“You what?”
“Do I have to draw you a picture? I love you. Last night was about love. It wasn’t about a last tumble in the hay. And I think you love me. People who love each other don’t walk away when things get rough. They work together. They work things out, together.”
Maggie’s heart raced, her breathing stilled. She moved her lips, but no sounds came out. His eyes had turned to liquid gray; his features softened.
“I’m saying, if you’ll have me, I’d like to grow old with you, Maggie. Sometimes I don’t know why...” he brushed a tear from her cheek. “You can be as stubborn as a mule. And you can totally misread people, but I love you as you are. I…”
“And I love you as you are,” Maggie finally burst out. He looked so calm; her hands were doing the shaking. Closing her eyes, she breathed deeply, wanting to imprint this moment on her memory. If she wasn’t mistaken, Ed Harrington had just declared his love for her. Stumbling out of her chair, beaming, she clambered into his arms.
His lips against hers were tender, cool against her burning mouth. “Maggie, you wouldn’t give up on me when I was crumbling, when I was nearly down for the count. Don’t give up on me now. Don’t give up on us. We’ve got so much going for us. Give us a chance.”
Eagerly, Maggie placed wet kisses across his soot-stained face. Giggling, she said, “I won’t give up, I swear—ever, ever.”
“Then, you’ll marry me?”
Maggie’s eyes widened; her breathing became as ragged as it had in the midst of the barn fire.
“I love you. Marry me.”
She could feel the tumblers of her brain tipping over and spinning. He was completely sincere; this was not a response to their loss. He’d reached this point before the fire. The letter had freed him up to move forward. He was waiting for her response as patiently as if he was working with a weanling. Marry me.
This was what she had wanted. This was her hope and her dream. Why wouldn’t words come? Was she still afraid he’d flee? She’d just given him that opportunity, and he hadn’t taken it. Marry me.
And then she felt a broad smile split her face. “You better believe it, cowboy. I’ll marry you today, if you want. Or next month. Or whenever.” Laying her head on his chest, she offered, “We’ll make quite a team.”
“That proposal wasn’t as romantic as I’d planned, but it will have to do.”
“It did real fine,” she responded, luxuriating in his arms. “What a twenty-four hours we’ve had.”
“That’s for sure.” He set her back down on her feet. “Now that we know I’m staying, how about backing off on selling the farm? I know how important the land is to you and to your family. Give it some time. Okay?”
“Okay,” she murmured. “We’ll work it out…together. I love you so much. I can’t believe our good fortune. The kids will be ecstatic. Wait till I tell Flo.” She glanced up to see him frowning. “Well, it is okay to talk about isn’t it? This isn’t some secret we have to hold onto for the next forty years.”
“Of course not,” he conceded. “Guess I’m just not sure how to proceed. I’m looking forward to telling the kids, but I’m not so sure about the neighbors.” He leaned away from her and spread his arms out wide. “I can see the local headlines: Big City Drifter Lassoes Local Maverick Girl.“
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
By late afternoon following the fire, casseroles, salad bowls, cake pans, pie tins, wax paper, and plain boxes overran the Anderson kitchen. Maggie couldn’t fathom how her neighbors had come up with the volume and variety of food. There was ham, chicken, beef, fish, cooked and raw vegetables, and more deserts than she figured were healthy for any family. One person even brought Chinese and another, frozen pizza. Maggie knew this was typical for small rural communities in times of crises. Lord, she’d cooked many a dish to take to a home when someone had been ill or died.
A wave of weakness flooded Maggie—her community still accepted her. It felt good to belong; it always had. Some of her neighbors could be royal pains at times, but all in all she wouldn’t trade any of them for the big city.
She stopped putting away food to savor the moment. Even in the face of what was a dark, tragic moment, she was thrilled about the future.
Without a word, she stepped over to kiss Ed lightly on his head, then quickly stepped away. He wanted her, and she didn’t have to move away from Beaverhill to have him. The kids were excited about having him for a real dad.
Ed pulled his eyes away from the charts he was working on long enough to ask with a curious glint in his eyes, “What was that about?”
“Nothing more than a little I love you,” she said, returning to the task of finding room for food.
The soft response, “I love you, too,” came before he resumed reading.
Maggie wished everything could stay as comfortable as it was in the familiar warmth of her kitchen. It wouldn’t. The cloud of danger still loomed over all of them. They would remain wary of strangers and be on alert, but Maggie was confident that together they could face anything. She’d regained her composure and her mettle; no way would she be frightened into selling.
The fire marshal had already determined the barn fire was the work of an arsonist. Although the sheriff continued to scratch his head in wonderment about the whole situation, Ed had told her that Clint Travers had a private investigator nosing around in the area.
It still amazed her that the man who seemed so at ease with kids and horses operated a detective agency on the side. Mainly, he was a silent investor, but it sounded like he had taken a personal interest in their case.
A knock on the porch door elicited a groan from her. “Not more food. There’s no space for it.”
“Hi, Maggie,” Ben Templeton said, stepping through the doorway carrying several folders and pamphlets. “Do you have a minute or two?”
“Of course. Come in. I’ll get you a cup of coffee. Sorry, I forgot to call you about the insurance claim.”
