But that someone would not be Sean MacGrath.
The man’s name set her teeth on edge. The thought of him walking into the run-down house that was to have been her home turned her stomach, and she imagined him gloating if he did so, rubbing it in like salt on a raw and tender wound.
Cade wanted the land and its valuable water source. He’d said as much right from the start. Perhaps he would buy it.
She loosed her hair and pulled it over her shoulder to brush, the repetitive act soothing her frantic thoughts. All she had to do was survive until Monday morning. She’d leave baked goods for Deacon. A pot of beans. A ham from the smokehouse to feed him until their return. Then she’d prepare as much as she could for the two of them before she left, though she could not ensure that the garden would not be abandoned once more to the weeds and snakes.
And the rose on the hill?
It would die like all her dreams, for she had no intention of telling Cade, or even Deacon, that it was there.
~
“We leave tomorrow morning after church.”
Cade’s announcement on Saturday evening shredded Mae Ann’s tenuous preparations and left her one day short on time. The trip was a good half-day’s ride from Olin Springs by wagon, he said. They’d take rooms at the hotel in Cedar City so they’d be rested to meet Judge Murphy on Monday morning.
Cade might rest, as well he needed it, but she would not sleep soundly until the ordeal was over.
Whether he had told Deacon his plans to put her on the train, she did not know, but the old cowboy seemed to sense that more than a reading of the will was at hand. She felt his sky-blue eyes following her Sunday morning as she checked and rechecked the food she’d prepared for him. Cade had given her his mother’s carpetbag, and after she’d packed her few necessities, Deacon took it to the buckboard.
He did not say good-bye, but strode to the barn in his uneven gait, where he stopped just inside the door. As they drove out of the yard, Mae Ann turned and raised her hand. He nodded and tipped the brim of his battered hat with a finger, nearly tipping her tears over the edge.
Cade insisted upon driving, also claiming that the mare was a one-handed horse that posed no threat. Mae Ann could not argue, so sore she was from wrestling with her emotions. She needed what little strength she had left for enduring the church service, the ride to Cedar City, and an appearance before Judge Murphy. She had nothing to spare for contending with Cade over his bullheaded refusal of her help.
In fact, she had nothing to spare at all, and the blue satin reticule hung empty from her wrist save for Henry’s will and a few coins.
Perhaps this was all for the best. Life with a stubborn rancher might prove to be one argument after another, though up to this point she had enjoyed their banter and his ill-disguised humor. She darted a glance at his stoic form beside her, dark and mysterious with his shadowed face. The beard changed his appearance, deepened his eyes, and hid his sturdy jaw. Did he grow one against Colorado’s winter storms?
A small sigh slipped away. She would never know. Nor would she see the first snowfall, watch Blue and Cougar romp and play through the drifts, or serve hot meals to two hardworking cowboys after hard days in the cold. She’d miss the roundup, spring calving, her new friend, Travine Price, and riding in the evenings with Cade. Shooting old tins off the dead cottonwood, and his arms around her even if just for a moment.
How full her life had become in little more than two months, and how empty it seemed now as she jostled on the wagon bench like a doll bereft of its stuffing. She smoothed her brown velvet skirt, the same one she’d worn the day she arrived, much too warm now beneath a July sun, even in the morning. But it was the best she had for traveling and for church.
The irony stung. Church and Pastor Bittman figured as prominently in her departure as they had in her arrival, but Millie Bittman’s beaming face over the bundle clutched to her breast that morning assuaged the nettle somewhat.
After the service, folks lingered around the church door, visiting with the parson and one another, and Mae Ann sought out Millie. She touched a gloved finger to the babe’s plump and bonneted cheek as a fine barb hooked her heart. “She is precious.”
“Would you like to hold her?” Millie pressed the infant into her arms before Mae Ann could refuse the blanket-wrapped miracle.
Always a miracle, a baby. She shushed the longing that shifted in her middle at the rosebud lips and delicate lashes. The transfer woke the tiny girl, and gray eyes blinked up into her own with wonder. Mae Ann thought her heart would break.
