“And to think all that happened here on Shady Oaks Ranch.”
“What?” Her final statement crept into his thoughts, and he glanced overhead at the wooden arch bearing the ranch name that spanned over the dirt path. “All those events occurred on Hawksen’s land?” Bare-branched trees edged both sides of the lane.
“At the time of those events, Kell had just hired on as a cowhand. But through the drama and by working together during the danger, he fell in love with the widow who owned the ranch.” With a subtle shifting of the reins, she guided the horses through a wide bend in the drive to the left. “Now he’s sheriff of Dorado and manages this ranch of I don’t know how many acres with several cowhands living in the bunkhouse, where he used to be. The foreman and his wife live in that house there.” She pointed toward a small white-washed building between the main house and the barn.
The Kell Hawksen Dylan remembered was a quiet man who kept to himself but possessed a steady gun hand and could be counted on to have a man’s back when tracking down criminals. The picture Maisie painted of the man serving as sheriff fit Dylan’s recollection. But the role of successful rancher didn’t sound like the same man. As he glanced at the orchards that bordered the path, he noted healthy fruit trees, although the bare branches provided no clue as to what type they were.
Maisie steered the wagon toward the sprawling oak standing in front of the two-story house with a wide porch and positioned the wagon in the shade. “Whoa.” She leaned back, pulling taut the reins before tying them off and setting the brake.
Dylan noticed a couple of men loitering in the barn’s open door—probably curious about the visitors. Turning his gaze toward the house, he spotted movement in the shadows of the side porch. He leaned forward, resting elbows on his knees.
A familiar form, tall and broad, walked in long strides to the front steps, a wide-brimmed hat shading his face.
What didn’t fit Dylan’s memory of the tough Texas Ranger was the squirming baby cradled in his muscled arms. Hawksen was a family man? As he levered himself down from the chair, Dylan felt like the wind had been knocked from his body.
“Good morning, Mister Hawksen.” Maisie waved and then climbed down. Stretching an arm over the wagon’s side, she gathered the portfolio before bounding up the wooden stairs, her boots making hollow sounds. She stopped next to the tall man and leaned close to the yellow blanket. A smile bloomed. “Ah, look how big sweet Maeve is getting.”
“Morning, Maisie. Good to see you.” He tapped a finger against the brim of his hat. “Bet you’d like to hold the baby.”
She held up the leather portfolio. “Take this, and I’d love to.”
Dylan watched the exchange and noticed how Maisie scooped up the baby like she’d done it many times before. Hating to look feeble in front of an ex-Ranger buddy, Dylan scooted to the end of the wagon and then eased himself to a stand. The ache in his ankle was only a faint throb. He grabbed the crutch from the wagon bed and stuck it beneath his left arm.
“Well, Dylan MacInnes, you’re a welcome sight after all this time.” Flashing a brief smile, Kell thrust his hand forward and gave a hearty shake. “I had no idea you’d settled in this part of Texas. What business brings you to our humble place?”
“The number one business in Texas—cattle. I’m up from south Texas.” Dylan leaned on the crutch so he could enfold the handshake with his other hand. Seeing his old friend felt good, reminding him of the months they’d spent riding the width and breadth of the state during the Indian campaigns. Hearing his old friend was now such a prosperous rancher made him happy. “Looks like you landed on your feet after the Rangers were disbanded.”
A grin lit up Kell’s face and crinkled the skin at the corners of his eyes. “That I did. And as my wife says, with a wee bit of the luck of the Irish. Come inside and meet her.” He clapped a hand on Dylan’s shoulder and let out a laugh. “Vevina is about to ring the dinner bell. Your timing always was spot on, MacInnes.”
More than for a meal, Dylan hoped his timing was right for the important proposal he’d soon make.
Chapter Five
“Mrs. Hawksen, I have to compliment you on the tasty shepherd’s pie.” Dylan had eaten two helpings of the rich savory stew topped with mashed potatoes. He glanced at the woman with reddish-blonde hair who seemed to always wear a smile. “That’s a favorite dish from my childhood, and I have missed it since then.” He rubbed a hand over his full stomach.
