Chapter Twenty
With the issue of an annulment behind them, Jenny settled into a routine. Up at dawn to get breakfast for her two men, she cooked on the small cast-iron stove in the corner of the room. She hadn’t felt like much of a wife having others cook their meals, so her spirits had lifted when he’d hauled in the old stove after the first few days. Jenny gushed over the ancient and very inefficient heap of metal, which he reminded her was temporary. He proceeded to laugh when she’d made out as if it was the finest stove money could buy.
“You’re mighty easy to please, darlin’,” he teased, going on to say they might not need to build a new house after all.
“Bite your tongue, Heath Jackson. You promised me a house come spring and I’m holding you to it. There is barely room for us to turn around in here,” she nodded at the see-through fireplace as she tacked on, “and it’d be nice to have a bit of privacy.”
“I’m on it as soon as the ground thaws, sweetheart.”
Good enough for skillet cooking, soups and stews, and coffee in the morning, which Jenny needed before she could feel human, she made do dreaming of a new model stove like Letty and Janelle had in their kitchens. They often took supper with his family, Letty having brushed off Jenny’s frequent objections.
“I’m used to cooking for a crowd,” Letty assured her, “and rather than wrapping it up and Heath toting it to the cabin the following day, you might as well come over and eat while it’s fresh and hot and we can enjoy each other’s company.”
With little else to do, Jenny enjoyed any chance for an outing. One big part of her life that she missed was teaching piano lessons. Only a few of her students had instruments and it seemed impractical to take a man away from ranch work for a one-hour round trip to teach a thirty-minute lesson that earned only a pittance. Most of her students didn’t have a piano anyway and had come out to the farm to learn on hers. When she’d sold it, those students had found other arrangements.
That left housekeeping, which took thirty minutes at most in the small cabin. Since he’d lived on his own for six years, Heath was surprisingly neat, so the majority of her cleaning time was spent in the loft. Jenny was convinced eight-year-old boys were really made of dirt or that Will had special magnets in his pockets that attracted it. The boy could have a thorough scrubbing followed by a soak in the tub until he wrinkled like a prune and still have a smudge somewhere. Even if going directly to bed afterwards, he managed to leave a pile of dirt on the floor or a ring of grime on the sheets by morning. It truly baffled Jenny.
Unlike his sister, Will had found infinite activities to occupy his time. Everything about the ranch was a big adventure. When he wasn’t in school, he spent a lot of time tagging along after Heath, helping in the stables and playing outside. When it was too cold to go out, he played in his loft bedroom, spending the better part of the day pretending it was a crow’s nest or a fancy treehouse. When the snow arrived, Will wasn’t deterred and stomped around happily in the white stuff. It wasn’t uncommon for her to peek outside upon hearing his squeals of laughter and find him engaged in building a snow fort or waging a snowball war with Heath and several of the hands.
Once, he’d dragged Jenny out to build a snowman, despite her protests that there wasn’t enough snow. She’d been right, of course, his small work of art marred by mud, twigs, and grass when he was done. Heath had walked up while Will frowned at his less-than-impressive achievement.
“It’s more mud than snow, bub. Wait until the December snows come. There’ll be so much I’ll have to shovel you a path to the outhouse, but you’ll be able to build a snowman pure white and taller than me if you like. Jenny and I will help and we’ll build him a wife and a whole snowman family.”
“You mean it, Heath?”
“Absolutely. We’ll build a fort and stock up on ammunition. That way when Hoyt and the other men walk by, we can launch a sneak attack when they least expect it.”
“I want to do it now, by gum!”
As his father’s exclamation rolled from his nephew’s lips, Heath had laughed the deep, melodious sound rebounding in the cold air and off the snow-covered trees. Jenny had tears in her eyes from watching them together, although she adamantly denied it.
“It’s the wind stinging my eyes, nothing more.”
“There’s not a hint of a breeze today, darlin’.” Heath pointed this out as he pulled her in tight to kiss her brow tenderly.
“Women!” This epithet from Will came as a surprise and prompted an apology from Heath after their laughter had calmed.
“It appears my pa’s rubbing off on him.”
“I don’t see anything wrong with that in the least,” she’d answered back with a smile.
