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“Yeah, Papa. After all, we were going to stay with her and Uncle Pete while you were gone, anyway. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if you stayed there, too.”
When pigs fly, he thought. She’d apologized for her heated reaction and politely offered them lodging, but he was sure she was relieved he hadn’t taken her up on it. He’d be about as welcome under that woman’s roof as fire ants at a picnic.
“Girls, Miss Caroline doesn’t have a house of her own, since Uncle Pete died. She lives with her parents. I—I’m not sure there’d be room,” he said, feeling guilty because Caroline had invited them, so there must be room enough.
Amelia shrugged, as if to say, So?
Then thunder rumbled overhead, and Abby cast a fearful eye upward. “Papa, it’s going to rain,” she said uneasily. “Can we ask her, please?”
It was the last word, desperately uttered, as if she was fighting tears again, that did in his resolve. Lucinda, their mother, had died during a thunderstorm, and though his daughter didn’t realize that was the source of her fear, Jack knew it, and he knew he was going to have to do the very thing he least wanted to do—swallow his pride, go back and take Caroline up on her offer.
He sighed. “All right, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to ask,” he said, and they walked down Simpson Creek’s Main Street back toward the school again.
Caroline had just seen her last pupil, Billy Joe Henderson, out the door. She’d had to keep him after class long enough for him to write a list of ten reasons “Why I Should Not Throw Spitballs in Class.” After erasing his hurriedly scrawled list on the chalkboard, she was clapping the erasers together outside the window and wishing she’d assigned Billy Joe this chore too when she heard footfalls on the steps outside.
Billy Joe must have returned for his slingshot, which he’d left on top of his desk.
“I thought you might be back,” she murmured as she turned around, only to see it wasn’t Billy Joe at all.
Jack Collier stood there, and once again, he had a hand on each of his daughters’ shoulders. His face was drawn and his blue eyes red-rimmed, and the twins’ faces were puffy from recent crying. The girls stared at her, eyes huge in their pale faces.
So he’s told them about Pete’s death, she thought with a pang, remembering how awful those first few hours of grief had been for her. Their mourning was just beginning.
Caroline’s eyes were a bit swollen, Jack noted, and he wondered how hard it had been to carry on with class as if nothing had happened after their emotional confrontation.
“Miss Wallace, I—I wonder if it’s too late for me to take you up on your offer of a bed for the night? The hotel doesn’t have any rooms available, and the boardinghouse couldn’t accommodate all three of us.”
She looked at him, then at the girls, then back at him again. “All right. I was just about to go home, so it’s good that you came just now.” As he watched, she gathered up a handful of slates, tucking them into a poke bag, and took her bonnet and shawl down from hooks by the door.
“I’ll take that,” he said, indicating her poke, and held the door for her.
She gave him an inscrutable, measuring look. “Thank you, Mr. Collier.”
He untied the horses from the hitching post. “Is there a livery where I can board the horses overnight?”
She nodded. “Calhoun’s, on Travis Street, near where I live.” Then she turned to the girls. “My father is the postmaster,” she said as they all walked out of the schoolyard and onto the street that led back into town, “so we live right behind the post office. Papa and Mama will sure be happy to have some children to spoil tonight,” she told them. “My brother Dan’s still at home, but he finished his schooling last year and works at the livery, so he fancies himself a young man now, too old to be cosseted.” Jack thought there was something in her gaze that hinted she’d be happy to have the children around, too, if only for one night.
“How old is he?” Abby asked.
“Thirteen,” Caroline said. “And how old are you two? I’m guessing six?”
“Right!” Amelia crowed, taking her hand impulsively. “How did you know, Aunt Caroline?”
“I’m the oldest,” Abby informed Caroline proudly, taking her other hand. “By ten minutes.”
“Is that a fact?” Caroline looked suitably impressed.
He was touched by the way she’d taken to his children, even if she’d decided he had about as much sense as last year’s bird nest, Jack thought as he followed behind them leading the horses.
He was dreading the meeting with her parents, knowing he’d be unfavorably compared with Pete, who had always been so wise in everything he’d done. Pete would have never been so foolish as to set out for Montana so late in the year with a herd of half-wild cattle. The only remotely impulsive thing Pete had ever done was moving to Simpson Creek to court the very woman Jack now followed.
And yet Jack also looked forward meeting the Wallaces, hoping they would tell him about Pete’s life during the months he’d spent in this little town before his death. He’d probably hear more about it from them than he would from Caroline, for she was still a little stiff with him.
