Forever in Texas

by Jodi Thomas

  * * *

  Hours later Ford entered through the kitchen door. He’d thought the night air had chilled him beyond feeling until he stepped into the living area and saw her curled on the floor, surrounded by drawings. A warmth spread through him that had nothing to do with the dying fire in the fireplace or the solid feeling he always had when he walked through the threshold of the house he’d built by himself. He took in the scene before him as a man takes in a work of art, whole and all at once…Hannah, the Winchester by her side, her hair caping her shoulders, the drawings.

  Ford slowly removed his hat and coat without taking his gaze from her. He placed a boot on the bench by the door and unbuckled his spurs. The rowel jingled lightly as he set the spur on the bench, but Hannah didn’t move. Slowly, he carefully unbuckled the other spur, closing his hand over the back wheel to keep it from making another sound.

  She slept on as he pulled his muddy boots off, set them next to the door, then unbuckled his gunbelt and lay it beside the spurs. On stocking feet, he finally approached her.

  One by one Ford picked up the sketches, holding each to the light. The pictures were dark and haunting and of a scene he only hoped she hadn’t seen in real life. One man, tall, with only slits for eyes, held a gun out that left no doubt it pointed the finger of death toward someone. Another man, old and weak-eyed, stared from the paper as if he were looking at his own coffin. A cowhand gripped his gut as he tumbled forward.

  The last drawing he lifted was of a woman, huddled among broken chairs in a corner. She was curled in a human ball with only her hands clearly showing, but Ford could feel the fear she must be experiencing from the death grip she had on her knees. Though her face was completely hidden, she wore five thin gold bracelets on her wrist.

  Closing his eyes, Ford took a deep breath, hating the sketches and knowing at the same time that they were the best she’d ever done. He hated the knowledge they brought with them. She’d seen what she drew. Hannah had been there. The bracelets had to be the same ones he’d seen her remove the night she met him.

  He didn’t want to think about what she’d witnessed. There had been enough ugliness in his life. Part of him wanted to believe her life had been better. She was too lovely not to have been surrounded by beauty. But the pictures told her story. No wonder she continued to steal! She was fighting the only way she could to break free of the charcoal world she’d come from.

  Ford knelt beside her and gently brushed her hair off her cheek, wishing he could somehow brush away her past as easily.

  He’d made himself a promise in the two days he’d been gone. He would follow the rules she set, even if it clawed him up inside. For the next three weeks he’d do whatever he must do to protect her. Then when she was gone, he’d do what he’d always done—he’d endure the loneliness in silence.

  Chapter 15

  HANNAH CAME AWAKE all at once as someone touched her cheek. In sudden panic, she stared up at a huge shadow of a man leaning over her.

  With instinct liquefying into fear, Hannah sprang at the intruder with all the force she could muster, shoving hard against his chest with both her hands. He fell back, almost hitting his head against the fireplace stones. She jumped atop him, kicking and fighting like a mountain lion.

  I’ll survive! she screamed inwardly. I’ll fight until the last breath leaves my lungs. I won’t let them kill me easily.

  “Stop!” Ford shouted. “Hannah, it’s me!” He tried to grab her wrists, but her fists were moving too fast in continuous blows against his chest.

  For a moment he wondered if she might know who he was, yet still be fighting him. The worry made him cease trying to defend himself. If he’d made her so afraid of him, he deserved her blows. He turned his head to the light as she bloodied his lip with her fist. The cut didn’t hurt nearly as much as the knowledge that she felt the need to fight him.

  Hannah froze above Ford when she saw his face. She’d heard her attacker shouting, but she was far too frightened to listen to what he was saying. Now when she saw Ford’s eyes staring back at her, she realized what she was doing. He hadn’t been threatening to kill her, he’d been yelling her name.

  Sitting up atop his chest, she screamed, “Oh, my Lord, Ford, you’re hurt. You’re bleeding!”

  He wiped the blood away with the palm of his hand and raised one eyebrow. “Don’t act so surprised, darlin’, since you were the one throwing the punches. The way you were hitting, it’s a wonder all you did was bust my lip.”

