Prairie Wife (18 page)

She wrapped her arms around him and didn't let him move. She
needed to experience his splendid weight, revel in their closeness and hold the
world at bay forever.

But she couldn't, of course, and eventually, he moved to her side.
The urge to cry swept over her so suddenly she had to turn her face away and
bite her knuckle.

Jesse urged her gently onto her side, facing away from him, and
cradled her from behind. He stroked her hip until eventually his hand fell
still. His rhythmic breath caressed her shoulder. Amy's world hadn't felt this
right for a long time. With only this solitary night in her thoughts, she fell
into blissful slumber.

***

Jesse ate at the table with the hands the next morning. No one
questioned his absence during the previous days, and everyone seemed glad to
have him in their midst.

He overheard Mrs. Barnes asking Amy, "Did you sleep well last
night?"

Pink crept into Amy's cheeks and she kept her face averted while
she turned flapjacks. "Oh, yes."

He studied her over his coffee, but she deliberately avoided
looking at him. He wasn't under any delusion that everything had been fixed by
one night's lovemakin'. He still had a long way to go fightin' the demon that
called to him at night. And most of the wall that had been constructed after
Tim's death was still between them.

But he was hopeful now. And hope was more than he'd had for a long
time.

The following weeks passed uneventfully until one afternoon a
stage stopped and a tall man wearing a black suit and hat dusted himself off
and sought out Jesse. "You the Mr. Shelby who runs this station?"

"I am."

"I'm looking for a woman who was on a train that derailed
over a month ago. I tracked her to this place. Dark hair, not very tall. Is she
still here?"

"Eden?" Jesse asked.

Sam sauntered up to stand beside him. "She's not here."

"She was going by the name of Eden?" the man asked.

Sam squinted. "Who're you?"

He extended a hand. "Name's Milton Price. I work for a
detective agency in Philadelphia."

"A detective?" Jesse's brows rose. "What do you
want with Eden?"

"Her real name's Lark Doyle. She was working with a con man
by the name of George Gray. Sometimes he uses the name Frank Benjamin." He
glanced from Jesse to Sam as if gauging their reactions to those names.

Both men shook their heads.

"The two of them had a con operating. Lark lured in
unsuspecting men—gamblers, businessmen and the like—and then they made off with
the unfortunate fellow's money and possessions. Seems a while back she stole
more than her share from George and now she's on the run from him and the
law."

Jesse turned to exchange a look with Sam. "Well, that sure
explains her hangin' around here pretendin' she was hurt."

Sam looked stunned, but he nodded. "Who'd think to look here
for her?"

"She wasn't in any hurry to go," Jesse thought out loud.
"And she had money to pay her room and board."

"Stolen money," Milton Price added.

Jesse wasn't naive enough to believe everyone passing through on
their way west was an upstanding citizen. That's why he wore his Colt at the
ready and locked up the baggage at night. But learning someone who'd been under
your roof, at your table—
in your room
—was a criminal was hard to
swallow.

"Come on up to the house. You can have a meal and we'll
compare what we know to help you catch her."

Mrs. Barnes had already served the other passengers, and they were
just leaving to stretch their legs. Amy was carrying a ham from the pantry.

"Amy, this is Milton Price, a detective from
Philadelphia."

After the introductions, Price described the con that Eden—Lark
Doyle—and George Gray had been operating. He described George as fair-haired
and having a distinctive scar above his eyebrow. None of them had seen a man
like that.

Lark was without a doubt Eden, right down to Price's description
of the pout and the wrinkling of her nose when she spoke.

Jesse told Price which stage she had been on when she departed and
who the driver had been. Sam described her trunk and other baggage.

"Do you remember any other passengers who were here at the
same time?" Price asked.

"William Hunter," Amy replied. "He was on the same
train. Also a man by the name of Barnett."

"And that Castlewhite fellow," Jesse recalled.

"The Castlewhite who owns the Denver hotel?" Milton
asked.

"That's the one."

"I'd better make sure she didn't go endear herself to
him."

Price paid for his meal and Jesse saw him to the stage, then
returned to the kitchen.

Wearing a weary expression, Sam remained where he'd been seated.
He rubbed his jaw. "I don't know the first thing about people. About human
nature."

Amy covered her father's hand with her own. "You just expect
people to be what they say they are. Nothing wrong with that."

"I felt like an old fool before knowin' this," Sam said,
shaking his head. He stood and went for his hat. "But I'm a bigger
dunderhead than I thought."

"Daddy, she's a beautiful woman. She showed an interest in
you. You're not the fool. She is. For not recognizing that it's wrong to
deceive decent folks."

Sam waved away her comment and lumbered out.

Amy turned her gaze on Jesse. "
Now
I'm really mad. I
was mad before, but this—
oh!"
She hit the table with a fist and a
stack of clean plates rattled.

"Because she hurt your father?"

"Yes, because she hurt my father. And I'm angry that she
tried to cause trouble for us." She flattened both hands on the tabletop
and studied him. "At least we weren't stupid enough to let her trickery
come between us."

"You were the wise one there."

She got up from her seat. "I hope Mr. Price finds that woman
before she hurts anyone else."

As criminals went, a conniving female wasn't the worst. But
obviously in Amy's book, anyone who hurt someone she loved deserved justice.

Jesse stood and moved to take her in his arms. Without resisting,
she lay her head against his chest and leaned into him. "I love you,
Amy."

She didn't respond, but neither did she pull away. It was enough
for now. He didn't have his wife back the way she'd once been, but they'd come
a long way.

