Jane Bonander (18 page)

Tiptoeing over, she peered in. She felt a jolt in her chest, for Corey and Jackson studied one another across the long expanse of Max’s back.

“Corey?” When he raised his head, she said, “Come with mama, darling.”

He shook his head. “No.”

Susannah swallowed hard. She didn’t want to forcibly take him out of the room. If she tried, he’d probably surprise her and throw a tidy little tantrum. He always did that when she least expected it. She went to him and lowered herself to her knees beside him. “Louisa is making cookies, darling. Don’t you want to help?”

He shook his head firmly, his eyes never leaving Jackson.

Susannah softened. “Do you know who this is, Corey?” When he didn’t respond, she continued. “This is Jackson. Nathan is Jackson’s papa.”

He looked mutinous. “Nathan is
Corey’s
papa, too.”

Susannah’s hand flew to her mouth and she sank farther to the floor. He hadn’t said a word about Nathan since the morning he’d awakened and found him gone. He’d wandered about the cabin for an hour, going to the window constantly to stare outside. Since then, he’d said nothing. Now—
this
.

She ran her fingers through his soft curls. “Corey, honey, I don’t think—”

“He . . . Corey . . . stay,” Jackson interrupted haltingly.

Susannah’s mouth gaped open. “Jackson! You remember!” She scrambled to her feet and hurried to the door, anxious to tell the others. A backward glance at the two boys lavishing their attention on the dog told her it was all right for her to leave.

As she stepped into the great room again, she found Nub Watkins sitting at the table, noisily slurping coffee from a saucer. He glanced up at her. “How’s things goin’?”

She nearly fell into the chair across from him. “You won’t believe it. He spoke to me!”

Watkins sat up straight. “Say, what?”

Susannah nodded eagerly, glancing quickly at Louisa, who had just pulled fresh cookies from the oven. “I went in to get Corey, but Jackson said he could stay.”

Nub’s expression told her he didn’t quite believe her. “Ya mean he up and said, ‘Corey can stay’?”

“Well, he . . . it was quite hesitant, but he clearly said ‘Corey—stay.’” She didn’t think it was prudent to mention that Corey wanted Nathan to be his father. Although, she thought, her heart fluttering with pleasure, it was an interesting image. . . .

That night, Corey insisted on sleeping on the floor in Jackson’s room next to the other boy. Nub dragged out another sleeping roll and unfurled it. Susannah just shook her head, wondering if Corey would grow up believing all men preferred the cold, hard floor to a nice, soft bed. It did give her a place to sleep, though. Since they’d arrived, she’d wondered if they’d all have to share the wagon.

Susannah stopped at the door and watched as Max curled up between the boys. She closed the door and found herself staring into Louisa’s dark, scolding eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“You think you should let them two sleep in the same room right off, Honeybelle?”

Susannah strolled into the kitchen, Louisa at her side. “Why not?”

Louisa leaned toward Susannah. In a hushed voice, she whispered, “The boy has been livin’ with savages.”

Susannah refused to absorb Louisa’s fears. “So, do you think he’s going to eat Corey during the night?” she whispered dramatically.

Louisa appeared stung. “Well, ’course not. But . . . well, I jes’ don’t want nothin’ to happen, that’s all.”

Susannah hugged Louisa’s shoulders. “Nothing will happen.” And she felt certain she was right. But she cursed Louisa for planting the seed, for she slept fitfully, waking often to make sure everything was all right.

With morning came another problem. Susannah had second thoughts about being there when, and if, Nathan arrived. She’d known that he’d left her with many things to sort out. She had no idea what conclusions he’d come to. Perhaps finding her in his home where he’d loved another woman would be more than he could stand. And Nub didn’t appear to be certain that it was Nathan’s wife who was buried under the cedar tree. That left Susannah wondering if the woman, like the boy, had been abducted by Indians, and was possibly still alive. She forced the thought aside, for it made her feel jealous, and she hated the feeling.

