Lorraine Heath (6 page)

“Same thing as old Doc Murdoch. Only he offered to cut open my head and make sure. I wasn’t interested.” A small cry escaped his lips as he collapsed into a pitiful heap.

Jesse edged toward him, slipped his arms beneath him, and lifted him. He placed Charles’s head in his lap and ran his roughened fingers back and forth across his brother’s furrowed brow.

“And what the hell does your wife think about all this?” he asked.

“She doesn’t know,” Charles ground out through the pain. He released a short laugh. “She thinks I’m a drunkard.”

“You didn’t tell her?”

He rolled his head slightly from side to side. It was becoming too difficult to concentrate on the words. “Wanted to wait … wait until she came to love the children.”

“Jesus, Charles, you had no right.”

Charles tried to wade through the pain, to explain, but all his thoughts remained trapped inside his head. He wanted Jesse to understand the complete look of despair that had marred Maddie’s features that night in the brothel, to understand what it felt like to bear witness to the sight of a soul as it was slowly dying.

The pain continued to wash over him like the waves of the sea stirred up by a hurricane, harsh, unforgiving, drowning out his thoughts, his feelings, until eventually they’d drown out his life. He heard the roaring increase, felt the pain riding the crest of the wave until it took him under.

Charles’s tortured face relaxed, and Jesse knew he hadn’t heard a solitary word he’d uttered about the injustice of his actions. He stopped applying pressure to Charles’s temples and lifted him into his arms, cradling him in the same way he had when Charles was a small boy and traveling across the country in a covered wagon had frightened him so much.

“You had no right, Charles, no right to marry her and not tell her she could be a widow before the year is out.”

Standing in the doorway of the barn, his arm braced against the beam, Jesse watched the graceful display as lightning illuminated the blackened night sky and outlined the clouds. A thick drop of water bounced off his nose. The thunder challenged the lightning. The ground reverberated. Then the sky went black, and more drops of rain fell.

He stepped back into the barn, but his gaze remained riveted on the sky. Half of it flashed silver, then dissipated into blackness.

It had taken him an hour to rouse Charles from his stupor, something that was becoming increasingly difficult to do. As soon as Charles was fully lucid again, Jesse had begun his tirade on Charles taking a wife under the circumstances.

Charles had looked at him as though he was an idiot. “She’s a whore for Christ’s sake, Jesse. Surely, you don’t think I should treat her like she has feelings?”

Feelings? The woman definitely had feelings, and Jesse had trampled all over them that morning. Pain, anger, conviction, and determination had swum within the amber pool of her eyes, but pain had been by far the greatest of what she’d been feeling. He wondered why he hadn’t just taken a knife and stabbed it through her heart, or better yet, stabbed it through his own. He’d never been so disgusted with himself in his entire life. He’d treated known murderers and desperadoes with more respect than he’d treated her, had shown them more mercy than he’d shown her.

Yet she’d kept silent. The fact that he was standing there with only the bruise on his chin that he’d received the night before was proof of that.

He slammed his fist into the beam, wishing he could pound it into his brother’s face. Damn! He thought the woman knew! He was certain she’d married Charles for any inheritance she’d receive upon his death. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to erase the memory of the happiness reflected in her face yesterday afternoon when Charles had brought the children into the kitchen.

He cursed the heavens, then cursed his brother. The woman didn’t know the happiness was fleeting, and it wasn’t his place to tell her.

After his confrontation with her that morning, he’d stayed out of her sight for the remainder of the day, but still he’d managed to watch her from afar. In the cool morning hours, she’d sat on the back steps and churned butter while the girls played at her feet.

Late in the morning, she’d hauled hot water to the wooden tub outside, scrubbed the clothes, and hung them on the line to dry. It had been over two weeks since he’d been able to find time to wash clothes. The shirt clinging to his body could sit in a saddle without assistance. He knew that she had to have noticed his larger clothes mixed in with the others she was washing. Yet she’d scrubbed them to death and slung them over the line anyway.

He didn’t think the sponge cake had been a peace offering. He couldn’t remember ever seeing so much pride reflected in Hannah’s angelic face. He never thought to let the girls help him cook. Cooking was a chore, and the sooner he got it done, the sooner they could eat. He couldn’t fathom the amount of patience it would take to let those two little girls help bake a cake. He could only imagine the mess they would have created. It had to have taken them twice as long. Yet Hannah had thoroughly enjoyed whatever her role had been, the joy clearly reflected in her eyes.

The rain increased and fell in torrents. Jesse watched the puddles quickly take shape. The rain was good. It would help the flowers Aaron had transplanted take root in their new home. Aaron had come into the barn, pulling that wagon, contentment evident in his face. Why hadn’t he or Charles realized what it would mean to Aaron to plant flowers beside his mother’s grave?

