On the morning of the barn raising, Callie woke earlier than usual, excited about being able to go out in public with Sonny McQuade to the event. The man melted her more than the Texas sun, just by giving a direct look with those icy blue eyes that warmed like a summer rain when they held hers. She wanted to display that giddiness to the rest of the world, to let everyone see her happiness. It was amazing how a few short months ago she would never have dreamed that being around a particular man would bring her this much joy. Back then she’d measured her contentment in a solitary life, with herself at the reins of the decision-making. Of course, that had not changed now; she just had someone she might be able to share in with her gladness.
Tripping downstairs like a young debutante going to her first ball, Callie West hummed a little tune as she readied the stove and kettle. Taking out the cornbread biscuits she’d baked, she divvied them up into two piles to give to Noah and Mr. McQuade, who were leaving early to get started on the building of the barn. Callie and the other women would show up near midday with the food and drink the men would certainly be clamoring for by then.
After slicing off some cold beef and filling two flasks with lemonade, Callie took a moment to sip the fresh brewed coffee she’d just prepared, as well as take a good hunk of cornbread for her own breakfast. Glancing out the kitchen window, the widow saw movement in the shadows of the barn, but was instantly rewarded by the sight of Sonny McQuade swinging down off his horse and speaking with Noah, who remained in the shadows of that building.
He was here already! Sonny had arrived! She could call him that in her head, though he was still Mr. McQuade out in front of people. Her heart skipped a beat, even as she admonished herself to wrap their midday nourishment and get it out to the two men.
Following thought with actions, Callie made short work of the chore and headed for the kitchen door, heartbeat quickening at the notion that she would be face-to-face with the gunfighter in a matter of minutes. Since the thunderstorm, Callie and Sonny had exchanged pleasantries, had even worked Second Chance together, but Noah Lawson, bless his soul, had always been present. The widow and her beau had been relegated to meaningful looks and speaking glances. Perhaps tonight she might feel his arms wrapped around her in a waltz, or brush her lips across his mouth in a secret kiss… Callie’s insides squished deliciously at the very thought.
This was how a woman should feel around a man! This eagerness, this building excitement at the very thought of being in a certain man’s presence! She felt hot, cold, eager, and nervous, all at once. She patted at her upswept hair; smoothed her skirt in preparation of approaching the gunfighter. Callie wished she could be brazen enough to go out there right now and pull his head down to hers, to whisper in his ear that she’d missed the feel of his body in her embrace, his mouth against hers…
Oh, heck! All these thoughts were just making Callie all hot and bothered, and where could the whole lot lead anyway, right now? He had to be somewhere, she had to prepare for the midday meal, and they both had a teenage audience in their midst! The most she’d succeeded in doing is flush her face and plaster her dress to her body in heated desire! She needed to get a grip on these girlish emotions and be content to wait for the celebration in the evening. But, oh, just his eyes!—
Growling at how easily she got off task, Callie slammed her bonnet onto her hair and tied it under her chin mercilessly, without even a glance toward a mirror, before snatching up the care packages she’d dropped onto the kitchen table during her mooning. She headed out the kitchen door, determined to keep her fantasies in check.
As the widow approached the men with determined strides, she could hear Noah discussing the day’s events with the gunfighter, whom she forced herself not to look at just yet. Act mature, you little fool, and not like a girl Noah’s age!
“…Nah, they should have all the supplies, Mr. McQuade. They just need a lot of hands to help put the walls up. Oh, mornin’, Miz Callie.” Both males turned to greet the widow West as she approached their huddle. The youth spied what she carried, and grinned wider. Food brought joy to the teenage boy’s countenance much like the thoughts of the gunfighter’s embrace tempted Callie.
“I brought you both your mid-morning refreshment, gentlemen. You’ll work up a powerful thirst and appetite over there this morning.” At last Callie allowed herself the moment to look into Sonny McQuade’s face.
