Six

The following day, Roan tried his best to stay awake longer, but sleep robbed him of much of the sunlight hours. Maybe it was guilt that he hadn’t left to bury Mose or that he missed the friend’s company, but he dreamed of him a lot. The old man was as close to family as he had, and an ache throbbed inside that he wouldn’t see his smile or hear his words of wisdom anymore.

Finally, his dry mouth and empty stomach protested. The sound of Marley tiptoeing about the darkened room forced his eyes open.

“Could I trouble you for a minute, Miss Marley?”

“Oh dear, did I wake you?”

“No. What time is it?”

“Four o’clock in the afternoon.” The sound of a closing drawer reached him. Marley moved to the side of his bed.

“Why didn’t you throw some cold water on me or slap me good and hard? I need to get up and around.” He tried to toss the covers back but found he was too weak.

“Roan, sleep was the best thing for you. You have to let your body heal or you’ll never make it to bury your friend. Are you thirsty? Maybe you can eat a bite to tide you until supper.”

“Do you have any coffee? If not, I’ll take a glass of water. And maybe a fried egg.”

“It’ll only take a minute. Would you like to sit up while I fix it?”

“I hate to be such a bother, but it would be nice to sit up.”

She put her arm through his up by the shoulder and pulled. Together, they propped him against the headboard, but he was drenched in sweat by the time he got situated. He was appalled by the amount of strength he’d lost. Duel was right—he couldn’t fight his way out of a paper bag.

“There. I’ll be back with some food and that coffee.” She raised the shades to let in the light, then left the room.

A windmill creaked beyond the walls of the house. He’d always loved the sound. His vision had cleared some, and he could make out a few things in the room that clearly defined Marley’s space. An easel in the corner. Several paintings were on the wall—landscapes best he could tell. Frilly curtains on the windows. A pretty quilt covered him. A glance at the chair beside the bed revealed some kind of book lying open as though she’d been interrupted. He recalled a rug of some kind being on the floor when he’d gotten up yesterday. The lady appeared to have made her space comfortable.

Roan again dozed until the sound of footsteps awakened him. It made him mad that he couldn’t stay awake for two minutes.

“Here’s your coffee. I’ll bring the food when it’s ready.” Marley handed him a cup. Their hands brushed when he took it, and he felt a jolt at the contact. “I’m glad you took our advice to heart. Getting rest is the only way you’ll be able to do what you must.”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t make lying here any easier. Buzzards and who knows what else are picking the flesh from my friend.” Roan blew on the coffee and took a sip, finding the liquid exactly what he needed.

“You’ll get there soon. Try not to let it prey on your mind.”

Yeah, well, that was easier said than done.

He changed the subject. “Judging from what I can see, you’ve made a nice home here.”

“Thank you. I like having my own space.”

“I noticed the easel. Yours?”

“Yes, but I don’t get to paint very often; therefore, I’m not very good. I do love mixing the colors together and seeing what comes out on the canvas.” She glanced at the door. “I need to get back to the stove. We’ll talk in a minute.”

He closed his eyes in the silence and let his mind drift to another who liked to paint. The Widow Harper, the woman his father had given him to, had also loved to paint landscapes. She loved life and colored her lonely world with beauty and kindness. He missed her. Everyone he developed a fondness for had vanished from his life.

Marley returned with a plate of eggs and toast. “This will be light on your stomach.”

“Thank you.” He tried to give her a smile, and he hoped she recognized the attempt at least. “Anything is welcome. I’m sorry if I’ve taken you from something else. I’m sure you have many things you’d rather do than sit by such a sorry-looking sight as I am.”

She lifted the book on the chair and sat down. “I’m not complaining, and neither is anyone else. Tell me about this friend of yours, Mose. What was your life like with him?”

While he ate, he told her about Mose and just how much the man’s friendship had meant to him. He found Marley easy to talk to. She asked a few questions, and he ended up saying far more than he intended.

Before he knew it, he’d practically cleaned his plate of the delicious food. Marley opened her book and scribbled something on a page. A thoughtful pucker appeared on her forehead as she wrote. He liked her brown eyes. Brown reminded him of the soil, necessary for growing things—whether crops or nurturing a soul. There was something wholesome and honest about the color.

“I’m curious about that book. What are you doing?”

“Writing a story for Matthew… I’m sorry, Matt.” She flashed him a smile. “He does love my feeble attempts.”

“How many have you written?” He filled his mouth with more eggs and toast.

“I think there’s a dozen in this book. I have two more that are full. Most are very short and can be read in their entirety at bedtime. Nothing will probably come of them, but I enjoy letting my imagination take hold and run.” She tapped the pencil against her cheek. “Writing completes something inside me as nothing else does. I know this sounds silly.”