She dressed quickly, went into the kitchen and found Nub building a warm fire in the fireplace. While the coffee cooked, she sat at the table, urging Nub to sit across from her.

“Tell me something about Nathan,” she said, sitting forward eagerly. “Have you been with him long?”

Nub nodded. “Yep, was with the family when Nate was jes’ a tadpole. They had money in them days, sent him to the best schools. His pa wanted him to become a lawyer, like him. Even sent him to some fancy college in the east, but Nate wanted to farm.”

He laughed, the sound ending in a wet cough. “His pa hated the idea, but tol’ him if he’d jes’ finish them college courses, he could do whatever he wanted. So he did. His ma had died years earlier. Then, when his pa died, Nate bought this piece of land. Had plenty of money till he married that Judith woman.”

He sounded truly disgusted. Susannah had thought that Judith was perfect. “What . . . what happened?”

“Oh, now don’t go gettin’ me wrong. Miss Judith was a fine woman, but sickly,” he said, wrinkling his battered nose. “An’ she come from money an’ was used to spendin’ it. See all them pieces of furniture?” He tossed his arm toward the other side of the great room. “Them’s pieces Nate had special made and sent from back east jes’ because Miss Judith wanted ’em.”

Susannah hadn’t really noticed the furniture. Probably because everything was shrouded in dust.

“An’ now,” he continued, his voice filled with dismay, “we ain’t got the money to fix this place up like it should be fixed.” He stood slowly, his knees creaking. “Gotta get them cows milked.”

Kito came in from outside, and Nub pointed a finger at him. “You know how to milk a cow?”

With a deep, humor-filled chuckle, Kito answered, “I grew up milkin’ cows, Mister Nub. Jes’ lead the way.”

After they left, Louisa came into the kitchen with a pail and scrub brushes. “That Mister Nathan of yours ain’t lived here for five years, Honeybelle. Can you ’magine? That ol’ rooster Nub tol’ me Mister Nathan came back and planted a tree near his wife’s grave, then up and left again. An’ Nub practically lives in the barn. I’ll bet this place ain’t had a good cleanin’ since that poor woman died.”

Susannah agreed but kept her thoughts to herself, appearing cheerful as they gave the house a thorough cleaning. The furnishings
were
expensive, although they hadn’t been cared for in many years. She polished a scruffy wooden corner cupboard only to discover that beneath the dust and dirt was a rich walnut front with iron butt hinges and brass knobs. The dishes behind the glazed door were delicate and ornate. They looked new; she supposed they hadn’t been used in five years, either. Maybe longer.

Susannah was scrubbing down the kitchen floor when Jackson came out of his room, Corey and Max trailing behind. Susannah stopped working. “Good morning. Did everyone sleep well?”

Corey toddled across the freshly washed floor. “Gotta pee, Mama.”

She gave him a hug, still indebted to Nathan for training him. “You remember where the necessary is?”

Jackson strode up to them. “Come,” he ordered Corey, motioning for him to follow.

They went outside, and a cold gust of air lingered in the room, causing Susannah to shiver. They were far north, and it was early November. She sensed the air had a hint of winter in it.

She bent to her task, remembering the night she and Nathan had danced in the snow. Her body betrayed her, sending little slivers of pleasure throughout as she recalled the memory of Nathan teaching her to dance. Teaching her to love . . .

Her smile grew dreamy and she felt all warm inside. Yes, she really loved him. Could she keep it to herself when she saw him, or would her eyes betray her?

She stood and went to the window. She couldn’t hear what Louisa was saying, but she guessed that, much to Kito’s dismay no doubt, Louisa was scolding him for something, for her mouth moved fast and furiously and she waggled a finger at him.

Susannah shook her head, a grim smile curving her mouth. She didn’t understand their relationship. Louisa was hard-pressed to show any gentle feelings at all, and Kito just rolled his eyes and shook his head whenever she walked away from him.

Louisa marched to the house and stepped inside, her brow wrinkled with worry and her mouth arched into a frown.

