JOE'S WIFE

by Cheryl St. John

  A few minutes later, they stood outside the building, and the surroundings seemed oddly ordinary compared with the rest of this surreal day. "Well," she said. "Do we need to go get your things?"

  Tye nodded.

  Gus pulled up the wagon, Purdy riding in the bed, then got down and climbed in beside Purdy, leaving Tye and Meg to climb onto the springed seat.

  "You know Gus and Purdy?" she asked.

  "Worked roundups with 'em," Tye said, nodding to the two older men. "Guess we'll be working the ranch together now."

  Purdy leaned forward and shook Tye's hand, mumbling his congratulations. Tye took the reins and drove the team to Banks's Boardinghouse. Meg and her hands stood, preparing to get down, but Tye stopped them with an upraised palm. "I'll be right back."

  "We'll help," Meg offered in bewilderment.

  "Don't need help."

  She exchanged a glance with Gus, then sat back down. Tye eased himself to the ground carefully. A few minutes later he returned carrying a saddle and saddlebags, a bedroll and two rifles. He wore his hat and had strapped his gun belt to his hips. He stashed the saddle and bags in the back, the rifles under the seat, climbed back up and took the reins.

  Meg said nothing. She'd been in his rented room once, yet she hadn't realized he owned nothing more than these few possessions. A man didn't need much, she guessed.

  He made another stop at the stables for his horse, tied it behind the wagon and led the team out of town. They didn't speak more than a few words on the ride home, Meg knowing that the two old men were seated behind them and that any awkward thing they might say would be overheard.

  Tye couldn't get the image of Meg's shock and confusion over the ring out of his mind. Had she planned to wear her first husband's ring even though she was marrying him? No, she must've just forgotten. But it bothered him.

  She'd stared at that gold band on her hand, and he'd stared at it, too, knowing it was worth a lot more than the silver one he'd loaded fertilizer for four nights to earn.

  And then, as if she'd been sacrificing an arm, she'd worked the ring from her finger and allowed him to replace it. No one in attendance believed theirs was an alliance of love and passion, so he had nothing to hide. But the fact that she'd worn Joe's ring to their wedding seared a new, yet familiar brand of humiliation into his previously callused hide.

  Tye observed the land they reached and the meager assortment of buildings with mixed emotions. Legally this land was his now. Morally, it was Meg's. They'd struck a bargain. His entire life he'd never owned anything worth more than a rifle or a horse. He'd never had a place to call home or to sink time and sweat and energy into. He meant for this to be that place.

  And he meant to do right by Meg and by their agreement.

  Gus took the team and Tye retrieved his things.

  Meg led him into the house.

  The kitchen, smelling of warm bread, took up the entire back half of the structure. An enormous cast-iron stove stood at one end of the room. Two long trestle tables, lined end to end, occupied the center of the floor, benches along their lengths. The other side of the long room held a fireplace, a rocker and a few mismatched, overstuffed chairs. That area, which opened into an L-shape, shared the fireplace with whatever lay beyond the doorway.

  Meg removed her bonnet and gloves and set the small package on the table.

  Tye deposited his belongings near the door.

  "I'll show you the rest of the house," she said matter-of-factly.

  He followed her down the length of the room to the bottom of the L. The space around the corner held a sofa and chair, an oak cabinet of some sort and a glass-fronted china closet.

  "That was my grandmother's. Joe and I planned to have a real house someday, with a porch and a dining room and a parlor. I have my mother's china packed away. No sense using it out here with only cowhands eating at my table."

  "You can still have your house with a porch and your dining room," Tye said.

  She didn't look at him. "Maybe someday," was all she said.

  After a minute, she opened a door that led into a bedroom that smelled like violets—like her. He followed her uneasily.

  He first noticed her chest of drawers just inside the door, a tall, hand-carved piece of heavy furniture. A comb and brush, a book and a few hairpins lay on the top. Meg's things. He had the crazy desire to reach out and touch them, but he kept his hand at his side.

