Prairie Wife (15 page)

She remembered striking out at him the night before, and the way
he'd stood there as if the punishment was his due. He'd come right out at her
father's call as though prepared for his anger. She knew as well as she knew
night would fall that if her father hit Jesse, he would not fight back.

Moving beside her father, she said, "I think we've all said
what needed to be said this day. Jesse, I hear your regret for what happened. I
have regrets, too. We all need some time now."

Sam's anger seemed to have seeped away, and he took a step back.
He looked like he might throw up.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." He jerked his gaze to Jesse's. "Amy's
right. I'm going to get some work done." With hunched shoulders, he turned
and walked to the open double doors and disappeared outside.

Jesse pushed his damp hair back and stood with a hand on his hip.
"Amy, I have to explain somethin' to you."

"If it makes you feel better."

"What you saw last night was all that happened. She asked me
to help her with her dress. I did and she kissed me. It all happened so fast
and my head was so sluggish. I don't have an excuse. I'm not makin' an excuse.
But you have to know that I wouldn't have made love with her."

"I guess I don't know that. I don't know what I believe
anymore." She looked into his eyes and felt familiar confusion knot her
stomach, remembered him kissing her in front of the fire. The heat of
humiliation burned in her chest. "You could have stayed with me last
night," she said, willing her voice not to break. "It's never been
that you
can't
take your ease with me, Jesse. It's that you put conditions
on it that I can't fulfil."

A muscle ticked in his jaw.

He was a man with many layers—pride, ambition and honor among
them—but he'd never been insincere.

"Sam thought she was interested in him," he said, as if
it had just occurred to him.

"I know." She thought for a moment. "Maybe you'd do
him a favor by putting her on the next stage and leaving him to his work. I
made it clear she wouldn't be spending another night at Shelby Station."

"You want it to be
me
that sends her packing?"
Jesse asked.

She studied him. "I think you want her gone as much as I do.
Am I wrong?"

"Maybe more."

"Then the pleasure is all yours." She turned to leave.

Jesse caught her arm and she stopped, but she didn't look at him.

"Amy, please." His voice was gruff with emotion.
"Look at me."

She did. He looked awful, with dark circles under his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Amy. There's no other way to say it. Don't leave
me feeling like this. Don't."

She was as responsible for what had happened as he. She'd shut him
out. He needed his conscience purged, and she held one of the keys. Regardless
of the fact that she held her affection in reserve, he was the man she loved.
Part of the reason she'd locked herself away was how much it hurt to see him
suffer.

"I accept your apology. I do."

"Something has to change," he told her. "We can't
go on like this anymore."

He was right. He was always right. She nodded, but she had to look
away from his probing blue eyes.

Jesse released her arm. "We'll talk after supper
tonight."

Change was in the wind. Part of her fought the fact with every
self-protective instinct. But another part was like a captured butterfly
anticipating freedom. Heart thudding, she nodded again.

"Yes."

***

Sam was coming from the stables when the morning stage stopped for
water. The guests enjoyed a breakfast while he and Jesse changed horses and
Jesse checked the wheels and axles.

As the passengers filed back to the coach, Jesse strode into the
boardinghouse and returned with two black bags, which Sam helped him strap to
the boot atop the trunks.

Eden appeared in the doorway, wearing a deep blue cape around her
shoulders and a matching hat that hid her hair and shaded her eyes. She paused
on her way to the coach and approached Sam with sashaying steps and no crutch
in sight. He wasn't about to reveal his wounded pride for her devious pleasure,
so he simply looked at her, willing himself not to react to her beauty.

"It's been a pleasure, Sam," she purred, throatily
emphasizing the word
pleasure
and letting her gaze caress his lips.

Her sweet-as-honey voice and ladylike appearance had soured for
him now that he knew her true character. "Goodbye, Miss Sullivan."

Disappointment flickered across her expression and she continued
on to the coach. When she looked about for a hand up, both men stepped back.
Sam stuffed his hands in his pockets and Jesse found particular interest in a
spec on his sleeve.

One of the male travelers reached out to assist her.

Sam turned and strode into the barn, the sound of the coach
pulling away behind him.

Thoughts of Eden's deceit nagged him all afternoon. When the hands
washed and trudged to the house for dinner, Sam called to Hermie that he was
heading home.

He saddled his horse and rode out. The sky was a blustery gray and
the temperature had dropped by the time he had his horse put up and entered the
house.

His attention grazed the cloth he'd draped over the table last
Sunday. He'd never done that the whole time he'd lived here alone, until Eden
started coming to the cabin with him. He took the checked fabric off and tossed
it over the back of a chair before starting a fire in the stove.

After making coffee, he heated a skillet and fried potatoes and a
pile of eggs. Taking a seat at the table, he ate half of the food he'd
prepared, then pushed it away.

In the bedroom, he opened the top bureau drawer and took out a
lacy handkerchief and a small oval tintype, the likeness of his late wife. Amy
looked so much like her, he thought, rubbing his thumb over the image in a
caress.

Would you be ashamed of me, Vanessa? Or would you understand a man
needed someone from time to time?
If Eden had stayed and
wanted to make a life with him, what they'd done would have seemed right. But
the fact that she'd been dallying with him for her amusement while fancying
Jesse sullied everything.

He was a damn old fool.

At least he hadn't hurt anybody.

His thoughts turned to Jesse and Amy. They'd been through so much
already. Seemed it never rained but it poured woe on those two. He couldn't
forget Amy's face when she'd told him what she'd seen. Nor could he stop
thinking about Jesse looking so dad-blamed guilty.

