Eight

“‘Sweet Dreams, Jessie.’ Now, couldn’t I have said something a little more meaningful?”

Though the workings in a female head could be as easy to read as fresh trail in a buffalo stampede, he got the impression he’d disappointed Jessie. It wasn’t a feeling he liked.

Preacher nickered gently and stuck his head over the stall, curiously watching Duel spread fresh hay in the south corner of the barn. A lantern illuminated the structure, casting a soft glow over the interior. The damp chill in the air promised the need of a fire.

“I know. A man don’t need his horse telling him he’s an utter fool.”

After he’d made a cozy place to sleep, he unrolled his bedding and got a wool blanket for cover.

“Fine thing for a man on his wedding night.”

The horse nodded his head as though in agreement. “But I have good reason. If you’d seen Jessie’s face, you’d understand. For God’s sake, the woman nearly crawls out of her skin every time I walk into the room.”

Not that he expected anything different.

“We’re not really married, you know,” he continued to the watchful animal. “Not in the regular way. She’s in need of a roof over her head and a reason to live. Reckon I can provide the roof, but not sure about the other part. Maybe in time.”

Preacher pawed the ground. The ruckus brought the sorrel to life, causing the mare to neigh loudly. Then the goat began a chorus of blehs.

“Aunt Bessie’s garter! I may as well be sleeping in Noah’s ark. See what you’ve done? You should be ashamed of yourself.”

Preacher eyed him dolefully.

Duel sat down on the straw. “That’s better. Let a man get some rest.”

He lowered the wick in the lantern beside him, casting the room in darkness. Instantly, the noisy animals calmed. He stretched his length onto the pallet, letting out a loud sigh.

There might come a day when he would move into the house. Not into Jessie’s bed, but perhaps on the floor. Sharing the same bed would never happen, he reminded himself. Anyway, he was more partial to the hard ground and fresh air.

Then he had to consider Jessie’s distrust of men. Hell, that even took into account the one she’d married today. There for a moment she’d almost bolted from the church. The panic in her eyes had made Duel wonder if they’d been like that when Jeremiah Foltry stuck the hot brand to her.

Damn! His duty now was to protect Jessie from the hangman’s noose. It was the least he could do for the woman who could sing like an angel and loved a helpless little girl more than life itself.

His first order of business was taking Cinnabar to her new owner. By all that’s holy, he hated asking Jessie to give up the horse that meant the world to her. It represented one more thing she would lose. Double damn!

Though the day’s events had taken their toll, he couldn’t sleep. The strange surroundings took the blame. No moon or stars overhead. No crackling fire to disturb the quiet. No auburn-haired woman with blue eyes softly breathing nearby.

Without raising the wick on the lantern, he wandered to the door. Thin, wispy clouds cast shadows across the full moon. Light fog created a haze in the valley, adding a ghostly appearance. And lending to the haunting ambiance of the night, an owl hooted overhead in the branches of the oak tree.

Movement in the house suddenly caught his attention. Lamplight in the room outlined a feminine profile. Jessie couldn’t sleep either. He wondered if she worried, if she felt safe.

Thank goodness he’d gotten the name business straightened out. A wife didn’t go around calling her husband “mister.” Only now he found himself in a fine kettle of fish. He was stuck with addressing her as Jessie. Somehow “ma’am” seemed safer.

What possessed him to kiss her fingertips? Not a brilliant thing to do under the circumstances. Yet it had seemed natural. The intimate holding of her long, delicate fingers had caught him unprepared. He could still taste her skin—fresh morning dew on a honeysuckle vine.

Just then, Jessie turned. Although he knew the darkness shielded him, he moved farther into the shadows. Her piercing stare out the window unnerved him. As if she could see inside his soul and found him wanting.

Lord knows he hadn’t told a lie—she, Marley Rose, and he were broken people, but somehow together they worked.

Neither the hazy night nor the space between them could dim the brightness of Jessie’s gaze through the window. If he breathed deeply enough he could almost smell the faint feminine fragrance that swirled around her. Without meaning to, he closed his eyes and inhaled.

What he was thinking could most certainly complicate his life. A man in his situation needed fortitude.

Duel straightened. Perhaps he’d just try to think of her as his sister. Yeah, that might work. A sister. If only he could remember to remind himself.

