Chapter Six

 

A few mornings later, Noah awoke to a shriek of joy. He pulled the blanket down from where it had covered his face and squinted into the morning air. They sky was as gray as slate and overhung with fog. Fog? Here?. How odd. The atmosphere was nippier this morning than it had been for the last several days. It was the first week in November, and Mac had told him several times that the weather could change any day. Noah guessed it had.

When he sat up, the blankets fell down around his waist, and cold air hit him like an arctic blast.

“God damn,” he murmured when he saw the snow. It was only early November, yet a thin blanket of white covered the wagon yard. More flakes floated down from the sky like confetti, lazily drifting here and there in a slow meander to the earth. He’d never seen such a gentle snowfall. It surprised him, since he’d expected snowfalls to be rough out here where everything else, including the weather, was hard as rocks.

He realized the shrieks of joy were still going on, and he swiveled his head to see where Maddie was. He recognized her voice. A memory of the snows of his childhood tiptoed through his brain, and he smiled before he knew what he was doing. Then he saw her.

Maddie raced across the yard, swaddled from head to toe in coats and mufflers and rubber boots, leaving a trough in her wake through the formerly pristine snow blanket. The only reason Noah knew that bundle was Maddie and not someone else was because she was so short. Then her mother came into view.

Noah held his breath, fascinated. Grace Richardson was laughing with pure happiness. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d seen a woman in so unaffected and relaxed a mood. Or one so different from the mood in which he’d last seen her. She’d been furious when she’d stalked away from him after he’d asked to buy her property, and he’d kept to himself since.

She was a sight to behold right now. Clad in heavy boots and with a scarf wrapped around her head, he could see only a little bit of her pretty hair. She wore mittens and a long coat, and had another scarf wrapped around her throat. The ends of it floated out behind her on the same mild breeze that made the snowflakes dance. She was almost as bundled up as her daughter, but Noah could clearly see her cheeks, pink with pleasure and exertion. He imagined her sparkling eyes.

His sex began stirring to life, and he was ashamed of himself. Lordy, when was the last time that had happened?

He couldn’t leave off staring at her, though, and when she glanced over and caught him, he got embarrassed. He saw her good humor slip for a second before she seemed to let go of restraint and waved at him, her cheery smile brightening the very air between them.

“Good morning, Mr. Partridge! What a surprise this snow is!”

He lifted his hand to wave and realized he was naked from the waist up. Quickly he grabbed a blanket and covered his chest, and then felt even more embarrassed. What a blockhead he was, to exhibit himself this way in front of a lady.

Grace laughed. Her laughter was as unaffected as her daughter’s, and it held Noah spellbound. When was the last time he’d heard such a pure, joyful sound? He couldn’t remember.

“Aren’t you freezing to death?” she called. “My goodness, I don’t know how you can stand to sleep out here in the cold. Why don’t you come inside and bed down by the fire on these cold nights, Mr. Partridge?”

Noah cleared his throat. “I—” He stopped. His voice still sounded froggy, so he cleared his throat again.·“I don’t mind the cold, ma’am.”

In truth, he craved the cold. In the summertime when the weather was hot, his thoughts crawled back to Georgia, to the sweltering, starving, stinking prison camp. Then his dreams would be full of the stench of cholera and puke and death, the sight of skeletal men and rats and wormy biscuits and peanuts—if they were lucky—and misery and blood and death. Sometimes his mind’s eye pictured the bodies. They’d pile up faster than the inmates could get bury them in the hot months, and they’d begin to rot. The wardens used to make Noah dig holes to put them in, and the stink would be so bad Noah would actually send his mind away and leave only his body there in the hell that was the prison camp. Until his extended adventure in that camp, he hadn’t known people could do that, detach their minds from their bodies.

He shivered. Not with cold, but with the soul-sickness that had been his closest companion for more years than he cared to remember.

“You’re shivering,” Grace said, laughing. “Let me bring you a cup of nice hot coffee.”

No, his brain cried. Nothing came out of his mouth. He saw her whirl around, as if this first snowfall of the season had filled her, as well as her daughter, with energy and boundless gaiety.

Aw, hell. Noah scrambled out of his bedclothes, hoping Maddie wouldn’t bounce back by and see him in his long-john bottoms. Or see his back, scored deeply with hundreds of healed whiplashes. He didn’t want to shock the kid.

