Married to Claim the Rancher's Heir Page 8

  “Janette.”

  She turned and nodded at Gabe’s gesture for her to board. Once she’d stepped inside the train car, there was a reason to feel sad. The heat wasn’t the only thing close to deplorable. It was the smallest train car she’d ever seen. There were only six bench seats on each side, and the hot, dank air stank. Dirt, soot, smoke and, most appalling, human odor. Dirty human odor.

  Pressing a hand to her nose, she concluded fresh air was what she already missed. “How long is the ride?” she asked Gabe while walking along the narrow space between the seats.

  “Five hours, give or take.”

  His tone said he wouldn’t enjoy the trip any more than she would.

  “Those two appear to be open,” he said, nodding toward the next row of seats.

  The rows of seats didn’t face each other as on some trains. She chose the one on the left, leaving the one on the right of the narrow aisle for him. She’d barely sat down when a jolt shook the entire car. There were several more rough and jerky jolts before the train started to roll more smoothly. It wasn’t smooth by any means, but it wasn’t nearly as bouncy as the stagecoaches had been, and five hours was relatively short compared with the days she and Ruby had traveled to get from Texas to the ranch.

  “Comfortable?” Gabe asked.

  He wasn’t even attempting to hide the smirk on his face. Therefore, she pulled one up just as condescending. “Yes, very. You?”

  “I always enjoy modern travel.”

  Her smirk turned into a real grin. She wasn’t sure how or why he was able to do that, but he’d made her smile several times, even when there was no reason to. “This is not modern travel, Mr. Callaway.”

  “It’s not?”

  “No. Have you not heard of the Pullman car?”

  “Yes, I have,” he answered. “Have you ridden in one?”

  Unable to lie, she shook her head.

  “Don’t believe all you’ve heard,” he said.

  * * *

  Gabe bit the end of his tongue in order to keep from telling her he’d ridden in one of those prized cars with Anna. He’d booked passage on one for his return home from Wichita and, after meeting Anna while walking through the passenger car, had invited her to join him. “The luxurious ones are privately owned,” he said instead. “The only ones on this line have a few curtained sleeping bunks and chairs and tables bolted to the floor. None of which are any more comfortable than these benches.”

  Bending over, he jammed the lunch basket between the sidewall and the legs of the bench seat in front of him so it wouldn’t bounce about and shoved his bag beneath his seat. “Let me know when you’re hungry,” he said, leaning back in his chair.

  “I ate shortly before we left,” she said. “I’m sure I’ll be fine until we arrive in Hays. But you go ahead and eat whenever you want.”

  He’d grabbed a bite to eat in the bunkhouse but didn’t bother to reply. There was no reason for him not to tell her about riding on the train with Anna either, he just didn’t want to. Didn’t want to remember anything about that trip. She’d made him, though. Made him remember details he’d long forgotten when she’d asked why he’d gone to Wichita.

  She’d made him remember other things, too. It was hard to believe she was Captain Jonathan Parker’s daughter. He’d been young but had been impressed by Captain Parker in the ways young boys are impressed by older men. The stories they told. The lives they lived. He couldn’t remember if the captain had ever mentioned having a family, having daughters or not. On most of his visits, the only time he and Max had seen Captain Parker was when he’d join the family for supper. That was also when Parker would tell his exciting stories of daring adventures and Indian tales.

  Max and he would lie in bed at night and whisper about those adventures, and he wondered if Max knew that Anna had been the captain’s daughter. He must have. They’d been married for five years. A man must get to know everything about a woman in that length of time.

  Then again, Max might have known before they’d gotten married. Before they’d run away together. He’d been enthralled with Anna since the day she’d arrived at the ranch. As his brother, he hadn’t worried about Max. In fact, he’d been happy that his brother liked Anna. The storm had hit shortly after her arrival, just as he’d told Janette, and that had left him little time to worry about anything other than the cattle.

  The window was streaked with black soot and handprints of where people tried to wipe it off, but Gabe stared at it anyway. He didn’t need to see what was on the other side. He knew the plains of this area, and despite how Janette might feel, he enjoyed calling them home. Enjoyed living where there were no boundaries.

  He turned when the man in the seat in front of him said his name. The face had been vaguely familiar when he’d seen the man step in to help transfer the wood from the wagon to the train, but it was the voice he remembered. “Ron Williams,” Gabe said, happy to see the man was still alive.

  Ron nodded. “I didn’t know if you’d remember me or not.”

  “It’s been what, four years since you worked at the Triple C?”

  “Yes, four years this fall.”

  Recalling more about the cowhand who had been young and green, but dependable and a hard worker, Gabe asked, “How’d gold mining work out?”

  “Not so well,” Ron answered as he rested an arm along the back of the seat. “I’m sure you could have told me that it wouldn’t, but you didn’t. Why?”

  “Because it wouldn’t have mattered,” Gabe answered. “You were set on finding it out for yourself.”

  Ron nodded.

  “Need a job?” Gabe asked. “I told you when you left that there’d be one waiting for you whenever you needed it.”

  “Thanks,” Ron answered with a grin that said he was still young and hopeful. “I might. I’m heading to Wichita first, to see my ma. It’s been a long time.”