“She’s perfect, Millie. You must be so proud.” Carefully, she returned the babe to its mother.
“I daresay, not as proud as her father.” Millie blushed becomingly and rocked the babe in her arms, making little cooing sounds.
A hand at Mae Ann’s elbow drew her from her yearning. “We need to be on our way if we want to make Cedar City before dark.”
Cade’s declaration raised Millie’s brows with a question just as the parson stepped up to join their small group.
“Surely you’ll stay for dinner. What takes you to Cedar City on such a glorious summer day that can’t wait until after a solid meal?” The parson’s openly honest expression made Mae Ann want to pour out all her heart’s pain and passion, but she pressed her lips together to wait for Cade’s explanation.
His deep voice seeped into her skin, increasing her sorrow. “We’ve business there with the judge over Reiker’s farm. Should be back tomorrow. Or the next day.” He shook the parson’s hand and tipped his hat to Millie, both of them accepting his vague explanation. “A good afternoon to you.”
He handed Mae Ann up to the seat, and while he circled around to the other side, she lifted a handled basket from the wagon bed and set it on the floor at her feet. They didn’t have time to eat at the café, Cade had said. Perhaps it was so. Or maybe he did not want to be seen with a wife he had no intention of keeping.
When they passed the east edge of town—the edge she’d seen only from the train’s smudged window two months before, she handed him a sandwich of ham and bread. Pickles would improve the fare, but she had none.
He took it with a somber look that caused her stomach to do all sorts of things it shouldn’t. Instead of fixing her own stacked bread and meat, she drew out two Mason jars of lemonade, removed the lids and set one beside Cade against the bench back. Looking out over the grasslands and dwindling houses, she sipped the tart mixture, hardly noticing the sugar she had added.
Nothing could sweeten this journey for her. For she would not ask Cade Parker a second time if he wanted a wife.
~
If the gray didn’t spook or misstep, Cade could manage. He’d draped the ribbons loosely over the fingers of his right hand, accepted the sandwich Mae Ann offered, and finished it in three bites. It lay in his stomach like a stone.
She hadn’t said a word since they left the church house, just handed him his food and set a jar of lemonade against the bench back. A bullwhip wouldn’t crack the tension between them, and the twenty miles to Cedar City might as well be two hundred.
Straight she sat, that ramrod spine of hers in proper place and her pretty face taking the brunt of the midday sun. Her hat was as handy as a leash on a bobcat. He knew she hadn’t brought the one he gave her, for he’d grabbed it off the hook on his way out the door.
“Take the reins.”
She looked at him as if he’d told her to jump out.
He laid them in her hand and reached under the seat. “You’ll be as crisp as fried bacon by the time we reach Cedar City if you don’t wear a real hat.”
She hesitated, then took his offering and pulled the pin from the thing on her head. “Thank you.”
The gray plodded ahead, her ears flicking back at their voices.
“You have the will?” His question garnered an offended scowl.
Her chin rose. “Isn’t that the purpose of this trip?”
He swallowed a snort. Her clippe
d words could roach the mare’s mane and shave his whiskers all at once. Draping the reins again over his right hand, he scratched his cheek. Too hot for a beard. Even a short one. And too hot for a sharp tongue. She should thank him for taking her all the way to Cedar City to see Judge Murphy. He picked up the jar of lemonade and downed half of it.
On second thought, he should thank her for packing them a meal. And making the ranch house feel like home again, and all the other things she’d done since her business proposal. Hang fire, if it weren’t for MacGrath, he’d get down on one knee and offer her his mother’s wedding band. Do it right, take her someplace fancy to celebrate and—
He coughed the idea from his head and shot iron pickets through his shoulder. Blasted bad time to be half laid up and out of commission.
She glanced at him, concern stitching her brow.
“I’m fine,” he said to her silent question.
She huffed. No wonder Deacon tolerated her. More than tolerated her, the old coot. She didn’t cut either one of them any slack, and that was exactly what they needed, whether he cared to admit it or not.
