by Amanda Cabot
There was nothing to be gained by dwelling on that now. Her friend needed encouragement.
“It’s wonderful that you’ll be able to meet your mother.” Thea wouldn’t lament that that was something neither she nor Stuart could do. While Aimee’s life had not been easy, at least she would have one parent.
Aimee rose from the dressing table stool and studied her reflection in the cheval mirror. “I like this look,” she admitted. “It makes me seem older.”
While someone twice her age wouldn’t appreciate that, Thea had thought that Aimee might gain confidence from appearing more mature.
“I hope Grace will tell me about my father.” Aimee’s distraction had lasted only a few seconds.
“It won’t be a happy story,” Thea cautioned her. The reasons a woman had a child out of wedlock were not pleasant ones. Admittedly, some were worse than others, but none would fill Aimee with joy.
“I know that, but I don’t want to live with secrets, and I don’t want to go to this dance.”
The emphasis Aimee put on the last part of her sentence made Thea suspect that her reluctance was fueled by more than concern about her mother. Grace was a convenient excuse for Aimee to avoid a gathering where she was sure to encounter Nate.
“You can try staying home, but you know Patience will come knocking on the door and will insist you go with her.”
At Patience’s instigation, Rachel had arranged a square dance to be held in the town’s park. Though she claimed it was to celebrate the end of summer—not that summer had yet ended—Thea suspected it was part of Rachel’s matchmaking.
Lydia had told her that Rachel was determined to find Nate a bride this year. According to Lydia, Rachel had begun to despair of her brother settling down and had decided to take matters into her own hands, but Lydia had no idea which women Rachel had identified as potential candidates. Thea only hoped that Rachel’s matchmaking did not interfere with what she believed was Nate’s genuine attraction to Aimee.
“We don’t have to stay too long,” she told Aimee as she straightened one of the ruffles on her skirt. “An hour or so should be enough.”
When she’d proposed the dance to Thea, Rachel had pointed out that it would be another opportunity to meet potential patients and had urged her to make an appearance, even if she did not remain for the whole evening. According to Rachel, families who rarely got into town were coming for the dance and staying for church services tomorrow. Some of the women would be eager to meet Cimarron Creek’s new midwife.
Though she looked as if she wanted to protest, Aimee nodded. “You’re right. We should go for a short time. I don’t want to waste the hours I spent practicing.”
When Patience had learned that Aimee had never seen a square dance, much less performed the steps, she’d insisted on giving her a lesson. That evening, Aimee had been embarrassed by how awkward she’d felt and had wanted to practice with Thea until she was comfortable with the basic steps. While Thea doubted any of the men in Cimarron Creek would notice if she missed a step or two, Aimee wasn’t convinced, which was why she’d continued to practice.
“Patience assured me I would not be a wallflower.” Aimee wrinkled her nose. “How can there be any wallflowers when there are no walls?”
Relieved that Aimee had regained her sense of humor, Thea headed for the front door.
Though the dance had not yet begun, the park was crowded by the time she and Aimee reached it. Aimee appeared surprised by the number of strangers and, instead of joining Patience even though her friend beckoned her, she remained at Thea’s side, once again the fearful woman who’d stepped off the stagecoach in Ladreville.
Thea kept a smile fixed on her face as they headed toward the center of the park, greeting acquaintances along the way. She told herself she wasn’t searching for anyone in particular, but she couldn’t deny the way her heart skipped a beat when she saw Jackson coming toward her. It would be wonderful to talk to him, even if only for a few minutes, and the fact that Nate was at his side meant that Aimee would have a companion, if they could break through Nate’s discomfort around her.
“Good evening, ladies,” Jackson said when he reached them. His gaze moved from the top of Thea’s head to her toes, the approval in the smile that lit his face making her grateful she had chosen a new dress for tonight. Dark blue was not a color she’d worn in Ladreville, but when she had seen it in the dressmaker’s window, the gown had caught her eye. To Thea’s delight, it had proven to be a flattering hue, and the dress itself needed only a few minor alterations.