As it had each time since the line shack, she became mesmerized within the blue depths of the gunfighter’s eyes. She felt frozen, paralyzed, unable to move; but in a good way; in the manner that you never want to leave a particular place, like a favorite fishing hole, or a shady picnic spot along a lazy stream. She sank into the warmth of his gaze, refreshed and desirous all at once, a sensation foreign to the widow when equated with a man’s presence. Yet it felt right, exhilarating, like riding a galloping horse toward unknown adventure, where danger might lie, but so too could security and life-long happiness…
“That’s awful kind of you, Ma’am. From what the boy here says, it’s gonna be a busy, hot morning. Having your food to look forward to will be the high point of the day.” The gunfighter smiled slightly, eyes crinkling attractively at the corners in the shade of his black Stetson. Callie felt herself sinking into their depths again, drowning. But he continued speaking, rescuing the widow from the self-inflicted desire she became drenched in whenever he appeared.
“If I may, Miz West, I’d like to speak to you inside. Nothing terrible, I assure you.” He held her gaze, inferring something she could not read in his expression. Breaking their visual connection, the gunfighter turned his attention to Noah Lawson, a rather evasive look crossing his face.
“We’ll just be a moment, son, if you don’t mind,” and with a nod at the youth, the gunslinger turned toward the horse stalls, moving with the assumption that Callie would follow him into the barn. Of course, she did.
Stepping into the animal sanctuary, where the pungent odors of horses and fresh straw assailed her nostrils, Callie wondered what on earth the man had to discuss with her in private. Could he possibly be telling her he’d changed his mind about courting? Callie’s stomach clenched at the very thought, but the possibility seemed very real. After all, even though they’d shared some passionate kisses that rainy afternoon, no words of real commitment had passed between them. Perhaps she’d been too reticent; too cautious. Had Sonny wanted to go farther? Callie wrinkled her nose at her naiveté. Of course he’d wanted to do so! Hadn’t she felt that evidence against her, though he’d taken pains to shield her from the proof of his desire? Which thought of course brought her right back around to that very same chivalrous behavior. Oh, dear! What could this mean?
As she timorously passed the first empty stall, the gunfighter abruptly turned about and snatched Callie’s hand, pulling her up against his body and nearly crushing the breath from her lungs in the process, dragging her farther into the dim barn.
At last pausing deep in the shadows, with both arms snaking about the widow’s slim form, Sonny McQuade’s lips crashed against hers on an expelled grunt, as he proceeded to kiss the air right out of Callie’s body. Momentarily apprehensive, Callie immediately melted against the gunfighter’s hard body, arms looping around his neck as she feverishly returned the embrace. Their sighs and murmurs punctuated the silence of the barn, along with the rustle of petticoats and creaks of leather. The milk cow lowed experimentally to see if anyone was coming to visit her, and a few wayward chickens clucked deeper in the environs of the building. Otherwise the morning solitude remained love’s only witness.
Leaving her lips, Sonny’s mouth travelled along Callie’s chin, nipped at that delicate earlobe, and then nibbled down her throat, right to the very edge of her collar. Caught up in the delicious sensations of his mouth on her skin, Callie tilted her neck to grant him more access, hands sliding from his neck to rest against that solid wall of his chest. Even through the black vest and white shirt, the widow could feel the hammer of his heart against her palm, and she exhaled into his mouth with relief. The man was not immune, not impervious to her nearness! That organ pounded under the weight of her hand, much like the blood throbbed in her ears at his touch, at his proximity.
Finally, reluctantly, Sonny pulled back, arms still around the widow’s waist as he looked tenderly down into her face. His eyes, molten silver a moment ago, cooled to the blue of a summer sky as he smiled rather sheepishly and admitted, “I have been waiting to do that for two long days, Callie West. That boy out there is a burr under my saddle that I can’t shake!” And he bent his head to imbibe of her mouth’s nectar once more, foregoing speech for action.
“Mr. McQuade! Miz Callie! Is there something wrong with Sec—whoa! I guess not!”
As if the mention of his name was enough to conjure him, Noah strode into the barn on the heels of his two favorite adults, only to find them locked in a steamy embrace. Embarrassed, yet heart soaring at the implications, the youth stumbled over his boots, turning clumsily in an effort to exit rapidly. But the spell had already been broken.
Muttering an unintelligible curse against Callie’s curving lips, Sonny pecked her lips once more before simply resting his forehead against hers and staring resignedly into her forest green eyes.