“That’s only part of the reason I’m here,” he said, nodding to Ed, who had put aside his paper.
“Why the catalogs, Templeton?” Ed asked as Ben pulled up a chair and Maggie set a cup of coffee in front of him. “You planning on building a barn?”
“Sort of,” Ben replied. His grin was tight. “Actually, you two are.”
Maggie wondered why Ben was nervous. He seldom appeared to have a worry. Pulling up a chair for herself, she said, “We haven’t decided what to build. We need more time. And even with the insurance, I’m not sure we can afford to rebuild. The costs are much higher today than when we took out the policy.”
Ben sipped his coffee. He glanced at Maggie and looked quickly away. He paused. At last he spoke, “Yes, that might have been a problem, but not anymore.”
Maggie scowled. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve already gone over the insurance papers. You’ll do okay, but it won’t pay for the kind of facility you need. However,” he hesitated, fingering one of the pamphlets, “people in town and your neighbors out here in the country have been keeping the phone lines hot all day.”
“So?”
“So, folks around here don’t like it when someone is out to hurt one of their own. You should know that, Maggie.” Shoving the catalogs across the table to her, he said, “Your friends and neighbors want to help out. They want you to pick out a barn design that will meet your needs. Quickly, before winter sets in. They’ll provide the labor. We have carpenters, plumbers, and electricians prepared to donate their labor. You’ll only have to cover the cost of materials.”
Maggie reached a hand to her forehead trying to steady herself. Ed gave her a knowing smile. She started to speak, but Ben continued on.
“The insurance money probably won’t cover even that, but an anonymous donor appeared on my doorstep first thing this morning. That donor is prepared to cover any costs in excess of insurance up to $100,000.”
“My God,” Maggie gasped, “I can’t take that. Nobody around here could afford
to do that.”
“I know it’s a bit of a shock, Maggie. But the money has already been deposited into an escrow account that I’m empowered to manage. All bills are to come directly to me.”
“But how can we take the money? I’m not a charity case.” Maggie clenched her fists.
“Of course not, but you are part of a community that does not want to be pushed around by anyone. This is more than helping a neighbor in need. It is a statement to whoever is trying to bring you down. We will not stand by and allow that kind of vigilantism to win out. If you fold under that kind of pressure, who will be next?”
“But who can afford that kind of money?”
“I can’t tell you that. But I can assure you that the money is available for the sole purpose of helping rebuild Anderson Stables. So what are you going to do about it?” Ben peered over the top of his eye glasses, which as usual had slid down his nose. “Are you going to let your neighbors down and run?”
“Oh, my goodness.” Maggie giggled into her cupped hands, glancing back and forth between Ben and Ed.
“What do you think, Ed?” she asked softly.
“It’s your call, Maggie.”
“You don’t get off that easy,” she chided. “Remember, we’re doing this together.”
Ed frowned. “I’m committed to rebuilding. I don’t know about the community thing. That seems bigger than even us. Maybe in time we could pay it back.”
“That’s it! Can we treat the extra money as a loan, Ben?”
“The donor anticipated your response. The money cannot be repaid to the donor. But,” Ben steepled his hands, “if you wanted to give some of it back to the community later on, the donor suggests setting up a college scholarship fund at Beaverhill High School for kids who want to study agriculture or related subjects.”
“Guess we can’t argue with that,” Maggie said pensively. “A lot of kids could benefit from the money.” She nodded at Ed. “Looks like we’ve got some planning to do in short order.”
“That’s for sure,” Ed agreed. “Winter could hit us most anytime. With luck, it’ll hold off another six weeks or so. That should give us plenty of time to build and settle the horses. I’m most concerned about the broodmares. We’re darned lucky none of them aborted during the fire.”
Reaching for his hand, Maggie murmured, “I think we’re just plain lucky to be alive, to be a part of this community, to have the kids, and to have each other.”
Ed leaned over to brush his lips across hers.
Clearing his throat, Ben said, “I expect there’s more going on here than I knew about.”
Maggie felt herself blush a little. “Yes, we’re going to get married after the first of the year. Hopefully, things will be back to normal by then so we can actually have a honeymoon.”
“All right! Congratulations to both of you,” Ben said, grinning broadly. “I’m pleased for you, Maggie. I sure didn’t know when I referred you to a horse trainer that I was playing matchmaker.”
“Neither did I, but you couldn’t have done a better job if you had tried.”
The days flew by. Maggie and Ed selected a design for their new stable. The building was designed specifically for horses and would make a better all around horse facility than the old remodeled cattle barn. An enclosed riding arena would also meet their winter training needs.
Maggie stood at the kitchen sink staring out the window. Where there had been only charred ruin a week before, many men and a few women were scurrying about checking off supplies, unloading lumber, and pacing out the new barn dimensions. It looked like what she might imagine to be a beehive having a fire drill. She wondered if that made her the queen bee. What a thought.
A clear division of labor existed. The older women worked in the house helping her with food preparation. Many of the younger women were swinging hammers beside the men. When had the feminist movement subtly hit Iowa?
