She swung on Widow Ashton. With a soft wail, the woman covered her face again.
“I tried to learn so’s I can get out of this flea-bitten house.” She handed Corbet the pistol. “If Burl comes for me, he can just shoot me dead. I don’t care anymore.”
Corbet's eyes snapped. “Simmer down, Jodee.” He handed the pistol back to her. “Jodee needs this to defend herself,” he said to Widow Ashton. To Jodee he said, “They told me Tangus shot your father. I thought you would want to know.”
Jodee dashed away tears. She felt betrayed by her own emotions. “I reckon I’m sorry for acting like this, but I don’t like folks going through my things no more than you would like it. I don’t much appreciate the things I cherish being thrown on the floor. You try being poor some time and see how you like it.”
Shaking, Widow Ashton edged away. “I was upset about the missing spoons.” She didn’t meet anyone’s eyes.
“Did you find them among Jodee’s things?” Corbet demanded.
“No, I did not.”
“Did you take anything of Widow Ashton’s, Jodee?” Corbet asked, more impersonally than she liked.
“Hell, no, and I’m tired of being accused all the day long. If I am to stay here, I want to be trusted.”
“One cannot force another to trust,” Widow Ashton intoned. “One earns trust.”
“Tarnation! Would you tell me then what I can do to earn it?”
“Jodee,” Avinelle said, moving to the center of the room, hands clasped in front of her as if ready to recite. “On behalf of my mother and myself, I apologize for invading your privacy.” She motioned to the maid peeking through the open doorway. “Maggie, fetch the dust pan and broom. We’ve had an accident.” She indicated the broken porcelain on the floor. Attempting a valiant smile, Avinelle looked more beautiful than ever. “Forgive us, Corbet. Mother and I aren’t used to hosting former prisoners in our home. I promise Jodee will be trusted from this moment on.” She looked into Corbet’s eyes in a way that made Jodee’s blood dry up. Avinelle was offering much more than an apology.
But Corbet looked like he’d seen enough female foolishness for one day. “I’ll make other arrangements—“ He slashed his hand to silence Avinelle’s bleat of protest. “Patsy might need help—”
“Patsy’s visiting tomorrow. We have gifts for the baby. Come by while she’s here and we’ll ask. If Jodee doesn’t feel safe here, perhaps—” Avinelle looked rather hopeful.
To hold back more blistering words, Jodee gnashed her teeth. Why was she waiting for Corbet to give her permission to go anyplace? Her wound was healed. She wasn’t his prisoner. All she needed was money for a ticket out of town.
“I’ll help Mrs. Robstart if she needs it,” Jodee said, “but I won’t work for free. So long as I have no money I’m stuck with folks who don’t want me around.” She turned as Maggie scuttled in with the dust pan and broom. “Let me do that.”
“Forty-five cents a day plus board and meals,” Widow Ashton said. “You’ll move to the back porch.” She flashed a challenging look at Corbet.
He said nothing.
Jodee scarcely knew what to think. The old nag was offering pay?
“Fifty cents, then.”
“Done,” Jodee said, pleased beyond all hope.
Corbet rubbed the back of his neck.
Feeling better, Jodee drew a deep breath and let it out. There. Given a few calculations, she’d soon know how many days she must work to earn her ticket out of town.
“Let me see you to the door, Corbet,” Avinelle crooned, taking Corbet’s elbow and steering him into the hall. “Leave Jodee to her work.”
Before he went, Corbet caught Jodee’s eye. She felt that invisible tether spring up between them. The memory of their kiss was in his eyes. Jodee puffed out her chest and felt like life had just taken a turn for the better.
It was chilly on the enclosed back porch where an array of trunks and packing crates were stacked. It reminded Jodee of the hovels she had lived in the past six years. Widow Ashton had failed to tell Corbet there was no bed on the porch, but Jodee didn’t care. The space was clean and dry. At once it felt like her own.
One of the trunks she moved was so old its hinges were broken. As she pushed it aside, the lid slid off. She saw clothes and papers inside, and was naturally curious, but she ignored the temptation to snoop. Replacing the lid, she placed a folded carpet on the floor as her mattress, covered it with her old bed dress—it had served as a sheet before—and looked around for something to use as a blanket. She had Hanna’s shawl. No matter. She had slept in the cold before.
