Come the Spring (34 page)

“I love you too,” she whispered. Until forever.

Thirty-One
 

She had seduced him. Jessica stood by the water's edge and let the truth sink in. The acknowledgment was promptly followed by another truth just as shocking. She wasn't sorry. For the rest of her life she would have the memory of his touch and his loving words to cherish and hold dear. It would have to be enough.

He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her shoulder.

He knew something was wrong the minute he touched her, for he felt her stiffen against him.

“Tell me what's wrong.”

“It's morning. That's what's wrong.”

“No, you're supposed to say,
good
morning, not,
it's
morning,” he explained as he turned her in his arms.

She avoided his mouth when he tried to kiss her.

“All right, Jessie. What's this all about?”

“Last night …”

When she didn't continue, he tilted her face up
toward him so he could gauge her mood. She was clearly upset, and he thought he knew why.

“You're regretting what happened, aren't you?”

She vehemently shook her head. “No, I meant what I said last night. I'll never have regrets.”

He jerked her up against him and tried to kiss her again, but she turned her head away, and he ended up kissing her ear.

“Please don't make this any more difficult than it already is,” she pleaded. “We had last night.”

“We have forever.”

She stared at his collarbone and tried to stay determined in her decision. “We should leave now. We'll miss the train if we don't hurry.”

He didn't move. He simply stood there, holding her, while he patiently waited for her to look up at him again. “We aren't going anywhere until you tell me what's going on inside that head of yours.”

“We had last night, Cole, but now we have to … move on.”

It finally dawned on him what was happening. “You don't believe I meant any of the things I said to you last night, do you? That's what this is all about. You think I told you I loved you so you'd let me touch you.”

“I wanted you, and you wanted me. It was a mutual decision.”

“Yes, it was.”

“And I have no regrets. I don't expect a commitment from you, and I'm not giving you one.”

He couldn't believe what he was hearing. “Are you telling me you don't want any strings?”

“Yes.”

“Son of a—”

She turned away and ran to the horses. Cole followed her, grabbed her from behind, and lifted her into the saddle.

He noticed her grimace and asked, “Are you going to be all right riding today?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Jessie, I know I hurt you last night.”

“But I'm fine now.”

Her blush took some of his anger away. She was so sweet and loving and exasperating. His hand rested on her thigh. “Will you please look at me?”

She slowly lifted her gaze. The tenderness in his eyes tested her determination. She wanted to throw herself into his arms and never let go.

“Yes?” she asked quietly.

“Do you love me?”

He squeezed her thigh until she finally answered him. “I won't lie to you, Cole. Yes, I do love you, but—”

He cut her off. “How many other men have you told you loved them?”

“I haven't told any other man that I love him.”

He grinned. “Good. That's all I wanted to know.”

There was a definite swagger in his gait as he walked away. She watched him swing up into his saddle. He took the reins, rode to her side, and then, before she could ward him off, his hand was behind her neck and he was pulling her toward him. His mouth took absolute possession, his tongue thrust inside, and he kissed her passionately.

When he finally lifted his head and saw the bemused look in her eyes, he nodded with satisfaction. “Listen to me, woman. That's how I want to be kissed every morning. I want a whole lot more than that, but we'll start with a kiss.”

“For how long, Cole?”

She didn't realize she'd spoken the thought aloud until he answered her.

“For the rest of our lives, and yours is going to be real short if you keep having such crazy thoughts.”

“You can't possibly know what I'm thinking.”

“Sure I can,” he boasted. “It's like looking in a mirror.” He shook his head in self-deprecation. “My brother Adam used to tell me I'd get it all back.”

“Get what back?”

“My attitude,” he answered. “I'm the one who never wanted any strings, and it's galling to know you feel the same way.”

“I do feel that way,” she cried out.

“All you're doing is striking first.”

“And what does that mean?”

“You're so certain I'll leave you, you're taking action first and leaving me. Isn't that right?”

He wouldn't give her time to answer, but plunged ahead. “Well, I've got news for you, baby. That isn't going to happen. I'm not going anywhere, and neither are you. I meant what I said. It's forever, Jessie, and I seem to recall you gave me the same promise.”

She didn't believe she could be any more miserable than she was at this very moment. Memory served her well, and she knew that even the most fervent promises were empty. He loved her now, yes, but in time he would change his mind.

“I don't want you to stay with me because of what happened. I asked you for one single night, and you gave me that.”

“Are you going to thank me now?”

His tone suggested she not comply. “It's time to go.”

“You're trying my patience,” he whispered.

He didn't say another word to her for almost an hour. He kept looking back over his shoulder to make sure she was all right, and she noticed that his expression grew more hostile with each glance.

