Married to Claim the Rancher's Heir Page 11

  She fought not to look at him when he didn’t respond, or when his silence continued as they started down the stairs. Mr. Sutherland’s advice was sound, and she must adhere to it, even if it made her stomach churn.

  Sy met them at the bottom of the stairs, and though she pulled up a smile and thanked the older man as he led them to the dining room, the churning didn’t stop.

  They sat at a table near the window, and Sy promised their plates would be out shortly.

  “How’s your neck doing?” Gabe asked.

  “Fine.” Other than when she’d noticed it while trying on the dress at the shop, she’d forgotten about the rash.

  “It looks better,” he said. “The vinegar must be drying it out.”

  She drew in a breath to calm the racing inside her. This time it was because he was being kind again. Thoughtful. She didn’t want to like him, yet when he behaved this way, it was hard not to. Mainly because it wasn’t fake. There wasn’t anything fake about him. Not like Isaac. There hadn’t been anything real and honest about him.

  “So what happened to the man you were supposed to marry?”

  Every nerve in her system leaped to attention. “What do you mean?” How had he known her thoughts? There’s no way he could know what had happened. That she’d shot Isaac. No one but she and Isaac knew that. Not even Thelma or Anna.

  “The way Anna talked, you and this man were ready to get hitched.”

  She was saved from answering by the arrival of their meal, but Gabe would persist. Therefore, as soon as the woman who had delivered their plates walked away, Janette said, “Isaac moved back to Ohio.” Most everything Isaac had said had been a lie, so she didn’t know if Ohio was where he’d gone or not. If that’s where he’d been from or not. However, she was thankful she hadn’t heard anything about him in almost five years.

  “Why?”

  She picked up her fork and knife. “Because that’s where he was from.”

  He sliced off a piece of pork on his plate. “Is that why you didn’t marry him? Because you didn’t want to move to Ohio?”

  “No, I never had any intention of marrying him.”

  * * *

  There was a whole lot she wasn’t telling him, and Gabe was interested in what and why. He watched her slice a carrot in two and lift her fork to her mouth. She paused, looking at him squarely, before slowly putting the fork in her mouth. He lifted his fork and, never breaking their eye-to-eye showdown, stuck a piece of pork in his mouth.

  They both chewed and swallowed and waited for the other one to look away. Not about to be the one to break eye contact, Gabe didn’t so much as blink. He could sit here staring at her all night long. He’d stared at women who were a whole lot homelier than her. Although, he’d never stared at one more beautiful. The harder he stared, the harder his heart thudded. Those purple eyes of hers were so unique, and so clear he could almost see a rainbow in them. Her lashes were long and black and so thick he wondered if she brushed them with coal dust as some women were known to do.

  She blinked then and looked away, and though she pinched her lips, he heard the giggle she tried to smother.

  For whatever reason, that made him crack a smile. Trying to cover up just how deeply she was able to affect him, he sliced off another chunk of meat. “This is good roast pork.”

  “The carrots are delicious,” she replied.

  “I’ve never liked carrots,” he admitted.

  “You don’t like carrots?” With a saucy look, she poked another piece of carrot in her mouth. “I do, and Ruby loves them.”

  “How do you know Ruby loves them?”

  “From Anna’s letters.”

  “You wrote to each other often?” The bits of information he’d heard about Max’s whereabouts had come from people traveling through. Those who knew Max was his brother.

  “Yes, very regularly.” An almost-dreamy glow appeared in her eyes. “Anna loved Texas, and though it worried her a bit, she was very proud when Max was appointed sheriff.”

  Gabe was taken aback and had to swallow his mouthful of pork before he choked. “Max was the sheriff?”

  “Yes. For the past two years.”

  “I hadn’t heard that,” he admitted even as a sense of pride overcame him. “But it doesn’t surprise me. Max was good at settling disputes with the cowhands and at making sure everyone followed the rules.”

  “What about you?”

  “I’m pretty good at that, too.” He enhanced his statement with a grin.

  A smile flashed across her face as she rolled her eyes. “I meant was Max good at settling disputes with you and making you follow the rules?”

  He’d known full well what she’d meant but didn’t want to answer. Still didn’t. He scooped up a heaping amount of potatoes and gravy and shoved it in his mouth. She took another dainty bite and watched him the entire time she chewed. The food in his mouth didn’t want to go down his throat. For a minute, he thought he might choke. Max had been damn good at settling disputes between them. His brother had always been the one to step forward. That’s what should have happened this last time, too. What he’d been counting on.

  Not about to tell her that, once the potatoes and gravy finally went down with the help of a swig of water, he said, “I set the rules, so of course I follow them.” She was taking a sip of water, so he changed the subject while he could. “You said you are used to eating alone, yet if I recall correctly, Anna said an older woman lived with you. Did something happen to her?”

  She shook her head. “No. Mrs. Hanks, Thelma Hanks, still lives with me. She moved in with us before our father died. Her husband served under my father and died along with Father.”

  He’d still been young, fourteen or fifteen, when Captain Parker had been killed. The story he recalled had something to do with a train robbery. Not as interested in that as he was in her, he asked, “But she doesn’t eat with you?”

