Fire and Ice

by Mary Connealy

  Scowling, Gage said, “That don’t make no sense.”

  “She might not describe it that way, but she doesn’t like us showing any kind of closeness.”

  “Why wouldn’t Ma want me to be close to you, Bailey? You’re my wife.”

  “I don’t understand it, except that she’s been away from you for so long she might not want to share you.”

  “Share me?” Gage shook his head in disgust. “This is the kind of thing womenfolk waste time talking about when they should be cleaning the house. Now, do you want to stand out here yammerin’ nonsense about my ma or do you want to check on the foal?”

  Honestly, when he put it like that. “Let’s check the foal.”

  He took her hand and began marching toward the barn again.

  What could be done with the woman, anyway? Ma wanted to be the center of Gage’s life, and if that meant shoving Bailey aside, well . . . up until now Bailey had been too tired to fight the woman for control of the house. And Gage loved his ma, but he was clearly uncomfortable with her fussing. And Bailey wished she could help the older lady get on better with her son, though she had no idea how.

  “You can talk to the men and ask them anything you want about your animals and your cabin.”

  “You just tell me what they report.” Bailey had no wish to talk to Gage’s men.

  They entered the barn just as Gage gave her a hard look. “I think you need to give them a chance, Bailey. After last night, I thought maybe you’d be willing to try.”

  Swallowing hard, Bailey almost agreed. Then, before she could promise anything, they reached the stall and the little foal sprung to its feet and wobbled.

  Gage didn’t look. He kept his attention on Bailey, while the active colt was her reprieve. “He’s a little champion, isn’t he?”

  Resting a hand on her arm, he said, “I’d stay beside you at all times. But you can’t make decisions based on fear.”

  “This colt is the future, Gage. Let’s pay attention to that and let the past fade.”

  “Except it hasn’t faded for you.” Gage’s hand tightened on her arm.

  Bailey nodded. “Last night helped, Gage.”

  With a soft laugh, Gage’s eyes sparked. “It helped me, too.”

  She backhanded him gently on the belly. “Let me get used to one thing before we start another.”

  “I can spend as much time getting used to one thing as you want.” He slid a hand up her back and ran his fingers deep into her hair. He tipped her head back.

  Ike came whistling into the barn.

  They jumped away from each other. Gage let go of her hair as if it were on fire.

  “Out checking the baby you saved, Mrs. Coulter?”

  A heated look flashed in Gage’s eyes, and for a moment Bailey thought he would throw Ike out so they could spend more time alone. Bailey wanted him to.

  Rowdy came in leading the thoroughbred stallion. “He threw a shoe, Gage. I’m going to need help putting on a new one. You know this big guy doesn’t handle well for anyone but you.”

  The mother horse whickered at the stallion, but even though she sounded friendly, she rushed to stand between her baby and the rest of the world.

  Ma came in next, smiling. “I put the roast on and shaped dough into loaves for rising. I have a few minutes. I can put off the pie for a bit. I’d like to see the new foal.”

  Gage growled in frustration, but so quietly only Bailey could hear. He gave Bailey a frustrated look, rolled his eyes, and turned to the horse. “She’s in here, Ma.”

  Ma came up and sidled between them. Ma didn’t choose where she stood by accident. But that wasn’t what stung; it was that Gage didn’t protest. He was the one who needed to speak to Ma about the way she interfered and the way she treated Bailey.

  True, most of it was while Bailey and Ma were alone, but Gage saw enough of it. In fact, he was seeing it right now.

  The three of them faced the foal over the stall door.

  Bailey stood there and tried to remember that last night she’d unloaded a lot of her old troubles on her husband, and he’d seemed not to be sickened by her.

  In fact, he’d been real friendly.

  She’d thought her life was going well.

  Now here she stood with Ma planted firmly between them, and Gage trying to force her to talk to his men and refusing to take her to her place. Well, Bailey had been taking care of herself for a long time. She wasn’t inclined to ask permission for much.

