Morning Comes Softly Page 21

  She sat chewing on the end of her pen as she mulled over the changes in her life since she’d married Travis.

  He was a card-carrying chauvinist, but that wasn’t unexpected. She’d known that before she married him; indeed, she’d often gained a good deal of amusement from his attitude. There were times, however, when he drove her to distraction with his high-handed notions.

  Mary frowned and held on to the pen, rubbing it between her palms. Her husband never had been the talkative sort, but he seemed even less so lately. She knew his brother’s death continued to weigh heavily on his mind. He hadn’t said anything to her, but she knew he’d contacted a couple of private investigators, although he hadn’t shared with her what he’d learned, if anything.

  Any communication between her and Travis recently had taken place in bed. There had to be a physical limit to how much a man could perform sexually. If Mary hadn’t known better, she would’ve suspected he’d been looking to set some sort of world’s record.

  For the last three nights they’d made love when they went to bed, and later he’d wake her again, wanting her, often with a desperation that rocked her. He appeared apologetic about his need, embarrassed, and even a bit shy. Mary didn’t understand it, and she felt equally certain Travis didn’t, either.

  If she were more experienced about men, if she’d been in other relationships, she might have been more insightful. She guessed that in some way his sexual prowess was connected to his anger over what had happened in the investigation involving his brother and sister-in-law. She wasn’t sure how the two were linked, but she felt strongly that they were.

  Twice now, when she woke in the morning, she learned he’d already been up, eaten, and left the house. His disappearing act maddened her. She felt emotionally bruised and abandoned. If she hadn’t believed he was at a loss to explain his strange behavior himself, she would have taken offense.

  Each night she meant to talk to him about his early morning habits. It would be nice if they talked before he left the house. But when she slipped into bed, Travis was there waiting, eager, needing her. Her irritation evaporated under the wonder of his kisses and the golden feel of his hands over her. Afterward, content in his arms, she felt drowsy with love and disinclined to bring up any unpleasantness.

  Soon, she promised herself, she’d talk to him soon. Having reached an agreement with herself, she returned to her letter to Georgeanne.

  “Tilly,” Sally called as she slipped past, carrying three orders of fried chicken with mashed potatoes and Martha’s special gravy. “Martha wants to talk to you when you’ve got a free minute.”

  “She does?” Tilly tucked the pencil behind her ear. “Did she say what it was about?”

  “No. Don’t look so worried, kid, she needs you more than you need her.”

  Tilly sincerely doubted that. She fretted until the dinner crowd had thinned out, then headed toward the kitchen. Martha was busy giving orders to the relief chef. The older woman was one of the best cooks Tilly had ever seen, but she never ate her own food, or so it seemed. She couldn’t remain this thin and sample her own cooking. She wore her gray hair short and in her white uniform resembled a nurse more than she did a cook. “Sally said you wanted to see me.”

  “Let’s talk in the back room,” Martha suggested. “Grab yourself a cup of coffee.”

  “I didn’t do anything wrong, did I?” Tilly was tense and worried. She couldn’t help it. She wasn’t making money hand over fist, but she liked the job and the town and was hoping to stick around for a while. A long while, especially if Logan was going to be an important part of her life.

  Martha led her into a small storage area. She’d set up a desk and did her paperwork there among rows of huge cans of fruit and vegetables. A bulletin board posted on the door listed shift times.

  “Sit down,” Martha said, motioning toward a dilapidated chair that looked like a Goodwill reject.

  Tilly took the chair. “Are you going to fire me?” She’d rather know that flat out. No need prettying it up with a bunch of fancy words when it all boiled down to the same thing. She wasn’t needed any longer.

  “Don’t worry, kid, you’ve got a job here for as long as you want.”

  Tilly relaxed so much that she nearly sagged off her seat.

  “Something’s been troubling you lately, though, hasn’t it?”

  Tilly relief was short-lived. “What makes you ask?”

  Martha chuckled. “I got eyes. You’ve been tense and unhappy. Is it Doc’s boy? Has he been doing you wrong?”

