by Pam Hillman
Not so her relationship with Slade. They took two steps back for every step forward. She’d tried to explain why Amanda lived in Philadelphia. But he hadn’t given her a chance. He’d made it plain that as soon as his mother arrived, she would be out of a job and out on her ear.
Did he think so little of her that he couldn’t accept the idea that she had a good reason for supporting Amanda? A feeling of hopelessness swamped her. He would never look at her as a woman, respect her talents, and applaud the areas she excelled in.
Instead, he would only see her faults because that’s all he wanted to see. He thought so little of her, he didn’t even believe Frederick could love her. She stomped toward the kitchen, ignoring the smarting pain in her foot, wishing she could ignore the man who’d caused it.
As she passed by the kitchen window, she spotted movement at the edge of her garden, and a bit of her anger leached out of her. She stood transfixed as Slade carefully watered each and every one of her precious plants.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“I’M HEADING INTO TOWN.” Slade hefted his saddle onto his horse, glancing at Buck. “You want to go?”
Probably not, but it didn’t hurt to ask. Buck’s health had improved a lot in the last few months, but he still shied away from people. When he’d insisted on accompanying Slade to the Lazy M, they’d avoided towns along the way as much as possible.
But Buck had come out of his shell since they’d arrived at the Lazy M. He’d taken Mrs. Malone to see the Riker woman the other day, and he’d started eating supper in the house. A trip to town would do him good, wouldn’t it?
Buck hesitated for a moment before nodding. “I need more medicine for Mr. Riker’s bull, so I might as well ride along with you.”
Slade didn’t offer to help Buck saddle his horse. And to his surprise, his brother managed fairly well on his own. Mariah’s cooking and the hard work around the barn were paying off. Buck pulled the cinch tight and swung into the saddle. Slade swallowed a grunt of satisfaction and relief as he turned away. Buck was finally on the mend.
Without seeming to, he let Buck set the pace as they rode away from the Lazy M. Once on the open road headed into town, Buck pulled his horse to a slow walk. “You think Ma is going to like it here?”
Slade thumbed his hat back. Buck always cared about others—what they thought, how they felt. And if he couldn’t pour out compassion on another person, he’d find some poor, sick animal to nurse back to health. “I figure she will. She’s always dreamed of getting out in the country away from town.”
“I reckon.” Buck didn’t sound convinced.
What did that mean? Slade frowned, mulling over Buck’s response and coming up empty-handed. Finally he asked, “What’s really on your mind?”
“I just can’t stop thinking about Mariah and her grandmother.” His brother sighed. “You know she’s got a sister, don’t you?”
“I gathered as much.” He didn’t tell Buck her sister’s schooling was part of the reason the ranch was doing so poorly. The very thought made his jaw clench. If Amanda cared anything at all for Mariah and their grandmother, she would be at home instead of letting Mariah pay her way at that fancy school.
“I just feel sorry for them, that’s all. Mariah’s treated me pretty nice.” He chuckled. “I can’t get over the way she lit into Giff Kerchen with that basket of eggs.”
“You’d better watch yourself. I don’t imagine Giff thought it was funny.”
They slowed at the creek that ran across the Lazy M and let the horses take a breather. Buck rested his forearm on the pommel of his saddle. “It’s just that I can’t help but wonder what they’re going to do when they leave.”
An uneasy feeling hit him square in the chest, and he threw Buck a hard glance. “You sweet on Mariah?”
“Of course not. She wouldn’t think of me like that.”
“Don’t be too sure.”
“I’m sure. But I have seen the way she looks at you.” Buck grinned.
“You’re loco.” Slade scowled at his brother. “There’s too much bad blood between our families for Mariah to ever look twice at me.”
He urged his horse into a slow trot as Wisdom came into view, hoping to curtail Buck’s chatter. But it would take more than that to stop the thoughts of Mariah churning around and around in his head.
Slade stopped by the post office and picked up a letter from his mother. She’d started preparations for the journey, but it would take time to cover the distance between Galveston and Wisdom. The women would have to travel part of the way by stagecoach and part by train. He passed the letter to Buck and let him read it for himself. Before long, his family would all be together again.
