Summer Moon

by Jill Marie Landis

  It was time to ride.

  26

  The preacher accepted her invitation.

  With her hair coiled in a neat chignon, and wearing the simple blue silk dress that Charm had made, Kate ushered Reverend Marshall in the front door and led him into the Benton parlor.

  “Thank you for coming on such short notice, Reverend,” she said over her shoulder as he followed her to the settee placed opposite the huge stone fireplace.

  “I rarely turn down an invite to dinner,” he said with an easy smile. “Although Scrappy hinted that you were not about to take no for an answer. He also alluded to the fact that you need my help.”

  His slow Southern accent was soothing, although not nearly enough to quiet her nerves. As he lowered himself to the settee, Kate noted his smile was open but curious.

  “Would you care for some tea or coffee, Reverend?”

  “Nothing, thank you.” He shook his head and centered his low-crowned black hat on his knee.

  “Well, then.” Kate let go a nervous sigh and took a chair opposite, hard-pressed not to feel as if she had just entered a confessional. She had been baptized Catholic the week she entered the orphanage and was certainly no stranger to confession.

  When she was nine, the act had been terribly frightening, the whispering of secret sins in the dark confines of an airless little box, the cloying scent of incense heavy on the chapel air.

  She could still recall the old priest, Father Timmons, who had not a single hair on his head and yet had no trouble sprouting it out of his ears. During mass, his square bald head reflected the light of the altar candles.

  A wooden screen had separated them in the confessional, but she could always make out his profile through the grate as he leaned against the wall, his eyes closed.

  The same trepidation and guilt churned in her now as she faced Reverend Marshall. He was no more than a few years older than she at best, and very handsome. He looked directly into her eyes, smiling encouragement.

  Bless me, Father.

  She took a deep breath, forced herself to meet his sincere, steady gaze and plunged right in.

  “I need the help you so kindly offered the day of the burial. And I need you to keep what I tell you strictly confidential.” She was talking too fast, but couldn’t slow down.

  “Anything I can do, Miss Whittington. You can count on me.”

  “When we met, I told you that Reed Benton and I had corresponded, but not that we were married by proxy before I came to Texas.”

  His smile faded. “You married Reed Junior by proxy?”

  She fiddled with the ruffle on the cuff of her gown. “As it turns out, there was some misunderstanding, more of a misrepresentation, actually. And not exactly some, but quite a lot.” She sighed, realized she was twisting the silk material as much as the story and stopped. There was no way around the truth. “It is really a long story, but as it turns out, Reed and I were both duped by his father. I was already here when I discovered that we were not married at all. But you see, I thought that I was—married, that is. That’s why I came to Texas.”

  Kate felt her skin burning and wished his gaze were not so intent.

  “Go on,” he urged.

  “Reed’s father was writing to me, courting me through correspondence in Reed’s name. Unbeknownst to Reed . . . Junior . . . he had forged the signature on the marriage papers. After Reed recovered and returned to the Rangers, he stopped by his lawyer in Lone Star to start the process of clearing things up. So, you see, I am sort of married, at least on paper, until things are straightened out. It all sounds very confusing, I know. . . .”

  “The signature was forged?”

  “That’s right. But the papers were filed.”

  When there was no disapproval, no condemnation on his face, relief swept over her. She relaxed a bit and un-knitted her fingers.

  Preston Marshall leaned closer. “I’m glad you feel you can confide in me, but how can I help?”

  “Reed’s son, Daniel, was recovered from the Comanche. He is in my care now.”

  “I was told about Reed Junior’s wife’s death and his son’s kidnapping when I moved here. Naturally, Lone Star is a close-knit community, and Reed Senior is quite legendary in these parts.” He stretched his arm over the back of the settee. “I can’t believe he did such a dastardly thing to you, let alone his own son.”

  “I think that, in his mind, he meant well.”

  “Not many people would be as understanding. I commend you.”

