Gerrity'S Bride (21 page)

Matt’s attention swerved in her direction, pulled by the anguish that painted her words. “Emmie’s fine,” he assured the child, stepping to where she stood, then crouching before her to tilt her head back with one long forefinger beneath her chin. “She just got too hot out here in the sun,” he told her, forcing a lightness to his voice he was far from feeling. “She didn’t mind us teasin’ her, sweetheart.”

Behind him, he heard the closing of a door and knew it was the farthest bedroom down the hallway, the one he shared with Emmaline.

“Come on, Tessie. Let’s go see what Maria has to offer us for a hot afternoon. I’ll bet she made something cool to drink.” Clasping her fingers in his, he led the child through the living room and into the kitchen at the back of the house.

“Maria, what’ve you got for Tessie to cool her off? She and Emmaline got all hot and bothered out in the courtyard.”

“Maybe some nice buttermilk?” Maria offered with a teasing look at the child.

“Yuck!” Theresa answered inelegantly. “That’s bad stuff, Maria. Don’t we have any lemonade?”

“
Sí,
we can find you some, I’m sure,” the housekeeper assured the child. “And you, Mr. Matt?”

“Nothing for me. Just let Tessie sit out here with you for a few minutes, all right?”

Without waiting for a reply, he backed from the room as Tessie followed Maria to the cupboard. Purposefully intent on muffling his footsteps, he approached the bedroom where Emmaline had retreated so abruptly.

The handle turned silently beneath his big hand, and he stepped through the doorway, his eyes seeking her slim figure within the room. The white curtains filtered the sunlight and its brightness was dimmed as it played across the floor. But caught in the midst of that shimmering, wavering brilliance was the slender form of his wife. She was a mound of clothing, topped by fiery curls that meshed with the sunlight. Her legs were drawn up, her arms encircling them tightly, so that her head, leaning upon her knees, gave her the appearance of a child, huddled against the cold. Or a small woman, curled within herself, he thought with a flash of intuition.

His approach was quiet, his boots silenced by the rug, and he squatted beside her, his hands dangling between his knees.

One large, callused palm lifted slowly and hovered over the back of her neck, where tangled curls were damp from the heat. She’d pulled them up, gathering them into her fist before she wrapped a piece of yarn about the upswept length and then left them to dangle in a mass of glorious confusion down her back. His fingers itched to bury themselves in that profusion of glory, and he clenched his fist against the urge.

She stirred, and her breath caught in a series of small sobs before she inhaled deeply, as if to stem the betraying sounds. Aware of the form hunkered beside her, she silently cursed the tears that stained her hot cheeks, not willing to allow her weakness to be so apparent to the man who waited silently next to her. That she should be so vulnerable to him was hard enough to cope with, without the knowledge he had captured her heart so quickly, so easily, and with such little effort.

All he’d had to do was be there, she recognized. All he’d had to do was be himself, that ever-vigilant, ever-protective, ever-aware husband she’d married and accepted into her secret self. For weeks, he’d woven his web about her, and she’d been too caught up in circumstances to recognize the strands of caring he’d secured her with.

If this is what it feels like to love a man, then I don’t care for it, one little bit,
she decided. Her head lifted, and she brushed at her eyes with the back of one hand, then swiped the dampness across the layers of fabric that made up her skirt.

“What do you want?” she asked in a muffled voice, not willing to face him with the evidence of her weakness still visible.

His palm possessed the fragile bones of her neck, where her nape was bent and the tender skin beckoned his touch. One knee dropped to the floor, and he leaned closer, allowing the other hand to curl about her face, turning it gently toward himself. His long, tanned fingers were cool against the hot flesh and the dampness that remained.

“What is it, Em? Did I make you angry when I teased you?” He waited as she stiffened, her eyes closing so that she didn’t have to meet his gaze.

“No.” The one word was abrupt, and her lips tightened, as if they held a multitude of syllables captive within their plush grip.

“Emmaline.” It was a demand, as though he were tired of a guessing game he could not win, and his fingers tightened on the flesh of her cheek. “Will you look at me?” he asked, and again his voice made a command of the words.