He was acutely conscious of the ring that she’d flung at him riding in his pocket. Though it weighed almost nothing, it seemed to burn him like a hot coal—as if he’d stolen it from her.
After leaving the horses at Calhoun’s, they reached the Wallaces’ small tin-roofed frame house, which was attached to the post office.
“Perhaps I should go ahead into the kitchen and explain,” she began, letting go of the twins’ hands to open the door. They stepped into a simple room with a stone fireplace, two rocking chairs and a horsehair sofa.
“Papa, Mama—” she began to call and then was clearly startled when an older man rose from one of the rocking chairs, laying aside a book he’d been reading. She apparently hadn’t expected him to be there.
“Hello, Caroline,” he said. “And who do you have here?”
Before she could answer, however, a woman who had to be Caroline’s mother bustled in. She must have come from the kitchen, for she still wore an apron and held a big stirring spoon in one hand. Both of them looked at the girls with obvious delight, but when Mrs. Wallace shifted her eyes from the twins to Jack, she stared at him before her gaze darted uncertainly back to Caroline.
Caroline knew her mother had noticed Jack’s striking resemblance to Pete.
Chapter Three
“Mama, Papa, this is Jack, Pete’s brother, and his daughters, Amelia and Abigail.” Caroline could understand her mother’s reaction, for she’d had a similar one herself. Her mother blinked and tried to smile a welcome at Jack and the two girls.
“Jack, h-how nice to meet you,” she began in a quavery voice. “And your girls. I…”
“It’s all right, Mrs. Wallace. I know I look like my brother,” he said, taking the trembling hand the older woman extended to him, before taking Caroline’s father’s in turn.
“That you do, Jack,” her father said, shaking Jack’s hand. “Pete told us about you, of course, but you understand that it’s still a surprise to…” His voice trailed off and his gaze fell. Then he looked up at Jack again. “We set great store by your brother Pete. He was a good man, and we miss him.”
“Yes, he was mighty good to our Caroline,” Mama said, her gaze caressing her daughter for a moment. “We were so proud he chose our daughter.”
Jack’s throat felt tight, but he managed to say, “Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Wallace.”
“Your coming is such a nice surprise,” Mrs. Wallace went on, with an attempt at a sociable smile. “Please, won’t you sit down?” She gestured to the horsehair couch. “Caroline, why don’t you bring in a chair from the kitchen?”
Caroline went to fetch it, wishing as she walked down the hallway that her brother would show up so he could take the twins out of the room to see the kittens in the shed while she explained what had happened—some of it, anyway. She wasn’t about to tell her parents about the angry conversation she’d had with Jack before he’d left the schoolhouse the first time. But she did want to tell them about Jack’s traveling plans, to see if they could help her to change his mind. She didn’t want to bring it up with the girls there, yet! Even though it was nearly time for supper, and Dan was always “starving,” he hadn’t put in an appearance. She hadn’t seen him at the livery stable when they’d dropped off Jack’s horses, so maybe he was lounging by the creek with the trio of boys he ran around with.
She couldn’t send Jack’s daughters out to find the kittens by themselves, so she’d have to explain the situation in front of them. By the time she’d brought in the chair for herself, Jack and the girls were settled on the sofa and her parents in their rocking chairs. Caroline took a deep breath and said, “Mama, Papa, Mr. Collier didn’t know about his brother’s death. He apparently didn’t get the letter I sent after Pete passed away.”
Her mother gasped and clapped two hands to her cheeks. “Oh, Mr. Collier, I’m so sorry! What a shock that must have been, to come all this way, and…Amos Wallace, I told you we should have sent someone down there to find him,” she added with a touch of asperity.
“No sense worryin’ about that now, dear,” her father said, patting his wife’s hand soothingly. “What’s done is done. Yes, I’m sorry that you got the bad news that way, Mr. Collier—may I call you Jack? Pete was already like a son to us, so I don’t feel like we need to stand on ceremony with you.”
“Jack is fine,” Jack assured them. “Yes, it was a shock, all right. But I reckon I should have suspected something when I never got the wedding invitation. I was busy getting ready to sell the ranch, and—”
Her father interrupted. “You’re selling your ranch? Why’s that?”
Jack flashed a glance at her. Caroline couldn’t tell if he wanted her to tell the rest or if he was merely pleading that she not reveal how little she thought of his scheme. She kept her silence, thinking Jack Collier richly deserved to explain his half-baked plan without her assistance.
