West of Heaven

by Victoria Bylin

  “Don’t misunderstand me, Jayne. I appreciate what you did for me last night. That kiss was kind and generous, but it will not happen again. I won’t let it.”

  She should have been relieved, but instead she felt like a dress left on the rack in favor of a prettier one. Her chest ached as she laced her fingers together in her lap. “Then we understand each other.”

  “Yes, we do.” With a brusque nod, he tapped his fingers on the table. “I’ll pay you five dollars a week for cooking, laundry, whatever needs to be done.”

  It was a generous sum. In a few months she’d have enough money for train fare to Lexington. She could be home before summer’s end. The thought of decorating a room for herself and the baby warmed her toes, but she couldn’t look at Ethan without seeing his need. As long as she was staying, she might as well do some good.

  “I’ll take it,” she replied. “But I have a requirement of my own.”

  His eyes narrowed. “What?”

  “It’s time you stopped living like an animal. That beard has to go, and so does all that hair.”

  “That’s none of your business,” he growled.

  “If I have to look at you, it is. I’m sorry, Ethan, but you look like the backside of a beaver.”

  The unkempt beard hid his lips, but she saw a twinkle in his eyes as he wrapped both hands around his coffee cup. “That good, huh?”

  Jayne looked down her nose like the Sunday School teacher she used to be. “You have two options. You can ride into town and visit the barber, or you can shave yourself and I’ll trim your hair.”

  Just like that, the twinkle in his eyes turned into a painful gleam. “I can’t leave you alone. It’s not safe.”

  “Then get busy with that razor.” Jayne pushed up from her chair and lifted his plate out from under his nose. He’d left the tin so clean that it looked as if he had licked it. “I’ll wash the dishes while you shave. There’s plenty of hot water in the reservoir.”

  As she walked to the scrub bucket, she listened for the scrape of his chair against the floor. Instead she heard him chuff like a mule. “This is silly,” he said.

  Maybe, but it needed to be done. She put a teasing lilt in her voice. “I think I know what the problem is. It’s been so long that you’ve forgotten how to shave. All you have to do is—”

  “All you have to do is be quiet.” With a grimace, he pushed out of the chair and glowered at the hot water reservoir. Jayne hid a smile. Anger was a sure cure for constant sorrow.

  “Would you like to use my scissors?” she offered.

  He grunted. “I can manage.”

  While he filled the washbowl and prepared his shaving tools, Jayne puttered in the kitchen. Humming to herself, she stole glances as he chopped at his facial hair with a pair of squeaky scissors. The brown fluff fell to the floor in chunks, revealing a square jaw and a stubborn chin.

  When he finished with the scissors, he dipped both hands in the hot water and raised them to his face to soften his whiskers. Water ran down his arms and soaked his shirt. The collar was in his way, too. Her good manners prodded Jayne to leave the cabin so he could finish the chore in private, but curiosity kept her polishing dishes that were already dry.

  When Ethan globbed shaving soap onto his shirt, he gave up and stripped off the blue cotton. At the sight of the tanned skin stretched over his ribs, she dropped the plate with a clatter. Hard work had given him the muscles she had noticed last night, but the rest of him was as skinny as a starving coyote. She made up her mind to feed him double portions of everything, including dessert.

  “Are you all right?” he demanded.

  She bent at the knees to pick up the plate. “Just clumsy.”

  He watched until she pushed to her feet, putting them eye to eye. Her gaze dipped to his chest and then lower still, to the line of dark hair that disappeared into his dungarees.

  Red heat flooded her cheeks and she averted her eyes. To fight the blush, she decided to think of him as a customer in her mother’s shop. Except none of her customers had been over six feet tall and in need of a shave, except Mrs. Ashton who had terrible chin hair. But that was beside the point.

  At the scrape of the razor against his skin, she took another peek. He was holding his nose out of the way and focusing on the mirror as he wielded the blade in short strokes. Jayne turned back to the kitchen and busied herself with shelving the clean dishes.

  “Shit!”

  She spun around just as a line of blood beaded on his jaw. He snatched a flour sack he’d been using for a towel and pressed it to the cut. “Excuse my language. I’m not used to company.”

