Married to Claim the Rancher's Heir
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Lauri Robinson
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18
Chapter One
“Do you know what it’s like to be hungry, Mr. Callaway?”
Who did this woman think she was? Her snippy attitude couldn’t make up for the fact she was shorter than corn grows. And who has purple eyes? Gabe stared a bit harder, just to make sure they were indeed purple, before he answered, “Yes, I’ve been hungry.”
“But all you have to do is walk into your kitchen and find something to eat, don’t you?” She was waving her hands around like a bird learning to fly. “That wasn’t so for Ruby. When she was hungry, there was nothing to satisfy that hunger.”
She’d pointed to the little dark-haired girl sitting on the couch, staring at him with big eyes. The little girl’s eyes weren’t purple. They were blue. As pale blue as an afternoon sky. He had a hard time looking away from the little girl. The thought of her going hungry didn’t sit well inside him. Even if it wasn’t his fault. He hadn’t known she existed until a short time ago.
“You could have prevented that if you weren’t so stubborn. She is your niece,” the woman said.
Stubborn? This woman hadn’t even begun to see his stubborn side. Furthermore, Ruby could have been his daughter. He’d tried to not let his mind go down that route since the two of them, Ruby and Miss Janette Parker, as she’d curtly introduced herself—emphasis on the miss—had walked into his house, but the idea kept inching its way forward every time he glanced at the little girl. She resembled Anna. He could also see Max in her features. His brother and once best friend. Until the woman he’d been considering marrying—Anna—and his brother—Max—ran away together.
“She’s your niece, too, Miss Parker,” he pointed out.
“Which is precisely why I’m here,” she snapped.
Gabe would have crossed his arms, but they were already crossed, so he shifted his stance slightly and waited. He knew why she was here but would let her admit it. Let her ask for money. Then he’d deny her request. First, however, he’d see Ruby got something to eat. “Rosalie,” he shouted, knowing full well his housekeeper was listening outside the parlor doorway.
“I’m right here.” Rosalie’s skirts rustled as she rounded the doorway. “There’s no need to shout.”
There was no need for her to be standing outside the room either. “Take Ruby into the kitchen and get her something to eat.”
“I didn’t mean to imply that she’s hungry right now,” Miss Janette Parker said. “I was referring to—”
“You’d rather let her sit here and listen to how hungry she’s been in the past?” he asked pointedly.
Maybe her eyes weren’t purple but black. As black as coal. About as cold, too. She looked nothing like her sister. Anna had been taller and meatier, not big, but she wouldn’t have been blown over by a brisk wind like this woman. Anna’s hair had been lighter, too. Piled high on her head and partially covered with a flowered hat, this woman’s hair was as black as her glare. Turning about, he quietly asked, “Ruby, would you like something to eat and a glass of milk?”
The child cast a wary glance between her aunt and him.
When the woman didn’t say a word, he instructed, “Tell her it’s all right.”
After casting him a cold glare, she knelt down in front of Ruby and spoke too quietly for him to hear and then helped Ruby off the couch before she stood. Walking the child to the doorway, she thanked Rosalie before relinquishing Ruby to his housekeeper.
He didn’t say a word or alter the stance he’d taken near the fireplace shortly after Rosalie had answered the door and led Janette and Ruby into his parlor. He didn’t take his eyes off her either. Not when she spun around, smoothed the material of her green dress over her flat stomach or lifted her chin into the air as she marched back over to stand in front of the couch again. The pinch of her lips said she was miffed by his silence.
He truly didn’t care. This woman was so full of herself she should be as round as a bloated badger lying in the hot sun.
“As you are aware, Mr. Callaway, Max and Anna are no longer with us?”
“Max and Anna haven’t been with me in a very long time,” he replied.
“That’s not what I mean, and you know it.”
He knew what she meant, but he’d meant what he’d said, too. He’d accepted the loss of his would-be bride and his brother five years ago. The news of their deaths last month hadn’t altered him one way or the other.
She poked a finger inside the frilly lace collar that encircled her neck as if it irritated her. It probably did. It sure as heck would him. She must like lace, though. Ruby’s dress was covered with the frilly white stuff, too. As she continued to scratch her neck, he hoped the lace wasn’t irritating Ruby as much as it seemed to be her.
“I am prepared to take on the full responsibility of raising Ruby,” she said.
