by Janet Dailey
“We were talking. He was asking me questions about Reisner’s death—” he began, speaking and mulling the events over in his mind at the same time.
“Reisner.” The name came out in a quick breath. “Lilli Reisner?”
“No. Is that the wife’s name?” He shrugged that it didn’t matter. “It was the old man that died.” His gaze narrowed at the way the light seemed to go out of Ruth’s eyes. “Would you explain to me what’s going on here?”
There was a faint movement of her head in denial. “Nothing.” It wasn’t her place to tell him. In any case, it was possible he’d know for himself in a short while.
She had waited so patiently, clinging to the last thread of hope. Now it was unraveling. Tears were welling in her eyes. She excused herself quickly and escaped before the doctor saw that she was crying.
The first two weeks after Stefan’s death there had been so many details to take care of, so many things to do, that Lilli had barely drawn a restful breath. The third week, it had all caught up with her and she’d practically slept the clock round. Finally her mind and body were cleared of tiredness and indecision. No more dark hollows ringed her eyes. They viewed reality with a steady gleam of determination.
A restless wind tried to lift the skirt of her russet dress, swirling it about her legs. The shawl around her shoulders was the only black garment she owned. She meant no disrespect to Stefan, but buying black material to make mourning dresses seemed a waste of what little money she had. The wind tore at the bank draft in her hand, trying to rip it from her grasp.
“I’m sorry it couldn’t be more, Mrs. Reisner,” Doyle Pettit declared, respectfully holding his hat in front of him. “But with the lack of rain this year, the price of land has dropped. I had hoped for your sake that I could have sold your farm for more.”
What he neglected to tell her was that he had purchased the land himself. She had insisted on an immediate sale. So Doyle had paid the present, fair-market value of the land, confident he would double his money on it next spring. He certainly hadn’t cheated her out of any profits, merely taken advantage of the situation.
“I understand.” After the bank loans had been paid and deducted, there wasn’t much left. Not as much as she had hoped, certainly. She folded the bank draft into a neat square and slipped it deep into her pocket. “It was kind of you to come all the way out here to bring it to me.”
“It was no trouble, I assure you.” He used his charming smile on her and looked appropriately concerned. “What will you do now, Mrs. Reisner? It isn’t a great deal of money, but naturally you’ll want to invest it wisely. I’d be more than happy to advise you on the matter.”
“I have already made plans. It should be enough to buy a small restaurant, perhaps in Butte.” Cooking was the only skill she possessed, her only means of making a living, and with all the copper mines around Butte, Montana, it sounded like a good place. Besides, it seemed sensible to leave the area and put distance between herself and foolish dreams about Webb Calder.
“Going into business for yourself, now, that’s a big step, Mrs. Reisner.” Doyle Pettit had the same skeptical look in his eye that everyone else had. Men ran businesses, and women taught school or took care of the sick. “There’s a great deal you need to know.”
“I have managed our household for a good number of years, Mr. Pettit. I believe I know something about purchasing supplies and paying bills.” Lilli was bristling slightly behind the smile she gave him. “But thank you for your concern.”
Not by words or action did she encourage him to stay and chat, not even to the extent of inviting him inside the shanty that was no longer hers. The man was too smooth, too well dressed, and the Model T parked a few yards away showed too little dust. There was a vanity, a self-interest, about him that made him seem superficial. As a recent widow, she probably should have been flattered by his attention and interest, but she strongly doubted it was genuine.
Doyle widened his smile and attempted to cover his confusion over this businesslike reception. He had delivered the draft and she seemed to be urging him to leave. It might have been interesting to console her. She certainly looked more attractive than she had the day she came into the bank wanting to sell the farm.
“If there’s anything else I can do, Mrs. Reisner, I hope you’ll contact me.” There was nothing left but to take his leave of her.
“Thank you.” She bobbed her head briefly, never saying she would or wouldn’t. The sunlight caught the rusty autumn color in her dark hair.
But he didn’t hurry about leaving, turning up his collar and pulling on his gloves. “I think we’re going to have an early winter. It almost smells like frost in the air.” A drumming sound came faintly to him. Doyle turned to look down the lane. A horse and rider were approaching, still too far away to identify. “It looks like someone’s coming.”
