Colby's Child

by Patricia Watters

  “I have a brother. But he won’t be there in the middle of the night when Lily’s sick, or when she wakes up from a bad dream. And I don’t want to do this alone.”

  Lily threw the sock-monkey on the floor and let out a squawk of irritation. Jason lifted her off his lap and set her on the blanket. Jenny put her knitting aside. “If you didn’t have the complications in your life, Jason, could we be an ordinary married couple?”

  Jason caught the flash of anticipation on her face and was poignantly reminded of a child who had to be let down gradually. “There’s no point speculating about what can’t be,” he said.

  “May I speculate if I want to?” Jenny snapped. “Do I have to have a reason to dream?"

  Jason shrugged. “I suppose not.”

  Jenny walked over to kneel in front of him and covered his hands with hers. “Then could it be? Would you want me for your wife if things were different?"

  Jason touched her face and saw the hope flickering in her eyes. “Would you want to be married to a man teetering on a tightrope stretched over a ravine, with no balance pole to hang onto, and no net to fall into?”

  “I want to be married to you, Jason. I want to be on that tightrope with you and hang on with you... and even fall off with you. But I want to be with you.”

  The look of love and devotion on Jenny's face sank into Jason's mind like a caress. He brushed his thumb across her lips. “Do you want to drag Lily onto that tightrope with us? You can’t have it both ways,” he said, fighting the urge to take her in his arms and hold her and kiss her and love her.

  Tears welled. “I know,” she said. “I just thought I’d ask.” She held his hand to her face.

  “But if I could have a wife,” he added, “it would be you. No one else.” He reached out and cradled her in his arms, then pulled her onto his lap and held her against him. And Jenny knew she’d have to be satisfied with that. She wouldn’t ask for more.

  ***

  The following morning Jason intercepted Jenny in the hallway outside the parlor and took her by the arm. “Come to the study. There’s something you need to see.”

  “Something like what?”

  Jason ushered her into the study. “A Complaint in Trespass,” he said. “Jack Bishop’s claiming we sank the discovery shaft of the Dusty lode in a crevice of the Vigilante and that the silver seam running through the Dusty is the same vein that apexes in his mine. He’s asserting in this—” he waved a document “—that we’re removing his ore.”

  “Removing whose ore?” Jenny asked, trying to pull his words into sensible order when all she could think of was how much she wanted Jason's arms around her.

  “The silver ore in the Dusty,” Jason replied. “Bishop claims it belongs to him. It’s a bogus claim like all the others he's made, but to fight him you have to hire lawyers and mining engineers, or settle out of court by paying fifty-five thousand dollars in damages. So far no one’s challenged him, and since no one could pay his price, they turned their mines over to him.”

  Hearing the voices of Su Ling and his houseboy, Jason shut the door, and when he turned to face Jenny, she was almost overcome by the force of his compelling presence in the privacy of the closed room. For several seconds she stared at him, unable to find her voice. All she could think was, He’s my husband and I love him and I want to feel his arms around me...

  When he made no move toward her, she forced herself to return to the subject of the Dusty and Jack Bishop’s bogus claim. “Can he do that, sue us for fifty-five-thousand dollars?” she said in a faltering voice she barely recognized as her own. She could scarcely breathe with Jason looking at her as he was, much less focus on issues concerning silver mines and apex lawsuits.

  “He can and is,” Jason said in a detached voice, seeming determined to maintain the physical and emotional distance between them. After their time in the parlor the night before, she’d wanted desperately for him to come to her bed and make love to her, but he’d held her in his lap for a while, kissed her on the forehead with the affection a fond brother might kiss a beloved sister, and went to his room. She’d thought about going to him in the night, but pride, perhaps stubbornness, kicked in, and she’d spent another cheerless, troubled night alone in bed.

  She looked at Jason’s mouth and wondered if she’d ever feel his lips on hers again, not a brief kiss of affection, but a deep, passionate kiss that would take her breath away and send her head spinning and her heart tumbling and her senses reeling until she could think of nothing but the tremors and quivers and urgency of her body awakening to his. Did he feel any urge to hold her and kiss her? He gave no indication, only that detached look of indifference. But when she ran the tip of her tongue over her dry lips, a little glint of fire came into his eyes, and she could see a pulse beating in his throat.

