Brides of the West (3 page)

Footsteps shuffled out of the dark.

Uncle Raven wandered to the other side of the
buckboard and released the leather straps. Together, they pushed up
on the buggy until it rested on its tail with the shafts pointing
upwards.

“So?” Uncle Raven said. “She came.”

Jake finally lifted his head to look at the
old man. Braided grey hair framed a leathery face the color of
mahogany and fell to his bony shoulders. He’d worn his eagle
feather for the first time in a long time Jake noticed. “She ain’t
stayin’.” Jake slapped Copper’s rump. “Move it, boy.”

The lines around Uncle Raven’s mouth and
corrugated lips deepened. He cocked his head, his black eyes
glinting like the bird he was named for. “Why?”

Trust the old man to get straight to the
point. “You saw her. You watched us from the barn. She’s a city
woman. I’ll spend all my time panderin’ to her and she’ll break
like a twig.”

“Or bend like a willow. Old saying of my
people—”

“It’s done. Over. And they’re my people,
too.” He led the horse into his stall, removed the bit and the
bridle and hung them over the rail. Buck, his bronco, whinnied a
greeting from the next door. What a waste of a day. He’d needed to
ride out to the east end of his property and take a look at his
beef. Instead he’d set himself up for a fall.

“Ask the medicine man for advice,” Uncle
Raven said, handing him a currying brush and setting to work with a
comb on Copper’s tail.

“No.”

Uncle Raven blew out a noisy breath. “What
about Little Hare? She’s a nice girl. You’re better off without an
ugly white woman.”

A burst of anger clouded Jake’s vision. He
glared over Copper’s withers. “Did I say she was ugly? No, I
didn’t.”

“Skinny, then.”

“Damn it, you’re twistin’ my words.
Where’re t
he boys? I thought they were
with you.”

Uncle Raven raised his eyebrows. “All right.
Change the subject. The boys went to Mrs. Drew’s for a
haircut.”

“Dang it. Have y’all gone woman crazy? Those
boys never get a haircut unless I tie ‘em to a chair.”

“No need to shout. I thought it would give
Mrs. Jake time. Damned handful, those boys. Send ’em back East to
their mother.”

He glowered at Uncle Raven. “The boys need
wide open spaces, not gettin’ into trouble in the city.” And their
mother didn’t want ‘em.

“Why did you bring the woman here?” Uncle
Raven prodded again.

Jake reined in his anger and shook his head.
“I couldn’t very well leave her standin’ at the crossroads until
Wednesday.”

“Why not take her into town.”

“I might, tomorrow. It’s too late today.”

He forked some hay into Copper’s manger and
checked his water. “Help me saddle Buck. I’m goin’ to check on a
calf I saw wanderin’ by itself this mornin’.”

“I’ll come with you. I don’t want to scare
your city woman. We’ll be back before the boys.”

Jake nodded slowly. What the hell had he been
thinking? He couldn’t bring a woman here. It wouldn’t matter who
she was, it would never work, not with his family ties.

***

Moisture trickled between
Tess’
breasts. She fanned herself with her hand.
“Plaguey thing,” she muttered at the stove. “Whoever said ladies
didn’t sweat, but merely gently glowed, has never been to Texas in
July.”

At any moment she expected to find she’d
melted into a sticky mess on the floor. And to make it worse, she
was talking to herself again. She dabbed at her face and neck with
the handkerchief she’d dipped in water. It didn’t help. Nor had
sunset. If anything it felt hotter.

The back door crashed back. Two blond lads of
around ten and twelve hurtled in. The
A Bride for All
mail
order catalog agent hadn’t said a word about Jake being a widower,
or a father. Tess offered them a smile.

“Hey,” the taller lad said. “You the woman
what’s come to marry Uncle Jake? At last, we’ll get a decent meal
around here. I’m starvin’.” The pair dove for the table, pulled out
a chair each and grabbed for a bowl and spoon. Their hands were
filthy and their faces weren’t much better.

Nephews, not sons, and rude ones at that.
Boys were boys no matter which country they lived in and she’d
lived around them all her life.

She raised her brows. “Good evening,
gentlemen. I’m Tess Dalton. Whom might I have the pleasure of
addressing?”

“Matt,” said the big one.

“Dave Redmond,” said the younger, wiping his
hands on his pants.

