Down the Chimney

by Mallary Mitchell

  “No, and it was amazing. No wonder people like to do that. It’s just so wonderful.”

  “Your husband didn’t kiss you? You’re not an innocent, I mean your carrying.”

  “Yes,” she nodded and grimaced a bit. “My wifely duty.”

  “Wifely duty? Dessa, sweetie, do you mean to tell me you’ve never been properly and completely kissed senseless.”

  “I think I just was.”

  “But it shouldn’t be a wifely duty. You’re not beholden to service any man.”

  She couldn’t bear the empathy in his eyes. She chose her words carefully. “I was provided a home, and food, and clothing.”

  “But he never gave you love, did he?” He caressed her cheek with his calloused hand. “You are a woman made for kissing, for loving.” Deke’s soft voice washed over her. Her pulse quickened at the velvety smoothness of his words. She wanted to kiss him and never stop.

  “I like kissing you.” She admitted and traced his lips with her finger. He let his head fall back as his eyes closed.

  “Dessa...” he raggedly said her name and crushed her mouth to his. This time there was nothing sweet or teasing, it was only heat and desire. She felt his need, and it fueled her own.

  He broke the kiss. “I’m going to go into the next room and sleep on the floor, or I’m not going to leave this room at all.”

  He pulled her closer for a brief hug, and the baby kicked.

  “That’s a strong kid in there.” He put his hand on her stomach and again the little foot kicked him away. “He’s saying get out and leave my ma alone.”

  “How do you know what he’s saying?” She countered placing her hand over his.

  “Because, he’s a proper little fellow, and he knows I should behave like a gentleman.”

  He tilted his head with the words and closed his lips over hers. When he released her, Dessa wanted to cry out, No, don’t leave me. She was bereft, alone. He scooted from the mattress making the ropes creak as if in protest. Deke stood and pulled on his dungarees. This time there was no false modesty. He just seemed to be in a hurry and left the fly half unbuttoned. Not that she should have been watching.

  “Good-night, Dessa.”

  “Good-night.” She bowed her head as he left. He was almost at the door. She wanted to stop him, but a lady just didn’t ask a man she barely knew to share her bed. And she was big as a watermelon to boot. She took a deep breath as he walked toward the other room. But it was cold on the floor. There were little cracks between the floor boards, which were in reality just trees halved and flattened on top. Nevertheless, you could feel the cold seeping in around the cracks. Tell him he can sleep in here. She swallowed. Tell him—If he goes in there, you may never get a second chance. Stop him, now.

  “Deke—” She gave in to her inner voice, calling out to him.

  “What?” He turned around and cocked his head. It was a gesture she was coming to anticipate when he was curious or questioning.

  “Stay here.” She faltered and patted the bed. “Sleep here. That floor is cold. I know I was cold last night.”

  A furrow between his brows appeared. “What?” He repeated his earlier question, but this time his eyes showed the conflict within, the idea appealed, excited, yet he was hesitant.

  “Sleep here.” This time she didn’t sound so sure of herself. “Have you ever heard of bundling?”

  He stood firm in his spot. “Can’t say as I have.”

  “If an unmarried couple shared a bed, old timers, like my grandma, used to sew up the boy or the girl or both in bed sheets.”

  “You want to sew me into the bed?”

  “No, I think if you wrap a quilt around you and I wrap my quilt around me that should suffice.”

  He eyed the bed as if considering her proposal. “I ain’t never heard such.” The furrow deepened. He took a step toward her. “Bundling? You been bundled before?”

  She nodded. “Grandma, like I said, was a firm believer. Even with cousins. She’d put me and Emma and J.J. all in the same big bed, but sew J.J. up good and tight.”

  “What about you wicked little girls?” He took two more steps.

  She grinned remembering all those mornings J.J. had wakened to his nose being tickled with a feather, and he couldn’t move his arms a lick to stop his cousins. She’d been on the receiving end of Grandma’s hickory switch more than once.

  “I got my share of switchings.”

  He removed his pants and slid under the quilt. She slid under as well.

  She faced him sharing the same pillow. Dessa cupped his rough cheek and looked into his eyes.