Smiling, Vevina shook her head and waved a dismissive hand. “Me housekeeper, Myrna, deserves yer compliment. I just chop and stir as she tells me.”
“Go on with ye. She’s learning just fine.” The older woman with black curly hair gave her employer a smile as she stood. She collected her husband’s plate and stacked it on hers. “Everyone ready for dried apple pie and coffee?”
The two young boys scampered into an adjoining room, tossing a ball between them.
Maisie reached for the dishes closest to her seat. “Let me help clear, Missus MacElroy. I need to move a bit after that wonderful meal.”
Dylan watched a couple of the cowhands followed Maisie’s progress around the table with avid gazes. He also noticed she had a smile or a whispered comment for each one she passed. Jealousy grabbed him in the throat, and he jerked, knocking his foot against a table leg. Pain shot through his ankle, and he couldn’t stifle a groan.
“Oh.” Wide-eyed, Maisie rushed to his side. “Dylan, do you need some willow bark tea? I asked Mother to prepare a batch before we left. It’s outside in the wagon.”
Conversations around the table hushed, and everyone’s attention focused their way.
His arm heated under her touch. Out of the corner of his eye, Dylan caught raised eyebrows and exchanged glances between Kell and Vevina. Probably at her familiar use of his given name. Wouldn’t do to start rumors. He was in this small town for only a few more days. Although that prospect didn’t hold the same excitement as it had a week ago. Once he signed enough of the ranchers to make a large drive to St. Louis, he’d head to Alba Ranch. “I could use a dose right about now. Thank you, Ma—uh, Miss Maisie.”
“I’ll be right back.” She hurried to the coat rack and grabbed her jacket then dashed out the side door.
“What a helpful person she’s being.” Vevina bounced little Maeve in her lap, but her somber gaze narrowed in Dylan’s direction.
“As well she should.” Dylan darted a glance around a table full of curious gazes, some friendlier than others. “There’s a funny story behind her actions.”
“Do tell.” Kell leaned back in his chair and folded both hands over his stomach. “We’re all mighty fond of Maisie…and her sisters.”
“She’s the cause of my sprained ankle. You all must have observed how impulsive and quick she can be. Which sometimes turn dangerous.” He waved a hand toward the door then let it drop to the table. “Several days ago, she ran into the livery just as I was dismounting. Cynbal spooked, and my foot got hung up and twisted in the stirrup.” He leaned forward and swept his gaze around the collection of impassive expressions, searching for the smallest smidgen of understanding. “I’ve been hoping to teach her a lesson by having her fetch me what I need and reading to me to while away the boring afternoons.” As he heard the explanation of his retribution aloud, he recognized how mean-spirited and selfish, instead of instructive, his plan sounded. An uneasy knot settled in his stomach.
The kitchen door closed with a slam and rattled the windows.
He jerked his head toward the sound and spotted Maisie standing just inside the door. Her stricken expression sucked at his conscience. In that moment, he realized how much he’d enjoyed their shared times and having her good opinion. Aw, hell.
****
Hurt cramped Maisie’s throat. Right now, she couldn’t meet anyone’s gaze. Refusing to reveal her true feelings, Maisie held her head high and walked to the stove where Missus MacElroy tended the speckled coffee pot. “Where would I find a spare cup for Mis
ter MacInnes’ tea?”
The older woman leaned close and winked. “I say forget heating it and let the man drink straight from the jar—cold.”
Buoyed by the feminine camaraderie, she fought back a smile. “Mother would say manners should occupy the high ground in this situation.”
Vevina appeared at the other side of the stove, her blue eyes flashing. “What are ye conspiring, Maisie Treadwell?” She smiled and arched a reddish eyebrow. “Adding a pinch of cayenne pepper, or be it a dash of hemlock?”
“Straight willow bark tea.” Unable to resist, she flashed a returning smile. “I just need a pan for a quick heating and then a cup.” On a couple of occasions, she’d chatted with Clari Rochester at the general store who’d shared stories about her afternoons at Shady Oaks and the wonderful congenial atmosphere of the people who’d formed the Hawksen’s own extended family. This conspiratorial interaction must be what her friend meant.
