One Day, My Prince, page 13
She’d suspected, last night on the ride home, that something had changed. Sarah and Joe had remained silent, but she’d sensed something different about them.
And now she knew what that something different was. Her plan had worked. Joe and Sarah were falling in love, and that could only mean one thing. They were going to stay. Forever.
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Chapter Thirteen
Joe found himself oddly grateful for the opportunity to saddle up Snowdrop and ride to town. Grateful for the opportunity to get away from Sarah for a while. Dammit, it had gotten to the point where he could hardly think when she was around. He sure as hell wasn’t thinking clearly. He looked at her and his mind and his body headed unerringly in one direction.
He forced his mind in another direction; business. He had to have a weapon of his own before he left. It wouldn’t be wise to ride back into Silver Creek unarmed, not knowing what awaited him there. Too, Sarah needed ammunition for the six-shooter and a decent rifle. For protection. After he left she’d be out there all alone, with seven little girls. She wouldn’t be safe unless she was well armed and knew how to handle the weapons.
He smiled, not knowing exactly why. She was a quick learner, and was already a pretty decent shot with the six-shooter. She wasn’t afraid of the gun, didn’t take the power in her hands lightly, and listened intently to every word of instruction he spoke.
Yep, Sarah continued to surprise him. Every day, every night…
So much for training his thoughts away from Sarah.
The general store wasn’t crowded on a midweek morning. The shopkeeper who’d been so shocked on Joe and Sarah’s wedding day, Garland Dutton, was friendly and helpful when he saw that Joe was a serious customer. The selection of weapons and ammo was small, but what was available suited Joe just fine. He quickly selected a Colt Peacemaker for himself, a lever-action Winchester rifle and a box of shells for Sarah, and bullets for both six-shooters. He charged the purchases to the Shorter account. Once he was out of here he’d send money to Sarah to cover these and other expenses. She’d need a little cash now and then. Unfortunately his traveling cash was stored in his room in a Silver Creek hotel, and the rest was in a Dallas bank account. He couldn’t very well have money wired from Joe White’s account without raising a few questions he couldn’t answer, and he wasn’t ready to return to Silver Creek. Not yet. Once the judge came through town next week, then he could return to Silver Creek and resume his pursuit of Charlie Lockhart and his gang.
A small, irritating knot formed in his stomach. Leaving Sarah would be hard, harder than he’d ever expected. Hell, he’d even miss the seven runts.
“Joe?” An unfamiliar, soft, shaking voice called his name, and he turned from the counter. The woman in the doorway looked familiar. Attractive, well-dressed, and pale with what appeared to be shock, she stared at him with wide blue eyes and an open mouth. “I … I thought you were dead.”
“A common assumption, darlin’,” he said lightly, wracking his brain to remember her. Hell, he didn’t know anybody from Jacob’s Crossing, hadn’t even been in Silver Creek for more than a few days before….
Silver Creek. “Rosie?”
The shock on her face faded, and she ran forward with open arms and threw herself at him. Having no other choice, he caught her. She buried her face against his neck and started to cry. Dammit, he barely knew the woman. What was she blubbering about?
Dutton cleared his throat with evident disapproval, and Joe realized that with a word or two Rosie could ruin everything.
He looked over her pale head to the frowning shopkeeper. “My cousin. I guess she hadn’t heard the news about me not really being dead and all.”
Rosie sniffled once and lifted her head. A savvy woman, she only stared at him accusingly. She didn’t give him away.
He put her on her feet and took her arm. “We need to have a nice, long talk, me and Cousin Rosie. I’ll be back shortly to pick up my purchases.”
Dutton snorted in disapproval or disbelief, but moved the weapons and ammo to a shelf behind him for safekeeping.
She’d made progress with the café, but it would still be another week or two before she was ready to open. The place was a mess, and the supplies Garland Dutton had ordered for her were not all in yet. She’d spent most of the week getting her room above stairs in order. Living there would save her the cost of her room at the boarding house.
