A Taste of Heaven

by Alexis Harrington

  He pushed his change from the bottle across the table to her. “Here, Rebecca. I'm going to drink alone tonight, but you take this for your trouble.”

  The girl gave him an even stare, then scooped up the money so fast he wasn't sure where she put it. The straggling feather in her hair dangled on her bare shoulder, and she gave him a crooked smile. “Thanks.” She turned to walk away, then stopped. “Mister, I hope you find the woman you lost.”

  That took him aback. A wry, humorless chuckle huffed out of his chest. "Thanks, Rebecca, but I didn't lose anyone. At least, not lately.”

  She shrugged and moved on to a more likely looking prospect two tables over.

  Tyler shifted in his chair, and he took the cork from the bottle and poured a drink. He'd spoken the truth to Rebecca, as far as he knew. Yet, he had to admit that a vague, uneasy sense of loss had plagued him since the minute he'd left Libby Ross standing on the sidewalk this afternoon. The image was fresh in his mind of her draping her shawl over her head while the rain poured down on her. And nothing—not the long soak in a tub at the bathhouse, nor falling asleep in the barber's chair with a hot towel on his face—nothing had taken the feeling away. If anything, it had only been made worse when he started inquiring around town about a new cook. He'd talked to a few promising men, former cowboys who'd been thrown a few too many times and were already developing rheumatism. But he'd found some problem with each of them; he suspected that one might be a drinker, another one didn't seem like he'd fit in with the crew, still another one just grated on his nerves.

  Up at the bar, Joe and his crew were well on their way to getting pleasantly, fatuously drunk. He envied their ability to put problems aside and laugh. Even Rory was smiling again, thank God. Tyler had been concerned about him—the boy's solemn expression was too much like the one he'd worn when he first came to live at the Lodestar. The fun took a melancholy turn only when some of the Lazy J crew blew into the Briar Rose and learned that Charlie Ryerson had been killed.

  After relating the details, in a moment of beer-tinged eloquence, Joe, with his elbows on the bar behind him, said, “I imagine every man gets a naggin' little ache in the pit of his belly about things left unsaid and undone. I wish Charlie was here with us now, but that accident of his—well, it was out of our hands. All's we can do is fix whatever things we have the power to fix. And try to leave this life with a tally of more joys than regrets.” His audience murmured in agreement and lifted their drinks to Charlie's memory.

  Tyler stared unseeing out the window. Joe's words had a chilling effect on him, more profound than any of the uninvited counsel delivered to him over the past few years. He tossed back the shot of whiskey he'd poured—it burned like fire all the way down. Shaken, he refilled the glass, sloshing a little over the rim. He knew if he were to die in his sleep tonight, the weight of his regrets would anchor his spirit to this earth for the rest of eternity.

  After Jenna's death, he'd withdrawn into his safe, orderly existence. It didn't matter that he sometimes hungered for more; he'd felt he didn't deserve more and he still wasn't sure he did.

  But damn it, he'd let life and happiness pass him by while he did nothing. That wouldn't bring back his wife. And despite whatever kind of man he might be, good or bad, Tyler Hollins was not one to do nothing.

  He sat up and pushed himself out of his chair. First thing tomorrow, he'd set about balancing his tally. He couldn't change everything, but he had the chance to fix one thing, and he was going to do it, as Joe had advised.

  Tonight, though, he was going to have a couple of drinks with his crew.

  *~*~*

  “Well, ma'am, your timing is nigh on to perfect. The only train for Chicago this week will be here at eleven, sharp.”

  “Oh,” Libby faltered. “So soon?” Why wasn't she glad about this? she wondered. She'd wished for escape from Montana since the moment she set foot in the territory last fall.

  “Yes, ma’am, unless you want to wait until next Thursday.”

  “No, no, I can’t do that. I’ll take the ticket.” She put the money on the counter.

  Looking very official in his porter’s cap and sleeve garters, the young station clerk glanced at the clock behind Libby. “That gives you almost an hour if you want to get some lunch before you leave.”

  “If I can hire someone to bring my trunk from the hotel down the street, I believe I’d rather just sit here in the station, if that’s all right,” she said. She felt no appetite.