Though both she and Aimee returned Jackson’s greeting, Nate said nothing, the flush that colored his face making Thea wonder if he was ill.
Jackson clapped his friend on the shoulder. “It looks like a fine night for a dance, doesn’t it, Nate?”
The goat farmer remained silent, although the perspiration that beaded his forehead and the way he continued to clear his throat left no doubt that he was nervous. “I want . . . um, that is . . . I would like . . . um, that’s not right . . .”
Though the scent of mint that accompanied his words was pleasant, Thea found the long pauses painful and suspected that it was far worse for the man who was having such difficulty communicating. Since he’d had no trouble speaking on the few occasions when he’d met her in town, Thea knew that she was not the problem. Aimee had claimed that Nate was tongue-tied around her, but this was more than tongue-tied. The man appeared almost petrified.
“Just spit it out, Nate.”
Thea heard Aimee gasp at Jackson’s command, but she kept her eyes fixed on Nate. He’d glanced at Aimee, then turned his gaze to the ground, as if the words he wanted to say were carved on his boot tips.
At last Nate raised his eyes and stared at Aimee. “Would you dance with me, Miss Aimee?” he asked, the words coming out in a rush.
At last! Thea wanted to crow with relief, but she remained silent, waiting for her friend to respond.
Shock, then pleasure flitted across Aimee’s face, and for a moment Thea feared that she had been stricken with the same silent malady that had afflicted Nate. Finally, Aimee spoke. “There’s nothing I would like more.”
As she took a step toward Nate and placed her hand on the crook of his elbow, he grinned, his face as radiant as if he’d been crowned the victor in a Roman chariot race.
“I can’t remember when I’ve seen a man so nervous.”
Thea nodded in response to Jackson’s comment as she looked at the couple who were moving so slowly that she wondered if they’d reach the makeshift dance floor before the music began. “Aimee didn’t want to come tonight, but I’m sure she’s glad she’s here now.” Nate’s head was bent toward hers, his expression that of a child on Christmas Day who’d been given the one thing he wanted most.
Jackson smiled. “I’m glad Nate’s so happy. If he could just get over being nervous, I think he and Aimee would suit each other.”
Though Thea had been thinking the same thing, she was surprised to hear Jackson say it. “Be careful, Jackson. You’re starting to sound like a matchmaker.”
“Me? Never!” He feigned horror. “No one in the company would believe that.”
Thea was puzzled for a moment until she realized he was speaking about the company of Rangers. “You mean you can’t be both a Ranger and a man? Surely some of the men have sweethearts or wives.”
The subject appeared to make Jackson uncomfortable. He cleared his throat and looked around. “It sounds like the fiddlers are getting ready.” There was the slightest of pauses before he said, “I would be honored if you’d be my partner.” The wink he gave her surprised Thea. “That’s how Travis told Nate and me we were supposed to ask a lady to dance.”
Though she recognized the formal invitation, having heard it a dozen or more times, and knew how she should respond, Thea hesitated. “I wasn’t planning to dance at all,” she said softly.
“Why not?”
“It doesn’t seem appropriate when I’m so
recently widowed.” While it was true that she no longer wore mourning clothes and that the town’s former matriarch would have approved of her shedding her widow’s weeds, Thea wasn’t certain most residents would be so lenient about dancing. Society had firm ideas of what was acceptable behavior after a bereavement.
“Not dancing won’t bring Daniel back.”
Thea felt the blood drain from her face. Jackson was mistaken if he believed she wanted Daniel to be raised from the grave like Lazarus. While it was true that she had far too many unanswered questions and that if Daniel could miraculously return, she would demand answers, Thea did not want her husband back. She could forgive his infidelity, because that hurt only her, but she could not forgive him for the innocent people he’d robbed and killed.
Mourning Daniel was not the reason she was hesitant to dance. The only reason not to accept Jackson’s invitation was to placate Cimarron Creek’s more conservative residents.
