The Most Unsuitable Wife

by Caroline Clemmons

  As he studied their host, Drake noticed gray laced the thick blond hair at Walker's temples. Something about the handsome man seemed familiar, yet Drake knew they had never met. He couldn't put his finger on it so he dismissed the thought. The oddity of this community must really be getting to him. With smile intact, he introduced himself and his cousin.

  "We were headed for Kentucky and Virginia, but we heard in town you have stock as fine as any in the South."

  "You heard right. Shall we go to the stables?"

  A younger version of their host joined them in the hallway and the elder man paused. "Gentlemen, this is my son, Quin. He'd be about your age or a bit younger, don't you know?"

  Drake thought the age might be near his and Lex's, but there the resemblance ended. Possibly he matched his father in height, but the slight paunch and slumped shoulders made him look ill-proportioned. Puffiness around bloodshot eyes spoke of late drinking the previous night. In fact, Quin bore the indolent and pampered look of one who lets others do his work for him. Drake had no use for idlers, and struggled to keep his face from revealing his opinion.

  Quin stuck out his hand in a cheery greeting. "Say, where're you fellows from?"

  "Texas," Drake said as his callused palm met the other man's soft, smooth hand. Only a few scabbed abrasions on the top of Quin's hand marred the perfect skin.

  "Kincaid County, in the central Texas hill country," Lex said as he shook Quin's hand in turn.

  Calculating looks flashed simultaneously across the faces of both the Walkers. The elder spoke to Drake. "Kincaid County, as in your last name?"

  "Well, actually, as in our grandfather's name.” Damn his cousin for supplying more information than necessary. Lex's gregarious nature sometimes caused his tongue to disconnect from his brain.

  The elder Walker stroked his chin in thought. "Hmm, I believe I met your father or maybe an uncle once—many years ago. If my memory serves me correctly, it must have been when he stopped by to see Evan Cummins, don't you know? That'd be a few years after Evan came back from Texas."

  Drake fingered the brim of the hat he held in his hand. "That's possible, I suppose, but I'm afraid it must have been before my time."

  The senior Walker stroked his chin. "Yes, don't you see now, that would probably have been well over thirty years ago? I believe he was on his way back east."

  Lex spoke up. "Say, Drake, that must have been when your father was on his way to Boston to marry your mother.” There went his cousin's tongue wagging again.

  Senior's mouth broke into a smile that never reached his eyes. "And how are your father and mother?"

  "They died over ten years ago. My grandfather is still quite active, though.” Drake clamped his hat onto his head. "Shall we have a look at those horses?"

  The stables were magnificent in style though they, too, lacked recent paint or repair. Matching the architecture of the manor, they were built better by far than any of the buildings Drake saw in the village of Pipers Hollow. Two stable hands moved with deliberation, darting sidelong glances at the Walkers and their two guests but never meeting their gaze.

  Damned if he wouldn't give the Walkers one thing. They had some fine looking horseflesh in addition to an amazing stable layout. He examined teeth, mouth, legs and conformation to narrow his choice to half a dozen horses. After riding each of the six, Drake picked out two mares he wanted and selected another two if the price was right. He prided himself on driving a hard bargain and kept his enthusiasm hidden.

  Quinton Walker was no easy mark. When they reached a tentative price for the four thoroughbreds, he invited the men back to the house to look at bloodline documents. Back in his study, Walker produced paperwork to prove his claims. The man knew horses. Unless his papers lied, two of the mares were linked to Sam Houston's Copper Bottom, and several other well-known steeds. As the deal was struck with a handshake, the elder Walker addressed Drake.

  "Perhaps you two would join my son and me for dinner this evening to continue our discussion of horse breeding."

  Drake stood, his fingers working the brim of his hat. "Thank you, but we have other obligations. We'll be back tomorrow for the horses. In the meantime, we have to arrange for their transport to Texas."

  "I can't let you gentlemen leave without at least a little celebration, don't you see now? How about joining me in the drawing room for a toast to seal the bargain.”

