Defeated, she returned to the cold hearth and fell into her chair, helpless as a wind-tossed fledgling. Was this what it meant to be a rancher’s wife? To pour all one’s energy and strength into making a home and a life, only to have it blown away or drowned at nature’s whim?
No.
The need to fight shot through her hands, and she gripped the cool leather arms. She would not sit and fret and feel sorry for her lost efforts. Both Cade and Deacon would be soaked and starving when they came in from battling the storm. Gathering her resolve, she went to the kitchen and stoked the fire, glad to see that someone had tended it in her absence.
Hot coffee and a fresh batch of biscuits would sit well with the men, especially with the strawberry preserves Travine Price had sent with her. She stopped. The jar still sat tucked in Ginger’s saddlebags, as did a potato with a fresh cutting from one of Travine’s lovely rosebushes. Mae Ann had wanted to plant it on Pine Hill between the crosses as a small gift for Cade.
Tying on her apron, she pulled a tight bow and considered how Travine might handle the storm. What a cheerful sort she was, and so welcoming. But her bright smile had not hidden the dry creases that etched her face. Life in the “high parks,” as Cade called it, must be harsh on a woman. For the weathered skin that strengthened a man’s countenance into rugged handsomeness left a woman looking old and worn.
Mae Ann touched her cheek, and loose hair brushed her hand. Another booming crash rattled her nerves, though it hit farther away. The storm was moving on, perhaps pouring down on the Price farm this very moment.
She’d completely forgotten her hair had come loose when the wind tore the ribbon from her braid. She pushed back the loose strands, then finished the biscuits and tucked them into the oven before taking a pail of warm water to her room to freshen up.
At her window, the breath left her. The hail had stopped, but a lake swamped the barnyard from building to building. Cade and Deacon splashed through it with Blue on their heels. She washed her face and quickly braided her hair, then dashed downstairs.
All three stood just inside the door, soaked and dripping. Without a word, she returned upstairs and crossed an invisible barrier into Cade’s room. Some things were more important than propriety. Cade and Deacon were roughly the same size, Deacon more wiry, but both in desperate need of dry clothes. Cade’s moccasins lay by the bedside table, and she picked them up as well.
Upon her return, a fire crackled on the hearth and Blue lay as close as possible. The men stood with their backs to the warmth, feet bare of even their socks. A strange sight on a June evening, but not so foreign that it didn’t fit this surprising country with its heart-stopping beauty and sudden storms.
She handed each a change of clothes and set the moccasins by Cade’s chair. “I’ll be in the kitchen, and we’ll eat as soon as you’re ready.” At that, she left them with a parting word. “Put your wet clothes on the back porch.”
“Bossy thing, ain’t she?”
A smile spread from Mae Ann’s soul to her lips at Deacon’s rough words. The crusty old cowboy had a core as soft as eiderdown.
~
Cade cut Deacon a look. “And considerate of your sorry hide, I’d say.” As well as his own. He wasn’t surprised that she’d braved his room and gone through his things to bring them dry clothes. But bringing his moccasins—the thoughtful act moved him more than he cared to admit.
Deacon let loose a laugh and tugged off his wet drawers. Cade turned away and did the same. A whiff of hot biscuits vied with the logs snapping on the fire, and Cade’s insides warmed with the sounds and smells of home at his wife’s hand.
No—not his wife. His bride. There was a difference, and that difference was starting to rub him raw.
He gathered his wet clothes, took them out back and hung them over the porch railing. The tang of rain and wet earth filled the evening, and the dying sun broke through a spent cloudbank skimming the western ridge. Contentment settled in his chest. Right next to deep longing.
He raked through his memory for the exact wording of Mae Ann’s proposition:
If I do not appeal to you, we can live as man and wife in name only.
Appeal to him? Lord have mercy on his stubborn soul. No woman had ever appealed to him like Mae Ann. But he sure enough hadn’t told her in so many words.
He looked down at his feet and wiggled his toes in the soft comfort, recalling other aspects of their agreement. Something about sending her away if he wasn’t satisfied with her help. A groan rolled up from his chest and he let it out on the cool air.
