Summer Moon

by Jill Marie Landis

  She had been so certain she could help Daniel until last night when she had terrified him by showing him the photograph. She was still loath to believe there was no help for him or his father. Reed Benton definitely had a heart of stone, but his body, and hers, were different matters.

  After the liberties he had taken last night, after the way he had molested her right there in the hallway, not to mention the way she had responded to him, she could not afford to ever let down her guard again.

  Away from the confines of the house, the open land was even more intimidating with its raw beauty and desperate loneliness. She stopped to watch a hawk circle overhead. When she started walking again, she heard hoofbeats pounding behind her.

  Instantly aware of how vulnerable she was, she thought of everything Sofia had told her about the Comanche and glanced over her shoulder, afraid of what she might see. Then she groaned in frustration when she recognized Reed.

  He rode so close that she was nearly nose-to-nose with his horse. She had no idea if he was angry at her for leaving or not, because his eyes were half hidden beneath the shadow of the wide brim of his hat. She let her gaze drift over his face. He was clean shaven, and there was a crooked half-smile on his lips.

  Still in the saddle, he raised his thumb and forefinger to the brim of his hat, gave it a tug, and nodded.

  “Miss Whittington.”

  “Mr. Benton.” She crossed her arms and looked out over the prairie.

  “Going someplace?”

  “I was thinking about it. How far is Lone Star?”

  “Far enough.” He pointed over his shoulder in the opposite direction. “Back that way.”

  She reckoned he was starving or he would not have come looking for her.

  “You shouldn’t be out here alone.”

  “What I do is no concern of yours.”

  “You work for me now. If anything were to happen to you on your little stroll, I’d be responsible, wouldn’t I?”

  “Nothing is going to happen to me.” She wished she sounded more convincing. “I am responsible for myself.”

  “Scrappy rode in just as I was leaving. I left him with Daniel.”

  She knew Daniel was terrified of Scrappy, and she tried not to panic at the thought of the two of them alone together. Reed must have sensed her concern, for he immediately tried to reassure her.

  “The boy’s still sound asleep. Are you ready to go back?”

  “Did Mr. Parks find my replacement?” She was afraid to hear, but had to ask.

  He squinted, scanning the land around them. “Nope. Looks like you’ll have to stay. Same terms we agreed on before, room and board, twenty-five dollars a month, and you’ll look after Daniel.”

  “For how long?”

  He squinted toward the morning sun. “Why don’t we say three months?”

  “Can I look after him the way I see fit?”

  “As long as you never trust him completely. Don’t let him outside alone.”

  She almost laughed. Her worry wasn’t Daniel. It was Reed. She wouldn’t trust Reed Benton as far as she could carry him.

  “Turn your back, and he’ll be gone,” he warned her. “There’s one other thing. You need to learn to cook.”

  Over the past few days, cooking had proved to be a very messy mystery best left to someone with a talent for it, but she would certainly keep trying.

  “Fine.”

  “We shouldn’t stand out here in the hot sun all day.”

  Kate sighed. A stiff, hot breeze had already started to roll across the open land. She was thirsty.

  “I’ll go back with you on one condition.”

  “Let’s hear it.”

  “I would like an apology for last night.”

  He opened his mouth and quickly shut it as if he had thought better about what he was going to say. “Fine. I’m sorry.”

  “It won’t happen again?” The moment she asked, she wasn’t sure she wanted him to agree. She looked down, brushed at a burr near the hem of her dress, and waited for him to answer. When she looked up again, she discovered him staring at her mouth.

  Reed shook his head. “I can’t promise you that.”

  “What are you saying?” Her words were barely audible, but he heard them.

  “We might have been tricked into this situation, but I’m a man, and you’re a woman. And we’ve already shared a bed, Miss Whittington. Things are bound to be . . . a bit strained as long as we’re together.”

  Strained? She would grant him that, but she thought that after what his father and Sofia had done, the last woman he would want was her. She couldn’t imagine him having anything to do with her, but here he was talking about his being a man and her being a woman and things being a bit strained.

