Texas Lawman

Chapter Four

T he beef stew was excellent, and Brace’s expectations were lifted by the flavor of fresh, homemade food. He’d do well to keep Sarah on here, and would no doubt be assured of regular meals.

“You can cook,” he said quietly, the words a firm statement. He watched as Stephen left the table and trotted out the back door toward the shed. It seemed the lure of kittens was strong. The child disappeared inside the small building, and Brace’s brief fear was relieved when Stephen reappeared moments later with two kittens in hand. He sat in the yard and frolicked with the tiny animals, his laughter bringing Sarah to attention.

“He hasn’t sounded so happy in a long time,” she said quietly. “Thank you, Sheriff. I really appreciate what you’ve done for us. I just hope you don’t get in hot water over this.”

“I’m not worried,” Brace replied. “I’d rather put my job on the line than see a child abused. There’s always another job around the corner if I need to start looking.”

Sarah smiled. The man would never have to go out scouring for work. He was prime material, a masculine sort who seemed cut out for the career he’d chosen. Lawman. He fit the title to a T. Tall and strong, with principles and moral standards. Compared to him, Lester appeared less than worthless.

“I doubt they’ll be out combing the woods for a new man to take your place anytime soon,” she told him. “They’d be foolish people if they let you loose.”

“I’m not worried for today, anyway,” he repeated. “And if you keep on cooking this way, I’ll have a hard time turning you loose myself, Miss Murphy.”

She met his dark eyes and smiled. “Sarah,” she said, correcting him mildly.

“Sarah.” He repeated her name slowly, as if he savored it on his tongue, and she felt a blush stain her cheeks. His eyes were piercing as he took her measure. “You’ll do, Sarah Murphy.” And then the sound of Stephen at the back door caught their attention.

“Aunt Sarah?” He called her name fretfully, and his small face pressed against the screen mesh of the door. “Are you still here? You’re not going away, are you?”

“I’m here, Stephen,” she answered quickly. “Now, why don’t you come on inside and get your bedroom settled before dark?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said readily. “I saw the one right at the top of the stairs, and I like it just fine.”

“The first room is a storage area,” Brace said quickly. “It has just a narrow slit of a window and no furniture to speak of. I’ve used it for odds and ends.”

“I like it just fine, sir,” Stephen said. “There’s a bunch of soldiers there in a box and some little, bitty wooden animals. I’d like to sleep there if it’s all right.”

Brace smiled, thinking of the menagerie of carved animals he’d stashed on a shelf in the room, and then again as he considered the collection of tin soldiers he’d played with as a child. “If that’s what you want, it’s all right with me, son,” he said. “I’ll bring down a bed from the attic for you. I think there’s a decent mattress up there.”

“Thank you,” Sarah said quietly. “Not having a big window won’t bother him at all, I’d venture to say. He’d be fearful of someone…”

“I understand.” And he did. The child was vulnerable, afraid of the man who had fathered him but treated him as a possession in order to gain what he really wanted.

Sarah. The thought of Lester’s hands on Sarah’s flesh made Brace’s hackles rise.

He turned to her now and watched as she wiped the last of the bowls and set it on the shelf. “How about picking out a room for yourself?” he asked, and smiled as she nodded her agreement. “Let’s go on up before the sun sets, so you can see what you’re getting into.”

“I already checked things out,” she said softly. “I went up to see the space Stephen chose for his own. He dragged me up for a look-see, and I glanced into the other rooms while I was there.”

“All right. Let’s take your things up, then, and you can set your belongings to rights,” Brace suggested. Without awaiting her agreement, he rose and walked to the hallway, searching out the worn canvas pack she’d brought with her. The woman traveled light—he’d give her that much. “Is this it?” he asked. “Did you leave anything at the hotel?”

“No. I snatched up just what I thought I’d need for a couple of days when I left home. I guess I didn’t realize how long this trip would be.”

“We can get you more at the general store if need be,” Brace said, trudging up the stairs, thinking he’d like to dress her in silk and soft lace. The errant thought scampered through his mind, and he relegated it to the compartment labeled “Forbidden.” It would not do to frighten the woman with his interest. And yet, as he turned from the doorway of his spare room to face her, he was lost in the vision of feminine grace she exuded. Soft and womanly, yet young and untried. For he’d warrant she had not known a man, had not succumbed to passion.

“I’m fine,” she said. “I don’t require much in the line of clothing. Not so long as you have a scrub board and a clothesline handy.”

“Come on in, Sarah,” he said, walking ahead of her into the small bedroom. A narrow bed drew her eyes and she glanced at him. “It’s a bed designed for one person,” he told her. “I won’t be changing the rules on you. Just thought I’d better let you know. I’m not a man to take advantage of a woman.” And wasn’t that a shame, he thought. He’d rarely been so taken with a female—only once before, in fact. And the difference between them was in his favor—this one was available.

