Tom's Angel

Home > Other > Tom's Angel > Page 19
Tom's Angel Page 19

by Linda George


  Short, Masterson and half a dozen others chimed in.

  Tom waited until the furor had subsided. Arguing with Zane would do no good, and everyone here seemed to be on his side. So, Tom walked out of the restaurant without saying anything more. Footsteps behind him, coming fast, weren't unexpected.

  “Listen here, McCabe. You aren't running this show.”

  “Neither are you.”

  “Well, then, we'll see what that whore of yours has to say about it.”

  Tom slugged him before he knew what was happening. His head snapped back from a murderous blow to the chin. Tom's fist smashed Zane’s gut next. He sank to the ground, moaning.

  “If you ever call her that again, I'll kill you.”

  Zane didn't have enough air in his lungs to answer. Tom walked away as men from the restaurant poured outside to gather around Zane, and see what had happened.

  Tom waited on the porch of the hotel until he saw Zane heading toward the livery. A few minutes later, he left on a horse, headed for the Acre. The delay would allow time to visit the marshal.

  <><><><>

  “So Triumph is slow to start.” Rosalie's eyes flashed with excitement.

  “But fast at a mile or farther.”

  “Well, then how does half a mile sound for this race?”

  “Perfect. Let's get it written in and over to the marshal before Zane gets back.”

  “Will he make him sign it?”

  “He'll sign.”

  They found him in his office. He read every word of the agreement before making any comments. “Do you realize what this says, ma'am?”

  “My father used me to cover a $2000 bet in a card game with Mr. Strickland. I intend to free myself from this indenture by beating him in this race.” She took a deep breath.

  Grim, he read it again. “You want me to hold this agreement until after the race, is that correct?”

  “And see that Mr. Strickland lives up to it if he loses.”

  “And if he wins?”

  “I'll take the agreement to Denver. My word is good.” She lifted her chin and tried not to tremble.

  He stared at her a moment, then nodded. “You're a brave woman, Miss Kincannon.”

  “Thank you.”

  Tom cleared his throat noisily. “Thanks, Marshal, for helping to see this race run in a civilized manner.”

  “That's why I'm here. To keep this place civilized.”

  The door slammed back. Zane Strickland stormed into the office.

  Tom tried to remain calm, overruling his impulse to smash that bruised face again.

  “You didn't tell me she'd moved to the hotel.”

  “It’s none of your business.”

  Strickland's face reddened. He dragged one sleeve across his face, smearing blood seeping from his cut lip. “The distance in this race will be a mile and a half.”

  Rosalie faced him. “I've already set the distance at half a mile. It's in the agreement.”

  “What agreement?”

  The marshal held it up. “This one.”

  “But that's too short! I never agreed to half a mile.”

  “I shall not delay the outcome of this dilemma any longer than it takes for two fast horses to run half a mile, Mr. Strickland. I made the wager. I have set the terms. He will see they're carried out to the letter.”

  Strickland approached the Marshal. “She never told me about an agreement in writing or anything about the length of the race. All I agreed to was a race, between her horse and mine. She's trying to pull something here, and I won't let her get away with it.”

  “Is it true, Miss Kincannon that when you agreed to race, you didn't specify distance?”

  Rosalie glanced at Tom, then back. “That's correct.”

  “And you wanted the race to be how long, Strickland?”

  “Mile and a half.”

  Tom spoke up. “Since Miss Kincannon made the wager, shouldn’t she be the one to set the length?”

  “Hold on a minute, Mr. McCabe. You came to me because you want this race run fair and square and for all parties to live up to the terms of the agreement. Right?”

  Tom nodded tersely.

  “Well, then, I'm going to set the distance. One mile.” He reached for a pen on the desk and dipped the point into the ink well.

  “But, I don't think—” Too late. He'd already crossed out her neatly printed “one half” and scrawled “one” to replace it.

  “There now. An equal compromise. May the best horse win.”

  Strickland signed, grinning. “See you at the track.”