“How old is she?”
“Ruby?”
“Yes, Ruby.” Who else would he be referring to? “Are there others?”
She sighed heavily. “No, Ruby was an only child. She will be four in a few months.”
“How many months?”
“Four. She’ll turn four on October 3.”
“They didn’t waste any time in starting a family, did they?” The thought shot out of his mouth before he could stop it. Come January, it will have been five years since Max and Anna left. He wasn’t purposefully counting. The month and year they’d left had permanently branded itself in his mind. For several reasons.
“I am not here to discuss when they started a family, nor how they met and fell in love, Mr. Callaway.”
He wasn’t here to discuss that either. Nor should he be concerned about how she was rubbing the side of her neck raw. Ignoring that, he asked, “Why are you here, Miss Parker?”
“Because—Oh, for heaven’s sake.” She rubbed both sides of her neck vigorously before picking up the larger of the two traveling bags on the floor. She set the bag on the couch, opened it and pulled out an envelope. “This is why.”
He took the envelope and opened it while she went back to scratching her neck. “You should do something about that lace.”
She gave him a sneer. “I don’t need your advice on anything, Mr. Callaway.”
He shrugged, not really caring one way or the other, but if it was him, he’d have already ripped off something that irritating. His thoughts shifted as he unfolded the papers. Last Will and Testament of Maxwell T. Callaway.
Flipping to the second page, he scanned the contents. He shouldn’t be, but he had to admit that he was surprised, both at the decree and the inkling of remorse bubbling inside him. It had been easy to say he didn’t care, that he’d considered Max gone from his life for five years, but this made it real. Too real.
“Anna also had a will.”
Gabe didn’t respond as he continued to read. The message he’d received almost a month ago stating both Max and Anna had died hadn’t provided a lot of information. Just that they’d died shortly before it had been discovered that the water source the town had been using for drinking water had become tainted. That happens with shallow wells. It had been unfortunate that so many in the small town—ironically first named Sweetwater, but more recently Mobeetie, Texas—had perished. The letter had stated the name of the town, but he’d already known that’s where Max and Anna had ended up. The letter had also named a person he could contact to inquire about Max’s and Anna’s personal possessions. There hadn’t been anything he’d planned on inquiring about. Of course, he hadn’t known about Ruby then. The letter was still in his desk drawer, but there was no need to read it again. There hadn’t been any mention of Ruby.
“Why was Ruby hungry?” he asked.
“Because the entire town had been quarantined. No food supplies could be shipped in. She was staying with a neighbor woman who had taken in several other children whose parents had perished.” After a short bout of silence, she said, “Mrs. Potter is a kind person. She simply didn’t have the supplies to feed so many. I left home as soon as I’d received word but had to travel most of the way by stage.”
He nodded without looking up. After reading all the way to the bottom of the last page, noting it was duly signed and witnessed two years ago, he folded the pages and tucked them back in the envelope.
“Anna’s will say relatively the same thing, except it leaves everything to me,” she said.
He glanced her way. She was still going at her neck, both sides now, making it bright red. Her face was scrunched up and her lips pursed, which was an improvement over the glares and snootiness she’d portrayed earlier. Maybe. He didn’t care enough one way or the other to come to a conclusion on her looks. “It appears Max didn’t like you either.”
“Excuse me?”
He normally didn’t take an instant dislike to someone, but she’d made it easy. Max probably thought the same thing. They’d often shared thoughts. Other things, too, but sharing his bride-to-be should have been off-limits, even to his brother. Max should have known that. Most likely had, but that hadn’t stopped him. Tapping the envelope on the wide plank mantel of the stone fireplace, Gabe rerouted his thoughts. “Who died first?”
She might have frowned. She was so sour faced and busy scratching her neck it was hard to tell.
“It’s my understanding that Anna did. The day before Max. Why?”
“Because,” he said, holding up the envelope, “this says Anna inherits everything if she’s still alive upon Max’s death. I’m assuming Anna’s says the same.”
She nodded.
“So, then, legally, upon her death, Max would have inherited all of Anna’s holdings, and therefore, upon his death, according to this will, I would inherit everything. His and hers.”
The fingers at the sides of neck stalled as she stared at him, purple eyes wide and mouth open.
He almost broke a grin. “Didn’t think of that, did you?”
