by Eden Carson
Jackson chose his words carefully, realizing that Ruth was still very young in some ways. “I think they were both right. I’m sure some of the politicians involved were bought and paid for and their masters were more than willing to sacrifice any number of good men and women for a few dollars. But then there were also men and women like your father, who were willing to sacrifice everything for what they believed. And that belief had nothing to do with money.”
Jackson mulled his thoughts over before continuing. “You take any hundred men sitting in church on Sunday and you’ll have one hundred different motives for them being there. But do any of those motives change the face of God? Does one man coming to curry favor with his neighbor somehow lessen another man’s prayer for the life of his sick child? I’ve never thought so.”
“Is that why you fought?” she asked. “You could have stayed in the west, in the army here, instead of going south to join the Confederates.”
“I had family to protect,” he explained. “That came first. But you have to balance peace and security for your family with the right to choose your own way. If you give that up entirely, your protectors just might end up worse than the thing they were protecting you from in the first place.”
Jackson’s words hit close to home as Ruth questioned her moral obligations to keep her promise in marriage. Her husband was a violent man, if the stories she’d heard from Jasper Smith were true. And Frank Masterson could prove a danger to her if he found out she had killed his man. Since the marriage contract had been signed on her behalf by a relative who was not entirely motivated by Ruth’s own well-being, could she just forget Frank Masterson and start over fresh, as so many others moving west seemed to be doing?
Ruth realized she didn’t feel one pang of guilt on behalf of her Aunt Kate or Frank Masterson. But how could she live with herself, if she deliberately deceived a good man like Jackson? That decision would be hers and hers alone. And the mere thought of doing it put a knot in her stomach that made her heart ache.
Chapter 39
Kate barely stirred at the loud pounding on her door. She’d become so accustomed to angry creditors showing up at all hours – their shrill demands greeting her as soon as she cracked open the front door – that she’d stopped jumping when the brass bell rang. She thought about ignoring the summons, but knew from experience that they’d just come back. It was best to face them directly.
She had stopped bothering with the truth – these people never cared that she hadn’t been the one to incur the debt. “She’d married the wastrel, hadn’t she?” They would argue. And every lawman and judge in the land was on their side.
Thank the Lord they didn’t have debtors’ prison in America.
That was the only spot of good luck she’d had since Jonathan Waters had sauntered into church that fateful Sunday two months before and sat right next to her in the front row. Kate remembered clearly how he’d been extremely generous as the collection plate passed by. Borrowed money and a short run of luck at the gaming tables, no doubt, Kate thought sourly to herself, as she drew back the curtain to see who it was.
Kate was surprised to see a girl and two small children on the porch, instead of the fat shopkeeper she was expecting. The tailor, the butcher, the stable owner – she’d met them all, hands outstretched to snatch her last penny.
Kate opened the door to a rapidly-cooling evening. “Well. What can I do for you, child? Speak up – it’s cold out here.”
“We’d like to come in and see our father, please,” the petite blond girl requested.
She was even younger than Kate had first thought – twelve at most. And clearly she was not the mother of these children.
“And who might your father be?” Kate demanded, having little patience for the troubles of others these days.
“Jonathan Waters is our father.” The oldest girl glanced at her younger sister, as if she’d played this part many times before. “You must be our new mother. We’d like to come in now. It’d cold out here, and John Junior doesn’t have proper shoes.”
The girl did her best to walk into the house, but Kate was tired of being pushed about and stood her ground. “Wait just a minute, young lady. Explain yourself.”
The girl sighed audibly. “I’m Margaret. Margaret Waters. Oldest daughter of Jonathan Waters, your husband, or so my Papa wrote to me just last month. You are Kate Waters, are you not?”
“Yes, I’m Kate Waters. But I married a widower – a childless widower.”
“Is that what he told you?” Margaret rolled her eyes. “He must have found it too hard to get a new wife with three children to take care of, so he didn’t mention us.”
