Love Inspired Historical June 2014 Bundle: Lone Star Heiress\The Lawman's Oklahoma Sweetheart\The Gentleman's Bride Search\Family on the Range (72 page)

Chapter Four

C
hildren complicated matters.

And that was why Lou didn't want them around.

He hated lying in this bed, waiting while Mary sat beside him with that stoic look stuck on her face. Deliberating. The little girl buried her head in Mary's embrace, ignoring Lou and his demand.

Josie was in a heap of trouble. He could tell that much. None of her own doing, of course, but her safety was a priority now. He wanted things to return to normal, and he didn't want to worry about this little girl. Somehow it was up to him to get this mess straightened out.

“I will ask who this man is when the time is right,” Mary said at length. Her arms tightened around the girl.

She already felt protective. He admired that, but she'd get her heart broken. He frowned, knowing he felt the same way, too.

“Josie.”

The girl made a muffled noise and didn't look at him.

“Josie,” he said again, lowering his voice and injecting some sternness into it.

She shuffled around, hair mussed about her face, eyes bright. Her little lips puckered into a pout. “What?”

“Will you tell us who that man is?”

Mary stroked the girl's forehead, her skin a rich color against Josie's blond curls. Josie blinked at him. “I don't wanna.”

Chagrined, Lou told himself to be patient. This wasn't a case. Just a little girl who needed to go home, who needed to be safe. Especially before his concern for her turned him crazy. Or worse, drowned him in the sorrow of his losses.

“We want to help you find your mommy,” he said with his most winning smile. It worked regularly on women of all ages and didn't fail with the girl. Obviously charmed, her dimples flashed.

“My mommy doesn't feel good. I'm not s'posed to bother her.”

“Sweetie, she probably misses you,” Mary said.

“She sleeps too much.” Josie's dimples disappeared.

“Do you know your address in Portland? A phone number?”

“You sound grumpy, Mister Lou. I think you need a nap.”

“I agree.” Mary gave him a look that was the equivalent of sticking her tongue out at him. It made him almost want to smile.

She'd changed from the frightened young woman brought to his door years ago. She'd pulled her hair to the side, exposing the lovely bone structure of her face, the deep mystery in her eyes.

He mentally shook himself. What was he thinking?

She was practically a sister.

He glared at the subject of his errant thoughts. “Are you making me something to eat?”

“You just ate pancakes.”

“I'm still hungry.”

“I will, Mister Lou,” piped up Josie. “Be good and I'll bring you some soup. Right, Miss Mary?”

“How about meat?” he asked hopefully. The gurgle in his stomach wasn't getting any quieter. A man needed something to stick to his ribs.

“You'll get what's best for you.” Mary shot him a quiet smile as she ushered Josie out the door.

“Wait,” he called out.

She paused at the door, but Josie ran off. He heard the pitter-patter of her feet, and then she yelled for James in a voice that could wake a corpse in its grave. Even though seeing her pained him in ways he didn't want to explore, he couldn't help the reluctant tilt that grabbed his lips and wouldn't let go.

“She's something.”

“Yes, she is.” Mary cleared her throat. “Was there anything else?”

“Just keep talking to her. Soon as I can get up I'll take her into town. Find her a safe house.”

“She's my responsibility, Lou. I'm praying about what to do.”

He arched a brow at her and she had the grace to flush.

“I'm sure God wants me to find her family,” she said. “In the meantime, I want to take care of her.”

“God doesn't need to be brought into this. Do the right thing.”

“I will.” Eyes flashing, she shut the door harder than necessary.

He sighed and relaxed against the pillow, just now realizing how tense his muscles had become. How long did he have to stay in this sickbed? Why, the last time he'd been wounded he'd been down only a few days and then a new case cropped up and he'd headed out.

But a week had passed this time, and he still couldn't sit up without feeling dizzier than a bootlegger spending too much time in a speakeasy. If he stayed here much longer... He didn't think he could take much more of Mary's God talk. Let alone seeing Josie every day.

This wasn't a good place for the little girl. That man was looking for her, and he'd be back. They needed to find her mother and a different place so no harm would come to her.

And then there was Mary. After being kidnapped, sold by Trevor's mother, Julia, surely she should see that God didn't care anything for her or her life. It was a lesson he himself had learned the hard way. He just hoped the whole situation with Josie didn't deal Mary too harsh a blow. Maybe he'd warn her somehow. Soften the news.

