by Jo Goodman
“All right.” He finished tucking in his shirt and slipped into his vest and jacket. He found his hat on the floor where she had tossed it and stooped to pick it up, beating it lightly against his thigh as he straightened. He took his coat from the bench seat and folded it over his arm and stood there at the foot of the bed, making a memory of her as he might if he were taking a photograph.
“But just to be clear,” he said. “I am still not requesting scented salts.”
Chapter Seventeen
Buster Rawlins held up his horse when he heard Eli shout from behind him. He turned in his saddle as Eli’s gelding slowed to a trot. He looked over horse and rider, giving more attention to the horse than the rider, and when he was satisfied that neither was hurt, faced forward and waited for Eli to come abreast of him.
Buster pulled down the scarf covering the lower half of his face and grunted a greeting.
“Morning to you, too,” said Eli. He lifted the collar of his coat and tucked his chin lower. The wind was bitterly cold, and riding into the face of it had beaten ruddy color into his cheeks.
“You’re up early.” Buster dug his heels into his mare’s sides and she started forward. “Keep up,” he told Eli. “You’re likely to freeze in place if you don’t. Damn brisk out here.”
“Brisk. Yes. It’s that.”
“So what are you doing out here? Not like you to come looking for work.”
“I need your help.”
Buster shook his head. “Not if it means crossing your father. I know you had an argument with him the other day. I’m not getting in the middle of that.”
“How do you know we argued? Did he tell you?”
“No, and neither did anyone else. Do you think after all these years of spitting and scratching at each other that I can’t tell when you’ve been at it again? Putting on that face the way you do when you’re with him in public, and him doin’ the same thing, well, it’s been a long time since I was fooled by it. Guess you both have your reasons, so it’s not for me to question, but if you suppose I am going to put myself in the line of fire, go suppose somewhere else.”
Eli gave Buster a sharp look. “He did speak to you. I bet you didn’t give him that speech.”
Buster shrugged. Up ahead a dozen cows were huddled around a standing pool of water that was most likely frozen over. He had an axe with him to break it open. He hoped he had patience enough not to use it on Eli’s head.
Eli persisted. “What did he say to you?”
“He said that Willa Pancake got herself hitched.”
“Did you believe him?”
“’Course I did. Didn’t you?”
“Not at first.”
Buster simply shook his head.
“Did he say who she married?”
“Nope.”
“Did you ask him?”
“Nope. I wasn’t that eager to prolong the conversation, but I will tell you, I don’t think he knows.”
“Why do you say that? He led me to believe he did.”
“Now that’d be like him, wouldn’t it? But I had a different impression is all, like maybe Mrs. Hamill didn’t tell him because Cutter never told her.” Buster stopped and dismounted when he was ten feet from the cows. He gave Eli his reins. “You might as well make yourself useful since you’re here. Don’t let her wander off.” He took the axe he was carrying in his scabbard in place of a rifle and found an opening between a pair of broad-boned beauties that he could slip into. He butted and shoved and elbowed his way forward. The beef was not inclined to move.
Eli remained in the saddle, watching him. He called out above the lowing protests of the cattle. “Well, someone has to know. That’s why I want you to ride into town with me. I figure if we ask around, the two of us, we’ll find out who stepped in where he shouldn’t have.”
“Now, see? You and I are about to have a difference of opinion, Eli. Who’s to say he wasn’t invited in?”
Eli urged his horse forward so he did not have to pitch his voice so high to be heard. He sounded like a boy whose balls hadn’t dropped. “I’m noticing you’re considerably more amiable when you’ve had a few drinks.”
“Isn’t everybody?”
“Not Mal. He’s rattlesnake mean. It’s only after a few becomes one too many that he gets soft in the head and just a little soft in the heart. You’ve probably never seen him like that.”
“No. Never have. Don’t think I want to.” Buster raised the axe over his shoulder and brought it down hard on the thick crust of ice. It cracked but didn’t break. He shoved back on the cow trying to push him forward and brought the axe down again. This time it sank deep and water sprayed between the cracks. “Got it!” Buster crowed.
“Good for you.”
Buster spent another five minutes chipping away at the ice, digging out big chunks and whipping them aside like so many skipping stones. He got out of the way as soon as he was done because one of his brown-eyed lovelies was determined to push him into the drink.
He walked back to his mount, put the axe away, and took his reins from Eli. He swung up in his saddle. “There are a few other places I need to get to and do the same thing. You’re welcome to ride along.”
Eli didn’t see that he had any other choice, not if he was going to persuade Buster to assist him. “Hyah,” he said, and his horse fell into step beside Buster’s. “Where to next?”
“The fountainhead at Cook Hill. I want to be certain it’s still flowing.”
“Why isn’t Jesse Snow doing this?”
“Because then I’d have to ride out to make sure it was done. He’s good when you’re in close and keeping an eye on him, but he can’t be left alone for long. Jesse does like a shortcut.” He gave Eli a sideways glance. “I guess I’m wonderin’ why you haven’t corralled Jesse for a ride into town. He wouldn’t hesitate.”
