The Ballad of Hattie Taylor

by Susan Andersen

  Then, abruptly, her rage abandoned her and she was left with only her unrelenting honesty and a grinding hurt deep in her breast. “I don’t understand you,” she whispered, staring at his sun-browned hand, feeling its texture, hard as saddle leather, gripping her captured finger. She’d grown accustomed to seeing him in work clothes, so the contrast between his work-roughened hands and his civilized apparel was disconcerting. She tugged experimentally and he tightened his grip for an instant before loosening it to let her finger slide free.

  Hattie took a step back and looked at him as though he were an exotic species she had never come across before. “You knew I wasn’t a virgin when we married and it never appeared to bother you very much,” she said in honest bafflement. “I mean, I never expected you to love me the way you did Jane-Ellen, ’cause I’m not pure and good the way she was, but—”

  Jake stiffened and took a step forward, but Hattie backed away, her hands balled into fists, her knuckles pressed into her diaphragm as though to control a physical pain. Tipping her head back, she met his undoubtedly turbulent stare with unconscious pride. “But I was good enough to make love to! Several times a day, every darn day! Why did that all change once you had a name to put to the man who’d had me before you? Why, Jake? If it’s a question of virtue, you knew I was a sinner when you married me. What was suddenly so different you had to turn away like I was diseased?”

  “Stop!” Jake’s arm snaked out and hooked an elbow around the back of her neck, his hand wrapped around to grip her jaw, tilting her face up, arching her neck. She stared at him with wide, hurt eyes and he felt his own fill with tears of remorse. “Please . . . stop,” he whispered hoarsely, then lowered his head and kissed her with hot intent.

  As always when Jake touched her, all else ceased to matter. Hattie couldn’t sustain her anger, her hurt. She kissed him back.

  Abruptly releasing her, he turned away, dashing his knuckles over his eyes before plowing his fingers through his hair. He looked at her over his shoulder. “It wasn’t you who was unclean,” he said in a low, raw voice. “It was me. I was never ashamed of you; do you hear me? Never. I was sick-to-my-soul ashamed of me!” He turned to face her fully. “How could I look at you once I knew what I’d done? How could I ever touch you again? Christ, you’re so sweet and pure and giving, and I turned you over to that brutalizing bastard just the way you once told me you had been: on a silver platter!”

  Mouth ajar, Hattie stared at him, mentally scrambling to rearrange everything she’d believed to be true to absorb what he just said. With each fresh beat, her heart began to grow lighter. Why, it had never occurred to her— “Yes, you did,” she agreed slowly. “And for nearly two years I hated you for it, Jacob.”

  He flinched and she slowly approached, reaching out to stroke a tentative hand down his jacket sleeve. “But you know what I couldn’t forget?” she asked as their eyes met. “I couldn’t forget the feelings you made me feel the first time you kissed me—the first time you touched me the way a man should touch a woman. And I understood for the first time that was how it was supposed to be when a man and a woman were together like that. Not hurtful or degrading or ugly, the way Roger made it, but rather sort of anxious and eager, a feeling so out of control and wonderful it makes you want more, to feel even better. Between Nell’s friendship and remembering those feelings, I began to heal.” She walked her fingers up his arm and touched the soft-skinned crease in his cheek with gentle fingertips. “I wish more than anything you had been the one to take my virginity.”

  His eyes were dark with pain. “So do I, Hattie-girl.”

  “But you weren’t, Jake, and it’s over. We can’t change the past. I will never give you the details of that night, Jacob, or even talk about it if I can help it. But I won’t throw it in your face for the rest of our lives, either. I love you, you know, and I have done so longer and more fiercely than I ever hated you. I don’t know if you can ever love me the way you did Jane-Ellen, but—”

  Jake cut her words off midstream when he swooped in and swept her off her feet. He tossed her slightly, then caught her again, holding her high against his chest as he carried her across the hall to their bedroom, where he dropped her in a billow of nightgown on the bed. “Let’s get something straight,” he said, staring down at her. Holding her gaze, he stripped off his celluloid collar and cuffs and threw them in the general direction of the dressing table. Reaching for the buttons on his shirt, he stated, “I love you, Hattie. More than I have ever loved anyone in my life. More than this ranch, more than the air I breathe, I love you.”