“See what I mean? I’m sorry, Callie; truly I am. For my rough behavior, for my—“
This time it was the widow who silenced the gunfighter with a gentle kiss, one hand caressing his smooth jaw as she leaned closer on tip toe. Drawing back just as tentatively, Callie whispered, “Don’t apologize! I’ve been so worried that I imagined the other day out in the rain, that you didn’t…”
“Sshh,” Sonny admonished quietly, kissing her lips quickly to shush her concerns before they were vocalized.
“Never that, Ma’am. Never worry over that.” He drew back reluctantly, allowing Callie to step away and straighten her now cock-eyed bonnet, his eyes hungrily devouring her image. But he remained strong, even while her gaze begged him to return to her arms.
“I need to go, much as I don’t want to,” Sonny continued. “But I just couldn’t…leave… without holding you, or kissing you, again. I’m sorry for my forwardness, but it has to be said. I don’t want you doubting my devotion, Miz Callie. It’s just that time and circumstance are not on my side. Our side.” He grinned lopsidedly, and Callie inwardly swooned. He wanted her! He pined for her as she pined for him! Had it not been for Newton’s gravity, Callie swore she’d be floating high into the rafters purely on the gunfighter’s simple words of adoration.
With an ecstatic grin blooming across her face, Callie urged Sonny, “Go, then, Mr. McQuade! It will only become hotter work the longer we dally here. But you’d best spend time with me after the work is finished, Sir! I demand my minutes in your company!” Her face flushed at the bold words pouring from her lips, but Callie could not stem their flow. This desire to be in his company forced itself to be heard, and the widow was helpless to stop them. Apparently they were music to the gunfighter’s ears, for Sonny took two steps toward her and grabbed Callie about the waist, swinging her around before soundly kissing her on the lips before releasing her.
“Not minutes, Miz West! The whole evening, at least! I’ll see you there!” The gunfighter snatched up his hat from where it had fallen, along with the care package Callie had dropped when he’d pulled her into his arms, and strode from the barn, leaving the widow to regain her composure.
Outside, Sonny found Noah walking their two mounts down the drive a little ways, obviously embarrassed at interrupting the gunfighter and his boss and subsequently giving them plenty of space. Realizing he’d have to talk to the boy, the gunfighter sighed, then put two fingers to his lips and whistled, shrilly. Both horses as well as the youth turned at the loud sound, and immediately Noah about-faced.
As he approached him, the gunfighter discerned a self-conscious expression on the boy’s countenance. He heaved another sigh while reaching for his horse’s reins wordlessly. Swinging up into the saddle, Sonny couldn’t help but cast a backward glance, rewarded when Miz Callie stepped out of the barn and gave him a little wave. His heart filled to nearly bursting. Dipping his head in a nod, the gunslinger wheeled Red around and caught up to Noah, who had immediately started trotting toward the main road.
“Hold up, boy,” Sonny called, cantering past the youth and slowing to a sedate pace. He turned to look the Lawson youth in the eye, but Noah kept his eyes downcast, as if he were mulling over some deep thoughts.
“Spit it out, son. Whatever you’re chewing over spit it out.”
Their horses travelled several paces before Noah finally licked his lips, a habit he’d picked up from the gunfighter, and responded thoughtfully.
“Are you gonna treat Miz Callie right?”
Sonny pulled up his horse to stare at the boy with narrowed eyes. Noah paused beside him as well, meeting look for look. These were not the words McQuade had expected from the youth; not after his prank during the thunderstorm. That stunt had been orchestrated to throw the two adults together. So, if the teenager had wanted the pair of them together, why was he now questioning Sonny’s motives? But, did it really matter why he asked the question? The youth apparently felt the need to protect his boss, and with his violent past, Sonny couldn’t blame Lawson in the least. So he set about allaying the youth’s fears, and organizing his own thoughts on the subject, as well.
Clearing his throat and shooting one more side-long glance at his young companion, Sonny answered seriously and truthfully, surprising himself with his reply.
