Love Inspired Historical January 2015 Box Set: Wolf Creek Father\Cowboy Seeks a Bride\Falling for the Enemy\Accidental Fiancee (39 page)

Only when she stepped out of the bank at the end of the day did she realize her folly in thinking she could hide her encounter with Mr. Hardison from Rand. As he had every day last week, he was leaning against the hitching post, waiting for her, and the stormy look in his eyes sent a shiver through her middle rivaling the worst fears she'd had growing up.

Chapter Nine

T
he instant Rand saw the startled look in Marybeth's eyes, he regretted his anger. After all, it wasn't her fault Hardison had accosted her. Still, he was just a bit miffed over her attitude toward the gunslinger. If Lucy from the diner hadn't told him about the encounter, would Marybeth have done so? He straightened and took a step toward her, offering a stiff smile, which was all he could muster at the moment.

“Afternoon, Marybeth. Did you have a good day?” He stepped up on the boardwalk and offered his arm.

She hesitated briefly before accepting it. “It had its good and not-so-good moments.” As they began to walk, she looked straight ahead.

“Yeah, me, too.” How would he get her to tell him about Hardison? Certainly not by being angry, so he forced a chuckle. “The other pups kept looking for the one you took. I tried to tell them she's found a better home, but since she's the alpha dog in the litter, they're sort of at loose ends.” Thinking about the dogs helped to improve his mood. “Those crazy critters trailed me all over the ranch today while I was trying to get my chores done.”

Marybeth's laugh sounded real. “Well, you be sure to tell them Polly's already made herself at home and doesn't miss them at all.”

She glanced up at Rand with a sweet smile and something pleasant kicked inside his chest.

“Polly, eh? Not a very bold name for a watchdog.”

“I wanted to call her Roly-Poly, but Mrs. Foster said she'd outgrow her puppy fat soon, so the name wouldn't make sense. We settled on Polly.”

They shared a laugh over that but then Marybeth sobered and sighed. “In fact, she's taken over. You'll be fortunate if she lets you in the house.”

Rand wanted to make a smart-alecky quip, but something in her voice cautioned him. “Care to explain that?” Lest he'd sounded too demanding, he added, “I mean, she was my dog until yesterday. If she misbehaved...” They'd reached the end of the boardwalk and he helped her step down onto the dusty street, where they continued their walk.

“Let's just say it was one of my not-so-good moments. When I went home for dinner, Mr. Hardison insisted upon accompanying me.” She looked up, her gaze clearly questioning him.

“Humph” was all he could manage to say as relief crowded out the last of his ill feelings. For one crazy moment right after Lucy told him what had happened, he'd wondered if Marybeth and Hardison had been in cahoots all along. They'd arrived on the same train, so it was possible. Now his conscience questioned why he'd become so suspicious of her. And when would he get over thinking she was less than honest with him?

“Humph? That's all you have to say?” Marybeth removed her arm from his and stalked ahead. When he caught up and gently snagged her arm again, she shot an accusing glare his way. “He made me uncomfortable, Rand. I know Mr. Means is doing business with him, but... Oh, dear. That's confidential bank business. Please forget I said it.”

“Already forgotten.” Not by a long shot, but he wouldn't tell her. If Means didn't have any more discernment than to work with a man like Hardison, maybe Dad had better find another banker for Esperanza while he was back East. “Not the part about your feeling uncomfortable, of course. Did he do anything...eh, rude?”

“No. Well... No. He did ask me to go on a picnic on Saturday. I told him I had plans.” She shot him another of those odd looks, like she was still hiding something. “He said we'd have our outing another day. I should have told him that was not likely to happen.”

Rand felt her shudder, a vibration so small he wouldn't have noticed if they hadn't been arm in arm. “Something did happened, Marybeth. I can tell.”

To his shock, she giggled in her cute girlie way. “Oh, yes, something happened. Polly came out to meet us and nearly tore the cuff right off of his trousers.”

Rand burst out laughing. “Smart dog. Now aren't you glad I insisted that you take her?”

Marybeth rolled her eyes. “Yes, Rand. You were right. It's good to have a watchdog.”

