“Yes. I used the wheelbarrow and lugged the whole mess out to the manure pile. Managed to ruin my boots. I’ll probably end up buying another pair.”
Her shrug was uncaring. “You’ll learn how to clean them if you stick around long enough. I manage to get by with one pair.”
“You wear house shoes,” he reminded her. “Your boots stay on the porch for the most part.”
“I’d say it was a good place for yours, too.” She turned from him, lifting her dish towel to wipe at a spotless pane of glass in her kitchen cabinet, then concentrated on watching her fingers as they traced the wooden framework.
“By the way, I’m sticking around,” he said, catching her attention. “I haven’t given up on changing your mind.” His hesitation was long and then he spoke again. “Will you go to town with me, Faith?” he asked quietly. “I think we need to send off the papers you signed, and I’d like to buy you some things at the general store.”
Her breath snagged in her throat at the thought of appearing in Benning with Max at her side. “What sort of things?” she asked.
“Turn around and look at me.”
She did as he commanded, leaning back on the cabinet. “All right. I’m looking.”
“Do you need to make everything so difficult?” he asked quietly. “Can we just be…pleasant to each other for one day?”
“Does being pleasant involve you spending money on me? For things I can do very nicely without?”
“I want to buy you new dresses. Nothing fancy,” he amended quickly as she opened her mouth to deny her need for such things. “Just simple cotton. Bright colors, maybe, and I’ll almost guarantee any undergarments you brought with you have long since worn out. You can choose new ones, and maybe a nightgown. Or whatever you might need,” he added quickly.
“Why?” she asked, shoving her trembling fingers into her apron pockets. “What’s the purpose of spending money on me? To put me in your debt? Maybe make me look at you differently?”
“Maybe,” he said slowly, “because I want to. Because it would give me pleasure to buy you something to show off your pretty face and form a bit more than that dress you’re wearing is capable of doing. And because I feel more than a little guilty that you haven’t had anything new, while I have a closetful of suits in Boston.”
“You want to show off my—” She halted, pressing her lips together. “I don’t need fancy things here,” she said. He’d never been so forthright in his assessment of her charms before, and the thought of how much more delicate and fragile she’d been in those early years made her smile.
“I’m not nearly as attractive as I once was,” she told him. “Or else your vision has deteriorated in your old age.”
At that he winced, then grinned. “Ah, you’ve no idea how lovely you are, Faith. You’re a mature woman now, whereas you were only a girl when I married you. I find myself leaning toward maturity, I think.”
“Well, that’s nice,” she said, at a loss for words. She sought his dark eyes, trying without success to fathom their depths. And then she shrugged. “I expect you can spend your money on me if you like. My wardrobe is sparse enough that it could use a few additions.”
His smile was immediate, and she thought he looked more than a little triumphant as he swallowed a good bit of his coffee. “Would you like to go today?” he asked.
“Why not?” she replied. “I need to carry a load of eggs to the general store, anyway. Yesterday was my usual day to deliver them and pick up my mail.”
“Half an hour?” he asked, rising and heading for the room he’d slept in. “I just need to wash up and change my clothes.” His fingers scrubbed at his jaw. “And shave, too, I suspect.”
“Half an hour,” she agreed.
The eggs were secured in a burlap sack, each wrapped in a bit of newspaper and layered between inches of straw. It was a good method of transporting them, she’d found through trial and error. The same way she’d discovered other ways of surviving.
Faith saved all her newspapers for this purpose, after reading and rereading the printed pages. It was her one luxury, the mailing of a weekly edition from the nearest large city. As she fetched them and began wrapping her precious eggs, Max watched for a moment, then started to tear the newsprint into pieces appropriate for her use. “One sack full?” he asked as she tied the first burlap bag in a loose knot.
“No, I only fill the bags halfway, so the eggs on the bottom don’t break from the weight,” she said, reaching for a second bag from the pantry shelf. “One on each side of my saddle, behind me. I could use the wagon and team, I suppose. In fact, I do, when I’m in need of bulkier supplies.”
