‘‘Yes, sir.’’ Kendell pulled the shirts from the standard stock. ‘‘How about something for her?’’ His eyes widened in hope.
Win frowned at the insanity of the question. How in the hell was he supposed to know what she might want extra? If she’d wanted anything else, she could have added it to her list.
Before he could say no, Kendell grinned, taking Winter’s hesitation positively. ‘‘I got a pretty brush that came in, or all kinds of new dry goods.’’
Glancing at the case of pens on the counter, Winter asked, ‘‘You have any pen holders and things that go on a lady’s desk?’’
He reached in his pocket and felt the scrap of paper Kora had used to sign over the house to him. She’d completed her grocery list on the other side. The paper had been poor, but her handwriting smooth. The kind of handwriting that should be on quality paper.
Kendell took a long breath, enjoying the smell of money, and opened the case. ‘‘I’ve got a inkstand with double enameled finish on an iron base and a pen rack on the side. It came all the way from Chicago. Fine, heavy, durable, and worth every nickel.’’
Win nodded.
Kendell pulled it from the case. ‘‘And it’s got a pencil box with it that…’’
Win nodded again.
‘‘A letter opener? It wouldn’t be complete without that.’’
‘‘I’ll take the set. Include paper and anything else a woman would need for a writing table.’’ Kora had put the desk in the attic; the least he could do was see it fully stocked.
Win folded Kora’s scrap of paper and slid it into his breast pocket. He didn’t care that the paper gave the house to him. The house was hers. What mattered was that she’d offered. That made the note valuable.
Kendell quickly slipped the most expensive items from the case and began wrapping them. ‘‘This will take me only a minute to total up, if you’d like to look around.’’
Winter only wanted to get back to his ranch, but he waited. He wandered over to the ladies’ corner to say hello to Kendell’s wife. Winter had always liked the woman. She was one of the few people he found it easy to talk to in town. Maybe it was because she wasn’t afraid of him, or maybe it was because neither expected anything of the other more than friendship.
‘‘Afternoon, Win.’’ She smiled at him over her knitting. ‘‘How’s the new wife?’’
‘‘Fine, Mrs. Kendell,’’ Win said, wishing he could ask the woman a few questions. She was ten years his senior, and he’d always thought Kendell got himself a lady of quality when he married Sarah. She treated every customer as though they’d dropped by for tea. There was an honesty about her Winter liked. He wished she would advise him about how he should treat a wife, but judging from Kendell’s example, she might not know.
‘‘I saw you buying her a desk set. She’ll like that, Win.’’
‘‘You think so?’’
Sarah Kendell put down her knitting. ‘‘I can think of only one thing she might like more.’’
Winter watched as she moved her hand along the shelves marked LADIES.
‘‘When she was in here the other day, I helped her pick out a few things. She’s delightful. I remember her from a few times before, but she always seemed too shy to say much.’’ Sarah looked at him with approval in her gaze. ‘‘You’ve been good for her, Win. I could see it in her eyes.’’
He didn’t see how. Sarah’s praise made him shift and want to change the subject. ‘‘Didn’t she pick up any of the ladies’ things when she was in?’’ He remembered seeing what looked to be a new nightgown and wrapper.
Sarah smiled in understanding of his discomfort. ‘‘She chose a few things, but was very conservative in her shopping for personal items. Any woman can always use a few frills, especially when she’s a bride.’’
The woman didn’t need to say more. Winter got the point. ‘‘Would you mind picking out a few things, Mrs. Kendell? And make sure to add another nightgown.’’
‘‘I’d be delighted,’’ Sarah answered. ‘‘A little lace can go a long way in making a woman feel special.’’
He was thankful she didn’t tell him the price or discuss details. He trusted her judgment, and she knew he could afford whatever she selected.
Win thanked her when she handed him the things wrapped in brown paper and tied with string.
‘‘Tell your wife to stop by and visit a while next time she’s in town,’’ Sarah Kendell said. ‘‘She’s a rare one I think, and I’d like to call her a friend.’’
