“But I brought you proof!” Jayne cried.
Chief Roberts shook his head. “That letter could be forged, for all I know. You were seen with this Dawson-Fowler character in St. Louis, and I have a Wanted poster with your picture on it.”
Squinting in irritation, Ethan leaned forward. “Are you calling this woman a liar?”
“No,” replied the chief. “I respect her for coming forward. If you’re willing to post a bond, I’m willing to let her wait at your ranch for the district marshal. Otherwise, she can stay here in Raton and check in twice a day.”
“I’ll stay here,” Jayne said. “I need to find work.”
Glowering, Ethan stood and pulled his billfold out of his pocket. “How much is the bond?”
“Fifty dollars,” the chief replied.
Jayne opened her mouth to protest, but Ethan had already slapped the greenbacks on the chief’s desk and was headed for the door. “Let’s go,” he said.
Jayne stood and addressed Chief Roberts. “My husband and I have some differences to settle. I’ll check in tomorrow at nine. Is that acceptable?”
“If I’m not here, you can leave word at the front desk.”
After shaking the chief’s hand, Jayne ran to catch up with Ethan. Under the circumstances, she had no intention of going home with him. “You should have saved the fifty dollars,” she said as she came up next to him. “I’m staying here.”
He stopped dead in his tracks and gripped her shoulders. “I don’t give a damn about the money. I’d put up my last nickel to keep you and the baby safe.”
Hope spread in her chest as she gripped her reticule. “What are you saying?”
The planes of Ethan’s face hardened into stone as he released her shoulders and stepped back. “I’m not saying anything. The bond is to show the authorities that you’re telling the truth, and to give you options if LeFarge shows up and you can’t reach Roberts. I don’t expect you to come home with me.”
She wished he had said something else, but she had learned her lesson about wishful thinking. “All right,” she said. “In that case, thank you.”
As he blew out a breath, he glanced across the street, looking everywhere except at her face. “I guess we’ll be saying goodbye. You can write to me when it’s time for the annulment. I’ll handle the papers.”
She didn’t know what to say, so she said nothing. Finally he heaved a sigh and looked at her. “I’m sorry, Jayne, for everything.”
She had held him while he was hurting. She had cooked his meals and nursed his burns. She had made love to him, and he was sorry? She had a good mind to hit him over the head with her reticule. Instead she made her voice sharp. “After all we’ve shared, that’s insulting.”
“You know what I mean.”
She raised her chin and gave him her hardest stare. “What I know is this—I’d do it all again. I’d marry you and mean every word. I’d make love under the stars. I’d cook for you and hold you while you grieved. I’m not the least bit sorry for me, Ethan, but I’m very sorry for you.”
She waited for two beats of her heart, praying he’d rise up and fight, but instead he looked down at his boot. When he finally raised his gaze, his eyes were as lifeless as stones in a pond. “Parting ways is best for both of us,” he said.
He was dead wrong. A fence post had more sense than he did right now. Realizing that arguing would only make him dig a deeper hole, she decided to face the facts. “When are you leaving?” she asked.
“This afternoon, right after I take care of some business. I thought we’d have lunch and then say goodbye.”
The thought of sitting with him in a restaurant as if they were a couple made her furious. She shook her head. “I have to find a job.”
Nodding, he pulled out his billfold. “I want to give you some money. I said I’d pay you for housework.”
At the sight of his wallet, she exploded. “Do you have any idea how belittling that is? At the very least, we were friends, and now you’re treating me like a ranch hand you’ll forget in a week.”
“It’s not that way. I want to help you.” He pinched a stack of greenbacks, pulled them from the leather and held them out to her.
She pushed his hand away. “I don’t want your money, or your help.”
What she wanted was to kick him in the shins. A man in pain could be comforted. A man wallowing in self-pity needed a talking-to. She wanted to give it to him, but he was trapped in a hole so deep that he couldn’t hear her.
He shoved the billfold into his pocket. “So I guess this is goodbye.”
“Yes, it is.” The business between them was over, so she held out her hand. “Good luck, Ethan. I’ll contact you about the annulment as soon as LeFarge is caught.”