  “I don’t have... fifty-five thousand... dollars,” she said, watching Jason’s chest begin to rise and fall with his heavy breathing, finding her own labored breaths matching the cadence of his, as if their lungs moved as one.

  ”Neither did any of the other miners who lost their claims,” Jason said, his voice hesitant, less resolved as his eyes slowly moved down her body, resting on her breasts and remaining there for some time before returning to her face.

  “Is there... no way... to stop him?” she asked, her gaze shifting between the fire in his eyes... and the seduction of his lips... and the urge to strip herself naked and lead him into temptation again. She noted the bulge in his pants. He wanted her, and he wanted her now. But would he take her against his better judgment if she offered herself to him?

  Eve tempting Adam with her forbidden fruit...

  Catching the focus of her attention, he said, “I won’t deny I’m ready for you, but the answer is no, and it’s not because I don’t want you. You’re the only woman I want, and I want you more right now than I could imagine ever wanting a woman."

  Stubbornness and pride be damned! Jenny began unbuttoning her shirtwaist. “Show me, my love. Show me how much you want me.”

  Jason drew in a ragged breath. “Why are you doing this now?”

  “Because when we exchanged marriage vows, in my heart, and in my soul, and in the eyes of God, I became your wife, even though that was not the way it was supposed to be, and nothing has changed. And right now I want you to be a husband to me.” She opened her bodice and shoved the sleeves off her shoulders, allowing the blouse to drop to the floor. Then she started unlacing her camisole.

  Jason's body primed to unite with hers, his eyes glowing with the white-hot embers of his desire, his nostrils flaring with the pressing urgency of his labored breaths all filled Jason with a need so intense, he feared he’d die a slow death if he didn’t take her soon.

  Hastily he stripped off his clothes, and hers. But this time, when they came together on the thick rug of the library floor, it wasn’t with the unhurried, tender care of their first union, but with an urgency that spoke to them that this was their last time together as husband and wife...

  And all Jenny hoped for now was for Jason to plant the seed of his love inside her.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  It was some time before their passions cooled and reason returned. In the heavy silence that hung, Jenny felt a deep sorrow that Jason had not said the three words she’d longed to hear, three silent words that rang hollow in her ears, though she’d uttered those words to him over and over as he’d brought her to fulfillment. Oh, he’d told her he loved her in an offhanded way when they were talking about him leaving Lily, and he’d said he loved Lily enough to let her go, just as he loved her mother enough to send her away. But he’d never said it again. Not directly to her.

  Maybe, when he faced the reality of putting her on the stage coach he’d at last tell her he loved her and mean it with all his heart, and she could take that away with her and hold onto it for as long as she could bare to.

  After they were fully clothed, instead of the steadfast control Jason had doggedly maintained, there was
a restless nervousness that kept him moving within the tight confines of the room as he returned to the issue of Jack Bishop’s lawsuit. “We could counter sue, claim he’s tapping your vein and request a court order to stop him. But that could take months,” he said, his tone impersonal, as if the physical intimacy he’d allowed himself necessitated the penitence of maintaining a spiritual distance from her. He paused in his restless pacing and looked off, as if contemplating another course of action. Then he lifted his shoulders as if in apology and said, “Or I can use a little of Bishop’s own kind of persuasion and convince him it would be healthier for him to settle for less. A whole lot less." He continued pacing.

  Jenny watched as he moved from one side of the room to the other. “It’s not worth your crossing Jack Bishop,” she said, uneasy. “I’d rather let him have the Dusty.” She still planned to turn it over to him, but as yet had not been able to get away. But she would, before the day was done.

  Jason stopped and looked at her. “Jack Bishop's not going to strong arm you out of your mine. He might have pulled it off with some, but he’s not pulling it off with me.”

  Jenny offered a solicitous smile. “That’s very gallant of you, love, but if something happens to you because of my mine, I could never live with that.”

