Can you imagine! I heard it was Bettina Woolsey.
Think of the humiliation.
Of course, you’ve got to wonder why. Men don’t just stray, you know.
As she followed Ethan through the dappled shade of the forest, Jayne recalled her mother’s firm voice.
Face the facts, and be ready to pay your own way.
That’s exactly what Jayne intended to do as soon as they reached Raton, but until then she wanted to enjoy every minute of this beautiful day. The morning sun reminded her of apricot jam, and the cloudless sky was flame-blue. Indian paintbrush glowed in patches along the trail and stalks of lupine were pointing straight to heaven.
Hope welled in her chest and a natural energy surged from her head to her toes. Needing to express it, to find release, she gave Buck full rein and left Ethan in the dust. “See you later,” she called.
“Damn fool woman,” he muttered.
Galloping off like that wasn’t smart. He’d intended to keep their pace to a walk the whole way to Raton, stopping often in case she needed to rest. “Wait up!” he shouted, giving Rocky a kick.
The roan liked the idea of running just fine, and Ethan raced up behind her. The effort earned him a clear view of her stretched thighs and the teardrop curves of her bottom. The sight was unavoidable, and so was the urge it inspired. Old Faithful wanted to take a hard ride of a different kind, but so what? The woman looked good in a saddle. Ethan conceded that point gladly, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to let her beat him in a horse race.
He rode close behind her until they reached a gentle slope. The main trail circled around a meadow, but he knew a shortcut. As Jayne raced by the drop-off, he turned the roan and sped down the hill.
The horse took flight and Ethan sailed with him, feeling like the kid who had dreamed of raising quarter horses. He wanted to ride like this forever—to go far and fast without a thought in his head. To relish the wind in his face and the rumble of hoofbeats. To be free to laugh, and maybe even love again.
But that couldn’t be. Just like his life, the meadow ended at a granite rockslide caused by an unforeseen disaster. Slowing the roan, he turned west to the main trail where he saw Jayne riding at a full gallop, her face knotted in concentration.
Buck didn’t have a prayer of catching up with Rocky, but she was giving it her best shot. The horse loved her for it, too. He seemed proud of himself, arching his neck as she rode up next to Ethan.
“You cheated!” she cried.
“You had a head start,” he countered. “I just evened things up with the shortcut.”
Her eyes flashed. “I want a rematch.”
Lord Almighty, she looked pretty today. With her hair mussed and her cheeks glowing from the sun, she made him think of picnic baskets, bare skin and lovers hidden by tall grass. Ethan clenched his jaw until it hurt. He had no business thinking of her in that way. He had to keep his mind on other things, like cattle.
“We’re near the spot where the herd usually grazes,” he said. “Want to see some Herefords?”
“Sure,” she said, smiling. “You ride well, by the way.”
“You, too.” Grunting at the memory of her cute little behind, he turned Rocky up the trail. “Riding like that isn’t good for the baby.”
“I’ll give it up when my clothes get tight,” she replied. “But not until then.”
Ethan didn’t like it, but the plan sounded reasonable and he didn’t want to fight with her, in part because bickering made Old Faithful even more cantankerous. Hoping a little friendly camaraderie would ease that misery, he glanced at her from beneath the brim of his hat.
“Are you still hoping for a girl?” he asked.
“I am,” she replied. “I want to name her after my mother. I just wish I knew more about babies.”
“Mothering will come easy to you,” he said. “Tucking a child into bed at night is the best feeling in the world.”
A river of need tugged at his soul. He didn’t like to think about his kids. It hurt too much, but he wanted Jayne to know that she had good things ahead of her. Keeping his eyes focused on the trail, he said, “My two boys were as different as night and day. And Katie—she was all girl with ruffles and bows.”
Jayne rode up next to him, pulling so close that the tips of their boots brushed. “Tell me about them,” she said. “That is, if you want to.”
“I could fill a book,” Ethan said wistfully. “Those two rascals fought all the time.”
“How did you get them to stop?”