Kate took immediate offense. “Yes, you impertinent child, that is exactly what he told me. I’d hardly have forgotten the existence of not one, but three additional mouths to feed. How do I even know you are who you say you are?” Kate demanded shrilly.
“Is there any money left?” Margaret asked, ignoring Kate’s question. “Of course not, or we wouldn’t be here in the freezing cold. The boarding schools only send you home for one reason – no money for tuition. We’d like to come in now, if you please.”
Kate didn’t protest this time as Margaret brushed past her with two siblings in tow. The girl made her way toward the kitchen and started up the stove.
The girl seemed to know her way around the house, Kate thought. She grew nervous, starting to believe this latest chapter in her nightmare of a life might actually be true.
She couldn’t help the nervous laugh that escaped and caused all three children to turn and stare. Kate had thought she’d married a well-to-do shopkeeper – a lonely widower with no heirs who’d dote on her and keep her in every luxury. Instead she’d gotten herself a no-account gambler who disappeared three weeks into their marriage, leaving Kate holding the bill. And now she had three children on top of that. What was she going to do? She wondered silently. The courts had taken every penny she had and sold off every luxury item to pay Jonathan’s gambling debts.
“Don’t worry. He’ll come back for us eventually,” the younger girl said, patting Kate’s knee. “Once the shopkeepers give up and stop coming by every day. The last time, Papa almost got it good, though. He came back too soon. He owed some man so much money, the man practically slept outside our door for eight months. He nearly caught Papa straight in the chest. But Billy here – he was just four years old at the time – he tripped up that man and threw his aim off. Papa only got nicked on the arm and was able to run into the woods and hide until the man finally gave up and went home for supper.”
Margaret joined in the telling. “Papa had to sneak into his own house in the middle of the night. He’d had a run of good luck at the tables, so he bought us all tickets on the train. That’s how we arrived here.”
Kate’s voice reflected her continued shock at the state of her life. “Didn’t the law come after your father? Or that man your father owed money? He could have just followed and spoken to the local Marshal about collecting his debt.”
The youngest girl – Mary was her name – explained. “Guess he wasn’t clever enough to see we’d changed our names. And Margaret here had been off at school the whole time we lived there. So Papa said they wouldn’t be looking for a father with three kids, ‘cause they thought he only had two.”
“Indeed,” Kate said. “Your papa is very clever at concealing children. In fact, he concealed all three of you from me.”
Mary and Margaret glanced at one another before Margaret spoke up. “I guess it was something of a surprise to have us show up like this, unannounced, Mother.”
“Don’t call me that,” Kate snapped. “We just met, for heaven’s sake.”
Kate was taken aback at the thought of being anyone’s mother.
“But you’ve been married to Papa for nearly a month now,” Margaret insisted, opening her eyes wide. “That should count for something.” She pulled forward her five-year-old brother. “He’s a bit hungry, if you could spare so
mething.”
Kate was so stunned she automatically turned to prepare something for the child to eat. Now she was saddled with three unwanted children to support, when she could barely feed herself with what little income the courts let her keep. Her mind quickly churned her options. She couldn’t just leave. The judge had taken what little money she’d had before this miserable marriage to pay off her husband’s debts. She didn’t have a penny to spare – not even enough to buy a train ticket to somewhere else, much less to start fresh.
She could write to her niece for help, Kate thought rapidly. Ruth’s new husband might send money for Kate to join them. But she shuddered at the thought of living in the wilderness at the mercy of that man.
Rich or not, what good was money, if no one important knew she had it?
Besides, that would take time. And even though her husband had been the one to run off, it wouldn’t matter. If she left without his permission – and left behind his children no less – the judge would no doubt grant her husband a divorce, laying all the blame on Kate’s head.
Her future would be miserable if she became a divorced woman. A divorced and destitute woman was less than nothing in society. Her old friends would cross the street to avoid speaking to her. It was better to be the wife of a no-good gambler than divorced. At least married she had a chance. Her husband could have the decency to die while she was still young enough to re-marry. Kate silently chanted to herself as she re-heated last night’s broth: Influenza, typhoid, riding accident. The possibilities were endless.
