Prairie Wife (17 page)

She shook her head. "I'll sleep whenever he does tonight. Cay
is with him now. Thanks for the talk."

"Thanks for listenin'."

On the way back to the house her steps were slow. She could easily
fall asleep if she stayed in one place for longer than a minute, but she
climbed the stairs determinedly.

Cay sat in the rocker beside Jesse's bed, his chin resting on his
chest. She stood beside him for a moment, her hand involuntarily reaching to
touch his hair, but she stopped herself and brought it back to her side. She
couldn't help thinking about his situation. He'd lost the only person who'd
ever cared for him and come to live with strangers. If she'd been uncomfortable
with his arrival, she couldn't imagine how awkward he felt.

And here he was, taking care of Jesse and being an incredible help
to her. Strange how things turned out.

Amy checked on Jesse, kneeling beside the bed to silently pray for
him, then left them both to sleep.

The remainder of the day passed much the same. The hands were
subdued at supper. She couldn't imagine what they were thinking. They'd
overheard part of the quarrel between her father and Jesse, and Jesse's
bottle-smashing rant had probably attracted attention the night before.

Amy had saved broth from the beef Mrs. Barnes had prepared. After
adding barley and a few tiny pieces of vegetables, she carried up a bowl.

Jesse refused her help and ate the runny soup with his hand
shaking. Afterward Amy waited anxiously, but the meal stayed down and he slept.

The following day he ate more, and his balance was steadier. His
hands didn't tremble and he didn't spill his tea. Cay watched him finish his
meal that night and smiled broadly.

"You're gettin' better, Uncle Jesse."

"I think I am. Maybe you won't have to dig a hole for my
sorry bones after all."

Cay's smile dimmed.

Jesse reached out and hooked the boy around the neck, drew him
closer and ruffled his hair. Cay grinned. When he sat back, he and Jesse
studied each other.

"Thanks," Jesse said.

Cay shrugged as if the long, exhausting days hadn't been of
significance.

"I think we can both use a bath," Jesse added. "Go
grab clean clothes. You can help me heat water in the bathhouse."

Cay hurried to obey.

Amy sat in the rocker and watched Jesse gather clothing. His body
was more sinewy than it should have been, and whiskers darkened his jaw. She
would have to see that he ate well in the following weeks.

"Shall I come with you?" she asked.

"And embarrass the boy? I'll do fine."

She said nothing.

"There's no whiskey in the barn, if you're worried I'll slip
out there."

"I wasn't."

He stood with his clothing in his bare arms, his hair tousled and
his expression weary. "I wish I wasn't."

"Remember what I told you. You are strong enough to lick
this, and whatever it takes, we'll get through it. Nothing worth doing ever
comes easy, Jesse. Shelby Station is proof of that. But you did it."

He studied her.
"We
did it." He nodded then and
left the room.

Amy made her way to the kitchen, where Rachel was helping Mrs.
Barnes with the last of the supper dishes.

"You've been a blessing ever since you came," she told
Rachel.

The young woman hung towels on a line near the fireplace, then
turned and smiled. "We saw Mr. Shelby passin' through. Is he feeling
better?"

"I believe he is."

Mrs. Barnes smiled, and Rachel came to give Amy a hug. She was one
of the few people who didn't know Amy's history and hadn't been conditioned to
keep her distance.

Amy allowed the brief embrace, then busied herself with
preparations for the next morning. "You head on home, Mrs. Barnes. You've
stayed past your usual time nearly every night this week. I'll handle the
rest."

"You get yourself some sleep," the woman replied.
"You're lookin' mighty peaked yourself."

"I will."

By the time Jesse and Cay returned, the women were gone and Amy
had finished her chores. Jesse and his nephew smelled like soap and fresh air.
Jesse had shaved and his skin was pink.

"We filled a tub for you. We'll get a start on lessons while
you have a turn. Take your time. There's a hot kettle on the stove if your
water needs heating again."

The idea of a peaceful bath sounded marvelous, and Amy hurried to
gather clothes and make her way to the bathhouse.

The interior of the building was warm and humid, and the isinglass
window on the stove washed the room with a golden glow. She emptied the kettle
into the already full tub, undressed and slid into the hot water. It felt so
good, her skin broke out in gooseflesh. She inched down and rested her head
against the iron tub, relishing the treat of taking time to soak and relax.
More than just the hot water, the fact that Jesse and Cay had thought to
prepare her a bath eased tension from her mind and body.

It wasn't that she didn't have opportunities to take more time for
herself, she thought dimly. Her father and Jesse had always worked to make
things easier for her. The fact was, she never allowed herself the risk of
having too much time without her mind occupied. Reflection would be more than
she could handle.

Tonight, though, exhaustion had settled into her bones; she felt
as though she'd run a race and won. It had been Jesse's victory, however. He
was the one who had suffered and endured. She had no illusion that this would
be the end of the problem. The possibility of his going back to his old ways
would always hang over them. She roused herself to wash and rinse her hair,
then lathered with the sweet-smelling soap Mrs. Barnes supplied.

Too weary to concern herself with emptying the tub, she left the
water for the girls to dump the following day and returned to the house.

Minutes later, sitting on the ottoman before the fire, she
untangled her hair with her comb and fluffed it out to dry.

"Cay and I chose a book," Jesse told her. "Tonight
I'll read."

While turned away, she hadn't noticed Cay leaving the room, but
now he returned with mugs of tea. Amy accepted hers with a surprised smile.

"Jesse tole me a good man takes care of the women in his
life." His voice was unusually deep, as though he was trying to sound more
mature.