  Quinton Walker led them out of the study and down the hall, his son trailing behind. As they entered the drawing room, both Drake and his cousin stopped dead in their tracks. There, over the fireplace mantle, hung a portrait of one of the most beautiful women Drake had ever seen.

  Golden ringlets framed her face and she wore a lavender gown. She posed with a few white lilacs in her arms and her rosebud mouth beckoned with a warm, sweet smile. Most astonishing of all were her eyes.

  Lex gained his voice first. "Imagine, a woman like that here—"

  Drake knew he stepped hard on his cousin's foot, but he had to stop Lex's comment before he insulted their host. "Yes, she's the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, too, Lex.” He turned to his host. "Who is she?"

  Both men beamed, but the elder also puffed out his chest with pride. "My mother, Elizabeth Piper Walker. Her father built this house and gave his name to the town of Pipers Hollow."

  Drake realized Walker's coloring and facial features resembled those in the portrait. The eyes of the woman portrayed in oil haunted him. He tried to make sense of the eerie feeling they caused, but could not.

  "Yes," Quinton continued, "that portrait and most of the objects of any value you see in this room were hidden by my son and me during the war. Like I told you outside, soldiers liked to have wiped us out."

  "That must have been a feat. Where'd you hide?” Lex asked.

  "A Cherokee family led us to a cave. You couldn't see the openin' 'til you were three feet from it. That cave opened onto a hidden valley with their garden and home. Said my grandfather gave it to their family to prevent the gov'mint finding and removin' them years before and it was time to repay the debt."

  "You left this place all during the war?” Drake wondered the place hadn't been burned to the ground.

  "No, no. We stayed here on and off, don't you know, and spent the other time hidden with the Cherokee man and his daughter. Had to check on things—make the soldiers believe they got all we had. We hid whatever of value we could carry. Told the soldiers others took everything, don't you see?"

  Drake saw the flash of pain and anger on Quin's face and wondered about the cause. So many had painful memories of the war, he shrugged off the thought and examined the beautiful room.

  "The house doesn't look badly damaged."

  "The structure is sound, in spite of the repairs it needs. Still, that was a terrible time. The constant terror drove my poor wife out of her mind in '63. She jumped from the upper floor when she spied a band of roving soldiers.”

  Embarrassed at his uncharitable thoughts earlier, Drake could only apologize. "I'm sure sorry to hear that, Walker. That was a tough time for everyone.”

  Quinton Walker tossed back his drink and set down his glass. "That it was. All in all, this county escaped damage for the most part—too remote, don't you see now, to be on the way to anywhere. But there's a lot of damage here we're still trying to repair.” He pointed to a series of jagged scars on a wall. Each about shoulder high, they marred the otherwise perfect panels.

  "Soldiers thought there might be a hidden storage area for treasures behind these walls. Like I said, I was able to hide five of my beautiful horses from those theivin' scoundrels but couldn't save my own wife.” He stood silent for a moment with head bowed, as if lost in memories.

  "Well, now," he continued with a start. "It took me ten years to rebuild the bloodlines to those beauties you see today."

  After drinking the bourbon offered him, Drake once again begged off dinner. What he most needed was to get away from these people and think. At least Lex finally
got the hint and kept his thoughts to himself.

  "I'll walk our guests to their horses, Father.” Quin trailed behind them down the spacious steps of the home. As the two visitors gathered the reins of their horses, he addressed Drake and Lex in a hushed voice.

  "Don't tell my father I told you so, but if you're looking for someone to help with the horses on the trip to your ranch, there's a boy who would do you proud. He lives in the next house from here toward town."

  Lex looked at Drake but, for once, said nothing. Drake spoke casually. "Oh? A boy, you say?"

  "Yes. 'Bout thirteen, looks younger. He's a half-breed. Cherokee, you know. Got no real family and needs whatever money you could pay him. Don't know how you feel about Indians, but this one has a real gift with animals."

  Drake had another odd feeling about this. Why would Quin make certain his father didn't hear him speak about the boy? Why mention the boy at all?

  "The next house? What's his name?"

  "Calls himself Storm Cloud. He lives at the Parker place just over the hill and around the bend. You passed it coming here. Be sure you take the right fork when the trail splits."