The almost wistful expression she saw reflected from Jackson’s eyes told Thea that he wanted to dance. More than that, he wanted to dance with her. Fears about propriety fled in the face of Jackson’s request.
Making a deep curtsy, Thea gave Jackson the formal reply she’d been taught. “I’d be honored to be your partner.”
The smile and the virtually imperceptible relaxing of his shoulders confirmed the rightness of her decision. As Aimee had done with Nate only a few minutes earlier, Thea placed her hand on Jackson’s arm and walked toward the music. Moments later, they were dancing.
Thea had expected a pleasant interlude. What she hadn’t expected was that dancing with Jackson kept her from thinking about the past. While they were following the caller’s commands to bow, promenade, and allemande, all she thought about was how good it felt to be here at this moment in time with this man. It was without a doubt the most enjoyable experience she’d had since she’d arrived in Cimarron Creek.
Though the dance steps separated them frequently, each time they were reunited, Jackson’s smile broadened, and the gleam in his eyes said more clearly than words that he was savoring every minute of the dance. So was Thea. Ladreville had had its share of dances, and she’d had her share of partners, but no one had made her feel as energized—as alive—as Jackson did. His crooked smile, his sparkling eyes, his dry comments attracted her with the force of a strong magnet.
When the set ended and Thea found herself breathless, she knew that the cause was being close to Jackson rather than the dance steps themselves.
As the caller announced the formation of a new set, Jackson turned toward Thea. “I don’t know about you, but I could use some lemonade.” He gestured toward the table where Lydia was serving lemonade, cookies, and candies from Cimarron Sweets, then bent his arm and placed Thea’s hand on it. “I vote we get some.”
“I second the motion.” As the words registered, Thea clapped her free hand over her mouth. “That came out wrong, didn’t it? I don’t think you second votes.” She laughed, as much from the sheer joy of being with Jackson as from her error.
He shrugged and continued walking toward the refreshment table. “Who cares? I know what you meant. You wanted to wet your whistle.”
“I wouldn’t have phrased it exactly that way.”
“But you knew what I meant. That was my point.”
Thea laughed again. It felt so good to be talking about silly things rather than worrying about why someone had killed Helen Bradford and what other criminal acts Daniel might have perpetrated. She was still laughing when she and Jackson reached the table.
“You look like you’re having fun,” Lydia said as they approached.
“I am,” Thea agreed. “I’m glad Jackson convinced me to dance.”
Lydia raised an eyebrow. “How did you do that? When I told her no one would mind, she wouldn’t listen.”
“He threatened to have Travis lock me in the jail.” Thea gave Jackson a mischievous smile, daring him to contradict her.
“That’s right, ma’am,” he said solemnly. “I can be mighty persuasive where dancing is concerned. Only problem is, we worked up a powerful thirst for lemonade.”
“I thought I’d regret not dancing,” Lydia said as she poured them each a glass of the cool beverage, “but the little one is doing a jig tonight. He’s wearing me out.”
Though Lydia looked uncomfortable, that wasn’t uncommon at this stage of her pregnancy. The summer heat didn’t help, either. “It won’t be long now,” Thea said, trying to reassure her patient.
“Travis keeps saying the same thing. When I get cranky, I tell him he’s going to carry the next baby.”
“And I agree, don’t I, sweetheart?” Travis appeared behind the table and slipped an arm around his wife’s waist. “Opal’s on her way over to give you a break.”
Lydia leaned back in her husband’s embrace and smiled. “Travis is the perfect husband.”
But Daniel had been far from perfect. Thea forced the unhappy thoughts away, determined not to let memories of Daniel spoil her evening. Tonight was her chance to create happy memories, memories she would create with Jackson.
22
Jackson wiped his brow, then settled back in the saddle. The heat was more intense than he’d expected, and that had slowed him. As annoying as it was, he had no choice but to go slowly. He wouldn’t risk pushing Blaze, despite his eagerness to reach Leakey and learn what he could about Helen Bradford.
