Devils on Horseback: Lee, Book 4 Page 3

  She loved her daughter with a fierceness she hadn’t known she had. However, Genny hadn’t ever wanted to have a child with Henry. There were a lot of tricks her mother had taught her to prevent a baby, so luckily Genny had successfully avoided that possibility again. Sophie was all she needed. She wouldn’t trade her daughter for even a second of time away from Henry—Sophie was a gift Genny treasured.

  Too bad Lee hadn’t been the first man between her legs. Perhaps then Genny might have enjoyed sex. Oh sweet heavens, that was the truth. He probably had that blond hair on his muscled chest that led down like a trail of treasure into his—

  “That man, how did he lose his arm, Mama?”

  Sophie’s appearance startled Genny so bad she dropped the traces on her foot. Holding in the curses that threatened, she hopped up and down, red-faced and annoyed at herself. Her daughter picked up the traces and hung them on the peg on the wall.

  “Sorry if’n I scared you.” She sounded very contrite.

  “It’s all right, Sophie. I was woolgathering and should’ve been paying attention.” Genny rubbed her foot, sure she’d probably done more than bruised it. Damn it, she was actually fantasizing about Lee’s prowess in bed and how his body would feel beneath her hands.

  “So how did it happen?”

  “What? How did what happen?” Genny limped as she led old Ned to his stall. It was time to start paying attention to what she was doing.

  “The man’s arm.” Sophie followed along behind, careful to avoid any piles left by the old horse. “What happened to it?”

  Genny thought about the shadows lurking in Lee’s eyes. There was definitely some ancient pain deep inside him. “I don’t know, honey. Probably during the war. He has the look of a soldier. Very, ah, strong.”

  “He’s strong? Even with one arm?” Sophie took a curry brush and started working on Ned.

  For all the trouble she caused in the last six months, Sophie was still a good girl who took her responsibilities seriously. It was rare that Genny had to remind her to do her chores even if she complained loudly about it half the time. Sophie was a walking contradiction Genny didn’t have the wherewithal to solve at the moment. Hell, she could barely focus on what she had to do.

  While she put fresh feed in Ned’s bucket, Genny contemplated how to answer Sophie. Although the girl had not known anyone without an arm before, her question was an honest one.

  “He looks strong to me. And I think that when folks lose something, they tend to make it up in other places. Like Mr. Blackwood. He’s likely very strong with his right arm.” Genny leaned against the stall door and watched her daughter curry the horse.

  After finishing with Ned, Genny and Sophie headed to the house with the late-morning sun burning brightly in their eyes. Genny was exhausted from the anxiety of the day, yet dinner and getting the room ready for whomever Gabby convinced to help them awaited her. Sophie could help, but the girl looked as tired as Genny felt.

  “Why don’t you go lie down, sweetie? I’ll wake you when it’s time to eat.” She opened the door and ushered Sophie in.

  “I’m not a baby, Mama. I don’t need a nap.” The girl let loose a jaw-cracking yawn.

  “I know, but I need quiet. You’d be doing me a favor.” Genny sighed with a bit more gusto than needed. “That drive plumb wore me out.”

  Sophie looked at her dubiously. “Not sure if you’re fibbing or not, but I’ll go lay down so’s you can have quiet.”

  Lord, the girl was too stubborn by half. If someone told Sophie the sky was blue, she might have to argue with them. Genny shook her head and grabbed the bucket by the door. She had to wash some vegetables for dinner as well as her face and hands. The dust and dirt from the road coated her skin.

  After getting water from the well, Genny took potatoes, turnips and carrots from the trapdoor under the kitchen. Performing a normal chore like making a meal helped to calm her frayed nerves. She only had a month until it was too late to bring the wheat in, then it would rot out in the fields and that possibility scared the hell out of her.

  * * * * *

  Lee stared out at the water as it rushed past the mill, the sound of the wheel making a thunderous noise even louder than the river. The spray from the water cooled his face, giving him a chance to catch his breath. Not only were Gabby and Jake pushing him to help the Blanchard woman, but they were going to have a baby.

