Promises Decide

by Sarah McCarty

  Her fingers clenched on the shawl. “I hope they’re all right.”

  “Triggers can be sensitive, but the weapons themselves aren’t that delicate.”

  Motioning to the knife in his boot, she asked, “Don’t you worry that will slip and cut your leg?”

  “The sheath protects me.”

  “What if it slips out?”

  “There’s a strap to hold it in.”

  “Oh.”

  “Only reason to leave a weapon loose is if you’re expecting trouble.”

  Her head cocked to the side. “Were you expecting trouble when you rode in here?”

  Jackson shrugged. “Bentley hasn’t lived here for a long time. There was no knowing who took up residence.”

  She relaxed and shook her head. A hint of a smile colored her voice. “So you’re saying you were curious.”

  He smiled. “Pretty much.” Wincing with the motion, he adjusted the knife at his back. “What about you? Do you have a gun?”

  “Nope.”

  No? He pulled his shirt down slowly. “Surely it occurred to you that trouble might come calling this far out?”

  “Yes. Definitely.”

  “And yet you don’t have a gun.”

  After a slight pause, she admitted, “I thought it prudent to learn to shoot first.”

  He blinked as he took the revolver out of the holster. “What the hell did you intend to do if trouble showed up in the meantime?”

  She pulled the shawl tighter and shrugged. “Offer them supper and pray for the best.”

  “That’s not much of a plan.”

  “No. It isn’t.”

  Her agreement took the bluster out of his lecture. He holstered the revolver and took out the second.

  “I want to thank you again before you leave.”

  The hitch in her breath pulled his gaze up. Her eyes were very blue in the morning sun. They shimmered with suppressed tears like wildflowers after a summer shower. She was upset. “Who said I was leaving?”

  With a wave of her hand she indicated his stuff. “You’re gathering up your belongings.”

  He checked over the gun. “That doesn’t mean I’m leaving.”

  “What else could it mean?”

  “Well, my sunny little siren, it means I’m hungry. So, I imagine, are you. That being the case, I figured I’d get my butt moving and get us some meat.” Cocking an eyebrow at her, he mentioned, “Guns are good for other things besides self-defense.”

  Mimi swallowed convulsively, the way a person did when they’d been a long time without food and their mouth flooded with saliva. Her fingers grasped reflexively at the shawl. His respect for her went up when she protested, “You can’t. You’re hurt.”

  “For sure I’m dragging, but I’ve been worse.” Not much, but it was a certainty if he didn’t get in some food, none of them were going to survive. The image of Melinda Sue with that potato bothered him. Mimi cut him a glance that spoke eloquently of her doubt.

  “If it weren’t for the children, I’d debate the state of your health with you.”

  The revolver was fine. He holstered it. “If it weren’t for you and the children, I’d let you.”

  Her “thank you” wavered with the weight of reality. She couldn’t afford to demand he recuperate before he ventured forth. Once again, he wondered what had brought the family here. They clearly weren’t cut out for this life.

  If he were the prying type he would have asked, but there was time enough for explanations. “You’re welcome.”

  It was just a few short steps to the saddlebags. Her gaze weighed on him with each one. Any second he expected her to blurt out an explanation or to ask for his help, but he opened the bags without interruption. Taking out the coin pouch, he pulled out some dollars, jingling them in his palm as he debated before adding a couple more. The family couldn’t stay here, but they needed to eat between now and then. Mimi was still studying him as he stood. She didn’t say a word as he took her hand and put the coins in it, but she tensed.

  “While I’m hunting, I want you to take Little Lady and go into town—”

  “I can’t ride.”

  He almost rolled his eyes. Of course she couldn’t. Another piece added to the puzzle that was this family. He folded her fingers over the coins. “Lead her, then, but go into town and get supplies.”

  “I can’t take your money.”

  “Can you make corn bread?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then take my money.”

  She tossed the coins in her hand until they jangled discordantly. Her stubbornness was beginning to irritate him. “Why?”

  “My mouth is set for some venison stew with a large helping of corn bread and some fresh milk if you can find it.”

  “For that I don’t need a horse.”

  She was being deliberately obtuse. “I said I wanted you to get supplies. Supplies are flour, potatoes, vegetables, cornmeal, sugar, and whatever spices it takes to make all of it taste delicious. And for the love of all that’s holy, I want coffee. Real coffee.”

  She did that swallow thing again. He pressed his advantage. “Come on, now, wouldn’t you like a hot, steaming cup of coffee in the morning? Maybe flavored with some cream and a spoon or two of sugar?”

  The flutter of her lashes was another break in her composure. So was the lick of her lips. She wanted that coffee badly, so it was a shock when she took his hand like he had hers, turned it over, and gave him his money back. Pulling her shawl tighter around herself, she stepped back.

  “We don’t need your charity.”

  Damn, the woman was stubborn. He had no wish to humiliate her, but the truth needed facing, and he was too sore and too tired to fight over nonsense. He pointed toward the house. “I’ve seen those children’s faces and they’re more than a little lean.”

