Spirit of the Valley (21 page)

Chapter Thirty-One

It was late when Bart Gunderson leaned across the table toward Marie. She looked like a goddess in her low-cut red dress. He couldn't keep his eyes off her cleavage. “Got something to tell you,” he said, slurring his words. As usual, he'd had too much whiskey.

“What's that?”

“I could get in trouble. Lose my job.”

She almost rolled her eyes, knowing, as she did, he worked for his uncle. Jules Gunderson, the telegraph operator, was a good man. Too bad for him Bart was so worthless. She felt for Jules, getting stuck with him. “Then why would you tell me?”

He shrugged. “I'm thinking you want to know.”

She reached for the bottle of whiskey and refilled his glass. “And why would you think that?” The drunker he was, the less he'd be able to perform, and that worked for her.

“It's about Mrs. Carter.” He watched closely for a change in her expression.

“So, what is it?” she asked after a brief hesitation.

“I know something about her. Something damaging,” he said, stretching out the word.

She sat back, wondering if he was just angling for her favor or if he really had information worth knowing. “What?”

“It'll cost you.”

She reached for her glass and sipped. “What do you want?”

“A blow job.”

She leaned forward, disgusted with him. “I can't be working deals under the table,” she hissed. “I'll get into trouble.”

“We'll go about it secret-like,” he replied with a shrug. “I'll leave and go around and you can let me in the back.”

She thought about it and decided he must have something worth trading. He looked too smug not to. “We'll have to get away from each other for a while or it won't fool anyone.”

He grinned. “Quarter of an hour do?”

She sat back again, her eyes blazing. “It better be worth it.”

“Put it like this. If Shef finds out what I know, my guess is he'll hightail it. So, you tell me. Worth it?”

Marie got to her feet, but as soon as she went to walk past him, he tried to put a hand under her dress.

“Don't push it,” she warned in a low voice.

“Oh, but that's exactly what I'm going to do, sweetheart,” he said, gloating. “I'm going to push it every way that it can be pushed.”

Disgusted to her very core, she walked off. Glancing at Saul, who was involved in conversation, she slipped outside for some air and space and a smoke to hopefully cool her agitation. There were times she felt she couldn't take one more minute of her life, and this was one of them.

At the same moment, Jeremy's hand hovered over the surface of Lizzie's stomach, feeling the heat emanating from her skin.

“What are you doing?” she murmured.

“Feeling you. Watching you breathe. It's nice.”

She was covered in a fine sheen of sweat, from lovemaking that had left them both spent and lethargic. “I doubt it's that nice,” she said sleepily.

“No, it is. The little hairs on your stomach. You almost can't see them. The way these muscles move,” he said, touching lightly and making her smile.

“That tickles.”

“I like this time . . . after,” he said mischievously. “I like noticing little things.” He looked into her eyes as he caressed her face with the backs of his fingers. “The expressions on your face. Figuring out what's going on in your mind.”

She turned toward him and looked deeply into his eyes. “What am I thinking now?” she asked in a sultry voice.

“Don't go using that voice on me, woman, or we will start all over again.”

She laughed softly. “I don't think I have it in me.”

“Oh, we'll find it.”

She reached for his hand and kissed it. “I've never been this happy.”

“Me either,” he whispered.

 

 

“Mrs. Carter . . . isn't really Mrs. Carter,” Bart said, still breathless from his reward. Although she'd kind of cheated. She hadn't taken off her clothes. In fact, she hadn't done anything except undo his trousers, release him and go to work on him. It hadn't been all mouth. She'd used her hand, too.

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“This stranger, a woman, comes in today wanting to send a telegram to a man in Indianapolis, Indiana,” he said with a waggle to his head. “The message was this. Subject found. Going by the name of Carter. Stop. You'll find her at the Greenway place. Stop.”

“
Going
by the name of Carter?”

“Yeah. Meaning whoever Mrs. Carter is, she ain't. You get my drift? She's wanted by someone in Indianapolis, Indiana.” He paused. “Makes you wonder if Shef knows who he's mixed up with.”