He was a coward. That was all there was to it. He’d given his heart to Alexandra, and she’d tossed it aside as soon as a better option came along. Now he was afraid to make the same mistake again.
A second groan followed the first. Life had become more than just cows and grass and rustlers since Mae Ann came, but what if she wasn’t willing to return his affection?
Confound it all, he’d rather face a rattler bare-handed than be rejected by another woman.
But she’d brought his moccasins.
He plowed through his hair, digging deep for a clear thought as the sun slipped behind the mountains. If he didn’t tell her how he felt, he might lose his mind. And what good was a heart without a mind to follow it?
CHAPTER 13
The hail had beaten through a few old shingles on the barn, but they could wait until Cade knew all the stock was healthy. He rode out with his Winchester the next day to check on the horses, make sure none had spooked and broken a leg in a badger hole or been hit by lightning. He didn’t care to put one down, but he wouldn’t let an injured animal suffer either.
Deacon followed the fence lines out, starting with the north end. The storm had driven in from the northwest, but that wouldn’t keep MacGrath from claiming the herd busted through the fence and onto his land while one of his boys with an extra cinch ring ran brands on a few calves.
If it was MacGrath.
Cade couldn’t accuse him outright, not after what Deacon found at Reiker’s. But he hadn’t heard of any MacGrath cattle gone missing. Peculiar coincidence, since Cade had lost a dozen by his last count.
He topped a knoll and found the band of horses grazing in their meadow as if nothing had happened the night before. He leaned on his saddle horn and counted heads. Watched the herd’s movements, his eyes sharp for a limp or stumble. Satisfied they’d fared well in the storm, he turned toward home and circled around to the ponderosa.
It called to him of late, as if reminding him he needed to get his footing when it came to being part of a family. He pulled up near the crosses, but Blue’s low growl turned his attention to the ranch buildings below.
A horse and rider crossed the yard at a slow walk and pulled up by the garden where Mae Ann worked. She clearly didn’t hear the approach, for she stayed low, facing away from the dark horse and its heavy rider.
Blue growled again. His ears pricked toward the scene, his scruff stiff as a porcupine’s. Cade reacted in kind. His neck crawled and a growl rolled through his chest. The man who sat watching Mae Ann had no reason to ride onto Parker land. No peaceable reason.
Cade drew his rifle from the scabbard, turned Cricket down the hill, and skirted the barn. He’d not let the rider know he was coming. His kind needed no warning—only watching.
~
The softened earth let loose its hold, and Mae Ann pulled the weed with little effort. The chore was much easier after yesterday’s storm, but her boots much worse off. The mud stuck like plaster and caked up on the heels until the weight of them sent her to find a stick to scrape off the excess.
She squatted unladylike in the garden, not willing to touch her knees to the wet earth. Cade was trying to sneak up on her, and she probably shouldn’t let him catch her in this position. Her mother would have a fit to see her now, bless her soul. If only she could.
Cricket’s steps were slow, plodding heavily as he approached from behind. Did Cade really think she woul
dn’t hear him? She clapped off her gloved hands and turned as she stood, pleased to see him so early in the day—
The black-booted man stared down at her from atop a thick-chested horse. The longer he stared, the wider he grinned until he laughed and slapped his leg with an oath.
Mae Ann took a step back.
“If this ain’t my lucky day. We meet again, Widow Reiker. Or at least that’s what you’d like everyone to believe.”
She stiffened at the accusation.
Another bawdy laugh, and he pulled off his hat and swept it beside him in mock deference. “Surely you remember me from the mercantile. Sean MacGrath, at your service.” His black horse sidestepped at the gesture, and he jerked it back with a heavy hand.
Her blood chilled.
He looked over his shoulder, then stepped from his horse and dropped the reins to the ground. She reached for the shovel she’d left by the gate, but MacGrath grabbed it and lifted it to his side of the fence. She held his look, refusing to cower.
“Need some help there?” One long stride brought him through the gate.
Mae Ann stood fast. “What do you want?”
