But Eve, on the other hand…
"I don't know if she's mine," he said at last, his voice steadier than he'd expected. "But I hope like hell she is. I already love her like she's mine. I want her to be."
"Why?" she asked, raising trembling fingers to her mouth.
The reasons ballooned inside of him, filled his head, his will, his purpose. A lifetime of whys rose up and blinded him to her pain. "Why?" he replied tersely. "I'll tell you why. Because that is Joe's horse," he said, stabbing a finger toward the corral. "And that's Joe's barn. This is Joe's dirt we're standing on."
Puzzlement silenced her.
Tye snatched her by the forearm and pulled her across the expanse of the dooryard. "This," he said when they reached the front stairs, "is Joe's house."
He led her up the new porch steps, where Major greeted them with a wagging tail. "That's Joe's dog," he said on the way past, the screen door squawking in their wake. He tugged her past the sleeping Eve into the bedroom and gestured with a bitter sweep of his arm. "That is Joe's bed."
He released her finally, and she stumbled back a step, alarm straining her lovely face.
Caught up in his explanation now, Tye flung back the trunk lid. "Let's not forget Joe's personal things."
Meg's eyes were now wide and glistening.
"His ring is probably in there somewhere, along with God knows what else." He strode toward her and she stared up into his face, her heart leaping.
"And you," he said, pointing with one finger that deliberately didn't touch her chest, "are Joe's wife."
Meg stared from the trunk to Tye's angry face and posture. Stunned, she could think of nothing to say.
"But there's one thing I'm certain could never have been Joe's," he said, his voice changing timbre. He guided her gently to the doorway and pointed at the sleeping child. "That beautiful kid isn't Joe's daughter."
Meg blinked, trying to comprehend, preparing herself for what she didn't want to hear or know.
"I want her to be mine, Meg. I want that with all my heart. Just one pure thing in this whole stinkin' world that's mine."
She nodded, tears stinging her eyelids, raw compassion stifling her breathing. That which she'd feared, he desired. That which she envied, he gloried in.
"She sees me as someone I want with all my heart to be," he said hoarsely. "She never says, 'Joe did it this way,' or 'Joe wouldn't have done that.' She never knew Joe—she could care less about who the hell Joe Telford was because it doesn't affect her. For her, there's only me. And I'm good enough for her."
Heart pounding, stomach turning, Meg bit back a sob. She'd heard others say things like that to Tye—she'd said them herself without thinking. Without knowing the hurt they'd caused.
She understood. Lord help her, she understood. She'd been jealous of Tye's affection for this child, and now that knowledge made her feel smaller than she'd ever felt.
The front door opened and closed and she looked up to find him gone. Wandering into their bedroom, she perched on the edge of the bed and stared absently at the open trunk. Silent tears streamed down her cheeks.
All that hurt and anger had been pent-up inside the man. No wonder he'd never let it out before. If it was her, she'd never have been able to quit releasing it once she'd started.
Her stomach churned. She got up and bolted out the front door and vomited into the weeds beside the house. After the display of nerves passed, she returned and prepared for bed.
She did understand Tye's need for and his attachment to Eve. But she'd been forced to suffer the scorn of the townspeople right along with him. How many of them suspected Eve was his child? Was that why they'd been particularly nasty?
Meg hated her selfishness, but some of it was justified. She had to live her life like this now, too.
Climbing into bed, she thought back over his every kindness, the sacrifices he'd made to get back her father's ring and the unselfish way he gave of himself in all things, and she knew she was the one who wasn't as good as him. But she wasn't sure how to change her feelings.
Especially now that they both believed Tye was Eve's real father. And now that she knew how strongly Tye felt about it. Once again, her world had been shaken. And she prayed she'd find a way to adapt.
A few nights later, Tye came in before dark so he could spend time with Eve before she went to sleep. Meg sat sewing near a lantern and Eve turned the pages of a book, pretending she was reading it aloud.
"I'm just in time for your story," Tye said, settling in the overstuffed chair he preferred.