The lightning illuminated the house. Even in darkness, the house was inviting. Charles had laid out the conditions under which Jesse would again be welcomed into his home. He hadn’t expected to willingly call a truce so soon, but there was nothing to be gained with his misplaced anger, and he was beginning to realize there was much to be lost.

He turned up the collar on his shirt and clashed through the rain toward the house. He leapt up the steps, grabbed the plate being protected by the eaves of the porch, and rushed into the kitchen. It smelled like cinnamon. A lamp was burning dimly on the table as though someone was hoping to quietly welcome him home.

Beads of moisture dribbled down his face as he sat and lifted the warm layers of cloth away from the plate. The spicy aroma of chicken and dumplings wafted up, tempting him. He studied the food for some time, knowing he shouldn’t eat her offering until he’d apologized, but the house was still and quiet. He knew everyone had gone to bed. He picked up a fork and pierced a piece of chicken. It almost melted in his mouth. Charles was right; the woman was one hell of a cook. He should be eating crow instead of something this delicious.

In the morning, first thing, he’d make amends.

Maddie didn’t think it was the harsh thunder that woke her. She’d always had the ability to sleep through storms. She peered through her lashes. A little pixie stood beside the bed, hands clasped before her chest, eyes wide, lips set in a frown. Opening her eyes fully, Maddie smiled at Taylor.

Thunder spoke out against the night. Taylor jerked her head toward the window, then threw her tiny body against the bed. Maddie drew the covers aside before placing her hand gently on the trembling child’s shoulders. “Come on. Get into bed with us.” With Charles’s arm draped over her stomach, she helped Taylor as much as she could. The little girl snuggled down into the bed, and Maddie drew her nearer.

As the thunder again resounded, Maddie whispered, “Sounds like your Uncle Jesse’s warning sound, doesn’t it?”

Taylor giggled and nuzzled her nose against Maddie’s shoulder. Maddie felt the child’s tremors subside. She touched a soft lock of her hair. Children were so different from adults. Their skin carried the scent of innocence, a softness not yet jaded by the reality of the world. They trusted and loved completely.

She tucked the blankets more securely around Taylor. Lightning flashed, filling the room with a momentary brilliance. Her breath caught and her heart pounded furiously against her breast at the sight of Jesse standing within the open doorway.

Jesse didn’t know how long he had been staring at the intimate scene before the lightning revealed his presence. He expected anger to flare in the woman’s eyes, but there was no anger, no annoyance, just a need to understand—to understand something he couldn’t explain. He reached into the room, grabbed onto the glass handle, and pulled the door until it clicked into place. He pressed his forehead against the oak door and listened to the silent tranquillity within. Emblazoned within his mind was the sight of Taylor snuggled against Maddie as her arm protectively circled the child, and Charles sleeping peacefully as he held his wife.

He felt an unaccountable ache in his chest for things he’d never experienced. The women he’d taken to bed during his life weren’t the kind a man held in his arms afterward, weren’t the kind a man took with him into his dreams or his future. And they certainly weren’t the kind of women who’d ever allow a child to crawl into their bed.

He walked to his own room. He closed the door, crossed the room, and braced both hands on the window. Gazing out, he watched the storm send down torrents of rain. Like the lightning flashing across the tempestuous sky, it suddenly occurred to him that when Charles had been talking about choosing paths to walk, his brother had been talking about his own path, a path Charles hadn’t chosen, a short path whose final destination was certain death.

Jesse stripped off his clothes and fell into bed. He shoved an arm beneath his head and stared at the beamed ceiling, the play of shadows as the thunder chased the lightning across the sky.

Charles hadn’t chosen his path, but he was traversing it with more courage than Jesse knew he, himself, would. He had little doubt that during the day there was enough activity going on to keep Charles’s mind off the future, but at night when it was dark and quiet and the desire for things that could never be crept into a man’s mind, what did a man do? He wrapped his arms around a woman and became lost in her scent, her softness.

Perhaps Charles had married Maddie as much for his sake as for the children’s. No man wanted to walk the path toward Death alone, and Jesse knew he was a poor substitute for the compassion and understanding a woman could provide.

He rolled to his side and pounded his fist into his pillow. He’d never before realized how lonely a bed could be when only one person lay in it in the dark of night.

The early morning sun filtered in through the window, creating a hazy light within the kitchen. Jesse slid his gaze from his reflection in the small mirror above the sink to that of the woman standing in the doorway behind him. His gaze holding hers in the mirror, he reached for a towel and slowly wiped the last remnants of his shave from his face.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were in here,” Maddie said.

