Promise Me Texas (A Whispering Mountain Novel) (24 page)

The dinner she’d brought was forgotten as he watched the sunset. Winter had turned everything into shades of brown except for the evergreens along the creek. The air was crisp tonight, hinting of another storm, but he’d never seen the moon so big. The place was hauntingly beautiful with the black of the mountain behind the house and the sound of the creek rushing between rocky shores. He could understand why all the McMurrays fought for this place. A slice of heaven.

Sheriff Drum Roak was within twenty feet of him before he heard the man. Even then Andrew had the feeling he’d made a sound on purpose to announce his presence.

“Evening, Sheriff.” Andrew tried to swallow his surprise.

“Evening, Mr. McLaughlin. Heard you wanted to talk to me.”

Andrew nodded as the tall, lean man walked toward him. He wore his gun low like a gunfighter, and like many of the men born to this life he seemed more legend than real. A man built of rawhide and guts. He didn’t seem to fit with the tiny doctor, but Andrew had seen them together and they lived for each other’s smile.

Andrew said the first thing that came to mind. “I figured you’d ride over.”

“I grew up running across this land. When I was a kid I used to swim the river and walk to the house just to see what the McMurrays were up to. Except for once, they never caught me, and the night Teagan did I thought he might kill me.”

“The way I heard it, you almost killed him.”

Sheriff Roak was close enough that Andrew saw him fight down a grin. “I tried, but I was just a kid. He tied me up in the barn to wait for the sheriff, and the McMurray women tried to feed me to death. I fell in love with Sage the minute I saw her.”

“Did you two marry young?”

Roak shook his head. “No, I had to chase her for a while; then she shot me and I gave in.” He laughed. “I’ll tell you the whole story someday if you have the time. Who knows, I hear you’re a writer, you might even write it down.”

“I’d like that.” Andrew limped into the kitchen with his cane. “Beth brought over enough supper for an army. Will you join me?”

He shook his head. “I’ve already had some of Jessie’s cooking, but I’ll have pie and coffee. No sense in walking back to the house before the kids are asleep. Four boys in the house does more than double the noise.”

Andrew offered him a chair, realizing that this was Roak’s house. “Thanks for letting me recover here at your place.”

“You’re welcome. We don’t get a chance to use the cabin much anymore. Sage likes to be in town in case someone needs her, and nothing’s changed with me. I like to be where Sage is.” He poured them both coffee while Andrew lowered into a chair.

When Andrew didn’t say anything, Roak leaned closer. “What’s on your mind?”

With total honesty and leaving out no details, Andrew told Drum about meeting the Peterson gang. Of traveling with them. Of trying to stop his friend from climbing on the train. Of saving Beth, and how she pulled off the bandanna that tied him to the gang and probably saved him from going to jail.

Roak asked a few questions, but for the most part he just listened. Andrew told him what he’d heard about Beth buying his horse from an outlaw in the middle of a gunfight, but he left out the mess they’d faced with Lamont LaCroix later that night.

When the sheriff refilled their coffee, Andrew reached across the table and handed Roak the pouch. “All we can figure out is that Peterson must have stuffed this into my saddlebags. It’s a map to what Chesty called the Gold of the Palo Duro. He claimed a cave in the canyon held more gold than the entire gang could spend in a lifetime. That was the reason for the train robbery. He said it would give them enough money to buy all they needed to mine a claim and bring it out. Land’s cheap up in the panhandle, and his idea was to homestead a small farm off the rim so he looked like a rancher. No one would suspect.”

Drum looked at the map, but he didn’t seem overly interested. “I’ve heard tales of that gold all my life. Part of Coronado’s search for El Dorado, the city of gold. They say it’s cursed because every man who goes in search of it never returns.” The sheriff smiled. “But you know, McLaughlin, it would make an interesting story for a novel.”

Andrew shook his head. “I don’t care about the gold, or the story. All I’m worried about is Peterson hunting me down to find the map. When he sold Beth the horse he might have guessed she was buying the pinto for me. The only lead he has about where I am is through her, and we left a trail Slim Bates said a blind man could have followed. It wouldn’t take much for him to find out we went to Fort Worth. We stabled our horses in a public livery. Hell, I even left a forwarding address.”

