In Want of a Wife

by Jo Goodman

  Max glared at him and said nothing.

  “That’s a no, then.” He offered Jane an apologetic smile. “It’s the nature of some people to shoot themselves in the foot.”

  Jane had no comment. She put the salves, alcohol, bandages, and cotton balls together, and then folded her hands in her lap under the table. She stared steadily at Gideon. His lips twitched, but not his eye. His amusement rankled but Jane gave no hint of it. She was very aware of Max’s presence and knew he would insert himself if there were the slightest indication he should do so. It was for that reason that Jane looked away first.

  “You got any whiskey?” asked Gideon.

  “I could make you coffee.”

  “That’d be fine, but I’m still waitin’ for an answer about the whiskey.”

  “In a cabinet in the front room.”

  Gideon did not move. “Hey, Dix! You find the whiskey?”

  The answer came back immediately. “Sure did.”

  “Then bring it in here.”

  Dix appeared in moments with a bottle and a glass. He set both down in front of Gideon. He rolled the matchstick to the corner of his mouth as he spoke. “Your brother ain’t much for spirits. This is all there is.”

  “You looked in the cabinet?”

  Dix nodded.

  “You and Avery had some, though.”

  “Yeah, we did. Warm us up, you know.”

  Gideon looked as if he were going to come out of his chair, but a disturbance coming from the back porch actually kept him in it. “See what that’s about.”

  Dixon’s hand hovered near his gun as he went to the door. At the last moment, he stepped sideways and peeked out the kitchen window. “What the—”

  Jane was disappointed that surprise did not cause him to swallow and choke on the matchstick. A gust of wind swept into the kitchen when he pushed the door open. From her vantage point, Jane could not see who was on the porch. Max could, though, and she looked to him for understanding. When she saw his lip begin to bleed again as a frown stretched his skin, her heart began to hammer.

  “Hey, Mrs. Longstreet,” Finn said as he crossed the threshold. His eyes widened when he saw Max. “Well, hey there, Max. What happened to you?”

  Jane spoke quickly so Max did not have to. “He was in a bit of a scrape. Fooling around that got out of hand.”

  Rabbit came up behind Finn and nudged his brother farther into the room. He got a good look at Max, shook his head, and then said to Jane, “Didn’t know about you having company, Mrs. Longstreet, but the extra hands turned out to be a good thing. Got a delivery for you. Well, for Mr. Longstreet, but I reckon it’s all the same, the address being Morning Star ranch. Anyways, that’s why we’re here.”

  Gideon was on his feet now, watching Avery back through the doorway carrying one end of a crate that was putting some strain on his shoulders. Marcie had the other end of the thing and was puffing a little as they maneuvered it into the kitchen.

  Gideon swore softly. “Couldn’t you leave it on the porch?”

  “They were not having any of that,” Marcie said as he and Avery lowered the crate to the floor.

  “They?” He forked two fingers at Rabbit and Finn. “You mean these two? You’re taking orders from these two?”

  Avery’s broad features reddened in a way that could not be explained by his encounter with the outdoors. “It’s kind of hard to explain, but yeah, I guess we did.”

  Gideon jabbed his fingers at the boys again. “Who are you exactly?”

  “Exactly?” asked Rabbit, whipping off his hat to reveal an unruly head of dark blond hair, some of it sticking straight up. “I’m exactly Cabot Theodore Collins, and I go by Rabbit on account of no kid wants to be called Cabot Theodore.” His chest puffed. “And I happen to be about as quick as one.”

  “I bet you are,” Gideon said under his breath. His eyes swiveled to Finn. “What about you?”

  Finn also removed his hat. “Carpenter Addison Collins, and folks know me by Finn. I named myself, and it stuck on account I only answer to Carpenter when it’s my gran who’s saying it.”

  Gideon looked at Jane as he pointed to the crate. “Do you know what that is?”

  “No.”

  He swore under his breath and rubbed his forehead. “Marcie. Avery. Put it in the front room. Dix. Take Max and make him comfortable somewhere. He should probably lie down.” He stepped to block the boys’ view of Max’s bound hands as Dix led him out of the kitchen. “You fellows want to sit down?”