Straightening, he turned, tossed the towel onto the counter, and reached for his shirt. “That’s all right.”

She took a step back. “I’ll leave you—”

“I’m done.” He shrugged on his shirt. She remained standing in the doorway as though afraid if she came into the room, he’d attack her. He knew he should apologize, but after spying her curled up in bed last night, he thought any apology he could have uttered would seem insignificant.

She glanced around the room as though seeking permission to enter. “I thought I’d take a cup of coffee to Charles. He’s somewhat irritable before he’s had his coffee in the morning.”

“It’s a family trait.”

Raising an eyebrow, she curved up her mouth almost imperceptibly. “So you haven’t had any coffee since I’ve been here?”

She was offering an honorable surrender, and he wondered why his defeat felt like a victory. “It would appear not.”

She smiled fully then, a smile more intoxicating than the shade of her amber eyes. Her bare toes, peering out from beneath her wrapper, wiggled up and down. Such tiny toes attached to tiny bare feet. Bare feet attached to bare ankles. He couldn’t see past the bare ankles, but he wondered how far up she went before she was no longer bare. As though following the course of his thoughts, she pulled on the sash of her wrapper. The gesture, if intended to ward off his thoughts, failed; it only emphasized the narrowness of her waist. Jesse flexed his fingers as he remembered the feel of that tiny waist as he’d held it in his hands.

“That was quite a storm we had last night,” she said, her voice uncertain as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

“Yeah, it was. May have done some damage.”

“The thunder and lightning frightened Taylor. That’s why she crawled into bed with us.”

“Thunder always frightened Cassie, too.”

“Cassie?”

“Our sister. She’d crawl into bed with us whenever there was a storm.”

A hint of loss echoed within his voice. She decided against pursuing the subject, not wanting to lose whatever she’d gained this morning, not certain how she’d managed to gain it. “Will you be joining us for breakfast?”

“Depends.”

“On what?”

Jesse dropped his gaze to his boots. Now was the time to apologize formally, to say all those words that had been circling around in his head all night like the rain circling on the winds of the storm. He lifted his eyes to hers and saw her as he’d first seen her when he’d lifted her down from the stagecoach—young, innocent, sweet. The apology clogged his throat. “On whether or not I’m welcome.”

“You are.”

He knew he should show some sign of appreciation for her forgiveness. He wanted to tell her the sponge cake was the most delicious he’d ever had the pleasure of tasting. What little bit he’d had. The ants had devoured it as it sat upon the shelf. Instead, he asked a question that had been preying on his mind. “Why didn’t you tell Charles how I treated you yesterday?”

“He can’t force you to accept me, although judging from the bruise on his knuckles and the bruise on your chin, I’d say he tried.”

Self-consciously, he grazed his finger along his tender flesh. “I’d better go see what’s keeping Aaron and the milk.”

He headed out the door. Maddie walked to the sink and glanced out the window. He’d stopped in his tracks and was watching her. He made a motion as though to come back into the house. Then he apparently changed his mind and walked briskly toward the barn.

With trembling fingers, she picked up a cup, poured black coffee into it, and headed back to her bedroom where her husband waited for her.

Charles dipped his fork into one of the fried eggs Maddie had set before him. They weren’t as hard as the ones Jesse usually cooked. She placed some buttered bread on the table, took her seat, and smiled at him. He returned her smile. As she filled her plate, he noted the way she ignored Jesse, the way Jesse watched her.

“The storm seems to have passed,” he said.

Jesse snapped his eyes to his brother’s and knew Charles wasn’t talking about Mother Nature’s storms. “Appears it has.”

“Good. Then you shouldn’t mind taking Maddie into town today.”

“What?” Jesse asked harshly, his brows drawing together.

Charles had the impression Jesse was sorely tempted to give his throat a sound clearing. Maddie came to attention, her eyes no longer studying the food on her plate, but nervously watching him. “I’m sure, now that Maddie’s been here a couple of days, she’s come to realize there are things she needs.”

“You take her,” Jesse barked.

“I’ve been gone a week. I’d like to spend today with the children.”

“Take them with you.”

“It’s two hours into town, two hours back. It’s tiring for them. I want a relaxed day. Besides, there’s other supplies we need. You’re more familiar with what we’ve run out of since I’ve been gone.”

“Charles, I really don’t need anything,” Maddie said.

“A woman always needs something,” Jesse growled as he scraped his chair across the floor and stood. “Be ready in twenty minutes.”

Quite accurately imitating the storm that had barreled through the night before, he stomped out of the kitchen.