“Could we go fishing after lunch, Stafford?” Samuel asked stepping out of the tack room where he and Terrance must have noticed the fishing poles.
“I don’t see why not,” Stafford answered. “We’ll need some worms, though.”
“We can dig some right now,” Terrance answered.
“There’s a shovel and pail in the tool shed,” Stafford answered, liking the idea of stretching out on the grass near the stream. With Marie at his side, they could talk while the kids fished and played. Maybe he’d ask her then. Noting the white shirt he’d donned for church that morning, he stopped the boys before they reached the barn door. “Go change your clothes first.”
“Yes, sir!” they chorused.
He chuckled while crossing the yard. This was a good life and was only going to get better. He certainly was one lucky man. A happy tune entered his head and he started whistling it as he bounded up the porch steps.
“Fishing?” Marie asked, standing near the front door the boys had dashed through.
“Sounds good to me,” he said. “How about you?”
“I’ve never gone fishing.”
“Never gone fishing?” he asked, as if appalled.
She laughed. “No.” Holding out a glass she said, “Here. I just carried some apple cider up from the cellar. It’s nice and cool after that long ride from church.”
He took the glass and was about to take a drink when he noticed a frown forming above her brows. Slowly, since an eerie sensation was inching its way up his spine, he turned in the direction of her gaze.
“That can’t be Marshal Crane returning, can it?”
The cider almost slipped from his hand. Stafford tightened his hold, and then wishing it was whiskey, he downed the entire glass. “No,” he said, fighting the regret filling his system. “That’s not Marshal Crane.”
Only one man he knew of rode a solid black horse. Had for years. As long as Stafford had known him. The rider, coming closer, would soon slow to a trot, then a walk to keep the dust down.
Stafford handed Marie the glass. “Thanks.”
“Who is it? Do you know him?”
It wasn’t as though he could put off the inevitable. “That,” he said gravely, “is Mick Wagner.”
There had been times in Marie’s life that she’d wanted to run and hide, but never so much as now. It was impossible, though; her feet had frozen to the porch boards. The rest of her started to tremble and shake. A thud told her the glass had slipped from her fingers. It didn’t break, just rolled until it stopped between two rungs of the white-painted railing that edged the porch. Marie gripped the column supporting the porch roof.
The rider had slowed his horse to a walk. It was a big animal, as black as the coal so many homes in Chicago burned for heat. The man was big, too, or appeared to be. Probably the same size as Stafford. That was the only similarity. Where Stafford was clean-shaven, this man had a full beard and mustache, the same sand color as the hair hanging well past his shoulders.
“You look almost surprised to see me,” Mick said, as he kicked one leg behind him to swing out of his saddle.
Marie held on tighter to the column.
“I’m always surprised to see you,” Stafford answered.
A tiny sigh escaped her lips. Of course he’d been talking to Stafford, not her. Actually, Mick Wagner may not have seen her yet, with the size of the column. She eased closer, hiding herself for a bit longer. It wasn’t that she was afraid to meet him. She just didn’t know if she was ready. If she’d ever be ready.
“I couldn’t make heads or tails out of those messages you kept sending me, Staff,” Mick said. “Then my ma returned home. I was stuck in Austin waiting on her. Knew I couldn’t go on to Mexico until I said hi to her. Well, you ain’t gonna believe this, but...”
Marie’s skin grew chilled. Had Stafford sent messages about her?
Mick was still talking and she tried to clear her mind to listen.
“Ma had gone up to Chicago. Some lawyer had sent a wire asking about my whereabouts. Ma had wired back, told him I was out this way, and asked why. He wired again saying my cousin Emma Lou—we grew up together, she was my Pa’s sister’s daughter—and her husband were killed in a fire and they had six kids. Now orphans. Ma went up there to claim them, but they were gone. Seems some nursemaid left with the kids. Said she was bringing them out here to me. Have you seen them? Ma wants me to bring them down to Texas. Said she’ll raise them.”
Marie’s heart stopped in her chest.
“Yeah,” Stafford answered. “I’ve seen them. They’re here.”
“Where?” Mick asked.
Marie peeked around the column in time to see the man spin around, glancing toward his property.
“Hey,” he said. “Where’s my house?”
If only the column was big enough for her climb into. It was big enough, but it would also need a door. It wasn’t as if she could just magically seep through the wood. It would be nice, though. To just disappear.
A hand grasped one of her elbows and tugged. Having no choice, for Stafford was much stronger, Marie stepped out from behind the column.
“Mick, meet Miss Marie Hall. Your cousin’s nursemaid.” Stafford glanced toward her then. It would help if his smile didn’t look so cynical. “Marie, meet Mick Wagner.”
The man’s eyes grew as round as egg yolks. “You’re—” He turned toward Stafford. “That’s the nursemaid?”
Where the children were concerned, she’d never been cowardly and couldn’t start now. What was done was done, and what had to be, had to be. The coolness vibrating off Stafford increased her determination. He was acting remarkably close to how he had when they first met. Rather standoffish and boorish.
