by Linda Ford
They’d gradually lost touch after her parents had died and she’d moved away. Years later, she’d arrived at his ranch, pregnant and alone. Compelled by honor and loyalty, he’d thought he was doing the right thing by marrying her, hoping their past friendship might grow into something deeper. Except she’d never stopped loving the man who’d betrayed her.
Mrs. Lund harrumphed, and her gaze shifted. “Have you made the arrangements with the bank?”
His jaw worked. “I’ll finish up this morning.”
That figured. Abby’s older sister may have lost sight of Owen, but she hadn’t lost sight of the money he’d offered for the twins’ care.
How had such a simple arrangement become this complicated? Ten years older than Abby, her sister had been married and gone by the time he and Abby had started school together. After Abby’s death, their correspondence had been brief, but Mrs. Lund had been well aware of her sister’s wishes and hadn’t balked. He’d put off the inevitable for as long as he could, but the time had finally arrived.
As though sensing his tension, Alyce squeezed her small hands around his neck. He absently rubbed her back in soothing circles.
“Everything will be fine,” he said, though his blood simmered. He turned toward Mrs. Lund and, with an effort born of sheer will, kept his tone calm. “It’s been hard on them, losing Abby. They need patience.”
“Fine talk coming from you,” she snapped. “A man foisting off his children as though they were so much chattel.”
“You know what Abby wanted,” he said quietly. “The ranch is isolated. If anything happened over the winter…”
“Or perhaps my sister regretted her choice of a husband.”
Her words slashed at his conscience. “We can finish this discussion later.”
As though his day couldn’t get any worse, he locked gazes with a pair of sparkling blue eyes. A flush crept up his neck. He didn’t know how much Miss Spencer had heard, but it was probably too much.
“We meet again, Mr. McCoy.” Despite her casual words, Miss Spencer clenched her hands before her stomach, her knuckles white. “I believe this little fellow belongs to you.”
Assuming his most stern expression, Shane switched Alyce to his opposite shoulder and reached down. “Owen, that’s twice today.”
The boy grinned, not at all sorry. Shane raised his eyebrows. Leave it to Owen to find the prettiest girl at the depot. The child was a positive flirt.
Miss Spencer’s gaze darted around the platform. “I believe Owen was chasing his ball and became a little lost.”
The tight coil he kept around his emotions eased a notch. Owen’s champion was smartly dressed in a traveling suit the color of a ripe peach. The cheerful hue brought out the luster in her flaxen hair and the flecks of gold in her sharp blue eyes. Though clearly nervous about something or someone, she exuded an air of confidence and grace.
Her presence felt out of place on the crowded platform. As though she belonged in a private parlor—sipping tea and waiting for her Pullman car. She was the sort of woman Abby had always admired. The rope around his emotions tightened once more. The sort of woman who’d find him boring and suffocating, no doubt, just as Abby had.
“Thank you,” he said. “For returning Owen. Again.”
“My pleasure.”
Her voice had a husky quality that stirred long-dormant yearnings. Though she kept a calm visage, there was something troubled about the way Miss Spencer kept glancing over her shoulder. The more time he spent with her, the more he realized there was an air of mystery surrounding his lovely Good Samaritan. That ambiguity made her all the more alluring, and he fought against his curiosity. Mysteries had a way of ending badly.
While Shane struggled for a suitable reply, Owen tossed the ball toward Mrs. Lund.
She squeaked and dodged sideways, then snatched the boy’s shirt and cocked back her arm. “You did that on purpose, you little—”
“No!” Shane shouted helplessly. With Alyce in his arms, he struggled to reach Owen.
Miss Spencer threw herself before the boy and grasped Mrs. Lund’s wrist.
Gratitude rushed through him.
Mrs. Lund’s face suffused with color. “Get your hands off of me!”
“I will not stand by and watch you hit a child,” Miss Spencer declared.
Sensing the trouble he’d caused, Owen whimpered behind her skirts.
