Authors: Wild Heart
Jane Bonander (28 page)
The McCloud ranch,
late July. 1882
M
arymae held Weeko’s bit with one hand and waved at her father with the other. Her sun- bleached golden braid bobbed slightly as she jogged in a circle. “Papa! Look! Sammy’s riding!”
Wolf stood in the yard and returned the wave, amazed that all of his children loved to ride. Sam, their three-year-old son, had taken to horses as quickly as his four older sisters. Now, his chubby fingers gripped the reins and his dark brows were shoved down over his eyes as he concentrated on the task of staying in the saddle.
The lovable mutts, Amos and Angus, lolled in the shade like a couple of comfortable old bachelors, while the newest McCloud puppy, one Baptiste had brought home from a neighboring ranch, frolicked nearby. The children hadn’t agreed upon a name for it. Wolf had suggested “Dizzy,” because it ran in circles all the time, but his girls wouldn’t go for it. He wondered if four independent-spirited young women could decide on a name before the poor dog was old and arthritic and ready for the boneyard.
Bethany, the spitting image of her older sister, rode into the yard on Weeko’s filly, Sally Too, sired by Wolf’s stallion, Baptiste. The colt Weeko had been carrying when Wolf had brought her home was now a gelding, and he grazed in the pasture with the other horses. All of the children had ridden him, and Baptiste had promptly named him Diable Noir, which everyone shortened to “Devil,” since he wasn’t entirely black, anyway.
Beth stopped to study her brother’s progress. “Don’t sit so stiff in the saddle, Sammy,” she instructed, her voice a little bossy. “Move with it.”
“Don’t talk to me while I’m ridin’!” Sam scolded, his intense scowl deepening.
Marymae’s disposition was sunny and sweet. She happily wore dresses when she wasn’t helping with the animals. Beth’s was a bit more like Julia’s. She took charge, and Marymae let her. And she was completely at home in a pair of pants. Her favorite perch was high up in an oak tree where she had a good view of the mountain. Neither girl had the selfish, petulant qualities of their natural mother.
Wolfs gaze went to the wide, closed-in porch as Julia stepped outside. His heart expanded with emotion at the sight of her. Even after having given birth to three children, she was trim and beautiful. In his opinion, she got lovelier every day, and he counted himself among the luckiest men in the world.
She strolled out to meet him, the breeze pressing her dress against her body. The familiar curves warmed him.
Rising to her toes, she accepted his kiss. “You taste good, Mr. McCloud,” she said around a smile.
He licked his lips. “Not as good as you.
You
taste like cinnamon and sugar.”
“Joanna and Joy are in the kitchen with Mattie, learning how to bake bread. I whipped up a coffee cake just so I could stay around and hear the lesson.”
The older girls did their cooking chores with Mattie’s supervision, but neither was as enthusiastic about them as the twins. They’d taken to it from the time they were old enough to pull a chair up to the counter. Marymae and Beth preferred spending all their time with the horses. They were good workers, for they understood that if you want to ride, you must learn to care for the animals. It wasn’t all fun.
Wolf gave her a wry smile. “Well, at least two of my children enjoy being in the kitchen.”
“Don’t forget Sam,” she reminded him. “He
loves
to help when we make strawberry jam.”
Wolf drew in a heavy sigh. “I don’t want my son to be a sissy, Julia.”
She smacked his shoulder. “Shame on you, Wolf McCloud. If your daughters can ride as good as a man, there’s no reason why your son can’t learn to cook. Why, I remember how pleased I was when I discovered you could make oatmeal.” She gave him a skeptical smile. “Of course, I didn’t know that it was the
only
thing you could make.”
“All right, all right,” he said, bending to claim her mouth. “I see your point.” He’d never had much luck arguing with his wife, and over the years, he’d discovered she was usually right, anyway.
“Beth and Marymae were studying that old photograph of Josette and me again this morning. Marymae finally asked me to tell her about their mother.”
“What did you say?” He watched his fair-haired girls, love welling up inside him.