  She wanted to help, but she had nothing with which to wipe the blood trickling toward his chin. “I thought you were Harwell’s men come to kill me,” she said, more to herself than him. “I thought I’d be shot at any moment, so I was trying to fight as long as I could.”

  Ford propped up on his elbow, ignoring the crimson dripping into the two-day growth of whiskers below his lip. “Who are Harwell’s men?”

  Hannah wasn’t prepared to explain. Not now, not ever. Knowing Ford as she did, she imagined he’d want her to do something foolish like go back to Fort Worth and testify. He’d never understand that the sheriff might be in on the killing, and even if he wasn’t, he’d never believe her. Zachery may have been right when he told her Jude had swindled Harwell and the gunmen were just evening the score. In a town like Fort Worth, cattle swindling would have been considered good reason for killing a man, and Jude’s murderers would probably walk free even if she did risk her life to testify.

  “No one.” She shook her head, making her hair fly around her shoulders. “I must have been dreaming. I don’t even know anyone named Harwell.”

  “You were doing some powerful dreaming if you drew these pictures in your sleep. These drawings look like a killing in some seedy saloon.”

  Hannah stared at him. His hair was damp with rain, his clothes dirty, and his lip now covered with blood, but at the moment, all his attention was focused on her. She’d need to keep her wits if she planned to make him believe her. Ford wasn’t some drunk she could talk into swallowing something foolish.

  “Forget my dream.” She changed the subject. “We’ve got to do something about that lip.”

  Ford leaned his head back. “I’d get a rag, but I’m being used as a chair at the present time.”

  Hannah jumped off him, realizing she was the reason he stayed on the floor. “I’ll get the towel. You lie still or you’ll drip blood all over the rug.”

  She ran to the kitchen and got one of the good towels from the rack, not one of the flour-sack rags from the bottom drawer. Pumping a pan of water, she dipped the cloth into the cold water and ran back to the fireplace. Ford was still spread out on the floor. At first she thought she might have really hurt him, but then she realized he was smiling.

  As she knelt and lifted his head onto her lap, he whispered without opening his eyes, “It’s good to be home, even if that wasn’t the reception I’d expected.”

  Hannah wiped his face with the timidity of an old maid changing a baby’s diaper. “I’m glad you’re back and I’m sorry I attacked you. But I was so worried that someone might break in.”

  Ford opened his eyes and studied her. “What’s happened?” Before she could start another lie, he added, “And tell me the truth, Hannah. The Winchester wouldn’t be at your side if you’d just stayed up late to draw.”

  Nodding slowly, she silently agreed to at least part of his request. “When I got out of school today, I went over to the post office. Zachery had said he’d be playing checkers all afternoon with Jinx, but the place was locked up. I couldn’t find anyone who knew where they’d gone. It’s as if someone rode into town and snatched them away. I looked for them as long as I could, but I had to make it home by dark.”

  He lifted the Winchester. “You’re afraid to be alone here at Canyon’s Rim? I thought you felt safe in the house, if not with me.”

  Hannah wanted to say, no, she wasn’t afraid, she’d been alone most of her life, but she could never remember a time when she’d felt safe, even alone
. After her mother died, she used to pile all she owned against the door at night, hoping for security, yet still she’d jump at every sound, and the flimsy walls could never keep out the whine of the wind.

  Dabbing at the blood at the corner of his mouth, she admitted, “Most of the time I’m more scared of being with people than I am of being alone. But Zachery and Jinx’s disappearance makes me nervous. I can’t help but think something bad might have happened to them. And that maybe whoever got them might come after me.”

  Ford didn’t miss the terror in her eyes, as though she’d opened the door to something horrible once and was never sure it completely closed behind her. “I wouldn’t worry about them, Hannah. I don’t know about Zachery, but Jinx can take care of herself. I’d bet the bay that no one could pull that woman out of the post office against her will without half the town hearing the ruckus. And when she makes her rounds, she’s armed better than most stage guards.”