“Yes, Mr. Wagner, I’m the children’s nursemaid.” She held out one hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Mick was staring at her again, all wide-eyed and open-mouthed. He clamped his lips shut and shook her hand with one of his gloved ones. “I...uh...well, I was expecting someone...older.” He shot a glance toward Stafford. “You know, all gray haired and frumpy.”
The only movement Stafford made was the tiniest hitch in his chin. That irritated Marie even more, but when she tried to tug her arm from his grasp, his grip tightened.
“I’ll go find the children,” she said, hoping that would make Stafford let loose. “So you can make their acquaintance.”
Mick stopped his head mid-nod. “First, what happened to my house?”
Marie almost gagged on the lump that shot into her throat.
“That worn-out stove of yours,” Stafford said. “We’re lucky Marie and the children weren’t hurt when it blew up.”
“I should have guessed,” Mick said, eyeing his property. “It was bound to happen sooner or later.”
“I’ve staked out a new foundation,” Stafford said. “And ordered lumber. It should arrive within a couple weeks.”
“It ain’t gonna be as big as yours, is it?”
Marie did note the humor in Mick’s eyes, but it did little to calm her jittery nerves.
“You’ll need a house this big,” Stafford said. “You now have six kids.”
Mick frowned and shook his head. “Didn’t you hear me, Staff? I’m taking those kids to Texas.”
“Texas?” Marie wasn’t sure if she said the word or simply thought it.
She must have said it aloud because Mick answered, “Yeah, to my ma. She’ll take them all. The lawyer in Chicago said the nursemaid wouldn’t let them be put in the orphanage.” He paused long enough to narrow his eyes, which were the same blue as Emma Lou’s. “That would have been you, huh?”
“Yes, that would have been me,” she answered. “Your cousin would not have wanted the children separated.”
“That’s what Ma said,
” he replied. “She arrived in Chicago a week or so after you’d left.” He laughed then, as if the entire situation was rather comical. “I gotta tell ya, the telegraph lines were on fire. She wired her husband in Texas to say she was coming out here after the children and he wired back saying no, that she had to come home because I’d just wired them saying I was in Texas.”
Marie didn’t find anything funny right now, and was working out exactly how to say that when Mick’s laughter stopped rather abruptly.
He was frowning again, and looking at Stafford. “Why were you wiring me about a bride?”
Marie wanted to hide all over again. Especially when Mick seemed to put everything together. His gaze returned to her and his expression wasn’t joyous or irate, it was more as though he wanted to run and hide as much as she did.
“I think you should meet the children,” Stafford said. “We can discuss the other details later.”
Mick continued looking at her while he reached out and grabbed Stafford’s free arm. “Will you excuse us, Miss—uh—”
“Hall,” she supplied.
“Yeah, Miss Hall. Would you excuse us?”
Glad to do so, in part because Stafford would have to let her loose, she nodded. “Of course. The children will be in the front parlor when you’re ready to meet them.” She turned then, and kept her chin up even as the rest of her quaked. Why, oh, why had she pretended to be Mick Wagner’s mail-order bride? That’s right. It had been her only choice.
Stafford waited until the door closed behind Marie, cursing himself up one side and down the other for sending those stupid telegrams. He wasn’t overly impressed with the whole Texas idea, either.
“You know I was always joking about the whole getting-a-wife idea, don’t you, Staff? Neither one of us really wants that.”
Stafford sighed. At one time he had known they were joking. The joke was on him, though, because now he did want it. He chose to put off that conversation for a short time. “You can’t send the kids to Texas, Mick.”
“I sure as hell can’t keep them,” Mick answered, speaking more freely now that Marie wasn’t around. “I don’t know a thing about having kids. Well, I know how they come to be, but I don’t know about raising them. I don’t want to know, either. My ma will take care of them. Be happy to. What’s wrong with Texas anyhow?”
“There’s nothing wrong with Texas,” Stafford said. “But those kids already lost their parents, had to move away from one home. They’ve just gotten settled here. They shouldn’t be uprooted again.”
Mick took off his hat and slapped it against his thigh, sending out a cloud of dust that had no doubt been gathered in several states. “You don’t expect me to keep them, do you?”
Stafford wasn’t exactly sure what he wanted Mick to do, other than not send the kids away. “Marie has a life insurance policy from your cousin, naming you as the benefactor. The money is for the children.”
“Marie? Oh, Miss Hall.” Mick wiggled one brow. “I truly expected some old gray-haired nag.” Frowning, he continued, “Why’d you say she was my bride?”
“She didn’t have enough money for the tickets for all of them to travel out here, so she claimed to be your mail-order bride, telling the railroad you’d pay for their passages once they arrived.”
Mick was scratching his head, so Stafford continued his tale, “Walt Darter rode out and told me her and the kids were in Huron. I picked them up, paid their fares, and brought them home.”
“But if you knew she wasn’t, why’d you wire me?”
“I didn’t know she wasn’t. Not in the beginning.” It was too complicated to explain easily, and he couldn’t very well tell his partner he’d fallen in love with her, so Stafford switched subjects and tried using a bit of subtlety. “Your ma’s getting up in years, Mick. She’s already raised her family. Weston and Charlie, the youngest of your cousin’s children, are only four. They’d be a lot for your Ma to take on.”
