To Love a Stranger (Wyoming Series Book 4)

by Colleen Coble

  She took another bite of the stew and burst into sobs. “It’s terrible!” She threw down her spoon with a clatter and buried her face in her hands. “I so wanted to impress you,” she wailed.

  He knelt beside her. “Don’t cry. It’s no big deal. It’s my fault; I should have showed you how to do it. Antelope is tricky. There are special herbs you can use to take the gamy flavor out.” He stroked her hair. Her tears made him feel helpless. He pulled her to his chest. “Shh. It’s all right.”

  Her sobs stilled, and her hand crept up his chest and nestled at his neck. A wave of protective tenderness swept over him, and he suddenly realized how much he liked the feel of her in his arms. She was small and compact and fit neatly against him—like she belonged. When she lifted her head, he stared into her gray eyes. Was that fear in her eyes? He cupped her cheek in his hand. After a moment, she closed her eyes, and he kissed her. The shock of her soft lips against his was like the kick of a mule.

  He didn’t want it to end, but she finally pulled away from him. He saw the fear in her eyes, the uncertainty. She had good reason. Neither one of them knew where they stood.

  Tears were in her eyes again, and he wanted to ask her why, but he was afraid to speak, afraid of seeing that soft expression fade from her face. Did she love him? Did he love her? He enjoyed the kiss, but was that love? What was love, really? He didn’t think he even knew.

  From the bedroom they heard Ruth’s cry. “She’s hungry,” Bessie whispered. “I must feed her.”

  “All right. When she’s settled again, I wish to speak with you. There is something we must discuss.” The letter burned in his pocket, and he felt like a traitor knowing what he had to say to her.

  He released her, and she got slowly to her feet, then hurried to the bedroom. The frightened expression was back on her face, and he knew there was reason for it this time.

  §

  Ruth’s cries soon stilled as she sucked eagerly at the bottle. What was it she had seen in Jasper’s eyes, Bessie wondered. She was afraid she didn’t want to know what he wanted to talk about. Was he going to send her home now? She couldn’t go, she just couldn’t. She loved her baby, and she was starting to love Jasper as well. She hadn’t wanted to lose her heart until she knew it was safe, but she had been helpless to prevent it. She sniffled and rubbed her eyes. Well, if that’s what he wanted, she wouldn’t agree. She would stay and fight if she had to.

  Ruth’s eyelids soon drooped again, and Bessie put her back into her cradle. Before she went to the parlor, she peered into the little handheld mirror on the nightstand and smoothed her hair. Her gray eyes looked fearful. She pinched a little color into her cheeks and bit her lips. Straightening her shoulders, she marched into the parlor.

  Jasper sprang to his feet when she entered the room. He patted his coat pocket as if to check that something was there, then raked a hand through his hair. “Sit down, Bessie,” he said, indicating the cot that served as their sofa.

  She sat gingerly on the edge of the cot and looked up at him expectantly. Her heart pounded.

  He put his hand in his pocket and drew out a letter. “I hadn’t mentioned it yet, but I wrote to an attorney in California about our situation. I received his answer today.” He avoided her eyes as he pulled the letter out of its envelope and opened it.

  She clenched her fists in the folds of her dress. “Why didn’t you talk to me about it first? You didn’t give me a chance to say anything.”

  “What is there to say? We needed to find out where we stand in this marriage.”

  “Very well.” She forced herself to sit back and look at him as though she didn’t care, when inside she felt as though her heart were literally breaking.

  Jasper leaned against the fireplace. “He says that I signed the papers and married myself to Bessie Randall no matter who she was. The fact that she wasn’t the person I thought was Bessie didn’t matter. You, however, were not involved on your end until it was done. If anyone has grounds for an annulment, it would be you. So if we are to set aside this marriage, you will have to be the one who does it.”

  “Then it will not be done, because I will not. When I came out here, it was to be your wife. I have not changed my opinion on that because of your disappointment in me.”

  “I did not say I was disappointed.” Jasper finally met her gaze. He sighed and looked away. “I didn’t say I wanted you to set it aside. I just wanted you to know you had that option.”

