He smiled in return then, and his dark eyes roved over her voluptuous body. She belonged in a spangly dress with a plunging neckline and sparkling jewelry. He almost wanted to laugh, seeing her standing there in plain clothes with hardly any makeup, her hair drawn into a prim bun. But she was trying to change her life, and he knew that meant a lot to her.
“I’ll agree it’s quite a change,” he answered. “I’m happy for you, if it’s what you want. So is Abbie.”
There was a strong hint of the old Anna about her. She had been hardened by years of scratching for survival, years of groveling in bed with men who were not always pleasant to be with, years of living out the bitterness of her treatment as an orphan.
“Well, it is what I want,” she answered, moving to the table with the old saunter he was more accustomed to seeing. “Pretty funny, isn’t it? Anna Gale, notorious prostitute, running a proper boardinghouse. I’ll have you know that nothing illicit goes on here. I run a respectable place, believe it or not. Of course, some of the ‘proper’ ladies about town still won’t have anything to do with me, but I’ve won a few friends. It’s kind of nice. The best part is being completely alone at night, without some cowhand pawing me.” She met his eyes then, her deep blue ones flaring with sudden remembered love. “But not every man was difficult to lie with. There was one I wanted very badly. He could still have me if he needed me.” She smiled a provocative smile. “But then I’d be breaking my rule of no hanky-panky in my very proper boardinghouse, wouldn’t I?”
Their eyes held. “You don’t play fair, Anna. You know I’m in a bad state right now. I didn’t come here for that.”
There was a long moment of silence. “Didn’t you?”
He put a biscuit in his mouth and chewed. His eyes dropped to her full bosom as he swallowed and then washed the biscuit down with black coffee. “I came here for Margaret,” was his only reply. He swallowed more coffee. “And tell me about Charles Garvey. He around?”
“No. He’s East—at college. Wants to get into politics. You can imagine what that would mean for Indians!”
His eyes hardened. “He’s alive then.”
“Yes. What made you think otherwise?”
“He was at Sand Creek. My own son sank a lance into his leg.”
“Wolf’s Blood?” Her eyebrows arched and she grinned. Then she laughed. “Wonderful! No more fitting person could have done it! I hear Charles has a bad limp that will always be with him. He even has to use a cane sometimes.”
“Good. I’ll be sure to tell Wolf’s Blood.” His face darkened and he sipped more coffee. “If he’s alive …”
“He’s your son. You can bet he’s alive.” She sighed as he finished the other biscuit. He had avoided her question, but she’d had no right to ask it. Deep inside, in spite of her regard for Abigail Monroe, Anna Gale knew that she would take Zeke Monroe on any terms, even if just for one night to release his needs and pent-up emotions. “Get your gear and come upstairs. I’ll give you the best room in the house, unless you want mine.”
He grinned. He knew her well. Her remarks did not surprise him or fluster him. He was his own man and took a woman on his own terms. And right now his whole being was filled with Abbie and what he should do about her. “I’ll take a room of my own for now, thank you.”
She winked and rose, picking up his plate and cup. “You haven’t changed, Zeke Monroe. That’s good. There’s still a lot of the old Zeke left, which means you’ll go back to your wife eventually.”
“You think so, do you?”
She met his eyes again. “I know so, much as it pains me to say it. Now go get your gear, and don’t worry about your horse. I’ll take care of it. I have a shed out back with several stalls for customers. I usually make them care for their own animals, but I’ll make an exception with you.”
He chuckled. “You haven’t changed either, Anna Gale, in spite of those prim and proper clothes.”
She sauntered up close to him. “Now don’t say that, Zeke. I’m trying. Really I am.”
He grasped her shoulders. “I know that.” She looked up at him, and he was tempted to kiss her. But he knew he didn’t dare—not now. “I love her, Anna. I don’t know what to do.”
She patted his chest. “You will sleep—that’s an order—and tomorrow you will go and see Margaret. But you will do as I say and tread lightly. Now, go get your gear.”
She pulled away, feeling almost faint from wanting him, and headed out of the kitchen to prepare his room.
“Anna,” he called.
She turned and waited.
“Thank you, Anna. What would I have done without your help in the past? I never could have taken care of Winston Garvey—never would have found Abbie. You’re a good woman, Anna, no matter what others say about you and despite the fact that you pretend to be otherwise.”
She smiled sadly. “Well, it’s a little late for me all the way around, isn’t it? But that’s all right. Just knowing that one person sees me for what I am is satisfaction enough.” She left the room.
Abbie stared out the screened door of the kitchen. It had gotten even warmer, and though it was early morning she was not cold. She breathed deeply of the luscious spring air with the smell of rain upon it. A black cloud in the distance hinted of a coming storm, and it was already sprinkling. Spring storms could be very frightening on the plains, and damaging. She smiled at the sweet memory of other storms she and Zeke had weathered, remembering when they had run out frantically to get the horses back into the barns and then had scampered back to the house, laughing at how wet they were. Sometimes the children had huddled around them, afraid of the violent thunder and lightning. At others, Zeke would get out his mandolin and sing them funny songs to make them forget the storm.
