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“If you’re finished,” Jack said, walking up to Serenity, “I’d be obliged if you’d show us a couple of rooms we can bed down in.”
Serenity’s eyes flitted between Jack and Hallie and finally settled on Hallie in appeal. “Do I…? Where should I put them?”
Hallie almost told her she could send Jack Dakota straight to hell, but for Ethan’s sake, and the fact that Serenity would likely turn and run, she bit back the words.
What could she do? Her own home had been sold out from under her and Dakota was here to stake his claim. She supposed she could put a gun to his head and force him to leave. But she couldn’t do that in front of the boy, and besides, Dakota would only come back with the sheriff. She didn’t want to admit it, but he rightfully owned Eden’s Canyon, and if she kept getting him riled up, he might send her, Ben and everyone else packing.
And they had nowhere else to go.
She had no choice. She had to let him stay. And damn him, he knew it. It was clear in the way he was looking at her now, with that self-satisfied expression in his eyes, a half smile curving his mouth.
Go ahead and smile, Dakota, she told him silently. We’ll see who ends up staying. And it won’t be you.
“Give Ethan the room next to Ben’s,” she told Serenity. “Ben’s been using it to pile up what he doesn’t want to put away, but we can clean it out soon enough.” An idea struck her and she turned to Jack. “I’ll take you to your room.”
Not liking the sudden lift in her tone, Jack bent to take Ethan’s tattered bag, but the boy snatched it up.
“Don’t touch it,” Ethan said. “I can carry it myself.”
Jack opened his mouth to make a comment on Ethan’s manners, but the flash of disapproval in Hallie’s eyes stopped him. He wasn’t going to give her something else to argue with him about.
Instead, he inclined his head and swept a hand toward the kitchen door. “After you, then, Miss Hal.”
“This isn’t a room, it’s a stall.” Unwilling to go through the doorway, Jack glanced around the tiny, cluttered space Hallie had led him to.
“You’ve just been spoiled by too many fancy hotels,” she said, strolling to the window to lift the shade. “It’s fine. It used to be the nursery for Ben and me. Now it just needs a little sorting through and sprucing up.” She yanked the pull cord and the shade flew up, scattering dust motes in the rays of late-afternoon sunlight streaming into the musty, long-neglected room.
Waving away the cloud of dust, she turned and smiled sweetly at Jack. “I wasn’t expecting company.”
Jack sighed. “I’m not company.”
“As far as I’m concerned you are. So don’t get too comfortable.”
A few long strides took Jack across the small room, though he had to dodge a shabby wooden chest and a rocking chair with no seat as he went. He stopped when he stood less than a breath away from her. Meeting her nose to nose, he was pleased to see her false smile quickly fade, replaced by wariness.
He smiled, slow and easy. “Now, I think your joke is real amusing, honey, but it’s been a long day and I’m ready for a shave and some dinner.”
He was so close Hallie was forced to either tilt her head and look directly at his face or stare at his shirt buttons. She chose to meet his gaze squarely, immediately wishing she hadn’t.
His eyes, a warm, golden brown, reflected his smile and the laughter running through it. But she had the feeling he was inviting her to share with him the humor of the situation they found themselves in.
For one crazy moment, Hallie wanted to. He made it so easy and, she admitted, so tempting. She imagined he would be like that with a woman he wanted, and that it would be hard to say no, especially if he touched her.
The instant the thought registered Hallie sucked in a breath, so suddenly she drew in a lungful of dust and started to cough. What on earth was she thinking? She would never let a man like Dakota touch her, never.
“Are you all right?” Jack asked. He put a hand on her shoulder to steady her. “Can I get you some water? The dust in here is as thick as a dirt devil.”
Hallie shook her head, swallowing hard. “I’m fine. It’s nothing.”
But it wasn’t. It was definitely something. And she didn’t want to have anything to do with it or with him.
“Let’s get out of here before we both choke on the dirt,” Jack said, steering her out the door with the hand grasping her shoulder. Outside, he turned her so both his hands held her, and he studied her face. “Can we at least settle the sleeping arrangements without a fight? I’m not asking for the master bedroom. I’m sure that’s yours. I just want someplace bigger—and cleaner.”
To Jack’s surprise, the fight seemed to drain out of Hallie all at once. She wetted her lips, swallowed hard again and finally found her voice. It came out rough and uncertain, and strangely soft for her. “I don’t use the master bedroom. After Pa died, I just…I left it the same as he and Ma had it. I have my own room.”
Jack’s hands tightened briefly on her shoulders. “Okay, not that room then. What’s left besides it?”
Hallie tried to ignore the pleasing, disturbing warmth of his touch by telling herself Jack Dakota practiced charm as easily as he breathed. But she couldn’t ignore the fact that he did seem to at least be trying to make some kind of peace between them.