  Drake mounted his horse. "Thanks. We'll look into it.” He touched a finger to his hat brim. "See you tomorrow.

  Chapter Four

  The two cousins rode swiftly in silence until they were out of sight of the Walker home, then slowed their horses.

  "This is the craziest place I've ever been. By the way, thanks a lot for stomping on my foot. I think my toes are broken.” Lex took off his hat and scratched his shock of dark red hair.

  "I thought you were going to ask what a beautiful woman like that would be doing in this godforsaken place."

  A blush spread across his cousin's face. "I guess I was at that.” He smiled sheepishly. "Probably our host would have taken exception to a statement which insulted his home.” A thoughtful expression settled on Lex's face. "You know, the woman in that portrait reminded me of someone. Can't think just who, but someone we've seen recently."

  Drake shrugged off the comment. "Probably everyone we've met. I imagine most people in this isolated valley are related."

  "Maybe, but I think it's the eyes. Yes, that's it. They remind me of that Pearl Parker's eyes. Never seen eyes that odd shade of blue before."

  "Violet. Her eyes are violet.” Drake rode deep in thought, mulling possibilities over in his mind. "We've got to stop and see about the sheriff. Maybe we'll get some questions answered then.”

  He shrugged again, his mind made up on another issue. "There's one answer especially I intend to get before we leave."

  With that said, Drake urged Midnight faster along the ruts that passed for a road.

  * * *

  Storm stepped out of the door as they dismounted in front of the Parker house—or Storm Cloud house—or whatever the hell place it was. The boy still carried his rifle, but now with the barrel down, using only one arm. This bunch trusted no one. Given the odd sequence of events Drake had witnessed since his arrival in Pipers Hollow, he thought maybe caution was a good thing here. Damn, but he hated this place, and he'd been here less than twenty-four hours.

  As he examined the young man more closely, he realized Storm was older than he had at first thought, maybe as old as thirteen or fourteen. Except his eyes. They looked close to a hundred.

  The stark look in the slightly built boy's gaze spoke of more than caution. Here stood a young man with the weight of the world on his shoulders. What troubles placed a burden on a youngster and brought this small family to such wariness and distress?

  As Drake stepped onto the porch, he smelled dinner cooking inside the house and his stomach gave a rolling growl, reminding him he'd missed lunch. If the aromas wafting from the kitchen were any indication, he and Lex made the right choice in a place to dine. Well, if they were invited, that is.

  * * *

  Pearl paced the small room. When she saw Evan rouse, she moved to his bedside and leaned over to check his pulse. "Your color's better. How do you feel?"

  He gave her a weak smile but made no move to sit up. "I'll be fine in a bit."

  "You need quiet and rest, but I need to talk to you.” She glanced toward the open doorway, then resumed pacing. "There's not much time."

  "Well, either sit down or go in the other room. You make a body plum dizzy goin' back and forth."

  She whipped a napkin off a bowl and sat near the bed to feed her patient. With a nod of her head she indicated those in the other room. "We talked something over while you were asleep.”

  Spooning chicken broth with chunks of breast meat into his mouth, she tried to think how best to word her notion. Her idea might be crazy, but she very much needed it to work.

  "These men who brought you here. Are they really friends of yours?” She paused in her feeding to let him answer.

  Evan pushed himself higher on the pillows. "Their grandfather. Told you 'bout Rob Kincaid."

  She exhaled with a sigh of relief. "Oh, yes. Your good friend in Texas. I thought that must be the connection."

  "Grandsons.” He gasped, as if already exhausted from the dual effort of eating and talking.

  "Just listen and let me feed you while I tell you our plan.” She shoved another bite of the nourishing broth at him. "I have a little money saved. It might pay part of our fare to Texas. If one of these men would pay the other part plus our food, then I would work as a maid or cook or housekeeper until I repaid it."

  "Crazy.” He shook his head. "Bachelors.” A look of concern descended on his face, and then he raised his gaze to meet hers. "Rob might."

