Her heart pounded in her throat at his words. In his tent? What did that mean? What did he expect? Was he ready to accept their marriage as true and binding?
As though he could read her thoughts, he brushed his knuckles against her chin and gazed into her eyes. “No strings,” he whispered. “I’ll get an extra cot. It will give us a chance to get better acquainted.”
Wasn’t that what she wanted? Then why was she so afraid? She swallowed her fear and nodded. “I’ll get my things.”
four
Jasper pushed the cot up against the wall. An empty cot like his empty marriage. What was the right thing? What was he to do? He didn’t believe in divorce, but what about annulment, especially when he had been deceived? What would God expect? When he had first invited her to stay tonight, he had been appalled at his own invitation. It was best not to get too close yet.
He saw her shadow hesitate outside the door to the tent. Was she going to turn and leave? He stepped forward and pushed up the tent flap. “I’m here. Come on in.” He took her small valise and put it on the floor by her bed. She looked like a bird who might take flight at any time. The fading light silhouetted her slim figure and illuminated her hair like a halo. She had certainly acted like an angel of mercy today. The doctor had been very impressed with her.
“Shall we go to mess?” She needed fattening up. A strong wind would carry her to Arizona Territory by itself.
Bessie nodded. “Do you know what we’re having?”
“Beans.”
Her lips curved upward. “That’s all we ever have. Do we ever get vegetables or fruit?”
“You mean like potatoes and apples? Is that what they’re called? It’s been so long since I’ve seen one, I’m not sure anymore. I don’t think the army knows what they are, either.” He took her arm and guided her toward the tent opening.
He joked with her during mess and noticed how often other soldiers stopped by to talk to her. She talked easily with them and seemed genuinely interested in each of them. He was surprised to find he was jealous. He wanted those gray eyes to light up at the sight of him like they had earlier today, he realized as he watched her thoughtfully. Was there more to her than he had first thought?
Dusk had begun to fall when they strolled back to his tent. She was obviously nervous, and he admitted he was a bit uneasy himself. He needed to keep the fact firmly in mind that she might soon be on her way back to Boston. And he needed to keep his distance so an annulment would be possible.
Jasper shut the flap on the tent and lit the candle on the crate by the opening. He lit another and handed it to Bessie. She smiled her thanks and perched on the edge of her cot. It was too early to go to bed. What were they to do all evening?
She filled in the silence. “Tell me about yourself, Jasper. We hardly know one another.”
He seated himself on his cot across from her. “I’m a boring subject.”
“You’ve seen a lot of the world. This is my first time out of Boston.”
“You’ve never been to Texas then.”
She shook her head. “Was that where you grew up?”
“There and Ohio. Jessica and I lived in Toledo, Ohio, until our real mother died. I don’t remember our father. When we were put in the orphanage, we tried to stay together, but we didn’t have any choice. Jessica was adopted by the Dubois family while I was sent west on an orphan train. That was the hardest day of my life. I knew I’d never see my sister again. And I wouldn’t have, if it hadn’t been for Clay.” He smiled, remembering how he felt when he got the telegram from Clay.
“I remember standing on the siding in Abilene while the train blew its horn and pulled away. All my friends were on that train, and it left me behind with a gruff man and sober woman who said they were my new parents. I was terrified. But the Mendenhalls were great folks. It wasn’t their fault they were never able to make me feel I belonged. They tried, but I could never quit waiting for them to throw me out or scream at me for spilling my milk the way my real mom did.”
He hadn’t realized he had drifted into reliving the past until Bessie touched his hand. Her soft gray eyes were tender with compassion.
She glanced at her hand on his arm, and a wave of pink stained her cheeks. She left her hand where it was, though. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “You’ve gone through a lot. But hasn’t God been good to reunite you and Jessica?”
She was so right. He laid a hand over hers. “I thank Him for it every day,” he told her soberly. “What about you? What was it like growing up for you?”
Her color deepened. She pulled her hand away and looked down. There was some mystery here, he realized, wondering what her real reason was for coming out as a wife to someone she had never met. Sure, it was already done when she found out about it, but she could have written and had it annulled or questioned the legality of it. She would have never had to meet him. Why had she?
“What’s Lenore really like?” As soon as he asked the question, he wished he could snatch it back.
The light in her eyes died, and she sat back on her cot. “She’s a wonderful girl,” she said slowly. “Everyone says so. Beautiful, cultured, adventurous. Everything I’m not,” she finished abruptly. She stood and turned her back to him as she stared down at his tiny cache of three books that sat atop his mess chest.
He rose and looked over her shoulder. He turned her to face him. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I wasn’t comparing the two of you. I just wondered about the sadness in your eyes. Let’s talk about something else.”
She gave him a slight smile and picked up a tiny carved buffalo. “This is exquisite. Wherever did you get it?”
“I made it.”
She turned and smiled. “You carved this? Do you have others you’ve done?”
“Sure.” He felt a little strange showing them to her. His hobby of whittling sometimes seemed useless and embarrassing to him. But he carried his knife along wherever he went, and whittling helped calm his mind. No one had ever seemed to think this talent remarkable. With a warm wave of affection for her, he opened his mess chest and pulled out the small gunnysack that held his work.
