Beautiful Bandit (Lone Star Legends) (24 page)

What a pity she no longer had her mama’s cameo. Otherwise, perhaps Josh would have accepted it as payment for the horse and saddle and food she would need for her journey. As it was, she could only hope he’d take her word that she’d reimburse him as soon as she found work in Mexico.

In her head, she plotted out the note she’d write. She would begin with a heartfelt Dearest Josh, and then go on to admit how she could never fully repay him for all he’d done for her. I promise to send money every chance I get, until my debt to you is completely paid—

“Oomph!” Josh said as Kate collided with him, sending the napkin fluttering to the floor and the spoon clattering against the baseboard.

Kate hugged the now empty soup bowl to her chest and gawked at the puddle of chicken broth at her feet. Though most of the mess had been absorbed by her blouse and skirt, some of it had splashed onto his shirt and now dripped onto his boots.

“Oh my goodness!” Kate cried, stooping to retrieve the spoon and napkin. “I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed as she blotted the damp spots on his shirt.

Chuckling softly, Josh wrapped his fingers around her wrists. “Where are you headed in such a hurry?”

She didn’t dare meet his eyes. Several things he’d said over the past few days made her suspect he knew the truth about her, too, and the last thing she needed right now was proof of that, written all over his handsome face. “I—I was just headed to the kitchen,” she stammered, “to—to wash up some dishes.” She let out a nervous giggle. “Guess I need to watch where I’m going. I’m sorry—”

“Stop apologizing.” He lifted her chin on a bent forefinger. “So, you spilled a little soup. It isn’t as if you killed someone.”

Of all the phrases he could have chosen, why that one? Kate got down on her knees and used the napkin to sop up the spill. “Wouldn’t want anyone slipping in the puddle,” she said, scrubbing as though it was tar, not broth. “I’d better get a bucket of sudsy water and do a proper job, make sure I get up all the—”

Josh stooped, placed one hand on each of her shoulders, and brought her to her feet. “When Mee-Maw takes her morning nap,” he said, his eyes boring hotly into hers, “I suggest you try to catch a few winks, too. You look exhausted.”

Blinking, she eased out of his grasp and made a beeline for the kitchen. “You should get into a clean shirt so I can put that one into a bucket to soak. Soup can leave an oily residue on fabrics, you know, especially linen.”

Somehow, he got to the kitchen ahead of her. His boots planted shoulder-width apart, he crossed both arms over his chest. “Where’s my grandmother right now?”

Kate set the bowl and spoon into the dishpan. “Why, she’s in her room, patiently waiting for me to find someone who can help me get her outside. I promised to read to her from her Bible.”

“She’s alone?”

Now, Kate understood the scowl on his face. Of course—he was concerned for his grandmother’s safety! “Oh, don’t worry. I tucked her in good and tight. She’s propped up against her pillows, because it’s easier for her to breathe that way, and there are pillows beside her, too, so she can’t topple over or fall out of bed.”

His expression softened, and he chuckled. “I should have known you’d have everything well in hand. So, tell me,” he said, leaning an elbow on the counter beside her—so close, in fact, that she could feel his warm breath on her cheek, “why were you rushing down the hall, if she’s safe in her room?”

Kate focused on washing the bowl, the spoon, and the half-dozen thick, white mugs buried in the sudsy water. “I wanted to clean a few things up, to spare Lucinda from having to do it. Then, I hoped to brew Esther a cup of tea and see who might be able to help get her outside for some fresh air—you know, in the shade of the elm, since that’s her favorite place? I’ve promised to read to her from—”

“—from her Bible. Yes, so you said.”

“Oh. Yes. I suppose I did. Sorry.”

“Dinah, look at me.”

Didn’t he realize that she couldn’t look at him? Kate concentrated on preparing the tea for Esther. “Two spoons of sugar,” she muttered. “Funny how even Esther admits it’s a silly waste. Once, she told me, ‘Far better to use it in cake batter or to sweeten pie filling.’ And I told her she’d earned the right to fill her cup half full of sugar, if that’s what she wanted to do, and do you know what she said?”