“Oh, go ahead and take Pa’s room,” she blurted out, at the same time she pulled away from him. “The moths and the mice are going to chew everything to shreds if someone doesn’t move in there soon, anyhow.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to have it yourself?”
“No, I like the way the sun hits my pillow at dawn. Somehow I don’t imagine you’d appreciate that much.”
“Depends on who’s sharing my pillow,” he said, the rogue in him returning to tease her.
“No one here will, except maybe the cat,” Hallie retorted.
Jack only smiled, thinking of an image of Hallie asleep, her wild mass of hair tangled around her, the early-morning sun kissing her face. She would look softer then, gentled by the night’s rest. She might even be pretty, without her claws at the ready and her expression so serious.
“You’ll be getting used to seeing the sun rise soon enough if you intend to run this ranch,” she was saying.
“And I’ll learn to like it—in about twenty years. But for now, if you’ll just point me in the right direction, I’ll get settled in.”
“Two doors down the hall on the left.”
“Two?” Jack raised a brow at the flush creeping into her face. “What’s next door?”
Hallie wanted to look away, but instead found her eyes riveted to his. “My room.”
“Well, now.” He cocked his head slightly, a slash of afternoon sunlight catching every shade from pale ale to brandy in his hair. “That’s convenient, seeing as we’ll be partners.”
“Damn you, Dakota.” Hallie turned her back on him, wishing he would just disappear. “Don’t get used to it.”
“Temper, darlin’,” he said, laughing. He started past her in the direction she’d indicated, pausing to grin at her over his shoulder. “And watch your language. I don’t allow talk like that under my roof.”
After leaving Hallie, Jack found the bedroom she’d given him, then retrieved his bags from where he’d dropped them by the front door. Leaving them unopened in his room, he went in search of Ethan.
He found the boy in his new room, alone, curled up on the bed. He was toying with a worn-out shred of glossy yellow cloth. But when he noticed Jack in the doorway, Ethan clenched his fingers around the cloth and hurriedly sat up.
Jack hesitated before moving to sit down next to his son. “I came to see if I could help you get moved in.”
“Nope.” Ethan stared at his hands, clenched together in his lap.
Feeling awkward and uncertain of himself for the first time in as long as he could remember, Jack scoured his brain for something to say. His brand of charm wouldn’t work with this kid. What would work to earn the boy’s trust and confidence, he hadn’t a clue.
“Nice room, don’t you think?”
“It’s okay. I guess.”
Jack glanced around. Serenity had obviously been at work cleaning, changing the bed and moving Ben’s possessions into the adjoining room. But a few things remained: a pile of clothes strewn over a chair; boots tossed in a corner; a lamp with what looked like a brightly colored scarf no lady would wear draped over the shade; a silver garter hung on the corner of a picture frame. Ethan ought to feel right at home, he mused ruefully, remembering the room he and Mattie had shared at the Silver Snake.
What on earth had convinced Mattie he’d be good for her son? Being a father had caught him completely by surprise. His relationship with Mattie had been brief, like most everything else in his life. He’d never taken it or any other dalliances with women too seriously. Women had been something to entertain him between card games.
But now the result of those few nights in Mattie’s bed nine years ago was sitting next to him.
He didn’t have the first idea of how to be a parent or make a family. He knew even less about ranching. But he did know one thing. Ethan wasn’t going to grow up the way he had. His boy would have roots, a home, a real father.
Whatever those were.
Jack glanced at his son. When he’d told Ethan they were moving to the ranch, the boy had flatly refused to go. He’d only left Mattie’s room after the woman who owned the saloon told him he couldn’t stay.
Walking out of the Silver Snake, and all during the ride to Eden’s Canyon, Ethan had said nothing. But Jack recognized something familiar in the way the boy held himself stiff and still. Ethan might have been the image of himself at eight years old, sitting on the porch of a San Francisco hotel while his father argued with his mother over which of them should keep him.
“Ethan?”
The boy kept staring at his hands.
“I want to talk to you about a few things. You don’t have to answer, but I hope you’ll listen, because this is important, for both of us.”
No response.
Jack pushed on, determined to have his say even if he ended up talking to himself. “I’m sorry about your ma, Ethan. I told you before, I didn’t know she was sick and I didn’t know about you until I got the telegram a few weeks ago.”
Ethan’s shoulders shifted in what might have been a shrug.
“I know this isn’t where you want to be right now, but we can’t stay at the saloon. We need a home and this is going to be it. We’re going to learn to be ranchers, and one day, this place will be yours.”
His last words seemed to rouse Ethan. “Miss Hallie says it’s hers,” the boy said, without looking up. “She doesn’t want us here.”
That’s an understatement, Jack thought. “Not now. But she’ll get used to us. And she can teach us a lot.”
“She ain’t like Ma or Kitty or any of the other girls.” His face pinching in a frown, Ethan twisted his fingers harder together. “Her skin don’t look soft, her lips ain’t red and she don’t smell pretty.”