He watched as Sarah unpacked her clothing, noting the scant number of items she carried to the dresser: several pieces of underclothing and a full-bodied white nightgown. Two dresses were stuffed into the bag, plus another pair of britches and what looked like a boy’s flannel shirt. As alluring as the britches she wore had proved to be, he wondered what she would look like in one of the dresses and then shook his head.

“What?” she asked sharply.

“Just thinking,” he told her, walking to where she stood by the bed. The case was empty now and he took it from her. “I’ll put this in the attic, Sarah. You won’t be needing it for some time.”

“You mean to keep me here?”

“Do you have a better place to go?” His voice had hardened as he spoke, and she stepped back from him, releasing the makeshift luggage into his grasp.

“You know I don’t,” she admitted. “I just hate to owe anyone anything.”

“Keep cooking like you did today, and you won’t be in debt to me even a little bit,” he told her. He bent and touched his lips to her forehead, then felt shame wash through him as she jolted, moving away from the bed.

“Sorry, Sarah. I didn’t mean to scare you off. You just smell so good and look so pretty, I couldn’t resist. I won’t be bothering you.”

“Oh, you’re no bother, Sheriff. And you haven’t scared me off. I’m just not used to a man’s touch on me.”

Now, what he was supposed to make of that was a conundrum, Brace decided. The lady might have run off in a fit of panic had he kissed her as his body was prompting him to do. He lifted a hand and brushed it against her cheek. She stood silently, shivering a little, as if she readied herself for flight. Her eyes held questions he was not ready to answer, he decided. Yet for this moment he found it difficult to resist the woman.

Bending just a bit, he allowed his mouth to touch hers, brushing their lips together in a chaste kiss that would have satisfied even his own mama, who had forever told him how to treat a lady. And Sarah Murphy was a lady, if ever one existed. “I’ll just take this upstairs,” he said quietly. “I hope you’ll be happy here, and safe, Sarah. Mostly safe, I guess. But if you found a little comfort in staying with me, I’d sure appreciate your ideas on the subject.”

She looked up at him—a considerable distance, since Brace stood well over six feet tall. “I like you,” she said simply. “You would have made a hit with my mother and father. I just wish there had been men like you around the place when I was considering marriage, long ago before I was old enough to know better.”

“Have you given up on the idea?” he asked. “You’re too young to spend the rest of your life alone, sweetheart. Surely the right man will come along one day.”

A strange look of yearning touched her features and she looked aside. “Perhaps.”

The luggage was quickly stowed in the attic and a mattress was carried to the storage room for Stephen. Brace stood at the top of the staircase, looking down into the library. From his vantage point he could see just a few feet inside the door, but he heard Sarah’s low tones distinctly, almost as if she spoke to herself, naming books and then rustling the pages as she apparently took them from the shelves and looked through them.

He went down quietly, unwilling to disturb her, and took a stance in the wide doorway. She was curled in the window seat, her legs tucked beneath her, glancing through the pages of a leather-bound volume he’d often yearned to read. Only the fact that the woman who’d taken on the task of teaching him that particular skill had left, returning east to Boston, kept him from his dream.

“Enjoying it?” he asked softly, and then walked to the desk and lit the lamp there. “I’ll bet you can see better with a little light on the subject,” he teased, and was rewarded by her upward glance as she smiled in his direction.

“I’ve never seen so many wonderful books in one place in my life,” she said, holding the volume against her breasts. Brace thought for a moment that Charles Dickens was a lucky fellow, for she held one of that author’s works. And then he banished the thought as unworthy. Yet the urge to set her book aside, lift her from the window seat and surround Sarah with his arms in order to hold her against his yearning body was almost more than he could resist.

The man’s thoughts were easy enough to read, Sarah thought. He’d stayed away from her, but his hands had been stuffed into his pockets, as though he must keep them in line, away from the woman before him. The memory of his lips touching hers, of his hand brushing the skin of her cheek, was clear in her mind. And so, for long seconds she wondered how his arms would feel, strong against her, circling her waist, drawing her against his long, dark-clad body.

The book she held lay now in her lap and she looked down at it, tracing the gold letters on its cover with one fingertip. “Have you read this?” she asked.

She thought his answer was reluctant. “No, not yet.” And then he admitted to a lack in himself she would not have believed, had another person stated it as fact. “I don’t read well,” he said. “In fact, up until a couple of years ago, I was without any reading skills at all. A friend helped me, and I can handle whatever comes along in my job, and even some of the newspaper. But I’m afraid that Dickens is still out of my class.”

“He’s not difficult to understand,” she said. “I’d be happy to help you, if you like. Or else I could read to you and you’d have a chance to enjoy some of his work that way. Stephen loves to have me—” She halted her words in midthought and blushed.

Very becomingly, Brace thought. “I’d like to hear you read, Sarah,” he said. “When you sit down with Stephen, if I’m here, I’d like to listen in.” Her smile of response made him bold. “And if you feel up to the challenge, I’d like to sit at the kitchen table with you during the evenings and have you work on my—”

“I’d be pleased to help you, Brace.”