Prairie Wife (16 page)

Jesse smiled, that crooked half smile that told her she'd said
just the right thing.

Cay raised his gaze to hers, and in eyes much like her husband's
she read mistrust and doubt.

Many things had to be learned. Numbers. Spelling. History. Trust.

Amy prayed she was up to the challenge.

The room was warm and cozy, a fire flickered in the grate. Cay was
a bright young man and already read well, but he needed help with numbers. Amy
was pleased with the effort he made and with how well he remembered their
teaching.

As the evening stretched out, Amy made hot cocoa. Jesse had taken
to pacing the room like a trapped cougar. He used the poker to stab at the fire
when it didn't need tending, then stood over Amy where she sat on the floor
beside Cay. She looked up and tried to interpret his mood.

He had run his hands through his hair so many times, it stood up
in wild disarray. He hadn't shaved that day, and the shadow of his beard lent
him a dispirited appearance.

After another half hour of him pacing and torturing the burning
logs, she closed the book she and Cay had been looking at. "Cay's been
yawning. Jesse, why don't you light the lamp in his room while I put these
things away?"

She picked up the books and slates and carried their mugs to the
kitchen.

Minutes later, Jesse's boots sounded on the stairs. She turned to
find him standing on the other side of the kitchen.

"Would you like coffee or anything?"

He shook his head.

She set a kettle on the table. "Would you mind bringing me
water? I'm going to soak beans for tomorrow."

Without bothering to grab his jacket, he picked up the pan and
headed out the back door. When he returned he set the full pan on the back of
the stove, then took a seat at the table.

Amy went to the pantry for beans and just as she returned, the
back door banged shut. "Jesse?"

After pouring the beans into the kettle and adding salt, she
placed the lid on top, then took a wrap from a hook. His erratic behavior this
evening had been disturbing, and she hadn't figured out what was bothering him.
Grabbing the lantern from the table, she followed.

Moonlight illuminated the front of the boardinghouse. Stepping off
the back porch onto the board walkway, she glimpsed Jesse carrying something to
the barn, Biscuit running at his heels. The door opened, then closed man and
dog inside. If Jesse'd gone to do last-minute chores, she would feel silly for
following him, but something unexplainable drew her.

She reached the barn and let herself inside. The scents of animals
and hay were familiar, but the sound she heard wasn't. Jesse cursing.

Amy hurried her steps.

He was in the tack room, just rising after having bent to pick up
a crate. She'd seen a similar crate before, the night he'd cut his hand and
sent her to fetch whiskey.

"What are you doing?"

He carried his burden past her. "I have something to take
care of."

Biscuit tagged along, tail wagging.

Again she followed Jesse, this time out the back and across the
dark yard to a stand of young maple trees on the slope that led down to the
creek.

There was already one crate on the ground, and he placed the
second one beside it.

He plucked out a bottle, and she thought he was reading the label,
but in the darkness he couldn't possibly see the lettering. With a burst of
energy, he flung the bottle toward the base of a tree. Amy jumped at the sound
of shattering glass. Whining, Biscuit ran behind her skirts.

Another bottle followed the first, and another.

After half a dozen, the pungent smell of strong whiskey assaulted
her nostrils. There were eight in the top crate and twelve in the bottom. With
deliberate, angry motions Jesse continued until each bottle lay in shards, its
contents seeping into the black earth.

He didn't look at her, but stood with his feet planted wide and
dropped his head back.

Biscuit came out from behind her skirts, trotted to the spot
beneath the tree and sniffed. Immediately, the animal backed away and shook its
head, giving a canine snort.

"I had to do that."

Jesse seemed out of breath, but relieved, as though he'd run a
race and won.

"I couldn't have it out there."

Amy drew her shawl more tightly around her. Suddenly Jesse's
behavior became clear, and she chided herself for her oblivious lack of
understanding. She hadn't understood the magnitude of his penchant for whiskey
until that moment. All along she'd seen it as a choice he made to avoid her.
Now the problem was bigger than that. Maybe it had started out as a choice, but
with practice his drinking had gone past simple avoidance to something he
needed to get through the nights.

He'd said so many things that morning when her mind had been focused
elsewhere. He'd spoken of the shame he felt when he faced her.
It's killing
me for you to see what I've become.

She understood now.

Without hesitation she walked forward and wrapped her arms around
him. His body was tense, and when he placed his hands on her waist, they were
trembling.

"It's going to be all right, Jesse," she promised him.
"Whatever it takes, it's going to be all right."

"I don't know if I'm strong enough," he said against her
hair.

"You are. I know you are." And with that, she took his
arm and led him back to the house. She made him coffee and he drank half a cup
before they went upstairs.

In their room he stood at the foot of the bed, not looking at
anything, not making an attempt to change out of his clothing. His body had
begun to shake.

With confident movements, Amy unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it
off, revealing his union suit. "Sit on the edge of the bed."

He did so and she worked off his boots. Then she had him stand so
she could unbutton and tug off his underclothes and trousers. When he was
naked, she urged him into the bed and drew the covers around him. Still fully
dressed, she climbed on top of the quilt beside him to hold him close.

He drifted to sleep, but woke after half an hour. Perspiration
dotted his forehead. She got up, wrung out a cloth in the basin and bathed his
face and chest.

"That feels so good."

She wiped his lips tenderly.

"I'm gonna be sick."

Amy dashed around the end of the bed, grabbed the chamber pot and
made it back just as Jesse lost the contents of his stomach.