He yanked on his shirt and trousers, and was tugging on his boots when Grace came back again, a huge smile on her face and a tray in her hands.

“Here, Mr. Partridge. I brought you some breakfast.” She handed him the tray, looking a little shy.

He took the tray, nodded, and forced “Thank you,” out of his tight throat.

She tucked her hands behind her back and turned her head so that she wasn’t looking him in the eyes any longer. Thank God.

“Um, I don’t want you to think I’m angry with you, Mr. Partridge. I apologize for losing my temper when we spoke last.”

If Noah hadn’t had his hands full of tray—smells from which were kissing his nostrils and making his stomach growl—he’d have made a gesture of dismissal. “That’s all right, ma’am. Reckon I caught you by surprise.”

Mac had recommended that he tell her what was in his heart. Noah tested the idea, found his mind slamming shut against it, and knew he couldn’t do it. Because he wanted to soften her up, he said, “I—ah—I’m not used to being around people much, ma’am. Reckon I was clumsy when I made my offer, and I apologize.”

Even revealing that much made his intestines cramp. He held himself upright against the pain with an effort.

Grace laughed, apparently finding their mutual apologies amusing. “Well, I won’t argue about who was wrong, but I hope you aren’t miffed with me this morning for being so stiff-necked when we talked.”

“No, ma’am.” He wondered if he’d just lied, then decided it didn’t make any difference.

“Good. Well, then, I hope you enjoy your breakfast, Mr. Partridge. I promised Maddie I’d help her build a snowman this morning, and I expect we’d better get at it, because the snow will probably be gone by this afternoon.”

Noah looked up at the sky, which remained as gray as smoke. Huge black clouds rolled across it as if the gods were angry and planned to do something destructive with them. “It’ll melt? By the afternoon?”

She laughed again, joyously, naturally. Her laughter soothed his intestines, made an unfamiliar warmth settle in his chest, and made his groin stir again. Damn.

“My goodness, yes, Mr. Partridge. It’s not unusual to get snow this early, but it’s rare to get a snow that sticks on the ground for long in November. Every now and then we’ll get a white Christmas, but not often. Two winters ago we had snows that lasted for two weeks in February, but that’s very unusual.” She gazed at her daughter, who was busily making snowballs on the far side of the yard. “That was the winter after Frank died.”

Frank. Everything in her life came back to Frank. The Frank who was dead and buried and to whom she remained loyal. Noah guessed Mac was right about her. She was staunch, he reckoned. He used to admire that quality in a person. This time it was making his life difficult, and his life was too damned difficult already.

“Yeah. Well, the snow looks pretty now anyway,” he said.

“Yes. It’s beautiful.”

“Mommy, come and help me make the snowman!”

When he glanced her way, he saw that Maddie was looking much like a snowman herself, she’d gotten so much snow on her.

“Duty calls,” Grace said cheerfully. “Enjoy your breakfast.”

“Thank you.”

She turned and walked towards her daughter, and Noah added, “It sure smells good, ma’am.”

He watched her until she got to Maddie. Then, because he figured he’d be embarrassed if she’d turned around and found him staring, he sat down and ate his breakfast. It tasted as good as it smelled.

# # #

Grace threw a snowball at Maddie, who gave another shout of laughter. “Stop it, Mommy! We’ve got to finish our snowman before all the snow melts.”

“We will, sweetheart. It won’t melt for hours yet.”

She scooped some more snow onto the pile she’d built and rolled the bottom ball across the yard, picking up almost as many twigs and pieces of dried grass as snow.

“When I was your age, we could make a snowman that was all white because the snow was much deeper. And it would last for weeks and weeks.”

“In ‘Cago?”

“Yes. In Chicago. It would last for so long that we’d all get sick of it and long for spring to come and melt it all.”

“I wouldn’t get sick of it,” Maddie declared with conviction.

“I bet you would. I think this fellow’s bottom ball is big enough now.” She rolled the ball to a stop and stood up, breathing hard and putting a hand to her back to straighten out the kinks. She’d forgotten how much energy playing took, and how hard it could be.

Maddie observed the ball with a critical eye. “All right,” she said at last. “Let’s make his middle now.”