Her heart did a painful flip-flop. She started to turn away from him, but he grabbed her arm.

“Honey, you only just whetted my appetite. Now, I told you I want—”

She jerked away from him. “I don't care what you want. A deal's a deal and I did what I agreed to.”

“Yeah, well, your boss man doesn't know that, does he? And you want to keep it that way, I'm thinking.”

She crossed her arms, looking confused. “Maybe I'm wrong, but, uh, isn't it against some rule to pass on what's in those telegrams?”

His expression went from smug to slightly ill. “No need to get all bitchy about it.”

She glared, allowing him to see the disgust she felt for him. “Fasten your britches up and get the hell out of my room, Bart. And go the back way out because you were never here.”

 

 

An hour before dawn, Jeremy pulled his arm from around Lizzie and turned over. When he touched something warm on the other side of him, he opened his eyes in confusion and saw Jake lying beside him. At first, the boy looked asleep, but then his eyes opened. “I had a bad dream again,” Jake whispered.

“It's okay,” Jeremy whispered back, patting the boy's chest lightly. Lizzie was still fast asleep on his other side. The plan had been for him to be gone by morning so the children wouldn't know.
So much for that plan
, he thought wryly.

“I didn't wet the bed,” Jake added.

“That's good.”

“Are we still going to go to town tomorrow?” Jake whispered.

Jeremy nodded. “Mm-hmm.”

Jake closed his eyes. “I don't like bad dreams,” he murmured.

Jeremy tugged the covers around the boy and kissed his head. “Everything is all right now.”

“I know,” Jake murmured sleepily.

If any two words had ever been sweeter or more meaningful, Jeremy couldn't think of them. Lizzie shifted and draped an arm around his waist and Jeremy experienced the most profound contentment he'd ever known.

Chapter Thirty-Two

In Adams' General Store the next afternoon, Rebecca and Jake ogled the tall jars of candy on the counter, whispering about which looked best. Lizzie's shopping was nearly completed and Jeremy's items were stacked on the counter. He walked over and stood behind the children. “You ready to go?”

They looked up at him and nodded.

“I don't think so,” he said. He looked up and waved over the shopkeeper. “Not until you pick out some candy.”

The way their faces lit up was a sight to behold.

“How many do we get?” Jake asked excitedly.

“Jake,” Rebecca hissed.

“No, it's a good question,” Jeremy said. “If you don't ask, how are you going to know?”

Jake beamed. Rebecca made a face.

“What do you think?” Jeremy asked.

“Five?” Jake asked.

Rebecca shrugged.

Jeremy looked at the patiently waiting shopkeeper. “They'll each fill up one of those,” he said, pointing at the colorful paper candy bags.

Jake and Rebecca's eyes grew wide in wonder.

“As long,” Jeremy added quickly, looking at Jake and then Rebecca, “as you don't eat it all at once. You go and get sick from eating all that and—”

“We won't,” Jake said.

“We promise,” Rebecca said solemnly.

“What will it be, little ones?” the shopkeeper asked, leaning on the counter with a patient smile.

As Jeremy walked away, he wondered if he looked as happy as he felt. Mrs. Daniels, a middle-aged widow he'd known all his life, smiled warmly at him, having enjoyed the scene, he supposed. He tipped his hat to her and continued on to Lizzie, who was fretting over bolts of fabric.

“Do you like this one,” she asked him, holding up a patterned fabric, crimson with small white and yellow flowers, “or this one?”

“What for?”

“A dress. I'm making school clothes for Rebecca.”

“I like both. Get both.” He leaned close. “We've got the money,” he said softly.

She looked away, embarrassed at how her body had reacted from his low voice and the tickle of his warm breath on her ear.

“I love it when you blush,” he whispered. She gave him a look of objection and turned farther away from him. He chuckled before turning to catch the shopkeeper's eye. “She'll take these.”

“Jeremy,” Lizzie said again, clearly uncomfortable.

“And get some for yourself.”

