by Scott, Tarah
“Charlie, you’ve known me a long time. When have I given a shit what anyone thinks? Marion’s my girl.”
“Jack has a thing for your girl,” Charlie blurted. “I don’t want to be the one to tell you, but they’ve been seeing each other every day. The way Jack talks it’s gotten pretty heavy, but hell, what did you expect when you married a whore?”
Trains hands balled into fists. “Jack is full of shit.” He spit the jerky from his mouth before he threw up.
“You could ask anyone, but they’re all afraid to say anything. Even TJ’s seen her down at the shack.” Charlie took a hefty swallow from the canteen. “You can punch me if you want, won’t change the truth. She’s making a fool out of you.”
A crackle sounded near the river. Charlie picked up his rifle and took careful aim. The shot rang out and the three-point buck dropped to the ground. “We’ll need to move farther up stream, unless you want to head back.”
Train shook his head. “I need to shoot something and if we go back now, it’ll either be Jack or Marion.” Picking up his rifle, he headed back toward the horses while Charlie retrieved his kill.
* * * * *
Marion came through the back door without knocking. Allison’s kitchen felt more like home than her own little house. “Have you or TJ said something to Train? He’s getting suspicious. He watches me like a hawk. This morning I had to pretend to go back to bed in order to convince him I wasn’t eager for him to leave.” She went to the stove and poured a cup of coffee.
“I know I haven’t said a thing. I doubt TJ did either. He knows Train would be livid if he knew how much time you were spending in the shack.” She had a large pot simmering on the stove. Marion went to stick her nose in when Allison gave her a warning glance. “I’m making soap. The fumes will burn your eyes, not to mention it stinks until I add a little oil.”
Marion took the pad of paper TJ had given her and turned to the next blank page. “All right,” she said with pencil poised to write. “Step one.” Marion began to transcribe the instructions Allison dictated for the process. She struggled spelling some of the words, but as long as she could read what she wrote, it didn’t matter.
Marion tapped the pencil against the table. “Any other lessons for today, teacher?”
“No, but tomorrow I’m going to show you how to organize a pantry.”
Marion kissed Allison on the cheek. “Don’t do too much.” She put her hand on Allison’s belly. “I’ll stop by before I go home. Train said he’d be late, so I’m going over to the shack.”
“Don’t get caught,” Allison hollered. Marion went out the door.
Marion shuddered stepping out into the chilled air. She rubbed her arms as she jogged down the path to the shack. She burst through the door and was greeted by the delicious smell of apple pie.
“Hello, Sunshine.” Cake’s wide, genuine smile held the same warmth as the cast iron stove in the corner. “Are you hungry?”
“Do you have to ask?” Marion stepped next to him and took the oven mitt he held out to her. Carefully and slowly, she opened the oven door.
“Just a crack,” he warned. “You don’t want to let the heat out.”
“You’ll make a chef out of her yet,” Betty said when she came over. “Got your writing tablet?” Marion held it up. “Good because today you are going to learn about the animal your husband is hunting.”
Marion sat down at the nearest table and licked the tip of her pencil. “Ready.”
Jack walked into the shack. “Smells delicious.” Then he caught a glance of Marion. “On no, did you do the cooking?” he asked. “Keep her away from the food. Your cookies made me sick.” He pointed his finger at her.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t try one first. I mixed up the baking soda for the baking powder.”
Betty laughed. “Actually, you mixed up the soda and the flour.”
“A cup of soda is bound to clean anything, including the body.” Cake’s deep chuckle bounced his belly.
“Well, you’re safe,” Marion said. “I didn’t make the pies.”
* * * * *
Train let Clive lumber along at a slow pace because of the extra weight on the back of his saddle. He was eager to see if the others who had been up on the mountain had fared as well as he and Charlie did. A three-point buck hung on the back of Charlie’s saddle, but he’d managed to snag a huge six-point devil along with a younger male who had yet to establish a large set of antlers.