During the meal she’d been so interested in the stories revealed by the ex-Rangers that she hadn’t really spoken to the others until she cleared the table. After accepting a pan from Missus MacElroy and pouring the liquid from the jar, Maisie scooted to the side of the stove and glanced at those still seated. The one at the far end with the vivid blue eyes and his left hand in his lap must be Clari’s beau, Trevor. Jake she recognized from a couple of times at the mercantile when they’d exchanged short conversations. The outgoing cowhand was always ready with a compliment and a wide smile. Tully, Hank, and Curly were ranch hands she’d known for years.
Tendrils of steam rose from the pan, and she poured a serving into the ceramic mug Vevina provided.
“Let me deliver this to the men in the front room.” Vevina arranged mugs onto a wooden tray on the counter. Then she jerked her head toward the dining table. “Maeve is nodding off in Tully’s lap. Would ye changing her nappy and tuck her in for a nap? Through the far doorway and turn right.”
“I don’t mind at all.” Maisie moved to the table, bent to lift the sleepy baby into her arms, and followed Vevina’s directions. Over the years, an occasional family staying at the boarding house had provided opportunities for child tending. Minutes later, Maisie felt Maeve’s body sag as the child relaxed into deep sleep. Too busy with feeling hemmed in by her constricted life, Maisie had never fully appreciated the value of her own family. Of course, she didn’t remember holding Lydia as a baby, but she must have. Mothers always seemed to be in need of an extra pair of hands. She nestled her nose into Maeve’s chubby neck and inhaled the sweetness of the baby’s skin and talcum powder. Joy warmed her heart, and she moved the baby into the cradle of her left arm so she could watch her sleep.
“Quite a beauty is me wee one.” Vevina leaned against the doorjamb, smiling. “Yer man says ye should be heading back soon.”
Shaking her head, Maisie stiffened. “Mister MacInnes is not my man.” What a thought!
“Iffen ye say so.” Vevina walked close, eased her daughter into her arms, and leaned close to nuzzle the baby’s neck. “Sweet dreams, me littlest love.” She laid the baby into a wooden cradle positioned next to the bed and set it gliding forward and back several inches.
The women walked from the room, and Vevina pulled the door almost closed.
When they reached the dining room, Maisie turned to the older woman. “I’ve never seen a cradle like that.”
“Kell drew the design, and Latham Ashby built it for our boy Davin just a month or so before the dear man passed.” Brows draw into a wrinkled frown, she made the sign of the cross over the front of her body. “Blessings on that sweet man’s spirit. He was such a lovely old soul.”
“I was by the widow’s place this morning, dropping off an injured bobcat kitten.” Maisie knew the Hawksens were the widow’s closest neighbors. Sharing news about the health and wellbeing, or illness when it struck, of the town’s residents was what built community. “I worry about her living alone.” She let out a sigh and busied herself with tucking her blouse tighter into her skirt waistband. “On occasion, the widow has let me assist her with the animals. Sometimes, I believe that will be my lot in life.”
“Surely, ye jest. Yer whole life lies ahead of ye.” Vevina rested her hands on Maisie’s shoulders and gave a little shake. “Between Kell and the rest of the hands, someone checks on Edda weekly and keeps her woodpile high. That’s all she’ll let anyone do on her behalf.”
A deep throat clearing sounded.
Maisie turned and saw that Dylan waited at the edge of the kitchen and studied her face. Instantly, warmth flooded her cheeks, and she couldn’t hold his gaze. How could she have been so naïve to think they were building a special friendship when he only wanted her close to teach her a lesson? A circumstance that proved Maisie understood not a single thing about men. She probably was better off continuing her tomboyish habits. After the drive home, which would now seem twice longer, she vowed not to spend another minute alone with that horrible Mister Dylan MacInnes.