“Absolutely not. You appear to be a very creative person, and you should take it seriously.” And beautiful to boot, the best he could tell. He’d gotten a good look at her when she’d helped raise him to a sitting position. The ends of her dark hair had tickled his cheek, and he’d fought the urge to touch a strand.

But what drew him to her most was her kind heart.

“I do try, believe me. But what use is it? What will I ever do with it other than read to Matt? Lord knows, no one else probably will.”

“You should try to publish them.”

“How? I don’t know the first thing about that.” She released a sigh and shut the book.

“Just don’t give up on your dream.” Roan laid down his fork and wiped his mouth. “I’ve been meaning to apologize.”

“What for?”

“I’m sorry I stole your bed, Miss Marley. If you can direct me to another, I’ll gladly give it back.”

Marley laughed. “Nope. It’s yours for as long as you need it. I’m sleeping fine on the sofa. Would you like to listen to some music? I have a phonograph I can bring in here.”

“Anything to stay awake.” He chuckled. “Fair warning, I’ll probably fall asleep in the middle of a record.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

She took his tray and disappeared through the door. He cursed his poor vision that he couldn’t see her curves. Something told him that she cut quite a figure. One thing he already knew by the sound—she had a no-nonsense stride.

And he couldn’t even admire it or her figure. Hell!

But he had seen her brown eyes when she’d leaned close, and they were real pretty.

* * *

The next morning, Marley commandeered Hardy Gage and Judd Hanson into helping Roan outside into the sunshine. She gathered a pan of warm water, a towel, and soap to wash his hair. He’d already agreed and seemed to look forward to it. But he rested his head against the back of the chair as though it was too heavy to hold up.

Matthew came running. “What’cha doing, Mr. Penny?”

“Your Mama Rose is going to wash my hair, little man.”

“Can I watch?”

“I reckon so, but it’s going to be boring,” Marley warned.

“Hey, Matthew, want to come with me an’ Judd?” Hardy asked. “Molly had her kittens.”

Judd picked up the cajoling. “They’re awful cute I hear. But if you don’t want to—”

“I do! I do!” The boy jumped up and down, clasping his hands together.

Marley breathed a sigh of relief. She wanted a few minutes alone with Roan. She wasn’t even sure what to say, but she’d feel better not having little ears listening to each word.

“Are you sure you don’t mind doing this?” Roan opened his eyes. Even though it wasn’t very wide, given that they were still swollen, she saw a small improvement. “This sun is exactly what I needed, but I may fall out of this chair. It’s sure making me awful sleepy.”

“I’ll catch you.” Marley bit her lip. That sounded way too forward. “I mean, I won’t let you hurt yourself.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” Roan chuckled. “Not that anyone would notice new bruises.”

“Lean back into the warm water.” The pan, resting on a high table, was the right height and allowed Marley to use both hands. “I’ll try to be gentle, but the dried blood may need to soak a bit.”

“I hate for you to have to tackle this job, but I’m as weak as a newborn babe. It tires me to move any part of my body.”

“That’s why you have to rest more before you ride out, and besides, I don’t mind one bit. When I finish here, I’ll shave you.”

Roan cut his eyes to her. “Shave me? Have you done that before?”

“Often ranch hands get hurt and can’t groom themselves for whatever reason. I’ve gotten very skillful at shaving men. There’s no need to be nervous.”

“If you say so, Miss Marley. It will feel good to get this stubble off.”

“Just close your eyes and think about a place where your soul can be at peace.” She reached for the soap and lathered it to a thick foam on his wet hair, then very gently began to wash out the matted blood.

His eyes closed, Roan let a rumble of appreciation escape. “This is heaven right here. You have a most gentle touch, Miss Marley.”

“Thank you, but I’m plain Marley. Like my father, I’ve never been big on formality. We’re ordinary people here.”

“I noticed that by the way you treat your ranch hands like family.”

Marley chuckled, massaging his scalp. “That’s because they are. They helped raise me and now these other children.”

She kept him entertained with tales of her parents and the children they’d taken in. He seemed truly interested, as though the McClain family was a rarity. Maybe they were where he came from. She washed his dark strands until they gleamed, then collected her shaving items.

Roan sat up and touched his hair. “I can’t thank you enough.”

“I’m glad I could do it.” Finding him on that lonely, cold morning had changed her life in a lot of ways. She loved his touch and how his voice changed when he spoke passionately about certain topics. He’d done things she’d only read about. He was smart and had a great sense of humor.

Roan Penny was the first man who’d ever truly interested her. And now he was set to leave. She probably wouldn’t see him again.

Somehow, she found the thought unbearable. Roan had brought life into her monotonous days. She couldn’t go back to merely existing.

* * *

Roan soaked up the sun’s warmth and leaned his head back, his eyes closed. Marley wrapped a warm towel around his face, leaving his eyes and mouth open, readying to shave him.