She put her hands on her hips. “Surely you
don’t expect to eat at my table covered in a day’s worth of
dirt?”

The younger boy slid to the edge of his
chair. He stopped at a glare from his brother.

“Uncle Jake don’t make us wash up,” Matt said
with a try-it-on-for-size sideways glance from hazel eyes full of
resentment. “Do he?”

Dave hunched into his shoulders and avoided
her gaze. “Nope.”

“Uncle Jake may not, but Tess Dalton
does.”

When they didn’t move, Tess reached across
and rapped Matt on the knuckles with the wooden spoon. Not hard
enough to hurt, but enough to make him take notice.

“Ow.” The lad jumped to his feet, fists
clenched, face scarlet. “Just because you get to marry Uncle Jake
don’t mean you can tell us what to do. I told him havin’ a woman
around here would ruin everything.”

The boy sounded so angry Tess considered
backing down. The kind of manners Jake expected from these lads
wasn’t her concern. In a few days she’d be gone.

“You ain’t our mother,” the little one said,
ranging alongside his brother, a world of hurt in his voice and in
his eyes. They were the same bright blue as Jake’s.

Now what in the world had happened to his
mother to make him look so wounded? She softened her tone, which
she knew sometimes sounded sharper than she meant. “Well, and here
I heard Texas gentlemen were the most polite in the world.” She
raised a brow. “And here you are with your hats on in the presence
of a lady and covered in more dust than my mother’s parlor after
the maid’s day off.”

Dave whipped off his hat and nudged his
brother with his elbow. The skin of his forehead was clean compared
to the rest of his face and pink with embarrassment. His short
dirty blond hair looked as if someone had taken a knife to it.

Matt glowered, but removed his hat. He had
brown hair, the color of oak and just as short.

“Boys,” she said with a smile, “if you want
stew, you need to wash. And if you need to wash, you need to go
outside to the pump. But if you prefer to go hungry, that’s your
choice.”

Dave looked longingly at the pot on the stove
and then at Matt.

The back door swung open.

The boys spun around.

Jake. No mistaking the boots, or the mile
long legs ending in lean lithe hips on the threshold. Tess let her
gaze slide up his length and mentally licked her lips at the sight
of his muscular torso and the chest solid enough to rest her head
on, before coming to rest on Jake’s sinfully handsome face.

He removed his hat and jerked his chin at the
boys. “What’s going on?”

“I just met your nephews. They are on their
way out to wash up for dinner.”

Jake inhaled. A slow smile spread across his
face, changing it from sinful to dangerous to all womankind. Tess’
stomach did a little flip.

“Dang,” Jake said. “You really cooked? I
smelled it from out there and thought it was wishful thinkin’.”

What had he expected her to do? “It’s only
stew. I found the meat in the larder along with some vegetables. I
hope you don’t mind?”

“Mind? Hell no. Let’s wash up boys.” He
frowned. “Why are you in here in all your dirt, anyhow?”

Matt stared at Tess as if expecting her to
tattle.

She headed for the stove. “So that’s four of
us for dinner, then?” she asked Jake.

“Five. Uncle Raven will join us.” He bolted
out the door.

She frowned. He hadn’t mentioned an uncle.
Was this the boys’ father?

She busied herself filling five bowls with
good helpings of stew.

It didn’t take long for the men to return.
Scrubbed clean of their dirt, and with damp hair, the young lads
looked almost angelic. Jake looked good enough to eat. A trickle of
water coursed down his cheek and into the faint haze of stubble on
his lean angled jaw. Tess briefly wondered how that drip would
taste licked right off his tanned skin.

Damn. What was the matter with her? She’d
been married. She knew all
about men. But
Pete had been nowhere near as attractive as Jake. Elderly, kind and
as boring as a Sunday sermon, Pete had saved her from spinsterhood
and given her life a purpose, even if they hadn’t had the children
she longed for. This man would drag her straight to hell. And he
wouldn’t have to do much dragging.

A few steps behind Jake came a short man with
bowed legs and wearing a checkered shirt. A large brown hat
shadowed his face and long grey hair straggled out from beneath it.
He doffed his hat and held it against his chest, his black eyes
watching her cautiously.

The lantern swinging from the beam above the
kitchen table cast his slanted eyes in shadow and
emphasized his high cheekbones
and beak of a nose. The
way his mahogany skin stretched tight over his lean features, he
looked like a death’s head.

