Caress of Fire (32 page)

“I am. And you amaze me. I expected you to be older.” Lisette smiled, knowing exactly who was standing at the bottom of the porch. She went down the three steps to stand eye to eye with the woman. “This is a pleasant surprise. Gil and I had no idea you'd be in Abilene.” She paused. “Grandmother.”

“You'll make me feel old if you call me that.” She opened her arms. “Come here, lass. I've been waiting for weeks t' see you. Give Maisie a hug.”

Gil's grandmother proved to be wonderful and warm, though a character unlike any Lisette had ever met before. In no time at all, Maisie led Lisette across the street to the hotel “for a spot o' tea.” As they settled in the comfortable but deserted dining room, hot tea and shortbread cookies were delivered to their table. The matriarch of the McLoughlin clan gingerly opened the drawstring of her reticule and eyed the waiter.

“How much do I owe you?”

“Two bits.”

“Kind o' high.” Slow as molasses, she pressed a quarter into the man's hand. “With prices like yours, lad, you won't be getting a gratuity, or my name wouldna be Margaret McLoughlin.”

“I know your name, Mrs. McLoughlin. And your habits.” He rolled his eyes. “You've been here three weeks.”

Lisette bit her cheek to keep from laughing. Gil had mentioned his grandmother's thriftiness. Matter of fact, he'd told her that if Maisie were to die as a result of grabbing for a penny from beneath a stampeding herd, her death would be attributed to natural causes.

“Eat every bite o' those shortbreads,” Maisie ordered. “Waste is a terrible thing.”

“Yes, ma'am.” Lisette bit into the delicious buttery cookie, her taste buds blooming like morning glories at first light. “Mmm, worth every penny of it.”

Maisie stirred her tea. “Lisette, you wouldna be a woman t' waste money, would you?”

“I never had any to waste.” Was it wasteful to give to the church? Never mind about that.

Lisette blushed as the older woman accessed her boldly.

“A bonny lass, you are.”

“So are you,” Lisette replied honestly. “Your grandson much resembles you.”

“ 'Twas always my thought.” An eyelid dropped over an incredibly bright eye. “Had my share o' admirers as a lass.”

“I imagine you did.”

“Had no eyes for any o' them, except my Sandy. Now that was a lad, I must tell you. Strong as an ox, pretty as a Bobby Burns poem.” She winked again. “He would o' kept me in your condition, if I'd let him. The McLoughlins are a lusty clan. But then, there's no need to be telling
you
that.”

An eon ago, Lisette would have been uncomfortable with such frank talk. “I don't know about the others, but Gil meets your description,” she bragged.

“Weel, don't make it too easy for the lad. Keep him guessing.” She paused. “How is Gilliegorm?”

“Fine.”

“I'm glad t' hear that. I've spent years o' sleepless nights worrying that he'd never find happiness again. You do know about that Betty, don't you?”

Lisette nodded. “He, uh, he still has a problem where she's concerned. I've begun to wonder if he still loves her.” Heavens! Why had she said that? “I–I ... Never mind.”

“Lass, he doesn't love that Betty He never did. If he's still hurting, it's his pride, not his heart.” Maisie clicked her tongue. “Damned shame it is, since she's straightened up and made a new start for herself. After she lost the bairn and Gilliegorm, too, she came t' her senses. Married a nice man, and they've got a bairn. Looks just like him.”

“How nice for her.” Lisette's fingers tightened on the teacup. “I'm still paying for her mistakes.”

Maisie patted her hand. “I'm sorry, lass. Truly sorry.”

“Oh, enough of this. Let's discuss something positive.”

“All right. How old are you, lass?”

“Twenty-two. Twenty-three tomorrow.”

“Is that so? We'll have to have cake and coffee in celebration. Mebbe a wee dram or two. My treat.”

“That won't be necessary. Birthdays aren't special to me.” She studied the barely wrinkled face. “How old are you?”

“Seventy.”

“Unbelievable.”

“You're flattering me, lass. Don't stop, though. I'm seventy, I can assure you. My poor departed Angus–Gilliegorm's faither–would o' been fifty-four.” Maisie finished her cup, ran a finger across the cookie plate to gather the last crumb. “Are you wondering what I'm doing here, lass?”

