Audrey and the Maverick (12 page)

Julian walked his horse down the narrow road to his ranch a few days later. Dusk was settling about the land, casting long shadows and tinting the light with a soft rose color. He unsaddled his horse, then rubbed him down before turning him out in the corral with some feed. It was past dinnertime. The camp was quieting down for the evening. Julian shoved his hands in his pockets. June was fast approaching—his time with Audrey almost at an end.

A couple of the boys were playing cards outside the bunkhouse. The shearers’ tents were still in place. Julian approached the cookhouse, drawn to Audrey. Franklin saw him and came trotting over to give him a rundown of all that had happened while he had been gone.

Julian listened halfheartedly. Was Audrey still up?

The shearer team was almost finished.

Julian sent a look to the cookhouse, anxious to see her. Had she missed him?

Teams of riders had twice been spotted along the northern pastures.

Had she taken Amy to the cabin for the night?

Their supplies were holding up well, but Jenkins was missing some ammunition. And Zeke and Howie had taken off. That cut into Julian’s distracted thoughts. “When did they leave? Before or after the ammunition went missing?”

“After.”

“Jenkins keeps that locked up, doesn’t he?”

“No. There’s no lock.”

“Get one installed with three keys to it, one for you, me, and Jenkins. Thanks, Franklin.” Julian started toward the cookhouse.

“She’s not there,” Franklin called out.

Julian’s mind spun through several unpleasant possibilities, the worst of which was that she was gone. “Where is she?” he asked, his voice quiet.

“At your house.”

Julian frowned. “What’s she doing there?”

“Putting your furniture away and getting the place ready for you. Eight wagonloads of household goods came in while you were gone. She’s been working up there every spare minute.”

Julian started for his house, but his foreman stopped him. “Boss—one more thing.”

“What?”

“We got a lead on a cookie named Giles over at a ranch outside Laramie who might be interested in making a change of employers, but you’ll have to pay a hefty fee to steal him from his current position.”

That was good news. It would give Audrey a reprieve. “Pay it.”

Julian looked his house over as he came down the hill in front of it. The picket fence had been finished while he was away and now glowed in the evening’s dusky light in a fresh coat of whitewash. He opened the gate and crossed the raw dirt to his front porch. Inside, he closed the door loudly to announce his arrival—he didn’t want to startle Audrey. A lamp glowed on a table next to the stairs. Another one cheerily brightened the front parlor.

“Jenkins? Is that you?” Audrey leaned over the upstairs railing and looked down, her heavy golden-brown braid falling over her shoulder.

“No.” Julian looked up at her. Blood thrummed through his body, bringing him alive in places he’d taken the past few days to cool down. He watched Audrey come down the stairs. She seemed hesitant. He had not left under the best circumstances, and still she had done all this for him.

“You’re back.”

“I am.”

They looked at each other, the silence stretching the moment thin.

Audrey put her hands behind her. “Your things came. I was afraid a rainstorm might ruin them. I had the deliverymen put them in the rooms I thought they were intended for. If I guessed wrong, you could have a couple men rearrange them for you.” She turned and started up the stairs. Julian followed her.

“I thought you were Jenkins. He walks me to the cabin after finishing the dinner cleanup.” At the landing, she faced him. He was two steps below her, yet they were eye-to-eye. “I’ll just get Amy and leave you to your house.”

“Don’t go.”

Her gaze dipped to his mouth. Julian’s body tightened. “McCaid, I cannot stay in this house alone with you.”

“I’ve already declared you to be my woman. The damage is done.”

“But not in fact.”

“No, not in fact.” Julian couldn’t help the timbre of his voice; it sounded raspy, even to his own ears. “I put my tent next to your cabin to protect you. Your safety is my responsibility while you’re here. Even while I was gone, Jenkins and Franklin stayed near your cabin. I cannot live here and you there.”

“I won’t do it, McCaid.”

“Julian,” he corrected. “I am Julian to my friends.”

“We’re not friends. I’m not even an employee. I’m a thief, remember? I might steal things from you should I live under your roof.”

He moved up a step, standing taller than her once again. Her eyes widened. “Take what you need. Hell, take what you want. I don’t care. It would be worth it to see you happy.”