Grace almost groaned.

“Need some help?”

Both females turned to find Noah Partridge standing there, his face as stern and unsmiling as ever. Thinking she must have heard him incorrectly, Grace said, “I beg your pardon?”

He shrugged and gestured at the big snowball. “Need some help?”

Grace’s mind went blank with astonishment. Thank heavens for Maddie, who didn’t suffer from the same affliction.

“Oh, yes! Help us, Mr. Noah. You can roll a big ball. Bigger than Mommy’s.”

Recovering from her amazement that this hard, icy man should be offering assistance in building so trivial a thing as a snowman, Grace said lightly, “Well, I like that! I almost broke my back rolling that snowball!”

Maddie giggled. Was it her imagination, or did Mr. Partridge’s eyes go soft? Grace couldn’t tell. His expression didn’t soften one iota. Poor man.

He’d dressed for the role, in a warm, fur-lined jacket and heavy gloves. He didn’t wear a hat, and Grace saw silver glints in his hair.

He was going gray. Her heart gave a little flop. He couldn’t be much more than thirty years old—scarcely older than she was—yet he was going gray. She understood that happened sometimes, to people who’d lived hard lives. Poor man, she thought again.

She’d almost fainted dead away when she’d seen him this morning, sitting up in his bedroll. He hadn’t been wearing a shirt. That was shocking enough all by itself, but what had really shocked her was the physical reaction she’d had to that bare chest of his, with the curly dark hair covering it, and the muscles that had seemed to ripple under them. Mr. Noah Partridge was a hard man in more ways than one. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on him.

Seeing his naked chest had brought back memories of Frank. Of course. Everything brought back memories of Frank. Frank’s hair had been light, and his chest hadn’t been nearly as hairy as Mr. Partridge’s. This morning her fingers had itched to test Noah’s chest hair, to compare it to what she remembered of Frank’s. Good heavens, what was the matter with her?

The bitter thought that if God were a fair Divinity, it would have been Mr. Partridge who’d been struck by lightning and not Frank, occurred to her. Frank was as golden and happy as Mr. Partridge was dark and forbidding. She was ashamed of herself for harboring the unkind thought for so much as an instant.

“Make a big ball, Mr. Noah! Bigger than that.” Maddie pointed a fat, woolen finger at Grace’s effort, and Grace said, “Hmph,” once more to feign offense. Maddie giggled again.

When she glanced at Noah, he was nodding, his expression as sober as ever. She wondered if he’d always been serious. When he was a boy, had he been like this? Her curiosity was suddenly so intense, she very nearly forgot a lifetime’s worth of good manners and asked him. She caught herself just in time.

“Well, since you two don’t like my snowball, I’ll just leave you to build his bottom and top and go into the house to fetch his eyeballs.” She made a monster face at Maddie and wiggled her fingers at her.

Maddie said, “Ewww.”

Wonder of wonders, Mr. Partridge gave her a grin. A very small grin, but a grin. Grace felt as if she’d conquered an Alp.

When they were finished, they had themselves quite a snowman. He looked a little dirty, and his snow body bristled with debris from the yard, but Maddie glowed with excitement, and Grace was happier than she’d been in months. All three of them had eaten more raisins than they’d used to make the snowman’s mouth and eyes, and it had been Noah who’d suggested using an old dried yucca pod for his nose.

“There,” he said after he stuck the nose in place. “He looks like he’s been in a fight.”

Maddie crowed with glee. Grace smiled.

Mac joined them with a pipe for their project’s raisiny mouth and a straw hat for his head. Then he stood back and observed the snowman, his blue eyes twinkling.

“Poor lad needs some arms,” he said at last.

So they found some twigs and made him some arms with them. Then Grace had run inside to fetch a thin, striped Mexican serape, and they’d draped it over his humped shoulders. “There!” she said triumphantly. “He fits right in.”

She couldn’t believe her ears when Noah Partridge laughed.

# # #

Mac had been right, Noah decided. It was good that he’d made an effort to get to know Grace Richardson better, even if it had been difficult to stick it out at first.

Noah could hardly believe it, but he had actually—finally—enjoyed making that snowman with Grace and Maddie this morning. After the first several tense minutes, during which he’d had to wage a violent battle against his compulsion to run away and hide, his nerves had settled. He’d forgotten to remember that he was unfit and no longer able to mingle with the society of his fellow human beings.

