Not for long they won’t be, thought Clara. No respectable woman would speak to her once Bickerfield told them of her past. She did not believe that a bribe would buy his silence, though if she’d had the money she would certainly have paid him. She felt in her heart that the man wanted his pound of flesh. What better way to extract it than to expose her in this new place?
“I hope you told him my daughter is ill.”
“No, I told him our daughter is ill.”
Her eyes rounded. Here she tried to build a family and then excluded him at every turn.
“I’m sorry, Nate. Of course you are her father now.”
“I also saw Kingston.”
She stiffened.
He waited for her to speak. She lowered her gaze as terror made her ears buzz as if she fled a hive of wasps. Stinging humiliation pricked her.
“Did he trouble you?”
“I don’t like him.” Her voice came breathless. He’d know or guess. Did he know already? She sank into a chair. Why couldn’t she tell him? Her gaze went to her daughter. Here was the reason for her silence. Kitty needed a home. She could not bear to bring shame on her daughter and if Nate abandoned them—what then?
Would Nate accept them if he knew?
No. He was not his brother. This man was impulsive, brooding and held a grudge. He would not forgive such deceit.
“I told him to keep clear of you. If he bothers you again, I want to know.”
“Yes, Nathaniel.”
He handed her a sack of baking powder and she set to work making a paste for Kitty’s measles.
Over the next four days she did not mention Bickerfield or the reason for his call. Kitty’s measles wept and itched but her fever had gone, and she now scrambled about beneath the bed with the kittens whose eyes had opened.
A pattern established between Clara and Nate. He ate breakfast with them, but not lunch. He returned midafternoon to play with Kitty while Clara cooked their evening meal. Often she felt his gaze upon her. When she turned she found him watching with a focused intent that quickened her blood. His silence seemed laced with need. When she served him, she noted how his muscles tensed. He hurried through his meal and then returned to the saloon until after she retired. Each night in the darkness he lay down beside her like an enchanted prince in some fairy tale; she longed to touch him but knew that a lady would wait for him to come to her. Why would he not touch her?
Suspicion and dread haunted her dreams.
She waited in misery for the day that Bickerfield revealed her secret. What would Nate do with her then?
By the eighth day, Kitty’s measles had dried and the scabs began to fall away. She seemed back to herself again and eager for visitors. Mrs. Gunn and her two daughters, Lydia, age sixteen, and Katherine, age eleven, came to call. She was thankful that Nate had warned her of the impending guests so she had Kitty up and dressed.
“Such a pleasure to meet you at last, Mrs. Justice. We are so grateful to find civility here in the wilderness.” Mrs. Gunn held her hand a moment, and Clara noted the white gloves and lacy cuff.
“Welcome to you and your girls. Please come in.”
Nate had provided five chairs from the saloon for the visit. Clara disguised the knife cuts on the table with a linen cloth. Her silver teapot already waited beside five china cups.
“Do you take sugar?” Clara asked, feeling like an imposter once more. Just like her life in Catskill, only there the women did not call. They treated her with a begrudging civility and secret loathing that revealed itself immediately after her husband’s death.
Clara managed the pouring and distribution of the tea and opened the box of shortbread from England that Nate had provided for this special occasion.
Mrs. Gunn sipped her tea. “I understand you are recently arrived from Catskill on the Hudson River.”
Clara stiffened wondering what else this woman knew?
“That’s correct.”
“We hail from Philadelphia. My girls were in private school. I am chagrined to learn that we do not yet have a school or church in Colorado City. I have spoken to my husband about the lack and do hope you will do the same.”
The door banged open, and all the women jumped. Katherine sloshed tea upon the white linen and Mrs. Gunn scowled at her child.
Clara’s heart nearly stopped as she imagined Bickerfield leaping forward to expose her deceit. Instead Nate strode into the room.
“Forgot my hat.” He grasped the brim and stilled as he noted the company.
Clara rose, still recovering from her fright. “Mrs. Gunn, Lydia, Katherine, this is my husband, Nathaniel.”
Nate stood like a frightened deer ready to bound away. His eyes strayed toward the door with an expression of longing, but he inched forward.
“My apologies, ladies. I’ll just be leaving.”
Mrs. Gunn rose and offered her hand, palm down. Nate reached and then noted the gloves. He showed a filthy palm. “I’m sorry, I just been picking the horse’s feet.”
Mrs. Gunn’s nose wrinkled, and she withdrew her offer. “Well, I am very happy to meet you in any case. My husband informs me that you run the hardware store.”
“And the saloon.”
Her mouth twisted, as if she sucked a lemon. “Oh, how unfortunate. We don’t approve of spirits. They are the devil’s tools.”
Clara wished to sink through the floor. Nate must have felt the same, for he backed up. She had never seen him look so uncertain. Suddenly Clara grew angry. It was one thing for the “good” women of Catskill to whisper behind her back, but it was quite another to stand here and insult her husband.
She stepped before Nate, shielding him from the scornful glance of their guest. “My husband’s businesses provide us a roof over our heads.”
“A roof forged with the suffering of others,” said Mrs. Gunn, stiffening her spine.
