The Education of Madeline

by Beth Williamson

  Teague turned and got a good look at Madeline’s friend. The first thing he noticed was the scar. A very sharp blade had made it. Micah had a scar that ran down his jaw to his neck. Looked as if he was lucky to be alive and must’ve had a damn good surgeon patch him up.

  Micah had long, wavy brown hair halfway down his back. He had a matching beard that hung down his chest. He was dressed in raggedy but relatively clean clothes. It was his eyes that captured Teague, though.

  He had been prepared to be jealous of this man for being Madeline’s friend, but one look in those silver eyes changed his mind. Micah had suffered as much, if not more, than Teague in the war. There was nothing left behind those cold eyes but the tiniest flame of respect for Madeline.

  It seemed to Teague that he had lost his heart in the war, but Micah had lost his soul.

  Teague stuck out his hand. “Teague O’Neal.”

  Micah nodded and shook his hand briefly. “Micah Spalding.”

  “Is he okay?” Madeline called as she came running back toward them.

  One eyebrow rose on Micah’s hairy face. “This is interesting.”

  Madeline reached Teague and cupped his face in her hands. Worry clearly showed in her dark eyes. “What happened?”

  Teague shook his head. “Just felt lightheaded from the air being so damn thin up here.”

  She didn’t look convinced.

  “Let’s have some coffee.” Micah walked past them toward his cabin.

  “I’m fine, Maddie. Let it go.”

  She nodded, and her hands dropped from his face.

  “Coffee will help.”

  She threaded her arm through his, and they walked into the cabin.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Micah turned out to be quite a tidy housekeeper. Most of his belongings were neatly stacked on shelves, hung on hooks, or tucked under things. The floor was wooden and well swept. The potbellied stove sat relatively clean in the corner. On it, blissfully, was a pot of coffee, burbling away.

  Madeline was not convinced that Teague was okay. She had no idea what had happened to him out there, but obviously Micah had. She resented that and felt a twinge of jealousy. Over what? Her lover and her friend understanding each other? She tried to kick her own fanny over that.

  Teague flopped down in one of the two chairs in the room. Micah sat on the bed, so she took the other chair. Sturdily built out of logs, it matched the other chair and the table at which Micah obviously ate his meals.

  There was a beautiful wall hanging made with beads of incredibly vibrant colors. It looked Indian-like, so she was hesitant to ask him where he’d gotten it.

  “Coffee?” Micah asked after he and Teague shared another look.

  Damnit! Stop it!

  “That would be a godsend,” Teague replied. It was all Madeline could do not to roll her eyes.

  As Micah took two tin cups down from the shelf above the dry sink, Madeline noticed there were two of a lot of things. Two towels, two chairs, two cups, two plates. And only one Micah. Another mystery she’d love to stick her nose into.

  Today wasn’t about Micah and his mysterious past, though; it was about her problem. After that mental pinch, she found her focus was back where it should be.

  Micah offered her a cup of coffee, and she shook her head. He sat back down on the bed and looked at her intently with those fathomless silver eyes.

  “What brought you all the way out here, Madeline?”

  “I need your help.”

  “Of course. I am always at your service. You know that.”

  Madeline smiled at his gentlemanly ways. Most folks didn’t see past the beard and the long hair, but Micah was a true Southern gentleman through and through.

  “This is a very sticky situation, Micah, so I want to be sure you know what you’re getting involved in before you say yes.”

  “I already said yes, but get to the information so you can stop fiddling like a kid at Sunday service.”

  Madeline frowned. She wasn’t fiddling. She thrust her shoulders back and launched into the story. She explained how Teague was arrested and became her employee for a month (without mentioning the lover part of that), how the sheriff and the judge were conspiring against her, how information and money was missing from the bank, and finally why she needed his help.

  “I’m going to Denver, and I need someone to stay at my house while I’m gone. Eppie can’t be there alone—she’s no match for these low-down snakes. I can trust only you to protect everything for me. I know you don’t go to town much, but would you consider this for me?”