‘‘I’ll tell her,’’ Winter answered as he left the store and put the bundle on the seat.
As he stepped to climb into the wagon, Mary Anna called his name, drawing his attention, spooking the horses, and almost making him fall.
‘‘Yes?’’ he grumbled as he turned.
‘‘Winter, what are you doing in town? I’d think there would be enough to keep you busy on the ranch.’’ She twirled a parasol over her shoulder.
‘‘I’m in kind of a hurry.’’ Win tried to stand still and not be rude. Mary Anna’s aunt and uncle were well known in the county. Once her visit was over and she’d returned to south Texas, he didn’t want bad blood to remain.
She moved closer. Too close, to his way of thinking. He could smell her perfume thick in the air.
‘‘How is that dear little plain wife of yours?’’ Mary Anna’s eyes widened suddenly, and she covered her mouth with a lace glove. ‘‘Oh, my, I didn’t mean to say ‘plain’ out loud!’’ She looked truly horrified for a moment, then smiled as all beautiful women do who are always forgiven. ‘‘I’m sure she tries with what she has.’’
Win wasn’t amused or insulted. Mary Anna was too shallow to affect him. The simple fact that he hadn’t noticed before irritated him. ‘‘My wife is fine.’’ He couldn’t help but compare the over-rouged, overdressed, pampered woman before him to Kora and find the sight standing so near now greatly lacking.
She moved even closer. ‘‘You should have married me,’’ she whispered. ‘‘We’re alike, you and I. We’ll both do anything to get what we want. And we both want the same thing.’’
‘‘No,’’ Win answered without backing up, refusing to allow her to pin him against the wagon. ‘‘I want the land. You want what you can take from it.’’
‘‘You’ll regret not getting rid of her and marrying me. She’s such a fool, she even offered to give you the house. Any woman with the sense of a turnip would keep it in her own name.’’
‘‘It’s over and done,’’ Win answered, seeing no point in discussing his marriage with her. ‘‘We’re married and the house is hers.’’
‘‘No,’’ Mary Anna whispered between snarled teeth. ‘‘It may be done, but it’s not over. Someday you’ll be sorry for making me the laughingstock of this whole town. I told everyone I was riding out to give you another chance. I even ordered clothes for our honeymoon while I was waiting for you to ask again. I wired my father about the marriage just before I came out. You’ll be sorry you made me look the fool.’’
Win turned his back on the lady, not caring how it might look. He climbed into the wagon and slapped the horses into action, suddenly in a hurry to get home.
Normally, Win didn’t like driving a team as much as riding, but it had been practical to pick up supplies if he was coming to town. And today he needed the time to cool off. His teeth hurt from forcing his mouth to remain closed in front of Mary Anna. A hundred replies came to mind. All of which would have caused a stir in the town if he’d voiced them.
On horseback, he would have cut a straight line to his ranch, but by wagon the road was winding and slow. The silence of the afternoon and the boredom offered him time to think. A wife, even one who lied, seemed a far sight better than Mary Anna.
He’d spent hours thinking of Kora these past days and resented most of the time because he felt it had pulled him away from more important duties. But now there was nothing to do. No chores he was neglecting. No men he needed to talk to. No corner of his ranch he should check before dark. Now he could think of Kora and thank his lucky stars that she’d been the one to stand up with him and not Mary Anna.
By the time he reached the ranch house he had several speeches practiced and ready for Kora. He wasn’t going to be one of those husbands like Kendell who didn’t know the value of a good wife. He’d tell Kora how much he appreciated her. A few tickets to California seemed a small price to pay for all she was doing.
Logan met him and drove the wagon on down to the bunkhouse kitchen. Winter balanced the box under one arm and the package Sarah Kendell had wrapped on the other shoulder. As he kicked open the kitchen door, the sight before him almost made him drop his load.
Jamie, buckskins covered in flour, sat at the table trying to force a ball of dough into a pie pan. The kitchen was