  Chapter 17

  Back at the hotel, Tom closed the door, then took off his clothes. Rosalie watched, loving the sight of him in daylight. They hadn't said much on the way back from the marshal's office. This seemed the perfect way to discuss what had happened and what they still faced.

  Tom helped her undress, kissing and touching as he went, then carried her to the bed, where he laid her carefully against the soft feather pillows.

  She couldn't believe how his touch could ignite the passion in her so quickly. Ever so carefully, he united them again, demonstrating beyond a doubt how much he loved her. She did her best to show him she loved him just as much.

  When they lay side by side, breathing easily once more, Tom drifted into light sleep beside her. Rosalie marveled at how far they'd come in only these few days. So many terrible and tragic things had happened, yet she could not wish them away, for those events had brought Tom to her and made him hers.

  On Saturday, the race would be run and her fate determined. Rather than sit and brood, Rosalie chose, instead, to make these last days the best they could be.

  She wanted to see Trina. More than anyone, Trina would listen and understand all that Rosalie felt about this distressful mess she'd gotten everyone into. She knew that Tom would appreciate the chance to get out of the Acre and Fort Worth as much as she would. They could take Rusty with them, give the big gelding some new pastures to run in, some new horses to nuzzle up to, and fresh air to breathe.

  Tom stirred beside her, his lips curving into a slight smile. Make him mine, Lord, she prayed silently. And take us home.

  <><><><>

  Almost dark. Rosalie's stomach rumbled. Tom didn't move, fearing he might wake her, but she was already awake, staring at a spot on the wall, her mouth curved into a contented smile.

  “What are you thinking about?”

  She kissed his fore head. “You. What it would be like to sleep beside you every night, to wake up with your arms around me every morning for the rest of my life.”

  He tightened his embrace. “Like this?”

  “Hmmm. Perfect.”

  “I spent my whole life waiting for you, Rosalie.”

  “If you hadn't come to Fort Worth, some pretty face would've turned your head.”

  “I don't think so. I've seen lots of pretty faces, but they all belonged to women who had no grit, no real substance. They weren't like my mother, Melanie. Paw has told us hundreds of times what a spitfire she was when he met her. Teaching school, she had to be the most aggressive schoolmarm anyone could ever remember knowing. Paw happened by the schoolhouse one afternoon and found her outside with a boy twice her size, whaling the tar out of his behind with a big switch. He yelled and bawled like a freshly-branded calf, begging her to stop. But she just switched harder.

  “'If you ever sass me again, I swear I'll switch your bare backside with a bull nettle!'

  “'I won't do it no more, I promise! Ow! Please stop, Miss Murphy. I'll be good.’”

  Rosalie laughed at Tom's imitation of the boy and his mother.

  “She sounds like Trina.”

  “Yeah, Trina grew up to be just like her, a woman with a mind of her own, not about to take guff from anyone, even if he happened to be a foot taller and a hundred pounds heavier.”

  “You wanted a wife like your mother and your sister.”

  Tom pondered a moment. “I don't guess I ever put words to it bef
ore now, but yes. That's exactly what I wanted and exactly what I found. But don't tell Trina. She'd never let me live it down.”

  Rosalie ran her tongue over his lips until he took over and kissed her his way. When he lay back, grinning, Rosalie laughed.

  “What's funny?”

  “Did you ever think you'd find a woman like Melanie and Trina in Hell's Half Acre?”

  “God, no. But sometimes, you have to spend time in hell before you're allowed time in heaven. Besides, you’re different from my mother and Trina. You’re quieter, and you think about things a long time before doing them.”

  She didn't respond. He propped on one elbow and fingered the hair curling about her face.

  “That's what we'll be going home to in Denver. Our own personal heaven.”

  She couldn't speak. Her throat had seized with such tension she couldn't do anything but cry.

  When he made love to her this time, she thought her heart would break with the sweetness of it. No frenzy this time, no heavy breathing until right at the end. Just mutual loving, a time for slowly melding into one body, one soul, one passion. One love.

  Afterward, Rosalie's stomach growled noisily again.

