Oklahoma Sweetheart
“And what happens when that pitiful pile of wood runs out?” he asked. “And when the food in the pantry is eaten?”
“There’s enough wood for a couple of days, and I’ll look for an ax to cut more.”
“You’re going to chop wood?” he asked. “You’d be more likely to cut your toes off or swing wrong and slice your leg open. And then what would you do?”
“I won’t do that,” she said stubbornly. “I’ll be careful.”
“You’re a woman,” Connor said with a stern look that stripped her of her bravado.
“What’s wrong with being a woman?” she asked sharply. “I can take care of myself.”
He was silent, his eyes holding hers, his mouth a straight line, giving her no clue as to his thoughts.
“I’ll be fine here,” she said. “You don’t need to worry about me, Connor. I’m strong and able to tend to things.”
“You’re strong?” he asked, and with one smooth movement, he gathered her against himself and held her tightly, one arm around her waist, the other banding her shoulders.
She was trapped in his embrace, and even though she feared him not, she knew her position was that of a woman who could not move without the consent of the man who held her immobile. “Don’t try to frighten me, Connor,” she said softly.
“Are you frightened?” he asked harshly, as though his mood had turned to anger.
She hesitated, unwilling to admit the wash of alarm that had indeed sped through her veins. And then she looked up into his face and shook her head. “I’m not afraid of you,” she told him. “You’re angry with me, but you won’t hurt me.”
“I want to,” he admitted. “I want to shake you and knock you to the floor for betraying me. I loved you, Loris. I’d planned on a life with you, and you turned your back on all that to seek out my brother. And then you let him make love to you.” His nostrils flared as if he could barely contain the pain and rage that coursed through him.
His big hands clutched her shoulders and she braced herself for his harsh touch on her slender form. But he only drew her closer to himself and his mouth claimed hers with a passion she could not refute.
She submitted to his kiss, feeling the bruising of her mouth, the crush of his embrace, the strength of his hands as he held her. His tongue claimed her, sweeping into her mouth, the invasion one he’d never instigated before. Always his kisses had been gentle, tender and welcomed.
That this claiming of her mouth was none of those mattered little. She only stood before him and endured. There was no tenderness in his caresses, for his hands were harsh, clutching at her softness, his fingers biting into her hips, his mouth hard against hers. She tasted blood and knew it came from her lips. She felt the hard ridge of his arousal against her belly, through several layers of clothing, and braced herself for his taking.
It was not to be, for he lifted his head and looked down at her. One long index finger lifted to rub at her lip and she winced at the pain of it.
“Your lip is bleeding, Loris,” he said softly.
“I know,” she told him. “I can taste it.” That the inside of her lips were bruised and cut by the force of her teeth against them was of little matter. Her pain was small in comparison to what he felt, and she would not complain.
But Connor seemed to sense more than she had expected of him, for he touched her mouth with his own again, and this time the kiss was tender, a silent plea for her forgiveness.
“I’m sorry,” he said roughly, his voice hoarse as if the words were those of a man who had drunk his share, and more, of whiskey and was speaking past the aching throat muscles of one who had had reason to regret his overindulgence.
She shook her head, offering him forgiveness, for she could do no less. He could have knocked her to the floor. And yet, he’d only spent his anger on her in passion. Even now, she felt his arousal prodding at her, and she backed away from the reminder of his desire.
“I won’t hurt you again,” Connor said harshly. “Don’t be afraid of me, Loris.”
“No,” she said quietly. “I’m not.”
“I’ll chop some wood for you,” he told her. “And then I’ll go into town and get you some supplies.”
“You needn’t do that,” she told him. “Just leave me, Connor. I’m not worth your concern.”
“Ah, but you are,” he muttered. “James left some money for you, and I’m going to spend it on the things you’ll need for the next little while. And then we’ll figure out what to do.”
“James left me money?” Her mind latched on that bit of information and she felt a surge of anger. “I don’t want his money,” she said bitterly. “I’d rather starve.”
