Two Texas Hearts

by Jodi Thomas

  He almost ordered her to stop walking back and forth behind him so he could get on with his shave. But when she crawled up in the center of the bed and tucked her feet beneath her, he found her no less interesting. He shaved slowly as she brushed through her hair and braided it into one thick braid.

  When he finally leaned to wipe the soap from his face, he glanced back in the mirror to find her watching him. She’d raised her knees beneath the cotton gown and rested her elbows on them, reminding him of a child.

  ‘‘Do you always shave at night?’’ she asked.

  ‘‘Never have,’’ he answered honestly.

  ‘‘Then why tonight?’’

  Winter turned toward her, forcing himself not to react to the sight of a woman sitting in the center of his bed. ‘‘ Logan told me yesterday that a married man always shaves at night. I figured if he knew something like that, him not even being married, then it must be some kind of rule.’’

  ‘‘But why?’’

  ‘‘You’re a widow, you must know,’’ he answered as he moved toward the bed.

  Kora appeared suddenly nervous. ‘‘Oh, yes.’’ She looked around her as if trying to find something, anything, to focus her attention on besides him. ‘‘But, I mean, there is no need for you to shave at night. Logan must have meant men who are fully married.’’

  He didn’t like being reminded of their agreement. He wasn’t likely to forget. ‘‘I thought I’d get in practice,’’ he said roughly, ‘‘for when your mourning time is over.’’

  Without another word, he sat on the side of the bed and stripped off his jeans.

  Kora moved to the edge as far away from him as she could. ‘‘Don’t you sleep in a nightshirt?’’

  ‘‘I never have,’’ he answered. ‘‘I usually just sleep in my long drawers in winter. Sometimes an undershirt if it’s really cold.’’

  ‘‘And in summer?’’ She moved off the bed.

  ‘‘Nothing,’’ he answered as he slipped beneath the sheet and leaned back. He didn’t pull the covers past his waist. She might as well get used to the look of his bare chest, because he wasn’t wearing one of those lacy nightshirts for the next thirty years.

  She grabbed her wrapper. ‘‘I think I’ll go check on Cheyenne to make sure the doctor doesn’t need anything before I go to bed.’’ She glanced at the rafters. ‘‘And I’m not sure I laid out the things Dan will need after his evening walk.’’

  ‘‘Kora?’’ Winter stopped her with a word.

  ‘‘Yes?’’ She turned toward him as she tied her wrapper.

  ‘‘I’m not going to touch you. You can come to bed. Whether I have on a nightshirt or not will make no difference in my keeping my word.’’

  ‘‘I understand.’’ She moved away. ‘‘I’ll be back as soon as I check on things.’’

  Winter closed his eyes and leaned against the pillows. Why had the woman insisted on him sleeping up here if she was still scared to death of him? If he hadn’t been so tired, he would have followed her and tried to talk to her. Maybe he should move back to the couch. He was starting to believe that two floors between them might help him remember his promise.

  But the long day caught up with him and Winter fell asleep in his own bed, in his own room, for the first time in his life.

  Late into the night, with the moon passing overhead, Winter rolled over and opened his eyes. For a moment he wasn’t sure where he was. There were no sounds of other men sleeping nearby in their bunks, and his body was stretched out as it could never be on the couch in the study. Then he saw the stars through the windows and smiled. Kora had been right, it was a grand place to sleep beneath the sky. The cool of the night was around him, but the huge room, with its tall windows, gave him a feeling of sleeping outside while he had all the comforts of a home. Miss Allie’s quilts added color to the room even in shadows. Kora had draped them over chairs and hung several on boards around the room.

  He raised to one elbow and looked over to her side of the bed. She wasn’t there. Glancing up, he knew by the look of the sky that it was long past midnight.

  For a moment he thought she might be gone, disappearing from his life as quickly as she’d entered. Or she might still be downstairs. Cheyenne could have taken a turn for the worse. Winter grasped a handful of cover and swung his leg from the bed.

  Then he saw her. The moonlight danced off the golden rope of her hair. She was curled up on the floor ten feet away. She’d circled a blanket in the moonlight, and huddled in it like a street orphan.