Chapter 40
Jackson rode the mounts hard for the next two days, spending a quarter of that time checking their back trail. He found no signs of pursuit, so on the third day he detoured off the main trail and headed for one of his favorite spots in Colorado Territory. “We’re going to ride up to a meadow I know, where we can rest for a day in relative safety.”
Ruth’s heart leapt with joy at the thought of being on solid ground for a change. She patted Caboose’s loyal head in apology. “Nothing against you, my brave friend, but a few hours of teaching a mount the joys of side saddle is scant preparation for days of endless riding on a half-baked trail. I’m sure we’re both ready for a rest.”
Caboose shook his tattered mane in apparent agreement as they began a hard climb up the side of the mountain, quickly gaining altitude. After nearly an hour of scrambling up and over rocks, Jackson signaled Ruth to stop.
As she came up alongside Jackson, he turned to her in apology for the hard ride. “I hope I’m not tiring you too much, but if you can stomach another bit of a climb - on foot this time – I’ll share with you the purest, wildest bit of earth you’re likely to see in this lifetime.”
Ruth couldn’t resist the longing on Jackson’s face. His look was contagious, and suddenly, she wanted nothing more than to share a moment of peace and joy with this brave man. She knew life offered no promises and she might never get another chance. “I’m ready. Lead the way.”
A look of joy and triumph broke across his weathered face as he offered Ruth his hand to dismount. “It’s not far on foot, just too much gravel to ride safely. We can’t risk a bruised hoof – or worse – on the horses.”
He kept hold of Ruth’s hand as he led her up and over several large boulders. Climbing in a skirt – even a split one – was a tricky proposal, and she was grateful for his steadying arm. He turned to Ruth as they approached the last boulder blocking the entrance to the meadow, then handed her his hat. “Hold on tight.”
With that little warning, Jackson leapt up the boulder in two quick strides. He turned to pull her up behind him, knowing the horses would find their own way up, since Jackson had all the grain in the saddlebag over his shoulder.
“Here it is, Ruth. What do you think?” Jackson asked, still slightly in awe himself at the sight before him.
She caught her breath at the beauty before her. There was nothing burning. Nothing charred or trampled from the careless boots of an invading army. Just acre upon acre of rich, clean earth spread out before her, covered by swaying grass and late season blooms. The only sound to be heard above their mingled breaths was the wind rustling the autumn leaves still stubbornly clinging to their mother trees, one final burst of color before the long sleep of winter.
“Who lives here?” Ruth whispered, thinking someone must have beaten them to this gorgeous piece of earth.
“No one does,” Jackson replied, smiling as he said it. “There are no people for miles. It’s clean – just the meadow creatures and the odd wild horse passing through in summer to feed on the rich grass.”
“I feel like a child again, searching for faeries in the woods behind our house.” She turned to Jackson and tentatively laid her hand on his forearm. “Thank you for this. I had almost forgotten that good memory of home.”
He turned his quiet gaze to Ruth’s round eyes. “It’s healing, this unspoiled land. It’s empty of the ugliness of the War, and bad memories just wash away in the streams.” He pulled Ruth’s pliant body close to him, knowing she was part of him now, even if just for this small shared moment in his meadow.
She didn’t think to resist Jackson’s touch. Not here, not now. Here was another world, far away from her troubles and the strict rules of a war-torn society that no longer seemed to apply. She turned fully into his embrace, loving the warmth and strength he offered.
He stroked his gloved hands down the sides of her chilled face, passing the worn brown leather across her parted lips. He watched for the response he wanted in her dilating eyes as he continued to stroke his thumb, ever so slowly, across her slightly swollen lips. His lips followed the same path as his hand, barely touching Ruth each time he passed back and forth across her parted mouth.