  Micah took a big gulp of coffee and looked at the depths of his cup for a moment before looking up at her. He didn’t look enthusiastic, but he did look determined.

  “I’ll do it for you, Madeline.”

  Madeline felt a great weight lift off her shoulders at Micah’s agreement. She’d been afraid he’d say no.

  “Does Eppie know I’m coming? You know that girl does not like me one smidgen.”

  The urge to laugh was almost too strong to resist. Apparently it was too strong for Teague. He burst out laughing and slapped his knee with one big palm. “Hell, Maddie, does that girl like anybody but you?”

  Micah grinned at Teague. There it was again! That damn connection between them. What was it? Did they already know each other?

  “Eppie is particular about whom she places her trust in, that’s all.”

  Teague snorted, and Micah shook his head. Madeline allowed herself a small laugh. They were right. Eppie didn’t like many people, but she was going to have to welcome Micah because without him, the plan wouldn’t work.

  “When do you want me there?”

  Madeline glanced at Teague. “I’ve got only a week before Teague is…released from my custody. I need to leave tomorrow morning for Denver.”

  Madeline ignored the clench in her heart at the thought of having him for only another week.

  “So, tonight?”

  “If possible. If not, tomorrow morning. I think the stage leaves before nine, so it would have to be early.”

  Micah nodded. “I’ll come tonight. Give me a few minutes.”

  “Thank you.”

  He held up his hand. “You don’t need to thank me. I owe you my life. Guarding your house for how long, Madeline?”

  “Two days, possibly four.”

  “Two to four days to sit at your house isn’t going to even come close to what you did for me.”

  Teague set his cup down and looked Micah in the eye. “They don’t play nice. You’d best bring a weapon with you.”

  Micah nodded. “I figured that was likely the case. Got a nice Colt forty-five and a Winchester.”

  “You might need them.”

  Madeline felt her heart drop to her feet. “Is Micah in danger?”

  Teague cocked one eyebrow. “Not any more danger than what you or I are in right now, honey.”

  Honey.

  He had called her that once before, and that word held a lot of meaning. Even Micah sensed it—he glanced at her with eyebrows raised and a question in his eyes.

  “I just don’t want him putting himself in danger to protect a house.”

  “I’m not doing it to protect a house, Madeline. From what you’ve told me, I’m protecting you and helping you kick them in the…well, helping you.”

  Teague grinned into his coffee.

  “All right. I need a little bit of air. Teague, will you come out with me to get the horses ready?” she asked and stood. Teague swallowed the last of his coffee and rose. After only a split second of hesitation, he nodded at Micah and headed toward the door.

  “I’ll be there in ten minutes,” said Micah as he, too, rose.

  After Micah packed his belongings and they readied the horses, the three of them headed back down the mountain into Plum Creek. Micah led the way because he knew the path better than any of them. Madeline’s stomach was fluttery, and her mouth dry.

  This was really it. What happened in the
next two days would steer the course for the rest of her life. It was frightening. It was exhilarating. It was amazing.

  Madeline had never felt so alive. She was ready to battle.

  “I cain’t believe you let that man in your house again!”

  Folks in Denver could probably hear Eppie’s raised voice. She was standing in the kitchen with her hands on her hips and fire in her dark eyes. Isaiah was sitting at the table eating a biscuit and a glass of milk, watching the rest of them like a kid at a magic show.

  Micah stood by the back door leaning against the door frame, his eyes shuttered in the lamplight. Teague was keeping out of it. He chose to stay in the carriage house.

  “Eppie, Micah is my friend, and he’s going to be staying here while I’m gone.”

  “Where are you going?” she demanded.

  “I told you. Denver. I will be back in a few days. Micah is making sure you’re safe.”

  Eppie snorted and stepped toward the sink, giving Micah a disdainful look.

  “Safe? With him around? He cain’t even find his way to a bar of soap. How is he going to protect me?”

  Micah looked like he was biting back a grin.

  “Eppie! That’s not polite. Micah is a gentleman, and he will treat you with respect. He is staying while I’m gone, and it’s not up for discussion.”