A haunted shadow filled his eyes as he grasped her fingers. She would remember this moment as long as she lived—the emptiness, the lost hope, the powerlessness of loving a man who loved someone else. When he released her hand, they both stepped back. With nothing left to say, she hurried down the street in a fog of unshed tears.
Ethan hated the thought of Jayne wandering around Raton by herself, but he had to let her go. Last night had been awful. Sleeping in a bed for the first time in weeks, he’d dreamed about making love to her. He’d woken up on his belly with Old Faithful hard and hungry, and his wedding ring as tight as a band on a barrel of water.
Nothing felt right, and that wouldn’t change until he faced Laura. Pivoting, Ethan walked to the churchyard where his family was buried. The sun was high and the air stirred with a warm breeze. It was a beautiful day, but he felt like a kid who’d been called to the woodshed.
In that way of men who’d been married awhile, he knew Laura was mad at him. They hadn’t argued often, but an occasional shouting match had kept them both honest. Things always blew over quickly. What they couldn’t settle with words, they had settled in bed. He had liked that part of marriage—the tussle that was a kind of fight—the mutual need that brought forgiveness.
Jayne would have liked it, too. Ethan gritted his teeth. He had to stop thinking about her.
For the next three blocks he focused on the tap of his boots on the boardwalk and the puffs of dust as he walked down the dirt path to the church. Wishing he could stop his heart from pounding, he opened the squeaky gate to the garden and stepped into the cemetery.
His gaze landed on the bushes lining the white picket fence. He walked to the hedge and pinched off two roses—a pink bud for Katie and a full-blown white one for Laura. As he approached the graves, he dug in his pocket for treasures for his sons. His fingers curled around William’s two-headed coin. The blue jay feather was for Josh.
With the familiar stab of tears behind his eyes, Ethan set the trinkets at the base of the marker and stepped back. With his arms laced across his chest, he let himself remember every detail that made his sons distinct—Josh’s curious eyes, William’s stubby fingers, their skinny arms and their muddy shoes. When he closed his eyes he could even hear their laughter, bits of conversation, the scrape of their forks at the dinner table.
Standing still, Ethan remembered everything, and it felt…good.
Wiping his eyes but oddly happy, he stepped to the grave holding Laura and Katie. Dropping to a crouch, he placed the roses at the base of the marker, with the stems crossed and the white and pink petals touching. The flowers made a heart of sorts, and he started to talk to Laura in his head. He told her that he had cheated on her, and that he was sorry.
No words came in reply, but he had a sudden vision of her in their Missouri kitchen. She was wearing a dove-gray dress and a white apron with huge pockets. As if he’d just barged in with mud on his boots, she crossed her arms over her chest and gave him her most irritated frown.
Ethan, you fool! I’d like to tan your hide!
He had it coming. He’d betrayed her memory. He could almost smell her hair, almost touch her skin. Instead he caressed the rose, but in his mind’s eye, Laura turned away. She snatched up a bro
om and started to sweep the floor. Out of the blue, she turned so that she was looking straight at him.
That girl is just plain sweet. And what did you do? You hurt her, and then you hid behind my skirts. You’re a better man than that.
His fingers stilled on the rose. But—but—
Laura shook her head. There are no buts about it, dearest. I know you too well. You get angry when you’re scared, and you get mean when you’re sad.
In his mind’s eye Laura leaned the broom against the wall and poured two cups of coffee. He could smell it—truly, he could. She sat down, took a sip and hummed with pleasure. She had made that sound over coffee every morning of their marriage. They would sit together and talk about the kids, the weather, anything at all. It had been the best part of the day.
As Ethan straightened the white rose, Laura lowered her china cup to the saucer and gazed at him thoughtfully. Do you remember the morning we left Missouri?
Of course he did. The morning had been bright with hope, but she’d been in tears as she said goodbye to her mother and sisters. Still, she’d clung to his hand and forced a smile. She’d said that the change would be good, and she was happy to start a new life.
She smiled at him. I meant every word.