She sighed and looked past him before meeting his gaze again. “I don’t want things, McCaid.”

“Julian.”

“Julian.”

“What do you want?”

“What every woman wants. A home. A husband. Family. A future. Security.” She studied him a moment. “Most of all, I want to be cherished. I don’t want a loveless marriage such as yours will be. I want a husband who adores me beyond reason. I don’t suppose that’s very realistic, though, do you? I think I will have to settle for anyone who would have me.”

Julian sucked in a breath, envisioning her with some man who didn’t see her as he did. “Don’t settle. My mother and father are more in love today than when they first married. So are my grandparents, my brother and his wife, and my sisters with their husbands. Same with Sager and Rachel.”

“And yet you choose business over love.”

“I’m different from them.”

“How?”

Julian shrugged and changed the subject. “Will you show me the house?”

They toured the downstairs. Each room on the ground floor had some furniture, but in total it was barely enough to call the house furnished. The parlor had a sofa, a couple of side chairs, and two end tables. In the dining room, a long table sat squarely in the middle, surrounded by chairs. There was no breakfront, no china hutch. The library had a sofa, an end table, and a long table with a few chairs. The furniture vendor in Cheyenne had sent what he had available, most of it mismatched. Pieces were made of oak and pine, and a couple were mahogany. The fabrics were mostly in hues of red, some already sun-bleached as if they’d sat too long in a storefront or worse—outdoors. He had sent rugs for the downstairs rooms; some matched the suites of furniture, and some did not. On the whole, it was a rather motley collection.

Of all the rooms, the library was the least settled. There were several crates of books waiting to be unpacked. Julian had a book vendor select volumes of interest to male readers—he’d thought, if he had any visitors here in the wilds of the Dakota Territory, they would be his friends coming out to hunt. Julian pried one open and lifted out a small leather-bound piece, almost afraid to read the title in front of Audrey. The book was innocuous enough—a travel piece on the territories west of the Mississippi. She looked at him expectantly.

“Do you like to read, Audrey?”

“I do.”

He handed her the book and watched her reaction, curious to see if she really was literate. She ran her fingers over the gold-embossed words and images on the cover. “I’ve never been to the States.” Her voice was quiet. “I’ve never been anywhere except within this Territory.” She looked at him as she handed the book back. “Have you been to the Mississippi River?”

He nodded. “I’ve crossed it many times.”

“I should like to go there someday.”

Julian looked away. What was it like living in a world as small as Defiance? No past. No future. No change—except if the town you lived in died. How was she handling what was happening to Defiance? “Perhaps tomorrow you could help me put these away? When we’re finished, you could pick something to read. Some of the titles might not be appropriate, but you can choose from any that are.”

Audrey looked at the dozens of crates, shocked at his extravagance. Luc and Kurt would be in ecstasy to see so many books in one place. They saved their pennies to buy any dime novel that came to Jim’s store. “We could start now, if you like.”

“It’s late. I think it best if we toured upstairs, then get you and Amy home—unless, of course, you wish to stay here?”

“No.”

Julian picked up a lamp and headed toward the door, pausing to let her precede him. If the rooms downstairs were sparsely furnished, the ones upstairs were austere. Even the gloaming light couldn’t soften the contrast made by the whitewashed walls against the stained pine doors and trim. The craftsmanship of this house was impeccable; it was just—bare. No rugs softened the hardwood floors. No textiles muted the hard corners of the windows. The six bedrooms each had a bed, a nightstand, an armoire, and a commode with a bowl and pitcher. Three of the rooms had a couple of beds. He’d ordered extra, thinking he would have the attic finished for staff. He would have the beds moved later, after that space was finished.

Audrey had made the bed in the master bedroom. The white linens looked crisp against the maple bed frame. Julian stared at the soft mattress longingly, regretting his inability to convince her to move into the house. He walked through the large dressing room separating the master bedroom from the adjoining bedroom and found Amy Lynn sleeping in the next room, a cherub on the large bed. It occurred to him what an enormous task Audrey had in raising a child by herself, one she took on cheerfully and competently.