An honest chuckle rumbled in his chest. “They were just being boys. Laura tried to lay down the law, but they were pretty wild. That is, with everyone except Katie. She had us all wrapped around her little finger.”
His eyes drifted over the meadow where stalks of lupine were bright in the sun. His throat tightened, but it felt almost good to remember. He glanced at Jayne and thought of the joys she had ahead of her. Then he flashed to the other side of the coin—colic, stinky diapers and spit-up. Throaty laughter spilled out of him.
“What’s so funny?” she asked.
“I was remembering the time Josh puked all over me right before a friend’s wedding. Lord, what a mess. It was my best suit, too.”
“I have so much to learn,” Jayne said. “I barely know how to change a diaper.”
“That’s not hard at all. Dealing with broken hearts and snakes in the house—that’s hard.”
“Oh, no,” she muttered. “I hate snakes.”
Ethan pretended to be shocked to his bones. “They’re not any worse than mice, unless you find one in your bed.”
“Did that happen to you?”
“It sure did. William thought the snake was dead so he took it up to his room. The darn thing perked up in the warm house. Laura found it curled up on our bed and let out a scream that raised the roof.”
Jayne shuddered. “I am definitely hoping for a girl.”
An ache took hold deep in his chest. She had so much ahead of her, good times and bad. He couldn’t imagine raising a child alone, without the benefit of grandparents, aunts and uncles, or even friends. The loneliness of her circumstances struck him like a blow. He wanted to help her, and so for the next hour he told her everything he knew about raising children, and boys in particular.
He talked about Josh wanting to be a doctor, and how he’d rescued wounded animals like other boys collected toy soldiers. He did his chores like clockwork and tried too hard to make everyone happy. William had been the exact opposite. He couldn’t pass a girl’s ponytail without pulling it. Telling him that the stove was hot wasn’t enough of a warning. He had to touch it for himself.
The stories rolled from Ethan’s lips until the sun peaked in the noon sky. “They were good boys,” he finally said.
His eyes burned as the sadness descended over him like a black veil. The sun turned from warm to scorching, and he had to squint against the blinding light. Sometimes it hurt so goddamn bad…sometimes he couldn’t even think—couldn’t even breathe. This was one of those times.
He nodded in the direction of a distant bluff. “We’ll stop there.” Before Jayne could say a word, he nudged the roan into a trot and rode off alone.
She hurt for him, low in her belly and deep in her chest. As he had talked about his sons, she felt his fleeting happiness as if it were her own. And when he spoke of his daughter, she had wanted to cradle his hand between both of hers.
She wanted to gallop after him, to wrap her arms around him and offer solace. It wasn’t the same, but she had lost her mother suddenly to apoplexy. For a full year the pain had been sharp and unrelenting. Time had turned that wound into a scar, but she missed her mother every single day.
Jayne swallowed hard at the sight of Ethan riding up the rocky trail. His shoulders stayed straight and his back didn’t bend. She yearned to take him in her arms and comfort him. To hold him to her breast until the pain eased. To wipe away those rare male tears he needed to shed. She wanted to give him so much
more than his privacy, but this simple silence and her prayers were all he would accept.
“Oh, God, no,” she murmured.
She’d fallen in love with him. Completely. Irrevocably. She had lost her heart to a man who cherished his first wife more than life itself. A man who liked home cooking but had no interest in sharing his dreams or his bed. He’d kissed her twice, and both times he’d been quick to regret it.
Staring helplessly, she watched as he rode to the crest of the ridge. A smattering of grass reminded her of the hill where they had taken wedding vows. The Reverend’s words came back to her in a whisper.
Hope is a rope. Tie a knot and hang on.
Could Ethan ever love her the way he cared for Laura?
Her hands felt stiff and empty, and her throat ached. Every instinct told her to let go of the Reverend’s rope and escape with her pride intact, but she couldn’t leave Ethan to shoulder his grief alone. Never mind that he slammed the door in her face every time circumstances pried it open. Whether he liked it or not, he needed her—like flowers needed the sun and grass needed rain.
