Forever in Texas

by Jodi Thomas

  “Is something bothering you, Ford?”

  Lady, I got a wagon load of bothers and I’m heading downhill, he thought. I’m married to a thief who won’t let me touch her, but who’ll be dead to all in less than a month. Add her uncle, who spends every day telling me how to ranch when he can’t even ride a horse, though he seems to know everything about the animals. Plus, my sister informed me today that she’s coming to spend a few days with us to help my wife fix up my house, which I think is perfect already.

  “No,” he finally lied. “Nothing’s bothering me.” He was so irritated he didn’t know who or what to take out the anger on first. “I didn’t think we were allowed to talk while we slept together.” His voice was sharper than he’d meant it to be.

  Hannah was silent for so long he wasn’t sure she was going to answer him.

  “I’m trying to make it easier on you,” she finally said. “I know you don’t want me here.”

  Ford rolled to his side and tried to see her face in the blackness. If talking was allowed, he was in the mood to talk. “When I was a kid, my first memories of coming home after playing were of having to be quiet because my mother was ill. The neighbors would come in and cook sometimes, but it was usually late, after they’d taken care of their own families. After I got old enough to help out, Dad always had me doing chores until dark, and my food was usually cold by the time I got in. When we moved here and he remarried, I was never invited to eat with the family unless we were having folks over and it would be noticeable if they left me out.”

  He didn’t know why he was telling her all this, but once he started talking it seemed impossible to stop. “After I left home I used to wonder what it was like for a man to work all day and come home to a hot meal that had been fixed just for him.” Ford’s voice lowered slightly. “This week I’ve had that and I thank you for it. When you’re gone, I’ll always remember. It’s a good feeling I look forward to every night. So don’t think I don’t want you here or that your silence will make me forget that you’re next to me.”

  Ford stopped breathing as she reached across and placed her hand on his shoulder. Slowly, with light fingers, she moved her hand across his chest to the place above his heart.

  “It’ll be a good memory for me, too,” she said as she continued to lightly touch his chest. “You really should wear an undershirt or a nightshirt when it’s this cold.”

  “I’m not cold. I learned a long time ago not to let myself feel the weather.” He covered her hand with his own. “Before you came, I’d only lit that fireplace in the corner a few times.”

  She slowly pulled her hand away. “I guess I’m the opposite. I’m always cold. I grew up in the kitchens where my mother cooked. It was always toasty warm, even in the winter. Now, unless I’m standing next to the oven, I’m usually shivering from fall to spring. I’ve even thought of teaching in my coat.”

  “The school needs more fuel?” Ford hadn’t thought to check. Last month he’d noticed enough coal to last for several months stacked in the bin.

  “We’re down to burning chips.” Hannah felt bad about complaining to him. “But they burn real good.”

  “I’ll see that you have more coal by Monday.” He was angry at himself for not having noticed. “And anything else you need, just tell me. We’re not a rich school, but we don’t want you or the children going without.”

  “Thank you.” Hannah didn’t know what else to say. “Good night, Ford.”

  “Good night, Hannah.”

  She eased the pistol an inch away.

  He hesitated for a moment, then rolled closer to her. “Shoot me if you like,” he whispered, “but I’m going to kiss you good night.”

  He felt the Colt’s barrel press into his ribs as he leaned over and lightly brushed her lips with his own. She didn’t respond, but she didn’t fire, either.

  “Good night, Hannah.” He rolled away without pulling the cover over him and lay on his back with his arms folded once more above his head.

  He couldn’t help but smile a few minutes later when Hannah spread the quilt out over his chest and tucked the corners in around his shoulders.

  * * *

  The next morning Hannah was in the kitchen making a late breakfast when she heard someone yelling for help. Drying her hands as she ran, she almost collided with Ford as they both reached the front door at once.

  “Help!” came a woman’s call again.

  Ford groaned as he suddenly recognized the voice and opened the door.

  Gavrila was standing beside her buggy, with one hand holding her hat in the wind and the other hand fighting her parasol.

