"How are things going with you and Hunter?" she asked. "Are you getting along?"
"Get into bed first. You look dead on your feet," her friend advised.
Taylor did as she was told. She smiled when Victoria tucked the covers around her. It felt nice to have someone look after her for a change. She patted a spot next to her on the bed and moved her legs out of the way so Victoria could sit down.
Her friend answered the question Taylor wanted to ask but knew she shouldn't.
"He kisses me good night every single night," her friend whispered. "Sometimes more than once. He doesn't seem to notice I'm getting big and awkward and ugly."
"You are radiant, not ugly, and that is what he sees."
"He still says he's leaving as soon as the baby arrives."
"He could change his mind."
Victoria nodded agreement, but the look on her face indicated she didn't believe it.
"Taylor, what can I do to help you?"
"Give me some advice," she answered. "Tell me what to do about Georgie and Allie. Be completely honest and tell me what you think of their behavior. They're old enough to listen and obey a few simple rules, aren't they?"
Victoria smiled. "You know I love and cherish Daniel and the girls, don't you?"
"Of course I do," Taylor replied.
"Daniel is such a delight. He's getting more opinionated and stubborn, I've noticed, but he listens to reason. He certainly isn't a problem. But the twins…"
"Yes?"
Victoria let out a sigh. "They're little hellions."
Taylor was in full agreement, yet as the twins' mother, she felt it necessary to defend the little girls. "They aren't always hellions. They listen to Lucas and Hunter. When one of them tells Georgie to get down off the table, she immediately obeys. They don't threaten her or plead with her and I know she isn't afraid of either one of them. She wouldn't be so sassy around them if she were afraid."
Taylor sounded bewildered. Victoria smiled in response. "It isn't the end of the world."
"They could drive a mother to drink," Taylor whispered.
Victoria laughed. "I'm certainly not an expert, but I do know this. You have to start saying no, and you have to mean it. You can't reason or negotiate with a two-year-old."
"I keep forgetting that," Taylor admitted. "I do try to reason with them."
"You try to placate them, too," Victoria told her. "They're old enough to understand certain rules. They're very intelligent." She sighed and added, "And adorable. It's difficult to say no when one of them is looking up with those big blue eyes and the tears start rolling down her cheeks."
Taylor knew what she was talking about. It was difficult not to give in.
"They are intelligent, and you're right, Victoria. I am going to have to be more assertive. They'll be completely out of hand if I don't."
After her friend went to bed, Taylor thought about the changes she was going to have to make to get the twins' attention. She fell asleep fretting, for the truth was difficult for any mother to admit, even an inept, thoroughly inexperienced one.
Her babies were brats.
Callaghan moved in the following night. Taylor rolled over in her bed, opened her eyes, and very nearly died of fright. The mountain man was sitting at her kitchen table, shoving day-old biscuits in his mouth two at a time.
A scream gathered in her throat, and her heart felt as though it had just stopped beating. Then his scent hit her, and she knew she wasn't going to die of fright at all. His smell would do her in. It was vile and rank and reminded her of skunks.
Taylor had never smelled anything like it. The stench made her eyes water and her stomach lurch. She didn't dare scream now. She'd have to take a deep breath first, and she simply didn't have the courage. She held the covers tight over her nose and her mouth and took tiny little pants of air while she stared at the deranged-looking man.
Callaghan. She remembered his name. She remembered Lucas's warning as well. He'd told her his stench would knock her over. He'd been right about that. He'd also told her he wasn't dangerous. She hoped to God he was also right about that.
He looked dangerous and wild. He was a good-sized man, but because he was hunched over the table, she couldn't guess his exact height. He wore dark brown buckskin pants and shirt and black boots with fur around the tops. His hair was long, stringy, and brown. She didn't know if that was his true hair color or if it was just as filthy as the rest of him and stained from years of going without a good scrubbing.
He turned and looked at her. She stared back. She wasn't at all afraid now. She knew that if she needed help, all she had to do was shout. Hunter was sleeping outside under the stars. He'd come running.
Callaghan wasn't a deranged maniac. His eyes were clear as day. She saw curiosity in his gaze and something else that started her temper boiling. There was a definite sparkle in those golden brown eyes.
"Aren't you going to scream?"
He asked her the question in a raspy voice filled with amusement. She shook her head no. He smiled, displaying brilliant white teeth, then turned back to the pan of half-eaten biscuits. He popped one into his mouth. "Needs salt."
Taylor finally got her wits back. She jumped out of bed, snatched the robe from where she'd left it draped over the back of one of the rockers, and hurriedly put it on.
Her gun was on the mantel. She edged her way close to the hearth to get the weapon just in case he turned hostile when she told him he was going to have to leave.
"Why did you think I would scream?"
"Most do," he answered with a shrug.
"And then what happens?"
"Their men throw me out. I don't stay out though. I come back inside. Yeap, I always do."
"When do you go back to the mountains?"
Taylor reached up to grab hold of her gun and only then noticed the bullets were all neatly lined up in a row behind the weapon. Callaghan was a whole lot more clever than she'd realized.
Her reaction surprised her: She started smiling.
"I leave when I'm ready."
"You're the real thing, aren't you, Callaghan?"
"Real what?" he asked.
"Mountain man."
She edged her way around the table with the intent of opening the door. If she didn't get some fresh air inside soon she feared she would faint.
"I'd appreciate it if you didn't call to your man until I finish my breakfast."
"I'm not going to call to anyone," she promised. "I want fresh air. That's all."
Taylor opened the door and both windows. It didn't help much. She leaned against the entrance and stared at the intruder. He had the manners of a hog.
"I'll be wanting coffee tomorrow morning," he announced. "And a proper breakfast."
He kept giving her quick glances to judge her reaction. Taylor kept right on smiling at him.
"It's all right if you want to scream now. I'm finished," he announced. He made the bench scrape against the floor when he stood up.
"I bet you have lots of stories to tell about life as a mountain man."
"Thousands," he agreed.
"Do you know who Daniel Boone and Davy Crockett were?"
"I'm not ignorant," he snapped. "Of course I've heard of them. They're dead, woman. I know that, too. They weren't from these mountains neither," he added with a nod. "We got our own tales to tell from our hills. Men like Tom Howard and Sparky Dawson and Montana…"
Victoria's scream interrupted Callaghan. Taylor jumped a foot in reaction. She had been so engrossed in the conversation, she hadn't noticed the bedroom door open. Her dear friend took one look at the back of the stranger and let out a screech that could wake Redemption.
Taylor moved out of the way in the nick of time. Hunter came running through the entrance with his gun drawn. "Callaghan," he roared.