  He rested his arm around Ma’s shoulders and pointed at the foal and talked quietly about his dreams for it.

  So Gage was no help.

  Maybe it was time Bailey quit hoping for help from him and had a long talk directly with her mother-in-law.

  24

  Their nights together were so wonderful that it took Bailey a few days to notice that Gage was avoiding talking to her.

  Night distractions she understood. But during the day he was always surrounded by men outside, and it became clear to Bailey that this was deliberate. He didn’t want her embarrassing him by helping out on the ranch, or going to her own place, or investigating the attack.

  “Bailey, come away from that window.”

  Flinching, Bailey fought for patience. How much longer could the woman stay? Bailey needed to get out of this house or she was going to say something that made Ma dislike her something fierce.

  She tried to work up the courage to go out and check the foal or take a ride or something—anything to get out of this house. But there were always men. She knew Gage’s men weren’t dangerous, but they seemed to form a battle line between her and the outdoors.

  Gage was using her most painful secret to avoid her. That made him a low-down coyote, and she wasn’t about to put up with it. She had to get over this fear. Better yet, maybe she should just go home.

  “Please, Bailey, pay attention.”

  A woman spoke to a child like that. Not her son’s wife.

  “We need to work on your piecrust.”

  “My piecrusts are just fine, Ma.” They were. In fact, she took pride in them.

  “You haven’t quite gotten the hang of it. Yours aren’t flaky like mine.”

  Ma insulted her. Gage avoided her. She’d thought she was improving her lot by marrying into this family, but right now she was tempted to be rid of them both. She clamped her jaw shut to keep from telling Ma just that.

  “It’s not the way my baby boy likes it. Now mind me.”

  Bailey’s temper snapped. She turned from the crowd of men outside to face Ma, caught herself long enough to say a prayer. And then, as if whispered to by God, she knew what she had to say.

  “Ma, can you explain something to me?”

  “Of course. You know I love nothing better than to help you understand things.”

  “Why did you have only one child?”

  “Why . . . umm . . . well,” Ma said, pivoting back to the stove and taking far too long as she poured herself a cup of coffee. “Gage is . . . he’s not . . . There were other children, but none survived.”

  “What? He’s never mentioned brothers and sisters.” The surprising answer had washed Bailey’s temper away.

  “He never knew them.”

  “Them? How many?”

  Silence stretched.

  “Gage’s pa and I were married for nearly fifteen years before Gage was born. I was almost thirty when I met him. My parents died at the Alamo. I was turned over to a family who treated me like a slave. Lashes across my back, chores from morning to night.”

  Which had been at the root of Ma’s horror of war.

  “I met Jeremiah quite by chance. Women weren’t plentiful. He needed a wife, and there was a spark between us. I convinced him we had to run away. I found myself expecting a child almost immediately. Jeremiah was a kind man. We were both thrilled. The baby came too early and only lived a short time after he was born.”

  “I’m so sorry. How terribly sad.”

  “Then another child came and w
ent, and another and another. These babies didn’t have a chance, as they came so early . . .” Ma’s voice broke.

  “And you finally had Gage.” Who now lived a thousand miles from her.

  “Finally we had our son, healthy and strong as any child ever born. I adored him. I was forty-five when Gage was born, and no more babies came after him. I could bear it, though, because I had him.”

  Ma had faced the coffeepot all this time. She pulled a kerchief out of her sleeve and mopped her eyes. Then she turned to face Bailey. To her disappointment, there was no softening in Ma’s expression. “Such nonsense to talk of old, painful memories. Now, let’s get to this piecrust.”

  “Ma . . .”

  “Enough.”

  “But don’t you see—?”

  “Bailey!” Ma cut her off with a sharp tone. “If you’re the sort of woman who would rather chat than work, then you’re not a fit wife for my boy.”

  That was when Bailey remembered how angry she’d been. “He’s not a boy, Ma. You have to stop talking about him like that. He’s a strong, wise, adult man, one of the best ranchers around.”

  “He belongs in Texas.”