A sound alerted them to someone in the room, and they drew apart.

Rachel offered a knowing smile and set a basket of apples on the
table. "Don't mind me."

Jesse squeezed Amy's hand, gathered his hat and coat and returned
to his work.

***

That Sunday Sam didn't attend church with them. Afterward Cay and
Amy sat on either side of Jesse on the ride home. Jesse let Cay take the reins.

"The near-side rein lies on your index finger—" He
showed him. "The off-side rein goes between your middle and ring fingers,
like this. Keep equal tension on both. To turn the horse, ease him careful-like
by movin' your wrist one way or the other. With some horses you need to use
both hands."

Amy had taken to watching how Cay modeled his actions after his
uncle, and right now he sat up straight, his hat lowered over his eyes in the
same fashion. She guessed Cay had never had a man around to show him things
before. He was as attentive to Jesse's everyday lessons as he was to their
nightly spelling and ciphering.

When they arrived home Sam had a noon meal prepared, delighting
Amy. The hands joined them and they ate together. Mrs. Barnes was off most
Sundays, her day to visit her son, and Rachel had prepared a meal for Jack at
the soddy, so Jesse stayed to help Amy clean up.

"Why don't you come out and watch Cay?" he suggested as
they finished. "We're going to work a horse this afternoon."

Amy pulled on a scarf and jacket and accompanied Jesse to the
stables. Cay joined them and, from a stall, Jesse brought a handsome Appaloosa
with a leopard-patterned face and forelegs and black on white hips.

"We'll work on bridling today. Come over here on his
left."

"Amy," Jesse asked, his voice always calm around the
animals, "what must you protect when bridling?"

Jesse had been her teacher, too. "His teeth and ears need
special care, but I'm thinking you mean your own head."

He grinned at her. "Right. You want to stand in close, Cay,
so he can't butt you with his head. Saw stars a few times myself, before I got
the hang of it."

He continued the lesson, warning Cay not to bang the animal's
teeth, which would make him head-shy and hard to bridle. He showed Cay how to
get the horse to open his mouth, and how to make sure the bit wasn't giving the
animal pain.

Jesse placed his hand on the Appaloosa's face to keep its nose
down while he removed the bridle and handed it to Cay. "Now you do it."

"By myself?"

"Yep." Jesse backed away to stand near Amy, where she'd
seated herself on a wooden keg.

Cay and the horse eyeballed each other for a full minute. Jesse
and Amy exchanged an amused glance. Finally, Cay spoke to the horse and moved
in close. He had trouble reaching, so Jesse found him a crate.

Following all the instructions Jesse had given, and with little
hesitation, Cay competently bridled the horse. He kept glancing at Jesse, as
though gauging his reaction.

"I
swear that horse opened his mouth wider than he does for me. 'Bout
time you got here to help out."

Cay's proud sheepish grin touched a place within Amy that she'd
unknowingly left unguarded. His need for approval was so obvious that even she
couldn't hide from it.

Jesse ruffled Cay's hair, and Amy's throat closed with bottled-up
emotion. Their son should have been the one Jesse lavished praise upon. Their
son should be learning from his father, getting spoiled by the hands and doted
on by his grandfather.

Her boy.

No, she wasn't going to do this. She had moved on, and regret
served no purpose. She stood, and her knees felt shaky.

"I think I'll go do some sewing."

She didn't miss the puzzled look Jesse cast her or the way Cay's
smile dimmed.

Determinedly, she hurried to the house, where she got out the two
dresses she'd been working on for the past couple of months and settled in
front of the fireplace for an uninterrupted afternoon.

She made progress on the garments and finished the bodice and
sleeves for both, then decided to try them on in case she'd made an error. She
had used one of her older dresses as a pattern, but she didn't want to finish
and not have her work fit properly.

Upstairs, she removed her shirtwaist and tried on the upper
portions of the dresses, being careful of the basting in the darts. Turned out
it was a good thing she'd been cautious, because somewhere during the process
she'd made a mistake and she had to move the darts and the seams nearly an
inch.

She had been eating better, she realized, turning to look at her reflection
with new eyes. Her skin had more color, and her face was less drawn. Until
today in the stables, she'd been feeling more like her old self than she had
for a long time.

She vowed not to lose any ground she'd gained and allow her mixed
feelings about Cay to erode her progress. The boy needed a home and a family.
He was bright and respectful and so eager to please and to belong that it hurt
to watch his face when he believed he was unobserved.

Since it was Sunday evening, Jesse set up the checker board, and
he and Cay played while Amy rocked and finished one of the dresses.
Occasionally Jesse stood and paced the room, each time returning to the game.
Sam stopped by long enough for applesauce cake and coffee, and after he left,
Cay said good-night and climbed the stairs.

"You want to take on the champ?" Jesse asked. He'd been
pacing the room for a few minutes.

She put away her sewing and sat across from him at the table he'd
made to hold the board. While they played, Jesse kept touching Amy's hand and
sliding his leg against hers.

"Is this meant to distract me?" she asked with a smile.

"Only fair. You're distractin' me."

"I wasn't doing anything except sitting here."

"That's all it takes."

She couldn't help laughing.

"I need the distraction, you know."

"I know. I'm proud of you, Jesse."

Shrugging off her comment, he moved a checker. He had grown more
serious. "I think Sam's takin' this thing with Eden—or Lark—whoever she is
pretty hard."

Amy nodded. "He's being too severe with himself."

"Amy, I think he was poking her."

She shot him a look of surprise. "Jesse!"