  “Allison has taught me everything from making soap to getting wheel grease out of your shirts. Believe me, I’m not looking forward to the task.”

  He took a bite of the chicken leg, chewed while staring at her, his expression changing from questioning to surprise.

  She handed him the canteen. “It’s fresh lemonade.” She held them out for his inspection. “I put up with Jack and the other men laughing at everything I burned. I took a bit of pleasure when they ate the cookies I made with baking soda instead of flour.

  “Train, the only thing heating up in the shack is me at the stove. I swear it. Ask Cake if you don’t believe me. I asked our friends not to say anything because I wanted to surprise you.”

  Train put the canteen on top of the basket. “Why?” His one simple word asked more than he could possibly imagine. She had been asking herself the same question every day as she burned her fingers on the stove or cut her thumb while trying to slice bacon thin enough to fry.

  Her heart rate increased. Grabbing the post, she tried to balance against the spinning in her head. “Because,” she said quietly. “I can only show you how I feel. I can’t say the words.” Tears filled her eyes and spilled onto her cheeks. “Please understand,” she pleaded. “My actions show you how I feel. I want to be your wife.” She couldn’t finish the rest of what she wanted to say.

  “And admit you have a problem, too, Train. You tell me you love me, but you don’t show it. You don’t trust me, and worse, you believe everyone else before you believe me.”

  “I’m sorry, Marion.”

  “Don’t apologize. Saying you’re sorry doesn’t mean anything if you keep making the same mistake. Look at me. Do you see your wife, or do you see a whore? I can’t be both.”

  Train threaded his fingers with hers and grabbed the picnic basket. “Yes you can.” They walked in silence for a minute.

  “There used to be a little fishing shack that had been converted into a one room house over there.” He pointed to a spot not far from the bank of the lake. “It’s where I grew up. My dad was great with cattle, but didn’t know a thing about providing for a wife and child. He was an old man when he married my mother. Worked for the Bester’s his entire life. When he decided to bring home a wife, TJ’s daddy, everyone called him Bud, told him to raise his family on the ranch. My mother was already expecting me when he moved her into the little house. He died a few years after I was born. I don’t remember much about him.

  “I do remember Sunday afternoons. My mother ushered me out the door and told me to go find TJ. I was five, but I understood it meant that Bud was on his way over.”

  Marion took the picnic basket from him as they settled under a tree and looked out over the lake. The wind rippled the waters. “She was having an affair with TJ’s father?”

  Train nodded. “TJ was old enough to know exactly what was going on. His father’s activities were no mystery. Bud liked women. He loved his wife, but always had room for one more in his bed.”

  “He saw Sandy when he was alive. She once told me the apple didn’t fall far from the tree when it came to TJ,” Marion said.

  “She was wrong. TJ never used women the way his father did. I suppose that’s why TJ doesn’t like his business discussed. He’s been hard on me the last couple of months. I’ve let myself become too emotional.”

  “He didn’t want you to marry me?” She had always been a fair judge of character. She couldn’t believe her intuition could be that far off when it came to TJ.

  “TJ has absolutely no reservations about you. He’s worried about me.” He took a deep breath and put his hand over hers. “TJ is my half brother. My mother was a whore in town. Joseph got her in the family way and wanted to have a small part in raising his bastard, his namesake.”

  “If she was a whore how did she know he was the one who fathered you?” She took a piece of chicken from the basket.

  “Once Bud came into her life she was exclusive to him. He planned it from the beginning. Set my dad up to take responsibility. I guess that’s why he was never around. He knew I wasn’t his. By then it was too late. He knew my mother and Joseph Bester were lovers.

  “TJ felt sorry for me knowing we were brothers, and that Bud would never openly acknowledge it. One day he heard his mother crying and she confessed it all. Told him someday it would be up to him to make it right with me.”

  “That’s why TJ gave you this land.”

  Train nodded.

  “Why are you telling me this?” She wiped her mouth on a napkin, but her eyes never wavered. They remained locked on Train’s. Somehow, they both knew this was the crossroads of their marriage.

  “Because my mother never lived with the man she devoted her life to. She remained his mistress until she died. I guess Bud was good to her if you call Sunday afternoons a relationship.” He took out his tobacco pouch and rolled a cigarette. “I was ten when TJ told me we were brothers. After that I pitied my mother.”

  “And you pitied me?” She took the cigarette from him. “It doesn’t work to pity someone who isn’t unhappy.”