Her eyes fluttered open, and the tears she had fought to contain within them beaded her lashes as she blinked once to clear the mist that clung. “I’m not a child, Matt. I don’t get angry when you tease me. I might not appreciate it, but I don’t take to pouting.”

She focused on the perplexed look that furrowed his brow and pursed his lips as he watched her. Her eyes narrowed, for she was aware of the heartache in store for her if he recognized her foolishness. That Matt was more than willing to accept the responsibility of her as a wife was a certainty. That he was more than eager to seek the softness of her embrace during the long hours of the night was obvious. That he would welcome the words that her tender heart yearned to spill into his hearing was dubious, to be sure.

This marriage had been entered into for reasons that didn’t include passionate promises and whispers of everlasting love. Matt seemed satisfied with the bargain he’d made. Emmaline had no intention of being any more open to hurt now than she’d been in the past.

For too long she’d waited, allowing those about her to deny her the love she craved. First her father had allowed her to be taken from him. He’d stood there and watched her leave and not lifted a hand to halt the process. The aching need for those big arms that had held her with such tender caring had never eased, she realized. She’d carried that same need all the way to the Kentucky horse farm where it had lain unquenched within the very depths of her heart for all of her growing-up years.

Only Delilah had given her the tender warmth of loving arms, and even that had become a memory since she’d become a grown girl, too big to be comforted by her nanny. Certainly the stern upbringing she received at the hands of her grandmother had not answered the cry of her heart. The memory of her sickly, often bedfast, mother was but a hazy recollection, she realized. The weak woman who had hated the Arizona sunshine had fared no better in the humid summers of Kentucky. Emmaline had often wondered if it had not been simpler for the woman who had birthed her to just lie abed and steadily allow her lingering reserves of strength to be depleted, day after day, than to make the effort of living.

Whatever her reasons, Theodora Carruthers had died in much the same way she lived, without a whimper of protest. In fact, the only time she’d asserted herself with any degree of firmness was the life-changing decision she’d made to leave the husband she’d grown to despise here in the everlasting sunshine.

“I wonder why my mother married my father,” Emmaline said suddenly, blurting the words into the silence that had filled the room.

It was not what he’d expected to hear, and Matt gazed at her, dumbstruck. “What on earth brought that up?” he asked bluntly. His eyes scanned her rosy features and settled on the pouting fullness of her mouth. And then he grinned suddenly as she allowed those lips to tilt into a smile of her own.

A laugh that contained more than a remnant of a sob bubbled up from her depths. “I don’t know,” she admitted, a bit shyly, to be sure. Then she closed her eyes once more and shook her head. Her cheek brushed against the warmth of his big palm, and she inhaled sharply. “I tend to let my mind wander, Matt,” she said ruefully, unwilling that he know all the various tacks she had taken in her meandering.

His sigh was verdant with the relief he felt. “Are you fixin’ to be a woman for a few days, Em?” Relief enveloped him as he seized the thought.

Her reply cut short his sense of satisfaction and set him to puzzle-solving once more.

“Whatever do you mean, Gerrity?” Her eyes snapped open wide, and she frowned as she considered him. Then a flush coated her skin, washing up from her throat to pinken her cheeks once more. “If you’re referring to my—” She broke off and bit at her lip. “If you mean what I think you mean...well...let me tell you, it’s none of your business,” she blurted out.

“Yeah, I guess I’m referrin’ to what you think I am,” he answered dryly, drawling out the words. “And it is my business, Mrs. Gerrity. Especially when it makes you all weepy and you start actin’ like—” He broke off and rose, his broad hands clasping her about the middle as he got up, lifting her with him, until she hung within his grasp, her toes inches above the floor.

Her lower lip protruded, and she glared her frustration from sparkling eyes. “Will you put me down?” The words were muttered from between her teeth. “My personal business is not up for discussion, Gerrity!”

He brought her closer to himself, the muscles in his arms rigid and straining with the effort of holding her in midair. With their faces almost touching, he leaned forward, his lips brushing against hers. “I can find out myself,” he whispered.