  “You need soap,” she said. “I have some in my trunk.”

  She opened the lid and handed him a small white bar scented with honeysuckle. He glared at the soap and then at her, but finally he took it, brushing her palm with his damp fingers. Sensing he’d endured all the attention he could stand, she retrieved her scissors and a mirror from the trunk. Dragging a chair to the door, she said, “I’ll be outside.”

  She stood in the sun until Ethan strode out of the cabin. “Let’s get this over with.”

  When he planted himself in the chair with his feet flat on the ground and his hands resting on his thighs, Jayne realized that he’d done this before. Laura had probably cut his hair once a month. Maybe she had lined up the children and made a game of it. A lump rose in her throat.

  “I’m ready,” Ethan said in a tight voice.

  Gently she took a fingerful of hair and snipped away. As the last swatch fell to the ground, she positioned herself in front of him, tipped his chin upward and finger-combed his temples to be sure the sides were even. She wasn’t the least bit surprised to discover that Ethan Trent was a very handsome man.

  “Would you like a mirror?” she asked.

  When he didn’t reply, she took it for yes and handed him the silver glass. The sun glinted off the surface, sending a beam of light into his eyes. He blinked, then surveyed the face staring back at him. Was he seeing the man he used to be or someone new? Jayne didn’t know, but at least she’d given him something to think about.

  As she turned to leave, he grabbed her wrist and squeezed. “Thank you,” he said. “For everything.”

  An uncommon silence spanned the gap between them. She had an urge to kiss his forehead, but she was sure he’d jerk away, so instead she smiled. “I’m just glad you look human again.”

  But he looked better than human. She saw a man who had everything to give and nothing left to lose. He was a warrior who would have gladly died to protect the woman he loved. A father who would have spilled blood to save his children.

  Abruptly, Ethan released her wrist and pushed up from the chair. “I better get busy with chores.”

  “Me, too,” she said. “It’s laundry day. Where’s the washtub?”

  “In the barn.”

  At the same time, they heard the distant rumble of a galloping horse. The thunderous hoofbeats drew their gazes to the mountain trail, where a man dressed in black and mounted on a mare the color of midnight was racing toward them.

  Chapter Seven

  “A h, hell,” Ethan muttered. “It’s the Reverend.”

  He’d had about all the attention he could stand for one day. If John Leaf made a smart remark about the haircut, he was going to get a lecture about minding his own business.

  Standing at his side, Jayne waved a greeting to their visitor. “I like Reverend Leaf. He tried to help me find Hank.”

  At the mention of Dawson, Ethan’s common sense kicked in. If the sheriff had asked the Reverend about the trunk, Handley could be headed to the ranch, too. He would discover that Jayne was alive and he’d insist on taking her to town. A chill slithered up Ethan’s spine. He had to find out what had happened after he had left Midas.

  The Reverend slowed his horse to a walk as he rode across the yard, taking in the details with a wry smile. “Hello, Ethan,” he called. “I’m glad to see the rumor isn’t true.”

/>   “What rumor?” Ethan demanded.

  The Reverend dismounted and walked toward them, casting a long shadow across the ruts in the yard. With his lanky build, John had a few inches on Ethan as well as a couple of years. At thirty-five, the man still had dark brown hair and the piercing eyes of a gunfighter.

  He was also single and easy on a woman’s eyes, a fact Ethan found irksome when he extended his hand to Jayne and smiled.

  “Mrs. Dawson, it’s nice to see you again.”

  Beaming, she took his hand. “It’s a long story, but I go by Miss McKinney now. Please, call me Jayne.”

  “With pleasure,” he said, smiling. “As for that story, that’s why I’m here today.”

  Horrible pictures of an evil man doing violence to Jayne hurdled through Ethan’s mind. His throat tightened with urgency. “What have you heard?”

  The Reverend rocked back on one hip and raised an eyebrow at Ethan. “It seems a trunk belonging to a dead woman was supposed to show up at church. I never saw it. Rumor has it you’ve started wearing dresses. I tell you, Ethan, it took real courage for me to come out here today. Nice haircut, by the way.”

