Maverick Wild

“Nonsense. Tucker will be so excited. He’s mentioned you on several occasions. Isn’t this wonderful, Chance?”

He stood at the base of the steps, stiff as a stone statue, her carpetbag in one hand. “It is.”

“Where have you traveled from?” asked Skylar.

“Del-uhum, Massachusetts,” she corrected, catching her slip and the sudden scrutiny in Chance’s gaze. He knew full well her mother’s family resided in Delaware.

“Del—um, Massachusetts.” He held up her valise. “Can’t say I’ve heard of it.”

She snatched her luggage. “Yes, well, it’s…small.” Goodness gracious. This was going to be a very short visit.

“You came all that way alone?”

Cora turned to Skylar, anxious to escape the intensity of Chance’s green eyes, unnerved by the flutters in her belly. “I was able to travel by rail for much of the journey. The past week on the stage was a bit unsettling at times.”

“I can imagine. The stage line—” Skylar’s words broke off, her startled gaze looking past Cora. “Joshua, what’s in your mouth?”

Clutching his uncle’s big hand, he smiled a red toothy grin. “Canny.”

Skylar sighed before casting a disapproving glance at Chance. “You’re going to rot his teeth.”

Chance grinned as he ruffled the child’s white hair. “Baby teeth fall out anyhow, don’t they, cowboy?” He turned away, his nephew in tow. “I’ll bring the trunk in after I finish with the horses and wash up.”

“No more candy,” Skylar called after them.

“Fine.”

Skylar took Cora by the arm. “Let’s get out of this wind. You must be chilled to the bone.”

Cora stepped into a great room lined with honey-colored polished pine from the floor to the high ceiling. Instantly enveloped by heat, it felt like walking into pure sunshine. A fire crackled in the massive stone fireplace to her left. Across the room, a banister staircase led to an open second story. She was quite taken aback by the grandeur of it all, yet everything in the room spoke of simplicity.

Four oversize chairs covered in cowhide, a single rocking chair and a few wooden footstools were spaced around the fireplace and what appeared to be a sheepskin rug. To her left, in the immediate parlor area, a tapestry sofa and wing back chair complemented a bare coffee table.

“What a beautiful home.”

Skylar beamed. “Thank you. The kitchen is straight back.” She led her through the formal dining room. Oil lamps glowed from a circular chandelier above a long table already set with at least a dozen place settings. “I’m just finishing up with supper preparations.”

The scent of fresh bread wafted from the kitchen—another tidy room polished to a shine from floor to ceiling.

“Please, sit.” Skylar motioned to one of the six chairs.

“Thank you.” Cora set her bag beside the table and removed her pin and hat. Skylar eased onto a chair, folding her hands over her round stomach. Despite her smile, the woman appeared thoroughly exhausted.

“I hope you don’t think me too rude for asking but are you carrying twins?” Cora was fearful she already knew the answer.

“There’d better be two in there,” Skylar said, patting the rounded rise. “I wasn’t half this big at the end with Joshua.”

Cora forced a smile, knowing Chance and Tucker’s mother had died shortly after their birth.

“There’s coffee on the stove, and hot water if you’d prefer tea.”

“Tea sounds wonderful. Please, allow me to get it,” Cora said as Skylar began to rise. “I’ve been sitting for days on end and find I’m quite restless.”

The hiss of a pot boiling over drew their attention to the stove before she could retrieve a cup from the open cupboard. “I’ve got it,” she said, quickly grabbing a dishtowel and lifting the lid from the sputtering pot.

“Thank you.”

“My pleasure. I ran a boardinghouse for four years in Massachusetts. You can’t imagine how I’ve missed my kitchen.” She missed it all, being in charge of her house, her girls, her life.

The back door opened, letting in a gust of wind and a clean version of Chance, yet there was something distinctly different about his presence, the ease in his expression, the smooth slide of his smile as he looked at Skylar.

Tucker.

He slammed the door and dropped to his knees in front of his wife. “How are my little kickers?” he asked, pressing his cheek to Skylar’s protruding belly. It was one of the sweetest displays of affection Cora had ever seen.

“Um, Tuck.” A pink hue rose into Skylar’s cheeks. “You have company.”

Tucker glanced over his shoulder. “Oh,” he said, and quickly stood. “I beg your pardon.”

Cora could only grin.

“This is Miss Tindale,” said Skylar. “Your stepsister.”

Tucker’s green eyes surged wide. “Cora Mae?”

“Hello, Tucker.”

He gave a shout. In an instant she was wrenched off her feet in a tight hug before he set her back down. “Look at you!” He took a step back, a grin pushing high into his cheeks as he shook his head. “My God. All grown up.”

“Twenty years away will do that to a person.”

His laughter initiated her own. What a switch. Tears burned in her eyes as joy swept through her. This was the reception she’d hoped for.

“Well, let’s have it,” he said. “What are you doing here? How did you get out here?”

“By rail and stage,” she said, batting away her tears. “I’d heard about some fine horses coming from the Morgan Ranch in Wyoming Territory, and I had to see for myself.”

His grin widened. “I’ll be damned. Who brought you out?”

“Chance. I ran into him while leaving the Slippery Gulch depot.”

Tucker’s smile fell. His gaze paused on her dirty dress as his brow knitted in a look of concern. “How’d that go?”

“He didn’t throw me in the dirt, if that’s what you’re wondering.” She smiled at the blatant relief on Tucker’s face. “But he didn’t seem pleased to see me, either.”

“Thoughts of your mama can sure put ice up the spine.”

“Yes, I know. And I’m sorry. You may recall she was no fonder of me, her own flesh and blood.”