  Tilly hid a smile at the old-fashioned term. It wasn’t her Logan had hurt. Each day the same nightmare greeted her when she woke. She could barely look at Travis or those three precious children without wanting to weep.

  For days she’d tried to convince herself that she’d misread Logan the night of the Harvest Moon Festival, but no amount of self-talk could persuade her she was wrong. After listening to Travis and Sheriff Tucker’s argument, Logan had changed. It was like he’d been hit with a flu bug. He’d gone pale and had started to shake. When she asked, he’d claimed he wasn’t feeling well. Which was true enough.

  He’d brought her to his house as promised, but they hadn’t made love. Instead Tilly had lain in his arms all night while he’d clung to her. She swore neither one of them got a wink of sleep.

  “Tilly?” Martha asked again, pulling her from her musings. “Has that lawyer man been using you?”

  “No,” she said, surprised by how strained and unnatural her voice sounded.

  “You love him?”

  Tilly lowered her gaze and nodded.

  “You sleeping with him?”

  “That’s none of your business.”

  The older woman chuckled. “You’re right, acourse. Besides, it’s written all over you. Naturally you’re sleeping with him. What red-blooded girl wouldn’t fall in love with that handsome cuss? Just be careful, you hear? Them lawyers can be slick with words, and I don’t want you hurt. Understand?”

  “I’ll be careful,” Tilly promised.

  “Now cheer up. You’re much too pretty to be so unhappy. Smile, child.”

  Tilly did, then laughed and hugged the cook who was more of a friend than she’d ever realized.

  Mary was helping Scotty with his homework when she heard the back door close. Travis had seemed even more pensive than usual over dinner, adding only a comment or two to the mealtime conversation. Scotty and Beth Ann had filled the silence with their happy chatter. Scotty had gotten a good grade on his math paper and bragged about it for several minutes. Beth Ann was excited, too. She’d been chosen to play the part of a rabbit in a dramatization that afternoon. She’d loved it and had decided to become a Hollywood actress. Even Jim seemed more agreeable than usual. At least he hadn’t purposely started an argument. It had been a red-letter day, or would have been if it hadn’t been for Travis.

  “Where’d Travis go?” Mary asked.

  Jim was sitting at the table with his homework. “I don’t know. He didn’t say,” he answered without looking up.

  “He probably went out to the barn,” she suggested, more to herself than the boy.

  “If that’s the case, he took the truck.”

  Mary was stunned. Travis had left without a word to anyone? Without even letting her know where he was headed? It was as if whatever he did was his business. As if she were nothing more than his housekeeper, certainly no one he need concern himself with. No matter what he said or did, she’d be there to care for the children, cook his meals, see to the house, and satisfy his sexual needs. The setup was ideal. For him!

  Her head buzzing, Mary sank onto the chair next to Jim. She crossed her arms and tapped her foot, the rhythm fast-paced and frenzied.

  “Mary,” Jim cried, slamming his pencil against the tabletop. “Stop, would you?”

  “Stop what?”

  “Your foot. It’s knocking against the table.”

  “Oh,” she said, surprised, and stood up. “I’m
sorry.” She crossed the room, brushed the hair from her face, and reached for her coat.

  “Where are you going?”

  Mary jerked her arms into the satin-lined sleeves. “Outside.” She wasn’t entirely sure what she intended to do, but it was necessary to do something. Anything was better than sitting in the house stewing. For days she’d avoided confronting Travis in front of the children so as not to upset them again. That had been a mistake.

  The wind was cold and cutting, whipping around her like a blue northerner. Stuffing her hands deep inside her lined pockets, she hunched her shoulders against the wintry blast and headed toward the barn.

  Jim was right. Travis’s truck was gone, and everything was surprisingly quiet in the barn. She traipsed from one end to the other, thinking, hoping she’d gain some clue, some indication of what had been so important for Travis to leave without a word.

  Naturally there was nothing; she didn’t really believe there would have been. He’d done it on purpose—a slight to let her know how unimportant she was in his life. She bit her lower lip. Damn, but it hurt, it really hurt.