“Maybe you were too many sheets to the wind when we talked about Jesse back a ways, but I recall saying that his tongue gets to wagging when he’s had a few. God knows what he would say. I want information, but I don’t want to become a laughingstock trying to get it.”
“Understandable.” Buster pulled the brim of his hat lower. “I’m recollecting you were thinking about sending Jesse over to the Pancake spread. What happened to that?”
“Truth?”
Buster smirked. “No. Please lie to me.”
“I thought he was too good-looking to put in Wilhelmina’s way.”
“Lord, Eli, but she has you by the balls.”
“You’re the one who said I should have another go at proposing to her. That’s what you said, or have you forgotten?”
“I said it because I could tell you were thinking it. Does your father know you were going to take another shot?”
Eli’s chuckle was humorless. “Don’t you realize yet that he knows everything? He told me once I should steal her away, make it look like she came willingly, and not return until she was my wife, legal, bedded, and if I was fortunate, with my child in her.”
Buster screwed his mouth to one side and he scratched the stubble on his jaw. “Well, damn. I did not know that. It’s no secret that he wants the valley. Always has, and that strip by the fence line, he wants that real bad, but I didn’t know he entertained notions about you running off with Miss Willa.”
“The irony is that he put a stop to Willa and me seeing each other when we were kids. I guess he couldn’t see the advantage of me taking up with her back then or maybe he just hated all the Pancakes so much he didn’t want any association with them. He and I have never talked about it. I suspect he had a hand in Willa leaving the valley back then, but I’ve never asked him. I wouldn’t believe him if he denied it so there’s no point.”
“Huh. Guess I never knew the particulars. You can play your cards close, just like your father, when you have a mind to.”
Eli said nothing. The comparison to his father, even a relatively complimentary one, stung more than usual coming from Buster. When people commented on the similarities between father and son, Malcolm was the yardstick and Eli was the ruler.
They were approaching the foot of Cook Hill when Eli finally broke the silence. “So? Are you going to ride into Jupiter with me?”
“I’m still thinking. I guess I want to know what your plans are.”
“I told you. I want to know who he is.”
“And?” The word hung in the air while Buster studied Eli.
“And . . . nothing.” When Buster slowed and then held up his horse, Eli did the same. “What? Do you think I’m playing my cards close to my vest now? I’m not. I just want to know who he is.”
“So you don’t have any thoughts about making her a widow? Because I’m not having any part of that. I am still harborin’ regrets about that other business. I can’t help but think I should’ve tried harder to put a stop to it. I wish I’d understood how serious you were before it was too late.” He put up a hand to prevent Eli’s interruption. “I blame myself, not you. Don’t worry that I’m going to talk because I’m not. It’s just a damn good thing you told Jesse to stay put and take away the body. There’d been hell to pay if Malcolm had seen it when he rode up to the ridge with you.”
“It would have been worse if he found out what the fellow did and I had not seen fit to set it right. C’mon, Buster. You know it’s true. That’s why you agreed.”
“That’s why I went along to a point. I’m not sure that I ever agreed.” He snapped the reins. “Listen, thinking on it now as I am, I can tell you that if you want to ask after Miss Wilhelmina in town, you should do it on your own or take Jesse with you. I’m not going.”
Eli frowned. “Do you mean that?”
“I do. See? I think a lot more clearly when I don’t have a glass of beer and a shot on the table and a warm and willing woman waiting for me.”
* * *
Willa was preparing to dip her fingers into the tub when she heard the knock. “Your timing is uncanny,” she said, opening the door. “Mrs. Putty’s twin boys just carried away the last four buckets.”
Israel’s eyebrows lifted a fraction as he looked her over. She was wearing a towel. Only a towel. “I passed them in the lobby,” he said, trying to slip through the narrow opening she gave him. “Now I understand why they looked as if they’d been struck dumb.”
Willa looked down at herself and told him with some asperity, “I was not wearing this when they were here.”
Israel’s brows rose even higher. “Then I’m surprised they were still breathing. You about stopped my heart when you opened the door.”
“Fool,” she said, not unkindly. She took him by the sleeve and pulled him through. It was an awkward entrance because he had several parcels in his arms but modesty prevented her from opening the door wider. As soon as he was inside, she shut the door, turned the key, and then turned to him. Her attention immediately wandered to the packages. She pressed her lips together and regarded him expectantly.
He chuckled. “Greedy wife. These are not all for you. Some are for sharing.”
“Then they’re all for me, and maybe I’ll share some.”
“All right, that will work.” He walked to the bed, where he dropped everything. In his absence, she had made a halfhearted effort to make up the bed. The covers were straightened if not smoothed, and the pillows had been plumped but were resting cock-eyed against the headboard. It made him smile to see it. When he turned, she was standing right there as if she had been peeking around his shoulder, which was probably the case. That merely deepened his smile. He kissed her on the crown of her head, her hair soft against his lips. “Have at them,” he said. “I am going to wallow in the trough.”
“Enjoy,” she said absently and sat down on the bed to make her first selection.
