Jane Bonander (6 page)

“Those are my chores. You didn’t have to do them.” She didn’t want to be grateful. She wanted a reason to send him packing.

He followed her into the kitchen, stopping to watch Marymae. “I figure I should earn my keep. What other reason would there be for keeping me on?”

She didn’t know whether it was excitement or disappointment that filled her stomach. Both emotions affected her by making her a bit nauseous. “Then … then, you’ll be staying?”

“Isn’t that what you asked me to do last night?” He took a cup off the table and poured himself coffee. “It sounded pretty clear to me.”

“That was before—” She stopped, reluctant to admit how he affected her. She wasn’t even willing to admit that to herself—at least not out loud.

“Before I got your hackles up?” he finished, a wicked grin flashing across his face.

She felt herself flush as she turned the meat. “Don’t be foolish.”

“You mean it didn’t bother you when I told you I slept in only a smile?”

She flipped the first batch of griddle cakes, knowing her blush had deepened because her face felt hot and her ears burned.

“I guess I have to learn that you’re more comfortable when you’re insulting me.” She spooned oatmeal into a dish and poured fresh cream into it.

“Is that what you think I’m doing? Insulting you?” Moving so he could see her, he studied her over the rim of his coffee cup.

She stirred Marymae’s cereal, making sure it was soupy and just lukewarm. “Well, isn’t it?”

An odd look crinkled the corners of his eyes and his lips hardened. He moved toward her, and she took a step back, threatened not only by him, but by her own feelings.

“Maybe I think you need to loosen up a little, Miss Julia. For a widow woman, you’re as tight as the spring on a watch.”

“W-Widow woman?” Julia couldn’t stop her astonished response.

A brief look of surprise crossed his face as well, but he recovered. “You are a widow, aren’t you?”

She swallowed the lump in her throat, attempting to compose herself. “What I am is no concern of yours, Mr. McCloud. From now on, I’m your boss, and that’s all you need to know.”

She watched him out of the corner of her eye, and could almost see the wheels turning in his head. Marymae’s parentage had obviously never been explained to him, and oddly, he hadn’t heard any of the rumors she knew were rampant in every community from Ygnacio to Martinez.

With a quick, nervous motion she flipped the griddle cakes onto a platter and plunked it onto the table. She knew that explaining Marymae would make Josette look bad, but she just didn’t feel like going into the whole, sordid story, even though it would exonerate her.

“What happened to the other two hands who were here before?”

Julia pulled Marymae to the table and tested the milky oatmeal on her tongue before feeding it to the baby. “They both disappeared the day after Papa died. I’ll never understand why, unless it was because Papa died on the mountain and they somehow felt threatened. They’re afraid of the mountain, you know. Bad medicine, or something.”

“They’re not afraid of it. It’s not an evil presence, Miss Julia, it’s a sacred one. They worship it.”

She stopped feeding Marymae, who let out a wail of displeasure. “I didn’t know that.” She knew he was a breed, even though he looked like no other she’d ever seen. “Are they … is that what you believe, too?”

He gave her a dry smile. “It wasn’t part of my religion.”

“What was?” She watched him eat, suddenly wanting to know something about him.

His smile turned bitter. “Nothing much.”

“What … what tribe was your … is your …”

He noted her discomfort with a shake of his head. “I have no idea.”

She frowned. He appeared more white in manner than Indian. “You were raised by whites.”

“I was.”

He’d turned taciturn on her. She picked up the carving knife and sliced the ham. “Do you know anything—”

“Miss Julia.” Wolf could put it off no longer. “I have some papers for you. I should have given them to you last night, but …” Expelling a heavy sigh, he pulled the two envelopes from his pocket and slid them across the table to her.

“I suppose there should be some way to introduce this, but damned if I know what it is.” He cleared his throat, anticipation flooding him. He wasn’t accustomed to feeling so powerless.

She looked at the envelopes, then up at him. “What is this?”

He held out his hand. “Pass the knife, please, I’ll finish carving.”

At this point it was better for him to have a weapon than her.

With an impatient movement she handed him the knife, then pulled one of the envelopes toward her. She glanced at the upper left corner, then at McCloud. “From Papa’s lawyer? How did you get it?”

He sighed again, and put the carving knife beside his plate. “You’ll know soon enough.”

She pulled out the papers and opened them. “Papa’s will,” she said.

