"No doubt there, child. He looks at you like… well, like I've never seen Hazard look at any woman."
"Have you known him long?"
"Since he was about fifteen. He came with his pa and a party of bucks trading on the Powder River. The Crows usually don't trade that area, but they'd heard Joel had some good repeaters. Hazard stood out even then in that bunch of young braves. The Crows are the best-looking nation on the Plains. But even then Hazard was just a little bit taller and a shade more handsome and dressed fit to kill. No other tribe can ever outshine a Crow warrior when it comes to dressing. That boy dazzled the eyes." Lydia smiled even ten years later at the memory. "Well, we traded him his first repeater, and he smiled then just as nice as he smiles now. Gentle too— 'course I expect you know that. Lost track of him then for a few years. Heard he married, then his wife died, and next thing you know he showed up at the Powder again… three, four years later, hair cropped, white man's clothes on and wanted Joel to help him get east from St. Louis. Me and Joel had become sort of parents to him. The paperwork had all been done by some adopted uncle of his who married one of his kin, and his pa was sending him off to white man's school. The kid was real unhappy, but he went. For his pa, I guess. Anyway after that, he'd visit with us coming and going to that eastern school each year. Liked us, he said, in that quiet way of his, because he could trust us. He didn't say the opposite—but he didn't trust most other whites."
Blaze nodded, trying to visualize Hazard at fifteen or eighteen.
"And I told him already," Lydia went on, snapping the green beans she was preparing for supper, "whatever problems you two have can be worked out. I should know. Over the years Joel and me have had a heap of problems. But once they're over"—she shrugged— "they're over and forgotten. Best thing in a marriage, if you ask me, is to have a poor memory for the bad times."
"It isn't just us, though," Blaze explained, gripping the back of a simple handmade chair. "It never has been. There's been all the obligations of his duties as chief to his clan, and then, the mining company. And Yancy, who's really the most dangerous. The combination has made everything impossible."
"Well, you can forget about those people and problems at my place. At least for one night," Lydia said with a wink.
Blaze smiled at her allusion and softly repeated, "At least for one night. That would be nice."
"Hard for a man and wife to hold a grudge when they're sleeping in the same bed."
"But he won't."
"He will tonight," Lydia forcefully declared, scooped up the beans in her large, capable hands, and tossed them into a pot. "Now, the biscuits. Do you want to do them? Most men get used to their wives' biscuits."
Blaze blushed. "I can't cook."
"Land sakes, girl," Lydia exclaimed, "how do you ever expect to keep him if you can't cook? Men can say all they want about lust and love, but good food brings them to their knees faster than a silk nightie any day. Pay attention now, child, and I'll show you how to make the best biscuits west of the Mississippi."
Blaze watched and listened and talked of her life some and then tried her hand at rolling and cutting until eventually Lydia was satisfied. "Good, you'll do just fine in no time. Just need a little practice. Now go wash up and get yourself looking pretty. Throw away that black dress. My Abby's about your size. She's small… takes after her pa. There's a dress or two of hers left in the cupboard in your room. Nothin' fancy, mind, but prettier than black. And your pa won't mind. He'd want you to be happy most of all, from what you said."
Soon after Blaze left to change, Hazard returned. He had talked himself back into physical control by the time he walked into the kitchen, his hair slicked back and still damp. "Nice creek for swimming," he said. "As always."
"The rope swing's still up there where you put it, Hazard. Grandkids love it."
"Nothing like a rope swing on a hot day."
"Amen to that. Sit down and have some lemonade. I'm almost ready."
Hazard's eyes widened momentarily when Blaze walked into the kitchen a few minutes later. Then he smiled and remembered, "The little flowers I was looking for in Diamond City. It's pretty on you."
"Thank you," Blaze replied, dropping him a small curtsy and smiling back. The compliment cheered and heartened her as much as Hazard's earlier remark. He seemed more relaxed, smiled more, spoke to her easily, as he used to.
"We should get some dresses like that for you. What's that called again?"
"Calico." Blaze swayed the skirt across her bare feet.
"Right. Calico. Could we get some, Lydia?"
"Take Abby's dresses."
"Blaze?" Hazard asked. While it was tempting to read a future and caring and a hundred other implications into Hazard's concern, Blaze warned herself to respond as casually as she'd been queried.
"If you're sure you don't mine," Blaze said to Lydia.
"Don't mind a scrap. Suits you, child."
And it did, Hazard thought, as sunshine suited summer. Barefoot, her hair falling in silky tendrils on her shoulders, dressed in yellow-sprigged calico, Blaze looked the very opposite of the woman he'd seen at Madame Restell's four days ago.
"Why doesn't Lydia keep my black pearls, Jon, for her hospitality. I can't possibly use them anymore."
"Heavens no, child," Lydia protested. She'd seen the two-strand necklace of perfectly matched pearls on Blaze when she'd walked in with Hazard. Even her un-practiced eye knew they were worth a small fortune. "Just take the dresses with my blessing. Now sit down and eat. Hazard looks as though he could stand a meal."
Hazard ate like a man who had lived on snatched meals for two weeks. And after supper, the three of them sat on the porch and watched the twilight turn to dusk. Lydia talked; Hazard, on his best behavior with his old friend, answered an occasional question, contributed an anecdote or two on his friendship over the years with the Baileys, and exercised his practiced ability to charm. Blaze listened, and learned more about Hazards past in those two twilight hours than she had the entire time she'd lived with him. She saw him here on Lydia's porch devoid of the mantle of chief so prominent in Montana. It was almost as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He was only a man, relaxing in the Missouri countryside, enjoying the dwindling twilight.
