Brides of the West

by Michele Ann Young

  As they drew closer, she caught sight of a figure in the entrance to the barn. A squat bow-legged man who drew back into the shadows the moment he caught her gaze.

  “Who is that?”

  His firm lips flattened into a straight line. “One of the hands.”

  She frowned. “Do you mean he works for you?”

  “Yes, ma’am. He won’t bother you none. Takes his food with us. Sleeps in the bunkhouse.”

  That must be the small building with the chimney. They pulled up in front of the house. Tess glanced over at the barn, but the man had completely disappeared. Mr. Redmond jumped down and tied the horse to a hitching post in front of the porch steps. He came around to help her down, his large hands filled the hollow of her waist, his breath cooling her suddenly fiery cheek. The space between them crackled like air tensed for a storm. He set her well clear of his body as if he’d felt the charge, too, and grabbed her bag.

  “This way, ma’am.”

  She followed him up the two steps and across the wooden porch. He ushered her through a plain-boarded front door into what must be the parlor. The brown armchairs needed covers, if not replacing. The plank floor was clean, but pitted from boot heels. The windows were bare of drapery and the only picture on the wall had faded to an indeterminate blob. It had been a long time since a woman had laid a finger on this room.

  “The kitchen is through there,” Mr. Redmond said, jerking his chin to the back of the house. “Your room is down the hall.”

  Tess headed down the short passage and pushed open the door at the end. She halted, amazed. The window, floor to ceiling and two feet wide, looked out across the barren landscape to the horizon. “Oh, my.”

  Mr. Redmond came up behind her. The view no longer held her attention. Her skin shimmered with the heat of his body at her back. His manly scent invaded each intake of her breath while the sound of his breathing filled her ears.

  “It’s the only bedroom I have.” He sounded almost defensive.

  “The view is...spectacular.” She glanced at the double bed and the rail across one corner holding what were obviously his shirts and pants. “Where will you sleep?”

  “I’ll take the couch.” The words shot at her, as if he feared she’d invite him to share.

  She swallowed her chagrin and managed a swift smile. “You are very kind to offer me such generous hospitality, Mr. Redmond, when clearly I am a disappointment.”

  “It’s the least I could do.” He twisted his hat in his suntanned hands. “Ma’am?”

  She tilted her head in question.

  “Do you think you could call me Jake? Everyone always called my daddy, Mr. Redmond, and I ain’t so comfortable with it. Not as a general rule.”

  The telltale hint of red in his cheeks appeared again, barely noticeable in the dark bronze of his skin. It made him seem less hard, less sure of himself, just a little less perfect. She nodded. “Why not? After all we have to spend the next couple of days together. I’d prefer to be called Tess than ma’am, too. It sounds a bit like the Queen, don’t you think?”

  “Yes, ma...Tess.” He grinned and tossed her bag on the bed. It was the first time he’d smiled since she’d met him. A thing of beauty, all flashing white teeth and crinkles at the corners of sparkling eyes. He went from merely strikingly handsome to unbelievably gorgeous. Her heart did a stupid little jump.

  Mercy, she had to stop reacting to him this way. He’d made it perfectly plain he had no interest.

  “I’ll fetch in a pail of water for you to wash. There’s a jug and a bowl in the kitchen you can use. Me an’ the boys generally swill down at the pump out back. The outhouse is behind the barn.”

  Heat rushed to her cheeks at the personal turn in the conversation.

  He strode out of the room clearly glad to be gone.

  She removed her bonnet, stripped off her cotton spencer and felt a little cooler. She dabbed at the sweat marks on her best gown with her handkerchief. It was probably ruined. She should have known better than to dress so fine in the ramshackle place New York City had turned out to be. A bowl of cool water sounded like heaven with dust of half of America coating every inch of her skin. A bath would be better, but that didn’t seem to be an option. She strolled down the passageway and peeked into the kitchen.