Her delight in the tiny carved animals washed away the last of his self-consciousness. “This is Lollie, the golden retriever I had as a kid. She died three years ago.” He ran his fingers over the smooth surface, then handed it to her.
“Oh, Jasper, look at the devotion on her face.” She gave him such a smile of approval, he had to grin. Her joy was contagious.
She took his hand and rubbed her fingers over the scars. “I wondered where these nicks and cuts came from.”
The touch of her small hand did funny things to his heart. Was this normal? He hadn’t been around women much. “Sometimes I get so intent on what I’m doing, the knife gets away from me.”
She released his hand, and he felt oddly forlorn. He had liked the feel of her small hand in his. He mentally shook himself and dug into the bag again. “Do you know who this is?”
She looked at the figurine a moment. “Is it Jessica as a child?”
He nodded. “How did you know without the red hair as a flag?”
She stared at it again. “The slant of the eyes and the imperious expression.”
He chuckled, and she joined him. “She’s a lot more mellow than she used to be, according to Clay. Jessica admits it, too. God has changed her.”
“He changes us all.” Bessie sighed and put the figurines back in the bag. “Do you ever wonder why He fashioned you as He did?”
“What do you mean?” Was there something about him she didn’t like?
“Nothing. Forget it.” She yawned and sat on the cot.
All his confidence evaporated. Did she hate red hair?
“I’m really tired. Do you suppose I could go to bed now?”
“Of course.” He suddenly realized she had no privacy to get ready for bed. Looking around, he grabbed a blanket. “Let me fix an area for you.” He dug some twine out of his mess chess and strung of
f a section in the corner, then draped the blanket over it. “I’ve got a couple of things to do before bed. I’ll be back in a little while.”
She took her valise and started to her privacy corner. Before she slipped the blanket back, she turned to him and smiled. “Thank you for a lovely evening, Jasper. I enjoyed getting to know you better.”
He almost sighed with relief. She didn’t seem angry with him. What had caused the barrier between them just now? “You’re welcome. Call me if you need anything.”
“I will.”
§
With Jasper gone, Bessie felt like weeping. Things had gone so well until he mentioned Lenore. Would she live in the shadow of her beautiful sister, even in marriage? Jasper could never have Lenore now. Did he still pine for the spirited girl with whom he had corresponded? Bessie knew she wasn’t as beautiful as Lenore, but that didn’t make her own desires less important. She was just quieter about it. With Lenore, everything was done with fanfare and a flurry of activity. Bessie liked to accomplish things quietly in the background.
He had seemed curious when she asked if he ever wondered why God had fashioned him as He did. Was she the only one who ever wondered about that? Why had He chosen to give Lenore all the physical beauty in the family? Did He love her more than Bessie? She knew the Bible had called David a man after God’s own heart, and David had been handsome and sought after. Did that mean He loved others less? Often Bessie pondered these questions.
She sniffed away the tears in the back of her throat and undressed. She pulled on her flannel, high-necked nightgown and took down her hair. Pushing aside the blanket, she took out her brush and sat on the edge of her cot. One, two, three. Counting each stroke of the brush, she didn’t hear Jasper come in until he cleared his throat.
Her head jerked up, and her mouth went dry at the expression on his face. No man had ever looked at her like that. Could it be that he actually liked the way she looked? She swallowed and stared into his eyes. “I–I’m almost ready for bed,” she said nervously. Her fingers felt as though they could barely hang onto the brush.
He cleared his throat again, and his gaze followed the brush as it flowed through her hair. “Could I do that for you?”
It was all Bessie could do to keep her mouth from dropping open. “If–if you like.” She handed him the brush and turned so her back was to him. He touched her hair so gently at first, she could barely feel it. “You won’t hurt me,” she said.
He ran the brush through her hair, his hands following behind the strokes. It felt almost like a caress to Bessie. Did he mean it as one? The pulse hammered in her throat.
“You have lovely hair.” His voice was husky. “Like silk.”
If she had tried to answer, she would not have been able to say a word. She closed her eyes and shivered at the sensation of his hands in her hair. She couldn’t even remember the last time her mother had brushed her hair. It must have been years ago when she was a child. She tried not to think about what Lenore’s hair looked like. Jasper didn’t know Lenore’s hair was as black as a raven’s wing and just as glossy, that Bessie’s own waist-length locks were only a pale reflection of her sister’s. And Bessie was fiercely glad of that. If he never actually saw Lenore, maybe someday he could grow to love his wife.
He abruptly dropped the brush in her lap. “I’d better let you get some sleep.”
She opened her eyes reluctantly. The dream was over. It was back to reality. He would think back and regret he had touched her when it was Lenore he really wanted. She put the brush back into her valise, then slipped beneath the rough woolen blanket. “Good night, Jasper,”
She could sense his gaze on her for several long moments. “Good night, Bessie. Sleep well.” He blew out the candle, and she heard him slide into bed. Within a few minutes she heard his breathing deepen. How could he sleep? She didn’t think she would be able to sleep at all. The sentry called the time every hour, and the last one she heard was two o’clock.