She made Joe White a cup of coffee and cut a slice of the caramel cake she’d made yesterday, trying out a new recipe. He sat at a small round table and cradled the coffee cup like it kept him earthbound. He ignored the cake.
“Deacon said you were dead,” she said, sitting down across from him.
His eyes lifted to meet hers. “Deacon,” he repeated softly.
She nodded, slow and easy. “Deacon Moss. He sent his boys after you, and they came back and said you were dead.” Tears stung her eyes and she fought them back. Relief rushed through her. Deacon wasn’t a murderer, and Joe White wasn’t dead just because of her unwavering honesty.
“Did you tell him I’d been asking about Charlie Lockhart?”
She nodded, ever so slightly.
He put his coffee cup on the table and leaned back, silent but wound so tightly she could see the tension in his neck and jaw.
He didn’t ask, but she felt like she had to add an explanation. “That’s not why he sent Leonard and Isaac after you, though.”
“It’s not?” Joe raised his eyebrows in evident skepticism.
She shook her head. “Deacon’s no angel, but he would never work with someone as mean as Charlie Lockhart. He was just jealous, the dolt.” The anger that had been building for weeks overcame her.
“Jealous?”
She leaned slightly forward. “Deacon is kinda insecure, and he’s always asking me, Who’s the best, Rosie? He has to be the best at everything, or else it just makes him crazy. So that night, when he got back to town and came to see me like always, he asked me, Who’s the best, Rosie? and I told him the truth.” He waited for her to continue. “You, Joe. I mean, you beat Fast Eddie.”
“He wanted me dead because I beat Fast Eddie to the draw? Were they good friends?”
Rosie bit her bottom lip. “I don’t think that’s why he sent those boys after you.”
He waited, silent and patient and angry.
“See, I told him you were better-looking and a better lover, and that after you killed Eddie I let you come upstairs with me for free. I think that’s what made him the maddest, that I didn’t charge you.”
“I paid you,” Joe said, his face expressionless.
“I slipped the money back in your pants pocket while you slept. Damn, I was so glad to see that bastard Eddie dead, and giving you a free visit was the only way I could think of to repay you.”
Joe shook his head in disbelief. “Great. I hunt these outlaws for months, and because some—” he caught himself just in time. “Because a lady makes her sweetheart jealous, I get ambushed.”
“Deacon Moss isn’t my sweetheart,” she said fiercely. “I don’t have a sweetheart and I never will. He was just a … a regular customer. I’ve retired from my previous profession, and I’m opening myself a café, and if I never see Deacon Moss again as long as I live I’ll die a happy woman.”
Joe looked around the café, taking in the half-finished eating area and the counter where she’d eventually sell sweets and breads. “You’re retired, huh?”
She nodded. “I’ve worked for this place all my life.”
He raised his eyebrows at her again, skeptical, almost amused. “All your life. What’s that, twenty-five years or so?”
“Twenty,” she said, raising her chin defiantly. It had been a damn long twenty years, not that she’d tell him or anyone else that.
He should be angry with her, furious that because of her, Deacon had tried to have him killed. But he didn’t look angry at the moment. “Well, you just about blew my cover back there at the general store,” he said calmly. “You’re going to have to help me put things back in order.”
“I’ll do whatever I can,” she swore.
He sipped at his coffee and broke off a piece of caramel cake, popping the morsel into his mouth. She could tell by the expression on his face that he liked it, so she smiled. She did two things well, and cooking was one of them.
When Joe finished his bite of cake he fixed cold blue eyes on her. Her smile died. “You’re going to have to lie,” he said softly.
She’d sworn she’d never lie. It was a promise she’d made to herself, and she always, always kept her promises. Nothing good had ever come to her because of a falsehood. Her mother had lied to her for years, the man she’d fallen in love with at the age of sixteen had lied with a charming smile on his face. The man who’d given a distraught Mary Rose her first job, swearing that all she’d have to do was sing and serve a few drinks … liars all.
