Chapter 9
Garret had the mules hitched to the wagon to haul feed by the time Maggie returned to the house.
“If you leave your horse there, I’ll take care of him and you can go on in,” he offered as she led Buck past him toward the barn in the drizzling rain.
“Thank you, sir, but I can take care of my own horse.” Her shortness with him was justified, even if he was trying to do her a kindness.
Bedraggled and soaked to the bone, she proudly wiped a sopping tress from her face. Her eyes were undoubtedly puffy and red from crying but there was nothing to be done about it, so she did her best to avoid his gaze.
Buck enjoyed the careful attention she paid him, as she took her time brushing him out. While she braided the buckskin’s mane, she hummed sadly. Buck seemed to sense her mood and gave her long looks. That, or he felt violated at having his hair done up like a show pony. Either way, the time she spent with him settled her down, gave her a chance to sort things out. Lenny showed up eventually and inspected her work on Buck’s mane, then tied her mare beside the buckskin and gave the paint filly the same treatment.
Before Maggie had even thought about it, she’d unloaded the entire story onto Lenny, who did a curiously fair job of nodding in the appropriate places.
“Can you understand English?” she asked the Indian girl.
Lenny jerked her head up, startled, which was enough of an answer. Maggie grinned at the girl, who glanced around and put her finger to her lips.
“I knew it,” Maggie exclaimed. “Do you speak any? I’ll not tell a soul.”
Lenny shook her head and looked around again to ensure they were alone. “Little,” she said frowning as if she were uncomfortable.
After a length of silence, finished with Buck’s beautified mane, she moved to help Lenny with her mare’s tail. “If you don’t want to speak it, I don’t mind. And I won’t tell the boys you have any English. Maybe you could teach me your language though, so we can talk?”
Quiet followed her question, then a glint of determination appeared in her friend’s eyes. Surely Lenny needed female companionship as much as she would need it over the coming years at the ranch, surrounded by ill-mannered men.
“Puuku.” Lenny pointed to her mare.
“Puuku,” she replied, testing the foreign word on her tongue. Lenny corrected the pronunciation and she tried it a few more times until she’d committed it to memory. “Horse?”
A smile lit Lenny’s expressive face. And so the lessons began.
Eventually the horses looked as frilly as possible, and Maggie ambled to the house to work on avoiding Garret. Sure, she couldn’t refrain from the man she now called husband for eternity. But she sure as bleeding hell could avoid him tonight.
Lenny brought vegetables from the root cellar and cooked them with beef roast drizzled with gravy in the big house. Maggie left a sizeable portion high above the fire to keep it warm for Garret. She took her meal into the den and sat at the small table by the fireplace. A peaceful dinner for one.
The cabin could use a bit of cleaning. She still had time before Garret came back, as he would most likely be avoiding her too. She swept, which took a lot longer than intended because the broom was terribly inefficient.
A bucket and brush were propped in the corner by the door. She filled the bucket and began to scrub the floors. Near the row of cupboards, she stopped to wipe an arm over her perspiring forehead, and a discolored notch in the wood caught her eye. It seemed familiar somehow.
Squatting there on the water stained floor, she bit her lip and brushed the divot in the wall with a finger. Needing more, she pulled on the corner of the cupboard. A carving she had etched there so very long ago was revealed.
Margaret Davis.
She’d had Roy’s last name back then and had still gone by Margaret. The memory hit her like a strong wind takes a dry leaf in the fall. She crawled frantically backward until her back was against the wall.
Garret had carved his name in the swinging tree. He’d told her it was so she could always think of him when she went there. His mother had been heavily pregnant after many years of trying and failing to conceive, and she was lost to childbirth, as so many women were, along with his baby sister. Roy and Mr. Shaw had ridden for town, but doctors were scarce at best and they headed further east when their search came up empty. The men arrived two days later with a midwife. The baby had long since stopped moving, and so had Mrs. Shaw.
How could she have forgotten? She and Mother had watched his mother scream and bleed for two days, and then grow quiet and cold.
After his mother died, life got horribly difficult for fifteen-year-old Garret and more often than not, he’d show up at Roy’s bloodied, battered and scared.
This time she recalled, she’d taken yet another pie to the Lazy S for Garret and his pa, but his father had been out drinking. Again.
