Chasing the Sunset(18)

Maggie went through the motions of making dinner in a haze, glad that they had done most of the preparation for the meal ahead of time. The bread, of course, was a total loss, oozing its soggy mass out of the pan and all over the table where they had put it to rise. She scraped it off the surface with a knife and made fluffy biscuits instead.

When Kathleen left, Maggie waved a hand at her absently and mumbled a goodbye. She spoke not a word to Nick, who amazingly had turned up alone and eyed her broodingly throughout the meal. He had to ask twice for strawberry preserves for his biscuit, and once she filled his coffee cup when he said he did not want any more. He never said a word, and Maggie never even noticed. She walked around with a line between her worried eyes, lips pressed together. She was worried about Kathleen and Uncle Ned. She did not want to lose them when she had just come alive enough to love them. She cleaned up the dinner dishes still fretting over them, and then went wearily to bed, not caring that it was still light out. She was emotionally and physically exhausted, and she sought refuge in sleep.

Maggie woke later with a start, bolting upright in the bed. She stared uneasily around at her familiar surroundings, and her heartbeat slowed gradually as she realized that nothing was amiss. Then she heard a thump from below, followed by another, and she reached for her threadbare robe, belting it around her. She crept apprehensively down the stairs without a candle, trying to make as little noise as possible. The thump came again, from the library, and she glided over silently. he heavy doors were ajar, and she peeped in. A broad smile creased her face, and a giggle slipped out before she could stifle it. Maggie clapped a hand over her mouth, but it was too late. Nick whirled around and saw her, stopping his pursuit of the tiny gray-striped kitten who was apparently the cause of all the thumping and banging that had woken her. A heavy vase lay in pieces on the floor, and one of the small tables was overturned. He glared at her, and ran a raking hand through his already mussed hair.

“I am glad you think that this is funny,” he growled. “I, however, do not. This little demon cat is for Tommy to take to the stables in the morning. Kathleen’s father rode over and gave it to me. He said its mother was a good mouser, and Tommy’s been missing the old cat down at the barn. We think something may have killed it and eaten it. He had made a pet of the old cat, and he has been kind of upset. I was going to put the ugly little thing in bed with him, since it is so little I was afraid to leave it at the stable alone, but there is only one problem.” He reached out a hand to the tiny little mite and was rewarded with an arched back and a hiss that would have put a mountain lion to shame. He pulled his hand back hastily. “I cannot catch it!”

Maggie’s suppressed laugh started at her stomach and rose through her body until it spilled out her mouth in whoops. She doubled over, clutching her stomach as he scowled at her, crossing his scratched arms over his chest.

“You catch the thing then,” Nick said forbiddingly. “Go ahead. Go on, Miss Know-All.”

“Here kitty-kitty-kitty,” she murmured softly, reaching out a slow hand toward the little spitting speck of a cat. “It is all right, baby, come here now.” She stayed the motion of her hand and was rewarded when the kitten butted her hand with a minuscule head, and rubbed against her. She gathered the sweet, soft thing up against her chest, and Nick glared harder.

“You cheated somehow,” he muttered. Maggie grinned at him.

“Would you put the little imp of Satan in Tommy’s room?” His mouth quirked. “Since it seems to like you so much.”

“All right,” Maggie whispered. She was becoming fond of skinny, diffident Tommy. He was amazingly eager to please, and both she and Kathleen had begun to save treats for him, just for the joy of seeing his beautiful smile. He hung around the two of them as much as his job would allow, and one or the other of them was always feeding him a slice of bread or pastry, and

ruffling his blond hair that stuck up in the front in a spiky cowlick. He blushed and turned deep red every time they did it, so of course they did it all the time. His voice was just beginning to change, and it often squeaked out of control. Nobody smiled or laughed when that happened. They did not want to hurt his amazingly tender feelings. Kathleen had wondered out loud one day how he could still be so sensitive, seeing as how his drunken mother had beaten him every day of his life until she died of a broken neck after tripping over a table in the local tavern where she had worked. He had evidently spent most of his life dodging her and her ‘friends’ she brought home every night to the room where they lived. His life had been horrific until Nick had brought him home to work with Ned and the horses. After hearing that, Maggie’s heart had gone out to the lonely, gentle child, and she tried especially hard to be kind to him.