“Well, as long as I’m alive and breathing, you aren’t in any danger of starving,” Connor told her. He helped her onto a chair at the table and turned away. “I’m going out to chop wood, and I’ll be back in a bit. There should be enough in that stove to keep you warm for a couple of hours.”
“Thank you,” she said softly, unwilling to meet his gaze, lest she begin crying and be unable to halt the deluge. Her tears would not be only for herself, but for the pain she had brought to Connor and his brother. For her own weakness that had forever caused a rift between two men who had been as close as any brothers could be. And for her loss of the man with her now. Connor could never forgive her or love her again, and her heart ached at the knowledge of what she had lost.
Chapter Three
Connor’s generosity was surprising—and almost overwhelming. The woodbox had been replenished before he left her alone. He’d gone to town, bought supplies for her and chopped more wood on his return, for over an hour, piling an impressive amount of kindling and good-sized logs on the back porch.
And then he’d left, mounting his horse and riding away without another word, only a casual wave of his hand. Would he return? She doubted it, but then she’d have laid odds that he wouldn’t have shown up the first time. But Connor was a kind, gentle man, feeling a sense of responsibility to a woman in need, even if that woman was his former fiancée.
Loris found a fresh loaf of bread in the supplies Connor had carried into the kitchen. He must have stopped at the bread lady’s house, a small cottage at the edge of town, where lived an elderly soul, Hilda Kane, who existed on the pitiful amount of money her baking brought to her. She baked daily, and Loris had been sent there almost that often to pick up a loaf or two for her mother.
“I could bake my own,” her mother had said more than once, “but she needs the money and I can’t make it any better than Hilda’s.”
Fresh bread was almost enough to make a meal from, Loris decided. She ate the last of the cheese and the few bits of beef left from the morning, and settled before the stove again. The sun had sunk into the western sky and dark clouds hid the moon and stars, promising snow by morning.
But the kitchen was warm, and by tomorrow perhaps she’d feel like venturing into the other rooms, try to settle in a little better. After all, she couldn’t sleep on the kitchen floor for the rest of her life. But for tonight, it would do just fine.
The woman was crazy. There was no way she could survive alone in that deserted house. Connor frowned, finishing up the evening chores. He handled twice as many now, with James gone, but they were done automatically, without thought, as if his body was created to perform the familiar duties of a farmer.
For that was what he was. A farmer. Like his father before him, and his grandfather before that, the Webster men lived off the land. He’d been milking these cows and feeding the stock ever since he could remember.
Connor doubted if his life would be any different than those who’d gone before. He’d always thought to find a nice girl, get married and work the homestead, taking care of his parents until they were gone from this world, leaving the property equally divided between the brothers. His children would follow suit, working and living off the land, and there was a solid feel of security there.
The land would never let you down, his grandpa had said. If you tended your soil and fertilized and weeded your crops, you stood to reap a fine harvest. Unless the summer was dry and the rains refused to fall. Like last year, when the dry spell had chased several families from town, unable to cope with the poverty they faced without a harvest.
Now Loris had claimed the right to squat in one of those places left deserted. And a squatter is what she is, Connor thought bleakly, living on property that didn’t belong to her, yet was unwanted by anyone else. It could probably be purchased for taxes, Connor thought, but Loris didn’t have any money to speak of.
He felt the wad of bills in his pocket, touched the bulk with his palm and recognized that he’d barely made a dent in the cash James left behind for Loris. Maybe Loris would accept the cash more readily if he spent it on back taxes and she could live where she was, legally and aboveboard.
The manure pile was heaped, the fresh bedding spread and the cow milked, all while Connor debated the options left to him. He brought the horses in from the pasture; indeed, they were more than willing to enter the warm barn and find their stalls. The cold was bitter, the wind biting through Connor’s coat as he headed back toward his parents’ house, a place in which he no longer felt the warmth of home.
“You finished?” his mother asked, dishing up a bowl of stew for him. “Your pa ate already. He’s not in a good mood,” she said glumly.
And wasn’t that the truth. The man had been deserted by his favorite son, had been left with one less pair of hands to keep the place up. He’d no doubt have to hire a man to help out. And that would involve finding a place for that man to sleep. Probably a small room could be made habitable in the barn, or else Pa might just hire someone who lived nearby, close enough to come in by the day.