  “You’re right. I did go looking for a whore to rescue.”

  Her hand moved to cover his. “You found one. I don’t want to leave. I want to be your wife. I was too stupid to know I w
as unhappy.”

  “I don’t want to change you.” He ran his hand along the fabric of her dress. “This is what I want.”

  “What about the good, little wife that cooks and cleans?” She took his hand and moved it up her body.

  “Only if you want.”

  “I only know how to be a whore.”

  “Good, when I come home for lunch I want to find my wife partially dressed and waiting for me.” He slid his hand inside her coat and under her dress, caressing her shoulder. “You’re trembling.” Now that he wasn’t swinging a heavy hammer, the cold got to him, too. He shivered. “Let’s go in.”

  Marion picked up the picnic basket. “I’m not going to stop going to the shack.”

  “Then we’ll continue to fight about it.” They stepped into the warm coziness of their little house.

  “I’ll make you forgive me.” Her dress dropped to the floor.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Train sat across from TJ in the shack. “Think the storm will bring much snow?”

  “Not this one, but we’ve seen the last warm day until spring. Are things any warmer between you and Marion?”

  “I told her everything.”

  TJ glanced at him over the rim of his coffee cup.

  “She won’t say anything. She respects your privacy.”

  TJ took a sip and set the cup down.

  “I told her that it was my decision not to acknowledge my bloodline. I’m not your burden.”

  “You never were. All you have to do is say the word and you can carry the Bester name.”

  Train shook his head. “I like things just as they are.”

  “And what about Jack, Charlie, and the rest of the men? Are you going to be able to work along side men who’ve been with your wife? I can’t have you throwing punches at everyone who looks at her.”

  “Everyone would have a shiner. Jack and I aren’t finished, but I’ll keep it civil between us.” He stopped speaking when he saw the sheriff standing in the doorway.

  Noticing the change in Train’s posture, TJ followed his stare. “Sheriff.” He stood and took the sheriff’s extended hand with his own. “What brings you out here?”

  The sheriff shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I’ll need to speak with Mr. Spencer.” Train straightened his shirt. “Looks like I’m interrupting.”

  “Nothing that can’t be discussed later,” TJ said, leading the way outside.

  TJ made small talk with the sheriff, inquiring on the continuing boom in town.

  Finally, Train interrupted. “What can I do for you, Sheriff?”

  “I need to speak with Marion.” Sheriff Brady adjusted his holster, assuring himself that his weapon was where he liked it. “We had some trouble at the brothel.”

  TJ leaned against the fence post resting one foot on the bottom rail while he listened to Train speak to the sheriff. “My wife doesn’t have any connection to the brothel. Sandy’s brother should have taken possession of the building.”

  “He did,” he said. “And then he burned it to the ground.” The Sheriff glanced from Train to TJ. “We found a woman’s body in the ashes.”

  TJ’s head slumped between his shoulders. “Who?”

  “We’re hoping Marion can help us out.”

  “I’ll ride out with you.” Marion was going to need him.

  * * * * *

  Marion watched the trio of riders approach. Something was wrong judging by the speed of their horses. She went to the fire, threw on another log, and set the coffee kettle on the stone slab to heat.

  Train preceded the sheriff and TJ into the house.

  “Sheriff,” she acknowledged him with only the slightest hint of a smile. “What are you doing out here?” Her first thought was that he had come to see if she had changed her mind about retiring. Sweat trickled down the underside of her arm. Certainly, she was more secure today than a week ago, but Train retained some skepticism about her commitment to the marriage and her desire to be faithful. The way the sheriff was looking at her now was bound to cause another round of quarreling.

  TJ sat at the far side of the table and balanced the chair on its back legs while he leaned against the wall.

  “Who’s going to tell me why you’re here?” She glanced from one man to the next looking for clues to the purpose of their visit.

  Sheriff Brady cleared his throat. “The Dusty Rose is gone. Burned to the ground. Mr. Jensen was arrested for arson. He’s had the pleasure of my hospitality in the jail while he’s waiting for the trial judge to come from Helena.” He pulled something from his pocket and fidgeted with it. “The snow fall is going to make the gutted building a mess. Town council voted to clean it up at the city expense. Figure we can recoup the loss from the sale of the property.”

  The sheriff placed a necklace on the table in front of Marion and watched for a sign of recognition.

