Twelve

For well past the supper hour, Duel sat hunched beside the grave. Despair flogged his spirit. How could he entertain thoughts of another woman when he’d failed the first so miserably?

He bore the blame for his first wife’s death as surely as if he’d sent a piece of hot lead into Annie’s breast. In all reality, he’d committed murder. Jessie had done no worse than he. Using a fingertip, he lovingly traced the name on the cold granite.

“Remember me always, my love,” Annie had said in the final moments. “Take good care of our babe. Tell him how much his mother loved him.”

She never knew the babe lived only a few short hours. Burdened with incompetence, he’d not been able to save the fragile little life Annie had entrusted to his care.

He’d waited all night for Jonas, his hired hand, to return with the doctor. He should’ve taken into account the man’s lust for the bottle. He found Jonas in the saloon, stinking drunk. Jonas had never even told Doc Mabry that Annie needed him. Wild with fury, Duel had knocked the man to the floor. It was bad enough he’d let Annie down, but then he had to face her father’s wrath.

“It’s all your fault, McClain.” Pure hate had blazed from Tom Parker’s eyes. The man knew how deeply to thrust the dagger. “You killed her. My daughter would be alive if she’d never met you. I warned her of her folly in marrying a bounty hunter.”

Duel never bothered to defend himself. Wasn’t any use, because for every word Judge Parker uttered, he damned himself ten times over. He rested his face against the cool stone.

* * *

“Never saw a man love anyone the way Duel loved his Annie. Why, the sun rose an’ set in that woman’s smile.” Walt tipped his head sideways and gave Jessie a crooked grin. “Not sayin’ he won’t feel that way about you. Gotta give him time.”

There was one small problem: they didn’t have any time. Not if Luke put two and two together. Besides, all the hours and minutes in the world couldn’t make her husband forget his true love. Jessie had pretty much ruined any chance of that happening.

“You couldn’t know he’d go loco over one dress, Jessie girl.” Walt seemed to understand his son’s disturbed frame of mind. He patted Jessie’s arm, but it did little to calm her fears.

“Annie’s wedding gown, of all things.” The ache made it hard to breathe.

Three days had passed. In that time, she’d had the briefest of contact with Duel. She could count the words he’d uttered to her on one hand. As one gone mad with grief, he rose each morning before daylight and worked until well after night set in, plowing and planting. He looked for any number of chores to prevent him from darkening the door to the house.

Fearful that he’d stop eating altogether, she took meals to the barn for him. From the way his clothes hung on his lanky frame, he’d eaten far too little of the food. Most likely he’d fed it to Yellow Dog, who continued to hang around at a distance.

“If only I had minded my own business, shown more respect for Annie’s belongings. For God’s sake, he looked like he’d seen a ghost.”

Deep concern had led her to confide in Walt. With the older man’s help, she came to understand Duel’s behavior and the importance of the gown.

“None of this is your fault. That son of mine’s got a barn full of good horse sense, but sometimes he forgets to use it.”

“A person can’t help the way he feels, no more than he can stop breathing,” Jessie reminded him softly. Walt opened up his arms, and she leaned against him.

Last night she’d watched Duel from the window. A full moon cast eerie shadows around his silhouette. From afar she’d shared his inconsolable sorrow.

“Don’t worry, he’ll git his gumption back. Cain’t say it’d do a whole lot of good, but I could give him a talkin’ to.”

“I’d rather you didn’t.” His father might send him running in the other direction and drive a larger wedge between them. She didn’t dare risk that. “And please don’t mention our conversation to him. I’d die if he found out. As it is, I worry I’m betraying him.”

“This has gotta be hard for you, Jessie. It’s near impossible for any woman to live in another wife’s house—the constant reminders. Been better if you could have started fresh with your own doodads.”

She couldn’t bear to look at Annie’s clothes, much less wear any except a few necessities, despite Duel’s blessing. Drawers, chemises, and nightgowns he’d never see. However, the two dresses she owned wouldn’t last long with repeated washings.

“How was it you arrived in Tranquility without so much as an extra stitch, gal?”

Walt’s question startled Jessie. She frantically groped for a suitable explanation.

I’ll see you in hell before I let you leave this house, woman. Little did Jeremiah know that he’d beat her there. She hoped he found the flames to his liking.

“A fire.” Another lie added to the passel she’d already told. Keeping her gaze on the tall figure out the window, she justified their usefulness. “A fire burned everything I owned. I barely escaped with my life.” At least part of it was true.

Walt clucked sympathetically. “Reckon that explains the bruises and whatnots.”