The facts were that Will was busy, Heath was busier, but Jenny had a lot of idle time. With the turn in the weather, there was no garden to tend and riding was downright uncomfortable with the wind chapping her cheeks. Therefore, she stayed in and performed mundane tasks like sewing, out of necessity. Will was outgrowing his clothes faster than she could make them and Heath needed some mending. However, a button here and there wasn’t enough to keep her occupied for long.
Jenny was sweeping off the porch one afternoon when she got an unexpected visitor. Watching with curiosity as the unfamiliar buggy rolled down the lane, she’d been surprised when the driver opened the door and helped a woman, dressed in full mourning black, alight. She couldn’t imagine who it was until she approached the front steps and lifted her heavy veil. Beautiful mahogany hair, creamy skin, and dark brown worldly eyes stared back at her. It was the last person she’d expected to see standing at her front door—Miss Charlotte from the Red Eye Saloon.
“Mrs. Jackson,” she drawled in her throaty voice, eyes twinkling.
“Charlotte, this is a surprise.”
“Indeed,” she laughed. “I’m sure it’s not every day a soiled dove comes a-knockin’ at your door.”
Jenny’s jaw dropped, unsure how to respond to that.
“My dear, I know what I am. Call a skunk a rose and it still stinks.”
She blinked, at a loss.
“Invite me in for tea,” Charlotte prompted.
“Well, yes… of course,” Jenny said, appalled. “Where are my manners? Come inside.”
She entered, glancing curiously about. “Not quite what I expected of a Jackson home.”
“Me either.” Jenny’s cheeks heated as she saw the cabin through Charlotte’s eyes, through her own for that matter. The Red Eye boasted more style and definitely more furnishings than their little cabin. She motioned Charlotte to the table and then put water on for tea, which consisted of swinging the cast-iron arm with the crooked end and the teakettle over the fire. Joining Charlotte at the table, she felt compelled to explain. “He promised he’ll build a house in the spring.”
“By God, you hold him to that,” she urged, her gloved hand patting the back of Jenny’s uncovered one. “Coming to a man innocent and pretty as a picture, a girl like you should have a grand house. If he don’t pony up come spring, you cut off his bread and butter.”
“Not feed him?” Jenny frowned. “I couldn’t do that.”
Charlotte laughed, the musical sound filling the cabin. “Wedded, bedded, and yet innocent as a babe,” she commented much to herself. “By bread and butter, I mean relations of the marital variety.”
Jenny stared at her blankly, thinking it was worse than talking with Janelle.
Charlotte shook her head, still smiling. “Let me be blunt, sweeting. I mean no house, no pussy. To clarify, that’s your girl bits between your thighs covered with a thatch of red fluff, I’m betting.”
“Charlotte!” Jenny gasped, pressing her hands to her inflamed cheeks, trying to cool them.
She shrugged. “Men are ruled by their cocks. ’Course, you’ve got to make it good all the other times to make this tack work.” Her former employer winked at her. “That’s free advice you should take to heart.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” The kettle whistled. Jenny welcomed the reprieve and rushed to get cups and the sugar bowl. “Don’t take this the wrong way, as though I’m not glad to see you, but what in heaven’s name are you doing here?”
“I came to check up on you.”
Jenny sat down and stared at her. “That’s kind of you, but—”
“You disappeared. George came to pick you up and you weren’t to be found. I worried for days something had happened to you out on that farm all alone.”
“Something did, actually.” She told her the story of Eugene, her spur-of-the-moment wedding, and their trek to Omaha to rescue her brother. She even told her how she’d visited Mr. Bennett when they’d returned.
“Girl, are you crazy? To try to get shed of a beautiful man like Heath Jackson, you must be.”
“It wasn’t fair—”
“Fair… shmair. You think I’ve seen fair in my lifetime? If I’d gotten the chance to marry one of the Jackson brothers, I would claw tooth and nail to hang on to him, not scheme to let him go. There are few choices left to women who are alone in this world. It doesn’t take much to turn that corner onto Sixth Street. You found that out firsthand.”
She pictured Charlotte as a young woman, scraping to get by alone, scared, desperate. “That’s why you were so kind to me. I reminded you of—”
“Myself,” Charlotte finished for her. “If I’d had someone to offer me a hand up when I was your age, my life might have turned out very different.”
