“And Chance put me there.”
Wise men have their mouths in their hearts,
fools their hearts in their mouths.
– 15th-century proverb
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHANCE WANTED to throttle Rider for involving Trixianna Lawless in their personal business, but even more than that, he wanted to throttle her. He glanced at the wanted posted that, upon closer inspection, looked nothing like her. She’d messed with the neatly ordered plan he’d made for his life. A plan it had taken him years to arrange and execute…he winced at the use of that word, but right now it seemed damned appropriate.
Less than two days from realization, his life’s plan was in total chaos. Complete and utter ruins because of the way he yearned for one woman—one particular woman.
He propped his legs on his desk, steepled his hands over his stomach and stared at the tips of his dusty boots. He shook his head and smiled.
He loved her.
Hell, what’s more, he enjoyed being with her. He appreciated her rambunctious, unpredictable nature. And that truly confounded him.
Chance Magrane, Grand Fork’s quiet, no-nonsense, all-business sheriff had fallen for a woman who was the out-and-out opposite of the wife he’d imagined he wanted: a steady, placid, reserved woman. A church-going, law-abiding, quilt-sewing woman. A quiet woman who would stand by his side agreeing with every word he uttered, nodding and smiling, and speaking only when spoken to. Ha!
Such much for his ordered life. What had Trixianna said to him? What point is there planning your life if you’re not living it?
He’d never thought about it, but she was right. He was planning; always planning, and always looking ahead. He didn’t enjoy each day as it passed by. He just let it go. In fact, until she had come along, he’d seldom laughed. Since she’d arrived he’d done little else…even at his own expense.
But now he had a problem. A big problem. He’d made a binding promise to Fanny. Could he back out without humiliating her? Not likely. Was he willing to do that to her? No. He had a moral obligation.
Because of what he felt for Trixianna, how she made him feel alive, the joy she carried with her and spread around like so much Christmas cheer, it brought an unbearable ache to his heart to even think of losing her. Regardless, he still couldn’t embarrass Fanny in front of her family and friends and the whole town of Grand Fork.
Besides, what kind of man would that make him?
It all came back to the same thing. Whatever he decided to do, he was a coward.
But a coward who dreaded spending the rest of his life with a woman he didn’t love.
He lowered his head and stared at his steepled fingers. His stomach knotted with a deep, unaccustomed pain. He’d never felt so low.
The sound of the office door opening brought his head up.
Rider stood in the doorway, shaking the light drizzle from his coat. As he peered at Chance, the grin Rider wore upon entering the room slowly faded from his face. “Who died?”
Chance shook his head, then lowered his legs to the floor. “What do you want?”
Rider shrugged his shoulders. “I thought we were meeting at Sinclair’s for dinner.”
Chance pulled out his pocket watch. Twelve-thirty. He’d forgotten he’d promised to meet Rider at noon. What with his newfound feelings for Trixianna, he’d be hard-put to remember his own name. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “Got involved in work.”
Rider snorted. “Looks to me like you like’ve got woman problems—two of ‘em, in fact.”
Chance stiffened, remembering how easily Rider could read his face. “What the hell would you know about women? You haven’t so much as smelled one in the past five years.”
“And don’t I know it.” Rider gave a mighty sigh. He swept his hat off his head and brushed back his damp hair. “Let me take you to dinner and I’ll tell you everything I know. It won’t take more than five minutes. Then you can tell me everything you know. That won’t take more than ten. By then, we’ll both be experts and we can eat.”
“Well, hell,” muttered Chance. He rose to his feet and reached for his rain slicker. “I haven’t got anything better to do.”
Fanny Fairfax pulled up to the front gate driving a stylish black buggy with a fringed top. She held a lavender parasol in one hand, the reins in the other. The morning drizzle had stopped, but the road was muddy and rutted, difficult to traverse.
Although surprised to see Fanny, Trixianna waved her over. With much difficulty, Fanny started to climb down still clutching the parasol. As she stepped from the buggy onto the muddy road, her foot slipped out from beneath her and she lost her balance. The horse skittered sideways, and Fanny fell in a tumble of white petticoats and purple silk—kerplop—right onto her plentiful backside. Her flat-brimmed straw bonnet, decorated with lavender and violet flowers and a large hideous blackbird, plopped into the muck beside her. Fanny took one look at the hat; her face crumpled and she broke into anguished sobs.