Smothering an oath, he shifted position. Why should he warn her? The idea suddenly struck him as pompous. Who was he anyway?

Just a federal agent who wanted nothing to do with God, women or kids. And now he was stuck with all three.

* * *

Never had Mary met a more grumpy man than a bedridden Lou Riley. Gritting her teeth, she carried his breakfast tray up to his room, Josie tagging behind her.

“After this can we go see the horses? And the cows, too? I've never touched a cow. Can I touch a cow, Mary? Just one time?”

“We'll see,” said Mary.
We'll see
had become her answer to Josie's constant questions. Was it safe to let a little girl near the cows? She'd learned to ride horses at a young age, but probably not as young as Josie. The girl had proudly told her and James last night at dinner that she was five years old, almost six. A smile tugged at Mary's mouth. She looked down at Josie, who was marching past her on the steps, stretching her little legs to skip a step at a time.

“Be careful you don't trip on your new dress,” she reminded her. The past few nights had been spent creating a wardrobe for Josie. She'd loved every stitch.

“I'm not gonna trip.” Josie stood at the top, arms folded proudly across her chest. “Can I take Mister Lou his breakfast?”

“You'll stay in the hall.”

“But I miss him.”

Mary balanced the tray on her hip while fumbling for the doorknob. What should she say to such a sweet comment when it was obvious Lou felt uncomfortable with Josie? “I'd really like to get the kitchen cleaned up so we can go outside. Maybe you could sweep the floor?”

“By myself?” Josie's face brightened. Her arms swung back and forth, and then she started hopping on one foot.

“Absolutely.” Mary grinned. Could children see past a distraction? Josie didn't seem to. “You did a wonderful job practicing with me the past few nights. It's time to put your skills to use.”

“Yay!” She spun, twirling the skirt of her spring-green skirt. She leaped down the stairs so quickly a little hiccup of fear filled Mary's throat.

When Josie disappeared from view, safe from the treacherous descent, Mary tried the doorknob again. The door swung open, and she sidled in. “Breakfast.”

“Lots of bacon, I hope.” Lou stared at her from where he sat propped against the headboard. The sickening pallor that had tinged his skin the first week was now gone. He looked much healthier.

And too handsome for his own good. Or hers.

A rush of longing pulsed through Mary. She missed Lou's ready smile, the twinkle he usually handed out so generously. The longer he was cooped up, though, the more it felt as if he disliked her.

Even now he wouldn't meet her eyes. Perhaps it was better this way. Better to break off her dependency on him before he left again on a new assignment. Gaze downcast, she focused on getting the food settled on his side table. Clinking filled the room, and the sound of their breaths, quiet and steady.

So be it, she thought grimly.

Ignoring him, she went to the curtains and pulled them open. Sunlight poured in, a giant wave of light that bathed the room. The sound of rustling followed by Lou sipping his coffee pounded against her ears. Normally she loved silence. Reveled in its clean reliability.

Not now. Lou didn't know how
not
to talk. The silence in this room clouded her peace, its unnaturalness filling her with disquiet. She risked a glance his way, her heart thudding in her chest.

He was watching her.

Hair disheveled, eyes like sapphires in the morning light, his gaze trained so deeply on her that a pleasant shiver cut to her very core. She swallowed hard and broke the connection.

“You stare at me,” she said, gaze trained on the wall behind him.

“Do you mind?”

“It is...odd.”
But not unwelcome
. The realization startled her. She turned her back to him, whisking to the closet and pretending to look through his clothes. “Are you in need of anything laundered?”

“Mary—” Lou's voice broke off on a ragged note.

“Yes?” As if against her own will, she found herself facing him across the room. She was too aware of the pulse slamming through her veins, too aware of terror, and something different, something unnamed, working in her throat.

At that moment, James poked his head past the open door and gave a gruff throat clear before looking at Lou.

“Telegram,” he said. He shuffled in and flipped a small white envelope onto Lou's lap. He glanced at Mary. “You got a young'un dusting up a bunch of dirt in the kitchen. You know that?”

Oh, no
. Darting the men an apologetic smile, she raced out the door. By the time she reached the kitchen, she felt calm enough to dismiss Lou's strange perusal from her mind and focused her attention on the sprite standing in the middle of the kitchen, a cheeky grin on her face.