“Actually, I am.”

“The lad wrote me, said he'd married, would be bringing you up here, so I had t' get a look at you for myself.”

“I look a mess.”

A sincere and pleasant smile lifted the beautiful old face. “You look fine t' me, you do.”

“You, Maisie McLoughlin, are doing the flattering now.”

“Weel, I've got t' get on your good side. I'm not getting any younger, I haven't seen my grandson in years, and I'm wanting t' be around for the great-grandson.”

“It's too bad your property is in Illinois, or you could be closer when little Hermann is growing up.”

“Hermann?”

“Yes, that's the name I've chosen. After my father.”

“What does Gilliegorm have t' say about that?”

“Nothing. Or he hasn't in a long time.”

“You wouldna give consideration t' naming the wee lad after my Sandy, would you? Alexander.”

“The
wee lad
doesn't feel like an Alexander. He feels like a Hermann.”

“Could I ...?” Maisie's face turned pink. “Would you mind if I had a feel o' the bairn?”

“Of course not.” Lisette glanced around, confident of privacy. No diners, no sight of the waiter. She stood and walked to the other side of the table. “He's moving now.”

Maisie put her palm atop the mound of Lisette's stomach. Hermann, disrespectful tyke, kicked his great-grandmother's hand.

Grinning broadly, she looked up, her eyes moist. “Oh, lass, he'll be a fine Hermann.”

Lisette's throat closed. Maisie was mother personified–opinionated, concerned, open. “You remind me of my
Mutti,”
she whispered. “Not in every way–she was more reserved–but I think I'm going to love you, Maisie.”

“I already love you.”

And they belonged together. Several times Gil had said he wished his grandmother would settle in Fredericksburg, and Lisette agreed with those wishes.

If only she didn't have to go home to Illinois.

“Maisie, would it be asking too much . . . Do you think you'll ever make it down to Texas?”

“Weel, yes, if you're certain o' the invitation.”

“I'm certain.”

“Good.” Gray eyes twinkled. “You see, I've sold the apple farm, and I intend t' make your town my home. Don't you be worrying, I won't live at the ranch. I'll buy my own cottage.”

“You will not. You'll live with us. Little, um
wee
Hermann will need you.”

“Waiter! Bring champagne!” When he didn't appear immediately, Maisie grumbled something about not being able to find good service. “He must be English.”

“We'll have champagne later, after Gil–Gil! Goodness, I forgot. I'm supposed to meet him at the blacksmith shop.”

Maisie scoffed. “Abilene is a wee town. He'll find you. Is the lad at the holding pen?”

“He is.”

“I thought so,” Maisie commented on a nod of head. “I was on my way there when I found you.”

“Maisie, I must leave. I've some apologizing to do. I gave the church the advance money Gil intended for his cowboys. And I've got a lot of explaining–”

“The kirk always has its hand out. Be careful of empty-handed ministers.”

This was no time to discuss church stewardship. “Gil will be furious if I'm not where I'm supposed to be.”

 

She was supposed to be here. She wasn't. Nine thirsty, penniless cowpokes behind him, Gil hurried into the blacksmith shop. “Pete, have you seen my wife?”

“Not since I started repairing this wagon wheel.”

Damn.

Gil did an about-face. On the porch, he met the eager stares of his men. While he had made Lisette believe she'd have to do the talking, he had figured simply to shock her into thinking before acting. Whatever his motives and intentions, he had expected her to be here.

“We've got problems,” he said, his words slow. “I can't pay you until after I've signed a deal with McCoy and Brothers.”

“We didn't figure on all of it, just drinking and womaning money,” Attitude said.

“I can't make good on my promise.”

Mouths dropped, then the men began to shout.

Oscar didn't shout, but he frowned and said, “It don't be fair, expectin' us to do wit'out.”

“That's the way things turned out. But, I assure you, I'll be talking with Joseph McCoy as soon as I leave here. I'll have your money as soon as possible.”

“How soon is possible?” Attitude asked.

Never had Gil McLoughlin had to grovel over money before.
I could shake her.
“As soon as I can get it.”

