Jake Walker's Wife (34 page)

The picture of her moving about the house, cooking
his
stew for another man proved too much to bear. He held a hand up to silence her. "Can't talk now, Bess," he said around the lump in his throat. He glanced at Mamie, pawing the dirt. "My, um.... I should get her some.... She needs me to...."

Trembling from Stetson to boots, h
e half-ran toward his horse, hoisted himself into the saddle, and thundered away without another word.

***

Bess drove the team hard, crying all the way home, as if she thought with every jostle and jolt of the wagon she might shake the painful ideas from her heart, dislodge the agonizing images from her mind. She'd hadn't expected to see Jake again, and her joy at the sight of him had been all-encompassing. But he'd put a quick end to that! He'd made it clear there was someone else, someone he'd made promises to, someone he needed to take care of.

"What's wrong, Bessie-girl?" Matt asked when she parked the wagon near the front gate.

"Nothing," she spat, scooping the baby into her arms. "Put the groceries away for me, will you?"

Standing with arms crossed over his chest, he blocked her path. "I'll take care of that soon as you tell me what's ailin' you, big sister. You've got the horses lathered up like they've run a race, and both you and Li'l Bit there," he added, nodding toward the baby, "look like you've seen a ghost."

Shoulders slouching, she handed the baby to her brother as his twin joined them. "What's goin' on?" Mark wanted to know.

"Tell us, Bess, or we'll send you to bed without any supper."

It was a threat she'd used on them dozens of times, unsuccessfully for the most part, but it inspired a sad little smile. "Jake's back," she said, slumping onto the bottom porch step, "and he brought a woman with him."

"A woman!" Mark demanded, fists clenched at his sides. "He
has a woman, and he's got responsibilities to her, right here at Foggy Bottom!"

"Somebody needs to teach that polecat a thing or two about doin' the right thing." Matt shifted the
squirming baby from one arm to the other.

"If we leave right now, we can probably catch him." Mark pounded a fist into an open palm. "Beat some sense into him."

Matt made a move to hand Bess the baby, but she grasped his sleeve instead. "Please, boys," she said, taking Mark's hand in her own, "haven't I been humiliated enough? Some folks in this town have labeled me a harlot, a brazen hussy for having had a child out of wedlock, when all I did was take an orphaned baby into our home when her mama died. And because I swore on her mama's deathbed that I'd take her secret to my grave, this sweet, innocent child," she continued, nodding toward her daughter, "has been branded, too." She shook her head vehemently. "If he doesn't want us, then we don't want him, either."

"But,
Bess…if you tell him the truth…!" Matt insisted, jabbing a finger into the air. "I
know
he'd love Li'l Bit every bit as much as if she were his own."

The
clock in the front hall gonged three times. Bess stood, took the baby from Matt's arms. "Do you love
me
, Matt? Mark?"

The twins exchanged a worried glance. "'Course we do,"
Matt said."And that's
exactly
why we're gonna find Jake and tell him—"

"
If you love me, you'll leave well enough alone. Now, please, unload the wagon, will you?” She took the baby from her brother’s arms. “I'm going to put her down for a nap while I get supper on the table."

"Way you look," Mark
muttered, "you oughta take a nap, yourself."

She sent them a sad, weary smile and kissed each of their cheeks, then trudged inside and slowly climbed the stairs.

At the sound of her closing bedroom door, Mark elbowed Matt. "Betcha I can tell him before you do."

"You're on!"

***

He'd been in the Freeland saloon all afternoon. Between swallows of whiskey,
Jake wondered if Bess had made it back to Foggy Bottom safely.

'Course she did, he
told himself. She knew that road like the back of her hand. Besides, it was barely more'n an hour's ride from here to the farm....

Drumming his finge
rtips on the counter, he signaled the barkeep. "Just leave the bottle this time," Jake said, slapping a silver dollar on the counter, "it'll save us both a heap of time."

"Didn't your mama teach you
that you can't drown your sorrows in whiskey?"

"Maybe I can't drown 'em,"
Jake snarled, grabbing it, "but I can numb 'em...if I'm lucky."

The man leaned on the bar. "Woman trouble?"

"You could say that...." He carried the bottle to a table near the door, used the toe of his boot to pull out a chair. "...but it'd be better all 'round if you
didn’t
say it."

The bartender held up his hands in mock surrender. "Just tryin' to do the Christian thing," he told another customer.

"The Lord helps them what helps themselves," the drunken patron slurred. "Leave 'im with his booze an' the she-devil that drove him to it."

He should tell them that Bess
was anything but. He downed another gulp of the alcohol, hoping it would deaden his ears to their ridiculous banter, deaden his heart to the news of Bess and her child.

He'd just tossed back his another jigger of whiskey when the twins barged into the saloon. "
Jake Walker," one said, "we have business to discuss with you."

"Well, would you look at what the wind blew in."

The Beckley boys stood beside his table, arms crossed over their chests, feet spread wide on the dusty floor.

"You've grown a lot in a year,"
Jake said, smiling. "Why, when I left here, you were barely bigger'n—“

Mark spoke first. "
Big enough to hurt you, if we have to."

Jake
chuckled and poured himself another jigger of whiskey. "Now, now, boys. Why would you want to try an' do a fool thing like that?"

"'Cause you hurt Bess, that's why," Matt said. "And we're here to tell you, you've hurt her for the last time."

"
I've
hurt
her
?" Jake slammed a fist onto the table. "Don't make me laugh." He waved a hand in their direction, as if shooing away an annoying mosquito. "Now, git. Let me drown my sorrows in peace."

