by Linda Ford
She faced the darkness once more and traversed the last three steps. The space was no bigger than the washroom in the ranch house, the ceiling low enough that Shane had to stoop. The air smelled dank and loamy and a fine sheen of dirt covered every surface. Wooden shelves holding jars of neatly arranged preserves lined the walls. There were pickles, peaches, even tomatoes.
“Who did all this work?” she asked, covering her unease.
Shane stood before the door, blocking both the exit and what little light penetrated the inky blackness.
“Finch and Parker, mostly,” Shane said. “Finch grows a garden out behind the barn in the summer.”
“Even with his…” Her voice trailed off and she made a vague motion with her arm.
“The loss of his hand has never slowed him down, near as I can tell.” He cleared his throat. “Abby liked to keep the household supplies separate from the rest. This set of shelves is for the main house. Everything else is for the men.”
“How come?”
“How come what?”
“Why did Abby want the supplies separated?”
“I don’t know,” Shane replied, a touch of sorrow in his voice. “She liked things a certain way.”
Tessa frowned at his halting explanation. Something brushed her arm and she yelped. Leaping aside, she collided with Shane.
He stumbled back and crashed into a shelf, rattling the jars.
She scooted away and brushed at her arms. “Something touched me.”
“Probably cobwebs.”
Shivering, she backed toward the stairs. “You said there were no spiders.”
“The cobwebs are left over from summer. It’s winter. Like I said, they’re mostly dormant. Spring is when you have to watch out.”
The more she thought about spiders, the more she felt the cobwebs everywhere. In her hair, grazing her legs, touching her cheek. She discreetly brushed at her arms, concealing her unease from Shane. If he knew she was terrified of this tiny, cramped space filled with who-knew-what kind of creepy crawlies scurrying about, he’d sigh and take up what little oxygen remained in the heavy air.
“As long as we’re down here,” he said, then snatched a jar from a shelf and extended his arm. “Apple jelly. It’s excellent on flapjacks.”
“Bartleby has a recipe for French pancakes.”
“Are those like flapjacks?”
“I think so.”
At least he was matching her for witty conversation. What a pair they made. If this was an example of the scintillating conversation they’d have over the next twenty years, they were both in trouble. Once they’d exhausted the fruits and vegetables in the pantry, they’d be well out of topics unless they planted something more exotic next spring.
“That reminds me.” Shane tilted his head. “Who is Bartleby?”
“Something I found at the mercantile. Bartleby’s Book of Household Management. It’s quite useful. Well, mostly useful. For example, in England, lobsters are best purchased during July and August. I don’t suppose I’ll ever use that little tidbit.”
Shane chuckled. “Cimarron Springs is a long way from the coast.”
A rare burst of insight had her clutching the jar against her chest. They were no good with each other alone; they needed the children between them. Each encounter they’d had up until this point had been with the children. As time wore on, would they become better or worse at dealing with each other when the children weren’t present? She didn’t want to contemplate the answer.
The walls closed in around her and her future pressed against her with suffocating and endless finality. She had to escape. Scurrying past him, she bolted up the stairs. The brush of cobwebs swept against her face and she batted them aside.
Her annoyance sprang from her insecurity. What if he never developed an affection for her?
In the sunlight once more, she brushed her face and arms. A shudder swept through her from head to toe.
Shane followed close behind her and the silence stretched out between them.
Tessa set her jaw. She’d always thought she was a strong woman, but this relationship was testing her courage more than the spiders had. She’d rather face the dark cellar than his disappointment. When she’d given herself the arbitrary deadline of Christmas, she’d been certain she’d prevail. No more.
Even as she worried for the future, the idea of never seeing him sent an ache through her soul. They’d figure things out eventually. They had to.
“Since this is all new to me,” Tessa began, “I thought it best we keep things out in the open. What exactly do you expect of me?”
Shane blanched. “Expect? How do you mean?”
She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at his panicked expression, but at least they were having a conversation about something more than preserves.
“You know, we need to talk.”
She mustn’t panic. This was only their first day together. There were bound to be a few bumps in the road. Things would get better. They had to. Except Shane didn’t seem to want her around the men, and the children weren’t the same as having the company of another adult.
Surely he’d want to spend more time with her eventually. Because if they didn’t find some common ground between them, she feared she’d drown in her own loneliness.
Chapter Ten
Since this was only their first full day together as man and wife, Shane wasn’t prepared for the questions. All his previous experience had taught him that women mostly wanted to be left alone. That didn’t seem to be the case with Tessa, and he wasn’t ready for such personal questions.
She turned her head aside and glanced at him askance. “What do you mean what do I mean? You know, what do you expect of me in regard to the chores and such.”
“Oh yeah. Chores. Sure.” He scratched his chin. “Whatever needs to be done. The men take care of themselves. Wheeler does the washing and the mending. Parker does the cooking. Everyone chips in.”
“I’ll need to speak with Wheeler.”
“About what?”
“About the washing and the mending, of course.” The slightest hint of a glare appeared on her face. “As long as my questions don’t interrupt his man stuff.”