“All done?” his mother asked again. She’d been crying, her eyes swollen and reddened, her skin shiny as if it had been washed by a multitude of tears.
“Yes, I’m not very hungry,” Connor said, rising from the table. Things were different with James gone. He’d always been the joker, the one with a ready wit and a tall tale to tell over the supper table. Now they were reduced to eating separately, for he’d guarantee his mother had eaten standing at the stove. Nothing was the same.
“Did you go see Loris?” his mother asked. “Did she know that James was gone?”
“She knew,” Connor said quietly. And then decided he might as well fill her in on the mess James had left behind. “Loris is going to have a baby, Ma. And James is the father.”
Peggy Webster’s mouth dropped open, but no words came forth. She wiped her hands on the front of her apron, then stuffed them in the voluminous pockets, still silent.
“And before you ask, James knew when he left that Loris was bound to be abandoned by her folks. They kicked her out last night.”
“Where is she?”
“In a deserted farmhouse. I followed her tracks and found her this morning. Got her some supplies and chopped a bit of wood for her.”
“James wouldn’t marry her?” Her voice was dull, her eyes hopeless, as if she couldn’t imagine her son ignoring his responsibilities so casually. “He got her in the family way and just ran off? I can’t believe your brother would do that.”
“He gave me some money for her, but she doesn’t want to accept it,” Connor said, deliberately concealing his planned use of the cash.
“And Minnie threw her out? It was bitter cold last night.”
“Minnie Peterson doesn’t act like she gives a good gol-dern about her daughter, Ma. I saw her this morning, and she was as cold as any woman I’ve ever seen.”
“Maybe she’ll change her mind. After all, that’s her grandchild Loris is carrying.”
“It’s your grandchild, too,” Connor said softly, and watched as that fact sank into his mother’s conscious mind.
“So it is,” she said idly, smoothing her apron with a practiced touch. “Would she come here, do you suppose?”
“Loris?” And at his mother’s nod, Connor shook his head. “I doubt she wants much to do with any of us right now. She’s got pride aplenty, and she’s bound and determined to make it on her own.”
His mother stood silent a moment, then spoke words that sounded almost spiteful, he thought. “James must have had good reason not to stick up for her. Maybe she’s just bad news.” She paused and then sighed, rather dramatically, he thought. “But you’re going to help her, aren’t you, Connor?”
He hesitated, then nodded. “I’ll help her, Ma. As much as she’ll let me.”
He’d go to town tomorrow and check at the tax office, see what was owed on the place where Loris had camped out. Find out if he could pay the taxes and take over the farm.
In the meantime, he’d do well to ride out there and be sure she was all right, staying on her own in a deserted house, with no gun or even a dog to keep her safe. In ten minutes, he’d saddled his horse and donned his heaviest coat. A warm scarf circled his throat and heavy gloves warmed his fingers. From the kitchen, his mother watched as he rode away and he offered her a wave of his hand, causing her to lift her own palm to press against the window. It was a gesture he’d seen many times before, whenever one of her menfolk had left home and she couldn’t bear to wave goodbye.
The Webster place was on the opposite end of town from Loris’s haven, and Connor made his way past the business establishments. Everyone was gone home for the night, only the saloon still being lit, with voices sounding loudly within.
He passed the home Loris had lived in all of her life, noting the lights glowing in the front parlor and in a bedroom window upstairs. How they could rest, not knowing where their daughter was, was beyond him. Didn’t they care? Or did their hurt run so deeply they couldn’t allow themselves to yearn for their girl?
He rode on, past the lighted houses where folks were readying for bed. And then he spotted the farmhouse where Loris was keeping warm. He rode to the back yard, tied his horse to an upright post and climbed the three steps to the wide porch. Through the window, he caught sight of a shadowed figure, passing between himself and the lamp glow.
His knuckles rapped twice on the door and he called her name. “Loris? It’s Connor. Can I come in?”
She opened the door, just a few inches, as though loath to allow him entrance. “It’s late, Connor,” she said softly. “I’m about to blow out the lamp and go to sleep.”