Garret had changed. Mourning the loss of his mother along with his childhood innocence and whatever those damned beatings leached from him took its toll on the boy. She had carved her name behind the cupboard and told him to think of her when things were bad. They had carefully replaced the cupboard when they heard Mr. Shaw riding up, and Garret had told her to hide, sneak out the back when she was able.
Mr. Shaw was a meticulous man who ran a tidy house, and they hadn’t been careful enough at cleaning up the wood shavings from the carving. He’d pulled back the cupboard and roared his anger as soon as he saw what she had done.
In all of her existence, never had she witnessed such raw violence. She hadn’t been able to take her eyes from it. She’d covered her mouth and tried not to make a noise, crying in fear and horror. When Mr. Shaw tired and left Garret’s limp form in the middle of the floor, the boy had put his finger to his mouth. Be quiet. Be still.
At last the monster had closed his bedroom door and the sound of him falling heavily onto bed had come to her, and she’d rushed to Garret. He’d needed help but she hadn’t known how to give it.
“Go home, Margaret,” he’d whispered.
“I can’t leave you.”
“Please. For me. Leave, and I’ll come see you when I can.”
That had been the last time she’d seen Garret. Why she hadn’t remembered until now, she couldn’t fathom. Maybe, too painful a memory for a mind so young and frail to keep.
Mother had grown scared of life in the wilderness after Garret’s mother died. Two days in a small room as she watched her best friend wither and suffer had done something irreparable to her. One day, she packed a bag in the wagon, unbeknownst to Maggie, and told Roy she and Maggie were going into town to buy fabric. Mother had dragged her, screaming, onto the train and never looked back. And though Maggie often had, with letters and longing, Garret had never known what became of his childhood friend.
His fears about loving her were understandable. She just didn’t like being the one to pay for others’ mistakes.
Garret stomped through the front door, soaking wet and cursing under his breath.
“Take your boots off. I just cleaned the floor,” she said with as much composure as she could muster from her position on the floor.
Garret trailed a look from her to the repositioned cupboard and back.
“I just remembered,” she explained quietly. She couldn’t read the emotion in his expression, and didn’t want to. “There is a roast over the fire. I’m going to bed.”
“Maggie—”
“Don’t.” She rounded on him quietly. “Do you realize I didn’t even know we were leaving that day? I thought we were just making a trip into town. Then my mother forced me on the train. I tried to write to you and you never responded. I asked about you in every letter I ever wrote to Roy so I could get any information on how you were doing. My Aunt Margaret thought surely I would grow into an old maid because I compared every suitor to the boy I remembered and none matched up. It doesn’t change a thing, Garret, but you should know it wasn’t my choice to leave. I’m not like your mother, or mine. Your first mistake was in assuming I was.”
She tried to find sleep but with such ghosts of disturbing memories haunting her, peace was elusive. Her skin itched and she felt filthy.
In desperation to find escape from the thought of young Garret lying bloodied on the kitchen floor, a bath was all she could safely consider. Rags and warm water were alright, but it wasn’t the same as soaking the grime of ranch life off and relaxing in a tub.
She crept to the door and listened. Nothing. She tiptoed out to peek at the tub in the small room off the back of the house. It was wooden and on the small end. Beggars and choosers, though.
Tiptoeing across creaking floorboards, Maggie started to pour water into a pot to heat it up. If she was taking a bath in the middle of the night, she would do it right.
“What are you doing?” Garret asked in a deep, tired voice.
Maggie swung around and grabbed her chest as though doing so might actually keep her frightened heart from jumping right out of her body. Garret lay back in the great chair with a blanket over him. “What are you doing out here? You scared me nearly to death!”
“I asked you first.”
“Taking a bath. I couldn’t sleep. Now you.”
With a sigh, he stood, stretching. His casual dress had her looking away quickly so he couldn’t see her flush in the candlelight. He wore loose cotton pants for sleeping and a thin white shirt, unbuttoned, which gave her a glimpse of the muscular planes of his chest and stomach. “My bedroom. It used to be my pa’s. Sometimes when I get to thinking about things that happened I don’t like to sleep in there. Here, let me help you warm the water.”
She sat at the table and watched him work. Warming the water took long and arduous effort.
After the first few pots were heated and dumped into the tub, he flicked his head toward the back room. “Better get to it. Water’s not going to keep all night.”
She didn’t want him to see her and he still had more pots of water to heat.
