Tall, Dark, and Texan (5 page)

“Martha laughed,” he echoed, then urged her to continue.

Jessie told him of their adventure to the barn to find the cats and how Rose had started her list of names.

When she cut him a piece of pie, Teagen asked if this was the crust that had been on Bethie’s head. Jessie smiled as if he were kidding.

He liked her smile and didn’t tell her that Martha wasted nothing. His question hadn’t been a joke.

She touched his arm as she asked if he minded that Martha moved his things downstairs and gave two of the upstairs rooms to her and the girls. The housekeeper had also transferred Sage’s clothes and personal items to the third bedroom upstairs so when his sister returned home her room would be ready.

“No,” Teagen said, more aware of her touch than what she was saying. “All the rooms are the same. It makes sense that the upstairs become the girls’ and the downstairs be mine.” He also knew he could leave early without waking anyone if he were downstairs. Since he was the only McMurray here, he had to pull double duty to guard the ranch.

They walked through the rooms to the stairs. Teagen showed her the study lined with books.

She smiled when she saw them. “My father once said that a man who owns a dozen books is a rich man.” Running her fingers along the shelves of volumes she whispered, “You’re very rich indeed.”

Teagen didn’t argue. He also saw this room as a treasure, and he was proud she understood. “You’re welcome to borrow and read whatever you like while you’re here.”

She turned to him. “Thank you. I’ve read all of them, but revisiting them will be like calling on an old friend.”

“All?” He doubted.

She nodded.

“Then we’ll talk more about them later.”

Jessie laughed. “Is this going to be a test or a challenge?”

He thought about it. If he had a right to ask her questions to make sure she knew the books, she should have the same right. “A challenge.”

She agreed. “Tomorrow night, after I get the girls to bed, we’ll begin.”

“I look forward to it.” Teagen was surprised at just how much he meant the words.

As she climbed the stairs, Teagen thought again how he didn’t mind her being here. In fact, he’d enjoyed the meal more than he had in a long time, and the idea of discussing the books sounded interesting.

Halfway up the stairs, she turned. “Good night, Teagen.”

“Good night, Jessie,” he said and watched her disappear before he went to what was now his bedroom. Having her visit here would be quite pleasant, he decided.

At breakfast the next morning he reconsidered.

The seven-year-old, Emily, refused to eat anything and cried silently every time anyone talked to her. Rose, who’d just turned five, insisted on bringing in the half-wild barn cats, who darted through the house like furry cannonballs. And Bethie, sweet little Bethie, wanted to sit in Teagen’s lap while she ate and spilled oatmeal on his shirt. Which wouldn’t have been so bad, but she wanted to play with the mess while Martha cleaned up.

Jessie tried to corral her batch of troublemakers, but Martha thought it was all very funny. If Teagen didn’t know better, he’d swear she’d found the bottle of whiskey he kept stashed in the library. The old housekeeper seemed delighted to have the children around.

When he finally managed to pry free of Bethie, Teagen went outside and almost ran for his horse. He’d already made a predawn round, but it was time for another. Suddenly a chance encounter with rustlers didn’t seem all that bad compared to the chaos at home.

“Bye, Mister,” Rose said from the porch.

She waved, and he touched the brim of his hat. Rose had her mother’s brown eyes, Teagen thought. Of the three girls, she’d be the one to grow up to be a rare beauty.

As he turned the animal toward the back of the house, planning to ride up on the hill for an overview of the place, he saw Jessie. She stood several yards away in the weeds beyond the garden.

He walked his horse closer.

Her head was down, almost as if she were in prayer.

Ten feet away, he realized what was happening.

Jessie Barton was throwing up.

JESSIE HEARD SOMETHING MOVING THROUGH THE TALL grass and turned in time to see Teagen swing off his horse. Straightening, she wiped her mouth as she fought down the need to vomit again. She thought the weeds were high enough that no one would notice. She’d been quiet.

“What’s wrong?” he snapped. “Are you sick?”