She knew she had hurt him, but it was for the best to end it now. She told herself she was simply protecting herself and her son, because if she opened her
heart to him, she would be giving him the power to destroy her. She couldn't take that chance. Yet, thinking about life without him made her miserable, and she didn't know what to do to stop the ache. She hated being afraid, and loving Cole terrified her because it meant she would have to trust him.

Why, oh, why, hadn't she considered all the ramifications before she attacked the man? Because, she wanted to know what it felt like to be loved. Dear God, what had she done?

“Jessie, we did it all wrong.”

She stared at his back, her heart already shattering, while she waited for him to tell her he had finally come to his senses.

He didn't turn around as he explained, but took the lead down the last slope that led into the town where they would catch the train.

“We had our wedding night before our wedding. We just did it backwards, that's all. If there's time, we'll fix that when we get to town.”

“How do you plan to do that?”

“Find a preacher.”

Her mouth dropped open. “I'm not marrying you.”

“I'm not asking.”

“Good, because I…”

“I'm telling you we're getting married. You made that decision when you gave yourself to me last night.”

He let her hear the anger in his voice, but he was careful not to let her know how worried he was. If he hadn't known better, he would have thought he was scared. Loving her shook him to the core, and he didn't know how to make her understand that his love was real … and forever.

“Caleb…”

“I'll be a good father.”

“I won't subject him to heartache. He'll become attached to you, and then …” She didn't go on
because of the scathing look he shot her over his shoulder.

“There's something I think you'd better know about me.”

“What's that?” she asked.

“I always win.”

Thirty-Two
 

Of the one hundred twenty-three passengers on the train headed south, only one person happened to be looking out the window at the precise second that Marshal Cooper was thrown over the trestle into the water, but one passenger was quite enough. Mildred Sparrow, a spry woman of advanced years and a sedentary disposition, was seated on a hard wooden bench in the rear car with her husband, George, at her side. He was slumped against her, sound asleep, and was using her shoulder as a pillow. Mildred was quietly admiring the lovely view one second and screaming like a madwoman the next. She was so distraught she could barely tell her husband what she had just witnessed. George didn't believe her. Insisting she'd dozed off and imagined that a man was hurled to his death, he opened the window and stuck his head out to have a look himself.

He didn't see anything. Mildred wouldn't be hushed, though. She caused quite a scene, and the only way the porter could get her to stop screaming
was to promise to stop the train and investigate. He too believed that Mildred had let her imagination run away with her.

The train came to a screeching halt about a quarter of a mile from the nearest town. The conductor led the curious across the dry, barren land to a hill overlooking the lake. More than twenty men and women were in his entourage, and all of them doubting Thomases. More would have ventured out if they hadn't been afraid of the possibility of stepping on a rattlesnake.

The conductor was out of breath by the time he reached the top of the hill. He looked down, let out a startled gasp, and whispered, “Dear God, it's true.”

The group stood with their heads bowed in silent prayer as they watched a fisherman drag a body out of the lake.

Black Creek Junction was a quiet little town in the middle of an isolated and desolate stretch of land. There wasn't a tree or a bush or a flower for as far as the eye could see. The sunsets were the town's only vanity. Each day as the sun descended, orange shards of light struck the red clay soil and the western sky exploded in color, giving the appreciative audience the illusion that the horizon was on fire. Those who stood in the town square swore that they could see flames dancing across the land. It was a spectacular sight, made even more magical when old man Towers felt up to playing his fiddle. The townspeople told newcomers that they had actually seen flickering flames keeping time to the fiddler's tunes.

Grace was transfixed by the magnificent sunset and was watching the phenomenon from the train.

Though reluctant to pull her away from the window, Daniel had to be practical. “We only have an hour to eat and stretch our legs,” he reminded her.

The mention of food reminded her how hungry she
was. She put on her gloves and her hat and followed him down the corridor.

“Do you wear your gloves everywhere you go?” he asked.

“A lady must always wear her gloves in public.”

He smiled as he shook his head. She was so very proper all the time, ridiculously so, and sweet … Lord, but she was sweet. He wondered how proper she'd be in bed. The second the thought popped into his head, he pushed it aside.

“Do you think you'll be able to eat a little something?” she asked. “Has your stomach settled down?”

“Quit fussing over me. I'm fine.”

Dinner was being served inside a two-story way station on the outskirts of town, about half a block from the depot. Daniel hadn't even stepped off the train when he was summoned.

“Marshal Ryan?”

He turned and saw a heavyset, bowlegged man running toward him. “Yes?” he said as he put his arm across the opening so Grace would have to stay inside the train.

“I thought that was you, being so tall and all. The porter gave me a good description of you. My name's Owen Wheeler, and I'm the sheriff in this here town. Folks who know me good call me by my nickname, Bobcat. You can too if you want,” he added as he shook Daniel's hand. “It's a right pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“What can I do for you, Sheriff?”

Bobcat spotted Grace behind Daniel, tipped the brim of his hat, and said, “Howdy, ma'am.”