  “There isn’t much else I can do, is there, Reverend, but forgive? The reason I need your help is that Daniel’s maternal grandparents came here today. They wanted the boy. They actually wanted to take Daniel with them when they left, but I couldn’t let them without Reed’s approval. When they questioned my authority, I told them that I was more than the housekeeper here, that I was Reed’s wife. When they didn’t believe me, I . . . I suggested they go into town and ask you.”

  “That’s why you called me out here, why Scrappy insisted I come.”

  She shrugged. “I didn’t want them to catch you off guard.”

  She had expected disapproval and rejection. At the very least, she thought that he surely would see her as a desperate, penniless spinster now.

  But he surprised her completely when he shook his head and said, “How terrible for you, Miss Whittington.”

  “It’s Kate. Please, call me Kate.”

  “Only if you call me Preston.” Again, he smiled sympathetically. “You must have been deeply hurt by all of this. How are you holding up?”

  It was the first time in all these weeks that anyone had asked how she felt, how she was doing. Sofia’s apology had held no compassion. Reed had had enough troubles of his own.

  She had stepped in and taken care of Daniel, of Charm, and of the house. No one ever asked or cared how she was faring, let alone how she must feel in the wake of what had happened.

  Now this man, this kindly stranger had said the one thing that threatened her fortitude. Her eyes smarted with tears, and suddenly Preston Marshall’s image wavered.

  “I’m sorry, Kate. I didn’t mean to make you cry.” He quickly pulled out a starched and ironed handkerchief, a reminder that he lived with his maiden aunt. “May I?”

  She nodded. He wiped a tear from the corner of her eye and then handed her the kerchief. Wadding it in her hand, she sniffed and cursed her weakness.

  Not now, Kate. Pull yourself together.

  Her mother always said that crying was a waste of time and water.

  “Now that you know the truth, I suppose you will be honor-bound to tell the Greenes if they come to town asking about me.”

  Preston sat in silent contemplation. Then, like the sun on a cloudy day, his smile dawned again.

  “You’re still Reed’s bride of record and will be until the proper papers are signed and filed, I assume. So, I really would not be lying if I assured the Greenes that you are, indeed, married to Reed Benton.”

  Emotion had drained her, but her fear was quickly whitewashed by relief. “You will never know what your understanding and kindness mean to me,” she said.

  She thanked him as Charm walked in from the kitchen and hesitated just across the threshold. Kate could see by the look they exchanged that Charm and the minister were no strangers to each other. Preston stood to greet the girl.

  “Hello, Miss Riley,” he said with a nod. His tone and expression were not only devoid of censure, but they carried a hint of compassion as well.

  “Hello, Reverend.”

  “Charm is our cook,” Kate quickly explained when an awkward silence spread.

  Preston looked relieved. “I commend you, Miss Riley. It appears Kate has been successful where I was not when I made an argument for change outside the Social Club.”

  Charm smiled Kate’s way. “You did try, Reverend. All the girls thought you looked real grand up there on that wooden box preaching and giving us the what for. Kate’s just a very special la
dy,” she said softly.

  Kate blinked rapidly as her eyes teared up again. Quickly, she changed the subject. “This is my day to learn to make fried chicken,” she told him. “I hope you will stay regardless, Reverend. Until Charm started tutoring me, I was a terrible cook, so I make no guarantees.”

  Preston remained standing as he smiled down at Kate. “Scrappy tempted me out here with the promise of a meal, remember? I’m not going anywhere, except into the kitchen to help. What you don’t know is that I happen to be one of the best one-armed cooks west of the Mississippi.”

  Fast Pony sat at the table staring daggers at the smiling man with one arm, wondering if he lost it in battle, wondering if that was why he did woman’s work now. Fast Pony had watched him laugh with Soft Grass Hands as they cooked over the big metal pot-on-legs in the room where the yellow-haired girl prepared food.

  The man had even spread the white cloth over the table for Soft Grass Hands and set out the shining pieces of silver they used to carry food to their mouths. Fast Pony refused to touch the shining silver. Instead, he grabbed his food by the bone and tore fiercely at it, trying to eat as much and as fast as he could without choking. He could see that Soft Grass Hands was very disappointed in him, just as Painted White Feather would have been if she could see the way he was acting, but he refused to let them change him.