  Those words were all the encouragement she needed. She knew her plan crazy, improbable, but desperation drove her. "Then I would work for your friend, sort of as an indentured servant until I'd repaid him. We're going to ask this Drake and Lex to stay for supper. Then, after they've seen how Sarah and I cook, I'll ask them."

  As she set aside the empty bowl and helped her old friend drink some tea, his eyes fluttered in fatigue. "Rest now. Likely they'll want to check in on you. I hear them coming inside now.” What would these two strangers think, though? More importantly, what would Drake Kincaid think?

  Evan grabbed her hand. "You—not so bossy."

  Her face felt on fire and she knew a blush spread. Evan, and before him his late wife, had tried to train her to act like a lady. Many times they cautioned her against being so bossy.

  But, how else was she to behave when everyone in her family waited for her to make decisions, when everyone's welfare depended on her alone? She could depend on no one else for their sustenance, had no partner to help her in times of trouble. No, she had to be in control to protect her family and herself.

  "I'll try to be ladylike, but you know I can't help telling everyone what to do. I've had to do it too long to change over night.” She gave his hand a reassuring pat and left the bedroom.

  From where she stood in the kitchen she heard Storm answer their questions about Evan. Sarah stood by the bedroom door, wringing her hands and chewing on her lower lip. Neither Sarah nor Storm quite approved of her decision, but neither had a better suggestion. Like her, they both felt desperate to leave this place as soon as possible. How on God's green earth could she broach the subject to a stranger?

  "Hello again.” The big man, Drake, took off his hat and used it to gesture to the bedroom where Evan lay. "Your brother said the sheriff's awake now. You think I could talk to him a bit?”

  Pearl gulped and nodded. "Don't let him talk much, um, please," she added as an afterthought, remembering Evan's warning. "You do the talking and let him listen. He needs rest, lots of rest.”

  The man was so darned good looking he left her almost speechless. She must be out of her mind to think a man like him would ever consider a plan that would throw the two of them together on a long trip. He wouldn't want even to be seen with the likes of her in tow. Already her nerves were taut as a banjo string, and the evening wasn't half over.

  When the secon
d man remained in the room, she scooted a rocker around, practicing the good manners Mrs. Cummins had drilled into her so many years ago. "Won't you sit down, Mr. Tremont? Supper will be ready in just a few minutes. We hoped you'd stop back by and eat with us.”

  Lex dropped into the chair. "Please, call me Lex. That's a powerful good smell you're cookin' up."

  Pearl smiled to reassure Sarah as the girl inched her way into the room to help. Years of teasing and harassment, coupled with a reclusive nature, made the girl shy to the point of awkwardness. When Lex smiled, Sarah blushed and hurried across the room to set the table.

  Unused to dinner guests and with her nerves jangling, Pearl tried to make conversation. "Were you and your cousin successful at Oak Haven?"

  "Yes. Well, Drake was. He'll pick up his horses tomorrow." Lex watched the two women prepare to serve the meal. "That's one fancy place, Oak Haven. Do you go there often?"

  "My brother helps in the stables when there's trouble with a foaling.” With the pride of a mother hen, she said, "Storm has a special touch with animals. Everyone says so.” She added, "I've never been inside the house, only delivered bread or medicine to the back door."

  Drake emerged from the bedroom in time to hear her. "You've never been inside that house?”

  "No.” She felt herself flush once more with embarrassment. How could she explain the situation at Oak Haven to strangers? Better just to avoid it altogether. "Dinner's ready. It's chicken and dumplings with vegetables on the side. If you gentlemen would like to wash up, there's a basin and soap by the pump. You'll find a clean towel on a hook by the door.”

  Pearl was glad she'd given Belle her evening meal earlier. The woman hadn't eaten much, but at least she gained strength and optimism each day. Although Evan needed quiet and lots of rest far away from this place, Belle needed so much more.

  Unused to grown men, apparently very hungry men, sharing their meal, Pearl watched the food quickly disappear. Cooking was one thing she knew she did better than most, at least better than anyone else in Pipers Hollow. Only one biscuit remained and the apple pie vanished before her eyes.