Big Sky Rancher (18 page)

“I'll take her now.” She stretched out her arms for Susan, but in the way of all flirtatious women, the baby shook her head and wrapped her arms around Lucas's neck. A born seductress, Jennifer thought, and smiled.

“Why don't I carry her upstairs for you?” Lucas rose and awaited Jennifer's answer, watching as she dithered with the idea.

“All right.” The words were soft, barely reaching his ears and he simply hoisted Susan higher on his right arm, reaching for Jennifer with the left.

His shoulder hugged hers, his arm lifting to encircle her, and she was caught in a vise she stood no chance of breaking
free of. On top of that, she apparently would not cause a fuss that might disturb Susan, who reached to touch Jen's cheek with a chubby hand, as if she welcomed her with a baby's innocence into the magic circle Lucas had created of the three of them.

He left the kitchen, Ida looking bemused as she followed their progress, and they went up the steps, slowly so as not to cause Jennifer to trip on the wide stair treads. She kept pace with him, though he thought she stiffened in his grasp as they neared her bedroom. Her words added to his theory as she stopped at the closed door.

“Let me go, Lucas. I'll put Susan down for the night.”

He shook his head. “I'll help you, Jen. She belongs with both of us.”

As if she could not deny the child's arms clutching Lucas's neck, and the look of adoration Susan bent on the man she loved with a baby's trust, Jennifer nodded. “All right. Come on in.”

Opening the door, she led the way into her room. Lucas dropped his arm from her, freeing her to light the candle by the bed. Buster followed, as if it were his right to claim Susan and Jennifer as his responsibility. Darkness was falling and the house was growing quiet. He heard the sounds of men's voices murmuring from the parlor below, and the unmistakable rasping of a man's snores from a room down the hall.

Lucas closed the door and sat on the chair next to the door, settling Susan on his lap. His fingers were deft as he took off her shoes—small, black, patent slippers that the baby obviously was fond of. She grabbed them from his hand and held them against her chest, chortling. Lucas reached higher to pull
off the baby's stockings and then he undid her dress, opening the buttons with care, easing the material over her head.

“You look like an old hand at that,” Jennifer said.

“I've undone a few buttons in my lifetime.”

“I'll just bet you have.” Bending, she picked up the baby and placed her on the bed, locating diapers and a long gown in which to ready her for the night.

“You look pretty competent, yourself,” Lucas told her.

“I am. I've just been worrying about the chances of Kyle getting her back, or maybe dreading the day when we have to send her back to her grandparents or whoever the law says will have the privilege of raising her.”

“Kyle doesn't know where she is, Jen. And don't you think there's any chance we might be given the privilege anyway?”

“She'll need an established family, with a mother and father in a stable marriage.”

“We can have that, Jen.” He awaited her reply, holding his breath, lest she deny him outright.

“Not the way things are right now,” she said sadly. “We aren't even a couple anymore, Lucas.”

“We'll always be a couple. We'll always be married, if I have anything to say about it. And the law gives me that right, Jen. I haven't abused you or denied you a home of your own. I've supported you and provided for you. I don't know what more you want of me.”

“What do you expect of
me?
” He thought he caught a glimpse of dampness on her cheek as she glanced his way, and then she bent once more over the bed, changing the diaper Susan wore.

“I don't expect much, Jen. Just that you'll come home with me and be my wife. I'd sorta like you to use all this newfound knowledge for my benefit.”

“That's exactly what I'm doing.” Her chin had that stubborn set again and as he watched, she wiped quickly at her cheek.

“Me and a dozen other men.” His voice was harsh and he rued it, but too late. There was no taking back the bitterness of his tone.

“Eleven.” She uttered the word calmly, then stood, Susan in her arms. The baby wore a long nightgown, her eyes were droopy and her head dropped to Jennifer's shoulder as if she could no longer hold it erect.

“All right. Eleven other men.” He felt a moment of anger and banished it. Anger would only make things worse. “Put her in bed, Jen.”

She looked at him, as if she waited for his departure. “I'll have to lie down with her. She's used to me singing a song before she goes to sleep.”

“That's easily solved.” Lucas rose and walked to the other side of the bed. “Where will you put her? In the middle?”

Jennifer nodded slowly, as if she wondered at his actions. Pulling down the quilt and top sheet, she placed the baby on the bed, lay beside her and pulled the quilt over them both.