  That meant the bedroom Lee currently slept in would be needed for the child. Certainly they wouldn’t move him in with Gabby’s father—the man was an invalid. Then there was the reclusive Cindy Cooley, who’d barely left her room since she entered it a year and a half ago.

  Lee occupied the room which at one time was probably a closet, but it was private and gave him the home he needed when he needed it. Now he’d been given a choice—to either leave before there wouldn’t be a place for him or wait until they were forced to kick him out.

  No way in hell he wanted to be in that position. He had too much pride for that, and damn sure he didn’t relish being the unwanted guest with no place to sleep. Just the thought of being a nuisance to Jake and Gabby made his stomach clench.

  There wasn’t a choice—he had to leave.

  Before he could change his mind or even think too hard about what he was doing, Lee headed back into the mill to pack. While he was gathering his few clothing items, strop and razor, and his other meager possessions, Lee realized he really had nothing. After the war, when they discovered Briar Creek had been destroyed, he and the Devils only had the clothes on their backs.

  For Lee, he’d accumulated a whole lot of nothing since then as well. The only things he truly cared for were the men he traveled with, and now he was alone. The thought was like a punch in the gut, hard and fast. He had to sit on the small bed while he absorbed the idea.

  He knew he still had them as friends, but they’d come to a point in their lives, a crossroads of sorts, where they were no longer making the journey together. Aside from Gideon, who had a restaurant to run, the other Devils had found their mates and put down roots. Lee, on the other hand, was still like a puff in the wind, blowing this way and that.

  He had no roots, no mate, no future and no left arm.

  A wave of sadness roared through him, and damned if he didn’t have to swallow back tears as his throat closed up with emotion. Lee prided himself on never giving into the melancholy that plagued many men during and after the war. Yet here he was wallowing in self-pity instead of getting on his feet and changing his circumstances.

  At first, Jake might have had to convince Lee to go to the widow’s ranch. However, now Lee made the decision to step up and become his own man, to grab the reins and choose a path. He had to stop floundering around—it had gone on for two years. He would help Genevieve Blanchard then set up shop in Tanger as the town’s accountant. Not a job many men would take, but dammit a cripple didn’t have many choices. He couldn’t work as a wrangler, cowboy or any other job requiring two arms. Besides he was damn good with numbers and could make his way in life as an accountant.

  Lee stood and picked up his saddlebags, finally ready to begin the rest of his life.

  * * * * *

  Genny didn’t expect anyone at the farm that day. After all, she’d only gone to town that morning and surely Gabby hadn’t found someone willing to help already, so when she heard the sound of a horse whinny, then Ned’s response, she dropped the sewing and rose. The shotgun lay next to the door, loaded and ready. She picked it up, the weight comfortable in her hand, then went to the kitchen.

  She peered out the tiny window in the kitchen and didn’t see anyone. Her heart pounded a steady tattoo as her hand tightened on the barrel of the gun. The early afternoon sun spilled bright light into the front yard. A breeze kicked up a small dust cloud across the otherwise still afternoon.

  Genny strained to hear sounds, and above the short bursts
of her breath, she heard the sound of hoofbeats. They grew louder as whoever was on the horse got closer to the house.

  Since Henry’s death, Genny had dreaded the day a stranger would come to the farm and demand more from her than a meal. She knew how to use the shotgun and wasn’t afraid to. Her worry was for Sophie and what would happen to her daughter if Genny were hurt or killed.

  The horse’s neigh startled her enough that she almost dropped the gun. She took a deep breath and leaned to the right to view the front of the porch. All she could see was the side of the horse with a man’s leg and foot in the stirrup. He wore a pair of gray trousers with a faint trim down the side—an ex-Confederate soldier then.

  It could be someone from Tanger, but it could also be a man who was desperate for anything he could get his hands on. Glancing backwards at her daughter’s room, Genny felt a surge of courage, or perhaps stupidity, and went to the door. As she turned the knob, her stomach clenched so hard she tasted bile, but she went outside.

