A Kiss for Cade (33 page)

Chapter Forty-Two

C
ade spoke with Pop while Zoe and the children ran home and tidied the living quarters. The children assumed the marriage meant the same intimacies as their ma and pa’s, so Zoe knew it was useless to think Cade would sleep on the cot without a powerful lot of excuses.

The thought of their first night together preyed on her mind. She felt like a schoolgirl on her first date.

“Uncle Pa is comin’,” Will announced, peering out the kitchen window.

Missy pushed open the screen door and ran out to meet him. Zoe watched her leap up and wrap her legs around his waist, smothering his face with kisses.

“Now that’s worth coming home for,” he said. He walked in carrying the little girl. He glanced at Zoe. “Next?”

Zoe felt hotness in her cheeks. “Have you seen yourself?”

“No. Why? I shaved an hour ago.”

She pushed him to the sink mirror.

Cade sat Missy down, and then he looked into the mirror and groaned. “Do I look like this all over?”

“Do you itch all over?”

“Yes.”

“I believe that answers your question.” She stifled a giggle. “I’ll get the baking soda paste.”

“I’ll put it on fow you,” Missy said.

Cade’s eyes met Zoe’s. “Thanks, honey, but I think maybe your new ma should do it.”

Zoe easily conceded. “I’ll bring you the paste.”

He wrinkled his nose at Missy. “She sure knows how to take the fun out of measles.”

Later that night, Zoe fixed cups of hot tea. Missy was sleeping on a pallet next to Holly, and Cade was stretched out on the bed reading a journal. The sight of him, so comfortable in her surroundings, left her unsettled.

“Feeling better?” she asked softly. She didn’t want to wake the girls.

He took a cup from her. “Better, thanks.” After taking a sip of tea, he swung his feet to the floor and patted the mattress beside him. “Sit down. I want to talk to you.”

She sat down and studied her cup. “We did the right thing, Cade.”

“Did we?”

She glanced up. “Don’t you think so?”

“I admit I’ve fallen in love with those kids.” He glanced over at his sleeping nieces.

Smiling, she said, “Easy to do.” Their eyes searched each other’s. “Not so easy to undo, huh?”

“Not so easy, but you know what I have to do. I’ll stay long enough to satisfy Laticia the marriage is binding.”

“Only if you feel it’s advisable. You’re free to go any time.”

“If I could stay forever, I would. I don’t want to go, Red. The kids—you.”

Her gaze darted up to meet his. “Me?”

“It’s not going to be easy, raising four children on your own.”

She smiled. “You’ve made me very happy. I can’t complain.”

“Are the children enough for you?”

She thought for a long moment. Was it enough? No, she wanted him. She never thought she would wish this on anyone, but she also wanted Hart McGill dead. “I understand our arrangement.”

The mantel clock struck midnight. Zoe knew the awkward moment had arrived. “It’s late.”

“Do you want me to sleep in the merchantile?”

“No, the children would wonder why we weren’t sleeping in the same bed like their ma and pa.”

Cade ran his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know, Red. I’m not sure I can sleep in the same bed with you.”

“Of course you can. I’ll make it easy for you.” Whether the vows were spoken in earnest or in need, they were no less married. It wouldn’t be so hard to lie beside him, to know he was lying next to her, to pretend he would always be there.

“We could—”

“Don’t say it.” She was having the same irresponsible thoughts, but she was strong. She would not consummate a marriage that held no significance.

She rose and disappeared behind the screen to put on her night-clothes, and then she crawled beneath the covers as though today had been like any other. Cade joined her a few minutes later and lay stiffly beside her.

“Good night, Cade.”

“What’s good about it?”

She stuffed the corner of the blanket in her mouth to keep from giggling. Eventually she heard his even breathing and relaxed, relieved he wasn’t going to make an issue of the marriage bed.

Toward morning, she felt a hand looped around her waist. “Cade!” she warned.

“Huh?” He sat up sleepily. “What’s wrong?”

They turned to look at each other, but their view was blocked as a yawning Missy sat up between them and innocently asked, “Is it mowning aweady?”

Chapter Forty-Three

A
brisk wind whipped the sheets on the line Saturday morning. Cade rounded the corner of the building and came to a dead stop when he saw his wife. The sight of her trim figure, up to her elbows in fresh laundry, sent blood rushing to his head. She had four or five clothespins stuck in her mouth. Wind buffeted her slight weight as she pinned up a long row of petticoats. The starched muslin snapped briskly in the stiff breeze, tossing her red hair topsy-turvy. It was as if Cade were fourteen again, spying on her at the swimming hole.

