by Prairie Wife
Unaware of the tension, Cay pointed. "I helped make that one."
Quickly, Amy handed the stack back to Mr. Quenton. "Thank you for showing us your work."
She stood and ducked out the tent flap.
Jesse watched her exit and turned to Quenton, who wore a puzzled expression. "She liked them. So did I. See you in the morning."
Then he and Cay followed Amy to the house. She had gone directly to wrap several loaves of bread she'd baked after dinner, and stood arranging them. Jesse took his nephew into the parlor to work on his numbers.
Amy had become predictable in her dogmatic refusal to talk or even think about anything where their son was concerned. Now there was another child to consider, and that concerned him even more. Her denial wasn't healthy, and his patience had worn thin. He was going to handle things differently this time. He wouldn't end up frustrated and tempted to lose himself again.
"Uncle Jesse?" Cay looked confused. "What happened to your little boy?"
Jesse gazed at the fire. When he spoke it was to say words he had never said before. "He drowned in the creek." A simple explanation for an event that had changed his life. "He was just three."
"And his name was Timothy." Cay had read that on the marker.
Jesse nodded. "We called him Tim." Just saying his son's name aloud was liberating.
Cay's attention shifted to a spot behind Jesse. Jesse turned to see Amy standing inside the room, her hair still damp from the snow. She wore an expression of betrayal, as though telling Cay the truth somehow made him unfaithful to her... or to their son.
Without a word, she gathered her hem and climbed the stairs. Jesse and Cay exchanged a look and returned to the lesson.
***
Jesse didn't think Amy slept that night. She was too still, too quiet. Each time he woke, he could feel the emotion emanating from her. This was the way it had been before he started drinking. In shutting out her feelings, she was shutting out him. But he wasn't going to let it go this time. He wasn't going to feel like he was doing something wrong.
"Amy," he said softly into the darkness. "Maybe if we could just talk..."
"Let it go, Jesse."
"You keep acting like if I let it go, everything will be all right. Well, it won't. You think you've let Tim go, but you haven't. You haven't even grieved, and I don't understand how you can not. You haven't allowed me to grieve. Why can't we share this?"
When Amy threw back the covers and stood, Jesse got up and padded across the floor to strike a match and light a lamp. Amy wore her gauzy nightdress that revealed the slight swell of her belly. Her braid draped over her shoulder and across her breast, and her eyes were like dark bruises in the soft light. She stared at him as though he were deliberately trying to hurt her.
"Don't keep lookin' at me like you can't figure out what's goin' on." He thrust a hand into his hair and gripped until his scalp hurt. "Denying we had a son or that he's gone won't fix this. Denying that you're carrying a child now won't make our loss go away."
Amy covered her face with both hands and released a sharp cry. "I don't want another child! I don't deserve another child!"
He'd never seen her this anguished, and her distress almost made him feel guilty, but he caught his thoughts before he regressed. Jesse approached her slowly. "Amy, this baby didn't have anything to do with the past. He deserves to be loved and wanted."
"I know," she said from behind her fingers.
He peeled her hands away from her face, but she didn't look at him. "We can't pretend this child isn't comin', and we can't deprive him of our love just because we feel guilty."
"I know," she said again with a nod.
Encouraged, he gently cupped her jaw and turned her face up to his. Her eyes were dark and liquid, but no tears marred her cheeks. He drew her into his arms, aching for all she held inside, needing her to face the truth.
"We're going to be parents."
She clung to him, her fingers biting into his flesh. "I'll do better, I promise."
"Don't promise me anything, except that you'll always love me and that you'll love our baby." He led her to the bed and lay down with her in his arms. He stroked her back and shoulders until she relaxed against him, and eventually slept.
She had taken a huge step in recognizing her pregnancy, and for that he was grateful. Perhaps this baby would be the key to helping her let go of Tim. Jesse prayed it was so.
***
The following morning, Jesse tapped on Cay's door on his way past, calling, "Mornin'!"
