The Texas Ranger's Secret. Dewanna Pace

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ it would be interesting to explore all sorts of relationships. Why couldn’t an older woman fall in love with a slightly younger man? Didn’t older men tend to take younger wives? “I’m sure they both know exactly what they’re doing without any help from us.”

      Just as she and the children headed for the kitchen table, a knock sounded at the door. Willow halted and glanced back, wondering if the cook had forgotten something and returned to get it. She hadn’t had time to deliver the basket to the barn yet, had she? But why would she be knocking?

      “I’ll get it,” Ollie informed them.

      “You two get in here and let Willow answer it,” demanded Snow. “You’re just trying to avoid eating. I’ve already checked the potatoes. Nobody’s done anything to them. You’re safe.”

      What in the world did that mean? Willow wondered as both children moaned and obeyed their aunt’s command. Willow crossed the room, opened the door and instantly recognized their visitor, her hand shoving his hat behind her back.

      Gage Newcomb.

      “What are you doing here?” Her thought spewed from her mouth as if someone had primed a pump in her brain.

      His hand lifted toward his forehead as if reaching for his hat, then quickly returned to his side. He simply nodded a brief hello and asked, “May I come in?”

      She had his hat. He couldn’t thumb it up as any Texan might do in greeting. She’d wanted to have it repaired before she saw him again. “Just a moment.”

      Willow turned and called to her sister, “Daisy, are you receiving company tonight?”

      Daisy came around the corner, taking off her apron. When she saw their visitor’s identity, she unconsciously reached up to touch the curlers in her hair. “Please do come in.”

      Thankful he opened the door the rest of the way himself, Willow kept both hands on the hat and turned her body as he stepped inside.

      “Have you been to supper?” Daisy waved an arm toward the kitchen. “We were just about to sit down and eat. Myrtle made plenty. Won’t you join us?”

      He glanced at Willow as if seeking whether she had any objections. Not that she would voice them, being that she was just as much a guest in her sister’s house as he was. Maybe this would give her an opportunity to ask him a few more needed questions.

      His tongue darted out to lick his bottom lip. “I’m obliged, Widow Trumbo. I guess it’s time I stop referring to you as that from now on, isn’t it?”

      Daisy laughed. “Tomorrow’s soon enough. Now, please, come grab a chair and tell us all why we have the pleasure of your company.”

      He gave a brief explanation, ending with, “Mrs. Funderburg wasn’t feeling well and Bear didn’t want to leave her alone, so I agreed to bring the letters to you.”

      “I’m sorry to hear that about Pigeon.” Sincerity filled Daisy’s tone.

      Chivalrous, Willow added to the mental notes for her character. Thoughtful of others. A new view of Gage was emerging. He was a mixture of behaviors and that made him real. Already she could see ways to improve Ketchum’s character and make readers like him better.

      When Gage followed Daisy to the kitchen, Willow quickly deposited his hat on the pegged rack stationed near the front door. Maybe he wouldn’t notice it later among the variety of colored bonnets hanging there, but the hat looked boldly masculine in contrast to the feminine headwear. The crumpled crown couldn’t go unnoticed long. When she finally joined everyone at the table, she was surprised to find Gage remained standing with a chair pulled out for her.

      “Thank you,” she muttered, pleased that he was on his best behavior and displaying good manners.

      Gage sat down next to her, his long legs accidentally touching hers beneath the table due to the crowded circle of diners. Willow supposed sitting saddled for long periods of riding would bow a tall man’s legs. She’d have to remember that. Willow glanced up and her eyes met his for a brief second before she inched away to give him more room. He certainly looked uncomfortable, and she wasn’t sure if it was purely from being crowded.

      Daisy scooped roast beef and potatoes with onions and brown gravy onto each plate, offering Gage a man-sized portion. “There’s sweet carrots and celery, too. I’ll let you take what you like and pass the bowl down. Oh, and the sourdough biscuits and butter are sitting next to Snow’s plate. We have mint tea or milk, if you like, or I can make coffee.”

      “Whatever’s already made, ma’am. I appreciate any of it.”

      Daisy handed Willow two glasses. “The pitcher’s closer to you. Will you pour the milk, please?”

      No, Willow wished she could say, not trusting her hand to be steady enough to do a good job. Instead, she snaked her fingers out and latched on to the pitcher’s handle and tilted it to one side, hoping to connect the rim to the top of Gage’s glass without having to actually lift the pitcher.

      She hadn’t expected it to be so full and her fingers slipped, sending a splash of milk crashing over the glass to land atop the mound of roast beef on his plate.

      She groaned, her eyes closing in utter embarrassment, only to spring open again so she could see what she was doing.

      “Here, let me help you,” he offered, his fingers wrapping around hers to take the weight from the pitcher and allow her to pour more accurately. As he leaned into her, their shoulders touched and she became aware of how chiseled his bearded jaw appeared at this angle. The slope of his nose looked patrician and the scars around his eyes were too welted for Willow not to feel a twinge of pity for him.

      His shoulders straightened as if he’d taken notice of her thoughts, and he purposefully inched away. She knew she’d overstepped his boundary by staring and was sorry she hadn’t caught herself before he became aware of her gaze tracing his features.

      He grabbed his glass in the other hand and tilted it so the milk could flow inside without either of them having to be that close together again.

      Willow didn’t know what to do to set him at ease, but when she started to offer an apology, Gage waved away her words. He simply stirred the milk that soaked his plate, mixing it into a thinner gravy that was a lighter shade of brown.

      “A little milk won’t hurt,” he announced.

      But she’d seen the truth and not heeded the warning he’d given in the livery earlier.

      Pity was something he would not tolerate.

      * * *

      Rain kept a steady beat on the roof and streaked across the window that had been raised to let out heat from the stove. Just as Gage had assumed, the ride back to town would now have its challenges if the storm kept up after nightfall. It was getting hard enough to see in the dark. It would be even harder with the trail further blurred by rainfall. On the other hand, he felt out of place inside among walls. He’d lived so much of his life out in the open and on the trail that he couldn’t wait to be on his way out of here. He had to force himself to take time eating.

      He wanted nothing more than to deliver the letters, collect his hat and get back to town before sundown, but he couldn’t ask Willow and Daisy to read the letters until СКАЧАТЬ