Chatter and swapping of news droned among the women in the house while they sliced vegetables, peeled potatoes, and cooked meats. The warmth and odors of the kitchen soothed Maggie’s nerves some, but it was difficult to concentrate on gossip while so much was taking place outside that would alter her life.
Could things really be turning around? How many times had she heard and even said that old phrase, Out of darkness comes light. She felt good; really good. But her bones seemed less certain. Maggie’s brow furrowed. She wasn’t about to let even her bones disturb her good mood.
Ed had moved into the house, since the loft had gone up in smoke with the rest of the barn. Having a fair amount of money tucked away in a savings account, he was able to re-outfit himself without any difficulty.
They’d agreed for him to sleep in the downstairs guest room rather than share her bedroom. She shook her head softly. Ed was somewhat old fashioned about some things. With the kids in the house, he thought they should maintain some semblance of decorum.
Maggie chuckled at the memory of Carolyn’s response: “Why not share the same bed? You’re sleeping together anyway. We’re not stupid, you know.”
Maggie shuddered at her lame excuse: “That’s just the way we want it to be.” Right! Well, that was the way it was.
Living arrangements aside, there had been plenty of opportunity for lovemaking. She’d never before given much thought to the amorous advantages of having kids in school. It had been pure pleasure to make unhurried love with Ed. He was such a considerate lover; there would never be enough time to get her fill of him. But she certainly was willing to work very hard at trying.
“How many pots of coffee do you have brewing?” Ed asked, sticking his head through the kitchen doorway.
“Four pots. I borrowed two from the church and one from the school. Hope that’s enough.”
“We’ll need them all. It’s chilly, but the sun is burning off the frost. Can’t expect much better for November. There must be twenty people working on the barn. I’m told more food should be arriving shortly. At this rate, the barn will be raised by the end of the weekend. These folks came to work.” Ed brushed his lips across hers and squeezed her butt before turning to go back to the construction site.
Maggie felt her skin warm; she glanced furtively around at the other women helping in the kitchen. If they noticed that little love statement, no one was letting on. She worried a little about what her neighbors might think, but damn, it was good to have a man in her life again.
“You seem to have found quite a man for yourself,” ventured Amanda Jackson, smiling knowingly at Maggie. “Randy can’t say enough good things about him.”
Maggie returned the worn stocky woman’s smile. The woman had given birth to nine children and worked many hours beside her husband to raise her family. Yeah, she knew something about having a man in her life.
“Thanks, Amanda. I think he’s pretty great, too.”
“Well, many of us want you to know that we’re right pleased for you, Maggie.” Drying her chapped hands on a dishtowel, she added, “It was past time you found another husband. We should honor the dead, but the dead don’t keep you warm on a cold winter night.”
Maggie felt a lump of emotion constricting her windpipe. Somebody actually understood. Unable to speak, she nodded. Lunch time approached. Maggie hoped they were prepared. Tables had been set up in the living room, dining room and on the porch as well as in the kitchen. All the women had agreed that paper plates would suffice. There was no need to take this community togetherness to the point of having to wash piles and piles of dirty dishes. The workers wouldn’t mind what they ate off of as long as there was plenty of food. And it was unlikely that Mrs. McPherson would be by. She always complained at community dinners if china was not used.
An air of determination and happiness hung over all who shared the noon meal. Maggie moved from table to table bringing more food and thanking each person for helping out.
People were glowing with pride. Ben was right. While her friends and neighbors were sacrificing much to help her out of a diff
icult time, they also were the beneficiaries. Each of them was reminded that they were part of a larger community, and when their turn came for a crisis, their friends and neighbors would stand by them, too.
As she made a second round of pouring coffee, Maggie looked up in time to see Mrs. McPherson marching up the steps like it was an everyday occurrence for her to be entering the Anderson house. Maggie pasted the most welcoming smile on her face she could manage. It shouldn’t be such a surprise to see the old shrew. After all, the news of the day was happening at the Anderson farm.
“Welcome, Mary Jane,” Maggie chirped, determined not to let the woman put a damper on the day. Maggie accepted the layered cake which Mrs. McPherson handed her with outstretched arms.
“I came because it is the neighborly thing to do,” Mrs. McPherson explained. “And I understand your rogue is actually going to make an honest woman of you. How nice of him.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Maggie cooed, brightening. “Quite the contrary, I just about had to lasso and hogtie him in order to make an honest man out of him.”
Mrs. McPherson raised her chin and stalked rigidly through the kitchen to the living room, probably seeking a friendly face. Maggie smothered a giggle. When she turned around, several of her neighbors gave her sly approving looks. Most folks wouldn’t dare to tweak the gossipmonger of Beaverhill.
Two weeks later Maggie walked proudly through the new stable. While finishing touches remained to be done here and there, the facility was operational. Four broodmares, appreciating their new surroundings, stretched their necks over stall doors to greet her and search for a carrot or an apple.
Maggie reached out to scratch the ears of a bay. A few more months, she told herself, and they would have little ones dashing about. She and the kids could hardly wait. Even Ed, who like so many horse folks kept emotions secreted away, couldn’t keep awe from creeping into his voice when he spoke of foaling season.
Heat Wave (Riders Up) Page 25