“No. And, frankly, I don’t care.” Josh turned her around so suddenly that she nearly lost her footing. His arms slid around her, providing steady support.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“I came looking for you this morning to apologize—and to thank you.”

For a quiet moment, he searched her face, then stepped away, leaving her feeling cold and alone and not nearly as safe as she had felt in his arms. Better get used to feeling this way, she thought, hugging herself, because, in no time, it’s how you’ll feel all the time. “Apologize for what?”

He turned his back to her. “For kissing you the other night.”

Kate could only presume, by the way Josh hung his head and slumped his shoulders, he really was sorry for kissing her. Was he worried that her tainted nature might rub off on him? Did he realize that, by calling it a mistake, he’d tainted the memory of it for her?

“It’s—it’s like this.” Josh faced her again. “The men in your past haven’t been very gentle with you. And I had no right to force myself on you that way.”

The men in her past? How many did he think there’d been? Oh, what did that matter? What would any of it matter once she was long gone from here? “It would be less than honest to let you think I saw it as forceful.” She matched his stare, spark for spark. “I participated in that kiss, too, remember?”

A crooked smile slanted his lips. “Oh, trust me,” he rasped. “I remember.”

Well, that took care of the matter of his apology. So, what about his “Thank you”?

As if he’d read her mind, Josh said, “I also want to tell you how grateful I am for everything you’re doing for Mee-Maw. She’d be lost without you, and everyone here knows it.”

The mention of Esther reminded Kate that the poor woman was upstairs, alone, waiting for her. Not that she’d ever really be alone, what with her large, loving family, and all the little children who delighted in playing at her feet. Any one of them would gladly keep her company, read to her from her Bible, brew her cups of sweet tea, and feed her warm broth, one careful spoonful at a time. The Neville women would happily bathe and dress her and braid her long, white hair into buns. And the menfolk would gladly carry her from her chair to her bed to the dinner table and back again.

So why had Esther chosen her as her caretaker?

“You’re the only one who understands her,” Josh said. “Surely, you know how important a thing like that is for a woman like my grandmother.”

“I’m happy—proud—to help out,” Kate said, meaning it. Then, “Will you help me get her outside?”

Josh straightened to his full height. “Is her wheelchair ready to go?”

Nodding, Kate managed a smile. “That thing is so stiff-backed, I don’t know how she tolerates it. And it jostles her so badly, too. That’s why I dragged her rocking chair out under the tree early this morning and padded it with pillows from the parlor sofa. I borrowed the little table from the foyer to hold her books and her tea. So, really, all that’s left to do is to scoop her up and take her out there.”

He was beside her again in two strides. “Tell you what,” he said, cupping her chin in one big hand. “I’ll carry her outside while you finish up in here.”

Locked in his warm gaze, she would have followed him the length of the Rio Grande and back again if he’d asked her to, and, in that moment, Frank and his menacing threats were the furthest things from her mind. “Yes,” she whispered, “tea….”

If merely turning away from his gentle smile was this disquieting, how much more difficult would it be never to see him again?

28

Dinah’s patience seemed to have no limits. Josh watched as she tidied the blanket draped across his grandmother’s lap, then fed her tiny sips of sweet tea from a spoon. If she dribbled—and she drooled with nearly every mouthful—Dinah quickly and gently blotted it up, talking and laughing and making silly faces to keep Mee-Maw’s mind off her steadily deteriorating condition.

And deteriorating it was, just as Dr. Lane had predicted.

For a while there, it had looked like Mee-Maw might bounce back to her old self. As her speech had improved, her spirits had lifted. But in the few days that had passed since the attack, every symptom had worsened. And Dinah, God bless her stubborn, steadfast soul, refused to admit defeat. “With time and patience, we’ll prove that old doctor wrong!” If she’d said it once, she’d said it a dozen times.

Josh had gate latches to repair and barn door hinges to replace. There were cows to milk and horses to feed, and a corral fence post to straighten. If he wrote down every chore, the list would be longer than his forearm. Yet he couldn’t make himself leave these dear women—one he’d loved all his life, and one he’d come to treasure in a completely different way.