He moved closer, animal-like in his focus. As he raised his arm, Mae Ann braced for him to drive the shovel into the earth, but he stopped, then slowly offered it to her.
“Land,” he said in a slippery tone. “Land with water that shouldn’t be wasted.” His cold glare gripped her, and his voice dropped an octave. “Wasted on some sodbuster with a plow.”
He smelled of sweat and tobacco and clothes gone too long unwashed.
She took hold of the shovel, but he yanked it toward him, pulling her off balance.
A metallic click made them both go still.
“You’re not welcome here, MacGrath.” Cade’s deep-voiced threat rolled along the rifle barrel aimed squarely at the man’s chest.
Mae Ann’s knees quivered with relief. So focused on their rude visitor, she hadn’t heard Cade ride up.
Dropping the shovel, MacGrath snarled up at him. “I’ve got business with your woman, not you.”
“Get off my land.” The cold threat in Cade’s voice sent a shiver up her spine.
“That’s what I was tellin’ her.” MacGrath jutted his chin at her. “She’s got no right to the Reiker place. It ain’t hers.”
“It is mine.” She stepped forward, refusing to stand in the background while two men argued about what rightfully belonged to her. “I have Henry’s will to prove it.”
MacGrath turned slowly, a sneer curling his lip as he took her in from foot to face. “I hear that will names his widow as heir. And you were never married to him. Isn’t that right?”
A burning sensation swept through her middle, and her fingers curled into fists.
He pulled his head back and stuck out his chest. “But I’m a fair man, and I’ve come to offer you a fair price for that no-good piece o’ dirt.”
“If it’s no good, then why do you want it?”
MacGrath’s dark brows drew down at her challenge. “Take my offer, and I won’t contest the will. If it goes to auction, I’ll have it anyway, and at a lot less than I’m willing to give you now.” His black eyes bored into her as if he could force his desire upon her.
Her fingernails threatened to pierce the palms of her hands. “My farm is not for sale.”
“Leave.” Cade’s tone said much more than his words. “Now.”
MacGrath’s dark glare raked her one more time before he strode through the gate and swung into the saddle. The horse danced beneath him, ears pinned, head tucked, and he whirled it around with a cruel grip.
“We ain’t finished, Parker. Not by a far piece.”
Blue ran hard after MacGrath’s galloping black.
Cade sheathed his Winchester, jumped down, and charged through the gate. Grabbing Mae Ann by her arms, he looked into her quivering soul, his eyes deep and alarmed and full of something she didn’t recognize.
“Did he hurt you?”
The pain in his voice nearly broke her with its urgency. She shook her head. “No. He just frightened me.”
Cade crushed her against him, his strong arms binding her tighter than any vow they’d spoken. She welcomed his embrace and looped her arms about his waist. His heart beat wildly against her chest, and she tucked her forehead into his neck.
Pounding hooves broke them apart, but Cade kept one arm around her shoulders as Deacon dismounted before his horse came to a full stop. “You all right? I just seen MacGrath slappin’ leather outta here like the devil hisself was after him.”
Cade drew her closer, and she had no desire to put distance between them in spite of Deacon’s presence. “He’ll have more trouble than that if he comes back here with his threats.” The heat of his anger burned through his shirt and into Mae Ann’s hand braced against his side.
Deacon let out a breath, pulled off his hat, and dragged his sleeve across his forehead. “Threats, you say?” The old cowboy’s blue squint iced over.
“Reiker’s farm.” Cade tightened his hold, and the act warmed long-cold places in Mae Ann’s heart. “Turn Cricket out for me and then meet us in the kitchen. We need to talk.”
Reluctantly, Mae Ann stepped away from her husband. “I’ll make coffee. And I have a fresh batch of cookies.”
Cade gave her a look that said she’d not ride anywhere again on her own.
Mae Anne held her tongue and gathered her garden tools. MacGrath or no, she’d not kowtow to fear, but that was a conversation for another time. At the moment she relished the unfamiliar taste of being protected and held securely.
Maybe even wanted.
~
Mae Ann needed more than a good horse and a dog.
