Hope Reborn (15 page)

“The guy was a grown man?”

He nodded. “I was always big for my age.”

“I agree, self defense. What about the other nine?”  She needed to write this down. Mary Rachel was absolutely right. May should tell Henry’s and Sue story first.

“Mother hated what happened, blamed herself for me killing that guy, so she took a teaching job in New Orleans. On the way there –” He smiled. “The few times I’ve told this story, I raise my shirt and show my scar, but other than Sue, you’re the first lady to hear this, so you’ll have to trust me.

Anyway, these two bandits jumped us on the trail. I got cut real bad, but still managed to kill the other guy with his partner’s knife.”

“What about the man who cut you?”

“Mother shot him.”

“Self defense again, no doubt. The others?”

“Five in 1814, the Battle of New Orleans, a Mexican soldier at San Jancinto, and then last year, two of the renegades Bold Eagle sent.” He smiled. “So you see?”

“Well those can’t count.”

“I’m not a murder, and you, for sure, dear lady, are not a shrew. You’re beautiful inside and out. It oozes from you. When you walk, a regal-ness pours out. When you talk.… Other than Sue, I’ve never known a stronger or more desirable lady than you, my sweet May.”

If not for the detestable temperature, she would swear she must be dreaming, but she could never imagine this much heat. Had he called her his own? She loved hearing him say she was not a shrew, but of course, he hadn’t seen her at her worst.

But calling her desirable and.… “What about this nose, wide as a house? And my kinky hair?” She fussed with a curl. “How could you really think I’m beautiful?”

“That’s easy. It all fits. Your nose, your hair, the whole you comes together perfectly. You’ve got the most kissable lips I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

“Don’t talk like that, Henry. I’m having enough trouble not throwing myself at you.”

He smiled. “I’d catch you, but that’s all that would happen. I believe in marriage before enjoying any of a woman’s intimate pleasures.”

She looked away. How could being married to him work? The very idea of waking up each morning nestled to him—for the rest of her life—being Mis’ess Patrick Henry Buckmeyer certainly took her breath away.

A truly intriguing proposal, but he hadn’t proposed.

She glanced back and held his eyes with her own.

“Might you consider moving?”

“Well actually, I have.” Henry stood and stepped around to the back of the bench, thankful she hadn’t tested his resolve and thrown herself at him. But the Lord had promised the devil couldn’t tempt him beyond what he could endure.

A splash drew his gaze to the water. A ripple circled out from a spot a stone’s throw from the shore.

“There’s a fantastic place along the Llano River that Levi and I found. That’s where he and Wallace have been the past month. They’re staking out the corners to our new ranch,

“We used our last four headrights on it. I’ve been thinking about moving for a while now.”

“That’s sixteen thousand acres?”

“A little more, but yes.”

“So where’s the Llano River? I haven’t heard of it. May I assume that it’s still in Texas?”

He looked back. Was this God, or was he crazy? How could he live the rest of his life without her? “Yes, ma’am, south and west from here. Not more than a month.”

“I thought we had an understanding, Mr. Buckmeyer.” She wiggled her index finger like a metronome. “No more ma’ams. So, how about New York? Ever thought about going east?”

“Being polite is a bad habit of mine.” He grinned. “I would like to travel some, but getting my clan anywhere is a chore.”

If Sunday was a harbinger, travel with him might be a challenge. She loved New York, but it wouldn’t be the same again if Henry wasn’t there. Her hand went to her tummy; best to ask him now before things got any more serious.

“There’s something else I need to know.”

He slipped back around and sat on his end of the bench. “You can ask me anything.”

She filled her lungs and held her breath for a second, then blew it out real slow. Could all this really be happening? Was it truly possible he was the one she’d waited her whole life for?

“I know it’s personal, but I need to know. How do you feel about having another baby?”

He smiled. “With you?”

“Yes, me.”

“Boy or girl?”

“How can I know, and what does that matter anyway? If you get the wrong one, you can’t send it back.” She swatted at him. “Now be serious. I’ve wanted to be a mother as long as I can remember.”

Leaning toward him, she grinned. “Did Houston tell you he thought I was an angel? He climbed into my lap and wanted to feel my wings.”

“No, but I can sure see where he’d get the idea.”

“Anyway, he snuggled in and took himself a little nap. I’ve never held a sleeping child like that.” She closed her eyes. “It was wonderful.”

She looked at him again. “The only way it could have been better, was if I’d given birth to him myself. Your children are precious and.…” Tears welled. “I’d love them, certainly. I’m sorry…it’s just..I’ve waited so long.”

“Too, Long, May.”

“May be. And well, there’s been so many men who have.… Well, I do hate you hairy brutes at times. And Henry, are you still in love with Sue?”

He extended his hand, and she slipped hers into it. “My babies’ mother will always have a special place in my heart, but no. I’ve mourned my dead. I’m not still in love with her. Did you know she was married before me?”

She sniffed then nodded. “Mary Rachel had mentioned that. So answer my question. Do you want more babies?”

“Can I spoil him?”

“Yes, of course, and if it’s a girl?”

