by Megan Hart
Jed first shook out the rough wool blanket from the bed, then folded it neatly over his arm and hung it outside. Next, he tugged the lumpy straw mattress off the bed and tossed it out the door. Later this afternoon, when the sun had burned off all the dew, he'd cut some sweet grass to dry and stuff a new mattress.
With the ragged broom he found in one corner, Jed began pushing all the dirt from the floor out the door. It sure wasn't manly work, but the thought of sleeping another night in this crusty shack disgusted him. He'd lived too long with Lorna's spotless housekeeping to get comfortable with grime.
When the floor was as clean as he could make it, Jed made a swift inventory of all the supplies. The shelves held several dusty cans of beans and a very rusty can opener. He had brought along a tin of coffee, a sack each of flour, cornmeal and sugar, and a kettle. Several plates, a tin cup and a bent tin spoon also lay on the shelves. The stack of wood near the fireplace was still ample, but it would not last very long. He'd need to replenish.
He might want to round up some fresh meat, too. Jed knew there were plenty of rabbits around, and it would just take a few well-placed snares to have some fresh rabbit stew for dinner.
He was out the door and heading into the brush within minutes. Being outside in the clean air and sunshine lifted his spirits a little. Jed paused to look toward Heatherfield, shielding his eyes against the glare. He couldn't see the house, of course, but that was just as well. If he'd been close enough to see her, he'd be back there in a shot. No, the mountains rising in the distance were a better sight for him anyway. His life was like a mountain—a long, rough climb through jagged peaks, then getting to the top only to find a valley on the other side.
Jed shook his head roughly. No use getting glum. He had dinner to trap. He strode away over a hill and out of sight of the cabin.
* * * *
Caite hummed to herself as she slid the yarn over the long needles. She had convinced Lorna and Sally she felt well enough to sit on the porch for the afternoon, and had even begged some white yarn and knitting needles. Her hands still ached a bit as she stitched, but she kept applying the soothing cream.
"There,” she said softly, holding out the tiny cap for Lorna's approval. “Is it not the most cunning thing?"
Lorna, who was sewing a square for Sally's wedding quilt, nodded. “Lovely, child."
"I promise to help you with Sally's quilt as soon as I can hold that tiny needle again.” Caite flexed her fingers slowly.
Despite the ache, the skin was not as taut and swollen as it had been. She had peeked in the mirror before coming out to the porch, and been pleased to see the dead skin had sloughed away. The blisters on her lips were almost healed. While it would be some time before the angry color left it, her face was starting to look more normal.
"Hush,” chastened Lorna, twitching her head toward the door. “Do not to be letting her overhear you!"
"Overhear what?” Sally asked, appearing in the doorway.
Lorna swiftly pulled an old pair of Shorty's denims over the quilt square and began patching them. “Caitleen was bragging how she is going to be running around the house soon,” Lorna lied, winking at Caite.
"You'll be doing no such thing!” Sally scolded, shaking her finger at Caite.
"I feel well enough to do it,” Caite protested, winking back at Lorna.
"Don't think I don't see all this winking going on,” Sally said to the two women. “What's going on around here?"
"Nothing!” Caite and Lorna declared at the same time, then burst into laughter.
Sally joined them. “I don't believe you, but I'll leave it go."
Sally picked up her own needles and a ball of yellow yarn. “How about a lovely pair of booties to go with that cap?"
Caite smiled, touched by the other woman's generosity. “That would be wonderful, Sally."
The three women sat in silence for a few minutes, each involved in her own project and thoughts. Finally, Lorna broke the quiet.
"Jed is a fine young man,” she remarked, biting off a piece of thread.
Startled, Caite looked up from the beginnings of the tiny sweater she was knitting. “Yes, Lorna, I know."
Lorna looked at the younger woman. “I am just wanting you to know why he was being so stubborn."
"Lorna, you don't have to make excuses for him,” Caite said. “I have forgiven him for all the misunderstandings between us. Besides, I was just as stubborn as he."