  “It is no option. Marriage is sacred before God. I would not break my vow.”

  “That’s just the issue, Bessie. It was not your vow, it was Lenore’s. Why do you feel you must honor your sister’s deception?”

  Was that disappointment in his voice? In spite of his assertion that he just wanted her to know she could set the marriage aside if she so desired, had he really thought she would do so? She couldn’t answer his question. She couldn’t look into his green eyes and tell him she loved him, not when he did not love her. In her heart she knew he didn’t. But he might one day. She stood and walked to the window.

  When she didn’t answer his question, he sighed. “I would like us to begin to make some progress toward a real marriage, Bessie. Would you be agreeable to studying what God says about love and marriage? I don’t feel I really know what love is or how to love you as a husband should love his wife.”

  It was such an unexpected request that Bessie froze where she was. He wanted to learn to love her. That realization filled her with joy. Perhaps one day she would see genuine love in his face. “That would be lovely.” For just a moment Bessie allowed herself to hope.

  He picked up the Bible from the top of his mess chest, then sat on the cot and patted the spot beside him. “Sit with me.”

  She settled in next to him, and he opened the Bible. “May I?”

  She found her voice. “Of course.” She was afraid to say more, afraid her heart would betray her.

  “I asked Clay once what Scripture a husband and wife should read together. He suggested 1 Corinthians 13 to discover what love really is. He told me to beware of thinking love was just a feeling. Shall I begin?”

  “Please do.”

  “Clay said to remember the word charity means love.” He began to read. The words poured into her heart. She had never heard these words quite like this. Had she ever loved someone this unselfishly? Could she learn to love Jasper like this? It was a bit daunting.

  “ ’Charity suffereth long, and is kind; charity envieth not; charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, Doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil.’ ”

  Jasper closed the Bible. “Let’s pray.” He took Bessie’s hand. “Lord, we ask You to show us how to love one another as You would have a husband and wife love. Give us grace and patience and bind our hearts together as one. In Jesus’ name, amen.”

  Tears pooled in Bessie’s eyes when she raised her head. His prayer had seemed so heartfelt. Did he really intend to try? And even if he did, could he ever love her? She wasn’t a beauty; she couldn’t cook a decent meal; she wasn’t anything special. Perhaps she could love him enough to make up for those deficiencies.

  He smiled at her. “God has given us a pretty big list. I think we should just work on one characteristic at a time. After that meal, longsuffering will be my first goal.”

  She stared at him, then slowly began to smile as his words penetrated. “At least you got to eat it in the privacy of your own home,” she said. “And what about the rest of that sentence?” She opened the Bible to Corinthians. “To paraphrase, love suffers long and is kind. How about a little kindness? You could eat those biscuits anyway.”

  “I’m not that kind,” he told her with a grin. “But a stray dog came into the fort today. He would probably consider it a kindness to eat them.”

  She burst into delighted laughter. “You get the dog; I’ll get the biscuits.”

  She couldn’t believe the difference in their relationship over the
next few days. Jasper went out of his way to do small things for her. They spent the evenings reading together from the Bible or the small stash of books she had brought west with her, or they discussed dreams and goals. She discovered Jasper wanted to open a general store in a small town when he was out of the army, and she confessed to him how much she had always wanted a sewing machine.

  He sometimes kissed her before she went to the tiny bedroom with Ruth, and she wondered when he would begin to demand his husbandly rights. She so longed to hear him say he loved her, but he never did. Perhaps he never would. If not, she must learn to deal with that fact. They could raise a family on mutual respect and consideration. She wanted a family, a large family. Much as she loved Lenore, she had always regretted having only one sibling.

  They were trapped inside one day while a sandstorm blew through. The wind howled and blew sand through every crack and crevice, but they spent the time playing checkers on a battered board with painted rocks Jasper had scrounged. Bessie loved the time together and was almost glad for the storm.

  When he went off on patrol the next day, Bessie knew she had her work cut out for her. A thick layer of sand covered everything, even their clothes. After sweeping and dusting, she asked one of the privates to haul her some water for washing. The supply train had come with cleaning supplies, and she was ready to give the house a good cleaning. She filled the tub with soap and water, took down the scrub board from the kitchen wall, rolled up her sleeves, and got to work.