“I’m sorry you didn’t have that, Charlotte, and grateful you were a friend when I needed one. Is there something I can do for you, to help you change your circumstances?”
“It’s too late for me now. Besides, Fenton and I have an arrangement.”
“You mean a romantic kind?” Remembering Fenton Sneed as she’d last seen him, hitching up his half-done britches, fresh from a second-floor bed, she was outraged for Charlotte. “But he beds the other girls beneath your nose—”
“Yes, he is quite blatant. I turn my head and don’t nag him about it because in his own warped way, he cares for me. I care for him too, Jenny, and he’s not hard on the eyes by a long shot, but I’m not in love with him. Love isn’t for women like me.”
Charlotte glanced down and took a sip of her tea, but Jenny saw the wounded look in her eyes. No more than thirty by her guess, she’d had a very difficult life and despite her words, she couldn’t hide her pain. Jenny reached over and, laying her hand over Charlotte’s, squeezed, offering her what little comfort she could.
“It’s business, Jenny. I manage the girls for him, keep them off his back, and in return, I don’t have to work on mine anymore.”
“And you’re happy with that?”
“Happiness is like fairness in this life, sweeting, there are no guarantees.”
They sat quietly for a few moments, both lost in thought. Breaking the silence first, Jenny asked, “How is George? I worry about him. His mother is ill, did you know?”
“I didn’t,” Charlotte said, a crease appearing between her finely arched brows as she bit her lower lip. “Maybe that’s why he didn’t show?”
“What?”
“The night after you disappeared without a word—”
“I didn’t disappear,” Jenny protested. “I couldn’t very well send you a note. I wanted to, but couldn’t figure out how without folks finding out. I didn’t dare ask Heath to send a message, he was furious enough as it was when he found out I was playing in a saloon.”
Charlotte waved her off. “I understand, Jenny, truly. About George, he didn’t come to work the next night, or the two after that. When he did reappear on the fourth night, Fenton showed him the door.”
“Oh, no! He was the only support for his mother and his little sister. I can’t imagine how they are getting by.”
“I tried to get Fenton to give him a second chance, but he’d had at least a dozen second chances already. He turned him out without a thin dime.”
The door opened behind them.
“Jenny, whose buggy is out front?” Heath stopped dead in his tracks.
“That would be mine, Mr. Jackson.” She rose, placing a hand gently on Jenny’s shoulder, before turning to go. “I was just leaving.”
“You’ll understand if I ask that you don’t return.”
“Heath! That’s beyond rude,” Jenny protested, hurrying to catch her at the door. “Charlotte, I’m so sorry.”
“No, he’s right. You’re a nice girl, Jenny, but your reputation can’t withstand an association with a whore.”
Jenny flinched, knowing the hurt that awful label could bring. “Don’t say that.”
“Remember the skunk and the rose, my dear.” She adjusted her veil. “I am very happy that you landed on your feet, Jenny. You’re one of the lucky ones, of which there are very few.” As she brushed by Heath, she murmured, “I won’t return,” and was gone.
She turned an accusing glare on Heath. “That was unkind.”
“No. It was honest. She knows the ways of the world. You can’t befriend a woman like Charlotte without consequences. The cold, hard fact is that despite prostitution being legal, those women are considered social outcasts and sinners by most respectable people.”
“Like you?” she demanded.
“No. I don’t blame her for what she’s had to do to survive, but I won’t risk you getting hurt by mixing with her. The narrow-minded holier than thou good people of Laramie would persecute you by association and I won’t let that happen.”
“If fate hadn’t intervened, that could be me, Heath. What choice would I have had if Eugene had taken Will and I’d lost my home? If not for you and Aaron…” She choked on the rest of her words as tears burned her eyes. Turning away, she wiped them with her sleeve, frustrated with how easily they came these days. Heath’s warm hands cupped her shoulders.
“Never would I have let that happen, sweetheart.”
“Charlotte was kind to me. She gave me a job when no one else was willing to take a chance; at the risk of her own, I might add. That gaudy dress and wig, they were her idea. She did her best to protect me. It seems cruel and ungrateful to turn her away.”
“I’m grateful for all that she did, Jenny, believe me. Disguising herself today was another attempt to protect you. Don’t diminish her efforts by doing something reckless.”
“I understand what you’re saying, but it’s dreadfully unfair.”