When it was time for bed, Lydia bluntly said, "While you're under my roof, Hazard, you can forget whatever troubles you and Blaze have. You'll be sleeping in that guest room with your wife tonight, and if you give me any guff, I'll lock you in, damned if I won't."
Hazard had risen and was about to make some excuse about checking the horses; he was planning on sleeping in the carriage or in the hayloft, but at Lydia's peremptory words, he quickly brought his glance around and searchingly scrutinized her face. She was dead serious, and suddenly he felt like a teenager again. She had power over him—always had. While he silently contemplated his options in face of what sounded like an order, Lydia added, rising to her full height, only three inches shy of Hazard's, "And don't think I can't make you do it, Hazard. I've got thirty pounds on you, and years of experience."
At such determination, Hazard's considerations abruptly terminated and he smiled. "And you've still got a left hook I envy."
"Damn right. And I'm not afraid to use it on you."
"You've managed to scare the hell out of me, Lydia." His smile was genial when he turned toward Blaze and bowed in a parody of courtly politeness. "Would you care to retire for the night, dear wife?"
"I'd love to," Blaze replied, her own smile tentative and she put out her hand toward Hazard's proffered one. His fingers closed around hers as they'd done a hundred times before, and she felt a small measure of comfort.
"Any further instructions, Lydia?" Hazard jestingly queried. "I wouldn't want to disappoint you."
"Humpf," Lydia snorted, plunking down in her chair and setting the rockers into a vigorous rhythm. "You ain't needed no instructions about that since long before I ever set eyes on you, Hazard. Now get yourself off."
"Yes ma'am," Hazard softly murmured and gave her a casual salute with his free hand. Then he pulled Blaze behind him through the door and down the hall.
After they entered the bedroom, he dropped her hand, turned to shut the door, and then leaned back against it, his fingers still lightly curled around the porcelain knob. "My apologies if Lydia's bluntness embarrassed you," he said cautiously, as one might explain away an idiosyncratic relative to a new acquaintance.
"Not in the least," Blaze replied, resting her hands on the carved footboard of the bed and facing Hazard across the hand-braided carpet. "In fact, I think she's very sweet."
Suddenly Hazard's glance was suspicious and his voice held a daunting mildness. "Was this your idea?"
Blaze's tone was one of vicious respectability. "I'd never presume to bludgeon you into sleeping with me. There're subtler ways of dealing with men."
"And you should know." It came out before he could stop it.
"Jealous?" Her glance of tolerant appraisal was calm.
"No."
"Hardly a remark, then, for a man who knows all the intricate subtleties of dealing with women. Something like the pot calling the kettle black. And if you recall, all my dealings with men were quite innocent. I was a virgin, after all… until I met you," Blaze coolly replied.
His answer was sharp and immediate. "You asked for it—a dozen different ways, if I recall," said Hazard rudely.
Blaze stared at Hazard, scowling. "I'm not quibbling over that. But you didn't refuse either."
"I tried to," said Hazard drily.
"But you didn't."
There was a brief silence. "Are we assigning blame?"
"Not in the least," Blaze crisply answered, well aware of her own initiative. "Just don't assume an unnatural posture of piety, that's all."
His dark eyes fixed on her for his own moment of recollection; then, fighting for equanimity, he quietly said, "Fair enough. I'm sorry if I offended you." And he turned on her the fluid smile and excessive charm that recalled a splendid man in evening dress in Virginia City. He obviously was determined to maintain a polite charade, and she rose to the occasion.
"And I, if I offended you," she neatly returned, her smile as blase, contradicting the distress in her eyes. "Now, do you think we could sleep together in some polite amiability? Obviously, you'd rather not, but there's no sense in hurting Lydia's feelings. She's been very good to both of us. I wish," Blaze said with the smallest of pensive sighs, "I'd had a mother like her." And then Blaze pushed away from the bed and walked to the window to hide the stupid wetness in her eyes. How different life might have been, she thought, tugging restlessly on the ruffled curtain tie. Instead she had a mother determined to have her father's money at any price. Until now, she had never questioned her privileged life, had always accepted the numerous and lavish accoutrements of wealth as her personal right. She hadn't realized all she'd been deprived of. Lydia's warmth and genuine affection brought with it a poignant sense of loss.
"Speaking of mothers," Hazard noted with a sudden sharp irritability, "I'm going to check the road once more. We leave before sunrise."
When he returned, Blaze was in bed wearing Lydia's oversized nightgown. The room was dusky with the new risen moon diffused through the drawn curtains. "Everything looks fine," he said, unbuckling his gun belt, unaware of Blaze's fretting sense of loss. "The carriage is in the barn. Lydia owns enough land so the neighbors aren't close." He sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled off his boots.
Blaze watched the muscles in his strong back flex under the light fabric, saw a pulse beating very fast above the dark collar of his shirt, and wished longingly that she could touch him and calm his hurried heartbeat. He stood to unbutton his shirt, then stripped it off in an agitated jerk and tossed it over a bedpost. With restless, abrupt movements he unbuttoned his trousers, stepped out of them, and added them to the drapery on the bedpost. Retrieving his gun belt from the chair near the door, he walked back to the bed and without a word looped it over the headboard with a quick twisting motion.