It was well past dinner when Train and Charlie entered the shack booming with boisterous laughs and stories of who was king of the mountain. Charlie put his fingers in his mouth and let an ear-piercing whistle screech through the room. “I wouldn’t want any premature celebrations, but we have ourselves a new king of the mountain.” He bowed to Train. “If you would care to step outside and see for yourselves.” He opened the door. Their gutted kills lay on the ground waiting to be hung and skinned before the meat spoiled.
Cake rubbed his hands together. “I’d say that head would look right pretty hanging on the wall above your fireplace.”
“Wouldn’t be any room left in the house,” someone said and everyone laughed. “The walls of that little house would cave in under the weight.” He lifted the buck by the antlers. “Christ, Train, you brought him down on your horse?”
“Maybe you could invite us out to dinner. Your wife can make up some well-done venison burgers.” A few men laughed, but the joke was lost on Train.
“Jack, shut up,” Cake said. He grabbed hold of the smaller deer. “Let’s get them hung.”
Train walked back to the stables instead of helping with the deer. He wanted to check on his horses before riding the new stallion home. Clive was tired from the hunt. He’d stumbled a few times. His muscles strained under the additional weight. “Good job today,” he said while he gave him more hay. Clive’s ears perked up and he whinnied.
Train moved farther down the aisle until he reached the stall with the dark brown stallion. The horse stomped the ground in anticipation of being rode. His Legacy, the stallion that would sire his future stock. Foregoing the saddle, still using a bridle, he led the horse into the cool, night air and headed for home.
The sky was a watercolor of charcoal gray, ivory, and muted blue. The silhouette of his home looked like a place of solitude against the horizon of still blue waters and steep rocky cliffs. It called to him unlike anything ever had. He felt the same way about the woman behind the maroon curtains lying naked in a bed of clean sheets.
Only a sliver of a flame, still burning in the fireplace, lit the room. Marion’s black hair fanned out across her pillow while her even breathing strummed his heartstrings.
The changes were not subtle around the house. The care she took with sewing the curtains was clearly visible. The hems were straight and pleated in just the right spot to reflect a faint pattern in the fabric.
Obviously, his wife was very observant. The kindling box was full of splintered wood from the crates she’d emptied. She wielded his axe just as he had done many times while building the house and chopped firewood. He had to admit, for a woman to profess having only one skill, she was becoming adept at household chores.
Aromas in the house hinted at apple pie confirming what Charlie had said. In addition to finding time to mislead him into believing that she was taking care of Allison, she was entertaining the likes of Jack. Suddenly she didn’t look as appealing lying in bed. He grabbed his bedroll and went to sleep under the stars.
Marion woke, surprised to find herself alone in bed. The house was dark with the heavy curtains blocking the morning sun. Allison had been right. It was nice to wake up rested rather than rudely rousted by the blinding sun.
She quickly got the fire going again before she went to the outhouse. “Train?” She came across his bedroll near the side of the house. “What in the hell are you sleeping out here for?” The combination of cold and the need to use the outhouse made her dance from one foot to the other. “Go inside,” she
demanded as she hurried away.
Marion returned to find Train sitting at the kitchen table. He had put the coffeepot on the stone slab close to the fire to heat. “Do you want apple pie for breakfast?” She pulled back the cloth covering the dessert. “What is it now?” she asked.
He had yet to look at her. Still his lips formed a thin, angry, line.
“If you now prefer the company of your horse during the night rather than your wife in a warm bed, I’ve done something to upset you.”
Train stood and grabbed his hat off the hook. “Figure out whose bed you prefer before making assumptions about where I want to be.” He swung open the door, causing it to crash into the wall.
Marion followed and grabbed hold of him by the arm. “Hold on just a minute,” she said, seething. “If you have something to say, be a man and come right out with it.” Marion could feel her temper rising. She had never backed down from a fight, and didn’t plan to start now.
“Where have you been whiling away your afternoons? Don’t bother lying.”