“Intolerance of this sort has been going on for centuries, and I don’t expect that’s going to change anytime soon.”
“My heart aches for those women, Heath, because you’re right. There is intolerance and hypocrisy. People look down on Charlotte and her girls; they’re society’s pariahs. The men, however, come and go, taking their pleasure willy-nilly and getting off scot-free. Do you know how many church-going phonies I saw at the Red Eye in my short time in their employ?” Heath and his brother included. She twisted in his arms, wanting to see his face for her next statement. “I tripped on the stairs that night. Luke caught me on the top landing. The only reason to be upstairs is to—”
“I’m not going to discuss my brother’s social activities with you, darlin’. He’s a single man and I’ll say again, what goes on upstairs at the Red Eye isn’t illegal.”
“Hmph…” she sniffed, not wanting to discuss it either, but her curiosity got the best of her. “You were with him. Did you—”
“That was before we wed and not up for discussion either. I’m a thirty-two-year-old man, Jenny. You know I didn’t come to you a virgin on our wedding night.”
She realized that, but persisted. “Charlotte called you by name that night. Does that mean… that you and she,” she paused a moment as if pained, “does that mean you partook?”
He closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose as if in pain. “I can’t believe we’re having this discussion.” After a moment, he sighed indulgently as his unwavering gaze met hers. “No, Charlotte and I didn’t partake that night, or ever. I had a whiskey after a long day of ranching and planned to play a hand or two of poker. That’s all. However, those plans went awry when I had to play rescuer to a naughty miss who was in a mess of trouble for being somewhere she shouldn’t have been.”
As she blinked up at him, she thought better of further questions and argument. “I’m sorry I brought it up.”
“You and me both.”
She dropped her head, the top of it coming to rest against his chest as she muttered softly, “I wish I could go back to the days when I didn’t know about Sixth Street, soiled doves, abusive uncles, lying, cheating church-going hypocrites, and my brother-in-law’s amorous pursuits. The blush is officially off this rose, I suppose.”
He tugged her to him, drawing her into a firm embrace. “You’re not totally jaded and worldly wise. You have an innocence about you, which I hope doesn’t completely go away as you experience more of life. I’ll do my best to protect that, but when it seeks you out and knocks on our own front door…”
“Charlotte was worried about me. She is harmless, Heath.”
“I believe that as well, but trouble seems to find you, darlin’.”
“It was hardly my fault she came to visit.”
One long finger lifted her chin. “Which is why you aren’t currently over my knee.”
“Heath!” she protested, trying to pull away, but he held on, his eyes burning down into her own.
“You’re a spirited young woman, Jenny, which I don’t fault one bit. But your recent taste of independence has made you act impulsively on occasion. You often don’t think things through. That scares the hell out of me and makes me want to lock you in a tall tower somewhere, to keep you safe and sound, and all to myself.”
“I did what I had to do to protect Will.”
“You went to work in a saloon, woman! Rather than asking for help from me, my parents, or Aaron and Janelle. If not us, you could have turned to Reverend Jenkins, or any one of your neighbors. Instead, you tried to manage the impossible all alone.”
Her gaze faltered and darted away. “Put that way, you make me sound foolish.”
“Not foolish, but reckless and prideful. It’s okay to ask for help when you need it, sweetheart.”
“I was ashamed of papa, Heath. I never thought I would feel that way about him. The disgrace was overwhelming. I didn’t want anyone to know, so I covered for him as best I could, praying he’d snap out of it.”
“Your father’s actions were not a reflection on you.”
“It didn’t feel that way at the time. I guess, like him, I was thinking in circles, although not to his extreme.”
“Playing piano in a saloon isn’t extreme?”
With narrowed eyes, she glanced up at him. “You’re never going to forget that, are you?”
“I doubt it. That pink satin dress is permanently burned into my memory, and not in a good way. That every man in the Red Eye got to drool over what is mine—”
“Would it be rude to point out that the ‘what’ they were drooling over wasn’t yours at the time?” His glower had her regretting that bit of sass. “Guess so,” she muttered.
“You’ve been mine since I upended your naughty behind over my knee in the moonlight.”
Her mouth gaped open. “You’re joking. You said you wanted to be friends.”