The flighty horse galloped off down the road taking her buggy with it. Trixianna scampered across the yard to Fanny’s side.
Fanny hid her face in her pudgy hands, her head bent. The parasol lay forgotten in the road beside her. Trixianna dropped to her knees. She patted Fanny’s quaking shoulder. “Are you all right?”
Fanny shook her head and sobbed louder.
“Have you hurt yourself?”
Fanny shook her head again. The sobs subsided a bit as she glanced at Trixianna through tear-filled eyes. “I…I, I—.” She dropped her head and smothered a sob. “What a g-goose I am.”
“No, you’re not. Are you worried about the hat?” Trixianna picked it up, rubbed ineffectually at the muddy brim and handed it to Fanny. “It’s almost like new,” she lied.
“Oh, bother. I should just give it to Bluebeard to eat.” She stared at the bonnet a moment, then plopped it on her head and shoved it down with both hands. She glanced at Trixianna, her brow furrowed.
Fanny’s big wet eyes put Trixianna in mind of a spaniel she once had as a child. Stifling the urge to grin, she asked, “Who’s Bluebeard?”
“My pet goat.” She gave Trixianna a tremulous smile.
Of course. The goat in the photograph on Chance’s desk. What an odd choice for a pet.
“He’s going to be in the wedding.”
In the wedding? Trixianna couldn’t imagine such a thing. He would eat all the flowers and chew on the guests’ finery. She stared at Fanny, stunned into silence.
“Can you help me up?” she asked in a choked voice.
Trixianna grasped Fanny’s elbow and tried to lift her. It proved impossible by herself, but between the two of them, and with quite a bit of inelegant grunting and groaning on Fanny’s part, Trixianna got her to her feet.
Tears continued to run down Fanny’s scarlet cheeks as she allowed Trixianna to escort her to the porch. She helped Fanny to a chair, then went inside and made tea. She already had the water on for herself.
When she returned, Fanny had somewhat composed herself. Tears still glinted in her eyes, but she’d wiped her face dry with a lace handkerchief she now clutched in her fingers. She gave Trixianna a meager smile and accepted the cup of hot tea. Trixianna sat down opposite her and waited to hear the reason for the tears. She had a feeling it wasn’t because Fanny had fallen in the dirt and the horse had run off. She didn’t have long to wait.
“I know I don’t know you that well, but you have a kind face and I needed to talk to someone. I have no close girlfriends, and I’d die of embarrassment before I could bring this up with Father or Mother. Since you don’t really know anyone in Grand Fork, you can’t gossip. You don’t look like the sort of person who would stoop to such a thing anyway.”
“I would never do that.” What a fib that was! One of she and Georgette’s favorite pastimes was gossiping.
Fanny leaned forward. A disapproving smile played about her lips as she confided in a troubled voice, “I’ve find out that Chance often visi
ts the Annie V. Saloon and stays quite late.”
Trixianna waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. “All men like to have a drink once in a while. I suppose they enjoy the camaraderie a saloon provides.”
“I don’t believe Chance goes there to drink,” Fanny stated. She cast her eyes downward, plucking at a loose thread on her bodice.
“Whatever do you mean?”
Fanny’s head shot up, her eyes widened. “Trixianna, where are you from?”
“Abilene,” she answered, surprised by the question. “But what does that have to do with the sheriff?”
Fanny shook her head. “My goodness, Abilene. I thought that was a wicked town.”
“It was once not so long ago, but the law has taken care of most of those cowboys and such who were causing the problems. Granny Lawless used to tell my sister and me such stories. Oh, my stars! But now, today, it’s a lovely, quiet town.”
“Is that so?”
Trixianna clasped her hands together in her lap. “Fanny, I don’t understand what Abilene has to do with any of this.”
Fanny leaned forward and whispered in a conspiratorial voice. “Men seek out comfort at the Annie V.”
