Whispers of Moonlight (44 page)

"It's all right," she told him and meant it. "I'll be fine."

Travis smiled down at her. "I'd better get to work."

"Sure."

"I'll see you later."

"Stay warm today," Rebecca called after him, and he raised his hand in a wave. She had had a dozen things on her mind, but now it was wiped clean. Once again, Angel's words came back to her:
Don't reject a man who clearly wants to lay the world at your feet.

You're in a panic over nothing,
Rebecca told herself for the fifth time.
He's just taking you to dinner, that's all You've been like a caged animal for days. Go and enjoy this.
But it still didn't work. Rebecca was so worked up by the time she was ready to go downstairs that she thought she was going to be sick. Rebecca waited for Travis in the living room and tried to calm her stomach. The boys were already in the kitchen with Lavena. Of their own volition, her thoughts went to Travis. He had not acted too boldly when he asked her to join him or when he'd come off the range, but there was a difference about him. She couldn't put her finger on the exact cause, but something was up.

She knew he had gone to see Robert Langley that morning but didn't think that
could be the cause. He had also told her that the Langleys had invited them to share Christmas dinner with them. Travis said they would only go if she wanted to, but Rebecca had been unable to give an answer. Was Eddie
Langley the pretty lady Wyatt had seen at church? Rebecca didn't know why she wanted to know, but their talk of Eddie had really bothered her. It was laughable really, considering she'd made it more than clear that she didn't want a husband.
You don't want
him, but you can't stand the thought that someone else would have him. What kind of a child are you, Rebecca?
For some reason the thought was calming; the pretty lady and dinner with the Langleys went out of her head. By the time Travis sought her out in the living room, Rebecca had decided to make an effort and enjoy the evening.

The Travis Buchanans were rather quiet on their way into town—Rebecca with her new resolve but no idea where to start, and Travis thinking his wife was lovely. If he had been pushed into a corner, he would have chosen for her to remove her glasses, but he could still see her huge brown eyes and the soft shine of her hair. And she smelled good. He'd helped her with her coat and leaned as close as he dared to inhale the smell of her hair and skin.

"How were the boys today?" Travis asked as they entered the outskirts of town.

"They were okay."

"Good. I couldn't take either of them with me, and I didn't want them going into a mood and giving you a hard time. They were no trouble at all?"

"Well, just a little." Travis asked every day, and Rebecca had learned to be no less than completely honest. "They were sassy over lunch, but I was firm with them and they calmed down." Rebecca's voice took on a tone of wonder. "It surprised me a little because they don't do as well for me, but then Garrett said you had told him something."

"What was it?"

"Wyatt agreed with him. They both said they're supposed to take care of me when you're gone."

Travis nodded, but it was too dark to see. "Yes, I did tell them that."

"Why, Travis?" she asked without heat. "They're only five."

It was a good question, and good for Travis to have to think about.

"I guess I said it because my grandmother said it to me one time."

"You knew your grandmother?"

They were in front of the hotel now, and after securing the horses, Travis helped Rebecca from the wagon. It was quiet on this Tuesday night in December, so they were given a table right away. Travis knew they would be interrupted by the waitress, but he wanted to get back to their conversation as soon as they sat down.

"Where were we?" he asked, and to his surprise Rebecca knew instantly.

"You were saying you knew your grandmother."

"Oh, yes, until I was ten, when she died of consumption."

"Were you close to her?"

Travis shook his head. "No one in my family was what you could call close, but I did care for her."

"Whom did she tell you to take care of?" Rebecca seemed fascinated.

The waitress picked that moment to tell them what was on the evening's menu, but she was gone a few minutes later, leaving them with hot cups of coffee.

"She told me to take care of my mother," Travis went on. "My father had run off for a time; he did that often. But this time my mother was sick, and my grandmother had gone up the street to help a woman give birth. I was so little, probably five like the boys, or maybe even four, and her telling
me to take care of my mother made me feel very proud."

Rebecca's eyes were thoughtful. "The boys felt pride, too. I didn't recognize it at the time, but I do now. They were very pleased to tell
me what you had said."

The couple fell silent for a moment.

"Did your mother die at that time, Travis?"

"Not right then. In fact, she died just before I met you."

"Oh, Travis." There was real compassion in Rebecca's eyes. "You never said."

"No." His voice was quiet. "It was too new and painful at the time. I didn't grow up in a very happy home, and having my mother die just added to the sadness."

Again silence fell, and then Travis spoke thoughtfully. "My mother and I were alone much of the time. I worked on a cattle ranch from the time I was just a kid, always trying to bring enough home so we could eat, as well as keep ahead of the bills my father ran up at the saloon whenever he wandered back into town. I heard later that he died in a fire."

Travis' gaze had been on his hands, but he now looked at his wife. She looked upset, and he suddenly realized he had not planned to spend the evening
on such a cheerless note. It was all true; he was the man he was today because of where he'd been, but tonight he wanted to center on Rebecca.

"So tell me," he said, his tone changing to one of interest, not introspection, a smile lighting his face. "Did the boys take care of you?"

"I guess they did," Rebecca answered with a smile of her own. "They played outside for most of the morning, and the two times I asked them to obey me, they did so very swiftly."

