Precisely at six o'clock, Maddie heard a firm knock at the heavy front door. Jake stood on the porch, his stained Stetson in his hand. He smiled when she opened it. "Evenin', ma'am" he said.
Maddie's gaze rested on his long fingers as he reached up and raked them through his sun-bleached hair. He really had beautifully thick hair.
"I hope I'm not late," he went on. "My pocket watch runs slow sometimes."
Maddie forced her gaze away from his hands to give him a dazzling smile, hoping it wouldn't look as insincere as it really was. She'd much rather have slammed the door in his face, but that wouldn't get her anywhere. "You're right on time, Marshal," she said, opening the heavy door wider to allow him inside the house.
"So I've finally done something right," he teased as he walked past her into the parlor. A faint scent of soap wafted around her, and she couldn't help being pleased that he'd taken the time to wash some of the trail dirt off. She glanced down at his boots. That was always the test of cleanliness. She was pleasantly surprised. They were scuffed and well-worn, but he'd been considerate enough to scrape off the worst of the mud and dirt before he came into the house.
"You can hang your gun and hat behind the door," she said, pointing to a wooden hat stand in the corner beside an ornately carved mirror.
"I don't take my gun off--"
Oh, really, she thought. "You do if you want to eat in my house," she called over her shoulder as she went into the kitchen. The softness of the tone of her voice took the bite out of her words, but he'd either take off the gun, or he'd starve. His choice. He might have the authority to take over her land, but he'd obey her rules if he expected a meal to fill his stomach. Caleb had even taken his gun off at meals, at least for the first few weeks of their marriage. After that, he'd made the rules.
When she came back into the parlor, she noticed he'd removed his gunbelt as she'd asked, and she felt a smirk threatening her lips. She'd won that battle, at least. She also noticed the empty space where it had hung, and where his jeans clung to his lean hips. Mortified that her gaze should rest on a man's lower half, she blushed.
"Something wrong?" he asked innocently.
"Of course not!"
He grinned, an infuriating grin that told Maddie he was well aware of exactly what she'd been looking at.
She turned her attention to an embroidered cushion resting on the settee, and leaned over to adjust the frill. She couldn't bear to look at him, to see the traces of humor in his eyes, and the knowing expression on his face. The man had the audacity to seem to be enjoying himself. At her expense.
After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, the marshal spoke. "This is a nice room," he said, his gaze surveying the room, noticing the touches that showed a woman had had a hand in making this a home.
"I like it," Maddie replied. Starched frilly curtains framed the front window where a window box filled with brightly-colored flowers rested. A hand-hooked rug covered the floor in front of the stone fireplace. Everywhere he looked, the wooden furniture gleamed. Definitely a room a woman would take pride in. And a man would feel at home in.
"Supper smells good," he said good-naturedly. "If your cooking tastes as good as it smells, I might even enjoy being here for a few days."
"I won't," she muttered. Darn, why had she said that? Had he heard her? She hoped not. Hadn't she rehearsed this meeting for an hour while she was preparing the meal? As she'd sliced the potatoes to accompany the chicken roasting in the oven, she'd realized she had to get on good terms with him, for her mother's sake. It wouldn't do her purpose any good to infuriate him. Heavens, she'd even gone as far as to change her dress and run a brush through her hair before he arrived. Scrubbing-brush hair, Caleb had called it.
"Exactly how long do you plan to be here?" she asked, straightening and turning to face him, satisfied that her cheeks had returned to their normal shade.
He shrugged. "Who knows? Depends how long it takes Boone to get here. Could be a couple of days, could be a couple of weeks."
Weeks? She was expected to put up with him for weeks? Impossible. She wouldn't tolerate it. She was only now gaining back the self-confidence she'd lost, and she was not going to allow another man to give her orders or make her decisions for her.
She opened her mouth to tell him just that when she remembered. She couldn't afford to get him riled.
"Beef jerky and beans gets tiring after weeks on the trail," he commented, moving to the fireplace and resting his elbow on the mantle.
"I'm sure it does." With any luck, he'd be back chewing on his jerky within the next day or two. She hoped he choked on it.
Jake picked up a photograph in a silver frame. He was studying it when she spoke. "Marshal?"
He replaced the photo and turned towards her. His eyebrows lifted.
"I'd like to ask a favor."
"Sure. What is it?"
"My mother," she began. "She isn't well. I'd prefer that she didn't know about this, or about the reason you're here. She has a weak heart, and I'm afraid of what the strain might do."
Jake nodded slightly. "I understand."