Wolf frowned. “His will?”

She nodded and scanned the first two pages, her expression thoughtful and sad. Abruptly, her entire demeanor changed. “What?
What?
” She raised her head, her face chalky white and filled with disbelief.

“Is something wrong?” He hadn’t known about the will, hadn’t known Amos had one.

She shook her head. “No.
No.
He can’t mean this. He
can
’
t.
” She swallowed repeatedly, then added, “Papa wouldn’t do this to me. He promised me he wouldn’t make me get married just to save the land. He
promised.
”

Married?
What in the hell was she talking about? “Here,” he said, reaching for the paper, “let me—”

She pulled the will out of his reach and stood, shoving the chair back until it toppled over and hit the floor. The baby cried out, but she was ignored.

Julia swung around, nailing Wolf with a glare meant to kill. “And to
you
of all people,” she hissed.

Wolf couldn’t have been any more surprised if she’d hit him over the head with a board. He raised his hands to fend her off. “I don’t know anything about marriage, Miss Julia. I agreed to buy a piece of land and stay on as your foreman. I don’t—”

She swiped at her cheeks, and he realized she was crying. He felt helpless and stupid. He took his and Amos’s agreement from his shirt pocket and put it on the table.

“Here. Read this. This is all I know about.”

She inched back toward the table, swung the paper around and looked at it. “What’s this?”

“It’s the agreement I had with your father. It’s the only one I know about, Miss Julia. Let me see the will.”

She flung it at him, then toned away, crossing her arms over her chest. Wolf read the will with mounting surprise. It was dated after he’d seen Amos. In essence, it forced Julia to marry him if she wanted to keep the ranch. And it forced him to agree, or he wouldn’t get the land. If either refused, the ranch would go to the creditors.

“Why, that sly old dog,” he muttered, appreciating the cleverness of the ploy, if not the ploy itself.

“Why would he do this?” she asked no one in particular.

“Maybe it’s explained in the other letter,” he offered.

Glaring at him again, she grabbed the other envelope off the table. “I suppose you know what’s in this one, too.”

“No. And as I told you, I didn’t know what was in the other one, either.” For some reason, he no longer wanted to rile her.

She read, tears of anger streaming down her cheeks, dripping off her chin onto the paper. Wolf sympathized with her. He couldn’t understand why Amos had done such a thing. What in hell would have made Amos think he would agree to it?

When she finished, she let out a wail of anguish, crushed the letter into a ball and tossed it onto the table. It bounced, landing on the floor beside him.

She ran from the room. Seconds later he heard a door slam, and he was alone in the kitchen with the baby, who was crying as well, her fingers periodically jammed into her mouth.

He picked up the crumbled paper off the floor and put it on the table, not wanting to know what was written on it. He had too much to consider, himself. Strangely, it was all unreal to him. Marriage to Miss Julia? It wouldn’t happen. Something could be done to avoid it. He could …

Wolf scratched his chin, a feeling of unease tunneling into his stomach. He could loan her the money he’d gotten from Angus to keep her creditors at bay. Yes, he could. But did he want to? Hell, the money wasn’t the issue. She could have the money, for all he cared.

But a new feeling grew in his chest, like a seedling taking root. This was his chance to do something with his life. And he was selfish enough to want to take it.

Hoping to distance himself from the sound of the bawling baby, he started to leave. He gave her one final look, and she stopped crying. She continued to hiccough and suck loudly on her fingers, all the while staring at him with those big blue eyes.

“Ah, hell,” he muttered. He headed for the back door, then stopped when the baby let out another wail. With a shake of his head, he returned to the table and picked up the oatmeal. He’d never been able to stand the sound of a crying female—no matter what her age.

Someone had once told Julia she had a photographic memory; the ability to see words in her mind. Recalling the letter now, this was the first time she’d felt it was a curse rather than a blessing. Her father’s words burned into her brain. Some of them actually making her head hurt.

Now, she stood at the window, ignoring the tears that continued to track down her cheeks. Why had he done this? He’d certainly not been in his right mind. But she knew with a wilting certainty that of all her father’s failings, a weak mind hadn’t been one of them. He may have been troubled and ill, but he wasn’t insane.

Marymae’s voice filtered through her pain, and she gasped. Lord help her, she’d left the baby with that … that … that
man.

