by Stacy Henrie
“You sing here at home, Miss Ravena? Not just at church?” The soft questions came from Ginny.
Ravena glanced down at the girl, feeling the others’ eyes on her. “Sometimes, yes.” Though she couldn’t recall the last time she’d sung at home.
“Miss Ravena has the voice of a songbird,” Tex said, his tone animated but genuine, “but she’s twice as nice and four times as pretty.”
Fanny giggled behind her hand, and Ravena blushed again. Her cheeks were likely to stay pink forever after all the compliments she’d received from Tex tonight. She couldn’t deny that she liked them. It had been so long since she’d received any sort of tribute from a handsome man.
“Come on, Miss Ravena.” Mark scrambled to his knees. “Sing it for us.”
She blew out her breath in self-consciousness. “Do the rest of you know the words?” The children collectively shook their heads. Which meant she was singing a solo. “Very well. Though after tonight I intend to teach it to all of you.”
Throwing her a satisfied glance, Tex played an introduction to the song, then tipped his head to her when it was time to sing. Ravena sang the words, though she kept her voice quiet. As the message and the melody grew within her, though, she forgot her embarrassment and let herself sing with more volume and feeling.
When she’d sung the final words and Tex had played the last note, he lowered the harmonica from his mouth. “As breathtaking a voice as I remember.”
“Thank you,” she said, ducking her chin and feigning interest in smoothing Fanny’s hair from her face. “And now, children, it’s time for bed.”
The younger boys emitted grumbles of protest as they rose to their feet, but Ravena could see their objections were half-hearted. The gentle music had worked to settle all of them. The children headed to the stairs, and Ravena rose to her feet as Tex approached her.
“Thank you for playing, Tex. They thoroughly enjoyed it.”
His mouth kicked up into a smile. “I think they enjoyed the dancing and your singing just as much.”
A laugh spilled from her. “Perhaps.” Glancing at the children as they made their way upstairs, she sobered her tone. “I don’t know that any of them have had that sort of fun in a long time.”
“Neither have I,” Tex replied, his voice quiet.
Questions rose once more inside her mind, about what he’d seen and experienced during his time away. He’d always possessed a zest for life, but Ravena could see he’d lost some of that since the last time he’d been here. What had stolen that joy from him?
Then he grinned at her and the openness and honesty dropped from his face, bringing her a sliver of disappointment. She admired his charm, but she longed for authenticity in him too.
“Your instrument, my lady.” He held out the harmonica to her.
Ravena considered putting it back in the attic or here in the parlor, but instead, she gently pushed the instrument back into his hand. “Keep it, please. Grandfather would have wanted you to have it.”
Surprise furrowed his expression. “What about when I leave?” His eyes were no longer lit with amusement. They regarded her solemnly.
A physical ache pressed hard against her chest. In spite of everything, there were things she liked about having Tex around that went beyond his help with the planting. He had a way with the children and his lighthearted demeanor brought a needed breath of fresh air to the farm. Ravena never would have imagined he’d show up in her life after all these years, but she couldn’t say she wasn’t a little grateful.
Tilting her chin upward, she matched his level gaze with one of her own. “Even when you leave. And maybe you could play for us again?” It wouldn’t hurt to allow a little more fun into their lives.
“I think that can be arranged,” he said with half a smile.
She gave a poised nod of acceptance. But as she moved up the stairs, Tex’s smile just now had her knees and heartbeat feeling far less steady than she was pretending to be.
Chapter Seven
The dream felt so real that Tex could smell Quincy’s drunken breath, could hear the cock of the outlaw’s gun, could feel the cold press of the barrel in his side. “You’re gonna give me my map, Tex,” the man snarled. “If I have to take it from your cold, lifeless hand, so be it. Wherever you run, I’m gonna find you. You can’t hide forever...”
Tex startled awake and swung at the air in defense, certain Quincy was standing over him. When he realized he was alone in the parlor, he lowered his arms and stared at the ceiling. His nightshirt was soaked with sweat and his heart still pounded like a runaway horse inside his chest.
