My Heart Will Find Yours Read online

  Royce took the chair at the end of the table, and Matthew sat across from her. Each reached for one of her hands and waited for her to take it. Royce bowed his head.

  “Father, we thank you for our many blessings—our family and friends, and for returning Pea…uh Texanna to us. Heal her, Lord, and restore her memory. Bless this food to the nourishment of our bodies. Amen.”

  Restore her memory? There wasn’t a thing wrong with her memory, nothing a one-hundred-twenty-eight-year jump in time wouldn’t fix.

  Both men looked at her, waiting for her to begin. She picked up the beautifully embroidered napkin and ran her finger over the fine stitches. Pearl was gifted at needlework. Had she done these? She’d tried to teach Texanna, but her fingers wouldn’t cooperate.

  Royce moved the cream and sugar where she could reach it. “Don’t you want to sweeten your coffee?”

  “I drink mine black.” He studied her a minute then returned the bowls to the center of the table. The two men exchanged looks and cast her sideways glances. Evidently Pearl didn’t drink her coffee black in this time period. She didn’t in 2008 either. Texanna sipped the brew. It was more than a tad too strong for her taste, but the caffeine worked wonders at revving her up.

  The men had big appetites, but their manners were perfect. Every time she looked up, their eyes immediately fled her face. Feeling awkward, she studied the kitchen while she ate. It was clean and neat. The wood floors gleamed with polishing, and the red, gingham check curtains at the windows added a cheery touch, as did the checked oilcloth on the table.

  Unable to bear the silence and their scrutiny any longer, she blurted. “The food is delicious, especially the biscuits, and my goodness, real butter.”

  Matthew looked at her in question. “Real butter? Is there another kind?”

  Oh, boy. “What I meant was, this is really good butter.”

  Matthew nodded and Royce just looked at her, one eyebrow raised. “How do you like the jelly?”

  “It’s the best I’ve ever eaten. Apricot is my favorite.”

  Royce nodded and smiled at his plate.

  “You can thank Matthew for the biscuits. He took to Ma’s lessons better than Jason and I.” Royce’s expression held affection for his brother. Then he turned to her. “Pearl put up the jelly. This is the last jar. Thank goodness we still have apricots and plums on the trees so you can make some more.”

  Texanna gaped at Royce. He expects me to make jelly? She was more the take-out food kind of girl. There were a few things she could cook that were edible, but not many.

  Royce watched her, waiting for her to say something. “I don’t know how to make jelly.” She looked over at the big cast iron cookstove. “Or how to operate that stove.”

  Royce eyed her suspiciously.

  Matthew spoke up. “I’ll come by one day to help you with the jelly, Texanna. The day before you start canning, ride out to the farm and let me know. Molly would love to see you.”

  “Who is Molly?”

  Royce looked irritated but Matthew hurriedly spoke up. “Molly’s my wife. She’s big with our child and can’t ride anymore until after the babe is born.”

  Her heart sank. This was the brother whose infant died. “Oh, you shouldn’t leave her there alone then.”

  Matthew’s smile warmed her. “She won’t be alone. Several families live on the farm, and someone will always be within calling distance.” His gaze searched hers. “It’s nice of you to be concerned.”

  His comment pleased Texanna, and she smiled in response. “I love to ride and can’t wait to meet your Molly.”

  Riding was something Texanna could do. She’d taken lessons from the age of ten. Her mother wanted her to ride English style, but Texanna wouldn’t have it. She insisted on western style and for once, she got her way.

  Texanna turned to Royce. “Is there a horse I can ride?” Royce didn’t like her question. He frowned. If his eyebrows got any closer together, he’d look like he sported a mustache on his forehead.

  “Josie is in the field behind the house, but I don’t want you riding until I have a chance to go out with you.” He grabbed her wrist. “Are we clear on that?”

  “Clear as a bell.”

  Her sarcasm wasn’t lost on Royce. He gentled his tone. “Texanna, do this for me, please. I’d worry about you while I’m in town.”

  His expression of concern was hard to miss. “All right, I’ll wait.” And she would, for a while. She didn’t intend to hang around the house all day.

