She peeked down at her feet. “Oh, I would have let you in.”
“Sorry to dawdle. It is a pretty sight out there.”
“That it is. Come in.”
“Is it the prettiness that keeps you here?” He had to ask, stepping into her world. Wondered if she, too, was hiding from somewhere. Someone.
“No. It’s a promise I made.” The key clicked in the lock. She raised her face to his, and in the firelight, he read an entire story of loyalty in her eyes. “It is a vow I find I cannot break.” She shrugged.
Emmett, no doubt. Bronx slipped out of her husband’s coat and moved inside the big warm room, now dark and quiet. The Pennsylvania fireplace grinned, orange with heat and a glass lamp flickered in the warm air.
“Prayers over for the night?”
She nodded. “Yes. Folks have left. Tonight is just Malina and me. Us. Clemmons is sleeping peaceful, thank God.”
She took Emmett’s coat from him, and Bronx left her side to stuff the freestanding Pennsylvania fireplace with scraps of board and small logs. Its chimney reached though the roof planks to keep smoke from filling the room.
Lila’s gaze warmed him. “I’ve always longed for a real fireplace of river rock.”
Bronx heard what she really meant, and she almost nodded as he thought his thoughts. She’d wanted a real home and hadn’t gotten it. Emmett...Bronx’s teeth clenched. What had he done to her?
“That’d be real nice,” was all he said, though, amazed at his mild tone.
“We can sit for a bit, if you like. Perhaps converse for a moment or two. I confess I’m tired, but not ready to sleep. If that makes any kind of sense at all.”
With a hand nothing but polite on his arm she guided him to a pew. But his flesh near burst into flame, feeling her flesh beneath the fabric of his shirt.
“Makes perfect sense to me.” How was it his voice didn’t shake itself to death? Many nights on lookout, he’d ached to sleep but didn’t dare. He settled himself on one of the handmade church pews. It was already wrapped with pillows and a quilt, but it was hard against his backside, anyway.
“Malina and I’ll bunk out here.” She pointed to a dark bundle curled up as well as it might on the pew by the door to Mr. Dykstra’s room. “Many come for food a warm meal but...bed down elsewhere.” Her cheeks reddened, and he understood this being a moral house, too. “You can share the room with Mr. Dykstra tonight. I hope you don’t mind playing nursemaid. Please call me if he needs anything.”
He remembered assisting once with Bulldog’s bad catarrh, but didn’t tell her that. She sat next to him and he had no breath left.
“Any Arbuckle’s left?” he asked when he could breathe again.
“I think so. I’ve had my fill, but I can make a fresh pot.”
He got up quick, else he’d never leave her side. “I can get it. One task Miz Edith—the old lady—” He flushed, recalling her chiding. “—taught me well. However, my sweet Miz Edith was a tea drinker.”
“I’ll do either on a cold night.”
He grinned. On a cold night, Bronx himself would prefer whiskey straight up, or at least a slosh of it to flavor the coffee. He wrestled with a dark blue spatter ware kettle simmering on the rusted, workaday potbelly. Reminded him of the night outside, a sky so blue eyes saw black, stuck with stars so close a hand could reach up and grab a handful. He poured coffee into a matching tin cup. Just enough left for one man. The scent, the outdoor cold, sent a memory of the outlaw he’d been through his head, and he shook it off. Those days were dead and gone. Just like Bronx Sanderson himself. Doc Holliday’s invitations swam inside his head.
But suddenly, the scent of Lila all her own crept around him.
“There’s some cake left, too.” Lila’s voice lured him back.
“Had my fill at Miss Frieda’s.”
He sat down next to Lila, and this time, the roughhewn bench didn’t seem hard at all. Seemed right where he should be.
“You speak your Miss Edith’s name with such love.” Lila snuggled with a blanket, close by, but not against him. Miz Edith’s nighttime kisses came to his mind.
“With my whole heart, too. I did love her.” He sighed. At the time, he’d not understood how much. “I will always miss her. She was a good and generous soul.” He swallowed hot coffee far too fast, but the boiling heat burning his throat felt good, somehow. Oh, how he had let the old lady down.
“She’s long passed?” Lila stretched her feet closer to the fire.
“Yep.
“So…tell me about your brother.” In the firelight, her face pinked. “If my nose isn’t appearing to snoop, that is. I’ve no wish to pry.”