Susannah picked up the pail of dirty water, went outside and tossed it over a patch she’d discovered was the garden. To her surprise, there were winter vegetables growing there. When she came inside, Louisa was still scowling.

“Better watch out,” Susannah warned, “or your face will stay that way.”

“That ain’t funny,” Louisa muttered, going to the stove and stirring the oatmeal. “Those boys ready to eat somethin’?”

Just then, Jackson and Corey tumbled into the house and scrambled to get to the table.

“Did you wash your hands?”

Corey made a face, but left the table and went to the wash basin. Jackson gave Susannah a wary glance, then followed him.

While the boys ate oatmeal, biscuits and gravy, shoveling it in as though they hadn’t been fed in weeks, Susannah nursed a cup of coffee, unable to keep from smiling. Nub had all but called her a miracle worker last night before everyone had gone to bed. It wasn’t true, of course. She just blundered into things and somehow they turned out fine. And, she thought, giving the dozing Max a glance, it didn’t hurt to have a dog around.

Hearing a strangled sound, Susannah turned. Louisa was at the window, staring outside.

“What in the devil—” Louisa clamped her fists on her hips and glared. “What’s
he
doing here?”

Curious, Susannah rose and joined her at the window. There was a burgeoning in her chest, and her pulse raced at her throat. “It’s . . . it’s Nathan,” she whispered, barely able to speak.

“Nathan?
Your
Nathan?”

Susannah could only nod, her heart bobbing in her chest like a rubber ball.

“Honeybelle,” Louisa said, her voice filled with anger and dread, “that’s the man who made a deal with Sonny ’afore I left Mizzoura. Oh, Lord!” Her hand flew to her mouth. “I saw him ridin’ away that day I arrived in Angel’s Valley, and it clean slipped my mind.”

They both stared outside. “I know for a fact that he’s the man Sonny sent after you.”

Susannah’s heartbeat changed, knocking frantically against her ribs. “Oh, Louisa,” she said, her voice shaking. “You . . . you must be mistaken.”

Louisa gave her head a furious shake. “I ain’t mistaken.”

Susannah bit her lip until she tasted blood. No! The silent scream tore through her, knocking aside the fluttery feelings of arousal, trampling the eagerness that had gathered in her breast at the sight of him.

Even after Louisa’s vehement claim of certainty, Susannah wanted it to be a mistake. “If he’d been the one Sonny sent, why didn’t he do something about it?”

“I don’t know, Honeybelle, I jes’ know what I know.” She nodded with finality.

Susannah continued to stare at Nathan, still unable to believe it. He’d deceived her. He’d made her love him more than she’d thought she was capable of loving, but he’d been sent to destroy her. She hurt, ached deep down in places she’d let him enter, in places she’d protected for years and years until he’d come along. Places that now felt violated and dirty because of his treachery.

She watched him approach and dismount. He greeted both Nub and Kito with warm handshakes. Nub spoke quietly, grabbed Nathan’s arm, then nodded toward the house.

When Nathan turned, Susannah bit back a cry of alarm. The anger she saw in his eyes was stark, explosive . . . unforgiving. Or was it a mirror of what she felt in her own heart?

S
usannah’s own fury, which spread cold and harsh through her, prevented her from trying to understand his. It shook her, leaving her puzzled, hurt and angry, but confronting him would come later. For now—

Turning from the window, she studied Jackson, who had just shoved his plate away. She went to him and held out her hand. “Come,” she urged, forcing a warm smile.

Skepticism made his features wary, but he took her hand and followed her to the door. “Max,” he said, clearly and distinctly. The dog rose, stretched and followed them outside.

When the boy saw Nathan, he pinched Susannah’s fingers.

“It’s all right, Jackson. That’s your papa.”
Swine that he is
. She watched the emotions that flashed across his face, and wondered if he knew . . . if he remembered. He stood by her side, stiff as a statue.

