Joe's Wife (17 page)

"I'll do it for you before you turn in."

She agreed with a nod.

"Tye's not going to take care of things till later," Eve said.

Meg smiled and nodded.

She and Tye locked gazes. Meg chastised herself for the direction her thoughts took just meeting his eyes.

"Why can't Major come to camp with us?" the child asked.

"Major stays to guard the house and barn," Meg explained. Joe hadn't had enough time before the war to teach the dog about cows. And Meg tended to spoil the animal rather than train him.

"When do I get to ride a horse?"

Poor kid was probably bored within the confines of the campsite. Gus tried to entertain her, but he had work to do, too.

"You can ride with me for a while in the morning," Tye said.

Her eyes widened. "On
your
horse?"

"Yep."

She grinned. "What's his name?"

Tye glanced at Meg. The horse he preferred was from her herd. After riding several, he'd chosen the gray for her surefootedness and temperament.

Meg shrugged. "Doesn't have a name that I know of. She's not one we foaled. Guess Tye'll have to name her."

"How about Gray?" Eve asked.

"She's not really gray," Tye said. "That's kind of a trick on your eyes. Her skin is black and her hair is salt-and-pepper. She'll get lighter as she gets older."

"What, then?" Eve asked.

He considered for a moment. "Sweetfeet," he said with a grin.

"Sweetfeet?" Eve giggled her amusement, and Meg joined their laughter.

Tye told them about an army horse he'd ridden during the war who used to bite his shoulder when he let his guard down.

Despite her denial that she was tired, Eve snuggled against him and her eyelids drooped. Before long, she slept.

Tye tucked her into her bedroll and returned with the liniment. "Loosen the top of your shirt," he said.

Meg glanced to find Lem already rolled up and snoring beneath the wagon. Gus had planned to stay the night at the ranch, and Hunt and Aldo had gone to play cards with the Bar Sixteen hands.

Not embarrassed enough to miss out on relief for her aching muscles, she unbuttoned her flannel shirt and let it sag around her arms.

Tye slid the straps of her chemise from her shoulders, and shivers skittered up her neck and along her spine at his touch. Seconds later, his hard, callused fingers worked the liniment into her flesh.

She closed her eyes and gave herself over to his strong hands and the penetrating warmth. Meg smiled at her thoughts.

"What's so funny?" His voice beside her ear surprised her. She hadn't realized he'd been leaning forward to see her face.

"If I'd known all it took to have you stick around for the evening was a pitiful, pansy-eyed look, I'd have had Eve work on you a lot sooner."

His hands stilled.

She turned to see he wasn't smiling. She placed her hand over his. "Tye?"

"I don't go because I want to," he said gruffly.

"Then why do you go?" she asked. "Nobody makes you."

He pulled his hands away, and she turned as he corked the bottle.

"Tye?"

He set the bottle aside and stood, reaching for his leather jacket where it lay near his bedroll.

"Please don't leave tonight."

His movements stilled. He straightened without picking up the coat. Slowly, he turned to face her.

She hadn't pulled up the shirt, and his gaze dusted her shoulders, her hair, her face. His compliance was evident in the tender way he studied her even before he nodded. "All right."

She took a few steps closer, shocking herself with her boldness. "Kiss me."

Chapter Ten

«
^
»

T
ye
's expression changed from tender to hesitant. He glanced toward the wagon, but he moved forward, took hold of her upper arms and lowered his head to hers.

Meg sensed the underlying caution in his hands and lips. He kissed her gently, deliberately, ending the kiss and meeting her eyes.

"Now say my name," she said.

At that echo of his own passionate demand, which they both remembered vividly, his dark eyes blazed. "Why?"

"Because I want to hear you say it. You've called me 'ma'am' from the day we met at the mercantile."

"Meg," he said tightly. "Meg Hatcher."

Meg Hatcher.
She'd never heard the two names spoken together before, never even thought them. But they had been spoken now, making the name real. The use of Tye's last name seemed disloyal somehow. She pulled away and adjusted her shirt before he could see the pain in her eyes, before she could add any more foolishness to her impulsive behavior.

Had she thought to test him? Had she hoped to prove something to one of them? She had. She'd convinced herself of her failing common sense. "Go," she said. "Go on to town and do whatever it is you do."

"I said I'd stay tonight."

"I don't want you to. I want you to go."

"That wasn't what you wanted to hear, was it? You didn't want to be reminded of who you're married to."

"No—yes, I mean … I don't know."