“Oh, among other things, I told them that their mother was very pretty, and that she’d loved them very much.”
He smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “True enough, I guess. As far as I’m concerned, they never have to know the details.”
Julia stretched and planted a kiss on his chin. “They won’t hear it from me, darling. That reminds me.” She looped her arm through his. “Baptiste heard they’ve transferred Frank Barnes to that new prison up the coast.”
“Good riddance.” He’d actually felt sorry for Meredith the day she learned Serge had been killed in prison. And what was worse, it had been an accident.
“Mattie’s baking up a storm in there. She’s got great plans for Marymae’s birthday cake, too.”
“Is everyone coming?”
“I’ve invited Meredith,” she said with caution.
“I know.” He’d attempted to come to terms with his feelings for his mother, without complete success.
“And you know your brother can’t come. They’re expecting that baby any day now. But we got a letter from Susannah and Nathan this morning, and they think they’ll all be able to make it. Except for Jackson. He’s off in Mexico or South America somewhere, fighting one government or another.”
“Yeah, and I’ll bet he doesn’t make jam, either,” Wolf murmured.
Julia glared at him. “Listen to me,” she warned, pulling on his earlobe. “Don’t think about Serge. Ever since Sam was born, you’ve had this … this foolish fear that just because he’s a boy, he’s going to be different.”
“What if he is?”
“What if he isn’t?” She planted her fists on her hips. “My father liked to make doughnuts. He loved to watch them rise to the top and sputter in the lard. Figure that one out. He was just a man who happened to like to make and eat doughnuts. It didn’t make him a sissy. Sam adores strawberry jam. It’s the
only
time he’s in the kitchen to help.” She shook her head in wonder. “And he spreads it on everything from bread to apricots to escalloped potatoes. I’ve even seen him dip cucumber pickles into it.”
She made such incredible sense, Wolf thought. “I know you’re right,” he said, “but every now and then those thoughts creep in anyway.”
“Thinking about it one way or the other isn’t going to change anything. You’ll just use perfectly good energy worrying about something that doesn’t deserve it. He’ll be fine,” she assured him, squeezing his arm. “Let him be what he’ll be. Just because Marymae and Beth haven’t taken to cooking like the other two girls, will you toss them out of the house?”
Wolf’s guilt ran deep. If Samuel Amadeus McCloud was like his half brother, Serge Henley, Wolf thought, he would never forgive himself. He would love his son no matter what, but he wouldn’t forgive himself for causing him to be different. “Of course not.”
“All right, then,” she said softly. “Don’t worry about things before they even happen. Chances are, you’ll be worrying for nothing.” She put her arm around his waist and hugged him. “Let’s just love them all.”
He felt foolish. “I do, honey.”
One of the twins opened the door and poked her head out. “Mama?”
Julia turned, shading her eyes. “Yes, Joanna?”
That was another marvel about his wife. From the beginning, she could tell the twins apart. He’d had to work at it a bit.
“Aunt Mattie wants to know if you want one of us to ride over to the little house and ask Uncle Baptiste if he’ll take the buggy to town and pick up the ‘you-know-what,’ ” she finished, tossing a quick glance at her oldest sister.
Wolf smiled. The “you-know-what” was Marymae’s birthday present: a new saddle for her English riding lessons.
He gazed at Joanna, remembering how surprised he’d been that both she and her sister were so much darker than the older girls. Of course, he shouldn’t have been. He was just an ignorant father who was so much in love with the mother of his children that he expected all of them to look like her.
The twins and Sam had dusky skin that turned a beautiful honey-brown in the summer, and their hair, though dark, bleached to a streaked, sunny-lemon color. Marymae’s and Bethany’s hair bleached to white.
“Tell Aunt Mattie that it would be wonderful if Uncle Baptiste could pick up the ‘you-know-what,’ darling.”