  Did that mean he was attracted to her? Was that what he was saying? She had no experience with men, no way of knowing how to take what he had just said.

  Sofia’s advice came back to her. Fight for what you want. Perhaps there was a chance that he was attracted to her after all, unless he was just a man who found himself alone in a house with a woman he had already made love to and he, like her, couldn’t help wondering what it would be like to make love again.

  Her heart skipped a beat when he swung his leg over the saddle and dismounted.

  “What are you doing?” She backed up a step. Alone with him in the yawning open prairie, she felt as vulnerable as ever.

  I don’t know him at all.

  He’s not the one who wrote to me.

  He took a step closer and said, “I’m going to help you onto my horse. We’ll ride back together.”

  “No, thank you.”

  “Come here, Miss Whittington, and give me your hand.”

  “I would rather not, Mr. Benton.” Kate headed toward the house on foot.

  Leading his horse, Reed caught up with her in two long strides and fell into step beside her.

  “I’d rather you call me Reed,” he said.

  “Then call me Kate.”

  “This is ridiculous, you know,” he said. “It’s a long way back.”

  “I don’t mind walking.”

  “Is it the horse, or is it that you don’t want to ride with me?”

  She looked over at the huge, coal-black beast he rode. “It’s not the horse.”

  It was the fact that she could not trust him—or herself, but she wasn’t about to give him any ideas by explaining. She stared straight ahead and kept right on walking.

  “If you’re worried that I might kiss you again, Kate, I give you my word that I’ll mind my manners this morning.”

  She stopped dead in her tracks and slowly turned, hoping to freeze him with an icy stare, but he didn’t even look chilled. She started walking again, head high and shoulders straight.

  Within seconds he was walking beside her. “Tell me about Maine,” he said.

  She stopped walking. “When did I mention I was from Maine?”

  He looked surprised. “Sofia must have. Look, Kate, I’m trying to make pleasant conversation here.”

  “It must be quite a challenge for you.”

  “I don’t do this very often; you could do me the favor of helping out. Tell me about Maine.”

  “It’s cold.”

  “All the time?”

  “Most of the time.”

  “What did you teach?”

  “History and elocution.”

  As they continued on in silence, she realized she had been more at ease when he wasn’t trying to be congenial. She had never had a beau, never flirted with a man, let alone carried on any lengthy conversation with one. She stared down at the dust on his knee-high boots, watched a dirt clod go flying as he kicked it aside.

  Daring to slide what she intended to be an unseen glance his way, she discovered he was watching her. Their eyes met and held.

  And then Kate stumbled over a prairie dog mound.

  Reed reached for her arm when he saw she was headed for a fall, caught her in time, but momentum forced her
into him as he grabbed her, and she wound up in his arms. Time stood still as he held her, his senses alive and totally aware of her, the feel of her, the scent of her hair. Like him, she had gone perfectly still. Seconds ticked by. In the distance, a hawk circled its prey. Beside him, Kate drew a deep breath, steadied herself, and straightened.

  Reluctantly, Reed let her go. Being around her twenty-four hours a day wasn’t going to be easy.

  If she had been Becky, he would have suspected her of pretending to trip to wind up in his arms. His late wife had been a consummate flirt. Even marriage had not tamed that side of her. If Kate knew how to flirt, if she was aware of any seductive ways to lure a man into her arms, she had not tried them on him yet.

  The awkward moment over, they started off again, Kate taking care to watch the ground with every step. Failing to start a conversation, Reed gave up and walked along in silence.

  “How did you meet your wife?”

  The question, coming from her, surprised him. “Why?”

  “No particular reason. I was trying to make conversation.” Kate negotiated a low spot in the ground. She had her head down, but there was a hint of a smile playing on her lips.

  “We met at a barn dance in a little town north of Dallas. I was on a cattle-buying trip for my father. Do we have to talk about my wife?” The last thing on earth he wanted to talk about was Becky.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  He looked over, and Kate blushed fire red. She was staring at the ground.