  “She’ll be happy to see you,” Gabe answered while noting how many times Ron’s gaze had shot over to Janette.

  “Is that your wife?” Ron asked, realizing he’d been caught staring at her.

  In order to hear each other, they had to speak over the noise of the rambling train, and Janette shot him a look said she’d heard the question. “No,” Gabe answered.

  “Oh, sorry. I just noticed you got on the train together,” Ron said.

  Gabe shrugged as if it made no difference. He’d noticed others watching him and Janette with more interest than necessary. Even the old woman who looked more disgusted than a rat eating onions. “We both have business to attend to in Hays.”

  Ron shifted in his seat so he could lean closer and whisper, “To see a doctor? She get burned?”

  Gabe frowned and glanced toward Janette. He’d gotten so used to the rash he no longer noticed it. Actually, when he looked at her another image kept dancing around in his head. The one of her early this morning, leaning against the bedroom door and stifling yawns. He just couldn’t seem to erase how fetching she’d looked. Ignoring the desires she’d evoked in him had been a battle for a good portion of the morning. A battle he hadn’t completely won because they kept popping up, like they were right now.

  She was looking at him, clearly wondering what Ron had whispered. Her brows were pulled together, and those violet-colored eyes were boring right into him, trying to read his mind. She’d done that before. Knew he hadn’t been telling the truth about his reason for going to Wichita.

  Half-afraid she might just be able to read his mind, Gabe turned back to Ron. “She got in a patch of poison ivy.”

  “Ah,” Ron said with a nod. “That happened to me once when I was little. Ma doused me in vinegar and kept dousing me for a day or more. It must have worked, though, because I can’t remember it lasting long. Can’t remember ever getting it again either. I do remember how bad it itched, though.”

  Gabe reme
mbered Max complaining about the itch, too, and carrying around a bottle of vinegar every time the rash appeared. Knowing Rosalie, there’d be a bottle of vinegar in the food basket. “You hungry?” he asked Ron while bending down to pick up the basket.

  “I’ve been hungry for the last four years,” Ron said, shifting about in his seat again.

  There was a bottle of vinegar as well as some strips of cloth. Gabe pulled out the bottle, cloth and the canteen of water tucked along the side. Rosalie knew he didn’t like drinking from the bucket on the train. Without looking at what foodstuffs Rosalie had packed, he handed the basket to Ron. “Take whatever you want and then give it to the porter. His name is Saul Mason.”

  “Don’t you want anything?” Ron asked while eagerly hoisting the basket over the back of his seat.

  “No.” With the vinegar, cloth and canteen in his hands, Gabe slid across the narrow aisle and onto Janette’s seat. She scooted over, making room for him and the canteen he set between them. “I figured you might want to put some vinegar on your neck,” he said, handing her the bottle.

  “Is that what all the whispering was about?”

  “What whispering?”

  She cast one of her little don’t-try-to-fool-me looks he’d already come to recognize before shaking her head at the bottle he held out. “It’ll stink.”

  “It already stinks in here,” he pointed out. “The vinegar might help clear the air.”

  Hiding a grin, another look he’d come to recognize, she took the bottle.

  “It might,” she said.

  “It sure couldn’t hurt.” He watched while she attempted to remove the scarf from her neck with one hand. When it was apparent she was doing more harm than good, he took the bottle so she could use two hands. While she got the scarf off, he opened the bottle, saturated the strip of cloth and then handed it to her after she set aside the scarf.

  Between the lace and the constant movement of the train fighting against her, she barely got any vinegar on her neck. After watching several failed attempts, he grasped her hand and took the cloth. “You aren’t getting it on the rash. Hold your collar out of the way.”

  Due to the fact that she didn’t argue, he assumed the vinegar was offering relief and made sure to thoroughly douse each patch of the rash, saturating the cloth several times in the process.

  “Twist around so I can get the back of your neck,” he instructed.

  She did so and then again the other way, facing him when he told her to. The rash was red and her skin still swollen in spots. A hint of sorrow washed over him. It had to be a constant discomfort, and right now the vinegar probably made it sting like the dickens. Her eyes were closed and she was drawing in deep breaths, which made her chest rise and fall. Something he couldn’t help but notice.

  He also couldn’t help but notice that despite the poison ivy, her skin was flawless. The worst of the rash was in the front of her throat, and partially hidden by her dress. “Unbutton another button.”

  Those damned desires she’d awakened in him this morning shot through him with a vengeance this time. He had to tighten his hold on the vinegar-soaked cloth to keep his fingers from trembling, and hold his breath against the jolt that shot through his loins at the idea of her unbuttoning anything.

  “I will not.” She grabbed the cloth from his hand, twisted away from him and doused the area he hadn’t.

  When she held the cloth over her shoulder, he saturated it again and handed it back. A few other passengers glanced toward them, and he returned their curiosity with a glare that said they should turn around and mind their own business, which they did. Especially when Saul started offering food out of the basket to each and every passenger. As usual, the porter had already removed a good portion of whatever Rosalie had packed for him and the other railroad employees.

  “Thank you,” Janette said. “I believe that’s enough for now.”