  A metal bedstead stood against the wall, the mattress covered with a star-patterned quilt, soft-looking, homey, inviting images of sleeping with her beneath its downy comfort. He refused to entertain those thoughts right now and let out a slow, self-disciplining breath.

  At the foot of the bed sat a horsehide chest. The stand beside the bed held a pitcher and face bowl on an embroidered scarf. He pictured her standing there in her underclothes … or less … washing. A reprehensible tide of heat and longing engulfed him, and he reminded himself she'd brought him here to show him where he'd sleep, not to rip off his clothes and immediately sate his aroused body.

  Whatever happened between them would have to happen naturally. Slowly.

  He turned abruptly. A wardrobe stood on the opposite wall. Tye's attention was riveted on a pair of black polished Union boots standing beside it. Joe's boots.

  Joe's room.

  With a sinking feeling of disappointment in his gut, Tye pulled his gaze from the boots.

  He didn't let himself look at the bed again.

  Another man still occupied this room.

  Inasmuch as they'd struck a bargain, he was a stranger to this woman. She'd been widowed barely a year. He'd seen the grief and pain in her eyes that day outside the mercantile when she'd asked him about her husband's body.

  She wore a pale green cambric dress with darker green stripes, obviously not new, but nice, and he'd been pleased to see her appear in it that morning. Of course, she couldn't wear mourning to her own wedding ceremony, so this dress didn't mean anything, he realized. She was still wearing black in her heart.

  She needed Tye to help her keep this ranch. But she didn't love him.

  "Is there another room?" he asked without much hope. The house hadn't looked that big from the outside, and this seemed like the only space left behind the kitchen.

  "A pantry," she replied. "A root cellar. And some storage space in the attic."

  "Can I see it?"

  "The attic?"

  He nodded.

  "Well … sure."

  She led him back into the other room and pointed to a trapdoor overhead. "Pull on there," she instructed, indicating the dangling rope.

  He did, and a narrow set of stairs extended. Grimacing against the pain in his thigh, he climbed the steps and surveyed the room above. It ran the width of the house and had a tiny window at each end. A few packing crates sat in a far corner, probably holding Meg's mother's china. The space wasn't tall enough to stand in, but the flooring was solid and there was room to stretch out.

  "I'll sleep up here," he decided aloud.

  "What?" she called from below.

  He descended the stairs carefully, holding his expression firm. "I'll sleep up there."

  Her wide hazel eyes rounded with surprise. "Why?"

  "I can't sleep in the barn, because I assume your hands have rooms out there."

  "Yes, but—"

  "So, I'll sleep up there." He started to walk away from her, then decided he owed her an explanation and turned back.

  She met his eyes, doubt clouding hers.

  "We need a little time to get to know one another," he said. Besides, there was already one man sleeping in that bed with her, three would make a crowd. "Let's give each other that time."

  Was that relief he saw in her expression?

  A deep rose flush darkened her neck and cheeks. Her gaze moved to his shirtfront. If she had any feelings on the subject, she kept them to herself. But she didn't argue with him.

  He'd known she wouldn't.

  "Why don't you ope
n your gift?" he suggested.

  "Oh, oh yes, of course." She bustled into the kitchen. The small package looked pathetically alone on the enormous table. Meg approached it, reminded of her wedding to Joe and the reception that had followed at the Telford home, with guests spilling into the yard and gaily wrapped packages stacked atop a table on the veranda.

  That had been before the war, when the citizens of Aspen Grove and the neighboring ranches had still been prosperous. Many of the items she and Joe had received that day had since been traded or sold.

  Meg slipped the white ribbon from the package and peeled back the paper. The box held a set of carefully wrapped, cut-glass salt and pepper shakers with sterling silver lids.

  "They're lovely," she said, and meant it. She'd had an entire set, much like them, consisting of spoon trays and berry bowls, jelly dishes and cruets, but those had been among the items she'd sold for feed last winter. "Rosa said it was from her and Lottie. Who's Lottie?"

  He couldn't explain Lottie to her. Not just yet. "Lottie is … another friend of mine."