They'd reached Mrs. Foster's house all too soon and he didn't want to leave her. They had so much more to discuss and not just about Hardison. He sensed she was opening up to him little by little. Maybe it was time to ask her some deeper questions about her life so he could understand her hesitancy to marry him and at the same time answer his own concerns about what she was hiding.

He tried to stifle an idea that had occurred to him yesterday as he'd shown her around the ranch, but it was an honest concern for any rancher. Susanna and Rita would have a hard time getting the kitchen garden harvested all by themselves, and the food was necessary to get the family and hands through the winter. It sure would be nice if Marybeth could become a part of the family, live at the ranch and help the girls out. Yet it was hardly a reason for rushing either of them into a marriage that could end up being miserable for both of them.

As they walked toward the house, he saw Polly on the porch. The pup's ears shot up and she raced down the steps, practically falling all over herself. He knelt to gather her in his arms, but Polly had eyes only for Marybeth. Her new mistress squatted and cooed silly words, stirring an odd sort of jealousy in Rand. He wouldn't mind if Marybeth cooed silly words to him.

“Do you have to hurry in?” To emphasize his question, he climbed the steps, sat on the top one and patted the spot next to him. Through the open front window the aroma of beef and onions, probably a stew, set his mouth to watering. Mrs. Foster made the best stew and biscuits. Of course that was next to Miss Pam and maybe Rita's mother, Angela.

“Well...” Marybeth glanced at the door. “It's Mrs. Foster's turn to send supper over to Reverend Thomas, but she always gives me a few minutes to relax before I help in the kitchen. I suppose I can sit with you for a little while.”

“Good, because lots of people pass by this time of day, and everybody can see I'm here, and you're with me.”

She settled down on the step and gave him a teasing smirk. “As if everyone didn't already see you walk me home every day.”

“That's right. Maybe I'd better ride into town and walk you to dinner, too, so certain people won't—” He'd started to say “try to horn in on my territory,” but calling her his territory might offend her.

“Don't do that, Rand.” She set one perfect, gloved hand on his sleeve and lightning shot up his arm clear to his neck. If she noticed the way he shivered with enjoyment, she was too much a lady to remark on it. “After seeing all the work you have to do at the ranch, I don't want to take any more of your time.”

Her sweet smile and warm gaze only added to the pleasantness of the moment. Oh, to come home to that every day. Suddenly unable to talk, he coughed to clear his throat. Now if he could just clear his mind and come up with some way to open the discussion. Polly chose that moment to wiggle in between them and lay her head on Marybeth's lap.

“She sure has taken to you.”

He reached out to scratch behind Polly's ears at the same moment Marybeth did. Their hands bumped and they shared a grin and then fell into a rhythm of petting the furry little rascal.

“Rand, I—”

“Marybeth, would you mind—”

They began at the same time. Both stopped.

“You go ahead.” He encouraged her with a nod. Maybe if she opened up on her own, he wouldn't have to ask questions she might find nosy.

“Thank you.” Her warm response hinted at a growing trust. At least he hoped so.

She sat there for a bit, gazing out across the street toward a newly finished house, but seeming not to see it. In her gaze, her expression, he saw something familiar, but he couldn't quite capture the memory. Maybe she was becoming so much a part of his life that her features were burned into his thoughts. He certainly did dream about her every night; a welcome change from his nightmares about killing a man and being stalked by his cousin. He shoved aside thoughts of Dathan Hardison. If the gunslinger so much as looked at Marybeth in the wrong way, Rand would make sure he never did it again.

Lord, no. Not that blinding, killing anger. Please don't let me go back down that path.

* * *

Last night Marybeth had sorted out exactly how much she wanted to reveal to Rand. If he took her family history well, maybe he would understand when she told him she'd never wanted to marry and still didn't. Even if he didn't understand, she still had her job and could still save enough money to continue her search for Jimmy. The thought didn't please her as much as she'd hoped, but it was all she had. Forcing a sunny tone, she began.

“Back in Ireland, my father was a farmer, so I wasn't surprised to see how much work goes into ranching. Unlike you, Da hated working the land and raising sheep, probably because he wasn't very successful at it.” She sighed, unable to maintain her false cheer. “So he sold the farm and brought us over here to Boston. Because he didn't have training in any other work, he had to take menial jobs. Mam worked as a housemaid, and Jimmy learned his way around the city at six years old so he could be a messenger boy. We rented a house in a poor neighborhood where a lot of other Irish folk live.”