* * *
Janette hadn’t been speechless in years. Years and years. She’d been close when she’d walked into the house and seen Gabe Callaway. He looked nothing like Max. The similarities of their hair, dark brown, not quite black, were where the resemblances ended. Gabe was taller and broader than Max had been, and his eyes were grayish green, like the sky turns right before a big storm. Unlike his brother’s round and cheerful face, Gabe’s was so expressionless his sharp features could have been chiseled out of stone.
“I’m assuming you hadn’t thought of that.”
She let the air seep out of her lungs while trying to come up with a response. All she’d thought of the past few weeks was Ruby. Rightfully so. Ultimately, she settled for “Considering they died within hours of each other—”
“If a man has the right lawyer, it won’t matter how far apart they died.”
Anger flared inside her, almost as hot as the burning on her neck. “Are you threatening me, Mr. Callaway?”
“No. Just stating a fact.”
The all-consuming itching on her neck wouldn’t cease and was making rational thinking of any kind impossible. She wouldn’t be capable of carrying on a conversation until discovering the cause and taking care of it. Folding both hands around her neck, trying to smother the burning, she asked, “Do you have a mirror? I have to see what’s irritating my neck.”
“There’s one in the washroom off the kitchen.”
She waited for him to gesture a direction. Even a general one. Rosalie, the housekeeper, had taken Ruby to the left, but in a house this size, she could wander to the left for some time and not find a washroom or kitchen. She hadn’t expected anything like this. The ranch itself was like its own town. Except it didn’t have stage service. She and Ruby had been dropped off on the crossroad miles south of the ranch. Luckily one of his hired hands had come along and given them a ride. That’s probably why her neck was itching. The wind must have blown some straw or hay inside her collar. Or it just could be the buildup of sand and dirt from riding in the stage so long. A bath would be heavenly, but right now a damp cloth would suffice.
He let out a flustered-sounding sigh. “This way.”
“Thank you,” she said, not meaning it. Well, she did mean it but didn’t want to be thankful for anything about him. He’d been rude and obstinate since she and Ruby had walked through the door. Why Anna had ever agreed to visit his ranch was beyond understanding, except that Anna had been keen on going west, on seeing new things, meeting new people. She’d done it, too. Just as she’d said she would.
Janette held her breath at the pang that stabbed her heart, knowing the rest of Anna’s dreams had all been cut short. As she had the past few weeks, she forced herself to think of Ruby and how wonderful it would be to take care of her. Love her. Just as Anna had wanted.
Silently, Gabe led her through the foyer that hosted the large beveled glass front door and then down a long wallpapered hallway. A few of the doors along the way were open, but she didn’t glance one way or the other. Her neck was on fire, and the burning was moving upward, into her ears and chin. Even her cheeks were starting to tingle.
He pushed open a door and pointed across the room. “Over there.”
Spying the room he’d indicated on the far side of the kitchen, she hurried but stopped at the table where Ruby sat. She already cherished her niece, had since the moment she’d been born. Kneeling down, Janette gestured toward a plate of cookies. “Did you have a cookie?”
Ruby nodded and grinned. “Two.”
Her heart skipped a beat every time she saw that smile and those miniature pearl-white teeth. “Good. You aren’t scared, are you?”
Ruby shook her head.
“Wonderful. There’s no need to be.” Patting the child’s knee, she said, “I’ll be right back.” She’d been telling Ruby there was no need to be scared since arriving in Texas and finding her at Mrs. Potter’s house. Telling herself, too. There was nothing to be afraid of. Absolutely nothing. Not even Gabe Callaway.
The kitchen was as big and as finely furnished as the rest of the house. So was the washroom. Besides a large bathing tub, it held a washing station complete with a porcelain washbasin, a rack holding clean towels and several other essentials, including a large mirror hanging on the wall.
A gasp escaped at the sight of her reflection, and she jolted forward, staring harder while unbuttoning her collar. Not only was her neck red, it was covered with blotches of white. The redness and swollen blotches spread beyond her neck. Upward, covering the bottom halves of her cheeks, her chin and... She leaned closer.
“What on earth?”
Her earlobes were twice the size they should be.
She unpinned her hat and set it aside. Using the dipper, she filled the basin and soaked a small towel. Wringing it out, she pressed the cloth to her neck. The cool dampness was heavenly, but it didn’t last. In fact, it seemed to increase the burning.