He pulled back just enough for her eyes to open and catch his rapidly darkening gaze. He stroked his thumb once again across her heated lips, knowing the chill of the leather would awaken her senses to the warmth of his parted mouth.
Ruth’s eyes closed of their own volition as Jackson parted her lips to accept his thrusting tongue. She didn’t resist as he pulled her more fully against his heated body, until she was flush against him. She reached her arms around his neck, wanting only to get closer to him. Closer to his heat as his slick tongue thrust rhythmically into her. She ran her restless hands up into Jackson’s thick, smooth hair, entranced by the feel of it curling around her sensitive fingertips.
Jackson stroked his still-gloved hands down the soft sides of Ruth’s body, barely touching the swelling curves of her breasts. Wanting nothing more than to encase her fully in his aching hands, he forced himself to patience and began the lengthy journey back down to her waist and over the heated flesh of her hips.
Ruth’s insides burned as she felt his left hand slowly curve underneath the swell of her backside, until he was lifting her up into him, allowing only her toes to graze the solid earth. She inhaled sharply as Jackson splayed his think fingers fully open and closed again, lightly stroking the undersides of her buttocks with his fingertips as he cupped her more fully with his gloved palm. Ruth felt the heat in her own body concentrate in her core, feeling every soft stroke of his wandering fingers as he splayed them open and closed, open and closed endlessly as he continued to stroke her swollen ruby lips with his tongue.
Jackson felt himself harden as Ruth responded to his touch with cries of pleasure. He forced himself to pull back slightly from their kiss, to pass just the tip of his tongue across her lower lip until it glistened for him. He slowed his strokes, of both hand and tongue, knowing he wanted Ruth to come to him for more.
She felt Jackson’s heat pull away ever so slightly from her, and she ached at the loss of his mouth on hers. She reached for him but he evaded her kiss repeatedly, not giving her the full contact she needed until she let out a cry of protest and opened her eyes to demand his return.
Ruth met Jackson’s burning gaze – his black eyes fully dilated as he took in her flushed body, his gaze landing everywhere with no a
pology.
With one of Jackson’s hands firmly around her waist, and the other still cupping her backside, Ruth felt fully naked and exposed to his gaze, even though he hadn’t removed one article of her clothing. She wanted his mouth on hers again, keeping all thoughts away that didn’t bring her demanding body more pleasure. She tentatively stroked one finger across his lips, mimicking what he had done before, silently wondering if he felt the same pleasure she did. When Jackson sucked in his breath at her delicate touch, she had her answer and smiled in pleasure at her triumph.
He needed no other encouragement, and closed his lips around her teasing finger, sucking on the tip until she was the one crying out. He took her lips with his and thrust deeply, after her heat.
When Ruth felt Jackson’s hand stroke upward from her waist to cup her swelling breast, she nearly cried out in pleasure. The heat in her body focused instantly on her tightening nipple, which he obligingly rubbed between his thumb and forefinger. She barely noticed the cloth separating her from his touch, but Jackson wanted it gone.
He ached to feel her bare skin against his, but swore silently to himself that he would wait. His seduction had to be slow enough, and pleasurable enough, to break off all thought of Ruth’s far-away sailor. Jackson forced himself to think straight and limit his touch to what he had now. Tomorrow he would take more.
Ruth held on with all her strength to Jackson’s muscled arms, not sure if her shaking legs could support her as he methodically stroked the curve of her breast, then held the tip firmly but perfectly still between his thumb and forefinger. Her body’s rhythm was now tuned to Jackson’s movements, as he stroked her backside with one hand, stilled, and then stroked her breast. She ached where his hand had stopped, until her body squirmed of its own volition, demanding the return of his touch.
Jackson took a steadying breath before allowing himself one last, long stroke down her body. He pulled them apart, and placed several gentling kisses on Ruth’s dazed face, before stepping away entirely. “It’s time to set up camp, Ruth. It’ll be dark soon.”
