Texas Gold

“There. It’s done,” she said sharply. “Now just leave, and take the promise of a few more dollars for your bank account with you.”

Max leaned back in his chair, oblivious to the hash she’d managed to make of the papers. The table and floor bore mute testimony to her anger, and yet he ignored it, his attention focused on the woman who had wreaked havoc in these few moments.

“I don’t want your money,” he said finally. “And I’m not leaving. In fact, I’ve made arrangements to have my things brought here from the hotel. I’m moving in with you, Faith. The only way you can stop me is by calling your neighbor and telling him to shoot me down or evict us both from his property.”

“Why?” she asked. “Why do you want to hound me this way, Max? Surely you don’t want to breathe life to the ashes. And trust me, that’s all there is left of our marriage. I don’t want you.”

He was silent a moment, as if digesting that claim, and then a twitch at the corner of his mouth revealed his doubt. “Don’t you? When I kissed you, I felt something between us, sweetheart.”

“You’re wrong,” she said sharply. “I might respond to anyone who knew how to kiss as well as you do. In fact—”

“Don’t lie to me,” he said flatly. “We both know you’re grasping at straws, and threatening to seek out another man is impertinent. It doesn’t become you.”

“I’ve never known anyone so arrogant as you,” she said, her teeth clenched against the anger that roiled within her. “Impertinent, am I? That goes right along with your mother’s assessment of me when she called me an upstart, a month after our wedding.”

His brow lifted, and for a moment he looked distinctly uncomfortable. “Apparently, my mother said several things she should be taken to task for.” His frown drew his brows together as he thought for a moment. “Upstart? She really used that word?” And then he grinned.

“Damn you, Max. It wasn’t funny. She made me feel lower than dirt, that I had dared to marry the great Maxwell McDowell.”

“Dared? I begged for your hand. I groveled at your feet.” His grin widened, and Faith was tempted to match it with one of her own. Max on a roll was something to behold. But better sense prevailed.

“You’ve never groveled in your life.”

“I think I may have to before this is finished,” he said, his look pensive as he watched her cross the kitchen to the stove. He sat up straight then, watching as she lifted a long spoon and stirred the contents of a kettle. “Is that dinner?”

“Yes. I killed a chicken and cleaned it before breakfast. I’m making stew.”

“Am I invited, or do I have to be an interloper?”

“I’m not capable of tossing you out on your ear.”

“I’d call that a backhanded invitation,” he said, rising from the table and pushing his chair back in place. He bent, picking up the sheets of paper she had scattered, sorting through them to place them in order, and then tapped them on the table to neaten the pile.

“This can go in the mail to my lawyer, I think,” he said. “I’ll take it into town the next time I make the trip. Perhaps we can arrange for the money to be sent here to the bank for your use.”

“With your supervision, I suppose,” she said quietly, laying aside the spoon and seeking out a lid for the kettle.

“It’s your money, Faith. As to the rest, I intend to supervise everything you do for the next little while,” he said. “For as long as it takes.”

He’d known it wouldn’t be difficult to find the neighboring ranch house. Yet once it came in sight, Max revised his estimate of Nicholas Garvey. The man had a considerable amount of financial clout, it would seem, if the size and design of his home was anything to go by. It stood in the shade of tall trees, as if it had been there for many years, yet the newness showed. Like a jewel in a particularly lovely setting, it drew his eye, and Max, ever a man to appreciate beauty, felt a twinge of envy for the man who lived there. Not that he couldn’t have duplicated the home, given the urge, but such a site, with such perfection of surroundings as Nicholas had chosen, might never again be available.

A woman stepped out onto the back porch as Max rounded the corner of the house, a small female with russet hair and a creamy complexion. She wore a smile of welcome, tinged with curiosity, her brown eyes taking his measure as he rode closer.

“Welcome,” she said quietly. “I’m Lin Garvey. Are you looking for my husband? Nicholas is out riding in the pasture with our daughter.”

“Do you welcome all visitors so graciously?” Max asked, smiling because there was no other choice. She’d taken his defenses and shattered them with her warmth.

Her own smile became touched with mischief. “I know who you are, Mr. McDowell. I’ve almost been expecting you, once Nicholas told me you were visiting with Faith.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t come by to chase me away,” he said.

“Nicholas told me to mind my own business,” she admitted, “even though I threatened to ride over and give you fair warning.”

“And now?” he asked.

She bit her lip, obviously deliberating. “I thought to give you a chance, once I laid eyes on you myself. I’m a good judge of character, Mr. McDowell, and I don’t see any danger in you where Faith is concerned. She needs some happiness in her life, and if you’re the man to bring it to her, I’ll be grateful.”

She stepped closer to the edge of the porch, and her hands slid into the deep pockets of her apron. “However, be warned. If I find that you’ve caused her pain, you need to know that I’m very good with a shotgun.”

“I’d say you and my wife make a good pair, then.” He bowed his head, admiration for the woman causing him to hide his grin, lest she think he mocked her. “I’ll consider myself on guard, ma’am,” he said politely. “And now I’ll see if I can round up your husband for a short visit.”

She gazed past him and her expression assumed a degree of tenderness. “You won’t have to look far, sir. He’s riding this way right now.”

The transfer of a small girl into Lin Garvey’s care took but a moment, and then Nicholas dismounted and indicated that Max should do the same. They walked toward the shade of a cottonwood tree, and Nicholas tugged his gloves off and tucked them into his back pocket.

“You wanted to see me, I assume?” he asked, his gaze darting toward the house as if he were checking out the whereabouts of his wife and child.

“I felt it only right to let you know that I’m going to be staying with Faith for a while. In fact, I came to offer you a fair price to rent the house while I’m in residence.”

“Faith is my tenant. If she chooses to have you live there, I have no say in the matter,” Nicholas said bluntly. “Not that I approve, you understand. But it’s Faith’s choice.”

“Actually, it isn’t,” Max admitted. “I told her I was having my things sent out from town. She’s not real happy about it.”

“But she’s your wife, and you’re taking advantage of that fact.”

“That’s about it,” Max agreed. “I’m not a sneaky man, Garvey. I’m here on a mission, and I won’t allow anyone to stand in my way.”

“Is this a warning?” Glittering blue eyes met his as Nicholas glared a response to Max’s challenge.

“You can call it that if you like. I’m also a peaceable man. I have no intention of fighting with you.” He glanced back at the house and smiled. “Although I’ve already been cautioned by your wife that my days are numbered if I hurt Faith. I understand Mrs. Garvey is handy with a shotgun.”

He thought the blue eyes softened at the mention of Lin’s threat, and then Max watched in amazement as Nicholas smiled.

“You don’t want my wife to be on your trail,” he said. “She’s a formidable opponent. I’d watch myself if I were you.”

“That’s fair enough,” Max said with a nod. “I’ll be on my way. I’ve taken up a sufficient amount of your time.”

“You’ll see me again,” Nicholas told him.

“I expected I would.”

Chapter Three

The rain was heavy, running from the roof in sheets that blurred the image of the barn, yet presented a clear picture in Faith’s mind of how totally drenched she would become should she brave the elements to feed her flock of chickens. The garden needed the rain, though, and she rejoiced in the thought of her thirsty plants soaking up the life-giving moisture.

The chickens were another matter. Though some of them, more brave than the others, would squawk and flutter about the puddles in the chicken yard, many of them would probably refuse to leave the dry interior of the coop.

Debating in silence, she looked through the screened door.