Silently, Gabe led her through the foyer that hosted the large beveled glass front door and then down a long wallpapered hallway. A few of the doors along the way were open, but she didn’t glance one way or the other. Her neck was on fire, and the burning was moving upward, into her ears and chin. Even her cheeks were starting to tingle.
He pushed open a door and pointed across the room. “Over there.”
Spying the room he’d indicated on the far side of the kitchen, she hurried but stopped at the table where Ruby sat. She already cherished her niece, had since the moment she’d been born. Kneeling down, Janette gestured toward a plate of cookies. “Did you have a cookie?”
Ruby nodded and grinned. “Two.”
Her heart skipped a beat every time she saw that smile and those miniature pearl-white teeth. “Good. You aren’t scared, are you?”
Ruby shook her head.
“Wonderful. There’s no need to be.” Patting the child’s knee, she said, “I’ll be right back.” She’d been telling Ruby there was no need to be scared since arriving in Texas and finding her at Mrs. Potter’s house. Telling herself, too. There was nothing to be afraid of. Absolutely nothing. Not even Gabe Callaway.
The kitchen was as big and as finely furnished as the rest of the house. So was the washroom. Besides a large bathing tub, it held a washing station complete with a porcelain washbasin, a rack holding clean towels and several other essentials, including a large mirror hanging on the wall.
A gasp escaped at the sight of her reflection, and she jolted forward, staring harder while unbuttoning her collar. Not only was her neck red, it was covered with blotches of white. The redness and swollen blotches spread beyond her neck. Upward, covering the bottom halves of her cheeks, her chin and... She leaned closer.
“What on earth?”
Her earlobes were twice the size they should be.
She unpinned her hat and set it aside. Using the dipper, she filled the basin and soaked a small towel. Wringing it out, she pressed the cloth to her neck. The cool dampness was heavenly, but it didn’t last. In fact, it seemed to increase the burning.
It had to help. Had to. She couldn’t walk around looking like this.
She dipped the cloth in the water, wrung it out and pressed it to her neck a second time.
Once again the relief was short-lived, and a touch of panic raced over her as she moved the cloth around her neck, pressing it against each section.
“Here’s your bag.”
She turned at the thud of her bag landing on a chair just inside the door.
Gabe stood in the doorway, frowning. “You might want to get rid of that lace.”
“I’ve worn this dress many times.” She had. It was one of her favorites. The fitted waist-length jacket was the reason, as well as the yards of delicate lace that encircled the collar and trimmed the hem. Pulling the cloth away in order to dip it in the water again, she stated, “The lace has never bothered me before.”
The room had seemed large, until he stepped into it. Her heart drummed against her breastbone, and she took a step back as he came closer.
“Hold still, I just want to look at that.”
Considering his size and harsh attitude, his touch was gentle as he used one finger and thumb to grasp her chin. He tilted her head one way, then the other and then upward while using his other hand to pull aside the lace collar of her dress as he examined her neck. His expression softened as his examination continued, which made her gulp at how concerned he appeared to be.
“I’ve never—”
“How’d you get here again?” he interrupted.
“I told you. We took a stagecoach from—”
“Once the stage dropped you off.”
“One of your hired hands picked us up.” Telling herself not to think about him, his closeness, his touch, she kept her eyes averted as he continued to examine her neck. The ceiling was high and painted white, as were the walls. It was a fine house. But it wasn’t holding her attention. He was pushing at her chin again, making her twist her neck one way and then the other.
“I probably wasn’t listening real close,” he said. “Which hired hand?”
She should remember the man’s name, but at the moment it eluded her. “I don’t know. Why?”
“What was he driving?”
“A wagon full of hay,” she answered, tugging her collar back in place when he let it loose.
He released her chin and stepped back. “You ever have poison ivy before?”
She let out the breath that had gotten stuck in her lungs. “Poi—No, never.”
“You do now.”
“That’s impossible.” She hurried back to the mirror and examined her neck more thoroughly. It was as red as before, worse maybe, as were the raised white blotches.
