This Loving Land (17 page)

“I do what I do because I want to.” He hadn’t meant the words to sound so harsh.

It was as if cold water had been thrown in her face, but her reserve of strength came to her rescue, and she looked straight at him, studied his broad, long eyebrows, his rather long, straight nose, the strength of his jaw and his stern mouth. She watched his hands and saw that they were big, and how ridiculously small her own were in comparison. She knew now that those big hands would never hold her, reach out to her in tenderness. She might as well “throw in the cards,” as Harm used to say.

“Don’t get yore back up, Mr. Thurston, I ain’t askin’ you nothin’!” she said scathingly.

A bolt of lightning flashed, even as she spoke, bringing the room to brilliant brightness. Long before the lightning died, the house was filled with a stunning crash of thunder. It was still echoing when another bolt rent the air outside, and in its deathly light Sadie’s face showed stark fear. A fierce gust of wind struck the house, sending sheets of rain against the windows.

“My name’s Jesse.” The quiet face studied her, as his hand continued stroking Mary’s hair.

Minutes passed. The storm raged outside, and Sadie put more rugs by the doors to keep the water out. She lit a candle and went into Summer’s room. Water was coming in the window and under the door. She laid rags on the window sill and more rugs in front of the door.

Jesse was standing when she went back into the kitchen.

“Little gal’s sleepin’.” He held the child as if it was the most natural thing in the world for him to do, and his smile made her heart lurch. Her voice stuck and it took effort to bring it out matter-of-factly.

“I’ll put her to bed.”

“Show me and I’ll do it.”

She pulled the curtain back and Jesse lowered the sleeping child to the bunk. He pulled the quilt up over her and stood looking down at her for a moment. A picture of the big four-poster bed with its thick mattress and soft down pillows in his room at the Rocking S flashed through his mind. His quick glance took in two dresses hanging on the wall and a well-worn valise beneath them.

Sadie saw the look on his face and yanked the curtain shut.

“You don’t have to be a feelin’ sorry for me!”

“You jump right in with both feet, don’t you, Sadie?” His eyes held hers for several seconds, and some of their hardness left. Her heart kept thumping in her neck. Jesse’s mouth twitched, broke into a slow, uneven smile. He cupped one big hand under Sadie’s chin, gave it a shake and said, “You didn’t get that red hair for nothing.”

His low, chuckling voice surrounded her and warmed her. Entranced, she stared at the transformation of the stern-faced man before turning away to hide her confusion.

She struggled for something to say. “If John Austin can sleep through this storm, he could sleep through a stampede.”

“There’ll be no crossing that creek tonight. The water must be halfway up to the house by now. They won’t worry about you and the young’uns. They’ll know I’m here. Let’s get those rugs wrung out and put back . . . or better yet, come hold the lamp and I’ll wring the rugs.”

Later, after they had talked of Summer and Slater’s approaching marriage, Jesse asked her if she planned to stay on here in the cabin.

“I . . . don’t think so. I can’t do enough to earn my keep.”

“You could marry. Has anybody come courtin’?”

“I ain’t takin’ no man to take care of me if’n there’s any way a’tall I can take care of Mary and myself.”

“Has Slater said anything about you leaving?”

“No! They ain’t did nothin’ like that. They’re the best folks I ever knowed. I just can’t stay on here, and I don’t want to talk about it no more. You ask an all-fired lot of questions.”

A long quiet slipped past following her outburst. Sadie leaned her head against the high back of the rocker. There was almost a domestic tranquility between them. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, his bushed voice came to her ear.

“It took a right smart amount of spunk to shoot that man.”

Sadie’s head turned and her chin raised. “He warn’t no man . . . a buzzard’s what be was.”

“Did Travis bother you when he came to the house?”

In spite of herself, she gave a shudder of revulsion. “No!”

“Did he catch you away from Summer and threaten you?”

Wide, frightened eyes swung back to him, and she pressed her lips tightly together.

“Why are you askin’ me? You wouldn’t believe me no more than anybody else if’n I told you.”

“I’d believe you, Sadie. I know Travis. I know what he uses to get what he wants. He blamed you for the beating he got, didn’t he? He had to have revenge, and because he isn’t man enough to stand up to me, he came to you.”

“Ain’t nothin’ you can do.”

“Tell me and let me decide.”