Travis nodded with satisfaction. "Good. It means that all our talking and even the spankings
are getting somewhere."

Rebecca nodded, but her mind was elsewhere. She was sorry about his mother and the hard life he had lived, but her thoughts were on Travis' father and then her own. Why did men go away and leave their families? Rebecca started slightly when Travis touched her hand.

"Are you all right?"

"I think so. Why?"

"You looked so sad."

Rebecca looked down at the table. "I was thinking about the way my father left me in Philadelphia, and now I learn that your father left you too. Why do men do that, Travis? Why do men have children and then abandon them?"

Travis' brows rose. It was a good question. "I think men are tempted to wander no matter what, but the reasons must vary. With my father it was disillusionment, or so my grandmother used to say. At the time they were married, my mother was beautiful, but she was sick a lot after I was born. She lost her looks and her desire to roam around the country, so he roamed without her. By the time my mother died, I hadn't seen my father in a year."

Just then their food was placed in front of them. Travis said a brief prayer of thanks for the meal, and then asked a question for which he knew the answer but had no details. "So your father didn't stick around either, Rebecca?"

"No," she answered honestly, "but he didn't actually desert me. We were living in Philadelphia with my father's sister, Hannah, and her husband, Franklin
Ellenbolt. Father came west to make a place and name for himself. He had every intention of coming back for me but circumstances arose that neither of us could have stopped."

Travis cocked his head to one side. "Can you tell me about it, or does it hurt too much?"

"It did for a long time, but it's so far in the past now." Rebecca took a breath. "I never saw the letters my father wrote to me, nor did he
see mine. My Aunt Hannah was a sick woman. She intercepted all of our letters, copied our handwriting, and rewrote them so
we would read what she wanted us to hear. She lied—not too outrageously, because we would have caught on—but enough so that both my father and I were under the impression that we were both happy with our lives the way they were. I didn't think he wanted me, and he felt the same about me. She even wrote me that my father was involved with a woman, and thinking that my father had said it, I naturally believed it."

Travis' face was a mask of shock, his brows raised in incredulous question.

"It's true," Rebecca assured him. "I discovered her deception very suddenly and left two days later, before she could stop me. I hated her for a long time." Her voice grew very soft. "But I've learned that people will do desperate things when they think they have a reason."

Suddenly they were no longer talking about Aunt Hannah; Travis knew it, and Rebecca knew it. Travis reached across the table just as he had before and
touched his wife's hand very briefly.

"I know it hasn't been easy for you, Rebecca," he told her sincerely. "And your view of me hasn't been very positive, but I'm very glad you're home."

"Thank you, Travis. For the first time, I'm glad too."

Travis' heart filled with contentment until she went on.

"I didn't realize how much I needed help with the boys."

Disappointment knifed through Travis, but he was careful not to show it. He was again reminded that she wanted him only as a father to her boys. lie forced his mind to other things.

"When I met you here in town that day, you had just come from Philadelphia?"

"Yes," Rebecca answered very softly but didn't elaborate. Travis was not to know that she was remembering for the first time how she felt when she saw him, his hat in his hand, his deep voice calling her "Miss Rebecca." She had lost her heart in that moment and wasn't sure even yet if she'd ever recovered it.

Suddenly she was back in Pine Grove, coming from her laundry area to find him
standing in her living room, tall and gorgeous and looking ready to eat her alive. She relived the scene in the living room at the ranch when he'd pulled her to her feet and tenderly kissed her brow. And then in the master bedroom when he held her tightly in his arms. The kiss had been so wonderful and sweet.

Fish or cut bait.
The voice came out of nowhere to Rebecca's mind.
Are you going to make a marriage of this or not, Rebecca? You can run but you can't hide. Travis clearly cares for you, or you wouldn't be in town tonight. Now, what are you going to do about it?

"That's certainly a fierce look." Travis deliberately kept his voice light. "Am I in trouble?"

Rebecca gave a small laugh, her checks heating. "No, I am."

Travis opened his mouth to question her, but the look she gave him from behind the glasses did not invite inquiries. They ate for a time in silence. It was as Travis predicted; The meal was good but not comparable to
Lavena's cooking. Dessert was a nice treat of fresh apple pie, full of cinnamon and sugar.   Travis finished Rebecca's when she said she was too full. She then toyed with her coffee cup and studied him.

"I want to say that you're different than before, Travis, but I didn't know you well enough to tell. Are you different?"

The question totally surprised him, but he answered calmly enough. "I think I am, Rebecca, and my close friends say I'm different. I believe it's because a few years ago something happened that changed me completely." Travis didn't go on, not because he was afraid, but because a look of cynicism had entered Rebecca's eyes. His own eyes dropped. He ended with, "I can tell you sometime if you want to hear."

"Not now?" Her tone was cynical too.

Travis looked her in the eye. "Do you
want
to hear right now?"

Shame washed over Rebecca, and for the first time she didn't fight it with anger.

"That was horrid of me, Travis. I ask and then cut you off. I do care, but I'm a little afraid of what you're going to say. Did you say you would be willing to tell me another time?"