As she stepped away from the windbreak of the shanty, she pulled the shawl more closely around her shoulders. There was a familiarity about the rider that seemed to trip up her pulse and send it skittering unevenly. Everything had been so settled; now her thoughts started going every which way as the rider came close enough for Lilli to be certain it was Webb.
The horse puffed to a stop beside the automobile, pricking its ears at it suspiciously, Webb sat in the saddle for a few seconds, his expressionless glance going from her to Doyle Pettit.
“Webb Calder.” Doyle recovered from his surprise to move forward to greet him. “I didn’t expect to run into you out here.”
Letting the reins trail to ground-tie the horse, Webb shook the hand Doyle extended to him, a measuring look sliding to Lilli.
She was almost glad Doyle Pettit was here. It gave her time to keep her feet firmly on the ground and not be blown away by this rocking of her senses.
“I stopped by to pay my respects to . . . Mrs. Reisner.” The hesitation over the formal mode of address was small but noticeable to Lilli. “I can’t say that I expected to find you here, either, Doyle.”
“I handled the sale of the farm for Mrs. Reisner. The transaction was finalized today, so I brought the draft out to her,” he explained.
There was a flicker of surprise in Webb’s eyes at the news she had sold the farm before he reasoned out it was sensible. She couldn’t have farmed it herself without hiring a man. He doubted if there was enough money for that, certainly not with this year’s poor crop.
“I must say, Webb, you’re being very neighborly, coming by like this and all,” Doyle said.
Webb didn’t try to keep his gaze from straying to Lilli. She looked so damned composed that it rankled him. Her eyes were a dark midnight blue, looking straight at him. Her lips lay together in an easy line. It was as if she were waiting for him to do something or say something.
He removed his hat, feeling awkward and not liking it. “I thought I’d come by and see if there was anything I could do.” It wasn’t what she wanted to hear and it wasn’t what he wanted to say. But with Doyle Pettit here, he was bound by conventions. So he prodded the man into going. “If you were leaving, Doyle, don’t let me keep you.”
Doyle sent a glance at the young widow, thinking she might want him to stay. There was something in the air that he couldn’t quite fathom. Her expression hadn’t changed. There continued to be nothing to indicate his presence was wanted.
“I do have some business in town,” he lied. “Remember what I said, Mrs. Reisner. If I can be of any help at all, please contact me.”
“Thank you again for coming out,” she repeated.
Webb caught up the reins of his horse and held them while Doyle cranked his automobile and got it running. While his attention was elsewhere, Lilli took the opportunity to study him. The few years hadn’t made any differences in his physical appearance except to add lines to the creases near his eyes and mouth. His flatly muscled body was long and male, and the wind ruffed hair that was thick and near black.
The changes were more subtle than that, the kind a woman w
ho loved him would notice. Before when he’d come to her, he’d been a cowboy—unique in many respects, but still a cowboy. Power and authority were resting on his wide shoulders now, and they sat there easily. Lilli sensed that many things were locked inside him, long controlled—perhaps too long controlled. He had come here to see her, but why? She wondered if Webb was even sure. Pride wrapped its invisible shield around her and kept him from observing that just seeing him again disturbed her.
The departing automobile churned up a choking cloud of dust in the barren yard. Lilli lifted an end of the shawl over her nose and mouth to keep the gritty dirt out of her mouth and lungs and closed her eyes to slits against the stinging dust. The wind picked it up and whirled it away before it had a chance to settle back on the ground. Webb’s horse swung around him, whickering nervously after the noisy vehicle.
It was a moment or two before Webb let the reins fall and came toward her again, slapping the dust from his hat. His gaze was on her, probing, searching for something—a reaction, a sign, an age-old signal between a man and a woman that was easily recognized and never defined. She stood a few feet in front of the door, watching him, not unfriendly, but not open to him, either. He half-waited for her to suggest they go inside, out of this dust and wind, but she remained silent. There was some kind of barrier between them, and Webb was undecided about how to penetrate it because he didn’t understand the cause.
