Give Me A Texan. Jodi Thomas
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any fear of him, Hank put his hand at her waist, steadying his arm as she bandaged his wound. His gun belt was missing from around her hips and he wondered if she simply removed it while she slept, or if she felt safe enough with him not to bother with even the pretense of the Colt.
“How are we doing?” He repeated the same question he’d asked on the train steps twenty-four hours ago. “Any complaints, so far?”
She worked silently, her nearness affecting him more than any poking she was doing. Taking a deep breath, he let the scent of her fill his lungs. He’d smelled perfumed women in the saloons, and a few proper ladies who bore the scent of starch and talcum, but Aggie was like neither. She reminded him of spring water just when the land turns green, all fresh and new.
When she didn’t answer, Hank waited, figuring out that something bothered her. If he were guessing, he could think of several things—he’d left her their first day, the storm, no furnishings in the house to speak of, no curtains on the windows, none of her family close.
“There is one thing,” she finally said as she tied off the bandage.
“What?” He wouldn’t have been surprised if she said she changed her mind and wanted to go back to Fort Worth. Maybe the banker or the hotheaded Potter Stockton weren’t looking so bad after she’d spent the day here alone. He remained still, his hand at her waist.
“When you left, you kissed me on the forehead.”
If she was waiting for him to say he was sorry for that, she’d wait a long time. Finally, he managed to mumble, “You’d rather I hadn’t been so informal?”
She shrugged. “No, actually, I was thinking that if you are going to kiss me good-bye, I’d rather you didn’t do it on the forehead. It makes me feel like a child. I may be over a foot shorter than you, but I’m not a child. I wish never to be treated as such again.”
Now he said, “I’m sorry,” and meant it. “That was not my intent.” He watched her closely, unsure where the conversation was going. “Where would you like me to kiss you when we part?” He thought of mentioning that couples do kiss one another politely when saying good-bye, but in truth he could never really remember seeing any husband do so except at the train station.
She placed her hand on his shoulder and leaned slightly toward him. “The cheek would be all right, I guess, or even the lips would seem appropriate. After all, we are married.”
Hank had that feeling of walking on ice. One misstep and he’d disappear. He wondered if he’d ever be able to read this woman. She’d made it plain she wanted a partnership marriage and nothing more, and now she was telling him where to kiss her. It crossed his mind that if all women were as hard to read as Aggie, no wonder the saloons were packed with married men.
He dove into deep water. “Like this,” he whispered as he tugged her near and brushed his lips lightly along her cheek.
She leaned away, considering. “That would be acceptable, I think.” She smiled. “Your whiskers tickle.”
His arm slid around her waist once more but this time when he pulled her, she stumbled, landing on his knee. Before he could change his mind, Hank kissed her soundly on the lips.
When he raised his head, her eyes were open wide.
“Is that acceptable, Aggie?” he said, preparing himself for any answer.
Standing, she whispered, “Yes, dear.” She turned, suddenly giving all her attention to putting up the supplies.
Chapter 8
They ate their dinner of beans and peaches at the kitchen table without saying much. Hank would have thought he’d upset her, only her last words still sounded in his mind. She’d said the kiss had been acceptable.
He was thinking of when he should do the acceptable again when she asked, “Where’d you get your dishes?”
Glancing down, Hank noticed the mismatch of china. “I bought them in the discount bin a few months after I came here. When my dad died, I sold the farm and packed up what I could in a wagon. Somewhere between East Texas and here, the box of his china fell off the wagon.” He lifted one bowl. “This was the only piece that survived.”
Aggie smiled. “This makes me feel right at home. When my first sister married, she took Mother’s good china with her. The second packed away the everyday set. Papa bought more, but they left after the third wedding. After that he just bought odd pieces.” She lifted the china teacup she’d been drinking coffee out of. “As near as I can remember, my mother’s best set looked like this one with the tiny blue flowers around the rim.”
Hank had never noticed the flowers, but he was glad he’d chosen the tea set. He bought them because he thought the pieces somehow made his place appear more like a home. Now he thought the cup looked right in her tiny hand.
“After dinner,” he said when he realized he’d been staring at her for a while, “we could walk over to the barn. I’ll need to measure how high you want your bench. I’m guessing you’ll want to do some of the gunsmithing in the barn.”
“It’s late,” she said, glancing out at the night, “and it looks like it might rain again.”
“I know, but I want to get started on it at first light tomorrow morning.” He grinned and added, “While you’re cooking breakfast.”
She finally looked at him. “Let’s hope I’m better at it than you are at supper.”
Hank didn’t argue. She’d only eaten half the beans he’d served her. “Blue, before he got married, used to come over for meals from time to time. He said I made a good stew and in the summer I can fry up fish and potatoes regularly.” He’d already decided that if the mud wasn’t too bad he’d take her in for dinner at the hotel tomorrow night, but he wanted her to know he wasn’t going back on his offer to cook. “I plant a garden in the spring. For half the vegetables and a case of jars, Lizzy will can all we can eat next winter.”
“What about this winter?”
“I told her all I’d need were potatoes and carrots. They’re in a root cellar. I’m not real fond of the green stuff, even floating in stew, but if you like them, I’ll barter for black-eyed peas and green beans. Soon as it dries out, we can pick up all the canned goods we need at the Diggs’ place.”
She pulled a small tablet from her pocket. “I’ve been making a list of things I need. If you’ll loan me the money, I’ll pay you back.” She looked down at her new clothes. “I’d also like to buy a few more sets of clothes like these. I don’t think I want to wear my old dresses. They don’t seem to belong here.”
He couldn’t agree more.
Hank stood and pulled a coffee can from the top shelf. “I have some money in the bank, but this is what I planned for winter expenses. There’s a little over five hundred dollars here. You’re welcome to however much you need.” He started to return the can to the top shelf, then reconsidered and shoved it between the spices so it would be within her reach.
“I’ll pay you back. Once we’re square, I’d like it if we both put the same amount into the can each year. Then whatever else you make on the ranch or I make working will be for each to decide.”
He wanted to argue that it wasn’t necessary, but she’d said each year like there would be many. Figuring he’d have time to talk out expenses later, Hank asked, “Did you decide if you want to use the room upstairs?”
“I thought I’d make it my indoor workroom, that way the kitchen won’t get cluttered. The light’s good up there and on cold days the kitchen fire will keep it warm.”
“I could frame you up furniture tomorrow. The good thing about winter on a ranch is there’s time to do all the chores I couldn’t get to in the spring and summer. The bad thing is I never seem to finish the list before calving.” He stood and lifted a lantern from the