He’d come back to visit the children, not her.
Dan brought the news that a wanted poster had been tacked up on the door of the jail with these two men’s likenesses sketched at the top of the sheet, while underneath was listed their names and descriptions, the charges against them and the reward posted for their capture, provided by Mayor Gilmore and the bank.
* * *
“I had a lovely time, Gil,” Caroline told the young minister as he walked her home from the taffy pull the following Saturday night.
She meant it. She’d made up her mind to enjoy her evening with Gil, since spending time with her clearly wasn’t one of Jack’s priorities. And it felt good to smile again, to wear a pretty dress and see the fact that she was attractive mirrored in a man’s eyes. She hadn’t laughed in so long.
“As did I, Caroline,” Gil said, smiling down at her.
It seemed as if everyone else had enjoyed themselves, too. As Jack had said, Raleigh Masterson and a couple of other drovers came to the party. Many other cowboys from neighboring ranches, bored with the long winter days and longer nights, had come, too, so every Spinster present could flirt with two or three of them, or pair off with just one if she wanted. Polly Shackleford had held court with four of them hanging on her every word, so she hadn’t seemed to notice that the young preacher had eyes only for Caroline. Dr. and Mrs. Walker, and Sheriff and Mrs. Bishop had served as chaperones. Later, after everyone had had their fill of taffy, the tables had been pushed back, and a fiddler had played while everyone danced until they were red-faced and breathless.
They had arrived at her home now. Caroline sent up a brief prayer that Abby and Amelia were asleep and wouldn’t wake when she came inside. They’d already plagued her with questions about why their father wasn’t coming, and why Aunt Caroline was attending the event with someone else. How could she answer their questions, when she didn’t really understand herself what had gone wrong between Jack and herself?
Gil stopped and turned to her on the front step. “I hope I may call on you again, Caroline?”
“I’d like that,” Caroline said. “Would you like to come in, Gil?” she asked.
“I would,” he said, “but it’s late, and I wouldn’t want to disturb your family.” Perhaps he was also thinking of the inquisitive twins. “But I’ll see you tomorrow at church. Papa’s giving the sermon, so I’m free to sit where I like. Perhaps we might sit together?”
“Perhaps.” Oh dear, thought Caroline, more questions and sad looks from Jack’s daughters. And what if Jack came to church? But he’d said he wouldn’t be coming to visit at the usual times, so in all likelihood he wouldn’t be there. And in any case, he’d given up any right to expect anything of her, she thought, ignoring the echo of sadness that resonated through her soul.
* * *
“You never said—did you and Gil have a good time at the taffy pull?” Prissy asked two weeks later, when she and Sarah encountered Caroline in the mercantile on a Saturday morning. “You two seemed to be enjoying yourselves that night.”
“Yes, I did,” Caroline said, “very much.” All too aware that Mrs. Patterson was listening with interest, she raised an eyebrow meaningfully and glanced at the bolts of cloth, lengths of lace trim, cards of buttons and thread piled up on the counter before them.
“Planning to do some sewing, are you?” she asked, deliberately changing the subject.
“Not us,” Prissy confessed with a giggle, “we’re taking all this out to Milly’s this morning. Dear Sarah’s...ahem, increasing, you know—” Prissy nodded toward Sarah’s expanding waistline “—so I thought we’d take those things out so Milly could start working on some new clothes for her.”
“Isn’t that nice of them?” Sarah asked.
Caroline had to agree.
“Well, you never know when I might need some new clothes of the same sort,” Prissy said, as Sarah paid for their purchases. “Sarah’s agreed to let me borrow them, should the need arise.”
“Prissy! Are you making an announcement?” Caroline said, amused at the rosy blush that had bloomed on the other woman’s cheeks.
Prissy motioned Caroline away from the counter and behind a rack of ready-made men’s clothes. “Maybe,” she whispered. “I don’t know. I’m not sure yet, so don’t you breathe a word of it.”
“I promise,” Caroline whispered back.