Israel had undressed, folded the screen and moved it aside, and was sliding into the tub before Willa finally placed a parcel in her lap. Up until that moment her inspection had been eyes only. She actually kept her hands behind her back as if she needed to restrain herself from touching or shaking.
Watching her, he wished he could have done more. His smile was a little rueful. “Remember that I’m not a rich man,” he said. “I don’t know what you think might be in them, but there’s nothing there that will leave you breathless or bite you.”
Moved by his thoughtfulness, savoring the anticipation, Willa fingered the twine tied around the flat, brown paper parcel while she looked at him. “I don’t care what any of it is. That you did it is enough.”
“Go on. Let’s see if that’s true.”
She nodded and turned her attention once more to the parcel, tugging on the loose bow that held it all together. She turned the present over, carefully folded back the paper, and lifted what she found inside.
“It’s a scarf,” Israel said helpfully when she merely stared at the poppy red wool without unfolding it. “It’s long, too. I figured you could wrap it around you three or four times to keep the chill off your neck when you’re riding. Plus, it’s red. I picked the color because it suits you and because it will help me see you from a long way off in case I’m not wearing the spectacles.” When she still did not speak or give any indication that she meant to examine the gift, he added, “Of course, if you’d rather have a different—”
Willa looked over at him then. Tears hovered on the edge of her lashes, but she did not blink them back or knuckle them away. “Shut up,” she whispered. “You have to shut up.” She pushed the paper and twine off her lap and unfolded the scarf, draping it over one arm and running her hand along the length of it. Standing, she wound the scarf around her neck twice and let the tails fall, one in front, one down her back. She continued to finger it, and although her eyes had dried, her smile was still a trifle watery.
“It’s lovely,” she said. “Really. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He spoke gravely because the moment seemed to demand it.
That changed when she said, “I notice you’re not wearing your spectacles.”
“No. Not in the bath. Not as rule.”
“Hmm. But you can see me?”
“Mm-hmm. All the way over here.”
“How about now?”
Israel was appreciative if not entirely surprised when it happened. He could have expected that another woman might have removed the scarf, but his wife was cleverer than that. She removed the towel.
“Yes,” he said with the same gravity as before. “I can still see you.”
“Good.” She approached the tub, dragging the towel by her fingertips. “It pains me to remove this, but I really have no choice.” She dropped the towel on the floor and unwound the scarf, careful to keep the tails out of the water. She hung it over the folded screen. “Move over.”
Israel barely had time to comply before she was disturbing the water. In spite of the length and height of the tub, it was a tight fit, but they made the necessary compromises until she was mostly cradled between his legs and the back of her head lay against his shoulder. His arms rested on either side of her along the rim of the tub, while her hands rested on his bent knees.
“Thank the Lord for floating soap,” he said as the bar of Ivory bobbed on the rippled surface of the water. Laughter rumbled in his chest when Willa made a halfhearted grab for it and it jumped out from between her fingers, as slippery as a frightened hop toad. “I don’t suppose anyone’s figured out how to keep it in your hands.”
The soap drifted away, and she let it go. She set her palm over his knee again and gently massaged it. “Tell me why you had to leave. You said you would when you got back.”
Amused, he asked, “The presents didn’t move you off the scent?”
“Not for a moment. Is that why you brought them?”
“No. I�
�m ashamed to admit they were all an afterthought.”
“Even the scarf?”
“Afraid so. Not that I didn’t mean you to have it as soon as I saw it, but I didn’t go looking for it. Maybe that makes a difference to you.”
She was quiet, thoughtful, and then she leaned her head a little to the side and looked up at him. “No. No difference. You saw it, thought of me, and decided to have it. You know, Israel, you are a better man than you credit.”
He started to deny it, but she cut him off when she stopped massaging his knee and squeezed it as if her fingers were pincers. “Ow!”
Willa released her grip. “Accept that I believe it,” she said. “Even if you don’t.”
Israel tried to remember if anyone had ever spoken up for him as she had. No one came to mind. He waited until she was no longer looking at him before he said, “I left so I could post a couple of letters.”
“Post letters? But Cutter or Zach or even Happy could have done—” She stopped. “Oh, I see. I don’t suppose they could, not if you didn’t want anyone to know where the letters were going. That’s it, isn’t it? You didn’t want any of us of to know.”
Israel did not deny it. “One of the letters was to my parents. The other one was to Quill.”
“You told me your parents live in Herring. I could have written to them at any time, but I respected your wishes, and I—” She sighed deeply, shaking her head. “They don’t live in Herring at all. That was a lie.”
“Yes.”
“Do you believe your lies?”
“Sometimes. It’s easier if I do.”
“Do they even live in Illinois?”
“Yes.” She had stopped massaging his knee for the second time, but at least she wasn’t pinching it. “I couldn’t trust you then, and when my back is to the wall, I lie.”
“Forgive me, but it seems as if you don’t trust me now.”
Israel said nothing.
“Israel?”
“What about you?” he asked quietly. “Do you think you will ever trust me with your secret?” Holding her as he was, all but surrounding her with his body, he felt the tremor that slipped under her skin.