“I plan on marrying her.” From where the hell had those words spouted? But as soon as they left his mouth, Sonny knew them to be true. Callie West was the woman for him. He’d recognized their connection all the way back at the Fourth of July pie supper. He’d just never thought himself worthy of the affections of a woman such as Callie West. Hell, he wasn’t worthy of being in the same county as her! Sonny understood their differences in class too well. But for some reason the widow returned his affections. Returned them tenfold. And Sonny wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. He was going to grab with both hands what God had mistakenly handed him, and snatch a little bit of heaven to enjoy right now, right here on Earth.
So, with those assertions settling his mind and heart, a sudden peace stole over the gunfighter while he gazed into Noah Lawson’s startled countenance. And his next words only flabbergasted the youth even more.
“An’ since you’ve been taking care of her these last few years, I think it’s only right I tell you of my intentions and ask for your blessing.” Sonny’s lake blue eyes bore into the teenager’s, whose brown orbs widened in disbelief at the gunfighter’s comment.
Holy cow! Noah mentally exclaimed. Holy, holy cow! McQuade wanted to marry Miz Callie? He wanted to make Round Rock his home with the widow? Live here forever? And he was asking him, sixteen-year-old Noah Lawson, for his approval? Well, didn’t that beat all!
The youth stared into the blue depths of the patiently waiting gunslinger, and he couldn’t hide his jubilation. He grinned into McQuade’s face so wide he thought his face would crack, but Noah didn’t care. Heck, his two favorite people in the whole wide world were gonna get hitched! That was cause enough for the warm feeling he felt enveloping him.
Attempting a mature demeanor was beyond the boy at this moment, so all he said was, “Shoot, Mr. McQuade! You already know how I feel about you. Next to my pa, you’re the best man I know. I wanna be just like you!” At the gunfighter’s quick negative shake of his head, Noah amended, “Well, without all the shooting of people, of course.” He finished with an ingenuous grin, though McQuade kept shaking his head. Noah hastened to continue.
“I can’t believe you want to ask me about Miz West, but since you have, you know I don’t have any objections, not now that I know your intentions. I think you two are great for each other. Like my ma and pa.” Here the boy paused a moment, his thoughts turning backwards in time, before the Indian attack, before his family had been ripped from him in the blink of an eye. McQuade dropped his gaze, allowing the youth a moment to gather his emotions, while the gunfighter contemplated the incongruity of a young man idolizing him for just being himself, and not for his speed with a weapon. Sonny found himself rashly hoping he never betrayed that youthful trust.
“Thank you, son. I don’t deserve your faith, Lord knows, but since I have it, I promise it won’t be misplaced. I love Miz Callie and will die protecting her, and you. Of that you can rest assured. I’d marry her right here, right in this road, if I could, but from what I gather, she’s never been properly courted, so I thought she needed that experience.” Here McQuade paused, though both males urged their mounts forward, riding companionably toward the Singleton barn raising. Sonny continued, canting a glance toward the youth. “Do you think I should speak to her sister and brother-in-law about it?”
This conversation seemed to get stranger and stranger, as far as Noah was concerned. Now the gunfighter was asking him for advice? But at least the sixteen-year-old had an answer for the man.
“I don’t think it’s necessary, since Miz Callie is a widow an’ all, but I think it would go a long way toward spreading goodwill between you an’ her family if you at least let them know your intentions. Miz Samantha is a real stickler for proper etiquette, plus she’s real protective of her little sister, especially since she found out what Mr. West was like.” The boy spat over the side of his horse, summing up his opinion of the widow’s late husband succinctly. Sonny smiled a grim smile, wishing, not for the first time, that Obadiah West was here so he, Sonny McQuade, could send him to perdition in a blaze of glory at the other end of his gun.
Meeting commiserating gazes once more, Sonny nodded thoughtfully and clucked to his horse to speed him up, saying conversationally, “Then that’s what I’ll do tonight.” The men continued on toward their day’s work, at one in their thoughts.
##
The Singleton barn was raised, including four walls, a roof, and a barn door. Individual stalls would have to be added by the owner, but at least all their animals and livery would be protected from the elements once more. With the job accomplished, and Mr. and Mrs. Singleton happy, it was time to celebrate. The womenfolk had arrived at about midday, sharing wagons and bringing armfuls of food. Younger men set up makeshift tables with leftover wood, while others just spread blankets on the ground in the shadow of the new barn for an impromptu picnic. Even though the men were tired from their busy day, and the women from cooking, all gathered to have a good time and enjoy each other’s company. What made the afternoon more special was the fact that, since it had been a bustling work place, no children were present. All of them had been left behind in the care of older siblings, so this revelry meant more to the adults present. It was child-free!
