Footsteps sounded on the back porch, and a young man appeared in the doorway, snatching off his hat to reveal wiry blond hair. “Boss, I’m ready whenever your missus is.” He bobbed his head toward Elise, an open, friendly smile on his face.
“Elise, this is Gage O’Reilly. He’ll drive you to town and fetch and carry for you.” Bowie looked out the kitchen window. “Looks like Carlos and Josefina are here, too. They can get the wagon unloaded and some cleaning done while you’re gone.” With barely a nod in Elise’s direction, he passed Gage on his way outside.
“Ma’am, GW asked if we could stop by the main ranch house on our way into town, if that’s all right with you.” Gage tapped his hat against his thigh.
“Of course. Let me make a few notes, and I’ll be ready.” Elise went to the wagon and got the tablet she’d packed for the purpose and went room to room, making lists. Furnishings, window coverings, kitchen supplies.
Upstairs, she peeked into the three bedrooms. Each was a generous size, but the one at the back of the house that overlooked the river caught her fancy. Lace curtains, a cheerful quilt on a four-poster bed, a beveled mirror on a stand. It would be quite charming when she was finished.
The other two rooms must’ve been designed for children, one for boys, one for girls. Her heart ached a bit as she thought of Bowie sketching his designs for a home, probably anticipating being a husband and father, having his family around him.
Now he had a paper wife, and no plans for fatherhood.
Which meant that she would be denied the opportunity to ever be a mother.
Bowie hadn’t slept so well in over a decade as he had last night.
And it bothered him.
Waking up with his wife in his arms had been a surprise and a revelation. When he’d come in after checking on the dogs, Elise had been sound asleep on the side of the bed he usually used.
The blankets had slipped to the floor, and she lay curled on her side as if trying to warm herself. Her hair spilled across the pillow like a chocolate river. Bowie touched one of the glossy waves, the satiny strands catching on his rough hands. He covered her up, and before he rounded the end of the bed, she’d rolled over and shed the blankets again.
He stripped to his small clothes and slid under the covers, careful not to jostle her. Stacking his hands behind his head, he stared at the ceiling. Within seconds, Elise had rolled once more and cuddled against his side like a kitten seeking warmth. Bowie froze, not even breathing. Her hair tickled his skin, and her breath fanned across his chest. Gently he eased his arm down around her shoulders, and her hand came up to lie over his heart.
Letting out his breath slowly, he swallowed. She snuggled in as if she’d always slept this way, and he relaxed. She was sound asleep, but even so, she’d sought his protection and warmth. So much for each of them staying on their own side of the bed.
Yawning, he’d reached up and tugged off his patch, tossing it onto the bedside table and rubbing the skin around his empty eye socket. He would be sure to wake up first and put it on before she had to see his disfigurement. He didn’t remember falling asleep; he just knew he’d remained asleep all night for the first time in years. No nightmare had stalked him. No raging battle, no despair, no regret. Just … peace.
And waking up had been a pure pleasure. Bowie had lain still for almost an hour waiting for Elise to awaken. He’d been so comfortable, he had forgotten he wasn’t wearing his patch.
It still cut, the look of shock in her eyes as she’d stared at his ravaged face, at the hole where his eye should be. Why hadn’t he gotten up and out of the house at first light? Why had he subjected her to the horror that was his visage when he knew how awful it was?
Bowie snapped his fingers as he strode toward the barn construction site, and Stonewall loped over, tongue lolling.
“Last night was a mistake,” he told the dog. “One I don’t aim to make again. Let’s get to work.”
Even as he made himself that promise, he knew it wouldn’t be without cost. Holding Elise in his arms had been the most content and at peace he had been since well before Gettysburg. Shrugging, he joined the workmen.
He’d have to live on the memory, because it could never happen again.
GW greeted Elise on the front porch of El Regalo, inviting her to sit in the shade, offering her a glass of cider.
“Thanks for stopping by. I wanted a chance to talk to you on your own without the family bustling around.” He tipped his chair back and hooked his boot heel over the stringer. “I can’t tell you how surprised I was, Bowie showing up with a bride out of the blue like that, but I’m grateful.”
Elise perched on the edge of her chair, wary, not wanting to say the wrong thing. “It all happened rather suddenly.”
“Austin tells me that you knew Bowie during the War. That you were his nurse?”