From the back porch windows she could see a light in the carriage house where Bailey had his room. She wondered about the man, going about his daily chores with so little to say. Hanna paid him quiet attention, seeing that he got hot coffee of a morning and a good portion for his dinner each night.
What Maggie did at night, Jodee didn’t know. Jodee hadn’t ventured to the attic yet to visit her. She longed to talk to the woman, to ask questions about Widow Ashton and Avinelle, but in spite of Jodee’s overtures of friendship, Maggie remained silent.
With Hanna gone for the night, the darkened house felt lonely. What did the widows do in the evening alone in their separate rooms? Her grandmother used to do mending in the parlor. When Jodee’s mother was alive, they sat on the porch swing, or in the kitchen, talking. She remembered sitting at her mother’s feet, playing with clothespin dolls. After her mother died, she sat near her grandmother, waiting for the woman to talk to her. The day never came.
Jodee and her father had enjoyed pleasant evenings together around a campfire or a hearth fire if they were lucky enough to be squatters in a shack. He always had a story to tell of his wild, youthful days. In the last few months he’d told the same stories again and again, but the sound of his voice and the rumble of his laughter had warmed Jodee. It was hard to believe those days were over. She’d never see him again in this life.
Growing drowsy, Jodee let her thoughts return to Corbet and his kiss. She relived it a dozen times, wondering when she would see him next, and if he would ever kiss her again.
Hearing a sound in the darkness behind the house, Jodee came instantly alert.
She heard footsteps near the house. With her heart suddenly racing, Jodee got up and looked through the porch's back window. Bailey’s light was out. The rising mountainside behind the house was a shadowed hulk. The night air soaking through the thin porch walls smelled of pine and rock.
Was it Avinelle moving about in her room? Widow Ashton crossing from dressing table to bed? What might Maggie be doing in her attic room? Did she tiptoe through the house at night, listening at doors, opening drawers and wardrobes, watching people sleep?
Or was it Burl? He might have some small interest in her, but surely there was something more. The stagecoach holdup had been a bust. Nearly all the loot had been recovered. Burl probably had nothing left to live on. He was planning something. Jodee was sure of it. Something new.
Eleven
Turning up his coat collar, Corbet stood in the darkness near Avinelle’s house. He hoped Jodee was comfortable on the back porch. It galled him to think of her relegated to such, but he must stop interfering.
He shouldn’t have kissed her, either. That was an impulse he should’ve resisted. But she looked so hurt, so dear—
Out of the corner of his eye, Corbet saw a shadow move. Pulse leaping, he drew his gun and crept across the road. Eyes drilling into the darkness, ears straining, he came upon the shadowy figure and grabbed the intruder's collar. “Hands up.”
Hobie cried, “Marshal, it’s me!”
Corbet released the lad and spun him around. “What are you doing here? Let me guess. Guarding Miss McQue. I ought to tan your hide.”
“But Marshal—”
Corbet gave the lad a nudge forward and holstered his gun. “I might’ve shot you.” He pushed Hobie toward the main road and hustled him back into town. The saloons wer
e still open at that hour but the rest of the town was as dark as a bad dream. To put a good scare into the lad, Corbet nudged Hobie into the jailhouse.
“Don’t arrest me, Marshal! I didn’t do anything.”
“Light the lamp.”
Hobie struck a match with trembling hands. The lamp light cast the jailhouse into harsh brightness. “I was worried about her is all. All the day long I sit in the schoolhouse wondering about that dead man you found in the mountains. If you ask me, Marshal, it wasn’t Tangus. He’s here in Burdeen somewhere. She’s in danger. You might not care—”
“I know, Hobie,” Corbet said. “I was watching over her, wasn’t I? I’ll keep her safe.”
Hobie wilted. “I guess you was at that, but now you got that old sot sweeping up for you instead of me, running errands that used to be mine. Tell Ma you need me back. I don’t want to live with some uncle in the east and go to college next year. I’ve had enough of school. I want to be your deputy. I’ll catch Tangus. I can almost smell him.”
