Althea squeezed the chair arm under her
uninjured palm. Despite her frayed nerves and bone-deep weariness,
a quiver of joy ran through her that made her forget them both. The
pleasure of hearing his words was almost excruciating, like rain
falling upon a drought-stricken flower. No one had ever told her
something like that before. Certainly no man had.
And for a single irrational, selfish,
immodest moment, she wished she could put her head on his shoulder
and rest, to feel his arms around her, and hear his heartbeat under
her ear. In the tableau she envisioned, there were no worries, no
responsibilities . . . no Olivia. Just her and
Jeff and the night.
Then her gaze wandered to the two graves
again. Her spine tensed against the spindle-backed rocker.
“
That’s not the kind of thing we should
be talking about.”
“
I think it is.”
“
And I don’t think this is a proper
topic of discussion. Besides,” she added, and turned her gaze to
her lap, “you don’t know anything about me.”
He put the end of the grass stalk in the
corner of his mouth. “Maybe I do, more than you think.”
She froze. It sounded like a threat, a secret
that he’d discovered about her. He couldn’t know about that. Hardly
anyone did, except for Dr. Brewster and Father and Olivia. Father
was dead, Olivia never talked to anyone, and surely Dr. Brewster
wouldn’t have told Jeff. Doctors took a vow of silence, or
something like—
“
What do you know?” she asked,
struggling to keep the tremor out of her voice.
He put his elbows on his knees and hunched
forward, studying the dark, featureless planking between his boots.
“I know that you weren’t close to your father, that you might have
even been afraid of him.”
Althea’s spine grew rigid as she sat upright
in her chair. “What gave you such an idea?”
“
You did, Allie. I’ve noticed how you
tend those two graves over there. It isn’t out of respect as much
as fear. You let the rest of this place go, but the area inside
that fence—it’s as tidy as a park.”
“
That’s ridiculous—”
Jeff didn’t know how far he should push
Allie. Her sister’s display at dinner had been very revealing. “Is
it?”
“
Please, if you want to discuss
tomorrow’s work, fine. If not, I’ll say good night.” She gathered
her skirts in preparation to rise from the rocker.
Jeff couldn’t explain to himself why he
pressed this. Time and again he told himself he shouldn’t give a
damn about this woman beyond their arrangement, but he couldn’t get
her off his mind. He’d ended up working here because Will Mason
sentenced him to this job. Yet he sensed that Althea was just as
much a prisoner as he was. More so, in fact.
“
Stay in your chair, Allie. We’ll talk
about something else.”
She looked at him and then settled back into
the rocker with a sigh. He could see the weariness in her pretty
face. “All right.”
They sat in silence for a few moments, the
quiet broken only by familiar night sounds and the soft creak of
Allie’s rocker. In another time and place, Jeff wouldn’t be
wondering what to say to this beautiful woman on a shadowed porch
on a soft summer night. He’d take her hand in his own and press his
lips into her palm. Then, to overcome her shyness—Allie Ford would
be shy, he knew—he’d dust her temples and cheeks with soft kisses
before he took her mouth with his own.
But he was here and this was now, with years
of experience and disappointment behind him. And Jeff was different
man than he’d once been. So instead he said, “You must know this
land pretty well, watching your father work it year after year.
Ties like that run deep.”
“
I guess so. But sometimes I’ve thought
I could leave this place without a even a glance over my shoulder.”
Astounded, Althea blinked at Jeff with her mouth open slightly, as
if someone instead of her had said those words. “I mean it’s been
so hard the last few—of course I would never leave.”
“
Never?”
“
Well, no. I was born here and my
parents are buried here and—”
“
What if a man asked to marry you?” His
voice was lulling, warm.
Althea felt a flush of confusion, then almost
laughed. In her mind, the very idea had become as far-fetched as a
man walking on that yellow moon in the sky. “I can’t leave Olivia.
I’m all she has. Besides,” she added in a moment of tart
candidness, “not too many men would be interested in making a home
for both of the crazy Ford sisters.” She shifted in the rocker.