Eve continued her story, embellishing with childlike details that brought a smile to Meg's face as well as a laugh to his lips. She finished, and he applauded.
Eve brought her trinket box out and chattered about the contents. "This here's the hankie that Meg made me. See, it has my initials in the corner by this little flower?"
"It's very pretty," he said, warmed to think something Meg had made her ranked among her treasures.
Eve withdrew a square-linked neck chain with a dangling locket. She held the round locket in her palm and the light winked from the distinctive rhinestones set in a crescent-moon shape. To the left side of the rhinestone moon was an opal sun.
Tye immediately recognized the piece of jewelry as one he'd purchased from a hawker many years ago and given to Lottie. She'd never had much, so he guessed it wasn't unusual she'd kept it all these years. It seemed strange seeing it again, however.
"This here's the prettiest neck chain in all of the kingdom," Eve said, still in her fairy-tale verbiage. "Meg thinks its pretty, too, don't you, Meg? And she thinks I'll look real pretty when I wear it after I'm big."
Tye nodded his agreement.
"Mama said when I'm bigger and I wear it, I will find my daddy."
Tye's attention riveted on her words. "What did she mean?"
"Mama said my daddy gave it to her, and when I find who gave it to her, I will find my daddy."
Tye could barely breathe around the emotion welling in his throat. Lottie had known! Now he could be certain that this child he'd grown to love was really his.
"I gave that to your mama, Evie," he said in a hoarse whisper.
In the other chair, Meg's fingers stilled on the fabric of the dress she held.
Eve looked up at Tye with round and trusting blue eyes. "You gave it to her? You did? Are you my daddy, Tye?"
He worked the lump in his throat so he could speak around it. "I'd be your daddy even if she hadn't said I was the one. You know that, don't you?"
She nodded, and a bright smile lit her angelic features. She got up and stood leaning against his knee. "I can call you Daddy now?"
"If you want to."
"I do."
He lifted her up for a hug and settled her on his lap. She nestled into the warmth and comfort he was glad to offer.
A whole new security washed over Tye. He had a daughter, someone who belonged to him and him alone. Guiltily, he glanced over at Meg.
She placed her sewing on the basket beside her chair and went into the bedroom, closing the door behind her.
The only break Tye took from haying in the next few weeks, other than quick meals and a few hours' sleep, was a previously arranged trip to town that Friday. He and Meg left Eve with Gus and traveled the distance to sign adoption papers at the lawyer's office. Now that Meg understood his feelings regarding her and the ranch, now that she knew Eve was really Tye's child, she took sad-sweet pleasure in watching him sign the documents and receive the certificate that said Eve was theirs.
She knew exactly how he felt about Joe now. Because she felt excluded from the relationship he and Eve were forming.
They stepped out onto the boardwalk, and the summer heat hit Meg full force. A woozy sensation filled her head. She must have swayed where she stood because Tye placed an arm securely around her waist.
"It's so hot," she said, feeling foolish.
"Want a lemonade before we head back?"
"Sure. Let's cel
ebrate." He kept hold of her as they crossed the street and entered a small café populated by the afternoon tea crowd.
Edwina, Wilsie and Gwynn, along with several other women and three little girls, were seated at a table in front of the window. As soon as she and Tye entered, Meg knew the unnatural silence was due to something Edwina had said. Already hot and irritable, Meg swallowed her anger and disgust, gave Lilly a defiant little wave and turned her attention from the gossiping women.
Tye led her to a cloth-draped table. The male proprietor took their order and brought them mugs of cold lemonade. Meg sipped hers gratefully, her head clearing.
"Taking liberties with her in broad daylight," a voice she recognized as her former mother-in-law's trilled.
Meg drank the refreshing liquid and met Tye's stormy gaze, Edwina's words fueling her temper. The insult and injury Tye endured was never revealed on his face or in his actions. She was probably the only person who'd ever recognized Tye's hurt—and she was obviously the only one who'd ever cared.
"Thank God Joe had the decency and the manners to treat her like a lady. And back then she behaved like one."