It had to help. Had to. She couldn’t walk around looking like this.
She dipped the cloth in the water, wrung it out and pressed it to her neck a second time.
Once again the relief was short-lived, and a touch of panic raced over her as she moved the cloth around her neck, pressing it against each section.
“Here’s your bag.”
She turned at the thud of her bag landing on a chair just inside the door.
Gabe stood in the doorway, frowning. “You might want to get rid of that lace.”
“I’ve worn this dress many times.” She had. It was one of her favorites. The fitted waist-length jacket was the reason, as well as the yards of delicate lace that encircled the collar and trimmed the hem. Pulling the cloth away in order to dip it in the water again, she stated, “The lace has never bothered me before.”
The room had seemed large, until he stepped into it. Her heart drummed against her breastbone, and she took a step back as he came closer.
“Hold still, I just want to look at that.”
Considering his size and harsh attitude, his touch was gentle as he used one finger and thumb to grasp her chin. He tilted her head one way, then the other and then upward while using his other hand to pull aside the lace collar of her dress as he examined her neck. His expression softened as his examination continued, which made her gulp at how concerned he appeared to be.
“I’ve never—”
“How’d you get here again?” he interrupted.
“I told you. We took a stagecoach from—”
“Once the stage dropped you off.”
“One of your hired hands picked us up.” Telling herself not to think about him, his closeness, his touch, she kept her eyes averted as he continued to examine her neck. The ceiling was high and painted white, as were the walls. It was a fine house. But it wasn’t holding her attention. He was pushing at her chin again, making her twist her neck one way and then the other.
“I probably wasn’t listening real close,” he said. “Which hired hand?”
She should remember the man’s name, but at the moment it eluded her. “I don’t know. Why?”
“What was he driving?”
“A wagon full of hay,” she answered, tugging her collar back in place when he let it loose.
He released her chin and stepped back. “You ever have poison ivy before?”
She let out the breath that had gotten stuck in her lungs. “Poi—No, never.”
“You do now.”
“That’s impossible.” She hurried back to the mirror and examined her neck more thoroughly. It was as red as before, worse maybe, as were the raised white blotches.
“Do you know what it looks like?”
“No,” she admitted while dipping the cloth in the water again, “but I wasn’t near any plants.” Pressing the cool cloth against her neck, she continued, “We were on the stage for nearly a week.”
“It grows wild around here, especially down by Beaver Creek. That’s where Dusty was cutting hay today,” he said.
That’s right. Dusty. Dusty Martin had been the man driving the wagon. “I didn’t touch the hay,” she said. “I sat on the seat with Ruby on my lap.”
“Don’t need to touch it.” He pointed toward the tub. “You need to get out of that dress and take a bath. Scrub with soap and water. Rosalie will bring you some baking soda and vinegar.”
An odd tingling started in her lips, and she tested the numbing sensation by nibbling on the bottom one before asking, “What for?”
“To put on your neck. The itching won’t stop until you do. And from the looks of your face, you best hurry.” He turned about and left the room, addressing the housekeeper as he walked over the threshold. “Check Ruby for any signs of poison ivy.”
“Already did,” the housekeeper said. “She looks fine.”
Janette turned back to the mirror and gasped. Oh, dear heavens! Her lips were swollen twice their size, and so were her earlobes. “No. No. This can’t be.” They hadn’t been that way a moment ago. She pinched her lips together and flinched at how fat and numb they felt. After dipping the cloth in the water again, she wrung it out and pressed it to her lips. This was unbelievable. Poison ivy. She’d heard of it but had never had it. Couldn’t even remember if she’d known someone who had.
Still holding the cloth against her lips, she pinched an earlobe with her other hand. Though the mirror showed her action, she couldn’t feel it. Her lobes were numb.
Numb.
“Go ahead and get undressed,” Rosalie said, walking into the room. She wasn’t elderly, but older and plump with a good mix of gray and brown hair and wrinkles that gave her cheery face a permanent smile. Dumping a kettle full of steaming water into the big tub, she said, “I have more water heating.”
The itching was worse now, perhaps because she knew the cause. Janette put down the cloth and then sat down on the chair to remove her shoes. “Thank you,” she said, as Rosalie turned about.