Mary stopped at the entrance, her gaze scanning the room. Everything looked fine. Shining floor, broom propped against the wall. She relaxed.

“Well, it looks as though you've done a marvelous job. How about we visit those cows?”

She followed a rambunctious Josie out the door. Together they trekked toward the stables and barn, stopping to pick flowers on the way. Josie's blond curls glimmered as she hopped through the sparse grasses and shrubs. Desert flowers, in various stages of bloom, drew the little girl's attention and her high-pitched giggle sparkled like glitter on the breeze.

The sun warmed Mary's face, while the sage-scented air seemed to lift the worries from her heart.

Be anxious for nothing, but in everything, by prayer and supplication, let your requests be made known to God
.

In this moment, she chose not to fret over Josie and her lack of family. Nor could she allow Lou to take the joy from what she wanted to build in this place. A peace she'd prayed hard for filled her soul.

Who knew what God intended? Josie's laugh rang clear and charming. Perhaps He didn't plan for her to be alone the rest of her life after all.

Chapter Five

“T
ake me into Burns.”

James ignored Lou's demand, bending over the bed to check his pulse and blood pressure. Before coming to the ranch, James had been a physician who'd succumbed to the lure of alcohol and lost all he held dear. He'd recovered from his addiction but never practiced medicine again, except for times like this when his skills came in handy.

All night Lou had studied the telegram he'd received, ready to take action as soon as he could rise without being beset by dizziness. Or guilt.

Had he made the right choices? He wasn't sure, but changing the things he'd set in motion didn't seem possible now.

James set his stethoscope on the bed, frowning at Lou.

“What?” he asked shortly, temper rising at the look.

“Going into Burns is a foolhardy task.”

“I've got things to do. Get the truck ready to go.”

“Trevor say you could use it?”

“Grab the car, then.”

“I ain't drivin' your fancy Ford.” James's whiskers bunched in a scowl, but his eyes were keen.

James seemed to know what was going on but wanted to stop Lou anyhow. Odd. “I need to telegraph the Portland office and arrange for travel.”

“Can you stand yet?”

“I can.” He'd tried last night and succeeded, if only for a few seconds. Not James's business, though. “In a few days' time I'll be ready for the trip. My vitals are fine, and I'm going stir-crazy in this house.”

James nodded at the telegram, which he'd propped on the side table. “That the reason?”

“They have a lead on my shooter.”

“What about Mary? The girl?”

“Mary stays here. I'll take the girl—” A crash interrupted him, shaking the house with its force.

James jumped up. “Hoo boy, that girl is in some trouble.”

“Where's Mary?” His pulse notched up. Crazy child causing all sorts of trouble.

“She went to town. Stay in bed.” On that command, James shuffled out of the bedroom as fast as an old man could hobble.

Determination filled Lou. Mary was in town, leaving the child here? With little protection? No, sir. Not on his watch. He might be have difficulty being around kids, but that didn't mean he'd ever let something bad happen to one. He swung his legs across the mattress. They felt heavy and unnatural; his vision swam, but he pushed through until his legs hung over the side of the bed and his hands were planted against the edge of the mattress. Head hanging, he closed his eyes and fought dizziness.

He could do this. Although his stomach bucked against the movement, he waited the feeling out, allowing his body to readjust to his change in position. The wound in his chest throbbed dully, but the pain wasn't incapacitating.

Hadn't he made it through the war? Memories crashed through him: the noise and the smoke, the gut-searing terror of knowing tomorrow might never come for him. And yet he'd completed various espionage activities, shadowed criminals, hunted killers. Only to come home and get gunned down at a low-level speakeasy. The irony was ridiculous.

Very slowly he opened his eyes. The first item he focused on happened to be Mary's Bible, resting on a folded blanket near the door. Groaning, he looked away.

God and Lou hadn't been on speaking terms in a long, long time. Not since God had failed him, taking his child and his wife. Leaving him alone. Unaccountably, his gaze flitted back to that silent black book. Its pages had once been a lifeline for Lou.

No longer. Now they dredged up a past he resisted, a past he thought he'd buried.

Years-old grief clogged his throat.

As his eyes stung, little feet pattered into view, stopping right next to the Bible.

“Mister Lou, I brought you something.”

He lifted his head. Josie looked a mess this morning, her hair a frightful nest of twigs, snarls and... Was that paint clinging to her forehead?