The sheriff leaned back. “I’m not going to arrest you for the robbery. I wouldn’t even if you weren’t married to my wife’s niece. You’re either the greatest storyteller I’ve ever met, or you are the worst outlaw this side of the Mississippi. I’ll bet my badge you weren’t even wearing a gun that night you jumped on the train.”

Andrew didn’t bother to answer. Roak had probably figured out that much, and far more, about him already.

The sheriff continued, “Near as I can tell, half the folks you’ve met since you’ve been in Texas have a reason to kill you. Peterson and his new gang—he’ll have one by now—are coming for you.” He held up one finger. “My guess is he’ll have no trouble taking the map from your dead hand. Then there’s LaCroix, who tried to shoot you.” He held up two fingers. “Now add my brother-in-law, Teagan, who will finish the job if he thinks you hauled his baby girl into this mess.” He lifted three fingers and looked at the count. “You’re a dead man, partner.”

“I know.” Andrew didn’t appreciate the summary of his life these past few weeks. “Any chance you could arrest me and lock me up? Maybe if I sit in jail I’ll stop rubbing folks the wrong way.”

Roak shook his head. “If Peterson can break out of jail, he’ll have no trouble breaking back in to murder you. Beth’s right, you two are safest here. I’ll talk to Tobin and make sure he puts a couple men on guard duty at the bridge. He still rides the perimeter at night, and I heard him say he’s not leaving until Teagan gets back. We’ve got a few old Texas Rangers working here and they’ll probably be happy to hang around the headquarters watching over the place. They may be past their prime, but they’ll know trouble riding in when they see it.”

Andrew felt better just getting the problem out. He relaxed and decided to eat one of the dinners Beth had brought. Roak ate the other one.

Halfway through his second supper, the sheriff asked, “How’d you have time to court and marry Beth in all this mess?”

“I don’t know,” Andrew answered. “It seemed like I got hurt and passed out. The next thing I remember, I woke up married.”

“Yeah, it kind of happens that way. I figured she’d be back from the big house by now.”

“She’s not sleeping here tonight.” Andrew had been thinking about how to handle the question. “I told her to sleep over there. She’ll be safer.”

Roak frowned but didn’t comment. He finished off his second slice of pie and left, saying he’d keep in touch. Andrew walked him to the door and watched him disappear silently into the night.

Then, with his head full of stories, he turned back to his desk and began to write. There was nothing he could do to make things better in the real world; he might as well work on a story.

CHAPTER 30

O
N A COLD WINTER MORNING A WOMAN NAMED
Maryanne Wells welcomed Colby Dixon into the trading post. She had on a white, starched apron like Madie and Mrs. McLaughlin had worn, so he knew he was speaking to a lady.

She helped him order all he’d need to make his place look like a home. She might have been considered too chatty, but she had three unmarried daughters, so she needed to keep a record of every single man in the county.

A few months ago Colby had been simply a kid, but now that he owned a ranch she said he’d be perfect for Pamela, her youngest daughter. She might be twenty-six, but she looked younger and still had all her teeth.

He picked out dishes as fast as he could. He’d seen all three of Maryanne’s daughters and thought them fair to pretty, but if they talked as much as their mother, he’d go nuts alone with one for days on end. At twenty-six, when she did start losing those teeth, the youngest could move into fair to ugly real fast. If he married her, he’d be stuck with a wife eight years older, a chatty mother-in-law, and two old maid sisters-in-law to support.

On the ride home he figured he’d go south the next time he needed supplies. It would take him a few more hours, but the other trading post owner didn’t even have a wife, much less daughters.

That night, when he looked at the inside of his place, he knew something was still missing. It just looked like pieces of furniture spread around, a few supplies on the shelves, a few pieces of material tossed over benches. It didn’t quite look like a home.

In the few weeks he’d been home, Colby and his three carpenters had made the place look grand. They’d even rebuilt the little fence around the family grave, but it didn’t matter. Colby still didn’t feel like this was where he wanted to be.

Before, when his pa was ordering him around, he hated his life and dreamed of getting away. He’d thought the cattle drives might be the answer, but they were mostly long days of hard work, just like on his father’s ranch.