“It’s nothing.” She raised her hand, hoping he wouldn’t come closer. “I tried to get far enough away from the house so that no one would see me.”

He grabbed his canteen and held it out to her. “To hell with anyone seeing you. What’s wrong?” The worry in his eyes didn’t match the anger in his tone.

“You know,” she said and then realized he probably didn’t. “It’s morning sickness, that’s all.”

Teagen shoved back his hat and stared at her. “What kind of sickness comes only in the morning?”

“Didn’t your sister-in-law have it when she was pregnant?”

“No.” He thought a moment. “I don’t know. What does her being pregnant have to do with you tossing your breakfast? You can’t be pregnant. You’ve been widowed for three months.”

Jessie closed her eyes, wishing the sun would stop swirling in the sky. “Yes, I’m afraid I can. If I’m guessing right, I’m almost to my fourth month.”

She couldn’t believe she was telling a stranger her secret. No one knew. When she ran from Chicago, she hadn’t even suspected.

He offered the canteen again. “How long have you known?”

“A month, maybe a little longer. I’ve never been regular and . . .” Jessie realized what she said and added the heat of embarrassment to nausea. No woman in her right mind would admit something so private to a man.

If he understood a word she’d said, he showed no sign. “Here, drink some water. I’ll walk you back to the house. It might help if you got out of the sun.”

She nodded and took a long drink. “Promise me you won’t tell anyone.”

“Who would I tell?” he asked, still looking at her as if he were seeing someone dying.

“I’ll be all right,” she managed. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be past this part soon.”

“We don’t have a doctor in town, but I could ride to—”

“I don’t need a doctor. I’m not sick. I’m pregnant.” She almost added that she’d had this disease enough to know there would be only one cure.

She started back toward the house. He fell into step beside her. “Sure, okay,” he said. “If your people come soon, you can deliver the baby in California. If you’re four months, you’ve still got five months to go, right?”

She didn’t answer. Her first child had come a month earlier than she’d thought. If she was counting months, she’d guess she had less than five to wait.

“How often do you do this?” He glanced back to the weeds.

“Most mornings. But once it’s done, I feel better.”

“Good.” They reached the house. “Should you go in and lie down or something?”

“No,” Jessie said. “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me. I’ve kept you from your work long enough.” She stepped inside and let the door close behind her.

Leaning her back against the wall, she prayed he followed her advice and left. How could she have ever gotten into such a mess? When they ran from Chicago, she really hadn’t thought her plan through. The loss of Eli, the closing of the store, the threats from her mother-in-law to take her children, it all piled up until the only thing she could think about was getting away. In her mind, the one place of safety had always been the ranch described by a man she’d never met. How could she have been dumb enough to expect Teagen to welcome a woman and three children he never knew existed?

No. Correction, three and a half children.

During the journey, when it had crossed her mind that there might be no Teagen McMurray or he wouldn’t be the man he appeared to be in the letters, she’d said she would somehow find a job and make it just fine on her own. The girls were almost big enough to watch over one another, and surely there were bookstores that needed employees, even in the West.

Only now, she was pregnant again. Once Teagen figured out that there were no relatives coming from California, he’d probably ask her to leave. She might have enough money to live until the baby came if she could find someplace cheap, but how would she ever earn enough to feed four children?

Jessie closed her eyes, refusing to allow tears to fall. She’d find a way. Maybe she could stay here a little longer than he’d offered. If she helped Martha, Teagen might not notice how much trouble she and the children were.

She thought of the letter she’d written to him before she left Chicago. She’d been such a fool to think he’d take her and the kids just because she signed Eli’s name.

“Mom?” a voice whispered. “What’s wrong?”

Jessie looked down at her oldest, Emily, whose eyes had seen far too much sadness in her seven years of life. “Nothing, dear,” Jessie whispered. “I’m fine.”

Emily’s stare didn’t look like she believed a word.

Jessie hugged her, remembering back when she’d been nineteen and thought the birth of a child would make Eli love her. She’d spent her first pregnancy thinking that once the baby was born, he’d stop drinking and stay home, his family would accept her, and they’d have a life outside the bookstore walls.