A cloud passed over the sun and her picture faded. To bring her close again, he shut his eyes. This time he saw her sitting next to him on the train. Katie was in her lap and the boys were in the seat in front of them, poking at each other and bouncing with excitement. Laura shushed them with a mother’s firm word, and then she turned to him.
It’s your turn, dearest. It’s time to leave what you’ve loved the most and start over. I did it for you, now you do it for me.
He whispered that he was afraid, that he didn’t have the courage, but Laura shook her head and smiled.
Oh, yes you do! That young woman is a gift, Ethan. I asked God to send her to you. It’s a new day. Grab it and live. Don’t you dare stay here with me.
But—but—
I love you with my whole heart, but it’s time to say goodbye.
Shortly after leaving Ethan, Jayne walked out of Madame Marchand’s dress shop with a job that paid almost as much as she could have earned in Lexington. The old French seamstress had recognized Louisa McKinney’s name and pulled Jayne into a warm hug.
“Your mother was a talent,” she had said in accented English. “I am so happy to know you, mademoiselle.”
At the thought of her mother, tears welled in Jayne’s eyes. What would Louisa McKinney have said to her daughter? Stay strong and trust God. She would have told her to focus on the baby and the future, and that’s what Jayne intended to do.
Since Raton would be her home for the next few months, she decided to take a walk to learn the streets. She passed a bakery, a telegraph office and several other shops before she saw a tin steeple poking above the line of wooden roofs. She liked the idea of sitting in a quiet spot, so she walked toward it.
When she reached the walkway leading to the church, a cloud drifted past the sun. The fleeting shadow drew her gaze to the fenced yard where she saw a man kneeling in front of a grave. At the sight of Ethan’s broad shoulders, she gasped.
She had no desire to intrude on his grief, but neither could she leave him to suffer alone. Standing at the open gate, she laced her fingers together and said a prayer.
“Some things never change,” Ethan said to the headstone. “You’re still as smart as a whip and just as pretty as I remember.”
He knew what he had to do. Still on his knees, he gripped Laura’s ring between his thumb and forefinger and slid it over his knuckle. The air felt cool against the circle of white skin and he flexed his hand to stir his blood. He considered putting the ring in his pocket, but it belonged with Laura, in a place apart from his life now but where he could always find it.
Using his fingers, he scratched a hole below the marker, set the gold band in the center and covered it with sod grass and the white rose. Taking a deep breath, he pushed to his feet.
“Am I intruding?”
At the low pitch of Jayne’s voice, he turned his head and stared, speechless because he was so happy to see her.
“I know this is private,” she said. “I can leave—”
“No, don’t go.” He wanted to pull her close, but his fingernails were full of dirt and he didn’t want to soil her dress. Instead he called to her heart with his eyes and spoke the truth for the first time.
“I lied to you at Rainbow Falls,” he said. “For that, I’m sorry. But I’m not the least bit sorry you came into my life.”
Her blue eyes brightened. “Neither am I.”
“I’ll always love Laura and the kids. I wouldn’t be much of a man if I could forget them, but she’s not the reason I pushed you away that night. You made me feel good again, and I got scared.”
Raising her chin, she took his hand in spite of the dirt. “I can understand why. You’re a good man and that night was hard for you, for all sorts of reasons.”
A flood of gratitude washed over him like rain after a drought. What had he done to deserve such love twice in one life? Laura had been right. Jayne was a gift and he’d almost lost her. With the sun shining and the grass thick beneath his feet, he vowed to earn her love and make her his wife in every sense of the word.
It had been awhile since he’d courted a woman, but he knew where to start. Giving her hand a squeeze, he put a meaningful glint in his eye. “I want to take you to supper tonight, but be warned. I’m going to talk you into coming home with me.”
“That’s a possibility,” she replied, “but I have two requirements of my own.”
“I expect you do.”
“First, I want to go to Frau Hester’s Kitchen for supper. I’m craving sauerkraut.”
Ethan chuckled. “I can’t stand cabbage, but sauerkraut it is. What else?”