Her heart made a daring leap. If she scattered seeds of love, maybe something wonderful would grow on its own. A field of primroses or a garden teeming with vegetables. Maybe a forest as lush as the one surrounding his empty homestead.
She had to be gentle, though. Too much heat would make Ethan push her away, and too much rain would keep him mired in despair. She had to find a middle ground, a safe place where the seeds could grow at their own pace.
Jayne knew that her mother wouldn’t have approved of her plan, but she loved Ethan enough to fight for him, to hang on to that rope until her hands bled. The trick was patience, and knowing when to prod him with a sassy remark and when to lure him with a little sugar.
A half smile curved her lips. Earlier he’d offered to show her his cattle. It wasn’t exactly a bouquet of summer roses, but it was a step in the right direction.
Knowing he needed a moment alone, she held Buck to a slow walk. By the time she reached the crest of the hill, he had spread a blanket beneath a pinyon pine and was taking jerky out of his saddlebag. His eyes stayed riveted to the worn leather as she approached.
“I’m starved,” she said cheerfully.
When he didn’t reply, she dismounted and walked to the edge of a bluff that overlooked a pasture where a dozen head of cattle were lazing in the sun. She laced her fingers behind her back. “In Kentucky I’d be looking at white fences and thoroughbreds. This is prettier.”
Ethan shrugged as he handed her a strip of jerky. “It’s a living. That’s about it.”
“So is sewing, but I still love it,” she replied. “How much of this land is yours?”
He gave her some acreage figures, then talked about water and open range. “It’s a good spot,” he finally said.
“It sounds like you could run ten times as many cattle, or even better—why not raise quarter horses like you’d planned?”
He tossed the stub of his jerky on the ground. “That dream died in Raton.”
“I understand,” she said, reaching for his hand. “Nothing will ever be the same for you, but you still love horses. This is beautiful country, Ethan. You can use it for good things.”
He blew out a hard breath and clutched her fingers. “I miss them so damn much,” he said. “The land, the dream—it was all for them.”
Knowing that words couldn’t touch his pain, she let go of his hand and put her palm flat on his back. They turned to each other at the same time, coming face to face in complete understanding. He needed comfort, nothing more, and that’s what she offered as he pulled her into his arms and simply held her.
Jayne put her whole heart into that hug. She held him tight and smoothed his shirt, patted his shoulders and breathed with him in perfect time. For that single moment they were knit together in perfect understanding. Then his throat twitched against her forehead and he let her go.
Taking a step back, she peered into his eyes where she saw the humblest of human needs—the need to be fed—milk for the body and kindness for the soul.
He gripped her hand. “What about your dreams, Jayne? Is going back to Lexington enough?”
Her heart rose into her throat. Maybe he felt the same stirrings that she did. “What are you asking?”
“You should think big. Sew all you want, but don’t lose sight of the things that matter most in this life. Find a good man and raise a houseful of children.”
“Maybe I will.” Her voice faded to a twinge. He was pushing her away again. Wanting to lighten his mood, she managed a winsome smile. “The problem is finding a good man. Any ideas about where I should look?”
“I sure do,” he replied. “Hardware stores.”
Laughing softly, she pulled her hands out of his grasp. “I’ll have to keep that in mind.”
“I’m serious. Go to the counter and ask for picture hooks. Every young buck in earshot will whip out his hammer and follow you home.”
She crossed her arms over her chest and looked directly into his earth-brown eyes. “And what if I’m not interested in ‘every young buck’?”
A strand of hair caught on her lips. As she hooked it behind her ear, she saw Ethan’s gaze firm on her mouth. The memory of kissing him burned through her and the glimmer in his eyes said he was remembering, too. “Ethan, I—”
“Don’t say it, Jayne. We’ll both be sorry.”
“How do you know what I was going to say?”
When her eyes twinkled, Ethan realized that he’d just tripped over Old Faithful. Hugging her had made him feel whole, and all sorts of yearnings had sprung to life. He’d pulled back before he’d embarrassed himself, but he’d been staring at her mouth and drooling like a hound dog. Lust did that to a man. He’d have to be more careful.
