Chapter 9
Lonely silence greeted Tess when they arrived home. Gabe marched straight to the barn without so much as a word and, being it was Sunday, everyone else had the day off. She surveyed the house, searching for something—anything—needing to be tended. But to Rosa’s credit, there was not a speck of dust, not a dirty dish, not a single thing out of place. In fact, Tess noted, there weren’t exactly a lot of things to clutter the house up with or for dust to land on.
The living room furniture consisted of a modest rosewood sofa and matching armchair, both covered in velvety cream-colored upholstery with dainty ivy print. Under the window sat Gabriel’s huge oak desk, covered in organized books, ledgers, and an ink well. The wear on the carpeting ended at the desk, leaving Tess to wonder if the living room was ever used.
The only sign a family had actually lived in the house was the lone wedding photograph on the mantel. The young couple, Tess assumed to be Emma and Clayton Calloway, smiled brightly into their future. The man, dressed in a fine-looking dark suit, holding his top hat in hand, bore a striking resemblance to Gabriel, despite his much lighter coloring. Emma Calloway fit the exact image Gabriel had painted of her—a lovely, petite woman dressed in an extravagant and very fashionable white dress adorned with swansdown trim, the perfect contrast to her Gabriel-like dark features.
Tess wandered up the stairs to her room, which, like the rest of the house, had been spared of any homey decorations or designs. The huge oak bed, complete with an amply stuffed tick and two pillows, dwarfed the rest of the room whose only other furnishings were an oak wardrobe that held Gabe’s winter wear and a small round table for the chamber set. Above the table hung a plain oval mirror, but other than that the oatmeal-colored walls were completely bare.
She sighed. Surely there was something needing attention. What was the old proverb? Was it idle hands or an idle brain that was the devil’s workshop? Either way, she couldn’t sit around doing nothing all day. With a twinge of regret, she changed out of her beautiful new dress, pulled her old worn blue dress back on, and tied her hair up on top of her head.
The gentle touch of Gabe’s strong hands lingered, in her hair, on her back, around her waist. She shook her head in a vain attempt to release the memory, laced up her boots, and headed out to the garden. Tess retrieved an old hoe lying in the corner by the beans and set to work. Rosa’s garden was as neat and orderly as the inside of the house, the rows of vegetables—ever ything from peas to carrots to onions—set in perfect lines, not a rock out of place. But even Rosa couldn’t keep up with the weeds.
Tess knelt in the dirt, basking in the warmth of the sun on her back and the soft breeze on her face. Despite Gabriel’s present mood, it was a good day. He had kissed her and that was all that mattered. She would hold that kiss in her heart until the day she died, for Lord only knew if she’d ever experience it again. She bent to her work, relishing in the sheer wonder of it all.
“Thought you might be thirsty.” Gabe held out an ice-cold glass of fresh lemonade. He forced his mind to look past the tiny smile that lingered on her lips, past the smudges of dirt across her forehead and cheeks, and past the melody she hummed to the weeds around her. “Sunday’s not a work day, you know.”
Tess stood, stretched her back and legs, and grinned. “I don’t consider this work. Who would have guessed pulling weeds could be so relaxing?”
“Not me.”
“Thank you.” She smiled and swallowed huge gulps of the refreshing drink. “I didn’t know I was so thirsty.”
Try though he may, Gabe couldn’t help but smile back at her; covered in dirt and muck, she was still the prettiest thing he’d ever seen.
“You should at least have a hat on,” he said, trying to sound stern. “You’ll get sunstroke out here.”
“I don’t have one.” Tess’s brow furrowed slightly. “Perhaps Rosa . . .”
Before she could finish, Gabe removed his Stetson and plunked it on top of her head. It fell down over her ears and covered half her face.
“Yes,” she laughed. “I can see how wearing a hat is so very helpful.” She pushed it up so it sat back on her head, the large brim still shading her face from the sun. Fire raged through Gabe’s stomach and smoldered within his veins. Dazed, angry, and confused, he still could not hold back the smile that tugged the corners of his mouth.
“You don’t have to do this you know,” he said.
“I want to.”