While he still felt certain Quincy didn’t know where he was hiding out, the man wasn’t one to let go of a grudge. Tex had figured that out after only a few minutes in Quincy’s presence. Hence the continued nightmares.
Throwing off his blanket, Tex sat, his bare feet on the floor, and willed his heart rate to slow. He’d stowed his saddlebags behind the sofa for safekeeping but also for quick access—day or night. It would be so easy to pull them out now, saddle up Brutus and disappear again. And yet he couldn’t do it. Not when he hadn’t fully completed his commitment to Ravena. And not after last night.
Ravena might not fully welcome his presence here, but she’d offered him an olive branch in the form of the extra piece of pie, the brief but sweet touch to his face and her offer to Tex of her grandfather’s harmonica. And he had to admit, he’d play the instrument for her and the children over and over again if it meant another chance to hear her sing.
The moment she’d started, something inside him had broken loose. He didn’t want to keep up this formal, distant relationship between them anymore; he wanted to be friends again. And after last night, he believed Ravena might want that too.
The thought filled him with both fear and tentative happiness. Tex hadn’t met anyone in years who he could call a true friend. Instead he’d operated under the knowledge that at any moment a comrade could become an enemy if there was money, the law or a woman involved. But he liked being around Ravena and he liked being around the children. And the idea of forming deeper bonds with someone felt good.
Even if it couldn’t be permanent.
Certain he wouldn’t fall back asleep now, Tex rose and dressed for the day. He’d get an earlier start on the morning chores and surprise Jacob. He smiled to himself at the thought of the boy coming downstairs in a few hours to discover everything was already done.
Tex lit a lamp and made his way onto the porch and into the shadowed yard. The warmth and smell of the barn felt almost welcoming as he slipped through the doors and set the lamp down. He threw himself into his tasks, eager to drive away any lingering thoughts about Quincy. But the thoughts wouldn’t depart.
Even if Quincy had followed him after he’d fled Casper, Tex had made sure to keep his trail as untraceable as possible. He’d bought new clothes at the first available store and had purchased multiple train tickets for places he didn’t intend to see, all in an attempt to throw off Quincy’s pursuit. Hopefully the rustler would assume Tex had died as a result of the sheriff’s bullet or that he’d fled farther north to Montana or Canada. But Tex couldn’t know that for certain, and the unknown gnawed at him like a tick on a horse.
Tex had the chores finished and was exiting the barn as the first rays of sunrise were peeking over the hills. His surprise was complete. He whistled to himself as he headed around the back of the house to the kitchen.
A light shone inside, which meant Ravena was likely up and starting breakfast. He would’ve liked to surprise her too, after her kindness last night. Tex wiped his boots and pushed the door open wide enough to see her standing at the stove. The sight of her stole the tune from his lips.
Her dark hair gleamed in the lamplight and her cheeks had been turned a pretty pink from the stove’s heat. But it was
more than her physical beauty that stopped him cold. In this moment he could plainly see the way she radiated innocence, compassion and honesty. Qualities his mother had demonstrated to him and Tate, and yet, Tex had chosen a path that encompassed none of those things.
For the first time since coming to the farm, Tex felt as if the dirt and manure that had coated his boots only moments ago covered him inside. He wasn’t just trespassing on Ravena’s hospitality; he was also trespassing on her goodness. His earlier desire to flee rose with greater urgency inside him. He cast a look at the horizon and fell back a step.
“Tex?” Ravena’s voice pierced the choke hold of his panic. “I didn’t know you were up already.”
He swallowed hard and forced himself to step inside the kitchen. The horizon wasn’t going anywhere and neither was he. If nothing else, he hoped keeping his word to her this time would blot out some of the inner stain he’d collected.
“Morning,” he said with forced ease and cheerfulness. “I couldn’t sleep and thought I’d get an early start to the chores.”