She looked him straight in the eye. “What happened at Rainbow Falls won’t be repeated until I can trust your feelings. You hurt me, Ethan. I forgave you the minute it happened, but I don’t want to go through that misery again.”
“I don’t, either,” he said solemnly. “We’re starting from scratch.”
To make his point he stepped to the hedge of roses, picked all the red ones and wrapped the bouquet in a bandanna to protect her fingers from the thorns. “These are for you,” he said, putting them in her hands.
When she took a whiff and smiled, he felt ten feet tall and hungry enough to eat anything—even sauerkraut—as long as Jayne was at his side.
When a four-year-old boy stomped on his foot, Timonius decided he hated children almost as much as he hated Jesse Fowler and his sneaky wife. The train was crowded with families, salesmen and single men in new dungarees, all headed to California. The company and discomfort made him feel old and sour. His cough had kicked up, too, and he was hocking up green phlegm.
Pulling his hat low, he slept through Arizona and most of the Mojave Desert. When he finally arrived in Los Angeles, he walked out of the train station and headed for the First Bank of Los Angeles. Glancing at his pocket watch, he saw it was noon, the perfect time to find a clerk in charge while his boss was having his midday meal.
No one saw Tim enter the First Bank of Los Angeles and no one heard the door click shut behind him as he introduced himself. “Good afternoon,” he said to the young clerk. “I’m Detective Samuel Goode with Pinkerton’s. Is your manager in?”
“He’s gone for the day, sir.”
Timonius gave the young man a sincere smile. “I’m sure you can help me. I’m investigating a robbery that took place in Wyoming. Does the name ‘Dawson’ mean anything to you?”
“No, sir. You’ll have to ask Mr. Higgins, but he won’t be back today.”
“This can’t wait.” Timonius slid a gold piece across the counter.
The kid eyed the money. “I guess I could check for an account.”
The clerk fingered through a file drawer and paused at a single card. His face flushed
crimson. “You’ll have to come back tomorrow and see Mr. Higgins.”
“I don’t have time for games. I want to see the card.”
“There’s no account. It’s the truth!”
Timonius barged through the gate to the working half of the bank, elbowed the kid out of the way and inspected the file for himself. The boy had been telling the truth about the card, but he’d neglected to mention a note that advised bank personnel to contact local law enforcement concerning any inquiries on this account. Then he saw the written description of Jesse and a woman who could only be Ethan Trent’s so-called wife. Below those words, he saw a second note describing a man in his fifties with red hair, an outlaw wanted for murder.
Timonius aimed his cut-off Colt at the kid’s chest. “Find a bag and fill it up.”
Not surprisingly, the kid obeyed. In less than two minutes, Timonius had a sackful of greenbacks. He also had to dispose of a witness. As cool as winter, he said, “Now, turn around and put your hands behind your back.”
Expecting to be tied up, the clerk complied. It was the last thing he did before he died. Whether the kid was destined for heaven or for hell, Timonius didn’t know or care. He had only one purpose now, and that was to find Jayne Dawson. Jesse might have turned over a new leaf, but he was savvy enough to keep a good portion of the money on hand. The widow had to be lying, and Timonius intended to make her pay—right after he left Los Angeles, found a first-rate hotel and slept until his damn cough went away.
Chapter Fourteen
I f John Leaf hadn’t been wearing the black coat that marked him as a preacher, Ethan might have shot first and asked questions later. Keeping an eye out for LeFarge had made him edgy, but the real source of his tension ran deeper. He was happy again, but not an hour passed that he didn’t feel like a man perched on the edge of a crumbling cliff. Jayne could be snatched away tomorrow, and he couldn’t imagine going back to living alone.
Since coming home from Raton, they had talked for hours. On warm nights they took a blanket to the knoll where they could lie close and look at the stars. Talk had led to touching, and lots of it, but Ethan wasn’t in a rush to take her to bed. He felt like a kid again, and he wanted Jayne to have the pleasure of being courted. Plus he had to be sure that he had earned her trust. He had hurt her once and he didn’t want it to happen again.
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