  Slowly, soundlessly, Winter moved from the bed. He knelt beside her and gently lifted her in his arms, blanket and all.

  She moved in her sleep, but didn’t awaken.

  He carried her to the side of the bed and laid her slowly down against the pillows. She looked so fragile as he pulled another blanket over her.

  Returning to his side, he tried to sleep, but the woman beside him kept him awake. He could hear her soft breathing and feel her move as she nestled deeply into the covers. She was getting under his skin, he thought. If he didn’t watch himself he’d be caring for her, and he’d learned a long time ago that to care for someone was to invite pain.

  She’s just a wife, he reminded himself, bought for the price of a house. Just someone to cook and clean. Nothing more. To expect more was just asking for disappointment. He had enough trouble without making anyone in his life a necessity. He’d treat her with respect, even kindness if needed, but she had no right to ask for anything beyond their bargain. And he told himself he had no heart to give it.

  • • •

  Kora awoke just as the sun lightened the sky to a velvet gray. She felt warm and rested as she stretched beneath the covers. Opening her eyes, she stiffened, suddenly realizing that she was in the bed and not on the floor. Winter lay beside her, his back to her. She could hear his low breathing and feel the warmth of him only inches away.

  His shoulders looked so broad beneath the blanket. She almost giggled as she fought the urge to reach out and touch him to see if he really was made of granite. He seemed to take little interest in the house, even agreeing to their room being in the attic. But in matters about himself, there was no compromise. He hadn’t even paused a moment to consider sleeping in a nightshirt. Kora didn’t want to think about what he’d do if they ever faced each other head on.

  She knew he thought she was afraid of him. She could see it in his eyes, the question, the uncertainty of how to handle her. If he only understood that the fear was of the dream shattering, not of him, he might relate to her differently. Kora wasn’t sure she wanted that yet. She’d learned nothing good lasted and decided it was better not to get too attached to Winter. Jamie was right, they’d have to move on before the bad luck that always followed them caught up yet again.

  Kora stretched beneath the warm covers, remembering that when she returned and found him asleep, she’d kissed him good night and considered curling up beside him. But kissing a sleeping man was far different that lying beside one. She’d opted for the floor. In truth, it was more normal for her. From the time her father died, she’d spent most of her nights curled on a blanket in the back room of wherever her mother had been able to find work.

  She thought that maybe she’d grown cold during the night and moved to the bed, but Kora had no memory of doing so, and to her knowledge she’d never walked in her sleep.

  Slipping from the covers, Kora moved to the screened dressing area. This was her private space. She’d seen an area screened off for a lady in one of the homes she’d cleaned. When she found the old wooden screen in one of the bedrooms downstairs, she’d been delighted. Now one corner of the huge attic room would be hers.

  Inside the small area was a dressing table made from a board and two crates and a stool with a padded seat. Kora had rigged a broom handle across one side of the enclosure to hang her few clothes. She’d felt wealthy buying two dresses, a nightgown with wrapper, and a new jacket all at one time. Winter hadn’t said a word about anyt
hing she bought, except to mention that if she needed more to let him know and he’d see that she got it. How rich he must be to be able to buy anything he needed without checking his account.

  She hadn’t shown anyone the one thing she’d bought with her own money. A tiny, nickle-plated perfume bottle. It had cost her all she had: a dollar twenty. But that price had included the perfume inside, so the store owner told her she was getting a bargain. It had been crazy to spend so much on a bottle, but she’d wanted something finelooking on her homemade dressing table. Now the deep blue bottle with its casing of metal rested on a white linen handkerchief. The handkerchief bore Winter’s initials and looked as if it might have been a gift from someone years ago that he’d stuffed into a side pocket of his chest and forgotten. She’d found it in the study along with Winter’s other clothes when she’d moved them upstairs. The bottle and the linen made her feel very grand.

