Crossings (31 page)

Holding a woman and enjoying her feel, smell, and breath on his neck without needing passion was the beginning of love. And no man was ever cured of love once he discovered its hidden riches.

14

H
elena decided she was going to start thinking of Carrigan by his given name, Jake. The name Carrigan was nothing more than a front to a man who was no longer someone she thought of as a recluse with a hefty Colt that kept people at bay. Jake's character came from within and wasn't cut of stone. He had many sides to him. There were still some elements of the Carrigan she'd first met—the man with a pensive side who was, more often than not, silent and brooding. Yet she had seen that he felt pain, laughter, joy . . . love. That was Jake.

He had loved his first wife. That much was very evident when he spoke about her. Oddly, Helena didn't feel cheated that he'd been married before. Nor was she angry at him anymore for not coming home and scaring her half to death. She felt saddened he'd had to lose Jenny in such a horrible way. The circumstances surrounding the people they'd once loved were tragic, and it was those knowing feelings that had them holding each other for unchecked minutes after he'd finished telling her why he'd come to the
mountain. Never more than then had she felt so right in a man's arms. Not even with Kurt had she sensed such a profound closeness. Was it unfair of her to feel this different kind of kinship with Jake? She didn't want to do anything to lessen the joys of her magical first love.

Love. The irresistible impulse toward it after the night she and Jake had spent at the lake had seized on her suddenly and without warning. She had to remind herself this was no charming romance in which picnics, poems, and presents were the order of the day. Love could not endure indifference. She had to stop herself before she magnified her emotions into a vast deal of nonsense and no sound common sense.

It was just as well when they left the mountain together, with Obsi sprinting every which way, there was no more touching. Not even a joining of hands.

“I found out the fire in town was started by the Paiutes,” she told Jake while minding her steps. “Mr. Brown, the Indian agent, is going to call in troops from Carson City.”

“You shouldn't go far from the station, then,” Jake said as he bent a branch back to let her pass. “No more coming to my cabin.”

She wondered if that meant he'd be frequenting his former residence more often. Though she didn't question him.

“If you have to go anywhere in town, take me or Eliazer with you.”

The name of her stock tender brought forth a recollection. “I'm going to talk to Eliazer.” Helena lifted her skirt and petticoat a notch higher so the hems wouldn't bead with rainwater from a cluster of violets. “I want to make him understand that you had nothing to do with the horses being let out. I don't want any animosity in the house when there's no reason for it.”

They reached the general store and entered through the front doors.

“I've got fences to finish repairing,” Jake said, and continued on with Obsi trailing after him.

While Helena walked between the aisles, Emilie glanced up from the female customer she'd been waiting on and gave Jake an accusatory stare. Another person Helena was going to have a talk with. Emilie would have to accept that the land their father bought them was gone, and it wasn't Jake's fault that it was. Helena had traded it to him without any pressure. She could have said no. Emilie needed to believe that Helena would get them a better parcel when they got back on their feet.

“Eliazer was looking for you,” Emilie mentioned. “It's time to saddle a horse for the morning rider. It's Thomas McAllister, you know,” she added with a smile she couldn't keep back.

Helena knew, but hadn't a moment to ponder how to handle the budding romance between her sister and Thomas. No sooner was Helena outside than the morning and afternoon were taken by the demands of the Express station. She found a few minutes to slip away and offer the victims of the fire free mail service for as long as they needed it. That was all she could do for now. Had she the money to spare, she would have donated some to the fund. But even without her currency in the pot, both Mr. Lewis and Mr. Wyatt had seemed genuinely impressed. They'd been among the group of men standing in front of the damaged buildings assessing the repairs and talking about the cost of lumber to rebuild.

Just as long, cigar-shaped clouds formed off the eastern slopes of the Sierras, forecasting dust devils, Helena took shelter in the stable and set up the candle-making equipment for beeswax dipping tomorrow. With no one else in the building, she lit a lamp and hung the wire handle on a nail above her head. She went to work by laying out the plaited cotton wicks and sorting through the strong stems of cattails she used as molds.

One of the double doors pushed in, and Helena turned to see Emilie approaching. Her sister's smile hadn't faded since Thomas's speedy departure some hours before. She held a fancy, printed circular in her hand. Helena knew what it was and went back to measuring lengths of wicks.

“Is supper almost ready?” Helena asked as Emilie drew up to her side.

“Uh-huh.” Emilie knit her slender fingers behind her back and watched with a forced interest that Helena was able to note without much trying. “I closed the store a little early. With the wind picking up the way it is, I didn't have a single customer the past half hour. I don't understand it. People won't come out in the wind, but they will on the first day of the week. Last Sunday we sold over two hundred dollars worth for cash. I don't like doing business on the Lord's time, and it seems sacrilegious we do so well on a day intended for church reflection.”

“Tending store on Sunday doesn't mean you can't conduct yourself in a Christian way.”

“Hmm.” Casual as could be, Emilie asked, “Are you going to make candles now? It's rather late in the day to start.”

“I'm dipping them tomorrow.”

“Oh.” The paper in Emilie's hand ruffled.

Helena didn't say a word about it. “I'm glad you came in, Emilie. I wanted to make you understand why I gave Jake the land.”