  The words of another of her letters, one she had written after accepting the proposal, came to mind.

  I’ve never been to a dance, never even been to a dinner party. The things you have described in your last letter, the things you have told me of the life that I will partake in as your wife will all be new to me. I’ve never even ridden in a hired carriage, let alone a train. Every single thing about my new life with you will be a grand adventure. I look forward to it with excitement.

  Knowing that she would have none of it now, that her grand adventure had vanished made him too uncomfortable to try to strike up a conversation again.

  The house was still a good distance away. He didn’t think she meant to, but she had him in knots anyway. Unused to feeling so awkward, afraid that he was beginning to shoulder the guilt for what his father and Sofia had done, Reed was tempted to get on his horse and ride the rest of the way alone. He wondered if they would ever get there at this pace.

  Once they were back at the house, Kate washed her face and hands and combed her hair, and then she hurried to Daniel’s room.

  Down the hall, she found Scrappy seated on a ladder-back chair just inside the door. The air was filled with strained silence as the old man and the boy matched wits in a staring contest. The pieces of the photograph case were scattered on top of the dresser.

  Daniel was as embittered as she had ever seen him. When she smiled, he looked away.

  “He don’t look half bad now that he’s cleaned up, does he?” Scrappy reminded her that he was still in the room. “I saw that pi’cher over there, the one of him and his ma. Sure makes a fella think, don’t it? Never know what life’s gonna give you, do you?”

  Two weeks ago she had been a new bride packing for her trip west. “The only thing that’s for certain in this world is that we don’t know what life has in store for us,” she said.

  He nodded in agreement and stood. “If you don’t need me, ma’am, I’ll be going.”

  She paused to consider him. He had dug the keepsakes out of the ruins of Daniel’s life and turned them over to Sofia. Perhaps he wasn’t as hard-hearted as she had first believed.

  “Thank you, no. We’ll be fine, Mr. Parks. Thank you.”

  Fast Pony watched Hairy Face leave and felt better right away, though he did not let the woman see his relief. He had awakened to find the old man guarding the door and knew he had angered Soft Grass Hands by cursing her last night, but he thought he could trust her, that she was not like the others. Now he knew she was as evil as the rest.

  Last night she had tricked him with the terrible charms in the basket. Looking at them had made him feel sick in the pit of his stomach, so sick he had wanted to cry. Finally she had showed him the terrible, flat likeness of himself pressed between glass and metal. It was bad medicine—his face on the body of a baby dressed in a long white robe, the white woman holding him upon her lap. His face was pale as a ghost, as white as the gown. Stiff and unsmiling and flat, they were probably dead beneath that glass. Spirits frozen in time.

  Once he had seen a dead girl lying in the snow, a captive of the Nermernuh. She had been foolish and willful and tried to escape, only to become lost in a harsh winter storm. Her lips were blue, her skin whiter than the snow. She had been as stiff as wood.

  The creatures he had seen under the little glass reminded him of death. So much so that he had thrown them away and revealed his weakness to Soft Grass Hands and Tall Ranger by shouting and crying. A warrior showed bravery, not weakness. The purpose of a warrior’s life was to raid and to hunt. A true warrior would never have cried over some white woman’s weak, evil magic.

  Determined not to listen, he refused to look at her. Then the old man came back and spoke to Soft Grass Hands in the jabber of the Tejanos.

  She said something back and then they both walked out of the room. A soft click sounded behind them, and he knew they had locked him in.

  He did not care, for he was better off alone. He would be very wary from now on. Even of Soft Grass Hands.

  18

  The kitchen was quiet as a dead cow in a snowstorm.

  Reed sat across the table from Capt. Jonah Taylor and the girl he had brought with him from town, wondering what was taking Scrappy so long to fetch Kate.

