Tall, Dark, and Texan (6 page)

She didn’t move. “Why?”

“Because while you’re here, I want to help if I can. Plus, I’ve got two sisters-in-law who plan to double the McMurray clan. I don’t even know what to ask them except, ‘How are you feeling?’ and I can promise you, women in the family way get real tired of hearing that.”

He took another step toward the kitchen. “How about we have dessert, and you answer a few general questions? I’d consider it a real favor.”

She followed as he moved back to the kitchen. “All right.” She shrugged. “But no ordering me around, Teagen. And no grabbing me and trying to drag me back.”

“I wasn’t grabbing or dragging. I just wanted you to stop.”

“Then say, ‘Jessie, stop,’ the next time you want to talk to me.”

He held out her chair for her, and they resumed their seats at the table. “All right. I’ll try that.” He frowned, guessing that getting someone to stop couldn’t be that easy. “Only you have to be honest with me about this pregnancy. You have to tell me what’s going on as long as you’re here. That way I’ll know what to do if trouble comes.”

“Trouble won’t—”

“Don’t even say it, Jessie. My mother died giving birth. I was almost twelve. If she’d told me what to do, I might have been able to help. She might not have bled out all alone after the birth. Tobin was guarding the house because he was injured. By the time he fired signal shots and I made it back, her blood covered the bed. I had the others wait on the porch while I cleaned it up myself. I didn’t want them to have that memory.”

She nodded, understanding. He might have shielded his brothers, but the memory still lived in him. “All right. I’ll tell you what you need to know. I’ll tell you everything, but don’t start looking at me as if I’m going to die. I’ve done this alone three times . . .” She swallowed and raised her chin. “But, in truth, it would be easier to have a friend nearby.”

“Then that’s what you’ll have.”

“Yes, I’d like that. I’ll answer your questions the best I can.”

He set the pie on the table. “First, dessert.”

She smiled. “A little piece.”

He cut her twice what she’d had last night and shoved the plate toward her, then grinned when she didn’t shove it back.

They ate in silence. Teagen figured that he’d better be careful. She was skittish like a horse that had been hurt or damaged in some way. If he planned to help Eli’s wife, he’d be wise to walk softly for a few days until she learned that his bellowing and angry snaps were just a part of his manner and nothing personal.

He could live a long while without seeing the anger again in her brown eyes.

As he finished his pie, his thoughts turned dark, remembering how she said she delivered three babies alone. Hadn’t Eli been there? They lived in a big city. Couldn’t she have gone to a hospital or had a midwife with her? Teagen decided not to ask those questions, for he feared he’d learn things he didn’t want to know about his only friend. All these years he’d thought of Eli as a gentle kind of bookworm who loved dreaming about living the life Teagen lived. Not once had he thought of Eli as a drunk or a fool.

“Shall we move into the study?” She stood with a grace he liked watching.

He lifted his coffee cup. “Sure.”

When they crossed into the hall once more, he was careful not to follow too closely. When they reached the study, he shoved a few windows open to let in the warm night air, while she lit the lamps on either side of the fireplace. She took the small rocker his sister liked, and Teagen sat in the leather chair across from her. For a few minutes neither spoke. He couldn’t put his finger on why, but he felt comfortable with her, almost as if they’d known each other for years.

She rocked forward. “If you’ve no objections, I’d like to propose a format to our discussions.”

Teagen frowned, trying to guess what she was talking about.

She continued, “I’d very much like to talk about the books.” She smiled. “Partly because it’s been weeks and weeks since I’ve talked to an adult about anything. Partly because Martha and I agree you could use some polishing with your skill in conversation. But mostly because I think there is a chance that you love them as dearly as I do.”

He wasn’t about to comment on that statement. He guessed Martha had suggested the polishing of his nonexistent conversational skills. That woman had been trying to change him since the night he’d picked her up at the stage station. He was twelve and she in her late twenties. There had been no doubt that she would have left the ranch in less than a week if she hadn’t loved baby Sage at first sight. The three older boys had never been more than a bother, and sometimes a project, to her.