A week later, Maisie regretted her vow to remain standoffish and yearned for just an hour spent in the man’s company. Since the outing to Shady Oaks Ranch, she’d been shunted aside. For two days, Penn drove Dylan to outlying ranches, telling her he was in search of a new stallion. True he’d earlier mentioned he wanted to breed the family’s two mares, but the timing seemed much too convenient. Then for the next five days, Dylan had ridden out early in the morning alone and not returned until close to supper time.
Mother assigned Lydia to clean his room, and Ivey fluttered about the dark-haired man at mealtimes, practically ignoring their other regular boarders.
Afterwards, he excused himself and disappeared into his room for the entire evening.
One morning, she volunteered to go to the general store for supplies. Normally, shopping was not her favorite activity. But she had a secondary reason. Biding her time, she wandered the aisles, idly picking up an item then returning it to the shelf. As soon as she saw Clari was free, Maisie pulled her aside. “I need advice.”
Clari crinkled her nose and held out her hand. “Let me see your mother’s list.”
“Not about dry goods, about”—she glanced around to be sure no other shoppers were close enough to overhear—“men.” At the single word, she couldn’t stop heat from invading her cheeks. Should she be branded a fool for worrying over a man who now ignored her?
“Men in general, or a special one?” Resting a hand on the counter, Clari leaned forward. “Because depending on what you’re asking, my answer could be very different.”
Irritation fueled her movements as Maisie paced up and down the aisle between the bushels of potatoes, sacks of onions, and crates of root vegetables. Then she stopped and glanced all around. What a crazy place for a sincere and truthful conversation about love! Blood pounded in her ears. She stopped and lifted a hand to cover her gaping mouth. Do I love Dylan? Really and truly? She lowered her hand. “When did you know your true feelings for Trevor?”
Clari’s brown eyes widened. “Your question is about me?” She pressed a hand to her chest and tilted her head. “Lots of things about Trevor and I just added up to love.”
Maisie stamped her foot. “That answer is too vague and not helpful. Was it when he handed you up into a wagon?” An incident that never occurred, because Dylan struggled to get himself into a wagon, let alone help her. “Or when he conspired to monopolize your afternoons as payback for an injury?” As soon as she spoke, she paused. But she’d come to truly enjoy those hours spent lost together in an adventure story. “Maybe you knew when he kept your misdeeds secret to save you from a stern lecture. Or when he arranged to have you act as his driver so you two could spend time alone.”
Crossing arms over her slender body, Clari wrinkled her brow and shook her head, bouncing her brownish-red curls. “No, that’s not how things happened.”
Of course, none of those incidents happened to Clari. They happened to me. The rush of blood pulsed in Maisie’s ears. She swallowed hard.
&nb
sp; “Trevor is quiet but protective, and that’s the quality that I first noticed and admired.” Clari’s gaze took on a dreamy quality as she stared through the front window, and her hands clasped under her chin. “I witnessed him rescuing a small child from being knocked down by a wagon. I think admiration has to come first before love.” She dropped her hands and sighed.
Maisie had to disagree. Confrontation could come first. A test of each other’s mettle to gauge if the people were well matched. Maisie could never love a man who didn’t understand and accept her wild streak. But what did this fact mean? “I just realized I care for a man who no longer wants to be near me. Clari, tell me what to do.”
“I don’t think that’s true. If he made those arrangements to spend time together, he must have an interest in you, Maisie.” Smiling, she rested a slim hand on the counter. “The townspeople have been looking forward to this event for weeks. Everyone will be at the Valentine’s Dance on Saturday night. Including lots of single cowboys looking for dance partners.” Clari grabbed her friend’s hands and squeezed. “You should come here right after supper. We’ll fix each other’s hair and get dressed together. No matter if Mister MacInnes attends, you can still socialize and do a bit of dancing. Say you’ll come, because we’ll have fun.” Eyebrows raised, she nodded. “Everyone needs fun.”
So, she hadn’t been too secretive about which man she’d meant. Maisie looked into Clari’s brown eyes that glowed like warm cocoa and nodded. Maybe Clari was right. She might have made a wrong choice of beau, but the time she’d spent with Dylan would always be a treasured, albeit bittersweet, memory.
Chapter Six
My Heart Knew (Dorado, Texas Book 3) Page 4