She couldn't say why, but she had the feeling he really did understand. Perhaps he would do the same for his mother.
"Thank you. I'd appreciate it if you'd keep this between us. I've told her I hired a drifter to do some work for us. She's accepted that, although she's questioning where the money's coming from to pay you."
"We'll tell her I need a place to stay, and I'm working for my keep. That ought to satisfy her."
"Thank you, Marshal." She didn't know what she would have done if he hadn't co-operated, but she was glad she didn't have to worry about that.
"You'll have to stop calling me Marshal, then, won't you?"
"I suppose I will. Jake."
Jake. She said the name again in her mind. She liked the sound of it on her tongue. A strong name. A name that suited the man.
Suddenly, Jake's stomach let out a low rumble.
Maddie's eyes opened wide, and she couldn't prevent the chuckle that escaped from her lips.
"Sorry, ma'am," he said, trying not to laugh with her, and failing.
"Let's go in to supper. It will be cold if we don't hurry."
Happily, Jake complied.
Fifteen minutes later, Jake leaned back from the table, wishing he could move the notch on his belt a few inches. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had a meal like that. In fact, he couldn't remember ever having a meal like that, at least since his mother had died.
Damn! Why did the memories pounce on him when he wasn't expecting them? Memories he'd just as soon forget. Forcing them to the back of his mind, he smiled and held out his cup. "Any more of that coffee, Maddie?"
Maddie filled his cup. He was dipping his spoon into the pottery sugar bowl when a door opened and an elderly woman shuffled in.
"Mama," Maddie cried, jumping up from the table and crossing to where the woman leaned against the door jamb. "You know you aren't supposed to be out of bed."
"Hush, child," the woman said. "I heard a man's voice, and I had to see for myself if he's as handsome as you said he is."
"Mama!" Maddie cried out, "I said no such thing."
"Well you ought to have. It's plain to see he's a fine- looking man."
Jake stood up, as he'd been taught to do whenever a woman entered the room, and he noticed a puzzled look on Maddie's face. Had he done something else wrong? As far as he knew, it was still the polite thing to do, but maybe times had changed since he spent so much time with only his horse - and convicted killers - for company.
Silently, he watched the interchange between the older woman and Maddie. Her face had turned a bright shade of red, and her eyes blazed. He grinned. Hell, he hadn't had this much entertainment in years. This was getting better all the time.
"Mar--, I mean Jake," Maddie turned towards him, but she had trouble meeting his eyes. Instead, she seemed to be focusing on his shirt collar. "I must apologize for my mother. The medicine--"
"Has nothing to do with it," her mother put in. "I might have a bad ticker, but I'm not blind. Or deaf, I might add. I don't need you making excuses for me."
"I just--"
"Hush. Now get me a chair to sit on, and fetch me a cup of that coffee while I meet our guest."
"Mama, he's not a guest."
"Of course he is," she insisted.
It seemed to tire Maddie's mother just getting from the doorway to a chair at the table. For a few moments, she rested while she caught her breath from the exertion.
Then she smiled at Jake with a twinkle in her eye. She held out her hand. Fragile, with skin that was practically transparent. Jake took it in his, and felt the coolness against his skin. "I'm Emmaline James. Since my daughter seems to have forgotten her manners, I'd like to welcome you to our home. My, it'll be nice to have a man to fuss over again, won't it, Maddie?"
Jake grinned. If looks could actually kill, he was sure the murderous expression in Maddie's eyes would have made him keel over right there and then.
"It certainly will," she said through clenched teeth.
Jake almost laughed at what it had cost her to agree with her mother. "And I'll enjoy getting to know the two beautiful ladies who are kind enough to allow me to interrupt their lives."
"Nonsense," Emmaline said. "You aren't interrupting anything here. Now that Caleb is gone, it's been quiet as a church around here."
That's just the way she liked it, Maddie thought. Her mother had no conception of what the past three years had been like for her, living under the same roof with Caleb, sharing his bed. Yes, her bed was empty now, and she had no intentions of ever filling it again. No matter how much her mother prodded her about getting on with her life and finding herself a new husband.
Maddie didn't have the heart to tell her a husband was the last thing she was looking for. One was more than enough to last her a lifetime.
"Maddie, you'll have to bake one of your blueberry pies for Jake," her mother went on. Then she turned to Jake and lowered her voice, as if she was passing on a great secret. "Maddie's pies are the best for miles around. In fact, the hotel manager in town offered to buy as many as she could bake."