  Inside the opening of one crate she kept a comb and small cracked mirror. Beneath the table, she’d hidden her cigar box of keys. The box was the one real thing she owned. It had traveled with her from her father’s house to the hundred places she’d lived. She had no pictures of family, no handed-down jewelry, no treasured keepsakes. But she had her keys, most found without locks, all worthless to anyone but her. Yet Kora knew the location of where she’d found each treasure. Sometimes she’d polish them and remember the good and bad of everywhere she’d ever been. When she’d cleaned this house, she found a key that no one seemed to know what it had ever been used for. It was added to her collection with a silent promise that if anyone asked, she’d give it back.

  The keys were something she’d never show anyone, but just knowing the box was there made her smile.

  Quickly she dressed in one of her new dresses and tied her hair up in a bun. Blood seemed to rush through her veins as she thought of how close she’d slept to Winter. He could have reached out and touched her, or she, him. But he hadn’t. Maybe he was worth the trusting. She’d made up her mind yesterday, after Jamie’s remark, that she had to give him a chance. Over and over she’d told herself that being suspicious of a man who simply growled didn’t make sense. She’d hold to her agreement, at least until she knew he’d bite.

  If anyone had broken the bargain so far, it had been her. She’d kissed him every night they’d been married. In some strange way, her action made Winter hers and their marriage almost real. For a while she could pretend she was married just as she sometimes pretended her keys fit all the locked doors in the world.

  As she stepped around the screen, Winter turned from the window. He was standing at the far corner of the room looking south. He’d pulled on his jeans and shirt, but hadn’t bothered to button either. In the early light, before the day began to weigh on him, he looked younger.

  ‘‘Morning.’’ His voice sounded even lower than usual. ‘‘Have you checked on Cheyenne yet?’’

  ‘‘I was just going down,’’ Kora answered, thinking she probably should have checked before dressing.

  Winter buttoned his jeans. ‘‘I’ll go with you. I told the doc to call me if there was any change. Since he didn’t, I’m guessing no news may be good news.’’

  Kora reached in the top drawer of the dresser and handed Winter a clean pair of socks from the stack she’d organized.

  ‘‘Thanks.’’ He stared at her as he sat on the corner of the bed and pulled on the socks. ‘‘You don’t have to do that, you know.’’

  ‘‘Do what?’’ she said, thinking that he needed a haircut.

  ‘‘Hand me my stuff,’’ Winter answered. ‘‘You don’t have to wait on me, I can take care of myself. I’ve been doing it all my life.’’

  ‘‘I wasn’t waiting on you,’’ Kora answered, surprised he’d even think such a thing. ‘‘I was helping you.’’

  Winter pulled on his boots in silence. Finally, when he stood, he said, ‘‘I’m new at the marriage thing. I’m not sure how to react to this pampering you call help. I’m not complaining. The meals you leave out, the way you helped last night, everything. It’s something I think I could get used to if you want to continue helping.’’

  Kora smiled. ‘‘I’m glad. Just say thanks now and again. That’s all you need do.’’

  Winter took the first step down out of their room. ‘‘Kora?’’ He turned to meet her gaze. ‘‘This may prove a long day. After the ambush yesterday, I’m not sure you’ll be safe on the ranch. If you like, I could move you and Jamie into the hotel in town until it’s over.’’

  ‘‘Are you staying on the ranch?’’

  ‘‘I’m staying.’’

  ‘‘Then so am I.’’ She moved to his side. ‘‘I’m not leaving my home unless you order me out.’’

  ‘‘I’ll never do that,’’ he grumbled as he started down the stairs.

  Kora followed, wondering what had made him seem so grumpy. Was it because she’d called it her house, or because she’d said she’d never leave? She hurried, but barely caught up with him before he opened the door to Cheyenne’s room.

  They entered silently as Dr. Steven Gage unfolded from a chair beside the bed. He still looked like a young man, early into his thirties, with a kindness in his eyes few men let show.

  ‘‘I was just coming to wake you, Win.’’ The doctor smiled. ‘‘Cheyenne’s fever broke about half an hour ago. It’s too early to tell if the wound will stay free of infection, but it looks good.’’

  ‘‘What can we do?’’ Winter asked as he stared down at his sleeping friend. The room smelled of medicine and blood. Dan still sat silently in the cane chair by the windows. Winter wasn’t sure if he’d been there all night, or merely returned this morning. He wasn’t looking at them or giving any indication he knew they were in the room.