Scrambling to the door, she flung it open and rushed to the kitchen, where she stopped short. Wolf McCloud had straddled a kitchen chair and was diligently feeding Marymae her oatmeal.

T
he tranquility was deceptive as the three of them headed toward Martinez. They’d hitched the geldings to the buggy, leaving Sally and Baptiste behind—well separated from each other.

Marymae was good in the buggy; it rocked her to sleep. Julia’s mind whirled with thoughts of getting rid of McCloud. She had insisted they see Mr. Williams. Surely something could be done about the ridiculous contents of her father’s will. McCloud was quiet as well. Julia sensed a tension in him that wasn’t usually there.

She smoothed one hand over her flower-sprigged dark blue calico, wondering if McCloud had even noticed that she wore a dress. As far as she could remember, it was the first time she’d had one on in his presence. That he hadn’t made any comment one way or the other made her angry, but she didn’t know why it should bother her at all.

“McCloud, if you have an inheritance, which it appears you have, then you can buy any property you want. Surely you’d want something more valuable than that piece of land Papa offered you.”

Julia hugged Marymae to her, feeling a mounting sense of panic. There
had
to be a way out of this preposterous situation. For two days she’d stewed and fretted while McCloud stayed out of her way, attempting to patch the holes in the barn roof.

“I don’t know.” His voice was deceptively thoughtful. “I’m kind of partial to that piece of land.”

“If you’re trying to annoy me, McCloud, you’re succeeding.” She heard him chuckle. It would be so like him to make light of this whole issue.

They were silent again, Julia’s mind awhirl with thoughts of doing something dastardly to him.

“You realize, Miss Julia, that if we don’t marry, you’ll lose your land. And, if I remember anything about your father, he didn’t want the bank to take the ranch.”

Julia clenched her teeth. Blackmail. He was using her emotions to’ blackmail her. “I’ll find some investors.”

“To invest in what, Miss Julia?”

She frowned. He
would
remind her of that. “There must be a way out of this, and I intend to find it.”

The muddy state of the roads had made the trip longer than usual, and by the time they arrived at Earl Williams’s office, it was two o’clock in the afternoon.

After arguing and pleading with Mr. Williams for more than an hour, Julia felt drained.

“There’s no way out, Miss Larson,” the lawyer said. “It was your father’s wish.” He tossed a nervous glance at McCloud, who stood at the back of the room.

Julia knew she was beaten. What else could she do? “All right.” Marriage didn’t have to mean anything. And theirs wouldn’t.

“Mr. Young, at the end of the hall, is a justice of the peace. Would you like me to get him?”

Julia’s heart leaped into her throat. “Here? Now?” Lord, she wasn’t ready. She swung her gaze to the door, where McCloud stood, stoic as a statue, more reserved than she’d ever seen him before.

“Are you ready for this charade, McCloud?” Why in the name of heaven had she asked him? He was probably chomping at the bit to get his hands on her land. And that was all he wanted. She felt a horrible sense of hurt and couldn’t understand why.

“I’m ready.” His answer was short, abrupt.

The ceremony was brief. Mr. Young, a short, fat man with a shiny bald head sporting a few well-spaced strands of long hair, pronounced them man and wife. “You may kiss the bride,” he ordered, his smile wide.

Julia had never felt so ill. She wanted to scream. Cry. Curse her father for forcing her to marry a man she not only didn’t love, but one who, in all likelihood, had probably already slept with her sister.

But that was swept away when she felt McCloud’s fingers on her chin, nudging her face to his. A tingling began where he’d touched her, spreading into her chest, then to her stomach. She swallowed and looked up at him, hypnotized by his haunting eyes, surprised she saw no humor there. No mirth. No sarcasm.

His mouth descended slowly, and she automatically closed her eyes when his lips, warm and dry, touched hers. He pressed lightly, taking such gentle nibbles that Julia found herself reaching and stretching for something more.

It was over all too quickly. She opened her eyes, noting that his held the wicked light she’d seen so many times before. Feeling the fool, she moved away, huffing dramatically as she straightened her skirt. “I think we could have dispensed with that, Mr. Young.”

The justice of the peace cleared his throat, then asked them to sign the marriage certificate, before he scurried back to his own office.

“Now,” Mr. Williams said, his demeanor changed. “You must come home with me. Helga would never forgive me if she couldn’t make your visit comfortable.”

