The Seduction of Roxanne Read online

  Today had been no different. Terence Michaels and Adlai Hart had come to blows over a less-than-magnificent horse Hart had bought from Michaels. Cyrus had played peacemaker, and the two had walked away grumbling but unhurt. A fancy-dressing professional gambler who went by the name Sir Latimer had been accosted by a local drunk who claimed he'd been cheated. The drunk was in jail and Latimer had promised to leave town on Monday's stage.

  There had been a number of other disagreements, but they were minor, everyday transgressions without the threat of bloodshed, and they were easily handled by him or one of his deputies. Even Calvin had done his part, breaking up an argument between two farm wives in from out of town.

  They'd been fighting over a bolt of bright yellow fabric, and Calvin had stopped the shouting match with a smile and the gentle observation that Miz Martha would look best in the blue, and Miz Irene really ought to try that purty green that matched her eyes. No one had bought the yellow and both women had headed for home happy and half in love with the newest Lamar County deputy. Cyrus could only shake his head in wonder.

  Even though the streets were crowded and she was far away, he saw Roxanne on the boardwalk. Her arms were filled with a large brown-paper wrapped package that almost matched the dress she wore. She stepped into the street and headed toward home, her pace slow but steady. Almost thoughtful. Cyrus took off after her, his step brisk.

  He really should leave her alone, and he knew it. Last night he'd gotten carried away, but then he hadn't been himself last night. Too much whiskey and an innocent kiss from a child had addled his brain. Yes, it would be best if he left Roxanne alone. His step didn't even slow as he approached her.

  "That looks heavy,” he said as he came up behind her. “Need some help?"

  Roxanne glanced over her shoulder and grinned. Ah, what a smile it was, wide and natural and bright. “No thanks. This parcel is big, but it's not heavy.” She jostled the package so that the brown paper rustled. “I bought a new dress.” She blushed as she revealed this bit of information.

  Cyrus nodded his head. “Well, that's nice. What's the occasion?"

  "No occasion, just ... just.... “She stopped dead in her tracks. “Cyrus, are you busy?"

  "Not at the moment."

  "Would you like to join me for a cup of tea and a slice of Maude Hipp's apple pie in her shop? I'd like...” her smile faded a little. “I'd like to talk to you."

  An air of importance hung between them, in the words she spoke so softly. This was a moment that would never come again, an opportunity he couldn't pass up.

  Dammit, if he had any guts at all he'd tell her exactly who had sweet-talked her last night. Looking at her, with her cheeks pink and her eyes bright, those eyebrows like dark wings and her hair so perfect against her pale face, he was tempted to tell her the truth, to take his chances and lay his heart on the line, face to face.

  "Sure,” he said simply.

  Maude Hipp's place was named The Dallas Bakery, since that was the city where she'd lived before moving to Paris. Most of her business was conducted over a long counter, but she had two small tables in the back, and was always happy to serve tea and coffee and lemonade with her fabulous sweets and breads. A spare, graying widow who looked as if she never took so much as a bite of her own cooking, she had enough energy for three women.

  There were two ladies at the counter, but no one at the tables in the back. Cyrus's heart beat harder and faster as Roxanne led him there. Her smile made him think of breaking all his promises to himself and spilling his guts; her smile and the spark of new life in her eyes.

  "Here,” she said, touching one chair and leaving him the one that placed his back against the wall. She deposited her package on the table as Cyrus pulled her chair out for her, laid her hands on the cherished parcel as he took his own seat.

  "Look at this,” she whispered, peeling back a bit of the coarse brown wrapping paper to reveal a tiny square of rose-colored silk. “Isn't this a beautiful color?"

  The importance of that scrap of revealed pink silk hit him square in the chest. Roxanne was out of mourning, or at the very least heading there one step at a time.

  "Very,” he said.

  Maude shouted out that she'd be with them in a minute, and Cyrus answered that there was no rush. There was no reason to hurry. He settled his eyes, calmly, he thought, on Roxanne's face.

  She had something momentous to say. He saw it as clear as day, in the spark of brilliant life that shone from her eyes. He wondered if what she wanted to say had anything to do with what had happened last night, if his words beneath the balcony had affected her so greatly that she'd taken this grand step.