  Texanna stood. “Since you guys cooked, I’ll wash the dishes. Sit, have another cup of coffee.”

  She looked around the kitchen. Okay, there stood the sink. A dishpan sat underneath. In a drawer, she located dishrags and towels. Now, where did she get hot water?

  “Where’s the tea kettle so I can heat the water?”

  Royce stood and carried the dishpan to a metal box attached to the side of the stove. He turned a spigot and to her surprise, steamy water ran into the pan. Pretty neat invention, she thought. At the sink, he sprinkled in powdered soap and then added cold water from the pump. “Don’t forget to add water to the reservoir or you won’t have hot water for the lunch dishes.”

  Matthew stood. “I better get home and get to work.”

  Texanna turned. “Thank you for breakfast.”

  His smile emphasized his dimples. “You’re welcome.” To her surprise, the big man caught her in a bear hug. “And, Texanna, I’m so glad you’re home.”

  Texanna shot Royce a look that demanded he explain the situation to his brother. He just grinned. Afraid to speak for fear of ranting, she nodded.

  Royce grabbed an apron off a hook on the wall, slipped it over her head, and tied it in the back. When his fingers moved to the buttons on the back of her blouse, she stiffened.

  “Looks like you had some trouble buttoning up this morning.” That was putting it lightly. She’d felt like a contortionist trying to fit the small buttons in the tiny holes.

  Goosebumps rose on her flesh as his hand brushed her skin, but she tried to ignore the delicious sensation while he did up the buttons she’d been unable to reach. He was so close she could feel his warm breath on her neck. The room was hot from the cookstove, she pulled on the choking neckline trying to get some air.

  He patted her shoulder. “There you go. All done.”

  It was about damn time. She took a deep breath as he stepped away. “Why didn’t you explain our situation to Matthew? He thinks I’m Pearl, and you know I’m not.”

  “No Texanna, I don’t know that for a fact. I suspect you’re not, but I could be wrong. That’s what I’m trying to find out.”

  “I’ve told you I’m not. Why would I lie?” She whisked dishes off the table and dumped them into the soapy water.

  “Maybe you don’t know who you are, have lost your memory.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  He ignored her and walked to the coat rack by the back door. “I’ll be home around noon for lunch.”

  “Don’t you eat lunch in town?”

  “Nope. You always prepare a big lunch, and we have leftovers for dinner.”

  “In this heat? I’ll roast in here.”

  “Why, it doesn’t really get hot until around noon.”

  Texanna looked around frantically. “Where’s the icebox? I’m not sure what to cook.”

  “Just look in the larder. I’m sure you’ll find something that will do.”

  The larder? What the heck is a larder?

  He strapped on his gun belt, put on his hat, and moved to the door. He stopped and looked at her for a minute. Texanna felt like a doe caught in a spotlight. The tension grew so thick she could hardly breathe. In two long strides his arm was around her waist, holding her against his lean hard body. Before she could object, his mouth covered hers. His kiss was slow and sweet as he tasted and teased her mouth. The feelings of desire and joy his lips invoked terrified Texanna. She could not fall in love with this man. She would be goin
g home in a few weeks.

  Chapter Six

  By nine a.m. Royce wanted to lock the jail doors. Half the population of Waco stopped in to see about Texanna. What they actually wanted to know was if she’d put up a fight and he’d had to cuff her. Due to all the hoopla, he couldn’t get any work done. Plus, his mind wandered to images of how Texanna would react to Garrett and interact with him.

  Royce stopped by to see Garrett on his way into town. The boy had been full of questions, and Royce promised him they’d talk tonight. What would he tell him? How did you tell a child you don’t know if the woman staying in your home was his mother or not? Lord, what a mess.

  The woman at his house was very different from his wife. She was more outspoken and self-confident—a little too mouthy to his way of thinking. She needed to learn to curb her tongue. Where had she learned to talk like that? Pictures of unsavory places and situations ran through his mind tormenting him. If he discovered her behavior was due to abuse, he’d find the individuals responsible and see they paid.

