Radclyffe - Promising Hearts

"Maybe not, but my story might be the same."

"Oh," Mae said, sipping her brandy and resting her fingers on the top of Vance's hand where it lay on the bartop. "Are you going to tell me someone stole your stake and cashed in on your claim while you were on your way into town to file the deed?"

The corner of Vance's mouth twitched. "Never got the gold fever."

"Some no-account cheated at cards and won your horse, your saddle, and your last dollar?"

Vance shook her head. "I know when I'm beat, and I know when to fold them."

"I wonder," Mae mused, idly tracing the length of Vance's fingers, one after the other, with a ruby red fingernail. "I'd be willing to bet you don't give up easily."

"Like I said," Vance said roughly. "Stubborn doesn't always mean smart."

"Or," Mae went on, knowing that whatever caused the anguish in Vance's voice was something Vance wasn't going to talk about now.

Maybe never. "You're going to tell me a woman broke your heart and ran off with the lying, yellow-bellied preacher."

"Couldn't be that," Vance replied seriously, aware that Mae was watching her intently. "I make it a point to stay away from church."

Mae smiled. "If you're not worried about the preacher, you might want to attend the services come Sunday. The townsfolk are likely to take to you more if you do."

Vance sighed. "Some things never change no matter how far away you go."

"You been traveling a long time?" Mae asked gently.

"A little more than a year," Vance answered, surprising herself at the admission. "Well, not the whole time. Part of it I spent in a hospital in Richmond."

"How long?"

"Seven months." Vance reached into her watch pocket, tipped out her pocket watch and looked at the time. "The night's pretty well along and I've taken up enough of yours."

"You're not keeping me from anything I'd rather be doing."

"Dr. Melbourne asked me to see to the young ladies here."

"The young ladies." Mae laughed quietly. She heard no hint of censure in Vance's deep, rough-edged voice. Whatever anger lived inside her, it was for herself and not others. "The young ladies and I rarely rise before midafternoon."

"I was counting you among their number," Vance said with a trace of gallantry long unpracticed. "Surely you're no older than your charges."

"It seems you know quite a bit about me, as well, Dr. Phelps."

Vance inclined her head and smiled fleetingly. "No more than what you want anyone to know, I'm sure."

"Come by around six tomorrow and have supper with me. I'll tell you about the girls then."

Vance hesitated. She wasn't in the habit of socializing, even casually. She had nothing to say that others could hear or that she would want to recount. It was enough for her to live with her past without inflicting it upon others.

"You'll not be required to tell me your secrets."

"And what if I should want to?" Vance held her breath, wondering just what she hoped to hear. Despite the circumstances or appearances, Mae was clever and far from the kind of beaten-down, destitute woman who ordinarily turned to prostitution as the last form of survival. Vance had been in enough large cities and desolate frontier towns to know what became of women who had no men to provide for them, no family to support them, and no skills to make their own way. Perhaps it was precisely because Mae defied expectations that she was drawn to her.

Mae closed her fingers around Vance's wrist and leaned close enough that had Vance looked down, she would have been able to see the blush of rouge highlighting the deeper rose of her nipples. "I would be very pleased to listen."

"Then I shall be pleased to attend you tomorrow evening." Vance gently disengaged her wrist from Mae's warm grasp and stepped away.

"Good night, Mae."

"Good night, Vance."

Frank leaned on the bar as Mae watched Vance leave. "I can't say as I've ever seen quite the likes of her before," he said, not unkindly.

"No," Mae said quietly, "neither have I."

CHAPTER FIVE

Kate stretched and smiled contentedly beneath the cotton quilt, enjoying the feeling of awakening in her new home. Her home. Her home with Jessie. Although the bed beside her was empty, the warmth that lingered told her that Jessie had just gotten up. The sun was not yet high enough to brighten the room, and she sensed that it was just before dawn. She'd learned in just the few days she'd been there that Jessie always rose before the sun, as did the men in the bunkhouse that stood not far from the main house. The horses and other stock needed tending, and after a quick meal and coffee, the men often had to ride miles before they would reach whatever part of the ranch they would be working on that day. The hours of daylight were precious, and Jessie and her men worked from first light until last.

Although Jessie had insisted the first morning that Kate needed her rest and should not get up with her, Kate decided it was time for her to establish her presence in the daily life of the ranch. It was her life now, too. She rose and quickly dressed in the chill room, adding one of Jessie's shirts over her dress for extra warmth. She liked the feel of the soft cotton because it reminded her of resting her cheek against Jessie's shoulder when they embraced. Immediately, her body quickened to the memory of Jessie's warm, supple form against hers.

"Oh, Jessie," Kate murmured with a soft laugh. "I never could have imagined you."

She hurried downstairs and into the kitchen. The lamp glowed on the counter, and when she checked the coals in the cast-iron stove, she saw that Jessie had laid on wood. The bucket sitting next to the dry sink was filled with fresh water, too, but the coffeepot was still cold.

Humming quietly, Kate set about making coffee and gathering the ingredients to cook breakfast. She was just pulling biscuits from the oven when the kitchen door opened and a brisk breeze preceded her lover.

"Good morning." Kate set the baking tray on a cooling stone, dusted her hands on her apron, and met Jessie just inside the door.

Jessie wore her work clothes--denim pants, cotton shirt, leather vest, and a sheepskin coat. Her blue eyes were bright, her face flushed from the chill and wind, and she looked gorgeous. Kate wrapped her arms around Jessie's shoulders and kissed her. "Coffee's on and the bacon's almost done."

Jessie held her tightly and rubbed her face against Kate's hair. She was so wonderfully warm, so beautiful. "I still can't believe you're here."

Kate stroked Jessie's neck and ran her fingers through her hair.

"Where else would I be? I'm home."

"I love you."

"Mmm, I love you." Kate leaned back in Jessie's arms and regarded her playfully. "You took advantage of me last evening."

Feigning innocence, Jessie gave Kate one more squeeze, then let her go. She hung her Stetson on a peg inside the door, removed her coat, and draped it over the back of the wooden chair. Without looking directly at Kate, she said, "Can't think what you mean."

"Well," Kate said as she poured coffee into the large tin cups they used for everyday, "after we had a fine dinner, you laid on a fire in the bedroom and turned the lamp down so we could snuggle under the covers. Watch the fire a bit, you said."

Jessie laid out strips of bacon on two plates, added a biscuit to each, and carried them to the table. She sat down and gestured to the chair beside her. "This looks wonderful."

Kate sat and tapped her finger on the top of Jessie's hand. "Don't think I'm going to forget what I was saying."

"I can't think of any place I'd rather be than lying in our bed with you in my arms watching the flames dance in the fireplace," Jessie said quietly.

"You made it so I was so comfortable I'd fall asleep," Kate said, stroking Jessie's arm as she sipped her coffee.