Lucas followed her actions, first removing his boots, then lowering his weight to the bed, stretching out against Susan's back and meeting Jennifer's hand as she enclosed the baby in a loose embrace. “All right?” He asked the question without hope of an answer, but she surprised him.

“Yes. All right.” Her eyes were focused on Susan and he held fast to her hand as she began to sing, a soft lullaby he was familiar with, in a gentle voice he was not used to hearing.

In ten minutes time the song had been sung repeatedly, the baby was asleep and the woman who'd coaxed her into slumber had joined her. Lucas gazed at her. Jennifer was tired, of
that there was no doubt. She'd been spending long days working at a variety of tasks here in this enormous house—cooking, scrubbing on a washboard, hanging and folding clothing for a dozen men, not to mention the everyday work of dishes and sweeping and dusting the furniture.

He knew that Helen was capable, and was no doubt doing her share, but his wife was working herself to a frazzle, and it didn't sit well with him. If she wanted to wear herself out doing the work of a housewife, she could just as well do it in his home, in his kitchen and for
him
exclusively.

Absorbed in his reflections, he did not hear the faint knock at the door. Only when it opened a bit and Ida stood just outside peering in did he rouse enough to lift a hand in warning, waving it at Jennifer and the sleeping child who lay between them.

Ida nodded, smiled in understanding and closed the door. It was the last thing Lucas remembered until he heard the rooster crowing in the chicken coop down the road at a neighbor's home.

Jennifer's eyes were open, startled and reflecting her confusion. Susan squirmed between them and he automatically patted her back, hoping she would return to the dreams that had kept her dozing till now.

“It's morning. And you're in my room.” As announcements went, it was redundant, he thought, but then Jen had barely awakened and could not be expected to sound coherent.

“Yeah, I am,” he drawled. “I spent the night here.”

“That's sneaky.” She cast him a dour look and he laughed.

“I'll let you return the favor whenever you like. My door won't be locked.”

“I don't think so.” Her pout was prominent as she rolled over and rose from the bed, brushing at her dress and then
sighing deeply. “If you'll leave now, I'll change my clothes and get the baby ready for the day.”

He supposed there was no sense in irritating the woman any more than he had to, so he followed her request and got up. Picking up his boots, he went toward the door, opening it just in time to walk into Cole Weston, who was obviously heading for the breakfast table.

“Morning, Miss Jennifer,” he said. “Howdy there, Lucas.” He strolled on and Jennifer's face reddened as if the man had accused her of some terrible deed, Lucas thought. Buster sidled past and followed Cole down the stairway, evidently needing to find the back door.

Lucas frowned, brushing back his unruly hair. “You're my wife, Jen. We're married, we're both fully dressed and I have a right to be here. Don't get upset over this.”

“I left you, Lucas. I moved out of your house and your life. If you hadn't followed me here, I'd still be putting money aside to go back East.”

“And now what are you saving for?” He halted in the doorway, boots held in front of him, his voice harsh.

“I'm not. I'm not saving for anthing, I suppose. Just trying to get my life in order and do what's right for Susan. And for me. Maybe I'm just waiting for you to get tired of me, tired of hanging around.”

Yet, he thought, there was a sense of loneliness about the woman. No matter how irate she sounded, no matter how her eyes flashed with anger, there was a sadness he could not help but see, a sorrowful cast to her features that tore at his heart. How a man could love a woman who cared so little for him was a puzzle he'd yet to solve.

But it was true, he admitted to himself with a sense of won
der. He loved her. He wanted her, and most of all he needed her. Needed the smile she'd offered him as she'd solved the problem of making edible biscuits one day back at the farmhouse. The quick flash of pleasure when he'd touched her, her eyes seeking his with a hidden message he'd cherished, returned to his mind as quickly as it had numerous times before.

Now he stood little chance of keeping her as his own, of taking her home with him, unless he outright kidnapped her and dragged her off. And that he could not bring himself to do.

“I'll see you at the breakfast table.” Closing the door, he crossed the hall and entered his room. The clean clothing in his dresser drawers reminded him again of Jennifer, and he could not chase her memory from his thoughts as he dressed and readied himself for the day.

She was in the dining room when he arrived, carrying bowls of food from the kitchen. Susan babbled from behind the swinging door and he caught a glimpse of the baby, sitting on a chair, banging a small kettle with a wooden spoon.

The men made short work of the bowls of sausage gravy and platters of biscuits and sausage patties, only pausing to offer their thanks when Helen entered the room with bowls of scrambled eggs. The biscuits were replenished with another panful dumped from a flat sheet and the tableful of men devoured them, barely leaving enough for the women.