Callie served food to the hard-working men right alongside her sister and other women throughout the hot afternoon, even walking around with water or lemonade to make sure no one became dehydrated. But when it came time for supper, and the good Reverend Clemens had said the Blessing, Callie bid goodbye to her sister, stepping toward her own wagon. Immediately Sam queried, “Aren’t you and Noah eating with us, Callie? There’s plenty of room on my blanket.” Her eyes, so like her sister’s, quizzically studied her sibling, who flushed to the roots of her hair before at last meeting Sam’s sheepishly. Sam stared, wondering what in tarnation had taken over her sister, to make her so…skittish! At last Callie spoke.
“Noah’s eating with Miss Laura May Tisdale’s family, Sis. And I’m…I’m eating with Mr. McQuade, over by my wagon.” She held her sister’s eyes defiantly, chin raised slightly. Samantha Peyton stared, jaw dropping as she assimilated what she’d just been told. Her husband, Will, spit out the lemonade he’d been gulping, wiped his mouth with his sleeve, and muttered some excuse of having to talk to someone, anyone, as he beat a hasty retreat from the two siblings.
“You’re eating with whom?” Sam squeaked, mindful of her surroundings but aghast at what her sister had just divulged. Her eyes fluttered as her sharp gaze landed on the man in question. McQuade was putting away the tools he’d used, standing right alongside Noah and Doc over by the barn entrance. While the feminine side of her brain recognized what a fine figure of a man he made in his Levis and snug-fitting shirt and vest, the older sister’s protective instinct had Samantha whispering, “He’s a gunfighter, Callie! He kills people! We don’t sit down with killers!—“
“He likes me, Sam!” interrupted Callie. “And I…like him. We’re courting!” Sam just gaped like a hooked fish.
“Courting? Courting? As in, stepping out together? As in, the possibility of marriage? Oh, Sissy, I don’t like this at all! I—“
Callie stood up tall, and glared at Samantha. Keeping her voice low, she nevertheless drove her point home succinctly. “It doesn’t really matter whether you like it or not, Sam.” A hurt look crossed Samantha’s face, and it stabbed Callie like a knife. The widow changed her tone and her wording.
“Oh, Sam, I know you want to protect me. And I love that about you. You held me together when Mama and Papa were killed, and you’ve been there for me since I became a widow. But I know my own heart, Sis. You have to believe me. I didn’t understand what I was doing when I married Obadiah, and we both saw how that turned out. But this time is different. He’s different! I really like him, Sam, and that’s not a joke. He asked me to go courting, and I’ve agreed. Please, be happy for me?”
The sisters stared into each other’s eyes, both so alike, but so different in their minds. Samantha studied Callie, reading the truth in her green gaze, and inwardly sighed, for she could read the affection for the gunfighter shining in her sister’s expression. Though she’d never seen it in Callie’s face before, Sam recognized love when she saw it. And she knew she’d already lost against a tall, silent man with an unsavory past, but who seemed to have somehow unlocked the happiness hidden deep inside Callie West ever since her diabolical marriage to Obadiah West.
Growling her displeasure, Sam acquiesced, albeit ungracefully.
“Ohh, fine! If this is what you want, Lord knows I can’t change your mind! You always were stubborn as Papa’s mule when you set your mind to something!"
Callie threw her arms around her sister’s neck, hugging her tight while saying, “He is what I want, Sam! I want what you and Will have—“
“And you think a gunfighter can give you that?” Sam’s voice yelped even as she tried to control her disbelief. Callie stepped back, continuing.
“A retired gunfighter, Sis. He’s trying to change his life. Doesn’t everyone deserve a second chance at life? Don’t I?” Callie’s lip trembled despite her best efforts, and immediately Sam softened, pulling her poker-straight sister back into her arms and crooning, “Of course you do, Callie! You know I want you happy! I just can’t believe he’d be the one to make you so!”