“Where?” he asked. “On the kitchen floor?”
“It’s the warmest place in the house,” she told him sharply. “And warmth is what interests me right now. I’ll think about using one of the bedrooms tomorrow, maybe. If I can get a fire going in the fireplace, I’ll probably use the larger room.”
“I’ll light a fire for you if you want to sleep there tonight.” Something about the woman held him here, and he could not have spoken aloud just what it was. She was brave, willing to depend on herself, and yet he felt the aura of need flow from one to the other of them, a cry for him, lest he turn and leave her alone.
“I’ll be all right on the floor. Truly,” she said quietly, unwilling, it seemed, to meet his gaze, looking instead down at the floor where her quilt lay. It looked to be a cold, lonesome spot on which to sleep, but it sure beat being outdoors. If it was what Loris wanted, he couldn’t force her to do otherwise. Still, he felt the urge to try.
His arms encircled her, his body responded to her as it always had, and his mouth descended to touch hers with a tender touch. “Please, let me help you.”
Her eyes were dark and seemed empty of hope. “What can you do? Chop wood? You’ve already done that.”
“I’m going to pay the back taxes on this place, and then I’ll make certain that you have enough food to eat and wood to burn for a while. That way you’ll have a shelter to live, and I’ll rest easier, knowing that you’re not going to starve or freeze to death.”
“You’ll pay the back taxes?” She frowned. “How can you do that? It’ll require a lot of money, Connor.”
“James is going to provide that for you, Loris. It’s bad enough he’s deserted you, the least he can do is pay for a place for you to live.”
“I don’t want his help.” Her chin lifted stubbornly and her mouth tightened.
“I didn’t ask you,” Connor told her. “I’m going to take care of it, and if I have to, I’ll stay here with you to make certain you’re all right.”
“You’ll have the whole town talking.”
“You think I really care? Not about myself anyway. But, mark my words, if anyone has anything to say about you, Loris, I’ll hang him up to dry.”
“I didn’t know you were so tough,” she said, her smile appearing.
“Not usually,” he admitted. “But right now, I feel like you’ve been abandoned by too many people, and I need to stick close and let you know that someone cares.”
“You really care, Connor?” Her voice sounded dubious and she looked away from his gaze as if she could not believe his claim.
“You’re a human being, hurt and alone. And more than that, you’re a woman who’s been betrayed by a man. Maybe I just need to make amends for James. I don’t know. But I do know that I can’t walk away from you.”
She felt his arms tighten around her, knew for a moment the joy of being held in a man’s embrace. Even if he only felt sorry for her, she couldn’t help but rejoice in that fact. She’d been so alone, so close to the end of her rope. And now Connor was here.
“Will you have something to eat?” She motioned toward the cupboard where her store of food for tomorrow rested behind glass doors. “I can fix you some toast in the oven, and there’s jam.”
“Any coffee?” He looked searchingly at the stove, as though a coffeepot might miraculously appear there.
“I’ll heat it in a pan,” she offered. “I emptied the pot, so the leftovers wouldn’t taste burnt, but it’ll only take a minute to bring to a boil.”
He nodded. “Sounds good to me. And then we’ll talk about me staying here for the night.”
She’d meant to send him on his way, but Connor was not easily deterred, for he hauled in his bedroll and the leather pack carrying his personal effects and bedded down for the night at her backside.
Now she lay beside him, aware that he was awake, knowing he had put his reputation on the line by staying with her, and yet was unable to deny the peace his presence delivered to her aching heart.
“You awake?” His whisper was soft, but she smiled as she heard his familiar tones. “Are you warm enough, Loris?”
“I’m fine. Just thinking about my nice feather pillow from my bed at home.”
“You don’t need a pillow with me here, honey. Turn over and lie on my shoulder. I’ll keep you warm.”
It was tempting, but she shook her head. “No, I’ll be fine here.”
As if he allowed her the privacy she’d asked for, he merely shifted to curl around her, his wide chest against her back, his arm lifting to fit itself around her middle. Through the quilt, she felt the warmth of long legs against her own, and knew the heat of a warm body as it drove the night chill away.
