Matt (The Cowboys)

by Leigh Greenwood

  Ellen finished getting ready for bed and crawled between the covers. She was completely confused. She wanted to belong, to feel safe and protected, yet closeness frightened her. She wanted to feel close to Matt, yet she didn’t want him to get close. She wanted to be loved—that was a huge admission—but she didn’t trust love.

  Ellen rested her head on the pillow, but she didn’t feel sleepy. She was sure of only one thing: She wanted the very best home for Noah and Tess, and a proper home included a father. Matt was the only candidate she had.

  Matt tried to run away, but he couldn’t move his limbs. They felt weighed down, immobile. Though he knew no one would hear him, he tried to cry out. No sound came from his throat. When he felt his uncle’s hand on his body, he tried to push him away, but he couldn’t move. He was helpless to stop what he knew would happen.

  Then he felt the knife in his hand. He didn’t know where it came from. Like the answer to a prayer, it was just there. He was no longer helpless. But he didn’t want to use the weapon. No one would ever love him. They would always be afraid. He would be condemned to a life of loneliness.

  But he had to stop his uncle. He couldn’t let him hurt Will. He knew what he had to do. When it was over, he would pretend to be like everybody else. They didn’t have to know.

  He gripped the knife with all his strength.

  Matt woke up, his nightshirt wet with perspiration, his body trembling. It was a dream. His uncle had been dead for years and could never threaten him again. But that thought had barely registered when he realized somebody was touching him. He sat up in bed.

  Almost at once he remembered he was in his own bed, Ellen next to him. She had turned toward him in her sleep, and her outflung hand rested on his thigh.

  Matt struggled to still the panic that gripped his body, to resist the nearly overwhelming urge to leap from the bed. The abuse had stopped seventeen years ago. Ellen’s touch posed no threat. He was an adult, a sensible man who should have learned to control his fears by now.

  He wouldn’t move Ellen’s hand even though it was uncomfortably close to his groin. He would ignore this stupid fear until it subsided. Then, when he was absolutely certain he was relaxed, he’d go back to sleep, leaving her hand right where it was.

  He had spent years letting his fears drive him away from people. It was time he did something about it. He’d been forced to get married, forced to share his house and bed, forced to pretend to be happily married. If nothing else, he should use this experience to help him get over his fear of touching. And he wanted to touch Ellen. He had liked those few times they held hands. He might even want to kiss her.

  The thought of kissing Ellen had an unanticipated effect on him. He remembered he’d thought of her first when Isabelle said he had to marry. He recalled the number of times she’d figured in his daydreams, and the nights when, alone in his bed and thinking of Ellen, he had become too agitated to sleep as fantasies, so intense his body trembled, chased each other through his head.

  But it was foolish to let himself get carried away by his longings. Even if he could get over his reluctance to be touched, their marriage could never be more than a business agreement. There were other reasons she wouldn’t want to stay married to him.

  However, just because he couldn’t have the kind of marriage he wanted was no reason to let himself remain a prisoner of fear. He might not be able to enjoy the caresses of a loving wife, but there was no reason he should shrink from Ellen’s touch.

  The tension had left his body, the trembling stilled, his breathing returned to normal. He would stay right where he was until he liked the feel of Ellen’s hand on his thigh. He’d spent so many years fantasizing about what it would be like to be with a woman, hoping it would happen, even trying to think of ways to make it happen. Now it had. He’d be a fool not to derive some benefit from it, even some pleasure.

  His whole concentration focused on his thigh. His uncle’s touch had left a bone-chilling cold behind. The imprint of Ellen’s hand burned like a brand, then changed to a hard-to-describe feeling. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but he wasn’t comfortable, either.

  Husbands and wives began to make love by touching.

  That thought caused a tendril of warmth to curl upon itself in his abdomen. It wasn’t a hot lust but a gentle warmth. Then a shiver shook him from head to foot. It was a strange feeling, almost like some sort of mild convulsion, but not an unpleasant one. It made the warmth grow warmer, spread a little farther. A little faster.