  “Did you ever think of knocking instead of yelling, dear sister?” Ford ignored her struggle with the umbrella and hat and moved to the horses.

  “I hate this wind!” she yelled back, as if he could do something about it. “All the way from town it’s been blowing my hat. I thought I could block it with the parasol.”

  “Might have been easier just to take the hat off.” Ford started leading the horses to the barn. “’cause one thing’s for sure—the wind never stops in West Texas.”

  “Sanford, you have no sense of style. It’s no wonder you’re such a clod. A lady simply never goes out without her head covered. Do you want me to look like a poor farmer’s wife, with my head exposed and my face tanned from the sun?”

  Hannah helped Gavrila with the parasol as she followed her sister-in-law into the house. The little woman had a way of walking in short, quick steps that Hannah found hard to pace beside.

  Ford could hear his sister’s cries all the way to the barn when she stepped into his house and saw Zachery was still there. “Hasn’t that man left yet?” she screamed. “Did he come for a visit or to board?”

  Hannah didn’t even try to answer, but Uncle Zachery bowed low and said, “It’s good to see you, also, sweet Gavrila. Maybe if you put rocks in your pockets, the wind won’t blow you away.”

  Gavrila huffed and followed her nose to the kitchen. She was halfway through breakfast when Ford returned. He didn’t join her and he noticed Hannah also stood watching. Though Gavrila didn’t seem to notice that she was eating another’s meal, Hannah did, and poured them both a glass of milk. Ford raised his glass in a silent toast to her while Gavrila and Zachery argued in the background.

  When she’d downed the last biscuit, Gavrila patted her lips and got to the point. “I’ve come to help you do something with this horrible house, dear. It’s my duty as your sister-in-law. I’ve talked to half the women in town about some of the improvements you can make so this outpost will look more livable.”

  Hannah could almost feel the steam coming off Ford as he stood silently beside her. She knew she had to do something fast or Gavrila might be flying in the wind back to town, rocks in her pockets or not. “Thank you for the offer, but shouldn’t you rest for tonight?”

  “Tonight?” Gavrila looked puzzled.

  “For the town social. Someone told me there will be games and lots of food and music. I thought I’d be too tired to attend, but now I think we should go.”

  Gavrila looked horrified. She prided herself on never forgetting a social function, past or future. Hannah could see her eyes darting, looking for a reason for her memory loss.

  “I’ve been so busy. I’d completely forgotten.” She stood suddenly. “I can’t help you today. I’ve got so much to do. Luckily I ordered a new dress last week that I haven’t even had time to press.” Gavrila almost looked sorry for Hannah. “Oh, you poor child. All I’ve ever seen you wear are those two drab garments. You’ll just have to pick between the less worn and tattered. I’d loan you one of mine, but you’re much too tall for anything in style these days. The choices are drab and more drab for you, I’m afraid.”

  “I’ll make do,” Hannah answered.

  Ford took his sister by the elbow and helped her along. “I’ll ride back into town with you. I’ve a few things to pick up.” He glanced back over his shoulder. “Do you need anyth
ing, darlin’?”

  “No.” Hannah took her first deep breath since she’d heard the scream. “Just take your sister home.”

  Winking, he looked almost boyish for the first time since they’d met. Something about the way he usually stood so still when he was upset had led her to believe that he’d always been grown-up, but now as he hurried Gavrila along he seemed younger.

  He didn’t return until late afternoon. Hannah had washed all her clothes and hung them to dry in the kitchen, then taken a long bath. She’d washed her hair in the perfumed soap Jinx had brought her and curled it as best she could with rag curls, hoping it would dry before the party. She wasn’t sure what to bring to eat, so she baked a pie and a ham, just to make sure. She couldn’t believe she was so excited, but she’d never been to a social before.

  Ford came in carrying a box about the size shirts come in. He took one look at Hannah sitting at the kitchen table in her nightshirt and robe, with pieces of rags twisted in her hair, and had to laugh. “You about ready for the party?”

