What could he say? He brought her out to this primitive place to scare her off because if she saw his real home, she would never leave. And he wanted her gone. That sounded uncharitable. But, if she knew how well off he was, would she take advantage of the situation and refuse to seek an annulment? He didn’t know the woman well enough to chance it.
“Mr. Malone?”
“I thought if you saw the place you would be living for the rest of your life, you would turn tail and run. It seems I was wrong about that.”
“So does that mean you might consider letting me stay, now that you know I can be of help to you?” He hated the hopeful look on her face but he had no choice but to quash it.
“No, Miss Sinclair. I am not interested in gaining a wife. Tomorrow, we will head back to town and then we can get a look at that letter.”
He had lost his appetite. “I’ll be in the barn if you have need of me.”
10
Grace looked out the bedroom widow but she couldn’t see the barn from her viewpoint. Mr. Malone left during their meal and she hadn’t seen him since.
What was she going to do about all this? The kitchen put away. And Mr. Malone was outside in the barn where he had been since he abandoned supper. He was a skittish one. Preparing for bed, Grace pulled the covers back, keeping the candle high enough to make certain the linens were still free of...crawly things. Her whirlwind cleaning campaign left her with clean sheets to sleep on and a floor she didn’t mind walking on with bare feet. She should be dog tired and ready for sleep but today’s crazy turn-of-events had her mind racing.
Reasonably comfortable in the primitive bed, she blew out the candle and lay in the dark. Too exhausted to sleep, Grace allowed her mind to wander unbridled over the events of the last couple of weeks.
She wondered how her sisters were getting on back home. Strange. Grace had never connected the dusty garbage infested alleys of Kansas City as home. But she supposed that was the definition of home. A place to hang one’s hat. A place to gather with the people you loved. The people you depended on. And that depended on you. She missed her sisters. And Rosie.
Thoughts of her sisters kicked up the anxious knot in her chest. What was going on back there? Had anything changed? Was the law investigating the man’s death? Most important of all, was there a price on her head? Or was Faith the one in trouble? She rolled over and punched her helpless pillow into a more comfortable shape.
It was so quiet out here. Not like Rosie’s boisterous establishment. People laughing. Gunshots going off all hours of the night. The sounds out here were so different from the popping and creaking of that old building and piano music wafting through the floor boards from downstairs.
No. It wasn’t completely quiet. She listened to the nocturnal animals make their presence known. Coyotes howled in the distance punctuated by the deafening quiet that followed. Pack mates answered. An owl hooted close by.
Grace sighed into the darkness and punched her pillow again. Her skittish husband had left the cabin repeating more than once he was so sorry about all this and he would get to the truth. But he made a solemn vow he did not want another wife and he planned on returning to Creede tomorrow. Considering the circumstances, she didn’t blame him. But she wished he would reconsider. She liked him. Bushy beard and all.
Another coyote howled. This time it seemed closer. She admonished herself for being jumpy. John was outside doing whatever it is that men do. She had nothing to worry about.
And then there was a new noise. A shuffling sound. She sat up and listened. There it was again. It sounded like it was—in the next room. Had her husband latched the door on his way out? She couldn't remember. Where was that aggravating man anyway? Was he close enough to come to her aid if she screamed out for him?
What is that? She focused on the sounds turning first one ear and then the other toward the noise. She relaxed a little. Probably just the wind clawing at a loose pane in one of the windows. Deep breath, Grace. Nothing to be afraid of.
The rustling noise again. Was her imagination running wild in this strange place? There was definitely some thing or someone inside the cabin. With her. Fumbling with the covers, she slipped out of bed and stood in the narrow space between the bed and the wall. Tiptoeing across the cold floor with bare feet, she found the candle holder next to the bed. Scrabbling noises came from the main room near the kitchen.
Grace’s heart thudded furious beats against her ribs. She ran her hand along the log surface pressed against her back and scooted her feet on the floor until she came to the end of the bed. She needed something to defend herself with. Something hard. She felt around in the darkness for a weapon she could use. Nothing.
Her breathing was rapid but shallow. She was not used to this altitude and with her heart beating so fiercely it seemed probable she might pass out at any moment. Where had she set the candle holder?
She heard it again. Something was definitely in the next room.
“John?” She whispered. No response.
Peeking through the door into the other room, she could see flickering shadows. The fire in the stove cast enough light to make out the shapes of ordinary things. Padding barefoot across the wood floor, she peeked under the table and in the corners of the room.
Suddenly, a movement in the corner of the kitchen cabinets, caught her attention. She crept closer. The shadow disappeared behind the table. It must be a small animal that snuck in while John was bring in their supplies. She should open the door and scare the little critter out of the cabin. She didn’t relish animal droppings in her flour or sugar. Creeping closer, she saw something scurry across the countertop. Whoa. That’s a pretty big something. She needed her broom.
Backing across the room, she grabbed the broom resting against the wall. She opened the door and swung it open wide. When she did make contact with whatever it was, she wanted it to have a clear path out.
Keeping the light of the fire between her and it, she crept around the table, poking her broom underneath the chair legs. Nothing. She checked under the stove. Poking blindly under the shelves, she rattled a few pans but nothing. Quiet. That made her even more nervous.