  Yet he couldn’t deny the resemblance to Pearl. Her hair was a little redder, her eyes darker blue, and the face that had once been fuller was now leaner as was her body. It had been four years. People changed physically over time. He shook his head in consternation and turned back to the papers in front of him.

  Just when he thought he’d shoot the next person who walked into his office, Edna darkened his door. Mrs. Edna Murphy, the top hen in the pecking order of women in Waco, could handle any man, woman, or beast in town. He’d butted heads with her and lost more times than he’d like to admit.

  Royce stood and escorted her to the chair by his desk. “I can’t tell you how glad I am to see you.”

  Edna cocked an eyebrow and looked at him with suspicion. “I believe this is the first time I’ve been welcomed into your office.”

  She was right. His joy at seeing her was a mite unusual. The stiff-necked matron had pestered him about several things in the last couple of years—the saloons, the brothels, and those hooligan boys who kept tearing up her flowerbeds.

  “Well, yes, that’s true. But I just realized how valuable you can be in helping Texanna settle in after her experience.”

  Edna’s eyes crackled with interest. “Really, what makes you think that?” She leaned forward in her chair, all ears.

  “You know she claims she’s not Pearl, nor my wife, and insists on being called Texanna.”

  Hands gripping the drawstring handbag in her lap, she nodded.

  “She hasn’t revealed where she’s been the past four years. As a matter of fact, she doesn’t remember me, Garrett, or ever living here in Waco.”

  Her jaw dropped, and she clapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh, you poor boy, I’m so sorry to hear that.”

  He was quiet for a minute, thinking about strategy—how to get the older woman to help both him and Texanna. The crowd traipsing in and out of his office was bad enough, but he didn’t want them flocking to his home to quiz Texanna either. Edna would be perfect at keeping folks at bay. If Texanna was his wife, he wanted her privacy respected, if she wasn’t, he didn’t want her story colored by other people’s opinions.

  Edna waited for him to speak, but not patiently. The feather in her hat twitched like a dog’s rear end with its tail wagging.

  “I need someone to be an example for the community, someone who can lead the others to not gang up on Texanna and ask her a bunch of questions. Let her memory return in due time.”

  Edna clasped her hands over her non-existent bosom. “She doesn’t remember a thing?” Royce shook his head. “Oh, the poor dear.” She drew herself up in the chair. “I can assure you, Marshal, the job will be taken care of as of this minute.”

  Royce scratched his chin. “There’s one other thing you can do that will help me immensely.”

  Thrilled at the opportunity to be in the spotlight, Edna took up residence in front of the jail. In a rocking chair he borrowed from the general store, she sat and turned away the curious. If they didn’t heed her advice and move on, she whacked them with her umbrella to get them moving. Royce was finally able to work. But no matter how busy he got, a strawberry-headed woman wasn’t far from his mind.

  He was studying an arrest warrant for Sam Bass and his gang when a knock sounded on his door, and Jason stuck his head in. “Danielle Stokes would like to see you.”

  ****

  Texanna stepped out onto the wide front porch that ran the length of the house. She eyed the rockers and imagined sitting here in the evenings, listening to the night sounds. A white picket fence enclosed a small front yard. She could make out Mrs. Farley’s house a short distance away.

  Back in the kitchen, she opened a door she’d not noticed earlier and found a room with windows across one wall. In a corner, an easel held a painting covered by a drop cloth. The hair on Texanna’s neck stood on end. Pearlina’s painting studio. Even in her previous life, she’d painted. Texanna reached out to remove the cloth, and then drew back. Would Pearl resent her looking at her work?

  Unable to stop herself, she uncovered the painting. The cloth fell to the floor. It was a child, a small boy, perhaps three to four years old. His hair was dark, his eyes blue and the pure smile on his face reached inside and twisted her heart.

  “That’s me when I was little.”

  Texanna yelped and jumped away from the easel. A boy stood in the door, a mischievous smile making his blue eyes dance. Garrett.

  Hand over her heart, she took a deep breath. “Whew. You scared the dickens out of me.”

  His face fell. “I’m sorry.”

  “Hey, it’s okay. Bet I looked funny, huh?”

  His head bobbed, and the smile returned.