She awoke to the sound of reveille and the shouts of soldiers packing the column for departure.
“I was about to wake you. We need to pack so I can get our tent down.” Jasper was fully dressed with his hair slicked back. The dim glow of the candle cast shadows on his face.
Bessie sat up groggily and pushed her hair out of her face. That searching expression was on his face again. She flushed self-consciously. “I must look a fright.”
“You look lovely,” Jasper said. “I’m sorry to rush you. I’ll be outside when you’re ready.”
She waited until he closed the flap on the tent behind him, then slipped out of bed. He had called her lovely. Could he really think that?
A battered tin pitcher held the water he had brought in for her. How thoughtful. A flush raced up her cheeks at the dreamlike remembrance of his hands in her hair last night. More shouts echoed through the tent wall, and she hurriedly washed and dressed, then pushed the flap aside and stepped outside. Dawn was just beginning to cast rosy fingers across the horizon, and she was chagrined that she had slept so late. What must Jasper think of her?
“Do you want to ride in the ambulance today, or would you like to try the horse again?” The teasing note in Jasper’s voice brought the heat to her cheeks again.
“I’d better ride in the ambulance until you have time to teach me to handle a horse.”
He grinned. “That’s probably a good idea. Maybe we’ll have a chance for your first lesson tonight.” He touched her arm, then went to help take down the remaining tents.
Her skin tingled where his fingers had been. She rubbed her arm absentmindedly. Sighing, she took her valise and hurried to the ambulance. Several of her patients from yesterday were up and gone after a night of rest. She scolded herself for her disappointment that she would not spend the night in Jasper’s tent again.
His handlebar mustache quivering with pleasure, Doctor Richter smiled and waved her over. “Ah, Mrs. Mendenhall, I was wondering if I would have your assistance today. As you can see, our patient load has dwindled overnight.”
“How is Private Brindle doing this morning?” Bessie knelt beside the young man who had taken a bullet through the shoulder. He winked at her, and she felt the heat of a flush on her face. She wasn’t used to such attention.
“Better,” he answered at the same time as Doctor Richter.
His fever was down, and his color was better. Bessie gave him a smile and patted his shoulder before moving on to the next patient.
While she followed the doctor from patient to patient, her thoughts kept drifting to Jasper. What was he doing? Was he thinking of her at all? She shook her head at her thoughts. He was likely thinking about Lenore.
The day stretched out interminably. As evening approached, Bessie kept glancing out the back of the covered wagon and watching for Jasper. Would he come to take her riding, or was he already regretting his invitation?
Just before supper mess, he appeared at the back of the wagon. He looked tired, but his face brightened when he saw her. “Would you care to walk with me to supper? Afterwards, we can go riding.” He picked up her valise. “We might as well drop this in our tent on the way.”
Our tent. Her heart pounded. He said our tent. Did he expect them to be together from now on? She smiled at the thought. Perhaps last night had meant something to him after all. She followed him past the huddled tents and campfires. The smoke stung her eyes, but she liked the scent. He tossed her valise into a tent near the center of the encampment, then took her hand. His fingers were warm and comforting. She curled her fingers around his and smiled at him.
After supper they went to the corral, and he picked out a gentle mare for her. He instructed her on mounting and dismounting, using the reins, and saddling the horse. Then he helped her mount. She clung to the pommel and tried not to remember her last disastrous ride. But this time they were both prepared for her inexperience. First Jasper led her on the horse around the encampment. Several soldiers called out encouragement, and Bessie flushe
d with embarrassment. Did they all know she was a total novice? But the teasing was good-natured, and she soon relaxed.
Then Jasper gave her the reins and walked beside her while she practiced guiding the mare. “You’re doing great!” he told her.
Was that pride on his face? She sat taller in the saddle. She wanted Jasper to always look at her with that air of pride and proprietorship.
They stopped at dusk, and Jasper lifted her off the saddle. Bessie’s stomach fluttered at the touch of his strong hands on her waist. He held her a few moments longer than necessary, then smiled slightly and released her. As they walked back to the tent, he took her hand.
He tied the flap behind them while she lit the candles, and she felt as though they were a loving married couple settling in for the night. Did he feel anything for her at all? Even if he did, would the memory of Lenore’s deception always be between them?
five
Jasper picked up the envelope and stared at the familiar writing. Bessie’s writing. The Bessie he had thought he had known anyway. The real Bessie was back at the tent waiting for him to join her. His mouth dry, he opened Lenore’s letter and unfolded the pages inside. At least she signed her real name this time. He leaned against the wagon and quickly scanned the pages, then folded them up and put them in his pocket. His gaze thoughtful, he strode toward the tent.
He didn’t know what to do about the contents of the letter. Just reading the letter brought back his feelings of betrayal. He had been so foolish. Shame burned in his belly and resentment flared against Bessie. Could she really have been innocent of any involvement in Lenore’s duplicity? It seemed hard to believe that.
Bessie smiled when he entered the tent, but he frowned instead, and her smile faltered. “Is something wrong?”
To Love a Stranger (Wyoming Series Book 4) Page 4