  Rabbit and Finn exchanged glances. It was Rabbit who spoke. “That’s real kind of you, sir, and the potatoes sure got my mouth to waterin’, but our pap expects us back before dark, and mostly we do what he says.”

  “Even if you leave now, it’s going to be nightfall before you get back.” Gideon nodded toward the window to draw their attention to the lowering sun. “Go on. Sit down.” He did not frame it as a request this time.

  The boys sat, Finn taking Max’s chair and Rabbit taking the one opposite his brother. They flanked Jane.

  “They should go back to town,” Jane said.

  “They will. Maybe with an escort, seein’ that it’ll be dark soon. I reckon you boys came out here with a wagon.”

  “Yes, sir,” said Finn. “Our pap’s buckboard.”

  “Where is it now?”

  “That one fellow with the scar—Marcie, I think you called him—he took it to the barn and said he would look after our mare. He helped us get the crate off first, and we stood by it just in case there were villains around on account of there could be just about anything inside it. We’re speculating that we took shipment of gold bars.”

  “Huh. Gold bars. So you boys must like adventures.”

  “Sure. We had us a few.”

  “Well, let’s just say you’re having one now.”

  Finn nodded, and Rabbit joined him. Neither of them looked at Jane.

  She started to rise.

  “Where are you goin’?” asked Gideon.

  “The potatoes. They’re done. And I still need eight eggs.”

  “I’ll get ’em,” said Rabbit.

  Gideon put out a hand. “No. Stay where you are. Marcie will get them.” He hollered for his man, told him what he wanted, and Marcie shuffled out, shoulders hunched to brace for the cold.

  At Gideon’s nod, Jane finished straightening and walked over to the stove. She wrapped a towel around her hand and removed the potatoes from the oven. She heard Gideon clear his throat in a warning manner when she picked up a knife. “I need to slice open one end of each potato.” When he did not say anything, she began to make the cuts, acutely aware of how closely he was watching her.

  Marcie returned with the eggs. The hens had not pecked his eyes out as Jane had hoped, but she observed that he had fresh scratches on the backs of his hands. She resisted the urge to tell him that he should have worn gloves.

  While she prepared the Eggs Susette, checking the recipe from time to time, Gideon engaged Finn and Rabbit in conversation. It was truly his only recourse because shutting them up was not so easily accomplished.

  Occasionally she caught him looking out the window, judging, she supposed, the onset of nightfall. It was impossible not to think about Morgan’s return. He would see the boys’ horse and buckboard in the barn when he came back. He was familiar with both, and he might be surprised that Finn and Rabbit were still here so late, but he would not be suspicious. He would walk in the door prepared to greet them and come face-to-face with Gideon Welling.

  Jane poached six eggs in a gently rolling boil while she lined the scooped-out baked potato shells with a mixture of mashed potatoes, finely chopped ham, dried parsley, the whites of two eggs, butter, and cream. She removed the poached eggs with a slotted spoon and carefully slipped one into each shell. While she was wondering if she could toss the hot water at Gideon without scalding Rabbit, he suddenly appeared at her side and removed the pot. He gave her a crooked, knowing grin as he emptied the water into the
sink.

  “Thought I could help,” he said.

  Jane held her breath as something caught Gideon’s attention; he leaned forward and stared hard out the window.

  “Avery! Here. Now. Dix! You and Marcie keep an eye on the front door.”

  Jane said, “Please let the boys go.”

  “No.”

  It was said with such finality that Jane did not argue. She placed a hand on Rabbit’s shoulder and smiled at Finn. She meant to reassure, but there was a tremor in her fingers and her chin wobbled. She averted her head and quickly blinked back tears. Beneath her feet, the floor shook as Avery’s heavy footfalls pounded through the house.

  Gideon held up his hand as he continued to look out the window. “Two of them. They just went into the barn. I can’t be sure who they were. They’ll see to their horses first. Maybe . . .” He crooked a finger at Rabbit. “Why don’t you come with me, son?”

  Jane shook her head vehemently. “No. I’ll go. The boys stay here.”

