fisted on the table. “When I’m convinced my children are safe, I’ll leave. I have a life I started two towns over and a restaurant to cook meals in.”
She’d already made it to the door when Ambrose growled, “So you’re going to run away again. You’re going to leave your children to grow up without their mama.”
Until that moment, her absence was exactly what he’d intended. But at the thought of having her here with him again, pure animal lust surged through him and he realized he’d never let her go. Goddammit, she’s my woman. She’ll learn to live with that fact, like it or not.
She left the kitchen with him on his feet and following her before the door could swing shut between them. She mounted the steps, her back toward him and her voice soft, but her words carried to him clearly. “You’re the second man today who has pointed out that a woman can’t come back after being away for three years and just take up where she left off.”
Not waiting for his answer, she climbed to the top of the steps before turning to ask, “Can she?”
When he didn’t reply, she disappeared from his sight as he stood clenching and unclenching his fists.
Chapter Three
Hamilton Quince shook his head, his expression amazed as he walked to the stairs and spoke to Ambrose. “I was coming from the sheriff’s office after they locked you behind bars.” Ham pulled a folded paper from his pocket and displayed it. “I found this note pinned to my saddle.” In childlike block printing it said, QUINCE’S WOMAN IN BUFFALO CREEK.
He confessed, “Until then I thought you were a goner. As soon as I got this, I rode hell-bent-for leather to Buffalo Creek. I didn’t see anyone who looked like Lucy and the sheriff was gone to Wichita Falls, so I parked myself in the town restaurant and watched the comings and goings of the locals all day. Aside from the woman who owned the place, there weren’t any females.”
Ambrose started back up the steps. “You can tell me about your reunion later, Ham. Right now I have other things on my mind.”
Hamilton caught his arm and said, “Nope. This is important.” He took his handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his face. “It was the pie that did it. I’d been hogging a seat in the diner all day and the woman running the place kept giving me the eye and nodding toward the menu board, hinting I needed to order something. I told her to bring me a slice of whatever kind of dessert they had in the back.”
He explained in a rush, “She brought apple pie and it made me think of Lucy’s housekeeper, Mrs. Carmichael and her pies—that made me think of Lucy and the note.”
Taking the paper from Quincy’s grip, he tucked it in his pocket and continued. “I asked the owner to give me the name of her help and she shrugged me off. I hung around the back, watching for the cook to leave, but when no one came out, I slept in the livery and went back to the diner at first light.
“I almost fell off my chair when the cook came out of the back room and I saw her. First thing I noticed was how she carried herself the same as Luce. Seein’ her up close, scarred and skinny, I didn’t think it was her, but hell, it was worth a chance.”
Ambrose frowned at Hamilton’s scarred and skinny description, correcting him. “She’s not skinny. She’s…” This Lucy was fine-drawn, emanating danger like a mama cougar. He looked up the stairs, needing to see her again.
Hamilton threw his arm around Ambrose’s shoulder, squeezing him hard before he turned loose. “Skinny, fat, ugly or old, there’s no doubt in my mind it’s her.” He stopped and nodded at Ambrose’s hands as if for explanation. “She’s the only woman I’ve ever seen prod you to strong emotion.”
Ambrose shook his head. “Doesn’t seem possible. Had I not eaten her supper, I’d not believe that story. And who in hell sent you the note?”
”Someone who’s known she was there,” Ham said grimly.
She’d already made it to the door when Ambrose growled, “So you’re going to run away again. You’re going to leave your children to grow up without their mama.”
Until that moment, her absence was exactly what he’d intended. But at the thought of having her here with him again, pure animal lust surged through him and he realized he’d never let her go. Goddammit, she’s my woman. She’ll learn to live with that fact, like it or not.
She left the kitchen with him on his feet and following her before the door could swing shut between them. She mounted the steps, her back toward him and her voice soft, but her words carried to him clearly. “You’re the second man today who has pointed out that a woman can’t come back after being away for three years and just take up where she left off.”
Not waiting for his answer, she climbed to the top of the steps before turning to ask, “Can she?”
When he didn’t reply, she disappeared from his sight as he stood clenching and unclenching his fists.
Chapter Three
Hamilton Quince shook his head, his expression amazed as he walked to the stairs and spoke to Ambrose. “I was coming from the sheriff’s office after they locked you behind bars.” Ham pulled a folded paper from his pocket and displayed it. “I found this note pinned to my saddle.” In childlike block printing it said, QUINCE’S WOMAN IN BUFFALO CREEK.
He confessed, “Until then I thought you were a goner. As soon as I got this, I rode hell-bent-for leather to Buffalo Creek. I didn’t see anyone who looked like Lucy and the sheriff was gone to Wichita Falls, so I parked myself in the town restaurant and watched the comings and goings of the locals all day. Aside from the woman who owned the place, there weren’t any females.”
Ambrose started back up the steps. “You can tell me about your reunion later, Ham. Right now I have other things on my mind.”
Hamilton caught his arm and said, “Nope. This is important.” He took his handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his face. “It was the pie that did it. I’d been hogging a seat in the diner all day and the woman running the place kept giving me the eye and nodding toward the menu board, hinting I needed to order something. I told her to bring me a slice of whatever kind of dessert they had in the back.”
He explained in a rush, “She brought apple pie and it made me think of Lucy’s housekeeper, Mrs. Carmichael and her pies—that made me think of Lucy and the note.”
Taking the paper from Quincy’s grip, he tucked it in his pocket and continued. “I asked the owner to give me the name of her help and she shrugged me off. I hung around the back, watching for the cook to leave, but when no one came out, I slept in the livery and went back to the diner at first light.
“I almost fell off my chair when the cook came out of the back room and I saw her. First thing I noticed was how she carried herself the same as Luce. Seein’ her up close, scarred and skinny, I didn’t think it was her, but hell, it was worth a chance.”
Ambrose frowned at Hamilton’s scarred and skinny description, correcting him. “She’s not skinny. She’s…” This Lucy was fine-drawn, emanating danger like a mama cougar. He looked up the stairs, needing to see her again.
Hamilton threw his arm around Ambrose’s shoulder, squeezing him hard before he turned loose. “Skinny, fat, ugly or old, there’s no doubt in my mind it’s her.” He stopped and nodded at Ambrose’s hands as if for explanation. “She’s the only woman I’ve ever seen prod you to strong emotion.”
Ambrose shook his head. “Doesn’t seem possible. Had I not eaten her supper, I’d not believe that story. And who in hell sent you the note?”
”Someone who’s known she was there,” Ham said grimly.
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