  Ethan was about to tell the Reverend to go to hell when Jayne’s wind-chime laughter filled the air. “I think you two gentlemen should leave the dresses to me.”

  The Reverend grimaced with feigned relief. “I agree completely. Ethan? What do you think?”

  Still feeling ornery, he replied, “I think you’re a royal pain in the butt.”

  The preacher chuckled with pleasure, and so did Ethan. John Leaf was his only friend. Every now and then, he came to the ranch, bringing newspapers and tidbits of town gossip. He hadn’t pushed Ethan to get to church. He had brought church to Ethan. During one of those times, he stayed late into the night telling tales from his life. Ethan wasn’t the only man in Midas with regrets. The Reverend had been on a first-name basis with the devil himself, and that devil had been named John Leaf.

  Reformed or not, it wouldn’t hurt to have an ex-gunslinger on their side. “Tell us what happened,” Ethan said to John.

  “When Handley told me about Tim LeFarge, I knew you had trouble on your hands. I knew the man back in Laramie, so when the sheriff mentioned the trunk, I thanked him on behalf of the widows and orphans of Midas and decided to ride out here to check things out.”

  Relief sluiced through Ethan. “So he doesn’t know Jayne’s alive?”

  “Handley doesn’t suspect a thing, but he’s not the problem. LeFarge won’t go away until he has answers.” The Reverend looked at Jayne. “I’m sorry to bring bad news, but you’re in danger.”

  Rage rose in Ethan’s throat. “If that bastard shows up here, he’s dead.”

  Jayne clutched his sleeve. “Maybe I should leave.”

  “Like hell!” he roared. “If you think I’m going to let a pregnant woman get on a train with a killer chasing after her, you better think again.”

  “I’m not your responsibility.”

  “Yes, you are.” Ethan shifted his gaze back to John. At the sight of a Cupid-like gleam in the man’s eyes, he had to bite his tongue to stay civil. “What do you suggest?”

  The amusement drained from John’s face. “I’ll wire the authorities as soon as I get back to town, but that’s not enough. Jayne Dawson needs to stay dead, and Jayne McKinney should turn into someone else.”

  “All right,” Jayne said, standing straighter. “I’ll change my last name to Smith or Brown, something ordinary he won’t be able to trace.”

  But Ethan knew that LeFarge wouldn’t be fooled by a fake name. He’d track every blond dressmaker west of the Mississippi until he found her. If she was going to take on a new identity, it had to be authentic.

  Ethan had already reconciled himself to faking a marriage if LeFarge showed up. He’d never betray Laura’s memory, but a legal name change offered Jayne even more protection, both now and in the future. The baby would bear the Trent name, too. Thoughts of the child filled Ethan with a shred of painful pleasure. Lord, he missed his kids. Bedtime stories and fishing on Sundays. Wrestling matches with Laura yelling at them all to stop. Even “chicken pops,” as William had called the itches on his little-boy skin.

  Coming back to the present, Ethan sucked in a breath. Jayne was wringing her apron, and the Reverend had wrinkled his brow into a thoughtful frown.

  “I have an idea,” he said to John. “I want Jayne to use my name to hide from LeFarge. Will you file a marriage certificate for us?”

  She gripped his arm. “That’s too much to ask.”

  “I want to,” he said. “You’ll be safer and so will the baby.”

  The Reverend eyed them both. “I can manage the documents, but I have a requirement of my own. What goes on behind closed doors is between you two and God, but I won’t falsify a marriage. You have to take real vows.”

  Ethan waved off the concern. “They’re just words.”

  “Maybe so,” John replied. “But I’m honor-bound to warn you. When I marry people, it sticks.”

  “This isn’t that kind of wedding,” Ethan countered.

  “Maybe not. Only time will tell.” The Reverend nodded in the direction of a knoll overlooking a vast meadow. “I’m going to walk to the top of that hill and have a smoke. Come on over after you’ve talked.”

  John strode away, leaving Ethan staring at his back with the hill slightly to the Reverend’s right. That spot was special to Ethan. At night he’d stand there and stare at the stars because it was a bit closer to heaven and Laura and the children. Sometimes during the day he’d peer through the empty miles and imagine them coming home in a cloud of dust.