“I don’t know if I can.”
Joe sat in the parlor after supper, looking over the new rifle in his lap. His eyes were on the weapon, but his mind was elsewhere.
If Rosie would play the long-lost distant cousin of Joe Shorter, that wouldn’t hurt. He prayed that she wouldn’t decide she had to be true to her long-standing rule of honesty above all else. She had, at least, promised to think about the idea.
He was going to have to tell Sarah about the additional player in their ruse, and he had to tell her tonight. Damn, he dreaded telling her. She’d ask her usual questions, and the first would no doubt be, How do you know Mary Rose Sheppard?
What was he supposed to say? Gee, honey, she’s just a calico gal I used to know. Only bedded her the one time.
Prim and proper Sarah would certainly not approve. She’d probably become indignant and cold and turn her back on him. Or else shove him onto the floor and make him take up his old place at the foot of the bed. He didn’t want to sleep on the floor anymore. He’d gotten much too accustomed to sleeping with Sarah.
The girls, all eight of them, were getting ready for bed, so he had the dimly lit parlor to himself. The house was quiet, and soon Sarah would be ready and waiting, as she had been every night this week. Every day he said he was going to put an end to that part of their relationship. But every night she changed his mind with a look or a kiss or a softly spoken word.
He heard little feet on the stairs, stealthy and almost silent. A moment later a pale head peeked around the corner. When he smiled, Glory burst into the room, her white nightgown floating around her legs, and threw herself at him. He set the rifle down just in time, and caught her as she jumped into his lap.
“I wanted to tell you goodnight, Poppy,” she said, settling warmly against his chest.
“Goodnight, sweetheart,” he said softly. “Have only good dreams.”
“I will,” she said. She didn’t leave her place in his lap, but settled herself more comfortably, snuggling against him, squirming her little legs and arms until she finally drooped snugly against him. “But before I go to sleep I just wanted to tell you that I love you, Poppy.”
His heart sank. Sarah was right. Somehow the girls had begun to think that this was real, that he was going to stay. What did one say to a five-year-old who opened her heart so easily? “You’re a pretty remarkable girl yourself, Glory,” he said softly. “I like you a lot. Now, get to bed. Tomorrow will be another busy school day.”
She didn’t make a move to get down from his lap, but lifted her head to assault him with wide green, innocent eyes. Ah yes, she was a beautiful child, rosy cheeked and innocent.
“I hope you won’t go away again,” she said softly.
Again?
“Alice says we shouldn’t bother you, but I just wanted to speak my mind. Sarah always says it’s okay to speak your mind as long as you’re mindful of other people’s feelings. I like having you back, and I don’t want to do anything bad to make you leave us again, so I’m going to be especially good.” Her eyes seemed to get impossibly wider. “I don’t remember what it’s like to have a father, so I really, really, want you to stay this time.”
Joe’s heart sank, and he felt suddenly, impossibly ill. He should’ve known. The little ones, especially Faith and Glory, had taken to this game too quickly, too easily, without a single slip-up. Of course they thought he was going to stay; of course they thought his marriage to Sarah was real.
They thought he was really their father.
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Chapter Fourteen
Joe walked into the bedroom, closed the door and put the latch he’d installed in place, and began to undress. All without looking at her or saying a single word.
From her place on the bed, Sarah watched him intently. Something was wrong. She knew it, as surely as she knew that no matter what disturbed him he’d soon put it aside to come to bed and love her.
In the past few days she’d put aside every reservation, every doubt, to be Joe’s wife. To love him. He was everything she’d come to Texas looking for. Excitement, beauty, love. And he needed her. She knew it was true every time he came to her, every time he smiled at her or touched her or kissed her.
Well, she hadn’t been able to dismiss one small, nagging doubt. Next week the judge would come to town. They’d make an appearance as a family, and if all went well the Shorter sisters would no longer be in danger of being split up. Joe would have no more reason to stay.
