by Linda Broday
Roan ruffled the boy’s hair and winked. Before long, Matt slumped back against her, sound asleep. Marley kissed the boy’s cheek, and she and Roan talked low about his trip. He’d been a very lucky man to have missed the bullet and jail also.
The door opened and Duel strolled in. Marley gave him her mother’s message, but before she got it all out, her mother ran into the room and directly into Duel’s arms.
Marley wanted a love like her parents had. They were a set of magnets, clinking together every time they got close. She watched them hug and laugh, and her heart warmed. She imagined they’d shared a lifetime of not only private talk, but more trials than anyone could list.
She studied the dark stubble already along Roan’s jaw, thinking she’d never been drawn to anyone like she was to him. The ends of his hair brushed the collar of the borrowed linsey-woolsey shirt. The shirt buttons sat open at the throat, revealing a powerful neck. His swollen eyes and bruised face still made her heart ache, and she was suddenly very grateful she’d found him on that lonely road.
His perfectly shaped lips drew her gaze. They were full and masculine and marred only by the deep split on the bottom, compliments of someone’s fist. His mouth suddenly twitched, and his eyes flicked to hers.
“The way you’re looking me over, I wonder if you’re thinking of buying me, Marley.”
Caught! Heat rushed into Marley’s cheeks. She glanced at her parents to see if they were listening, but they were lost in each other. At the moment, she doubted they’d hear a freight train barreling through the house.
The thought had barely formed when her mother whispered something in Duel’s ear and released a soft laugh. “You make me forget we have children to tend to. I’ll meet you upstairs.”
Duel released her, stepped to Marley and took Matthew, then left with Jessie.
Alone at last, Marley turned her attention back to Roan. “I wasn’t staring at you, Roan. I was just checking to see how you’re healing, that’s all,” she mumbled. “And I’ve been curious about the color of your eyes. It’s been hard to see them thanks to the swelling, and I only just noticed that they’re gray.” The color of gunmetal.
He was charming, gentle, and kind, but the determined set of his jaw said he could be a man to reckon with when the odds weren’t stacked against him.
Roan laid down his fork and propped his elbows on each side of his plate. “You know what your eyes remind me of?”
“No.”
“A doe. They’re large and glistening. They reveal a lot about you.”
“They do?” She prayed he didn’t see too much. She had far too many imperfections.
A smile teased the corner of his mouth. “I know by looking at your eyes that you keep a lot of feelings buried inside, and it rips your heart out to see anyone suffer. I can also tell by the stern glance you sometimes give that you don’t put up with much when it comes to the children. How’d I do?”
“Pretty well.” She wouldn’t tell him that he’d read her perfectly—so much that it scared her.
If she didn’t watch it, he’d see her long-buried dream to be held. To be loved. To be seen as a woman.
Ten
While he healed, Roan worked near headquarters, repairing things and generally making himself useful. Matt and some of the other children liked to hang around, and he’d taught them how to make wooden traps for small animals, though not the painful kind. He loved spending time with them and teaching them things. From everything he could gather, every child loved their life on the Aces ’n’ Eights.
He gazed over the compound and beyond, thinking how fortunate he was. An old German proverb came to mind. The heaviest baggage for a traveler is an empty purse.
How true. His had weighed him down, and Duel McClain’s proposition had been a godsend.
The kitchen door of the main house opened, and Marley stepped out into the early morning sunshine, a babe tucked in her arms. Roan’s attention riveted on the beautiful woman and the pretty blue dress she wore.
Just like each morning on a school day, she stood beside the doorway and blew on a little silver whistle like a general in petticoats. An assortment of boys and girls of all ages and sizes filed out behind her. A boy and girl about ten years old stuck their tongues out at each other, then took off in a wild chase. Some older girls who looked to be around fourteen or fifteen linked arms and walked toward the gate, laughing. A cluster of boys around those same ages cut through the trees and disappeared from view. Matt and another boy hovered close to Marley until she sent them after the others.