He said it so kindly, so sincerely. His steel-gray eyes between the sun-bleached lashes watched every expression that flicked across her face. She wanted to tell him, wanted to unload the heavy burden of fear that had been eating away at her. The picture of Ellen smiling up at Jesse, her hand constantly on his arm and the vision of him tenderly lifting her into the buggy as if she were made of china, caused her to squirm. And because she was suddenly disillusioned with him, rage bubbled up inside her like a fountain.

“Yore . . . lady wouldn’t take it kindly if’n you took my side against her darlin’ boy! You saw what she thought of the likes of me. She’d not ever let you help me, so why are you askin’? I ain’t got no one to depend on but myself, and I’ll tell you, Mr. Jesse Thurston, ’n you can tell that fancy woman of yores, if that low-down polecat son of hers comes near me or my baby, I’ll gun him, that’s what I’ll do. I’d think no more of it than if’n he was a rattler, ’cause that’s just what he is, a belly-crawlin’ snake. Come to think on it, he’s lower than a belly-crawlin’ snake, ’cause a snake’s got other things to do ’sides fornicatin’ and a threatenin’ to kill little babies. He’s a buzzard, that’s what he is!” Tears gushed into the wide green eyes. “I just wish he would come back, I’d take that gun and I’d give that fancy woman somethin’ to look down on me for . . . and that ain’t all of it, neither. I’d . . . oh, you’d not help me. You ain’t nothing . . . you’re . . . you’re as thick with her as eight in a bed! Her lap dog’s what you are!” She choked on a mouthful of words and tears blinded her.

Suddenly, gentle hands lifted her from the chair and strong arms drew her against a warm, comforting chest. Her face found refuge in the hollow beneath his chin, and the sheer luxury of being held, consoled, caused the floodgates to break, and she cried as she had not done since she was a small child and her mother had died.

When it seemed she had cried herself dry, she found herself cuddled in his lap. He sat in the big chair and he was smoothing the bronze curls back from her face as he had done with Mary. The place where her face was pressed against his throat was wet with her tears, and although she wanted to wipe her nose and dry her eyes she also wanted to stay nestled against him for just a moment longer. The sheer heaven of it made her feel as weak as a kitten, but never in her whole life had she felt so safe, so at peace.

Jesse’s voice against her ear roused her.

“Feel better?”

She bent her head almost to her knees so she could wipe her face on her skirt and made a move to get up, but his arms refused to release her. He pressed her head down on his shoulder.

“Use my shirt. It isn’t often I get to hold such a pretty girl and . . .” She could feel the chuckle vibrate in his chest. “I don’t know if I ever saw a prettier one.”

She was almost lightheaded. It was as if her tears had washed away her strength. Closing her eyes tightly, she reveled in the smell of his shirt, the tobacco smell of his breath, the steady beating of his heart against hers.

“I don’t know what got into me. I ain’t much given to bawlin’. I’m sorry I said them things ’bout you and Mrs. McLean. It ain’t no business of mine.” The words were muffled against his chest. It was heaven being so close to him, his hand stroking her head. She prayed silently: Don’t stop. Please don’t stop, just yet.

“It’s all right. I know what’s said about me and Ellen.”

“I still don’t have no right.”

“I want to know about you, Sadie.” His voice was low, gentle. “I want to know all about you. We’re much alike, I think.”

“There ain’t nothing much to tell ’bout me, Jesse.” She felt as if she had known him forever.

“Tell me,” he said and leaned his cheek against the top of her head. His hand traveled down her back. He could feel every rib, every vertebra in her small body, yet her hips were well rounded and the breasts pressed tightly to his chest were full and warm and tempting.

The storm outside had moved away, leaving only a steady downpour of rain. Inside the cabin, in the glow made by the flickering lamp, Sadie nestled in the arms of the big, frightening, sometimes violent man, and related the details of her struggle to survive from the time she was old enough to hoe cotton and carry water to the day she rode away from the dirt farm on a mule behind Harm Bratcher.

“He didn’t really want me, ’cept for . . . you know. He wanted to play cards and get drunk. Mary was born in a wagon outside of Waco. He never ever really looked at her, poor little mite.” She talked on, leaving nothing out. “I never went to bed with any men.” She tilted her head back so she could see his face. “After Harm was killed, I worked hard to keep me and Mary. I ain’t any of them things Travis said. I ain’t a whore.” There was pleading to be believed in her voice.