  Eppie opened her mouth as though to say something else but closed it. Her light cocoa skin was flushed with enough red to let Madeline know she was really upset.

  “Why don’t you and I talk a little more…privately?” Madeline suggested.

  Eppie turned and sashayed out of the kitchen. She turned to look back at Madeline, her eyes lit from a fire within. “You coming or not?”

  Madeline grimaced and followed her friend. Eppie could sure flay the skin off a body when she was angry. She found her pacing in the sitting room.

  “Eppie, tell me what’s wrong.” Madeline sat down on the wingback chair by the fireplace and waited. She didn’t have to wait long.

  “It’s that man, Madeline! When he was here, he actually…That is, he…”

  She trailed off and looked at Madeline as though she didn’t know how to voice her thoughts.

  “Did he hurt you, Eppie?”

  Eppie shook her head so hard she nearly dislodged her bright blue scarf.

  “No, he never done nothing like that. It’s just…he sparked with me. Me! A Negress with scars on her heart and a history he don’t want to even know about.”

  Madeline couldn’t hide her shock. Micah had flirted with Eppie?

  “Are you saying he’s sweet on you?”

  Eppie threw her hands up in the air. “No! I don’t know what I’m saying. He smiled and talked to me and made me feel…special somehow. I cain’t explain it better than that.”

  “That makes you angry?” Madeline was confused. Why would feeling special make Eppie so angry? Micah was a good man beneath the dirt and hair.

  “Yes! He’s a Southerner, Madeline! He fought for the South in the war. How could he…I mean, it feels…wrong.”

  Madeline finally understood. Eppie had never told her the details, but she was sure Eppie’s former owner had taken liberties with her. More than likely treated her special, and then when he got what he wanted, used her as he wanted. Micah’s attention had to bring back memories she wanted to keep buried.

  “I’m sorry, Eppie. Micah isn’t like that, you know. He might be a little rough around the edges, but his heart is golden.”

  She stood and hugged her friend, though at first it was like hugging a broomstick. Eppie was unbending until Madeline started rubbing her back; then she seemed to collapse like a house of cards. She snuggled into Madeline like a little girl. Madeline was surprised to feel tears soaking into her dress.

  “Shhhh, it’s okay. He would never hurt you.”

  “I know,” came Eppie’s muffled reply. “It’s the fact that I liked it. The sparking, I mean. I liked it, and it scared me. Scared me something fierce.”

  Madeline rubbed her hand up and down Eppie’s back and held her tightly, wishing the world hadn’t been such a cruel place to a young girl.

  Back from the carriage house, Teague helped himself to a cup of coffee and offered one to Micah. Micah shook his head, his gaze focused on the door Eppie and Maddie had passed through.

  “Strong women.”

  Micah nodded.

  “You like her, don’t you?”

  Micah looked at Teague with a raised eyebrow. “Madeline is my friend and nothing more. You don’t need to worry any on that account.”

  His Southern drawl nipped up Teague’s spine again. He would have to work on getting used to that.

  “Nice try. You know I wasn’t talking about Maddie.”

  Micah’s gaze flew to Teague’s again. His intense eyes studied him carefully for a full minute before he shifted back to the doorway again.

  “What’s not to like about Eppie? She’s bossy, argumentative, mean, and pigheaded.”

  Teague took a big sip of the black brew and felt the warmth travel down into his stomach before he spoke again. “It’s worse than I thought. You don’t like her…you love her.”

  This time Micah truly looked startled. His mouth opened slightly as he gusted out a breath slowly. “Damn. Is it that obvious?”

  Teague shook his head. “No. From all accounts, you look like she makes you laugh, and she looks like she wants to fit you for a wooden box.”

  Micah smiled, and Teague was surprised to see how white and straight his teeth were. He’d expected something worse, he guessed. Hermits weren’t the cleanest critters in the world.

  “So what are you going to do about it?”