“Now, don’t think you’re going to get away with that short answer about your outing with Gil,” Prissy said as Sarah rejoined them, and Caroline realized too late she had been lured into a trap. She wasn’t at all sure she was ready to share her feelings, but after another look at the curious faces of her friends, she sensed how much they had been worrying about her.
“Have you seen him again? Do you enjoy his company?” Prissy probed.
“Yes and yes,” Caroline admitted. “He took me to supper at the hotel the other night, and we had a very pleasant time.”
“But—?” Sarah asked softly. The question and the perceptive look in her friend’s blue eyes startled Caroline.
“But nothing,” Caroline said, hearing the trace of defiance in her own voice. “I like his company very much.”
“Have you seen Jack lately?” Sarah asked. “I know you said he wasn’t going to come on Sundays necessarily, because of the trouble they had out at the ranch. They never did catch those fellows, did they?” She aimed this question at Prissy, since Prissy’s husband was the sheriff.
“No, though Sam and his deputy have been scouring the hills for them,” Prissy said. “Sneaky and slippery as snakes, he says. They seem to go back and forth from here to Lampasas County and east to San Saba, never in any one place long enough to be caught.”
Prissy turned back to Caroline.
“Yes, Jack’s come by—he stopped in and took his girls to supper at the hotel, and Tuesday night he spent the night, but other than the usual talking about the weather and the book he’d been reading, we hardly exchanged a word.” Caroline shrugged, trying to make it appear it didn’t bother her.
Yet suddenly the tears she hadn’t known were lurking escaped down her cheeks in a scalding rush.
Sarah gathered her into her arms, while Prissy hunted about in her reticule for a handkerchief and dabbed at Caroline’s cheeks as she wept.
“Why sh-shouldn’t I enjoy spending time with a man who wants to court me?” Caroline demanded, keeping her tear-choked voice down so Mrs. Patterson wouldn’t hear her. “Jack will n-never...get off the fence, apparently... And I’ve found I still want to marry and have children one day, after all. I can tell Gil would love me, if I gave him half a chance—what’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing, dear,” Sarah told her with a surprising fierceness, “as long as you’re sure Gil’s who you want, that you’re not merely settling.”
Caroline had straightened now and was dabbing at her own eyes when she noticed Prissy and Sarah’s locked gazes. What did these two friends know that she didn’t?
“Thanks,” Caroline said, embarrassed and wondering how she’d escape from the mercantile without the proprietress seeing her tear-swollen eyes.
“Just don’t be in a rush to decide,” Prissy said putting her arm around Caroline. “Have you prayed about it?”
Caroline couldn’t help but smile wryly, and she caught Sarah smothering a grin too. Prissy had always been known for the impulsive way she’d fallen in love time after time, until finally the right man, Sam Bishop, had come along. But she decided not to tease her friend with past habits.
“Oh, Prissy, if you only knew how much I’ve prayed about this...”
Chapter Twenty-Two
On the same Saturday morning when the three friends met in the Simpson Creek mercantile, two others met in a small cantina west of Simpson Creek. It wasn’t a splendid place with a polished mahogany bar with a mirror behind it and brass footrest, just a shack
with a few tables and chairs and a plentiful supply of rotgut. Its proprietor was a Mexican, and the place was mostly patronized by Tejanos. But it suited the purpose of the two, for one of them couldn’t afford to be seen stepping into a saloon in San Saba.
It couldn’t be said that the two men were friends—they merely possessed a common cause. Both of them wished for the downfall of Caroline Wallace.