“Wouldn’t you rather be in the house where it’s cool?” Why did his heart slam against his chest? And why the hell was he standing so close to her?
“N-no,” she stammered. “It’s too quiet in there. If I have to be by myself, I’d just as soon be outside where at least I’m not alone.”
She glanced around, motioning to the black squirrel at the foot of the nearby oak tree, the two red-breasted robins sitting on the fence post, and the quick-moving gopher who poked his head up out of his hole and then dove right back down at the sight of Gabe.
“What are you keeping busy with today?” she asked, her eyes finding their way back to Gabe.
“Nothing now, just tending the animals. D’you want some help?” The words fell from his mouth before he knew he had spoken them.
“Yes.” She grinned. “As a matter of fact, I do. The beans and peas need to be picked and the carrots need to be thinned. Think you can manage that?”
Gabe grabbed her glass back playfully. “I’ve been picking beans longer than you’ve been alive, Miss Kinley.”
“Good,” she said. “Then get to work!” She tossed a bowl at him and retrieved her hoe.
They worked in relative silence for a while, Gabe stealing furtive glances at her while she plain out watched him with unabashed pleasure. Every so often she had to stop to adjust the huge hat, and whenever she did, Gabe’s gut cinched tighter. Women hated dirt. Hell, even Rosa cursed quietly when she weeded the garden, but not Tess. Her amber eyes twinkled brightly every time she caught him watching her.
“Why don’t you get along with Bart?” she asked, catching them both off guard.
Gabe stood up, sighed, and shook his head. “Bart and I have learned it’s best if we agree to disagree.”
“About what?”
“Everything.”
“But he’s your brother. Surely you have something in common with him.”
Gabe snorted. “We have the same parents, that’s about it.”
They both returned to their work, a twinge of regret lingering in Gabe’s heart.
“He seemed like a nice enough fellow to me.”
“Of course he did. You’re a woman who expected nothing from him.” Gabe sighed. “Bart has never known responsibility his whole life. He’s done whatever he wanted whenever he wanted and never bothered to consider the consequences.”
“Why didn’t your father do something about that?”
“My old man wasn’t exactly a pillar of the community, and after Mama died he pretty much left the rearing of Bart and me to Rosa.”
“It must have been hard for him to lose your mother and the baby the way he did.”
Gabe stopped picking and turned to look at her. “It was his fault they died,” he said. “If she’d been in the city where she belonged, where there were doctors readily available, she wouldn’t have died. The baby neither.”
“You don’t know that, Gabriel.” Her voice was compassionate yet firm. “Women die during childbirth all the time and there’s nothing anyone can do about it; you don’t know a doctor could have prevented anything. I’m sure your father did all he could for her.”
Gabe’s mind raced back to the day, twenty-five years earlier, when his father took Gabe and Bart outside, in the mud and downpour, and the three of them fell to their knees, begging God to spare the lives of Emma Calloway and her newborn baby girl; a baby who had been born too early, who would never take a breath on her own. Their prayers went unanswered. Clayton was left with two young boys he had no idea what to do with and a ranch he no longer had the heart to run.
The last sober decision Clayton Calloway made was to hire Miguel and Rosa to work the ranch with him. Miguel pretty much took over all the decision making of the land and herd, while Rosa took complete charge of the house and the raising of the boys. Clayton came and went as he pleased, a whiskey bottle in one hand and his beloved Emma’s picture in the other.
It wasn’t long before he no longer commanded or deserved the respect of the other ranchers in town. He spent his days sleeping and his nights drinking and carousing with Dottie Shelton down at the saloon. For her part, Dottie seemed to honestly love Clayton, despite his condition, but he either didn’t see it or pretended not to. Miguel did his best to run the ranch single-handedly but to his own detriment—he was too smart of a businessman, and the place grew faster than anyone could have anticipated. He soon began to depend on young Gabe to help out and put in a grown man’s days’ worth of work, even after other ranch hands were hired.
Bart was still too young to do much, so he spent most of his time in the house being spoiled by Rosa who doted on
el pobrecito
, “the poor thing.” As such, he was never expected to take on any more responsibility than was absolutely necessary—and even that was minimal because between Gabe and Miguel, there wasn’t much left to look after.