By the time they dropped down into the valley where Cedar City draped itself across the river, the sun’s heavy heat had let up some as it slid toward the mountains. Shirt stuck to his back and smelling like a goat, he pulled up at the Stratford House Hotel and looped the reins around the brake handle. Before he could get around to Mae Ann, she’d shed her hat, climbed down, and took the carpet bag from the bed. He grabbed his valise. At least she accepted his arm as they walked into the hotel lobby.
“Two rooms, please,” he told the desk clerk, who eyed them with open condescension.
Mae Ann coughed politely. Cade repeated the request.
“I take it you’re here for the Founders’ Day festivities.” The clerk pushed his spectacles higher on his nose.
“No, we are not.” Cade set down his valise and reached into his vest pocket, dislodging Mae Ann’s fingers from his arm, which left an unpleasant emptiness in their absence. He laid two coins on the counter. “We’ll need the rooms tonight and possibly tomorrow night. I’ll know for certain tomorrow, but I’ll leave this on deposit.”
The clerk slid the guest registry across the counter with a fancy fountain pen, then turned to his honeycombed key boxes. Cade picked up the pen with his left hand and looked at Mae Ann. She took it from him and signed their names.
The clerk swiveled the book around, then glanced up. “Mr. and Mrs. Cade Parker.” He closed the registry with a smug arch of his brows. “I am glad to see you are matrimoniously joined, for we have only one room available.” He offered the key.
Cade was pretty sure matrimoniously was not a word. He took the key. “You’re certain.”
The clerk smiled, but it wasn’t a friendly look. “I am absolutely certain. You are fortunate to find a room at all with the Founders’ Day celebration in full swing. Marital spats aside, your room is the last on the third floor, to the left. Opposite end from the bathing room.”
Cade leaned toward the man.
Mae Ann’s fingers linked his elbow like a chain and tugged as she addressed the clerk. “Thank you so much. A bath sounds lovely after a long day’s journey.”
It was only the idea of a bath that kept Cade from wiping the smirk off the man’s face and landing both himself and Mae Ann on the street.
“You’ll find the lift on your right at the base of the stairs.”
Lift? He’d like to lift that snooty gent out of his knickers and leave him hanging on a coat peg.
Mae Ann pressed close and whispered, “I’d prefer the stairs, if you don’t mind.”
He sliced the clerk a warning glare and headed for the broad staircase with polished banister and finials. Mae Ann lifted her skirt and ascended ahead of him. He pinned his eyes to the carpet-covered steps. He had other matters to deal with, and considering their predicament, watching the gentle sway of her hips would only make those matters worse. On him.
At the end of the third-floor hallway, he inserted the key, pushed the door open, and stepped aside for Mae Ann to enter.
She let out a gentle, “Oh.”
A four-poster bed dominated the room, and a window with lace curtains allowed the faded day a final glance inside. Mae Ann moved from dressing table to chest of drawers to curtains, running her fingers across each item as if testing its reality.
Cade locked on the settee, half his length and covered in gold brocade, where he’d spend a painful night. Mae Ann turned, and he caught her reflection in the dressing table mirror. Her eyes held his, and color filled her cheeks.
He cleared his throat and hung his hat on a coat tree near the settee. “I’ll sleep here, if you don’t mind.”
“I most certainly do mind.” She set her bag on a padded bench at the end of the bed and crossed her arms.
He turned away and growled out his frustration. A chair in that fancy parlor they passed downstairs would serve his needs. After the clerk retired.
“You will take the bed.”
She could not have said anything that surprised him more. He dropped his valise and matched her stance, brace for brace.
“I know this arrangement is against your wishes, but we are legally man and wife.” Her hands began to flutter dismissively in the general direction of the gold brocade. “I will not have you, in your condition, folding yourself like a paper fan onto that—that ridiculous settee.”