  "Oh. Well, it was kind of them to send a gift. I'll be sure to send a proper thank-you."

  "I'm sure you will."

  She met his eyes uncertainly.

  He'd have to tell her eventually. He'd given his word to take Eve and raise her.

  Tye watched the mixture of expressions cross her lovely face, studied her straight spine as she turned and placed the salt and pepper shakers in her cabinet. The pale green dress was lovely on her. Its cinched style showed off the tiny waist he'd often admired and left him wondering about the softly rounded hips and legs so well hidden beneath the folds of the skirt.

  A small, knitted purse with tasseled ties still hung forgotten from her elbow.

  It had been all he could do in the time he'd had before today to earn the cash money for the ring. He would have liked to have given her something else, an heirloom or something meaningful, something a woman like her deserved. He'd never had much more than the clothes he wore. When he was old enough, he'd made enough to provide for his mother, and the rest … well, the rest he'd drunk and gambled because he was isolated and lonely—and because it was expected of him.

  She wouldn't have wanted anything that had belonged to his mother, anyway, even if he'd had something.

  Two solid thumps on the screen door brought him out of his thoughts.

  Meg turned with a smile. "That's Major. He must have been out hunting when we arrived. He's probably curious to know who's here."

  The door opened without her crossing to open it, and an enormous, long-haired dog nosed his way through. He carried a chunk of wood in his mouth, promptly crossed the room and dropped it in the wood box beside the stove.

  "Good boy, Major," she said with a laugh.

  The dog immediately zeroed in on Tye and came forward slowly, nose sniffing the air, tail wagging low.

  Meg crossed to Tye and touched his arm. "This is Major," she explained, the touch obviously a sign for the animal that he was a friend.

  The heat from her fingers seeped through his shirtsleeve, and Tye stopped himself from moving away from the temptation of her nearness. She moved away herself soon enough. "I'll change now. I was going to make a pie for our supper."

  "I'll change, too. And then I'll acquaint myself with the place."

  "I know it doesn't look like much right now," she said apologetically. "We've had to let some things go in order to care for the stock. The fellas try, but, well…"

  "It's the best place I've ever lived, ma'am," he told her honestly. "I'll do all I can to take care of things now."

  She smiled then, a genuine smile of reassurance. "I believe you will, Tye. If I didn't believe that, well, we wouldn't be here right now. Neither one of us."

  Meaning she'd have been put off her ranch, and he'd still be trying to earn enough money to buy an acre or two. This way they each had what they wanted.

  It would be a fine place to bring Eve to, as well. Maybe he should have told Meg about the child before they'd gotten married, but there just hadn't been the right time. Working extra hours for the ring and these clothes had seemed the imperative need at the time. He had no idea how he was going to find the words to tell her now.

  Besides, there would still be a little time for her to get used to the idea—he hoped. He hadn't checked on Lottie for several days, so he really wasn't sure about her condition.

  Tye picked up his belongings, stowed them in the attic and changed into work clothes. No time like the present to get down to business.

  Meg hated herself for the sense of relief that had accompanied Tye's decision to sleep in the attic. She should have spoken up, shouldn't have allowed him to postpone the inevitable. But she'd gone along. And the fact that she'd been unable to fall asleep that night was likely due to guilt over his uncomfortable sleeping arrangements.

  She rose early and prepared breakfast as she always did. Gus, probably allowing them privacy, hadn't ground the beans or started the coffee, which added another task to her routine.

  Tye appeared from outside with Gus and Purdy. The two hands hung their hats and took their places beside each other on a bench. Tye stood awkwardly to the side.

  Meg placed a hot plate of skillet cakes on the table, then realized he was waiting for her to assign him a seat.

  "There." She gestured to a single chair at the end. The chair where she usually sat. The chair that had been Joe's.

  Tye stood behind it.

  Gus and Purdy dug into the food without hesitation.

  "You don't have to wait for me to sit," she said, realizing his intent. "I jump up and down a half-dozen times during a meal."