Lorna shook her head. “No, Caitleen, let me tell you about why our Jed was so afraid to love. I am thinking you are needing to know."
Lorna was going to tell her about Patricia, Caite realized uncomfortably. A thread of jealousy shot through her. She did not really wish to hear any more about Jed's first wife. She had learned enough about her that first night in the cabin.
"I know about Patricia,” she said quietly.
Lorna clucked. “You must not hate her, Caitleen."
Caite flushed. Had she been that transparent? “I don't hate her, Lorna. I never even knew her."
"You should not be jealous of her either,” Lorna continued. “She was a sad thing, Patricia was. No matter what Jed did for her, nothing could take away the sadness in her eyes. The more he tried to show his love for her, the deeper away she did to take herself."
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Because I want to tell you even though Jed tried so hard with her, she never did let him in her heart.” Lorna met Caite's gaze solidly. “I am loving Jed like he is my own son, Caitleen."
Caite nodded. “I know, Lorna."
"And I am not wanting him to be hurting any more. His father does not want it, or Shorty or Albert. We are all wanting the woman our Jed is to be loving to love him back."
Caite understood, and she thought wistfully how wonderful it would be to have so many people who loved you and looked out for your welfare.
"I do love him, Lorna,” she said softly. “I love him more than anything."
Lorna smiled, then reached across to Caite and gathered her into her arms. “And we love you, too, Caitleen."
The women laughed, and the knitting needles clacked, and the rocking chairs creaked against the floorboards of the porch.
The evening passed slowly for Caite, despite Sally and Lorna's best efforts to keep her occupied. She bid her goodnights earlier than usual, both because she became suddenly weary, and because she wanted some time alone to think. As she smoothed the thick, soothing cream into her face and hands, she could not help but turn her thoughts to Jed, and what would happen when she saw him again.
Would he sweep her up in his arms and crush his mouth to hers? Would he smile and hug her tenderly? Or would he just quirk his eyebrow at her and make some smug comment that would drive her crazy?
She slipped between the cool, soft sheets. Maybe he would not forgive her after all. Perhaps she had made too many mistakes, rejected him too many times. Maybe he would no longer find her attractive with her sun-damaged skin.
"But we're going to have a baby,” Caite whispered into the dark, and could not help smiling. No matter what happened, she would have that.
When she awoke, the slant of the sun told her she had slept most of the morning away. Feeling deliciously decadent, for she had not slept so late in ages, Caite yawned and stretched. While she had slept, the doubts and fears of the night had seemed to fade away. In the bright sunlight, it was difficult to imagine anything bad ever happening. As she got out of bed, Caite noted gratefully that she felt no twinges of pain in her head or face.
Peeping into the mirror, Caite was happy to see the angry red had begun fading to pink. The gash on her forehead had begun to close, and the bruises surrounding it to fade. Even the blisters on her lips were nearly gone.
Maybe she would not look so terrible after all. Smiling, she brushed her hair and dressed. For the first time, she noted the waistline of her gingham dress was starting to get snug. Excitedly, she ran her hands over her belly.
It was too
soon to really see a change, and she knew that. Still, her waist felt marginally thicker, her belly slightly rounder. She could have just been overindulging in Cooky's good biscuits, but Caite knew better. It was the baby inside her.
Humming, she left the room to follow the scent of good lunch in the air.
"Good afternoon!” she sang to Albert, who was busy stirring a pot that smelled like chicken and dumplings.
"Sleep well, Miss Caite?"
"Deliciously,” she replied. “Can I help you with anything?"
Albert waved her away. “You just sit yourself down and rest. There's biscuits and jam on the table."
"You do not have to tell me twice.” Caite laughed, sliding into her seat.
Buck entered the room, pausing at Caite's chair to squeeze her shoulder. “Afternoon, Caitleen. How are you feeling?"
"Fine, Buck,” she said, offering him the plate of biscuits and jam. “Biscuit?"
Buck took one, slathered it with jam and popped the entire thing into his mouth at once. Sally, who had entered just in time to see him do it, clucked disapprovingly.
