The Harder They Fall (6 page)

One thing at a time.

* * * *

On the day of her wedding Helene patted her hair into place and adjusted the belt on her dress, then glanced at the closet where her clothes had recently been hung. Chris had put her into the guest bedroom she’d occupied when visiting with Martin, then told her to be ready at two o’clock for the trip to the registry office. They’d gotten the license and taken the blood tests; there was nothing left to do except get married. Helene thought for a moment of the wedding she’d anticipated with the other Murdock brother, then dismissed it wearily from her mind. Nobody but Maria and Sam, the ranch hand, knew that she had been engaged to Martin. Her visit in June had been so brief that they’d had no time for socializing.

She was grateful for that now, it would spare her a lot of explanations.

When she emerged from her room Chris was waiting for her. He was dressed soberly in a light gray suit that contrasted handsomely with his dark hair and eyes, and he was holding a square florist’s box gingerly in his left hand. He extended it to her wordlessly.

Helene accepted it in surprise, opening the glassine cover of the container and taking out a waxy camellia.

“I... I wasn’t expecting anything,” she said honestly, stroking a dewy petal of the flower with her finger.

“I know it isn’t much,” he said, clearly uncomfortable. “I just thought you should have...something.”

“Thank you,” Helene said quietly, slipping the band over her wrist and picking up her purse.

They drove into town in the sports car with the top down, Helene watching the lush summer scenery pass in silence. Another couple was ahead of them at the registry and their obvious happiness contrasted bleakly with the gloom enfolding Chris and Helene. When their turn came, the jovial justice insisted on Chris “kissing the bride,” which resulted in a dry peck on the cheek for Helene. The justice remarked, grinning, that he hoped Chris would be able to do better than that on the honeymoon. It seemed an eternity before the short civil service was finally over and they could leave.

Maria de Salvo and her husband, who had served as witnesses, were waiting by the door.

“Mrs. Murdock,” Maria said, as Chris took her husband aside to talk to him. Helene turned at the name; she had expected to be Mrs. Murdock, just not
this
Mrs. Murdock.

“Yes, Maria?” she said.

“I wanted to talk to you...” Maria twisted her hands nervously. “I told Mr. Chris about the pregnancy test I found in the trash.”

Helene nodded. “I know.”

“I suppose you’re angry with me,” she said anxiously.

Helene sighed. “It’s all water under the bridge, Maria. I understand why you did it and it’s over now. Why don’t we just forget it?”

A relieved smile spread over the housekeeper’s face. “I’m glad you feel that way.”

“I do.”

“Then I’ll be in tomorrow morning as usual?” Maria said.

“Of course. I don’t want to disturb your schedule.” I won’t be around that long anyway, Helene added silently.

Maria’s husband came to join her and after exchanging a few more pleasantries with Helene the de Salvos left.

“Not exactly the wedding of your dreams, was it?” Chris said behind her.

Helene turned to look up into his dark eyes. “I didn’t have any illusions about it,” she said simply.

“I gave Maria the rest of the day off, so I guess we’d better get some dinner before we head back to the ranch,” he said.

“I can make something, if you’d prefer that,” Helene replied.

“You’re going to cook for me?” he said, surprised.

“Why not? I’m far from helpless, you know.”

He measured her with his unsettling gaze. “I wasn’t expecting it,” he said in his blunt, unvarnished way.

“Does such domesticity make it seem too much like a real marriage?” Helene asked guilelessly.

He didn’t answer, his lips thinning into a grim line.

“Chris, we don’t necessarily have to be enemies, do we?” Helene asked him softly.

“Let’s go,” he said shortly, not answering her again. “I have some work I want to finish up tonight.”

By the time they got back to the Homestead it was after five and the ranch hands were drifting in toward the bunkhouses, working the outside pumps to clean up for the evening meal.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Chris asked, as Helene investigated the kitchen to see what was on hand. “I can just go out back and eat with the hands.”

“On your wedding night?” Helene said dryly. “Not a chance.” She removed some defrosted chicken parts from the refrigerator and poured safflower oil into a pan for frying.

Chris sat at the kitchen table, draping his suit jacket across the back of his chair and pulling his tie loose from its knot. He watched in silence as she went about the dinner preparations, his eyes burning a hole in her back.

“Is the branding going well?” she asked, removing the ingredients she needed from cabinets and the pantry as she found them.

“Well as can be expected.”

“I thought branding was done in the spring.”

“These are late summer calves,” he replied briefly, without further explanation.

“So how is the ranch doing in general?” Helene asked brightly in desperation, thinking that if he didn’t stop staring at her she would begin to scream.

“Fine,” he said.

“Is it profitable?” she asked, dipping each piece of chicken in beaten egg and then rolling it in bread crumbs.

“Very,” he said shortly. “Don’t worry, I’ll have no trouble coming up with the child support.”

Helene turned to face him, keeping her temper under control with an effort. “I’ve already told you I don’t want any money. That’s not why I asked.”

“Well?” he said challengingly, shrugging.

“Just trying to make conversation,” she said, turning back to the stove.

“Why?” he countered maddeningly.

“I can’t imagine,” she muttered, tossing the chicken into the oil with such force that it sputtered. She worked on in silence, feeling like a laboratory mouse being inspected by a clinician. She finally set a plate before him without comment and then sat across from him, picking up her fork and toying with her own food. The ticking of the kitchen clock sounded loud in the silence.

“Cat got your tongue?” Chris said inquiringly around a mouthful of chicken.

“You seem to find everything I say annoying. I’m trying not to irritate you.”