  Tye seated himself.

  Meg poured coffee, then sat to his left.

  No one said much as they ate together, their first morning in this new situation. Meg tried to make it seem natural but knew she wasn't fooling anyone.

  Tye ate more slowly than the ranch hands. And he didn't eat half as much as most men she'd cooked for.

  She tasted everything to make sure she hadn't made a mistake in her haste. It all tasted fine to her. "Everything all right?" she asked hesitantly.

  He looked up from his plate, his deep blue eyes vibrant in the morning light that streamed through the long kitchen windows. "Everything's just fine, ma'am. Thank you."

  Meg glanced at Gus, and he met her eyes only briefly, then popped his last bite of ham into his mouth, downed his coffee and stood.

  Purdy followed, going for his hat.

  "We've just got enough time to change." Meg said, folding her napkin.

  Tye laid down his fork and sat still.

  "Tye?" she asked curiously.

  Gus and Purdy tromped out the door with a screech of hinges.

  "You don't want me to come to church with you," he said. It wasn't a question.

  "But of course I do. I always go to church."

  "I don't."

  She had started to get up, but she eased back down on the bench. "Aren't you a God-fearing man, Tye Hatcher?"

  "Yes, ma'am. But for your sake, I fear God's good people more."

  "What do the others have to do with it?"

  But she knew. She might not understand, but she knew how he'd been treated in town his whole life. She hadn't seen firsthand the rejection his mother had received after he'd been born, but she'd lived in this town as long as he had, and she'd seen the way he was snubbed.

  "I warned you how people would react," he said softly. "No one came yesterday, did they?"

  At that, she did stand, her posture rigid and perhaps a little defiant. "That is my church, Tye Hatcher. I've gone there since I was six years old. And you're my husband. I don't intend to let a few narrow-minded attitudes stop us from going." Those people couldn't ignore her forever. They hadn't shown up at her wedding, but she'd be hanged if she'd let them control her comings and goings in town or her attendance at her place of worship.

  A few syrupy bites of a skillet cake remained on the pl
ate he stared at. "I'll come if you ask me to."

  Was it unfair of her to ask this of him? No. She wasn't about to leave Tye behind like one of the ranch hands. "I'm asking."

  He stood, his long legs pushing back the chair. "I'll change."

  * * *

  Chapter Five

  « ^ »

  He stood near the wagon when she exited the house. He wore the same dark trousers and white shirt and tie he'd worn for their wedding, his revolver holstered to his hip and his hat pulled low. But even with his eyes shaded, she knew his gaze followed her from the back steps appreciatively. It warmed her to know he was looking at her in a way no man had looked at her for a long time. But it startled her that she liked the feeling.

  "I'll take a step up," she said, when he appeared uncertain of how to assist her.

  Immediately, he made a step of his laced fingers, and she pulled herself up to the seat. Tye brushed his hands together and seated himself beside her.

  They didn't have much to say to each another, but she soon learned that theirs could be a comfortable silence if she relaxed her thinking. As man and wife they would have many rides like this, plenty of time together, and all the years ahead to get to know one another.

  Tye pulled the wagon into a shaded area in the lot near the church, and this time she allowed him to place his hands around her waist and lower her to the ground. Her gloved hand touched his upper arm briefly, and the thick, corded muscle beneath the shirt made her sharply aware of his reserved strength. She glanced up.

  He released her and didn't meet her eyes. His tight expression revealed his stoic determination to go through with this. Because she'd asked it of him.

  Harnesses jingled, and Meg turned to see the Telfords' leather-upholstered buggy drawn into the lot. She started toward it, then realized Tye wasn't beside her, and paused. He joined her, reluctantly, and she continued toward her family.

  "Good morning!" she called.

  Harley assisted Mother Telford from the buggy, then turned for Gwynn. The children jumped to the ground and ran ahead with noisy enthusiasm. Wilsie hung behind Gwynn, her cautious stare fixed on Tye as if he were going to suddenly pull his gun and blast them all full of lead.