  He pulled his shirt off and kicked off his shoes, then dropped onto the bed beside her. Scooting back until he was leaning against the headboard, he reached for his wife, pulling her into his arms. “I loved Jane-Ellen when we got married, but it was more of a young man’s fancy than the love of a mature man. I was mostly in love with the idea of getting her into bed.”

  Hattie blushed, and tucking his chin to gaze down into her beloved face, he kissed her forehead. “We didn’t have much in common, me and Jane-Ellen; not like you and I do. You know she didn’t like the ranch very much except for the house. She flat-out hated sex.”

  When his wife looked up at him in amazement, he half smiled and pressed her cheek to rest against the upper curve of his chest. Rubbing his chin against the top of her head, he gazed blindly across the room. “I felt like a polecat whenever I forced myself on her. She never wanted me.” He tucked his chin again in order to see Hattie’s face. “Remember being embarrassed on our wedding night because you were wet when I touched you?” She nodded, cheeks rosy with what he feared was remembered mortification. He smoothed tendrils away from her face.

  “I thought your body getting ready, you being wet for me, was the most miraculous thing ever, Hattie. You wanted me as much as I wanted you, even after having been abused in the worst way. I could have died right then a happy man. Jane-Ellen was always dry, and she thought anything I tried to do to rectify the situation was disgusting, so sex for her was uncomfortable at best. I know you think I was a bounder for going to Mamie Parker’s house when I was married to her. I tried to remain faithful, Hattie—I swear I did. But after several years of Jane-Ellen’s rejection, I just wanted to touch someone that way and not feel like a fiend.”

  He rubbed his thumb over the fullness of Hattie’s bottom lip for a moment. Then his hand dropped to her upper arm and stroked it absently through the cotton of her gown as he stared at the ceiling. “After she died and you had gone away, I found myself missing you far more than I missed her. I tried not to, baby, but I did. Even though I was consumed with guilt every time I did so, I kept thinking of that night in your room. I cared for her right up till the end but had long ago stopped loving her the way a man should love his wife.”

  Studying Jake, it was clear to Hattie the admission still had the power to hurt him. She rubbed her hand comfortingly over the smooth skin of his chest and pressed a kiss into his warm throat. “I love you, Jake.”

  “Ah, God, I love you, Hattie. I love you so damn much.”

  “And . . . you don’t think me shamefully loose because I like the bedroom things we do?”

  “Ah, sweetheart, no. When I touch you and see you’re lovin’ it—it makes me feel ten feet tall. But it’s not just in bed I love you, Big-eyes. More than anything else, these past couple weeks, I’ve missed this.” He waved a hand to indicate the two of them. “Holding you, talking to you. I love the way we laugh together and enjoy the same things and never run out of stuff to say. I love that we can be quiet together, and that you love the ranch as much as I do. I even love the fact we can fight. You are the most exciting woman I have ever known, Hattie Murdock, and I am so damn proud you’re my wife.”

  “I guess I can take that to mean you won’t be needing the services of Mamie Parker’s establishment ever again then?” She just wanted to make absolutely sure.

  “Baby,
I haven’t visited any of her girls since the day I heard you were coming home.”

  “You haven’t?”

  “Hell, no. Since you seem to have this knack for discovering my transgressions, and considering I had gone to a whole lotta trouble to get you back to Mattawa in the first place, I wasn’t about to louse it up playing fast and loose with the town whores. Besides, they’re pale shadows next to you.”

  Hattie sat up. “What do you mean, you went to a whole lotta trouble? Wasn’t it Aurelia Donaldson who . . . ?”

  “Oh, yeah, it was. Did I say me? I meant Aurelia.” But his grin was cocky and clearly knew more than it was saying.

  She shoved his shoulder, but he just tilted one corner of his grin at her. Raised an eyebrow. “Jake Murdock!” Tell me, her tone demanded.