“No,” Corbet said. Hobie didn’t scare as easily as he expected. He took Hobie outside, pondering the fact that at the moment he wasn’t guarding Jodee. At the gate to Hobie’s cabin, Corbet chose his words with care. “You have a widowed mother, Hobart, five siblings, and an uncle willing to pay for college. You’re duty-bound to go. Besides, according to city ordinance, you aren’t old enough to be a deputy. I wouldn’t swear in someone who hadn’t finished school.”
“Tell me Jimmy Hicks ever went to school.”
Bad argument, Corbet had to admit. “You might get killed. Or Tangus might start robbing folks. How would you feel if you were helping me at the jail and your ma got robbed? There’s more to life than doing what we want. When you have a degree, you can come back here and—”
“Don’t you see, Marshal?” Hobie insisted. “I can’t stop thinking about her. I ain’t slept right in days.”
Corbet understood only too well. He wasn’t sleeping right, either. “At any rate, Jodee will leave town soon. She has to go home. Thanks to me, I don’t think she’ll ever find work in Burdeen.”
Hobie twisted away, vaulted over the fence on his gangling legs, and disappeared through a back door. He didn’t say good night.
• • •
After hearing Corbet haul Hobie away, Jodee couldn’t sleep. It thrilled her to think Corbet had been watching over her, but afterwards she strained to hear every sound and went to sleep with her hand on her little pistol.
Hanna woke Jodee when she arrived for work at dawn. Jodee helped with morning chores, but the night air had left her aching all over. When Patsy arrived for her visit, Jodee heard the baby’s shriek, and Hanna looked up and smiled.
“What’s wrong with the baby?” Jodee whispered. “Is he sick?”
“Hungry, I’ll wager.” Hanna nodded toward the door. “Wait and listen.”
In moments the shrieks stopped. Jodee whispered, “What happened?”
“You don’t know nothing about babies, do you, honey?”
Jodee shook her head.
The parlor bell tinkled, signaling it was time for Jodee to carry in the tea tray. Hanna dried her hands. “I’ll come with you. I love little ones.”
Tiptoeing through the pantry where the silverware chest stood open as if to taunt her, Jodee pushed through the door into the dining room. Hanna held the door to the parlor so Jodee could walk through with the heavy tray, her shoulder aching. There sat Widow Ashton and Avinelle wearing elegant afternoon attire. There sat disheveled Patsy Robstart in her same brown calico dress. Jodee was startled to see her looking so haggard.
“Afternoon, Miz Robstart.” Hanna curtseyed. “Might I see the little lad?”
Patsy moved the edge of a handmade blanket to reveal her son firmly attached to her left nipple. “How are your children, Hanna? How’s the littlest?”
Hanna gazed fondly at the baby. “They’re fine. What a handsome one he is.”
After Hanna went back to the kitchen, Jodee placed the tray on the nearest table. She had seen foals nursing mares, calves with cows, and remembered kittens suckling in the barn back in Arkansas, but this was the first time she had seen a woman nursing a child. The sight left Jodee with a strong awareness of herself as a woman.
“For heaven’s sake, Jodee, don’t gawk,” Avinelle muttered.
Widow Ashton cast Jodee a sharp look, too, but Jodee didn’t know what she was doing wrong. “How long does it take to feed him?” she asked Patsy.
Patsy launched into a weary account of her child’s feeding habits. Eventually she switched him to the other breast. It was just too amazing and wonderful. Had her mother nursed her like that, alone in that upstairs bedroom? Had she herself shrieked with hunger and been soothed?
With her eyes smarting, Jodee thought about all she should’ve learned as a girl. She didn’t want to feel angry at her father for taking her away from all that, but now she acted like a ninny at the sight of baby. If she were ever to marry and have a baby of her own, how would she know what to do? If she were to care for someone else’s children, how would she know how to do it? All she knew how to do was shoot rabbits, saddle a horse, and start campfires.
“Are you all right, Jodee?” Avinelle asked, rising from her chair to look out the front window. Her face split with a smile. “Corbet’s coming!” She hurried into the hall. “Go away,” she hissed at Maggie. “You drive me crazy with your lurking. Mother, make her go away.”