  The People never ate birds or turkey unless they were starving, just as they never ate dog or frog or other water creatures. But he had come to love the juicy meat of the fat white feathered birds that Soft Grass Hands sometimes let him feed, and he liked the crunch it made against his teeth when he ate it. His father, Many Horses, would surely forgive him for eating birds. After all, he did so only to stay alive.

  He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and then started to rub his greasy hands on the leg coverings they made him wear, but Soft Grass Hands moved as fast as lightning, came up out of her chair, and grabbed him. She bent down until her nose was almost touching his.

  She spoke slowly and firmly, but she did not yell as she held both his wrists in one hand and picked up the small white cloth near the pile of bones on the table and wiped his hands and fingers with it. When she was satisfied that he was clean, she let go.

  He glared at her. She glared back and shook her head. It was a game they played every time he ate.

  Yellow Hair ignored him. When he looked at One Arm, the man quickly looked down at his food. The stranger’s hand was soft and white, his eyes the color of rain clouds. But it wasn’t his soft white skin or his missing arm or even his cooking that made Fast Pony hate him. It was the way the man looked at Soft Grass Hands, the way he smiled at her so much, that worried Fast Pony.

  What if the white man with rain clouds in his eyes offered a bride price for Soft Grass Hands?

  As far as Fast Pony could tell, she had no man, no husband of her own, unless it was Tall Ranger, but he was never here. If the one-armed stranger offered for her, then she would have to leave and go with him to his own clan.

  For reasons that he did not understand, the notion of Soft Grass Hands leaving made Fast Pony feel sad, which in turn made him angry enough to want to hit something. She was the only one here who cared about him, the only one who ever took him outside and walked with him, the only one to wash and dress him.

  If there had been no Soft Grass Hands, he most likely would still be locked in the house of horses. Maybe when she left, they would put him back there.

  He slid down on the chair bottom until he was half hidden by the edge of the table. Quiet as a butterfly, hopefully forgotten, he watched them all: Soft Grass Hands, One Arm, Yellow Hair.

  They talked and talked and laughed. More than anything, he was amazed at the change in Soft Grass Hands. He had not ever seen her smile this much before One Arm came. At least, not inside the house. Sometimes she would smile when they were outside and he showed her something special, but she rarely smiled inside this place. It was almost as if the dwelling itself made her sad.

  Before tonight, before One Arm appeared, she had never laughed aloud.

  There was much here to worry about, he decided.

  Maybe much to fear.

  27

  Two good things happened over the next few weeks. There was no further sign of the Greenes, and Preston Marshall became a fixture at Sunday supper. Kate began to look forward to his visits, to the open, caring manner he extended to all of them, to his delightful conversation and company.

  On just such a Sunday, after she and Charm had cleared the dishes, scraped away the remains, and carefully slipped the last of the Benton china into a dishpan of sudsy water, Kate looked out the window above the dry sink and saw a rider in the stable area behind the house.

  At first her heart skipped a beat when she thought the man wearing a tall white hat and knee-high boots was Reed. Then she realized it was not him, but the Ranger captain, Jonah Taylor, and her excitement immediately turned to worry.

  “Captain Taylor is here,” she said aloud, afraid something had happened to Reed.

  When Charm suddenly dropped the bread and butter plate into the dishpan, splashing them both, Kate remembered that Jonah was Charm’s knight in shining armor. Kate had jumped back, but not before soap suds splattered across her bodice. Charm was as still as a marble statue as she stared out the window. Scrappy came trotting out of the bunkhouse, greeted the Ranger, and took his horse.

  As the captain started toward the back door, Charm riveted her concentration on the dishes. Kate dried her hands and touched Charm reassuringly on the shoulder.

  The girl turned to Kate with despair and hope, desire and fear in her eyes.

  “Dry your hands and smile,” Kate urged. “I’ll bet he has come to see you.”

  “Oh, Kate.” The girl sighed.