  Forcing himself to blink, Ethan looked directly at Jayne. “You have my word that this will be a marriage in name only,” he said. “We’ll get an annulment when LeFarge is out of the picture.”

  She wrapped her arms around her waist. “It’s all wrong, Ethan. People should marry because they love each other. I used to dream about weddings and white dresses with lots of lace. This just doesn’t seem right.”

  “You can still dream,” he said. “This is temporary.”

  She turned her back and spoke to the clouds. “I’m done dreaming. I’ll never marry again.”

  “Don’t say that,” he said gently. “Someday you’ll meet a man who’s worthy of you. He’ll love you because you’re a good woman, and he’ll want to be a father to your baby. Don’t go slamming any doors.”

  She shook her head. “That door is shut and locked.”

  “It shouldn’t be,” Ethan insisted. “You’re young enough to start over. Besides, what if you have a boy? Someone has to teach him how to ride and shoot, and how to fish. It’s important.”

  She shrugged. “I’ll manage. I always do.”

  “Take my word, Jayne. Life is easier with a partner.” Ethan felt his throat swell. “I hurt every day for Laura, but I wouldn’t trade a minute of the time we had for anything on this earth. Someday you’ll have that joy. I want you to have it.”

  Her stark posture struck Ethan as oddly defiant. He had no idea what she was thinking. A marriage in name only followed by an annulment made sense to him, and he’d expected Jayne to see the practicality. Instead she’d turned stubborn and sworn off love completely, as if he’d broken her heart. Unsure of what to say, Ethan watched as she tilted her chin to the sky and took a deep breath. He heard the rush of air escaping from her lungs, and then she turned around.

  “I don’t know what to do,” she said. “I have to think about the baby, but marriage should mean something. Hank betrayed our vows, but I still believe in promises.”

  Ethan felt hot blood racing to his head. “Dammit, Jayne. I know what those vows mean, but I also know that you’re being chased by a killer and your baby’s in danger. I’m going to do everything I can to keep you safe. It seems to me you could put your romantic notions aside, until LeFarge is gone and you can go home.”

  At the sharp inhalation of her breath, Ethan knew that he’d pun
ctured the last of her excuses. Jayne had a mother’s heart. She’d do anything to protect the baby, even it meant taking a man’s name and nothing else. No white dress. No bouquet of roses. No tender wedding night.

  Ethan felt his gut knot with pain and a longing for things he no longer had. He had to focus on the trouble of the day, and Jayne would be better off if she did the same. “Shall we get the show on the road?” he said.

  She lowered her arms from her waist and managed a wry smile. “That has to be the most pitiful marriage proposal I’ve ever received.”

  It was also the most pitiful one Ethan had ever made. For Laura, he’d bought a ring and taken her for a buggy ride beneath a harvest moon. They had kissed under the stars, dreaming of children and a future bright with hope. His throat closed at the memory. “I just want things to be clear.”

  “We both understand the circumstances. Let’s go see the Reverend.”

  Jayne pivoted on her heel and paced through the yard, giving Ethan a clear view of her straight back and narrow shoulders. With two strides, he caught up with her. Together they trudged up the hill to where the Reverend was grinding out a cigarette with his boot.

  “Are you ready?” he asked.

  “Yes,” they said in unison.

  John nodded. “Ethan, take Jayne’s hand in yours.”

  The gesture seemed fitting, like a handshake to seal the deal, so he wrapped his fingers around hers.

  “I usually say something about life’s hardships to a new bride and groom, but you two have been down that road already. You know all about the disasters that come with time, and what it’s like to start over, so today I want to talk about hope.

  “Life isn’t for the faint of heart. You’ve both lost people you love, but hope is what sustains us through dark nights and empty days. Hope is what gives us the promise of eternity and of seeing our loved ones again.”

  Ethan had to swallow hard. He knew all about heaven. He was dead sure it rang with Laura’s laughter, and that Josh and Willie were playing kick-the-can. As for Katie, she’d be an angel with her mother’s dark eyes.