She rested a hand on his shoulder. Her touch gave him such a calm feeling. “I’m going to be very careful and avoid the cut around your throat. If I cause you pain, let me know right away.”

“You can be sure of that. But it’s such a shallow cut it doesn’t bother me much.”

While the moist heat softened the stubble, she told him about a new story she’d written about a boy and his pet horse. He could listen to her talk all day. Her voice had the same musical quality he’d noticed at the outset, and as she spoke, passion filled her words.

“You have a real gift, Marley. You have such a vivid imagination.”

“Thanks, but I just write what’s in my heart. I don’t know any other way. I think we’re ready to proceed.” She removed the towel and lathered him up, then carefully put the razor to his jaw.

He closed his eyes and enjoyed the pampering. His thoughts wandered to this ranch, the McClain family, and to Marley. They’d shown him there were still kind people in the world.

The razor strokes were smooth, never hard or jerky. Marley’s skill amazed him. Was there anything she couldn’t do? He lay back, soaking up the sounds of the windmill, horses nickering in the corral, and the light scrape of the razor against his jaw. Except for Marley’s closeness, he could doze off.

But Marley made sleep impossible. The faint scent of something flowery encircled his head. He relaxed and enjoyed her presence, wishing he could tell her how much sharing these days meant to him.

Still, what use would it be to voice feelings that couldn’t go anywhere?

His thoughts drifted until he felt her lean over him, felt a strand of hair brush his shoulder. He opened his eyes to find himself staring into her pretty brown gaze just inches away. For a second, he barely breathed, for fear it was a dream and she’d vanish.

Her close proximity did strange things to his heart.

Dark curls framed her face, and her eyes glistened like diamonds shimmering in a stream. Air got trapped in his lungs, and the wanting was so powerful, it sent throbbing pain through him.

Like a man wandering too long alone, he reached to capture a strand of hair between his thumb and forefinger. The texture was like satin, and he couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t speak. Her soft breath whispered against his newly shaved cheek, and unexpected hunger rose.

Awareness sizzled between them. He became acutely conscious of the length of her eyelashes, her heartbeat, the pulse in the hollow of her elegant neck. He’d long searched for a woman like Marley, never once thinking she existed.

Her mouth was so close. Just a slight move forward…

But to what end? He wouldn’t tease her, make her think they could have more, when, in truth, they could have no future at all.

Marley Rose McClain was everything a man like him could never have, and to even wish for a life with her was a big mistake that could only lead to bitter disappointment. Best to remember his place and that he had nothing to offer—not to her or to any woman.

But maybe for just a moment he could pretend.

“You have the silkiest hair I’ve ever felt.” His voice was low and full of yearning. He released the strand and brushed a finger lightly across her cheek. “I’m afraid you got a poor bargain when you patched up my rotten hide.”

“Let me be the judge of that. There is nothing wrong with your hide.”

Her soft statement wound around his heart like a stubborn trumpet vine.

She adjusted her angle, cleared her throat, and moved back a fraction. Her attention once again on his jaw, she applied the razor’s edge to his stubble. “I’m glad I found you,” she murmured.

“Me too.” Roan glanced away, feeling the need to apologize. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. That was no way to repay your kindness.”

“Good heavens, Roan. You didn’t do anything wrong. I like being with you. Over the days and hours we’ve spent together, I like to think we’ve become true friends.” She lifted the razor and wiped it with the towel.

Friends. Well, that put him in his place. He should thank her for reminding him. He would, if he didn’t think it would make things awkward. She’d been so kind to him—he was honored to have her friendship.

“You’re easy to be around, Marley, and I’ve enjoyed being with you more than you know.” He’d remember this time for the rest of his life. When he sat around a lonely campfire, he’d recall Marley McClain and how tempted he’d been to kiss her.

A minute later, she wiped away the remaining shaving cream and handed him a mirror. “What do you think?”

“You’ve worked a miracle. I feel like a new man and, except for the bruises and black eyes, I look almost human.”

She stood back with a smile. “I think you’re very handsome.”

That was one word he’d rarely heard spoken about him. That she thought him pleasing to the eye made his heart flutter, and he worked to wipe a foolish smile from his face.

In the comfortable silence, he found peace that had been missing from his existence.

Roan thought about that as he sat with her in the sun, listening to the lazy windmill, imagining a life here for real—the place of belonging he’d searched for. He watched Marley scribbling in her storybook, a grin curving her lips. She was an amazing woman with so much to give the world.

He had nothing to offer except bad luck—and grief to Mose’s killers.

But if one day he had the opportunity again to ride near the Aces ’n’ Eights, he would stop in a heartbeat. For sure, the lovely Marley McClain would fill his dreams for a long time, her gentle touch lingering in his heart.