  Jasper had left his mess chest open, so she decided to clean everything in it, too. She was almost to the bottom of the chest, when she found a letter with familiar handwriting. Her throat closed up as she recognized Lenore’s familiar flamboyant penmanship. Kneeling on the hard wooden floor with the letter in her hand, her chest felt heavy as though she couldn’t breath; she wanted to crumple the letter into a ball and toss it into the stove.

  When had Jasper gotten this letter? Why hadn’t he told her he was still corresponding with Lenore? And Lenore. How could she write to her sister’s husband behind her back? The sting of betrayal brought tears of pain and rage to her eyes. She had known her sister was selfish, but how could she do something like this? Had Lenore’s relationship soured with Richard, and so she thought to resume her long-distance romance with Jasper? He was a married man now. He was her husband, not Lenore’s.

  Bessie had thought things were going so well, but now she discovered he had kept this secret. Her hands shook, and she put the letter down as though it might bite her. She wouldn’t read it. She couldn’t. She couldn’t bear to see words of endearment. Jasper would be home soon, but she didn’t want to see him. How could she hide her feelings? But hide them she must. He must not have the satisfaction of knowing she loved him.

  She had never known she could feel such jealousy and anger. How could she face him? He would surely read her pain and betrayal in her eyes. She slowly buried the letter in the bottom of the mess chest and piled the rest of Jasper’s things on top. Closing the lid, she got to her feet as though she were an old woman. She felt old and used and hurt.

  Taking a deep breath, she leaned her forehead against the wall, then straightened her shoulders and forced back tears. She would weather this somehow. She still had Ruth, even if her husband’s heart would never be hers. How could he ever love her when Lenore waited for him?

  The baby wailed, and she hurried to care for her. She felt like wailing herself, but she was an adult and her responsibilities waited for her. She wished she could just sit in the middle of the floor and weep until she had no more tears.

  eight

  Ruth was crying when Jasper got home. He felt irritable and out of sorts, and a crying baby did nothing to ease his mood. Bessie had been acting oddly for the past week, too. He had tried to get her to tell him what was wrong, but she refused to answer him. He had enjoyed coming home to a smiling wife, but this solemn little wife with the stiff back disconcerted him. She still did everything she had done before. The house was spotless with supper on the table when he arrived, but he missed the light in her eyes when she saw him and her ready smile. He had to find out what was wrong.

  He picked Ruth up and walked through the kitchen, looking for Bessie. Supper was cooking; it smelled like beans and corn bread, and his stomach rumbled hungrily. He finally found her just outside the back door with a pile of wood in her arms.

  “Why didn’t you wait until I got home?” he asked. “Ruthie was awake and crying.”

  “I just left her a moment. Rooster brought the wood right up to the back of our quarters. She couldn’t have been crying long.”

  He held the door open while she carried the wood in. He would have done it for her, but he could tell by her expression it would be best not to offer. She dropped the wood in the box by the stove, then she rinsed her hands in the bowl of water on the dry sink. Holding her arms out for the baby, she didn’t meet his gaze.

  He sighed and handed Ruth over to her. How was a man supposed to know how he had transgressed with a woman? What man understood women? He wished Clay and Jessica were there. Clay had plenty of experience in dealing with a temperamental woman.

  “I’m going to be gone for three or four days,” he told her. “I’ve been assigned patrol duty. Word is Cochise is headed this way. He attacked a wagon train over by Lordsburg, then killed a settler and his family near San Simon.”

  Her head jerked up, and he could read the fear in her eyes. He felt a sense of relief. Whatever was eating her, at least she still cared about his safety. “I’ll be fine,” he said. He gave her a smile, and she returned it tentatively.

  “The officers are hosting a party at their quarters tonight. You want to go?”

  She hesitated, then nodded. “These four walls get tiresome. I wish I could plant a garden, but headquarters did not send any seeds.”

  “What kind of garden? Vegetables or flowers?”