Soon, he was going to have to make a list of all these children to keep them straight. It seemed he’d dropped into the middle of a kid explosion, flying at him from all sides. Strange how the children had all come from different wombs to arrive in the same place. While the home bore the markings of an orphanage of sorts, love and a sense of belonging filled every inch. None of the kids here bore the scars of an unwanted child.
As he was about to turn back to his job, a boy and girl somewhere around twelve years old rushed from the house. The boy had a pronounced limp, but as the two emerged, he pulled the girl’s braid, then took off hobbling toward the gate as fast as his bum leg would allow.
“I’m gonna get you, Ethan!” the girl yelled, running after him.
“You children better not dawdle. You’ll be late for school!” Marley called. “And someone watch out for these littler ones!”
Roan captured the moment, storing it away in his memory. This was what a real family looked like.
Marley headed toward him, a smile curving her tempting lips. “Getting those kids off to school is a monumental undertaking. I’m worn out and my day has just started.” She shifted the babe in her arms.
“I don’t know how you all manage so many.” Roan returned her smile. “Which triplet have you got there?”
“Dan.” She lovingly brushed the fuzz on the top of his head. “Mama’s got her hands full with Edith and Joe.”
“I can only imagine. You look very pretty this morning.”
A blush colored her cheeks. “Thank you, Roan. I wonder if I could borrow you in about an hour. I need to visit a friend who can’t get around very well.”
“Sure. I’ll have the buckboard hitched.” The prospect of spending time with her made the day a whole lot brighter.
“I need to help Mama get the babies to sleep first. Two of them have the croup and aren’t feeling well.”
“Just say the word.” His gaze followed her as she strolled back to the house. He’d never studied a woman when she walked, and he found watching Marley fascinating. Her dress swished from side to side in time with the rise and fall of her rounded hips. Watching her reminded him of the way a boat glided through the water, easy and smooth, without a fuss. He imagined she danced the way she walked.
A grin spread across his face. She’d announced at supper last night that they’d start on the dancing lessons today. He’d have a reason to hold her in his arms, feel her heart beating against his chest, and smell her fragrance drifting around him, holding the promise of paradise.
If only for a few minutes. Then he’d remind himself she wasn’t for him.
* * *
An hour later, Marley put the last baby in the crib and slipped out the door. Excited tingles danced along her spine. This visit to Granny Jack offered a chance to spend a few hours in Roan’s company.
Besides, with rustlers lurking about, it paid to have an escort. Or at least that’s what she told herself as she carried the basket of goodies for the dear old lady.
The borrowed holster he’d strapped around his lean hips hung low. Maybe he was thinking of rustlers also. He wore his hat pulled down on his forehead, and she could barely see his eyes when he offered his hand.
The sun peeked from the clouds like a mischievous child when Roan helped her into the buckboard. “Than
k you for going with me.” Careful not to wrinkle her skirt, Marley moved it over to allow room, but the seat seemed to have narrowed when his knee rested against hers.
“I’m happy to lend my services.” He lifted the reins and set the buckboard in motion. “How far is it to this friend’s house?”
“Granny Jack lives down the road about two miles.”
“Granny Jack? Whose grandmother is she?”
Marley laughed, shaking her head. “She’s no relation—everyone calls her that. You’ll like her. She lives alone and is quite a character. She’s up in years and always looks forward to fall and my fresh apple cake and jars of apple butter. I try to visit once a week, and we sit and talk over cups of hot tea. Granny is full of homespun wisdom.”
“It must get lonely for her.”
“She has a houseful of cats, but I’ve found carrying on a conversation with animals that can only meow falls short of having someone real to talk to. Do you like cats, Roan?”
A quick grin flitted across his lips before disappearing. “I’m more a horse and dog kind of man myself.”