  At first the sun was in her eyes, but she quickly stepped to the right and got a bead on the man on the horse. She wasn’t sure if it was relief or surprise coursing through her when she recognized the stranger was none other than Lee Blackwood.

  The brim of his hat shaded his eyes, but she noticed the tightening of his hand on the reins as she stood there with a weapon aimed at him.

  She slowly lowered the gun, letting him know the situation was in her control, not his. Genny learned long ago that men would take control of any situation if a woman allowed them to. She wouldn’t be that kind of woman.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Blackwood.”

  “Miz Blanchard.” He inclined his head. “Do you always greet visitors with a shotgun?”

  His voice was hard, even a bit more than she’d expected. This was the man who had been in her thoughts since they’d met at the mill. The fact he’d been the one to appear at the farm made her pulse flutter.

  “I’m a woman alone with a little girl. Would you expect me to not protect me and mine?” Genny stepped off the porch. “You’re more than welcome here, so if you don’t mind, get down off the horse before I get a crick in my neck looking at you.”

  She sounded annoyed, dammit, and she didn’t want to. The man had caught her off-guard, when she was ready to do battle for her daughter, and remembering her reaction to him made everything whirl around inside her. Genny didn’t like the feeling, and as much as she found Lee to be intriguing, there were more important things to worry about than him.

  He frowned at her, but he dismounted in a smoother motion than she anticipated. Considering he only had half of his left arm, she expected him to be awkward, but he was anything but. He landed on the dusty ground and walked in front of the horse, leading him by the reins. As he stepped closer, Genny fought the urge to move back.

  “For someone who’s asked for help, your hospitality ain’t the best I’ve seen.” The words flowed from his mouth in a lazy southern drawl, but she heard the bite behind them.

  “I have to do what I have to do, Mr. Blackwood. I was doing some sewing inside. Why don’t you set your horse in the barn and come on in for a spell.” She turned her back on him, not waiting for a response, and headed into the house.

  Genny wasn’t sure if she was hoping for him to follow her or praying that he got back on his horse and rode away.

  Lee stared at her nicely rounded backside, annoyed, intrigued and, damn, aroused again. Genevieve Blanchard knew exactly how to confound him, that was for sure. He grunted as he tied off the horse’s reins to the hitching post. He damn sure needed to get his thoughts in order before he followed her.

  Prior to the war, Lee had been young enough to only have kissed a few girls. During the war, he lost his virginity to a camp whore in the middle of a thunderstorm. It was quick, dirty and the most erotic experience of his life. It was the first of many experiences with her. He was careful to let no one know of his obsession with Fiona, the woman who’d taught him how to be a man. She followed the camp as they moved through the muddy fields during the war.

  Even Zeke didn’t know the extent of Lee’s relationship with Fiona. She insisted he tell no one about his regular visits since most of the time she didn’t even charge him. It wasn’t until she disappeared that Lee realized just how badly he’d fallen for her. Hell, he almost deserted the Army to look for her. He hadn’t seen her since March 1, 1865, more than two years ago.

  Sometimes at night, in his deepest dreams, he would think of her, the smell of her hair, the softness of her skin, the tang of the sweat on her neck. He would wake up shaking and sweating, aching for release in her welcoming body.

  Yet she had vanished so completely, even the other women around camp denied knowing her. Lee always wondered what he’d do if she reappeared in his life. A fairy tale to be sure. Considering he was only half the man he’d been before the war, Fiona would likely turn away from him as had every other woman he’d been attracted to since he’d lost his arm.

  That is, until he met Genevieve.

  She had spoken to him as if having one arm was an everyday thing, as if he could adapt easily. The thought that she could be right never entered his mind. Genevieve didn’t know one damn thing about losing a limb and couldn’t possibly know how fucking hard it was. He’d come to the farm as a favor to Gabby and Jake, and to have the time to put his own life in order. The fact he was there to help the widow was secondary considering there wasn’t much he could do.