  “I’ll behave. I promise,” Dessa whispered.

  Deke just laughed. “You just ain’t any fun.” He rolled on his back and pulled her close. She laid there cuddled to his warm body, her head resting on his left shoulder. “Dessa, how’d you end up hitched to a man like Ori Courtland?”

  “My folks. My Grandma Mary was really my great-grandmother. She took me in for a while then she took sick and passed on. I had a choice either to go to live with my ma or my pa. They weren’t married, never were. I was an accidental child. My ma married another man and had a family. So did my pa. I didn’t fit either way. I was fifteen and decided to take Ori’s offer. Little did I know he was going to up and move to Kansas. So, here I am. Now at least I have a family,” she whispered the last sentence.

  His lips brushed her temple. “You do. You have some very sweet children.”

  “What about you?” She snuggled a bit closer to the warmth of his body. “Tell me about your family.”

  “I am the son of Eula and Bodine Ramey, but my pa died about two years before I was born.” He paused.

  “Wait, that doesn’t...”

  She could hear the smile in his voice as he continued. “I was born at The Magnolia House.”

  “The brothel?”

  “Yep. And raised there. My ma died when I was born so my sister Cordie raised me. My actual father’s a gambler. Quite contrary to popular belief, I had a most strict upbringing. I didn’t get away with anything.”

  “How in the world did you get to be a deputy?”

  “Long story. But it was an option to stay out of jail.” Deke moved his hand to hold her closer. “Listen, tomorrow’s the twenty third. I’m going to ride into town and send a telegram to my boss. And I can pick up anything you might need at the mercantile there. Will you be okay out here alone?” He yawned and she followed suit.

  She let her lips brush his cheek. “I was fine on my own before you got here.”

  “That’s a matter of opinion,” he muttered.

  “Get some sleep,” she whispered.

  “Goodnight, Dessa.”

  Chapter Six

  As Deke mounted up on Flapjack, Dessa felt as if something was forcibly ripped from her soul. The trip into town wouldn’t take that long, yet she didn’t want him leaving. She pondered the sensation. There had never been anyone in her life like Deke Ramey. Kind and gentle, passionate, strong...he was all she’d ever dreamed of, hoped for, and what awful timing. She had two, no three, children. She was being threatened by an outlaw. What man in his right mind would consider a relationship with her?

  What if he didn’t come back? The thought burned through her. What if she’d scared him off? She’d been kind of forward. What if he didn’t like a forward woman? And wait, he wasn’t here for her anyway. He was doing his job. The glistening dream of a life with Deke popped like a soap bubble in the wind. She’d never had anyone she could depend on—why should Deke Ramey, a man she’d known less than a week, be any different.

  “I’ll be back.” He seemed to pick up her fears and insecurities. “Don’t look at me like that. It makes it hard to go.”

  Could he really see how she felt? Dessa bit her lip with worry, and Deke jumped from the horse. With several long strides, he swished through the dead weeds of the yard and closed the distance between them. He took her face in his hands and placed his lips on hers. “I will co
me back. You couldn’t keep me away.”

  His words, spoken with fervor and passion, refueled her growing fire of love. Deke wouldn’t leave her, he’d return. She held tightly to that promise.

  ****

  Angel’s Landing wasn’t as grown up as Gabe’s Bend, but the little town did have a telegraph operator, who, according to the shingle outside, also published the town’s paper. The graying building was little more than a shack and situated beside the stage office. Deke was greeted by a waft of warm air scented with coffee, tobacco, and old paper. He entered the one room structure to find a nervous-looking man downing the last dregs from his mug. The smoke of many cigarettes hung in the air and formed a cloud in the upper half of the room. The man perused slips and scraps of paper. He placed one of the bits of paper between two others before turning to Deke.

  “Laying out tomorrow’s paper.” He gave an explanation. “What can I do for you?” The man peered over little wire-rimmed spectacles.

  “I’m Deputy Deke Ramey, and I need to send a telegraph to Jonah Beckett, the sheriff in Gabe’s Bend.”

  The man eyed his star. “You’re a lawman?”