“I kinda am too,” she confessed. “The only cats we have are the barn variety. When I was young, I had a retriever I named Boobie, and he was very special. I sure miss him.”
“Boobie? That’s an odd thing to name a dog.”
“Hey, don’t laugh! It was pretty good, considering that I hadn’t learned to talk very well. I was probably trying to say doggie, and that’s what came out. I also had a goat named Cheeba. Don’t ask where I got that.” She paused a moment before sharing something she’d never told anyone. “This may seem rather selfish, but part of me wishes I could go back to those days when I had my parents all to myself. It’s not that I mind sharing, and Lord knows those kids need so much love, but”—she looked away, trying to control the tremor in her voice—“sometimes it just gets to be too much. I get lost in the crowd.”
“I can understand that.” He pushed back his hat, and his gray eyes were somber as he took her hand. Marley warmed under his deep, searching gaze. “I haven’t been there long, but sometimes I have to escape all that noise. Marley, what do you want to do with your life?”
Tears filled her eyes. What good did it do to dream? They never came true.
“Sometimes I wake in the night with this crushing fear lying on my chest, squeezing the life from me. I’m drowning in kids and work. I want so much more than this.” Her voice cracked. “I have all these stories crowding in my head, and I love to paint, but when do I ever find a minute for myself? Sometimes I think I might lose my mind.”
The harnesses jangled as the horses’ hooves struck the packed road. Roan probably thought she was a pitiful whiner. She had plenty of food, a warm bed, and people who loved her. From what she knew, he’d rarely had any of those, so what did she have to complain about?
“You have to make the time. Marley, this is important to your survival. You have to feed your soul as much as you feed your belly. Believe me, I know.”
“Tell me more about yourself, Roan. I sense sadness so deep it makes me want to cry.”
“My life is not a pretty story. My mother died when I was seven, and my sorry-ass father gave me away. Blackie Culpepper was a drunk and an outlaw, only I didn’t know about the robbing and killing until later. The day my mother died, he changed my last name to Penny because he said I wasn’t worth a tinker’s damn as a son, and he made me go live with the Widow Harper and rode off.”
“Oh, Roan, that’s horrible!” Such cruelty appalled her and raised her temper.
He gave her a wry smile. “It turned out to be a blessing. Like I told you the night of the meteor shower, the old woman he gave me to was kind and loving. Mrs. Harper fed my mind. She taught me courage and gave me honor. For a lost boy, that was huge. But one night when I was twelve, she went to sleep and didn’t wake up.”
Marley moved closer and curled her fingers inside his. “That’s way too young to be on your own. What did you do?”
“At first, I slept outside a nunnery. I found some loose boards and made a place under the porch. A nun would leave food out for the wild animals, and one day, she discovered me eating from the dish. She took me inside and told me I had to be very quiet and stay out of the way or suffer Mother Agnes’s wrath.” He gave her a sidelong glance. “Mother Agnes was old and as strict and rigid as Sister Frieda was kind. I lived in a small room next to the library. I read constantly and took long walks once a day after the sister had finished her chores.”
“Bless Sister Frieda.” Marley pictured Roan as a frightened little gray-eyed boy with such an uncertain future. “It’s amazing how you found the right people to help you along. They were almost like stepping stones.”
“Sister Frieda picked up where Mrs. Harper left off, and I developed a deeper understanding of the world. From her I learned that knowledge could keep me safe, so I soaked up everything.”
The buckboard rounded a bend in the road, and they rode between rows of tall trees on each side, their branches overlapping and forming a bower that blocked out the sun’s rays. This section of road always seemed so private, and today it felt even more so.
Marley was intrigued by Roan’s life. “What kind of knowledge exactly?”
“It’s a little hard to explain but I’ll try. It’s reading the landscape and knowing the places to find shelter. It’s learning which plants are safe to feed a starving belly. But the most important of all is how to stay alive when others want me dead. Sister Frieda had escaped torture and captivity in her homeland and knew all about survival. She was one tough lady.”