“Do you know what it looks like?”
“No,” she admitted while dipping the cloth in the water again, “but I wasn’t near any plants.” Pressing the cool cloth against her neck, she continued, “We were on the stage for nearly a week.”
“It grows wild around here, especially down by Beaver Creek. That’s where Dusty was cutting hay today,” he said.
That’s right. Dusty. Dusty Martin had been the man driving the wagon. “I didn’t touch the hay,” she said. “I sat on the seat with Ruby on my lap.”
“Don’t need to touch it.” He pointed toward the tub. “You need to get out of that dress and take a bath. Scrub with soap and water. Rosalie will bring you some baking soda and vinegar.”
An odd tingling started in her lips, and she tested the numbing sensation by nibbling on the bottom one before asking, “What for?”
“To put on your neck. The itching won’t stop until you do. And from the looks of your face, you best hurry.” He turned about and left the room, addressing the housekeeper as he walked over the threshold. “Check Ruby for any signs of poison ivy.”
“Already did,” the housekeeper said. “She looks fine.”
Janette turned back to the mirror and gasped. Oh, dear heavens! Her lips were swollen twice their size, and so were her earlobes. “No. No. This can’t be.” They hadn’t been that way a moment ago. She pinched her lips together and flinched at how fat and numb they felt. After dipping the cloth in the water again, she wrung it out and pressed it to her lips. This was unbelievable. Poison ivy. She’d heard of it but had never had it. Couldn’t even remember if she’d known someone who had.
Still holding the cloth against her lips, she pinched an earlobe with her other hand. Though the mirror showed her action, she couldn’t feel it. Her lobes were numb.
Numb.
“Go ahead and get undressed,” Rosalie said, walking into the room. She wasn’t elderly, but older and plump with a good mix of gray and brown hair and wrinkles that gave her cheery face a permanent smile. Dumping a kettle full of steaming water into the big tub, she said, “I have more water heating.”
The itching was worse now, perhaps because she knew the cause. Janette put down the cloth and then sat down on the chair to remove her shoes. “Thank you,” she said, as Rosalie turned about.
“Everything you need is right over there, on the shelf beside the tub. Put your clothes in that basket. They’ll need to be washed right away.”
Not knowing much about poison ivy, but glad her lips still worked while being fatter than carrots, Janette asked, “Is it contagious?”
“Only to those who are allergic to it,” Rosalie said.
“You checked Ruby?” Janette pulled off her stockings. “She’s not itching?” The child had already been through so much; she certainly didn’t need this. Mentioning the itching made her neck start burning again. Or maybe it had been all along and the swelling of her lips had stolen her attention for a few minutes.
“Yes, I checked her, and no, she’s not itching, but she’ll have a bath as soo
n as you’re done, just to be sure,” Rosalie said, walking back toward the doorway. “Stop scratching at it. You’re making it worse.” She shook her head. “That’s poison ivy all right. You must be really sensitive to it. Some people don’t break out for a day or two.” As she pulled the door shut, Rosalie said, “You’ll need to wash your hair, too.”
Janette’s mind wasn’t on her hair. They wouldn’t still be here in a day or two. Of all things. Poison ivy. Why did this have to happen? She already had enough to deal with, namely Gabe Callaway. She’d considered taking Ruby directly to Kansas City, and probably should have but couldn’t. Once they got home, leaving again would be too difficult. Mrs. Hanks had said customers were stopping by daily in the last telegram she’d sent, a reply to the one Janette had sent from Mobeetie, stating she and Ruby would be leaving Texas as soon as possible.
She’d sent another telegram to Mrs. Hanks during one of the stagecoach stops, stating they were on their way but making a brief stop in Kansas at the Triple C. She’d already been gone longer than she’d anticipated and did worry about Thelma being all alone.
