Summer Moon (22 page)

35

They dropped Charm off in front of Dolly B. Goode’s Social Club and Entertainment Emporium, which was situated close enough to the rest of Lone Star so that it could be seen, but far enough away so that the tinny sound of piano music that played night and day couldn’t be heard.

Charm waved good-bye and was quickly enfolded into the arms of Dolly’s lovely soiled doves lined up along the porch rail; standing together, they all formed a rainbow of satin and lace. They smiled and waved and threw boisterous, lip-smacking bare-armed kisses at Preston. He studiously avoided them all as he drove away.

Kate slid over to the far edge of the seat and concentrated on Lone Star as they neared the main part of town. From a rise a half mile away, the identical whitewashed houses and store buildings had looked like eggs nestled together in a basket.

As they drew near, she noticed that the majority of the places were two-room, single-story dwellings, built to house the cowhands’ families, much like mining camp houses she had seen in the east from the windows of the train. Oak, maple, and poplar trees had been planted here and there behind and between the buildings on both sides of the street to give the town a more settled feel, but the trees appeared as uncomfortable and out of place as the houses.

Besides the homes, there was a dry goods store, a butcher shop, a boarding house that advertised meals, as well as the two-story church that Preston told her housed the town school upstairs. The only other business in town displayed a shingle proclaiming it was Jeb Cooley’s place of law and real estate office.

The lawyer, Preston informed her, had returned from Europe but had left for Houston on business. Kate was secretly relieved that she wouldn’t have to meet him.

I won’t have to sign the papers yet.

The notion that she was thankful for the reprieve came to her unbidden and so did an image of Reed and Daniel alone at the kitchen table.

She shook herself and concentrated on the event in progress. The air was filled with the luscious aroma of a smoking barbecue pit, and the church social was already under way when they arrived. Many folk crowded around the preacher’s buggy to greet Preston and meet Kate.

At first she felt shy, certainly like an impostor among people who knew each other so well, people who believed she was just a visitor from Maine, but they were all cordial and friendly, full of good humor and out to have fun. As far as anyone but Preston knew, she was the guest of their employer, and Sofia was still living at the house. Soon everyone’s enthusiasm put her at ease.

Preston led her over to the dappled shade of an oak, where a smiling older woman with milk-white skin and hair to match sat fanning herself with a decorative fan covered with faded blue feathers and seed pearls. The fan, like the woman herself, must have been quite lovely once.

As they approached, the lady’s eyes began to twinkle mischievously with the glow of familiarity, and Kate knew in an instant that this had to be Preston’s aunt Martha.

“I’m so pleased to meet you at last, dear.” The woman spoke in the same thick Southern accent that colored Preston’s speech. “Why, I declare, I thought Pres would never bring you to town.”

Embarrassed, Kate blushed and complimented Aunt Martha on her fan.

Spry as a young girl, the older woman stood up and took Kate by the arm. “Come on, dear, let me introduce you around and show you what goings-on we have here in Lone Star.”

She chatted unceasingly while holding on to Kate’s arm, almost as if she were afraid Kate would bound away at any given moment. Pulling her into the church, Aunt Martha led her to the back room, where a few of the older ladies had set up a quilt rack and were working on a lovely, perfectly stitched patchwork piece, a wedding quilt for a young cowhand and his bride-to-be.

Kate declined taking a turn, claiming her stitches were far too uneven to be included on such a fine piece of work. A fussy quilter in charge of the group looked relieved. Kate and Martha wandered back outside where young people were dancing to lively fiddle tunes beneath the trees.

Martha watched them for a while and then tugged on Kate’s arm until she bent closer. “They can really cut the pigeon’s wing, can’t they? Why, we were never allowed to do such forward dances in my day, but then, that was decades ago, honey. Let’s go on over and take a look at the food they have laid out, then, after that, it will be time for the Lone Star Cowboy Marching Band to perform. We don’t want to miss that.” Then she burst into gales of laughter.

Kate’s head was filled with sights and sounds and smells she had never experienced before. The Cowboy Marching Band proved to be, if nothing else, loud. The bass drum nearly drowned out two off-key trumpets and one French horn, which was probably for the best. As for marching, the cowboys were not able to walk and play at the same time, but seeing a band decked out in mismatched shirts, wearing chaps and spurs, gun belts and John B. Stetson hats was a pure delight.

Preston stayed with her as much as he could, but everyone wanted to talk to him, to confide in him and draw him aside. She soon realized what a demanding job it was to be the only preacher for miles around. He baptized and buried, and if he were to stay here a lifetime, would see some of these folk from cradle to grave.