  Gideon’s chuckle was without humor. “I know you heard a question there, but it really wasn’t. The boy comes with me. Dix! Get in here. Sit with Mrs. Longstreet and Finn while Avery and I mosey out to the barn.”

  Jane took a step forward, but Rabbit jumped up and blocked her progress.

  “It’s all right, Mrs. Longstreet. I don’t mind goin’ with these gentlemen, and you got supper there to think about. I’m kind of curious about those potato cups you’re makin’. Sure would like to try one.”

  Jane nodded because she couldn’t speak. She ruffled the hair at Rabbit’s nape before he jammed his hat back on his head. When Gideon held out an arm, Rabbit marched right up and allowed himself to be nudged out the door.

  Finn had a lopsided grin for Jane. “Don’t worry about Rabbit. He does all right fendin’ for himself now that he’s thirteen. Now, if he had asked me go, well, that’d be a worry for everyone, even me.”

  Jane thought he was extraordinarily philosophical about it.

  Finn set his folded hands on the table with great aplomb and regarded the man who was charged with keeping them in the kitchen. “So,” he said gravely, “what sort of name is Dicks anyway? No villain should have a name that sounds like his man parts.”

  • • •

  The Eggs Susette was ready to come out of the oven when Gideon, Avery, and Rabbit walked back inside. Gideon had Rabbit firmly by his coat collar. He marched him up to the table, kicked out a chair, sat him down hard, and then he pushed the chair in until Rabbit’s chest bumped the table.

  “Was that necessary?” asked Jane. “He’s a boy.”

  “He’s man enough to tell your hands to shoot me when I was holding a gun to his head.”

  “Oh, yes. Of course you would do that. It is a very tired tactic, Mr. Welling, and one that shows a singular lack of imagination. To use it on a child to elicit the cooperation of the ranch hands is unconscionable.”

  “Lord, ma’am, but you have a mouth on you.”

  Finn leaned forward and whispered to his brother across the table. “She does kinda, but it’s real pretty how she says things.”

  Gideon shot daggers at Avery and Dix when they snickered. They backed out of the way. “You see?” he said to Jane. “They got something to say about everything, just like you. What you should be saying is, ‘Thank you, Mr. Welling, for not killing the men who help my husband run the ranch.’ Ain’t nobody died, so you can get right down off your high horse. It’d be a mistake, though, to think I won’t pull the trigger on any one of you. Have a care. Your men—” He gave Rabbit’s chair a shake. “What’re their names again?”

  “Jem and Jessop Davis.”

  “Yeah. Your men, Jem and Jessop, are trussed up proper in the bunkhouse, and Avery’s goin’ to watch over them once you give him his supper.” He went to the china cupboard, took out a plate, and handed it to her.

  Jane chose the largest of the potato shells to give to the big man. She placed it on the plate and asked him if he wanted coffee. He thanked her politely and added some whiskey to his cup when she gave it to him.

  When he was gone, she asked, “Are the rest of you going to sit down to eat? One of your men is still at the front door.”

  “I know where my men are. Marcie! You want something to eat, come here.” Gideon sat and grunted softly when she handed him his supper.

  Marcie and Dix ate standing up although there was room for them at the table. Jane put a plate of food in front of each of the boys. They recognized immediately there was nothing left for her.

  “Finn and me can share one of these,” Rabbit said. “You take the other.”

  Jane shook her head. “No. Thank you, but I don’t really have an appetite.”

  Finn looked her over. “I heard that’s true sometimes when you have a delicate condition.” He shrugged when Jane simply stared at him. “Just somethin’ I heard.”

  “What’s he talking about?” Gideon asked Jane.

  “I am sure I do not know. Finn, what are you talking about?”

  He shrugged again. “Well, I don’t really know either. Seems like no one wants to tell me, but I heard Mrs. Sterling sayin’ somethin’ about it to my granny.”

  Jane pointed to herself. “Saying something about me?”

  “I thought it was about you.” He dug into his potato shell with a fork. “I could be wrong.”

  Gideon pouched a mouthful of egg and potato and ham in one cheek and spoke around it. “You’re pregnant?”

  “If I were, I would hardly tell you, but as it happens, I am not. Finn is correct in that he is wrong. Whatever he heard, he’s mistaken the meaning.”

