Prairie Wife (26 page)

"You beat him?"

Jesse stiffened and lowered his hands. "Of course not."

"Shelby, you say?"

Amy came up beside Jesse.

"Name's Jesse Shelby. This here's my wife, Amy. We run
a—"

"Shelby Station," the deputy interrupted. "I know
who you are." He holstered the gun. "You riled a few womenfolk,
sneakin' through their yards, Mr. Shelby. Maybe you'd best let the law look for
your boy."

"We've looked everywhere." Amy's voice and her
expression showed her heartfelt concern.

Jesse noticed that her nose was red from the cold and her eyes
held a haunted look. "My wife's tired. I'm gonna find us a room."

"Carolyn Bridges runs a clean place and the eats are decent.
You'll find it if you head out on the street and take a left."

"Thanks. You'll look for Cay?"

"I will. If I find anything, I'll look for you at
Carolyn's."

"Thanks."

Jesse took Amy's hand and led her back to the street, where they
found the boardinghouse. He paid the rotund woman who greeted them. "I'd
like a bath for my wife and something to eat, please."

"Surely." She handed him a brass key.

Jesse led Amy up the stairs and opened the door. The room was
plain, but clean, with a bed, a lopsided chest of drawers and a washstand.
"I'll go put up the horses at the livery. You rest."

By mid-afternoon, Amy had bathed and napped and they'd both eaten.
Jesse went to find the sheriff's office, but none of the officers had turned up
anything. He spent the rest of the day asking business owners and citizens if
they'd seen Cay.

By evening, discouragement weighed on him as he stood in their
room staring down at the street.

"Jesse." Amy lay on the bed. She rolled to her back,
"I'm sorry."

He met her gaze. "It's okay, Amy."

"You were right all along. When Cay first arrived, I resented
him being with us. I don't know why. I told you I was afraid he'd run away. And
now he has. But not because he was a troublemaker. Because I ran him off."

"You didn't run him off. You did the best you could. He just
misunderstood somethin' he heard, that's all."

"But if he'd known how I truly felt about him, he wouldn't
have misunderstood. I should have told him I love him."

Jesse turned to look back down at the street lit by gas lamps. How
long had he stifled the longing to hear those words himself? "You haven't
even told me you loved
me
for a long time."

He shouldn't have said that. Amy didn't respond well to pushing,
but he wasn't much for holdin' back what he was thinkin'.

Her clothing rustled as she sat up. A board creaked and her
reflection came into view in the pane of glass. If he'd made her angry, at
least she was still willing to talk to him. He studied her wavy likeness
without turning around.

"I love you, Jesse. I do."

Her admission touched that place of need in his heart. His throat
tightened. He composed his emotions, let the curtain fall into place and
turned.

She'd never had to worry about being vulnerable to him. Never. He
returned her love, relished it, gloried in it. Why had it taken her so long?

Amy looked into Jesse's blue eyes and saw her love returned. She'd
been afraid of being vulnerable to
herself.
Of opening up a flood of
well-sealed emotions and letting herself feel
anything.
Even love for
him.

But love him she did. Amy confessed the truth as much for herself
as for him. And the admission made her feel lighter than she had for a long
time—for months, for more than a year. Loving too much hurt sometimes, and
she'd pulled into herself for protection. But not letting herself love hurt
just as much. Maybe more.

"I shut you out," she told him, her voice unsteady.
"I thought if I didn't love, I wouldn't hurt. I did the same thing with
Cay."

He took her in his arms and held her against his chest. Jesse was
warmth and safety and comfort, but she'd never let him be those things to her
before. Feeling safe and warm made her again think of Cay.

"Where do you think he is tonight? Where will he sleep?"

"I don't know."

She leaned away and grasped his forearms as a horrible thought
struck her. "He wouldn't take another stage and leave Fort Crowley because
he knows we're looking for him, would he?"

"I don't know. I didn't think he'd run away at all."

"Maybe you'd better go to the freight station and the livery
and ask them to watch for him in case he tries to leave."

"That's a good idea." He grabbed his coat and hat.
"I'll check the saloon again, too, in case he went back for his pay."

After Jesse left, Amy turned the key in the lock and stepped to
the window, where she watched the street below as Jesse crossed and headed down
the boardwalk.

An hour later he was back with a pail of warm water and a cup of
coffee, which they shared.

Jesse removed his boots and socks and hung his holster on the
metal bed frame. He wearily removed his shirt and washed at the basin.

Hours later, he and Amy lay side by side on the bed, the
unfamiliar noise from the street below as much of a detriment to sleep as the
worry they shared. Amy turned on her side and rested her head on Jesse's chest.

A knock sounded on the door.

They sat bolt upright in the darkness, and Jesse grabbed his Colt
from its holster and stepped to the door. "Who is it?"

"I got somethin' to tell ya," returned a small voice.

Jesse turned the key and the knob and opened the door enough to
see who stood in the hall. He immediately dropped the gun to his side and took
a step back. "Who are you?"

A small boy with shaggy brown hair and a tattered jacket stood in
the opening. "How much're you willin' to pay to know where your kid
is?"

"You know where Cay is?" Amy climbed from the bed and
pulled on her coat to cover her nightdress.

"He's clean and has hair and eyes like you," he said to
Jesse. "Wears a nice coat and boots."

"Where is he?" Amy asked.

"I figure you're rich enough to pay b'fore I tell."

"Pay him, Jesse."

Jesse moved to the belongings he'd placed inside the top drawer of
the chest. He took six dollars in coins and held them out to the urchin.