Julia felt swamped by everything. “Oh, we couldn’t. We should get back to the ranch.” But they didn’t have to. She’d arranged for a neighbor to look in on the animals just in case they couldn’t get back in time to feed them.

“But look,” he replied, nodding toward the window. “Another storm has blown in. You’ll have to stay the night anyway. Better with us than at the hotel, don’t you think so?”

No, I don
’
t think so.
She looked at McCloud, whose face gave her no hint as to what he was feeling. Marymae began to fuss, prompting Julia to dig into her reticule and pull out a bottle.

Grateful for a reason to sit, she sank into a chair by the window and fed the baby, then turned to study the street. Rain fell again, swaying the sycamore branches, rattling the windowpanes. Her heart sank. They
couldn
’
t
leave for home, no matter how much she wanted to.

“Maybe we should stay at the hotel.” But what would they use for money, unless McCloud had some on him? The thought lost its appeal, for she didn’t want to be beholden to him for more than she already was.

“Nonsense! You’ll all come home with me.” Mr. Williams had shrugged into his coat. “We’ll have a celebration. Helga will be beside herself. Finally someone to coddle and fuss over.” He tossed Julia a wide, winking smile. “Josh is getting too old for her to baby; as boys grow up, they tend to push their poor mothers away.”

“Yes,” she said, trying to respond. “I hear boys are like that.” The muscles around her mouth refused to go into a smile, so she gave up trying. “Well,” she said around a heavy sigh, “your offer is very gracious, Mr. Williams.” She turned to the man whose name she would now share, but with whom she would share nothing else. “Is that all right with you, McCloud?”

As they followed him out the door, McCloud touched her arm, guiding her from the room. “I think it’s a fine idea.”

Julia forced herself not to recoil, not in disgust, but in pure frustration. Sometimes he acted so deceptively civilized, it frightened her.

Mr. Williams gave them the directions to his home before leaving the building. Julia and McCloud waited downstairs for the boy from the livery to bring the buggy around. She felt stiff and tense. “Don’t expect this marriage to be anything more than a business arrangement, McCloud.”

“Do you really think that’s what Amos would want?”

His answer surprised her so, she shot him a swift glance. “I doubt that Papa expected me to share your bed,” she snapped. “Thank heavens
that
option wasn’t in the will as well.”

“Too bad it wasn’t.” His cocky, sin-filled grin was back, and she knew he wasn’t serious. She couldn’t decide if she was pleased or disappointed.

Helga Williams was an incurable romantic, even after fifteen years of marriage. At any other time, Julia would have found this charming. Now, however, she found it exasperating. She’d deftly taken over Marymae’s care and hustled the “newlyweds” off to the spare bedroom to “rest” before dinner.

Julia stood by the door, her nervous fingers wrinkling her skirt. “She doesn’t know the circumstances. I’m sorry.”

McCloud was at the window, watching the storm. “I’m sure you are.”

At least he knew where she stood. Now it was her turn to understand him. “Why did you do this, McCloud? What could you possibly gain?”

He turned, giving her his handsome, wild, profile. “Appears I’ve gained a ranch, doesn’t it?”

Anger tightened in the pit of her stomach. She swung away from the door and clutched the edge of the dry sink, her knuckles white. “Papa must have been crazy to think this would work.”

“He wasn’t crazy and you know it.”

“But why would he do this to me?” She pressed her fist against her mouth, furious with herself for letting her feelings show and with Papa for betraying her, then dying before she could find out why.

“Maybe we should just make the best of it, Miss Julia, and not try to analyze it to death.”

“No!” She made her way to the bed and sat, her head in her hands. “It’s an impossible situation, McCloud. I don’t want you and you don’t want me. How can we possibly make the best of
that?
”

He continued to study the storm beyond the window. “Amos’s will was as much of a surprise to me as to you. I was prepared to become your foreman for a small plot of land of my own.” He raked his fingers through his thick, black hair; it fell to his shoulders again. “We can work it out that way, if you want.

I’ll build a place of my own on the land at the edge of the property. I’ll work as your foreman. You can have my money to pay your bills, or at least make a dent in them.”

Julia’s stomach quivered, again with unexplainable nausea. Disappointment? Excitement? Lord, she had no idea. “And the sham of a marriage?”