Garret must have sensed her reservations because he said, “I’m not going to look at you, Maggie.”
She glared at him. “Of course you wouldn’t.”
Once she’d closed the thin cotton curtain over the doorway to the small room, she set her candle as far away as possible. Garret might try not to look, but her naked silhouette would be certain to catch even the most unwilling attention.
Vulnerable as a field mouse with no cover, she hurried out of her robe and thin nightdress. The warm water hit her aching muscles, and she sighed, then took her time removing pins, letting her hair tumble satisfyingly down her bare shoulders. If not for her reluctant husband within earshot, she would have groaned but most definitely didn’t need any more embarrassment for the day. Or her lifetime, for that matter. With the day’s events, she’d met her quota ten times over.
Relaxing into the tub was like a homecoming. The grime and dirt from this rugged life she now led lifted away little by little. Grain by grain.
Garret rapped on the door frame. “Maggie, I’m not lookin’ but I have more hot water.”
“Set it by the tub and I’ll pour it in myself, if you don’t mind.”
He pulled the curtain to the side and, true to his word, kept his eyes averted. The bucket was placed by the tub and he turned his back to wait.
As she emptied the pail over her bare legs, she nearly scalded herself. “Oh! That is really hot.”
“Sorry, I let it heat too long. I wanted to make sure you had time to get in.” Garret grabbed the pot she’d scooted his way. “How many more, you think?”
“One more would be excellent.” The tub wouldn’t be full, but it would be good enough and she didn’t want to bother him any more than necessary.
After he left to heat more, she sank under the water for as long as she could hold her breath. Oh, if she could only stay down there forever and forget everything that happened in the past week. The clouds and valleys had been so high and low. A quiet desperation had emerged in her for life to steady out. One stable, expected, uninteresting day.
Surely, for such a day to happen though, she would have to avoid Garret from the time the sun came up until dark fell. She had been entirely swept up in the tidal waves of his emotional turmoil, and as a consistently happy person in the face of adversity, she found it tiresome.
After Garret gave her the last pot of hot water, he hesitated in the doorway. “Maggie—”
“Hmm-mm, nope,” she said. “You aren’t going to ruin this bath for me, Garret Shaw. We’re married, remember? You have plenty of time to hurt my feelings tomorrow. And then for the rest of our lives, as you seem to think is necessary. Good night.”
The line he cut rigid with anger, he left without another word.
“Thank you for heating the bath water,” she called. No response.
She set to work with the soap and cleansed herself, though it felt like the crude soap burned the dirt off rather than washed it. Her skin tingled even after she’d toweled off.
As she passed Garret’s still form laid out in his great chair on the way to her bedroom, he fastened his gaze on her damp hair and thin dressing gown.
Let him look. He’d had his chance.
* * * *
The next morning, Maggie woke with a start to a firm rap on the door. She shot up in bed and rolled right off the edge she’d been perched on while she slept.
At the great thump her body made against the floor’s wooden planks, Garret called, “Maggie?”
“Yes, I’m fine!” A horrifying glimpse in the mirror revealed her hair had dried while she’d slept and resembled the mane of a lion, and her eyes were puffy from lack of rest.
The door creaked open and Garret poked his head in.
“What?” she asked.
Try as he might not to smile, the effort must have proved fruitless because now he grinned like a fool. In hopes he’d go away, she glared at him. Then his unwavering blue eyes lost all humor as he took in her state of undress. Her night dress really was too thin to wear in mixed company.
Puffing up like an enraged hen, she asked, “Do you mind, sir?”
“I don’t mind at all.”
No remorse. Not even a speck, could she find in her husband’s response.
Her robe was strung across the back of a chair. She stomped over to it, picked it up, no doubt giving Garret a direct look at her backside, and flung it in front of herself. There.
She arched her eyebrows and waited, only barely resisting the urge to either tap her foot or throw the porcelain vase on the dresser at him. As the only elegant décor in the room though, she’d spare its fragile life.
Garret opened the door even wider and leaned against the frame. Stubborn man. “I don’t think it’s wrong for a husband to see his wife…like this.” He waved his hand in the general direction of her body.
“Oh, look but don’t touch, is it? Sounds very unsatisfying for me.” She had a chronic tendency to give in to her bold tongue, and for some reason Garret had an uncanny ability to bring out the worst of it.