  “Guess that means I need to feed you.” Tom got up and found his clothes, put them on, then squinted into the mirror above the chiffonier and pushed his hair into place the best fingers would do.

  “Yes, I'm hungry for food now. You've fed me quite sufficiently in other ways, thank you very much.”

  “Anytime. Mrs. McCabe.”

  She stood behind him, circling his middle with her arms. “Tom, I'd like to spend tomorrow and Friday with Trina and Gabriel. I want to see Hannah again, and we could take Rusty, to make sure someone doesn't slash his legs to ensure their bets. A man intent on such a deed could overwhelm Josh easily.”

  “Sounds great to me. I didn't know what we were going to do with ourselves between now and Saturday anyway, other than spend time in this bed. We'll need to get back here Friday night. I don't want Rusty traveling on the day of the race.”

  “What would you think about taking Josh, too, so he can practice riding Rusty?”

  Tom liked the idea. “I'll talk to his mother this evening. To tell the truth, I don't have a lot of faith in his ability to keep secrets.”

  “Even if his feet were on fire, he'd not tell a soul because you'd told him not to.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “That the boy adores you. I've seen in your eyes that you think a lot of him, too.”

  He pulled on his boots. “You've got that right. Fine boy. Someday...” His eyes twinkled.

  “Someday, what?” She knew, but wanted to hear him say it.

  “You and I will have a son a lot like him.”

  She tried to prevent the tears, but they came too fast and the bittersweet clutch at her heart overpowered her completely.

  “Aw, now, I didn't mean to make you cry.”

  “It's all right. I thought about having your children.”

  She nestled against him, wetting his shirt with her tears while he rubbed circles on her back with loving strokes.

  <><><><>

  They had a quiet dinner at Merchant's. When approached by other diners, Rosalie refused to answer more than the simplest questions about the race. She gave no explanations, no personal details. When they heard the race would be one mile, they grinned and patted each other's backs, as though their bets were absolutely safe.

  Maybe they were.

  Tom talked to Josh's mother after supper. She gave her permission without hesitation.

  “That boy can't talk about nothing but you, Mr. McCabe. He thinks you're the finest man ever to hit the earth. We really appreciate your offer for him to visit your ranch someday.”

  “You're welcome, ma'am. He's a fine boy.”

  “We've been trying to talk him out of becoming a trail hand. His paw, God rest his soul, wanted him to run the hotel, but Josh ain't never gonna be tame enough to run a business. Bless his heart, he's too rowdy for such routine work.”

  “We'll take good care of him,” Rosalie told her. “We'll be back before bedtime Friday night.”

  “Thank you both for being so nice to my boy. He thinks the world of you. He looks at you the way he used to look at his paw.”

  All Tom could do was nod in response.

  Only a few minutes after going upstairs, someone knocked on the door.

  “Any bets?” Tom reached for the knob and found Josh, wide-eyed and wiggling.

  “Is it true? You're taking me, too?”

  “It's only for a couple of days. We hired you to keep an eye on Rusty, remember? He'll be yours to mind while we're there.”

  He stood straighter. “You can count on me.”

  “How old are you, Josh?” Rosalie ran her fingers through his hair, but had no luck flattening the rooster's tail on the crown of his head.

  “Ten. I'll be a man when I'm thirteen. Then, I'm getting a job with the first herd that comes through Fort Worth. A man has to make his own way in the world.”

  “Damn right. Dawn tomorrow. Bring a wagon around front. Don’t forget Rusty.”

  “You can count on me.” He ran back down the stairs, sounding like a stampeding buffalo.

  Rosalie held in her laughter until Tom closed the door. Laughter escaped both of them.

  “Can you believe that? He thinks he's going to be a man in two years.” Tom dabbed at the corners of his eyes with his sleeve.

  “I can't imagine him on a trail drive. How old does a boy have to be before the trail boss will take him?”

  “They might sign him on as a cook's helper. Not what he has in mind, I'm sure. If he hasn’t changed his mind by then about what he wants to do with his life.”

  She dried her eyes on her handkerchief. “You know, Tom, you ought to take him back to Denver with you.”