At one point he’d realized he was behaving almost like a normal man; as if nothing in the world was more important at that single particular moment than finding twigs for a snowman’s arms. For the sake of little Maddie Richardson, who lived in the remote New Mexico Territory with no friends her age to play with. And no father.

And then Grace and Maddie had laughed, and he’d experienced a sense of pride all out of proportion to the accomplishment itself. He wondered if he could ever get used to that sort of thing again. He used to be a part of a community of people and hadn’t thought anything of it. Now he was apart from the whole of humanity, and trying to belong was something else entirely.

He caught himself shivering and forced his mind back to the project he’d set out for himself. He’d survived mingling with Grace and Maddie this morning. He’d even accepted Grace’s invitation to take lunch with them in Mac’s house. He hadn’t died. He hadn’t had a nervous attack. He hadn’t blown up and gone wild-eyed. And he hadn’t run away. These were good signs.

So what he was going to do at lunch was take another step toward his goal. He was going to ask if Grace and Maddie would like to ride out with him on a picnic. When the weather cleared, of course. With luck, he’d have enough time to gird his loins to face the trip, but not enough time to go crazy again.

Just in case the weather stayed bad, he’d make an effort—something he hadn’t done since his life went to hell—to talk to Grace every day, as Mac had advised him to do. Just one or two words at a time. That shouldn’t be too hard.

Oh, God. Noah clutched the post supporting a wall to his stall, and held on while waves of panic crashed through him.

Who was he trying to fool? He couldn’t do that. He couldn’t behave like a normal man anymore, because he wasn’t one.

He sucked in a deep breath and held it while he told himself to calm down. Breathe, he ordered his body. Breathe.

When his heart stopped thundering and his brain ceased shrieking, he sighed. All right. He was all right. At this one unique moment in time, he was all right, and he could plan a strategy by which to soften Grace Richardson up enough to sell him her land. The land was important; it might well be Noah’s salvation—or, if not his salvation, at least his refuge. If he could keep his goal in mind, perhaps he could keep his lunacy in check.

So he would make an effort, and he would talk to Grace Richardson every day. Perhaps not much. But he could take small steps. A word or two. Three, if he could stand it. Maybe with practice he could build up into a longer conversation. He would be pleasant to her. If he could make himself do it, he would even smile. Since he knew that if he pushed himself too hard too fast, his mania would take over the running of him, he told himself he didn’t have to force the smiles. If he could smile, he would. He would at least make an effort to be pleasant, to say more than one word at a time.

Since he’d become tense at the thought of what lay ahead of him, Noah forced his muscles to relax before he set out through the snow for Mac’s house. He looked at the snowman at the far end of the yard as he did so, and smiled. He only realized what he’d done after he’d rapped on the door.

# # #

Two days after Noah helped build the snowman, somebody knocked at the door of Mac’s house while Noah was inside playing a game of hearts with Maddie and Grace. He’d discovered that playing cards kept his hands busy, his eyes occupied, and he didn’t have to talk much. And if every now and then his hand brushed Grace’s and he felt an urge to crush her to his chest and beg her to hold him, he suppressed it without too much difficulty. He considered it a good start. At the sudden noise, though, he jumped and had to hold onto the edge of the table to keep from diving under it.

Grace looked at him with compassion in her eyes, and he felt like ninety kinds of a fool.

Maddie patted his hand. “Don’t worry, Mr. Noah. It’s only someone at the door. I don’t like sudden loud noises, either.”

Mac, who had been sitting in his rocking chair, smoking his pipe, and gazing at the card game with the face of a benevolent elf, chuckled. He heaved himself out of his chair. “Probably some poor soul has a wagon needs mending.”

His footsteps clumping across the floor echoed in Noah’s head like cannon fire. He tried to be inconspicuous when he took several deep breaths in an effort to fight down the panic that had burst, full-grown, into him at that damned knock. Hell. He’d been fine until that knock came. It had startled him and precipitated this crazy reaction. Some time ago, he’d decided he’d always be this way, but it certainly was inconvenient sometimes.

