Carolyn Davidson - The Texan

She backed a few steps, coming up against the door, and her fingers groped for the handle. Her face was in shadow and he heard her whisper a soft farewell, watched as she slid within the narrow opening she allowed, into the hallway, where she stood like a wraith beyond the screened door.

“Good night,” he said, turning to step down from the porch, making his way to where his horse awaited his return, there beneath the widespread limbs of the tree at the front of her yard. He heard the faint click of the latch as she closed the door, and he led his horse from concealment. With a lithe movement, he mounted, groaning at the firmness of the saddle against his throbbing arousal.

With a last glance at the dark house, he lifted the reins and traveled a roundabout route to his home.

To the house that seemed less a home than the one he left behind.

“Thought I saw somebody out in the front yard last night,” Pearl said from behind her as Augusta stood at the back door. Morning had been a relief, her sleep broken by dreams of Cleary. The sun was just above the chicken coop now, almost time for breakfast. She’d thought herself alone in the kitchen, until Pearl’s words made her aware that her midnight foray to the porch had not gone unnoticed.

“Did you?” Her voice was quiet, the words deliberate as she turned her head to face the other woman’s gaze. “It was Cleary, as you well know.”

“Is he leadin’ you down the primrose path?” Pearl asked, and Augusta sensed real concern behind the casual query. A crease drew her brows together as Pearl spoke her mind.

“He’s not what he seems, Miss Augusta. I’ve been around the track a few times, and I’ve known men like him. I think he’s a good man, deep down where it counts, but I don’t think he’s being honest with you. With anybody, for that matter.”

Augusta digested the woman’s words, reluctantly agreeing with her theory, and then shrugged. “Maybe not. But I know he’s done a lot to help us here. And until I find out otherwise, I have to trust him not to do harm.”

“Don’t go losing your heart to a man who can’t make you any promises,” Pearl advised. “I’ll lay odds he has other fish to fry, and we’re just helpin’ him mark time while he does whatever it is he does.”

“And what do you suppose that is?”

Pearl grinned. “We’re both probably better off not knowing. The only difference is that you’re the one likely to get hurt before this is over. Now if you were like me,” she paused and laughed aloud. “I’m tough as old boots, and I lost my heart in the shuffle a long time ago.”

“To a man?” Augusta asked with a smile. For the first time she began to see through Pearl’s tough exterior, into the woman’s heart she’d just claimed to have forfeited along the way.

“There’s always a man,” Pearl said with a laugh. “The thing is, you gotta learn how to keep yourself clear of the loving part.” Her head cocked to one side as she examined Augusta’s face, and her smile faded. “Damn if I don’t believe you’ve already got in over your head, Miss Augusta.” She shook her head and her eyes mourned Augusta’s loss of innocence. “Damn.”

“I’m not in over my head,” Augusta denied quietly. “He’s a gentleman in every way. And he didn’t molest me last night.”

“I didn’t think he had,” Pearl said agreeably. “But he’ll either marry you quick as he can, or take you to bed and tie you to him in ways you’ve never imagined. And then you’ll be…” Her eyes narrowed as she watched Augusta. “He’ll answer to me, does he hurt you. And you can bet your bottom dollar I’ll tell him so.”

“No.” The single word resounded like a rifle shot in the room. “No. I won’t have anyone interfering in this. I’ve already been warned, but for the first time in my life, I’ve found a man I’m willing to trust with everything I have to give, and I won’t let anyone else be involved. I need to do this on my own.”

“Well, you’d better know I’ll be watching him,” Pearl said grudgingly. “And so will a couple other people I know.”

“It’s time for breakfast,” Augusta said with a glance at the kitchen door. If she knew anything at all, it was that Bertha would be strolling through that doorway in minutes, and the conversation of the hour didn’t need to include another living soul.

“I’ll get out the milk,” Pearl told her, turning to the icebox, bending to retrieve the bottle from its depths. “Here,” she said. “You start the biscuits and I’ll get stuff from the pantry.”

Within minutes the fire was crackling with the addition of kindling and a few stout pieces of wood. The bacon was sliced and in the pan, and Augusta was demoted to finding a biscuit pan while Bertha made it her business to cut out the pale rounds of dough and place them on the greased surface.

“I heard y’all out here talkin’,” she grumbled. “Seems like we could’ve had another half hour to sleep. Sun’s barely up.”

“It’s just as well we get organized early,” Pearl said cheerfully, shooting a wry grin in Augusta’s direction. “I have a notion we’re gonna have company for breakfast.”

In fact, it was barely ten minutes later when a faint rapping at the back door caught Augusta’s ear. Jonathan Cleary stood to one side of the door, seeking her gaze through the fine wire mesh as she reached to unlatch the screened door.

“Thought I’d stop by and see if there was a chance of cadging breakfast,” he said cheerfully.

“Do you suppose you can find something to do to earn it out?” Augusta asked him, as if she were not fully aware that his mind was no doubt already swarming with tasks to be accomplished.

“I’ll manage,” he said, his words droll. Walking to the sink, he washed his hands and then turned, seeking a towel.

“Towels are in the pantry,” Pearl said shortly. “And there’s need of a few more shelves in there, if you’re of a mind to nail up a couple of boards.”

“I could manage that,” he said, his glance mocking as he met the woman’s gaze. “Anything else you think I need to tend to?”

Pearl’s eyes took on a gleam that warned Augusta she’d best be stepping between the two adversaries. “I’ve got a short list of things,” she said quickly. “We can talk after breakfast.”

The short list involved using a lawn mower, a new one Augusta had ordered from the Sears, Roebuck catalogue. “Am I the first one to use it?” Cleary asked. “It’ll be a far sight easier to push than the one I used back home as a boy. I well remember having to rake up the clippings to feed the goats.”

“Why didn’t your father just stake the goats in the yard and let them do the work?” Augusta asked with a grin. Looking at Cleary beneath the hot sun, his forehead wearing a handkerchief to halt the pouring of sweat into his eyes, was a treat.

Now he halted, midway in his rounding of the yard and eyed her boldly. “You think you’re smart, don’t you, lady? All cool and crisp while I’m sweating like a horse, doing your chores. And for your information, when I was growing up, the other ladies in town would have thought we were peasants had we tied the goats in the yard.”

“Where was home?” Augusta asked quietly, her gaze resting on his strong body, outlined by the dampness of his clothing. Another time, with another man, she might have considered her thoughts forward, would have looked anywhere else but at the flex of muscles in his arms as he reached for the glass of lemonade she held. But not with Cleary.

After last night on the porch, she’d become aware of him in a new way. She knew that he wanted her, as a man wants a woman, and that knowledge made her brave, bold in her scrutiny.