“I wasn’t going to harm the boy.” Mrs. Lund sniffed. “Not that it’s any business of yours. A woman, traveling alone. You’re no better than you should be.”
Shane moved between the two combatants. “I won’t have you insulting Miss Spencer.”
“And I won’t have this…this person questioning my intentions.”
“What were your intentions?” he challenged.
His sister-in-law gasped. “How dare you question me!”
Now what? It sure looked as if Mrs. Lund was getting ready to haul off and wallop the boy. And if that was the case, then her actions changed everything. No matter how desperate, he wasn’t leaving the children with an abusive guardian. They might not be his children by blood, but he loved them all the same, and he was honor bound to ensure they were well cared for, no matter what Abby’s wishes.
Mrs. Lund’s mouth worked, and after several tense seconds, she gathered herself. “We had an agreement. There’s no need to fuss.”
Shane rubbed his forehead. Impossible situations. He had a singular talent for landing in impossible situations. With winter coming, he’d lose the help he hired from town. The weather isolated the ranch, sometimes for weeks. He’d kept Abby’s secret about the babies—everyone assumed he was their father—and he was bound to abide by her request concerning the children’s care. Yet he questioned her sister’s intentions.
People were always hiding their true motivations. Abby had claimed she still loved him, even though she was pregnant with another man’s children. Mrs. Lund had claimed she wanted to raise the twins, when clearly she was more interested in the money. Even he was keeping secrets—Abby’s secrets. Of the three of them, only Miss Spencer had no reason for duplicity.
As though only just deciphering the situation, Miss Spencer looked between the two of them. “You’re leaving the children with her?”
Mrs. Lund tossed her head. “After seeing how he manages them, I can understand Abby’s insistence that I raise the children. They are in need of a firm hand.”
Shane turned his back on his sister-in-law and faced Miss Spencer. The disappointment in her eyes sent his words spilling forth in a hasty confession. “I live on an isolated ranch. We’re cut off from everything during the winter. It’s just my men and me.”
Miss Spencer swayed forward. “Your ranch is isolated?”
“It’s just south of Cimarron Springs. Completely off the map.”
“That sounds quite remote.” Her voice grew breathless. “And inaccessible.”
“Uh.” He wasn’t certain if there was a question buried in her statement. “Yes.”
Shane reached for Owen, who clutched Miss Spencer’s skirts all the tighter. His chest constricted. He wasn’t leaving them with Mrs. Lund, even if that meant defying Abby’s wishes. Though she was the children’s closest relative, he’d known her for less than twenty minutes. In that short time he’d seen how truly unsuitable she was for the task.
Twenty minutes.
About the same amount of time he’d known Miss Spencer. His gaze lit on Owen’s lovely rescuer. She obviously feared something or someone, though she was doing her best to cover her anxiety. She wasn’t as excited about her travels as she’d have them believe. He sensed her independent nature and her stubborn resolve, but he had his own streak of obstinacy as well.
For a moment he imagined the world from her viewpoint, and his thoughts left him unsettled. An unmarried woman without the protection of relatives had few resources. Traveling alone was dangerous, more so farther west. Did she know the trouble she courted? Was she aware of the admiring
stares she evoked? A very male sense of protectiveness tightened his jaw.
Mrs. Lund reached for Owen, who cowered away. “Come along,” she ordered. “We’ve wasted enough time.”
The boy burst out crying.
“No.” Shane spoke more forcibly than he’d intended. His gaze fastened on Miss Spencer. “I’ll find another way.”
Chapter Two
Searching for a way to gently extract herself from the tense situation, Tessa took a discreet step back. She’d already caused enough trouble for Mr. McCoy, and the more she delayed, the more trouble she caused for herself as well.
Mrs. Lund smoothed the hair from her temple. “I blame Abby for this. She never had a lick of sense. Always running with the wrong sorts of people. Look at what it got her. I suppose I should have known she’d marry someone cut from the same cloth. Blood will out, as they say.”