  Jake wrapped one arm across her back, clamped the other over the backs of her thighs just below her bottom, and rolled them over until she was sprawled out on top of him. Hattie stared down at him as he smoothed back her hair, spit out a curly strand that fell across his lips, and explained his part in getting her back to Mattawa.

  Hattie couldn’t help preening a little. “So, you were gonna marry me all along?”

  “Not to rain on your parade,” he replied dryly, “but I didn’t know what I was going to do. Just knew I had to get you back home.”

  “You were gonna marry me.” She grinned at him confidently.

  Jake’s eyes darkened. Looping her hair over one shoulder, he stroked her cheek with the backs of his fingers. “I love you, Big-eyes.” Raising his head, he kissed her sweetly.

  Hattie kissed him back. But when his head dropped back she nervously smoothed his left eyebrow with the pad of her thumb. “Jake? What have you been doing in town every day?”

  “What?” he asked distractedly. Then, as her question sank in, he said in an entirely different tone, “Christ! I never told you.” Sitting up, he dumped her on the mattress beside him and stared into her startled face. “I can’t believe I forgot to tell you. Sheriff Jacobson arrested Roger Lord tonight. Charged him with rape and assault. We’re gonna put that bastard away.”

  Clutching his bare biceps, Hattie hauled herself upright. “What?” she whispered and listened in numb astonishment as Jake told her everything that had transpired today.

  “That poor girl,” she said when he finished. “How incredibly brave to put herself in such peril to catch him in the act!”

  “Yes, she was extremely brave. I have to admit, I wasn’t immediately all for it. Too many things could’ve gone wrong.”

  “Thank goodness they didn’t.”

  “Amen. The housekeeper or cook, or whoever the hell she was, just sat there in the kitchen with her hands over her ears to drown out Opal’s screams. I can’t understand that kind of behavior, Hattie. There must have been other servants in the house as well. Why did no one ever try to help her?”

  Hattie remembered the racket she too had made and how no one had come then, either. “He must have a financial hold on his help,” she replied slowly. “I can’t imagine any other reason one would ignore someone in such distress.” She started to rise from the bed, but Jake gripped her forearm, staying her.

  “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “Jacob, let me up.” She pried at his fingers. When he refused to unhand her, she raised her gaze to meet his squarely. “I have to go to her,” she pleaded. “Don’t you see? I am possibly the only one who fully understands what she’s been through and what she’s feeling.”

  “Honey, look at the time. Mother and Mirabel were putting Opal to bed when I left. Let her rest, Big-eyes; she needs it. Tomorrow I’ll take you to see her.”

  Glancing at the clock, Hattie subsided. “You’re right,” she conceded. “But first thing in the morning, Jacob—”

  “First thing in the morning,” he agreed. “Well, second thing,” he amended. “Right after you move all your belongings back in here where they belong.”

  “Very well. But the minute we’re done with that.”

  He rolled onto his side facing her, then pushed up on an elbow. Hattie stared into his hazel eyes as he reached out his right hand to slip free the top button on her nightgown. “Right now, we have some catching up to do,” he murmured, freeing another button.

  “Do we?” Stroking her hand down his stomach, she delighted in his muscles clenching beneath her touch. “Does this ‘catching up’ possibly involve the use of your pride and joy?”

  “My pride and—what?” He was baffled for an instant, then threw back his head and roared with laughter. “Yes, ma’am.” His grin was white, quirky, and full of wicked promise. “I have very definite ideas on utilizing the old pride and joy.”

  “Ooh.” She wiggled slightly in anticipation. “What, exactly, are you planning?”

  Jake leered at her. “The unspeakable, my big-eyed, big-tits, red-haired beauty.” He finished unbuttoning the gown and slid it off her shoulders, easing it to her waist. Hands flat on the mattress on either side of her, he pushed up until he loomed over her prone, half-clad body. He dipped his head to kiss the upper slope of one breast, devoting undivided attention to the task. Then pausing mid-lick, he locked his gaze with hers. “Trust me,” he murmured. “You’re gonna love it.”

