Carla Kelly (18 page)

By 2:00 a.m., everything was crated and ready for the train. “We'll get it as far as Gun Barrel and leave it for Matt or Doc to bring down a wagon,” Paul said as he nailed down the last crate. “I guess we can store these in the horse barn.”

Or we could just lose them
, Julia thought as she prepared for bed. Nothing mattered to her now except getting on the high plains of Wyoming again. She glanced into the wardrobe in the blue bedroom, hoping she had packed everything.

There hung the beautiful negligee, neglected and forgotten. “Paul, I never wore it,” she said after he returned from the bathroom.

He fingered the fabric. “You could put it on now,” he suggested. “Better yet, save it for our fiftieth wedding anniversary, when I might need a little encouragement! Give me a hug; that's potent enough, or so I've observed.”

She did, finding herself completely at home in his arms, with the result that when the alarm went off at 5:00 a.m. to catch the early train to Ogden, neither of them had slept. “A honeymoon is not for the faint of heart,” Paul joked. “I'm amazed at our stamina.” His mood changed then, as he pulled her close to his chest, his fingers gentle in her hair. “We'll never have this much idle time on the Double Tipi. The early work starts as soon as we get back, and then the spring cow gather in May. You'll be cooking for armies again, and I'll have to be Mr. Otto.”

“And Mr. Otto will come home in the evenings and fall asleep at the kitchen table,” she told him. “If we had a kitchen table.”

“I'm a cad, promising you a house I didn't deliver.”

She sat up and stretched, savoring the fact that she no longer felt shy in front of him, and pleased with the light in his eyes. “It still doesn't matter. Get up!”

Paul was asleep before they left the depot in Ogden, his legs stretched out in front of him, his head on her shoulder. Julia kissed his hair and made herself comfortable with her knitting. She put her knitting down soon enough, closing her eyes to think about the past two weeks and her wonderful transformation from Julia Darling to Julia Otto. Paul had whispered to her one night that half of his pleasure was her pleasure. As she grew in love, she came to understand what he meant. It touched her, because she felt the same way.

She knew how hard he worked and knew how difficult his winter had been, rounding up cattle in snowstorms and living in an overcrowded bunkhouse. It made her sad that some of his friends—those men of power—had chosen to ostracize him, and that he had been forced to relinquish James to the care of others. He wasn't used to circumstances beyond his control, and she knew it touched a nerve in a proud man. He couldn't even talk about James without digging deep to control his emotions. That prickly encounter with Kaiser had upset the balance of his hard ranching world. He hadn't mentioned the matter again, but she remembered the hurt in his eyes when he knew he was no longer welcome in a place with his equals.

I don't know what I can do about that, my love, except feed you and love you, and help where I can
, she thought.
I hope it's enough
. She opened her eyes, happy to see her husband so close to her, where he had been so far away for too many months, both of them yearning for each other. She wished with all her heart that she had the power to ease his way a little in his own harsh world. Maybe it did just boil down to cooking for him and loving him, if that would keep the heart in his body.
And I can pray
, she thought,
which is only what I have been doing for months and months. I'll just keep doing it
. She picked up her knitting again.
And try not to be a bother with my nightmares
.

Paul slept off and on all day, surfacing to look around at Wyoming's bleak Red Desert and Rock Springs, give the landscape his squinty-eyed stare, say something he didn't usually say, and go back to sleep. “We should have taken the night train,” he told her, as he made himself comfortable against her shoulder again. “We could have slept through all this.” He gave her a slow wink. “Or not.”

“Seems like you're sleeping anyway, cowboy,” she reminded him. “And you'd be a day later getting back to the Double Tipi, if we took the night train. This way, we can visit James this evening and catch the morning train to Gun Barrel.”

They checked into the Plainsman Hotel in time for dinner. “Do you just tell them ‘the usual’ here in Cheyenne too?” she asked, as she opened her menu.

He nodded and handed back his unopened menu. “The usual, Clarence,” he said to the waiter. “Stick with me, sport, and you'll never have to order, either,” he said, after she asked for vegetable soup and baked chicken.

“You know I like to try new things,” she said. “My rule for the Otto kitchen remains: your sweethearts
and you
will try something new each week.”

