Hank was so deep in thought he almost missed the downed fence. If Blue hadn’t yelled at him, they might have ridden passed a hole so big his entire herd could have moved through by morning.
As they worked, the storm played itself out. The wind settled to a breeze and the rain to a drizzle. The red Texas mud clung to their hands and boots. By the time they finished, both men were covered in caked dirt. The watery sun blinked its way between clouds, baking the earth to their clothes like shingles on a roof. Hank pushed hard, trying to keep his mind on his job and not on the woman who waited for him at home.
Blue, as always, worked beside him. For a man with little use of his right hand, he managed to earn his wages. Over the years the two men had learned to work as a team, but they rarely talked.
Late in the afternoon when they headed home, Blue turned off along the breaks with a wave and Hank followed the stream. He was bone tired after not sleeping the night before on the train, but he pushed his horse, wanting to reach the house long before sundown.
While he washed and put on his good white shirt in the mudroom, Hank noticed the bandage on his arm was spotted with blood. Sometime during the afternoon one of the stitches must have pulled loose. He wrapped it with a towel so he wouldn’t get blood on his clean clothes, then entered the house as quietly as possible.
He found Aggie curled up in the middle of his big bed, which he had moved into her room when he brought her boxes in. The guard dog, Ulysses, slept on the rug beside her. The moment he sensed Hank, he raised his head and growled.
Hank chuckled. “Protecting the lady, Ulysses?”
Aggie awoke with a smile and touched the dog’s head. “We had a long talk on the porch. Ulysses promised to be good if I let him come in for a while.”
The old dog lowered his head, but continued a grumble as Hank walked to the bed. “How about we see if together we can’t find something to eat.” He offered his hand to Aggie. “I’m starving and Ulysses is always in a better mood when he’s eaten.”
Aggie’s feet slipped to the floor as she accepted his hand. “First,” she said, staring at the towel, “I’ll check that wound and put a fresh bandage on it. I may not be able to cook, but I’m a fair nurse. My father was a walking accident looking for a place to pause. I hope Widow Forbes keeps her medicine kit handy.”
“We’ll send them one as a wedding gift.” Hank laughed as he accompanied her to the kitchen.
To his surprise, she raised her hand to his shoulder and pushed. For a second he didn’t understand what she was trying to do, then he realized she was attempting to push him into a chair.
He sat.
“I found the medicine box when I went through the cabinets.” She pulled the box forward and stood in front of him. “I also found a full stock of beans and peaches.” She hesitated, then added, “and nothing more.”
Hank watched her clean the wound. “Most nights I come in too tired to fix anything else. Lizzy brings over a good meal every Monday when she comes to do the laundry and clean.” He watched Aggie closely. “I pay her twice a year in beef. If it’s all right with you I’d like her to still come. They depend on the meat.”
Aggie nodded, but Hank wasn’t sure she really listened. She worried over the cut.
“You’re lucky this isn’t showing signs of infection.” She poked at the skin around his cut. “I think if we wrap it correctly the wound will stay closed, but I’ll want to clean it and put medicine on it twice a day.”
“It’ll be all right.” He shrugged, thinking he’d had far worse cuts.
She let out a huff of impatience and worry. “I’ll clean this twice a day if I have to tie you to the chair.”
Hank smiled. “Yes, ma’am. I had no idea I was marrying such a bossy wife.”
She raised her gaze to his and wrinkled her forehead. “I never thought I would be, but it seems so. You’ll just have to put up with it, I’m afraid.”
Loving the way she’d lost any fear of him, Hank put his hand at her waist, steadying his arm as she bandaged his wound. His gun belt was missing from around her hips and he wondered if she simply removed it while she slept, or if she felt safe enough with him not to bother with even the pretense of the Colt.
“How are we doing?” He repeated the same question he’d asked on the train steps twenty-four hours ago. “Any complaints, so far?”
She worked silently, her nearness affecting him more than any poking she was doing. Taking a deep breath, he let the scent of her fill his lungs. He’d smelled perfumed women in the saloons, and a few proper ladies who bore the scent of starch and talcum, but Aggie was like neither. She reminded him of spring water just when the land turns green, all fresh and new.
When she didn’t answer, Hank waited, figuring out that something bothered her. If he were guessing, he could think of several things-he’d left her their first day, the storm, no furnishings in the house to speak of, no curtains on the windows, none of her family close.
“There is one thing,” she finally said as she tied off the bandage.
“What?” He wouldn’t have been surprised if she said she changed her mind and wanted to go back to Fort Worth. Maybe the banker or the hotheaded Potter Stockton weren’t looking so bad after she’d spent the day here alone. He remained still, his hand at her waist.
“When you left, you kissed me on the forehead.”
If she was waiting for him to say he was sorry for
She shrugged. “No, actually, I was thinking that if you are going to kiss me good-bye, I’d rather you didn’t do it on the forehead. It makes me feel like a child. I may be over a foot shorter than you, but I’m not a child. I wish never to be treated as such again.”
Now he said, “I’m sorry,” and meant it. “That was not my intent.” He watched her closely, unsure where the conversation was going. “Where would you like me to kiss you when we part?” He thought of mentioning that couples do kiss one another politely when saying good-bye, but in truth he could never really remember seeing any husband do so except at the train station.
She placed her hand on his shoulder and leaned slightly toward him. “The cheek would be all right, I guess, or even the lips would seem appropriate. After all, we are married.”
Hank had that feeling of walking on ice. One misstep and he’d disappear. He wondered if he’d ever be able to read this woman. She’d made it plain she wanted a partnership marriage and nothing more, and now she was telling him where to kiss her. It crossed his mind that if all women were as hard to read as Aggie, no wonder the saloons were packed with married men.
He dove into deep water. “Like this,” he whispered as he tugged her near and brushed his lips lightly along her cheek.
She leaned away, considering. “That would be acceptable, I think.” She smiled. “Your whiskers tickle.”
His arm slid around her waist once more but this time when he pulled her, she stumbled, landing on his knee. Before he could change his mind, Hank kissed her soundly on the lips.
When he raised his head, her eyes were open wide.
“Is that acceptable, Aggie?” he said, preparing himself for any answer.
Standing, she whispered, “Yes, dear.” She turned, suddenly giving all her attention to putting up the supplies.
Chapter 8
They ate their dinner of beans and peaches at the kitchen table without saying much. Hank would have thought he’d upset her, only her last words still sounded in his mind. She’d said the kiss had been acceptable.
He was thinking of when he should do the acceptable again when she asked, “Where’d you get your dishes?”
Glancing down, Hank noticed the mismatch of china. “I bought them in the discount bin a few months after I came here. When my dad died, I sold the farm and packed up what I could in a wagon. Somewhere between East Texas and here, the box of his china fell off the wagon.” He lifted one bowl. “This was the only piece that survived.”
Aggie smiled. “This makes me feel right at home. When my first sister married, she took Mother’s good china with her. The second packed away the everyday set. Papa bought more, but they left after the third wedding. After