Amy joined him in the kitchen and he kindled the fire in the stove for her before going out to start chores before breakfast. An early stage arrived, and he changed horses while the driver and passengers made their way to the kitchen for coffee. When the stage had moved on, Jesse returned to the house.
The warm interior smelled like bacon. "Did you have time to feed 'em?"
"They got bacon and toast. I haven't been out for eggs yet."
"Cay still hasn't come down? He could've gathered the eggs for you."
Jesse ran up the stairs and knocked on the door. No response.
Letting himself in, he found the room unoccupied. The bed was unmade and a drawer stood open. Jesse moved forward. The drawer was empty, so were all the others.
He glanced around in bewilderment, a sick feeling in his stomach. He thundered down the stairs. "Did you see Cay this morning?"
Amy and Mrs. Barnes shook their heads. Pitch entered and gave the same answer.
Jesse ran across the yard to the stable. Hermie was just propping a pitch fork against a stall. "Seen Cay?"
"No, boss."
"Are all the horses here?"
Together they checked the stalls and found three empty. "Who's ridden out already?" Deezer's horse was gone. And the one Jack rode. They had been assigned to check fences and probably got an early start. He stood before another empty stall. "The dun mare," Jesse said.
He glanced at the rack of saddles. "How would we even know if there was tack missing? Or a saddle, for that matter?"
"There was a saddle on this divider last night," Hermie replied. "I remember because I was gonna oil it if'n I had a spare minute."
"Why would he take a horse and head out on his own?"
Hermie shook his head.
Amy was heading toward him when Jesse started back toward the house. "Did you find him?"
"Appears he's taken a horse and saddle."
She stared, wide-eyed. "What? Where would he have gone?"
"I don't know."
Biscuit ran up to them then, tail wagging, and they exchanged a worried glance.
Having just ridden in, Sam dismounted and joined them. "Somethin' troublin' you?"
"Cay took a horse and rode out," Jesse told him. "Probably sometime during the night."
Sam looked from one to the other with a puzzled frown. "Why would he do that?"
Jesse shook his head.
"He heard me," said Amy.
"What?" Jesse asked.
"Last night," she continued. "He must have heard us talking. I was upset. I said I didn't want any more children."
Jesse studied the horizon, his jaw set in a grim line. "It's my fault," she said.
"Oh, for cryin' out loud," Jesse said in disgust. "I'm fed up to here with the two of you takin' the weight of the world on your shoulders. How full of yourselves are you? People do things—bad and good—without your permission. Without you givin' 'em the idea or the reason."
Amy stared at him, but Sam inclined his head in acceptance of the criticism. "Point taken. What do you want to do?"
"Ride after him. Snow last night should assure tracks."
"I'll go with you," Amy said.
"I wasn't plannin' on takin' a buggy."
"I'll ride. I'm going with you, Jesse."
She'd ridden during her first pregnancy, though it had been a while since she'd been on horseback. "We'll take a buggy," Jesse said.
"No, that will slow us down. I'm pe
rfectly capable of riding. I'm going to pack a bag. I'll get your things, too. And I'll have Mrs. Barnes put up food." She turned and headed back to the house.
Jesse looked at Sam. "She's carryin' a child."
Sam's throat worked and he thrust out a hand. "That's good news, son."
Jesse shook his hand. "Maybe it's a blessing in more ways than one. Tell the men I'll figure wages when I return. Tomorrow's payday, and I don't know how long we'll be."
"Nobody's goin' anywhere but you. They'll wait."
Dressed in her winter coat and warm boots, Amy returned before he had the horses ready. She stood aside as he finished saddling and tied on their supplies.
"How would he know which way to head, Jesse? The prairie all looks the same out there. He'd get lost within an hour."
"He's smart enough to follow the stage trail."
"He heard us quarreling, didn't he. That's why he left."
Jesse gestured for Amy to mount and helped her into the saddle. He shortened the stirrups. "I can't say, but it's likely."
"He's hours ahead of us already if he left then."