  Micah shrugged. “There’s nothing I can do about it. She’s a Negro, and I’m a white boy from the South. There is no way it will ever go any further than here and now.”

  Privately Teague disagreed, but he didn’t say anything more. There was a haunted look in the other man’s eyes he knew too well.

  Madeline didn’t want to admit it to anyone, but she was nervous. Her first trip out of Plum Creek into a city. A big city, compared to the small town she grew up in. She had no idea what to expect. No idea at all. That made her nervous. Madeline didn’t like the feeling.

  She lay in her bed that night missing Teague and wondering how she could sneak past Micah and Eppie to get to the carriage house. She grinned at her own crazy impulses. A month ago she never would have even considered sneaking out in her nightgown to climb into her lover’s bed.

  Madeline knew she ought to be sleeping. Too many things were running through her head like the creek running behind her house. Flowing, moving, jumping. Her feet were moving back and forth like a metronome.

  Finally she threw the covers back and gave up the fight. It was no use. She needed him. Madeline threw her legs over the side of the bed and stood. After she made her decision, it was as if a hundred pounds lifted from her shoulders. She snatched her robe from the chair by the fireplace and hurried to the door.

  As she walked down the stairs, she pushed her arms into the sleeves, or at least tried to. The left arm would not go in; the sleeve was bunched funny or something. She came around the corner and realized there was someone in the kitchen sitting at the table.

  She stopped short and stared at Micah. He was slouched on the chair looking even less tidy than usual. A bottle of amber liquid sat on the table, an empty glass next to it. Madeline realized she was half dressed and obviously on her way out the back door in the middle of the night.

  “Evenin’, Madeline.”

  Madeline always loved the way Micah said her name—with the long “I” that hung in the air for a second. His drawl was refined and lazy, like hot honey on toast. Tonight that drawl was deeper, more pronounced.

  She untangled her arm and succeeded in getting the robe completely on. As she buttoned it up, she thought about what to say to him.

  Was she embarrassed? No.

  Was she going back upstairs? A
bsolutely not.

  “Good evening, Micah.”

  He reached for the bottle and poured himself a healthy splash of the amber liquid. Madeline was surprised to see his hand shaking. Micah was one of the strongest men she knew. Something must have been very wrong that he would drink enough to make him shake.

  “Are you all right?”

  He shrugged and took a big swallow. He held up the glass in the candlelight and regarded it as if he were reading a crystal ball. “I will be. Don’t worry about me, Madeline.”

  Madeline sat down across from him and took his free hand. It was as cold as ice. She rubbed it between her hands to try to warm it up.

  “I do worry about you. You’re my friend.”

  The corner of Micah’s mouth kicked up. “You’re the only person who does.”

  “I find that hard to believe. Even if it is true, I will always be your friend.”

  Micah took another gulp and then burped softly. “Pardon me. My manners seem to be absent this evening. You were going someplace, right?”

  Madeline wanted to talk to Micah about what was bothering him, but his question rekindled her need to get to Teague. She felt torn between helping her friend and quenching her own thirst.

  “You best get to him. I’m sure he’s waiting.” Micah set his glass down and leaned forward to grab both her hands. He squeezed tightly enough to hurt just a bit. His eyes focused on her so intensely she felt the urge to pull back. He held fast and pulled her hands a bit closer.

  “Seize it, Madeline. Seize it while you can. Don’t let life go past without taking hold of it with both hands and running with it.” He pulled both hands to his mouth and gently kissed the back of each one. His mouth was dry and warm against her skin. It felt a bit like a minister kissing her at her wedding. “Do you love him?”

  She smiled. “Yes, I love him.”

  He smiled back at her. “Then don’t keep him waiting.”

  Teague stared out the window toward the creek. Missing Maddie. Needing Maddie.

  When the hell had that happened?

  It had been so long since he’d felt anything, or perhaps he’d been feeling everything for too long that he’d turned off his emotions. When Claire and Christopher had died, he’d felt so much agony life had been a giant gaping wound with a never-ending sting. A scab that constantly kept getting ripped off anew. To bleed.