After finishing a plate of supper from food laid out on long tables covered with white sheets and platters of turkey, pork, venison, pies, cakes, chicken, eggs, butter, and preserves—more food than Kate had ever seen in one place in her life—Preston asked her to walk off supper with him.

They strolled along the storefronts, lingered in front of the dry goods store. For so remote a place, it seemed very well stocked. Preston glanced back toward the picnic area at the far end of the street.

“Kate, there’s something I want to ask you, but I hesitate to jeopardize our friendship in any way.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that,” she said softly, noting that he had suddenly grown very serious. She couldn’t imagine what he might say that could possibly threaten the congenial bond between them.

“You have come to mean a lot to me, Kate, even in the short time I’ve known you.”

Startled by the turn of the conversation, she looked down and shoved a pebble between the cracks in the boardwalk with the toe of her shoe.

She had no idea how she should return his compliment. Certainly she cared for him as a friend, but what exactly did he mean that she “meant a lot” to him?

“I’m glad we are friends, too, Preston. I’m glad that I confided in you.”

“With Jeb Cooley back in Texas, I’m sure that everything will be cleared up sooner rather than later.”

“What would people think of me if they ever found out?”

“Jeb values his job, so I’m sure that he can be trusted not to tell Benton secrets. What Reed Senior did to you wouldn’t surprise many people here, though. He was a tough man, Kate, a hard man. He had to be, in order to hang on and survive out here. You shouldn’t be ashamed. You are the innocent one in all of this.”

Innocent?

Shame washed over her. She had spent a night in Reed’s bed. She was no longer innocent.

“Do you love Reed, Kate?”

Do you love Reed?

He asked the one question she had been afraid to ask herself. She took a deep breath and let go of a sigh.

“I was just getting to know him when he went back to the Rangers.” She threaded her fingers together and twisted them back and forth.

“So, you’re saying you don’t know him enough to love him.”

“I know he seems to be a hard man on the outside but . . . ,” she stopped, knowing there was no way she could begin to explain Reed Benton, even if Preston had wanted to listen.

Preston seemed to understand. “Reed couldn’t do what he’s done all these years or seen the things he has seen and not be hardened by them. You don’t ride into battle and not lose another piece of your soul every time.” He lifted his shoulder above his empty coat sleeve. “Believe me, I know.”

He is a good man, she thought. Good enough to try to explain Reed.

Preston sighed, looked back toward the picnic grounds again. Folks were gathering up their baskets and children, folding tablecloths, loading wagons.

“Could you love him? What is it you want from life, Kate?”

Could she love Reed? Yes. She could. Perhaps she already loved him a little. More than a little.

Two months ago she thought she knew what she wanted out of life: a real home, a family of her own. Her dreams had blown away like the dust on the prairie.

She did know what she wanted for the man and the little boy at Lone Star. “I want Reed to love his son again. I want to see them make peace with each other.”

“There’s no one here like you, Kate. You’re refined, well educated.”

“You don’t really know me, Preston.” She wished he would stop.

“I know enough. These past few weeks have been wonderful for me. I’ve found myself counting the days until Sunday comes along, looking forward to my life in a way that I haven’t for a long, long time.”

“I’m glad that you feel that way, I—”

When he took her hand, she was too stunned to move. “I want you at the head of my table, Kate. I want to marry you and raise children with you. You don’t owe Reed Benton anything. Leave the ranch and move to town.”

“But, how would I live?”

“Marry me.”

“Oh, Preston, it’s too soon.”

“I understand. You certainly don’t have to decide right away, but I can get you employment at the Mercantile if you want to leave Benton House. I don’t blame you for not wanting to jump from the frying pan into the fire, but I love you and I don’t believe in beating around the bush.”

She thought of Sofia’s parting words.

“Fight for what you want, but not forever. Do not
waste your life waiting for Reed Benton to fall in love
with you. . . . Do not make the same mistake I did.”

A place to live. Employment in Lone Star, away from Reed. Away from Daniel, too.

“Kate?”

“Yes?”

“Think about everything I’ve said, but promise me one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“That you will give me a chance to win your heart.”

36

For Kate, it was a long, reflective ride home in the Benton buckboard that night.

Though heat clouds had gathered on the horizon all day, there had been no rain. All the way back, miles off in the distance, lightning bolts sparred between the clouds.

She had to poke Scrappy in the ribs twice to keep him from dozing off and letting go of the reins while Charm fell sound asleep in the back of the wagon.

Despite the bumps and jolts, the girl slept deeply, slumped over her retrieved trunk with her head cradled on her arms. Having hoped to hear something of Jonah while she was in town, Charm left disappointed. No one at Dolly’s had seen or heard from him.