She heard a scrabbling noise coming from the top shelf. There was a slight movement behind the makeshift curtains covering the shelves.
She moved closer, broom at the ready. Yep. There was something definitely in there. Her heart beat pounded in her ears.
Pulling the curtain back with the tip of the broom, she could see a darker shadow against the bags and tins of food. Now to scoot it out of the cabinets and out the front door.
She stepped closer so she could nudge it with her broom. But, instead of cooperating with her plan, it had other ideas. The minute she touched it with her broom, the thing hissed at her and turned its red eyes on her in the darkness.
Before she could retreat, it leaped out of the cabinet, landing on the countertop. The thing was hissing like a cat and its eyes glowed red in the firelight. Grace screamed and threw the broom at it then tripped over the leg of a chair and landed hard on the wood floor. Lying on her back, she looked up at the monster crouched above her on the counter. It leapt down and came right at her. She covered her head, certain she was going to be eaten alive.
Another gulp of air and she screamed with every ounce of lung she could muster. And screamed. And screamed. And screamed.
John shoved another shovel of manure into the wheelbarrow. It wasn’t easy looking after six draft horses in the close confines of the barn. He’d left a perfectly good meal sitting on the table because he was too chicken to stay and face the little miss inside. Maybe he would sleep out here tonight with the horses. He couldn’t sleep in the same bed with Grace. It wouldn’t be proper seeing as he had no intention of consummating the marriage or keeping her as his wife.
He hated to admit it, but he liked the woman. And she hadn’t gone all crazy nuts when he told her the truth about the letter. She was a hard worker and had an agreeable spirit. He wished he co
uld have met her under different circumstances. But, it wouldn’t have mattered. She wasn’t Lizzy.
He leaned the shovel against the wall of the barn and grabbed the handles of the overloaded wheelbarrow. An ear-piercing scream rent the air. “Grace!”
John ran out the barn door throwing the bolt in place mid-stride to keep his horses from escaping the confines of the barn . He ran the few yards from the barn to the cabin and was terrified when he saw the door standing wide open and Grace screaming hysterically inside. What could have happened? Fear kicked him hard in the gut. His holster and gun hung over a stall in the barn. Fisting his hands into possible battering rams, he ran into the dark cabin calling her name. “Grace! What’s happened?”
He rushed to her on the floor, her body thrashing. Arms and legs kicking at an unknown assailant. He reached down to pull her up from the floor but her flailing limbs bucked like a colt in spring.
A bare foot kicked out at him in the darkness, catching him under the chin. Stunned, he fell to his knees. A fist punched at his face hitting him in the nose and another squarely in the eye. A shock of pain sparked through him. “Grace! Damn it! It’s me, John!” He reached out blindly, finally making contact with slender wrists. Unable to grab all four thrashing limbs at once, he restrained her legs with his thigh and pushed her arms above her head pinning them to the floor. Grace stopped screaming and now lay shaking under him. His face inches from her, he could just make out the gleam of the firelight in her eyes.
“What happened? You scared the hell out of me, woman, screaming like that.” The rise and fall of her breast against his chest suddenly had his full attention.
“Tell me what happened?” She turned toward him, her eyes had lost some of their fear.
“I heard something and I grabbed the broom to shoo it out and it hissed at me. With glowing red eyes. I’ve never seen anything like it.” She whispered close to his ear as if she were frightened it would hear and come back for her. Her breath tickled his face causing a stirring down south. He should probably let her up now.
He released her wrists thinking she would move to get up. But, his new little wife did nothing of the such. Instead, she raised one hand to his face, touching his bearded cheek, running soft fingers over his swelling eye. Her gaze dropped from his injured eye to his lips and back again. His groin hitched hard. He could tell by the surprise in her expression, she noticed. He really should let her up off the floor. But instead, he kissed her. Hard.
John stomped through the heavy snow to the cabin. His back was stiff and his feet were blocks of ice attached to his legs. He could have spent the night in the cabin next to the fire but after last night’s roll on the floor with Grace, and that damned kiss he planted on her, he was certain that was not such a good idea.
He slapped his hat against his thigh removing as much snow as he could before he hung it on the peg behind the door. Just his luck. His trip to take Grace back to Creede was thwarted by an early fall snowstorm.
The cabin was quiet. Grace must have decided to sleep in. He didn’t blame her. He had given her a lot to deal with last night not to mention his attempt at rescuing her had gone miserably wrong. He heard her scream. And instead of saving the poor woman, he had stumbled on top of her, and then kissed the holy hell out of her. He didn’t blame her if she was thoroughly confused. It took every ounce of conviction he had to leave Grace in that cabin alone and stomp off to the barn to sleep with his team of draft horses.
He put on a pot of coffee and stood at the sparkling clean window, compliments of his wife's hard work, and watched the low gray clouds swirl around Bristol Peak. The frozen fog slithered and crawled its way down the mountain slope to the river's bank like a big cat stalking prey. The creeping cloud blocked out everything but the white sparkling snow swirling in the rising wind. An early fall snow storm. Not a normal occurrence but on occasion, the weather would come from the southwest. And when it did, the snow fell heavy.