Clara felt her control snap. “Yet you accept our hospitality and then find fault with the way in which it is provided. I will not hear my husband criticized in this house. I wish you all a good day.”
The woman looked positively shocked. “Mrs. Justice, surely you do not approve of your husband’s venture.”
“On the contrary, I hold him in the highest regard.”
Mrs. Gunn flounced her skirts as if shaking off the crumbs from the shortbread she had consumed. “Well, I am only glad that since my husband abstains from strong drink, he will not be counted among your husband’s clientele.”
“It must be very comforting, Mrs. Gunn, to be so superior to the rest of us. I do hope that our children may yet be friends.”
Mrs. Gunn gathered her daughters. “This is a wild place, Mrs. Justice. I had wished to find female companionship here.”
“I shall not choose it over the companionship of my husband. I’m certain you understand.”
“Well, good day then, Mrs. Justice.” The three sailed out of the cabin, without acknowledging Nate, who stood slack-jawed.
Clara crossed the room and slammed the door.
“What the Sam Hill did you just do?” he asked.
“I believe I offended her while I defended you.”
Nate leaned back against the cabin wall. “I never saw the like.”
Clara felt her temper drain away leaving only a sickness in her stomach at her outrageous display of temper. “Are you ashamed of me?”
He clasped his hands about her waist. “Ashamed? I’m so proud, I could bust a button. Only person in this world ever stood up for me was…”
She gazed up into his eyes. “Jacob.”
He nodded.
She wrapped her arms about him, and he pulled her to the warm comfort of his embrace. “We both miss him. He was such a good man.”
Above her head, she felt Nate nod.
Clara drew back. “But that woman insulted us. I’ll not take that kind of treatment from anyone again. I’m through with turning the other cheek.”
“Well, she was right about one thing. Her husband abstain
s from strong drink.” Nate grinned. “I only ever saw him drink beer—lots of beer.”
Clara gaped and then covered her mouth as the laughter shook her. “Why didn’t you tell her?”
“And lose one of my best customers?”
“Oh, you have more restraint than I. I would certainly have hurled that into her face.”
“No, you wouldn’t.” He hesitated and then released her. “I built a tunnel from the hardware store to the saloon so he can come and go without his wife seeing him cross the street. They live behind the dry goods store, and I hear she watches him like a hawk.”
“A tunnel!”
Her laughter was contagious. He joined her with a rich booming baritone laugh. Kitty scampered over, laughing at a joke she did not understand and he lifted her into his arms. He held her on his hip and pressed Clara to his side. She felt happy for the first time since their arrival.
“Thank you,” said Nate.
Clara waved a dismissive hand. “She’s a…well, I can’t say what she is.” She swept her head meaningfully in the direction of her daughter.
“She’s a what, Mama? A what?”
Clara hesitated and then said, “An uncharitable woman.”
“She’s also one of the only respectable women here in Colorado City.”
“Then I shall do without respectability until it arrives with tolerance.”
He gave her a squeeze. “Mighty unexpected. But you may have made an enemy today.”
Clara lifted her chin. “Not my first.”
He smiled. “I don’t believe that.”
“And why not?”
“You never did a bad thing in your life Clara. What kind of enemy could you possibly have?”
She thought of Bickerfield and suppressed a shudder.
Chapter Eight
The guilt was eating her alive. Clara could barely meet his gaze any longer. He thought her pure and good and without fault. He’d witnessed her very unbecoming fit of temper and still he made excuses, thinking she’d only tried to protect his honor. Perhaps that was part of it. But she was far, far from the paragon of virtue he believed her to be.
She could never live up to his expectations. She had tried with Jacob, but at least he knew of her past.
Clara tucked her daughter into bed and told her the story of Rose Red, while Nate sat quietly by the fire nodding and smiling.
She joined him there after Kitty had dropped off to sleep.
“You’re a good mother,” he said.
Pride swelled in her chest and then deflated like punched bread dough as she realized his opinion of her was jaded.
“Did you learn the stories from your mother?”
She shifted uncomfortably, thinking the time was right to broach the subject of her past. She feared telling him the truth nearly as much as letting this wall of lies between them stand.
“I read them in a book Jacob gave me. He was such a good father.”
He gave her a look of such longing it took her breath away.
“I’d like to be a good father, too. I’ve always wanted to feel a part of a family. But I didn’t know how to go about it. Now Jacob has provided me with even that.”
“And he has given me a fine husband.”
He snorted waving away the compliment. He opened his mouth to speak and then hesitated. “I know you loved him, Clara.”
How could one not love Jacob? He was dear and kind, if somewhat naive in his always believing the best in people.
“Yes, I did.”
Nate’s eyes fixed on the mica window in the stove, staring at the orange glow beyond.
“After loving him, could you—I mean, could you ever love another man?”
She smiled at him. “A woman’s heart is a marvelous thing. It has unlimited capacity for love. When Kitty was born, I thought my heart would burst from the love I held for her. But it did not diminish the tenderness I felt for my husband.”
His gaze returned to her again, cast in the soft glow from the stove.