"Such manners,” she scolded, but gave her husband a kiss on his jam-smeared mouth.
It's truly like being part of a family, Caite mused, watching the couple in front of her bill and coo. She liked it. She could not have asked to be sent a better place.
"Miss Caite?” Shorty had appeared in the kitchen doorway, twisting his hat uncomfortably in his work-roughened hands.
"Yes?” she turned to him brightly.
"There's someone out in the yard who wants to see you."
For an instant, Caite's heart leapt in her chest. Jed! He had come back! But no, she realized, looking at Shorty's face. If it were Jed waiting for her in the yard, surely the cowboy would not be looking so awkward.
Frowning, she began to push away from the table. “Are you sure it is me they wish to see?"
"Are you expecting someone, honey?” Sally asked. She had picked up Shorty's concern in her voice.
"No, I'm not,” Caite replied, confused.
"He says you'll know who he is,” Shorty continued. “I would've run him off right away, but he says he knows you, Miss Caite."
"Did he give his name?” Caite asked, still baffled as to who would have come looking for her at Heatherfield.
"Nope,” Shorty said. “He just says he's your fiancé."
CHAPTER 18
"My fiancé?"
For one, clear, lovely moment, Caite remained completely confused as to the identity of the stranger waiting in the yard. Then reality struck her, and she sagged in her chair. So, he had found her .
"Miss Caite! Are you all right?” Buck asked in concern, getting up from his chair.
Lorna began chafing Caite's hands. “You are looking white as a ghost!"
"Drake Hammond,” Caite murmured weakly. “I had almost forgotten..."
"You do know the fella then?” Shorty asked. “Should I send him on his way, Miss Caite?"
Shaking off her moment's weakness, Caite sat up straight in her chair. “Yes, I know him, Shorty, and no, do not send him away. I shall see him. I'm not afraid of him anymore."
"Afraid!” Shorty thundered, his brows knitting ferociously. “What did he do to make you afraid!"
If she had not known it would hurt his feelings terribly, Caite might have laughed at Shorty's outburst. With his hands clenched into fists and the glower on his face, Caite knew he was ready to defend her honor. She appreciated it, but the idea of Drake Hammond standing up to Shorty in a fight was ludicrous.
"Nothing, really,” Caitleen said calmly, getting up from her chair. She touched Shorty's arm lightly to calm him as well. “I suppose there's a story I should tell you all."
She looked around the room at everyone's curious faces. She had told only Jed why she had decided to come to Montana; no one else had ever pried. Now, it was time to share her reasons. Let Hammond cool his heels awhile longer, she thought, then took a deep breath.
"My father is a terrible gambler,” she began, realizing as she spoke the words they explained nothing. Indeed, if the confusion on everyone's faces was any indication, she had merely further complicated the story. Still she forged on.
"He's been gambling for years, eventually losing nearly everything we had. Hammond is a long-time poker buddy of my father's. He is also a womanizer, a drinker, and a purveyor of shady business deals."
"Caite, honey, I don't think we follow you,” Sally said.
"I'm about as scrambled as basket of dropped eggs,” Albert put in.
The rest of them murmured agreement.
"My father lost me to Drake Hammond in a poker game,” Caite said.
Lorna gasped, fluttering her hands. Sally's eyes grew wide and her face red. Buck coughed explosively, Albert cried “What?” and Shorty just stared at her as if she had gone mad. Once again, if the situation weren't not obviously being taken so seriously by her friends, Caite might have laughed at their flabbergasted expressions.
"He lost you in poker?” Sally cried finally.
Caite nodded. “I had no desire to marry such a scoundrel, so I joined the Baptist bride program. The rest, I think, we all know."
"Well, I'll be a wasp-stung coyote,” Buck marveled, shaking his head.
"Let me kick his sorry carcass off this ranch,” Shorty growled, heading for the door.
"No!” Caite cried, her voice stopping him. “It's my responsibility to face him, Shorty. I can't run from him anymore, or my father."
"What are you going to tell him?” Sally asked quietly.