Humiliation chapped his hide. He should've known better. He
should've used some common sense. He should've kept his pecker on the shelf.

Damn old fool.

***

"Where's my father?" Amy asked the men seated around the
table at noon.

"Said he was goin' home," Hermie replied.

"Was he sick?"

"Looked fine."

Amy set the last plate on. She glanced at Jesse and he gave her a
shrug that said he didn't know anything about Sam's leaving. "If he's not
back for supper, somebody needs to go check on him."

"I'll go," Hermie said.

Cay lifted his fork to gesture and said, "I'll come with ya."

As it was, they didn't need to go. Sam showed up to work that
afternoon and later came to the kitchen for supper.

He didn't seem his usual self to Amy. He didn't join in the
bantering, and more than once one of the hands cast him a quizzical glance. But
how did she know what was normal anymore?

After making four apple pies disappear, the men made their way
out, and Sam and Jesse accompanied them.

Amy had cleared the remains of the meal and Mrs. Barnes was
washing dishes when Jesse returned with a package wrapped in brown paper. He
untied the string. "These came the other day."

He revealed several books, two slates and chalk.

Amy dried her hands and picked up the top book, a reading primer,
and glanced through the pages and lessons.

"Days are gettin' shorter," Jesse said. "I think we
should start now."

She met his eyes and nodded.

Jesse glanced at Mrs. Barnes's back, then motioned for Amy to
follow him into the other room. Hunkering before the hearth, he used the poker
to stir the fire and added another log.

Slowly, as though thinking over his next words, he stood to face
her. "There are chores, of course, but... it's probably best if I spend
more time here of an evenin'."

She mulled over his statement. He wanted to spend more time with
Cay? Or with her?

"I won't be stayin' at the boardinghouse anymore. I'll be
sleepin' in our bed."

She wanted him to know she was in agreement with anything he
planned. "I never sent you away."

"No, but I made a bad decision. I'm fixin' it now. I need to
be
here."
He pointed to the floor where he stood.

"Okay, Jesse." There was something she wasn't picking up
on. Something in his voice and the way he stressed the importance of being in
the house. Eden was gone. That temptation was removed.

The point he stressed was just beyond her grasp. If he wanted to
talk about things better left alone, she didn't know how she'd deal with it.
But she would find a way. She would.

He moved forward and pulled her to him then, held her against his
chest and kissed the top of her head. His entire body felt tense, as though he
was prepared for a bullet to come at him. Was she the bullet?

It had been a long, long time since Amy had felt safe. Since
there'd been any peace or contentment in her soul. She wanted those things, she
did. If Jesse could just move on like she had, maybe they could find a new
beginning.

Like a barely detectable hairline crack on an egg shell, an
infinitesimal fissure marred the protective armor of her heart, and Amy felt
exposed and vulnerable. If any feeling could penetrate her defensive shield, it
was love for this man.

He had no reason to or intention of hurting her. She was safe with
him. She knew that as well as she knew she stood here right this minute. What
terrified her was letting that crack open enough to make her susceptible to
other things—feelings she couldn't allow. Her heart took control at that
moment, and she wrapped her arms around Jesse's waist and clung to him,
pressing her cheek against the front of his soft chambray shirt and squeezing
her eyes closed.

"I'm not proud of what I've become." His voice was low,
the tone full of regret.

"Because of Eden?"

"She's just a fly on the shit pile I made out of
things." Amy withdrew and leaned back to see his face. "I know you
didn't have any feelings for her."

"Hell, no."

"It still... well, it was a shock seeing the two of you. My
head jumped to conclusions."

"And you know I love you, Amy. I always have."

A knot formed in her throat. She nodded. "I do know."

From the kitchen Mrs. Barnes called, "I'm leaving. See you in
the morning!"

"Good night!" Jesse and Amy called together.

He took a step back. "I'll go round up Cay."

She nodded, removed her apron and stole a few minutes to go
upstairs to wash her face and straighten her hair. When she returned, uncle and
nephew sat on the rug before the fireplace.

"We made you tea." Jesse pointed to the cup and saucer
sitting by her chair.

"How thoughtful! Thank you." She looked at Cay.
"Are you ready?"

He shrugged.

"Did you like school in Indiana?"

"Not much."

"Do you like working with your uncle Jesse?"

His blue gaze skittered to Jesse and then down at the floor.
"It's fine."

"He's a natural with the horses," Jesse told her.
"You can see their attention when he talks to 'em and grooms 'em. He has a
real way about him."

Cay might like the horses, but he still hadn't warmed to Amy. She
made up her mind that she was going to do her best to make him feel a welcome
part of their family. "This is going to be good for me and Jesse,
too," she told him. "Brushing up on our reading and numbers can't
hurt. Maybe we can pick a book and take turns reading out loud each night.
Would you like that?"

Again Cay glanced at Jesse.

Jesse raised a brow, showing the boy he was waiting for his
answer.

"Whatever you want," Cay answered.

Amy and Jesse exchanged a glance. Cay wasn't giving them any hint
of encouragement, but she guessed she shouldn't expect any. Ever since he'd
been here, she'd kept busy with her chores and the guests, preoccupied as
always. Why would he think she'd suddenly take an interest in him?

She vowed then to change things. Jesse's nephew had been through
enough and shouldn't have to suffer because of their problems. "I want us
to spend time together."