Be My Texas Valentine (6 page)

Chapter 5

Just before dawn Valerie woke and cuddled against the warmth of a man’s body beside her. For a moment she didn’t want to wake; then she realized she was in bed with Brody Monroe. Yesterday the rain must have made her crazy. Somehow the heavens’ opening up washed out all the emotion she’d been banking for years and all she wanted was someone to be with, someone to count on, someone to trust.

Holding her breath, she climbed out of bed and tiptoed to the kitchen, carrying her robe and slippers with her. As she dressed and started the fire, she thought of how insane she’d been yesterday to offer him marriage. He would have come to work for her if she’d asked; maybe he would have even waited to be paid until fall. She had nothing against the man, he seemed polite and strong, but she couldn’t believe she’d married him.

Maybe she was just tired of being out here alone, or maybe she hated seeing every man in town cross the street when they saw her coming. When she’d seen him being treated pretty much the same way by everyone, she felt somehow kin to him. Or, she reconsidered, maybe she was just tired of talking to herself and the cows.

As she started breakfast, the realization that she’d slept with him settled into her mind. She’d slept with him and he hadn’t lifted her gown like the other two husbands had. Maybe there was something wrong with him.

As she pulled the biscuits out of the oven, she looked up and saw him standing, fully dressed, in the doorway. This new husband of hers wasn’t handsome, not with his sharp features and hauntingly dark eyes. There seemed nothing soft about him, nothing flexible. Yet he’d held her gently last night, almost as if he could protect her from the world.

“Morning.” He smiled slightly. “Did you sleep all right?”

“Fine.” She blushed, remembering the feel of his body next to hers. “Have a seat. Breakfast is almost ready.”

He sat watching her as she brought everything to the table, and then he stood halfway up as she took her seat. They ate in silence, neither seeming to feel any need to force conversation.

He stood and reached for his hat. “That was a grand breakfast. You’re a good cook, Valerie.”

“Thank you,” she said, following him to the door. She couldn’t help wondering how bad the cooks he knew in the past were if he considered her good.

He turned toward her as he took one step onto the porch. “There’s a few things you need to know. I’ll work until the sun’s straight up, then I’ll come in if I’ve time. I don’t expect a meal on the table, but would appreciate it if you’d leave bread where I can find it. That and buttermilk is more than I usually have at midday. Or I like coffee if it’s cold. I will come in by dark and I’ll be hungry. If I’m later than you like to eat, just leave the food on the stove. I’ll find it.”

“Fair enough.” She smiled. “Only supper will always be when you get in. No matter how late, I’ll wait and eat when you do.”

“And one more thing,” he added slowly. “I expect to kiss my wife before I leave every morning, so if you’ve any objections, you should voice them now.”

She didn’t say a word as they stepped out on the porch. After putting on his hat, Brody leaned over and touched his lips to hers. Valerie told herself a kiss from a man she barely knew was not something she welcomed yet, but if it was important enough for him to mention, she would tolerate it without complaint.

To her surprise, Brody’s kiss was more than tolerable.

Laughter sounded from several feet away, making them both jump. She took a step back and Brody moved in front of her. Protecting her again, she thought. The morning sun was in her eyes, but she saw two men on horseback coming toward them.

“Hell, Montie,” one said, “I told you it was true. The widow married and looks like husband number three survived the night.”

Earl Timmons’s brother shook his head and added, “I was betting we’d find him dead.”

She backed away, not wanting to hear what the Timmons brothers had to say. Emma Lee Cooper might want to marry one of the cowboys, but Valerie didn’t even want to talk to them, much less have them on her land. They’d always treated her like a thing and not a person, even talking about her as if she couldn’t hear them.

Glancing at Brody, she saw the fire in his eyes, but his voice was calm. “Other than to check on my health, what are you two doing off Double R land?” He didn’t sound angry, but she noticed he’d moved his right hand to the butt of his Colt.

She didn’t think he’d draw on them, but for the first time she saw the soldier he’d been, always on the ready, and wondered if the Timmons boys were smart enough to be aware.