  His eyes narrowed, then a look of surprise appeared. “I hadn't thought of that. I figured he'd show up on our doorstep someday.”

  “If he's thinking about joining a herd…”

  “He'd be better off on our ranch.”

  “I thought you might like the idea.”

  He picked her up and twirled her around, producing another spate of laughter, then kissed her as he set her back on the floor. “I like all your ideas.”

  <><><><>

  Just before daybreak the next morning, Josh brought a wagon pulled by two horses around to the front of the hotel. Rusty was tied to the back of the wagon.

  Rosalie and Tom sat on the seat while Josh settled in the back, elbows propped on the seat between them. He commenced chattering the minute Tom slapped the horses' rumps.

  They stopped twice, to let Rusty graze and rest. Rosalie was determined not to tire him, in spite of Tom’s protests. The big horse didn't seem to mind such frequent stops, or having his face and ears scratched while he munched the meager offerings of grass.

  “Never saw a horse that would let you touch his ears that way. Most of them try to bite if you bother their ears at all.”

  Rosalie scratched up one side of Rusty's face, around both ears, then down the other side. “He's always been good about his ears, and just about everything else. I didn't realize how much I've missed him.”

  Tom loved seeing her with the big red roan. She'd obviously cared deeply for him until the card game. Luckily, she'd come to the conclusion that Rusty wasn't to blame for her father's callous deed.

  Josh continued to prattle on about every subject under the sun. Tom held his patience well, Rosalie thought. He'd make a good father someday.

  They got to the Hart Ranch just before lunch. Tom thought his sister might come apart at the seams, she laughed and squeezed them so hard.

  “Just when I settle my mind you're gone, you show up again!” She singled out Josh. “Who might this young man be?”

  “I'm Josh Winslow, ma'am. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

  Rosalie covered her lips with one hand to hide her amusement. Josh
's mother must have coached him. It spoke well for both of them.

  “I'm pleased to make your acquaintance, too, Josh. I don't suppose I could interest you in some beef pie, could I?”

  Josh licked his lips. “Yes, ma'am, you sure could!”

  “Do you have enough?” Tom squeezed his sister's slim waist and kissed her cheek.

  “Always.”

  A baby's wailing pulled Trina toward the house like a magnet. “Come on inside! Rosalie, would you help me in the kitchen while I tend to Hannah?”

  “Of course.” Happily, she left Tom and Josh to take care of the horses and wagon and hurried to the house.

  “There are clean didies in the top drawer of that chest, right by her bed.”

  In Hannah's room, Trina had hung crocheted curtains at the window. A huge multi-colored rag rug covered most of the floor, and carved wooden toys sat everywhere. Sunny and colorful, it was the perfect child's room.

  “Did Gabriel make the toys?”

  “Yes. He'd never whittled in his life until he heard the baby was on the way. We have a friend, Seth, who lives four miles south who whittles all the time. Seth taught Gabriel. Keeps me busy, cleaning up little piles of wood shavings. But I don't mind.”

  Clean and dry, Hannah waved tiny arms and studied Rosalie's face with dark blue eyes.

  “I thought her eyes would be brown, like yours and Gabriel's.”

  “Liza, Seth's wife, says all babies start out with blue eyes. Hannah’s get darker every day. I expect they'll be brown before she's even a few months old. Bring her into the kitchen. I'll nurse her there while you slice the bread.”

  Rosalie fell into the routine of helping Trina with no trouble at all. Even in the kitchen, with the oven blazing, it didn't feel as hot as in the Acre. Maybe heat was easier to tolerate in a place where the people were loved, and loving.

  “So, how are things in Fort Worth?” Trina leaned back in the chair, her eyes half-closed as Hannah nursed hungrily.

  “Rusty, the horse we brought, will be racing Saturday.”

  “Then what?”

  Rosalie told her all of it. Trina frowned through the story, shaking her head. She switched Hannah to the other breast. “I swear, Rosalie, you can get yourself into more trouble faster than anyone I know, other than me, of course. What is Tom doing to fix all this?”

 

‹ Prev