  Kate knew the fear of reaching too high, of dreaming impossible dreams, but even knowing how hard the fall might be, she hoped that Charm would at least try.

  She also prayed that no harm had come to Reed as she opened the door before Jonah knocked.

  “Is Reed all right?” she asked.

  Jonah doffed his hat. “He’s fine. Kind of quiet since he came back, but otherwise he’s all right. Hello, Miss Riley.” His gaze immediately sought out Charm and slipped away again.

  “Hello, Captain Taylor,” Charm said.

  Kate sensed the girl’s tension, knew that even though Charm hadn’t done more than glance his way, she was aware of every move Jonah made.

  Kate ended their misery. “Charm, why don’t you dish up a plate of supper for the captain so that he can eat while we all have dessert and coffee? I’m sure he has some interesting stories to tell us.” Then to Jonah, “Reverend Marshall is here for supper, too.”

  Jonah shuffled his feet, looking uncomfortable. “I was just passing by and stopped to say hello. I didn’t expect food, ma’am, but if you’re offering, I won’t turn it down.”

  It was a far piece to come just to stop to say hello, but Kate did not comment. He followed her into the dining room and cordially greeted the reverend who was engaged in a staring contest with Daniel. Kate introduced the men and went back to the kitchen for a place setting for the captain. Charm still had not moved.

  Kate grabbed a plate from the pantry and hurried over to the stove. Pan lids clanged, ladles and spoons clattered as she quickly dished up pot roast, carrots and potatoes, and then some wilted greens for the captain. She went back to where Charm stood watching her.

  “Here.” She shoved the plate into the girl’s hands. “Take this in to the captain.”

  “I can’t,” Charm whispered.

  “Why not?”

  “I just can’t.”

  “Yes, you can. He’s here to see you.”

  “He said that?”

  “Not in so many words but . . .”

  “Then how do you know?”

  “Charm, this house is in the middle of nowhere, miles from nothing. No one just passes by. If he had come with word from Reed, he
would have said so. The poor man is here to see you but he’s not about to admit it. Now—” She turned Charm around and gave her a light, encouraging shove. “—go.”

  Charm went, head high, her steps slow and careful.

  Kate readied a tray with coffee cups, cream and sugar, and a plate of cookies and joined the gathering in the dining room. She hoped the captain would tell her more about Reed without her having to ask.

  Reed may have turned his back on them, but he was never far from her mind. She often chided herself for dwelling on him and then asked, how could she not? She was living in his house, caring for his son. They had made love, and afterward, he had kissed her. She had come to know him better before he left and often found herself wishing he would return and wondering how things would be between them when he did.

  The arrival of the captain was just another strong reminder of her weakness where Reed was concerned.

  She told Preston and Jonah not to stand when they tried to show off their manners. Fighting to hide her nervousness, she poured coffee with cream but no sugar for Preston, just the way he liked it and then asked Jonah how he took his.

  “Black.” His eyes cut to Charm and back again. He picked up the cup, smiled at Kate. “Thank you, ma’am. Everything’s wonderful.”

  He ate a heaping forkful of beef, chewing and swallowing with gusto.

  “Thank Charm,” Kate said, and watched Charm blush crimson. “She is a wonderful cook.”

  We really are a pair, Kate thought. A spinster warmed by the sight of this odd assembly of souls gathered at the table and her only friend, an eighteen-year-old whore too scared to speak to the man who owned her tainted heart.

  Nothing Kate had learned at the convent could have prepared her for what she was experiencing in Texas.

  Preston was courteous and kind as always, thoughtful to ask the captain about his duties and news of the frontier. Captain Taylor responded between mouthfuls, his gaze riveted on the preacher, on Kate, even Daniel. Anyone but Charm.

  At the far end of the table, Daniel shoved sugar cookies into his mouth with both hands. When Kate caught Jonah frowning at the child, she hoped he wouldn’t tell Reed about Daniel’s manners. After the atrocious way Daniel had behaved at the going-away dinner, Reed might decide there was no hope for the boy.