Miguel was an excellent teacher and role model. He taught Gabe everything there was to learn about being a rancher and about being a man. Honor, respect, and integrity were ingrained in him from the start, and nothing was more important than a man’s word and his handshake.
“So Bart was never actually given any responsibility around here,” Tess said, her head still bent over her work.
“What?” Had he been thinking out loud that whole time?
“Bart,” she said, “between you, Miguel, and Rosa, everything was taken care of, so Bart didn’t really have to do anything, did he? There was nothing left.”
“There was plenty for him to do!” He insisted, though not quite as adamantly as he would have liked.
“Like what?”
“Well, I can’t think of anything right now,” he snapped, “but there were things.”
Tess smiled. “Did you ever think maybe he wanted to be part of things here but you and Miguel were so busy running everything yourselves you didn’t give him a chance?”
Gabe shook his head. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I’m not saying you or Miguel were wrong in what you did or how you did it,” she explained. “You were doing what you had to do to keep this place running and pay the bills.”
“Damn right.”
“But maybe it’s time you took a step back and had another look at your little brother. Maybe he felt as though he never really belonged here, that he was simply in the way.”
“Really?” Sarcasm dripped like acid from his lips. “And what makes you an expert on my brother all of a sudden?”
“Nothing.” She spoke gently, but Gabe’s back was already up. “You obviously know him better than I, but family is family, Gabriel, and he’s the only family you have left. The ranch is yours to do with as you please, and Bart has had to go out and make a different life for himself.”
“That’s not a life—chasing fugitives all over hell’s half acre—that’s a death wish.”
Tess shrugged. “Maybe he’s waiting for you to ask him to come home.”
“I seriously doubt that.”
“Have you asked?”
“No!”
“Maybe you should.”
Gabe stared at her in silence for a long while. She continued to pull weeds as she spoke, and not once in the entire exchange had she sounded accusing or judgmental. She had simply pointed out some things perhaps Gabe had been unable—or unwilling—to see. Maybe she was right. Maybe.
A flicker of amusement danced across his face.
“He’d probably be lynched by every girl’s father within fifty miles.”
“Broke a few hearts, did he?” Tess asked. She smiled, adjusting the hat again.
“More than a few, I’m afraid. Got himself a bit of a reputation before he up and left.”
Tess stopped working and looked him straight in the eye.
“What about you, Gabriel? How many hearts have you broken?”
Gabe chuckled. “I’m more of the ‘breakee’ type than the ‘breaker.’”
Tess’s smile faded from her lips. “Who was she?”
“Tess . . .”
“Did you love her?” When he didn’t answer right away, her face clouded. “Do you still love her?”
The fear in her eyes stabbed straight at his heart.
“I thought I did,” he sighed. “But now I’m not so sure.”
“Why?”
He couldn’t very well tell her the truth—he’d never get her back on the stage if he did. He settled for avoiding the direct question.
“Things change, Tess, people change. It’s the way life is.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “They do. Sometimes for the better.”
“And sometimes for the worse.”
“Oh, Gabriel,” she said quietly. “You don’t really feel that way. Look at it this way—if it wasn’t for change, we never would have met.”
“Yeah,” he scoffed, gesturing around the piles of weeds. “And look where that’s got us.”
Tess laughed lightly and threw a handful of dirt at him.
“What about you, Miss Kinley?” he asked, sobering slightly. “Are you a breakee or a breaker?”
“Neither,” she said. “I’ve never even been courted.”
Gabe just about choked. “You’re kidding, right?”
“No. Father decided years ago I would marry Harmon. I wasn’t permitted to take any gentleman callers.”
“So I guess that makes you a breaker.”
Tess paused. “No, not really. In all the time Father spent planning my marriage, I never agreed to it, nor did I pretend to. I told Harmon as much the one and only time we were ever alone.” A mighty shudder rocked her spine.
“But poor ol’ Harm still must have been heartbroken,” Gabe said. He forced his arms to his sides to keep them from pulling her into his embrace. He certainly didn’t want to have her in his arms, he only wanted to stop her from trembling the way she did. Or so he told himself.