The brothers urged their horses closer. “Boss told us to bring those half-dozen mavericks you’ve been taking care of over here. He says they’ll just die if he turns them out, and maybe you’d take them off his hands.”

Valerie looked past the man to six calves between her place and the road. The cowboys hadn’t been wrong; the cattle already looked near death. Not one had enough meat on its body to make a stew.

“I’ll take care of them,” Brody said. “Thanks for bringing them over.” He reached behind him and took Valerie’s hand, tugging her forward with a firm grip. “And when you see my wife again, call her Mrs. Monroe, not the widow.”

Valerie expected the cowboys to argue, but they didn’t. They might not like Brody, but it was obvious they respected him. Both touched their hats and rode away.

“What are you going to do with them?” She pointed at the calves.

“Those cows you milk have extra every morning?”

“They usually do. The barn cats are getting so fat they can barely walk.”

“Well, it’s past dawn, we need to start milking.” He held her hand all the way to the barn as he explained how he planned to get the six mavericks healthy enough to be feeding off the grass along the rocky side of her land before summer.

As they worked, she learned a great deal about her new husband. He knew little about milking a cow, but he tried.

Almost finished, she heard a noise and turned to see him spread out on the barn floor a few feet behind one of the cows. “Brody?”

He didn’t move.

“Brody? Brody!” She was up and running. He looked like he’d been struck dead on the spot.

Picking up his head, she shook him. “If you die on me, Broderick, I swear I’ll never, ever forgive you.”

To her relief, he groaned and moved his head. When he pushed his hair off his forehead, she saw the beginning of a huge bruise.

“I’m all right.” He sat up. “I didn’t know milk cows kicked so hard.”

She didn’t know whether to hit him for being so careless or hug him. Anger took over as she stood. “How dare you scare me like that! Can’t you be more careful?” She put her fists on her hips and glared at him. “If you die on me, I swear I’ll haunt you into the next life and make your eternal days miserable.”

He broke out laughing. When he folded over still laughing, she couldn’t stay mad at him. Dropping to her knees, she joined him.

When they both lay on the barn floor exhausted, he smiled at her. “Even with the kick in the head, it’s a good day to be alive, wife.”

She agreed and they helped each other up.

When she carried the last of the milk to the house, she saw him moving the calves one by one into a small corral beside the barn.

All morning, she watched him working, first with the calves, then cleaning the barn and repairing the corral. When he didn’t stop at noon, she carried bread and buttermilk out to him. He thanked her but barely took time to eat.

That evening he looked tired as he washed at the sink in the kitchen, then sat down to eat.

“I washed your clothes,” she said halfway through the meal when he hadn’t said a word.

“Thank you.”

“You don’t have to keep thanking me for doing things,” she said. “I’m just doing my part. Tomorrow I’ll go into town with my milk and eggs. Do you need me to pick up anything for you?”

He shook his head. When he’d finished eating, he helped her do the dishes, then brought in firewood as she went to dress for bed. She returned to bank the fire and it was his turn to change.

She stayed in the kitchen for as long as she could, not wanting to interrupt him. When she finally blew out the light and moved through the dark house to the bedroom, she was surprised to find him standing in the dark staring out the window.

“Are you all right?” She moved to his side and brushed her fingers over the knot on his forehead.

He caught her hand and held it for a moment before letting her go. “I was just thinking of all that needs to be done. I’ll ride in with you in the morning and pick up seed. It may be a week before I’ll have the field ready, but I’ll want the seeds when I do.”

“Stop thinking about work, husband, and come to bed.” He’d worked twice as hard as she had today and she was exhausted. She moved to her side of the bed and climbed in. He did the same.

He lifted his arm and she lay an inch away from him. After a few minutes he shifted to face her and touched her cheek with his hand. “It was a good day, Valerie,” he said so low she wondered if he knew he’d said the words aloud. “The best I’ve had in longer than I remember.”

“I’m glad,” she added. “I feel like we’ve got a strong plan, and for the first time in years, I seemed to be working toward a goal of more than just existing.”