Sucking in sharply, she said, “Are you insinuating that I’ve been keeping company in someone else’s bed? Or perhaps I’ve set up shop right here in the backwoods?” She sniffed the air. “Something smells unsavory, but it isn’t sex.” She let go of his arm. “Because I’m not having any!” She went back in the house as Train mounted Legacy.
Train pushed the horse into a full gallop. The force of the hooves hitting the ground traveled up powerful legs and pounded into Train’s body. He closed the distance to the ranch house in record speed. Sliding from Legacy, he entered the shack to see familiar faces sitting at tables eating breakfast and drinking coffee, the hum of their chatter familiar to Train. His eyes scanned the line of men looking for one face in particular.
Train spotted Charlie first. Fierce anger gripped him, threatening to take him to the edge of reason. He was more than ready to take on anyone who interfered with his need to get to Jack.
“Get some breakfast,” Charlie said, standing in front of Train to block his visual search of the room.
His gaze refocused on Charlie. “I’m not hungry.”
“Then go for a walk. Don’t come in here looking for trouble.” He pushed Train toward the door.
“I’m not looking for trouble. I came for Jack. He’s a damn liar and I’m going to prove it.” He easily shoved Charlie to the side. Twenty years Charlie’s junior, the smaller man was no match for Train.
“Train!” Cake’s commanding tone stopped him again.
“Don’t get involved in this.” He pointed to the old cook who had been his friend since childhood. “She’s my wife!”
“And she hasn’t done nothing,” he bellowed. “Jack hangs around with his tongue waggin’, and she couldn’t care less.”
Train blinked several times trying to soothe the burning sensation in his eyes.
“You’re so sure she hasn’t changed, you haven’t noticed a damn thing she’s done for you.” He put his chubby finger in Train’s face. “Men look down their noses at whores, husbands put their wives on pedestals. Ask yourself how you see Marion.” Cake put a scoop of scrambled eggs on a plate and shoved it at Train.
Train declined the eggs, deciding he needed Allison. He need to talk to someone he trusted.
“Morning,” he said, stomping through the kitchen door. Sissy jumped from her chair and ran into his outstretched arms.
Train stood behind Allison and looked over her shoulder as she fried steak and eggs in an enormous frying pan. “Smells good, mama.” He touched her distended belly when she thrust it forward. “How’s the one in the oven?”
She laughed. “He’s been quiet. Funny how my belly seemed to pop out over night.”
“He? You’ve decided you’re having a boy.”
“Wishful thinking,” she said then smiled.
He sat at the table while she fixed him a plate. “You know why I’m here.”
She nodded. “You’re hoping I’ll talk about Marion.” She set a cup of coffee in front of Train, then sat across from him. “Joseph, you either trust her or you don’t. I don’t follow her around during the day. Nor do I inquire about her love life. I assume you’re the only one with those details.”
Train took a sip of coffee. “I know Marion. She likes to talk. If she were getting on with Jack, she’d tell you.”
Allison’s smile gentled. “Then I guess you don’t have anything to worry about. She’s only bragging about you.” Her cheeks turned pink. “I have to admit, at first I thought she was exaggerating, but Marion isn’t easily impressed.”
Train ran his hands down his face. “She tells me she spends her afternoons with you, does she?”
Allison returned to the stove unwilling to look him in the eye. She flipped the steak. The sizzle filled the heavy silence between them. “I’ll only answer if you promise not to jump to conclusions.” She glanced over her shoulder. “She likes spending time in the shack.”
Train stood from the table, clenching his hands into fists. “To be with Jack?”
“No! It isn’t what you think.”
“I think it is.” He was out the door, across the yard, and heading down the path before Allison could stop him.
“TJ!”
Panic in Allison’s voice spurred his movements.
“Joseph is after Jack,” she said when he appeared at the top of the stairs.
TJ flew down the stairs, vaulting past Allison, and rushing out the front door.