  With as much trepidation as curiosity, Lee stepped into the house. The interior was lit by a single window over the sink and a lantern on the table. Obviously Genevieve’s husband hadn’t thought windows were important in a house. Likely the man was too damn lazy to put them in or too cheap to pay for them.

  The rich smell of food filled the air. She was definitely making some kind of stew for dinner, with potatoes and possibly turnips. His stomach picked that moment to rumble, and he hoped like hell she hadn’t heard it.

  Genevieve sat at the table, a blue shirt in hand with needle poised in the air. The thread was a slim connection between the needle and the fabric, glinting in the lamplight. A basket was beside her on the floor, with various shirts and trousers stacked in a neat pile. She gestured to the chair across from her.

  “Please sit.”

  Lee took a second to review the layout of the house. Along with two closed doors and a large open room, it appeared to be a simple plan with only one entrance that also served as the exit. He pulled the chair to the side of the table so his back was to the wall, then sat down.

  She raised one eyebrow at his behavior, but said nothing about it. “What brings you out here, Mr. Blackwood?”

  He realized she wasn’t going to make this easy, but then again, his behavior earlier didn’t exactly speak of a polite welcome either.

  “Gabby asked me to come,” he blurted. Was there ever a time he could actually speak without making an ass of himself? “I mean, she told me about your situation and thought I should come out here and see if I could help.” He shrugged. “I told her I didn’t think I was the man for the job, but she and Jake do. Not much I can do on a farm, but I’m here.”

  She pushed the needle through the fabric a few more times before she spoke. “That’s a flattering offer, Mr. Blackwood.”

  Was she being serious or did he detect sarcasm? He didn’t know her well enough to tell.

  “Did Gabby tell you what kind of help I needed?” she continued.

  “Farm work, chores and such.” Lee hadn’t asked Gabby for more details and probably should have. Now he regretted that.

  “It’s a bit more than that. We’ve got to bring in the crop.” She nodded in the direction of the window. “About one hundred acres worth. Without it, Sophie and I won’t last the winter.”

  The very idea that this woman and her child’s life depended on his ability to bring in a hundred-acre wh
eat crop made him break out in a cold sweat. He didn’t want to be responsible for them, and he damn sure wasn’t able to bring in that much damn wheat by himself.

  Her husky voice stopped him before he could even move. “Before you run for the door, let me say something first.” She set the shirt down on the table and folded her hands in front of her. “You would not be alone doing this. I have always helped Henry with the harvest. This farm is all I’ve got to give Sophie, and I intend on doing everything I can do to keep it running for her. I know this is a lot to ask of a stranger, but I will give you a room to sleep in while you’re here, feed you whenever you’re hungry and new clothes to take with you when you go.”

  Lee glanced at the shirt, realizing she wasn’t mending it, but rather altering it. She’d already begun making him the clothes he’d take with him before he even said yes. Never mind all his worldly belongings were in the saddlebags outside, or that he’d already moved out of the mill. He wasn’t sure he could do what she needed him to. No, he knew he couldn’t do it.

  “I appreciate the offer, Miz Blanchard. I’m not sure I can do much in a wheat field. I don’t even have two hands.”

  “I’ve got two and between us, we’ve got three. There isn’t anything you can’t do if you’ve a mind to, Mr. Blackwood. I learned that at an early age running the streets of New O— Well, let’s just say I’m not a quitter.” Her gaze was steady and penetrating. “I won’t beg though, so if you want to be on your way, then so be it.”

  He took in her earnest expression, the pride obvious in her tone and posture, and the fact she was alone, fighting for her daughter. Whether or not she’d ever worn a uniform, Genevieve Blanchard was a soldier. He respected that more than anything.

  “I guess you’ve got yourself a farmhand then.”

  When Genevieve smiled, Lee recognized he’d just set himself up to live in a house with a woman whose voice incited erotic fantasies and whose smile lit up a room.