When the house didn’t make him content, he turned to the ranch, building fences and corrals to be used in the spring. Clearing a field for planting a crop. Stringing wire along his property line. Putting up windmills where streams ran shallow in the summer months. The days were hard. He worked from before sunup to full dark. At night, when he finally hit the bed, all he thought of was what needed doing, not what he’d already done.

Right before he fell asleep, he sometimes remembered how it had felt to kiss Madie. He told himself he’d just kissed her to teach her how a kiss should be. He told himself he was a fool, and alone in his house no one argued with him.

He tried to make his life better. He hired a woman to come out from town one morning a week to clean house and do laundry. He rode into town a few times to eat and bought bread and canned goods that his pa would have thought were unnecessary. Nothing made him happy.

He missed the few days he’d spent with the McLaughlins in Fort Worth. He missed there always being people around to talk to and three meals a day that were edible. He missed playing cards with the boys and talking with Madie. Colby felt like he’d had one small slice of what life was supposed to be, and now he’d be hungry for it forever.

As the first hint of spring came, Colby Dixon was seriously considering running away from home.

He wrote another letter to Madie, even though she hadn’t answered his first two.

CHAPTER 31

A
NDREW FINALLY FELL ASLEEP A LITTLE AFTER DAWN.
An hour later someone pounded on his cabin door.

Grabbing his cane for a weapon, Andrew limped to the door of his cabin. It had taken him three days after she started sleeping at the main house to convince Beth that she didn’t need to come over until after noon. He had no idea who was bothering him before the sun was fully up.

Pulling the door open with swear words already crossing his lips, Andrew came face-to-face with Father Benjamin. “Hell,” he mumbled at the con man.

Benjamin crossed himself and pushed Andrew aside. “What a way to greet a man of the cloth.” He acted insulted.

“You’re not a man of the cloth.” Andrew scratched his head. “If I remember right, you’re a dead gambler.”

Benjamin shrugged. “Few of us are what we seem.” He raised an eyebrow as if daring Andrew to throw the first stone.

Andrew didn’t take the bait. Benjamin might suspect something wasn’t as it seemed, or he might just be guessing. “If you brought breakfast, come on in. Now that I’m awake, I’m hungry. I thought I made it plain to all that I like to work at night and sleep late in the morning, but apparently you didn’t get the message.”

“Be that as it may, Mr. McLaughlin, I’m here on an errand of mercy. Your wife informs me you’re living out here like a bear in a cave, so I’ve come to make sure you take a bath.”

“Like hell!”

Benjamin frowned. “Find a bigger vocabulary, sir, and she is right, you smell of an odor most foul.”

Andrew wasn’t surprised by his assessment or that Beth had mentioned the smell to him. She hadn’t come within five feet of him in days. Since he’d made her sleep in the main house, she’d been cold as a stranger. She would bring out his food and tidy up, and then she’d ask if she could help him with his work. When he grumbled, she’d leave. She hadn’t been close enough to smell him.

He told himself it was for the best. He wasn’t really a part of her life, just the ghost of a make-believe husband still hanging around. If Peterson did come to kill him, Andrew didn’t want Beth near, but that didn’t keep him from missing her even if she was walking through his life daily. He missed the good-night kisses and her light touches.

“I’ve brought a tub, soap, and pots for boiling water.” Benjamin glared at Andrew. “Mrs. McLaughlin suggested a weapon, in case you fight, but I’ll have you know, sir, I am adept in the ancient art of karate developed in the Ryukyu Kingdom. Don’t make the mistake of underestimating me.” He smiled and added to his résumé, “I also played a butler once in a stage production, so I know what to do to help with a gentleman’s bathing.”

The little man stood straight as if he thought he could threaten Andrew. “You’re going to take a bath, sir. The only question is, will you be conscious or unconscious?”

Andrew didn’t have the energy to fight. He’d been wishing for a good bath for almost a week. Dried blood was stuck to his skin and his beard itched as if it had fleas. “Let’s get this over with.”

Benjamin rubbed his hands together in a frantic kind of way and went to work.

Andrew managed to strip while the pretend priest heated water. The small wound where the bullet had entered was scabbed over, and he figured it would take a washing. The hot water might help his muscles relax.