Lizzie bit her bottom lip.

“I want you to. Get what you want.”

“Can we walk around the square?” Rebecca asked.

Jeremy glanced down at her and experienced a jolt of surprise that she'd addressed the question to him. He glanced at Lizzie, who smiled and nodded—again, at him. “Sure,” he said to Rebecca. “Just keep an eye on your brother.”

“I will.”

Jeremy watched them leave, excitedly clutching their bags of candy. He was on top of the world, until he noticed Marie staring at him from across the store. Tension tightened his gut, but he calmly tipped his head to her and looked away. “I'm going to step outside,” he said to Lizzie.

“I won't be long,” she said.

“Take your time. Pick out something nice.” The smile she gave him, full of gratitude and love, warmed his heart. It didn't take much to make her happy. Then again, it didn't take much to make him happy either. Her smile alone did it. Seeing the kids thrilled by candy and a couple minutes of freedom. Rebecca asking his permission like he was her pa.

He walked out of the store somewhat reluctantly, knowing Marie would follow. The way she was watching him, she had something to say.

 

 

Rather than follow, Marie wandered toward Mrs. Carter, watching her discreetly. Striking was the first word that came to Marie's mind. She was more striking than beautiful. Mrs. Carter caught her staring and smiled politely. “Having a hard time deciding,” she said.

Marie blinked at the smile and the blue-gray eyes which held such warmth. On second thought, she was pretty. Very pretty. “What's it for?” Marie asked.

“School clothes for my daughter.”

Marie looked over the selection and ran a hand over a bright striped pattern of pinks, red, and orange. “I like this one.”

Lizzie moved closer to see it. “That is nice,” she said.

Marie was surprised by how close Mrs. Carter had gotten to her. They'd almost touched. Most ladies kept their distance as if she might have something catching. “It's bright and fun.”

“It is.”

Against her will, Marie liked Mrs. Carter. She wandered off and pretended to be interested in some talcum powder that smelled of lavender.

“Help you?” Mrs. Adams, the shopkeeper's wife, asked her coldly.

“No, thank you,” Marie said with exaggerated sweetness. She meandered on, taking her good, sweet time, until she heard Mrs. Adams behind her. “You do know what she is?” the old biddy asked. Marie tensed and listened closely for Mrs. Carter's answer.

“I didn't think you knew,” Mrs. Adams said a moment later. “You being new in town. After all, a decent woman might not know.”

“I'll take two yards of each of these and three of the others,” Mrs. Carter said coolly.

Marie sucked in her bottom lip to keep from smiling. Mrs. Carter had been nothing but polite, and she'd still put that nasty old bitch in her place.

Mrs. Adams sniffed. “All right.”

Marie glanced at Mrs. Carter again. She didn't catch her eye, but she clearly saw what had so attracted Jeremy. What a strange feeling to know the lady was possibly in some sort of trouble and didn't even know it.
I could tell her. Warn her.
Then again, if she didn't, Mrs. Carter would probably be gone soon and Jeremy would be alone again.

Marie started for the door, patently ignoring a hostile look or two directed her way from the fine Christian ladies of Green Valley. Outside, she crossed over to Jeremy, who was leaning against a post. “She seems very nice,” she said.

“She is.”

“I can see you . . . care.”

He nodded.

Marie hesitated and then decided to risk it. “Do you love her?”

“Yes.”

The quickness and sincerity of the answer shook her. She looked away from him, shaken so badly she felt dizzy. She didn't mean to say it, but she did. “I've loved you all my life.”

“I wish you well, Marie. I hope you know that. I wish you'd made some different choices . . . for your sake. It was always for your sake.”

She hated the words and she hated herself for nearly bawling. “I wish I hadn't waited for you.”

“I wish that, too.”

It was pathetic; she was pathetic, but she couldn't help asking. “If it wasn't for her, would there be a chance?”

“No,” he said with a sad expression and a shake of his head.

Heartsick, in fact, feeling sick to her stomach, she stepped back, turned, and walked away from him.