"Sweet Meg has a dirty little secret, doesn't she?"

Hesitantly, she turned back. "What do you mean?"

His dark eyes had become hard, his expression unreadable. The change frightened her. He leaned forward and ran his thumb across her lips. "You like it when I touch you. You ache when I kiss you. You're burnin' for Tye Hatcher, not your precious Joe, and you're ashamed of it."

Her cheeks flamed. Her ears roared. She wanted to cover them and turn her face away, but she didn't. She couldn't. She couldn't move or think. Her lips burned where he'd touched her.

"What would those
Telford
biddies think if they knew how eager you were in the dark? If they knew how you groaned my name and let me put my hands all over you? If they knew how hot and wet you were for me?"

Stunned, Meg fought to comprehend what was happening. He couldn't be saying these things to her. He couldn't be humiliating her and deliberately hurting her like this. She brought her shaking hands up, brushing his hand aside with her wrist and covering her burning face.

"You thought you were testing me just then, but you weren't," he continued. "You were testing yourself. And you failed. You're ashamed of what you feel."

She heard him walk away. She heard his horse greet him and the creak of leather. Minutes later, hoofbeats sounded into the night.

Meg lowered her hands slowly. The fire still flickered and snapped. Eve still slept soundly several yards away. The sky was still up there, wide and black and full of stars and mysteries.

But who had she become? She didn't know. A few tears of anger and self-pity rolled down her cheeks and she brushed them away with an open palm.

Why had he said those things? How had he known? How had this whole mess happened?

She flung herself on her bedroll and stared at twinkling stars that seemed to accuse her. Damn Joe for dying on her and leaving her to this!

Damn Tye Hatcher for confusing her and jumbling everything up! Of all the stinking, conceited, rotten things to say to her. What did he expect from her?

She hoped he stayed in town all night. She hoped he moved to town. She hoped his surefooted horse threw him into a ravine and broke his other leg.

Near dawn she repented for that last wicked thought. And after Tye had entered the camp, taken care of his horse and crawled into his bedroll, she thanked God for knowing when not to listen.

She hadn't denied it.

Tye joined two of the reps in moving their herd to the Double Oarlock's camp. The sun had come out full and hot, and he rode the edge of the herd with sweat trickling beneath his shirt.

He should have gone to her this morning, apologized for raising his voice and saying those crude things and upsetting her. That's what a gentleman would do. It was what Joe would have done. But they both knew Tye wasn't a gentleman. And no one expected better from a good-for-nothing bastard.

Besides, he had a little pride left.

He cut off a yearling trying to break away and headed him back into the bunch.

So it was in the open between them. Meg had needed him and she'd married him. She treated him well. She'd never spoken down to him or let on as if he were beneath her. And she liked his lovemaking in the secretive cloak of night.

But she was ashamed of him.

Maybe it had been easier to pretend Joe's family and her friends snubbing her didn't bother her as long as there'd only been the ranch as a factor between them. But now there was more.

She enjoyed the physical side of marriage with him. As long as she could pretend nothing had happened or that she hadn't been affected, she had been able to cope. But he'd brought her shameful desires out in the open and her careful pretenses had been shattered.

He'd thought Meg was different. Or he'd hoped. He'd chosen to come back here. He'd faced his heritage straight on. He had only himself to blame.

But he was here now, and he'd made a pact with Meg. She'd entrusted him with her ranch, and he'd given his word. Besides, there was Eve to consider. Tye would have to work this out for himself in his own time. He didn't know if he could live with Meg and not make love to her. Besides, he wanted children. So did she.

Neither did he know if he could make love to her and pretend. Pretend it meant nothing. Pretend it didn't happen. Pretend she wanted him for who he was and not just as a replacement or an occasional release.

He might be a lot of things, but he was not a fake. And he damned well wasn't Joe.

A few of Mitch's men took over driving the cattle through a gate into a corral, and Tye headed
Sweetfeet
toward the stream for a well-deserved drink. Pulling his kerchief off, he soaked the fabric and wiped his face and neck while the horse drank.

Maybe he'd deluded himself—for just a week or two—that something would really come of this marriage. But her flaming embarrassment and her lack of denial had straightened his head out quickly enough.

He was Tye Hatcher. He'd always been Tye Hatcher and he would always be Tye Hatcher. He wasn't Joe and never would be. Marrying a respectable woman in dire financial straits wouldn't change who he was or the way people saw him. Just as fighting side by side with their good sons and brothers hadn't changed the way they saw him.