He knew what this meant and he was not happy. Most of him was not happy. Especially after he was unable to resist Grace’s feminine charms. The sight of her under him, the feel of her warm, soft body hitting him exactly in the right spots made his mouth practically water. Apparently, he had been without a woman’s comfort far too long. When he got back to town, he would visit the girls over at The Holy Moses Saloon. Convinced that was all he needed to ignore this new woman in his life, he checked to see if the coffee was ready. He needed a cup to open his tired eyes. He peeked inside the pot. Almost.
He shuffled back to the window on sock covered feet. Heavy condensation frosted the panes and he swiped at it to give him a better view of the weather he wished he could change. Part of him wanted to hitch up his team to the wagon and make a run for it into town. But he knew that was a coward's way of thinking. He couldn't put Grace in danger of being caught out in the open in a snow storm.
They weren't going anywhere until the snow swept through and from the looks of it, it could be sometime tomorrow before the snow stopped falling. Then it would be at least three or four more days before the waning September sun would melt it enough to make the road passable. It could be as long as a week. “God help me.”
He glanced once more out the window to the swirling white clouds. In spite of all his good intentions, a spark of something passed between him and his golden haired wife last night during that ill-advised kiss. He felt it. And he sensed Grace felt it too. He shook his head at the complexity of the situation. Why couldn’t the woman have been, well, not so dang pretty. And it wasn’t that she was just pleasing to look at. No. She seemed pretty on the inside too.
Grace understood his position. At least she said she did. He admired her courage. A lesser woman would have threatened him. Begged. Cried. Pleaded to stay married to keep from being humiliated by a husband that didn’t want her.
John could admit to himself he had a fair amount of admiration for Grace, but there was nothing she could do that would change his mind. He just needed to get her back to town so he could get on the road with his team and freight wagon. Then his carefully constructed world would be back to rights. He smelled the aroma of fresh brewed coffee. “Thank goodness.” He poured himself a cup and took a tentative sip of the scalding hot brew. Cup in hand, he returned to his post at the window. It was going to be a long three days.
“Good morning.”
John whirled around, spilling coffee from his cup.
“Uh, good morning. How did you sleep?”
“It was decent. And you?”
“Tolerable.” He wasn’t going to admit his back ached and he lay awake most of the night thinking about their kiss.
"What has your attention?"
"Take a look for yourself." He stepped away from the window and let Grace have a look.
"Oh my! So much snow. It's swirling in the wind I can hardly see the river. We can't possibly make it to town in that." She turned to look at him, her face full of questions.
"No, we'll have to postpone our trip to Creede until the snow lets up. A couple of days. Maybe three. Would you like some coffee? I made it fresh."
“I’d love some.” She was dressed in a heavy wool skirt and blouse. She crossed the room and found her shawl on the hook on the wall. Throwing it around her shoulders, she sat down at the table. “It feels like the temperature is really dropping outside.”
John set her cup of coffee on the table in front of her and sat across the table from her. He waited until she downed a couple of sips before he spoke. “It’s going to be a long few days here. Waiting out the storm, I mean. I—don’t want it to be awkward between us.”
She looked up at him. A slight smirk curved her lips. “John, I’ve been kissed before. Please don’t give it another thought. It was nothing. Besides, you managed to scare off whatever beast was skulking in the dark. What do you think that was anyway?”
Stunned at her dismissal of his kiss, he stammered for words. “What? Oh, the animal last night. Um, you say it hissed at you?”
<
br /> She nodded and took another sip of coffee. “Yes, and it had glowing red eyes. Very scary.”
“Well, it was more than likely a raccoon. They hiss and growl when upset. I don’t know about the red glowing eyes though. Unless its eyes caught the reflection of the fire.”
Grace nodded at the possibility that was what happened. “How is your eye this morning? I’m so sorry I punched you. I was just so frightened— “
He reached up to touch his eye and realized she was watching. Lowering his hand, he shrugged his big shoulders. “It’s nothing.” He sensed her studying him and it made him nervous. What was the woman thinking? He changed the subject. “So, how do you want to spend the day? We can read. Perhaps play a game of dominoes. We have games around here somewhere. Checkers. Dominoes. Cards. Everything is probably in the chest at the foot of the bed.”
He watched Grace ponder the question as if the answer really mattered. “How about cards? I’m pretty good at playing card games.”
John grinned. “Good. I’ll have you know I’m the grand champion poker player of our family. I'll go get some more wood for the fire and feed those overgrown nags of mine and then I’ll be back. Won’t take more than a few minutes."
“Wonderful. I’ll get breakfast started. When we have finished eating, I shall beat you soundly.”
“We will see about that.” John pulled on his coat and hat and left Grace to prepare breakfast. He had to admit he liked the easy banter they shared. His nether region twitched at the thought of their roll on the floor and their shared kiss.
But he would never allow another woman to have access to his heart. And he would never put this young miss in danger. Neither situation would be fair to her. She would make some man a wonderful wife and mother to his children. She deserved a man who would love and protect her. But that was not him.
Grace Page 7