Her smile faded suddenly and her heart tightened. Those were good days. But now a storm had come that they might not be able to weather. How she missed having her family together, missed the little cabin and the room where she and Zeke slept. They had had such happy times there, and moments of ecstasy she might never enjoy again. She was tempted to gather the children and leave the Tynes mansion, to go back to the cabin and wait for Zeke. But LeeAnn wasn’t ready to travel yet. She needed a good, long rest. To go back now, without her father nearby for protection, might bring back unwanted memories. No. They must all go back together—all of them, including Zeke. She was sure that if she could get him back to their own place, he would feel better, be his old self again, want to stay.
She heard footsteps behind her and turned to see Edwin. She reddened slightly, for she wore her flannel gown and a bathrobe and her hair was still uncombed. She walked to the table and set down her cup, nervously pulling her robe closed and tying the sash.
“I didn’t think anyone would be up so early,” she explained. “I couldn’t sleep, so I came down here and made coffee.”
She smoothed back her long, lustrous hair with her hand as Edwin watched her, amusement and desire on his face. She looked as though she had just gotten out of bed, which made him think of her in bed. Her full breasts filled out the soft robe enticingly and he reflected on how ironic it was that only two thin layers of material hid that which he so longed to touch.
“Don’t worry about a silly robe,” he told her. “You look just fine. In fact you look beautiful… with your hair in disarray.”
She smiled nervously. “I’ll go upstairs and dress.”
She started past him, but he put an arm out and caught her about the waist, suddenly and unexpectedly drawing her to him, unable to control the temptation to feel her body close to his when she wore no underthings. “Abbie,” he whispered. He had never called her that before. It had always been Abigail.
She looked up at him in surprise, and in an instant his lips covered hers hungrily while one arm embraced her tightly and his other hand moved over her hips. She wasn’t sure what to do, he had been so good to her. She didn’t want to hurt him, but neither did she want him in this way. She pulled her mouth away and p
ushed at him.
“Edwin, don’t.”
“It’s such a quiet, rainy morning, Abbie. A good morning to linger in bed, to talk, to make love.” He kissed her neck and she pushed harder, finally wrenching herself away. She just stared at him for a moment, her eyes wide with surprise and humiliation. Then she ran past him and up the stairs.
“Abigail, wait!” he called out to her, cursing himself for that sudden moment of uncontrolled passion. Even if it were possible to have her, he had gone about it the wrong way. He kicked at a chair. Abigail Monroe was the first thing Edwin Tynes had wanted that he could not have.
He hurried up the stairs after her. At the door of her room, he started to knock, but he remembered LeeAnn was also there. The girl suffered from nightmares and Abbie wanted to be close to her at all times, so she had been letting the child sleep with her. Tynes sighed, the reality of the situation hitting him all at once. Even if Zeke Monroe were dead, he would come between any relationship Tynes might be able to have with Abbie. There were seven offspring who would always remind Abbie of other days, happier times, and of the man who had fathered them. Between her children and her memories he could never have Abigail Monroe totally, which was the only way Edwin Tynes wanted anything. He did not like sharing.
He turned and went back down to the kitchen, pouring his own coffee and sitting down at the table to drink. The rainy smell in the air made him miss the green hills of England, reminded him of foggy London days, of home. With piercing clarity, he knew Abigail Monroe could never be a part of that. His heart would one day take him back to England, and she would not fit there. She would be unhappy. In spite of all she had suffered, Abigail Monroe belonged right here, on the Colorado plains, in a warm cabin with her children and her half-breed husband, in a land as wild and free as the man she had married. Perhaps if he went back to England, he could forget her, find someone there who fit him the way Abigail fit Zeke.
Moments later he heard the rustle of a dress behind him, and Abbie walked in, wearing a mint green day dress, its full skirts giving her the appearance of floating. How odd, he thought, that this woman could look so normal in a simple tunic, and in turn look equally at ease in the lovely dress that so enticingly fit her slim waist and the lovely curve of her breasts. Her hair was drawn into a bun.
She poured herself more coffee, and at first neither of them said a thing. Then she turned to meet his eyes. He saw no malice in her brown ones, but she held her chin proudly.
“I am sorry, Edwin. But I simply do not desire any man but Zeke, in spite of all that you keep offering me. I truly am sorry because I know what I am giving up and because I know how you feel. You have been a cherished friend, a very big help in so many ways. Whatever happens to me, I will remember you—always. But only as a good and kind man, an interesting man, a friend. God knows I couldn’t have made it through all of this without your kind support, and for that I am eternally grateful.”
He sighed deeply and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and she came and sat down at the table near him. He pressed his hands together. “I came up to your room … to apologize. But then I remembered LeeAnn was there, and I didn’t want to say anything in front of her.” He met her eyes again. “I humbly beg your pardon, Abigail. To a man who has been long without a woman, one who loves the one he is looking at, you looked very … inviting. And Zeke did say that if you chose to stay here, you could. I have to try, don’t I?” He smiled apologetically.