She'd assumed that Cay resented her, but perhaps he just needed a
little advice and a good example.

She glanced at Jesse where he sat in the rocker. "Listen to
him and you'll learn to be a fine man."

Their eyes met. He
was
a fine man. Nothing harmful in
saying so. Or in telling Cay his admiration was well placed.

She sipped her tea. Cay sat on the rug and crossed his legs.

"Did you like school back in Indiana, Cay?" she asked.

"Not much."

"Why not?"

He shrugged. "The schoolmaster made us stand in the corner if
we couldn't answer right. I thought that was dumb."

"Well, it wasn't very nice," she agreed. "Did you
enjoy reading?"

"I like stories all right."

She smiled and Jesse opened the book and began to read.

Cay listened attentively, smiling from time to time. Once, he and
Amy shared a smile.

Half an hour later, Jesse closed the book. "Time for you to
get a good night's sleep in your own bed."

The boy got to his feet. "Night, then."

"Good night, Cay," Amy said. "Thank you for all
your help."

Jesse stood. "I'm going to check the stables and the barn,
make sure the luggage room is locked and that the lamps are all out."

That had always been his end-of-the-day routine. Events over the
past months had disrupted their habits, but Jesse was returning to the house
again. He would learn to get by without the whiskey.

She carried their mugs to the kitchen and went upstairs. Just
removing her shoes and clothing seemed a chore that night. She was barely in
her nightgown and under the covers before she'd drifted into slumber.

She was vaguely aware when Jesse climbed into bed behind her,
smelling like shaving soap and the night air. It didn't seem out of the
ordinary to her tired brain when he molded his long, warm body along the back
of hers. His breath heated her neck.

"I love you, Amy." Barely a whisper.

I love you, Jesse.
A fact of life.

***

Amy dreamed she had a baby. It wasn't a new dream; in fact, it was
one she had often. Sometimes the baby was a girl, but usually it was an infant
son she was responsible for. In this dream, she'd carried him with her while
she hung clothes on the line, and placed him in a basket where she could see
him. The piles of laundry seemed never ending. When she turned from hanging
hundreds of changing cloths, the baby wasn't where she'd left him.

Panicked, Amy ran inside and frantically checked each room. No one
was in the house, no one to ask for help in finding her baby. Outside she ran
from building to building, searching, until finally she heard a thin cry. The
sound came from the old soddy.

The door wouldn't open when she tried it. She beat on the wood,
then ran to each dirty window, where caked-on soot prevented her from seeing
in. Finally she found a cracked pane and broke it inward. Cobwebs brushed
across her face as she climbed on a stack of aged lumber and entered the house
through the tiny square window. She barely fit through, but the baby's
insistent cry drew her.

It was so dark she couldn't see. She followed the sound to the old
rope bed where a pile of covers hid the source.

Amy pulled away the quilt.

The cry echoed into nothingness, as though it had never been.

Wrapped in the quilt was a doll, a jagged crack across its
porcelain face.

Amy jerked awake and sat up.

Beside her, Jesse rose on one elbow.

Her heart was beating so hard her chest hurt.

Jesse placed a hand on her shoulder and turned her to face him.
"Amy?"

She lay down and he smoothed her hair back. She hadn't braided it,
and his fingers caught in the tangled length. "I was dreaming."

He drew her against him and gently cradled her. "Want to tell
me?"

She shook her head against his shoulder. His skin smelled so good.
"Are you feeling okay, Jesse?"

"I was havin' a spec of trouble sleeping, but I'm fine."

With her eyes closed and his warmth surrounding her, the
disturbing dream faded away, and she dozed.

She didn't think much time had passed when she grew conscious of
Jesse's lips on her cheek. He held her close, and her hand rested on his bare
hip.

Adjusting their bodies, Jesse shifted so he could open the front
of her gown and trail kisses across her skin. When he couldn't reach past the
opening, he nuzzled her breast through the fabric, dampened it with his tongue
and teased her that way until she found the hem and pulled it up so she could
feel his mouth on her skin.

Shivers skittered across her flesh, and she squirmed against him.
She'd missed the feel of his skin against hers and the tingling in her breasts
when he teased and caressed them. She almost felt as though this was another
dream, a better one—a much, much better one— and she floated on a sea of
sensation.

She reached to stroke his sides and his belly. His body was a
familiar comfort, but her growing impatience for closeness was fresh and new.
Together they eased her nightgown over her head and he tossed it away.

His kiss, when he covered her lips with his, was full of need, and
she shared the same craving. It had been so long since there'd been no
heartache between them, since all that mattered was the moment and the feelings
they had for each other.

Jesse, all warmth and eagerness in her bed, was in fact better
than a dream. She surprised herself by having no other thoughts in her head
than these pleasurable sensations.

He nipped her ear and breathed the question, "Do you want
me?"

She bracketed his face with her hands and kissed him eagerly.
"Yes."

"Say you want me, that you're not feelin' sorry for me or
taking care of me out of obligation."

"I
want you, Jesse. I do."

He moved over her, and she trembled, feeling him pressing hot and
hard. Grasping his shoulders, Amy moved her body to take him inside her, and he
thrust deep. She forgot to breathe. The world closed in and around them until
all she knew was the two of them at this moment... sighs of pleasure... sounds
of urgency, the beating of their hearts and the intensifying slide and pull at
the center of her being.

Jesse knew how to make a good thing last.

She appreciated the coiled strength of his muscles, his gentle
domination and the way he simultaneously teased and fulfilled. He urged her
with whispered encouragement and purposeful strokes. She stifled a cry against
his neck and shuddered. Jesse's release followed immediately.