With a rakish grin, he unbuttoned the top button on his shirt.
“Don’t you dare.” Though she shook her head at him, vehement, she was unable to take her gaze from his fingers reaching for the second button. The next one popped open.
“Do what you like. I am unaffected.” The clenching in her abdomen thoroughly disagreed.
Unwilling to play the childish games, she turned away and after a moment of silence, wheeled around and faced him. Her robe did not cover well enough her back. Garret looked happily at her, having just received an eyeful of the silhouette of her posterior.
“Insufferable ass!” As he closed the door, she chucked a pillow at it, and his deep, booming laugh sounded from the other side.
“All right. Truce,” he offered as he peeked carefully into the doorway. “I came in here for a reason.”
Clutching the robe to her chest, she let her frustration show on her face.
“I need to go into town for a supply run and to grab Cookie and the boys. Thought maybe you’d like to come along.”
His offer took her aback but she nodded stiffly.
“Good. Oh, and I like the yellow dress you’ve been wearin’. Get dressed and I’ll hitch up the mules.” With that crooked smile that made her insides do flip flops, he left.
So he liked the yellow dress? The wine colored one it was then. She threw the other pillow at the door for good measure.
* * * *
During the first quiet, and at times, awkward hour of the ride into town, Garret didn’t seem willing to talk, and she sure as hell wasn’t going to start a conversation with him. Though she sat beside him in the buggy, she found herself inching further away so she wouldn’t accidentally touch and upset him.
Truth be told, she understood his fears. She didn’t like them, but appreciated where he was coming from. And that she’d thought the boy she’d known and the man he was now didn’t resemble each other irked her. As it happened, they were different in most ways but one. Garret was still an honorable person who protected those he cared about. She just didn’t know if she fit into that category yet. Or if she ever would.
Best to start slowly. Being friends would have to somehow be enough.
In truth, he had been unknown to her from the moment his angry glare lit on her face the first time at Roy’s homestead. The memory of his hatred made her shiver.
Garret watched her, his expression curious.
She steeled herself. “I was thinking of how much you hated me when you saw me at Roy’s place. The first day, when you hadn’t recognized me?”
Garret nodded solemnly. No use denying it.
“The way you looked at me— I never want to earn that look again, I guess is what I’m trying to say.”
He snorted. “Woman, you’ll probably earn that look from me once a day at least. You get mad as a badger and have a mouth to match. I think I’d be worried if you weren’t pissin’ me off somehow.”
She tried not to laugh. Truly she did. Encouraging him wouldn’t help in the least. But sometimes, as her mother would say, American men were so brash, which unfortunately was amusing. Garret Shaw was as red-blooded American as they came. “Mmm, well, I do find it my duty to keep you on your toes now that we are married. I mean, it wouldn’t do to be mindlessly happy all the time, now would it?”
A short, booming laugh erupted from him, and he shook his head. He was quiet for a long time then said, “My ma and pa were happy,” watching her out of the corner of his eye.
“Roy and my mother were happy, from what I can remember,” she told him. “But I’m sure any woman would have been happy with Roy. He was a kind and devoted man.” Her heart hurt, just talking about the dear man, her true father. “I always wondered why he didn’t take another wife and have children of his own.”
“He thought about it sometimes. We’d talk about it before I went off to finish my schoolin’. He just thought you and your ma were it for him though, and he found peace with it. He said he was happier than any one man should be when he had you two. Said it would be unfair for him to be lucky enough to find that kind of happiness twice, so he gave up before he tried.”
In no way did she want Garret to see her cry, but stubborn tears filled her eyes and sought escape despite her determination to keep them at bay. She subtly dashed a gloved hand over her eyes, but he must have caught the movement. His intense gaze followed her in that uncanny way of his.
She turned away, feigned interest in the landscape. Garret pulled her hand into the crook of his arm and patted it. Sometimes he surprised her with his unexpected tenderness, and at times like this, made her hope she could be more to him.
That notion, she squashed like she would a mosquito. He was clear about his feelings. If he toyed with her emotions, he didn’t mean to.
“I know it meant a lot that you kept writing to Roy.” A faraway look in his eyes, he leaned back and smiled. “He’d always tell me when he got a letter in the post from you. It’s all he would talk about for a week. Never got the hint that I didn’t want to hear how great you were doin’. Or maybe he did. He just didn’t care, is more likely.”