“I wish I could’ve known her. She sounds amazing. Why did you leave there?”
“They closed the nunnery, shipped everyone back East. But I had a sense of direction.”
“Well, Sister Frieda deserves an extra star in her crown.” Marley had a clear picture now of the man she’d saved and, even if he didn’t know it yet, she was determined to be another leg of his journey. She just hoped the ranch proved more than a stopover. He needed a secure place. And she needed a friend.
How could his father have been so cruel to just change his name and give him away? He was just one year older than Matt—had just lost his mother and was probably terrified out of his mind. Her heart hurt for the child he had been. But she had to ask one more question that had been bothering her.
“When I brought you to the ranch and doctored you, I noticed a bunch of old scars on your back. Roan, who hated you that much?”
The clop of the horses’ hooves filled the air as the silence between them stretched. At last, he said, “My father. He tried to whip some backbone into me.”
She’d thought that may have been the case. “That’s horrible. I’m so sorry.”
“Enough about that. I’m curious—how did you become interested in writing children’s stories?” he asked.
“I think I was born with stories in my head. I’ve always loved creating new worlds and filling them with interesting people.” Marley picked at a piece of lint on her brown skirt and lowered her voice. “I want to make a difference in someone’s life, to really matter.”
“You already do. More than you’ll ever know.” Roan still held her hand and stared into her eyes. She wanted to look away but found he held her captive.
“Words are powerful weapons. The world needs more writers and creative people,” he said softly. “We all yearn for things beyond reach, but your dream isn’t. You have the tools and I see the desire burning in you. The only thing preventing you from reaching success is finding the hours. Stop putting everyone else’s needs ahead of yours.”
She let out a sigh and withdrew her hand. “I’ll try. I needed to hear someone say that I’m not being selfish.”
Noise on the road caught her attention, and she noticed a rider cantering toward them through the bower of overhanging trees. When he pulled even, t
he middle-aged man slowed to a crawl and leaned forward to peer intently at them. The hair on her arms rose. He resembled a scarecrow, the way the skin stretched tight over his cheekbones, and his nose was like a bird’s beak. But it was the knowing, brown-toothed leer that unleashed a quake that shook Marley all the way to her toes. She’d never seen anyone who so unnerved her. Evil poured from him like water through a sieve.
Roan rested his hand on the butt of his Colt. “Do you want something, mister?”
Without a reply, the stranger smiled and tipped his hat.
As the man rode on, Roan asked, “Do you know him, Marley?”
“I’ve never seen him before.” Shivers still ran through her from his sharp, piercing stare. It was almost as if he hated her. Who was he, and why did he seem to know her?
Roan swiveled in the seat for a glance back, and his warning froze her. “If he ever comes around, run as fast as you can for help.”
She couldn’t help turning for a look as well. “Do you suppose we’ll ever see a day when folks have no need to arm themselves to the teeth when they step out their door?”
“Maybe when folks become more civilized.”
“This is 1899 for heaven’s sake! In three months, we’ll celebrate the turn of the century. We live in a world of baseball, Barnum and Bailey, and chewing gum. We should have learned something by now.”
The stranger turned, his stare burning into hers. She clutched Roan’s arm and whipped back around, hoping that the blackhearted man would never cross her path again.
Eleven
Marley and Roan lapsed into silence. She kept glancing at him, wondering what he was thinking. From time to time he frowned, but she didn’t break into his thoughts. She was trying not to pry. All she knew was that the hawk-nosed man had ruined their momentary closeness.
At last, Roan halted in front of Granny Jack’s small house—little more than a lean-to—and set the brake. She thought his hand might’ve lingered on hers when he helped her down, but then again, maybe it was nothing more than wishful thinking. But she wasn’t imagining the way his shirt tightened across his broad shoulders as he reached for the basket of goodies she’d brought.