  She thought of throwing the cold coffeepot at him, but decided she’d only have to clean up the blood and grounds if she hit her mark.

  “She’s been getting ready all day, son.” Uncle Zachery chuckled. “She even made me take another bath, and it hasn’t even been a week. Plus I’m not even going to the social. I’ll probably die of a fever any minute right here. I’m not interested in any social, so I asked Jinx to come out and keep me company. She told me she hates even watching all the folks get dressed up and parade down the street, so I challenged her to a game of checkers.”

  Ford held out his free hand to Hannah and she accepted it. He pulled her against him in a hug as he always did in front of Uncle Zachery. “I brought you a surprise.”

  Hannah took the gift. “You shouldn’t have. I don’t need anything.”

  “Now, that’s not the way a lady accepts things.” Zachery moved closer to see what Hannah was opening. “I’ll have to teach you what to say when a gentleman gives you something, Hannah.” Zachery was suddenly sounding very much like an uncle.

  She pulled a pair of creamy white longhandles out of the box.

  Zachery glared at Ford. “And that’s not the kind of thing a man’s supposed to give a lady, son. You made a big mistake here. A big mistake.”

  They weren’t listening to Zachery. She hugged Ford wildly. “Thank you,” she cried with pure joy.

  “I figured you could wear them under your dress and no one would notice.” Ford grinned. “I wish I could have found some with a few ribbons on them, but at least you’ll be warmer.”

  “You two beat all I ever seen. Don’t you know anything? You were supposed to bring her silk and lace and nice things.” He pointed at Hannah. “And you should be insulted that your man brings you longhandles, like you were a forty-niner.”

  Ford pulled her close against him, laughing. “Oh, you mean I should have thought to get her a new dress and maybe new shoes that fit and maybe a coat she could wear besides mine?”

  “Yeah,” Zachery grumbled. “Stuff like that.”

  Nodding, Ford looked worried. “I see. I must have not been thinking. You mean gifts like those other boxes I got in the wagon?”

  It took a few heartbeats for his words to register on Hannah, then she was out the door running. He’d bought so many things she couldn’t carry them in one load. There was even a hatbox.

  Ford could never remember laughing so much at one time in his life. He watched her open every box and spread the things out on the bed as if they were fine Paris originals and not just wool dresses he’d ordered from the mail-order catalog.

  He could hear her humming through the door as he bathed and she dressed. By the time they loaded into the wagon, Hannah had tried on everything he’d bought her five times and only made a decision when he’d told her they were going to be late.

  As they rode into town, she seemed quiet. Finally, she whispered, “I’ll pay you back. I don’t know how I’ll get the money, but I will.”

  “You don’t have to.” He wanted to give her the things. Every time he remembered the rags she’d left in his hotel room, he’d hated thinking of her wearing them. The clothes had put a dent in the cash he kept hidden in his little office at Gavrila’s place, but he didn’t regret a dime he’d spent.

  “But I will,” she added. “I swear. I’ll pay you back.”

  Chapter 11

  FORD WALKED AHEAD of Hannah into the church where the social was being held, carrying the heavy cast-iron pot filled with the huge ham she’d baked. He could have managed the door and allowed her to walk ahead of him, but she’d pulled back, suddenly nervous. Something in her hesitance made him wonder if she’d ever been to a church social before. In her line of work, he guessed socials were out of place. He tried to imagine her in some dark cave with seedy types arguing over plunder, but somehow he couldn’t picture Hannah in their midst, either.

  Shoving the dark image from his mind, Ford looked around. This gathering seemed about the same as all the parties he’d been to in his life. Memories of them blurred together in his brain until he couldn’t remember a particular social, yet they were all alike. Everyone was spit-n-polish clean, and the furniture in the church hall had been rearranged to make conversations easier. Folks were congregated in small groups, talking, eating, and listening to the piano. Everyone smiled and nodded at whoever stepped through the door, then returned to their conversations about all those not within hearing range.