  Gideon swallowed, nodded. “Damn shame. That’d get Morgan’s attention. His wife and his child. I don’t know that I’d even have to hold a gun on him.” He took another bite. “Damn shame.”

  Jane sat down. She supposed she did it without any awkwardness, but in her mind, she had a vision of reeling toward the chair and collapsing in it as her knees folded.

  She was pregnant. The enormity of the miracle made her want to shout and weep and, oddly enough, fling herself at Finn Collins. She had not known, not even suspected. The possibility that she would bear Morgan’s child had become so remote to her that it had all but ceased to exist, and now she was confronting it for the first time in the presence of a man who wanted her husband dead.

  Jane considered the clues to her condition that she had assigned some other cause: fatigue, little appetite, distraction, moods that made her weep, an improved appetite recently, and a belly that had a slight, but definite, convex curve. There had been a lapse in her courses, but that had happened before and pregnancy was never at the root of it. And there had been some spotting. The truth was, with so many things to occupy her mind of late, she had not given it much thought.

  She wondered if Morgan had. It seemed he noticed everything about her. Had he noticed this?

  Gideon picked up a whiskey bottle at his elbow and reached behind him for a cup. He passed both to Finn. “Here, give this to her. Seems like things are catching up. She’s as white as bitterroot.”

  Finn dutifully slid the bottle and cup to Jane.

  She stared at it for a long moment before she pulled the cork from the bottle and poured a generous finger. She placed the cup against her lips before she permitted herself a small, secretive smile. Then she sipped.

  • • •

  It was Marcie who spotted Morgan and Jake riding along the fence line. They were darker silhouettes than the blue-black sky. He poked his head in the kitchen door, made his announcement, and ducked outside again. At Gideon’s direction he went to the smokehouse.

  “You stand over there,” Gideon told Dix. “Behind her. Not too close, but keep your hand ready and steady.”

  “You want me to shoot her?”

  “Not now, for God’s sake. But maybe, yeah. We talked about this.”

  “I know, but she made supper for us.”

  “She didn’t make it for us. She made
it for them. Morgan and the help. We stole it.”

  “Well, yeah, but . . .” Dix found himself on the receiving end of Gideon’s dark glare and took his place behind Jane. But not too close.

  Gideon waited partially out of sight at one end of the china cupboard.

  And waited.

  Jane knew how long she could expect Morgan to take from the time he reached the barn until he walked up to the house. She didn’t know if Jake would come with him right off. Sometimes the hands came in a little later, giving Morgan and her time to be alone before they showed for supper. If Jake went to the bunkhouse first, he’d be confronting Avery on his own. Jane suspected Avery would employ the same tactics as Gideon. Jake would be just about helpless if one of his brothers was put in harm’s way.

  Jane’s lips barely moved as she ticked off the minutes in her mind. Finn and Rabbit sat preternaturally still. She thought of the knife in her pocket and the child in her belly and wondered if she would be able to act, and if she should.

  Her head lifted as the door opened and Morgan came through alone. He had a beautiful, welcoming smile for her, and she held on to it in her mind’s eye as it faded away. He was taking in everything at a glance and understood the consequences of acting even before the slight shake of her head warned him to do nothing.

  His hands went up, not down. “Gideon. Is that you sheltering on the lee side of the china cupboard? I’m shutting the door now.” He backed up to the door and pulled it closed. The wind died immediately and the house was quiet. “You’re really too big to hide there. Do you remember when you could fit in one of these cupboards?”

  Gideon stepped out. His gun was drawn.

  Morgan’s eyes stayed on his brother, not his brother’s gun. “If you’re going to shoot me, I’d be obliged if we could go outside. It’s not a thing for women and children to see.”

  “Take off your gun belt.”

  Morgan slowly moved his hands to his buckle. “It’s been a lot of years, Gideon. It seems we should say hello at least.”

  “Slide it over this way. Low, like you were playin’ tenpin with it.” Morgan pitched it across the floor, and Gideon kicked it out of the kitchen beyond everyone’s reach. He pointed to the empty rack near Morgan’s head.