Janette huffed out a sigh as she tossed her stockings into the basket. It just couldn’t be helped. She’d brought Ruby to the ranch, to meet her uncle Gabe, just as Anna and Max had wanted. Anna had blamed herself for the rift between Gabe and Max and hoped that someday they would find a way to settle things. Every letter she’d written had made mention of how much Max missed Gabe and how badly he wanted Gabe to meet Ruby. In return letters, Janette had assured that in time, the brothers would make amends. Anna’s responses were always the same. That she hoped so, but that Gabe was stubborn and may never understand how she and Max fell in love with each other so quickly.
Janette let out another sigh as she started to unbutton her jacket. She now understood just how stubborn Gabe was, and how staunch. The closest thing to a smile she’d seen him make was when he’d asked Ruby if she wanted a cookie.
Still, stubborn or not, Anna and Max should have been honest about their love for one another and not run away knowing Gabe expected Anna to marry him.
That could make a man be unwilling to forgive, but it had been five years.
Anna had claimed both she and Max agreed they shouldn’t have run off like they had and were sorrowful for the rift they’d caused but held steadfast that not only had their love been first and foremost on their minds, Gabe would never have listened to what they had to say.
They may have been right. He certainly hadn’t been willing to listen to anything she’d had to say. He’d interrupted her so many times her mind had felt as if it was filled with grasshoppers going in all directions at once. It hadn’t been until she’d pointed out that Ruby had been hungry that he’d paused long enough for her to collect her thoughts.
Gabe certainly was different from Max. She’d traveled to Texas to be with Anna during Ruby’s birth. Max had been very welcoming and grateful that she’d come—so very unlike his brother’s welcome a short time ago.
Her heart constricted. It saddened her all over again, knowing Anna and Max were gone. There wasn’t anything that she could do about it, and could only hope that someday Gabe might appreciate the fact that she’d given him the chance to meet his niece. It was what his brother had wanted. What her sister had wanted. And they had truly been in love with each other. She’d seen that when she made that trip to Texas. Seeing Max and Anna together, so proud and happy about the birth of Ruby, had made her realize something else. Father had never really loved Mother—or them. Not in a way a man should love his family. Max had barely let Anna out of his sight, whereas her father had never been home.
“You aren’t undressed yet?” Rosalie asked, opening the door.
Forced to concentrate on the facts at hand, Janette jumped to her feet and shrugged out of her jacket. “You’ll keep an eye on Ruby for me?”
“Of course, just get undressed and get in this tub. You have to wash the oil off your skin before you spread it from tip to tail.” Rosalie dumped two buckets of water into the tub. “I’ll be in with more hot water in a minute, and you better be undressed.”
Chapter Two
Gabe found Dusty Martin at the hayshed, forking the last remnants of hay out of the wagon and on top of the growing pile. Poison ivy didn’t bother the animals, but it was a nuisance to people who were sensitive to it. Luckily, that had never been him, but Max had broken out from it more times than he could count.
A dark and ugly pain shot across Gabe’s chest and settled in his stomach. The same spot a similar pain had laid down roots five years ago. Over time, that pain had made itself invisible, shrank down to nothing but a nagging lump every once in a while.
Until today.
“Couple more days and we’ll be done with that field,” Dusty said, taking his hat off to wipe aside the sweat dripping into his eyes.
Gabe nodded. Most of the hands, including Dusty, had been around the Triple C for years and knew what needed to be done and when, without a word of direction.
Replacing his tattered hat over his crop of graying curls, Dusty said, “We’ll head up to the north fields after that.” He gestured past the barns and up the slight hill, where the house sat. “You met your company?”
Gabe nodded again. “Yes.”
“She said the little girl is Max’s daughter.”
The ranch was too close-knit to keep any secrets. “That she is,” Gabe replied.
“Didn’t know he had a daughter.”
“I didn’t either.” Gabe wasn’t certain what he’d do about that either. He may have pointed out to Janette that he should be the one to inherit all of Max’s possessions, but he didn’t want a single one. Not a single one.
“Walter must have seen us haying, knew they could catch a ride to the ranch,” Dusty said.