  Jason's mouth tipped up at one corner. “I’ve survived a hell of a lot worse than threats from the likes of Jack Bishop,” he said. “I’ll take care of this the way I know how, and you’ll have your mine. And I promise you, I’ll still have my hide.”

  Although Jenny had not intended to do so, she walked up to Jason before he could start pacing again and curved her arms around his neck. “What do you plan to do?” she asked, tipping her head back and gazing up at him.

  Jason placed his hands on her waist and peered down at her. “Just don’t you worry about it,” he said lightly.

  Jenny wasn’t fooled by his seeming indifference. The eyes that held hers did not reflect the same lack of concern as his words. She bit her trembling lip. “How can I not worry about it when you’re being so evasive?”

  “I’m not intentionally being evasive,” Jason said. “I just don’t want to drag you into this. The less you know, the better. If I can get Bishop to settle the suit, we’ll have the lawyer draw up papers for you to sign.”

  “And if you can’t? What then?”

  Jason's eyes glowed with single-minded intent. “He’ll settle.”

  “You sound very sure,” Jenny said, trying to ignore the finality of his words, and the implication behind them.

  Jason's mouth twitched up at one corner. “I am sure.”

  The knot in Jenny’s stomach tightened, and with it came the flutter of fear in her chest. “When, exactly, do you plan to approach him with your proposal?” she asked.

  Jason looked off into some distant vision in his mind’s eye and replied in a low, introspective tone, “Soon.” His ambiguous response and the cold remote look in his eyes was like the eerie blue light that steals over the earth before an approaching thunderstorm—silent, stealthy and inevitable.

  ***

  Dust billowed and hovered in the hot mid-day air from the exodus of men who’d scurried to leave the area, some on horseback, some on foot, others riding in wagons or driving buckboards. Still, many hung back out of sight, watching. Word had spread.

  Jason leaned against the hitching rail in front of Colby Mining Supply, waiting for Jack Bishop. He’d passed the word around that Bishop intended to strong-arm his wife out of her mine and he intended to settle with Bishop, one way or another. He’d called Bishop a gutless coward, and sent word for Bishop to meet him in front of Colby Mining Supply, alone, at noon. They would talk it out, or shoot it out—Jason didn’t much give a damn which—but the issue of Bishop’s sham lawsuit would be settled that day.

  After a while the dust settled and the town was quiet. The hitching rails were void of horses and vehicles, and no footsteps could be heard on the boardwalks. Even though the town appeared deserted, Jason could feel eyes staring at him from behind curtained windows and through the openings of doors held ajar.

  Holster slung low, Jason walked up the deserted street, hands on the butts of his twin Colt Peacemakers. He glanced at the road leaving town, which snaked into the hills toward Jack Bishop’s quarters. It was empty. Nothing moved. No dogs crossing the road or cats slinking beneath the planks of the walkway, no mules tethered alongside the road, no drunks staggering pie-eyed out the batwing doors of the saloons.

  Jason paused in front of the Tin Bucket. Sweat seeped from beneath the leather band of his hat and trickled down his temples. He lifted his hat, swiped his sleeve across his forehead and resettled his hat on his head, then looked toward his house and wondered if Jenny was watching from her perch on the hill. He’d said nothing to her about meeting Jack Bishop, but word spread like wildfire in Colby, so it was certain she knew. She would not be able to see the road from his house, but she would hear the exchange of fire, when the time came. He’d hoped to have her out of town by now, but that wasn’t the way things worked out. Nor could he put off his showdown with Bishop. This needed to be settled before Jenny left town, so he could give her the reassurance that her mine would still be hers, regardless of what happened to him.

  Although the issue of Bishop’s lawsuit delayed things, Jenny and Lily would be on the stagecoach the following afternoon. The tickets he’d purchased were in his breast pocket, pressed close to his heart. But before that time, he’d present Jenny with divorce papers to sign. He didn’t look forward to their final night together. It would bring caustic words and female tears and ultimately, heartbreak. But if he didn’t send Jenny away in anger, she’d never leave. And there was no way in hell he’d let Jenny’s love for him hold her to him, defending him and standing by him come hell or high water. Jenny would do that, just as his love for her would hold him to her, should the situation be reversed.