  She flinched but held her ground. “We’ll be fine.”

  The hell they would. “I’m not saying you haven’t done the best that you could, but things are at the point where what matters are Kevin, Tony, and Melinda Sue.”

  Jackson didn’t mention herself because he knew she’d balk, but she was just as high on his list. Her chin came up.

  “We’ll be fine. I’ve just got to find some work.”

  What the hell kind of work did she think she’d find out here? A young, beautiful woman with three kids and, apparently, no real skills? “You have to eat between now and then.”

  Her jaw set. “We’re not a charity case.”

  Son of a bitch. Running his fingers through his hair, he strove for patience. “Look, I’m not trying to stomp all over your pride, but when times are hard, you take what’s offered and pay those helping you back later.”

  For a long minute, she looked at him, her fingers white-knuckled on that shawl, pride warring with necessity. Was he getting through at all?

  He thrust out his hand. “Damn it, woman. Take the damn money.”

  With just as abrupt a “thank you,” she did. The coins landed in her palm with soft clinks. Slowly, she closed her fingers around them. “I’ll pay you back.”

  “I expect you will.”

  Her chin came up again. He braced himself for another battle. “This doesn’t mean I owe you anything . . . more.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “A lady usually waits until she’s asked.”

  She didn’t even blink before shooting back, “I’m circumventing the asking for the surety of understanding.”

  “Then drop your shield. We’ve got an understanding.”

  Instead of leaving, like he expected, she stood there looking him over from head to toe, as if he were a particularly odd sort of bug.

  “I don’t understand why you’re doing this.”

  He picked up the rifle. “I told you, I’m hungry.”

  She shook her
head and turned on her heel. “You are a very strange man, Mr. Montgomery.”

  Her scent drifted around him in a tantalizing reminder of the dreams he couldn’t recall but in which he wanted to wallow. After grabbing the lariat he followed at a much slower pace. He was stiff and sore and weaker than he wanted to admit. The first two would ease with movement. The latter, only with food.

  “I thought we’d settled on you calling me Jackson?” he called after her. That might just have been a smile on her lips as she stopped to let him catch up. He thought it was sweet she extended the courtesy, but pain or not, if he’d wanted to catch up with her, he would have caught up with her.

  “I’m being churlish, aren’t I?”

  He hadn’t expected her to admit it. “A touch, but a lot of people are testy in the morning.”

  Another wave of her hand. “It’s not that. It’s just . . .”

  A breeze blew a strand of hair into her face. “You’ve discovered people can do a whole lot of bad under the guise of being nice,” he finished for her.

  She licked her lips. “Yes.”

  Like Bentley, though she didn’t know enough yet to be braced for that blow. She flinched when he raised his hand. “Easy . . . ,” he said. “I . . .” He lightly grazed the backs of his fingers down her soft cheek, drawing the hair away from her lips. It fell to the side in a soft wave. “I don’t hit, Mimi.”

  Though someone in her past clearly had.

  Her chin tipped higher. “I didn’t imply that you did. I was just . . .”

  Startled. Scared. Jackson placed his finger over her lips, silencing the explanation.

  “I just wanted that understood between us.” He tugged the shawl up over her shoulder and pinched the sides together. He could feel her pulse against the back of his finger. It was faster than normal. So was her breathing. “You’re safe with me, Mimi.”

  Emotions chased across her face. Surprise. Suspicion. And lastly, maybe, acceptance? It was enough for now. He changed the subject.

  “Do me a favor when you’re in town. Buy more soap and whatever else you need for bathing.”

  Her eyes widened and she slapped his hand aside. “Are you inferring I stink?”

  “Hardly. You smell as sweet as a summer day, but those boys are getting a bit gamey.”

  Her lips twitched in a smile. “They act like bathing is a cardinal sin. Every Saturday night I stop taking excuses and the battles begin. They’ve been eyeing that disappearing soap like a blessing.”

  “Cardinal sin” was a Catholic term. Another tidbit for the puzzle box. He released the shawl slowly. Truth be told, he didn’t want to let her go. He liked her scent. Her smile. The sound of her voice. “Most boys do, but I’ve got a sensitive nose.”

  Despite the fact that she clearly couldn’t tell whether he was serious or not, she smiled. She had a beautiful smile that took her face from serene to gamine. It was almost as seductive as her voice.

  “Is that so?”

  “Cross my heart.”

  Her hands twisted in the shawl before smoothing it. It was such a charmingly feminine gesture that it brought everything male in him to the fore. Funny how long treks in the wilderness could make a body forget how tempting innocence could be. How refreshing. Because that was what he saw when he looked at her. Sweet innocence tempered by confidence and an underlying current of unawakened passion. He tucked that stray strand of hair behind her ear. It was supposed to be a brief gesture, but his fingers lingered. She had very smooth skin. And no idea what to say. He took pity on her, filling the awkward silence. “If you throw in some kind of dessert with supper, I’ll take over getting those boys to bathe.”