  “You must be Garrett.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He chewed his lip and studied the toe of his boot. “Are you my mother?”

  Oh, God. What now, Texanna? If she said yes, I’m your mother, Garrett would be hurt when the time came for her to leave. But what did she tell him now?

  “Uh, no, Garrett. I’m not.”

  “Oh.” Tears gathered in his eyes. “Who’re you then?”

  Good question. Who the hell am I? Or, at the least, what can I tell this kid and other people when they ask? Everyone believed she was Royce’s wife. How would they react when they found out she wasn’t?

  Texanna heard someone call, “Garrett.” She supposed it was Mrs. Farley looking for him. The screen door in the kitchen squeaked.

  “Garrett. Where are you?”

  “He’s in here, Mrs. Farley. Come on in.”

  Mrs. Farley crossed the kitchen and into the adjoining room where they stood looking at the painting. “Oh, dear. I didn’t intend for Garrett to come over and be underfoot today. You need time to settle in.”

  “Oh, he’s not a bother.” Texanna smiled down at Garrett. “However, young man, you need to always tell Mrs. Farley when you leave her yard. Otherwise, she’ll worry. Understand?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  He rushed to Mrs. Farley and hugged her abundant waist. “I’m sorry, Aunt Aggie. I forgot.” She dropped a kiss on top of his head.

  “Just try to remember next time.” Mrs. Farley’s gaze met Texanna’s over Garrett’s head.

  “How are you today?”

  “I’m good.” She turned back to the painting. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

  Texanna could see Mrs. Farley studying her as she bent to look closer at the painting. She seemed pleased at her interest in the portrait. “Yes, it is. Do you think you’ll finish it now?”

  Texanna’s eyes lit at her question. “I’d love to, Mrs. Farley, but I don’t have any paints.”

  “No paints? Why, the entire cupboard is filled with paints and stuff. Royce let you buy all the supplies you wanted, and Texanna, you always called me Aggie. Please do so again.”

  Texanna smiled and nodded.

  “Good.” Aggie bent and whispered in Garrett’s ear. “Show her the supplies.” He grinned and opened
the cupboard door.

  Texanna eyes widened as she looked from Garrett to Aggie. “Oh, my, this is wonderful.”

  Texanna examined the tubes of paint and pulled brushes out to inspect the bristles.

  Garrett stood at Texanna’s side, his face turned up to watch her. Texanna smiled down at him and put an arm around the boy’s thin shoulders. Garrett leaned into her side. A lump formed in her throat.

  “What do you think, Garrett? Should I finish your painting?” He nodded. “Good, we’ll get started as soon as I figure out where the food’s kept and how to work the stove.”

  She saw Aggie shake her head. “I’ll be happy to help you, dear,” she said.

  Aggie hustled Texanna into the kitchen. They collected potatoes, onions, and carrots from the root cellar and set about peeling and paring the vegetables.

  An hour later, they had a good fire burning in the cookstove and a stew bubbling, its rich aroma filling the house. Aggie wrote down a recipe for corn bread and mixed the dry ingredients for the first batch. All Texanna had to do was add the fat, egg, and milk just before baking.

  Texanna bit her lip. She wasn’t sure how to stoke the fire to heat the oven properly. She guessed she’d learn from experience.

  “Garrett, come on home with me until your pa gets home.” The boy’s face fell.

  “Oh, Aggie, let him stay. He won’t be any trouble.” Texanna ruffled Garrett’s hair. “Will you, sport?”

  “No, ma’am, I sure won’t. I promise.”

  ****

  Royce swore at his bad luck. He didn’t want to face the woman right now, but it seemed he didn’t have a choice. When she breezed into the room, he stood and rounded his desk to offer her a chair.

  “That won’t be necessary. I’ll just be a minute.” Her lips were pinched, her face pale. Dressed in a navy blue, Sunday dress with a matching bonnet, she appeared formal and cold. Well hell, he didn’t blame her.

  “Please, Danielle, sit down for a minute and let me explain.”

  “I don’t see there’s anything to explain. Your wife returns, and then disappears again. You come calling and convince me the woman is not your wife but an imposter.”