“Leave me,” he said, but when the little girl's face crumpled, he immediately felt regret churning his stomach. Or maybe it was the swaying floor. “What do you want?” he managed to say.

“I brought you cookies. Sweets make me feel better, and you're looking awful peaked. Sometimes I hear you yelling, but you don't sound mean, just sad.”

Lou eyed her, noting the brightness of her eyes beneath the clumps of goo and mess straggling around her face.

“Here.” She stepped forward, thrusting a cookie beneath his nose.

The scent rose to greet him, a thick mix of chocolate and some kind of nut. Praline, maybe? He took the cookie, watching Josie as he did so. “Mary's a good cook, isn't she?”

“Yeppers. Much better than Doris.”

“Who's she?”

“My old cook.”

Maybe sensing Lou's change in mood, the little girl hopped around his room, her dress flouncing. It was a mass of pink ruffles and ribbons, a frothy creation that under normal circumstances should give anyone a toothache.

Munching on the cookie, he slowly straightened and was relieved when the room didn't shift around him. Maybe a little sugar did the trick. Could be a trip into town would happen after all.

“Where'd you leave James?” he asked, watching as Josie twirled in front of his bed.

“He ran outside yelling. His face was purple, like a flower. He needs cookies, too.” She cocked her head, fingers trailing over the silk of her dress. “Do you think I look like a princess?”

Lou choked on his cookie.

Hacking and coughing, he brushed the crumbs off his knees while he tried to regain his senses. He'd never heard something so preposterous. A princess? Yet, as he studied her, with the morning light streaming in ribbons across her features, highlighting her hair, making her eyes twinkle with hope, a strange emotion clutched at him.

He cleared his throat. “You're the prettiest princess I've ever seen.”

A grin wider than the desert outside his window spread across Josie's face. Before he knew what to expect, she launched herself at him. Pain radiated through his upper body, and he felt useless as she entrapped him. His hands rested on his knees while she hugged him, her little-girl arms feeling impossibly frail as they wrapped around his neck.

Before he could stop himself, he realized his hands were patting her back. Hugging her back. He dropped them to his legs.

“Josie,” he said, spitting a wayward hair from his mouth and pulling away, “you stink.”

She stepped back and, folding her arms, pouted at him. “Princesses don't smell.”

“They do when they mess with things. What'd you do downstairs?”

“She knocked over a can of paint from that big case I'm trying to move.” James stood in the door, glowering at Josie. “You'd best come clean up before—”

“Do I have to?” She wheedled a pretty smile toward Lou.

The stinker. Unbidden affection surged through him. “A princess always takes responsibility for her mistakes.”

“Oh, fine.” She stomped out the door, her little shoulders ramrod straight.

James chuckled. “You need anything before I follow that whippersnapper?”

“When is Mary returning?”

“Soon.”

“Send her up. We've things to discuss.”

James nodded and left. Lou stared at the door, hating how the empty feeling in his stomach got worse when everyone was gone. He rubbed at his neck, almost feeling the imprint of Josie's arms around him. Would his little Abby have been so affectionate? Yes, because hugs had been common in their home.

Love and warmth and family. All gone.

The hollow in his chest deepened into a gaping void that wrenched through him, a chasm in his soul he could never escape. This pain worried him more than any shoulder wound. Why did Mary have to be so stubborn? Even more, how could he have let himself get shot?

He wanted to blame Mary.

He definitely blamed the shooter.

Because of them, he was starting to remember what he'd fought so hard to forget.

And the memories burned worse than any bullet ever did.

* * *

After Mary left the Burns general store, she paused on the walkway to let the morning sun warm her. Around her, people nodded at her as they ran their errands. No one stared. This was a good town.

She let her head drop back a bit so the summer rays could touch her cheeks and chase the chill from her soul. After the few errands she'd finished, she'd yet to find a flyer with Josie's name or face on it, let alone someone who could share information on the homeless child. No response from the Portland police, either.

It seemed the girl had appeared out of nowhere, with no kin to claim her. Except that man with the violet eyes.... She hadn't the courage to ask if anyone spoke with him. Shaking the shudder away at the thought of him, she resumed walking toward where she'd tethered her mare.

“Mary. Mary, wait!”

A woman's voice broke Mary's walk. She whirled and grinned as Alma Waite bustled over.