Emilie's face pinched.

“It was only fair I compensate him with the parcel to seal our bargain. He didn't force me into giving it to him. I was backed into a corner to get married because of the town's refusal to give us service. Two unmarried sisters couldn't have operated this station without being shut down. One of us needed a husband.”

“I could have married Thomas,” Emilie said quietly.

Helena gazed at her sister. “You're only sixteen.”

“Mother was sixteen when she married Father.”

Unable to dispute that, Helena made no comment. “I just don't want you to dislike Jake.”

“Why not? You don't like him.”

Helena was shocked. “Wherever would you get an idea like that?”

“Because you don't share a bedroom with him. You don't love him, Lena. You can't pretend you're happy. Is he going to stay in Father's room forever?”

Helena bit her lip. That was a difficult subject, but one about which Emilie would know the truth sooner or later. “No. I told him he only has to stay for six months. After that, he's free to go.”

“And you'll still be his wife even though you don't live together?”

“Yes. If I run into any trouble, he'll come help us.”

Emilie's eyes saddened. “It doesn't make any sense, Lena, to live your life with no happiness.”

“I'm fine.”

Parchment stirred and Emilie brought the flyer out into the open. “Maybe you're content to stay as you are, but I'm not. I got this from the invitation committee. There's going to be a Candy Dance a week from tomorrow. Thomas said he could ride in from Placerville for the night. He asked me to go, Lena. I want to—”

“No.”

“You're being unfair! You're not even listening to me.”

Helena sized a wick next to a mold. “We're in mourning for our father. We cannot accept social engagements.”

“If we're in such deep mourning, you never should have married while you're still wearing dark clothes.”

“That's different.”

“No, it's not. Last year we weren't in mourning for Father, and you didn't want to go then. You're just making up excuses. Well, I won't give you any. I can
cook the molasses candy and sugar candy. You wouldn't have to do a thing. You wouldn't even have to attend if you didn't want to. I could get Eliazer and Ignacia to be chaperons for me and—”

“It's not a good idea.”

“Nothing fun is ever a good idea to you!” Emilie shot back. “You might as well be a prune-wrinkled old widow. You never want to do anything but stay here and make me look like a child! I'm a young woman, Lena,” she implored. Straightening her posture, she proudly displayed the figure beneath the pinafore across her breasts. “Give me the same chance you had when you were my age.”

The unveiled hope on Emilie's vibrant face made Helena reconsider. She couldn't keep staving off her sister's desire to be courted. To be a wife. That was what every woman sought. Emilie was no different and shouldn't have to be made to suffer for Helena's trial at that age. But still, sixteen was young. Too young for a serious beau. “Next year, Emilie,” Helena said in compromise. “When you're seventeen, you can go to the Candy Dance.”

“I don't want to wait a year! I want to dance with Thomas next week!” With that, she shoved the circular at Helena and left the stable in tears.

Helena held the paper, its dry crackle in her fingers making her spirits sink even lower. She'd thought negotiating the matter would be acceptable to Emilie. But it wasn't. Her heart was brimming with love for a gallant young man, and she wanted to dance in his arms now. Helena could understand that. Why couldn't she just let her sister go? She didn't like being so strict with her, but a part of Helena was afraid to be lenient. The painful reminder of what she had done was ever there in the back of her mind. She didn't want Emilie to feel such a bottomless void . . . but Emilie wasn't her. And it was time Helena started accepting that. Or she would lose her sister . . . just as Jake said.

The door opened on a gust, and Helena lifted her chin, hoping Emilie had returned. But it wasn't her sister. It was her husband.

On a dismayed sigh, Helena tried to focus on the candles, but her concentration had vanished. She quietly laid the circular on the counter and put her hands on the wooden edge.

“What's wrong with Emilie?” Jake asked. “She's crying.”

Helena's own vision blurred, and she rapidly blinked her tears away. “She's upset with me because I don't want her to go to the Candy Dance.”

Jake moved toward Helena. He stood by her, one hip butted against the side of the bench. Without reaching out to console her, he questioned, “Why not?”

“You know why not.”

Picking up the circular, Jake skimmed through it while Helena watched his reaction. “It's not my idea of a good time, but I can see why a girl would want to go. I think you should let her.”

“I can't,” she whispered.

“You can.”

“I said she could go next year. I meant it.”

Jake folded his arms across his chest. “Next year she may not be your sister anymore.”

Her chin lifted. “How can you say that?”

“Next year she'll resent you. Have you ever thought she might run away with McAllister and marry him?”

“No . . . no! She'd never do that . . . not my Emilie. She wouldn't go against my wishes. I'm her—”

“Sister,” Jake finished. “Just her sister. Not her mother. I can't speak from a woman's point of view, but brothers are who a man turns to when he wants advice, not a fatherly lecture. If he wants a lick of the belt, he tells his father his honest thoughts. But brothers, and I'm assuming it's this way between sisters, are more likely to stand up for him. I have a
sister, but I was never close to her. I wish I could go back and change that, but I can't. You still have a chance. You should think about it now. Before she doesn't come to you at all and does what she damn well pleases.”