  A scrubbed pine table surrounded by four ladder-back chairs sat in the center of the wooden floor. A Dresden-blue painted dresser stood against one wall and a surprisingly modern-looking cooking range against the other. Through the window in the back door, she caught sight of her host. Even at this distance, those long lean legs encased in black and his strong forearm working the pump handle made her breathe a fraction faster. “Don’t look,” she muttered. “You are a respectable widow, not an impressionable girl.” She pulled out a chair, sat and folded her hands in her lap.

  An unexpected sadness washed over her, a sense of loss. Pure girlish foolishness. Something she had long ago put behind her. She had no reason to feel downcast. All in all, the whole adventure had turned out very well indeed, and after such a shaky start. Having spent most of the journey wondering how she would explain to her bridegroom an urgent desire to visit San Antonio immediately after she was married, she really ought to be relieved.

  Her stomach clenched. What if Albert had left San Antonio for California as he’d hinted in his last letter? All she held dear depended on him returning to England before Mother ruined everything. Fate could not be so cruel. Could it?

  Boots thumped on wood. Seconds later, Jake flung open the back door and stomped in with the pail swinging from one hand. He glanced at her neckline. Her skin seemed to heat as if branded. While his face remained blank, his gaze skittered away faster than water bounces off hot fat.

  Tess willed herself not to sigh. She didn’t have the kind of bosom that made men’s eyes light up any more than she had the kind of face that made them look twice. It mattered not one whit that this man found her lacking, even if her insides jolted each time her gaze drifted his way, which it did with unnerving frequency.

  Jake poured the water into a bowl on the table and fished out a jar of soap from the dresser.

  “Nice cooking range,” Tess said to break the awkward silence. “Is it new?”

  He grimaced. “Ordered it special from out East.”

  For the bride he no longer wanted. Idiotic and from nowhere, tears misted her vision. She blinked them away before they could spill over. It was exhaustion, nothing else. She gestured to the bowl. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” He hesitated. “I hope you’ll excuse me, but I’ve chores to do. Cattle and such to check. Can you do for yourself until supper? Perhaps rest up awhile?”

  “Of course. I’ll be fine.”

  She thought with longing of the large bed in the other room, imagined how he would look stretched out beside her. Felt heat rise in her cheeks. “I’ll be fine,” she repeated.

  He looked unsure, but clattered out of the kitchen all the same. The sound of the front door opening and closing signaled his departure.

  Unable to resist, Tess tiptoed into the parlor and, careful to stay out of sight, peeped out the window. He leaped up onto the gig with loose-limbed athletic grace. Seconds later, the vehicle disappeared into the barn. She sighed. The only man she’d ever met who made her heart pound like a blacksmith’s hammer and he didn’t want her.

  But he had asked if she could cook. Perhaps that was one way she could pay for her lodging.

  ***

  Jake urged Copper into a trot, the back of his neck itchin’ like he was being watched. Sweat. It had to be sweat. The dark shadows inside the barn offered respite from the afternoon sun, its rich manure and fresh hay smells balm to his black mood.

  He unbuckled Copper’s traces, whistling through his teeth, watching his hands do work they’d done a hundred times before, trying to ignore the anger eating away at his gut like acid, steeling himself for the questions.

  Footsteps shuffled out of the dark.

&n
bsp; Uncle Raven wandered to the other side of the buckboard and released the leather straps. Together, they pushed up on the buggy until it rested on its tail with the shafts pointing upwards.

  “So?” Uncle Raven said. “She came.”

  Jake finally lifted his head to look at the old man. Braided grey hair framed a leathery face the color of mahogany and fell to his bony shoulders. He’d worn his eagle feather for the first time in a long time Jake noticed. “She ain’t stayin’.” Jake slapped Copper’s rump. “Move it, boy.”

  The lines around Uncle Raven’s mouth and corrugated lips deepened. He cocked his head, his black eyes glinting like the bird he was named for. “Why?”

  Trust the old man to get straight to the point. “You saw her. You watched us from the barn. She’s a city woman. I’ll spend all my time panderin’ to her and she’ll break like a twig.”