“We'll make more when y'all have gone upstream to your claims,” Ida told them. “Don't you worry. We always get enough to eat around here.”

Lunch pails were passed out as the men left, goodbyes were called back and forth, and Lucas halted in front of Jennifer as she stood by the back door. “See you at the supper table. Do I have any more newspaper in my sandwiches?”

She blushed and shook her head. “That was mean of me, wasn't it?”

“No. I laughed out loud. It was something only you would think of, sweetheart.”

“Did it ruin the roast beef?”

“Nothing could ruin the food you women feed us.” He looked down at his pail. “What do we have today?”

“Surprise. You'll find out.” She smiled as she added a handful of cookies to the assortment the pail held. “Extra dessert, sir. Just for being nice.”

“Nice? Me?” He bent low and brushed a kiss across her cheek. “Now,
that
was nice. The nicest thing I've been privileged to do in days.”

She stepped back and Ida laughed. “You're a scamp, Luc. But don't think that kind of kissin' is gonna win your bride back. You'll have to do better than that.”

“Not this morning.” Jennifer seemed firm as she responded to that idea.

“No, not this morning,” Lucas agreed. And then he bent low again, whispering words only she could hear. “I'll talk to you about it after supper tonight.”

A
LETTER
from her parents was a cause for rejoicing, Jennifer thought as she stood in the post office and tore open the envelope. Perhaps…but no, the news was not what she had hoped for. And now that she considered the idea, she had no real idea what she had thought to find inside the envelope.

Only Kyle could have told them where she was, and she could only imagine what his devious mind had concocted when he'd decided to reveal her whereabouts. That she'd become a mail-oorder bride was news to her folks, that was certain, for they'd only known that she had left—bereft over the loss of not only her sister, Alma, but also of the babywho had been left to a man who had no notion of how to care for an infant. But they'd cared enough to write a letter, and she read it voraciously.

It was not what she'd expected, this letter announcing their imminent arrival. They planned to bring their grandchild, Susan, back to New York City where they would raise her in their own home. A nanny would be hired, her father said, and his lawyer had already assured him that no court in the land would keep Susan from a home such as her grandparents were willing to provide.

Too bad they hadn't thought of this solution a few months ago when the baby was born, when there had been a chance to rescue her from her father's hands. Jennifer swallowed the
bitternes she felt, standing in middle of a flurry of townsfolk, reading her letter for the second time. Surely she'd misunderstood. Her parents could not be planning on taking Susan from her.

And yet, that seemed to be exactly what the letter stated. According to her father's schedule, they would arrive in two days' time and would be staying for a week. They planned to stay at the hotel, so that Jennifer's
little
home would not be invaded by two more adults to tend to. She winced as she read the description her father had chosen to tack onto the big farmhouse.
Little.
The urge to take them there, to show them the home Lucas had brought her to, burned within her. It was clear they chose not to believe she married well.

But it was of no use and her shoulders slumped at the knowledge. The farmhouse was no longer her home, and if her parents saw her in the boardinghouse with twelve men in residence, they would be dead certain that Susan did not belong there. No matter that the twelve men in question had become attached to the baby over the past weeks and even now vied for her attention at the supper table.

“What's wrong?” Sally Jo stood in front of her and Jennifer looked up into a face filled with concern, a tenderness apparent she'd not thought to find in the woman.

“My parents want to come and take the baby back East with them. In fact, they'll be here day after tomorrow.” Her voice was trembling, her hands shaking, as she held the letter, and she thought she might sit right down on the floor and cry if Sally Jo offered one word of sympathy.

It was not to be. “Then move yourself and the baby back out to Lucas's place and set up residence there. Susan will have a ready-made family and your folks won't have a leg to
stand on.” Sally Jo planted herself firmly, hands on her hips and chin elevated, as if she would take on the world should Jennifer need her help in that regard.

“I've already told Lucas I won't go home with him.”

“Then un-tell him. Just say you've changed your mind.

He'll have you out of there quicker than you can blink.”

“I can't do that. It would be like deceiving him, moving back just so my folks won't take the baby.”

“And you think he'll care?” Sally Jo laughed. “He'll be tickled pink, woman.”

A glimmer of hope was born in Jennifer's breast as she considered the idea. “Maybe I could…” She shook her head. “No, I wouldn't dare.”