  As she left the barn she saw Beth Ann’s anxious face watching her from the kitchen window. Mary waved, then raced across the yard and into the house.

  Scotty met her at the door. “Jim said you were running away.”

  “Jim,” Mary said sternly, “you know that isn’t true.” She squatted down and hugged both Beth Ann and Scotty. They wrapped their arms around her neck and squeezed tight. “I’d never leave you, not ever,” she whispered.

  “Maybe you wouldn’t,” Jim said coldly, slapping his textbook closed. He stood with enough energy for the chair to topple backward. “But Travis would.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “He doesn’t keep his promises. Not a single one, not ever.” With that Jim raced down the hallway to his room. Mary flinched at the sound of the slamming door. She debated whether she should follow him, have this out now, then decided against it. Jim’s problem evolved from his relationship with Travis and the promise to find whoever had been responsible for Lee and Janice’s death. Her heart softened at the pain she read in the twelve-year-old. Confronting him now, without Travis there, could prove to be another mistake in a growing list.

  “Someone’s here,” Scotty said, pushing aside the window curtain and peering out intently.

  “Who is it?” Beth Ann crowded next to her brother.

  “Children, please,” Mary said, steering them away from the window. “It’s not polite to stare at visitors.”

  “I didn’t see who it was. I don’t think you should open the door.” Scotty rushed ahead to the back door and spread his arms, blocking Mary’s way.

  “Scotty, you’re being ridiculous.”

  Her curiosity aroused, Mary glanced out the window and recognized Logan Anderson, the man who’d been with Tilly at the Harvest Moon Festival. They’d talked only briefly, but Mary had liked him. It was plain Tilly did, too. Her friend had glowed with happiness.

  “You don’t need to worry, Scotty, it’s Mr. Anderson,” Mary said, opening the door to Logan.

  Scotty eyed the man suspiciously until he recognized him. “We saw you at the carnival, didn’t we?”

  “That’s right.” Logan smiled down at the eight-year-old. His gaze lingered momentarily on the boy before shifting to Beth Ann. Mary wasn’t an expert at reading people, but she sensed a deep pain in Logan as he studied the children.

  “Would you like a cup of coffee?”

  “No thanks,” Logan answered, pulling his attention away from Scotty and Beth. “I’ve come to talk to Travis.”

  “I’m sorry, he isn’t here. I’ll be happy to give him a message if you’d like.”

  “No, no,” Logan said quickly—too quickly, it seemed to Mary. Funny, but he looked almost relieved that Travis wasn’t available. She wasn’t sure what to make of it.

  “I’ll tell him you stopped by.”

  “That would be great, thanks, Mary.” He patted the top of Beth Ann’s blond head and shook hands with Scotty, then looked to Mary. “It was good to see you again.”

  “You too.” She opened the door for him and watched for several minutes until he’d climbed inside his car. It wasn’t until after he’d left that Mary realized how quick his steps had been as he’d walked away.

  How very strange.

  The Cattlemen’s Association meeting had dragged on far longer than usual. Several of the ranchers were up in arms with the wolf problem. Travis addressed the issue himself, suggesting the cattlemen trap the wolf themselves, and a number of the others agreed with him.

  The U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service had sent a representative to reassure the cattlemen that everything possible was being done. It would be only a matter of time before the wolf was located and moved to another area, he promised.

  “A matter of time” didn’t sit any better with Travis’s neighbors than it did with him. The time for talking was past. They’d given the federal boys the opportunity to handle matters their own way. It hadn’t worked. Not even a helicopter had been able to flush out the cagey beast.

  Like the others, Travis had already lost several calves. His patience had long since worn thin. If the wolf moved onto his land again, he was going after it himself.

  The meeting broke up some time later, and Travis drove to the Logger with several of his friends. The cattlemen convened in groups, eager to share their dissatisfaction with what had taken place at the meeting.