A few yards ahead of Cade, she marched into the house, no worse for wear or the tension he’d felt leave her body when he pulled her close. But he was worse. Much worse. He knew how well her soft warmth melded her against him as if she belonged in his arms.
He jerked his hat off and slapped his leg as if he could slap sense into his muddled brain. Yanking the back door open, he stopped short at the smell of coffee cutting through his fog, and hooked his hat on a peg.
Deacon came in the front, stashed the rifle on the rack, and pegged his hat. “Wish I’d gotten here sooner. It’d pleasure me some to pepper that thievin’ scoundrel’s hide.”
Cade shoved both hands through his hair and cut his foreman a look. “It’s worse than that.”
Mae Ann had three tin cups on the table and a plate of cookies in the center. She stood by the stove, her apron wadded around the coffeepot handle.
Cade stopped in front of her expecting to find tears tracing her cheeks but found none. He touched her jaw, tight and determined beneath his fingers. Her head tipped slightly toward his hand, and it was all he could do not to kiss her right there in front of Deacon and God and whoever else barged in.
A chair scraped louder than usual, and Cade reluctantly stepped away and took his seat at the head of the table. Mae Ann sat in her usual place to his left, and Deacon helped himself to a couple of cookies before passing them on.
Cade sipped his coffee and bit into a gingersnap. Under different circumstances, the combination would have tasted a whole lot better. He waited for Mae Ann to finish dabbing her mouth and look at him. When she did, her dark eyes were clear and confident. As glad as he was to have her with him, he wanted her out of harm’s way. If that meant sending her back to Missouri, then he’d do it, in spite of the hole it’d leave in his gut.
He’d not pried into her business over the will. Hadn’t asked to see it or even discussed it with her since she read it on his wagon seat the day they buried Henry. He’d just taken her word that Reiker left her the land.
His blood heated at the thought of who had seen it. His guess was Ward, before he’d given it to her. How else could MacGrath make such a claim?
The envelope had been sealed, but that didn’t mean the barber couldn’t reseal it. The one with the money was too t
hick to seal. Maybe he’d helped himself to some of that as well.
Cade slid his hand toward Mae Ann, palm up, and folded his fingers around hers as she accepted his offer without hesitation. She met his look straight-on.
“Is what MacGrath said true?”
She blinked. But just once.
“About the wording of the will?”
She slowly pulled her hand away and left the table, returning in a moment with the stained envelope. Flattening it against the table, she gave it a little push toward Cade as she sat down. “You may read it.”
It was important that he let her know he didn’t want to horn in on her private affairs. But if he was to help her, he needed to know what he was up against. He picked up the envelope, pulled out the paper, and handed it to her. “You read the pertinent part to us.”
She glanced at Deacon.
He scooted back. “I’ll just step outside, ma’am. This is between the two of you.”
“No.” Her left hand rose above the table as if to stop him. “Stay, please. I’ve no secrets where Henry is concerned.”
Which could mean she had secrets, just not about Henry. Suddenly, Cade wanted to know everything. Everything that had happened before they met in the bank that day. Everything that had driven her to answer a mail-order bride advertisement.
She unfolded the thin paper, the center discolored with Henry’s blood and one side filled with dark, blurred writing. Her lips moved as she read to herself, and then she stopped. She pulled a tight breath through her nose, and her chest rose. “To my beloved wife, Mae Ann Remington Reiker, I leave all my worldly goods, including the farm and buildings and livestock, to do with as she wishes.”
Her eyelids fluttered and she folded the letter and held it to the table as if it would fly away. When she looked up, tears shimmered. She loved Henry Reiker. Cade was a fool to think otherwise. His heart slammed to the floor.
“What did MacGrath say?” Deacon hid behind his coffee cup, his eyes flicking between the two of them.
Cade swallowed hard, shoving down all the things he wanted to say and forcing himself to focus on their neighbor to the north. “He said she’s not the legal heir. Since she never married Reiker, she doesn’t qualify as his widow and therefore shouldn’t get the land.”
An Improper Proposal Page 12