His words eased the hole in her chest, made her smile. “Can I hold the reins?”
Eyebrows arched, he said, “You want to learn to drive ’em?”
“Well, why not? What if I needed to drive the buggy someday and didn’t know how to do it?”
He handed the mules over and she leaned forward in the creaking seat.
“Don’t clench the reins. Let them loose and manageable in your hands. It’s kind of like riding Buck,” he explained. “Your saddle’s just further back and you’re commanding two horses instead of one. Turn slowly with the curve in the road.”
She pulled the leather strip in her left hand, but not enough.
“More,” he encouraged. “You won’t break them, and the one on the right will test you if he thinks you’re soft.” He relaxed into the jouncing chair and propped his boots up on the foot board.
She thought he would take the reins back when they pulled onto Main Street, but he let her drive right up to the General Store. Then he hopped out and jogged over to her side of the buggy.
“Here, let me.” He reached for her waist and lifted her gently to the ground. His strong grip stayed firmly on her hips and she rested her hands on his chest.
He was so handsome. She felt faint when their bodies were so close. It seemed as if the noise from the town faded to nothing when she looked into his eyes. Such a masculine, mesmerizing, mysterious creature he was. Did he have this effect on all women? He must. Garret Shaw’s features couldn’t be lost on others of her gender. He was too well built to be missed.
Someone whistled behind her, breaking the moment. “I got a room at the Brass Buckle if you two want it.” Burke headed their way with a huge smile on his face.
With a gasp, she pulled away from Garret. His hands hovered near her waist for an instant longer and a look she couldn’t decipher crossed his face. Regret? It was quickly replaced by a good natured glare for Burke.
“You boys ever comin’ back to the ranch?” Garret asked him.
“Eh, we figured we’d give you two newlyweds some time alone.” Burke stopped in front of them and removed his hat and bowed gallantly. “Mrs. Shaw.”
“Ridiculous man. Stand up,” she said, self-conscious. Passersby were staring but she couldn’t help being flattered by his swift and apparent acceptance of her.
“Gather the boys. We’re picking up supplies and then we’ll head back.”
Burke nodded and replaced his hat. “You got it, boss.”
As he strode off, movement by the dressmaker’s shop and stifled laughter on the wind caught her attention. A trio of women shot her catty looks and snickered. One was Anna Jennings.
Her smile faded with hurt. Why she still let rude women affect her feelings, she didn’t know.
Garret held the door open for her and they entered the small general store. Out of the direct line of sight of the whispering women, much to her relief.
While Garret talked to a short man with glasses behind the counter, she browsed the store. When she’d lived there before, the town had barely existed, much less a store, which had been more of a small and smelly open market. The little town of Rockdale had come leaps and bounds since then, no doubt due to the railroad and the illustrious new designation of cattle town. The store even boasted a small assortment of curtains to decorate cabin windows.
“Do you like those?” Garret’s voice sounded close to her ear and his soft breath tickled the fine hairs on her neck. He was deliciously near, forcing her to take a moment before she answered to avoid her voice quavering.
“I was just thinking of how far this place has come since I lived here last.” Bravely she turned and faced him, and he only pulled back a little, to her delight.
“I was thinking—” he started.
“Oh no, a dangerous pastime to be sure.”
He graced her with an arched eyebrow and continued. “The cabin could use a woman’s touch. Not too much, mind you, but it could use better curtains over the front windows if you want to pick some out.”
“How about this one?” She held up a gaudy, bright pink, floral printed length of fabric.
Garret’s mouth flattened into a grim line. “If that is what you really want.”
He looked as if he already regretted his offer, and she giggled. In the end, she chose a pair of solid blue curtains. She didn’t tell him they were the color of his eyes or that it was the biggest reason she wanted them. He probably wouldn’t appreciate the sentiment.
“I think I shall purchase a length of white ribbon from the dressmaker’s shop to use as a tie for them,” she told him.
Garret added the curtains onto a growing pile of provisions on the counter and threw a distracted look at the list of what the ranch would need between now and their next trip to town. “All right, meet me back at the wagon after you are finished. I’m almost done here.” He handed her a few coins to cover the cost of the ribbon, and she exited the store, the tinkling bell above the door announcing her departure.
That she was enjoying a trip into town with Garret was unexpected, and she did so like surprises. Most surprises, anyway.