"Damn, I'm sorry," he told her.

"It's all right." She wiped his face again.
"Remember the time I was so sick and you sat beside me all night
long?"

"That was different."

"I don't see how."

He rolled to his back and stared at the ceiling. His lips were
frighteningly pale. "I'm afraid this is only going to get worse."

She set the chamber pot away and rinsed the cloth before
returning. "Maybe so. But we'll handle it."

While he dozed, she stayed awake, washed the chamber pot and
brought more water.

As she passed Cay's room he peered out. "What's wrong?"

"Jesse isn't feeling well. It's okay, you go back to
sleep."

A stricken look flattened the boy's features. He stepped out into
the hall, wearing a baggy union suit. "Is he gonna die?"

"No," she assured him. "He's not going to
die."

"How can you be sure?"

Amy studied his fearful expression. "You can come see for
yourself."

Carrying the pail of water, she led the way into their bedroom.
Jesse was curled on his side, holding his belly. A groan escaped him.

"What's wrong with him?" Cay asked. "Should we get
a doctor?"

She rinsed a fresh rag and perched on the side of the bed to wipe
Jesse's forehead. "I don't know that a doctor would help. Jesse's not—not
sick exactly."

Cay didn't believe her. He stared at his uncle with fear on his
young face. He'd lost so many people already. Amy recognized his distress and
sympathized with his feelings.

"Cay," she began. Jesse was beyond listening to her or
caring what she was saying at this point, so she plunged ahead. "Jesse's
been drinking for months and months."

Recognition flashed across the boy's face. He'd seen it.

"Whiskey," he said.

She nodded. "He doesn't want to get drunk anymore. But it's
not an easy thing to stop. His body is crying out for the liquor."

Beside her, Jesse retched. Cay was the first to grab the pan and
hold it for his uncle. Amy marveled over his genuine concern which erased any
distaste he may have felt. Cay waited patiently until Jesse rolled back with a
groan and closed his eyes.

The night stretched endlessly. Cay and Amy took turns napping on
the other side of the bed while the other one watched over Jesse. They
continuously bathed his face and chest with cool water.

As dawn broke, Jesse sat on the side of the bed and gripped his
head in both hands. For Cay's sake, Amy got up out of the rocker, padded to the
bureau and found Jesse a pair of drawers.

"Do you think you could eat anything?"

She assumed the palm he held up was a no.

"Maybe later we could try some tea and toast."

"Hopefully by then I'll be dead," he replied.

Her gaze shot directly to Cay, who was sitting up on the other
side of the bed. Apparently Jesse's words hadn't upset him, because he said,
"You're gonna be fine, Uncle Jesse."

Jesse turned to blearily peer at Cay sitting beside him. Jesse had
two or three days' growth of beard, and his eyes were red. "This isn't
fittin' for the boy to see."

"Cay has been here all night," Amy told him. "He's
concerned about you, and I appreciate his help."

"I'm gonna use the outhouse. And maybe I'll try the tea. But
that's all."

Amy only had to look at Cay, and he got up to follow his uncle.

By mid-morning Jesse was back in bed. Cay assured Amy he could
watch over him and that he'd call her if he needed help. She put on breakfast
with the other women, did the cleanup and prepared for dinner before making her
way outside to find her father.

Sam was measuring molasses into buckets of grain when she found
him at the stables. He looked up.

"You look tired. Jesse okay?"

"He's feeling poorly," she admitted. "Last night he
broke all his bottles of whiskey so he wouldn't be tempted."

"Takes a strong man to get over a cravin' like his." Sam
straightened and studied her. "He's a strong man."

She nodded. "I know he is. He most likely won't be up to his
work for the time being. I don't know..." Amy shrugged. "How long
will he feel this bad?"

Sam shook his head. "Could be quick, could be slow. I'd guess
at least a couple of days of bein' sick. After that, every day will be tough
until he has that thirst whipped."

They were both absorbed in their own thoughts for a few moments.
Then Sam surprised her with his tone of voice when he said, "There's
somethin' I need to tell you."

"What is it?"

He glanced behind her as though making sure no one would overhear.
"I made a fool of myself."

She jumped to a conclusion. "Yelling at Jesse?"

He shook his head. "No. He had that comin'."

"What then?"

"There's more behind it." He scratched his jaw with his
thumb. "I'm an old fool. I, uh, got myself tangled up with Eden."

"I suspected you had feelings for her. I'm sorry you were
disappointed."

"I was sorely disappointed. But, Amy, I'm tryin' to tell you
that I know Jesse wasn't sniffin' around her. She had an appetite for a man,
and she wasn't picky about where she satisfied it."

Amy gave her father a curious look. "What exactly are you
saying?"

"I'm just tellin' you that Eden went after what she wanted. I
was duped into thinkin' I was the only one she wanted. I'm convinced she tried
to take advantage of Jesse when he'd been drinkin'."

"I believe that, too," she replied.

"Just don't turn that occurrence into something it
wasn't."

"He blames himself enough." She glanced away. "He
said if he hadn't been out there and if he hadn't been drinking, it wouldn't
have happened."

"Well, those are the facts, but you both had a hand in him
bein' out there."

"I know, Daddy."

He stepped forward and reached to tip up her chin so he could look
into her eyes. "So you two won't be lettin' Eden be another thing that
comes between you?"

"No."

He kissed her forehead and released her. "I could sit with
him a while so you can sleep."