In his condition? He’d been in worse straits, and his good hand fisted in preparation for telling her just what he thought of her appraisal. But her high color and mother-hen demeanor conjured a chuckle and he bit it back. “Just what do you propose, madam? That you curl up on that spindly legged, oversized chair? No woman under my protection will spend the night rolled up like a slicker on a saddle.”
She blinked, and he knew he had her. Then she glanced at the bed and blushed even deeper, a most becoming color that matched the spread. He suddenly feared she had him.
“It is only one night. Perhaps two. I believe we could rest civilly with cushions and such between us. Perhaps our bags as well.”
Her proposal sucked the wind from his chest and, for a moment, robbed him of his ability to speak. She was right, but he would not have suggested such an arrangement. He cleared his throat and tugged on his sling. “Very well. I will take this side, closer to the door. Should I need to …”
Her brow arched. “Defend my honor?”
She tilted her head in an irritatingly appealing way and pushed at the hair once piled on top. Most of it hung loose after changing hats. “I would like to freshen up before supper.”
“I’ll take the horse and wagon to the livery and meet you in the dining room in an hour.” Leaving his valise behind, he marched out the door, weighing the benefits of sleeping in a stall.
CHAPTER 20
Mae Ann leaned against the closed door of the bathing room, her fingers pressed beneath her jaw where her pulse hammered. Cold water—that was what she needed. A great deal of cold water.
She undressed down to her chemise and drawers, grateful to be rid of her corset after the long drive. She rolled her stockings off, delighting in the cold wooden planks beneath her bare feet. A glorious copper tub sat against the wall with spigots for both hot and cold water. Such luxury she’d seen only once in St. Louis when running an errand for her mother. The rolled edge was firm and cool beneath her hand.
She placed the stopper in the tub and turned the matching copper spigots. As the tub filled, she shook out her nicest dress, creased from the day’s journey but cooler than her suit and much cleaner. With a clothes brush she’d tucked into the bag at the last minute, she brushed her heavy skirt and jacket, ridding them of the colorless road dust that clung to the fabric like frost on an iron handrail.
Satisfied that the tepid water was not warm enough to put her to sleep, she shed her remaining garments and slid into its cool embrace, stopping at the nape of her neck. It would not do to attend supper in public wi
th wet hair.
Cade was determined to send her away, in spite of her care of him. In spite of everything. Clearly, he wanted out of their business arrangement, and claiming he was worried about her safety was his excuse. So be it. At least he’d invited her to dinner. They had never dined openly together other than at their own table. His table, rather.
Determined not to be late, she released the water and quickly dressed, refreshed with the soaking.
An elegant cheval mirror in one corner allowed her to do up her hair, and she clustered a few curling strands at one side. She pinched her cheeks and bit her lower lip, pleased with the overall effect, plain blue twill and all. Not that Cade would care. But she cared, and wanted to look her very best on what could possibly be their last—and only—outing together.
She knocked lightly at their room and, hearing no answer, slowly opened the door to peek inside. Cade’s hat hung on the coat tree, but he was gone, not fallen exhausted across the bed as she’d half expected. A hint of tonic lingered in the room, and she checked the washbasin to find it filled and a used towel draped over the attached dowel. The room key lay on the dressing table, and she locked the door on her way out and dropped the key into her reticule.
He sat with his back to the far wall, watching the dining room’s entrance. When she paused at the threshold, he rose and made his way to her, reminding her how handsome he was in spite of his shadowed jawline. Her heart raced up to perch in her throat as he greeted her pleasantly and offered his left arm.
“You look lovely.” Though harnessed in his sling, the fingers of his right hand covered hers the way they had on their wedding day. Such memories and his current considerations chafed her already tender emotions.
“Thank you.” Accepting his gentlemanly offer to assist her with her chair, she detected the woodsy tonic as he leaned close to scoot her nearer the table. He wore a clean shirt, and a string tie supplanted the ever-present silk neckerchief. Refusing to feel dowdy in her simple cotton frock, she straightened her posture and sipped the water that awaited her.
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