“Is that what it is? I find it irritating.”

Helene dropped her fork with a clatter and brushed past him. He seized her arm and stood, kicking his chair out of the way.

“Let me go,” she said fiercely.

“You haven’t finished eating.”

“I’m not hungry,” she almost yelled, close to tears.

“You should eat, you know, for the baby. I guess I should have told you... it’s very good.”

Helene stared up at him, stunned. After torturing her for the past couple of hours, he was now going to compliment her on her cooking? What was going on in his mind?

At this happy juncture the doorbell rang.

“Who the hell is that?” Chris muttered, releasing Helene and leaving the kitchen to answer it. Helene trailed after him curiously.

He opened the door to admit a stunning blonde who flung herself into his arms.

“Christy,” she exclaimed, “where the hell have you been? Nobody down at Brodie’s has seen you for the last couple of weeks and we were beginning to wonder if you’d taken the pledge.” She kissed him lingeringly on the mouth and then drew back to examine Helene.

“My brother died,” Chris said shortly.

The girl’s expression changed. “I didn’t even know you had a brother,” she said.

“He had been living back East for years. I brought him out here to bury him.”

“Gee, I’m sorry,” she said, nonplussed. Then she nodded at Helene. “Who’s this?”

“My wife,” Chris said.

The girl’s mouth fell open unglamorously.

“Your what?” she said.

“Wife,” Chris repeated, enunciating clearly. “Ginny Porter, meet Helene Murdock.”

Ginny disengaged herself from Chris and smiled weakly at Helene. “How do you do?” she said nervously, tucking her billowing hair behind her ear.

“Hello,” Helene said.

“So, how long have you been married?” Ginny asked.

Chris looked at his watch.

“Three and a half hours,” he said.

“Kind of sudden, wasn’t it?” Ginny said, looking from one to the other in amazement.

“You could say that,” Helene replied dryly.

“Look, Ginny, we’re just in the middle of dinner,” Chris said, taking her by the hand and leading her toward the door. “Tell Brodie I’ll be in soon to see him.”

“That’s why I’m here,” Ginny said, turning to face him. “If you want to participate in the rodeo you have to register by Friday, and we were all wondering if you forgot about it.”

“What rodeo?” Helene asked.

“Just a small amateur thing sponsored by the Chamber of Commerce,” Chris said dismissively.

“It is not,” Ginny protested. “It’s an all-county event and Chris has been calf roping champion the last three years running. You don’t mean to say he never told you about that?”

“Never said a word,” Helene replied wonderingly.

Chris opened the front door and practically levitated Ginny through it. “Thanks for the reminder. I’ll be in to register,” he said hastily, pushing her forward with his hand splayed against the small of her back. “See you soon. Bye.” He slammed the door closed behind her.

“So who was that, Christy?” Helene asked mildly.

“Barmaid down at Brodie’s, the local watering hole,” he replied, not meeting her eyes.

“Fan of yours?”

“We went out a few times.”

“Did you see the look on her face when you told her I was your wife? She couldn’t have been more surprised if you’d told her I was your grandmother.”

He grunted.

“Do you think we’ll be visited by any more of your little friends? Maybe we should send out a newsletter to spread the glad tidings of your marriage to all of Brodie’s customers.”

He threw her a dirty look and headed back to the kitchen, dragging her behind him by her wrist.

“Sit,” he said, pointing to her chair. “I want to see you eat something. You’re supposed to be gaining weight, not losing it, and you look thinner than when you were out here in June.”

Helene picked up a lukewarm chicken leg obediently and nibbled it gingerly.

“I guess a lot of people will be as shocked as Ginny was to hear we’re married,” she observed.

“Don’t worry about them.”

“How about Sam?”

“I told him what he needs to know.”

Helene could only imagine what that meant. She sat staring into space with the chicken leg in her hand.

He looked up from his food and narrowed his eyes at her, pointing to her plate.

“I’m eating,” she said, brandishing the drumstick and then taking a big bite of it.

Under his watchful eye she ate industriously until she was so full she felt she would not be able to get up from the table. When it came time to clear the dishes she stood up and then swayed unsteadily, grabbing for the back of her chair.

“What is it?” Chris said, at her side instantly.

“Little dizzy,” she said fuzzily.

Chris bent to slip an arm under her legs and lifted her into his embrace.

“Bed for you,” he said, moving toward the hall. “And I’m calling the doctor.”

“No doctor. Pregnant women get dizzy, don’t you know that? It’s hormones or something,” Helene said wearily, letting her head fall back against his shoulder.

“We’ll see,” he said grimly.

“You made me eat too much food,” she protested weakly. “That’s all it is, I feel sick.”

He kicked open the door of her bedroom.

“You’re always carrying me,” she said dreamily. The well remembered smell of him engulfed her, and she turned her head to touch her nose to the warm skin exposed by the open collar of his shirt.

He sat on the edge of her bed and then eased her into position against the pillows. She looked up at him. The room was spinning and his face seemed to be fading in and out of her visual field. He started to move away and she clutched his arm.

“Stay with me,” she whispered, succumbing to a sudden irrational fear of being alone. No matter how negative his opinion of her was, the one quality he exuded was strength and she needed that now.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said soothingly. “I was just reaching for the phone.”

How nice he is when I’m in trouble, she thought dreamily. I should be in trouble all the time, cut my foot or pitch a faint. Then he will always talk with this gentle note in his voice, instead of that hard, cynical tone I hate.

She heard him talking on the phone, the sound coming as if from a great distance, and then she was asleep.