A couple of buckboards sat in front of the mercantile, and three horses stood loose-jointed at the hitching rail. Unease pricked at Slade as he glanced at his brother. He shouldn’t have asked Buck to accompany him to town.
Ever since the accident, it had been a recipe for disaster when Buck walked into a crowded store. The folks would all grow quiet and pretend to be busy, casting sideways glances at him. Then, before long, most would gather their purchases, sidle toward the door, and ease out, probably to speculate on his battered face. Slade and Buck dismounted, and Slade took a deep breath and led the way, not expecting today to be any different.
It wasn’t.
A sudden quiet filled the store as everyone looked up at the newcomers. Slade counted a couple of farmers, a woman with a small boy, an older well-dressed woman, and the clerk. They all stared at Buck for a shocked moment before turning away and becoming engrossed in the stock on the shelves.
All except the boy.
The kid stared at Buck with the unblinking gaze of someone with a lot of questions.
“Hey, mister, what happened to your face?”
“Matthew!” His mother grabbed his arm, her face turning bright red. She glanced at Buck, then down at her son. “Apologize. It’s not polite to ask personal questions.”
“It’s all right, ma’am,” Buck murmured.
Slade held his peace, letting Buck handle the situation as he saw fit.
Buck hunkered down to the boy’s level. The youngster stared at him with childlike wonder. “I was trying to break in a wild mustang and got thrown. I didn’t get out of the way in time, and that old horse decided to stomp on me.”
The boy’s mouth rounded. “Really?”
“Yeah.”
An excited glint came into the little boy’s eyes. “Wait until I tell Dan about this.”
“To tell you the truth, I knew that mean old mustang wanted to get me. I should have stayed away from the corral until my brother or someone else got there. But I was too cocky. I thought I could handle him alone, but I couldn’t.”
“I want to be a horse wrangler when I grow up.”
Buck tapped the boy’s shirt with his forefinger. “Don’t do anything foolish like I did.”
“I won’t.”
His mother leaned down. “Say good-bye, Matthew. We need to go.”
Matthew shook Buck’s hand before leaving with his mother.
Slade glanced around. The faces of the men held a grudging respect while the nicely dressed woman dabbed at her cheeks with a handkerchief before turning toward the dry goods and taking an intense interest in a spool of black thread.
A feeling of pride at the way Buck handled the situation coursed through Slade. If Buck could learn to live with people’s gawking, then eventually he’d be able to ignore them and get on with his life. Once the people of Wisdom got to know him, they’d see the kind of man he was inside, instead of focusing on the scars.
Slade fished a piece of paper out of his shirt pocket and handed it to the shopkeeper. “Can you fill this order?”
The man scanned the list and nodded. “I think I’ve got everything. It won’t take long.”
“Thanks. I’m in no hurry.”
The shopkeeper smiled and stuck out his hand. “The name’s Thompkins. Jed Thompkins. You mus
t be the new owner of the Lazy M. I saw you in town the other day with Mariah but didn’t get a chance to introduce myself.”
“Slade Donovan.” He shook the shopkeeper’s hand and thumbed over his shoulder in Buck’s direction. “And that’s my brother, Buck.”
“Welcome to Wisdom. Heard you bought the Lazy M from Mariah.”
“That’s right.”
“A mighty fine spread. And the Malones are good folks. Couldn’t ask for any better.” He shook his head. “That Mariah’s had it rough, though. Glad to see someone buy that ranch. Too much work for a woman to handle alone.”
Slade nodded, not knowing what else to do. He’d promised Mariah he wouldn’t tell the townspeople what her father had done, and he wouldn’t go back on his word.
Mr. Thompkins held up the slip of paper. “I’d better get your order filled, or I’ll be here jawing all day.”
Buck wandered away, studying the bottles of cure-alls and medicines lined up on a shelf behind the counter.