He shrugged. “According to the will, it can’t be undone. But as you suggested, we’ll just live our separate lives, if that’s what you want.”

“Of
course
that’s what I want.” Wasn’t it? She didn’t want to live with this man, no matter how inexplicably she was drawn to him on some baser level. But she had to learn to keep her thoughts and feelings to herself. This wasn’t his doing any more than it was hers. He surely felt as trapped as she did, perhaps more so. Oddly, that thought hurt.

She felt a tiny bite of shame for her blatant behavior. “You … you can take your meals with me, if you’d like.”

For the first time since they’d stepped into the room, he turned from the window. His expression surprised her, for it was neither sarcastic nor insulting. “And where would you like me to sleep, Miss Julia?”

The question caused her stomach to dip, and there was an odd tingling between her legs. If only he’d had that wicked gleam in his eye, she would have told him to go to hell and sleep there, but he didn’t. She didn’t want him near her for many reasons, but in spite of everything, she wanted to be fair.

“Until you’ve built your cabin, McCloud, you can …” She paused, unsure of her offer. “You can stay in Papa’s bedroom.” She swallowed hard, waiting for his barbarous response.

“I’d appreciate that, Miss Julia.”

Again, his civility tossed her off balance. She cleared the nervous tickle in her throat, suddenly remembering their kiss after the ceremony. “About … about tonight, McCloud …”

As if planned, their gazes went to the bed, then to each other.

“Don’t worry about it,” he urged. “I’ll take the floor.”

Every muscle in Julia’s body was so tight she was afraid they would twist into knots beneath her skin. And she was beginning to feel a headache coming on. Never in her life had she felt so awkward.

There was a knock at the door, breaking the tension in the room. “Julia?”

Letting out a shuddering breath, she went to the door and opened it. Helga Williams, almost as wide as she was tall, stood before her, a smile showing the gap between her front teeth.

“Oh, that baby,” she gushed. “Such a good girl. And so pretty, too.”

Julia relaxed. “I hope she hasn’t given you any trouble, Helga.”

Helga swept into the room, surprisingly agile for a woman of her size. “Not at all. I love babies. Wish I could have had more of my own, but God knows best, I guess. My Joshua is not a baby anymore.” She held out the garment that hung over her arm. “Here,” she said. “You’ll need clothes to sleep in tonight.” She stepped closer. “It’s a little something I’ve saved over the years for special occasions.” She gave Julia a conspiratorial wink.

Julia took the gown and robe, feeling a wash of color in her cheeks. “Thank you, Helga. That was very thoughtful of you.” She didn’t have to wear the gown;

Helga would never know. But did she really want to sleep in her clothes?

Helga walked to the door. “Dinner will be in an hour, you two. And we have champagne!”

Wolf sat across the table, watching Julia. Her color was high. She’d had too much champagne. She was also nervous, which was probably why she’d had too much to drink. Not so surprisingly, she appeared softer and more vulnerable. He’d trade his soul to the devil to kiss her delicious mouth again. Once, in the company of a lawyer and a justice of the peace, only stimulated his appetite for more. And each time their gazes locked, he saw interest where there had never been interest before. Again he knew it was the liquor, but it was an appealing concept, nevertheless.

“So, Mr. McCloud,” Earl Williams began, turning toward him from his place at the head of the table. “What plans do you have for the ranch?”

Wolf toyed with the stem of his wineglass. “I have some ideas, sir.”

Julia sat up straight, appearing surprised, and far too animated. “You do?”

He gave her a lopsided grin. “I do.”

“What are you going to do?” She didn’t sound hostile, which she would have been had she been sober.

“I’m going to pick all that fruit and—”

“Oh, posh, McCloud. We’ve tried that,” Julia interjected. “It rots before we can even sell it.”

She was quite appealing this way, all uninhibited. “I’m going to dry it.”

“Dry it?” Earl Williams asked, surprised.

“Yes,” he answered, leaning toward him. “I’ve drawn plans for drying racks using chicken wire and gauze. If the fruit is dried, we can ship it as far away as Boston. Or even Europe.”

Julia sat back in her chair and expelled a huge, inebriated sigh. “Well. I’ll be. That just might work, McCloud.”

“I’m glad you approve, Miss Julia.” He took a sip of champagne, then smiled at her over the rim of his glass. She smiled back, a becoming stain blooming on her cheeks.