"Don't talk more worry into it than's already there." He shrugged into his coat, pulled on gloves and put a foot in the stirrup to swing onto his horse.
Sam stood outside the stable, the dog nestled under one arm to keep it from following them. "Looks like he headed west. Don't worry 'bout the station. We'll handle everything."
Amy reached down and Sam took her hand, closing his fingers over hers. When he released her, she straightened and pulled on her wool mittens, and they rode out. Jesse double-checked the tracks Sam had pointed out and agreed Cay had ridden in that direction. They nudged their horses into a trot.
By mid-morning, Jesse was confident that Cay was following the stage trail. His tracks were obliterated by the morning stage in some places, but plain in others. "He won't get lost," he assured Amy.
At noon Amy dug biscuits and bacon from her saddle bag and offered Jesse a portion. They slowed the horses so they could eat as they rode. They had just shared a drink from his canteen when Jesse's attention shifted from the rutted trail to a horse running toward them. The animal was saddled, with the stirrups hooked over the saddle horn. To prevent fright and injury, Jesse had taught Cay to never leave them dangling when the horse was saddled.
Jesse jumped to the ground and raised one arm. "Whoa. Whoa, easy, girl." The animal recognized Jesse, whinnied and trotted right up to him. Jesse took the reins and looked over the animal.
"That your horse?" Amy studied the landscape in concern.
"It is."
"The one Cay was riding?"
Jesse nodded. He handed Amy the reins in order to check hooves. "He's fine. Nothin' wrong."
He mounted, leading the bay behind, and they rode on. If Cay had been thrown or fallen, he would be along this trail and they would find him.
Half an hour later, the tracks of hundreds of stage wheels veered south toward a scrawny patch of trees that grew alongside a meandering stream. For a quarter of a mile the trickling stream flowed here to the lowest point, then disappeared to the south again, but it was obvious that drivers used the area as a stopping point to rest the animals and allow passengers to stretch their legs.
This time of year, there was even water flowing in the bed. Jesse had seen the spot before, knew drivers carried buckets of water to the horses before moving on.
He dismounted and helped Amy down, then led the three horses to the water, where they lowered their heads and drank. Amy made a trip behind some bushes while he checked the ground for signs of Cay. Farther up around the turn and behind an outgrowth of weeds, he found a flattened area. A close look revealed Cay's boot prints and hoofprints where the dun had been hobbled.
"He hid back there," he told Amy, returning.
She stayed back as he looked at the ground around the trail. He walked forward along the path the stage had taken and found no further evidence, then returned and stood with his hand resting on his holster.
"Looks like he left here on the stage."
Amy blinked. "The driver would have recognized him."
He nodded.
"It was Ben North this morning," Amy recalled. "He'd have asked Cay what he was doing out here. Not that he could have done anything except take him on and turn him over to the law when he reached Fort Crowley."
"Unless he never saw him."
"What do you mean?"
"Cay freed the bay deliberately. He could have slipped up to the stage while Ben and the passengers were down here for water, and stowed away."
"Wouldn't they have seen him? Where's to hide?"
"On top, amid the luggage. It snowed yesterday. That load was tarped. Clever boy—small, nimble. He could've sprinted right up top and hid himself."
Thinking of Cay's determination to run away hurt Amy. "Didn't he know we wanted him? Was he unhappy with us?"
Without answering Jesse went to bring the horses back up the bank.
"We'll find him, won't we, Jesse?" she asked.
"We'll find him."
Amy's entire body ached by the time it grew dark and they stopped for the night. Jesse found a spot overlooking a river, built a fire and tended to the horses. She made them biscuits and opened a tin of beans while he found branches and set up a small lean-to to keep them dry and the fire out of the wind.
"Do you think the stage has arrived in Fort Crowley yet?" she asked.
"It's a full day's ride with a strong team and a good driver. It's possible Ben got them there by now."
"I guess we could have pushed on."
"It's too dark to risk the horses," he replied. "We'll be there in the morning."