While he waited, Slade looked at the odds and ends, the bolts of brightly colored cloth, and tins of meat. In one corner, Mr. Thompkins had string beans, new potatoes, and fresh eggs for sale. Had Mariah intended to sell the eggs she’d dumped on Giff Kerchen? If she had, her temper had cost her a pretty penny.
He moved on and came to a low shelf with a small selection of sturdy boots on display. He picked up one of the boots, admiring the handiwork. He rubbed his thumb over the leather uppers, feeling its cool suppleness.
The pleasing scent of new leather tickled his nose, and he placed the boot back on the shelf, knowing that such boots would be expensive. They were the kind men wore to church and fancy gatherings or if they were going courting. And since he didn’t intend to do any of the above, he didn’t have a need for a pair of fancy boots.
A dainty pair of women’s boots tucked beside the larger ones caught his eye. Out of curiosity, he picked one up. The brown leather was soft but sturdy, with two rows of hooks marching up the side. He hefted the small boot in the palm of his hand, remembering the holes worn in the bottom of Mariah’s.
He frowned and plunked the boot back on the shelf. She had made the choice to live without boots. There wasn’t anything he could do about it.
A sudden commotion outside drew everyone’s attention to the front window. A man lurched drunkenly down the middle of the street, blocking a farm wagon pulled by two draft horses.
“Git outta the way, you lazy no-account drunk!” the driver shouted.
The man waved offhandedly at the driver before weaving his way toward the mercantile.
“A sad case, that one.”
Slade glanced at Mr. Thompkins.
“He lives down on the other side of the tracks. Got a timid little wife and two kids. A boy and a girl. He’s done a few odd jobs around town. Does a good job too, but he don’t stay sober long enough to work more’n one or two days, and he’s at it again.”
The shopkeeper shook his head and turned away to finish Slade’s order. Slade tried to ignore the man slumped against the porch steps of the mercantile, but his thoughts wouldn’t let him. The whole situation reminded him too much of his own father. His father had stayed drunk, hardly knowing—or caring—if the rest of them had anything to eat or clothes to wear or even a roof over their heads.
He thought of the little boy he’d given the money to. Could this man be the boy’s father? More than likely. There probably weren’t too many drunks in a town the size of Wisdom.
“All right, mister, here’s your order,” Mr. Thompkins said.
“Put it on the Lazy M tab, will you?”
“Sure thing.”
Slade picked up his supplies and headed out the door, Buck right behind him. A little boy stood beside the drunken man.
“Pa?”
The man grunted. “Wha’? Wha’cha want?”
“It’s time to come home, Pa.”
The man brushed the kid away. “Leave me ’lone. Can’t you see I’m sleepin’?” He curled himself up on the porch.
Slade stuffed his saddlebags with his packages, unable to ignore the child as he tried to rouse his pa. As he suspected, it was the same boy he’d met down by the railroad tracks. Somehow he’d known those kids were hungry. They hadn’t asked for money or a handout. But he’d known.
“Pa, you’ve got to come home.” The youngster tugged on his pa’s sleeve. “Ma’s got some rabbit stew cooking. Don’t you want some stew?”
“Don’ want no stew.”
Desperation clouded the boy’s expression. “But, Pa—”
The shopkeeper stepped through the door. “Better get him out of here.” He sounded apologetic. “Or I’ll have to call the sheriff. Can’t have him running off all my customers. Especially the women. They won’t come in here with him plastered all over my porch.”
“Please, Mr. Thompkins, don’t call the sheriff.” Fear shot across the boy’s face. “Ma don’t want Pa to go to jail again. He’s almighty mean when he gets out.”
“I know, son, but he’s got to go.” Mr. Thompkins glanced at Slade, clearly in a quandary.
Slade looked at the boy. “How about if I help you get your pa home?”
“Would you, mister? I’d be mighty obliged.” A light of hope shone in his eyes.
“What’s your name, young man?”
“Jimmy—” He drew himself up tall. “Jim Denton.”
“I’m Slade Donovan, and this here’s my brother, Buck.”