She looked up at him. “The truth is, I enjoy riding my mare. I don’t usually have much of a schedule to keep. I’ve learned to appreciate the view, Max.”
“As I’m doing, even now,” he said, sliding a quick glance her way.
She laughed, deciding to appreciate his humor and the dry wit she’d almost forgotten he was capable of. “You were fun to be with,” she said, her thoughts making themselves known before her better sense prevailed.
“Thank you,” he replied. “I enjoyed your company, too. In fact, I was probably one of the proudest men in Boston when I escorted you from home.”
“Were you?” She heard the note of surprise she could not conceal.
“You didn’t realize how much of an asset you were to me?”
She thought about that for a moment, her hands slowing in the methodical task of egg wrapping and securing. A layer of straw came next, and she lifted it from the supply she’d sent him for, a washtub filled with the yellow, rough, scratchy residue from thrashing the wheat, donated for her use by the neighbor to the east.
“I don’t suppose I ever considered myself an asset to you, just a decoration for your arm, and a partner when you chose to dance with me.” And then she thought of the nights when their return from an evening in company usually ended with him visiting her bedroom. “Did I seem more appealing to you when I was dressed in my finest?”
“You’ve never been more appealing to me than you are at this very moment,” he said, his hands touching hers as they spread straw in the confined depths of the burlap sack. The straw fell to the bottom, covering the layer of eggs, and their fingers entwined, his gripping hers with a gentle strength she did not attempt to escape.
She was speechless, feeling pursued by a man intent on seduction, and yet willing to allow it. There was an inner sense of satisfaction that permitted him this moment of intimacy, as small as it might be.
For just this moment, she felt exceedingly feminine, wonderfully desirable and just a bit breathless as she knew the warmth of a man’s hands clasping hers, and recognized the desire gleaming in his eyes.
Chapter Four
“Didn’t know Miss Faith had a husband,” Mr. Metcalf said, lifting an eyebrow as Max introduced himself upon arrival at the general store.
“I’ve been back East,” Max told him. “Business has made it impossible for me to be a part of my wife’s life for the past little while,” he added casually, slanting a glance in Faith’s direction as he answered the storekeeper’s pointed remark.
Mr. Metcalf nodded, apparently swallowing the ambiguous theory for Max’s sudden appearance at Faith’s side this morning. She’d liked to have kicked Max in the shins for his arrogance, and then smacked Mr. Metcalf a good one for his gullible acceptance of the explanation.
Instead, she bit her tongue and decided to hustle Max from the place before he caused any more speculation among the townsfolk. It would be hard enough to explain away his disappearance once he gave up on her and headed back to Boston. There was no point in folks thinking he was going to be a permanent fixture in her life.
Tucking her precious newspaper beneath her arm, she approached the counter where Max waited. Her mail was generally pretty scanty, and today was no different, only the delivery of the Sunday issue of the Dallas paper. Subscribing was a luxury she could barely affor
d, but the news it offered fed her need to keep up with the world outside of Benning, Texas.
Max looked impatient now, and well he might, since Mr. Metcalf, apparently accepting his presence, was bending his ear with a tale about a customer who had refused to pay his long-standing bill. “Yessir, that fella just about fried my gizzard,” the storekeeper cackled. “I told him, in no uncertain terms, what he could do with—”
Max cut him off with an uplifted hand and an apologetic smile. “Here’s my wife now, sir. I’m sure she’s in a hurry to get back home, aren’t you, dear?”
Faith glanced at him, his term of endearment causing her to grit her teeth. She vacillated between rescuing him from the storekeeper and leaving him to stew. Rescue won, hands down, as she recalled other days when she’d been the victim of Mr. Metcalf’s droning monotone.
“Here’s my list,” she said quickly. “I left eight dozen eggs on the counter, Mr. Metcalf, in the crock where I usually put them.”
He glanced up at her and nodded, then took her list with a resigned sigh, turning to the shelves to search for the items she needed.