“Loving one man does not mean I cannot love another.”
Was that hope she saw in his eyes? It vanished so quickly she was not certain.
“You have feelings for me, Clara?”
She nodded. “There is a force between us that never existed between Jacob and me. Surely you feel it?”
He did. And he knew exactly what it was—desire. He stared at her lovely mouth. Each night was like torture, lying beside her, listening to her soft breathing, inhaling her scent.
Never did he expect to find such attraction with a lady. In his experience, respectable females were about as warm as an ice house in January. But Clara proved him wrong. My God, she’d even defended him against that Gunn woman.
She was a contradiction and she fascinated him.
The fire crackled between them, and it had nothing to do with the stove. She’d lie with him if he asked. Still he hesitated because if it were only lust, if she felt none of the love and desire she stirred in him, the pain might kill him. Somehow he had already fallen in love with her.
Jacob had been right. No one who knew Clara could not love her.
She broke the silence. “Nate, I want to tell you something about myself. Something personal.”
He turned, giving her his full attention. “Go on then.”
“I told you I was poor in my youth. Nate, I used to have to beg on the street.”
He couldn’t mask his surprise.
“We were desperate, destitute. Our situation could not have been more grave. One day a man took me from that life. He was well dressed and handsome. He promised me marriage.”
Nate felt his stomach clench. Somehow he just couldn’t abide another singing of Jacob’s praises. He stood and she followed him, her hands clasped before her in tight knots.
“I thought he was my rescuer but—”
He silenced her in the only way he knew how, by pressing his lips to hers. She stiffened in surprise and then softened against him, swaying until his chest met the wonderful curves of her bosom. Her kisses told him what she wanted.
Nate knew how to please a woman. He just didn’t know how to make one love him. If only she could love him just a little. He drew her into his arms, deepening the kiss as she clung to him. In a moment he had her up on the sturdy chopping block he had brought her. Her legs splayed to allow him to press himself to the juncture of her legs. She made soft moaning sounds that roused him to near madness.
Up went her skirts as he located the slit in her pantaloons, finding the soft silk of her inner thigh. She whimpered and leaned back as he trailed kisses along her throat, feeling her blood pulse in the great vessel there.
He caressed her, searching the soft folds of female flesh to find the bud at her center. He stroked with his thumb as his fingers danced along her sensitive flesh, finding her wet with wanting.
Her breathing became more frantic and she grasped at his clothing in desperation. Her eyes opened wide as she approached her pleasure.
“Please, Nate, please take me now.”
He held back, determined to resist. She only needed what he could give her—not him. She didn’t want him.
His kiss silenced her pleas as his fingers did their work. She arched and stiffened. His mouth absorbed her cry of release.
He held her as she trembled and gasped, lowering her skirts back to her ankles.
“Why?” she whispered. “Why would you not take me?”
“You’re still Jacob’s wife.”
She thumped her open palms upon his chest in a blow that surprised him. “I am your wife.”
“Not by choice, but from circumstance merely. I won’t take advantage of you.”
“I need you. Why do you push me away?”
He turned from her, trying to ignore the pulsing want she raised in him. “I have given you what you need.”
She gasped, and her eyes widened with shock. He offended her and perhaps that was best. When her eyes misted, he backed away, fleeing the cabin lik
e the coward he was.
Clara slid her feet to the floor, following him. She stopped at the front step as he disappeared into the night, then she sat on the cold stone.
He didn’t believe she needed him. Could he not see she was desperate for his touch? Still he held himself in check. How did this happen? One moment she was determined to confess all and the next she was sitting on the chopping block.
She closed her eyes to savor the sweet sensations still rippling through her. How could she convince him that she could love him if he would only let her?
A family—that was what he’d said. He wanted to be part of a family. Clara could give him children, but first she would need him in her bed.
She had half a mind to march over to that bar and insist. Then she remembered Bickerfield and trembled. He wanted money.
Sweet Jesus, what was she to do?
She sat a long time on that rock until she had a plan. In the morning she rose to find Nate had not returned. She went to the hardware store but found only his partner, Harvey Winkelman.
“I need to speak to the reverend,” she said.
Harvey looked surprised. “Well, I can stir him up, if you don’t mind watching the shop.”
“Certainly.”
It took longer than she expected. In the meantime Kitty played checkers with Katherine, who spotted them on the main street and joined them at the store. Clara sold a pick to a miner with a broken tooth. Harvey returned at last with the man she requested, whose bloodshot eyes told of a long sleepless night.
“How is the happy bride?” he asked.
“I have some concerns. May we speak in private?”
Harvey stepped into the supply room, giving them some privacy as Clara lowered her voice to explain her dilemma. The reverend recovered from his initial shock and vowed to speak to Nate about his responsibilities.
Clara returned home and waited on pins and needles as the afternoon wore on into evening. Her only visitor was Katherine Gunn, who came after lunch to ask if Kitty might like to come to her house to play. At first reluctant, Clara then decided it was best if Kitty had a friend. She walked her child to the Gunns’.
Mrs. Gunn greeted her at the door.
Wed Under Western Skies Page 26
