One Texas Night (6 page)

Her hood slid back enough that he could see her nod, but she didn’t turn loose of her grip on him. When they reached the long porch that rounded three sides of his house, he lifted her with him as he stepped from the saddle and carried her up the steps. Old Ulysses, his guard dog, barked from beneath the porch.

“Hush, Ulysses, it’s just me,” Hank mumbled.

The dog growled, but quieted.

When they were well out of the rain, he sat Aggie down beside the only piece of furniture he’d brought north with him when he’d homesteaded—his father’s rocker. “Don’t worry about Ulysses. He’s mean and hates everyone, including me, but he’s a good guard dog. He keeps snakes away and warns me if anyone gets near the place.”

Hank straightened and gripped the doorknob. “If I’d known you were coming, I would have . . .”

He didn’t finish. It was too late for explanations or apologies. “Welcome home,” he managed as the door creaked open.

Aggie walked in ahead of him and didn’t stop until she was in the center of the polished floor. The storm’s gray light shown the open area in layers of shadows. He stood at the threshold and stared at her back. The big main room looked empty with its two chairs and one long table. The fireplace was cold and dusty. The curtainless windows were stark, letting all the rage of the storm inside and holding no warmth.

“There’s a kitchen and mudroom behind the fireplace. My room is to the left and yours will be to the right once I get my tack out of it. I’ll move my bed in for you until I can build you what you need.”

She hadn’t moved. Her back was so straight he decided she must be in shock. To him the house had been great, but to her it must look cold and bare.

“The kitchen ceiling is only seven feet. I built an attic above it.” He almost said “for kids.” “I haven’t been up there in awhile, but it would make a good storage room if you need one. All that is up there now is an old trunk someone sent back to my father after my mom died.”

“You weren’t there when she died?”

He shook his head. “She left my father and me when I was barely walking. Never heard from her. There must have been nowhere to send her trunk. Our address was still written on the top so they shipped it home to my father. We never opened it.” His words sounded hollow, even to him, but better that, he decided, than angry, which is how he’d felt most of his childhood.

He watched Aggie closely. “I could move it to the barn if you need the space. I don’t even know why I lugged it from East Texas when I moved.”

He had no idea what Aggie needed to feel at home here, but he planned to make sure she had it. “We could order more furniture if you want. I never had much use for it until now.”

She took a step toward the archway leading to the kitchen.

Hank had to keep talking. “You can’t see them for the rain, but there’s a bunkhouse and barn about a hundred feet to the north, and we got a windmill and a good well. In the spring the view is a sight to see from every window.”

She’d reached the kitchen and still hadn’t turned around or said a word.

“I hire hands to help with the spring calving and branding, but during the winter, Blue Thompson and I do all the work. He and his wife, Lizzy, have a place down by the breaks halfway between here and town.” Hank felt near out of information. If she didn’t say something soon he wasn’t sure what to do.

Without warning, she twirled suddenly, her arms wide, her head back, her hair flying behind her.

He watched, hypnotized by the sight of her. If angels ever touch ground they could look no happier than she did right now.

When she stopped, she faced him, a smile lifting the corners of her mouth. “I love it,” she said.

“You do?”

She nodded. “All my life I’ve lived in tiny little rooms crowded with too many people. Here I can breathe.”

Hank relaxed. “Then I can bring your stuff in and you’ll stay?”

Tugging off her slicker, she answered as she disappeared into the kitchen. “Yes, dear, I’ll stay.”

Chapter 7

Aggie explored her new home while Hank brought in her boxes and bag. Like the main room, the kitchen was twice the size of any she’d seen, and her bedroom had enough space for all four of her sisters to join her. The windows everywhere were tall. She laughed, deciding Hank built them that way so he could see out without leaning down. Her father was short, only a few inches taller than she, and always fidgety in movement. Getting used to Hank would take some time. His strides were long and easy, graceful in a powerful way. But when he was still, he was perfectly still.