“Should I wake Jacob?” She stepped toward the inner doorway.
Tex shook his head. “Let him sleep in for once. Everything’s finished.”
Her bright smile only prompted greater guilt within him. “That was very kind of you.” She returned to the stove, saying over her shoulder, “Next time you can’t sleep, I’d be happy to make some tea for you. It’s guaranteed to put a body to sleep within minutes.”
He offered the laugh she likely expected from him, but he felt no real merriment. “I’ll remember that. For now, I’ll take some strong coffee.”
“Coming up.” When he stood there, unsure what to do next, she waved toward the table. “Have a seat.”
Pulling out a chair, he dropped into it. I’m here to help her, he told himself. And that’s got to amount to something, for both of us.
“Care to talk about why you couldn’t sleep?” He could easily picture her asking the same question of one of the children. But the parallel didn’t offend him. Instead it reminded him of how well Ravena had stepped into the role of nurturing parent, even if it was in a less conventional way.
He shrugged as he put on a nonchalant expression. “Just a bad dream.”
“Like the ones you had when you were sick?”
Since he couldn’t recall any of those dreams, he wasn’t sure, but it was likely he’d been plagued by nightmares of Quincy then too. “I think so.”
“The sofa’s not too uncomfortable, is it?” she asked next.
He’d slept on far worse, especially during his flight from Casper. “No, it’s just fine.”
“Because if you want to switch for the bed again...”
“Ravena,” he said, waiting for her to turn around. Her compassion aggravated his already guilty conscience. “The arrangement we have is more than suitable.”
Her brow furrowed and Tex wondered if she could sense he was talking about far more than the sleeping arrangements. He meant his being here and helping. It was more than suitable, wasn’t it? He could’ve left much sooner as he’d planned, but he hadn’t.
After a few minutes of tense silence, Ravena plunked a cup onto the table in front of him. “Here’s your coffee.” She was irritated with him.
Tex frowned as he took a sip of the drink.
“Thank you for the coffee,” he said in a genuine tone as he twisted in his chair to face her. “And thank you for the use of the sofa.” She could have insisted he stay out in the barn as the other hired hands had done.
Ravena glanced at him, and like the night before, some of the guardedness dropped from her beautiful, dark eyes. “You’re welcome.”
How many times had he gazed into those eyes and thought he was the most fortunate man in the world to have won her heart? The reality that she no longer looked back at him with that same tenderness and adoration hit him hard. Mustering up a feigned smile, he turned back to his coffee.
Jacob rushed into the kitchen at that moment, hastily trying to tuck his shirt into his trousers and pull up his suspenders at the same time. His sudden appearance gave Tex something else to focus on besides the past and he gratefully clung to it.
“You’re late,” he said to the boy. He shot Ravena a look, hoping she’d play along.
“Chores are already done, Jacob. Mr. Beckett did all of them.” She kept a deadpan expression, which prompted Tex to hide a grin behind the lip of his coffee cup.
Jacob ground to a stop as he ran his hand through his mussed hair. “I’m sorry, Miss Ravena. I don’t know what happened. I don’t usually sleep—”
“It’s all right, kid.” Tex let his smile break free and pulled out the chair next to him. “I was up early and thought I’d get everything done and out of the way so you could sleep a little longer.”
Jacob’s face changed in an instant from downtrodden and confused to relieved and happy. “Wow, thanks, Tex,” he said, plopping into the chair.
“Mr. Beckett,” Ravena corrected. Tex cringed, realizing that he probably should have talked to her before giving Jacob permission to call him by his first name.
Jacob spun in his chair, looking uncertain. “He told me I could call him that. Didn’t you, Tex?”
He dipped his head in a nod, even as he kept his gaze on Ravena. He couldn’t quite read the emotions flashing in her eyes. Did she wish for him to keep his interactions with the children stiff and formal? He hoped not. While he knew they shouldn’t get too attached, he liked the idea of being a big brother to them while he was here.
“If Tex said to call him that, then I suppose that’s fine.”