  “And that’s what you really want? That’s why you came, to take him home to Texas?”

  “He belongs with his family.”

  “I’m his family now. God laid it down in the Good Book. ‘A man shall leave his mother, and a woman leave her home.’” Bailey had sure done her part, while Gage was failing miserably.

  Ma’s face bloomed red. “Don’t you try and twist the Scriptures around to keep my son from me.”

  Gage stepped into the room on those words. He looked between his ma, eyes red from crying, face red from anger, to Bailey. His impatience flared, and he aimed it all at Bailey. “What happened? What did you do?”

  Turning to Ma, Bailey said, “Nothing happened. We were talking about—”

  “Hush, child.” There was fear in Ma’s voice, and Bailey remembered Gage knew nothing about the lost babies. Ma didn’t want her to tell him. “A decent woman wouldn’t air her sharp tongue in front of her husband.”

  It was then Bailey noticed Gage was filthy. A trickle of blood coursed down from his lip.

  “Gage, are you hurt?” Ma spoke before Bailey could. “Come in and sit down. You need doctoring.”

  “Gage, can I help—”

  “Not now, Bailey. Just give me a minute.”

  Ma threw Bailey a smug look, just in case Bailey wasn’t hurt by Gage’s impatient tone.

  Rushing to her baby boy with a damp cloth, Ma began fussing as Gage smiled up at his favorite woman in the world.

  The woman he avoided in the day and seemed all too fond of in the night slipped out of the room unnoticed.

  Where was that woman going? Gage wondered.

  And why did she have to stir Ma up? Didn’t Bailey know Gage needed help dealing with his mother? Instead, she’d upset her and then left Gage to deal with her.

  “What happened, son?”

  He did love his mother’s gentle care.

  Ignoring his wife for the moment, he said, “I got kicked by one of the cows I was wrangling. She knocked me backward into a fence, and that’s how I split my lip. But no real harm was done.”

  Ma clucked over him, quickly got him coffee and a slice of pie. And because that cow had really walloped him right in the knee, he let Ma convince him to stay inside until the noon meal.

  He wondered where Bailey went, but for right now he wanted quiet more than he wanted to hunt her up.

  He’d managed to keep her home for another week, trying to let her heal up, but the woman was well and that was that.

  He was going to have to make the long ride over to her cabin soon, and Ma wasn’t going to like it. Then Bailey didn’t come in to eat with them.

  Muttering, he went to their room, assuming she’d been in there pouting. He couldn’t find her there, or upstairs either, which meant she’d gone outside. And Bailey never went outside, not without him.

  What was that woman up to? “Ma, Bailey’s outside somewhere. I’ll fetch her in for dinner.”

  “She should know better than to show up late for a meal.”

  Gage didn’t much like Ma’s tone. It sounded a bit too much like the tone he’d heard when he came inside. What had she been saying? He’d barely noticed and had only seen that Ma was upset, while Bailey seemed her usual strong, calm self. Something about twisting the Scriptures.

  It had struck Gage as wrong. But what exactly had Bailey said?

  “I’ll find her and be right back.” He stepped from the cabin to a surprise.

  “Tucker, you got down out of those mountains?” Gage had forgotten about Tucker. The man usually came down for the summer, and when he was around he often worked for Gage. He’d never brought a woman with him, though.

  Shannon.

  He’d gotten to thinking of his wife as alone in the world. And if she was alone, then she needed him.

  But here were Tucker and Shannon.

  “We can’t stay, Gage. We only stopped in because we came from the south and we were passing close. Shannon is anxious to see how her sister got through the winter.”

  “Don’t bother. Bailey and I are married.” Gage grinned. He couldn’t help enjoying unsettling Tucker, who didn’t let much surprise him.

  Shannon was on the ground after that, and she almost stumbled over her own feet as she pivoted to stare at Gage, the most confused woman who’d ever lived. “Bailey married you?”