“How?” she blurted, and then her eyes opened wider once more. “Oh, no! Don’t you dare even think it, Gerrity. You put me down. Don’t you touch me!”

Her feet were swinging, attempting to do damage to his legs, and he laughed delightedly as he felt the bare toes against his shins. Her arms looped about his neck then, and she caught her fingers in the length of his dark hair, tugging and pulling at his head.

“Put me down, I said!”

“Can’t. You’re pullin’ my hair out,” he answered, wincing at the fierceness of her grip.

His own arms tightened, one sliding to clutch her around her middle, the other beneath her bottom, and he turned with her, carrying her to the big bed that centered the wall. Each step was accented by her words of protest, each word accompanied by another tug of her fingers in his shining hair.

Reaching his goal, Matt lifted one leg and slid it between hers. With that knee against the bed, he lowered them both to the mattress and allowed her to be cushioned in the feather tick as he let his weight fall against her slender frame.

“Oof!” She landed on her back and looked up to find his face against her own, his mouth twisted in a wolfish grin. “I’m really angry now,” she sputtered as she released her grip on his hair and struggled to squeeze her hands in between their bodies.

“Well...if you’re gonna get mad, I’ll just hafta hold you here till you get glad, I reckon,” he drawled, his mouth pecking eager kisses over every inch he could cover.

She squeezed her eyes shut against his attack, but it did little good, for her senses only became more attuned to his touch and she found herself lifting and twisting to capture the heat of his mouth with her own.

“I’m really mad, you know,” she grumbled as his lips made the contact they’d sought.

“Ummm...are you now?” With leisurely pauses between each word, he made his way across her mouth, sucking at each lip in turn with small biting kisses.

“Matt!” she cried finally. “Will you listen to me?”

“Sure, honey, have at it.” He inhaled deeply, lifting just enough to free her mouth to speak.

His eyes were warm and veiled with a look she recognized, and she sighed. “Somewhere out there in the house, Tessie is wondering what is going on in here,” she said finally, flattening her fingers against his chest, urging him to give her space.

He did, lifting from her and resting his weight on his elbows—no easy feat, given the softness of the feather bed they lay on.

“Yeah...” His sigh was deep. “Is it too much to hope for that you’ll be over bein’ mad by tonight?” he asked, his brow wrinkled, his mouth downturned.

He looked like nothing more than a small boy begging for a treat, and she melted. “I’m not really mad now,” she said, capitulating to his lure once more.

“No?” His fingers enclosed her face, and he narrowed his eyes as he watched her closely. “Tell me, Em,” he asked quietly, his teasing mood held in abeyance. “What made you wonder about your mother a while ago? What were you thinking...or remembering?”

She looked at him and bit at her lower lip once more. “I think I need to know more about my father,” she said finally. “I’ve never known him, not really. The memories of a small child are not very reliable, are they?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know what you remember about old Sam, but I know something that may help you read his mind a little.”

She was still, quiet as a doe in the twilight and just as pretty, he thought as she froze in place, her nostrils flaring just a bit and her mouth opening so that her tongue could touch the sudden dryness of her lips.

“Your letters—the ones Sam sent you—are here, honey,” he said finally. “He put them away when they were sent back to him. He kept them for you.”

“E
mmaline Gerrity, as I live and breathe,” Ruth Guismann called from across the store, as if she were announcing the visit of a long-lost friend. “Haven’t seen you since the party out at your place. Have you come shopping for supplies? Thought Matt sent someone in the other day.”

Emmaline flushed as several heads turned her way, and then turned to close the door behind herself. She nodded to two women whose names she couldn’t remember and headed for Ruth, thankful that good manners dictated she reply to the questions that had been fired in her direction.

“We just need a few things that Matt didn’t think of. He remembered the coffee and bacon and such, but minor details like salt and vanilla slipped his mind. Maria was ready to stage a rebellion, so I told her to make a list for me.” She rummaged through her reticule and brought forth a piece of paper with a dozen or so items scribbled on it.

“Let me see,” Ruth said, reaching for the list. “I’ve been reading Maria’s writing for years. Tell me all your news while I look this over and get things together.”