Tye's jaw twitched and his lips formed an angry slash. But it was Meg who shot out of her chair and crossed to the other table.
"I am sick and tired of your constant harping about a man you know nothing of," she said, leaning over Edwina. "Tye Hatcher is the kindest, most honorable man I've ever known, and he doesn't pretend to be anything he's not. I've had it up to here—" she gestured with her hand across her forehead and saw Edwina flinch "—with your small-minded, puritanical, hypocritical, judgmental back-stabbing!"
Edwina's face turned purple with fury, and her over-endowed chest puffed out like an indignant banty hen's. "How dare you parade yourself and that man in front of this community. You may not care about your good name, but you could at least consider the rest of us Telfords!"
"I am pleased to inform you that my name is no longer Telford. It's Hatcher. And while the name Hatcher doesn't immediately make one think of a big house with a 'veranda—'" she said the word with an uppity inflection "—it does make one think of hard work and honesty."
Beside Edwina, Gwynn's mortification stood out plainly on her pale face. Lilly stared wide-eyed. Another woman, the one who'd spoken politely to Meg and Tye after his musical debut, gave Meg an embarrassed, apologetic look.
Wilsie pulled a bottle of smelling salts from her reticule and cast her mother wary looks.
"You have never cared about my good name, Edwina. Or my feelings or my future," Meg went on. A trickle of perspiration itched between her breasts and her vision blurred with the heat, but she had her teeth sunk into the immediate subject, and she wasn't ready to let go. "All your concern is for your name and your standing and your wants and wishes! You should be ashamed of the example you're setting for these women—and for Forrest and Lilly. You're teaching your grandchildren to be just as bigoted and close-minded as you—just like you taught Harley! I'm sorry, Gwynn."
Gwynn shook her head gently. "No, no, it's true."
"Joe wasn't like you, Edwina, or I wouldn't have loved him or married him. He saw people as equals. He was never unkind to Tye. You're the one he's ashamed of if he's watching today."
Meg felt herself sway. Gwynn stood and took Meg's arm to steady her, and Meg sensed Tye come up behind her.
"Meg's right," Gwynn said to her mother-in-law timidly. "I want my children to grow up loving others, not condemning them. I don't want them to be critical, with no forgiveness in their hearts."
A commotion on the street outside the window seized Meg's attention, and several men and women ran past the café shouting.
Tye left Meg with Gwynn and stepped to the door. "What's wrong?"
"Fire at the livery," Claudelle Parks called loud enough for them all to hear. "Jon Whitaker sent for help."
"Stay with her," Tye said to Gwynn, and shot out the door.
"Harley and Forrest are there with the pony," Gwynn said, terror lacing her voice.
Meg clasped her hand and they followed.
Black smoke curled into the bright blue sky, and a scorched scent permeated the air. The group of women and children and the café owner hurried toward the source.
One entire side of the wood structure was in flames, smoke billowing from the open double doors.
Gwynn gripped Meg's hand so hard she winced.
"Perhaps they're out riding," Meg suggested, searching the confusion for Harley and her nephew as well as Tye.
Men shouted and ran in all directions. It seemed to take forever before buckets appeared and the bystanders organized themselves to dip water and pass the heavy containers forward.
"Let's help with the buckets, Gwynn," she said, pulling her toward the nearest trough. They hung their handbags from a hitching post and pushed their sleeves up.
"Cinnamon!" a youthful voice cried in panic. Meg spun to see Forrest racing across the street toward the flaming building, Harley quite a ways behind.
"Forrest!" Gwynn screamed.
A horse whinnied, and Tye came through the smoke-filled doorway into the safety of the street, holding a feed sack over the eyes of a mare he could barely control. Meg's heart plummeted at the sight of him covered with soot. Tye uncovered the mare's head and let her run.
Blinking against the daylight, Tye spotted the young boy tearing past him toward the stable. He turned and bolted after Forrest.
Gwynn screamed, stumbling forward to her knees. Harley helped her up.
"Forrest!" she cried, yanking away. "Go after Forrest!"