“Comfort?” Realization hit Trixianna like a kick in the shin. She gasped aloud, her cheeks burning. “However did you find out such a thing?” she whispered.
With a weepy expression on her face, Fanny slumped in her chair, her ample bosom heaving and tears sparkling on her lashes. “My witless brother, Frank, Jr., and I were having a disagreement over whose turn it was to set the table last night. I believe he told me about those women just to peeve me.”
“Well, then, perhaps it isn’t true.”
Fanny gave a sigh of resignation. Tears poured from her big, brown eyes and coursed down her plump cheeks. “Oh, it’s true. Men are very lusty, you know. Chance is no exception.”
How well she knew! Struggling with the guilt she felt at knowing Chance so intimately, Trixianna tried to steer Fanny in a different direction. “But is that a reason to weep?” At Fanny’s look of disbelief, Trixianna continued. “What I mean is, you shouldn’t cry about it. You should tell him how you feel and that you want him to stop going to the Annie V. That’s the solution. Just make him stop.”
“Oh, I couldn’t make him do anything.”
Trixianna flattened her palms against the arms of her chair. Irritation flared at the young woman’s immaturity. “Of course, you can. He’s your betrothed, isn’t he? He should listen to what you have to say. After all, you’ll be married and then he’ll have no choice.” Neither will I. I have to get away from Grand Fork.
“Oh, I couldn’t.” Tears continued unabated down her cheeks. She patted her breast, trying to catch her breath. “I’m a little afraid of Chance.”
Trixianna raised an eyebrow in disbelief. Afraid of Chance?
“It’s true.” A tremor touched her lips. “He’s so big and tall, and sometimes he raises his voice and he gets so gruff and mean-sounding. When he looks at me he scares me so bad I can hardly think straight.”
“However did two such mismatched people become engaged?”
Did I actually say that out loud? Trixianna gasped and shot to her feet. She clasped Fanny’s gloved hand. “I am so sorry. That’s entirely none of my business.”
“I asked him.”
“Don’t tell me any more.”
“No, it’s all right, really. I don’t mind telling the story. Sometimes I ask myself the same thing. It’s just that I so wanted to get married and have a family of my own. Father was always saying ‘that Chance Magrane is sure a fine man. He would make a good husband.’ And I thought he was right, so I’d find ways of getting Chance to walk me home or dance with me at a barn dance or a wedding. Pretty soon everyone in town assumed we were engaged, so one day I just said to him, ‘Are you ever going to ask me to marry you?’ He looked at me kind of funny-like and said, ‘Is that what you want?’ I said, ‘Of course.’ He didn’t say anything for a while, then he scratched his head in that way he does when he doesn’t know what to say. Finally he said, ‘Well, it fits my plan.’”
“Oh my.”
“Not very romantic, is it?”
“Do you love him?” Trixianna asked, not caring that it was none of her business.
Fanny blinked and two glistening tears coursed down her round cheeks. “N-no,” she blubbered, her tears once again turning to sobs. “B-but I d-don’t know how to break off the en-gagement without humiliating myself.” She cradled her head in her lap, covering her face with her hands.
Trixianna stared at Fanny, and her heart ached for Chance.
The clip-clop of shod hooves brought Trixianna’s head up. Oh, dear God.
Chance.
He stopped his horse in front of the porch and stared at Trixianna. His knowing blue eyes caught and held hers just a second before he turned his gaze toward Fanny. He pushed his black Stetson to the back of his head and scratched his temple. “What’s going on here?”
Fanny’s head bobbed up. She dabbed at her face, but there was no disguising the red nose and puffy eyes.
He dismounted, casting a frown at Trixianna as he jumped onto the porch and knelt at Fanny’s side. He took her hand and held it easily in his big, work-calloused fingers. He glared at Trixianna. “Did you say something hurtful?”
“Of course not.” How could he think such a thing of her after all this time? The man could be such a beast at times.
“Are you all right, Fanny?” he asked in a gruff, yet oddly tender voice. When she didn’t reply, he reached his hand up and with one finger tipped her chin so she had to look at him.