He didn’t like Grace looking at him like that, as if he were a poor damaged creature that needed her pity—even if it was the truth. Hell, Noah would bet money that the late, lamented Frank Richardson hadn’t been spooky like this. Unquestionably, her Frank had been a splendid, whole, undamaged specimen of hearty masculinity.

After he’d swallowed his heart, Noah murmured, “Sorry. I’ve been, um, a little jumpy since, um, since the war.”

Grace shook her head sadly. “Yes. I was very grateful that Frank didn’t have to fight in that awful war.”

Noah couldn’t seem to tear his gaze away from hers. He wanted to say Not fighting didn’t save his life, though, did it? He didn’t, because it seemed too cruel.

“It’s for you, lad.”

Mac’s laconic announcement jerked Noah’s attention away from Grace. He squinted at the door, sure he’d misunderstood, and saw a shivering, bundled cowboy standing behind Mac. Grace saw him, too, and hurried up from the table.

Maddie’s little face lit up, and she cried. “Look, Mommy. It’s Gus. Hello, Gus.”

The man named Gus looked like he couldn’t move his blue lips enough to smile. He lifted a swaddled arm in a stiff salute to the little girl.

Grace grabbed him and set a course toward the fireplace. “Good heavens, Gus, what are you doing out in this awful weather? You’re frozen solid!”

“C-c-come t-to f-find Mr. P-P-Partridge, ma’am,” Gus managed to get out through his chattering teeth.

“Well, you’ve found him, but you’re not riding back again until you have some hot cocoa and dry yourself by the fire. Why, look at you!” Grace had started wrestling the gloves off the cowboy’s hands. “I’m surprised Susan would let you ride all this way on such a freezing, windy day.”

With Grace fussing over him, Gus made his way to the fire. He held his hands, red with cold, out to the flames. “It was her made me come, ma’am.” His teeth weren’t chattering so hard already.

“Susan made you come?”

She grabbed the shoulders of Gus’s frozen coat and tugged while he shrugged. Together, they worked it off, and Grace hung it on the corner of the mantel where it began to thaw and drip onto the hearth.

Their conversation had given Noah a chance to get his brain to form a coherent sentence. “You came to fetch me?”

Gus turned around and bent over slightly, as if to thaw out his frigid bottom. “Yes, sir. Mrs. Blackworth, she says to come and fetch you, because she wants you to fix that there piano she’s got in her parlor.”

Grace turned to gaze, wide-eyed, at Noah. The look of surprise suited her. Noah liked it. “You know how to repair pianos?”

Aw, hell. He shrugged and couldn’t hold her gaze. “I, um, used to work in my family’s piano and organ business, ma’am. Back before the war.”

“My goodness.”

When Noah forced himself to look at her, her expression had turned thoughtful.

Gus spoke again. “That’s what Mrs. Blackworth said, ma’am. Said to come out here and fetch Mr. Partridge back so’s he can fix her piano.

Thoughtfulness evaporated. Grace chuffed out an indignant breath. “Well, I swear. Sometimes Susan Blackworth is too autocratic for her own good.”

Gus grinned. “For my own good, anyway.”

She smiled and then laughed. “That’s what I meant.”

Their banter barely penetrated Noah’s muddled brain. “She sent you out here—in the middle of a frigid spell—because she wants me to fix her piano?”

“Yes, sir.” Gus apparently noticed Noah’s look of incredulity, because he grinned again. He looked like a nice, easy-going sort of fellow. “She’s like that.”

Noah believed it. He squinted at the newcomer. “She aim to pay me? Last time I was there, she wanted to give me her reed organ if I’d repair the piano.”

“Sounds like her, all right.” Gus’s grin made him look intolerably happy. “She said to tell you she aims to pay you in cash money, though.”

Noah nodded.

“Mrs. Blackworth, she’s kind of an old bully, but ain’t no man on the spread wouldn’t do anything she says, Mr. Partridge. She likes to pretend she’s a mean old hen, but she ain’t. Not really.”

Grace huffed again. “Too bad the same can’t be said of her husband.”

Gus’s smile faded. He looked as though he didn’t care to get into that one.

“I’m sorry, Gus.” Grace helped the cowboy unwind his long woolen muffler and draped it out on the mantel. “I didn’t mean to say that.”