  As he watched she bit her lower lip, glanced to the side, and wrinkled her nose. He waited.

  "I have to talk to someone,” she whispered, leaning slightly across the table. “Aunt Ada wouldn't understand, and I've cut myself off from everyone else for so long there's no one else but ... but...."

  "But me,” he finished for her.

  She smiled again, a small and endearing curve of her lips. “Yes. I told you that I want to marry,” she said, her voice lowered so that no one at the counter could possibly hear her. “And you said that Louis would want me to be happy."

  "I did,” he agreed softly.

  "And I said I wouldn't ever be happy again."

  "You did."

  She unconsciously fingered the package before her, brushing long pale fingers over the brown paper. “What if I was wrong?"

  If Roxanne found happiness his job was done, his promise to Louis fulfilled. There would be no more reason to watch over her, day and night. He didn't want to give up his responsibility, his obsession, but he did want to see Roxanne contented again. “I think that would be wonderful,” he said.

  Her smile faded away. “Then why do I feel so guilty? Like I don't have a right to happiness, like my life should've ended when Louis's did?"

  "But it didn't,” he whispered.

  She settled her intense eyes on him, studying, searching. “I was a bride for three days, a lonely war wife for nearly four years, and a widow for three. I've spent all my life grieving, first for my mother and then for my father. I grieved for Louis's father, a wonderful man, who passed away while y'all were gone. Just a few months later Louis was dead."

  "I know."

  "Sometimes I'm so afraid that if I let myself fall in love again I'll lose that person, too, and I don't think I could stand it.” Her eyes were bright, her voice low and anxious. She was opening her heart to him, revealing the deepest parts of herself in a way Cyrus knew he never could. “I don't think I could survive burying another husband."

  He nodded, understanding. She'd said pretty much the same thing when she dismissed lawmen as potential husbands.

  "But I think I can,” she whispered.

  "Fall in love again?"

  She nodded.

  "Calvin?” he asked.

  His answer was a smile and then a small nod of Roxanne's head and a whispered “maybe” as Maude Hipp appeared.

  "What can I get you folks?"

  "Just coffee for me,” Cyrus answered.

  Roxanne bit her lower lip again, and the uncertain gesture made her look much as she had at fifteen. “Tea,” she said. “And do you have anything chocolate?"

  Maude grinned. “Only the best chocolate cake in Texas."

  "That's what I want,” Roxanne said.

  He hadn't seen her like this for such a long time. Happy. Young at heart. Alive. And so he couldn't be sorry that he'd lied to her last night, couldn't regret what he'd said to her. He certainly couldn't ruin such a transformation with the ugly truth.

  "Calvin,” Cyrus said as Maude stepped away. “You think he's the one?"

  Roxanne nodded. “I think ... maybe."

  "Why?” Maybe he shouldn't ask, but he had to know. If it was just the words, if it was nothing but what had passed, secretly, between them, then maybe, maybe....

  "Well, he is gorgeous,” she said, conf
iding in him as if he were a sister or a lady friend. He didn't particularly like it. “And I've always wanted to live on a farm, to plant myself in one place and make it mine forever. It's what Louis and I planned, it's what I always expected my life to be. A farm is a good place to raise children, and I want lots of children.” She blushed, her cheeks turning a flattering soft pink.

  "I grew up on a farm,” he said, and immediately he regretted the words.

  "You did?” Roxanne's eyes got big. No wonder. He never talked about his life before coming to Paris. Never.

  "I hated it,” he said softly.

  Her face fell. He could see the disappointment in her eyes. “Why?"

  "My folks passed on, and I ended up living with a cousin who didn't want me any more than I wanted him.” Yes, cousin Gil had made his dislike for his new responsibility clear as day. Gil's kids hadn't been too happy about having another child in the house, and his wife hadn't cared much for having another mouth to feed. No one had wanted him there. No one.

  "I was seven. Old enough to help out with the chores. Young enough to get into trouble on a regular basis.” And brother, had he. But those were details Roxanne didn't need to hear. “Mostly I found farm life as dull as ditch water."