One man climbed the three steps. Deep Eddy stuck his hands in his empty pockets before turning to the others. “Cool down. This isn't McLoughlin's fault. You see, Lisette–”

“Ed!” Gil wouldn't have the men turning against their adored Lisette.

“Wait!”

The assemblage turned.

A reticule in her hand, Lisette waddled across the street. “Here's the money.”

Where had she gotten it? Knowing Lisette, there was no telling. But she made the men happy, turning over a fair share to each, so Gil wouldn't pitch a fit. Soon, though, she
would
explain herself.

Like longhorns on stampede, the cowboys rushed the saloon.

She beamed. “I have a surprise for you.”

“I'll just bet you do.” His upper lip twitched. “Where did you get that money?”

“I borrowed it.”

“Who from? And what did you have to promise in return?”

“Gil McLoughlin, you are really a cynical person. You should work on your attitude. Children learn from their parents, after all, and I don't want little Hermann forming bad habits.”

Shaking his head, he groaned, “God help me.”

“God has your money. I'll tell you who did help us, though. In a few minutes.” She looped her arm with his. “Come on. We're going to the hotel. Your surprise awaits.”

Dragging him along, she swept by the desk clerk and entered the dining room. There was no one in here, except for an elderly woman, her back to the door. Wait. That wasn't just any elderly woman.

“Maisie!”

“ 'Bout time you showed up.” She scooted the chair from the table, got to her feet, and spun around. Mirth in her features, she said, “Lad, you owe me five hundred dollars.”

“
You
loaned my wife money?”

“I dinna stutter.”

He threw back his head, opened his arms, and laughed. “C'm'ere and give me a hug,” he said in the accents of his homeland. She did, and he held her closely, kissing the crown of her silver head. “How much interest will ye be charging?”

“Hundred percent.”

“Oh, Maisie, me love, you never change.”

“Aye, I do not. And that's a hundred percent per day.”

“Whew.” He reared back, loving the teasing. “Then I'd better get to McCoy and Brothers, post-haste.”

“Good. Afterward, you can buy dinner.”

“Fine. But I've got business to take care of first.”

Bussing his grandmother, then lingering a bit over a kiss with Lisette, he left. He called on Joseph McCoy. It took some cajoling, but the cattle broker offered for all two thousand nine hundred longhorns. A bank draft rested in Gil's breast pocket. The amount came to almost six figures. It would have been more, if not for the delays and losing a hundred head.

Well, he couldn't complain.

Gil walked to the stockyard to take a last look at the herd.

Tecumseh Billy was sulking.

“Just a few more days, old boy,” Gil called out from the other side of the fence, “and you'll be back on the trail.”

The lead steer backed away, unimpressed.

Gil spied Deep Eddy Roland walking toward him.

“Thought you'd be at Ma Pinter's Saloon,” he said to the New Englander.

“A little of that place goes a long way.”

“You got something on your mind, Ed?”

“I heard a rumor Matt Gruene is quitting on the outfit.”

That would be fine with Gil.

“If Matt quits,” Deep Eddy said, “I want his job.”

“It's yours, if it becomes available.” Gil bent an eye. “If you're up on gossip, do you know if the other men are threatening to quit?”

“They aren't. They'll all ride for your brand.”

“That's good, since I'll need all the help I can get for herding the saddle horses and T-Bill back to Texas. And Big Red. He's going back, too. When I return to Texas, it'll be with a wife and a newborn. Maybe with my grandmother, too. I won't be needing the sorrel.”

“Rest assured, I'll look out for him.”

“I know you will, Ed. I know you will.”

Whether or not Matthias bailed out, Deep Eddy was a man to count on.

 

That evening, dinner was champagne, fine food, and family togetherness. Gil enjoyed watching Maisie and Lisette act as if they had been kin forever. And they all celebrated success.

He glanced at Lisette.
We're rich
,
honey
.
We're rich
.

That was not the sort of thing he'd say in front of Maisie–or she'd hold him to the interest rate. By now the dining room had cleared out, the only occupant besides the McLoughlins was the waiter, who dozed on the straight-backed chair in the far corner.