Yours Again (River City Series) (9 page)

“What
in the hell are you doing in here, Sammy?” He grabbed her wrist and pulled.

Samantha
was so surprised she tripped on her hem and nearly fell into him.

Sage
rushed forward and stood directly in Charlie’s path, “You will not come into my
parlor and behave like an animal.”

Charlie
stopped short as he took her in. He caught sight of the rosary and cast a
nervous look toward Cinnamon and Mavis. “Who’s the nun?”

Cinnamon
snickered and Sage’s voice wavered a bit. “I’m not a nun. And if you have a
question you can ask me yourself.”

“Better
watch it, Charlie, she swings some mean beads.” Cinnamon received a reproachful
glare from Mavis.

Charlie
grinned at Sage, his anger temporarily replaced by his usual smooth charm. “I
don’t usually come here to be beat up by a girl swinging beads, sweetheart.”

“I’m
not your sweetheart.”

He
reached out to touch her hair.

She
batted his hand away. “And the only thing you will ever get from me is a
beating, or worse.”

“We’ll
have to see about that.” His eyes gleamed as they traveled down her body.

Sage
stood her ground.

It
had been better when she had no idea what men were thinking! Samantha tried to yank
her wrist away but Charlie held tight, dragging her from the room and out the
back door.

“Charlie!”
She stumbled along behind him, trying to keep up as he hurried across the
street.

He
didn’t answer until they reached the wagon. “I can’t believe the amount of
trouble one lone woman can stir up.” He plopped her in the wagon seat and
walked around to climb up. “It was bad enough at the mercantile,” his voice
dropped to a hiss as two women strolled by, “but Miss Sadie’s?”

“I
had to—”

“Taos
will beat me to a pulp if he hears about this. What if someone had seen you? What
then?”

“No
one—”

“I
would love to know what goes through that mind of yours! You damn near start a
cat fight with the self-proclaimed one woman morality committee, then you end
up in a whore house.”

“I
was just thinking—”

“What?
What could you possibly have been thinking? You better tell me now, ’cause I
don’t think I can take any more little surprises!”

The
vein on Charlie’s forehead stood out just like Taos’s, but it seemed ridiculous
on him. It was all she could do not to laugh. “I was just thinking how nice it
is that you’re so quiet when you’re mad.”

He
turned a frustrated look toward the sky as she lost the battle with her
laughter. After a few minutes he joined in. He climbed into the wagon and sat
next to her.

“So
who was the nun?”

 She
shook her head. “You have a one-track mind!”

He
winked and wiggled his eyebrows. “Yes ma’am.”

Charlie
slapped the horses into a trot and steered the wagon for the edge of town as
fast as he could without causing too much notice. He slowed only after they passed
the last house.

“What
is the matter with you?” Samantha’s hand still vibrated from holding onto the
side of the wagon as it rattled through town.

“I
didn’t want to give you any opportunity to jump out and cause any more
trouble.”

“Honestly!”
She turned away and stared unseeing at the countryside.  

They
rode in silence for a time, each immersed in their own thoughts. Samantha’s mind
was focused on Taos. She knew a whole lot more about him than she had this
morning, but it didn’t solve her problem. In fact it made it more complex. As
rotten as he had been to her so far, she almost had the urge to go back and be
nice to him. Almost.

She
tried to imagine the kind of hurt he must have endured, living with a wife who
tricked him into marriage, then left him to raise a child by himself. One child.
He must have suffered horribly to lose a baby, then be blamed for it. According
to Charlie, Taos hadn’t trusted anyone since. How lonely he must be.

A
familiar feature in the landscape drew her attention.  

“Charlie?
Will you do me a favor?”

“No.”

“Why
not?”

“Because
I don’t want a worse pounding than I’m already in for.”

“That’s
ridiculous. Besides, this won’t get you in any trouble.”

He
cast a skeptical expression at her.

“Or
me either. Really.” She pointed at a cabin partially hidden by a stand of trees.
Her cabin. On her land.

