Heart of Texas Volume 3: Nell's Cowboy

At breakfast Jeremy sat on one side of Travis, Emma on the other, the children accepting him as easily as they would a much-admired uncle.

“We’re lucky Mr. and Mrs. Patterson didn’t have any rooms left to rent,” Jeremy said.

“Real lucky,” Emma agreed.

“With the rodeo over, the Pattersons should have plenty of room,” Ruth muttered as she walked into the kitchen, yawning.

The news landed like a bombshell in the kitchen. The children stared at each other as though they’d just learned the horrible truth about Santa Claus. Nell felt an immediate sense of disappointment, but Ruth was right. Phil and Mary would have space available for Travis now, and the accommodations would be far more comfortable than a too-short mattress in the bunkhouse. At Phil and Mary’s, Travis wouldn’t need to worry about a goat eating the socks off his feet, either.

“That’s true. Mr. Grant could move into town,” Nell said, trying to sound as though it made no difference to her. It shouldn’t, but hard as she tried to convince herself it would be best if Travis left, she hoped he wouldn’t.

Every eye went to their guest. “Move into town?” he repeated, glancing at each in turn. “Would anyone mind if I stayed on here? Your goat and I have recently come to terms. It would be a shame to leave now.”

She shouldn’t be this happy, Nell decided, but she was. She really was.

* * *

“What time is it?” Frank Hennessey mumbled as he rolled over in the large feather bed and stretched his arms to both sides.

“Time for you to be up and dressed,” Dovie said. “Church starts in less than thirty minutes.”

“Church,” Frank groaned. “Dovie, you know how hard it is for me to sit through Sunday service.” But he eased himself up in bed to enjoy the sight of his wife fluttering about the room, hurriedly dressing. Dovie was a fine-looking woman and he took pleasure in watching this woman he loved.

It’d taken him long enough to make the leap into marriage. Not many men waited until they were sixty years old—maybe that was why the decision had been so hard. He might have remained single all his life if not for a woman as wonderful as Dovie. Their arrangement was perfect, he’d thought. Twice a week he spent the night. Two of the best nights of any week.

Dovie, being the kind of woman she was, had wanted them to get married. He’d led her to believe that eventually he’d be willing, and for ten years he’d believed it himself. Then all at once Promise experienced a rash of weddings and Dovie became possessed by the idea of marriage.

That was when he’d realized he simply wasn’t the marrying kind. Painful though it was, he’d confessed to Dovie that he just couldn’t do it—and she’d promptly ended their relationship. Those weeks apart had been agonizing for him.

He loved her, but he’d broken his word to her, and although he hated himself for hurting the woman he adored, he couldn’t give up the comforts of his life as a bachelor. For instance, the fact that his house was a mess. It was his mess, though, and he knew where things were. Dovie wouldn’t tolerate the unsightly stack of magazines by his recliner or the pile of laundry beside his bed.

Marriage meant more than making a commitment to her, he’d thought; it meant he’d be forced to alter his entire life. At sixty such a drastic change didn’t come easy.

Things had looked hopeless—and grew even worse when he made the mistake of taking Tammy Lee Kollenborn out one evening. That was the night he’d known he could never love anyone but Dovie. Afterward, when Dovie had gone away on a short cruise, he’d been terrified she’d meet another man. It seemed inevitable that he was going to lose her, and the knowledge was destroying him.

The solution had come from an unexpected source. From the man he’d assumed would be the least understanding. Reverend Wade McMillen. Frank owed him big time. The local preacher had suggested that Frank and Dovie get married but maintain separate households, the same as they were already doing. Then they could both have what they wanted. What they needed. Dovie had the commitment she craved, the wedding band on her finger. And Frank was free to eat baked beans out of a can in front of the television, wearing nothing but his underwear, if he so desired.

“Dovie,” he whispered softly, watching a silk slip float down over her breasts and hips. “Come here, love.”

“Don’t you use that tone of voice with me, Frank Hennessey. I’m running late as it is.”

“Dovie,” he coaxed, and sat up. He held out his arms to her. “How about a good-morning hug?”

“Not now.”

“No?” Frank was surprised. Dovie rarely refused him anything, especially when it came to what she called “the delights of the flesh.” He’d never met a woman like her. Dovie was a lady to the core, but when it came to lovemaking, she was both lusty and generous.

“It won’t stop with a hug and you know it,” she chastised.

He did know it, and he sighed deeply.

Dovie disappeared into her closet.

“Where are you going now?” he called.

“Out of sight, out of mind,” she called back, giggling.

Frank tucked his hands behind his head and closed his eyes. He didn’t bother to tell her it didn’t work that way, at least not with him. The time they’d been apart, he’d done nothing but think of her. Thoughts of Dovie had tormented him day and night, until he was sure he’d lost his mind.

“Do that again,” he said, savoring these moments in bed.

“Do what?” came her muffled question.

“Giggle.”

“That’s a silly thing to ask.” But she did.

Frank loved the sound of it. He had to smile every time he heard her giggle. Or laugh. Or just heard her, period.

Dovie reappeared a minute later in a royal blue dress that buttoned up the front and belted at the waist. She braced one hand on the bed post as she slipped into her pumps.

“I’m going to do something with my hair and then I’m heading for church.”

“No hug?”

One outraged glance answered the question. Frank laughed.

“I’m driving out to see Savannah, Laredo and the baby after church,” she said.

“Do you mind if I tag along?” he asked.

Apparently his question caught her by surprise because she abruptly stopped brushing her hair and met his gaze. Her eyes softened. “You want to see the baby?”

Frank nodded. “That surprises you?”

“Yes. Do you like babies?”

“Actually I’m quite fond of children.” It was his one regret in life. He’d give anything to have met Dovie as a young man and had children with her. She would have been a wonderful mother, just as she was a fabulous wife. “I would have liked kids of my own,” he confessed with a hint of sadness.

She continued to stare at him and he noticed a sheen in her eyes—as though she was about to weep.

“Dovie?” he asked gently. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, damn,” she said, sniffling. “I’m going to ruin my makeup and I don’t have time to fuss with it now.”

Frank climbed out of bed and reached for his robe. “What is it, Dovie?” he asked again.

“I always wanted children,” she whispered. “So badly.”