But Charm’s predicament was not foremost on Kate’s mind on the ride home. Over and over she thought about Preston’s asking her to give him a chance to win her heart.

Until the moment he proposed, she had no idea her heart was any kind of a prize.

The wagon rattled and rolled into the corral area just as the last light of the long summer day faded from the sky. Scrappy pulled the team close to the back door and climbed down. He was tying the reins to the hitching post when Reed came out the back door.

The lamplight escaping the kitchen windows gilded sparkles of water droplets in his hair. His shirt had been hastily donned and was still unbuttoned at the throat. Kate’s breath caught. She stared at the bare skin showing beneath the hollow of his throat. When she looked up, she knew that he had been watching her.

Thankfully it was too dark for him to see her blush when he offered her his hand. She hesitated for a heartbeat and then accepted.

When his fingers closed around hers, hard and strong and confident, an unexpected thrill shot through her. She had forgotten just how electric his skin felt against hers.

How simple a thing, the touch of a man’s hand, and yet the contact immediately set her heart pounding. The very idea that such innocent yet intimate contact could evoke such a physical reaction gave her pause.

Preston had taken her hand that day, too, to help her out of his buggy. All day he had lightly rested his hand at her waist as he escorted her around the social, yet his touch had not evoked more than feelings of friendship and trust.

On solid ground, Kate brushed road dust off her skirt, and then she smiled at Reed.

He, on the other hand, was not smiling.

“Did you have a good time?” He stood aside while she glanced over her shoulder. Scrappy had already awakened Charm and was unloading the girl’s trunk.

“I wish you and Daniel could have come,” Kate told him. “Everyone was so nice. The food was delicious. Preston’s aunt sent along some cream cake and half a dozen delicious buttermilk biscuits for both of you.”

Collecting the cake gave her an excuse to put space between them. She moved around to the back of the buckboard, reached for a small tin bucket of carefully wrapped and layered baked goods, and handed it to Reed.

He took it without a word, and they started back toward the house together.

The air was close and still. Rolling thunder headed toward them, growing closer with every peal. She glanced up at the dark second-floor windows.

“Is Daniel already in bed?” She picked up her skirt, careful not to trip on the uneven ground. They had reached the veranda steps before he responded.

“He’s in his room.”

There was something in his voice, something more guarded than usual. She stopped on the second step and looked back at him.

“What’s the matter?”

“Let’s go inside first,” he said.

“Reed—”

He was stubbornly silent as he walked past, opened the door, and waited for her to step inside.

Everything appeared fine in the kitchen, right down to the clean dishes laid out on a dish towel to dry.

He set down the bucket. She wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, told herself that nothing was wrong. She even smiled.

Until he looked her straight in the eye. There was a hint of a challenge in his stare. “I cut off his hair,” he said.

“You did what?”

“I cut off his hair.”

“What did he do?” Her palm went to her midriff. She found it hard to speak.

“He threw a fit. Started hitting me, kicking, generally raising the roof. I locked him in his room until he settles down.” Reed hooked his thumbs in his waistband and stood there daring her to object.

She was tempted to run upstairs and comfort Daniel. Instead, she forced herself to stay calm. She licked her lips. Swallowed.

“Is he all right?”

“Do you still think I would hurt him?”

She let her silence demand an answer.

“He’s fine. Just madder than a hornet.”

The air inside the house was growing thick as custard. The temperature had risen since she walked in. Kate ran her fingertips along her damp temple.

“I’ll just slip in and tell him good night.” She started to leave.

Reed was beside her before she had taken three steps. His hand closed over her arm, stopping her in her tracks. She looked at it and then unflinchingly met his gaze. He let go.

“You can see him tomorrow. I want him to learn he can’t act that way around here anymore.”

She glanced toward the stove. “Did you give him any dinner?”

“I took him some.”

“Did he eat it?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t go back in.”

“Oh, Reed . . .”

“Look, Kate. You’ve been hounding me to act like his father. Now that I have, you want to step in. It won’t hurt him to miss a meal if he’s that rock-headed. He won’t starve overnight. By tomorrow he’ll be over it, and he will know he can’t throw a fit and kick or spit whenever things don’t go his way.”

Suddenly, her head was pounding. She ached all over from the jolting ride in the buckboard. She felt gritty and tired and more than a little overwhelmed by everything that had happened.

Now this.

She sighed heavily and tapped her foot for a second while she thought things through.

Reed leaned a hip against the kitchen table. “I suppose your preacher wouldn’t have handled Daniel this way.”

“He’s not
my
preacher. He’s my friend. I don’t know why you have taken such a dislike to Preston.”