While Hank moved his bed into her room, she inspected the area above the kitchen and was surprised there was nothing in it but the battered old trunk he’d mentioned. She couldn’t imagine a house with so much space that there would be an empty room. It also amazed her that he seemed to think it should be her room to do whatever she liked with. She moved around the attic, touching each wall, each window—silently saying hello to her new world.

“Aggie?” Hank called from below. “Come down and meet Blue.”

She hurried to the kitchen and nearly collided with a gray-haired man almost as tall as Hank and twice as wide.

The man shuffled out of her way. “Pardon me,” he mumbled, then laughed and added, “I didn’t know you’d be flying down from above. Truth is I’d forgotten that room was up there.”

Even with his slicker covering most of his body, she could tell his right shoulder was twisted, but there was nothing weak or soft about him. His frown seemed tattooed across his face and mistrust danced in his eyes. The big man looked as afraid of her as she was of him.

She fought to keep from running to Hank.

As if he sensed her fear, her husband moved to her side and looped his arm around her shoulder. “Aggie, I’d like you to meet my friend, Blue Thompson.”

She knew Hank wouldn’t use the word friend lightly, but Thompson looked like a man who hadn’t trusted anyone since birth.

The big man stiffly offered his left hand while Hank continued. “Blue was shot up pretty bad at Williamsburg. When they found him in the cold, he was so near dead he looked blue.” Hank offered him coffee.

“I’ve been called Blue ever since,” the big man said. “I kinda like the name too, since I lived.”

Aggie’s fingers disappeared in his as they shook hands. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Thompson.” She didn’t miss the way he glanced down at Hank’s gun around her waist and nodded once, as if he understood that Hank wouldn’t have given his Colt to any woman unless she mattered to him.

“Just Blue,” he corrected. This time when he returned her gaze she saw acceptance and maybe a little respect.

“Just Blue.” She smiled. “And I’m just Aggie.”

The old soldier relaxed. “Hank said your daddy taught you about guns.”

“That’s right,” Aggie said.

“I got a French LeMat I carried in the war. Haven’t been able to fire it since that day I was shot, but I keep it anyway. Do you think you could have a look at it for me?”

“I’d be glad to,” she answered, realizing Blue was accepting her a few inches at a time. “I’ve worked on one of them before. Bring it by when you have time.”

Blue frowned. “I’d go get it now. Our place isn’t that far away, but there’s a fence down.” He looked at Hank. “We gotta get to it, boss, or there will be hell to pay by morning.”

Hank agreed. “Help me get the tack in the barn, then saddle the paint.”

Blue tipped his hat to Aggie and followed orders.

“You’ll be all right here?” Hank sounded like he hated leaving her.

For a moment she thought of arguing. This was their first day together. All her life her father never minded postponing work. He’d even stop working to enjoy his pipe, or a conversation. Aggie knew ranching wouldn’t be like gunsmithing. Problems couldn’t wait. “Go,” she said. “I’d hate to pay hell in the morning.”

Hank smiled. “I might need to talk to Blue about his mouth.” Hesitantly, he leaned and kissed her on the forehead. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. If you run into trouble, just fire three shots. If I’m not close enough to hear, Lizzy, Blue’s wife, will come running.”

Aggie moved to the window and watched the two men disappear into a curtain of rain. It occurred to her that she should feel lonely and abandoned, but even with the storm raging, she felt protected in Hank’s house. She needed the time here to settle in.

The walls glowed honey-colored with each lightning flash as she ran from room to room loving the open feel to it. Space was a luxury she’d never known.

A hundred yards from the house, Hank realized he’d almost run out of the kitchen. He’d known that if he looked at her a moment longer he wouldn’t be able to leave. As he lowered his hat and rode into the rain, he wondered at what point his mind had turned to oatmeal. How could a woman he hadn’t even known twenty-four hours matter to him? When had she crawled under his skin and become a part of him?