He handed the lamp to Audrey and lifted the toddler into his arms. She nestled her head against his shoulder and leaned into him without fully waking. Julian led the way back downstairs, focused on the warm little person in his arms. She stirred, and he rubbed her back, hoping to settle her as they waited for Audrey to turn out the lamps on that floor.

They left the house and crossed the distance to Audrey’s cabin in silence. Inside the tiny space, just as he was about set Amy on the narrow bed she shared with Audrey, her arms went about his neck.

“Juli?”

“I’m here, infant.”

“We missed you, Mama and me.” She kissed his cheek. Julian felt a twinge in the center of his chest. He didn’t look at Audrey. He couldn’t. He set Amy on the bed, then quickly left the little cabin.

The next day seemed a week long to Julian as he waited for evening and the time he would have with Audrey at his house. He was restless and at odds with himself. The shearer team packed their gear and headed out in the early afternoon. Julian oversaw the loading of the wool bales into wagons. He sent them to Cheyenne with a double crew of outriders for protection. He didn’t like taking men off guard duty, but the wool was the ranch’s purpose—he couldn’t risk leaving it here to be destroyed in a raid when he had a mill in Virginia waiting for it.

At last the chow bell rang for supper. Julian waited off to one side and watched Audrey serve his men. She’d pinned her hair in a loose bun. The wind had teased strands loose, tossing them about her face as if by a restless caress. Hell’s bells. Now he was jealous of the wind.

He shut his mind to the sight and sound of her and took his place in the chow line. By the time he was next to be served, she’d gone back inside the cookhouse to refill dishes. Jenkins dished out his serving of stew and corn bread. He ate quickly; then, as there was still time to burn before Audrey would be finished for the day, he sought out Franklin.

He and Franklin walked the perimeter of the corrals, reviewing ranch business. Julian asked him to modify the guard rotations used for the last week. With riders having been seen on the north perimeter, and given they were short a few men, he didn’t want the enemy to catch a pattern in the watches they set.

He went to his tent to shave and don a fresh shirt. An hour passed. The sky was softening with the descending sun. At last it was time. His mouth felt dry and his hands felt damp. They had so few evenings left. He wanted this one to be special. He headed for the cook tent, wondering how he was going to let her go when her month was up.

Audrey’s hands were shaking as she hung up her apron. Feeling as if she’d swallowed a crate full of butterflies, she stepped outside and watched Julian heading toward her. She couldn’t help but smile as she looked at his anxious face.

“Hello, sweetheart!”

Audrey jumped as a man’s voice sounded behind her. “Hadley!” She looked toward Julian, hoping he hadn’t heard the endearment. “Was there something you needed? I’m about to quit for the night,” she said as she drew on her shawl, realizing she’d been so focused on Julian she hadn’t been aware of Hadley’s approach.

He smiled at her. “I was wondering if you would like to take a stroll with me,” he asked, as Julian entered the cook tent.

Audrey felt the clash of two realities—one a dream, one the truth. She was nothing to Julian. Nothing at all. He would leave at the end of the summer, but Hadley would be here. She’d known him since childhood. He’d said he wanted to marry her. He knew about the kids, and still he wanted her. Hadley was her future, not Julian.

Hadley’s gaze moved between her and Julian. “Unless of course you had other plans?”

“Miss Sheridan’s evenings are hers to spend as she likes,” Julian said, his dark eyes on her.

Jenkins came to the threshold of the cookhouse. “You run along now and take some time for yerself, missy.” He waved her off. “Amy’s asleep already. I’ll keep an eye on her till you get back.”

Audrey sent Julian another quick glance. His face was shuttered, his eyes unreadable. She wondered if he was as disappointed as she was. “Very well, Hadley. I’ll walk with you.”

She stepped around the table and passed Julian, feeling the invisible attraction between them as if it were a tangible thing. This was for the best, she told herself. She needed more than he was willing to give. She had to see to her future and the well-being of her family. She walked silently beside Hadley, absorbed by her thoughts. They’d passed her small cabin and were heading for the river before she took note of her surroundings.

Hadley held out his hand. “Will you hold hands with me, Audrey?” She took his hand, though she didn’t want to. “You’re thinking about him, aren’t you?” Hadley stopped and faced her. The sun had set. Light was rapidly vanishing from the sky.