Jodee ached to hold the baby.
“Maggie has been with us such a long time,” Widow Ashton said casually to Patsy. “So devoted—Avinelle wants to greet the marshal herself. He has been courting her, you know. It is only a matter of time before he proposes.” She took on exaggerated seriousness. “I feel enough time has passed since Avinelle’s husband was killed. Even though Corbet has no experience with business affairs, he will breathe life into our stage line. He—” She fell silent as Corbet came into the front hall.
Jodee couldn’t breathe. As Corbet entered the parlor with Avinelle holding his elbow, Jodee couldn’t meet his eyes. He greeted Widow Ashton and then Patsy who laid the baby’s blanket over her shoulder. Her cheeks went red.
Corbet caught Jodee’s eye and gave her a nod. As always he seemed to be asking if she was all right. Tarnation, no, she wasn’t all right. He was almost bespoken. She wanted to hate him.
She scarcely heard a word of the pleasantries. Avinelle beamed. Her mother reigned over a stilted conversation. Why were rich folks so gull-darned proper? Jodee wanted to burst into a rant of cussing, but she recalled that was how Burl acted in a fit of temper. She wasn’t going to act like him. Without a word, she poured tea and served little sandwiches with the crusts cut off.
When the baby drifted to sleep, Patsy struggled to right her clothes beneath the blanket. Corbet was only a few feet away. “I should get back,” she said.
“Before you go, I’ll bet Jodee would like to hold the baby,” Corbet said.
Patsy looked torn. “Well certainly.” She placed the baby in Jodee’s outstretched arms.
He looked no bigger than a rabbit, Jodee thought. Her hands trembled as she closed her hands gingerly around him. His little body felt warm and firm and surprisingly heavy. She drew him close, her heart racing. He was wonderful! She managed to draw a ragged breath. Forgetting all about a proposal to Avinelle, Jodee lifted her eyes to Corbet. He drank in the sight of her.
“Henry Robstart, meet Jodee McQue,” Patsy said. “It feels like he needs changing. Thank you, ladies. I wish I could stay longer.”
Everyone stared at Jodee’s rapt expression.
“Changing?” Jodee said.
“His wet diaper drawers. Babies pee their drawers. It makes for loads of laundry.” Patsy looked at Jodee as if she were simple-minded.
“Washing is one thing I know how to do,” Jodee said, wondering if she’d be allowed to help.
Patsy glanced at Avinelle, hanging so contentedly on Corbet’s elbow. “Want to hold h
im?”
“Not if he’s wet,” Avinelle said with an apologetic smile. “This is silk,” she said, plucking at her skirt. “If Lamm and I had had any children, I would’ve had a nanny.” She beamed at Corbet.
Corbet didn’t see Avinelle. He watched Jodee hold a baby for the first time. Avinelle gave his elbow a tug. “Won’t you please sit, Corbet?”
“If Patsy’s ready to go, I’ll see her home. I was headed there anyway.”
“But we haven’t begun our visit,” Avinelle cried. “We have gifts.”
The baby squirmed in Jodee’s arms, startling her. Was he all right? Was she holding him correctly? He was so little, so indescribably beautiful. She studied his miniature fingers. “I could just look and look at him. It must be hard for you to put him down.”
Patsy chuckled. “After a few nights with no sleep it’s easy enough. He sleeps good with Virgil.”
“Is Virgil any better?” Corbet asked.
Patsy took the baby. “He’s hanging on. Glad you’re mending, Jodee. Come over anytime. I’ll have washing ready.” She started out of the room. “And thank you, ladies. I’m sorry. If Virgil should wake and need me, I want to be there. I’m too tired to be polite. Good day.”
“I could come along and do up your washing before supper. No trouble,” Jodee put in.
“Any trouble,” Widow Ashton corrected.
“Nope, not any trouble at all,” Jodee said. “I could meet your husband. He and the other posse men were brave to take out after the Rikes. I’m sorry somebody had to get wounded on their account. The Rikes weren’t worth a plug nickel, the lot of them. I hope you don’t hold it against me, my being in that cabin with them. My pa had just been killed. I didn’t know what else to do with myself.”
Her Outlaw Heart Page 14
