Jodi Thomas - Texan's Touch

“Well, I’m not sitting around at the dinner table looking at some woman’s breast. Daniel can handle that when he fights through the grief. I’m heading for Texas day after tomorrow, and if you had any sense, you’d go with me and pray Texas is far enough away from Bergette.”

Wes stormed out of the parlor, ending the conversation. He almost collided with Nichole standing just outside the door. For a moment, he looked at her, then pointed with his head toward the open parlor door. “My brothers are both crazy, you know.”

Nichole didn’t argue.

“Between saving the world and healing it, there won’t be a sick sinner left within a hundred miles before long,” he mumbled.

She smiled.

Wes wagged his finger at her. “I know what you’re thinking. It’s only a matter of time before they turn on me. Well, I’m not staying around long enough for that.”

He grabbed a whiskey bottle and tried to cross the kitchen without looking in the direction of Willow and the table. “I’ll be outside watching Danny destroy the barn!” he shouted. “By the time he’s finished, I’ll have us both too drunk to stand. Then we’ll bed down on the porch, it’s always too humid in the house after a summer rain.” His voice dwindled as he hurried outside.

Nichole moved into the darkened parlor. The room seemed cold and smelled musty, unlike the rest of the house. She should just go, she told herself. Adam had his problems, his family, his life. He didn’t need or hadn’t asked for her to come to add additional worry. He wouldn’t have accepted her help with May, if there had been any way he could have done it alone. When Wolf got back, they’d make plans to leave by dawn.

“Adam?” she whispered as she moved through the shadowy room. “I came to tell you I’ll be leaving at first light. Wes offered me his room for tonight and said he’d bunk on the porch.”

The air was so still she wasn’t sure Adam was there. He could have passed through the door on the other side of the room. He’d shown no interest in talking to Bergette. Why had she thought he would want to talk to her?

She reached a hand out and touched the thick cotton lace cloth that covered a round table in the center of the room. “Adam?” She wanted to say his name one more time even to an empty room. “Adam?”

He moved in the darkness.

She waited. Listening. Her trained senses judging where he stood.

“I thank you and your brother for the help.” His words were forced, almost hard. “The McLains are in your debt. If there is ever a way to repay, name the price.”

“There’s no need-”

“The McLains pay their debts,” he interrupted with words laced in anger.

Before she could think of anything to say, he was gone out the far door and taking the stairs three at a time without a word of good-bye.

Nichole returned to the kitchen. She watched Willow with the babies for a while. When both infants were fed and sleeping, Nichole offered the girl a bowl of stew. While Willow ate, Nichole pulled a cot from the downstairs bedroom.

“I think Daniel would want you to sleep here by the babies.” Adam and Daniel had moved a cradle by the stove a few hours before the funeral. “Daniel may not be in tonight but he’ll know you are watching after the twins. Will you be all right here?”

Willow nodded. “Long as I got water. I get mighty thirsty after they feed.”

Nichole checked the pitcher.

“And,” Willow turned her head down and to the side as if afraid to ask, “would anyone mind if I ate that bread on the table if the little girls wake me up tonight? This stew is the first meal I’ve had today. Pa never lets me eat until all my chores are done.”

“No one will mind,” Nichole answered. “And help yourself to the jam May made.”

“May?”

“May was their mother.” Nichole couldn’t help but smile at the sleeping infants. “I didn’t know her well, but I think she’d be pleased if you ate what she made. From what I hear, she was a great cook. Remember to tell the twins that when they’re older. And tell them she was brave, very brave to the end.”

“I will,” Willow answered as she lay down on her cot. “And I’ll tell them how their pa chopped down a whole barn the night after they was born.”

Nichole lifted her holster from a peg by the door and lowered the lamp’s glow before heading upstairs. Halfway up, she realized she hadn’t asked Wes which one of the small rooms on the second floor was his.

But when she reached the landing, one door was closed tightly. Somehow she knew that room was Adam’s.

He’d closed himself off. If she left at first light, she might never see him again. Nichole stood in the hallway, letting the weight of the day move over her like murky water, pressing against her lungs until she could hardly breathe. She closed her eyes and tried to slow her heart to the rhythm of Dan’s chopping. A kind being had passed from this earth only hours ago, and no one might ever speak of her except Willow to say that she could cook. The twins might never know how dearly the three men downstairs had loved their mother and how much their father had cherished her. And how hard they’d all fought to save her. Nichole shook with the pain May’s death had caused all in the house.

Suddenly, a hand touched her arm. Nichole jumped, bolting to run as she grabbed for her weapon.

“Nichole?” Adam whispered from only inches away. “Are you all right?” His hand moved gently along her shoulder.

Before she could think that he might not welcome such an action, she wrapped her arms around him and held tightly, preparing to fight if he tried to push her away. The McLains might need no one, but she needed to hold on tight for a few minutes.

But he didn’t pull away. He hugged her back with all the hurt and anger and sorrow he had bottled up inside.

For a long while, they just hugged, sharing a weight each was tired of bearing alone. There was so much they didn’t know about one another. But it didn’t matter at this moment. All that mattered was that her lean body molded so perfectly against his… her arms held him grounded to earth… and his grip pulled her safely from drowning.

He moved away just enough to brush his cheek against hers. “Stay with me tonight,” he whispered against her hair. “Like you did the night we met. Make everything but your warmth go away for a few hours.” He kissed her cheek lightly. “Let me hold you.”

Without a word, Nichole followed him through his open doorway. She placed her holster on his bedpost and lowered herself to the bed.

Slowly, he closed the door, circled and slid beside her, pulling her against him as he spread a blanket over them both.

She moved her hand over his chest and felt his heart. Some pains are too great for words. He’d come home, to the place he’d probably dreamed of all during the war, to find his dreams shattered in silence.

Touching him lightly, she tried to smooth away the pain. His body seemed to relax next to her. Within minutes, he was breathing slowly, deeply.

Nichole stretched and kissed his cheek. “Good night, Yank,” she whispered.

The chopping continued, blending with the rain. Beating with the rhythm of a clock as the minutes of the night passed.

DEEP INTO THE blackness of night, nichole stretched, moving against Adam for warmth. He rolled slightly toward her. Slowly, the brush of his breath against her throat tickled her awake. She lay in the darkness, feeling his chest rise and fall beside her own.

With fluid movements, she raised her hand and outlined the length of his body from shoulder to hip. He was thin, but she felt his muscles tighten as she traveled over them. The smooth softness of the cotton of his shirt contrasted with the coarse twill of his pants.