Tessa gazed at the two beautiful children. “Yes, blood will out.” If the twins were any indication, Abby had not been cut from the same cloth as her sister. “By way of apology, perhaps I could distract the children while the two of you speak alone.”
Shocked by her impulsive suggestion, she froze. Really, this was none of her business, and she was being terribly forward, but the poor widower looked as though he had a few choice words for his sister-in-law that were best exchanged in private.
A muscle ticked in his cheek. “I believe you’re right, Miss Spencer. Mrs. Lund and I have a great deal to discuss.”
“Call me Tessa.”
“Then you must call me Shane.”
His sister-in-law made an exaggerated show of straightening her hair and pressing her clothing with flattened palms. Tessa glanced warily between the two. There were fireworks coming, that much was certain. Mrs. Lund had best not underestimate her brother-in-law. Tessa sensed a spine of steel behind that even-tempered exterior.
Clearing her throat, Tessa drew their attention. “There’s an ice cream parlor across the street. Why don’t I arrange a treat for the children and let you and Mrs. Lund have a moment in private?”
Shane hesitated. “Are you certain?”
“Positive.” Despite his assurances, she did feel somewhat responsible. When she’d thought Mrs. Lund might strike the boy, she’d seen red, and her instincts had taken over. Though she didn’t regret her actions, she had set this chain of events into motion. “We’ll take a seat by the window. That way, you can see us as well.”
He gestured toward a young porter standing vigil near the ticket office. “Can you store the lady’s trunk?”
“Right away, sir.”
Tessa noted the cut of the freckle-faced porter’s clothing and took stock of his shiny new shoes. He was obviously well paid, which meant there was no reason for him to rifle through her belongings for valuables.
“Thank you, Shane,” she said. “For your thoughtfulness.”
“Enough.” Mrs. Lund snorted. “I don’t have all day while the two of you chatter about nonsense.”
“I believe that’s my cue.” Tessa knelt and gathered the twins close. Emmett had always discouraged the wasting of one’s charm on the charmless. “Your dad says it’s all right if I take you for ice cream. Is that all right with you?”
The two exchanged a glance.
Owen nodded. “Ga.”
“High praise indeed.”
She led them across the street and took a table near the window. Their vantage was doubly useful since Shane could keep sight of his children, and she could keep watch for Dead Eye. She didn’t suppose outlaws frequented ice cream parlors. So long as she didn’t attract more attention to herself, she was safe. For the moment.
Oblivious to the drama unfolding on their behalf, the twins were instead fascinated with the intricacies of the metal scrollwork chairs. Alyce knelt backward on the seat and traced her finger around the twisted heart pattern. Attempting to climb up as well, Owen pushed her aside. Alyce shoved him back.
“There’s no need to fight.” Tessa scraped another chair closer. “Wouldn’t you like your very own seat, Owen?”
He squinted, then crossed his arms over his chest and stubbornly glared at his sister.
Shrugging, Tessa sat and pivoted her legs beneath the table. “How very nice it is to have a chair all to oneself. Makes one feel very grown up.”
From the corner of her eye, she watched as Owen carefully rested his ball on the table and claimed his own seat. Though pleased with her success, she kept her emotions hidden lest Owen catch on.
Only a few tables in the parlor were occupied, showcasing the black-and-white tile floor and the blue-and-white-checkered curtains hanging from the windows. During the height of the summer season, the shop must burst at the seams. With a slight chill in the fall air, business had obviously slowed.
She studied the list of choices. “I believe the special today is chocolate. Chocolate is a fine choice, on any occasion.”
After taking their order, the grandmotherly shop owner clasped her hands. “My, but your children are well behaved. And so lovely, too. If you don’t mind me saying so, they’re the spitting image of you, ma’am.”
Without waiting for an answer, the woman circled back around the counter.
Tessa tugged her lower lip between her teeth. Explaining her actual relationship with the children seemed unnecessarily complicated. She’d always adored children, though life with Emmett hadn’t afforded much opportunity to be around them. Considering her current predicament, she didn’t suppose there’d be much opportunity in the future either. A pall fell over her once more. Always before she’d had hope, but the passing of time had relentlessly drained her optimism.