  He could feel his body begin to swell. Not since his uncle first molested him had touch aroused any feeling except loathing and nausea. He had been fearful Ellen’s would do the same. He was overjoyed it didn’t. The joys of a normal life with wife and family might be denied him, but at least he knew he was capable of deriving pleasure from a woman’s intimate touch—Ellen’s intimate touch.

  Being around Ellen and knowing how she felt about the kids had made him like her more than ever. He liked having her in his house. He liked taking care of her, worrying about her, planning to do things that would please her. She wore more modest clothing now than in her saloon days, but he remembered a perfect shoulder exposed, long, shapely legs visible with each graceful stride. Not even modest clothes could hide the swell of her breast, the column of her throat, or the curve of her hips.

  He was tempted to move her hand a little higher, but she would probably wake up. He closed his eyes, let himself relax, concentrate on her touch, visualize her wanting to be his wife, wanting to come into his embrace. He moved slightly, and the sensitivity caused by the friction between her hand and the fine hairs on his thigh increased tenfold. He smiled. He liked the feeling.

  He drifted off to sleep and had dreams of being able to touch Ellen wherever he wanted.

  And of so much more.

  Matt awoke at the first hint of dawn with a feeling of deep contentment. As his mind began to free itself from sleep, he felt warm all through, cozy, unhappy about the prospect of getting out of bed. He was too far from being awake to come up with a reason for this remarkable change, but he knew he liked it and hoped it would not desert him.

  Then he did come awake and realized immediately that something soft and warm was pressed against him. Ellen had come over to his side of the bed and was sleeping pressed against him, her arm across his chest.

  The feeling of panic was sharp but lasted only until he remembered her touch the night before and the erotic dreams that had followed. He smiled. This marriage he’d resisted, had dreaded, was working out better than he expected. There was something about having Ellen in his house that calmed the anger that boiled inside him. She couldn’t make his memories of the past go away, but somehow they didn’t hurt quite as much.

  But he refused to let his mind take the next leap in the progression. Their marriage could never be more than an arrangement. It wouldn’t do a bit of good to start thinking about what might have been. He was getting to adopt Orin. He shouldn’t be greedy and ask for too much.

  He gently moved Ellen’s arm, slipped out of bed, and changed into his clothes. But as he left the bedroom, he glanced back at Ellen sleeping contentedly in the bed. The picture caused something powerful to well up inside him.

  Damnit! Was it being greedy to ask for what everybody else took for granted?

  Matt turned and left the room. He’d been down this same road before, asked the same questions, gotten the same answers. It wouldn’t serve any purpose to do it again. Besides, he had horses to train. If he didn’t keep his mind on his work, he could get hurt. But as he pumped cold water into the sink and splashed it on his face, he couldn’t help but ask the same old question: Why didn’t he have the same right to happiness as everyone else?

  Chapter Eleven

  “I’m going to buy all new clothes,” Toby announced, “then find myself a girl.”

  After two weeks of hard work, they had finished breaking and branding the horses. Everyone had come to town to celebrate. At Tess’s insistenc
e she had been left to visit with Mrs. Ogden. The little girl could hardly wait to show off her kitten, Fluffy. Will had taken Noah off to see what mischief they could find. And with a little time to herself, Ellen planned to sell the two hats she had brought while Matt and Orin bought supplies for the ranch.

  “Don’t go near Mabel Jackson’s daughter,” Ellen warned Toby.

  “I can’t help it if Tammy can’t stay away from me.”

  “It would be better if you avoided her,” Matt said. “Her mother can make it hard for us to adopt Orin and the kids.”

  “That’s not fair,” Toby protested.

  “I know it’s not, but it’s not fair for Orin and the kids to be taken away. Once they’re safe, I won’t say anything about the girls you want to see.”

  “Okay,” Toby said, “but if she comes after me, I’m not gonna hide.”

  “Maybe you should,” Matt said. “If you’re not careful, you might end up with Mabel as your mother-in-law.”