  “Right as rain with me, ma’am. Choose any seat you like. I’ll send a boy to fetch your luggage.” She gave him her name for the delivery boy, then he pushed a ticket across the counter to her. She put it carefully in her pocketbook.

  Crossing the deserted little station, she sat on an empty bench that faced the clock. The place smelled of ink, wood, and old paper. She smoothed the skirt of her plain traveling suit. This was the same one she’d worn to come out here, the same one she’d gotten married in. She didn’t want to stay here a minute longer than she had to, but her reasons were not as clear as they’d once been.

  She peeked inside her pocketbook to look at her ticket again, and caught a glimpse of five double eagles within the purse’s leather folds. She’d been baffled, then outraged last night when she opened her trunk and discovered the hundred dollars. What on earth had Tyler Hollins been thinking, paying her off like that? Oh, he hadn’t left her a note, but there was no question that the gold coins had come from him—she’d found them tied in one of her handkerchiefs with a twelve-gauge shotgun shell. Was he so relieved to be rid of her? She'd wished she could track him down to whatever saloon or restaurant he was sitting in and give him back his money.

  But as she'd sat on the narrow bed in the hotel room, ripping her brush through her long, tangled hair, reason crept in and cooled her offended pride. Money was security, a hedge between herself and destitution. Pride, she realized, was a very fine thing, but it wouldn't protect her from starving, or put a roof over her head until she found work. Reaching down, she touched her pocket that held the shotgun shell.

  Libby tried hard not to think about Tyler, but the soft ticking of the clock over the door was lulling, and she lapsed into the world of daydreams where time stopped. The lines between the planks of the wooden flooring in front of her blurred and grew indistinct—

  A horseman with chestnut hair and agate-blue eyes galloped his pinto across the juncture of earth and sky, silhouetted against a crimson sunset. He rode toward her where she waited on the Lodestar porch for him to come home to her. And when be dismounted and approached her, alive with the intense passion of a man at one with the land, be bore her back into the house and up the stairs. On the big four-poster bed that they shared he laid her down, his hands impatiently opening the buttons of her bodice, impatiently seeking the heat under her skirt. His mouth was warm and moist on her throat and breast, and she longed to touch his bare skin. “Libby,” he whispered thickly, “you’re mine—I'll never let you go, do you hear? Never. I love—”

  “Mrs. Ross! Ma'am, are you asleep, over there?”

  Libby was jolted back to the four drab walls of the railroad station. She turned sharply on the bench, and saw the young clerk frowning back at her from behind the counter. “I'm sorry, I must have dozed off,” she lied. Her face felt as hot as a branding iron.

  “Ma'am, your train is boarding now. You don't want to miss it.”

  She looked out the window and saw the huge, gaseous beast that would carry her east, and grim reality set in.

  She was not Tyler's. He was not hers.

  Rising from the bench, she adjusted her new hat, the one small luxury she'd permitted herself. Then she went outside into the mild spring sun. Montana was never meant to be her home. She had to keep reminding herself of that, because the hope that had carried her all these months was now failing her. Her heart was as heavy as a millstone.

  She walked down the crowded platform, passing men in suits, women, children, and cowboys. Apparentl
y they were all coming home. She, on the other hand, didn't have a home anywhere. At this realization, her throat became so constricted she feared she'd begin weeping right here in public.

  And now her ears were playing cruel tricks on her, too, much as they had the night of the storm. Somewhere above the racket of human voice, horses, wagons, and the hissing locomotive, she thought she heard someone calling her name.

  She put her head down and hurried toward the conductor, who was helping an elderly man make his way up the steps of the passenger car.

  “Libby!”

  With each passing second, her eyes burned with tears, and she felt panic enveloping her. The old man ahead of her was making little progress. Was she asking so much to put this place behind her with her dignity intact? She inched closer to the steps.

  “Libby, wait!”

  Reflex made her turn toward the direction of the voice, but she was completely unprepared for what she saw. Bearing toward her were Tyler Hollins and Joe Channing. They dodged pedestrians and freight goods, and despite the din on the platform, she heard their boot heels and spurs. She gaped at both of them, but her eyes fixed on Tyler. The urgency in his expression was unmistakable, and her heart began pounding. Something must be wrong.