As Slade pulled the man to his feet, Jimmy’s pa glanced around wildly. “Where we goin’?”
“Goin’ for a little ride.” Slade helped him up on his horse. Denton groaned and slumped over the saddle horn.
Buck jerked his head toward his own mount. “You want a ride out to your house, Jim?”
Jim nodded, his too-long bangs flopping into his eyes. “Yes, sir.”
Buck helped him up onto the gentle horse, and Jim led the way out of town. They crossed the railroad tracks past the church and headed down a rutted lane. Less than a mile from town, they came to a dilapidated shack.
Jim slid off Buck’s horse and ran toward the house. A thin young woman with light-brown hair came to the door. A look of relief eased her tired features when she saw her husband.
“Mr. Slade and Mr. Buck brought Pa home.”
“Ma’am.” Slade touched his hat.
It didn’t take much effort to haul Denton off the back of the horse and propel him toward the porch steps. He disappeared inside.
The woman turned to Slade, her gaze not fully meeting his. “Thank you.”
“Welcome, ma’am.”
Little Jim studied the ground.
Slade ruffled his thick shock of hair. “Jim, we could use some help out at the Lazy M. Would you be up to doing a little work this summer?”
“Could I, Ma?” The boy’s face lit up.
Mrs. Denton glanced toward the open door of the shack and twisted her hands in her faded apron. “You’d have to ask your pa.”
The boy’s face fell.
“You do that, Jim.” Slade gathered up his horse’s reins. “I’ll be by later in the week and we’ll see about it, okay?”
“Yes, sir,” Jim mumbled, head lowered as he toed the dirt.
They rode home in silence. Slade knew he and Buck were both thinking about the abject poverty the Dentons lived in. The kind of poverty they both were familiar with. The kind that seeps into your pores and stays with you for a long, long time.
But not anymore. Slade took a deep, cleansing breath. His mother no longer lived in a drafty shack on the edge of town. He fingered the letter in his pocket, anticipating the day she’d arrive. He couldn’t wait for her to see the Lazy M ranch house. It might need work, but it was a mansion compared to where she’d lived for as long as he could remember.
Only one thing tempered his bright new future.
Mariah and her grandmother would pack up and leave as soon as his mother arrived, and he only had himself to blame.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
THE YELLOW TOMCAT sat still as a statue, watching Mariah, unblinking. Slowly he lowered his head and nibbled at the leftover pot roast.
“It’s all right, Yellow,” she murmured, her voice whisper-soft. “I won’t hurt you.”
He kept his suspicious gaze on her but continued to eat. Mariah forced herself to relax. Maybe she should forget about trying to tame him. The exercise involved too much effort. Right now, she needed to be in the house finishing supper, not crouched out here trying to lure a half-wild cat to her. What good would it do to keep trying since she’d be gone before long?
She tossed another piece of meat near him when he finished the first one, making sure it landed a little closer to her. He inched his way toward it, still eyeing her. She held her breath. She could reach out and touch him if he’d let her. But she didn’t dare. Not yet.
He tore off small pieces of the meat, and she thought about how sad his life had been. Not long after Giff had come to work for the Lazy M, he’d brought a new dog to the ranch. A rangy, mean-looking critter that despised cats. If the dog caught one, he’d kill it.
In self-defense, the barn cats had taken to the woods behind the house. Mariah had tried to feed them, but the dog guarded his territory ruthlessly and the cats had to fend for themselves for months. None of them would come close to the house or any of the barns with the dog around.
Then one day the dog disappeared. Mariah didn’t know what happened to him, and she didn’t ask any questions. Gradually the cats returned, along with a litter of half-grown kittens. Skittish Yellow, born and raised in the woods, didn’t take to farm life like the other cats. He lurked in the shadows, running off if anyone came near.
Mariah’s foot went to sleep, and shifting her weight, she stood. Yellow darted away but stopped and watched from a distance. She murmured soothing words, encouraging him to let her get closer. He crouched, eyes narrowed, wary. Wary, tough, and alone.
His guarded stance reminded her of Slade.