Charlie
nodded and turned the team toward the structure. As they approached, the house
seemed much smaller than she remembered. The porch extended along the entire
front of the house and a small barn sat just to the left. Samantha caught her
breath at the sight of the yellow daffodils and bright pink tulips by the front
steps. Her mother had them shipped from Boston the year before she died. Claire
had worked so hard to make their home beautiful.

Charlie
handed her down from the wagon and escorted her up the stone steps. The front
door hinges squeaked, announcing their presence. Sunlight streamed into the
room from the two large windows on the opposite wall. Few cabins had windows
that large, and she remembered her father complained frequently about having to
chop twice as much wood to keep the place warm in the winter because of them.
But Samantha knew deep down he loved to look out at the mountain view as much
as her mother did. Many nights she’d awaken and looked over the loft railing
just to see her parents snuggled together on the bench in front of those
windows, gazing out at the beautiful snowfall.

Samantha
walked around the room, running her fingers over each piece of furniture, the
wide windowsills, the ladder to the loft she’d climbed hundreds of times. The
table her father made for the three of them sat where it always had next to the
small kitchen, the rocker that had been a gift from Aunt Mattie when Samantha
was born remained on one side of the huge fireplace. The nails along the mantle
where her mother hung flowers to dry were all still there.

She
could almost feel her parents’ presence, as if her father would burst through
the door any moment and swing her into his arms, or he mother’s lilting voice
would ring out from the kitchen to let her know her favorite cookies were fresh
from the oven. The whole cabin looked and felt as if they’d just left this
morning to go into town and might be back at any moment.

The
fact that they wouldn’t be here again, ever, stung Samantha’s heart and filled
her eyes with tears. She heard Charlie shuffle over to the windows.

“Why
is it so clean?” she asked. “Is someone living here?”

Charlie
removed his hat and looked into one of the bedrooms. “We use it every so often.
If we're branding on this place, it’s a lot easier to stay here than ride back
home.” He leaned against the wall. “Taos pays an Indian woman to clean it and
keep things in order. Darren stays here sometimes just to be alone, you know.”

Samantha
nodded. She did know. When they were children, Darren would sometimes go weeks
or months without speaking because someone made fun of his stuttering. It was
barely noticeable now, but people don't forget. Darren cherished his solitude. She
pulled back a lace curtain on the kitchen window. Two white headstones
reflected the sun from the small hill behind the house. Nine years had passed,
but the pain crushed her heart with the same force. She breathed deep to keep
the tears from overwhelming her.

“Do
you want to go alone?” Charlie asked.

She
shook her head and walked toward the back door. He followed a short distance behind.
Small red tulips peeked out from the base of both stones.

“Who
planted these?”

“Taos.
He thought you would have liked them.”

“I
do.” She crossed her arms and stared at the flowers. What kind of man would do
something so kind, knowing she might never see it?

After
a few minutes Charlie spoke, almost to himself. “Dad said it was a freak
accident. The horse stepped in a hole and rolled with him. It could have
happened it anyone.” He paused. “She only lasted six months after he was
killed.”

Samantha
nodded, remembering Jake Williams at the door, covered in dirt from the spring
roundup just as she’d seen him and her father so many times. But that day he
had her father’s body wrapped in a blanket, draped over the saddle. She didn’t
hear what Jake said, just watched from the window as her mother ran and pulled
the blanket back. Clair stared into her husband’s unseeing eyes, then slid to
her knees, inconsolable.

Samantha
looked at the dates on the stones. Almost six months to the day separated them.
That six months was the longest of her life as she watched her mother waste
away. Nothing she tried made any difference. “I’ll never understand it. She
just gave up. She wouldn’t eat or sleep. She just sat in that rocker like she
expected him to walk through the door any minute.” Samantha picked a tulip and
twirled it in her fingers. “How can you love someone so much that you would
rather die than live without them?”