  Larry Martin sat on one side of Travis at the bar. Rob Bradley was on the other side. The three ordered beer.

  “I’m telling you right now,” Larry said, red-faced and angry, “I’m not going to worry about protecting any wolf. If this keeps up much longer, my cattle are going to be an endangered species.”

  “Amen.” Rob raised his bottle in salute.

  “I can’t afford any more of these losses.”

  “You?” Travis muttered, as disgruntled as his friends. “No one can.”

  Stan, the Logger bartender, walked over to the three men, drying a shot glass with the frayed edge of the white apron tied about his waist.

  “What are you three grumbling about now?”

  “We got troubles,” Larry explained.

  Stan laughed. “That’s what I understand. I heard you boys got yourself a wolf who hankers after veal.”

  “You’d think he’d be so fat by now, he wouldn’t be able to run,” Bill muttered, and downed another swallow of his beer. When he finished he slammed the glass against the counter. “I’ll take another.”

  Stan eyed the others. “What about you two?”

  “Sure,” Larry agreed.

  “Travis?” Stan held up a third bottle.

  “No thanks.”

  Stan looked surprised, then chuckled. “Ah, I forgot. Word has it you found yourself a wife.”

  “You heard right,” Travis returned without emotion. “Her name’s Mary.”

  “Cooks like a dream,” Larry said, placing his fingertips against his lips and making a loud smacking sound.

  “Yeah, but what’s she like in bed?”

  It seemed all three men were studying him. The question angered him, but if he showed his feelings, they’d take delight in riling him more, so he shrugged. He didn’t mind bragging about his conquests, but his wife was another matter.

  Stan rested his arms against the bar and leaned toward Travis. His eyes twinkled with curiosity. “She got long legs?”

  “Nope,” Larry answered for him. “I swear she only stands this high.” He put his hand out level with his hip.

  His friend’s assessment disturbed Travis. Sure, Mary was small, but she made up for that in a hundred different ways. “She may be tiny, but then I’ve found there are advantages to petite women,” Travis supplied.

  “Oh?” He had their full attention now.

  “Like what?”

  Travis regretted having fallen prey to their questions. Every time he opened his mouth he dug
himself in deeper. “When I put that ad in the paper,” he said, “I thought I was getting the short end of this deal.”

  “You mean you didn’t?”

  Travis grinned sheepishly and pushed his empty beer bottle toward the bartender. “Just think, when I get home tonight, I’ve got a warm, willing body waiting for me.” That should shut up his friends.

  “You’re putting us on.”

  Travis shook his head. “Have I ever lied to you before?”

  Larry slowly shook his head. “Never.”

  “I’m not now.”

  Rob turned to Larry. “You believe him?”

  “I don’t know. Travis ain’t usually one to lie.”

  “Yeah, but he’s never had a wife before, either. A woman can do strange things to a man.”

  Both were studying Travis closely.

  “My guess is he’s telling us the truth.”

  “Yeah,” Rob said with a sigh, “you could be right.”

  Larry just stared at him, the bottle raised halfway to his mouth.

  Travis slapped some change on the counter. “I’ll be seeing you boys later.”

  “Later,” Stan muttered, and raised his hand in farewell.

  Travis stepped outside and into his truck, pleased with himself. Talking about his private life with Mary was something he was uncomfortable with, but he couldn’t have his friends thinking she’d twisted him around her little finger, even if it was partially true.

  As for that part about her in bed waiting for him, he hoped it was true. Talking about their sex life had made him eager, but there wasn’t a time lately that he hadn’t been. This intense need for the physical side of their union continued to plague him. He felt like a kid with a hormone problem.

  Now more than ever he felt it was time he asserted his independence from Mary. That was the reason he’d left for the Cattlemen’s Association meeting without telling her. Keeping her guessing would be good for their marriage.

  He was traveling well past the speed limit now in his eagerness to get home. A hot river of desire pulsed through him as his mind filled with images of Mary in his bed, eager for his arrival home. Within minutes they’d be making love and she’d fill the aching emptiness that closed in on him at night.