  Train leaned against the wall behind her chair.

  “Do you know who this belongs to?” the sheriff asked.

  “It was Sandy’s,” she said.

  TJ’s chair legs hit the floor.

  The men looked at each other. “Ms. Jensen?” Sheriff Brady asked. “Impossible. Sandy’s buried in the town cemetery. Her brother would have had to be insane to dig up her body to burn it with the building.”

  TJ leaned forward, staring at the necklace. “Have you had any reports of grave robbing or cemetery desecration?”

  “You don’t understand,” Marion said. “Cassie kept it as a memento.” She looked at the sheriff. “Where did you find it?”

  Train put his hand on her shoulder. She tensed, fear pooling in her stomach.

  With a sympathetic look, the sheriff answered, “On the body we found in the ashes.” The words hung in the room like an acrid odor.

  “Cassie was still living in the brothel?” She shook her head in disbelief. “She should have left weeks ago.”

  “Maybe she didn’t have anywhere to go,” TJ said.

  “She ran away from home when she was fourteen.” Marion remembered the day they had compared childhood memories. “Her daddy moved her into his bed when her mama died. She’d stayed there a year before he put a baby in her belly. When he beat her, she lost the baby. Then she ran. Her greatest fear was that he took up with her little sister who was ten when she left.” Marion closed her eyes and bowed her head.

  “I guess she won’t worry anymore.” She stood from the table, clutching the necklace in her hand. “Don’t worry about notifying her family.” She went to the window and gazed at the lake. “Cassie enjoyed the thought of her father wondering whether she was dead or alive.” She took a deep breath.

  “Well, I guess that answers all my questions.” The sheriff’s eyes remained on Marion. “Good day to you.” He turned and nodded to Train.

  “I’ll ride back with you.” TJ turned to Train. “Stay with Marion. I’ll finish up our business at the shack.” He spoke with a tick in his jaw, eyes narrowed, and lips thinned.

  Train stepped forward. “I want to take care of it myself--”

  “I’m speaking as your boss,” TJ said, mounting his horse. “I’ll tell Allison about Cassie,” he said to Marion.

  Marion stood on the porch, watching until TJ and the sheriff became small dots on the horizon and then disappeared over a rise.

  Realizing Train stood beside her, she said, “Will you put this on me?” She handed him the necklace, then turned around, lifting her hair.

  “What was TJ talking about?” Marion dropped her hair and faced him. He stared at her without speaking. Afraid of what he was thinking she didn’t press him for an answer.

  “Nothing that matters now. I’ve been a fool. Will you walk with me?” He stepped inside, grabbed their coats, then wrapped his arm around her waist. They started toward the lake.

  “Thank you, Train.” She threaded her fingers with his.

  “For what?”

  “I’m glad you’re a determined man.”

  Train laughed. “
A man with any less determination would have given up on you the first day.” He kissed her temple. “I’d say we’ve earned each other.”

  “I’m pleased with my prize.” She lifted her face.

  He kissed her gently.

  She snuggled, sharing his body heat. “This feels like home, doesn’t it? Brothers should live close to each other, and Allison is the closest person I have to family. I want to help raise her children.”

  He shook with laughter. “Cooking, cleaning, and now a fondness for children?”

  “You’ve cast a spell on me.”

  Silence hung in the air. The wind was crisp on their face. Her heartbeat thumped painfully in her chest. She took a deep breath. “I’m afraid,” she whispered. “I look at Allison as a mother and it’s a beautiful picture. When I try to remember my mother’s face, I can’t.” She stopped walking, but couldn’t look into his eyes, yet felt the heat of his stare. “I begged my mother not to make me leave.” She closed her eyes as she relived the day. “I told her I loved her. It didn’t matter. I’ve never said the words again.”

  Marion held his hand, running her finger along his knuckles. Calloused from ranch life, his palm scraped against the inside of her hand. “The way I feel about you makes me feel vulnerable.” Her chest tightened making it hard to breathe. It was on the tip of her tongue. “I love you. I never thought I could say the words.” She stepped into his arms and laid her head against his shoulder. “It feels good.”

  Train started walking again. “I feel it, too.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and kept her close. “I love you.” And he planned to show her how much for the rest of their lives.

  The End

  Dear Reader,

  I took liberties with history in writing To Wed A Wanton Woman. The draw of a bustling copper boom motivated my decision to create Copper City, a fictional town.