“I don’t like to think about it.” No matter how much logic she used, lying to Walt weighed heavily on her conscience. Kindhearted as the day was long, he’d quickly accepted her as a daughter. Alone in an unfamiliar town, in a farce of a marriage, she’d found a staunch ally.

From the first moment, the elder McClain’s twinkling eyes and his sense of fair play had drawn her to him. Same as now when she finally met his clear gaze. Her affection for Walt was growing by leaps and bounds.

Fine way to show it, though—by lying to him.

The man gave her a friendly pat. “Nosiness runs in the family, but I didn’t want to ask. Figured you’d say in your own good time.”

She kissed his grizzled cheek. “I appreciate that. I wondered where Duel got his quiet ways, especially after meeting Vicky and Luke. Now I know.”

The main problem left was how to get Duel talking again and back into the house. Marley Rose needed him. And she so missed his company.

* * *

A light rain Saturday morning raised Duel’s hopes that Vicky would call off the soiree she’d planned. No such luck.

“Your sister expects you to be there, an’ no excuses.” Walt gave him the same stern, no-nonsense stare he had used when he caught Duel smoking grape vines behind the barn. Or the time he found Duel stealing a kiss from little Lucinda Moore.

Now, as then, the look made Duel uncomfortable. They’d butted heads more than once, something a few trips to the woodshed cured. Pop had taught him respect in spite of his rebellion.

“You’ll do right by Jessie, son.” Again, that tone left the “or else” unsaid. It appeared Jessie had completely charmed his father as she did anyone who spent a minute in her company.

“Plan on it, Pop.” Guilt that he’d neglected her and Marley was already eating at him. They’d not asked for anything more than a home and someone to watch over them. Of late, he’d not done much of the latter. Why had he ever thought he could?

“Don’t plan—do it. The lady’s been through a peck o’ trouble to be by your side.”

What had Jessie told his father? Not that he blamed her if she’d spilled the whole truth. He knew he’d frightened her that night he flew out of the house. Before he messed up good, he’d better find out what and pronto.

“One thing I’ve learned, Pop, and that’s to listen to you. Don’t intend to stop now.” Funny thing was, the older Duel got, the smarter his father became.

“Ain’t so old you can pull the wool over my eyes neither.”

“What’re you talking about?”

“I got eyes. I saw where you been sleepin’ in the barn.” Walt’s squinty glare accused and convicted him. “That’s why you were so all-fired agin me stayin’ here.”

“This is my business, Pop. Stay out of it.”

“Ain’t right for a man an’ wife to start a life that way.”

He had found a whole lot of things weren’t right in the world. Duel swallowed his anger. He hadn’t meant for Jessie and Marley Rose to pay for his shortcomings.

* * *

A few hours later, he dodged the hurt in Jessie’s gaze as he helped her and Marley from the wagon. He’d tried to apologize several times on the ride to the Austin residence, but the words got stuck in his throat. Fancy that; he was more insecure in facing his wife than all the times he’d stared down the barrel of a forty-five in the hands of a killer. Big difference.

The only risk with the latter was knowing a bullet could send him to glory.

“Pa pa pa.” Marley patted his shoulder as if she couldn’t touch him enough.

Self-reproach for his dereliction didn’t make the knot in his belly disappear. He would make up for it, he promised.

“Duel, Jessie, I’m glad to see you finally made it.” Vicky waved to them from the barn door. From behind her drifted the cheerful strains of fiddle music.

“Looks like everyone in town came for this shindig.” He grumbled low, casting a dispirited glance at the number of wagons and carriages packing the yard.

“I heard that.” Vicky took her niece from his arms. “I have only one rule, brother.”

“What’s that?”

The clamoring of George and Henry for Marley’s attention almost drowned out his question.

“You have to have a good time, and that’s an order.”

He kissed Vicky’s cheek. “You sound more like Pop every day.”

“Jessie, you are soooo beautiful. I love your dress. Is it new?”

“You could say that.”

Duel couldn’t help the quick flash of pain when Jessie’s blue eyes met his. He’d wondered earlier where she’d gotten the green muslin she wore. Nowhere in his recollection of Annie’s wardrobe could he place the pretty floral dress.

“Come, let me introduce you to the ladies.” Vicky grabbed her arm and started to pull her toward a group of goggle-eyed women.

“Just a cotton-pickin’ minute, sis.” Duel stopped their progress. “I’d like to have a word with my wife first, if you don’t mind.”

He took her aside, keeping his voice low. “We didn’t discuss our story.”

“If you hadn’t disappeared for the last three days, we could’ve talked about it.”