“I’ve sold it, actually,” Jack said. “I—we—are on the way to Montana with my herd to join my partners. They bought a big ranch up there, and they asked me to throw in with them.”
Caroline saw her mother blink as she came to the same conclusion she had. “But your girls, Mr. Collier—Jack,” her mother began. “What were you going to do with them?”
“We’re goin’ to Montana, too,” one of the twins—Abby?—announced. “But I don’t like cows and sleeping on the ground.”
“And eatin’ beans and corn bread,” added the other girl—Amelia? “We were gonna stay with Uncle Pete and Aunt Caroline till Papa found a nice lady to marry and sent for us,” she began, “but now we’re going with Papa instead of waiting. Right, Papa?”
Caroline was human enough to feel a jolt of satisfaction as her mother’s jaw dropped, and her father’s jaw set in a hard line.
“Caroline,” her father said, “I’ll bet those young ladies would like to see the kittens out in the shed, wouldn’t you, girls? Why don’t you take them out to see them, dear?”
“Sure, Papa, that’s a great idea,” she said. “And when we come back in, I think Mama’s got some lemonade, if Dan hasn’t drunk it already.” She rose and gestured for Amelia and Abigail to join her, and they seemed happy enough to do so, excitedly asking what color the kittens were, and how many, as they left the room.
She wished she could be a fly on the wall, so she could hear the dressing-down Jack Collier was about to get. Her father wasn’t one to suffer fools gladly.
Caroline stayed out in the shed with the girls and played with the kittens as long as she dared, purposely staying away from the parlor. Then they came inside via the kitchen door and found her mother working on supper.
“Jack’s agreed to spend the night with us, him and his girls,” her mother announced happily and beamed when the girls cheered.
Caroline stifled a snort. He’d “agreed,” as if he was bestowing a favor on them? Her mother didn’t know she had already invited them. But who was she to complain about something that obviously made her mother so happy? Mama had enjoyed helping Caroline cook special meals for Pete, and now she was clearly overjoyed at the prospect of having girls to spoil, at least for one night.
Caroline had found she was enjoying Abby and Amelia’s company, too. Was it because they looked so much like Pete? It was like seeing the children she and Pete might have had together, which made her confusingly happy and sad at the same time.
So she snapped beans and made corn bread while her mother plied the girls with lemonade and got them to talk about themselves.
The rain came at last, pounding on the tin roof with an intensity of a marching army, but neither girl seemed to notice.
Caroline didn’t hear any raised voices coming from the parlor, which she thought was a good sign. Of course, it could mean the two men had reached a stalemate, with Jack refusing to admit his idea of taking the girls on a trail drive was foolish beyond words, and her father glowering in silent disapproval.
The kitchen door was flung open and Dan burst in, dripping rainwater. “It’s comin’ a gully washer out there,” he announced. “What’s for supper? I’m hungry enough to eat an iron skillet.” Then he spotted the girls, who smiled at him from over their lemonade, and he headed for the table to meet the newcomers.
Caroline stepped between him and the twins. “A skillet is all you may have to eat unless you take those muddy, smelly boots off, Dan,” she told him tartly, pointing at the offending articles. “You can meet our guests after you go take them off outside.”
For once, he did as he was bid, without grousing at the sisterly reprimand, and was introduced when he returned. But the twins didn’t get much time to talk to him, for as soon as he learned the girls’ father planned to drive a herd to Montana, he dashed toward the parlor.
“Montana? Great stars an’ garters! Can I go, Ma?”
Caroline caught her brother by his collar. “Dan, you stay out here—Papa and Mr. Collier are talking.”
“Oh, let him go, Caroline. They’re probably done by now,” her mother said calmly, but as Dan wrenched free, she added, “And no, son, you may not go on a trail drive. You’re too young yet.”
An hour later, when they all sat down to supper together, her father and Jack seemed to be in perfect amity, much to Caroline’s mystification. If Jack had received a dressing-down, she couldn’t discern it from his relaxed, amiable manner as Dan pestered him with questions about cattle drives. And yet her father had looked so upset when he’d heard Jack’s plan…
As it turned out, her father had been biding his time. The twins and Dan ate quickly, then proclaimed themselves full. Once they’d been excused, so Dan could show the girls his collection of arrowheads, Caroline saw her father turn to Jack.
“You know, Jack, late in the year as it is, you won’t no more than get to the Panhandle with them beeves before the snow’s apt t’ start fallin’. And that’ll leave you in the Llano Estacado—the Staked Plains—right where the Antelope Comanches set up winter camp, so you don’t want to be lingerin’ around there, no sirree.”