Creeping from behind, he reached around her and held the garments to the line so she could maneuver more easily. “Are we running a boarding house?” he asked.

She jumped and then smiled. “No, why?”

His gaze scanned the lengthy stretch of clothes. Overalls, long johns, women’s dresses, and children’s garments filled the billowing rows. “An orphanage laundry?”

“No.”

“Confederate army?”

She pinned up another skirt. “No, silly. We just have a lot of wash.”

He shook his head. “No one on earth is this dirty.”

“There’s a stack of clean blankets in the kitchen. Will you take them to the jail for me?”

“Sure. Can I have a kiss from my wife?”

“Nope. Anything else I can do to help?”

“Baking soda.” He scratched an angry-looking blotch. “I’m itching like blue blazes.”

She made a sympathetic face. “It must be awful.”

The itching couldn’t hold a candle to wanting her. Being married in name only was worse than beating himself senseless with a rock. “Where are the kids?”

“Playing at the livery.”

“I thought Abraham left.”

“He did. They like Ben. He gives them apples.”

“I give them apples.”

“You spoil them rotten, and you have to stop. They’re beginning to expect all the licorice and gum balls you generously dole out from the candy jar.”

“A little candy never hurt anyone.”

“I mean it, Cade. Stop being so permissive with them. They’re crazy about you, and it’s only going to make it harder when you leave.”

“All right.” He handed her a petticoat that looked too big for her. “I’ll make it a point to be as mean and cranky as you are—”

She threw the wet petticoat at him. The garment hit him in the face.

Leaning over, he calmly plucked up a pair of bloomers and flung them at her.

A full-blown laundry war erupted, and they fought it out until the last clean sheet lay dirty and trampled underfoot.

His stomach tightened at the sight of her hair falling loose and unfettered over her shoulders, her face flushed with exertion.

Grinning, she scooped up the laundry basket. “I opened a new box of baking soda this morning. It’s on the kitchen cabinet.” Walking toward the washtub, she called over her shoulder, “Will you be home for supper?”

He shouldn’t be. If he was smart, he’d be riding out about now. “What are you having?”

“Rabbit and dumplings.”

Rabbit and dumplings. He winked, smiling when she blushed. “Try keeping me away.”

He opened the screen door and stepped into the kitchen. It was quiet without the kids’ chatter. He wondered what it would be like to be ten years old and have no responsibility other than to keep out of trouble. Moving to the mirror, he made a quick paste of the baking soda and water and dabbed it on his face. A fine-looking groom he made. Measles. At his age. If McGill caught him in this predicament, he’d have a good laugh before he shot him.

Bending closer to the mirror, he frowned. The stubble of beard felt familiar, but it itched as badly as the rest of his body. Rubbing his chin, he did an assessment.

You like this idea of marriage, don’t you? Get over it. Don’t get comfortable with family life. It’s not for you. Not now. The feel of Zoe lying soft and warm against you, drifting off to sleep with the sweet scent of her hair filling your senses. Her soft breathing, so different from the lone coyote call. You like it. You’d give your left arm to keep it this way.

Shoving his thoughts aside, he brushed his hair into place, and then settled his hat on his head.

Crossing the street a few moments later, he dropped the blankets by the jail, and then he headed for the mayor’s house. Knocking on the door, he waited until Gracie answered. Her face split in a wide grin when she saw him.

“Mercy, if you don’t look a sight.”

“Can I come in? I’m not contagious, just ugly.”

Gracie opened the door wider. “You looking for Lawrence? He’s over at the town hall. He and—”

“Actually, I want to talk to you.”

“Oh?” Gracie closed the door and shooed him into the parlor. “I’ll make a pot of coffee.”

“That’s not necessary. I won’t take up your time. I wanted to talk to you about a personal matter,” he said as they both sat down.

Gracie patted her hair bun, her face reddening. “Well…”

“About Zoe.”

“Oh?” She looked puzzled. “Personal?”

“I know you and Zoe are close. That’s why I came to you. I’d rather no one else knew about this conversation.”

“Certainly.” Her features sobered. “It sounds serious, Cade. What’s wrong?”

“I’m not sure, but I have a hunch Zoe’s having money problems.”

“Oh.” Gracie folded her hands, seemingly uneasy with the subject.

“She’s in trouble, isn’t she?”

Her guarded eyes darted about the room, landing on a mussed sofa pillow. She rose to fluff it. “Did Zoe say something to you?”

“No.”

Sitting down again, Gracie busied herself picking at a thread on the cuff of her sleeve. “I don’t think it’s my place—”