“Uh, no, but—”
For the first time Ethan looked up at him, his mouth set in a determined line. “She ain’t gonna be my new ma and we ain’t ever gonna be a family.” It was both a plea and a decree. “I don’t want no other ma. ’Specially one who ain’t even a real girl.”
“I didn’t bring you here to find you a new ma.”
“Why’d you come here then? You’re a card player, not a rancher. I seen you. You’re real good. Ma said so, too.”
Despite the truth in them, Ethan’s words made Jack uncomfortable. “Trust me,” he said, his face hardening, “living in saloons is no life for a kid.”
Ethan whirled away to face the wall. Tentatively, Jack touched his back. He was about to ask what the matter was when he caught sight of a corner of the yellow cloth Ethan still gripped, his thumb rubbing the edge of it.
“You miss your ma,” Jack said softly, “don’t you?”
Ethan sucked in a broken breath.
“Of course you do. And you’re going to miss her a good, long while. I can’t make that easier for you.”
A shudder passed over Ethan and he stifled a sob, roughly wiping the back of his hand against his eyes.
Impulsively, Jack put his arm around Ethan’s shoulders and drew the boy close against his chest, holding him awkwardly as Ethan finally let go of his tears.
It wasn’t going to be easy for either of them. But Jack had to make it work.
Serenity, a wooden spoon in one hand and a crumpled dish cloth in the other, flitted about the kitchen like a skittish bird, checking a pan here, a platter there. “I started so late on supper, it’ll never be ready on time.”
“It’ll be ready,” Hallie said, not looking up from the cornbread batter she stirred with unnecessary force. “I’m here to help you. And we won’t have Dakota underfoot in here. This is one place he’s sure to stay clear of.”
“You don’t like him much, do you?”
Hallie stopped stirring and stared at the girl. “He practically stole my ranch.”
“He bought it from the bank,” Serenity pointed out, avoiding looking at Hallie as she began setting the plates on the long pine table. “He is letting us all stay. He can’t be so bad, can he? Besides, he’s awfully nice to look at. So clean and polished and all.”
“What difference does that make?” Hallie said, irritated that Serenity would even notice. “And he’s only letting us stay because he wants me to teach him how to run this place.”
Serenity stopped in the motion of putting down forks, biting at her lower lip. “You mean he’ll make us leave after he learns?”
Hallie heard the flood of fear in Serenity’s anxious voice. At fifteen, Serenity had fled her grandparents’ home to escape an arranged marriage. Orphaned as a toddler, she’d been raised by her grandparents and had always loved them. But the mere idea of marrying a man twice her age repulsed and terrified her, so she’d run away, ending up on Hallie’s doorstep a month later, bedraggled, half-starved and looking for work.
Hallie knew part of Serenity still expected either her grandparents or the man she’d been promised to to one day show up and try to claim her, even after two years. She could see that the idea of being forced away from Eden’s Canyon terrified the girl.
“Don’t worry yourself, Dakota won’t be around long enough to learn,” Hallie told her. “He’ll hit the trail just as soon as he figures out there’s no excitement here. I know his kind.”
She stopped short of saying she’d lived with his kind all her life—both her brother and her father. Serenity had a soft spot for Ben, and it was no good telling the girl anything that might be opposite the image she had of him.
“I don’t know about that,” Serenity said, her expression thoughtful. “He does have Ethan now.”
“You wait and see.” Hallie began scooping spoonfuls of batter into the square pan, slapping it so hard that yellow drops spattered over the worktable. “He may be the gambler, but I’d wager my stake in this ranch that Jack Dakota won’t last here six months.”
“I’d ask you to shake on that, but I can’t win something that’s already mine.”
Hallie jumped at the sound of Jack’s deep voice behind her. All at once she felt unsettled and annoyed, and angry at herself for letting him do that to her. She’d known lots of men—cowhands, ranchers, even a few gamblers Ben played with. But none of them ever made her feel like she couldn’t move without tripping over herself.
She turned to look as Jack, with Ethan at his side, strolled into the kitchen. The man was clean-shaven, dressed in a fine white shirt that stretched across his broad shoulders beneath a black leather vest, and his pants clung to his hips as though they’d grown there.
Glancing at Serenity, she saw the girl’s admiring look. But when Serenity turned and saw Hallie watching, too, the girl flushed scarlet and quickly switched back to setting the table. Hallie realized she had no ally there.
“We don’t dress for supper,” Hallie told Jack, as she went back to her chore, shoving the pan of cornbread into the belly of the iron stove. She wiped her hands down her pants, leaving a streak of yellow, and imagined she must look a right pretty sight compared to Jack’s and Ethan’s spit and polish.
“We didn’t,” Jack said. He leaned against the worktable, smiling at her rumpled hair and the smudge of flour on her nose. “We came to offer our help.”
“Help?” Hallie looked him up and down. “With what?”