He held up his fist extending and crooking his smallest digit. “She’ll have me wrapped right around her tiny little finger, just like all the other Buckmeyer ladies.”

“So answer my question. Are you willing to do your duty if lightning did strike, and we married?”

“Is that a proposal?”

“No. It is most certainly not.” She stood and put her hands on her hips. How could he say that? She would never propose to any man. It wasn’t her place! How did he turn things around on her so easily?

He was the one supposed to propose, not her. She wanted to slap him. She wanted to run. But she wouldn’t. Not this time. She faced him. “Answer my question. Yes? Or no?”

“I love babies.” He nodded once then studied the ground more than a minute. “You do know that complications from childbirth is how Sue –”

“Yes, I do.”

He smiled. “The little darlings are remarkable. Would one be enough?” He grinned, but not a wide happy smile. Seemed forced, like even the thought of her giving birth was more than he could bear.

She sat back down, scooted closer, and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Yes, and I promise not to die.”

Her hand on his shoulder sent little sparks all the way to his heart. Was he being a fool? Mixing up love and lust?

Oh, Lord, did you form May in her mother’s womb just for me? Guide me, Father. Give me the right words at the right time.

The horrible image of her lying on her death bed cradling a baby vanished. She wasn’t Sue, and he’d never be an idiot again. He’d not let her have one baby right after another, no matter how much she wanted to give him a son.

A baby girl would suit him just fine.

He stood and extended his hand. “Want to help me fire up the boiler? I promised the girls a bath.”

She jumped to her feet, glee written across her face. “Yes, of course, as long as I get a turn. That would be wonderful.”

He loved her smile. For sure, he hadn’t found anything about her he didn’t love. Except her not being punctual, but it seemed that was definitely a female trait.

Even Bonnie thought she had all the time in the world to get ready. “There’s a condition.”

“What? Please don’t tell me I have to sing for my bath.”

“No, but could you?”

“What?”

“Sing?”

“Yes, can’t everyone?”

He laughed. “Best ask Rebecca about that.”

“Fine, I will. Now what’s that condition you mentioned? You can’t not tell me, I hate not knowing something.” She bumped his shoulder with hers. “And if there’s one thing I really want to know is what I have to do to get a ticket to your bathhouse?”

“Well, the girls and I are going with Mammy and Jean Paul tonight. They’re having church, but you don’t have to go.” He grinned. “A sponge bath isn’t so bad.”

“That’s blackmail.” She glanced at the sun. “Do we have time to get a bath then on to town?”

“We have a brush arbor down by the creek between the two farm fields up by the road. You’ll like the meetings there, I promise.”

“What’s different about them?”

He shrugged. “You’ll see.”

She hated that, having to wait, but knew well enough that strong men never explained themselves. That’s why her heroes were always well loved. The commodore told her that and broke her of the habit of asking him why.

Though she no longer denied herself the asking, she did remember what she’d learned and applied to the men starring in her novels. Many a reviewer had complimented her strong male characters.

“What exactly will I see?” She matched his stride, but he should slow down. “While I would love another bath—even a swim in that snake-infested lake of yours so long as Rebecca’s along—I was hoping to have some time with Levi and Wallace this evening.”

“I heard about that moccasin. She’s a great shot.” The man certainly had mastered ignoring questions, changing the topic of conversation.

“So?” She double stepped, turned, and faced him. “Are you going to tell me what’s different about Mammy’s brush arbor meeting or continue to avoid my question?

“It isn’t necessary for you to keep your reasons from me just to protect your manliness. You see, I’m a writer, so am fully aware –”

“No preaching.”

She glanced over. “I was not preaching, I was merely –”

“No.” He chuckled. “I wasn’t accusing you of getting on your soap box. That’s what’s different. About tonight’s meeting. There’s no preaching, only singing.”

“Oh?” She contemplated this interesting fact. “I like that.”

“Thought you might.”

“Well, it’s just that your deacon was.…” She stopped herself; she really didn’t want a theological discussion right then. “Anyway, no preaching. So what else is different?”

“We sing, pray, have a great time in the Lord. Someone might read a scripture or two, but there’s no prepared message like at the Methodist church on Sunday.”

“Some of the same hymns though?”

“Don’t know. We let the Spirit lead, but you can start any song you want, make one up or whatever. We don’t have any rules, and it’s just us, so....” He smiled. “Want that bath or not?”

“If I do dip my big toe in your hot water, and then I change my mind, what happens then?”

“Nothing. I’d be disappointed, but that’s all.” He reached the steps of the bathhouse, but he went on around toward the back of the building. “Come on, you can split some wood for kindling. Ever swung an axe?”

She hadn’t, but there wasn’t much to it. After three swings, he claimed it to be enough to get the fire kindled. A wad of straw under the wood chips and shavings, one match, and in mere minutes a fire roared.

She never thought about if before. Chester always kept her fireplace blazing in cold weather, but.… “What do you do if you don’t have matches?”

He stuck another piece of wood under the boiler then looked at her. “Kept a flint in my kit, and if needed, I know how to string a bow and start a fire with a stick.”