But Emmaline’s eye had been caught by a bolt of fabric left on the counter, and she ran her hand over it with open appreciation.

“Isn’t that a pretty piece?” Ruth asked her as she breezed past. “It just came in on yesterday’s train. Got a whole passel of dimity and batiste from St. Louis.”

Emmaline lifted the bolt to unroll a yard or so of the fine material. Holding it up to the light, she admired the weave and the flowers that were scattered in a dainty array across the cotton. “This would be lovely on Tessie for church,” she said. “I think I’ll have you cut me a piece, Mrs. Guismann.”

“Ruth,” the woman told her, depositing her armload of supplies on the wooden counter. “I’m almost done, Emmaline. Just look around a little. There’s a new shipment of children’s shoes in, too. I’ll warrant Theresa has about outgrown the ones her mama got her last fall.”

The door opened behind Emmaline, and she glanced over her shoulder. Deborah Hopkins was picking her way across the store, plainly aware of all eyes fastened on her. She made a beeline for Emmaline, a smile pasted on her face.

“Well, if it isn’t the bride!” she trilled. “I can’t believe you let Matt out of your sight. Or are you hiding him back there?” She made a show of peering over the counter and shook her head in a mocking gesture.

Emmaline gritted her teeth. “Hello to you, too, Deborah. My, it certainly is nice to see you getting around. I was afraid all of the exercise you got on the dance floor might have laid you up for a while.” Before she could stop them, the cutting words had passed Emmaline’s lips, and for a moment she regretted her lapse in manners.

But not for long, as Deborah shot a haughty look in her direction. “Oh, I admit, I had to rest up after the party at your place, what with dancing with every eligible man in the territory until I was just about worn to a frazzle,” Deborah said. “You know, I would have sent some of them in your direction, but you were hanging on to Matt so tight, it...well...” She leaned closer in a semblance of intimacy. “You know, you can’t hold a man by being a clinging vine, Emmaline.”

“If there’s anything I’ve never been accused of being, it’s a clinging vine, Deborah,” Emmaline said with a brittle little laugh. “And, contrary to what you may think you saw, the hands holding on so tight weren’t mine. Matt just can’t stand to have me more than two steps away these days. He’s found lots about me to admire lately, I guess.” Her eyes lowered in a semblance of modesty, but her lips twitched as she tried not to smile. This nastiness was contagious, she realized. But then, manners had gotten her nowhere with Deborah up to this point, and since they’d been abandoned in favor of straight talking, she might as well join the rest of these folk.

“Well, that ruckus you put on with that cowhand sure was a shame to behold.” The words cut in on Emmaline’s thoughts, and she blinked as she considered the charge Deborah had made.

“Ruckus?” She frowned her bewilderment.

Deborah lowered her voice, speaking in a loud whisper. “Matt sure was embarrassed by all the fuss, you know. It made him look downright foolish, you taking off with that man the way you did.”

“Foolish? You think he felt foolish because I was almost kidnapped? Why, I heard he looked pretty heroic, carrying me to the house and making such a fuss over me.” Emmaline took a deep breath, aghast at the accusation. That Deborah would even suggest such a thing...that anyone would believe Emmaline would run off...

Deborah’s lashes fell, concealing her eyes and she squared her shoulders. “Well, I’d never noticed Matt Gerrity fussing over anyone in all the years I’ve known him,” she said snidely, as if doubting Emmaline’s word.

She’d tried to control her temper, she really had. But this woman really took the cake, Emmaline decided, speaking her reply with wide-eyed sincerity. “Of course he fusses over me all the time, being a new bridegroom and all. Why, I could tell you...” She put her hand over her mouth and giggled. “But then, being left on the shelf, so to speak, you wouldn’t understand such things.” Her eyes narrowed, and she hesitated a moment, then smiled in silky speculation. “Or would you? No, of course not!” she said, denying the subtle insult.

“I could have had him, you know,” Deborah said with a nonchalant gesture of her hand, waving it gaily before Emmaline’s face.

“Well, I’m sure he could have had you...if he’d wanted you,” Emmaline said agreeably. “But from what I heard, he wasn’t much interested. Maybe the samples you handed out didn’t tempt him.”