Tess swallowed a gasp. This must be an
Indian. The stories she’d heard of these savage people sent chills
down her back. It was the first time she’d felt cool for more than
a week. She backed up a step.

“This is Uncle Raven.” Jake’s voice sounded
harsh. A muscle in his jaw flickered and jumped as if he would like
to say more, but couldn’t think of the words.

“I don’t bite,” the old man said, his carved
face splitting to reveal brown stained teeth.

“Uncle Raven lives here,” Jake said
flatly.

This native was his uncle? She looked from
one to the other, seeking a resemblance. Jake glowered at her.

She stuck out a hand. “Nice to meet you, Mr.
Raven.”

The old man wiped his hands on his leather
buckskins and shook it in a firm warm grasp. “Raven,” he croaked.
“Just Raven, ma’am.” He shot Jake a glare from beneath lowered
brows. “I’m not really an uncle.”

These Americans certainly believed in
informality.

Jake must have given the two boys a lecture
on manners outside, because they went to their chairs, but remained
standing behind them, waiting for her to sit.”

She smiled at them. Dave smiled back. Matt
curled his lip.

Jake pulled out a chair for her at one end of
the table and she sat. He strode to his own chair at the opposite
end.

“Texans are polite,” Dave said.

“So they are,” Tess replied as the men took
their seats in a clatter and scrape of wood against wood.

Fork in hand, Jake looked at Dave
enquiringly.

“We were talking about local customs before
you came in,” Tess explained.

Matt glowered, but said nothing.

“Is it your custom to say grace before a
meal?” she asked.

“Yes,” Jake said.

“No,” chorused the boys and Uncle Raven.

“It is now,” Jake growled. He bowed his head
and said a few word of thanks.

“Eat up,” Tess said.

“Finally,” Matt said under his breath.

For the next little while the only sounds
were those of enjoyment. The odd ‘pass the bread,’ a bit of
slurping from the boys and a very contented sigh from Uncle Raven
as he put down his
fork.

“Would you like some more?” Tess asked.

He pressed a hand to his stomach. “I’ll burst
if I eat another bite.”

Jake leaned back, a sensually satisfied cast
to his mouth. “Thank you,” he said. “That was a real nice
surprise.”

Tess’ heart swelled out of all proportion to
the praise. She liked to cook, but Pete’s chef had rarely allowed
her in the kitchen. “You are all very welcome.”

“If you cook like that,” Dave said, “I don’t
mind if Uncle Jake marries a girl.”

Jake stiffened.

Tess felt her cheeks go red. “Er...your uncle
and I are not going to get married.”

Dave’s eyes widened to the size of his bowl.
“But that means—”

“It means she ain’t stayin’,” Matt said.
“Right, Uncle Jake? That’s what you said outside to Uncle
Raven.”

“You are right, Matt,” Tess said. “I am just
visiting. I am going to catch the stagecoach on Wednesday.”

Dave’s shoulders slumped. He stared at the
table and said nothing.

A heavy silence filled the room.

Sweat ran down between Tess’ shoulder blades
in what felt like a torrent. “My word it is hot.”

“Always hot in summer,” Raven said.

Now there was a conversation stopper. “Not in
England,” she said with a raised brow.

***

The air in the bedroom weighed on Tess like a
wool blanket. She threw back the sheet and turned on her side
peering into the shadows cast by the lantern. Amidst the shadows
and patches of light, she pictured Jake’s square jaw and lean
cheekbones, the brilliance of his eyes. Foolish shadows. She
sighed. Never had she seen a man so handsome. A sweet ache
blossomed deep in her core, her pulse picked up speed and her blood
ran hot. Just what she needed. More heat.

She flopped over on her back. Dash it, where
was the breeze of earlier this evening. Why did the cool night air
seem to trap the hot air inside the house?

What-might-have-beens swirled in her restless
mind. Her cooking, him returning home
of an
evening
and gazing at her with that seductive smile before
his hands came around her waist and pulled her close. She still
felt the imprint of those hands on her waist as if he had branded
her when he lifted her from the gig. What had he called it? A
buggy?

And children. A whole host of boys with dark
hair and blue eyes around the kitchen table looking just like their
tall handsome father . . .