“Darling, I like everything you do,” he told her with a straight face. “Your cooking too. Julia, what are
you
thinking?” he teased.

“That you are a trial that will probably amount to an affliction, now and then. And this is my stern, behave-yourself-in-public look, in case you're wondering.”

“Not likely.” He started to lean back in his chair, then thought better of it. His eyes lively and alert, after sleeping across Wyoming, he looked around the dining room.

“Well, lookee there,” he said softly. “It's Kaiser. I should mosey over and ask him how the continuous poker game went in Denver without a… hmm…
blamed
Mormon sitting at the table.”

She saw the hurt in his eyes. “I think you should say hello. Introduce me.”

“No. It's one thing for him to be rude to me. I'd take it poorly if he was rude to you too.”

“I'll take a chance on that,” she said, putting her hand over his. “You have to live here in Wyoming, and I do too. You're not a man to duck and run.”

“I would, to spare you embarrassment,” he said quickly.

“Don't worry about me! I'm tougher than I look.”

He regarded her seriously. “I won't argue that,” he said finally. “Straighten your hat, sport. I'll introduce you to the first in a long line of bigots you'll encounter here.”

“Not the first,” she reminded him as she tipped her hat slightly to a more rakish angle. “I certainly won't pour gravy on his head, like I did that preacher.”

Paul laughed, which caused Kaiser to look up from the menu he was contemplating.
Or maybe hiding behind
, Julia thought. She touched her hat again, the pretty one Paul had bought her at ZCMI.

“Lead on,” she said. “He looks harmless enough, especially with that slightly receding chin.” She nudged Paul. “Even his handlebar moustache can't hide that!”

“You're wicked,” he whispered as he stood up. “Your arm, madam?”

She took a deep breath and twined her arm in his. It wasn't her imagination that the dining room got quiet. Someone—she knew it wasn't Paul—must have spread the word about that testy encounter on the Colorado plains.

To his credit, Mr. Kaiser stood up as they approached. Julia noted the slow flush that rose from his neck.

Kaiser nodded to Paul, his eyes wary. “This your wife?” he asked.

“She is,” Paul said, his tone affable. “For your information, she's also true blue, dyed in the wool, through and through. Julia, I'd like you meet John Kaiser, from near Grover, Colorado. He and I go back a long way. John, this is Julia Otto, certainly my better half.”

Kaiser smiled slightly at that.

Julia held out her hand. “Mr. Kaiser, I am pleased to meet any friend of my husband's.”
Even if you did insult him and shame him a few months ago
, she thought, smiling her company smile.

She held her breath, willing her hand not to tremble.
Heavenly Father, please, please
, she prayed silently.
We have to live here
.

To her relief, Kaiser shook her hand. It was a light handshake, the kind she expected from stockmen, who seemed to think ladies were delicate creatures.

“My pleasure, ma'am.”

“Mr. Kaiser, if you're ever near the Double Tipi, do stop in. You'll eat better at my table than anywhere else.”

“So I've heard,” he replied, his eyes not so wary. “You're not shy about your gifts.”

“No, I'm not,” she said calmly, even as her heart pounded in her chest. She glanced at their table, where the waiter was setting down her vegetable soup and Paul's slab of a steak. “Kindly excuse me. I dread cold soup, unless it's supposed to be cold. Mr. Kaiser, so nice to make your acquaintance.”

She returned to the table, spreading her napkin in her lap and not even daring to glance at her husband and Mr. Kaiser. She sipped her soup, covered with relief to hear the men talking to each other.
Please, Father, let it be polite conversation
, she prayed again.

“Your steak's getting cold,” she said, when Paul returned to their table. She looked into his eyes and saw that inscrutable Indian look. “I hope he wasn't rude to you after I left,” she whispered.

“Not at all. Uncomfortable, yes, especially after you were so nice to him.” He took a bite of his steak. He set down the fork and gave her such a look that she held her breath with the wonder of it. “Julia, thank you. I was just going to ignore him. ”

“You can't do that,” she whispered, surprised at her own fervor. “We're
not
going to isolate ourselves on the Double Tipi anymore. All I know how to do is kill people with kindness and feed them. Kaiser's a beggar too, and just think how much Heavenly Father loves him. Tell yourself that until you remember it!”