  Mimi’s soft lips smoothed into a curve of pure charm. His breath caught. Another sign he might just be in trouble here.

  She held out her hand. “You’ve got a deal.”

  Wrapping his fingers around hers, Jackson shook it gently, before answering wryly, “I kind of figured that.”

  She was the one to end the handshake. He liked to think she did so slower than normal. The imprint of her touch lasted long past the point the contact ended. The ensuing pause was fraught with emotion. From her to him and him to her.

  The rumble of his stomach broke the silence.

  Brushing her hand down her skirt she said, “Seems like it’s time we both got on about our chores.”

  “I’m thinking you’re right.”

  Picking up his rifle and slinging it over his shoulder, Jackson headed toward the woods. He made it ten feet before Mimi’s whisper reached him.

  “Be careful.”

  The warning snuggled right under his guard and into that soft spot in his heart he swore nobody would ever get to. Being vulnerable didn’t set well with him. With another wave he acknowledged the concern and kept on walking. One thing was for sure: as soon as he was recovered and the family settled, he needed to get the hell out of here or he would succumb to temptation. Mimi was the exact kind of woman to turn a confirmed bachelor’s head.

  * * *

  • • •

  Strolling across the field, Jackson unbuttoned the top few buttons of the shirt he’d just buttoned. The day was warming fast. From all the signs it could turn into a scorcher. Glancing up at the sky, he gauged the time. A bit late to start, but with the river just down the way, there ought to be some sort of game around. Maybe not a deer, but there would be game. Jackson was just glad he wouldn’t have to walk too far. A man didn’t live long out here if he didn’t know his limitations, and he was injured, weak, and already almost at the end of his endurance. And he still had to haul whatever he killed home.

  A few feet inside the woods at the bend of the river, the hairs on the back of his neck lifted. Behind him came the unmistakable sound of something or someone else in the woods. He was being followed.

  Ducking to the right behind a tree partially surrounded by a thick clump of bushes, he waited. The clomping came faster. One, two sets of footsteps. There was only one logical conclusion. Kevin and Tony had followed him. They definitely needed a lesson in stealth. With that much noise chasing away game they’d all starve to death. He smelled them before he saw them. They definitely needed to wash up. He waited until they passed, completely oblivious to his presence, before asking, “Where are you two going this early in the morning?”

  He got a small measure of satisfaction as they jumped and spun around. He had to give Kevin credit for a quick recovery.

  “We’re going with you.”

  “To do what?”

  The challenge threw Kevin, but Tony just settled into his position and stated, “Whatever you’re doing.”

  “I thought I’d hunt down a few meals.”

  “Then we’ll help.”

  The “no” was on his lips, only to be silenced by longing in both boys’ eyes. He couldn’t help but remember the first time his father had taken him hunting. He’d been about Kevin’s age. He remembered the sense of adventure and the desire to be able to provide like a man. To do what his father did. The thrill of just doing manly things. He motioned the boys over.

  “If you want to help, the first thing you need to do is slow down and walk quietly. Don’t step on sticks.”

  “How do you see a stick under the leaves?” Tony asked in his serious way.

  “Try to feel around with your toes.”

  As soon as they tried, he saw the problem. Their shoes were hard soled, whereas he had on moccasins that allowed him to sense the ground better. “Just do your best.”

  They nodded again, excitement radiating off them in waves. “One thing you need to understand if you come with me. It’s serious business providing for your family. It’s got to be done right. A man doesn’t let women and children starve, so you need to do exactly as I say, no hesitation.”

  More enthusiastic nods. He had a feeling they’d promise him their next fiv
e meals to tag along. “We’re likely only going to get one shot so it matters that our aim is true, but it’s equally important that we get the chance to take that shot, which means you need to be quiet. Very quiet. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.”

  “Yes.”

  He nodded. “Good. Listen up, then. I’m not going to repeat myself later.”

  He couldn’t have asked for a more devoted audience as he explained the plan to the boys. The wind changed direction and he got a whiff of them again, reminding him of the promise he’d made Mimi. He’d have to deal with that later. When he was satisfied both boys knew the plan, he jerked his head toward the path. “Then let’s go get us some breakfast.”

  Kevin jumped up so fast he tripped. Jackson caught his arm. Tony was outwardly more cautious.

  “Remember, stay behind me, stay close, and stay as quiet as you possibly can.” Lips pressed so hard together they all but disappeared, Kevin nodded hard enough his hair fell over his eyes. Clearly he was already feeling the strain of silence. Jackson patted him on his shoulder. He ruffled Tony’s hair. The boy was too stoic by far. “Good job.”

  Working steadily downwind of the deer path he’d noticed coming in, he settled behind some heavy brush, propped his rifle, and sat down on his haunches. The boys looked at him. He frowned as soon as they opened their mouths. Snapping their mouths shut, they hunkered down, too. Tony’s stomach growled loudly. Tony clutched his stomach and blanched. What the hell had the boy been through that such a small infraction had him terrified? Jackson leaned over and whispered, “I’m hungry, too.”