She seemed awfully stuck on that one particular phrase. “I mentioned before, we live in close quarters around here. It’s best everyone respect each other’s space.”
“Can I speak with Wheeler or not?” she demanded, her voice sharp.
“Yes.”
“Excellent.”
This was all new territory. Abby had rarely left the house, let alone approached the men. He’d never addressed the problem before because he’d never had a problem before. Tessa was not Abby, a fact he was reminded of more and more often.
“Any other questions?”
“Not that I can think of right now.”
As they crossed the distance, Milt emerged from the barn, Owen and Alyce trailing behind him.
The older man nudged Owen forward with a gentle hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I think this little fellow needs some attention.”
Tessa held her hand before her nose. “If our conversation is finished…”
“Yes.” He hesitated, then moved closer. “Are your feet and toes all right? No lingering damage from the cold after last night?”
“Not at all.” She lifted her chin a notch. “Dinner at six? You promised.”
The censure in her voice raised his hackles. At least give him a chance to do something wrong first. He’d already agreed. Why was she hounding the point? Why did he feel as though he’d already been tested and failed? “I’ll come by in the evenings.”
“Excellent.”
She pivoted on her heel and marched back to the house, Owen and Alyce in tow. Shane blew out a breath.
Beside him, Milt grinned. “Sure is a nice day today.”
More than nice, the day was positively gorgeous. The sun was shining, the wind was calm—not a cloud marred the sky. A perfect day for being outside.
“Yep.”
“Good day for a ride from town.”
“Something you want to get off your chest, Milt?” He’d taken the children and Tessa into a dangerous storm, when clearly there’d been no need. For all its bluster, the storm had left only a few inches of snow, making the trip appear all the more absurd. “It might have gotten worse.”
“But it didn’t.”
“Is there a point to all this?”
“You seem a little cranky this morning. Everything all right?”
“Remind me why I hired you.”
Milt chuckled. “Because I don’t let you get away with anything.”
“Fair enough.”
It wasn’t Milt’s fault that Shane had made a poor decision, but he sure didn’t need the point driven home. “The weather might have turned. This time of year, you never can tell.”
“You never can.” Milt slapped him on the back. “How long will you be living in the bunkhouse? The boys are a mite confused. Especially if the new wife will be stopping in to see you during all hours of the day.”
“We’re figuring things out.” Shane pressed a thumb and forefinger against his eyes until he saw stars. “I told her the bunkhouse was off-limits except for an emergency.”
“Ah, she’s all right. The boys were surprised, that’s all. They’ll get used to her being around by and by. We all grew accustomed to things being a certain way. Abby rarely came outside.”
“Things are going to be different, that’s for certain.” Shane watched as Tessa bundled the children into the house. There was something about her, something vibrant and alive. She breathed excitement into every space she occupied. When she entered a room, it was as though she expected something to happen—as though she planned on making something happen if it didn’t.
He wasn’t really all that comfortable with excitement. “Things are going to be very different.”
“Be good to shake things up. We’re all too set in our ways.”
“I don’t know if everyone else will agree.” Shane had known these men a long time. Long before he and Abby had married. He couldn’t have built the ranch without their help. Even though they were hired hands, he owed them. None of them had to stay; they were free to leave anytime the mood struck. “You don’t mind if things change?”
“Owen and Alyce seem comfortable with Tessa. She’s good with them.”
“She is.”
“What about you? Are you happy?”
Shane stopped in his tracks. “What kind of question is that?”
“It’s a fair question. A man should have at least one thing in his life that makes him happy.”
“I didn’t realize we were sharing our feelings this afternoon. What makes you happy, Milt?”
The older man tugged on his ragged gray beard. “I like being a part of something. I like waking each morning knowing that I’ll put in a good day’s work. I like going to bed bone weary, knowing I did my share.”
Shane hooked his thumbs into his belt loops. Leave it to Milt to actually answer the question and turn the tables on him. “What does happiness matter? Happiness doesn’t pay the taxes or put food on the table.”
Why, then, did he feel such a steadfast pull toward Tessa? He was terrified of examining his reasons too closely. There was a part of him that was missing, something Tessa would never understand. He’d lost that youthful optimism the day his father had left them. Life was precarious, lived on a razor’s edge. He’d learned to make his way cautiously, never investing too much hope or too much sorrow in any one event. He didn’t want to know what made him happy, because he didn’t want to lose out once again. Thinking about happiness only drove it away.
With no place for his anger, he glared into the distance. “I don’t know what makes me happy. I never stopped long enough to think about it. I like having the kids around. I don’t like when they’re gone. I hated the idea of them living in Wichita. I didn’t even like the idea of them living down the road. The house feels like home when they’re here and empty when they’re gone.”
Milt hoisted his bushy gray eyebrows. “For a man who’s never thought about something, you sure have a lot to say on the subject.”
“You asked me a question,” he nearly shouted. “I’m answering.”