  Joe hung back a step, looking relieved, but Tyler plowed forward and grasped her shoulders in his big hands. He was a little breathless and he swallowed.

  “Jesus Christ, we've searched all of Miles City for you. I went to the hotel, Rory and Possum went to all the restaurants, Kansas Bob and Noah stopped in every goddamned shop on Main Street—”

  “Why? What's wrong? Has there been an accident?”

  “Uh, no—” Tyler ground to a halt. He turned and glanced at Joe, but the foreman only backed up against a hitching rail and took out his makin's.

  “You're on your own, cowboy,” Joe advised, and crossed his ankles.

  Tyler released her shoulders and searched her face, then he drew a deep breath. “Look . . . I know that Heavenly isn't Chicago. God, it isn't even Miles City.” He gestured around them. “But I was thinking, well—” It was the first time she'd ever seen him so tongue-tied. Even his ears were tinged with red. “The boys like your cooking and you don't have anything in particular to go to. And—it wasn't so bad having someone to look after us. Anyway, do you still hate it in Montana? Would you consider coming back to the Lodestar? The pay is the same as on the trail.”

  “All aboooarrrd!”

  Libby looked behind her at the train. “But they have my trunk,” she replied, as if that settled matters.

  “Will you come home with us?” Tyler asked again, louder this time.

  Home. The peaceful hush, the sense of family and belonging, this man—“Well . . . yes! Yes, I'll come.” She felt almost faint with relief.

  “Joe!” he fired without taking his gaze from hers. “Get Libby's trunk from them.”

  Joe jammed his half-rolled cigarette into his pocket and bolted off in the direction of the baggage car.

  Tyler grinned down into Libby's face, then leaned forward and put a quick peck on her forehead. His broad smile was one he'd rarely shown, and she thought she'd never seen anything so good. His eyes seemed more alive, his face more rested. He was the best-looking cowboy in this town.

  “I don't hate Montana anymore,” she said. “It just took me awhile to appreciate it.”

  He kissed her forehead again. “Come on, let's go find those boys before they wear themselves out from searching for you. Most of them have headaches I wouldn't wish on anyone,” he said, and put his arm on her shoulders to turn her toward the center of town. “It's a good thing you said yes.”

  “Why?”

  He grinned again, this time a bit sheepishly. “Well, because I promised them that you would.”

  She pulled away slightly and gave him an arch look. “So sure of yourself, were you?”

  His smile faded slightly, and he shook his head. "Not at all, Libby. Not at all."

  *~*~*

  Once more Libby found herself on the high seat of the chuck wagon, but this time Tyler drove. When they'd finally rounded up the crew, they met down at a stand of cottonwoods on the edge of town where the horses waited in the rope corral. The men were so glad to see her she knew she'd made the right choice to stay.

  “Miss Libby, what are we havin' for supper tonight?” Rory asked, his face lighted up.

  “Maybe she'll give in and fix us rattlesnake,” Noah chuckled. He ran a brush through his sorrel's mane.

  “If it means I have to be the bait again, forget it,” Tyler said. They all laughed.

  Libby grinned and held up her hands. “No, no, as much as I like you all, you'll have to settle for something less exciting.”

  Joe leaned forward and put his forearm on his pommel. “I looked in the back of that chuck wagon—we might be down to snake tonight if we don't stock up for the trip home.”

  “Libby and I will do that,” Tyler volunteered. “We'll meet you back here in an hour, then we'll head for home.”

  There was that word again, Libby thought, tucking her skirt around her. Home. It gave her a warmth she'd felt very seldom in her life. And the scent that had been so noticeably absent a few weeks ago, of spring and things newly green, was strong in the air today.

  Tyler turned the wagon and they drove down to the general store, where they loaded up on enough provisions to see them through the seven or eight days it would take them to get home.

  “Seven or eight days!” Libby exclaimed, as they headed back to the wagon. “It took us almost three weeks to get here.” She listened to the drumming of his boot heels on the plank sidewalk, and the clink of his spurs, and she smiled. She liked the feeling of walking next to him, but she wasn't fooling herself. She knew better than to think of her return to the Lodestar as more than a job. Disappointment loved to visit people with lofty expectations. No one was more aware of that than she was.