  Ford set the ham down among the endless potato dishes and helped Hannah find room for the pie on the dessert table. Though most folks smiled at them, no one stepped forward to say a word. Ford felt he’d best do something, for Hannah looked as if she might bolt at any moment.

  He gently circled her shoulder with his arm, careful not to stand too close in case the widows complained about him behaving improperly in the church building. Leaning near her ear, he whispered, “Frightening, aren’t they? And just think, no one leaves until all those sweet potato pies are gone.”

  Hannah tried to hide her laughter, for he’d guessed her thoughts. There seemed enough food for ten groups this size. “Who are all these people?” she asked.

  “Methodists, mostly.” He fought the urge to direct her toward his usual corner. Tonight he’d stand in the center of the room. “That’s Mrs. Scott playing the piano. My sister seems to be the only young lady in these parts who doesn’t take lessons from her. The man leaning on the piano, as if he’s afraid it might fly away without his weight, is a Yankee by the name of Taber. He’s got a place down by the Salt Fork of the Red River. I learned how to build my adobe from him. He don’t talk much, but he can grow anything on that place of his. Has a big enough garden to feed half the town all winter.

  “The thin lady next to Taber is named Helen Moore, I think. A marriage agency Taber hired sent her out West to look him over. She’s staying with Professor Combs and his wife while she decides if she wants to marry the Yankee. She’s been here so long now, my guess is she will.”

  Hannah nodded, thinking the couple looked right for one another. The Taber marriage was probably considered far more proper than hers and Ford’s. She reached behind her back and laced her fingers with his. She’d taken great care to look very proper tonight and only hoped she wouldn’t embarrass him.

  He could feel her hand trembling and wished he were brave enough to swing her up into his arms and leave without a word to any of these good folks. She didn’t like crowds any more than he did, and he didn’t owe these people any explanation. If he’d stayed home tonight, she’d be sitting by the fire listening to him read about now. He’d have his sleeves rolled up and she’d be in the robe he’d loaned her, with her hair tumbling down about her waist. Uncle Zachery would have already turned in for the night, leaving them alone for an hour.

  Forcing his voice to be calm, Ford made himself continue. “Then there’s the McClellands, and W. A. Allen talking with a few of Colonel Goodnight’s men over b
y the punch bowl.”

  She was only half listening. Facing the children had been hard enough, but she’d never be able to make all these people believe she was Ford’s wife. He belonged here, but she’d never seen this many people in one place—except when the bar was real busy, and then most of them were loud and drunk. These folks were frighteningly quiet. “Is it time to leave yet?” she whispered.

  Ford chuckled and tightened his grip on her fingers. “You’re not running out on me, darlin’. If we left a church social suddenly, all the old gray hairs would gossip for days about how you were in a family way.”

  Hannah blushed.

  “Besides…” Ford noticed several people watching them, probably wondering what the newlyweds were whispering about. “…you’re the most beautiful woman here, and I’d like the pleasure of standing next to you a little longer.”

  “I’m not,” Hannah argued. She’d never been called beautiful in her life. She knew she wasn’t ugly, but she’d never be beautiful. She was the kind of woman most men don’t notice one way or the other. She’d even be willing to bet old Hickory, who she’d worked for for years, wouldn’t have been able to describe her even on the day he died.

  “Cross my heart.” Ford moved his hand over his chest. “Until I saw you in that dress tonight, I thought the prettiest woman I’d ever seen was you in my nightshirt and robe. That image will have to fight with seeing you now. A woman who’s pretty and can cook, too, is a rare thing, I think.”

  “Thank you.” Hannah decided it safer to change the subject. Even if Ford thought he was telling the truth, she’d never believe she was any great beauty. “I’m surprised Jinx doesn’t come to these.”

  Ford shrugged. “She usually doesn’t. I’ve seen her at a few picnics. Says they remind her too much of a silent auction, with all the eligible girls parading around all the unattached men, and the girls’ mothers following close behind, taking bids. My guess is both she and Uncle Zachery are having more fun playing checkers.”