A loud ruckus erupted inside the shack. TJ flung open the door in time to see Train launch himself into Jack, pinning him up against the wall.
“Go near my wife again,” he said, applying more pressure to Jack’s throat with his forearm. “And you won’t recognize your pretty face in the mirror.” He released Jack.
“There are a dozen men in here who have bedded your wife,” Jack said, rubbing the front of his neck.
“Shut up,” TJ said, stepping between the two men. “Go home, Train.” He pointed to the door.
“Not until I’m finished--”
“You are finished. Go home.” Train released his clenched hands. “This isn’t over.”
“For today it is.”
Chapter Fourteen
Marion watched Train ride toward the house from the window. Changing quickly into her maroon dress, she went out and stood on the porch in her bare feet, indifferent to the cold, and waited.
With slumped shoulders, Train dismounted. “We can talk inside,” he said, moving toward Marion. He gently touched her arm, sending warning bells straight to her brain.
She took a step backward, then turned and went into the house. “Coffee?”
Train put his hat on the peg by the door and led her to a chair. “I’ll get the coffee. Sit down.”
He paced across the floor. Her heart sank into her stomach. She must be at the center of whatever bothered him. He wouldn’t look at her. The muscle ticked in his jaw. Even angry, he sent shivers of desire over her skin. However, beyond the longing to be a good wife, she feared she failed. One day he’d come home and tell her she wasn’t enough. It had happened before and the uneasiness around Train told her it was happening again today. “Just tell me, Train. Obviously you’re upset. What did I do?”
“The shack.”
The statement was explanation enough. She stood and went to the window.
“I threatened to kill Jack if he ever touched you again.”
“You had another fight?”
Train went to the fire and threw on a log. “He didn’t put up much of a fight. Jack’s mostly talk.” He looked over his shoulder.
“Mostly?”
“Was he telling the truth?”
Marion sat down on the edge of the bed. “It’ll never be enough,” she solemnly stated. “I’ll never be enough. It won’t matter what I do or what I say, you’ll believe the worst while claiming you want the best for me.” A cold sinking feeling filled her chest. “I was right all along.” She shrugged. “You don
’t love me. You wanted to rescue a whore.
“I’m going to stay with Allison and TJ until I decide what I want to do with my life. I know I don’t want this.”
“Please don’t leave. You’re wrong. I do love you.” He slid his hands into his front pockets. “I doubt your love for me.”
“Not only do you not trust me, but you’re so intent on catching me with another man that you’ve imagined relationships that don’t exist.” She took her dress from the peg on the wall beside their bed and rolled it into a ball. Then she tossed her make-up into her carpetbag with the dress and hurried to the door. “Good luck with your horses, Train.” She closed the door and began the long walk to the homestead.
* * * * *
Marion spent the next two weeks avoiding Train. He’d come to the house to speak with her, but Marion slipped outside when she could escape and hid in her room feigning sleep when she couldn’t.
Days were spent helping Allison prepare the nursery. Michael moved to a room near his sister. The house was full of laughter, but in the evenings, Marion went to her room alone and pined for what she couldn’t have. She harbored some regret that she most likely wouldn’t be around to see the baby born. Allison needed a midwife, not a reformed whore who didn’t know the first thing about caring for children.
Yet, Allison trusted her. TJ seemed to have found away to overlook her past. Why couldn’t Train? Her husband.
Marion put her hands on her stomach to quiet the rioting emotions. It wasn’t fair. Life on the Bester Ranch was the closest she’d ever been to having a real family. Her entire life had been a battle for what she wanted and she didn’t know if she had any fight left.
Marion found Allison playing with Michael on the floor in front of the fireplace. Sissy read her a story.
“I can’t do this anymore,” Marion said dejectedly. “I’m miserable.”
“Have you talked to Joseph? You need to know what happened.”
“I don’t need the details,” Marion said, then sat on the couch. “It’s all the rumors about Jack again. More talk.”