The day Julia’s aunt told them she was selling her boardinghouse and staying to help with the children was a day they all rejoiced. Having four girls under the age of two years could have been a nightmare. As it was, Mattie had run the household with an iron fist encased in velvet. In Wolf’s own quiet prayers, after he’d thanked the powers that be for giving him the opportunity to have the wonderful life he had, he thanked Mattie for her decision.
After Sam was born, Mattie and Baptiste had sneaked into Martinez and gotten married. Wolf had been glad. The marriage seemed to agree with both of them. Baptiste had taken over the fruit-drying business and had added vineyards of his own. Both were thriving.
The decision to move onto Meredith’s ranch and let Mattie and Baptiste have theirs hadn’t been an easy one. Wolf imagined old ghosts would haunt him, but Julia and Mattie had redecorated, and he felt comfortable living here.
He’d kept his promise to Serge, too, making sure Meredith wanted for nothing—except his complete forgiveness. Since Rosa’s death the year before, she was alone. Julia invited Meredith to visit the children now and then, and when she came, he usually found a way to keep busy and out of sight.
Forgiveness was a difficult concept for him when it came to his mother. At least Josette had wanted to make things right for her children before she died. Maybe that’s what Meredith was doing, too. Julia kept reminding him that his mother was alone.
In some ways, he was grateful to her. Had she not abandoned him, he would not have searched for her. And if he hadn’t searched for her, he wouldn’t have found Julia. And if he hadn’t found Julia, his life would have been worth nothing.
Julia leaned against him. “What’s got you so deep in thought, darling?”
“I’m quietly giving thanks.”
“Hmmm. I’m not sure how I feel about this new, serious Wolf McCloud. He’ll have to be evaluated.” She tilted her chin and smiled at him.
“Kiss her, Papa! Kiss her!” Beth shouted from her perch on the corral gate.
“Beth, leave them alone,” Marymae chided, more sensitive to the tender feelings between her parents than her younger, wilder sister.
Wolf smiled into Julia’s hair, breathing in, never tiring of her scent, then bent and kissed her soundly, bringing cheers from both Beth and Sam.
With reluctance, he left her mouth. “Don’t worry about it, love. I haven’t changed that much. My fondest moments are those during which you’re naked.”
She gave him a wry smile. “If only your children could hear the way you talk to their mother. Which reminds me,” she added, her hands meandering down his back to his own walkaways. “Have we got the reservations at the hotel?”
She squeezed, and he felt the stirrings of desire. “Greedy wench, aren’t you? Of course we have.” Mattie and Baptiste had made reservations for the two of them to spend two nights at the hotel that had been built on top of Devil Mountain; they did it every year after Marymae’s birthday party, and each year, Wolf swore they enjoyed it more. There was precious little time to be alone with this woman who had given him the kind of life he’d only dreamed about.
“Have I told you that I love you today?” He loved her lively blue eyes.
Her smile was warm, her lips the most sensual he’d ever known. “Not since very early this morning. Right before Sam crawled in and disturbed us,” she added, her smile turning wary.
He chuckled. “We’ve got to get that boy to sleep a little later. At least until dawn.”
Just then, Sam ran across the yard toward them. “Pa! Pa! Did you see me? Did you see?” He barreled into Wolf’s arms and was immediately raised to his father’s shoulders.
“I sure did. You were a real cowhand on that horse, son.”
“I don’t think I’ve seen such a handsome man on horseback since the first time I saw your father, Sammy,” Julia complimented, smiling up at her son.
“I’m gonna be like Pa when I grow up, Mama.” He grabbed his father’s hair and held on as they strolled toward the house.
“Oh,” she said, disappointed. “You mean you aren’t going to be your Mama’s big boy anymore?”
He shook his head. “Nope. I’m gonna be Pa’s boy.”
Wolf’s heart expanded and his fears disappeared. He pressed his lips to his son’s chunky calf and made a sputtering sound, sending Sam into peals of laughter.
Everything was going to be fine, he decided. Whatever happened, it would be fine. How else could it be with a wife like Julia and children like theirs?
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