The
familiar loneliness crept over her soul again.
How could she have chosen to
die with him rather than live with me?
No amount of reasoning had ever
provided an acceptable answer. She had stood here nine years ago, an orphan
having just turned fourteen. She was angry. Very angry. Aunt Mattie had been so
kind and tried her best to offer explanations, but nothing soothed the hurt. Finally
Samantha became numb, and she stayed that way for a long time.

They
spent a few more minutes at the small gravesite then returned to the wagon for
the trip home. Samantha picked a bouquet of daffodils and tulips from the front
of the house to take with them. She also took the crazy quilt from her parents’
room that her grandmother had made. Not that it was much, but it had been one
of the things she missed the most when she left. It connected her to the women
of her past somehow. Maybe it would give her a chance at the kind of love they
had known.

Chapter 9

As
the Williams house came into view, Samantha squinted against the warm sun of
spring at the very large, black furry thing loping out to meet them.

“What
is that?” She pointed hesitantly.

“Tommy’s
dog. Hey, Jimbo!” The animal leapt toward the wagon while the horses danced and
snorted. “Tommy put him in the barn last night before it rained.”

“That’s
a dog?” It was homely, hairy, and huge.

“Oh,
don’t worry. He’s friendly.” That seemed small comfort. The wagon pulled to a
stop and Tommy rushed out of the house.

` “How
about helping me unload, Squirt?” Charlie asked as he lifted Samantha down from
the wagon. The boy nodded.

“Where’s
your Pa?” Charlie hefted a large sack of flour and set it the porch. Tommy
climbed into the wagon and peeked into some of the other packages.

“He
saw you coming up the road and went to help Uncle Darren move the herd to new
pasture. He said for you to come help when you got back.”

“You
comin’ with me?” Charlie asked.

“No.
He said I’d just be in the way.” Tommy’s shoulders drooped. He plopped down on
top of a bag of cornmeal. “I’m seven now, and he said I could help when I was
seven.” He scuffed his boot along the bed of the wagon. Large blue eyes stared
off into the distance. “I guess he forgot.”

Samantha
pursed her lips. How could anyone disappoint this little boy? Hadn’t he been
through enough in his short life? It was a good thing Taos wasn’t there; he
deserved a swift kick. Her inclination to be nice to the man shriveled a bit. She
walked into Tommy’s line of sight and stood until he looked at her.

 “You
know the real reason he made you stay here?”  

“’Cause
I’m too little?” His soft voice shook with resignation.

“No,
because someone needs to watch out for me. I get into lots of trouble when I’m
by myself.”

 “You’re
gonna have your hands full too, Tommy.” Charlie winked at her. “She’s more
trouble than a hundred mean steers in a stampede.”

Tommy
jumped off the sack and then bounced onto the ground. “I can do that!” His
words came faster and faster as the excitement took hold. “I get into trouble
all the time. Why, I could show you lots of things you shouldn’t do.”

“I’d
really appreciate that, Tommy.” She smiled, pulling packages off the end of the
wagon for Tommy to carry as Charlie chuckled.

Samantha
followed the boy inside and then motioned him upstairs, both of them struggling
under a pile of bundles. He led her to the room that adjoined Taos’s.

“Girls
sure have a lot of stuff!” Tommy dragged off his straw hat and wiped sweat from
his face.

Samantha
looked around the room. “Yes, they do.” Years ago this had been a large
dressing room, but now it was definitely a woman’s room, with lace curtains and
a pink quilt on the bed. While it was tiny, it was still functional. She
frowned as her gaze settled on the adjoining door to Taos’s room. “Am I
supposed to be in this room?”

“Yeah,
Pa said. ’sides, all the others are full.” He flopped down on the bed, waiting
for her to open the packages.

“Maybe
I could just switch with someone?”

“Why?”

Yes,
why?
Simple question, complicated answer. She tried to think of a reason a
child would believe. Besides the truth, that is. “Um, I don’t sleep very well,
and I might wake your Pa up. Then he would get mad.”