* * *

“I pray you’ll find a good home, Cinnabar.” Jessie tried to remain brave as she stroked the sorrel’s neck for the last time. Yet, it pained her most to realize Cinnabar would pay the ultimate price for what she’d done. She’d been there for the mare’s birthing and there when ranch hands had ridden her for the first time. The branding part had been the only event in the horse’s life she’d missed.

“I love you…” Her voice broke. She buried her face in the rich coat, away from Duel.

The gentle hand on her shoulder again came unexpectedly.

“I’m truly sorry…Jessie. Wish it didn’t have to be this way.” Duel squeezed her shoulder lightly.

The warmth and compassion that encircled her now served as a springboard for her hate. Jeremiah’d stolen her trust, he’d rendered her incapable of bearing children, and he’d taken away something wondrous—her ability to be a wife to her new husband. She’d give anything to throw herself into Duel’s protective arms, relax in his embrace, and not be afraid.

“Come now.” He eased her gently aside. “It’s time to go. Don’t worry, I’ll threaten the man with his life if he ever treats Cinnabar with anything other than kindness.”

She felt overwhelming gratitude. The new owner would have no choice but to treat the mare well after Duel got done with him.

A tremulous sigh escaped her. Then she remembered something. The gun. She reached into the saddlebag.

“Might as well dispose of this, too, while you’re at it. Don’t think I need it anymore.”

His amber gaze met and held hers for a long, breath-stealing moment. Then, without a word he tucked it into his waist.

Marley Rose gurgled happily in the crook of Duel’s arm. Jessie reached for her.

“Pa pa pa pa.”

“Papa has to go, sweetheart.” She avoided Duel’s scowl by pretending to wipe a smudge from the child’s face. It wouldn’t hurt to encourage her. The man would have to be crazy to resist the girl’s love for long.

“I told you. She’ll call me Duel. I’m not her papa. Don’t put ideas in the child’s head.” He mounted Preacher, then reached for Cinnabar’s reins.

“I’m afraid she’ll call you whatever she wants, no matter what you or I say.”

At her gentle rebuke, his tone softened. “That may be, but it’ll be best to keep telling her otherwise. In time she’ll understand.”

Duel turned the mustang toward town. “Be back soon. I’ll pick up seed while I’m there. I figure to start clearing the field today.”

Jessie watched them trot to the bend in the road. “Good-bye, faithful friend.”

The hurt in her chest didn’t ease after they disappeared from view. She doubted it would anytime soon.

“We’ve got work to do, young lady.”

Marley crawled on the kitchen floor while Jessie washed and dried the breakfast dishes. A pleasant little thing, the child barely made a peep unless she was hungry. Jessie glanced at the baby from time to time to make sure she wasn’t trying to stick anything inappropriate in her mouth. Once she discovered Marley pulling up to a chair and standing. Jessie handed her a big wooden spoon. Marley released her hold and stood on her own, playing with the spoon.

“You’re such a good girl. Walk to me. You can do it, baby.” Jessie held out her hand. “Come to Mama.”

Big, dark eyes looked up. Marley’s chubby legs wobbled unsteadily as she tried to move them. Insecurity suddenly overcame her, and the child dropped to sit on the floor.

“That’s all right, darlin’. No rush. You’ll do it when you’re good and ready.” She stooped to kiss the top of her head. “Your papa will be so proud of you.”

“Pa pa pa pa.”

A noise outside aroused her curiosity. Had Duel returned so soon? A quick glance out the window made her yank off her apron and smooth back a few errant tendrils. Her new sister-in-law had picked today to come visit.

“Come in, Vicky.” She hid her clenched hands behind her back. “I’m afraid your brother’s gone into town.”

Vicky smiled broadly. “Good. Didn’t come to see him anyway.”

“Will you have a seat?” She hadn’t expected company. Thank goodness she’d cleaned and dusted some more.

The woman offered a blue piece of crockery. “I brought some sourdough starter.”

“You think of everything.” Vicky had a good heart, even if she was a little on the strong-minded side. Her kindness touched Jessie, reminded her of all she missed in the ways of family. “Now I can bake that bread I wanted. Thank you so much.”