Ruth Guismann approached, her face flushed, her eyes dancing with merriment as she interrupted the set-to she’d been eavesdropping on. “I’ve got everything together, Emmaline. How much of that dimity did you want cut for Theresa’s dress?”

“Three yards should do it. Oh, and whatever else I’ll need to make it up,” she added. “Matt told me to pick up anything I wanted,” she said, smiling sweetly. “He’s so generous, you know.”

Deborah leaned closer as Emmaline walked past her. One hand grasped Emmaline’s arm with cruel intent, her fingernails digging into the tender underside.

Emmaline drew to a halt by her side, deciding to pacify the other woman somehow. Matt would not be pleased by the sharp words spoken before the women in the store who listened so intently.

Her resolution was shattered by Deborah’s words of warning. “It’s not over till you have a child, Emmaline. What if that day never comes?”

Emmaline stiffened, flushing darkly as the intimate details of her bargain with Matt were made known aloud.

“What do you know about that?”

“My aunt works for Mr. Hooper,” Deborah said smugly.

“Then she should be ashamed of herself, telling things she has no business repeating,” Emmaline said quietly. Snatching her arm out of Deborah’s grasp, she sailed down the length of the counter to where Ruth waited.

* * *

“Sheriff Baines!” Matt’s summons halted the lawman in his tracks. Turning from the middle of the road, he eyed the tall rancher with mild curiosity.

“Got a problem, Matt?” he asked, heading back toward his office with a deceptively lazy gait. Past his prime, he’d found an easy berth in Forbes Junction, but when matters called for it, he was known to live up to the reputation that had traveled with him.

Keen eyes viewed Matt Gerrity, and then, reassured that no immediate emergency prevailed, the sheriff waved a hand toward the hotel, just across the way. “How about a bite of breakfast?” he asked hopefully.

“Sure, I’ll sit with you while you eat.” Matt could afford to be agreeable. He lengthened his stride to catch up with the lawman. Tilting the brim of his hat a bit, he smiled. “Kinda late for breakfast, isn’t it? Or are you keepin’ town hours these days?”

They stepped up onto the broad wooden walkway that fronted the hotel and waited while a young boy held the door open for them to enter the lobby.

“Naw, I just can’t bring myself to eat the stuff Hilda cooks for the prisoners. Sorta took my appetite this morning when I saw all that cold gravy and biscuits on Smokey’s plate.”

Matt led the way to the dining room archway and hung his hat on the rack provided. “What’s old Smokey doin’ in jail?”

“Drunk as usual.” The lawman’s words were succinct.

“Was he fightin’ again?” Matt asked as the white-aproned waitress poured two cups of coffee into thick mugs. This time of day, the hotel abandoned its china cups, he was pleased to note.

Hailey Baines shrugged. “Naw, not enough to really hurt anybody. He just needed to cool off.” The waitress approached once more, this time with a plate of eggs and pancakes in hand. With a small flourish, she placed it in front of the sheriff and turned her attention to Matt.

“You going to have breakfast, too, Mr. Gerrity?” she asked.

“How’d he get that served up so quick?” Matt asked, nodding at the plate of food that was occupying Hailey Baines’s attention.

“We saw him coming,” the waitress said, deep dimples showing her amusement. “As soon as he leaves his office about this time every day, the deskman lets us know and we put his eggs on to fry.”

Matt grinned. “Better watch your step, Sheriff,” he said in an undertone. “It doesn’t pay to get too predictable.”

“Well, I keep to a tight schedule,” Hailey answered, pausing for a swallow of hot coffee. “They just try to accommodate me a bit.”

“Coffee’s enough for me this morning,” Matt told the girl. “My schedule’s kinda tight too,” he added. “In fact, I don’t want to be leaving Emmaline on her own for too long.”

“You bring her with you this morning?” Hailey asked.

“For the most part, I’m not letting her get two feet from me these days. But I dropped her off at the dry goods with a list of stuff she’s lookin’ for, and I told her to stay there till I came back.”