“So.” Jessie rocked back in her chair. “Here is my plan. We set a book on the desk to discuss each night when the conversation slows. We’ll each start the way people do, talking about this and that. I’d like to know more about your ranch, and you want to ask about my pregnancy. We should be able to talk at least a few minutes before one of us picks up the book. I’ll try to be as honest as possible about my condition if you’ll tell me the truth, good and bad, about running a ranch. Once that’s finished, we’ll move on to the book and end the discussion on a subject we both like.”

“Fair enough.” He liked that she was a woman of order. The few women he’d tried to talk to seemed to have the concentration of a stringless kite.

She stood and circled the room. “Where should we start?” Her fingers tapped along the spines of the leather-bound books.

“How about tonight we talk about books in general?”

“All right.”

She sat, pulled off her shoes, curled her feet under her, and began to talk about her love of books. Teagen heard the titles and the comments of all her favorites, but the story she really told him affected him far more. As she spoke, he saw a little girl surrounded by loving parents and a small library where her father read to her every night. Then, when they were gone, he saw a half-grown child hiding in a bookstore, escaping her life by reading. And last, he saw a lonely woman trapped in a store with only books to keep her company.

When she stopped talking, he bent forward and told her of how he used to feel if he spent one minute reading that he was somehow cheating the ranch. As he grew up, he learned no matter how hectic life got, books offered peace.

She agreed, then both fell silent. Finally, she said, “Ask your questions now, Teagen.”

He hesitated. Their time here in the study had been so relaxing, he didn’t want to spoil it, but he had things he needed to know. “Does a woman know when it happens? Did you know?”

She laughed. “No. Most women don’t know exactly when it happens, but, looking back, I do. I think it happened the night before Eli fell ill. We didn’t . . . mate that often. When we did, he always left upset, and I knew he wouldn’t be back until morning.”

Teagen tried to remember her exact words because he knew it would be days before he figured out what she meant. “Eli didn’t enjoy the act.” He said the words out loud before he realized it.

Jessie looked down.

Even without much light, he could see he’d embarrassed her. But before he could say anything, she added, “Eli tried to be a good man. I think it bothered him greatly that he came to my bed and didn’t love me.”

Now she made no sense. Jessie didn’t seem a woman who’d be hard to love. A man was honor bound to love his wife. Teagen had a feeling he’d be stepping too far to say more.

“Can you feel the baby?” He tried for what he hoped would be an easy question.

“No,” she answered. “Once I feel it move, I’ll be halfway through.”

“Oh.” Teagen studied her. “What makes you sick in the mornings?”

Jessie shrugged. “The smell of bacon mostly. We walked past a street vendor in Galveston a few weeks ago who was serving up bacon wrapped in bread. I threw up in every alley for half a mile.”

Teagen smiled. “No wonder you’re so thin. The food you get when traveling isn’t fit to eat, and without being able to camp out, your choices are so limited. I’d rather eat jerky and hardtack than stop off at some of the stations the stages use.”

Jessie laughed. “I can just picture me trying to ‘camp out’ with three girls. Even traveling with a bag of food wasn’t easy with our trunks to shift from place to place.”

He almost said that she should have had a man to help her. But her man had died. From the few things Teagen had heard, Eli didn’t seem to be there when she needed him. “It must have been hard on you, Jessie.”

“We managed.” She sighed. “Emily and Rose could handle the small trunk if we moved slowly. I could carry the other if Bethie held on to my skirt.” She smiled. “Most of the time other travelers lent us a hand, and once we settled on the train or the boat, we circled into our own little space.”

“It couldn’t have been easy.” He thought of what the months must have been like for her.

“I took care of the girls.”

Teagen studied her. “But who took care of you?” He could almost see her with the girls huddled around her. How many nights had she gone without sleep so she could watch over them? How many times had she passed her food to the girls? He couldn’t help but wonder.

He stood and offered her his hand. “Speaking of taking care of you, I’d better walk you to the stairs.”

She didn’t object. Taking his hand, she let him tug her to her feet, then she pulled away, only accepting his assistance for a moment.