“Life ain’t been worth livin’ since that woman took over the schoolhouse and started infectin’ my son with her notions, and if that wasn’t enough, now my woman’s got the idea she’s got a right to an opinion, too,” William Henderson griped over his beer. “It’s not like I kin take a strap to ’em like I used to when they got outa line, neither. Ever since them do-gooders put me in jail an’ tried to tell me what I could and couldn’t do—in my own house, mind you—”
“It’s not necessary to raise your voice, Mr. Henderson,” Mr. Thurgood said. “I’m quite on your side, as I’ve told you. I don’t care for the stubborn and opinionated Miss Wallace, either, and I long for the day I can oust her from her position and put someone more...shall we say malleable in place?” He guessed Henderson didn’t know what the word meant, but it didn’t matter. He just needed to figure out a way to use the man to achieve his goal. “Yet I haven’t found a justifiable reason to dismiss her as yet. I thought perhaps the Christmas program might provide some ammunition, but with all the brats perfect in their tedious performances, and that doddering yahoo of a mayor applauding like a fool...” He shrugged. “It didn’t seem the right time.”
“But then I hid in the bushes afterward like you said, an’ I spotted the woman walkin’ home with the fellow with the twin girls—cain’t you make something a’ that?” Henderson asked. “I thought you didn’t like your teachers steppin’ out with men.”
Thurgood disliked the other man’s whining tone. It set his teeth on edge.
“I don’t,” he snapped. “But being escorted to her home with two children along is hardly ‘stepping out,’ as you call it. It’s well known that Collier’s brats are staying in her home right now, and you’ve never seen the two of them anywhere actually courting, have you? I told you to tell me of any such event.”
The other man shook his head. “Seems like that’s over, these days. The young preacher seems to be sparkin’ her now.”
Thurgood raised a brow and leaned forward. “So she’s fickle, eh?” He rubbed his chin. “Perhaps something can be made of that....” But he didn’t know what, exactly. He could hardly paint Miss Wallace as a scarlet woman for preferring a civilized minister to an uncouth cattleman.
A pair of drifters sat at the table nearby, one stocky, the other lean and rangy, both bearded and narrow-eyed, the sort of men he wouldn’t want to meet on a deserted stretch of road. It was safer not to look such men in the eye. But now one of them spoke. “Sounds like we know some a’ the same people, mister. Could be we could join forces.”
Thurgood turned and raised his eyebrows as far as they would go. “Whatever do you mean?”
The man at the other table leaned forward, and Thurgood was assailed with the odors of stale whiskey and tobacco. “You mentioned Collier—you’re talkin’ about Jack Collier, right? The trail boss who’s spendin’ the winter south a’ Simpson Creek?”
Thurgood nodded slowly.
“And you wanna cause trouble for this schoolmarm? We saw her once, with those twins—she’s a purty thing, ain’t she? What’s she ever done to you, mister?”
Thurgood tried to take refuge in hauteur. “It’s a long story, but let me summarize it by saying she challenged my authority.”
“And mine, too, as head a’ my house. She’s an uppity, opinionated female,” Henderson whined.
The stocky one pulled lips back over yellowed teeth and snickered. “Sounds like it might be fun to put a gal like that in her place, eh, Alvin?”
“It might, at that.”
“And what’s your problem with Collier?” Thurgood demanded.
The other man’s eyes narrowed. “Let’s just say he needs to be put in his place, too. And I think if we plan this right, all of us workin’ together, we can make it happen all at once.”
“I... All right,” Thurgood said, wiping sweat from his brow. He felt as if he’d waded into a shallow stream and had suddenly fallen into a deep hole, and the water was closing over his head, icy and dark.
The other smiled. “Won’t even ask if you can pay. Seein’ Collier ruined’s gonna be its own reward.”
* * *
“Boss, you can dismiss me if you want,” Raleigh Masterson said, a few days later, while they pounded wooden pegs into a puncheon floor inside the house. They worked on the first floor, but he could hear the others working upstairs.
“Oh? Are you about to meddle in my business again?” Jack asked, making his voice as forbidding as he could. “I thought sending you and Shep into town last night might give you something else to think about. But evidently you don’t mind thinking about having to find another job.”
“But I have to tell you you’re bein’ a—a fool,” Raleigh went on stubbornly. “I tried to tell you when it happened, but you wouldn’t listen, and now I’m gonna tell you again. I saw Miss Caroline with that young preacher fella at the party a fortnight ago, and last night when we went to the saloon, the two of them were out walkin’ together.”