  “Both, really.”

  “It would be difficult. We would have to haul water.”

  “I know, but the acequia isn’t far.”

  “It would take more water than you realize.”

  “A small garden wouldn’t take that much.”

  He smiled and went to the parlor, glad he could surprise her. When he opened his mess chest, he sensed her stiffen. Puzzled, he glanced at her. What was eating at her? Rummaging through his chest, he found a box in the very bottom and pulled it out. “Jessica sent these with me. I had forgotten about them until now.”

  She gave a cry of delight at the seed packets in his hand. “Bless you!” She snatched the packets from him and rifled through them. “Carrots, green beans, beets, even a packet of flower seeds.” She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his chin. “Thank you, Jasper. I’ll get started tomorrow.”

  “Wait until I can help you,” he advised. “The ground will be hard as brick. I doubt you can break it up by yourself.” Her enthusiasm pleased him. He wanted things back the way they were. Even their Bible reading at night was tense. He hoped she would get over whatever was bothering her by the time he came back in a few days.

  §

  Bessie pushed on the shovel with all her might, but she didn’t have the strength to shove more than the tip into the ground. She sighed at her own ineptitude. If she couldn’t do something as simple as turning over sod, how could she ever prove to Jasper she was a better wife than Lenore ever could have been for him?

  She didn’t want to wait to plant the garden until Jasper came home. She needed something to occupy her time now. If she had too much spare time, her mind went round and round her problems. Thoughts of her husband’s betrayal were just under the surface of her mind, like an itch that needed to be scratched. The more she tried to ignore it, the more it nagged at her. Would she ever be able to erase the memory of her sister’s bold writing on the envelope of that letter?

  “Missus, you ought not to be doin’ this by yourself. I’m off duty now. Yer husband would have my hide if he knew I’d let you dig this here dirt
.” Rooster plucked the shovel from her hands and shooed her out of the way. He jammed the shovel to its hilt into the dirt and turned it over.

  He might look like a scrawny banty rooster, but he was stronger than he looked. She backed away to where Ruth lay under a blanket canopy and watched. Rooster made it look so easy.

  A strange rattling noise made her look down. She froze. A snake! Its coils glistened in the sunshine, its flat, triangular-shaped head low to its body. She tried to call out to Rooster, but before she could get a sound past her tight throat, it struck. Its fangs sank into her leg, and she screamed.

  Before she fainted, she heard Rooster shout; then the ground rose to meet her.

  §

  “Ruthie.” Bessie tried to raise her head. Where was she, and where was the baby? Her right leg throbbed and burned, and she felt lightheaded and weak.

  “Lie still, Missus. You been bit.” Rooster’s voice seemed far away.

  “My baby.”

  “I got the little one right here. She’s fine. You gotta lie still, Missus.”

  Gentle hands pushed her down. She gasped, struggling to breathe. A rattlesnake. It had bitten her. She shuddered as a wave of nausea washed over her. Rooster held a pail while she vomited.

  He muttered clucking noises and patted her shoulder awkwardly when she began to cry. “You’ll be all right. I done sucked out the poison.”

  She shuddered and turned her head, seeking for sight of the baby. When she saw her sleeping in the cradle, she closed her eyes and slept, too. She awakened off and on and cried out for water, for Jasper or for Ruth, but Rooster was always there to hold the pail or give her a drink. Once she thought she saw Lenore sitting on the edge of the bed, but she told her to go away. She had already spoiled things enough; Bessie didn’t want her there.

  §

  Jasper drooped tiredly in the saddle. He wondered how Bessie and Ruth were getting along without him. Maybe Bessie was glad to have him out of the way.

  Twenty-three men rode with him. So far they had seen no Apache Indians, only a few friendly Navajo who had strayed off their reservation. Jasper was beginning to wonder if their information was correct. Cochise might have headed back into the Dragoon Mountains. He had been a formidable foe, striking small parties and settlers, then fading back to his hideaway in the mountains, but now that the fort was operational again, he would be even more cautious. Most tribes avoided the white man’s forts and the “guns that shoot twice,” as they called the army’s howitzers.