The child's hazel eyes lit with appreciation when he saw the
money. "I'll take you to 'im. But first you gotta give me the money."

Jesse dropped the coins into his grimy palm. "I'll give you
half now, and half when I see Cay."

The young boy scowled, but he tucked his three dollars safely
away.

After pulling on his boots and shirt, Jesse strapped on his
holster. Amy handed him his hat and coat, but her eyes were on the child with
the dirty hair and clothing. The toes of his shoes were worn clear through the
leather. What kind of parent let a child dress so poorly and roam the streets
at this hour of the night?

She watched them leave and then ran to the window, but didn't see
them down on the street.

***

Jesse followed the boy through the alley behind the hotel. He'd
traveled enough alleys that day and sure didn't want one of the deputies to
spot him back here again.

"Where are we goin'?"

"Ssh." The ragamuffin held a finger to his lips.

"Sorry," Jesse whispered. "Where are we
goin'?"

"I'll show you."

"What's your name?"

"They call me Scrap."

"How do you know where Cay is?"

"Found 'im and showed 'im where to sleep."

"Where's that?"

"I'll show you if you quit yappin'."

Jesse stopped trying to talk and followed. The boy called Scrap
led him behind a brick building and across a vacant lot to where a few tents
sat. Beyond those was a grassy area that held broken wagons and cannon carts.
Scrap pointed at a spot beneath a lopsided wagon, where layers of newspaper
covered what appeared to be a sleeping form.

Jesse looked at Scrap, who met his eyes in the darkness and
nodded. He held out his hand.

As yet unconvinced, Jesse crawled under the wagon until he could
see hair and an ear. Scrap followed. Stealthily, Jesse raised a layer of
newspaper and made out the side of the boy's face, finding it familiar. Relief
and anger assailed him.

Scrap tugged on his coat sleeve and Jesse reached in his pocket
and handed over the last of the coins. Closing his fingers over them, Scrap
scrambled backward from beneath the wagon.

To assure Cay didn't escape again, Jesse clamped onto the boy's
shoulder and pulled him out from under the wagon. Cay awoke startled, and
struggled to get away from his captor. Newspapers flew in all directions. Jesse
got a steady grip on him by holding him against his body and locking his
forearm over Cay's chest.

"Stop," he told him. "It's me. Uncle Jesse."

The skirmish ceased. "Uncle Jesse?"

Jesse turned the boy to face him. "I warrant you are in a
serious fix about now, so you'd best stop struggling and come along."

Cay obediently stopped struggling and stood as though prepared for
whatever might befall him. "Why'd you make such a fuss over comin' after
me, anyhow?"

Jesse took his arm and glanced around. The other boy was nowhere
to be seen. "Why d'ya think?"

"I dunno. I'm a bother, so you should be glad I left."

"We've got some talking to do." Jesse made his way to
the street and along the fronts of the buildings. He led Cay into the
boardinghouse and up the stairs.

After a quick rap, he said, "It's Jesse."

The key was turned from inside and Amy opened the door. Her
expectant gaze lit on Cay, and she reached for him, pulling him inside and
hugging him soundly. She buried her face in his hair.

After a few minutes, she released him and moved to sit on the edge
of the bed. "Do you know how worried we've been?" She patted the
edge, indicating he should join her, and he did.

He shook his head. "No."

"We followed you and we've been looking all over. Why did you
run from Jesse today?"

He shrugged.

Amy drew a breath as though gathering her composure. "I know
why you ran off."

"You do?"

She nodded. "You heard Jesse and me, night before last. I was
upset and I said some things I didn't really mean. Can you understand that?
Have you ever said things you didn't mean?"

Her question was met with another shrug.

"You heard me say I didn't want more children, didn't
you?"

Gaze on the floor, Cay nodded.

"And you thought that meant you."

"It ain't like you wanted a kid," he said. "You
din't ask for me. You just got stuck with me, like my gran did."

"Your grandma loved you very much. That's why she wanted to
make sure you were safe with us. Most times we don't choose the family we get.
Just like havin' your own baby, you can't pick the one you want."

"But leastwise a baby's yours," he replied logically.

"And how do you get a baby?" she asked.

Cay's cheeks pinkened, and Jesse wondered where she was going with
that question.

"From God, that's where. He gives you a baby when he thinks
you're ready. Like he gave you to us."

"My ma din't want no baby," he said defiantly.

Amy's expression showed her compassion. "But she loved you
enough to give you to someone who would take care of you and love you like you
needed."

He raised his gaze then, skeptical but interested. "How would
you know that?"

"If your mother hadn't loved you, she could have let you die.
Or left you at a foundling home. But she didn't. She took you to your grandma
because she knew that would be best for you. Just like your grandma brought you
to us."

Cay studied Amy's face as though he'd never before considered the
possibility that his mother had loved him. Jesse himself had always doubted it,
having known his sister's impulsive, selfish nature, but Amy's explanation made
it believable. She'd just given Cay something extraordinary, something no one
had ever given him before: belief that his mother had cared.

"Cay, Jesse and I love you. We already had problems between
us before you ever came to us—you didn't cause them. In fact, you've helped
us." She touched his hair and tilted his chin up on her palm. "I love
you. Promise you won't ever scare us like that and run away again."

"I promise." Cay threw himself into Amy's arms and laid
his head against her breast.

She smoothed his hair and rocked him as though he were an infant.

Swallowing back tears, Jesse hung his coat and hat. "Are you
hungry, Cay?"