Harley turned and took a couple of hesitant steps toward the livery.
The boy's shouts could be heard over the commotion before they saw him. "Cinnamon's in there! My pony's in there! Let me go! Put me down!"
Tye carried him out over his shoulder, the lad kicking and pounding his back. Tye held him firmly until he reached Harley, and then deposited the boy at his father's feet. Harley clamped his hands over Forrest's shoulders and detained him.
"My pony's in there," Forrest sobbed. "Please, mister!"
Gwynn ran and hugged her son. He sobbed and pointed to the building.
Another man, his face and hands blackened, led another panicked horse into the street and released him.
"That it?" Tye called to him.
"Two more in the rear stalls," he gasped. "We'll never get to them in time."
"Cinnamon!" Forrest screamed.
Tye grabbed a bucket from the nearest man and poured the contents over his head and shoulders. Meg's breath left her lungs when she realized his intent. "No! Tye!" she shouted, panic constricting her voice to a croak.
Before she could move forward, he'd darted back into the thick, choking smoke.
* * *
Chapter Fifteen
« ^
Meg watched the doorway with her eyes burning and her heart in her throat. "It's a horse," she said in shock, weighing the risk. "A horse!"
"Listen to you," Gwynn replied from beside her. "You've made more sacrifices than most people because of your love for horses."
"Not just for the horses," Meg said with a shake of her head and a sob in her throat. "For the dream. So I could still be me."
"He didn't even stop to think about going in there," Gwynn said. "He just ran in."
Harley had come to stand beside Gwynn. He now held Forrest, who still sobbed hysterically. Meg fought against echoing his desperate wail by mouthing a fervent prayer.
Too much time passed. Meg's anxiety increased with each second. An ear-splitting crack signaled the collapse of the barn roof; sparks flew, and a shingled section fell over the open doorway, blocking any further passage.
Meg watched in horror.
Gwynn supported her weight when her knees buckled. Wilsie, too, appeared from the crowd and helped Gwynn ease Meg to sit in the dusty street. Meg could hear Lilly crying behind them somewhere. The stable rolled in undulating heat waves.
Wilsie uncapped the sm
elling salts and swiped the bottle beneath Meg's nose.
Her nose stung and her vision cleared immediately. "Oh, my God, Tye," she whispered. He couldn't be trapped in that inferno. He couldn't be! He couldn't die! She couldn't go on without him. She wouldn't want to. She brought her hand to her mouth.
And Eve. The new adoption papers were in his vest pocket. Meg couldn't even conceive of going to the ranch and telling the child that something had happened to the man she adored, that she'd lost not only her mother, but the father she'd just found.
The man that Meg, too, adored.
Flames danced across the shape that had once been the doorway. An oppressive panic roared in Meg's chest. This couldn't be! Tye couldn't be dead. She stared in disbelief.
A shout came from the alley side of the livery, where men were digging a trench between the blaze and the nearest building. An unfettered horse shot from between the buildings, his eyes wild and rolling, and men scattered out of his path.
Tye stumbled into the clearing next, his fist securely knotted in the Shetland's mane. The poor animal skittered and flung its head up in panic, but Tye held him securely.
"Cinnamon!" Forrest shouted.
Tye led the pony to his owners, and Forrest immediately kicked out of his father's arms. Harley stared at the tears streaming down Tye's char-smeared face. "Why did you do that?" he asked, astonishment written plainly on his features.
Meg had struggled to her feet to run toward Tye. He reached to embrace her against his side. He smelled of acrid smoke. "How did you get out of there?" she asked in joy and wonder.
"Chopped a hole in the back wall," he said, still breathing hard and coughing. "There weren't any flames against that back corner, but I couldn't see through the smoke." He wiped his eyes on his sleeve.
"Here," she said, leading him toward one of the nearly empty troughs. "Wash your eyes."
He obeyed her, plunging his head into the tank. She kept her hand at the small of his back, not wanting to break contact. She flipped up the hem of her skirt, offering him the use of her white eyelet petticoat to dry his face.
JOE'S WIFE Page 20