  He covered Hannah’s hand with his and pulled the towel away from his chin. “I know what you mean about being alone sometimes. I’ve spent weeks out at the line shack, but tonight the walls seemed to be closing in on me. I didn’t care that it would take me most of the night, I couldn’t bear to spend another hour out there. We left too much unsaid between us when I rode out.” He rubbed his thumb across the back of her palm. “I’d have come back sooner if I’d known you were afraid.”

  Hannah didn’t want to talk anymore. He might ask too many questions she couldn’t answer. She pulled her hand from his grip. “I think your lip has stopped bleeding.”

  Ford didn’t move. “Thanks.”

  Rolling the towel around her hand, she didn’t look at him as she whispered, “Maybe we’d be better off if we left some things unsaid between us. Sometimes it’s easier to be polite strangers than for two people as different as we are to become friends.”

  “If that’s the way you want it. Just promise me you’ll stop acting like I’m some animal you’re afraid of half the time. I’m growing hoarse from telling you I won’t hurt you.”

  “I’ll try.” Hesitantly, Hannah combed her fingers into his hair. She liked the warm brown of it, the color of the earth. “I’m glad you’re home.”

  He closed his eyes and rolled his head slightly into the folds of her robe. The little boy in him surfaced when he wasn’t staring at her with eyes the color of winter storms. Something had touched her deep inside when she’d heard Gavrila talk of him running wild, without anyone to care for him. Reflections of the boy inside the powerful man somehow made her less afraid.

  Still stroking his hair, she asked, “Why’d you leave Saturday night?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” he answered in a voice that sounded tired. “My reasons may be one of those things we’re better off leaving unsaid. I couldn’t stay gone, even when I knew I should. Being with you is like riding into a stormy wind you know could become a twister at any moment, but you keep on riding. Reasons don’t matter anymore.”

  “You matter, Ford,” she said her thoughts. “I wish I was the kind of woman who could love you for a lifetime and grow old with you.”

  He stared up at her and she could see her words echo in his gaze. They both knew she wasn’t the right woman for him. They both wished she were.

  “I’ll settle for the kind of woman you are, Hannah, and maybe three weeks will have to do for a lifetime.” He raised up slightly. “I decided out there alone that for the next few weeks nothing matters but being here. Most days I feel like I’m battling the world, but I can’t fight myself as well. Something told me it was time for me to come home, and here I’ll stay.”

  Ford’s hand circled around her neck and pulled her down gently until she could feel his words brush against her lips. “I want to spend time with you and hold you and live by whatever rules you set.” His kiss was sad and tender, telling far more of the way he felt than words ever could.

  Deep inside, Hannah cried from a longing for what would never be. He was a good man living by a strong code. She was and always would be on the run, always looking behind her for a shadow with a gun pointed at her heart.

  His kiss tasted bittersweet but she didn’t try to stop him. When his tongue brushed across her upper lip, she opened her mouth slightly, welcoming him.

  Gently, he placed his free arm around her waist and pulled her into his lap without breaking their kiss. She moved willingly, needing to be in the safety of his arms.

  The kiss deepened, drawing needs to the surface in them both. He allowed his fingers to move over the folds of her robe, but he wasn’t embracing her, only touching. Holding her was all he’d thought about last night while alone in the line shack. He had to come back. When she was gone, he had to have at least one memory to keep him sane. In his long, lonely life, Sanford Colston would have one memory of a woman in his arms.

  His mouth moved along her cheek and down her throat. “I missed you,” he mumbled, without thinking that he was saying the words aloud.

  Tears trickled from the corners of her eyes as she snuggled against his chest. She didn’t want to admit it, but she’d missed him as well.

  His long fingers moved over the wool robe once more. He wanted to tell her that he longed to end the marriage terms of touching in public. He wanted the rules reversed so he could make love to her now. But he knew she’d bolt if he even tried. Burying his face in her hair, he realized he wasn’t even sure what to do if she asked him to make love to her. A boy can imagine, a man can guess, but Ford had never asked anyone. He didn’t know for sure all the rules between a man and woman when they became lovers. What if he did something wrong? What if she knew how the game of love was played and laughed at his efforts? He was too old to be naive and too young not to care what she thought.

