“Because the entire town had been quarantined. No food supplies could be shipped in. She was staying with a neighbor woman who had taken in several other children whose parents had perished.” After a short bout of silence, she said, “Mrs. Potter is a kind person. She simply didn’t have the supplies to feed so many. I left home as soon as I’d received word but had to travel most of the way by stage.”
He nodded without looking up. After reading all the way to the bottom of the last page, noting it was duly signed and witnessed two years ago, he folded the pages and tucked them back in the envelope.
“Anna’s will say relatively the same thing, except it leaves everything to me,” she said.
He glanced her way. She was still going at her neck, both sides now, making it bright red. Her face was scrunched up and her lips pursed, which was an improvement over the glares and snootiness she’d portrayed earlier. Maybe. He didn’t care enough one way or the other to come to a conclusion on her looks. “It appears Max didn’t like you either.”
“Excuse me?”
He normally didn’t take an instant dislike to someone, but she’d made it easy. Max probably thought the same thing. They’d often shared thoughts. Other things, too, but sharing his bride-to-be should have been off-limits, even to his brother. Max should have known that. Most likely had, but that hadn’t stopped him. Tapping the envelope on the wide plank mantel of the stone fireplace, Gabe rerouted his thoughts. “Who died first?”
She might have frowned. She was so sour faced and busy scratching her neck it was hard to tell.
“It’s my understanding that Anna did. The day before Max. Why?”
“Because,” he said, holding up the envelope, “this says Anna inherits everything if she’s still alive upon Max’s death. I’m assuming Anna’s says the same.”
She nodded.
“So, then, legally, upon her death, Max would have inherited all of Anna’s holdings, and therefore, upon his death, according to this will, I would inherit everything. His and hers.”
The fingers at the sides of neck stalled as she stared at him, purple eyes wide and mouth open.
He almost broke a grin. “Didn’t think of that, did you?”
* * *
Janette hadn’t been speechless in years. Years and years. She’d been close when she’d walked into the house and seen Gabe Callaway. He looked nothing like Max. The similarities of their hair, dark brown, not quite black, were where the resemblances ended. Gabe was taller and broader than Max had been, and his eyes were grayish green, like the sky turns right before a big storm. Unlike his brother’s round and cheerful face, Gabe’s was so expressionless his sharp features could have been chiseled out of stone.
“I’m assuming you hadn’t thought of that.”
She let the air seep out of her lungs while trying to come up with a response. All she’d thought of the past few weeks was Ruby. Rightfully so. Ultimately, she settled for “Considering they died within hours of each other—”
“If a man has the right lawyer, it won’t matter how far apart they died.”
Anger flared inside her, almost as hot as the burning on her neck. “Are you threatening me, Mr. Callaway?”
“No. Just stating a fact.”
The all-consuming itching on her neck wouldn’t cease and was making rational thinking of any kind impossible. She wouldn’t be capable of carrying on a conversation until discovering the cause and taking care of it. Folding both hands around her neck, trying to smother the burning, she asked, “Do you have a mirror? I have to see what’s irritating my neck.”
“There’s one in the washroom off the kitchen.”
She waited for him to gesture a direction. Even a general one. Rosalie, the housekeeper, had taken Ruby to the left, but in a house this size, she could wander to the left for some time and not find a washroom or kitchen. She hadn’t expected anything like this. The ranch itself was like its own town. Except it didn’t have stage service. She and Ruby had been dropped off on the crossroad miles south of the ranch. Luckily one of his hired hands had come along and given them a ride. That’s probably why her neck was itching. The wind must have blown some straw or hay inside her collar. Or it just could be the buildup of sand and dirt from riding in the stage so long. A bath would be heavenly, but right now a damp cloth would suffice.
He let out a flustered-sounding sigh. “This way.”
“Thank you,” she said, not meaning it. Well, she did mean it but didn’t want to be thankful for anything about him. He’d been rude and obstinate since she and Ruby had walked through the door. Why Anna had ever agreed to visit his ranch was beyond understanding, except that Anna had been keen on going west, on seeing new things, meeting new people. She’d done it, too. Just as she’d said she would.
Janette held her breath at the pang that stabbed her heart, knowing the rest of Anna’s dreams had all been cut short. As she had the past few weeks, she forced herself to think of Ruby and how wonderful it would be to take care of her. Love her. Just as Anna had wanted.
Silently, Gabe led her through the foyer that hosted the large beveled glass front door and then down a long wallpapered hallway. A few of the doors along the way were open, but she didn’t glance one way or the other. Her neck was on fire, and the burning was moving upward, into her ears and chin. Even her cheeks were starting to tingle.
He pushed open a door and pointed across the room. “Over there.”
Spying the room he’d indicated on the far side of the kitchen, she hurried but stopped at the table where Ruby sat. She already cherished her niece, had since the moment she’d been born. Kneeling down, Janette gestured toward a plate of cookies. “Did you have a cookie?”
Ruby nodded and grinned. “Two.”
Her heart skipped a beat every time she saw that smile and those miniature pearl-white teeth. “Good. You aren’t scared, are you?”
Ruby shook her head.
“Wonderful. There’s no need to be.” Patting the child’s knee, she said, “I’ll be right back.” She’d been telling Ruby there was no need to be scared since arriving in Texas and finding her at Mrs. Potter’s house. Telling herself, too. There was nothing to be afraid of. Absolutely nothing. Not even Gabe Callaway.
The kitchen was as big and as finely furnished as the rest of the house. So was the washroom. Besides a large bathing tub, it held a washing station complete with a porcelain washbasin, a rack holding clean towels and several other essentials, including a large mirror hanging on the wall.
A gasp escaped at the sight of her reflection, and she jolted forward, staring harder while unbuttoning her collar. Not only was her neck red, it was covered with blotches of white. The redness and swollen blotches spread beyond her neck. Upward, covering the bottom halves of her cheeks, her chin and... She leaned closer.
“What on earth?”
Her earlobes were twice the size they should be.
She unpinned her hat and set it aside. Using the dipper, she filled the basin and soaked a small towel. Wringing it out, she pressed the cloth to her neck. The cool dampness was heavenly, but it didn’t last. In fact, it seemed to increase the burning.
It had to help. Had to. She couldn’t walk around looking like this.
She dipped the cloth in the water, wrung it out and pressed it to her neck a second time.
Once again the relief was short-lived, and a touch of panic raced over her as she moved the cloth around her neck, pressing it against each section.
“Here’s your bag.”
She turned at the thud of her bag