Max shot her a grin and leaned against the counter. “How do we go about choosing clothes for you?” he asked in an undertone.
“I look for Mrs. Metcalf,” Faith said quietly. “I think she must be in the back.” And as she spoke, that lady appeared through the curtain that divided the store from the stockroom.
“Good morning,” she said brightly, spotting Faith and heading in their direction.
“We need some things for my wife,” Max told the woman, and Faith watched as the plump lady who had the misfortune to be wed to Mr. Metcalf figuratively fell at Max’s feet.
“Why, land’s sakes,” she said brightly. “I surely didn’t know our Miss Faith had a good-looking husband like you. She’s been keeping secrets.”
Her smile was wide, her eyes sparkling as Max nodded agreeably, charming her almost effortlessly, it seemed. At his request, she sorted through bins of clothing that lined the shelves and within moments had placed several dresses on the counter for Faith’s approval. Two were set aside quickly, as being too dark and plain, according to Max. A blue-checked cotton with lace edging the collar was chosen, along with a leafy-green frock Faith privately thought was too dressy for her style of living.
She drew the line at two, and then watched as Max pointed a finger at one bit of lace and batiste after another, choosing undergarments for her from the assortment provided by the wide-eyed shopkeeper’s wife. A finely woven lawn nightgown was added to the growing stack, and Faith almost blushed as she considered wearing such a garment to bed in the old farmhouse where feed sacks had been sewn together for her last nightgown.
“That’s enough,” she said finally, and as Max looked at her, he shrugged, acknowledging defeat at her hands.
“Maybe next time we’ll—” he began, but was cut off midsentence by Faith’s hand on his arm, hauling him toward another counter where boots were displayed.
“You’d better buy either new boots or a pair of shoes to wear indoors,” she said firmly. “You’ve bought me all you’re going to. I don’t even need that much, and if you don’t quit now, I’ll give back that whole pile of things.”
Yet her heart nudged her as he finally nodded acceptance of her terms. “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful,” she said quietly. “I appreciate that you want to help me, Max. I just don’t need any more than that.”
“This may come as a surprise to you, but I needed to do this for you,” he said finally. “We’re not going to discuss it right now, but I’m fighting with a load of guilt, and this has only begun to alleviate a bit of my burden.”
He tried on boots, walking back and forth across the floor under the surveillance of Mr. Metcalf and his wife. They both looked pleased by the prospect of Max and his money dropping by their establishment today, and Faith settled down on a seat near the cold, potbellied stove while she waited for him to make the decision.
Max, it seemed, was the center of attention, as several ladies came into the store and stood about in a group, speaking softly and darting glances his way. Ignoring them all, he focused on Faith, asking her opinion, and then choosing several candy sticks, obviously with her in mind.
“You like peppermint, as I recall,” he said, bowing as he offered her a red-and-white-striped specimen. Root beer was his favorite, she remembered, and she watched as he sucked on a bit of candy, recalling another day when they’d walked in the park, early in their courtship, and he’d broken off a piece for her.
I like peppermint better. She’d smiled up at him and thought him the most gloriously handsome man she’d ever seen. And then she’d laughed aloud as he drew another candy from his pocket and unwrapped it solemnly before he offered it.
Whatever the lady wants. And she’d accepted it, yearning for the taste of root beer from his lips, knowing he would kiss her before he left her in the front hallway of her aunt’s home.
“I said, are you ready?” Max asked, and Faith was aware that he’d repeated the question while her mind had wandered to the park in Boston.
She rose quickly. “Yes. We need to be on our way.”
The clothing he’d purchased was folded neatly, wrapped in brown paper and placed in the egg sacks. The bits and pieces of dry goods, salt and coffee, and a slab of bacon Max had determined they needed, were gathered together, wrapped and placed in another burlap bag, then tied behind Max’s saddle. The bags hung on either side and Max was forced to lead his horse to a mounting block in order to gain the height necessary to fit himself in the saddle without dislodging his purchases.