His hand traced her jaw and moved to the lace at her throat, then slowly trailed down the front of her gown, touching the tiny pearl buttons that ran from just below her chin to her waist. There had to be thirty buttons. It might as well have been thirty locks between the two of them.

“What are you doing?” she asked, afraid he’d tell her to lift her gown.

“I’m getting my mind off work by thinking you have way too many buttons to unbutton,” he said as his hand stopped moving just between her breasts. “I feel your heart pounding, Valerie. Tell me to stop if you don’t want this, but I find I do like touching you.”

“No.”

He straightened and moved his hand away. “No, you don’t want this, or no, don’t stop?”

“No, I won’t tell you to stop. You have a right.”

He sat up. “What are you afraid of? That I’ll hurt you? That I’ll force you? I don’t want to do something just because you think I have a right to. All day I thought about being here with you and if it was possible that you might just want to be here with me.”

She didn’t answer for a long time and he remained stone. Finally, she spoke her mind. “I’m afraid if I’m not the proper wife, you’ll leave me.”

Brody fell back on the bed so fast he bumped his head, almost cracking the headboard. After a few swear words, he sat back up again. “Let’s get something straight. I’m not going to hurt you or force you or leave you. I would like to sleep next to you, but if it bothers you, I’ll be fine in the barn.”

She nodded and wondered if he could see her in the dark. “All right. I’d like you to stay here, with me, and if you want to touch me now and then, I wouldn’t mind.” She knew she didn’t sound sure of anything, but it was the best she could offer.

After a while, he slid back down beside her. “Why on earth would you think I’d leave? Being here, working for myself, makes me feel alive, and touching you just now and then is more than I’d ever dreamed of asking for. But much as I like it, I don’t want you letting me if you’re just doing it because you think it’s your duty.”

She wanted to ask Brody a dozen whys, but she didn’t. The memory of her first husband came to mind. This had been his place, and he’d been fifteen years older than her when they married. He’d always made her feel like she was visiting in his house, even yelling if she moved anything. He’d made her feel like she’d married up when she’d found him and she should always be grateful. With each month’s passing he seemed angrier at her because she didn’t get pregnant. By the end of their first year they were no longer talking. He just gave orders and yelled complaints while she grew silent.

When he left for the war, the last thing he’d said to her was not to change anything on his farm. She’d waited a year after they notified her he’d died before she even put away his clothes. She’d never cried for Venny or for Samuel five years later.

Yet a tear rolled down her cheek at the possibility that she might have been treating Brody as a visitor in what was now half his house. He hadn’t started this, and he hadn’t asked for much.

Silently, she moved until they touched. As always, she felt him stiffen at the contact for that first moment. “Hold me,” she whispered, “until I fall asleep. Not because you should, but only if you want to.”

His arm tightened around her. “I’m not leaving,” he answered and kissed the top of her head. “We’ll figure this out somehow.” His hand moved comfortingly along her shoulder.

She didn’t answer, but ten minutes later when she knew he was asleep, she reached up and unbuttoned a few buttons at her neck.

Chapter 6

The next morning Brody woke Valerie up after he’d dressed. Dawn was just coming into their room as he stood over her. Strands of her braid had come free, and as he moved her hair from her face, she opened sleepy eyes.

“Morning, beautiful,” he said.

“Morning.” She stretched.

He fought the urge to trace his hand over the outline of her body as the cotton molded against her skin. Several times in the night he’d reached to touch her lightly, tucking her arm under the cover, shifting her against his shoulder, and one time letting his hand rest atop her hip. Once, she’d rolled slightly toward him, pressing her breast against his side. He’d kissed her lightly on her sleeping mouth, and he swore she’d made a little sound of pleasure.

“I’ll milk the cows while you get dressed and fix breakfast. Then we’ll be ready to leave for town.” He noticed that the collar of her nightgown was open and wished he’d been brave enough to talk about how it had felt to have her beside him all night.

“Be careful,” she ordered, cuddling back into the covers. “Watch out for the cows.”

He laughed. “If you hear a shot, you’ll know you have one less cow.”

An hour later, as he helped her into the buggy, he kissed her lightly on the mouth and said, “You taste like pancakes.”