“All I’m saying is that maybe you should think about these things before you go traipsing into town and bringing home a wife.”
Milt was an old friend, but even Shane had his limits. “I don’t traipse.”
“You did bring home a wife. Maybe you should think about what makes you happy and unhappy the next time you make a lifelong decision.”
“Why does it matter?”
“It matters because you’re shouting at me and all I did was ask a simple question. I could ask Wheeler, Red, Parker or Finch, and I bet they wouldn’t be hollering at me. All the years I’ve known you, and I ain’t never heard you raise your voice. Why does thinking about what makes you happy send your blood boiling? Seems like that means something.”
What made Tessa happy? Shane was afraid to ask. Afraid to find out. What if he couldn’t provide her with what she needed? The questions rattled around in his brain and gave him a throbbing headache. “Everything seemed so simple in town. I’m trying, Milt. I’m really trying. What if I can’t make her like me?”
“Is that what you want? You want her to like you?”
“It seems like a good place to start, yes. She seemed really annoyed with me this morning. Do I sigh a lot? What’s wrong with men doing man stuff? She seemed really annoyed by that as well.”
“Yep.” Milt cackled. “There’s a great place to start. Maybe next time you should hold off getting married until you decide whether she likes you or not.”
“That’s the thing.” Shane whipped off his hat and slapped his leg with the brim. “I don’t pick them. They pick me. She asked me to marry her. What’s a guy supposed to say when a beautiful woman wants to marry him? What would you say?”
Sure, there were other men who’d probably make better husbands, but he couldn’t imagine Tessa with someone else.
His frustrated admission only sent Milt laughing harder. “I can’t help you there. I never once heard of a fellow with that sort of problem. I don’t know what you’re doing, but I think I’ll follow you into town next time. See if I can get me a wife, too. Especially one with pretty blue eyes like Mrs. McCoy.”
“They are pretty,” Shane conceded. There was no harm in admitting the truth. He may not have married her for her looks, but there was no point in denying her beauty. Even when she was annoyed at him, he caught a glimpse of sardonic merriment, as though she was laughing at a joke only she understood. “She’s beautiful,” he added, almost to himself.
The next few weeks were bound to be difficult for both of them. Despite their shared concern for the children, they were strangers. How did a pair of strangers go about feeling married? At least he and Abby had had common memories, common friends. He and Tessa had nothing but an awkward meeting on a train platform and a love for a precocious pair of toddlers.
“You and Tessa will do fine by and by,” Milt said. “She reminds me of my own missus.”
Shane gaped. “You were married? You?”
“Don’t act so all-fired surprised,” Milt grumbled. “I was a handsome man in my youth. Had my pick of the girls.”
Shane chucked him on the shoulder. “I don’t doubt it.”
Milt’s expression grew sorrowful. “I was eighteen when I married Sarah. She was as pretty as a new penny. We only had six months together. It was the typhus. Things were different back then. It was the war, and I was gone. There were no doctors. She never had a chance.”
Almost a decade Shane had known the man, and he’d never once realized Milt had been married. “I never suspected.”
“I never told you. You did right by Abby, and I’m proud of you for that.”
“I never truly loved her. Not like she wanted me to,” Shane said, the admission ripping through him
. “I sure never made her happy.”
They’d reached the corral and Milt braced his arms on the top railing. “People can make their mind up about being happy or unhappy. Abby was like that. She made up her mind to be unhappy. That wasn’t your fault.”
“Abby and I were kids together, climbing trees and fishing in the stream. We were friends. How could I have been so wrong about everything? We were married a year and I never really knew her.” What a fool he’d been then. What a fool he was now. “I was the wrong man for her.”
He’d lied before. He wanted things to be different with Tessa. He craved something more. He wanted to be the right man this time. That was his curse. No matter what happened, he’d never let on. He’d never let her know. She’d agreed on the basis of a partnership, and he was sticking by his bargain.
If she seemed content by Christmas, maybe he’d try to move their relationship forward a bit. Until then, he was hanging back and giving her space.
He took a step away and Milt blocked his path. “Six months was all I had with Sarah, and we fought almost every minute. People die and it’s easy to forget all the little things that annoyed you about ’em. Sarah was a real pain sometimes. Opinionated. Stubborn. Dying didn’t change that, didn’t make her a saint.”
“But you loved her.”
“We loved each other, sure.” Milt braced his arms on the corral fence once more. “Abby is gone now and nothing can change that, but you and I both know she didn’t come here for love. She came here because she knew you wouldn’t turn her away. I don’t know who she got mixed up with after she left town, but I know when a person is ate up by regret. Felt that way myself a time or two. Some people get hooked on suffering the same as people get hooked on drinking and gambling.” He fisted his hand. “That’s your weakness—you think everything can be fixed. Except you were never going to fix Abby because she didn’t want to be fixed. She came here because she wanted a good home to raise those children, and you gave her that.”
Shane’s chest squeezed with pent-up frustration. “Then why did she insist on sending the children to her sister? Why didn’t she want me to keep them?”