One of the most difficult things she had to do was look Nathan straight in the eye. When she did, she was startled to see the fading bruises on his face. Silent applause rang in her ears, for now he would know how she’d felt all of her married life. Her betrayal ran deep and acrid, like stagnant water in a forgotten underground well. Her chest ached, like she’d taken a blow to it, and her feelings swamped her.

Nathan’s gaze rested on his son. She watched his face then, too. It was torn with anguish, agony . . . beseeching relief. His eyes glistened brightly. How she wanted to triumph at his pain!

With slow, halting steps, he came toward them. “Jackson?”

Jackson gripped Susannah’s hand even harder, and at the sound of Nathan’s voice, Max bounded off the porch, yipping and wagging his tail as he circled him. Nathan hunkered down and scratched the dog’s ears, but his eyes never left his son’s face.

Nathan gave Max a final swat on the rump, then came and stood in front of Susannah and his son, his gaze still on Jackson. He swallowed, his throat working frantically. “I see you’ve met Max.”

“Max,” Jackson said, his voice strong.

As if it were an order, Max loped back to the porch and sat at Jackson’s side, his flanks shivering with excitement.

Nathan gave Susannah a swift glance. “He can talk? I thought—”

“I don’t know how much he understands.” She hoped her voice sounded normal. It was hard to speak around the treachery that crowded her throat.

As he gazed at his son, his face emanated a look of miraculous disbelief that turned swiftly to sadness.

“He doesn’t know who I am.”

“Give him time.” Her throat continued to clog with emotions of her own.

The door opened behind her. “Papa Nathan!”

Susannah gasped, her fingers flying to her mouth.

Nathan’s eyes burned into hers before he forced a smile for her son. “Well, hello, little whistler man. How’ve you been, boy?”

Susannah’s stomach churned. What in the devil did he have to be angry about? At least her feelings of betrayal were founded in fact.

Corey went to the steps, scooting down backward. He toddled to Nathan and clung to his leg. The adoration on his face as he stared up at him almost broke Susannah’s already battered heart.

Giving Jackson’s hand a final squeeze, she pulled her fingers from his grip, took the steps and tried to tug Corey away from Nathan’s leg. He clung tightly, squealing unpleasantly when she tried to get him loose.

Nathan reached down and took Corey into his arms. The child was quiet immediately. His eyes were hard and cold as he said, “Nothing is his fault. I’d be a heartless bastard if I blamed the child for the sins of the mother.”

Susannah took a step back, feeling as though he’d struck her. She stood by the porch, trying to catch her breath and will strength into her legs so she could walk away.

Refusing to let him see the effect of his words, she narrowed her gaze at him and answered, her voice laced with frost, “How very noble of you.” She took off across the yard, toward the small domed building on the other side of the barn, leaving him to fend for himself.

She pulled open the door to the building and stepped inside, anxious to get away, to be alone, if only briefly. The room was cool and dark, the only light slanting in through a small window, and the slight openings between some of the boards.

She shut the door, leaning against it briefly, willing her heart to stop clattering. Closing her eyes, she pulled the slightly dank smell of the room into her lungs, expelling it slowly.

When she was able to gather her scattered thoughts, she realized that what he’d said to her hadn’t made sense. If he was who Louisa said he was, then he’d known about her crime from the very beginning. He knew she’d stabbed Harlan, because Sonny would have told him.

She spat a curse, angry that her feelings for him didn’t die when she learned of his deceit. She’d been the grandest fool of all, allowing herself to be suckered in by his understanding, caring and . . . and loving.

But, why was he angry with
her
? That didn’t make sense.
She
had every right to feel a horrible sense of betrayal. After all, he’d lied to her, lulled her into a false sense of security, made
love
to her, for crying out loud, then left her. His dishonesty hurt like no physical pain she’d ever endured. The only thing that hurt more was his revulsion. How superbly he’d kept it hidden—until now.