Maggie started up the stairs, conscious of Nick’s eyes following her. She heard him clear his throat.

“Maggie?”

“Yes?” she asked stiffly, remembering how he had avoided her the last weeks. “What is it, Nick?”

She turned her head, the cat still cradled up under her chin, and caught her breath. His dark eyes were fastened on her with an intensity that she could almost feel. She felt a flush rise up from the depths of her stomach, and her arms trembled. The cat meowed plaintively as her arms tightened involuntarily, and she loosened her grip.

“I am going into Geddes tomorrow,” he said softly. “I thought you might like to ride with me, maybe pick up some things for yourself at the store, and help me with supplies.”

Maggie stared at him in silence for so long that he began to fidget uncomfortably under her level stare. Could she risk it? She had deliberately steered clear of the town before this, but it had been months, and no-one had come looking for her.

“I would like that,” she said finally.

“Oh,” he said. “Oh, well then, I guess I will see you tomorrow.” He looked down at the ground. “G’night, then.”

“Goodnight,” Maggie replied evenly. As she turned her back on him and began the climb up the stairs, a small smile slanted up the corners of her lips.

*************************************************************

Maggie tilted her head back and let the wind blow across her face. Her bonnet dangled by its strings down her back, and she felt it gently bumping her as Nick drove the wagon with reckless abandon down the bumpy road. Her knee pressed against his, and he turned his head to smile at her, teeth flashing whitely in his tanned face.

“Aren’t you going to ask me to slow down?” he asked. “I know you are getting jostled around a lot. Kathleen is usually yelling at me by this time.”

“Never!” she cried out, laughing. Tendrils of her hair were slipping out and whipping wildly around her face, and Nick felt a shaft of desire go through him with the force of a blow. “I am having too much fun!”

She slipped sideways on the seat, and Nick stared at her, slowing the horses anyway. Her face had a healthy pink flush, and she seemed vibrantly alive and achingly beautiful, a far cry from her appearance just a few short months ago. Freckles dotted her small upturned nose, evidence that this was not the first time she had taken her bonnet off in the sun.

“Buy some dress material while we are at the store,” he said abruptly. “Have them bill my account. I am tired of seeing you go around looking like a crow. Gray and brown, gray and brown. You should be wearing green and blue. Order as much as you like. I will gladly pay to see you out of those rags.” He felt a hot blush rise in his face as he realized how his words could be misconstrued. "You know what I meant."

Maggie stared at him openmouthed. "Not only are you complaining about my appearance, you are offering to pay for my clothes? A lady would never accept items of apparel from a gentleman. I am vastly insulted."

Nick opened his mouth to apologize, then she cast him an amused look out of the corner of her slanted eyes and he realized he was being teased.

“I am a widow, you know," she said. "I am supposed to wear dark colors.”

“Then get lavender,” he said shortly, and clucked to the horses. “You can go to half-mourning. I am surprised you have not fallen right out of those two things you call dresses. They are so old, I expect a seam to split any day.”

Maggie gave a gurgle of choked laughter. “How gracious you are, Nick. What a smooth talker you have turned out to be. I never suspected.”

He scowled at her, his mind busy picturing Maggie in the act of falling out of her dress and into his bed. “Just buy the material. And get enough to make Tommy some new clothes, too. He is starting to sprout up again, and his trousers are damn near up to his knees.”

“How indelicate you are,” she teased. “You should never mention body parts to a lady, or curse in front of her. I will add Tommy’s to your bill,” she said serenely. “But I will pay for my own. I have my wages, and I have not spent any of it. I can afford it.”

He scowled at her again and tugged on his hat sharply, covering his eyes. “I will take it out of your next month’s wages, if you insist. But do not get black, or brown, or any other colors that remind me of mud, or I will take it right back. I am tiring of looking at them. Get at least one that is more pleasing to the eye. Kathleen can help you sew them; she has been making Tommy’s clothes since he came to the farm.”