"Mama--"
Emmaline held up her hand to quiet Maddie. "Maddie's just modest. She's so shy and timid, she'd never tell you herself."
Shy? Timid? She sure hadn't seemed timid when she'd had a rifle trained at his middle. Maybe her mother didn't know her as well as she thought she did. Or was Maddie putting on an act for his benefit? Either way, it'd be interesting to stick around a spell and find out.
Maddie turned away and busied herself scraping the leftovers off the plates into a bucket for the pigs. Jake watched her, his gaze drawn to how her bottom swayed whenever she leaned over the bucket. Under all those petticoats, he wondered just how slim she really was. He was sorely tempted to try to find out, except for the fact that she likely would shoot him if he came within ten feet of her. She hadn't given him any indication she was interested in him, other than as a means to get some of the heavy work done around the homestead. Then she'd be happy to see him ride off and never come back. Hell, she'd like to see him go now. He knew that. She didn't even seem to be worried about Tyler Boone coming back here. Either she was naive, or so confident in her independence she figured she could handle him. Either one could get her - and her mother - killed.
"I understand you're going to help us here," Emmaline said. "As you can see, there's far too much work for a single woman, especially one so delicate."
Delicate? That's one word Jake wouldn't have used to describe Maddie. Unreasonable, independent, churlish even. But definitely not delicate. Jake's survival depended on being able to read people, and he trusted his instincts. Sure, Maddie looked like she'd topple over in a strong wind, but he'd bet there was more strength pound for pound in her tiny frame than in most lumberjacks. Her mother obviously only saw what she wanted to see.
From the brief tour he'd made of the homestead, he'd already made plans to start work in the morning. First, that fence around the corral needed fixing, before she lost the few horses she had. And the well looked like it was going to cave in soon if he didn't shore up the walls. By the weekend, he might even have the barn roof fixed, if the weather held up.
"Where do you make your home, Mr. Langford? I do believe I detect a bit of a Southern drawl."
"You're very perceptive," he replied. "Virginia born, but I left there soon after the war, and I've been travelling ever since."
"My, that doesn't sound like much of a life to me," she murmured sympathetically. "Does it, Maddie?"
Maddie muttered something under her breath that Jake couldn't hear. Emmaline didn't ask her to repeat it.
"A man needs roots, Mr. Langford. Somewhere he can call home."
"I suppose you're right, ma'am. Just haven't ever found the right place to settle down and hang my hat yet."
"So there's no wife or children back east?"
Jake tried to hide the smile he knew was creeping across his face. The woman was as subtle as a stampeding buffalo. "No, ma'am. No wife or little ones." Family wasn't an option to him.
Suddenly, Emmaline stood up, much faster than Jake would have thought she was capable of a few minutes ago. "Well, I'll leave the two of you alone. Goodnight, Jake. It's a pleasure to have you here. Goodnight, Maddie."
With a swish of her skirt, Emmaline shuffled out of the room. A door clicked shut a few moments later, then there was silence.
Maddie rinsed out a cloth and crossed the kitchen to the table. She leaned over and started to make sweeping arcs across the wooden table with the cloth. The top button of her shirtwaist was open, and Jake's gaze shifted to the pale skin of her neck, then moved to the shadows hidden beneath the muslin cloth.
Her cheeks were flushed, and the freckles on her nose stood out. Jake had the unreasonable urge to press his lips to them, then to lower his lips to her mouth and taste the tiny crumb of cherry cobbler clinging to the corner of her lip. Just the thought of it made the room seem a little warmer than it had, and his jeans a little tighter. The supper wasn't the cause, either.
Hell, what was wrong with him? In all the years he'd spent tracking criminals, he'd never lost sight of his goal, not even for a minute. Now, in less than a day, this little slip of a woman had made him forget about the reason he was here, and start thinking about tomorrow, and the next day, here. That kind of lapse in concentration could get them all killed. Better to get a conversation going rather than staying with the thoughts running through his mind.
"She's quite a woman," Jake said, lifting his mug while Maddie wiped the table under it.
"Yes, she is," Maddie agreed. "She's a little outspoken, and it can be embarrassing, but she means well. If she gets the chance, she'll spoil you silly. She misses having my father to look after."
"How long has he been gone?"
"Six years," she replied. "They were married for over forty years, and still as much in love when he died as they were the day they married."
"Not many folks can say that."
"I used to catch them holding hands, or just gazing at each other, when they thought I wasn't looking."
"Did you have that same kind of relationship with Caleb?"
As soon as the words left his mouth, he realized he'd made a mistake. It was as if a wall had suddenly appeared between them.