“Is this the same woman you had to track down in a saloon in order to get married?” His face was solemn, but his eyes gleamed with humor, and Hailey Baines was rewarded with a glare for his efforts.

“Emmaline’s tamed down real well,” Matt said. “She knows better than to trot around town by herself. She’ll stay put.”

“You got some problems out your way, Matt?” Having made short work of the plate of food, the sheriff raised his hand to the waitress, and she nodded at him.

“Yeah, you could say that. You were there the night of the party, when somebody tried to grab Emmaline right off the back porch,” he reminded him quietly.

Hailey Baines nodded, his eyes intent as he listened. “Has there been anything else going on?” He glanced up as the waitress placed a plate before him, covered by a cinnamon roll that looked to be fresh from the oven. “Thanks, Molly.”

“No, not since then. You knew about the shot that was fired the morning we got married.”

The sheriff nodded. “Seemed like it was somebody looking for game, isn’t that right?”

“That’s what Emmaline wants to believe. I don’t agree with her,” Matt said. “Not after the incident with her saddle a couple of weeks after she got here.”

“Too many coincidences, Matt?”

“Let’s just say I’m not real comfortable without her tucked under my arm these days. And let me tell you, it’s a mite difficult to run a ranch that way,” he growled.

“Got any ideas? Why would somebody be after Emmaline? Nobody here has anything against the girl. And everybody thought well of old Sam Carruthers, far as I know,” Hailey said.

Matt shook his head. “I thought at first it was just pranks, mean stuff, maybe someone wantin’ her to go back to Kentucky. But when she was grabbed right off my porch, I decided it was more than that. Besides, anybody that knows me ought to know that I wouldn’t be lettin’ my wife run back east, no matter how scared she was.”

“Is she?”

“Scared?” Matt grinned. “Emmaline? Not on your life. Mad’s more like it.” He shook his head, and the smile disappeared. “Fact is, Sheriff, I’d like it better if she was a little scared. She’s certain she did enough damage to that bastard with her teeth to chase him off. I hated to tell her it was the screamin’ she did that sent him flyin’.”

“Either way, she was a lucky woman,” Hailey said, pushing his chair back. “You done with that coffee yet?”

“Yeah, I guess so.” Matt looked at his half-full cup and lifted it quickly, draining it with two swallows. “I just thought I’d let you know that I’m feelin’ pretty uneasy about the whole thing. Almost like I’m waitin’ for the other boot to hit the floor.”

“Have you heard of any new hands being hired on hereabouts? How about your men?”

Matt shook his head. “I’ve had the same bunch for over a year. Haven’t put on a new man since Kane hit town last summer. And he’s worked out real well.”

“How about Clyde Hopkins? He hire on anybody this spring?”

Matt glanced up and shrugged. “Not that I know of, but then, I don’t spend a lot of time lookin’ for new faces. Some of these hands come and go a lot, you know.”

“Sounds like you’ve come up empty-handed, Matt,” Hailey said as they sauntered toward the door. “See you tomorrow, Molly,” the lawman said to the woman, who watched them leave.

“Don’t you pay for breakfast?” Matt asked, fishing in his pocket for loose change.

“Naw, they give me a bill once a week. Keep your money, Gerrity. I’ll foot the bill for your coffee. Seems like the least I can do, after the meal I ate at your place the night of your party.”

“Well, I’d better go round up Emmaline,” Matt said with a sigh of frustration. “Guess I was snatchin’ at straws this morning. Just thought you might have heard somethin’ around town that I didn’t pick up on.”

“We’ll just have to keep our eyes open, I reckon,” the lawman said agreeably. “If I see or hear anything that rings a bell, you’ll be the first to know. If anything goes wrong, you know where to find me.”

“Well, right now I feel like I’m walkin’ blindfolded,” Matt told him, halting before the jail. “I don’t know where to start lookin’. There just doesn’t seem to be any reason for anybody to want to hurt Emmaline.”

“Anybody mad ‘cause she married you?”

Matt snorted. “Don’t know who, ‘cept for Deborah, and she’s got no reason to squawk. Besides, she’s not ornery enough to pull somethin’ like this.”