His eyes filled with tears. She swallowed the boulder in her throat and reached for another roll. He took her hand.

“You amaze me,” he said. “Just when I think I know you inside and out, I find out I don't. You're planning to keep me humble, aren't you?”

“Humble, but not terribly meek, I hope,” she replied. She leaned closer. “Somewhere during the past two weeks, I discovered I
like
making love to a tough stockman. You signed the marriage license, so that's you. And don't forget it.”

“I asked Kaiser how Denver went,” Paul said, after they left the dining room and started walking to Second Avenue, where the Shumways lived. “He likes to show off his cutting horse, so he usually enters an event.”

“And?”

“He just shrugged and said he came in second this year, and that maybe Denver wasn't so much fun.”

“Because he came in second?”

Paul navigated her around an icy spot on the sidewalk. “He admitted that the card game kind of petered out after a few days. That's as close as he'll ever come to an apology. I asked him how his early work was going, and he said he's in town to hire more hands.”

“I hope you told him that if he needed any help, you'd be there if he sent a telegram.”

“I certainly did, sport.” He chuckled. “It's almost maliciously fun to kill with kindness, isn't it? Guess I'm not so humble yet.” His face grew solemn as he looked down the street. “That was easy. This is hard. Two more houses.”

“Maybe not so hard,” Julia murmured as Paul rang the doorbell and James came hurtling out and into his arms, and then hers, as if trying to gather them into a tight bundle.

He didn't seem surprised to see her. She looked James over: healthy, well-groomed, hair cut. When he tugged them both inside and then shouted, “Sister Shumway, look who's here in our house!” Julia felt her own heart crack a little and knew that Paul's must be breaking. She didn't even dare look at him, but groped for his hand, when James let go and went in search of Sister Shumway.

“You know this is best,” she whispered to him, her lips next to his ear.

He nodded, his face set. “Still hard.”

Then Sister Shumway was there from the kitchen, face flushed, apron untidy, which told Julia all she needed to know about supper in progress. There was something more in her eyes; they were softer. Julia hadn't observed the woman in months now, but she wasn't the same lady who had always seemed a bit like a dry twig. Sister Shumway was blooming. Julia saw it in her face, and in the way her arm just naturally went around James’ shoulders.
He's her boy
, Julia thought, torn between dismay and delight.

“Can you stay for dinner?” Sister Shumway asked. “It's almost ready.” She smiled at James. “I make certain he has finished his homework before we eat. Incentive, there.”

Julia laughed. “How are you doing in school, James?”

“School is fun,” James replied, smiling up at Sister Shumway. “Sister Shumway helps me with reading.” He grinned at Paul. “We don't read the walls here, and I still don't know what
bordello
means.”

To Julia's relief, Paul laughed. “It'll keep, James. Believe me, it'll keep. Sister Shumway, we already ate. We just wanted to say howdy to you two and Brother Shumway. Is he about?”

“I'm afraid not. He had a delivery to make. He should be back tomorrow or the day after.” She touched James’ head. “Go wash up, and make sure you stand a little closer to that bar of soap than you did this morning.” She sighed and looked at Julia. “Little boys.”

Little boys
, Julia thought, transfixed by the change in the woman. She was a mother now, as sure as if James were flesh of her flesh. “I know,” she said softly. “Little boys.”

Sister Shumway ushered them into the parlor. “He's doing well, Brother Otto, but he misses you.”

“Not too much, I hope,” Paul said. “He's safe here, and from the looks of things, finding a good pasture. It's all I wanted and it's what… what James needed.”

“I hope you're pleased,” Sister Shumway said. She brightened. “You should see him in the shop with Eugene! He can already change a tire.” She said it proudly.

“That's more than I can do,” Paul said. “I think I'll wait on the porch. Just tell James we'll see him in church soon.” He excused himself and left the room abruptly.

Sister Shumway's eyes followed him. “It's hard for him, but we need James,” she said simply.

“I know you do,” Julia said. “Bless you for taking him.”

“Who wouldn't want James?” the woman asked. She sniffed the air. “Oh, my, the meatloaf.” She touched Julia's shoulder. “I'll see you in a week or so. You'll sit next to us in church?”