“Your
friend
? I’ll bet he’d like to be a hell of a lot more than that.” He was tight-jawed and angry—at Daniel, or her, or both, she couldn’t tell.

He might as well have set a match to both her cheeks after mentioning Preston like that, hinting that the preacher might want more of a relationship.

How does he know?

“I’m right, aren’t I?” He came away from the table and took a step closer, crowding her.

She tried to step back but came up against the edge of the table. “It’s no concern of yours what Preston Marshall thinks or what he wants from me. You are my employer, Reed. You are
not
really my husband, nor do you own me.”

She drew herself up, stepping forward until they were nearly nose to nose.

“No, I don’t, do I?”

He was staring at her mouth. Standing so close that she could see herself reflected in his eyes. She stared at his lashes, made the mistake of glancing at his lips.

Kiss him.

She could almost hear Charm urging her on. Kate closed her eyes, told the voice in her head to stop tempting her. When she opened her eyes, something in his had softened. He was as shaken as she.

Reed stepped back. “Hell, Kate. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Instantly her anger cooled, but more than ever she wanted to take him in her arms, to comfort and reassure him.

“It’s not easy,” she said softly. “Neither of us knows exactly how to help him.”

“You’re better at this than I am.” He sounded reluctant when he admitted, “I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t here.”

If she wasn’t here, he would have to take charge. Daniel would be entirely his responsibility then, unless he found someone else willing to take over.

“You would do just fine.” She gave a deep sigh. “I’m going up to wash up and go to bed. You’re right. I did ask you to act like Daniel’s father, and now it seems you have taken things into your own hands. I’ll do as you ask and wait to see him in the morning.”

She hoped to goodness that he hadn’t undone everything she had accomplished so far.

Reed watched her go, shoulders stiff, skirts swishing behind her. Life on earth might be a hell of a lot easier without women.

Her chiming in was not what he needed tonight. He had already berated himself all afternoon for what had happened. Maybe he should have taken more time, maybe even tried to sign to the boy or tell him what he was going to do in broken Comanche instead of lopping off Daniel’s hair without warning.

It was too late for
if only
. He had almost settled it in his mind—then Kate had come back. He had even come to terms with her going into town with the preacher. Now she had more than his temper all stirred up.

In the glow of the lamplight when he had walked out to greet them, he had seen a smile in her eyes that reminded him of the morning after they made love. A smile full of promise that reminded him that she had burrowed way under his skin since that day. Lately he had begun to think of her as much more than a housekeeper. Much more.

Earlier, there had been something in her touch that he couldn’t deny, as if she had come home pleased to see him—until he told her what he had done.

He walked over to the dry sink and dipped out a ladle full of water from a stoneware crock and glanced out the window. Heat clouds were drifting closer, the sky wild with distant lightning. The land was dry, the summer grass yellow. There would be hell to pay if a prairie fire started tonight.

He drained the glass but got no relief from the heat, inside or out. Between the oppressive temperature and the thunder—not to mention the emotional storm playing itself out inside the house—he wondered if he would get any sleep at all.

Upstairs, Fast Pony knelt by the open window watching the lightning race closer. His walking stick stood in the far corner of the room and there it would stay.

He did not need it.

He barely limped at all anymore and hadn’t for weeks. Using the walking stick, pretending to be crippled had been his sly way of tricking the whites.

Soft Grass Hands had come home. So had Yellow Hair. At first, he had been so relieved to see the women that he thought maybe he should stay a while longer.

Then he missed the feel of his long hair on his neck and remembered what Tall Ranger had done to him. He waited for her, but Soft Grass Hands did not come in to see him. He wanted to see her one last time, to have her sit beside him. He wanted to hear her speak softly to him the way she did every night before he went to sleep.

He had waited for her, but she had not come.

He was leaving tonight, and she would never see him again.

She would never know what Tall Ranger had done to his hair—unless the man already told her. Maybe she did not care.

Fast Pony opened his hand and stared at the little metal stick that kept the door from opening. All the thin sticks were exactly the same. He had discovered that one day when Yellow Hair had been cooking, ignoring him as he played with the door.

Sly as a coyote, he had stolen the little locking stick long ago.

He smiled at the lightning and waited for the hollow sound of thunder. Tall Ranger thought he had him trapped, but the white man did not know how cunning he was.

He sat on the floor beneath the window and waited as the house grew quiet. The lamplight went out in the little dwelling where Hairy Face lived. Soon everyone would be asleep, and it would be time to go.

He closed his eyes and whispered a soft chant, thankful for the rolling thunder that would cover any sound he made when he slipped away.