“Thank you.” The words seemed but little thanks to express her appreciation, but they were all she knew to offer. And it seemed he didn’t expect any more from her, for his arm tightened a bit and then relaxed around the curve of her waist.
“Sleep, Loris.” Perhaps another time, she might have considered it a command, maybe even resented it, but tonight, he was here and she was needy of comfort.
The rooster awoke her early, just as dawn was tinging the sky with morning light, and the glow was edging the shuttered windows. The gloom of the room was giving way to dim daylight when she stirred, felt Connor’s hand tighten on her waist, and then remembered that she was not alone.
“Turn over here.” He left her no room for discussion, only commanded her obedience in a firm voice that seemed rough and raw to her ears.
She straightened her legs and rolled toward him, aware that his body was mere inches from hers, that his arm still enfolded her and his body heat warmed her. Even with the quilt thrown from her shoulder, she was not cold. No great amount of fire still burned behind her in the stove, the last of Connor’s forays to add wood having taken place in the middle of the night.
“Now just rest for a bit.” His arms enclosed her and she relaxed against him, too thankful for his presence to admit her doubts about the decency of the situation in which she found herself this morning.
She felt his mouth touch her forehead, felt his hands roam her back. Like two hot bricks they left their images wherever they touched, and she could barely contain the shivers that swept over her. His throat was so close, his skin held the aroma of soap and a male scent that tempted her closer, and she brought her lips to rest against whiskered skin. Her lips felt the tiny stubbles of his beard and she shifted to where his skin was softer, nearer his ear, feeling his quick reaction to her caresses.
“Loris?” She thought his voice trembled, and yet could barely place credence in the thought. And then he spoke her name again, more tenderly this time, it seemed, and she lifted her face to gaze deeply into his eyes.
“Don’t be giving me this sort of encouragement, sweetheart,” he said tenderly. “It wouldn’t take much for me to roll over on top of you and make you mine, even without marriage.”
“I haven’t told you not to, Connor. In fact, I’ve almost given you the right.”
“But I don’t have the right. Not now. Not without a wedding. I’m not sure you’re ready for that.”
“I’m just surprised you even want to be this close to me, after what I did to you,” she said quietly.
“That sorta takes a back seat when I’m with you. I’ve felt a deep hurt, Loris. I won’t deny that, but you’ve been betrayed by my brother, and I can’t let that go. And if being with you and helping you make a home here helps to fix the mess you’re in right now, then that’s what I want to do.”
He seemed to be searching for words, and she could only wish that his actions had nothing to do with James’s behavior…that Connor would care for her for his own reasons.
And as if he heard her thoughts and wanted to reassure her, he spoke again. “I’m not out for revenge on James, but I need to make reparation for what happened to you. If helping you is making me happy, then I hope you’ll allow me to have my way in this.”
“I won’t fight you, Connor. I care about you, and I’ll never be able to thank you enough for helping me.”
He squeezed her tightly, and then released her. “Well, that’s settled then. Now let’s get up before I get any more…” he paused as if searching for a phrase to describe his condition “…any more randy than I am right now,” he finished.
“All right.” She would not argue his wisdom in bringing a halt to this scene. She’d gotten in trouble by being impetuous before. There was no sense in making a bad situation worse. And Connor was an honorable man. She respected him.
They ate breakfast together and Connor set off for town, his plans made. He would pay the back taxes, stop at the general store and order a new table from the Sears, Roebuck catalog. A table with long benches for either side, to put in the kitchen.
That done, he bought some warm bedding for the big bed upstairs, then searched out an assortment of warm clothing for Loris to wear. What he hadn’t planned on was the curious looks of the storekeeper as Connor’s bill was tallied.
“You plannin’ on settin’ up housekeeping, boy?” Nothing was kept a secret long in this town. That was a given, and Connor’s purchases were bound to be the subject of speculation before noon, given the speed of the local ladies’ gossip.
“No, just picking up a few things,” Connor told him.
“I understand the Petersons tossed their girl out in the snow the other night. You hear about that?”