  “Sure enough.”

  The old man gave a harumph. “You look a mite wet behind the ears to be a lawman.”

  Deke glowered. He shouldn’t have shaved this morning. Removing the growing beard took years off his appearance. Even Odessa had commented on his baby face.

  “What do you want to say?” The man removed a nubby pencil from his counter and picked up a tattered piece of yellowed paper with dozens of crossed through missives.

  Deke thought a moment. “Staying in house. Need assistance, be here Christmas Eve, bring help. Deke Ramey.” Then he thought a moment and he pointed. “Cross that out. I want it to say, ‘Staying in house. Need help. Tomorrow. Bring guns. Deke.’”

  The old man eyed him with a frown and furrowed brow. “Anything I should be worrying about?” He leaned forward over the counter and waited for a response.

  “No.” Deke’s eyes darted toward the door. “And don’t say anything to anyone about this telegram.” The last thing he wanted to do was to tip off Blake Henry. You never knew who the wily outlaw had in his clutches.

  “Can I get the story, assuming there is a story?” the old man pried further.

  “Maybe later. But if I find out you’ve put anything about me or about this telegram in your paper, you’ll be under the jailhouse.”

  “Ramey?” The old man wasn’t phased by his threat and eyed him again. “You ain’t kin to Cord Ramey?”

  Another prying question. Cordelia, his sister, had ridden disguised as a boy and gotten into no end of mischief robbing and causing mayhem. “Yep.”

  The old man looked like he was going to speak again, but Deke didn’t have time for the newspaper man’s curiosity.

  “How much?”

  “Thirty-five cent.”

  He threw down twice what the old man said for good measure and headed out the door.

  Angel’s Landing boasted a small mercantile. It was no where near what they had in Gabe’s Bend, but it had the essentials and a few nonessentials. He couldn’t help but notice the jar of penny candy. He purchased five bits worth, and added five pounds of white sugar, some coffee, three pairs of warm woolen socks, some fancy soap, and pastel ribbons for hair. He paused when he spied a silver baby’s toy. He’d seen them before. They rattled when you shook them. Deke had to get the clerk to retrieve it from under the counter, but he purchased that, too. After he found a few more trinkets, Deke paid the shopkeeper and walked out the door. Flapjack waited at the edge of the plank road bisecting the town.

  He wanted to get back to Dessa. Dessa. He breathed her name. In such a short time, he’d become more than attracted to the woman—lovely inside and out. He was going to help her. He would catch Blake Henry when he came calling tomorrow, and she would be free from the man’s harassment.

  But how? Up until now he’d been preoccupied with the immediate needs of Dessa’s small family. He clicked his tongue, and Flapjack trotted out of town toward the Courtland place.

  As he gripped the saddle, his leg, though healing, protested at the demands he made of it. What in this world had he hurt it on anyway? It wasn’t just a thin piece of metal. It had substance. It was squared off. The memory of pulling out of the chimney came back. It had to be about four inches deep and he’d caught the corner. What would a metal box, four inches deep...

  The strongbox.

  What a clever place to hide it, in an old, partially-burned chimney.

  He clicked his tongue again anxious to check out his hunch. “Giddy-up.” His horse needed little encouragement to break into a full gallop. Flapjack liked to run. The terrain sped by, and in a few short minutes, he’d reached Odessa’s meager farm. He didn’t head to the valley instead he left Flapjack at the edge of the Courtland’s roof.

  Deke walked to the place where he’d fallen through, moved the wheelbarrow, and peered inside. The bright midday sun lit the column and confirmed his suspicion. It was smeared and stained with his blood...

  “Dessa—” He yelled unable to contain his excitement. “I found it. I found it. Bring that rope back up here.”

  “Deke?” Her face appeared at the lower end of the opening as she peeked up the chimney from her bedroom. “What are you doing in ther—”

  “Look.” He didn’t let her finish. He just pointed.

  “The strongbox. I just can’t believe it.” Her voice was a reverent whisper.