  But kissing her wasn’t wrong. He was sure nothing that felt so right could be wrong. When she came to him all soft like she was now, he wanted to pull her against him and never let go. Yet he’d stepped too far before and frightened her. He’d made himself a promise at the cave that he wouldn’t be that impulsive again.

  Hannah felt his hesitation, first in his kiss, then in his hands. Something was holding him back, keeping him from doing more. His kiss warmed her body and made her breasts feel full, but there was no promise of more to come. Maybe he’d had enough rejection in his life, and then again, maybe he wasn’t as attracted to her as she’d thought.

  Ford slid his hands along her arms and pushed her gently away from him. When his mouth left hers, he drew in breath as though he were drowning.

  “You’d best get dressed. It will be daylight soon,” he managed to say.

  Hannah nodded, but she couldn’t seem to relax her fingers enough to let go of the fistful of shirt she held.

  He covered her hand with his own. “We can’t do anything about Zachery until sunup. Then I’ll ride into town with you. I wouldn’t worry too much until we know there’s been trouble. Jinx has a reputation for doing impulsive things without answering to anyone, and Zachery strikes me as the type who’d follow along.”

  “Do you think that’s all it might be?” She didn’t want to think about there being more. In truth, she wanted to ask Ford to kiss her again, but thought he’d think her bold.

  He stood and pulled her up beside him. “I think that’s all it is. I’m sorry you were so worried.” He brushed her hair back off her shoulders. “Why don’t I cook breakfast and you get ready for school, Mrs. Colston? It wouldn’t do to have the teacher show up late…. Maybe we can have a talk about these drawings on the way to town.”

  Hannah placed her fists on her hips and leaned an inch toward him. “I have a better idea. Why don’t you take a bath, Mr. Colston? You’re filthy. I’ll cook breakfast and then we will not talk about these drawings on the drive in.”

  “I didn’t hear you complaining about me being dirty a minute ago.” He couldn’t resist moving his hand along her arm.

  “I was busy thinking of other things.” Hannah smiled. There was something irresistib
le about him now, with his scratchy whiskers and mud-smudged clothes. She’d heard someone say once that animals mate by scent. Without any logic at all, she realized she loved the way the air smelled when Ford was around, mud covered or not.

  “Like the way I kiss?” Ford asked, a newfound pride twisting the corner of his mouth into a grin.

  Hannah moved toward the kitchen. “Yes, I like the way you kiss.” She giggled as she disappeared. “And that subject I would like to talk a little more about one day.”

  She’d half expected him to follow her into the kitchen. When he didn’t, she was surprised to find herself a little disappointed. Hannah couldn’t remember ever feeling so young. He made her think there was good in the world and men worth flirting with…men who made safety seem like a right and not a luxury.

  As she lit the lantern and the stove, Hannah felt her body relax. Maybe Ford was right about Zachery; she might be panicking over nothing. Even the wind didn’t bother her when Ford was home.

  She reached into the cool box and retrieved a handful of eggs and a small pitcher of milk. Ford kept few chickens and no milk cows, but he had supplies delivered twice a week from a farm a mile west of them.

  Cutting thick slices of bacon from a salted slab, Hannah dropped them, one at a time, into a wide cast-iron skillet. She pulled the biscuit bowl down from a top shelf and lifted the cloth cover from it. Her mother had taught her years ago to always make biscuits in the same bowl and rarely wash it. The sides soon became caked with flour, making the mixing of each new batch easier than in a clean bowl. Also, after a few tries, the measuring became more exact and the biscuits tasted perfect every time.

  She’d just set the hot bread on the little table when she heard footsteps crossing the living area. Turning, she was surprised at the change in Ford. His hair was wet from washing but combed back and his face was clean shaven. He leaned against the kitchen door with his arms folded across a shirt he hadn’t finished buttoning. The smile on his face left no doubt he was enjoying the view.