  Ellen nearly laughed at Toby’s horrified expression.

  “I’m too young to think about getting married.”

  “I agree,” Matt said. “Meet me at the mercantile in two hours. We’ve got a lot of supplies to load in the wagon.”

  Ellen wondered if Orin wanted to go with Toby, or if he was too frightened of Ermajean McCutchen to leave Matt.

  “I’ll wait if you like,” Matt said to Ellen.

  “I’ll catch up with you later. I’ve got a little shopping to do.”

  She liked feeling his mantel of protection around her. He worried someone might be rude to her. She knew nothing anybody said to her could be worse than the Lowells’ accusations, but she enjoyed his concern for her. “I’ll meet you in an hour.”

  Ellen had been selling hats to Susan Barclay for over a year. Ellen didn’t mind that Susan sold them as creations by an anonymous designer. The women of Bandera would have been reluctant to buy hats made by Ellen. Soon, however, Ellen knew she would have to reveal her identity if she wanted to start building her reputation.

  “I was wondering if you’d keep making hats,” Susan said when Ellen entered the shop.

  “I have time to make even more now. I intend to open my own shop in San Antonio one of these days.”

  “Will Matt move to San Antonio with you?” Susan asked, more interested in seeing what Ellen had brought her than in Ellen’s future.

  “No,” Ellen said, remembering too late that people would start wondering about her marriage if they knew her plans. “I want to keep some of my independence.”

  “I don’t know why. Half the women in this town would give their souls to be married to a man like Matt. This is beautiful,” she said as she drew the first hat from its tissue nest. “Mrs. Jackson will insist upon having it, but I think I’ll keep it for Mrs. Maxwell.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Isabelle Maxwell is tall and elegant. This is exactly the right—”

  “What you said about Matt?”

  Susan paused before opening the second box. “Will Haskins is probably the best-looking man in Texas, but it’s Matt who holds a woman’s interest. Outside of being so attractive it makes your bones ache just to look at him, he’s thoughtful and dependable. Nobody is more polite. Many a woman’s had her eye on him.”

  “I didn’t see anybody rushing to marry him,” Ellen said.

  “Well now, they wouldn’t, would they? This is a lovely hat. I wonder if I can talk Mrs. Maxwell into buying both of them.”

  “What’s changed everybody’s opinion of Matt?”

  “He was polite and kind to a fault, but he was real standoffish. Then he married you.” Susan put the hat down and looked around to make sure there was nobody close enough to hear. “I don’t know if I should tell you this, but there were some whispers about him being out there alone with those boys.”

  “I’ll bet it was Wilbur Sears who did the whispering,” Ellen said, furious.

  “I don’t know about that,” Susan said, resuming her normal tone of voice, “but that’s all forgotten after the way he stood up to Wilbur. Everybody figures he was just waiting to find him a wife pretty enough to cause the sap to rise.”

  Ellen blushed. “I’m not that good-looking.”

  “Don’t be foolish,” Susan said, going back to admiring the hats. “I’m determined Isabelle will buy both of these hats, if only to annoy Mabel Jackson. She’s furious I won’t tell her who makes them.”

  “She’d be more furious if you did.”

  “I know, and I can’t afford to lose my best customer. Now, how much do you want for these? You know it’s no work to sell them, but I must get something for taking them on.”

  The same percentage as before will be fine.”

  “When can you bring me more?” Susan asked as she counted out the money.

  “Probably the next time I come into town.”

  “You sure you won’t be too busy? I know living on a ranch is hard work.”

  “Matt spoils me,” Ellen said as she recounted the money before putting it in her purse. “He and the boys do half the housework. I had to practically force him to let me take over the cooking.”

  Susan groaned. “There’s not a woman in this town who wouldn’t kill for a husband like that. You sure you don’t want to lend him out occasionally?”

  “He comes with Orin and Toby, but they do as much work as he does.”

  “That Toby’s real cute.”

  “Unfortunately he knows it.”

  “So do half the girls in town.”