Heavens, what personal thought would pop out of her mouth next? And
what was it about this man that made her admit things she’d never
said aloud to anyone else?
He wasn’t the handsomest man Althea had ever
seen—he still had the proportions of a scarecrow. Even so, she felt
a low, humming vibration jitter through her whenever he was around.
It was a sensation like none other she’d ever experienced. His
powerful physical presence went beyond his long, rawboned body and
clear green eyes. And the pull she felt, something she barely
understood, was so strong it frightened her. The memory of
measuring him for his shirts had never left her. If he called her
it would be so easy to go to him—and yet so difficult.
“
Olivia is a grown woman. Don’t you
think she’d learn to manage on her own?”
She turned and stared at him. “Why, she’s
hardly more than a girl. And you saw yourself that she cannot
manage on her own.” So undone by his suggestion and all it implied,
she began to sputter. “It—it would be like abandoning a child.”
Jeff had looked straight into Olivia Ford’s
eyes when she’d demanded that he leave. What he saw was a woman who
knew exactly what she was doing, one who’d been spoiled and coddled
all of her life. “Maybe it’s time you let her grow up.”
“
You make it sound as though my sister
chose the life she has, and that I’m forcing her to keep
it.”
“
No, I don’t mean that.” Jeff sighed.
Olivia wasn’t the one he was concerned about. There were old ghosts
and secret hurts hiding in Allie’s heart; he could sense it and
everything pointed to it. A mother who’d committed suicide, a cold,
humorless father, a sickly, clinging sister.
But what did he care, anyway? It was none of
his business—how many times did he have to remind himself of that?
And he was in no position to give advice, that was certain. He
leaned against the porch upright and hooked one boot over his knee.
“I wonder if anyone’s life turns out they way they expect it to
when they’re young. I sure as hell never thought I’d be where I am
now.”
“
Do you mean working off a sentence for
breaking into a hen house? Or are you referring to the damage
you’ve done to yourself?”
She could be painfully direct—there was no
beating around the bush with Althea Ford. But she spoke without
malice or an underpinning of sarcasm. Obviously, she expected an
answer to her straightforward question. Hunching forward, he rested
his elbows on his thighs and stared at the dark shape of the
barn.
“
I guess I have that
coming.”
“
You have the chance to walk away from
the last two years and start over. When you leave here, will you go
back to filching eggs or will you go home?”
He threaded his fingers through his hair. “I
don’t make plans anymore. I found out the hard way that planning
can set a man up for a big fall.”
“
But it doesn’t have to be that way.
That’s a notion you can change.”
She made it sound so simple. But it wasn’t
simple at all. Without intending to, Jeff began talking about the
shadows that lay on his soul. “I had big plans once. Decker Prairie
is usually a quiet, peaceful little town, so I figured I’d be the
sheriff for a few years. But what I really wanted to do after that
was farm full time. I was going to grow the best crops in the
valley with my hundred acres. I’d stand at the end of the rows and
burst with pride every time I looked at the tall, green corn, and
the carrots and beans and squash. I’d have a wife who carried my
child in her belly just as I carried them both in my heart. There
were going to be kids underfoot and dogs in the yard. The seasons
would come around like the hands on a clock, and I’d go to bed
every night thanking God and fate for giving me a good life. A man
couldn’t ask for more than that.”
“
No, I suppose not. Except that isn’t
what you got.”
“
Nope. I came close, then I lost it
all.” Funny—he’d never talked to anyone about this. Not even to Len
Deardorf, the barkeep at the Liberal Saloon, and that man had heard
just about every customer’s troubles. Jeff felt the need to tell it
now, though, as if the story were a rotten tooth that had to be
pulled.
“
Sally and me—I guess we were married
for about four years. We hoped for children but I figured we had
lots of time. Or at least I thought we did. After I shot Wes,
everything started to change between us. I wanted to go to her, to
talk about what I’d done. But when I tried, she didn’t understand
how I felt. She thought that shooting people was part of a lawman’s
job, and that I’d have to accept it. I couldn’t talk to her—I
couldn’t talk to anyone. The people in town, well, they just stared
and whispered every time I walked by. So I crawled inside of myself
and stayed there.”