As they left the study, he asked, “What food can you eat that doesn’t make you . . . have to visit the weeds?”

“Apples,” she said, starting up the stairs. “Some days that is about all that seems to want to stay down.”

Halfway up the steps, she turned and smiled. “Until our talk tomorrow, Mr. McMurray?”

He knew she was making an effort to civilize him. He bowed his head slightly. “I’ll look forward to it, Mrs. Barton.”

After she disappeared, Teagen walked out onto the front porch and lit a long, thin cigar he’d saved for a week. He liked this time of night when all the earth seemed to sleep. The night sky hung on a few clouds, and the moon offered only a sliver of light.

When he took a long pull on the cigar, he looked across his land. Nothing moved, not a sound out of place, but Teagen knew he wasn’t alone. He sensed it on his skin.

His first thought was that Jessie had tiptoed downstairs to tell him something, but even with her light weight, the stairs would have creaked.

He turned slowly as if doing nothing more than watching the night.

A tall form leaned against the last post on the porch where shadows doubled over one another.

The figure didn’t move. Teagen let out smoke and studied the silhouette: taller, a little broader in the shoulders, and a gun strapped to his hip as if it had been there since birth. Only one person could make it onto the ranch without even the horses in the corral noticing.

“Roak,” Teagen said simply with the cigar still between his teeth.

The shadow pushed away from the pole and walked toward him. “Nice of you to finally come out.” The young man passed through the light drifting from the study window. “I didn’t want to come in and take a chance of waking the women, but I thought you and that lady would never stop talking.”

Teagen remembered the time a year or so ago when he’d caught the boy trying to steal a horse. The wild kid had fought violently, almost getting the better of him. Now he knew he could still take Roak in a fair fight, but he doubted the boy knew how to fight fair. He’d grown up in an outlaw settlement deep in the hills. Wolf packs had more rules than Roak’s people.

“Is this a social call, Roak?” Teagen tossed his cigar off the porch. “I figured when we gave you that horse, we’d never see you again.”

Roak shoved his hat back. “That makes two of us. I went down on the border for a while. Moved cattle for the army. Even did a little scouting. Thought I might leave Texas and head on over to New Orleans, but when it came time to get on the boat, I couldn’t do it. There were things in Texas that I’d miss.”

Teagen watched him closely. “We both know you’re not here on a social call. What’s on your mind?”

Roak passed one of the porch chairs. His long, thin fingers brushed the wood as if seeing if the chair would rock. When it did, he backed away and rested against the railing. “I figure you know there’s an outfit meaning to steal a herd of your best.” He said the words so casually no one would have thought the two men talked about something that might mean life or death.

Teagen widened his stance. “Your group?”

Roak shook his head. “I’m not with any group, haven’t been since before you caught me on your land. I tried to tell you, but you never seemed in a listening mood while you were trying to bash my head in.”

“I’m the one with the scar in my scalp,” Teagen reminded him.

Roak’s hand waved the comment aside. “About the gang coming your way. These outlaws make the people my ma lived with up in the hills look like a church settlement. These men are bone-bad. The kind of bad you don’t want near your land.”

“How is your ma?” Teagen asked, knowing that he’d never heard a word about Roak’s mother. As far as he knew, the boy had been wild and alone all his life.

Roak shrugged. “She died drunk years ago from what I heard. Once I could outrun that bastard she lived with, I never went back to check on her.”

Teagen moved into the shadows between the windows. He had no idea how much the kid knew, but if he were guessing, he’d say Drummond Roak knew close to everything going on in these parts.

“So, why’d you come out here and risk me shooting you to tell me something I already know?”

“Hell if I know.” The boy sounded young for the first time, reminding Teagen that he was still a few years from being out of his teens. He’d had to grow up fast to survive, but he hadn’t been the only one.

The boy shifted, resting his hand on the butt of his gun. “You and your kin spent more time trying to kill me than any one family I know. If I had any sense, I’d ride as far away from this mountain as I could get and let you deal with the bucket full of meanness coming your way.”