Tommy
straightened to his full height. “Now that’s one of the first things I can help
you learn.” He cleared his throat like a preacher instructing his flock. “When
Pa says do something, it’s better to just do it then hope he changes his mind
later. He’ll get lots madder if you don’t do what he says first.”

Hard
to argue with the boy’s logic—not that she was under any illusions that Taos
might change his mind. She would have to talk to him about the sleeping
arrangements later. She didn’t think she could sleep knowing he was right on
the other side of that door, and not because she didn’t trust him. She didn’t
completely trust herself, especially after the instruction she’d received from
Cinnamon. That could really complicate things. And things were already
complicated enough as they were. 

Samantha
opened drawers in the dresser and armoire to find a place for all her purchases
as Tommy sat back down on the bed. “Whose room did this used to be?”

“Nobody’s.”

“It
had to be somebody’s.”

“Nope.
Pa sleeps in there.” He pointed toward the adjoining door. “And Uncle Charlie
and Darren have rooms across the hall. My room’s at the top of the stairs so I
can make it to the outhouse fast.”

She
turned away to keep from laughing.
Well it’s practical I guess, but who
would have slept here? Sharisse.
Samantha shook off the strange feelings
that name conjured up, a mixture of curiosity and irritation.

Charlie
had said that Taos and his wife rarely shared a bed, so this must have been
where she slept. What kind of woman had his mother been? The more time she
spent with Tommy, the more the feeling turned toward disgust at the thought of
her abandoning this child.

Samantha
had purchased a few dresses to tide her over, and she pulled a lilac calico
from the brown paper. She held it up. “What do you think?”

“It’s
pretty, and not as dirty as the one you have on.”

“Thank
you, I think. Why don’t you let me change, then you can show me around?”

He
stared at her and waited.

“Can
you wait in the hall?”

The
boy blushed deeply and darted from the room, obviously not used to having a female
in the house.

Ten
minutes later they were roaming the house’s ground floor. Somehow Samantha
remembered it being bigger too. Strange how everything shrinks as you grow up,
everything except Taos.

Her
memory of the Williams home rendered a tidier image than the present one too. Dust
now hovered in every corner, beckoning a long absent broom. Cob webs dangled
here and there, swaying with the occasional draft. She had difficulty
determining the original color of a few of the rugs too, as they all seemed to
be the same shade of dirt brown. Why didn’t Taos have this house cleaned by the
same person he had cleaning her cabin?

She
placed the tulips in a large mason jar on the kitchen table. They were bright
and cheery and made the rest of the house look that much worse.

Tommy
talked, explaining the use of each room and adding other interesting
information. Amused and intrigued by his narration, Samantha let him explain
every detail to her. A doorway under the stairs was their next stop.

“That
goes to my Pa’s office.” He stood aside, allowing her to enter first. “We’re
not supposed to be in here for anything ’cause he keeps important papers and special
things in here.”

The
large, cluttered desk took up most of the room. Samantha strolled slowly
around, absorbing every detail. Maybe there were clues that would hint at the
changes in Taos. Walking behind the desk, she could feel his essence in the
room, her skin rippled with goose bumps as she examined the books on the
shelves. It was as if he were watching.

Gardening
books, etiquette guides, and a variety of classic novels were among the titles—an
eclectic mix to be sure. She pulled one of the many volumes on roses out and
blew the dust off the top. The leather spine cracked as she opened the cover. The
pages were yellowed, and inside the cover, in sprawling handwriting, “Elizabeth
Williams, 1852” was written. Taos’s mother. Samantha had been very young when she’d
died, and she couldn’t really remember anything about her. She replaced the
book, feeling a little like an intruder, and looked at the mess on the desk.
Papers scattered across the entire surface and hung off the sides. There were
even some papers littering the floor behind the desk and sticking out of a few
of the drawers. If there were clues to Taos’s behavior in that chaos, it would
take her a lifetime to find them.