Gus’s grin came back. “That’s all right, ma’am. Reckon I know pretty much what folks hereabouts think. Most of us hands’d just as soon keep mum on the subject.”

She let go of her temper and laughed once more. Noah thought how nice it was that she could do that.

“Now you just stay right there and try to get warm, Gus. I’m going to fetch us all hot cocoa. After you’ve thawed out some, you take the rest of those wet things off, and I’ll hang them up to dry.”

“Thank you kindly, Mrs. Richardson.”

She nodded and left the room. Noah noticed that he wasn’t the only one who watched her go. Gus’s appreciation was obvious. Which only figured. Grace Richardson would draw stares even if she wasn’t the only female within miles of the place. She was a fine figure of a woman.

Gus sighed when Grace left his sight. He turned to look at Noah again. “Mrs. Blackworth, she said she wouldn’t mind waitin’ for the ice t’melt ‘fore I set out to come here, but I didn’t feel like riskin’ it.” Gus winked at Mac, who nodded his approval of Gus’s sensible turn of mind. “Besides, it gets mighty stale settin’ in a cold bunkhouse with a bunch of bored cowboys with nothin’ to do but play cards and argue with each other.”

Noah didn’t doubt it, even if he still didn’t buy the part about Mrs. Blackworth being secretly benevolent.

“Does she want me to go back to her ranch with you?”

“Yes, sir.” Now that his limbs weren’t frozen stiff, Gus began to shed several more layers of clothes, including his boots and two pairs of thick woolen socks. “Sorry I’m drippin’ on the hearth, Mac.”

“Think nothin’ of it, lad. Worse things have fallen on that hearth than ice water.”

“Hope these here socks don’t stink.” He held one to his nose, sniffed, and said, “Peeee-ew.” Maddie giggled. Gus gave her a wink. Noah tried to recall if he’d ever been that easy-going around little kids. He thought he had been, once, but couldn’t really remember.

Grace bustled back into the room bearing hot cocoa for everyone. “I’m not letting either one of you ride out to that place until every stitch of your clothing is dry, Gus Spalding, so don’t even think it. In fact, I’m going to insist that you spend the night here. If the two of you are foolish enough, you can start back in the morning.”

“Well—”

“Don’t worry, Gus. I’ll write you a note so Susan won’t get mad at you.”

Gus’s grin creased his recently frozen cheeks. “Well, in that case, I ain’t goin’ to argue with you, Mrs. Richardson.” They both laughed. Mac and Maddie joined in.

Noah wouldn’t have argued with her, either. In fact, he’d have done any damned thing she asked him to do. He watched the young cowboy grin at her, and the notion that the boy had a fancy for her solidified. Nothing to wonder at there. The wonder was that Noah’s possessive instincts were so deeply stirred by the thought of the other man desiring her. Hell, he hadn’t felt that tingle of jealousy for years.

“I don’t have any tools with me,” he said.

Gus looked over at him, surprised, as if he’d forgotten Noah was there. Something between cynicism and amusement curled inside Noah. He wondered how old Gus was. Noah’d guess he was maybe eighteen or nineteen, eight or ten years younger than Grace by his reckoning. Hardly old enough to grow a beard. Noah couldn’t remember ever being that young, although he must have been, once.

“Mrs. Blackworth, she says I wasn’t to accept any excuses you might care to give me, Mr. Partridge.” Gus grinned, and added confidentially, “She’s like that, don’t you see. Don’t accept excuses from nobody. Most of us don’t even offer her none anymore.”

“I can understand that. But I still can’t fix her piano without tools.”

“She says she’ll get you anything you need.”

“But—”

“Go along with the boy, Noah lad. It’ll be good for you to get out of the wagon yard. You’ve been cooped up in here for days. And it won’t hurt you to get to know Susan Blackworth better, either.”

Noah turned to peer at Mac, who grinned at him from the doorway. The old man sure was big on having Noah get to know people. Noah wondered if old Mac knew more than he let on.

“Yes,” said Grace, sending Noah’s attention swinging her way. “Susan Blackworth is definitely worth getting to know, Mr. Partridge. She’s one of the local characters.” She chuckled and handed him a cup of cocoa.

He took it with a nod, and thought about Susan Blackworth. “Seems to me most everybody out here’s some kind of character, ma’am.”

