Lucky Penny (41 page)

“I don’t mind doing things for you, Shamrock.” He graced her with a crooked grin. “The way I was raised up, that’s what husbands are for, to be helpful.”

As he turned to leave, Brianna said, “David, wait.”

He paused to regard her.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. Then in a stronger voice, she said, “I meant no insult. It’s just—well, I’ve never known a man like you, and it’s all too easy for me to take your measure by the behavior of others in the past. Does that make any sense?”

He nodded. “Perfect sense. Life can be a harsh teacher, and once lessons have been driven home, it’s hard to change your way of thinking. It’ll get easier with time. In the meanwhile, try to relax and have some faith in me. That marriage document is only a piece of paper. It has no bearing on who I am. I’m not going to slap it down on the table some night and change the terms of our agreement. If our relationship changes to something more, it will be because you want it that way, not because I insist on it.”

After he left the room and closed the door behind him, Brianna stood with her fingertips pressed to her lips, so close to tears that it was all she could do to blink them away. David Paxton stirred feelings and yearnings within her that she’d never felt for another man. Fear one moment, desire the next. And at every turn, just when she expected him to take unfair advantage of her, he proved her wrong. She’d lived all of her adult life trying to avoid men, ever distrusting them. Never in her wildest imaginings had
she entertained the possibility that someone like David might exist.

He made her want things she couldn’t possibly have. He filled her head with fantastical wishes and dreams. What a cruel twist of fate that everything between them was built upon a terrible misunderstanding.

D

Brianna found herself alone in the house for the first time, with a breakfast mess in the kitchen to clean up and soiled underclothes to wash. The first chore turned out to be fun. She had thoroughly enjoyed preparing the morning meal, a part of her delighting in the fact that she could finally show David that she did indeed have cooking skills. His hired hands, five in all, had been pleased to receive heaping plates of food at the back door, and only the foreman, Rob Atkinson, had failed to return his dishes. She had a feeling that the long plank table in the dining room had been built to accommodate not only David, but his men as well, and if she’d been staying on, she would have started inviting them to share meals at the house.

She found it difficult to remember that her time here would be temporary. With morning sunlight coming through the many windows, she could see that all the panes needed a good shine and that a thin layer of dust covered everything. She yearned to dive in and have the place spotless by noon, but she resisted. If David couldn’t make arrangements to procure the dress shop, Brianna would have to find some other way to earn an income in town. Allowing herself to
float along until this situation resolved itself was one thing; to do it on David’s dime was entirely another. She at least needed to know she was paying her own way.

Oh, how she wished things were different. David, with his slow smile, protective nature, and gentle manner, had worked past so many of her defenses. For the first time in her life, she trusted a man and was developing feelings for him that she chose not to bring forth into the light of day. He made her—well, she’d be wise not to think how she felt when his eyes caught hers or when his thumb traced the curve of her cheekbone ever so gently, a sensation different from any other masculine touch she’d ever experienced. Better to keep those insane urges buried, to pretend they weren’t there. Daphne’s future was her biggest concern. The little girl had opened her heart, not only to David, but to everyone connected to him, even that silly dog, Sam.

Even though Brianna knew it was absurd, she allowed herself to pretend it
was
her kitchen as she washed and dried dishes. She envisioned the cheerful towels and hot pads she would embroider, and pictured herself in a gingham housedress, protected by a starched white apron. The house would smell of beeswax, bread hot from the oven, and meat simmering in a pot. She would be the mistress of Wolverine Flats, and when David came in from work, she would greet him with a plate of warm cookies and coffee made to his taste with a dash of salt. Swept away by the fantasy, she even found a stool so she could wash the window above the sink.

The fun ended when she faced the washing machine. It was a newfangled contraption, and she had no idea how to use it. She was about to rinse her and Daphne’s underthings by hand when a knock came at the kitchen door, which led onto the rear stoop. Brianna opened the portal to find the foreman standing there. In his hand, he held a soiled plate, crisscrossed with a knife and fork.

“Sorry, ma’am. I got sidetracked with the animals and plumb forgot to bring this back so you could wash it up with the morning dishes.”