  "Oh,” she sighed. “I guess it was your cousin who gave you your distaste for family life."

  He didn't want to talk about it, didn't know what had possessed him to speak of it in the first place. Ah, yes he did. She'd been talking about having a dozen or so of Calvin's children. No wonder he'd changed the subject.

  "You could say that. Let's see,” he said before she could question him again. “We were talking about ... kids."

  She was reluctant to redirect their conversation. “Not everyone is as unkind as your cousin obviously was. Some people would've been delighted to have a wonderful child like you in their household.” She smiled softly. “And I'm sure you were a wonderful child."

  "Opinions differ on that subject,” he said curtly. “Now, can we get back to your plans?"

  She narrowed her eyes. “I suppose. It's just that, well, I certainly won't be happy to teach other people's children forever."

  "Guess not,” Cyrus mumbled.

  "I want my own children,” Roxanne added softly. “And Calvin is...” A dreamy expression stole over her face. “Much more than he appears to be. Beneath that simple facade there's a romantic, intelligent, well-spoken man."

  "Really?” Cyrus drawled.

  "Oh, I know he doesn't say much, but in the right circumstances, he can be quite...” She sighed. “Charming."

  "Great."

  Maude delivered coffee and tea and cake on a well-balanced platter. She placed a slice of cake in front of Cyrus. “Eat it anyway,” she said before he could remind her that he hadn't ordered it. “You don't want to pass up a treat like this."

  Roxanne enjoyed her cake and tea with a relish that had been lacking at the party last night, closing her eyes with the first bite of the rich sweet, licking a crumb off her lower lip. Smiling as she declared it, indeed, the best chocolate cake in Texas.

  Cyrus ignored the sick tightness in his gut, the unexpected sense of loss that overwhelmed him. Well, he'd done it, hadn't he? Louis's dying wish was that Roxanne be happy, and at long last she was. She was even thinking of falling in love again, of risking her heart. After all these years the time was right, and the task had been accomplished with a few sweet words and a handsome farmer.

  And so he couldn't be sorry.

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  Chapter Seven

  Today the first combined church picnic of spring—Methodists and Presbyterians coming together after services to mingle and eat—would take place in Mallory Park. It was a tradition of sorts, something they'd done regularly for years, when the weather was nice. Roxanne hadn't attended one of these picnics in a very long time. Just a few weeks ago, she surely wouldn't have gone.

  She was not yet brave enough to wear her new rose dress, but instead of her usual somber clothing she'd chosen a very pale mint green gown that was years out of fashion but not comically so, thanks to the simple cut of the bodice and the flattering drape of the flowing skirt.

  The morning's attentions to her appearance hadn't stopped with her choice of a pastel and flattering gown. Instead of pulling her hair back severely she'd gathered it up in a softer, slightly curling style, so that a few strands hung about her face. The entire process, dressing and styling her hair, left her feeling more than a little nervous, A new hairstyle and a pretty dress were simple changes, but she felt them to her very bones.

  Ada's cold was much better, and she felt well enough to attend church and the picnic. This morning she'd said nothing about Roxanne's dress or hair, though she'd cast more than one wide-eyed glance at her niece. Uncle Josiah had made a point of telling Roxanne how nice she looked, and then he'd changed the subject as the three of them began the walk to church.

  They noticed the change in her, she knew. Perhaps they were afraid to mention it for fear she'd retreat into her customary gray. Had she become so sensitive that her aunt and uncle were afraid to make note of such a simple, momentous transformation?

  Uncle Josiah returned home to collect the picnic basket from the house and bring it to the park, while Roxanne and Ada visited with old friends, talking about the fine weather and gossiping in soft voices. Roxanne noted more than one curious glance cast her way, more than one inquisitive raised eyebrow.

  Did they notice the inner change she felt so strongly, or only the outer, superficial change?

  Out of the corner of her eye she saw Cyrus and Calvin arrive together. Cyrus carried a sloppily folded blanket, and there was a small basket in Calvin's hands. When she saw Calvin, Elizabeth Fowler's tirade about the unacceptable behavior of a few of the rowdier young men in her neighborhood faded to nothing in Roxanne's ears.