"I don't think that's any of your business, Marshal."
He'd messed up again! Either the woman was so filled with grief she couldn't bear to speak of her dead husband, or their marriage left something to be desired. Before this was over, he planned to find out which. "You're right. I apologize. I didn't mean to upset you."
"I'm not upset. But it is getting late--"
He'd rattled her, and he would have gladly bitten off his tongue if he could take his comment back. But he couldn't, and he'd definitely worn out his welcome.
"I'll say goodnight then," he said, getting up and taking his gunbelt off the hook. As he strapped it around his hips, he noticed her gaze following his movements, and he prayed the hardness in his jeans wasn't noticeable.
Putting on his hat, he smiled at her. He didn't want to leave with tension between them. Hell, he didn't want to leave at all. And that was dangerous. In his line of work, it wasn't smart to get involved with the folks he dealt with. He couldn't afford to forget that. And somewhere deep inside, he knew that the more time he spent with Maddie Boone, the harder it would be to stay impartial. He had to get out. Now. "Supper was delicious, Maddie. Thanks."
He was rewarded with a slight smile. "You're welcome. Breakfast is at seven."
"Sharp," he said with a grin. "I know."
Then, touching his finger to the brim of his hat in a salute, he turned and took the stairs in one step.
As he turned the corner to the barn, he looked back. Sure enough, just as he'd suspected, Maddie was peeking out at him from behind the curtain again.
Maddie watched as Jake crossed the yard, his head bent against the wind that had whipped up. He turned, and realizing she'd been caught once again, she let the curtain drop, but still she stayed behind it, her gaze peering through the tiny holes in the lace to watch him. He disappeared into the barn, and just as she was about to turn away from the window, he came out carrying a bundle in his arms. With steady footsteps, he crossed the yard and climbed the steps to the house.
She waited, expecting to hear his knock at the door. When she heard nothing, she carefully moved the curtain and pressed her cheek against the window until she could see the outside of the door. There, with his body in one of the rocking chairs and his feet resting on the other, was Jake. His hat hid his face, and his bedroll covered his body, except for one arm draped over his chest.
The clouds shifted, and the moonlight caught a glint of metal. Jake's hand was folded around the butt of his six-shooter, his finger on the trigger. He was ready for anything.
Slowly, she let the curtain fall back into place. A soft smile pulled at her lips. He'd really meant it when he said he was going to protect her. A warmth spread through her at the thought. She hadn't felt so safe in a long, long time.
And worthwhile. The thought came unbidden into her mind. She'd never expected to feel this way again, but if she was totally honest with herself, she would have to admit she'd enjoyed having someone to cook for, someone who appreciated the effort she'd taken to put a good meal on the table. She couldn't remember the last time Caleb had complimented her, or even noticed what she'd cooked. In fact, Caleb hadn't noticed much about her at all after the first few weeks of their marriage, except when he wanted something from her.
Thank goodness Jake would only be here for a few days, she thought, turning the wick down on the lantern and making her way to her bedroom at the back of the house. She had too much work to do to have somebody underfoot, especially a man who had a way of making her feel again. She wasn't foolish enough to be tricked again. That much she was certain of. It would take more than a few sweet words and a compliment or two to have Maddie Boone believing in love again.
As for Jake's nonsense that Tyler would hurt her, that was ridiculous. It was plain to see that Caleb hadn't used any of the robbery money to make their life more pleasant. All she had to do was explain that, and he'd go on his way. The news that Caleb had been involved in the robbery should have shocked her, and she wondered if Jake was surprised that it didn't. Nothing Caleb did shocked her. She'd learned early - and well - what Caleb was capable of.
With nimble fingers, Maddie unfastened the row of buttons on her dress and slipped out of it, feeling the chill of the air against her skin. Moonlight streamed through the window, and she caught her reflection in the mirror above the bureau. She paused for a moment before she removed her chemise and looked at herself. She had curves in the right places, or so she'd thought until Caleb pointed out her flaws. Her hand settled on her flat stomach and she held it there for a moment. She would never feel the movement of a child beneath her fingers. An infant would never suckle at her breasts.
Moonlight had a way of hiding many things too, she mused, her finger tracing the scar just above her right breast. That scar was a constant reminder of her failure as a wife and a woman. It was good to remember her deficiencies every now and then before she started getting foolish ideas.
Giving herself a mental shake, she slipped a nightdress over her head and got into bed, uncomfortably aware of the man with the sun-streaked hair asleep on her front porch.