  Outside, Ellen was glad there weren’t many people on the streets. Bandera served a ranch community, and few people lived in town. Ellen was even more relieved to be the only customer in the tiny dress shop in Norma Ireland’s home. Norma made clothes for Mabel Jackson and some of the Maxwell wives, but Ellen had never patronized her shop before. Now Ellen wanted to buy a dress that didn’t remind her of the ones she’d worn in the saloon.

  If Norma was surprised to find Ellen in her shop, she didn’t show it. “Good morning, Mrs. Haskins. What can I do for you?”

  Being addressed as “Mrs. Haskins” startled Ellen, but she liked it. “I’m looking for a new dress.” Maybe she’d buy two. She had enough money. Her hats commanded high prices.

  “What did you have in mind?”

  The only dress Ellen owned that wasn’t meant to be worn in the saloon was a gold print broadcloth with a polonaise. She had made some of her old dresses over to use for ordinary wear on the ranch, but she wanted something different to put on when Isabel came to visit or when she came to town to shop or go to church.

  “I need something for those occasions when you want to dress up, but you don’t want to look like it.”

  “I know exactly what you mean,” Norma said. “Would you like me to take your measurements, or would you be willing to look at something already made up?”

  “I need something right away.”

  “I have several things I can show you,” Norma said. “Just have a seat.”

  Norma showed her a three-piece black silk polonaise with jet beads Ellen thought was too somber. She liked a paisley-striped dress in the princess sheath style but thought the heavy linen would be too hot. She liked a Wedgwood blue silk taffeta but finally decided the red bombazine dress in the cuirasse style was more to her liking. However, all of them were either too formal for wearing at home or not eye-catching enough for real dressing up.

  “How about this one?” Norma brought out a dark amber, cut-velvet dress with an elaborate side-draped polonaise trimmed with chenille, moire taffeta, bows, and fancy embossed buttons.

  “It’s beautiful,” Ellen said.

  “It would look wonderful on you with your strong coloring,” Norma said. “Not many women can wear such a dress.”

  It was truly elegant. Ellen could imagine herself in it. Just the thought of Matt’s reaction when he saw her in it made her want it. “How much is it?”

  “Sixteen dollars,” Norma said.
“That’s really quite reasonable.”

  “Very reasonable.” Ellen would have to use some of the money Matt had insisted she take in case she wanted to buy a second dress. She had decided she wouldn’t use Matt’s money for personal things, but now she wondered if this dress counted as personal. She would be wearing it as his wife, and it was important that she make a suitable appearance when she came to town.

  Still, she hesitated. Using Matt’s money assumed a commitment that made her uncomfortable. Despite the change in her feelings, she preferred to maintain her distance. “It is really very beautiful,” Ellen said, “but it’s more than I wanted to spend.”

  “I have only two more,” Norma said, clearly annoyed that Ellen hadn’t liked anything she’d seen in nearly half an hour. She went into the back and returned with a royal blue silk dress with a plain skirt and tucked ivory satin vest front with leaf-shaped appliques. She had lined the upstanding collar with ivory satin. “What do you think of this?”

  “It’s perfect.” It was exactly what she needed for entertaining at home, elegant but not ostentatious. “I’ll take it. Wrap it up while I try to decide on another dress.”

  At that moment Mabel Jackson entered the shop.

  If Ellen hadn’t been so irritated over being caught in the same shop as Mabel, she’d have laughed at the look of shock on Mabel’s face. It was clear she wanted to turn around and leave immediately, but her pride wouldn’t let her. Nor, since they were practically within touching distance of each other, could she avoid speaking.

  “I didn’t know you were in town,” Mabel said.

  “We needed supplies,” Ellen said. “After breaking and branding the new horses, Matt thought the boys deserved a treat.”

  “Is Toby with him?”

  Ellen tried not to enjoy Mabel’s obvious uneasiness. One day she might feel the same way about Tess. “Toby’s shopping for new clothes. He means to buy one of those ‘Ditto’ suits, the kind where trousers, jacket, and vest are made to match.”