“I know that.” He cupped her head with his hand and pressed her closer. “Tell me about Travis.”

Halfway through the telling, she commenced to tremble and her voice started to break.

“And when he said that . . . about shootin’ Mary . . . I know he’d do it, but Summer wouldn’t of believed it. She thought he was nice and she was put out at Slater because he was mad ’bout him comin’ here. I thought about tellin’ Jack, but if’n Jack had rode out there he’d just a got killed, then sure ’nuff Travis would have hunted me down and done somethin’ bad to the baby.” She paused to still her trembling lips. “I don’t know why I told you, you can’t do nothin’ if you wanted to, ’cause of Mrs. McLean. And I ain’t blamin’ you. Just a tellin’ him to leave me be would be like puttin’ a torch to a dry prairie. He’d come for me sure.”

“I know that, Sadie. I won’t do anything to put you and Mary in more danger.”

Jesse sat quietly. The rage he had felt when she told him of Travis’s threats had simmered down to calm planning. He would have to be away from her to think clearly. Holding her was too distracting. He could feel the warmth of her body through her thin dress and the steady beating of her heart against his. Abruptly, he knew why she had haunted his thoughts, drifting in and out of them like a strange, sweet dream. In his heart he had known that he could not rest until he had seen her again, held her in his arms like this, comforted her, protected her. He was conscious of a desire to face Travis, force him to draw, and kill him. Yet . . . he knew he couldn’t do it, no matter how badly Travis needed killing. Her son was the center of Ellen’s life. She doted on him. No, he couldn’t kill him if there was any other way.

A half-hour passed while his hands stroked and caressed the woman in bis arms and his mind groped for answers.

Sadie turned her head and looked full at him.

“I ain’t askin’ you to do anything. I ain’t a puttin’ my troubles off on you. I just feel better for the tellin’ about it. I ain’t told nobody else.”

He felt indescribably moved at the calm way she said that, and it showed in his face. Her hand stroked his arm with a little comforting gesture. He was acutely aware of her slim figure against him, of the warm flush of her skin, the soft sweetness of her mouth. It was like coming home. This woman and her child were like coming home! His eyes wandered over her upturned face, then found and held hers. They were full of concern now, for him. His arms tightened and slowly he lowered his lips, giving her the chance to turn away if she didn’t want his kiss.

Sadie lifted her face to meet his, trembling lips slackened and parted as his mouth possessed hers. Happiness engulfed her like a tidal wave engulfing the shore, and any doubt of his response to her was dispelled by the shaking of his body against hers, and the insistent pressure of his mouth, which demanded and received a response she had never believed herself capable of giving. Clasped tightly to him, as if he would draw her into himself, Sadie felt the thunderous beating of his heart and heard his ragged breathing in her ear.

Almost instantly, he was calm again. She stared into his eyes, glorying in the tender regard she saw there. Happiness sang out like a bird in her heart, and she lifted her hand to stroke his cheek. His brow furrowed. She gently rubbed her fingers across the harsh lines of his frown, smoothing it away. His eyes searched her face. Their gaze warmed and played within the depths of each other’s eyes.

At last, his lips came to rest on her forehead and he kissed her as if she were a child and tucked her face once again into the curve of his neck. His voice, when it came, was firm.

“You must stay here for a while. You and Mary will be safe here. I’m going south with the army troop for a few days, maybe more than a few days, but when I get back we’ll plan what we’re going to do.” When she shook her head in protest, he stilled it with his hand. “Trust me. I’ll speak to Slater. He’ll see that you’re not left alone.”

“No. Summer is gettin’ married. This is her happiest time. She won’t want to go away and leave me if she knows. ’Sides, I still don’t think they’d believe it.”

“Slater will believe it, and so will Jack. Stay here and I’ll figure out something. You’ll be safe here until I get back.”

Sadie remained still. Reality was coming back. There was a long silence before she spoke.

“You won’t come back.” Her voice held a queerly resigned, almost laconic note. “You won’t come back, ’cause Mrs. McLean won’t let you. She’s pretty and rich and has nice manners. I don’t blame you, Jesse, for wantin’ to be with her.” The eyes she lifted to his were those of some stricken little animal caught in a trap and surrendering to its fate. “Mrs. McLean won’t let you come back,” she repeated. “She’ll . . . not ever let you go.”