  “Or bend like a willow. Old saying of my people—”

  “It’s done. Over. And they’re my people, too.” He led the horse into his stall, removed the bit and the bridle and hung them over the rail. Buck, his bronco, whinnied a greeting from the next door. What a waste of a day. He’d needed to ride out to the east end of his property and take a look at his beef. Instead he’d set himself up for a fall.

  “Ask the medicine man for advice,” Uncle Raven said, handing him a currying brush and setting to work with a comb on Copper’s tail.

  “No.”

  Uncle Raven blew out a noisy breath. “What about Little Hare? She’s a nice girl. You’re better off without an ugly white woman.”

  A burst of anger clouded Jake’s vision. He glared over Copper’s withers. “Did I say she was ugly? No, I didn’t.”

  “Skinny, then.”

  “Damn it, you’re twistin’ my words. Where’re the boys? I thought they were with you.”

  Uncle Raven raised his eyebrows. “All right. Change the subject. The boys went to Mrs. Drew’s for a haircut.”

  “Dang it. Have y’all gone woman crazy? Those boys never get a haircut unless I tie ‘em to a chair.”

  “No need to shout. I thought it would give Mrs. Jake time. Damned handful, those boys. Send ’em back East to their mother.”

  He glowered at Uncle Raven. “The boys need wide open spaces, not gettin’ into trouble in the city.” And their mother didn’t want ‘em.

  “Why did you bring the woman here?” Uncle Raven prodded again.

  Jake reined in his anger and shook his head. “I couldn’t very well leave her standin’ at the crossroads until Wednesday.”

  “Why not take her into town.”

  “I might, tomorrow. It’s too late today.”

  He forked some hay into Copper’s manger and checked his water. “Help me saddle Buck. I’m goin’ to check on a calf I saw wanderin’ by itself this mornin’.”

  “I’ll come with you. I don’t want to scare your city woman. We’ll be back before the boys.”

  Jake nodded slowly. What the hell had he been thinking? He couldn’t bring a woman here. It wouldn’t matter who she was, it would never work, not with his family ties.

  ***

  Moisture trickled between Tess’ breasts. She fanned herself with her hand. “Plaguey thing,” she muttered at the stove. “Whoever said ladies didn’t sweat, but merely gently glowed, has never been to Texas in July.”

  At any moment she expected to find she’d melted into a sticky mess on the floor. And to make it worse, she was talking to herself again. She dabbed at her face and neck with the handkerchief she’d dipped in water. It didn’t help. Nor had sunset. If anything it felt hotter.

  The back door crashed back. Two blond lads of around ten and twelve hurtled in. The A Bride for All mail order catalog agent hadn’t said a word about Jake being a widower, or a father. Tess offered them a smile.

  “Hey,” the taller lad said. “You the woman what’s come to marry Uncle Jake? At last, we’ll get a decent meal around here. I’m starvin’.” The pair dove for the table, pulled out a chair each and grabbed for a bowl and spoon. Their hands were filthy and their faces weren’t much better.

  Nephews, not sons, and rude ones at that. Boys were boys no matter which country they lived in and she’d lived around them all her life.

  She raised her brows. “Good evening, gentlemen. I’m Tess Dalton. Whom might I have the pleasure of addressing?”

  “Matt,” said the big one.

  “Dave Redmond,” said the younger, wiping his hands on his pants.

  She put her hands on her hips. “Surely you don’t expect to eat at my table covered in a day’s worth of dirt?”

  The younger boy slid to the edge of his chair. He stopped at a glare from his brother.

  “Uncle Jake don’t make us wash up,” Matt said with a try-it-on-for-size sideways glance from hazel eyes full of resentment. “Do he?”

  Dave hunched into his shoulders and avoided her gaze. “Nope.”

  “Uncle Jake may not, but Tess Dalton does.”

  When they didn’t move, Tess reached across and rapped Matt on the knuckles with the wooden spoon. Not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make him take notice.