“I'll bet you could,” Sally Jo told her, smiling. “And I suspect you'd dare do most anything to keep things on an even keel for Susan.”

“You've got that right.” Her tears were dry, her hands had ceased trembling and Jennifer folded the letter and placed it back in the envelope. “I'll see you later.”

As she left the post office, she glanced back to see an encouraging smile lighting the other woman's face.

Her feet flew as she traveled back to the big house and her plans were already half formed as she pitched in to help with supper preparations. Helen had the baby tucked in for a nap in the parlor.

“You're cookin' something up, girl. I can tell by the look on your face.” Ida stood at the stove and turned pork chops in a pan of bubbling lard. Breaded with eggs and then dipped into bread crumbs, they were brown and sizzling as she placed them in a pan, ready for the oven. A whole pork loin
had been cut up for the meal, with over thirty chops nestled side by side.

“They get two apiece,” Ida said. “What with vegetables and potatoes and all the rest, I think they'll survive on that.”

“I'd hope so.” Helen was rolling out pie crusts for the four big pans in front of her. “I think pumpkin will be the easiest to make, don't you, Ida?”

“Whatever you want.” And with that, Helen nodded and turned to open jars of pumpkin, canned late last autumn. Adding milk and eggs and seasonings, she dipped into the sugar bin and then began to stir. “I make kind of a custard filling, lots of eggs and milk in it.”

“Must be sorta like mine.” Ida tossed the other woman a glance. “We work at this from the same direction, Helen. I noticed that right off.”

“Only one way I know of to keep menfolk well fed and happy.” The crusts were rolled and placed in the pans, the edges crimped to her satisfaction and then Helen poured the filling into the waiting crusts. Jennifer opened the oven door and watched as the bottom shelf was filled with the dessert.

“Leave me enough room for the pork chops.” Ida staked her claim and Helen grinned.

“You've got the whole top shelf. If that isn't enough you'll have to wait till the pies are done.”

“That's plenty of room. We'll have mashed potatoes and gravy. No need to use the oven for vegetables, either. I've got jars of corn and some succotash we can mix with it. Those men like corn better than limas anyway. Jennifer made applesauce this morning. So I think we're all set.”

They made it sound so simple. Jennifer was almost overwhelmed by the quick repartee the two older women con
ducted, feeling young and ignorant. And yet she knew she was “coming along right well,” as Ida had said on several occasions.

Bathing and dressing Susan took up Jennifer's time before supper, and she scooted up to the table as the other two women put on the final platters of food. A chair sat empty beside Lucas and Jennifer looked up to find Helen motioning at the seat.

“I think she wants you to sit by me.” Lucas had bent close to whisper the words and Jennifer nodded her agreement. It went along nicely with her own plans, she decided, and smiled as she thought how nicely Helen had helped to fit things together.

Susan ate with gusto, devouring potatoes and pointing at the applesauce bowl each time it passed by, until Jennifer thought the baby would surely burst. Drinking her milk from a glass was a fairly new accomplishment and Susan made bubbles to her heart's content, happy with the laughter of the men who watched her performance.

“Makes me think of my little sister,” Toby said wistfully. “Sure miss having my family around.” He looked the length of the long table. “This is almost as good as being back home.” His blush made him seem young and innocent, Jennifer thought, but the look the man cast in Helen's direction smacked of a male creature on the prowl.

“We'll tend to the dishes,” Ida said once the meal was over. “Why don't you men carry your plates to the kitchen for us?”

They joined in willingly, two of them offering to dry the plates and silverware. Helen accepted that offer, shooting a shy smile in Toby's direction, his having been the first voice heard.

Susan's afternoon nap had lasted longer than usual, so now she seemed ready to play. Jennifer took her to their room and sat on the floor with her, building stacks as high as possible
with the empty spools Ida had contributed for the baby's pleasure. Four or five were quite enough, Susan decided, knocking the pile over, then squealing with delight as Jennifer feigned disapproval and scooped the spools toward herself. Then they started all over again.

After a few minutes Lucas came upstairs and watched the game from the doorway. Then he walked across the floor to where Jennifer sat with the baby, then sat in front of her, so Susan could crawl back and forth between her favorite people.

For almost an hour they played, singing songs when the spools became tiresome. Then Jennifer formed her fingers, and Susan's, too, into shapes that went along with short poems and songs she'd learned as a child. She gave her complete attention to the baby, reveling in the giggles, the laughter and the kisses she stole from the soft little mouth.