“Well, believe it, Sis.” Pulling out of Sam’s arms, Callie smiled timidly at her sister and continued, “I think he’s the one, Sam. So get used to the idea. Now go get Will and have some fun yourself, without the kids!” Callie leaned forward and kissed her sister’s cheek, then turned to skip back to her wagon, and to the man waiting for her there.
The gunfighter’s eyes locked onto her as she approached, a tell-tale crinkling at the corners of his eyes bringing an answering smile to the widow’s countenance. She stopped tantalizingly close to him, tilting her face back to look upon his features obscured by the lowered Stetson and the lengthening shadows of the late afternoon sun behind him.
“You look tired and hungry,” she said simply, taking in the droplets of water still trickling down his cheeks. He’d sluiced water from a nearby trough into his hat and down his face in an attempt to clean up. The endeavor did not go unnoticed, or unappreciated. Mindless of any watchful town eyes, Callie reached a hand up and gently touched his damp, cool cheek, gaze hungrily traversing his face. Turning to quickly place a kiss on that palm, Sonny then said easily, “I’m not used to all this honest labor.”
Callie gave a quick laugh as her hand dropped, still tingling from the touch of his lips. Staring into his eyes, she said softly, “It suits you well, Sonny McQuade.” Her face begged to be kissed; eyes pleaded for another touch of those supple lips upon her mouth. Yet he hesitated, as always concerned about her well-being, her standing in the town. She was his highest priority, a precious commodity the gunslinger would never endanger, or disgrace amongst her peers. Instead, his own blue gaze promised embraces at a later time, when not so many of Round Rock’s wagging tongues were present. She silently pouted, turning with a flounce toward the back of the wagon, and the hearty stew she’d prepared, accompanied with more cornbread biscuits. He cracked a smile at her quick peevishness.
Sliding a weary hip onto the wagon’s open tailgate, Sonny scooted back to sit comfortably with legs dangling, content to watch Miz Callie ready his meal. He studied her capable hands as they broke the bread and slathered fresh-churned butter on it. Every move she made captivated his attention, be it pouring stew into a bowl, or stretching her back with a hand at the base of her spine. He was besotted with her.
“Move over!” Sonny’s slightly dazed look focused on Callie as she pushed at him and hopped up onto the back of the wagon, lifting her own bowl of stew to eat shoulder to shoulder with her beau. He smiled uncontrollably around the spoon he used to shovel the aromatic meal into his mouth at speedy intervals. While one part of his brain acknowledged the delicious repast, the main part of Sonny’s thoughts swirled around the fact that, although courting was nice, he needed to make Miz Callie West his, with a ring on her finger and his name at the end of hers. He needed to know that after all these celebrations and town gatherings he would be going home with the woman he loved, to hold her in his arms and to fall asleep in her embrace…
“Noah looks so adorable with his little girl!” Callie’s voice broke through Sonny’s epiphany, derailing his thoughts into a train wreck of half-formed impressions. Leaving the mental carnage momentarily, he spared a casual glance toward the youth sitting as stiff as a dressmaker’s dummy next to Miss Laura May Tisdale. Unable to disguise a grunt of amusement, Sonny gained an elbow in the side for his response.
“Don’t sneer, Sonny! I think it’s sweet! I can’t believe he’s actually started courting!”
"I thought you said you weren’t ready to start courting, Miz Callie.”
Sonny’s head whipped around, right hand moving to his gun as he realized Sheriff Micah Benson had just gotten the drop on him. They hadn’t even been aware of his approach, or from where he’d even come. He’d just appeared, a ghostly apparition, face partly shadowed by his lowered hat, and the fact the sun had almost set. But his eyes glittered eerily in the half-light as they bore into Callie’s, ignoring the presence of the gunfighter completely.
The widow, partially obscured by Sonny’s broad shoulders, nevertheless stared at the sheriff, at a loss for words. For the lawman was totally right; she had told him she wasn’t ready to see anyone. Yet here she sat, legs swinging over the back of the wagon, breaking bread with the most notorious man in their midst and resembling nothing more than a wooing couple. She had some explaining to do, and the lawman didn’t look like he was in the mood to listen.