And yet she kept expecting him to tell her differently. To whisper in her ear, as they lay together in the dark, that he wasn’t going to leave her, ever.
She was as foolish as the girls.
“What’s wrong?” she asked as he sat on the side of the bed and removed his boots.
There was a short pause before he answered, “Nothing.”
She reached out to caress Joe’s back, trailing her fingertips along his spine. In all her life, she’d never felt close enough to another person to touch him so easily, to reach out at will and lay her hands on someone else’s body. She kept her hands, and her deepest thoughts and desires, to herself.
“Everything,” he said softly.
Sarah sat up and placed her hands on his shoulders, running her palms over the warm, hard flesh, reveling in the feel of his skin under her hands. Even if Joe wasn’t going to stay, she didn’t regret what had happened between them in the past few days. This time with Joe might be her only chance for love, these nights the only nights of passion she’d ever know.
“Tell me,” she whispered, and then she kissed his shoulder lightly. She closed her eyes and savored the taste of his skin, salty and male beneath her lips. Heavens, she had begun to crave him, thinking about him in the middle of the day and looking forward to this time together. She slipped her arms around his waist and pressed her chest to his back, needing to be close to him.
He didn’t say anything right away, but she was patient. It was Joe’s way, she’d discovered, to think for a while before he spoke, to consider his words.
She didn’t want to be careful with her words. She wanted to tell Joe, right now, that she loved him. She wanted to whisper the words in his ear, and then, more than anything, she wanted him to turn around, take her in his arms, and say the words back to her. I love you, Sarah. She wanted that more than anything.
“We have a problem,” he said softly.
“Another one?” she asked lightly as she kissed his shoulder again and held on tight.
“A big one.”
Suddenly she was truly worried. It wasn’t like Joe to be this pensive. “Tell me,” she said again.
Sarah took the news better than he’d expected, and apparently much better than he had. She chided herself for not seeing the truth herself, for not understanding why the littlest ones called him Poppy with such affection and took to him so naturally.
They’d have to be told the truth, she agreed. That was the first, and the simplest, step. Neither of them could come up with a tolerable way to handle that dreadful chore.
What a day. There was still the matter of Rosie to address. Ah, he was a coward. He wanted to make love to Sarah first, and then tell her.
He stripped off his denims and crawled beneath the quilt. A single lamp burned low, lighting the room softly, dulling the colors and the edges around them. Beneath the quilt Sarah wore no more than he did; nothing at all. After the first two nights she’d quit coming to bed with her nightgown on. It was just a waste of time. Precious time.
“I saw someone in town today. Someone I know.”
She sat up, bringing the quilt with her so that her breasts were covered. “Someone you know?” A touch of panic made her voice smaller, thinner. “Who?”
He reached out and twirled a long strand of red hair around his finger. “A woman. It’s just … bad luck that she ended up in Jacob’s Crossing. She hasn’t been in town long. Came here to open a café.”
Sarah’s eyes got wide, and even in the dim light he could see her normally pale face go white. “Miss Mary Rose Sheppard,” she said softly. “I’ve met her. She’s a very attractive woman. How do you know her?”
Joe shrugged. “I met her in Silver Creek, a while back. I don’t really know her all that well.” He couldn’t look her in the eye, dammit. Still, he felt like he owed her the truth. “I don’t…” he stumbled over his explanation. “She worked at the saloon there, and I … I was a, uh, a one-time client.”
Sarah’s face went a bloodless, ghostly white.
“But she knows my real name, so I had to take her aside and explain what was going on,” he continued quickly. “In the general store I had to come up with a quick account, so I said that Rosie’s a cousin. She’s going to consider playing along with the story.”
“She’s going to consider it. How very kind of her,” Sarah said, her voice small. As he watched in horror, unshed tears came to her eyes, sparkling, threatening to spill down her cheeks.
“Don’t,” he whispered.
She tried to smile, but the effort was weak and ultimately sadder than her threatening tears. “You must think I’m so silly.”