Within an hour, he and Blue were riding the fence line looking for breaks. Compared to most of the ranches, his herd was small. Hank couldn’t afford to lose any cattle. The cows he’d saved back from the last sale were all good breeding stock and he’d need them come spring. Last year he’d finally made it to the black after ten years of scraping by. He’d bought more land when the Duncan ranch next to him failed, and still managed to put some in the bank for a rainy day.

His plan had been to build enough to finally sell this spread and buy another, bigger one, farther from town. But, now, with Aggie in his life, he might have to rethink that plan. If she wanted to work, they’d need to live close to town, and the way Amarillo was growing it would overtake his ranch one day. The thought of being so close to town didn’t interest him, but he couldn’t see himself moving so far away that he made Aggie unhappy.

Smiling, he remembered the way she’d twirled around, her blue skirts flying.

Hank was so deep in thought he almost missed the downed fence. If Blue hadn’t yelled at him, they might have ridden past a hole so big his entire herd could have moved through by morning.

As they worked, the storm played itself out. The wind settled to a breeze and the rain to a drizzle. The red Texas mud clung to their hands and boots. By the time they finished, both men were covered in caked dirt. The watery sun blinked its way between clouds, baking the earth to their clothes like shingles on a roof. Hank pushed hard, trying to keep his mind on his job and not on the woman who waited for him at home.

Blue, as always, worked beside him. For a man with little use of his right hand, he managed to earn his wages. Over the years the two men had learned to work as a team, but they rarely talked.

Late in the afternoon when they headed home, Blue turned off along the breaks with a wave and Hank followed the stream. He was bone tired after not sleeping the night before on the train, but he pushed his horse, wanting to reach the house long before sundown.

While he washed and put on his good white shirt in the mudroom, Hank noticed the bandage on his arm was spotted with blood. Sometime during the afternoon one of the stitches must have pulled loose. He wrapped it with a towel so he wouldn’t get blood on his clean clothes, then entered the house as quietly as possible.

He found Aggie curled up in the middle of his big bed, which he had moved into her room when he brought her boxes in. The guard dog, Ulysses, slept on the rug beside her. The moment he sensed Hank, he raised his head and growled.

Hank chuckled. “Protecting the lady, Ulysses?”

Aggie awoke with a smile and touched the dog’s head. “We had a long talk on the porch. Ulysses promised to be good if I let him come in for a while.”

The old dog lowered his head, but continued a grumble as Hank walked to the bed. “How about we see if together we can’t find something to eat.” He offered his hand to Aggie. “I’m starving and Ulysses is always in a better mood when he’s eaten.”

Aggie’s feet slipped to the floor as she accepted his hand. “First,” she said, staring at the towel, “I’ll check that wound and put a fresh bandage on it. I may not be able to cook, but I’m a fair nurse. My father was a walking accident looking for a place to pause. I hope Widow Forbes keeps her medicine kit handy.”

“We’ll send them one as a wedding gift.” Hank laughed as he accompanied her to the kitchen.

To his surprise, she raised her hand to his shoulder and pushed. For a second he didn’t understand what she was trying to do, then he realized she was attempting to push him into a chair.

He sat.

“I found the medicine box when I went through the cabinets.” She pulled the box forward and stood in front of him. “I also found a full stock of beans and peaches.” She hesitated, then added, “and nothing more.”

Hank watched her clean the wound. “Most nights I come in too tired to fix anything else. Lizzy brings over a good meal every Monday when she comes to do the laundry and clean.” He watched Aggie closely. “I pay her twice a year in beef. If it’s all right with you I’d like her to still come. They depend on the meat.”

Aggie nodded, but Hank wasn’t sure she really listened. She worried over the cut.

“You’re lucky this isn’t showing signs of infection.” She poked at the skin around his cut. “I think if we wrap it correctly the wound will stay closed, but I’ll want to clean it and put medicine on it twice a day.”