Jeff knew he shouldn’t tell the prim woman
sitting next to him about his nights back then. That when sleep
wouldn’t come, he had turned to Sally, looking for the solace in
her arms and in their bed that eluded him everywhere else. He
shouldn’t discuss something so personal with this virginal tabby,
yet, despite her innocence he sensed that she would understand.
He’d sought his wife with a need that he
couldn’t define. It had been something beyond desire, that need.
Maybe he’d hoped that by burying himself in her soft body, he’d be
able to pour out his grief and bury it as well.
“
But Sally turned me away. Night after
night.”
“
Oh.” The word came as softly as a
dandelion puff pushed along by the breeze. He glanced at Althea.
She sat with her hands clasped tightly on her lap and her eyes
downcast. He couldn’t see her scarlet cheeks but he practically
felt them through the darkness.
“
I’m sorry. I shouldn’t tell
you—”
She looked up quickly. “No. No, please go on.
I’m listening.”
I’m listening. Those two words were a balm to
his spirit.
He nodded and took a deep breath. “I started
drinking. Just a little. I wanted to try and kill the guilt and
loneliness I carried around with me. Sometimes I’d go to the
saloon, order a bottle of whiskey, and sit at a back table.”
“
Why didn’t you just go
home?”
Home. When was the last time he’d imagined
himself at home? “By then, I felt more empty with my wife than I
did when I was alone. I don’t think there’s a lonelier feeling than
being with someone who has stopped caring. So I started spending
some nights in one of the cells in the office. I still loved Sally
but I just didn’t know how to show it anymore. And I didn’t know
how to fix that.”
“
I think I know what you mean. About
being lonely with someone else, that is.”
“
You do?”
Althea nodded, her earlier irritation with
him gone. She had never been married, or ever really been courted
by a man. But she knew that hollow feeling, the emptiness that
could not be filled with work, or responsibility, or dedication to
duty. It made itself felt in a hundred little ways, but in the dark
valley of night its pang was most acute.
Jeff sat with his chin in his hand, absently
running his thumb over his jaw as he considered her in the low
light. She heard the rasp of his beard, saw the dark green fire in
his eyes. “Yeah, I think you probably do.” He straightened on the
stool and took up his story again. “Finally, one night I decided
that if things would ever be right again between Sally and me, I’d
have to go to her, on my knees if I had to, and talk to her. I mean
really talk.” He chuckled and shook his head. “When I got there,
the place was dark and all of her clothes were gone. She’d left me
a note on the kitchen table. ‘I can’t take the loneliness anymore.’
That’s all it said. Not a word of regret for what she was doing,
not a word of hope or love, even if it was dead. That was it. She
was gone.” He sat staring at the darkness for so long, Althea began
to grow uncomfortable with the silence. It was full of the memories
of heartache.
“
Do you know where she went?” she
whispered at last.
“
I’m surprised you don’t. Everyone in
Decker Prairie was blabbing about it. Someone saw her leave with a
feed salesman who passed through town. I kept hoping she might come
back, but a few months later I received a divorce decree from a law
office in San Francisco.”
“
Divorce!” No one of Althea’s limited
acquaintance was divorced. She didn’t even know anyone who knew
someone else who had been divorced. Humiliation and betrayal must
have torn deep slashes through his heart.
“
It doesn’t take much account of the
‘for better or for worse’ part, does it? When I saw that decree, I
yanked the sheriff’s badge off my shirt and threw it on the desk.
Then I went out to the homestead with a bottle of whiskey, and
after I was good and drunk, I burned the house to the
ground.”
“
Oh, my God—”
He tossed the grass stalk aside. “Hell, I
don’t blame her anymore. It was as if all my anger and every other
feeling I had went up in flames with that house.”