“That’s what I tried to tell myself, but I was feeling a lot more than friendly, especially after having my hands on you. It killed me to sit next to you in that buggy and not hold you, or kiss you again. Your lips were swollen where you’d bitten them, and your hair was in disarray around your shoulders. That little hat you wore was cockeyed and slipping down this gorgeous mass of red and gold.” His hand sunk into her hair, exerting gentle but steady pressure, until her face was angled up, his mouth a hairsbreadth from hers. “You were in a snit, but still incredibly beautiful.”
“Heath.” His name came out whisper-soft from her lips.
“You were mine, even if I wasn’t ready to admit it, even to myself. So you’ll have to understand if I take exception to you having anything to do with Sixth Street, let alone working there, in a saloon with a bunch of randy drunks drooling over you in a low-cut tight-fitting dress.” His hands tightened in her hair, holding her head in place, as he got serious. “That’s the last time I plan to mention the saloon incident, mostly because I can’t bear it. What I will do is expect you to follow the rules that I set. I know you think I’m being unreasonable sometimes, but I do this to protect you. Nothing is more important to me than that.”
His rules were few and although at times inconvenient, they weren’t entirely unreasonable. With his fingers entwined in her hair, his lips a whisker away, their bodies pressed as close as one second is to the next, she couldn’t find the inclination to argue.
“All right, honey.” Eager for kisses and less conversation, she stood on her toes, her lips brushing his as she spoke. “I’ll follow your rules, come to you for help, and do my best to think before I act.”
“That’s my girl.” His murmur invaded her mouth along with his tongue as his kiss became fiercely passionate. When he lifted his lips, they were curved into a mischievous grin. “Now then, since Will’s in school and not due back for hours, how about we take a nap? I became partial to afternoon naps on our trip to Omaha.” He waggled his brows as he lifted her easily in his strong arms.
Sliding her arms around his shoulders, she grinned at his gallant gesture. “My knight in shining armor,” she sighed dramatically.
“I’ve got you, sweet damsel, and am taking you off to my tower where I plan to have my wicked way with you.”
His lips found her ear and nibbled on the lobe as his hands found her backside and squeezed.
Sucking in a deep breath, she wrapped her legs around his thighs and held on. “Brave knight, I’m afraid my husband will be most upset. You see, I’m not supposed to go haring off without telling him. However, since you’re so handsome, I might be able to make an exception.”
“You wouldn’t tell your husband?”
“No, he’s so ancient he wouldn’t see us go and his hearing is lacking—” She squealed as he shifted her so that she draped over his shoulder.
“Naughty minx,” he accused as his hand came down swift and true on her vulnerable behind. It stayed where it landed, giving her a squeeze while his exploring fingers found the gap between her thighs.
In a flash, he crossed the cabin and shouldered his way in their bedroom. He kicked the door closed behind him with a resounding bang. Soon, she found herself flipped, landing flat on her back in the bed with her skirts around her waist. While she lay stunned by his ardent attack, he whisked off her drawers and sent them sailing across the room. On his knees in the bed, he pushed between her thighs, pressing them wide.
“It seems as though your husband needs to get a handle on your sass. I might be able to give the old man some pointers.”
Before she could utter another peep, he was inside her, surging into her with a driving force. Her mouth fell open, but she was silent, robbed of speech by the power of his shaft moving inside her. Above her, Heath paused for a moment and her buttons, along with her blouse, seemed to disappear beneath his fingers. Except for the twisted wad of skirts around her waist, she was bare. As he resumed his vigorous possession, she clung to him, savoring the feel of his chest rubbing her taut nipples, his hard thighs holding her legs spread out wide, and the length of him taking her to new heights of pleasure.
Heath’s lips found her neck, teeth latching on firmly, and the next moment she came, screaming out her release. When she raised her hazy, half-lidded gaze to meet his, he chuckled husky and deep because he wasn’t nearly done. His thumb found its way between her legs, rubbing over the slick nub at the top of her sex and setting her on another upward spiral.
“Yeah, there it is, right there. I’ve found the cure for that sass. Your man simply needs to fuck you speechless.”
His naughty talk, combined with the persistent caress of his thumb and his tenacious thrusting, sent her flying. As she screamed once more, he joined her, roaring right along with her as they rode out the wave of heart-pounding pleasure.