“Oh, no worries.” Brianna accepted the eating utensils. “I hope you enjoyed your breakfast.”

“It was delicious. The boss, well, he’s a good cook, but he’s so busy with the ranch and his marshaling job that we hired hands usually throw something together over at the bunkhouse. It’s been a long spell since I ate flapjacks that light and tasty, and the eggs were done to an easy turn, just the way us boys like them.”

Pleased to hear that, Brianna said, “Would you care for a cup of coffee?”

“Oh, no, thank you, ma’am. I know you got chores, and so do I.”

“I insist. Actually, Mr. Atkinson, I was wondering if you know how to work the washing machine.”

His sun-weathered face creased in a grin. “You bet I do. I helped the boss rig it up, and us boys use it to wash our duds once a week.”

He stepped inside the kitchen, and the instant he did, Brianna felt uneasy. Just because the man worked for David didn’t mean he was trustworthy. She probably shouldn’t have let him inside the house while she was alone.

Oblivious to her nervousness, Atkinson showed her how to fill the bucket at the sink and empty it into the washer drum. “For a full load, you only need three buckets and some soap, which is right yonder behind the machine,” he told her, then moved on to demonstrate how to turn the agitator. “You crank on this until you reckon the clothes are clean. Then you flip this lever to drain the tub. All the water goes out through the pipe underneath. It works slicker than greased owl shit.” He coughed. “Um, sorry, ma’am. For my language, I mean.”

“Amazing!” Brianna was so fascinated by the washing machine that she forgot all about being uneasy. “And to rinse the clothes, you just add fresh water?”

“Yep, and then agitate some more, drain. Keep on until you see no more suds. Then you take the wet clothes out, put them in the bucket, and flip down this here thing, which is the wringer. It squeezes all the water out of the clothes right into the drum so you can empty out the water through the floor pipe.”

“That is absolutely
brilliant
. What a work saver.”

Atkinson chuckled. “The boss is right smart when it
comes to things like this. Of course, he borrowed the idea from old Darby McClintoch, but he put his own twists on it to make it even better.”

Brianna was so anxious to try the machine that she forgot all about the coffee she had promised Mr. Atkinson and ushered him out the door empty-handed. She went to collect soiled garments, so excited about her mission that she even invaded David’s bedchamber to find his pile of laundry. The instant she stepped into the room, the smell of him surrounded her—the enticing scent of his face invigorator, his shaving soap, and the oiled leather of his duster.

The room was much larger than hers, with a reading corner appointed with two chairs that flanked a kerosene floor lamp. His bed, a sturdy four-poster, had been made up, testifying to his tidy nature. The coverlet was a lovely wedding-ring quilt Brianna decided must be the handiwork of his mother or one of his sisters-in-law. Feeling self-conscious, she stepped over to his washstand, lightly tracing the pitcher spout and the edge of the bowl. Then she trailed his shaving brush along her cheek, closing her eyes at the silky caress, which reminded her of his lips grazing hers. Her belly tightened and ached at the memory.

What’s happening to me?
This wasn’t like her. She’d never been one with her head in the clouds or allowed herself to yearn for impossible things, the only exception being her deep longing to give Daphne the kind of childhood she and Moira had been denied.

Giving herself a firm mental shake, Brianna went into the adjoining dressing closet, where she found David’s soiled clothing piled in a corner. Flanks of drawers along one wall held his clean clothing. More drawers lined the other wall, but they were empty. Her heart caught as she opened one after another and saw nothing. She guessed he’d built this dressing closet with a wife in mind, some nameless, faceless woman he’d once planned to wed. Only now that couldn’t happen.

Oh, how that plagued her. Determined not to dwell on what she couldn’t seem to change, Brianna gathered his soiled garments and dashed from the room.

*  *  *

David decided to stop by Ace’s place on the way home just to say howdy. He wanted Daphne to become well acquainted and comfortable with his family, Dory especially, as quickly as possible. As it happened, Dory was out in the field collecting greens for a dinner salad, and before David could stop Daphne, she was off to join her grandma, Sam racing at her heels. Ace sauntered out of the barn.