Grace burst out laughing. So did everyone else in the room, including Maddie. Noah glanced around, wondering what he’d said that was so damned funny.

“I expect you’re right there, laddie.”

“I expect you are.” Gus took a sip of his cocoa and sighed contentedly. “If a man’s not a particle strange in his upper works, he ain’t going to leave his home and family and travel out here where life’s harder’n steel, and he’s got nothin’ but cows and hard cases for company twenty-three hours a day.”

Noah hadn’t thought about it that way. For the first time in years, he wondered if he wasn’t more like some of his fellow men than he’d believed. At least the ones who’d braved the territory.

“And let us not forget the women in this territory,” Grace said with a mock frown. “Any woman with half a brain would remain in civilization where she can attend church on Sundays and find playmates for her children. And schools.”

She held out her arms to her daughter, who’d been following the conversation with interest. Maddie climbed down from her chair and raced straight into her mother’s arms. Noah’s heart did a painful callisthenic maneuver in his breast. Lordy, it must be hard on a woman to live out here where there wasn’t so much as a convenience, much less a luxury, to be found within two hundred miles.

Grace gave Maddie a big squeeze. “But we manage.” She settled Maddie back at the table with a cup of cocoa. Maddie looked awfully happy for a kid with no playmates.

“Yes, ma’am. We manage.” Gus’s voice sounded almost syrupy. When Noah looked from Grace to him, he could swear the cowboy had tears in his eyes.

But all this sentiment didn’t solve his own problem. On the one hand, ever since he’d seen that organ in Mrs. Blackworth’s parlor, he’d itched to get his hands on it. If he went there to fix her piano, he knew he’d have a hard time leaving the organ alone. He supposed he could if he tried, especially with Susan Blackworth hovering over him like a bird of prey, ready to peck him if got out of line.

On the other hand, he feared that working on any instrument at all, even that old piano, would send him spiraling back into memories he didn’t want stirred again. Hell, he had a hard enough time of it just getting through one day at a time, sometimes one second at a time, without reminders.

What would happen if he opened that piano up and all the memories came flooding back? He hadn’t had to think about everything he’d lost for some time now. He was pretty sure digging around in the guts of Mrs. Blackworth’s neglected instrument would open barely healed wounds. Noah wasn’t sure he could survive going through them a second time. He’d damned near perished the first time.

“Well—”

“I hope to God you’re not going to say no, Mr. Partridge. ‘Cause if you do, I reckon I’ll just have to keep ridin’ west from here, mebbe on out to Californy. It won’t be worth my while to go back to the ranch and tell Mrs. Blackworth I failed. She don’t hold with a man failin’.”

Noah searched the young face, which seemed fresh and untouched by the world’s badness. He decided the cowboy was only half joking.

Taking refuge in his cocoa, Noah hoped inspiration would strike soon and hand him a good excuse for not going, because otherwise he was on the verge of capitulating to Gus’s request. He had a shrewd notion that if he did give in, he was going to be in for some rough days.

Not to mention the fact that while he was playing with Susan Blackworth’s decrepit piano, wishing he could work on her organ, and tearing the scabs from his own old injuries, he’d be losing precious ground with Grace Richardson. Glancing at her out of the corner of his eye, he sighed. Not that he’d gained much ground in the first place. Hell.

“All right.”

The words were out of his mouth before he knew he was going to say them. Then he silently cursed himself as a benighted simpleton.

Gus didn’t seem to notice. His face lit up. “Thanks, Mr. Partridge. Sure glad I don’t have to find me a new job.”

“Can we go to Mrs. Backwort’s and listen to the piano when Mr. Noah gets it fixed, Mommy?”

Noah’s head swung around to observe Maddie, her big blue eyes shining, smiling at her mother. Grace tilted her head to one side as she considered her daughter’s request. “You know, Maddie, that sounds like fun.” She turned to peer at Noah, and his gaze slid away. “Do you have any idea how long it will take you to fix that piano, Mr. Partridge?”

“No, ma’am.” He was getting nervous about it already. He might not be able to fix it. Or it might need a part he didn’t have and couldn’t improvise. Or he might get attacked by his goblins and have to run away before he finished the job. As Noah knew from unhappy experience, anything could happen, and seldom was any of it good.