“Everything you need is right over there, on the shelf beside the tub. Put your clothes in that basket. They’ll need to be washed right away.”
Not knowing much about poison ivy, but glad her lips still worked while being fatter than carrots, Janette asked, “Is it contagious?”
“Only to those who are allergic to it,” Rosalie said.
“You checked Ruby?” Janette pulled off her stockings. “She’s not itching?” The child had already been through so much; she certainly didn’t need this. Mentioning the itching made her neck start burning again. Or maybe it had been all along and the swelling of her lips had stolen her attention for a few minutes.
“Yes, I checked her, and no, she’s not itching, but she’ll have a bath as soon as you’re done, just to be sure,” Rosalie said, walking back toward the doorway. “Stop scratching at it. You’re making it worse.” She shook her head. “That’s poison ivy all right. You must be really sensitive to it. Some people don’t break out for a day or two.” As she pulled the door shut, Rosalie said, “You’ll need to wash your hair, too.”
Janette’s mind wasn’t on her hair. They wouldn’t still be here in a day or two. Of all things. Poison ivy. Why did this have to happen? She already had enough to deal with, namely Gabe Callaway. She’d considered taking Ruby directly to Kansas City, and probably should have but couldn’t. Once they got home, leaving again would be too difficult. Mrs. Hanks had said customers were stopping by daily in the last telegram she’d sent, a reply to the one Janette had sent from Mobeetie, stating she and Ruby would be leaving Texas as soon as possible.
She’d sent another telegram to Mrs. Hanks during one of the stagecoach stops, stating they were on their way but making a brief stop in Kansas at the Triple C. She’d already been gone longer than she’d anticipated and did worry about Thelma being all alone.
Janette huffed out a sigh as she tossed her stockings into the basket. It just couldn’t be helped. She’d brought Ruby to the ranch, to meet her uncle Gabe, just as Anna and Max had wanted. Anna had blamed herself for the rift between Gabe and Max and hoped that someday they would find a way to settle things. Every letter she’d written had made mention of how much Max missed Gabe and how badly he wanted Gabe to meet Ruby. In return letters, Janette had assured that in time, the brothers would make amends. Anna’s responses were always the same. That she hoped so, but that Gabe was stubborn and may never understand how she and Max fell in love with each other so quickly.
Janette let out another sigh as she started to unbutton her jacket. She now understood just how stubborn Gabe was, and how staunch. The closest thing to a smile she’d seen him make was when he’d asked Ruby if she wanted a cookie.
Still, stubborn or not, Anna and Max should have been honest about their love for one another and not run away knowing Gabe expected Anna to marry him.
That could make a man be unwilling to forgive, but it had been five years.
Anna had claimed both she and Max agreed they shouldn’t have run off like they had and were sorrowful for the rift they’d caused but held steadfast that not only had their love been first and foremost on their minds, Gabe would never have listened to what they had to say.
They may have been right. He certainly hadn’t been willing to listen to anything she’d had to say. He’d interrupted her so many times her mind had felt as if it was filled with grasshoppers going in all directions at once. It hadn’t been until she’d pointed out that Ruby had been hungry that he’d paused long enough for her to collect her thoughts.
Gabe certainly was different from Max. She’d traveled to Texas to be with Anna during Ruby’s birth. Max had been very welcoming and grateful that she’d come—so very unlike his brother’s welcome a short time ago.
Her heart constricted. It saddened her all over again, knowing Anna and Max were gone. There wasn’t anything that she could do about it, and could only hope that someday Gabe might appreciate the fact that she’d given him the chance to meet his niece. It was what his brother had wanted. What her sister had wanted. And they had truly been in love with each other. She’d seen that when she made that trip to Texas. Seeing Max and Anna together, so proud and happy about the birth of Ruby, had made her realize something else. Father had never really loved Mother—or them. Not in a way a man should love his family. Max had barely let Anna out of his sight, whereas her father had never been home.
“You aren’t undressed yet?” Rosalie asked, opening the door.
Forced to concentrate on the facts at hand, Janette jumped to her feet and shrugged out of her jacket. “You’ll keep an eye on Ruby for me?”
“Of course, just get undressed and get in this tub. You have to wash the oil off your skin before you spread it from tip to tail.” Rosalie dumped two buckets of water into the tub. “I’ll be in with more hot water in a minute, and you better be undressed.”