She looked at her coffee. “I suppose. But it’s no use, Edwin. Even if Zeke were to ride north and get killed, it wouldn’t change anything. I would go to Fort Laramie then, where I could be near Dan and have the company of Bonnie Lewis; where I could be near Swift Arrow, even though he would be almost unreachable. If I were to take on a new life, I would feel like a deserter, Edwin—not just of Zeke, but of the Cheyenne, of all the Indians. If there is any way Zeke and I can still help them, any way that I can help them by myself, I will do it. You weren’t here in the days when they lived free, when they were happy. All of this belonged to them. I think I know what’s wrong with Zeke, with both of us. We miss them. We miss the Cheyenne. Maybe when he gets back and we get things in order, we should go to Kansas and see if there is anything we can do. I won’t let Zeke go north alone. I’ll go with him. We can see Dan and Swift Arrow.”
The rain started coming down hard then, the morning sweet and alive. He reached over and took her hand. “I think perhaps I shall go back to England, Abigail. I was sent here to get things started. My brother and a nephew will be coming later this summer. This is just one of my enterprises. I thought for a while I might stay here, but I realized this morning just how much I love England, how lonely I am for it.”
She met his eyes. “We are both meant for very different things, aren’t we?”
He smiled sadly. “Yes. I suppose we are.”
She squeezed his hand. “I will miss your friendship. All of us will. It would be nice if you could stay, but if you go, we will understand. We know what it is like to miss home.”
He rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb. “I would not be going just because I miss home. Surely you know that.”
She blushed again. “I know.” She sighed deeply. “But England does sound so beautiful, and you have family there. I think if you went back you would forget me quickly enough.”
His eyes took in her beauty. “Forget you?” He gave a light laugh. “No. One does not forget an Abigail Monroe. When I write my memoirs of this wonderful land, I will devote many chapters to women like yourself who have braved things many men would not. It will make interesting reading for some of my pampered friends. I daresay they’ll find it most entertaining, none of them suspecting that I am writing about a woman I fell in love with.”
She looked at the hand that held hers. “I’m sorry, Edwin. When will you go?”
“I’m not certain. Sometime after my brother and nephew arrive. But I won’t go until things are right again between you and Zeke. I promised him I’d watch out for you, under any circumstances, at least until you are settled in some way. And I will not easily give up the fight to make you my own.”
She met his eyes sadly and rose, walking to look out the door again. “That would be useless, Edwin, at least for a long, long time, even if Zeke were dead.” The realization that Zeke was in Denver now, with Anna, caused her pain. “What will I do, Edwin, if he sleeps with that woman, if he lets her convince him he can get along without me? Anna can be a good person, and she has helped us, but if she can get Zeke Monroe into her bed, she’ll do it, for she worships him.”
He leaned back and folded his arms. “I am sure Zeke can not be lured into any woman’s bed. If he goes to her, it will be of his own accord and for his own reasons. But I am not so sure that would be such a bad thing, Abigail.” She turned in surprise. “Take it from a man, Abigail. It might be good for him to bed this Anna Gale.”
He saw her stiffen, and her eyes teared. “Look, Abigail, I’m only saying that perhaps that would make him miss home more—the quiet of your ranch compared to that noisy jungle called Denver. I’d guess if he lies with some other woman, he will want you more than ever. He will know no woman can please him like his Abbie girl, and he will get something out of his system, something that has been eating at him.”
Her chest ached with dread and jealousy, and she looked away. Anna Gale! He would be seeing Anna Gale at a time when he was so vulnerable.
“Abigail, look at me,” Edwin ordered. She met his eyes again. “I am a man. I am telling you that if he sleeps with that woman, it can do nothing but enhance his love for you. Perhaps the two of you have loved too hard for too long. Perhaps you need to be apart this way, each of you looking at alternatives, each of you learning to appreciate what you’ve had together.”
She put a hand to quivering lips. “I can’t bear it, Edwin! I can’t bear the thought of him being with her, especially after the way he left here!”
He rose and walked to her,
putting his hands on her shoulders. “Yes you can. You can bear anything that means he might see things more clearly, might want you more than ever. Remember one thing, Abigail. Jealousy can work two ways.”
She sniffed and wiped at her eyes. “What do you mean?”
He grinned and walked to the table, picking up his cup and drinking more coffee, making a face. “I’ll never get used to this stuff. Tea is so much better.” He set the cup down, smiling at the anxiety in her eyes. “Abigail, when Zeke talked to me, asked me if I loved you, he was so damned jealous I thought he might burst. What if he thought there really had been something between us? What if he thought you had truly taken his suggestion and had considered another man, perhaps had even … made love to another man out of your loneliness?”
Her eyes widened. “Edwin! I could never—”
“I’m not saying it has to be anything literal. Why not tell a lie, Abigail, if it would bring your husband back to his old self?”
She sniffed and half smiled. “Edwin, he would kill you!”
Tynes chuckled. “I daresay he would want to. But he made me a promise, and Indians don’t break promises. He said if I took you against your will, he would kill me. But what if he thought you had come to me willingly? The man would be absolutely beside himself with rage. My bet is he would want you more than he has ever wanted you.”
She put a hand to her chest. “Oh, Edwin, I don’t know. I wouldn’t want him to think that of me.”
Climb the Highest Mountain Page 32