Being away from Cimarron Creek gave him time to think. Too much time. His brain continued to whirl with memories of Saturday evening and how good it had felt to be with Thea. She had been radiant—that was the only word he could find to describe the way her face had glowed—while they’d danced, and later when they’d strolled around the perimeter of the park, she had seemed more relaxed than he’d ever seen her.
They hadn’t discussed anything special while they’d walked, but the simple fact that they’d been together had made the time feel special. Jackson hadn’t analyzed his feelings then, but today as he rode toward Leakey, he realized that what he’d felt on Saturday had been happiness.
If only it could last, but the fragile happiness had been shattered by worries. Though he hadn’t said anything to Thea, because he didn’t want to disturb her further, Jackson was concerned by many aspects of Helen Bradford’s death. She and Stuart had obviously been apprehended on their way to Cimarron Creek and taken somewhere else. Where they’d been taken didn’t matter as much as why, and the only reason that made sense to Jackson was that whoever had killed Helen Bradford had mistaken her for Thea.
The undeniable resemblance between Thea and the murdered woman had worried Jackson from the beginning. Hearing about Violet Baker’s slit throat had only reinforced his concern. While he told himself there was a chance that there was no connection between Helen and Thea, Jackson knew it was small. What he learned in Leakey would either validate or disprove his fears.
“Helen Bradford.” The burly sheriff who’d introduced himself as Matt Driscoll gestured toward the chairs in front of his desk. When Jackson was seated, he continued. “Sure, I know her. She and Hiram are good folks. Guess I should have said ‘were.’”
Sheriff Driscoll leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands behind his neck. “It sure was a shame about Hiram dying the way he did. As far as anyone knew, he was as healthy as a man could be, but one day he just dropped dead.”
That was the story Thea had told Jackson, a simple matter of a heart giving out before its time. There was no reason to suspect foul play, but Jackson had to be certain.
“Did either of them have any enemies that you knew about?”
The sheriff didn’t bother to mask his surprise. “Enemies? The Bradfords? I can’t imagine anyone would wish them ill. They didn’t come into town much except for church, but when they did, they always had a friendly word for everyone.”
That was what Jackson had feared. If the Bradfords had no enemies, whoever had killed Helen had done it believing she was Thea. That was the o
nly explanation that made sense. But Jackson wouldn’t tell the sheriff that. Not yet. He wanted to see the man’s reaction to the rest of the story.
“It seems someone wished Helen ill. She was murdered when she was on her way to Cimarron Creek.”
“Helen left Leakey and was killed?” The sheriff shook his head as he rose to his feet. “Now you’ve shocked me. I can’t believe Helen left town without a word, especially since she had a new baby. Let’s see if the parson knows anything about that.”
But he did not. Like the sheriff, he hadn’t known that Helen was leaving, and he couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to harm either of the Bradfords.
“I hadn’t heard she’d had the baby,” the minister said, his expression perplexed. “I would have expected her to come into town to have the baby blessed and its name entered in the church register. This is mighty strange.”
Mighty strange indeed.
“I’d like to take a look at the Bradfords’ ranch,” Jackson told the sheriff as they left the parsonage. Not only had he promised Thea a sketch of Stuart’s first home, but he wanted to see if there were any clues to Helen Bradford’s life, anything that might disprove Jackson’s supposition that Thea had been the murderer’s target. “Can you tell me where to find it?”
“I can do better than that. I’ll take you out there myself. I’m curious about what happened to Helen.”
As the two men rode west, the sheriff peppered Jackson with questions about his life in the Rangers, seeming as curious about that as he was about the death of one of his neighbors. “I always wondered if I should have joined,” he admitted.
“It can be a good life, but it’s not for everyone.” The past few weeks had shown Jackson that.
Trying to deflect the sheriff’s interest, he turned the subject back to the woman who looked so much like Thea. “Did you have any strangers in town around the time Helen left?”