Samantha
ran her fingers along the back of the leather chair. The room smelled like him,
a combination of leather and spice, a scent uniquely his. Or at least this was
the smell of the Taos she remembered. Very masculine, compassionate, and
comforting. She longed for the old Taos. The one who carried her home after she
fell off a horse and twisted her ankle when she was nine. He talked softly to
her the whole way and teased until she was smiling again. He also comforted her
when her parents died, sitting with her for hours while she cried. That person
had to still be there, somewhere.

Tommy
walked over to the small secretary adjacent to the door and opened a small
drawer. “This is the ’mergency stuff.”

Samantha
peered in. There was a gun and a small box.

“The
gun’s loaded and we’re not supposed to touch it. Unless it’s a ’mergency, of
course. Do you know how to shoot?”

“No,
do you?”

“Yes,
ma’am.” His small face radiated with pride.” My pa taught me when I was five.”

“Maybe
you could teach me.”

“Sure
I could. Everybody needs to know how to shoot.”

“What’s
in the box?”

The
boy popped open the lid. “Money.”

Her
eyes opened wide
. A lot of money.
What kind of emergencies did Taos
expect?

He
snapped the box shut and closed the drawer.

“How
about something to eat?” she asked, “I’m kind of hungry.”

“Me
too.” Tommy disappeared down the hall.

She
prepared a small meal for the two of them from left-over bacon and biscuits. They
sat at the table together. “I bought some chocolate for cookies at the store.”

The
boy listened and chewed, his mouth stuffed.

“I
thought I might make some this afternoon.”

He
swallowed. “I like cookies. Nate’s momma makes some white ones that are really
good.”

“Who’s
Nate?”

“My
friend in town. I stay with him sometimes and he stays with me sometimes.”

They
ate in silence for a while.

“I
never had nobody that made cookies just for me. Maybe I could give Nate some.”

The
boy was very matter of fact, but moisture threatened Samantha’s eyes. “I’ll
make some extra.” She may not be here long, but while she was, Tommy would at
least have someone who cared enough to make cookies just for him.

Once
the food was devoured, the two spent the afternoon stirring and mixing, and
then waiting anxiously as a heavenly chocolate aroma filled the kitchen. Tommy
ate most of the first batch and several spoonfuls of dough out of the bowl for
the second batch when he thought she wasn’t looking. They piled the last
survivors on a plate and covered them with a towel.

“There’s
still some stuff you haven’t seen, if you want.” He motioned her outside.

What
she really wanted was a nap, but she didn’t dare turn down the invitation. She
ignored the dishes in the washtub and followed Tommy out the back door. The
tour of the barn was uneventful and hot as the afternoon waned. Except that
Jimbo apparently decided that he needed to smell every inch of her new calico
dress. The dog almost knocked her down twice in his excitement. Friendly had
been an understatement.

A
short time later they neared the house again. Tommy said, “That’s pretty much
it, except for the flower garden.”

“Flower
garden?” The type of flower garden these men would have created conjured the
vision of a single mound with one dirty daisy sticking out of the parched earth.

“I
have to water it every day so they don’t die, with the water being so low and
all.” He started off toward the creek.

They
walked a few hundred yards along the bank, coming to a protected area with
several trees surrounded on three sides by a small bluff. As they pushed
through a row of low bushes; Samantha caught her breath and stared. She was
surrounded by roses just starting their fall bloom. Some red, some pink, even a
few yellow. Honeysuckle ringed the area, infusing the air with sweet freshness.
Wildflowers bloomed in the open patches by the dozens. The air buzzed with the
hum of insect wings as sweet fragrances wafted toward her. “Who planted this?”

“My
pa.”

“When?”

“When
I was little.”

“Why?”

“Don’t
know.”

Why
would he do something like this
? It was beautiful. Taos couldn’t have done
this. Could he? She had a hard time even imagining the possibility. Her
parents’ headstones flashed through her mind. The tulips. Charlie said he had
done that too. Why?

She
walked around the small garden, stopping to smell the various roses. She
admired each one, from the climbing vines, to the small bushes. Tommy followed
her patiently, like a nanny with his charge. At the end of the garden stood a
wooden cross and a small white statue of an angel.