But it hadn’t happened. Eli had asked about her a few times during the pregnancy, griped when he thought she looked too thin. He even closed the store a few days near the end so she could rest. But the day she delivered, he’d been gone to the pub. She lay frightened and in labor for six hours before the baby crowned, then she delivered Emily alone.

“Mom?” Em pulled away. “That man scares me. Mister frowns at me.”

Jessie brushed Emily’s almost-white hair off her forehead and kissed her. “I’ll tell him to stop,” she promised. “Now, let’s help Martha with the breakfast dishes.”

Emily didn’t budge. “Are you sure he won’t hurt me?”

“I’m sure,” Jessie whispered. “If he does, I’ll flatten his head with one of those skillets Martha keeps hanging near the stove.”

Emily’s thin body relaxed. “Promise?”

“Cross my heart.” Jessie hugged her oldest. Of the three girls, Em was the only one who looked like Eli. His hair had been more sandy-yellow than white-blond, but his eyes had been the same shallow-water blue.

As they walked to the kitchen, Jessie took a deep breath. She was finished running and hiding. It was time she learned to stand on her own two feet and take care of herself and her three daughters. Her children deserved something better than growing up in fear and worry.

No . . . make that four.

TEAGEN WORKED WITH THE MARES IN THE SOUTH PASTURE all morning. He noticed a few looked close to dropping a colt, which reminded him of Jessie. There was probably nothing the same between delivering a baby and a horse having a foal, but still, he couldn’t help but think about it.

First, Jessie was too thin, far too thin to be eating for two. Next, she had to rest more. Running after three kids in her condition couldn’t be easy. She might only be with him a few days, two weeks on the long side, but maybe he could pay Eli back for listening to his problems all those years by taking good care of his wife while she stayed at Whispering Mountain.

When Teagen rode home, it was late as usual. He washed up in the mud room and changed into fresh clothes, then stepped into the kitchen. Jessie was there waiting for him.

“You should be asleep,” he snapped, then frowned when she jumped.

“Jessie?” he said in a lower tone, fearing she might still be ill. “Is something wrong?”

When she raised her gaze to him, he thought he saw something different in her eyes. Determination, maybe. A strength he hadn’t seen before.

“I took a nap with Bethie today,” she began. “I waited up to check your hand and to have supper with you. It doesn’t seem right that you should have to eat alone every night.”

Teagen tried to hide his surprise, but he was sure he failed when she smiled at him. He sat down as he had the night before and let her change the bandage on his hand. The cut no longer bothered him, but he found himself welcoming her nearness.

“It’s much better. One more day of the bandage, I think.” Jessie cleaned the wound and applied more salve. “Tell me, how was your day, Teagen?” she asked as casually as if she’d said the words a thousand times.

He told her all he’d done and enjoyed the way she leaned against his leg as she worked. When she finished the dressing, he stood and helped her move the food to the table. Without being obvious, he took his time eating, hoping she’d finish her plate. When she pushed it aside half eaten, he shoved it right back. “Finish it.”

“I’m full.”

“Finish it. You’re far too thin.”

She glared at him. “Don’t bully me, Teagen. I’m not your problem.”

“If you’re under my roof, you
are
my problem,” he snapped.

Before he realized her intent, she was up and halfway to the door.

She made it to the hallway before he caught her. For a second, when he whirled her around, he thought she’d fight him. As if facing a wild animal, Teagen’s instincts kicked in. He dropped his hand and took a step backward.

Then Teagen McMurray did something he’d never done in his life. He said he was sorry.

She stood in the shadows facing him like a tiny warrior ready for battle. Neither of them moved as his words slowly registered, and she relaxed.

He retreated toward the kitchen. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. I do think you should eat more. You’ve got the baby to consider.”

“And you know a lot about pregnant women?” she said as she took one step in his direction.

He dug his fingers through his hair. “Nothing at all. But, if you’ll come back and sit down at the table, I’d like to learn.”