He sat, leaning against a tree, watching, listening. They were a lot alike, his grandmother and the young woman who so devotedly doted on her. Willful and intelligent, neither would so much as consider shying away from an argument. Both possessed physical strength that belied their small statures. Mee-Maw had always been fiercely defensive of her loved ones, and Josh sensed that the same, stubborn protectiveness beat in Dinah’s heart, too. How else could he explain the way she hovered over Mee-Maw, determined to disprove the doctor’s theories?

By the same token, the contrasts between Dinah and his late wife were monumental. Where Sadie had been tall and big-boned, Dinah reminded him of the Lilliputians described by Jonathan Swift in Gulliver’s Travels. Soft-spoken and shy, Sadie had never been overly talkative, whereas Dinah could probably strike up a dialogue with a field mouse and keep it happily engaged. Sadie’s kitchen specialties had been robust soups and stews, and it was Dinah’s biscuits and pies and cobblers that made his mouth water. But the biggest difference of all? Dinah’s way of putting everything she had into everything she did.

Like that kiss. Especially that kiss.

He shook his head. This was neither the time nor the place for such thoughts! Besides, Dinah had started reading aloud from the Good Book, and her lovely voice sounded like the warble of a songbird.

“S-sing?” Mee-Maw stammered.

“Any particular song?”

“M-may-zng—”

“‘Amazing Grace’ it is, then.”

And so Dinah sang, making him wonder why there wasn’t a halo over her head and gossamer wings fluttering on her narrow back.

Mee-Maw was doing her best to tap a toe in time to the tune, but the effects of the apoplexy made it next to impossible. As much as he was enjoying the beautiful melody, Josh was tempted to ask Dinah to stop singing, because then, at least, there’d be one less thing to upset his grandmother. But he noticed that Mee-Maw was far from upset. In fact, a peaceful, contented expression had smoothed the furrow of frustrated on her brow.

After Dinah sang the hymn, she slid into a sad, Scottish ballad, then broke into a lively nursery rhyme that spoke of silver bells and cockle shells. Mee-Maw’s eyelids fluttered shut during the first verse of “The Yellow Rose of Texas,” but Dinah crooned on.

The song could have been written just for Dinah. Garbed in yellow, from the bow in her glistening hair to the hem of her lace-trimmed dress, she was every bit as beautiful as a delicate rose.

“Her eyes are bright as diamonds, they sparkle like the dew.…”

More beautiful than a rose, Josh thought, nodding to himself, because her eyes were as bright as diamonds—especially in the moonlight, when she’s looking up, waiting for your kiss.

He watched as Dinah rested her chin on the arm of the chair and, smiling softly, tapped out the tempo on the back of Mee-Maw’s hand.

“Oh, now I’m going to find her, for my heart is full of woe….”

Woe. Now, that seemed like the perfect word to describe how he’d feel once Dinah left him. He leaned his head against the tree and closed his eyes, hoping to etch the image of Dinah’s face and this magical moment in his mind, because, if she wanted to go, he couldn’t very well stop her.

Or could he?

“And the Yellow Rose of Texas shall be mine forevermore.”

His? Forever? If only! Why, his whole life would take on a new and wonderful meaning if—

“What are you grinning about?”

Even before he opened his eyes, Josh knew that Dinah was smiling, for he could hear it in her voice. “Just enjoying the pretty music, that’s all.”

The rustle of material told him she’d gotten to her feet, and the crunch of sun-dried grass meant she had left his grandmother’s side to move closer to him. “Bet you didn’t know a woman could snore like that,” he said, sitting up taller.

Dinah glanced back at Mee-Maw, whose chin had dropped to her chest as she slept. “Dr. Lane says it’s to be expected.” She knelt beside him. “Because of the apoplexy.”

“Nonsense.”

She looked surprised, but only mildly so. “I’d hardly call her condition ‘nonsense.’”

The breeze had mussed her hair, loosing several tendrils, which fluttered around her face. Josh resisted the urge to smooth them back into place. “Snoring might be a symptom in other patients, but it’s nothing new for Mee-Maw.”