  The two lawmen walked side by side, their long strides in perfect harmony as they walked over soft green grass, past tall leafy trees that took them in and out of the sunlight. Roxanne took a deep, stilling breath. They made quite a sight, both of them of a height—a couple of inches over six feet—both of them dressed in their Sunday best; Cyrus in black and Calvin in brown. They were both hatless and wore polished black boots. They were also both armed. The observation caused Roxanne a shiver of unpleasantness to spoil the moment. She would be glad when Calvin quit his job and bought that farm.

  It didn't take her long to notice that other ladies had noted the arrival of the sheriff and his newest deputy, as well. Openly admiring glances, as well as a number of surreptitious glimpses past wide brimmed hats, were cast in their direction. The two men seemed not to realize that they caused a stir.

  As they were coming straight toward her she returned her attention, in part at least, to Mrs. Fowler. She couldn't very well stand here anxiously as if she were waiting for Cyrus and Calvin to come for her! Not even if it were true.

  Soon enough the two men were at her back, and the eyes of all the ladies in their circle settled on the lawmen.

  "Good afternoon, ladies,” Cyrus said charmingly, and Roxanne turned slowly around.

  Calvin stood behind his boss, apparently as shy as he'd claimed to be. He muttered a low “howdy."

  "May we steal Roxanne from you ladies?” Cyrus asked, already taking her arm. Roxanne couldn't help but notice how Rose Wells bristled, or how Aunt Ada gave in to an affectionate smile as Roxanne allowed Cyrus to take her arm and lead her away. Calvin allowed them to pass and then fell into step behind, all without saying a single word. Goodness, he really was shy!

  Cyrus placed the blanket he carried beneath a leafy maple tree, straightening and laying out the blanket in one easy snap. Ever the gentleman, he took her hand as she lowered herself to the ground. “You look very nice today,” he said softly, his eyes telling her as he delivered the compliment that he noticed the change as everyone else did. Only Cyrus was brave enough to comment. She nodded her thanks as she tried her best to be grace
ful and demure, attributes which were sometimes difficult to attain with her height; especially when she was overcome with an unexpected rush of nervousness.

  Behind her, she heard a muted rustle and a low whisper, and a moment later, as Cyrus and Calvin lowered themselves so she was sandwiched between them, Calvin finally opened his mouth.

  "Yep, you look right purty today, Roxanne,” he said energetically.

  "Thank you,” she said, glancing demurely in Calvin's direction.

  Calvin sat on the edge of the blanket that was bathed in bright sunlight, while she and Cyrus remained in the shade. Sunshine on golden curls made him seem somehow brighter, bigger, more beautiful than she remembered. His eyes were a paler blue than her own, and they were startling in their brilliance. Almost as startling as the smile he flashed at her.

  "We brought ham and biscuits,” he said as he reached for the basket he'd been carrying, “and some of Miz Hipp's chocolate cake. The sheriff seemed to think you might like it."

  She glanced at a silent Cyrus and smiled at him. He had no doubt realized how much she'd enjoyed the chocolate cake yesterday, and had bought this just for her. “How very sweet,” she said.

  Cyrus did not return her smile. In fact, he merely grunted, and looked at her as if he'd rather be anywhere else in the world but here. So much for his gentlemanly manners.

  She turned back to Calvin. “How do you like Paris so far?"

  He nodded twice before speaking. “It's a right fine place, I reckon. The folks are friendly.” He squinted his eyes. “There are an awful lot of people in this town, though."

  "Yes there are,” she agreed.

  "I mean, I got nothing against people or nothing, it's just that I'm accustomed to a bit more peace and quiet. The place I'm from in Tennessee ain't nothing more than a wide place in the road,” he said fondly. “Once I buy my farm I ‘spect I'll settle in just fine."

  There was something odd about Calvin today. He wasn't as open as he'd been on Friday night. Even his voice was different; coarser somehow. And while he smiled at her wonderfully, she saw none of the passion and allure she'd heard as he'd paced beneath her balcony. His shyness, she decided, and the public nature of today's meeting, forced Calvin to hold part of himself back.