Big, wet tears coursed down her cheeks and fell onto his hand. She blubbered something unintelligible, wiping at her eyes. Chance waited patiently with a quiet assurance that surprised Trixianna. “Take your time,” he said, his voice calm and steady. His gaze never left Fanny’s puckered face. A single tear trickled from the corner of her eye. With the tip of his finger he wiped it away.
Trixianna stared-tongue-tied, her heart in her throat. Maybe he wasn’t such a beast. He obviously cared for Fanny. He was being so tender, so kind, she fought an involuntary reaction to reach out and pull him away. She stared with longing, and remembered his work-roughened fingers on her cheeks, her eyelids, her chin, caressing, stroking, whispering in her ear. Guilt came down on her like a blast of frigid north wind. Fanny’s voice brought her up short.
“Really, Chance, it’s nothing. I lost control of Pansy when I was climbing down from Father’s new buggy. I fell into the road, hurting nothing more than my pride. Then Pansy ran off without me.”
Aren’t you going to tell him? Trixianna wanted to scream at Fanny. Was she just going to let him go on believing she loved him and wanted to marry him? Even now as Fanny regained control of her emotions, Trixianna could see her distancing herself from Chance as if his touch, his nearness, annoyed her.
Chance rose to his feet. He glanced at Trixianna, his expression tight with obvious strain. “I’m taking Fanny home. I’ll speak with you when I return.”
“All right,” she said. Maybe Fanny would tell him how she felt when they were alone.
But what would she and Chance talk about when he returned? His wedding the next day? Whether she would attend that wedding and be a witness to her undoing?
Or the fact that she loved him with a desperation that bordered on madness?
Chance escorted a quiet, almost sullen, Fanny to her home. She quite obviously wasn’t happy riding double. She resisted his efforts to hold her, to comfort her, instead pushing her plump body as far away from his as she could while on the back of a horse. She spoke when addressed, but otherwise was as quiet as a saloon on Sunday mornings.
He walked her to her door, kissed her cool cheek and bade her good-bye. She didn’t even acknowledge his departure, simply turned and trudged inside.
Chance heaved a sigh of relief. He mounted his gelding and cantered home.
Rider and Trixianna sa
t at the kitchen table eating molasses cake when he walked into the kitchen. He tossed his hat on a wall peg by the door and sat down to join them.
Rider grinned hello, his mouth stuffed full. He mumbled something unintelligible.
“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” admonished Trixianna.
Somewhat surprised by her authoritative tone of voice, Chance stared at her. She and Rider had to be close in age, but she sounded just like a mother. He thought, with a pang of regret that he wouldn’t be the father of her children, that she would make a good mother someday.
Rider smiled again, his good nature obvious. He reached for the glass of milk at his elbow. Downing the milk in one swallow, he wiped his lip with his sleeve when he finished. “Ma’am, that cake was somethin’. The best I ever ate.”
“Thank you, Rider. That’s kind of you to say, but your manners leave something to be desired.”
“Amen to that,” Chance added.
Rider’s eyes rounded. Then he gave Trixianna a boyish grin. “Well, hell. If I’d known I was going to be mothered like this when I came to Grand Fork, I might have stayed in jail.”
He stood up and walked to the door. With one hand on the handle, he said, “I’m going into town to get my hair cut and see the many sights Grand Fork has to offer.”
Chance rolled his eyes. Ever the clown.
“Then I’m going to a saloon I heard about, the Annie V.” He cast a sideways glance at Trixianna, whose face bloomed with color at the remark. Rider ducked his head and beat a hasty retreat.
The door slammed, and an uncomfortable silence settled over the room.
Chance broke the stillness. “Uh, you know he’s been without female companionship for a spell. He means no disrespect.”
Trixianna nodded, her cheeks still flaming. She knew full well what Rider would be doing at the Annie V. Fanny had explained that diversion in plain enough English. Still, she was chagrined that Chance had witnessed her embarrassment. She wanted him to think of her as a worldly woman who knew of such goings-on.
“Oh, it’s quite all right,” she said. “I understand.”
“You do?” he asked, his eyes wide with surprise. “It isn’t all right and you shouldn’t understand.”