“You're a good mother.” Lucas looked at her with a tender expression that touched her deep inside. His hands were gentle as he held the baby, his fingers teasing as he tickled the bottom of her foot, her shoes and stockings having long since been removed.

“I'm not her mother, though. I wish I were. Perhaps some day I'll—”

“If I have anything to do with it, you'll have babies of your own, Jen. We'll have a big family. And the best part of it is that we can easily afford it. My claim is showing good results. Even with Sandy as a partner, I'm adding to my bank account every week.”

“I never wanted your money, Lucas.” Her voice was solemn.

“I know that. But I want you to know that I'm planning on giving you a good life, Jen. Maybe not now, since you're so dead set on staying here, but one day.”

She glanced out the window to where the sun had set, leaving only a pale pink cast in the western sky. “It's time to get Susan ready for bed.”

“Changing the subject?” He grinned at her and got to his feet. “I can take a hint, sweetheart. I'm leaving.”

 

S
HE WAITED
until the parade of men had passed her door, until it was fully dark outside and Susan was sound asleep in the middle of the big bed. Her nightgown was all-concealing, her feet bare, her hair hanging down to her waist, brushed and wavy. And her hands were trembling.

She opened her bedroom door and closed it behind herself. Should Susan awake, which was very unlikely, she couldn't escape the room, given the presence of the large watchdog who never strayed far from the baby's side. And besides, Jennifer would hear her should the baby fall from the bed and head for the door.

The hallway seemed wider than before as she crossed the runner Ida kept to muffle footsteps there. And Lucas's door was closed. But not locked, he'd said.

She turned the handle and pushed the door open a bit, looking in to find him lying in bed, turned from her, facing the window. She thought he stirred and she hesitated, then went into the room and closed the door.

In less than a second, Lucas was facing her, a gun in his hand. Jennifer stifled a cry, lifting a hand to her mouth, lest she be heard. At that Lucas dropped the pistol beside him.

“Don't ever sneak up on me,” he said harshly.

“I didn't know you slept with a gun.” She approached him, watching as he took the weapon and deposited it on the floor by the bed.

“Most men do,” he said. “And for good reason. You never know who'll be after your claim, especially when it's as rich as mine.” The moonlight through the window illuminated him a bit, enough to tell that he was unclothed above the waist. And she'd be willing to bet that he wore nothing beneath the sheet, either.

Perhaps this had been a bad idea. And at that thought, she moved to the door.

“Where are you going, Jen? Lost your nerve?”

She thought amusement touched his tone and she turned to him. “No. I never had much nerve to begin with, Lucas. I wanted to talk to you.”

“Talk? Then come on over and sit down.” He patted the bed beside himself and waited.

She complied, because she didn't know what else to do. She'd been caught in a lie and made to look a fool in front of him.

But his next words belied that idea. “I've been hoping you'd come to see me. I didn't want to waken Susan, or I'd have crossed the hall myself.” He touched her arm, then reached for her hand, tugging her closer. “Come on, sweetheart. Lie down with me. I promise not to—”

His words halted as if he would not speak an untruth to her and she almost laughed. “You promise not to what? Make love to me? Keep me here all night?” She bent closer to him, touching his forehead with her lips for a moment. “What, Lucas? What will you do with me?”

“You know what I'd like to do, Jen. But I won't. I won't give you the chance to point a finger at me in the morning and accuse me of forcing you into something against your will.”

“What will you do, then?” She kissed him again and felt the control he exerted over his body, his hand tightening on hers, his body rigid beside her hip.

“Lie down here and I'll show you.” He waited then and she lifted her feet to the bed, lying beside him, her head on the pillow. He pulled her closer, his arm around her waist, his hand tucked against her ribs, and she thought she might cease breathing.

He was so careful as he gentled her, his hand turning her toward him, his mouth touching hers with soft kisses that seduced her even as he held her apart from his body.

She shifted and he held her. “Lie still.” It was a command, and she followed it, uncertain now what she should do. “I'm not going to make love to you,” he said. “I only want to hold you.” And then he laughed, a rough, growling sound that seemed to come from his depths. “No, that's a lie,” he said.

His tone deepened and his voice softened. “I want to do much more than that. But first I want to prove to you that there's more to marriage than making love. I want you to know that I need more from you than the joining of our bodies, though that appeals to me in a mighty way, sweetheart. I want you to know that my need for you will last through out the days of your child-bearing, including your lying-in time, when I have to leave you in peace no matter how great my desire for you.