Mick squirmed, shuffling his feet and shaking his head. “But, Staff, me? Married? With six kids?”
“That’s not what I’m telling you do to, Mick,” Stafford quickly corrected him.
“What else can I do? I can’t raise them alone.” Mick was now rubbing his mustache. “At least the nursemaid’s a looker.”
Jolted into a reaction, Stafford held up one hand. “Mick—”
The door behind them opened. “Mr. Wagner, are you ready to meet the children?” Marie’s gaze landed on Stafford then. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but lunch is getting cold.”
It was Mick who replied, or at least spoke. “You know how to cook, Miss Hall?”
“Yes, Mr. Wagner, I do.”
Now. Stafford bit his lip.
“Really? I didn’t think they taught nursemaids how to cook,” Mick said as he shouldered his way toward the door.
Where would you have ever gained that insight? Stafford wanted to ask as he followed. Mick had never had a nursemaid, and he was a terrible cook, but meals meant a lot to him. He ate each one as if it might be his last.
“Well, let’s see the little tykes,” Mick said.
Stafford grinned. Small bladders had come to mind.
Twenty minutes later all Stafford’s humor had given way to a red haze of ire. The kids were so well behaved he wanted to puke, and the way Mick was flirting with Marie—yes, flirting—with dazzling grins and oozing charm, Stafford wanted to punch something. For the first time ever, that something might just be his partner’s nose.
Marie was lapping it up as though she were Polly going after a bowl of leftover gravy. She was rhapsodizing about how well the children behaved, completed chores, recited poems and ciphered numbers. Which was all true, of course, but what about fighting in the back of the wagon and small bladders? Or hiding pregnant dogs? Mick should know about all those things, too, if he was considering taking them on.
The only other person frowning was Gertrude, but that was probably because she was missing Marshal Crane. The two of them had hit it off. They’d met before, the marshal had explained this morning while helping harness the horses. He’d investigated her husband’s death and stopped to check on her whenever he came this way.
“Stafford?”
Stafford looked across the table, at Mick. He didn’t say a word, just waited to hear what his partner wanted.
“Have you drawn up a house plan for me?”
“Not completely. I have the general idea in my head. Why?”
“Because I think Marie should help you design it,” Mick said. “She knows what the kids will need, what she’ll need.”
He wasn’t exactly sure if it was fire or ice that entered his veins. The table grew exceedingly quiet and the only one not looking at their plate was Mick. His gaze was expectant.
“I’ll draw something up.” Stafford laid his napkin down and pushed away from the table.
“Are we still going fishing, Stafford?”
He stopped near the dining room door. Terrance had never sounded quite so forlorn. It almost gutted Stafford to say, “Sorry, Terrance. Maybe another day.”
Leaving the house he cursed himself all over again. There was no reason he couldn’t go fishing, other than that he needed to distance himself from everyone, everything, until he could get his thinking back in order. He loved Marie, still wanted her, but that wasn’t it. He’d forgotten one thing. Marie was committed to those kids. He loved that about her, but where they went she went. Whether that might be across the creek or Texas.
Chapter Sixteen
So this is what it felt like. Love. Marie couldn’t say the exact moment it had happened, but she knew it was real. It wasn’t something she’d thought about—falling in love—but now that it had happened, she couldn’t imagine life without it.
She glanced up to meet the gaze reflected back at her
in the mirror. The image in the silvered glass looked the same as the one she’d seen for years, but inside she was different. She was no longer just a nursemaid and wasn’t going to live the rest of her life as one.
Reaching such a revelation hadn’t come easily. A broken heart is rather painful, especially to someone who didn’t know such a thing could happen. That, too, she’d rectify, but first things first. Today, instead of wondering what the day might bring, she was going to make something happen.
Upon leaving her room, she saw to the morning tasks, helping the children dress and comb their hair, and then prepared breakfast. Mick joined them for the meal, since he was living in Stafford’s house, too, and would until his was built.
Looking across the table, Marie drew a deep breath, willing her nerves to remain in check.
Mick was nice and funny, and the children liked him, but they liked him for the wrong reasons. In her mind, anyway. Though he was close to the same age as Stafford, Mick was annoyingly immature. Right now, he was teaching the children how to make spoons stick to the ends of their noses by blowing on them.
She cast a warning gaze around the table, which caused the children to set their spoons down and resume eating the meal. If Stafford had been here, they’d all be talking. The subjects would be varied, and there’d be laughter, but not the uncouth kind instigated by Mick. In the week that had passed, the boys, particularly Terrance and Samuel, had become almost as unruly as they’d been on the train ride west.
A moment rarely passed when she didn’t miss Stafford, and during his absence she’d come to realize the little things he’d done that she’d taken for granted. How he’d helped Weston or Charlie cut their food, or refilled their glasses with milk, and those were just mealtime things.
In order to stay calm, Marie had to chase all thoughts of Stafford from her mind. He’d cast her aside easily enough. No, she wasn’t going to think like that. Gertrude was right. Men were like children. They had to be told things.
She had a few things to tell him, all right, and he’d listen. He wouldn’t have a choice. Neither would Mick. This had all gone on long enough.
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