Walter Thorsten had been driving the stage that crossed the southern part of the ranch for years, and on occasion had delivered people to the house, but it was several miles out of the way. “May have,” Gabe answered. “Or she may have said they’d walk.”
“In this heat?” Dusty asked, shaking his head. “Walter wouldn’t have advised that.”
Gabe shrugged. “She may have insisted. From what I’ve seen, she’s a mite pigheaded.”
“Well, she was mighty glad to accept a ride from me,” Dusty said, knowing better than to argue. “How long they staying?”
Gabe shrugged again. “Don’t know. Overnight for sure.”
“Your father must be smiling today,” Dusty said. “Knowing there’s a new generation of Callaways on the Triple C. That was his only regret.”
Despite the heat, a shiver had the hairs on Gabe’s arms standing up. Dusty was right. Ruby was the next generation of Callaways. Whether he wanted to inherit anything or not, he had. And the Triple C is where Ruby belonged.
“Well, I better head back out.” Dusty walked around the wagon. “Looks like Jake’s coming up the road with another wagonload. Suspect they’ll be ready to load me up again as soon as I arrive. Having two mowers keeps everyone busy.”
Gabe considered mentioning the poison ivy, but there was no reason to. The hands knew to cut around it whenever possible, and none of them had ever been affected by the plant one way or the other.
No one had broken out from poison ivy since Max left. Until now.
“You need more men out there?” Gabe asked.
“No.” Dusty wrapped the reins around his hands. “Just stating a fact.”
“Good enough, then,” Gabe said as Dusty drove off. The other wagon was still a distance away, no more than a cloud of dust on the road. Huffing out a breath, Gabe turned to glance toward the house as his mind went back to his company. So this was the sister. The one Anna had talked about. There had been plenty of time for him to think about Anna over the years. She’d been young and impulsive and...lively. So full of life he’d stumbled over his
own feet the first time he’d heard her laugh. That had never happened before or since. Nor would it ever happen again.
Anna had been pretty, too, and appealing. A circle of men had gathered around her in the passenger car. Men Gabe didn’t think a girl as young and innocent as she’d appeared to be should be associating with. That’s why he’d stepped in, and later, she’d thanked him for that.
Still gazing up at the house, Gabe let out another sigh. Marriage, as well as the idea of having a wife and family, hadn’t appealed to him for a long time. Still didn’t, but now, thanks to Max, the reason he might have to eventually marry was no longer relevant. Because of Ruby there was now another generation of Callaways to continue on the Triple C.
His father had started the Callaway Cattle Company when Kansas had been a violent battleground. On the east border, the fighting was over Kansas being a free or slave state; on the west, the battles were caused by the removal of Indian tribes. Always his own man, his father hadn’t entered any of the battles. Instead, he started a cattle company that fed the army, the abolitionists and vigilantes and the proslavery and anti-Indian government heads who traveled the state, urging citizens to side with them. Long before the cattle drives brought herds to Kansas to ship eastward, Triple C beef had been feeding folks in Kansas, Nebraska, Colorado, even the Missourians who had hated them so badly. Triple C beef still did and would for decades to come.
It had taken hard work to make the Triple C into a profitable ranch, a lot of that work had been his, and it would take just as much to keep it that way. It was nice, though, to know he didn’t need to worry about producing future generations. Max had taken care of that. If Max had been around, he might have thanked him. Maybe even thanked him for running off with Anna.
Marrying and producing an heir had weighed heavily on his shoulders for a time. Put there by his father on his deathbed. That had been when he’d gone to Wichita. On the outside the trip had been to meet with eastern slaughterhouses, but on the inside he’d set his mind upon finding a bride, knowing his father had wanted that as much as he’d wanted the new contracts. Wichita had been full of women, there had been a few he’d considered as possible options, but none of them had made him ready to pounce. Until the train ride home, when he’d met Anna.
Married to Claim the Rancher's Heir Page 2