  “Not usually.”

  “Why?”

  She dabbed her lips with her napkin before saying, “Because I’m often sewing and eat when I’m done for the day. Thelma is usually in bed by then.”

  “What about breakfast or the noon meal?”

  The way she drew in a breath, he thought she might not answer. The frown between her brows was evidence that she didn’t want to answer. At least that’s what he sensed, and that took his wondering deeper.

  “Keeping my customers happy takes a lot of time. I eat when I have the opportunity.” She glanced away then and pinched her lips together before saying, “That will change, of course. Once Ruby is living with me, I’ll make a point to join her and Mrs. Hanks for every meal.”

  He hadn’t even thought about that but should have. It might come in handy tomorrow when Schofield made his determination. Not that he was worried about the decision. Ruby belonged at the ranch. There was no need to bring up that discussion. No reason for her to be disappointed earlier than necessary. “Doesn’t Mrs. Hanks help you with the sewing?”

  “With some things. She’s been overseeing things while I’ve been gone.”

  “But she’s not as good as you.”

  “My customers are used to a specific level of skill.”

  Her statement wasn’t said with arrogance but, rather, perfection. “I see,” he said, taking the final bite of his food.

  “You may not like carrots, but you certainly like apples.”

  He did. “How do you know that?”

  She nodded toward his empty plate. “You saved your applesauce for last, and you ate several of Rosalie’s apple dumplings.”

  “You’re very observant.”

  A grin appeared again as she shrugged. “Attention to detail is very important to a seamstress.”

  That was most likely true, and since they were both done, it was time to escort her up to her room. He, too, was observant, especi
ally to himself, and he was enjoying her company too much. Without a word, he pushed away from the table.

  She didn’t wait for him to assist her, was already standing by the time he walked around the table. She was smiling, though, and that was enough to make him not want to look away. It was as if he wanted to memorize every elegant line of her face, every dark lash, every strand of black hair and, mostly, how unique those violet eyes truly were.

  Trying to clear his head with a quick shake, he nodded toward the doorway.

  Her grin remained as she turned about.

  Taking a good gulp of air, he fell into step beside her. “If we’re lucky, the hearing won’t take long and we’ll be able to catch the westbound train,” he said as they walked out of the dining room.

  “What time does the train leave?”

  “Between ten and eleven.” His brain didn’t want to function correctly when he was around her. Another sign this trip needed to end soon.

  She trailed her hand on the rail as they walked up the stairs. “The trains don’t keep a regular schedule here either?”

  “Within an hour or so.” He shrugged as they topped the stairs and started to walk along the hallway. “Any number of things can hold it up for an hour or more. Late arrivals. Loading and unloading cars.”

  “And no one complains about the delays?”

  That was clearly a concept she couldn’t quite understand. “This isn’t Kansas City, where there are multiple railroad lines traveling in and out of the city. Folks around here are glad to have one line and daily services. They don’t let an hour or so bother them.”

  “I hadn’t thought of it that way,” she said, with a wrinkle between her brows. “But it does make sense.”

  They’d arrived at her door, and he waited as she pulled the key out of her pocket before saying, “Things usually make sense, once you know the reason.”

  She’d opened the door and stepped into her room. Turning about, she said, “That is correct, Mr. Callaway, and sometimes the only reason we don’t know the reason is because we don’t want to.” Still smiling, she grasped the edge of the door and said good-night a mere second before it shut.

  The click of the key turning in the lock echoed into the hall. If his wits had been about him, he might have stopped the door before it closed, but there had been no reason for him to have done that. Other than that the thought about kissing her was still stuck in his mind. Had been since the train ride. He gave his head a clearing shake. If she’d been half as concerned about the man she’d been meant to marry as she was about his relationship with Max, she’d be married now with her own children to worry about rather than Ruby.

  A hard knot formed in his stomach. As if he didn’t like the idea of her being married. That was impossible. It was a fine idea and would certainly make his life easier. He’d been around her too much today. That’s what the problem was.

  That was also a problem he could solve easy enough with a visit to the saloon across the street.

  * * *

  Janette held her breath while pressing one ear against the door. The hall was carpeted, but Gabe was big enough that his footsteps should still be heard. She closed her eyes and listened harder, above the drumming of her heart echoing inside her ears.

  A moment later, it may not have been a sound that alerted her to his leaving. It could have been how her heart sank downward, clear to her stomach. She turned about and leaned her back against the door then and let every last bit of air seep out of her lungs.

  What on earth was wrong with her? Her hands were trembling. His nearness unnerved her, she’d already admitted that, but sitting across the table from him... She sighed again. It had been hard to concentrate on eating. Especially when he’d looked at her. When his gaze connected with hers, it was as if her insides melted. Melted in such a unique and remarkable way she wanted to smile. Hadn’t been able not to smile.

  That was not like her. She didn’t even like him.

  Pushing off the door, she crossed the room, set upon opening the window a bit farther. Fresh air would help clear her thinking. Her hands paused as she pulled aside the curtains. His size and lithe swagger made him easy to spot. She took a moment to ponder what it was about him that affected her so strangely.