They ate in silence, then cleaned up and bedded down. Jesse tucked Amy alongside him beneath the bedroll, combining their body heat to stay warm.
"I'm not slowing you down, am I?" she asked.
"No. We made good time today."
"Maybe by tomorrow night we'll be home with Cay and in our own bed."
He didn't respond.
Amy closed her eyes and concentrated on Jesse's warmth. She remembered the words she'd spoken the night before, her denial, her blind refusal to accept the changes in her body. She'd been too afraid to admit what Jesse had wanted her to see. Too afraid to acknowledge a new life being entrusted to her.
When she'd had to adjust her new dresses, she'd attributed her growth to simply regaining weight she'd lost. It was easy to lose track of menses and forget she'd missed several. Jesse, on the other hand, wasn't easy to ignore, wouldn't be pushed out of her mind, and she clung to the hope that knowledge gave her.
In his infinite love and concern, he wanted only what was best for her. He had shown her how to be courageous, how to make a change by his own example. Could she be nearly as brave? Could she look into her heart and face her fears and inadequacies as he had?
Amy peeked into the ugly truth that hid in the dark recesses of her mind and shivered.
Jesse hugged her close.
She didn't know if she was strong enough to face it all, to take out the buried memories and expose them to the light of day. If she did, she would know once and for all that she didn't deserve another child.
And so would Jesse.
Chapter Thirteen
Amy had never been to Fort Crowley, but Jesse knew his way around. Inside the log walls of the fort was a lively community. Men and women traveled the boardwalks, calling greetings to one another, and the shops bustled with activity.
The Shelbys started their search by checking at the livery station where the stage had stopped. The attendant didn't remember a boy, and the stage had already moved on, having left only one passenger behind.
Jesse located the man, a printer by trade, and inquired about Cay.
"No lad on the stage," the man told him.
"Did you notice a boy after you reached Fort Crowley?"
The man shook his head.
Jesse returned to Amy, where she waited with the horses,
and told her he'd learned nothing. She glanced around, overwhelmed by the impossibility of finding Cay.
"How will we find him, Jesse?"
"He's a city boy. He'll find his way around. He'd need food first off." He left her again to search.
The restaurant owners hadn't seen Cay, but the man who ran the trading post recalled a lad who bought jerky and inquired of a job.
"What did you tell him?"
"Told him I didn't need no one, but that Bartholomew over at the saloon always needs help sweeping and emptying spittoons."
"Thank you, sir." Hopeful, Jesse crossed the street and found the saloon. He turned back to where Amy waited near a water trough, anxiously watching, before he pushed through the bat-wing doors.
The stale smells of smoke and whiskey assailed him. His attention was drawn to rows of bottles filled with amber liquid lining the rear counter, and his stomach lurched. He moved to the scarred wooden bar. A tremor ran through his hand as he touched the surface, and he pulled back.
A beefy man with an apron laid down a pearl-handled .45 he'd been oiling, and lumbered over. "Want a shot, mister?"
Jesse could almost feel the burn of whiskey sliding down his throat; he relived the warmth in his chest as alcohol numbed his senses. He looked directly at the man and shoved aside the insidious thought.
"No thanks. I understand you might have hired a lad to sweep just this morning."
"The kid belong to you?"
"He's my nephew."
The man cocked his head. "Mr. Bart hired a kid. He's probably still out back emptying ashes from the stove." He gestured with a thumb. "That hallway leads to the rear."
"Thanks." Encouraged, Jesse followed the directions, boots clomping across the worn floorboards.
He discovered a storage room stacked with crates of liquor and bins of empty bottles. Another door marked "Private" was locked, so he moved on to the exit. As he pushed open the grimy paint-peeling door, the rusted hinges squeaked. He stepped out.
The sound of a pail dropping alerted him, and he discovered Cay running in the opposite direction down the alley. Relieved to see his nephew, Jesse took a second to recognize that Cay didn't want to be found and to get his feet moving. He shot after the boy, who dodged barrels and trash bins, and darted around a corner.