When he slid into the hot tub, the water felt great. Even the strong soap that burned his nose and scrubbed off a layer of skin smelled wonderful to a man sick of smelling himself.

Benjamin, to his credit, seemed to know what he was doing. He covered the tub with a towel to keep the steam in and repeatedly poured more hot water when needed. By the time the water was at the top of the tub, Andrew had relaxed.

As he washed his hair, he said, “I hope you brought me some clothes.”

Benjamin laughed. “I had quite a discussion with your bride. She seemed to think you needed western clothes, but I insisted that clothes make a proper gentleman, and you, Mr. McLaughlin, are a gentleman. She finally agreed and I brought your black suit and starched white shirt with a proper collar. Since someone sliced your other tailored pair of trousers, Mrs. McMurray insisted on ordering you another suit, but it will take a few weeks.”

“Thanks.” Andrew dunked his head. When he came up spitting soap, he added, “But I think I’ll wear the western style she sent over yesterday and save the suit for when I leave. Maybe it’s time for a change, and the clothes she brought fit with this life.”

The little man didn’t miss a beat. “Very good, sir.” He played the part of a man’s valet for an hour, cutting Andrew’s hair, assisting with the shaving, and even polishing the boots Beth had sent.

“You look like a new man.” Benjamin stood back when his job was finished. “I’ve done wonders.”

“I do feel better,” Andrew answered as he poured two cups of coffee and motioned his guest to take a seat. “Thanks for the help. I almost feel back to normal, whatever that is in my life.”

Andrew sat across from Benjamin and opened the small basket of muffins he’d been smelling for an hour. He took one and pitched one to Benjamin. “Now, when do you plan on telling the McMurrays you’re not a priest? You can’t play this role much longer. You’re bound to trip yourself up eventually.”

“Never,” he answered with a loud sigh. “I couldn’t let them down. They’re all so kind.” He blew on his coffee. “But I’m not taking advantage of their hospitality. I’ve taken on the task of teaching Madie to read and write, and I have morning lessons with the boys.”

“They’re your boys,” Andrew pointed out.

“I never forget that fact. I only regret that I didn’t spend more time with them before now. Their mother was a hard woman to live with. I left her after Levi was born but returned for another try. That was when Leonard came along. I started wandering after his birth. It’s in my blood, but I tried to be a husband. I sent money when I had it but didn’t really know the boys until she died. I kept them with me for a while as I moved around. When that didn’t work I left them with relatives.” He stopped, almost in tears. “That didn’t work out.”

“I heard,” Andrew admitted. The uncle must have been terrible to them if they were willing to run off.

“Now that I’ve seen my sons again, I swear to you, this time I’ll do right by them. I’ll find a job and make a life that includes them.”

“Once you get out of the robes?” Benjamin didn’t seem to be in any hurry to give up regular meals, and the longer he stayed the harder it might be to leave the boys.

“Of course, the robes will go as soon as I’m out of sight.” The little man folded his arms and leaned back in his chair. “I think there is a possibility my calling could be teaching. After all, it’s much like acting. You stand in front of an audience and project. I never had formal training, but growing up in a traveling medical wagon, I spent my days reading the classics. The people traveling with us always had things to teach me: world history, math, card tricks. I’ve always thought I had better training than most colleges offer.”

The little man smiled. “You should see how fast I’m teaching Madie to read. We work at least three times a day, and she’s flying through the lessons.”

Andrew almost felt sorry for Benjamin. He wondered how many men hid behind one mask or another. In truth, Benjamin’s lie didn’t seem any worse than his own. “Get a real job, and I’ll bring the boys to you. No one here will have to know you’re playing a role.”

“You’d really do that for me?” The man stilled, as if waiting for the catch.

Andrew nodded. “As long as you promise not to steal anything from the McMurrays.”

He looked offended. “I may be many things, sir, but a thief is not one of them.”

As he walked out, Andrew couldn’t help but wonder if the man was telling the truth or simply playing another role. Maybe it didn’t matter. After all, since he’d met Beth even he didn’t seem to be able to tell the difference.

Before he could settle in to write, his almost-bride bumped her way into the cabin with a huge box.