There. Now Rand knew her family had been poor. Yet his intense gaze held only interest, no censure. Encouraged, she went on to the worse details.

“Da had a couple of bad habits, which didn't do anything to help.” She inhaled to gain courage to say words she'd never spoken to another living soul. “He drank and he gambled.”

Rand winced slightly, maybe remembering his own gambling days. She hadn't meant to hurt him, so she hurried on.

“He was always trying to get money the easy way. I'm not sure, but I think he may have worked for some dishonest men. No matter whom he worked for, when he got paid, he would lose the money in a card game or buy whiskey until the money was all gone.” She forced herself to say the next words, the very worst she could tell him about her childhood. “Drunk or sober, he beat all of us. He also took Mam's and Jimmy's earnings, even sold the furniture until there wasn't a stick that still belonged to us just so he could gamble.” She'd intended to keep aloof from her sad tale, but she ended on a sob.

Rand set his hand on her back, right smack in the center where it felt so good, so comforting. “You don't have to go on.”

Sniffing, she retrieved a handkerchief from her reticule and dabbed away tears. “Let me finish.” At his nod, she braced herself with another deep breath.

“Do you remember when I told you Jimmy and I worked hard to get rid of our Irish brogue? We wanted to move up, to become respectable, so we could get better jobs. We decided to attend church and listen to the minister and try to talk like him.” She grinned at the memory. “It was sort of a competition, and I think I did a little better than Jimmy. He always said it wore him out, made him have to think too hard. But really, he was pretty good at imitation.” Rand was probably getting tired of the story, so she decided to cut it short.

“Anyway, after Da beat Jimmy one too many times, he left home to come out here. Mam died four years ago, and Da lasted until about three years ago when the whiskey finally took him. I found a job and kept going to church. I loved learning about God's fatherly love, because I sure hadn't received any from my da.” She shook her head, determined not to dwell on that subject.

“The church ladies were very kind and two years ago offered to send me to Fairfield Young Ladies' Academy where I could learn proper manners and, if I wanted to, secretarial skills. When your parents brought Rosamond to the academy last January, she and I became friends, and for some peculiar reason, all three of them seemed to think you and I would suit each other. I can't imagine why.” She bit her bottom lip before finishing. “I may have learned proper manners and got rid of my brogue, but that still doesn't change my rough upbringing, my family's poverty. It's a part of who I am and who I'll always be.”

She gazed up at him to gauge his reaction, especially her last comment. Even through her tears, she could see compassion and kindness and maybe even a hint of affection in those green eyes.

He grasped her hand and gently squeezed it. “I disagree with you. You've worked hard to overcome a difficult upbringing. You've got spirit and a healthy dose of ambition.” He shoved his hat back, leaned toward her and touched his forehead to hers in an endearing gesture that brought more tears to her eyes. “Overcoming hardship is the American way, so don't apologize for things that aren't your fault. You don't have anything to be ashamed of. Stand tall.” He pulled back and gave her a teasing grin. “At least as tall as a little gal like you can.”

She choked out a laugh and a sob at the same time. This wasn't at all what she'd expected. Why hadn't she trusted him sooner? Maybe she could finish it all right now and see what came of telling him the complete truth. Before she could speak, he stood and tugged her to her feet.

“Come on. Stand tall and be proud of all you've accomplished. There are so many paths you could have taken, but you chose a life of faith and following the Lord. My parents saw and admired that in you.”

“So you don't think they'll ever regret arranging—” She couldn't bring herself to refer to their proposed marriage. “For me to come out here? I mean, once they learn the truth about my background?”

Rand gave her another one of those teasing grins that tickled her insides. “My father was a Union officer, and he knew every detail about the men who served under him. Not only that, but he grew up in Boston. I have no doubt he knew much more about you than you think.”

Horror gripped her, but only briefly. She'd often been hungry, had even been forced to sleep in an alley sometimes, but she'd never fallen into such despair as to demean herself to survive. Early on, she'd seen what happened to such girls. Colonel Northam could ask anyone who'd known her and learn of her spotless reputation. In fact, as Rand said, he probably had. The thought both reassured and unnerved her at the same time.