Matt leaned into
Jake's face. "You think you've got sorrows? Let me tell you something about sorrows!" In a whipstitch, he grabbed Jake’s shirt collar and brought him to his feet.

The men at the bar were on their feet, too, circling to watch the brewing fight. "My money's on the twins," said one.

"How much?" asked another.

"A dollar!"

And the barkeep shoved Jake's silver dollar forward. "Double or nothin'!"

"Put your money away, men,"
Jake growled. "I never fought a boy in my life, and I don't aim to start now."

"We ain't boys!" Matt insisted, tightening his hold on
Jake's arm. "We're fifteen! What's the matter, you still yeller?"

Mark leaned in close, lips curled back in disgust and fury. "Yeah, are you still a coward?"

Still
a coward?
Still
yeller?
"Look," Jake began, "I don't know what you're all riled up about, but—“

"Don't know what...." Matt
slapped the hat from Jake's head. "I'll tell you what! You left Bess alone, to deal with those hens in town callin' her a—“

"Matthew!"

Everyone turned toward the saloon's swinging doors, where Bess stood, babe in arms.

"I thought I told you two to mind your own business
!" she huffed. "You promised me you'd stay out of this."

Jake
looked from the twins to Bess and back again. The baby began to fuss, and Jake shook his head. He hadn't had time to drink enough whiskey to make him this confused, and yet....

Bess gently propped the child against her shoulder and patted its back. "What are you doing here?" she demanded, turning her wrath on
Jake. "I thought your
woman
needed you?"

"My woman?"

And then it all began to make sense...the boys' rage, the agony in Bess's wide eyes as he left her in town earlier, her accusation just now that he'd ridden off to see to another woman's needs. What would she say if he told her that
Mamie
was that woman?

Jake
felt like a fool for having thought, even for a moment, that Bess hadn't waited for him. He should have known that a woman like her could never give her body to a man without first giving him her heart. Relief coursed through him."You're the only woman in my life, Bess Beckley, and if you weren't so all-fired mule-headed, you'd know it."

"B-but
…earlier, in town...you said—“

"I said my horse needed tending. Period." He held out his arms. "Now, will you bring that young'un over here and introduce her to
me, proper?"

He wasn't the only one who knew the meaning of the word 'relief'.
Jake saw the proof of it shining in Bess's brown eyes. "
This young'un
," she said, heading toward him, "has a name. Mary Ann...Mary for my ma, and Ann for hers."

Bess
quickly explained how, while in town several months ago, she'd found a young girl, cringing and crying as she gave birth in the filthy alley behind the granary. Bess told him how she'd fetched the doctor, and, as the poor girl struggled to give birth to her baby, listened to the harrowing tale of how she'd run away from home to escape her own father—the fire-and-brimstone preacher of a church in the next county—who had raped her.

"
She made me swear that I'd never tell anyone whose baby it was," Bess continued. "And after she died, I asked Doc what would become of the baby, and when he said she'd likely end up in some awful orphanage, I came up with a way to save her from that
and
keep my promise to her ma."

He loved her so much at that moment that words failed him. She'd gone through
so much, alone, while he'd been gone. "You're the bravest woman I've ever known."

Bess blushed. "You talk as though I'm the first woman ever to
adopt a child!"

He looked deep into her eyes. "Well, you're the first
I've met who was willing to put her own reputation on the line to protect a total stranger."

The baby whimpered, and, s
miling, he said "Can I.... Is it all right if I hold her?"

Gently, Bess lay the baby in the crook of his arm.

"She's beautiful," he said, pressing a light kiss to Mary Ann's forehead. He stood then, and handed the infant back to Bess. "High time, don't you think, that I make an honest woman of you?"

Immediately, Bess's eyes filled with tears. "
Before I answer that," she said, "you have a lot of explaining to do, Jake Walker." She leaned closer and whispered, "Or shall I say W.C. Atwood?" A quiet laugh punctuated her question. "No need to answer right now. We have a lifetime to work out the details."

"A lifetime," he said on a relieved sigh. Drawing
Bess and the child close in a tender embrace, he raised one eyebrow. "Was that...was that a 'yes'?"

She nodded as
a silvery tear rolled down her cheek.

He lifted the shot glass he'd just filled when Bess appeared in the doorway. "Ladies and gentleman," he announced, holding it aloft, "a toast to my
daughter and the beautiful woman who gave her to me!"

Bar patrons raised their glasses, nodding their consent as
Jake placed a loving kiss on Bess's waiting lips.

TWENTY-FIVE YEARS LATER....

The quiet hour after supper had always been her favorite of the day. As a girl, she'd sit on this very porch, reading until the evening light faded, then listening to the songs of bugs and frogs as darkness pulled up over her world like a heavy black blanket.

As a young woman, her dreams had been spun here.

Today, it was where she counted her blessings.

And she had much to be grateful for...a beautiful home on a productive farm, physical and emotional vitality. She could count four healthy children, all grown, and three of them now had youngsters of their own.

Two
little tykes now frolicked in the yard where she had played in as a child, while the third slumbered peacefully in the room that had once belonged to her brother, Matt.

Her twin brothers had fought for the South during the Civil War, and thankfully, they'd both come home safe and sound.
Jake fought at Gettysburg, too, and the Lord had seen fit to send him home to her, again.

Yes, there was much to be thankful for....

A hand over her mouth, Bess hid a grin, remembering how, on the morning he'd returned to Freeland, she had mistaken his rambling promises about taking care of his horse...for promises made to another woman.