  He was arrogant and stubborn and most certainly obstinate. She huffed out a breath. Although he’d been all those things back at his house, he hadn’t been since they’d left the ranch. In fact, he’d been rather debonair—in a somewhat-uncouth way. Perhaps he was attempting to fool her. To make her feel safe. And like him enough to let her guard down.

  That would not happen.

  He’d crossed the street, and she watched him use both hands to push open a set of bat-winged doors and disappear inside the building.

  A saloon. That shouldn’t surprise her. In fact, it didn’t. The town was full of saloons.

  She pushed the window all the way open and then turned away from it, hoping that would erase all thought of Gabe. After lighting the lamp, which she would need while sewing, she took the time to wash her face and neck and pulled the vinegar out of the basket.

  Focusing on making sure every spot of redness got a good dousing worked wonders on redirecting her thoughts. By the time she set the vinegar bottle aside, her priorities were in order. As she pulled her sewing kit out of her bag and laid out the extra material she’d purchased, her attention was on sewing a pocket holster in the new dress and stitching a sash for her hat.

  Darkness had fallen before she finished, and although a part of her was reluctant, another stronger part was too curious to stop her from going to the window again. There was no way to know if Gabe was still across the street, except that his room was right next to hers, and despite the music and street sounds entering through the open window, she’d have heard movement in the hallway.

  A sigh escaped as she leaned down and rested both elbows on the windowsill. The inside of a saloon was as foreign to her as this wide-open country, and as the faint sounds of laughter filled the air, she couldn’t help but wonder if one of those sounds belonged to Gabe.

  Even as that curiosity filled her, another thought formed. It should make her smile, but her brows tugged together instead. A judge certainly wouldn’t believe a child, a girl child, would be better off living with a man who frequented saloons.

  The room was still warm, so she left the window open but pulled the curtains shut and then prepared for bed, all the while telling herself the faster she fell asleep, the sooner she could collect Ruby and head back to Kansas City.

  She held that thought, even when her mind wanted to think about Gabe, which grew stronger when she heard the door next to hers open and close. The thud of boots and then the creak of springs came next, and she closed her eyes, smiling for some unknown reason.

  Seconds later, her eyes popped open as a memory from the train formed. The moment they’d almost kissed. She had forced herself not to think about that since arriving in town, which had been difficult, and now, while lying in bed, it was impossible. It was also impossible not to imagine what that might have been like.

  Despite her struggles to fall asleep, when morning arrived, she felt more rested than she had in a long time. Confidence filled her as she went through her morning routine of washing and dressing. The vinegar had done wonders on her neck. The rash was still there but not nearly as noticeable. She had just tied the new sash beneath her chin when a knock on the door sounded.

  A smile tugged at her lips as she took a final glance in the mirror before turning about and crossing the room. It was amazing how something as simple as clothes could enhance a person’s buoyancy.

  The smile on her face slipped as she opened the door because her jaw dropped. She had seen men dressed in suit coats and wearing shined boots, but not one who looked as debonair as Gabe did. Dressed in black from head to toe, including his hat and polished boots, he was utterly d
ashing.

  She couldn’t stop herself from reaching out and touching the seam of his coat sleeve. It was sewn perfectly. Without so much as a hint of a pucker.

  “Good morning, Miss Parker.”

  She pulled her hand back and glanced up into his eyes, which held a hint of mischief that only added to his overall appeal.

  Janette had to swallow and blink before she could answer. “Good morning, Mr. Callaway. I see you dressed up for the occasion.”

  “My mother would roll over in her grave if I’d gone before a judge in my work clothes.”

  Her nerves were bouncing around like grasshoppers, as was her heart. “It’s good to know you remember some of her teachings.”

  His smile was as unnerving as the rest of him. “How do you know I don’t remember all of her teachings?”

  For lack of anything better, she merely said, “Intuition.”

  He chuckled.

  She cringed. Why did he have to look so good? So handsome? She needed all her wits about her today. Drawing in a deep breath, she held it while walking out of the room.

  “Aren’t you going to lock the door?”

  The breath left her lungs in a huff as she turned about, reentered the room and grabbed the key off the top of the dresser. All the while wishing Gabe Callaway was ugly and old and miles away from her.

  Chapter Nine

  Gabe whistled beneath his breath as he watched her exit the room again, pull the door shut and insert the key in the lock. He’d already admitted she was pretty, but, dang it, somehow she’d grown more beautiful overnight. That shouldn’t be possible. But it was. It wasn’t just her dress either. Made of pale violet material, a far softer shade than her eyes, it was simple. With no lace, ruffles or frills. Maybe that was why it was so perfect for her. The simplicity of it enhanced her curves in all the right places and the right ways.

  She dropped the key in her pocket and spun around. “Are you ready?”

  “Y-yes,” he answered after clearing the frog out of his throat. The hint of pink in her cheeks made her that much more attractive. Tempting even. Tempting in a way he hadn’t been tempted before. Not even when he’d thought he’d needed a wife. “I ordered breakfast for both of us,” he said as they walked down the hallway.