“Well, what in the devil did you tell Pop?” Duel’s rough whisper captured the circle of ladies’ attention. He noticed how collectively they leaned toward them, eaten alive with curiosity. “I’m sorry. We shouldn’t be doing this here.”

Jessie leaned closer to whisper, her breath teasing the tendrils of hair by his ear. “My maiden name was Rumford. I gave your father the account that my home caught fire and everything I owned burned. It satisfied him. He said that explained my bruises.”

“Good. But where did you live? They’ll ask.”

“Cactus Springs?”

“I suppose that’s far enough removed from El Paso and easy to remember. Have you been married?” He hated reminding her, yet he must.

“No. Less story we have to keep track of. If I were widowed, we’d have to invent a husband and how he died.”

“Good point. Any relatives?”

“They all died in the Indian raids a few years back. What did I do, though? With no kin, I’d have needed to work.”

Vicky barged between them. “That’s enough. You two can sweet talk later. This is a party, and these women are dying to meet our newest citizen.”

With that, she pulled Jessie along, leaving Duel to seek other company. A sinking feeling descended all the way to his toes as he watched Jessie smile and extend her hand. As confident and capable as she appeared to be, the night couldn’t end soon enough to suit him.

He surveyed the large room, the center of which sported dancing couples, and finally located Marley Rose. George and Henry each held a hand, helping her walk. The Austin clan certainly had taken to the little girl. Watching her now, he recalled how her dark eyes had lit with joy this afternoon when she saw him. He surely needed to have his rear end kicked, he mused.

Weaving in and out of hay bales scattered about for seating, he skirted the waltzing twosomes and headed for the refreshment table. He had a sudden urge to wet his whistle.

“Would you look at that.” Luke poked Duel in the ribs.

“Anyone ever tell you your habit of sneaking up on people is irritating as hell?”

“Only complaints come from the ones with a guilty conscience. You got one of those, big brother?”

“Should I, Luke?” The glare he shot his meddling sibling could have set wet kindling ablaze.

“You tell me,” Luke shot back, challenging.

The wise thing to do was change the subject. Duel propped one elbow on a waist-high stack of hay. “What did you want me to look at?”

“Pop.” Luke nodded toward their parent, who was hobbling around the floor with a portly lady friend. “Pretty spry on his feet for an injured old man, ain’t he? Who’s his partner?”

“The widow Jones. She’s harmless.”

“But what about our pop? Think they might be wrinkling the sheets?” Luke made himself comfortable, copying his elder brother’s lazy stance.

“Nah.” Duel swung his attention from the pair and back to Luke. “Thought you’d hightailed it out of here by now, hot on the trail of that lady killer.”

“Wanted to stick around for a few days, rest up, see family. Get my bearings.”

The man’s nonchalance didn’t fool him for one second. Luke was smart as a whip. Sometimes too smart.

“Aren’t you afraid you’ll lose the scent?”

“Shoot, I lost Jessie Foltry’s trail a long time back. By the way, don’t think you ever told me where your wife’s from. How much do you know about her?” Luke eyed the subject in question across the room, talking with a gaggle of females.

Duel plucked a straw from the bale on which he leaned and stuck it in the side of his mouth. “The lady killer? Or my wife?”

“Things don’t change much, do they?” Luke chuckled. “Remember when Pop caught us smoking behind the barn, and you told him we weren’t smoking those grape vines? Said we were pretending to be Indians and was merely testing our smellers so we could track someone who was smoking ’em?”

“What I remember about that incident was Pop setting the seat of our britches on fire.” Duel’s grin vanished as he watched Jessie float by on Hampton Pierson’s arm. Everyone knew the man’s reputation with the ladies. Maybe he should rescue her. The way she laughed at something Pierson said told him she wouldn’t appreciate his help. For some odd reason he felt like punching something.

“You’re a lucky man, brother.” Luke’s gaze followed Jessie as well. “She’s the prettiest woman here.”

His thoughts exactly. The green print hugged her curves, accentuating her tiny waist. That Luke noticed irked him as much as the look of pleasure on Pierson’s face. No man should be paying that much attention to another’s wife. In fact, as far as he was concerned, everyone had gotten more than an eyeful of creamy skin. Damn her low neckline!

“She’s taken, Luke.” Duel made sure he didn’t mistake the warning. “Find your own.”

“One problem. No one here can hold a candle to her.” Luke straightened from his casual pose against the stack of bales. “Since you’re gonna sit here glaring all night, I think it’s my turn to dance with my lovely sister-in-law.”