  “Yep.” He waited to see how that would set with the woman. Shannon was dressed like an Indian woman. A doeskin dress. Leggings. He saw at a glance that she was increasing around the middle. And her black hair was long enough she’d managed two very stubby braided pigtails.

  “Willingly?” Shannon bristled, reminding Gage of Tucker’s tendency to carry hideout knives. Could his wife have taken up the habit, too?

  “Of course willingly. And she grew her hair longer and wears a dress all the time now.”

  Shannon arched one brow as if such a thing were unthinkable. Which Gage understood, honestly.

  Tucker dragged his fur hat off his head. “Never did I imagine such a thing.”

  He dismounted. Gage walked toward him, and the two men shook hands. Tucker flashed his animal white teeth.

  “Reckon we’re brothers now, Gage.”

  “That’ll be interesting.”

  Shaking her head, Shannon headed for the house. “I need to talk to her.”

  It was going to be even harder to find any time alone with his wife. On the other hand, maybe this would keep the woman off the trail to her cabin, which would keep Ma from complaining about Bailey’s strange ways. And when Ma was satisfied with Gage’s life . . . she’d go home.

  After that, Bailey could wear britches all she wanted, except in town. And she probably shouldn’t wear them in front of the men, which meant she shouldn’t wear them outside, really the only time she wanted to wear them. Yep, being married was complicated.

  Gage was glad Tucker was here, if just to distract him from his woman troubles. Which reminded him he had to go hunt up his wife.

  “Are Myra and Nev taking good care of Shannon’s sheep?” Tucker asked under his breath.

  “I have no idea. I made it over to Bailey’s one day this spring and brought her out to marry me. It was a mighty hard trail. We got married, and neither of us has been to town since. A man doesn’t need to be running into town all the time. And we saw Myra and Nev in town, but we didn’t spend one bit of time talking about your stupid sheep.”

  “Aren’t you keeping cattle there? Surely you notice the sheep when you’re working your cattle.” Tucker sounded indignant, like he’d expected Gage to go over there and inspect Shannon’s sheep regularly.

  “We moved the cattle off that property last fall and we haven’t moved them back yet. I like to save that grass and water for later in the year. Anyway, the trails are just now clearing out. I’m surprised you could get down
from the high hills.”

  “Shannon wouldn’t let up. She was worried about Bailey. I think they got locked away from each other last winter, too. Judging by where their homesteads were, I can’t imagine they could see each other. But Shannon said she always knew her sister was close and it helped her bear the loneliness. She thought Bailey had to be dying of it by now and would need some company. So we faced some mean trails to get down here.”

  Tucker rubbed his chin. He had no beard and he always had a beard in the spring. Being married had turned him purely civilized. He turned those sky-blue eyes to Gage. “She really married you willingly?”

  Gage didn’t like the sharp look. “What do you think I did? Hold a gun on her to make her say her vows?” Gage remembered his very subtle attempt to strangle her to get “I do” out of her mouth, but he didn’t mention that to Tucker.

  “I reckon that might’ve worked.” Tucker nodded. “I can’t imagine much else. That woman was right fond of her homestead and her privacy. But you got that canyon away from her and it didn’t leave her much.”

  “It was my canyon, Tucker. I didn’t get it away from anybody. And honestly I think she was lonely just like you said. I showed up there this spring needing a wife. She said yes a lot more easily than I thought she would. I never came close to holding a gun on her.”

  “And how’d you get her out of those britches?”

  Gage had a sudden vision of Bailey in her britches . . . and out of them, then lost the threads of the conversation.

  Tucker punched him in the arm. Hard. “What did you do to make her dress like a woman and grow her hair out and leave her homestead, Gage? If you’ve threatened her or forced her somehow and she doesn’t like it, I’ll take her side over yours.”

  “She was wearing a dress and her hair was that long when I came to her door.” Gage wanted to punch him back, yet he respected a man who looked to the welfare of his family.

  Tucker turned back to watch Shannon near the house. “No foolin’?”

  “Nope. And I asked her to leave the britches behind at her cabin, and she did.”