She pushed herself away from the door and stepped farther into the dank chamber. Puzzled by the unusual gadgets in the room, she walked toward the center where an enormous tin tub sat inside a large wooden base. The tub was deep, and looked big enough to bathe an entire family at one time. There was a faucet attached to the tub and tubing connecting it to a pump against the wall.

She circled the odd structure, intrigued. She didn’t know how long she’d stood staring at it, but soon she heard the door open behind her. An anxious feeling spread through her chest.

“Honeybelle? What you doin’ in here?”

Relieved it wasn’t Nathan, she turned, wresting back tears of confusion. “I had to get away from him.”

Louisa joined her at the tub, her brows furrowing as she studied the contraption. “Did he admit to bein’ the one sent by that pissant Sonny?”

“We didn’t even get around to talking about that,” Susannah answered.

“Well, then, what happened?”

Susannah shook her head, her initial fury returning. “I don’t know, and I’m tempted not to give a damn.” She felt the betrayal dig a little deeper, scraping at her skin, exposing the nerves. “Obviously,” she said, her voice shaking, “he’s a far better actor than I’d ever given him credit for.”

She grasped at straws. “Are you sure he’s the man you saw with Sonny?”

Louisa took her into her arms. “I know it as well as I know my own name, Honeybelle.”

Louisa smelled of cinnamon and bread dough, the comforting aromas cushioning Susannah’s misery. “I should have followed my first instincts about the bastard, Louisa. I . . .” She swallowed. “I even thought he might have been sent by Sonny, but he wasn’t the type of man Sonny or Harlan ever spent any time with. Oh, God,” she said, tears cramming her throat. “He was helpful and . . . and kind, and gentle.
Damnation
.” She wiped her tears, swiping them away with angry fingers. “I’ve been trying to think of something that would have alerted me, but there was nothing. He was so good with Corey. And he did things for me, not asking anything in return.”

She sniffed again, dragged out her handkerchief and wiped her eyes and nose. “He didn’t ask for
anything
.” She shook her head, rubbing her face against Louisa’s soft, woolly hair. “I’m angry, Louisa. Angry and hurt that he did this to me. Oh, God, I wish I’d never met the bastard.”

Louisa continued to massage her shoulders. “Fill one hand with spit and the other with wishes and see which one fills up first, Honeybelle.”

“You’re a big help.” Susannah sniffed again. “What’s he doing now?”

“When I left to come down here, he was sittin’ on the porch steps, Corey on his knee and Jackson beside him. And ’course that dog layin’ at his feet.”

“Of course,” she answered, still drowning in selfpity. “He still has his little group of admirers, doesn’t he?” She shoved her handkerchief into her pocket and straightened her shoulders. “Was he talking to Jackson?”

“Yes, but that boy was quiet as stone.” Louisa let out an anguished sigh. “That li’l mister of mine is sure fond of that treacherous man.”

She remembered how Corey had attached himself to Nathan’s leg. “I’ll have to work on Corey’s choice in men.”

Sighing, she gave Louisa a loving squeeze, then stepped from her embrace and walked toward the door. “In spite of what he’s done to me, I want him to resume his life with Jackson. For . . . for Jackson’s sake, anyway.”

“That’ll take time, Honeybelle.”

Susannah rubbed her temples. “Oh, Louisa. Can you imagine how he must have felt when he discovered Jackson was alive? Can you imagine?”

“I imagine he’s got a passle of feelins’ to sort out.”

Susannah remembered how Louisa had appeared to scold Kito earlier in the morning. “How about you? Have you some feelings to sort out?”

Louisa snorted and turned away. “My feelins’ don’t need no sortin’ out.”

“I saw you railing at poor Kito this morning. What was that all about?”

At the mention of Kito’s name, Louisa’s chin lifted a mutinous inch. “He gets my hackles up is all.”

“Why?” Susannah asked on an amused laugh. “He’s the most thoughtful, kind, gentle man I’ve ever known.”