Jack favored his ramrod with a basilisk stare. “It’s none of my business,” he said. “Or yours, for that matter.”
“I’ll quit, if that’s what you want,” Raleigh went on. “But I’m going to speak my piece first. You ain’t ever going to find another lady like that, not in Montana, not anywhere. And if you don’t stop acting dim-witted, you’re going to lose her, and that’s a fact.”
“I’ve already lost her,” Jack growled.
“Then what’re we doin’ this for?” Raleigh demanded, spreading his arms wide to encompass the house in which they worked.
Jack shrugged. “Just something to do,” he said. “I figured we might as well finish what we started. I mentioned to the bank president that we were doing it, and he seemed real pleased. Said he’d give us some traveling money when we left as thanks for making the property more valuable.”
Raleigh gave a snort of disgust and refused to be distracted. “That preacher fella would walk through fire for her, you can see it in his eyes. But that night at the party, she kept watching the door each time it opened—for you, Collier. Hopin’ you’d get down off your high horse and realize the mistake you’re makin’.”
“You done?” Jack demanded.
“I... I reckon so,” Raleigh muttered. He watched his boss warily, probably figuring the next thing he’d see was Jack’s fist aimed right at his face.
“Good,” Jack said in a dead voice. He got to his feet and walked toward the door.
He knew Raleigh was right, but he also knew that Gil Chadwick was the better man for Caroline. His ramrod would no doubt enjoy a good laugh if he knew Jack had had to defend his actions to Abby and Amelia every time they got him alone. He didn’t expect his children to understand now why Caroline couldn’t be their new mother, but someday they might, when they were older.
It’d be easier, once they were on the trail, to convince himself.
* * *
“Class dismissed. I’ll see you again on Monday,” Caroline said. Her pronouncement caused a stampede of young scholars down the aisle and, seconds later, a thunder of feet pounding the steps outside.
Louisa bid her goodbye, and in a moment she was gone, too, which left her with just the twins and Billy Joe, who was making his way more slowly to the door, moving stiffly as if he hurt.
“Billy Joe, what’s wrong?” she asked him, realizing all at once he’d been uncharacteristically quiet the past few days.
He stopped. “Nothin’, Miss Wallace,” he said over his shoulder. “I’m fine,
I just fell climbin’ down from the loft the other day.” He quickened his pace.
“Billy Joe, is your father—” She hesitated, not wanting to say “beating you again” in front of Abby and Amelia.
But he was gone before she could think of a way to rephrase her question. She’d have to wait till Monday, when he’d once again be staying after class for tutoring, and hope she could wrest the truth from him at that time. She didn’t buy his glib explanation for a minute. Lord, please protect him and his mother until then.
She knew the girls were watching her. “Come on, girls, let’s go home,” she said brightly.
“Aunt Caroline, Billy Joe’s pa isn’t nice to him, is he?” Abby asked as they made their way out of the schoolyard.
She didn’t want to talk about it with these innocent children, but neither could she lie to them. “No, he’s not. But don’t you worry, there are a lot of folks watching out for Billy Joe, to make sure his papa learns to be kinder. Isn’t it wonderful that you girls have such a nice papa?”
Amelia and Abby nodded in unison and were quiet until they reached Fannin Street.
“Aunt Caroline, it’s been a lot warmer lately,” Amelia said.
“Mmm-hmm. It’s February now. Winter’s almost over,” she murmured. The days were getting milder. Soon green buds would appear on the trees and bluebonnets would spring up in the fields and roadsides, along with red and gold Indian paintbrush, yellow and pink primroses and white prickly poppies. She didn’t like to think of what the warmer weather meant—the herd would be leaving Collier’s Roost, and Jack Collier with it.
Jack’s upcoming departure shouldn’t have bothered her. It was very apparent that Gil Chadwick enjoyed spending time with her and that she could have a future with him if she wanted it. But it wasn’t Gil she lay awake at night thinking about, and dreamed about when at last she fell asleep.
The Rancher's Courtship & Lone Wolf's Lady Page 22