“Never mind,” he said, waving his hand in the empty air. “I interrupted you. Go on.”
“I was just going to say that hardware stores don’t really interest me. I’d probably have better luck at a church social.”
That was a fine idea, except Ethan didn’t like it nearly as much as he wanted to. “Just watch out for wolves in sheep’s clothing,” he warned.
She crossed to the saddlebag where he’d stowed biscuits with the jerky. She lifted one out of the stash and took a bite. “Is the Reverend married?” she asked.
Hellfire and matches! “What do you care?”
“He’s nice.”
John Leaf wasn’t the least bit nice. He was a man with eyes in his head and natural appetites. Ethan knew for a fact that the parsonage got lonely at night, and he sure as hell didn’t want to think about Jayne staying in Midas and getting cozy with the Reverend. Scowling, he said, “Hand me a biscuit.”
When she put the bread in his hand, he grasped her wrist. “Don’t go thinking about the Reverend, Jayne. He’s not right for you.”
She huffed at him. “Since when is that for you to decide?”
Ethan said the first thing that popped into his head. “We took vows. I pledged to take care of you.”
“I pledged the same thing,” she said evenly. “So why doesn’t this advice about ‘thinking big’ apply to you?”
“It’s not the same.” He raised his eyes to the meadow, spotted a calf suckling its mother and loosened his grip on her wrist. “I’ve already had my day in the sun. Yours is yet to come.”
“You don’t know that,” she said. “Maybe Hank was the love of my life.”
“Dawson was a drip-ass fool and we both know it. If he’d been a real husband to you, he would never have lied and left you to pay for it.” Ethan felt a full-blown lecture coming on, but he couldn’t stop himself. He’d been churned up for days now.
“There’s more,” he declared. “Did he make the world stop when he kissed you? When you saw him first thing in the morning, when he was scruffy and scratching himself, did you feel an ache down low and deep in your chest?”
“No,” she whispered.
A smart ma
n would have stopped running his mouth, but Ethan wasn’t feeling particularly brilliant today. He wanted to hold Jayne in his arms. At the same time he wanted to hit himself upside the head with a fence post. He wanted to do a lot more than talk to her about the awkward pleasures of love, but that could never be. In his heart, he would always be married—to Laura.
Except he also had an obligation to this sweet, young woman who had held him close while he was hurting. She was far too innocent to face the world as a young widow. Men would make assumptions and take advantage. He was her husband in name only, but those vows gave him the right to dish out advice.
He put his hands on his hips. “We have to talk.”
“About what?”
“The birds and the bees.”
Chapter Eleven
A light chuckle spilled from her lips as she arched an eyebrow and patted her tummy. “It’s a little late for that, don’t you think?”
“I’m not talking about the how-to,” Ethan rumbled. “I’m talking about the what-for.”
At the sight of her palm on her still-flat belly, he wished to God he’d kept his mouth shut. He couldn’t help but imagine her in a few months’ time, round and lush. If she took his advice and married again, more babies would come. She’d be baking cookies for some damn fool who’d have no idea how fortunate he was to have her.
Ethan looked up from her tummy just as she stifled a yawn. “I’m sleepy,” she said. “Do you mind if I rest while you talk?”
He nodded at the blanket. “That’s for you. I won’t be insulted if you doze off.”
She ambled to the wool square and curled on her side, using her arm for a pillow. It would have been easy to stretch out next to her and offer his shoulder for her head, but he had to keep his mind on the task at hand. He just wasn’t sure where to start.
Scratching his head, he said, “Love is…good. It’s the best thing in the world. Lust is…second best.”
She burst out laughing. “Is that so?”
This wasn’t going well at all. To make matters worse, his feet hurt and he wanted to sit down on the blanket. Well, why the hell shouldn’t he? Keeping his boots on the grass, he planted his backside behind the soles of her feet and rested his forearms on his bent knees.
West of Heaven Page 12