  He ran his tongue over his dry lips and thought about ducking inside the Tin Bucket for a beer. But alcohol would slow his reflexes, and that wouldn’t do for his meeting with Jack Bishop, which he doubted would include much talking, if any.

  The silence hung, as if the town was holding its collective breath. But in Jason’s head, sound pulsated like the beat of a giant heart. He looked up at the town clock set into the facade of Colby Mercantile and saw that it was twelve thirty. Still no sign of Jack Bishop, he returned to Colby Mining Supply, leaned against the hitching rail, and waited.

  By one o’clock, Bishop had still not showed, so Jason went to the Golden Fleece. As he sat hunched over the bar, staring at the drink he’d been nursing for the better part of an hour, the din of voices and the steady clink of glasses died away, until all that could be heard was the sound of boots walking across the wooden floor. Then silence.

  And Jason knew that Jack Bishop had arrived.

  Jason kept his back to Bishop as Bishop said, “You folks can listen to what I have to say to the murdering bastard who owns this place, then you might want to clear out before someone gets hurt.”

  When Jason made no move to turn and face Bishop, Bishop continued. “Jason Colby murdered Myles MacDonald in cold blood—shot him right between the eyes—because MacDonald came here to arrest Colby for a crime Colby committed back East.”

  “Where’s your proof, Bishop?” someone shouted from the crowd.

  “If the yellow-bellied sidewinder will turn and face me you’ll see the proof in his eyes. He’s a wanted man and a murderer several times over, and he knows it.”

  Jason let his right hand slowly creep down to rest on the butt of his gun.

  Bishop continued. “I also want it known that I filed a lawsuit against Colby and his wife, whose men at the Dusty are hauling out my ore, and the only way Colby can hold onto the Dusty for his wife is to kill me, because he won’t hold onto it in court when my lawyers are through. I just want to get the word out so if I turn up dead, like Myles MacDonald did, you’ll know who did it, and why.”


  Jason glanced in the mirror above the bar and saw four men with Bishop, Ned Beckett among them. Becket stepped forward and hurled a rhetorical question to the crowd. “Ask Colby what kind of work he did sixteen years ago.” Beckett waited, and when Jason made no reply, he said, “I’ll tell you what. We were partners. That’s right. Your boy here was a bounty hunter. You want to deny that, boy?" He spat the words at Jason like they were dregs from the bottom of a whiskey barrel.

  “Who around here’s gonna believe the likes of you, bounty hunter?” a man sitting at a table with several other men called out.

  Beckett slapped a yellowed newspaper clipping on the table in front of the man. “You can decide for yourself who’s lying. Maybe you’ll see the resemblance between Clay Hutchins and my friend Jack here, and figure out who the tall, dark-haired, unnamed youth was who brought Jack's brother, Clay, in for a crime he didn’t commit."

  In the mirror, Jason saw the men at the table poring over the newspaper clipping. He had no idea what was in the article, but from the looks on the men’s faces and their glances toward him, it was clear the article cast doubt on Jason Colby. But until Jenny was gone, he’d hold his tongue. There was time to defend himself against Bishop’s specious claim—though he could not deny the truth to what Beckett said.

  "Clay was my younger brother," Bishop said, "who never hurt anyone.”

  Jason shifted his gaze from the reflection of the men at the table to the men standing in the doorway with Jack Bishop and saw that both Beckett’s and Bishop’s hands were resting on the butts of their guns, ready to cut him down when he turned to face them. They’d issued an ultimatum, and he was ready to meet their challenge.

  His right hand on the butt of his gun and his left hand creeping down, he eased off the bar stool, keeping his back to the men. When he stood, the barkeep dropped behind the bar, people scurried out the Golden Fleece like rats leaving a grain bin, and seconds later, the Golden Fleece was vacant except for the five men standing in the doorway and a few bystanders crouched behind tables.