  Though he tried not to stare, time and again Reed’s gaze wandered back to the battered young blonde seated beside Jonah. Purple swelling had closed her left eye. Her thin shoulders curled inward protectively, as if to make herself disappear. Her long, tapered fingers clenched and unclenched the remnant of the torn, red ruffled silk of her gown’s low-cut bodice.

  Looking heavy on her thin frame, Jonah’s brown wool jacket hung across her shoulders, an extension of the man, protectively touching her in a way Jonah would never dare.

  Reed knew her only as Charm. She had curly blond hair, a pert nose, pouting lips that were too full for her face, and breasts that were too large for her thin frame. She had the kind of body that a man couldn’t help but admire even if he wasn’t interested, but plenty of men were interested in Charm. She was one of the favorite whores at Dolly B. Goode’s Social Club and Entertainment Emporium in Lone Star.

  Reed Senior, forward thinking and a true business man, had established a whorehouse and saloon in Lone Star early on. When the settled folk he recruited to populate his new town had taken umbrage to what he called a “social club” on Main Street, he quickly reminded them that there were plenty of single cowboys around, not only those working the ranch, but also others passing through as they pushed cattle north.

  Randy men spelled trouble. If the townsfolk were smart, Reed Senior had argued, they would avoid it at all costs by leaving Dolly and her girls.

  Reed’s gaze slid away and lit on the stove. “Want some coffee?” he offered lamely.

  Where in the hell were Scrappy and Katherine? He had the feeling she would know just what to do for Charm. Between her and Sofia and a bottle of laudanum, they had gotten him through the fever. He only hoped she had empathy for someone in Charm’s position and was not too straitlaced or above herself now to help a whore.

  “No. No thanks.” Jonah shifted in the chair and glanced down at the top of the girl’s head. “You want some coffee, Charm?”

  A slight shake of her head brought a wince.

  Reed watched the muscle in the other man’s jaw tighten, and he knew exactly what Jonah was thinking. There was a man out there somewhere who needed a taste of his own medicine.

 
Jonah was the epitome of a Ranger, outside and in. He had been a part of the ranging companies protecting the Texas frontier for fifteen years. Like Reed, he favored knee-high boots and the wide-brimmed hat, and he carried a knife and a pistol in a belt worn high on his waist. He preferred the great outdoors to a sedentary life inside, fought on the side of right as Texans saw it, and used any means necessary to track down offenders and deal with them, be they raiding Indians, rustlers, or bandits.

  Inactivity was a stranger to both men. Neither was comfortable sitting around wringing his hands like an old woman.

  Reed pushed away from the table just as Kate entered the room followed by Scrappy. He watched her as she halted inside the door, saw her consider the two strangers sitting there.

  She blanched when she noticed the damage to Charm’s face, then visibly gathered her wits while she smoothed her hands down the front of her skirt. Her expression hid nothing, but Reed could tell she had assessed the situation in one sharp glance. She then crossed the room, headed for the stove.

  “I’m Kate Whittington,” she said before he could introduce her. She opened the stove and added a piece of split wood from a nearby basket. Then she set the kettle full of water on the stovetop. She glanced over at Reed. “I’m Mr. Benton’s . . . housekeeper.”

  Jonah contemplated her curiously, flashed a look at Reed, but didn’t say a word. Reed introduced the Ranger and then Charm to Kate.

  “Charm Riley,” Jonah added her last name.

  Kate acknowledged both with a polite nod.

  Reed tried to read her, frustrated when he could not tell what she was thinking.

  “Jonah brought Charm out here hoping Sofia could help her, but since she’s gone—” He let the unspoken question linger.

  “I’d be happy to do whatever I can,” Kate told them.

  When she immediately walked over to the corner of the table, and stood beside Charm, Reed felt his insides settle. Then Kate looked down at Charm and gently brushed hair away from the girl’s ravaged face and examined her swollen eye. He wanted to jump up and hug her when she said softly, “Can you walk, Miss Riley?”

  “Yes,” Charm whispered. “Of course.”