Faith laughed aloud as he rode beside her. “You look like Louie the peddler,” she said, chuckling as they headed out of town.
“And who the dickens is he?” Max asked, returning her smile with a look of satisfaction. “And by the way, I like hearing you laugh, ma’am.”
“He’s a little old man who rides up to my back door about three times a year, with a packful of odds and ends. I always ask him in for coffee, and he shakes his head and tells me he prefers tea. Which I already know, of course.”
She smiled apologetically. “You have to be a part of his ritual to understand. I put the kettle on to heat as soon as I see him heading toward the house, and he digs around in his pack and finds a special blend of tea, and we share whatever I have in the pantry. Usually a slice of bread and jam or cookies, or sometimes….” Her words trailed off and she shrugged, thinking Max must surely consider her small pleasures to be foolish.
And then he surprised her, his voice almost wistful as he said, “You make it sound like fun. I never thought about you entertaining a peddler man, Faith. I would have worried that he might not be safe, that you’d be in danger from him.”
Max looked at the serenity of trees and meadows surrounding them, and then up at the sky overhead, where fleecy clouds decorated the brilliant blue like an overturned, China-blue teacup with dabs of whipping cream on the surface. The sun was leaning toward the west, and by the time they reached the farmhouse, it would be past time for supper and the evening chores.
For now, though, he intended to savor the moments they spent together. “It’s different here,” he said. “Peaceful and quiet. Perhaps I’ve worried for nothing.”
“You should talk to Nicholas and Lin,” she said, “if you think it’s always so tranquil in these parts. We’ve had our share of trouble, and there’ve been occasions of cattle rustlers or men on the run who can pose a threat to our well-being.”
She touched the rifle she carried with her, firmly sheathed behind her saddle. “That’s why I take this with me when I leave the house. I learned early on to watch my back.” And then she sent an apologetic look in his direction. “I don’t mean to spoil your image of this part of the country, Max. For the most part, it’s safe and I feel secure.”
Lines marred the width of his forehead as he listened, and then he shrugged, as if setting aside his concern. “I suppose there’s d
anger no matter where you live, Faith. Boston has a beautiful, orderly facade it offers to visitors, but there are pockets in the city where no one in his right mind would walk alone at night.”
“Well, for the most part, I feel at home here. I can roam the woods at night if I please. And with the dog beside me, I doubt anyone would bother me. We have a good sheriff,” Faith said. “Brace has a reputation for upholding the law, and there are few men in the area who would want to face him in a gun battle.”
“And with him to look after you, you’ve felt pretty—”
She halted him with an uplifted hand. “I look after myself, Max. Make no mistake, I can use this gun, and I’m not afraid to fire it.”
His grin was a teasing reminder of the session with the rattlesnake. “As I well know,” he said, bowing his head in a parody of respect. “My wife, the gunslinger.”
She shrugged, sending him a fleeting smile. “I’ve been called worse.”
“I don’t think I want to know about it, if you have,” he said. “I’d probably be ready to go to your defense, and end up getting shot for my trouble.”
“Haven’t you ever fired a rifle?” she asked. At his silent denial, a subtle, seemingly reluctant shake of his head, she posed another question. “Would you like me to teach you?”
“I suppose I could get the hang of it in a hurry,” he said. “I’ve carried a small pistol for years. I’d think shooting a rifle or shotgun wouldn’t be beyond my intelligence to figure out.”
“We’ll do it tomorrow,” Faith said. “I have a supply of shells, and I can get more when I go to town next.” And then she closed her eyes, thinking of what she had just said. Assuming he would be here, she was already planning for another trip to Benning, and making out a list.
“Don’t worry, sweet,” Max said quietly. “I’ll be sure you’re stocked up with whatever you need to run the place, no matter how many trips to town we have to take.”
“You probably won’t be here that long, anyway,” she said stiffly. “I doubt your business will tolerate your absence more than a week or so.”
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