  “Our work will really be cut out for us when we get back. And I think we'll have some extra calves to brand. I'm not sure how many but—”

  His words cut off so abruptly that Libby turned to look at him. He was staring straight ahead at an older man who approached on the sidewalk and blocked their path. Though she wasn't touching him, she sensed that every muscle under Tyler's shirt and jeans was tight. If he'd been a wolf, the crest of fur on the back of his neck would have bristled. Almost unconsciously, he pulled her back and put his shoulder in front of her.

  They stopped within ten feet of the man.

  “Tyler?” she said. He didn't respond, but she felt blood climb into her own cheeks when the approaching stranger looked her up and down with insulting contempt.

  He appeared to be in his fifties, with a fringe of gray hair that was visible beneath his hat, and a red, jowly face. His sizable girth was most obvious in a big belly that overhung his belt.

  “Well, well, Hollins,” he said, and raked Libby again with narrowed, bloodshot eyes. “Got a replacement lined up for my little girl?”

  Tyler stared at the wreck of a man standing in front of him, both repelled and angered. “You're drunk, Lat,” he said, keeping his voice low. He could smell the whiskey from where he stood.

  He laughed. “Drunk? Yeah, I am. But, then, Jenna was only your wife—guess you don't know what it's like to mourn a dead child, Hollins. It makes a man drink.”

  Tyler felt his hand close into a fist. He knew that nothing the man had to say was valid, but the accusation infuriated him. He'd grieved for his wife until grieving was nearly his undoing, and all he had left. In the end, he'd settled for blaming himself for her death.

  “I mourned her, too, but it didn't bring her back. It only made me crazy.” Maybe the rumors were true, Tyler thought. Lat Egan did act like he was unhinged.

  “It wasn't enough that you let my Jenna die,” the older man raged on. “You turned my only living son against me, too. That boy never comes to see me—I bet Rory wouldn't even talk to me now that you've poisoned his mind a
gainst me.”

  Tyler took a deep breath to keep control of his temper, and wondered why he continued with this conversation. Libby was pressed against the back of his arm, and he could feel her shock. Goddamn it, why had this happened now, in front of her? He hadn't seen Egan in more than two years. “Rory is free to leave the Lodestar any day he chooses.” He grabbed Libby's hand and pulled her past his former father-in-law. “He's just never wanted to.”

  Behind them, Egan yelled, “Lady, if you're his wife, I feel sorry for you.”

  Tyler pulled her along toward the wagon. His stomach was in knots and, unthinkingly, he squeezed Libby's hand she hard she cried out. He let her go but pushed her ahead of him. A couple of people on the sidewalk turned to look first at them, and then beyond them to Egan.

  When they got to the wagon, Tyler vaulted into the seat and pulled Libby up next to him. He flapped the reins viciously and the mules took off with a startled lurch. She stared at his granite profile as she clutched her hat. His face was fixed as though cast in stone.

  Her heart pounded so hard in her chest, she could feel it against her breastbone. She tried to make sense of what she'd just heard but her mind was whirling. Jenna? He'd had a wife named Jenna? And how did Rory fit into this?

  “Tyler, who was that?” she asked, feeling oddly winded. She'd never seen him so angry or so frightening, not even on the first morning he found her in the kitchen.

  “I'm sorry that happened, Libby,” he said. His words and voice were tightly controlled. “I would have prevented it if I could have.”

  “But who was that man?”

  He wrapped the reins around his gloved hands. “Lattimer Egan. He's got the spread next over from the Lodestar, about ten miles east. His daughter, Jenna, was my wife. She died in childbirth five years ago.”

  She struggled to get her breath. “A-and Rory—Rory is—”

  “Her brother,” he finished.

  He lapsed into silence then, and as much as she wanted to, Libby dared not ask any more questions. As they left the buildings of Miles City behind them, Libby realized how very little she really knew about the man sitting next to her. Still, though a lot about Tyler was a mystery to her, it was clear that pain lay beneath his gruff exterior and hard manner.