She smiled at him. “You look very handsome, husband.”

He stood, not reaching for his cane for the first time since he’d been shot. “Thank you, darling. What do you have there?”

“Mail.” She dumped the box in the middle of the bed.

Week-old newspapers from New York and Washington tumbled out, as well as a few books he’d ordered months ago. Among all the boxes and rolled papers were envelopes. Big brown ones. Small white ones. Andrew dove into the pile, feeling like it was Christmas morning.

She caught his excitement. “What can I do to help?”

“Start opening,” he said. “I’ve missed news of the world so badly.”

As he pulled open the first newspaper, she slit the end of an envelope and shook a single piece of paper out. A bank note tumbled out.

He was too busy reading the headlines to pay her much attention until she whispered, “Money. One hundred dollars. In payment for your first story in the Ghost Cat of Bailey Boardinghouse series.”

“Really?”

“Really.” She squealed and hugged him, then quickly pulled away to open another letter.

The newspapers were forgotten as they opened everything. Some asked for more details on a story; a few said,
Not at this time, but send more
; but most held money orders or bank notes. When Beth stood and spread the payments out on the table, she said simply, “You’re rich. There must be a thousand dollars here.”

“Thanks to you,” he said. “I never send out more than a few at a time. This . . . this is enough to buy a house.”

“No. You wrote them, Andrew. I just got them ready to mail. It was a small part.” She smiled, obviously pleased with herself. “I think we should get back to work today. You’ve been writing for days; it’s time I started typing out the pages. Where is that beast? I’m ready to face him and type away.”

He touched her hair, thinking how he’d missed the simple act. Pulling her against him in a gentle hug, he whispered, “We make a good team.”

She slipped her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. “We do, and I’ve missed you. Is the bear who lives in this cabin gone?”

He didn’t even act like he didn’t understand what she meant. They’d been together all week, but not like this, not touching. “He’s gone and not coming back. I needed time to heal and think.” He leaned down until his forehead pressed against hers. “I’ve missed being this close. Forgive me for being so hard to put up with.”

“There is nothing to forgive.”

He couldn’t fight the need for her any longer. He lowered his mouth and kissed her like he’d never kissed another. The warmth of her body moving against him washed away all reason. Being with her couldn’t be as bad as being without her. It couldn’t. The gods wouldn’t play that cruel a trick.

For a long while he held her, thinking of nothing but how dearly he’d missed the feel of her.

Finally, she gently shoved him away. “I’ll make you lunch, and then we’ll work.”

He nodded, hoping he could pull his thoughts together enough to form sentences. When he moved to his desk, he heard her humming.

The morning passed into afternoon with her always near. When he watched her work at the typewriter she called
the beast
, he stood close, letting his hand move into her hair. The feel of her ginger curls, now unbound, warmed him from inside out. Their days together were numbered and he didn’t want to waste any more time.

When she walked near his desk to ask a question, she’d lean into his shoulder as she stood beside his chair. They were communicating again with far more than words. There would be time, oceans of time, to be lonely when they parted, but right here, right now, he wanted to remember one slice of happiness.

As he worked, he forged every detail of the day into his memory. The cool breeze from the open door. The stove popping away almost as regularly as the ticking of a clock. The sounds she made, humming when she was thinking, scolding herself when she made a mistake. Touching him lightly when she passed as if checking to make sure he was real.

When the sun ran a long stream of light across the cabin floor, she stood and stretched her back. “I’d better stop and go pick up dinner or it will be dark before I get back to the house tonight.”

“Stay with me.” He looked over his shoulder.

“For dinner?”

“Yes, and for the night.” He watched her carefully, realizing he’d said almost the same words before changing his mind and sending her away. “I don’t want to let you go. Not tonight.” He almost added,
Not ever
, but those two words would shatter the last wall he’d built to keep everyone away.

Even if he were fool enough to fall in love again, she wouldn’t have him as a real husband. He had nothing to offer. But it was time for him to fully play this game she’d invented; then the memories would be real even if the marriage wasn’t.

She moved beside him, her hand resting on his shoulder. “I’ll come for dinner,” she said. “I’m not sure either of us could handle more.”

He nodded. “We’ll start with dinner.”