Jacob wasn’t the only one to release a breath; Tex did the same. The rest of the children trooped into the kitchen after that, looking sleepy, except for Mark. The boy moved about with the energy of a jackrabbit. Tex almost envied him.
After Ginny blessed the food, Ravena joined them at the table to eat breakfast. Tex had only managed to down a few bites when Fanny, seated at his left, glanced at him, her young face lit with earnestness.
“Mr. Beckett,” she asked in her sweet voice, “are you comin’ to church with us today?”
Tex coughed with embarrassment as the rest of the children turned expectant gazes in his direction. Lifting his cup, he downed more of his coffee—not just to clear his throat but to stall for an answer. How could he tell her that he had no desire to set foot inside a church?
“I was planning on staying here at the farm today, Fanny,” he hedged.
Her small mouth pursed into a frown. “But you didn’t come last week neither. And Miss Ravena says church is as important as school.”
Glancing at Ravena, Tex silently pleaded for her to help him explain. But instead of jumping in to rescue him, she simply smiled at him over the brim of her cup and said, “That is true, Fanny. Church is as important as school.”
Tex cleared his throat, feeling irritation and shame lodging there. He’d committed to helping with the planting, not attending church. He might have gone regularly with his family when his mother was alive, but he’d gone less and less after her death as the distance increased between him and God—and him and Tate, who had continued to go every Sunday. Besides, he couldn’t afford being recognized in town.
“I’m afraid that isn’t going to work today,” he said, scooting his chair back and standing. “But I’ll get the wagon and the horses ready for you.”
The little girl’s expression remained sad, but he wouldn’t give her false promises. He’d had enough of those from his father growing up.
After clearing his dishes to the sink, Tex slipped back outside. He hated the disappointment he’d seen on all the children’s faces just now. But he was here to do a job, not join them at church as if they were a family.
He busied himself with shaving in the extra room off the
barn and then with hitching the horses to the wagon. After that he took a walk to look over the fields they’d already planted. He didn’t have any desire to hear a repeat of Fanny’s request before she and the rest of them left. When he returned to the house, the wagon was gone.
What to do now? He could get a little more of the planting done on his own, but Ravena had told him that he could have the day off on Sundays. Which suited him fine, except he had no place to go and nothing to do. He wandered over to the porch and went to sit in the rocker before remembering it was broken.
One look revealed one of the runners was missing. Perhaps it had been placed inside the barn on the table with Ravena’s grandfather’s woodworking tools. He could recall watching Ezra make the rocker when the older man had taught Tex all about carpentry years ago. The rocker shouldn’t be too difficult to fix and would be something he could surprise Ravena with. It would be a way to thank her, with more than words, for all of her help while he’d been ill.
Hoisting the rocker, he carried it to the barn. He opened the doors to allow in some of the bright morning sunshine, then set the piece of furniture next to Ezra’s woodworking table. Sure enough he found the broken runner lying among the man’s tools. Tex picked up one of the chisels, his mind filling with memories.
As a boy, he’d trailed Ezra Reid around the farm, eager for a man to talk to besides his always-absent father. And Ezra hadn’t let him down. The man had taught Tex how to farm, how to play the harmonica, how to build more out of wood than a fence, how to be a gentleman. Tex had loved hearing Ezra’s stories about heading West as a boy, about meeting his sweetheart Olive, about buying this spread of land. He’d given Tex a glimpse of life beyond this little valley and whetted his appetite to see it for himself one day.
“Guess I did, Ezra,” he murmured as he set down the chisel to pick up a mallet.
How had Ravena’s grandfather felt about him when Tex ran off, leaving Ravena behind? The thought wasn’t a new one, but the possibility of Ezra thinking poorly of him still had the power to bring a sharp ache to Tex’s chest. He’d tried so hard, even before asking Ravena to elope, to prove to her grandfather and to himself that he was worthy of such a woman. But the truth was he hadn’t been. Not then or now.