  “Ow.” The lad jumped to his feet, fists clenched, face scarlet. “Just because you get to marry Uncle Jake don’t mean you can tell us what to do. I told him havin’ a woman around here would ruin everything.”

  The boy sounded so angry Tess considered backing down. The kind of manners Jake expected from these lads wasn’t her concern. In a few days she’d be gone.

  “You ain’t our mother,” the little one said, ranging alongside his brother, a world of hurt in his voice and in his eyes. They were the same bright blue as Jake’s.

  Now what in the world had happened to his mother to make him look so wounded? She softened her tone, which she knew sometimes sounded sharper than she meant. “Well, and here I heard Texas gentlemen were the most polite in the world.” She raised a brow. “And here you are with your hats on in the presence of a lady and covered in more dust than my mother’s parlor after the maid’s day off.”

  Dave whipped off his hat and nudged his brother with his elbow. The skin of his forehead was clean compared to the rest of his face and pink with embarrassment. His short dirty blond hair looked as if someone had taken a knife to it.

  Matt glowered, but removed his hat. He had brown hair, the color of oak and just as short.

  “Boys,” she said with a smile, “if you want stew, you need to wash. And if you need to wash, you need to go outside to the pump. But if you prefer to go hungry, that’s your choice.”

  Dave looked longingly at the pot on the stove and then at Matt.

  The back door swung open.

  The boys spun around.

  Jake. No mistaking the boots, or the mile long legs ending in lean lithe hips on the threshold. Tess let her gaze slide up his length and mentally licked her lips at the sight of his muscular torso and the chest solid enough to rest her head on, before coming to rest on Jake’s sinfully handsome face.

  He removed his hat and jerked his chin at the boys. “What’s going on?”

  “I just met your nephews. They are on their way out to wash up for dinner.”

  Jake inhaled. A slow smile spread across his face, changing it from sinful to dangerous to all womankind. Tess’ stomach did a little flip.

  “Dang,” Jake said. “You really cooked? I smelled it from out there and thought it was wishful thinkin’.”

  What had he expected her to do? “It’s only stew. I found the meat in the larder along with some vegetables. I hope you don’t mind?”

  “Mind? Hell no. Let’s wash up boys.” He frowned. “Why are you in here in all your dirt, anyhow?”

  Matt stared at Tess as if expecting her to tattle.

  She headed for the stove. “So that’s four of us for dinner, then?” she asked Jake.

  “Five. Uncle Raven will join us.” He bolted out the door.

  She frowned. He hadn’t mentioned an uncle. Was this the boys’ father?r />
  She busied herself filling five bowls with good helpings of stew.

  It didn’t take long for the men to return. Scrubbed clean of their dirt, and with damp hair, the young lads looked almost angelic. Jake looked good enough to eat. A trickle of water coursed down his cheek and into the faint haze of stubble on his lean angled jaw. Tess briefly wondered how that drip would taste licked right off his tanned skin.

  Damn. What was the matter with her? She’d been married. She knew all about men. But Pete had been nowhere near as attractive as Jake. Elderly, kind and as boring as a Sunday sermon, Pete had saved her from spinsterhood and given her life a purpose, even if they hadn’t had the children she longed for. This man would drag her straight to hell. And he wouldn’t have to do much dragging.

  A few steps behind Jake came a short man with bowed legs and wearing a checkered shirt. A large brown hat shadowed his face and long grey hair straggled out from beneath it. He doffed his hat and held it against his chest, his black eyes watching her cautiously.

  The lantern swinging from the beam above the kitchen table cast his slanted eyes in shadow and emphasized his high cheekbones and beak of a nose. The way his mahogany skin stretched tight over his lean features, he looked like a death’s head.

  Tess swallowed a gasp. This must be an Indian. The stories she’d heard of these savage people sent chills down her back. It was the first time she’d felt cool for more than a week. She backed up a step.

  “This is Uncle Raven.” Jake’s voice sounded harsh. A muscle in his jaw flickered and jumped as if he would like to say more, but couldn’t think of the words.