  41

  FRIDAY, JUNE 25, 1909

  Hattie hesitated outside the door of her old bedroom, where Opal Jeffries was installed. She bit her lip, unexpectedly nervous. Did she have the right to force her company on the as-yet-unknown young woman, whether it was to commiserate, offer understanding, or anything else? After all, the girl on the other side of the door would be doing what Hattie had lacked the nerve to do herself: reveal the most private, degrading moments of her life in a public trial to send Roger Lord to prison.

  All the same, Hattie hoped she could offer the girl a measure of comfort, if only knowing she wasn’t alone in this untenable situation. Hattie took a deep breath and tapped on the door.

  It opened slowly and the young woman in the opening eyed her warily. Now what? her expression said as she took in Hattie’s apparel, which was unadorned but of obvious quality.

  “Opal?” Hattie smiled gently. “My name is Hattie Murdock. I’m Jake’s wife.”

  “Oh!” Some of the wariness faded from Opal’s eyes. She bobbed a quick curtsey.

  “May I come in and talk to you for a few moments?”

  Opal stood back shyly and gestured for Hattie to come into the room. “Mrs. Murdock said this was your room,” the girl said hesitantly. “I hope you don’t mind my staying here.”

  “On the contrary,” Hattie replied, “I’m honored.” She looked around her old room, wondering how to proceed.

  “Your husband was very kind to me,” Opal said softly, and Hattie discerned the faintest trace of hero worship in her eyes.

  “In a way,” Hattie said slowly, “he’s what I want to talk to you about.”

  The wariness returned, joined by incipient hostility. “You don’t want him to take the case?”

  “No! I mean yes, I do. Oh criminy, I’m bungling this badly.” Hattie drew a deep breath. “I want to say I’m sorry for what Roger Lord did to you. I think what you did last night and your willingness to testify is inexpressibly brave. I understand how you feel and—”

  “Excuse me, ma’am,” Opal interrupted stiffly, “but you don’t have the first idea how I feel.” Ingrained servility be damned, she thought, looking around the beautiful bedroom. Who did this expensively dressed, well-groomed, rich woman think she was kidding? She’d likely been protected her entire life. In a pig’s eye, she understood.

  “I know exactly how you feel,” Hattie replied with quiet vehemence. Her nails dug into her palms against the admission she was about to make. Discovering she was trembling, she drew a deep breath, then said, “Roger Lord raped me too.”

  Shocked speechless, Opal sat a
bruptly on the edge of the bed. Hattie sat beside her and plucked Opal’s hand off her lap to hold in her own. She turned so they were face-to-face.

  “I do understand,” Hattie insisted quietly. “After he attacked me, I felt a shame so crippling I wanted to hide forever. It didn’t matter what he’d done to me was not my fault or that I had no way of preventing it.” Holding Opal’s gaze, she continued. “I know Roger Lord enjoys inflicting pain, and I know the degrading helplessness of not being able to keep him from seeing how successful he is. I know how terrifying it is when the born confidence of thinking nothing horrible can happen to you is ripped away.”

  Opal was squeezing the blood from Hattie’s fingertips as she nodded agreement, her eyes wide. “Yes,” she whispered hoarsely. “Yes.”

  “I admire your courage tremendously, Opal,” Hattie said fervently. “What you did last night was so brave. And for you to willingly face a trial . . .” Her voice trailed away momentarily and she looked down at their clasped hands. Finally, she raised her eyes to meet Opal’s. “Doc Fielding and Aunt Augusta decided not to press charges in the interest of saving my reputation, and I was glad. I thought I would die if the people in this town knew what happened to me—if Jake knew. It shames me that you’re willing to face the scandal I wasn’t, when you might never have been in this position had I half your courage.”

  “Oh no, ma’am, don’t,” Opal said. “Don’t berate yourself. If Mr. Murdock hadn’t offered to find me a position in another town where no one would ever know what happened to me, I wouldn’t have done this, either.”

  “Nevertheless, you’re very brave.”

  “I’m scared.”

  Hattie stroked their joined hands with her free one. “Of course you are. Yet last night you went back to his house when you knew better than anyone what you were letting yourself in for if anything went wrong. And you’re going through with the trial you know will be difficult. That’s real courage.”

  “Were you married to Mr. Murdock when . . . ?”