“Oh, you dear girl. How have you been?” Miss Alma's bright hazel eyes winked up at her before the elderly woman gathered her in a honey-scented hug.

“I'm well, thank you.”

“You should visit more. I'm in need of pies and cookies for the Independence Day celebration.”

“I shall make you some. I've been a mite busy lately.” Mary released Miss Alma and moved beneath the shade of a storefront. Might Miss Alma know of Josie's parentage? While the woman who'd brought Mary to faith years ago knew everything about everyone, she wasn't a gossip.

“Well, we've missed you.” Miss Alma tittered as she dug through a bag at her side. “I bought yarn and threads for you. That Grant woman has finally left the sewing circle and we've a hole now...one we'd like you to fill. Ah, here they are.” Triumphantly she shoved the bag at Mary.

She took it, feeling a blush warm her cheeks. “Thank you. I shall think on your kind offer. How much are these?”

Miss Alma waved a hand. “Pishposh. They're a gift. I worry about you. Alone on that ranch.”

“I have James and Lou—”

“No female companionship at all. It's not healthy. At least we used to meet for church....” Miss Alma trailed off as Mary shifted uncomfortably.

Since Lou had gotten shot, she hadn't been to church. Was it two Sundays she'd missed?

“My sweet girl, is there anything I can do for you?” The elderly woman, who had more fire in her than a rowdy pony, sported a soft look upon her face.

Mary hugged her again. “We're fine. I'm actually looking for some information, though.” She thought of the man who'd come calling and decided to hedge a bit. “My mother found a child, and I'm having trouble locating the girl's parents.”

“Oh, my.” Miss Alma's hand went to her ruffled breast. “Why, I haven't heard a thing. Where did your mother find the child? Does she need a place to stay?”

“No, no, she's safe,” Mary replied, flustered by the questions. “Perhaps you might keep your ear to the ground, as it were, and if you find out anything, let me know?”

“Of course I will.”

They said their goodbyes, and Mary watched the lady who'd saved her life bustle away. Not her physical life, but her emotional one. Childhood chaos aside, she'd been a mess when Trevor first brought her to Lou's. Miss Alma had nursed her back to health and introduced her to God, to a Jesus who saw past skin and circumstance to the very heart of a person. Who loved despite a person's flaws or parentage.

Feeling cozy from memories, she wheeled to the right and headed toward her horse. One more stop and then she could go home.

Home
.

Humming her favorite hymn, Mary set out for the Paiute encampment. Sunlight warmed her shoulders and bathed the path before her in brightness. If only her own path could be so clear. With Lou injured and Josie running wild, she wasn't sure what to do.

And there was that way Lou had looked at her the other day—intent, dark. Her belly flip-flopped at the memory. She shook herself.

No matter what occurred in the next few weeks, she must disentangle herself from Lou, from the ranch, from everything that made her dependent on him.

The encampment loomed before her, scents reaching her as she came closer. Her mother's tent had no smoke, but that didn't mean she wasn't home. It was a warm day after all.

As she stopped before the tepee, an older man appeared from behind the tent's flap. He peered up at her, eyes black in the light.

“I am looking for my mother. Rose.” That had been her name in the past, but Mary didn't know if she'd kept it or reverted to a traditional name.

“Rose not here.” The flap fluttered closed as the man disappeared.

Around her, kids laughed and a dog barked. Sweat trickled down her neck as she roasted beneath the sun, trying to process the man's words. Not there? Had she left on her own? Or had the man with the violet eyes found her?

Whatever faults her mother might have, Mary didn't want harm to come to her. Maybe he meant she'd gone to a general store, perhaps to sell goods?

She debated pestering the man again or riding back to town. Her sense of decorum made the decision for her. Sliding the reins over her mare's neck, she turned the horse back to town.

Once there, she discovered no one knew of her mother's whereabouts. How strange. She glanced at the general store, where she'd caught up with Miss Alma, who'd reinvited her to the sewing circle. When she asked about her mother, the women in the store shrugged and said she'd been to town early in the morning to sell her baskets. They hadn't seen her since.

Feeling a heavy sigh forming, Mary led her mare down the road going out of town and in the direction of the ranch. Ahead, a lone horse hitched to a pole stomped his hoof. The mare whickered and edged to the left, bumping Mary.

“Come on, girl.” She soothed her with a pat on the neck as they moved farther left, away from the nervous stallion at the post.