"I'm going to tell him the truth,” Caite replied firmly. “I'm already engaged to marry Jed Peters. Mr. Hammond shall simply have to accept that."
"And if he don't,” Shorty promised, “he'll taste the toe-end of my boot in the seat of his fancy britches."
"Thank you, Shorty,” Caite said sincerely, “but I do not think that'll be necessary."
There was no use delaying the confrontation any further. She would have to face Hammond sometime, and better sooner than later. Squaring her shoulders, Caite left the kitchen and went to meet him.
* * * *
The thought of savory rabbit stew made Jed's stomach rumble, and he decided to take a break. Setting the snares had been as quick and easy as he'd thought, and he had headed back to the cabin with the sun still high overhead. He had been working on cleaning and repairing the cabin for hours now, though, and his body was protesting.
He dipped a bucketful of clear water from the well and splashed his face and hands. Later, he would check the snares and see if rabbit stew would be on the menu for dinner, but for now he would make do with what was on hand. He still had a few biscuits left over from his breakfast, and he spread them with some of Cooky's good preserves, then washed them down with gulps of the water.
The cabin's looking good, Jed thought. He had finished cleaning the inside, making it as livable as it would get. He'd even managed to get up on the roof and repair the damage left by the last storm. It was no grand palace, that was for sure, but it would do for him.
As he relaxed in the sun, Jed thought again about the fresh tracks he had seen on the trail when he had returned from setting the snares. One horse and, he assumed, one rider. They had apparently paused in front of the cabin, but the rider had not dismounted. He had seen no footprints anyway. The tracks had come from Lonesome and continued away, toward his father's ranch. Someone from Lonesome visiting Heatherfield?
He tried to push aside the sense of unease he felt at the sight of the tracks. Heck, it could have been anybody on that horse. While his father didn't get a whole bunch of unexpected company, there were often people interested in buying or selling horses that found their way to Heatherfield. Of course they would take the most-used trail, the one leading right by this cabin. Nothing much unusual in that.
Still, he could not shake the strange feeling in his gut about those tracks. If he had been around, he surely would have seen the rider pass by. Then all
these vague, unfounded fears would have never even come to light. Because he had not seen the rider, however, he was left to wonder about the person's identity.
Shaking off the strange unease, Jed got back to work. He wanted to build a little shelter for the near-wild hens pecking and strutting around the cabin. Then he wouldn't have to go hunting for their eggs in the morning. It was too late in the day to start clearing any area for the corral and stable, and it was not a task he really wanted to take on alone anyway.
He had made as much progress as he could without help, and he had made it much faster than he had expected. Jed planned to take Taylor Calhoun up on the offer he had made about getting some men together to help him. In order to get to Tay, though, he'd have to go back to Staghorn. And if he was going back to Staghorn, he might as well stop off at Heatherfield on his way.
It looked like he might see Caite sooner than he had planned after all.
* * * *
"Mr. Hammond.” Caite's voice was cool.
"Miss O'Neal!” Drake Hammond replied, smiling in a way he obviously intended as charming.
Caite decided he could be seen as charming, and handsome, too, in a faintly effeminate way. He also knew how to use those qualities to obtain every advantage.
A man who knew how handsome and charming he was becomes instantly less so, Caite thought rather meanly.
She looked over Hammond's rather ridiculous outfit and barely suppressed a shudder of distaste. The man was a preening, strutting dandy, as she had always thought. She could never find a man attractive who spent more time on his toilette than she did on her own.
"How did you know where to find me?” she asked levelly, not coming down off the porch.
Hammond laughed, a faintly prissy sound that grated on her every nerve. “My dear Caitleen, don't be foolish. Your father gave me the letter you wrote to Gerda."
Her father had found the letter! Caite sent a swift prayer toward Gerda, hoping for the kindly maid's well being. Desmond O'Neal's temper was not one with which to trifle.
"And you came all the way to Lonesome just to congratulate me on my wedding?” Caite asked in a sugary voice. “How sweet of you, Mr. Hammond."