He bit off a large chunk of his corn bread, buttered it and sat chewing while he waited for Jack’s response.
Jack took a sip of lemonade before he replied, his tone considering. “Oh, I was thinking we could get to Colorado or at least Kansas, depending on the trail we took.”
“It’s my opinion you wouldn’t,” her father said. “And you ought not to gamble with those girls of yours along.”
Caroline realized Papa and Jack Collier must not have even spoken about Jack’s plan when they’d been left alone. Her wily father must have spent the time speaking of some related topic like ranching in general, drawing Jack out, creating a relationship—“softening him up,” he’d call it—before broaching this difficult topic now, after Jack and his daughters had been treated to a delicious supper and were about to spend the night.
“Please, won’t you leave the girls with us?” her mother pleaded. “You could always send for them once you were settled, as you originally intended.”
To Caroline’s surprise, Jack’s only response was to look at her.
Was he waiting for Caroline to give permission before he agreed, since they’d had a confrontation? She was willing to bend, if it meant the girls would be left in safety with them. She said, “Please, Mr. Collier. We’d be happy to have them for as long as you need them to stay. Let them stay with us.”
Jack’s eyes were unreadable as he finished chewing before answering, but before he could do so, Caroline’s father spoke again.
“I’ve got a better idea than that. You don’t want to lose half your cattle to a pack of hungry Indians, even assuming they’d let you pass safely. Why not spend the winter here in Simpson Creek? You could stay with your girls that way, and set out in the spring, when you’d have the best chance of actually getting to Montana with your herd intact.”
That was obviously the last thing Jack Collier expected to hear, for he blinked and set down his fork. “And where would I keep a thousand head of ornery longhorns around here, Mr. Wallace?”
The fact that Jack hadn’t refused to consider her father’s suggestion surprised Caroline. Maybe he was beginning to see reason.
“There’s a ranch south a’ town that’s come vacant recently,” her father said. “The owner died.”
Caroline knew he was referring to the Waters place, next to her friends Nick and Milly Brookfield’s ranch. Old Mr. Waters had died in a Comanche attack two years back, while his nephew from the east, who had inherited it, had fallen victim to a murderous bunch of men bent on taking over the area this summer. The Comanches had damaged the ranch house badly, but the conspirators had finished the job, burning it to the ground, along with the Simpson Creek church.
“No buildings on it just now, but you and your men had reckoned on camping out anyway. Seems to me it’d be a perfect place for you to stay the winter, then make a fresh start in the spring,” Mr. Wallace went on. “The bank is trustee for the property, since the heir back east wants no part of it.”
“And they’d be willing for us to keep the herd there for the winter? How much would they want as rent?”
“Probably not much—maybe even nothing. If you and your cowboys built a cabin there, you’d have a dry, warm roof over your heads, and your cattle would have a place to stay.” Her father spread his hands. “Sounds like a perfect solution to me.”
Well, it didn’t sound perfect to Caroline. She’d liked the idea of keeping Jack’s appealing children till he sent for them, but the prospect of having the man himself anywhere near, a man who looked like Pete but could never be Pete, rankled. Besides, she hadn’t forgotten that Jack had taken back the ring Pete had given her. And there was a disturbing feeling of attraction she’d felt instantly for him, the same attraction that had led her to blurt out during their confrontation at the schoolhouse that he was handsome.
Now as she felt his gaze swing toward her, she turned to stare out the window, lowering her hand below the table so he wouldn’t see her touching the empty space on her finger where the ring had been.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Jack scratch his chin. “I dunno… .”
“It wouldn’t hurt for you to talk to the bank president, see what the terms would be,” her father said reasonably.
None of them had heard the twins creep back into the room until they exploded around their father, jumping and shrieking.
“Papa, do it! Stay on that ranch!”
“Yeah, Papa, then you wouldn’t have to travel in cold weather!”
“I don’t know, girls… .”
It was the most reasonable plan, Caroline thought with irritation. Was Jack too proud, or pigheaded, to see it? Why was he hesitating?
“I’ll have to think on it, Punkins,” he said, gathering them into his arms and kissing each on the tops of their heads.
Her throat tightened. He was obviously an affectionate father who cared for his children. How could he love them yet be willing to either expose them to danger on the trail or leave them for months on end? They were excited to have him stay nearby now, but wasn’t that postponing what would be a painful separation in the spring? Why had he sold the ranch in south Texas?