Louisa swung around. “Gentle and kind, maybe. Thoughtful? Huh! He knows I want him in my bed, Honeybelle. I’ve wanted that man from the first time I saw him, standin’ outside the smithy, all sleek and black, muscles ripplin’ on top of muscles.” She sucked in a shivery breath. “He’s got some fool notion that we oughta be married before we share a bed.”

Susannah couldn’t help laughing. “You make it sound like a crime. If that’s the way he feels, why not marry him?”

“I fully intend to. I jes’ don’t want for him to have the upper hand.”

Susannah’s grin turned lopsided. “You never have liked
anyone
to get the best of you. However,” she warned, “this might be the time to change.”

The mutinous lines that creased Louisa’s pretty face softened. “I know,” she answered quietly, giving Susannah a sly grin. “I know.”

They left the building together, arm in arm. Susannah’s gaze went automatically to the porch. Kito stood there alone, watching them walk toward him.

Susannah leaned into Louisa, squeezing her arm. “Does the sight of him standing there, all sweat and hard muscle, do funny things to your insides?”

Louisa swatted her hand. “What he does to my insides is for me to know, you little tease.”

But Susannah turned her gaze on Louisa and found all the symptoms there: the throbbing pulse at the base of her throat, the eyes wide and soft, the mouth slightly open, a smile of anticipation curling the corners . . .

“I think you’ve been smitten, Miss Louisa Washington.”

“If you can see all that jes’ by lookin’ at me, Honeybelle, then you’ve learned a thing or two since you left Mizzoura.”

Flashes of memory and desire penetrated Susannah’s pain, pitching low into her gut.
If you only knew, Louisa. If you only knew.

Louisa and Kito were married the following day, Kito having asked Nub and Nathan to bring out the first available preacher. Luckily for them, the traveling preacher was just leaving Broken Jaw. Louisa put up a token fuss at not being informed, but an intimidating word from Susannah silenced her.

For Susannah, who vacillated between wanting to confront Nathan and wishing he’d fall off a cliff, seeing Louisa so blissfully happy was painful pleasure. She wanted happiness for her friend, she always had. At one time she’d dared to dream that she, too, might find happiness with Nathan, but she no longer harbored such fanciful daydreams.

She still ached at the sight of him, in spite of her feelings of betrayal. Pleasure and desire just didn’t die on demand. Though her mind fought them, her body responded, and she became as angry with herself as she was with him. They avoided each other. Her misery increased.

Nub had a small apartment at the back of the house which he insisted Louisa and Kito use. He informed them he’d always been more comfortable in the room off the barn, anyway. Years ago he’d put in an old stove, and it was always warm, cozy and quiet. He admitted that having the “young’uns” constantly under foot bothered him. This gave him the chance to get away.

That night, after Susannah put Corey to bed, she found Nathan on the porch, smoking a cigarette. Though it was the perfect opportunity to face him, she had to force herself not to run.

She studied his profile, regretting what had become of their love, remembering how his looks had both frightened and calmed her. The scarred forehead, the battered nose, the mouth with the rusty smile, the wide, hard, shoulders and flat stomach . . .

Memories of his deception tumbled in from nowhere, and she must have made a noise, because suddenly she found him staring at her.

He took a drag on his cigarette, the smoke swirling out as he spoke. “Nice wedding.”

She swallowed, disenchanted. “Yes,” she answered softly. “Thank you for letting them stay.” She reined in her feelings, both anxious and afraid to confront him with her fears.

He shrugged, studying something off in the distance. “Kito’s a good man. I can use the help. And the woman is a far better cook than Nub.”

“Louisa,” she instructed. At his questioning glance, she said, “Her name is Louisa.”

He gave her a silent nod.

Susannah pulled her shawl around her, trying to drive away the chill. Though it warmed her arms, it couldn’t touch the coldness in her heart. The silence between them stretched to the point of pain. She could stand it no longer.

“You must have had a good laugh at how easily I was duped,” she said, her throat tight. “I’m surprised, with the money you were paid to find me, you didn’t haul me to the law and collect the rest of it.”

“I was tempted,” he answered around a menacing snarl.