“Don’t mention it. I promised Duel I’d bring over some of the twins’ baby things.” Vicky took a box she’d been balancing on a hip from under her arm. Clothing items, various and sundry, overflowed from it. Once Jessie relieved her of the burden, she curiously looked around. “Where’s my cute little niece?”

Just then Marley crawled from the kitchen, no doubt lured by the sound of voices. Vicky lifted her for a hug.

“She’s so precious. Her dark-brown eyes make me think of melted chocolate. Makes me want another baby, but Roy says he hopes the good Lord gives us a little more time before He blesses us again. What about you?”

“Me?” The word seemed no more than a croak. Suddenly the room became stuffy. Perspiration dampened her bodice.

“You and Duel. I know it’s kinda soon, but are you planning on having children?”

Jessie was grateful for Vicky’s preoccupation with Marley Rose. By the time Vicky glanced her way again, she had a smile firmly in place.

“I suppose…like you said, it’s early yet.” She began sorting through the items Vicky had brought. “You’re so thoughtful to give these to Marley.”

“Shoot, they weren’t doing anyone any good stuck in the attic. Now were they, Sweetie Pie?” The woman cooed to Marley, who was fascinated by bonnet ribbons. “Auntie Vicky is glad she can put them to good use.”

“Would you like a cup of tea or something to eat? I made some johnnycake for breakfast. Duel didn’t eat before he left.” He’d only come in for a cup of coffee. And though he’d played with Marley, he appeared uncomfortable in his own house. She suspected he was in a hurry to get back outdoors, and he had Cinnabar to dispose of. A sad melancholy fell over her.

“Thank you, but I wouldn’t care for anything. Jessie?” Vicky’s soft entreaty lifted Jessie’s attention from the cracks in the hardwood floor.

“I won’t even pretend to imagine myself in your shoes,” the woman went on. “Married to a man you hardly know. The good Lord can verify that my bullheaded brother is not the easiest person to live with. He can sure try your patience.”

Vicky paused as if collecting her thoughts. Jessie kept silent and waited.

“What I’m trying to say is welcome to the family. All of us are tickled to death. When Duel buried Annie and their son, we worried ourselves sick. We didn’t think the day would ever come when, for whatever reason, he’d marry again.” Vicky rose and put her arm around her. “Like Papa said, ‘From our lips to God’s ear.’ No matter what, Jessie, you fit into our family.”

“Thank you, Vicky.” Tears threatened to fall. These people knew nothing about her, yet they opened their arms and hearts to her. “Your acceptance means everything to me.”

How would they treat her when they discovered the truth? She shuddered to think.

“I want to throw a celebration party for you and Duel. A welcome home sort of thing for Duel and a chance for you to get acquainted with the townsfolk.”

A party? Panic swept through Jessie.

“I don’t think Duel—”

Vicky didn’t let her finish. “Saint Paddy’s Day is next week, and that would be perfect.”

“Shouldn’t you ask him first?” Jessie managed weakly.

“Pooh on him. He’d only throw a wet blanket on it.”

“I don’t have anything suitable to wear.” Jessie groped lamely for excuses. A wet blanket wasn’t all she suspected Duel would throw. She hadn’t known her new husband long, but he didn’t appear the social kind…or one who’d cotton to unwelcome surprises.

“You’re about Annie’s size. Her clothes are still here. If they don’t quite fit, you could alter them.”

“I couldn’t. It wouldn’t be right to desecrate her memory. Besides, Duel hasn’t given me leave to wear them. The loss is still very painful for him.”

“He probably hasn’t gotten around to it.” Vicky waved her arm, dismissing her brother’s lack of good grace. “You know menfolk. If it doesn’t have anything to do with a horse, food, or whiskey, nothing else crosses their mind.”

“The party’s a nice gesture, but we really couldn’t. Not now. Maybe later on when we get settled in.”

For all the attention Vicky paid, Jessie wondered if she had a hearing problem. “No better time than the present. You need to meet the people you’ll be living amongst. I won’t take no for an answer.”

She had to give Vicky one thing—persistence. One by one, the woman had steamrolled all of her pleas. Doom lurched in the pit of Jessie’s stomach.

“Next Saturday at our place,” Vicky said with a decisive nod. “We’ll have a barn dance.”