It had only changed the way he'd seen himself. He still had to prove himself. He staked the gray in the shade near a patch of grass and joined the men branding.

"Did you see me this morning, Meg? Did you see how high up I was?" Eve demonstrated her question on tiptoe with a hand raised into the air above her head.

"I saw you. You're a good rider."

"Tye says he will let me ride all the way to town with him after the cows are all caught."

"That will be great fun, won't it?" Meg had assumed the task of washing clothes and repairing the men's foxed breeches since she
was
the only female on the range and Gus's eyesight wouldn't allow him to even find the needle anymore.

On a line stretched from a wind-bent cedar to the chuck wagon, clean, damp clothing flapped in the warm breeze. Meg concentrated on reinforcing the seat and inseam of the pair of Tye's pants she held.

"Can you read me some more of
Alice
?" Eve asked.

"I can't until later," Meg replied. "I have to get these chores done before supper."

Eve looked at the doll in her lap, and the brim of her bonnet hid her face.

Meg glanced up from her work. "You all right? You know I have work to do."

"I know. Tye has work to do, too. An' Gus."

For Eve's sake, Meg regretted this particularly busy season.

"I wish Major coulda come."

"He's keeping Purdy company. Maybe by next year Tye will have him used to the cows."

"Why do we have these dumb cows, anyway?"

"They're worth a lot of money. The more we keep healthy and the more that are born, the more money we can make."

"Oh." She got up and moved closer to Meg. "I got a money."

"You do?"

"Uh-huh. It's silver. I keep it in my special box that was my mama's. You want I should show it to you?"

Meg had seen the box when she'd unpacked Eve's things, and she'd noticed the child holding it a time or two. "All right."

Eve scampered to the carpetbag holding her belongings and returned with her prized possession. It looked like a simple cigar box to Meg. The child opened the container importantly, revealing the red felt lining that had been glued inside. The faint scent of cedar wafted to her. Eve proudly displayed the contents for Meg to view.

"See?" She held up a silver dollar.

"Goodness! You're a rich girl."

"Yep. And this here's my hair from when I was a baby." She unfolded a paper, revealing a silky dark curl.

Meg admired it appropriately.

"And this here is a thimble." She placed the tarnished thimble on one tiny finger and showed it to Meg.

"We could shine that up when we get back to the house," Meg offered.

"It would be shiny like yours?"

Meg showed her the sewing implement on her middle finger. "This one was my grandmother's, and it shines."

"Okay." Eve dropped it back in the box atop a few bits of ribbon and several train ticket stubs. Carefully lifting out a wrinkled handkerchief with tatted edges, she opened it for Meg to see what lay inside. Meg studied the ladies' neck chain. The polished gold pendant was round, set with rhinestones in the shape of a crescent moon—an unusual piece of jewelry.

"It's very pretty." Meg watched her refold the handkerchief and replace it. Such a pitiful few items for a child to remember a mother by. "You can wear it when you're bigger."

Eve nodded, a downhearted expression portraying her loss and misery. "Mama told me Tye was gonna be my family."

A knot formed in Meg's chest. "Yes," she whispered, thinking of the house full of parents and siblings in which she'd grown up. A sudden pang of shame pierced her. She'd been so pleased to get away from them and out on her own. She had never appreciated her blessings. "We're happy to be your family," she assured the child.

"How come you don't have your own boys and girls?"

Meg blinked, taken aback by the question. "I, um…" She couldn't explain to a five-year-old that she'd had little opportunity to have children before Joe had gone off to war and been killed. "God just hasn't given me any babies yet."

Eve's sparkling dark eyes widened. "God gives you babies?"

It was as good an explanation as any. And true. "Yes."

Eve closed the lid of her box and a half smile turned up her rosy lips. "Golly."

Meg watched her return the box to her bag and resume her place with the doll. She toyed with the yarn hair and whispered something Meg couldn't hear.

Meg picked up her mending, wishing she could share her amusement with Tye. The easiness they'd once shared had disappeared, and Meg accepted the blame. She'd let her physical and emotional desires get in the way of their agreement. She hated herself for it, but she didn't know how to turn them off. If she'd known how, none of the unpleasantness between them would have happened.

He made her want him, pure and simple. And those feelings befuddled her.

He wanted to talk about things she didn't want to discuss. He made her feel things she didn't want to feel. He'd misinterpreted it all, but she didn't know how to straighten that out. Or if she wanted to straighten it out.