  ‘‘Keep him warm and quiet mostly,’’ Gage answered. ‘‘Get as much liquid and food down him as we can. He lost a lot of blood. It’ll take time to build back up. Right now, he’s peaceful enough, but we’ve got to keep him in bed longer than he’s probably going to want to stay.’’

  ‘‘I’ll put a man on guard, Doc. He’ll stay down if I have to stake him.’’

  Steven Gage laughed. ‘‘I hope you won’t have to go that far. I’ll stay another day’’-he glanced at Kora-‘‘if your wife doesn’t mind having a guest?’’

  ‘‘You’re welcome to stay, Dr. Gage.’’

  ‘‘Thanks, ma’am. Your sister’s already been up with coffee this morning. She told me you wouldn’t mind if I stayed. She also told me about how the ambush happened and how she helped get Cheyenne back. That’s quite a woman, your sister.’’

  Kora smiled. ‘‘Thank you.’’

  ‘‘You still single, Doc?’’ Winter got the question out just before Kora jabbed him in the ribs.

  ‘‘Yes,’’ Steven answered. ‘‘Why?’’

  Winter cleared his throat. ‘‘I just wondered if I needed to send a rider to let your wife know you were staying.’’

  Kora took Winter by the arm. ‘‘I’ll start breakfast.’’

  She pulled at his elbow until he followed her. As soon as the door was closed, she faced him, fighting anger. If Jamie had a chance with the doctor, Winter might ruin it by pushing.

  Winter didn’t see the anger in her gaze as he rubbed his side. ‘‘I never realized you were so strong. A little harder and I’d have a busted rib.’’

  ‘‘Do you have to ask every man in the county if he’s married as soon as they mention my sister?’’ She put her fists on her hips. As always, she was willing to fight for Jamie.

  ‘‘Seemed like a logical thing to do. I wouldn’t want to waste any time.’’ Winter liked the way she fired up. Her blue eyes sparkled.

  ‘‘You make it seem like we have to sell her off fast before she molts.’’

  ‘‘I’ll try to refrain from asking for a few more minutes.’’ Winter held his hands up in surrender. ‘‘Just don’t hit me again.’’ He was choking down the laughter.

  Kora turned to leave.

/>   ‘‘One other thing, wife.’’

  Winter’s words stopped her and she turned, realizing how forward she’d been to hit him. He couldn’t know that she’d been standing up for Jamie forever. Even when Kora didn’t stand up for herself, she’d fight her sister’s battles.

  Winter folded his arms over his chest and waited until she looked up at him. ‘‘I just want to say, you’re beautiful when you’re angry.’’

  A fire spread up Kora’s throat and across her cheeks. Compliments were for others, not for her. She was always the mouse no one noticed.

  ‘‘I don’t know what to say,’’ she whispered, fighting the desire to run.

  ‘‘Just a thanks, now and then. That’s all.’’

  Before she could react, he leaned down and kissed her on the cheek, then disappeared, taking the stairs two at a time.

  TEN

  KORA COOKED BREAKFAST AND CARRIED IT UPSTAIRS to the doctor and Cheyenne. They worked together to get a few bites down the injured man, then Kora cleaned the room as the doc sat back and enjoyed his breakfast.

  She caught Doc Gage’s questioning glance when Dan silently picked up his chair and moved out of the room.

  ‘‘The war,’’ she said as she collected discarded bandages.

  Gage almost dropped his fork. ‘‘But that’s been twenty years! Has he been like that since then?’’

  Kora nodded. ‘‘My mother took care of him while she was alive, then I started. He’s really no trouble as long as you lay everything out that he needs and don’t try to talk to him or make him eat with anyone.’’

  ‘‘Does he wander off?’’

  ‘‘No.’’ Kora dusted the dresser. ‘‘He takes walks but always returns where his things are, even if we move from one house to another. Sometimes he curls up in the back of a wagon to sleep. We’ve almost lost him a few times because of that habit. When we move all we do is put his chair in the wagon bed and he climbs right in.’’