“Morning, little brother. How’s married life treating you?”

David wasn’t sure how to answer that question. He had Brianna settled in at his house in a separate bedroom. This morning she’d made breakfast, but that was as personal as it had gotten. “I feel like I’ve taken up squatting rights with a stranger.”

Ace led the way over to a paddock fence, where they each hooked a bootheel over a lower rung and rested their arms on a rail. The sun hadn’t quite reached its zenith, so the morning air, warm as it was, still felt a bit nippy when the breeze picked up. Sighing, David was taken back through the years to his boyhood, when he’d stood like this with Ace countless times to talk about his problems. It had become a ritual, he guessed, for he needed to do that now.

“You want a chaw?”

David cast his brother a wondering look. “I thought Caitlin cured you of using tobacco.”

“She has—except when I’m off alone.” Ace shrugged. “I rinse my mouth before I go in, she never knows the difference, and I enjoy my occasional chew. Not often, mind you, but at times like this, something to work my teeth on seems called for.”

David accepted a bit of snuff from the can and started chewing and spitting. Ace was right. It helped to sort his thoughts. Haltingly at first, he filled Ace in a bit more on all that had transpired since he’d first ridden into Glory Ridge, including, in detail, Brianna’s harebrained story about raising her dead sister’s daughter. “I could believe the bit about the sister dying,” David concluded. “It happens in families, and it’s left to a close relative to raise the
child. Hell, it even happened in our family when Pa was murdered. Where I get stuck is in the details—Daphne’s looks, the birthmark on her neck, and Brianna swearing she just accidentally dreamed up a husband in Denver named David Paxton.” David turned his hands to study the lines deeply etched onto his palms. “I’d like it to be a real marriage, Ace, but damned if I know how to take it there. I thought about kissing her again last night, and I think she knew.”

“How’d she react?”

“She went stiff as a fire poker. Fact is, I think she was scared half to death of me.”

“Hmm.” Ace rubbed his jaw and scratched under his black Stetson, one of the few articles of apparel from his gunslinger days that he still wore. He’d sworn off the black clothing, but like most men, he was right fond of his hats and couldn’t bring himself to wear the new one he’d bought, claiming Stetsons were like a pair of boots, uncomfortable until you’d worn them for a while. “When it comes to gentling reluctant women, I’m no expert, David. If you’ll recall, Caitlin flooded my whole house and damned near burned it down before we came to see eye to eye.”

David laughed at the memory. “Esa and Joseph and me—well, we mopped and mopped, fair choking to death on the smoke, mad because you’d chased off after Caitlin and weren’t there to help. I’ll never forget that night. I can’t remember exactly what Caitlin said to us before she ran from the house—something about you always wanting to clear the air and calm the waters. She told us to have fun doing both. She’d beaten on the handle of the cookstove damper until it was stuck closed, and we couldn’t get the damned thing unstuck. Joseph was cursing and ranting. I’m glad it was you who found Caitlin, because Joseph was mad enough to chew nails and spit out screws. I think he might have smacked her.”

“Nah, not Joseph. No matter how mad he ever gets, he’ll never hit a woman.”

Ace smiled at the memory and gazed off across the field at his mother and niece, who were racing about, collecting
edibles. On the wind, Dory’s exclamations of praise for Daphne’s knowledge drifted to their ears.

“Caitlin and I, well, we had some rough patches,” Ace admitted, “but we’re happily married now. Anything worth having takes work and time, David.”

“I know.” It was David’s turn to scratch under his hat. “I just can’t, for the life of me, figure her out, Ace. Under all that proper behavior, she’s a spitfire, but it takes a lot to make her lose control and reveal that side. I get this weird feeling sometimes that she keeps the real Brianna stifled and is pretending to be someone else.”

Ace frowned thoughtfully. “There might be a smidgen of truth to that convent story she told you.” At David’s protest, he threw up a hand. “Hold on. I’m not saying her whole story is true. Anyone with eyes can see that child is yours. But I don’t find it hard to believe Brianna was raised by nuns. She moves like one. She talks like one. Nuns have a way about them, and she’s got all the mannerisms. Haven’t you noticed that?”