  He didn’t have to wait long. Odessa waddled to the housetop. His heart did a little flip-flop at her elated smile. Her green eyes shone, and she looked at him like he'd just done something wonderful...amazing

  Lord help him. He’d fallen in love with this woman. “I reckon I actually found it a couple of nights back.”

  She wrapped her arms around his neck, and he picked her up twirling her around. He put her down and soundly kissed her lips before taking the coil of rope from where it hung around her elbow.

  “I have a plan.” He tied the rope around the tree and the other end to his waist. He spoke with purpose as he backed toward the hole. “Tomorrow when Blake Henry gets here, we’ll be ready.”

  ****

  Dessa worked at Deke’s side until the winter sun set on the horizon. She took a sustaining breath. She was exhausted, maybe more so than she’d ever been, but for the first time in a long time she had hope for her future.

  Deke had secured a rather ingenious hiding place for Hannah and Leah in the hay bin of the barn. He was a smart man, he’d taken a board and fashioned a false bottom, underneath Hannah and Leah had water and food—and, just in case, a chamber pot.

  Deke would keep look out on Christmas Eve. There was only one road in and one road out. He’d see Blake Henry coming and hopefully, Blake would be alone.

  Now, the girls were asleep in their loft, they’d both had baths after she’d taken hers. Hannah and Leah knew when they woke it would be December twenty-forth, and they were expecting a visit from Saint Nicholas, but knew about the unwelcomed visitor as well. They knew to run and hide when Deke gave the word. Dessa prayed they’d live to see Christmas.

  Deke was taking his time in the tub. She had to imagine the water soothed his leg. How he’d worked like he had today, she didn’t know. She sat by the fire and brushed her hair hoping it would soon dry, trying not to worry about what was to come. She focused on the brush and counted each stroke.

  She’d always wished she either had raven tresses like her mother or the wheat blond of her father, but she had neither. Her hair curled this way and that and seemed to grow more flyaway as she brushed. Finally Dessa gave up and began to finger comb through her mass of hair.

  The soft sound of footsteps made her look up from her task. The sight stilled her. Deke rubbed his wet hair with a bit of toweling. Her throat went dry. He must have washed out his long johns. He wore only his clean dungarees leaving his chest bare.

  She forgot to bre
athe as the fire cast its light on the drops of water that still clung to his stomach. Her hungry eyes followed the sparse hair that formed a line down the center of his stomach. His shoulders seemed to be sculpted from marble, and his blue eyes burned like glowing embers. There could be no more perfect a man. She stood and crossed the room.

  There were no protests or words tonight. Seemingly lost in the same spell that had claimed her, Deke scooped her in his arms and carried her to the bedroom. He sat her on the bed then took his place beside her. He touched his lips to hers and slowly moved to a prone position.

  “This isn’t going to hurt the baby, is it?” He whispered. “We don’t have to do this.”

  “It won’t hurt the baby.” She answered between nips from his soft lips.

  She put her hands on either side of his face and drew him closer. Her fingers moved through his damp hair.

  Dessa knew her marriage hadn’t been a love match. It had been a convenience. Ori wanted a wife and, at the time, she needed somewhere to live. It had seemed a mutually beneficial agreement...but as Deke’s hands caressed her and his sweet lips moved on hers, she realized how very foolish she had been to think it was adequate to live as she’d been living.

  A marriage without this—this amazing connection—wasn’t a marriage at all. She’d been legally and physically united but never really joined. She was already one with Deke in her heart and soul.

  Deke ran his fingers over her face sending tiny shivers through her. She closed her eyes as his lips brushed over her cheeks and tilted her head as he nuzzled her neck. How could she bear anymore of his sweet caresses? She never dreamed she could feel like this, so close to another human, so close, as he kissed her, she already felt they were one. She no longer knew where she stopped and Deke started.

  They moved in unison. Like a beautiful melody their harmony was complete.

  She stroked his face with the back of her fingers. “Love me, Deke.”

  “I do, Dessa. I do.”

  Chapter Seven

  Waking in Deke Ramey’s arms was the most wonderful feeling. He stirred as she did.

  “Well, one thing’s for sure.” Deke traced her bare shoulder. “I don’t have to worry about a kid in nine months.”