Chapter Six
Gerald turned from the door and stepped in the direction of the kitchen.
“You’re going to leave me standing out in the rain?” Tommy asked.
“Do whatever you must. I’ve far more important people to see to than you.”
He heard the front door close behind him. “Mary? Mary Hill? There must be an amusing or horrifying story behind her being here.”
Gerald spun back around and pointed a finger of warning at his brother. “She’s Mary Smith, and if you dare to speak to her again as flippantly as you did a moment ago, I will beat that information into your thick skull.”
Tommy held up his hands in a show of innocence. “No need for threats. I didn’t say anything to her that you didn’t on a daily basis four years ago.”
The guilt Gerald felt at the admittedly accurate accusation only further fueled his temper. “This is her home, Tommy. She has only to say the word, and I’ll toss you from it.”
He didn’t wait to watch the impact of his declaration on Tommy.
If Mary was hurting or upset, that was far more important than his brother’s sensibilities.
It wasn’t that he didn’t care about his brother—he certainly did—he simply couldn’t clear his mind of her expression when she’d told him how much she appreciated the feeling of safety she had with him, that she felt secure and looked out for when he was nearby. He wouldn’t fail her in that now.
Mary was at the kitchen window, looking out at the storm. Either she didn’t hear him step inside or chose not to acknowledge him there.
“Tommy shouldn’t’ve said those things to you.” It was not the most eloquent way to break the silence, but flowery speeches had never been his specialty.
She didn’t turn back. “He didn’t tell me anything I didn’t already know. Except the part about you calling me ‘The Plague.’ I was aware that you referred to me as a pest and a pebble in your shoe, but ‘The Plague’ was one I hadn’t heard.”
“I was seventeen, Mary. I was young and foolish and selfish.”
She shook her head. “And I was a pest and a pebble and a plague. I know that. I even wondered after you left if I’d pushed you to it, if you had crossed the country simply to be away from me.”
“It wasn’t you at all.” How he wished they could have back the moment of closeness they’d shared earlier, rather than this awkward distance he couldn’t seem to span. “He spoke so convincingly of adventure and making our fortune. As you can see, that didn’t exactly turn out to be true.”
“Perhaps he’s come with more promises and opportunities.”
“He likely has.” Tommy was forever coming up with schemes.
She looked at him at last, though her expression was strained. “Then you had best go hear him out. And while you do, try to make certain he doesn’t leave a water mark.” Her smile was fleeting and noticeably lacking in actual joy.
“You don’t think I would actually take him up on another of his schemes, do you?”
“I don’t know what to think, Gerald.” Did she really doubt him that much?
What reason did she have not to, though? He’d nearly left her at the train station, after having left her—at least in her view—all those years ago in Ohio.
“I’m not going to abandon you,” he said. “You can trust me on that.”
“Will you ask Tommy if he means to stay for supper?” Mary asked. “I’d like to know how many places to set at the table.”
This, then, was his new task. Not counting place settings, but showing Mary that he was dependable, that he wouldn’t fail her, that she needn’t fear his desertion. It was a tall order to fill considering their past. But he had never been one to shy away from a task simply because it was difficult.
He pushed the kitchen door open once more and stood in the threshold facing the outer room and his brother, dripping at the other end. “Are you staying for supper?” he demanded.
“You wouldn’t toss me out without at least a meal, would you?”
Gerald looked back at Mary. “He’s staying.”
She gave a quick nod as she stirred the pot of stew.
He left her to her work and the peace of the kitchen. “Do you have any dry clothes?” he asked Tommy.
His brother shook his head. “All my belongings are in a wet bundle on your porch.”
“You can change into something of mine. C’mon.” He motioned him down the hallway.
“I’m touched by your concern for my health.”
Gerald didn’t look back; he could hear that his brother was following him. “I’m not overly worried about you catching cold. But I’ll not have you dripping mud and water on Mary’s clean floors and making extra work for her.”
“What happened to you, Gerald? I’d’ve never imagined I’d see you so easily whipped by a woman. And Mary, of all women. I don’t know how it is you got stuck with her.”
Gerald threw open his bedroom door. “I didn’t get stuck.
What I got was lucky. And if you’d like your luck to hold, you’d best rein in that tongue of yours.
” He jutted his chin in the direction of the small bureau on the far wall.
“There’s a few things in there. Hang your wet things on the nails so they’ll dry. ”
“I’ll be on my best behavior,” Tommy promised. “Wouldn’t want to upset the little lady.”
Gerald pulled the door closed behind him. He’d all but forgotten what a pompous windbag his brother was. It was, he feared, going to be a long night.
***
“And this fellow’s cousin has already made a fortune in cattle down in Texas.
” Tommy had finished his second helping of stew and was filling his bowl with a third.
“It’s the greatest opportunity of our generation, Gerald.
All we need is a few head to start a herd, which I know you have, and we could be rich. ”
“Where’ve I heard that before? ‘Colorado is set for a boom. We’ll be rich.’ And ‘The Dakotas are dripping in gold. I’ll be rich.’ In case it’s slipped your notice, Tommy, neither of us is rich.”
Tommy was undeterred. “But this is just the thing. You’ve already learned about cattle, and I know the right people in Texas.”
“This fellow’s cousin?” Gerald made no attempt to hide his disbelief. He’d heard similar promises before.
“I know you’ve become domestic”—Tommy spoke the last word as if it were a bit of vulgar profanity—“but I can’t let you pass this up. This is a sure thing.”
Nothing with Tommy was ever a sure thing. “I’m happy where I am with what I have.”
Tommy wagged a finger at him. “I’ll convince you. I always do.”
“I’m done following you around,” Gerald said. “So save your breath, eat your supper, and make plans to set out on your own.”
“Help me convince him, Mary.” Tommy grabbed Mary’s arm and tugged it a bit. Before Gerald could object, Mary snatched her arm free. “Just say”—he put on a high voice—“‘Dearie, I’d like to be wealthy. I want you to buy me fancy things and pamper me.’ C’mon. We’ll talk him around.”
“No, thank you.” It was the first thing Mary had said all night, and she spoke without enthusiasm and without looking up at either of them.
“Now isn’t the time to turn wishy-washy, Mary Contrary,” Tommy said. “Nag him like you used to do.”
“Do not call me that,” she said firmly.
Tommy shot him an amused look, though why the man thought he’d enjoy a jest made at Mary’s expense, Gerald couldn’t say. “We’ll convince her.”
“Eat your supper,” Gerald muttered. His brother was driving him mad.
“I’ll convince you both.” With that declaration, Tommy tucked into his stew.
Gerald attempted to catch Mary’s eye, wanting to convey if he could that she needn’t worry about Tommy, that he’d find a way to take care of the problem. But she didn’t look up. Her posture spoke of both worry and defeat.
Gerald didn’t like it one bit.