  He did, too, and gladly put the stopper in the vinegar bottle. Setting it aside, he uncapped the canteen and took a good long drink, hoping to douse some specific flames inside him.

  Handing her the canteen, he said, “I wouldn’t advise drinking out of the water bucket. I can’t say when it was last rinsed out.”

  “Thank you,” she said. “I’d wondered about that.”

  “Neck feel better?” he asked when she was done drinking.

  “Yes.”

  He took the canteen and set it on the bench between them again. “Let the vinegar dry for a while. Then I’ll wet your scarf again.”

  She eyed him critically before asking, “Why are you being so accommodating?”

  “I didn’t know I was.”

  A sigh partnered with her look of disgust. “Well, you are. And you were awfully nice to that young man.”

  “Ron?” Gabe glanced toward where Ron had sat down to talk to another passenger after giving Saul the food basket. “He used to work at the Triple C.”

  “I heard that,” she said without a hint of embarrassment at eavesdropping. “And I heard you offer him a job, if he wanted one.”

  “Why wouldn’t I? He was a good worker.”

  “Wasn’t Max a good worker?”

  The shiver that rippled his spine doused the last of the unsettling desires that moments ago had been consuming him. Casting her the same glare he knew had made men tremble in their boots, he asked, “Exactly what is your point, Miss Parker?”

  His glare didn’t seem to faze her in the least. “Just that you seem awfully forgiving to a former employee, one who left to seek out other adventures, yet you couldn’t or perhaps wouldn’t forgive your own brother for doing the exact same thing.”

  Swallowing a good bout of anger that shot straight up from his gut made his throat rumble. “The two situations have nothing in common.”

  “It appears to me that they are very similar.”

  “Well, they aren’t. When Ron was hired, he said he was working his way west. Would only be at the Triple C until he had enough money to move on.”

  “And you expected Max to live at the Triple C forever?”

  “Yes,” he admitted without needing to contemplate anything. “It was his home.”

  “Perhaps he didn’t want it to be his home,” she said. “Perhaps he was tired of sharing it with you. Perhaps he wanted something all of his own.”

  Gabe took a moment to draw in a breath, needing to settle the nerves she’d set on fire inside him. “Is that why you insisted Anna go to Denver? So you wouldn’t have to share your home with her?”

  If he’d thought that might infuriate her, he’d thought wrong. She did little more than sigh. Which irritated him even more. He’d wanted to slice her as deeply as she just did him. Right to the core where it opened up things that were better off left sealed.

  “I didn’t want Anna to go,” she said. “Couldn’t imagine living without her. But I had to let her go. She wanted something different from what she’d always known, and I couldn’t deny her that. It wasn’t my place to deny her that.”

  Things about Anna, things she’d said, had been returning little by little. They hadn’t been important enough for him to remember, still weren’t, other than to remind Janette she wasn’t as innocent as she tried to appear. “Or, perhaps,” he said, using the word she liked to toss about, “you were so busy trying to convince a man to marry you that you didn’t care about anyone but yourself.”

  That time she literally wheezed while sucking in air, and purple-coated daggers shot from her glare. Damn, she was cute. Even while making him madder than he had been in years. What had happened between him and Max was not her business. Crossing his arms, he glared back.

  “Anna never told you about our father, but she told you about Isaac?” Astonishment filled her eyes now. “I find that very hard to believe, Mr. Callaway.”

  He didn’t. Anna had been quite disgusted by her sis
ter’s choice in men and didn’t mind telling him all about it. “Perhaps that’s the one thing we did discuss in length,” he said. “Siblings.” That could also have been his first mistake with Anna. During their train ride, he’d spoken more about Max than he had himself. In fact, Anna had said, after all he’d told her, she couldn’t wait to meet Max. No, that hadn’t been his first mistake. His first mistake had been being taken in by a woman. Something that would never happen again. Especially by one who thought she was above reproach but shot accusations like a gunslinger fired bullets.

  Saul was approaching their bench, and Gabe used that as the escape he needed. Rising to his feet, he shook hands with the porter and then started a conversation that had nothing to do with women, brothers or anything that even resembled such topics.

  Chapter Seven

  Janette drew in a deep breath and held it until her lungs screamed for its release. Gabe certainly had a way of ending conversations right where he wanted them to, which was fine. She didn’t want to discuss Anna, Max or Isaac with him. Especially Isaac. She wouldn’t mind pointing out that she had never tried to convince Isaac to marry her. The idea had never crossed her mind, even before...

  Nobody needed to know all the sordid details or how things ended. Especially Gabe. She’d never even told Anna all that had happened with Isaac. Anna hadn’t liked Isaac, and though her sister would have been the first one to say Isaac had gotten exactly what he deserved, what had happened wasn’t something Janette was proud of nor did she like to think about it. If she wasn’t so skilled with a gun, hit what she aimed at every time, she’d be serving time for murder right now.

  She’d fought so hard to forget that night and wasn’t impressed that the memories flashing inside her head had her hands shaking. That was Gabe’s fault. Saying she’d been more worried about herself than she’d been Anna. That was completely unfair. And wrong.