She rolled the ball across the table and Owen stopped it before it tumbled off. Alyce found the game more entertaining than tracing the metal scrollwork and joined in the fun. The task took a great deal of concentration and giggling.
An elderly couple seated nearby watched their antics with indulgent smiles.
The woman leaned toward Tessa. “You have a lovely family. Makes me think of my own children at that age. Enjoy this time. It passes quickly.”
Feeling a fraud, Tessa murmured a few polite words in response. They were strangers. She’d never see them again. And yet she was no better than Emmett was—playing a game of smoke and mirrors based on assumptions. Worse yet, the game was all too familiar, almost comfortable, like donning one’s winter coat after a long summer.
The shop owner returned and handed Tessa two folded flour sacks.
“Their outfits are so pretty,” the woman said. “I’d hate to see them mussed.”
Grateful for the shopkeeper’s thoughtfulness, and still feeling a touch guilty, Tessa knotted the sacks around the squirming children. A tug of longing surprised her once again. There was no reason to be maudlin. Emmett had loved her dearly, she’d never doubted that, but he’d always been slightly befuddled with having a little girl around.
Over the years, ladies from the boardinghouses and saloons where they’d stayed had occasionally taken her under their wing, showing her how to fix her hair and dress properly. Sometimes she felt as though she’d had scores of mothers, and other times she felt as though she’d had none at all. Everyone had different expectations, and she’d spent much of her life puzzling out her role with new people.
One way or another, she’d been searching for something elusive all her life. Just once she wanted affection without expectations. Someone who knew who she really was and loved her all the same. Her fingers tightened around Owen’s ball. An impossible hope considering her past.
As the shop owner placed two bowls of ice cream before the children, a grim-faced Mr. McCoy stepped inside. He doffed his hat and took the remaining seat.
Alyce snatched her bowl and lapped at the ice cream. Laughing, Tessa pulled the bowl away. Now sporting a chocolate beard, the toddler groped for her spoon. Tugging the utensil out of reach, Tessa wiped the sticky mess from Alyce’s face.
Shane lifted his spoon and turned toward
Owen. The boy worked his mouth like a baby bird.
“They haven’t mastered the fork and spoon yet,” he said. “Sometimes it’s best if we assist.”
“Of course.” Tessa stole a glance at him from beneath her eyelashes. “Is everything all right?”
“We’ve decided Mrs. Lund is far too busy to watch the children over the winter.”
“Perhaps that’s for the best. You’re a good father, keeping them with you. You’ve done the right thing.”
He flushed beneath her praise and looked away. “Miss Spencer, thank you for your help. I hadn’t met Mrs. Lund before today. I had no idea she was quite so…harsh.”
Tessa tilted her head. How odd the widower had never met his sister-in-law before today. Then again, she didn’t know much about how regular families worked.
His expression turned severe. “She had other reasons for wanting the children. I can’t abide falsehoods.”
Instantly chilled, Tessa ducked her head. “Have you considered placing an advertisement? An older woman, perhaps a widow, would not attract gossip.”
There was a hopeful gleam in his eyes that had her wary. For a moment the idea of living in the wilds had struck her as the perfect solution. Before she’d realized the impossibility of such a plan. Despite having been raised by an unconventional parent, she understood propriety all too well. While she wasn’t particularly vain, she was too young and too unattached for the role of housekeeper. Which made losing her job at the Harvey House all the more catastrophic. There were few opportunities for single ladies. She’d seen the life of a saloon girl firsthand living with Emmett, and while she understood desperation, she’d do anything to avoid that fate.
Shane collapsed back in his chair and raked his hands through his hair. “Abby had certain…wishes.” A shadow passed over his face. “I’ve backed myself into a corner. With winter coming, I’m running out of time. An advertisement could take weeks. I’d have to wait on the post. Then the applicants must be carefully scrutinized. We live in tight quarters on the ranch.”