“One of my men was hurt on the roundup. Simon—Dr. Bardolph—came out to fix him up, so I just found out from him this afternoon about Stefan.” He wanted to make it clear that he’d have come sooner if he had known. “I was sorry to hear about it.” No, dammit! He hadn’t been sorry. Why was he mouthing words of polite convention when there were so many other things he wanted to say? “I wish you had let me know,” It was the first honest thing he’d said. “It couldn’t have been easy for you.”
“I managed.” Her chin dipped briefly, then came up again. The boldness was there, but so was restraint.
He wasn’t handling this right, but he seemed to be on a course that couldn’t be altered. “You sold the farm.”
“Yes.” Her gaze ran around the dried-up buildings rattling in the endless wind, some distant memories stirring in her look. “I’ve sold everything—the horses and equipment. There wasn’t much point in keeping it.” Her attention came back to him. “Even if Stefan was alive, as dry as it’s been, I don’t think we could have made it through to next year.”
“What were you planning to do?” Webb unconsciously used the past tense, yet wanting to find out if she had included him at all in her future plans.
She faltered slightly under his steady regard, then held it once again. “After all the debts have been paid, I have enough money left to buy a small restaurant somewhere.”
“You were going to leave.” His jaw made a harsh line. “Weren’t you even going to come and tell me good-bye?” Webb challenged roughly.
The motion of her hand as it brushed aside strands of hair the wind blew across her face seemed to be a means of avoiding his eyes. “Times change. People change.” Lilli offered that as an answer. “It isn’t reasonable to expect people to have the same feelings after so much time has passed.”
Her reply stunned him, hitting him low as he read into it that she had changed. She turned in an unhurried and graceful motion and walked the few steps to the door. There she paused, her body at right angles to him, and looked at him across her shoulders.
“It was good of you to come by,” she said.
The shanty door creaked on its hinges as it swung inward. He was burned with a rawness that wouldn’t be dismissed as simply as she had just dismissed him. By the time Lilli had stepped inside and turned to close the door, Webb was filling the opening, a hand braced against the door to keep from being shut out.
“Is that all you can say—it was good of me to come?” When he pushed his way inside, she retreated a step, her eyes now intent on him, watching and waiting. “Why do you think I’m here?”
“I couldn’t possibly guess.” She was too afraid of being wrong. There were too many reasons that might have brought him here.
“Then explain to me what all that ‘times changing and people changing’ was about,” Webb demanded. “Say it out plain if you don’t want me anymore.” Something flickered in her eyes, and some of his confusion lifted. She was waiting for him to state his reason for coming, to declare his intention. He pushed the door shut and caught her shoulders all in the same motion. “I swear, Lilli, you’ve got a pride that can freeze a man out,” he muttered thickly and claimed her mouth in a quick, hungry kiss so there could be no more doubts about what he wanted.
The pressure of her lips unsettled him like none other could. Her hands rested lightly on his chest, not resisting, yet not inviting a closer embrace, either. Webb was puzzled by the way she kissed him and held back at the same time, not allowing herself to be swept away by the passion of her feelings.
“What is it, Lilli?” He lifted his head and spread his hand over the side of her face, tracing the outline of her warm lips with his thumb. Her lashes remained partially lowered.
“I wasn’t sure why you were here.” She still wasn’t. He could hear it in her voice.
His hand moved along her back, feeling the ripple of bones in her spine and the tension. “I’m here because I want you. I still love you. If there’s been any change, the feelings have only grown stronger.” There was a degree of tightness in the smiling curve of his mouth. “I was beginning to wonder if it was the same for you. Is it?”
She tipped her head back to look at him and see what was in his eyes. There was a quiet expectancy in her expression, a waiting for something else he hadn’t said. “Yes,” she admitted without any hesitance. She wasn’t satisfied with what she saw in his face and pulled slowly out of his arms. Webb frowned when she turned away from him. “Where do we go from here?” she asked.
The pride of her carriage and the steadiness of her voice began to make an impression on him. Slowly Webb began to understand the cause for her proud reticence. She didn’t know what role he was asking her to fill—that of a lover, a mistress, or his wife. She was concerned that he thought less of her because she had lain with him and let her feelings be known to him while she was married to another man. She didn’t want to be regarded as less worthy of his respect.
Webb came up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders, rubbing them in a caressing way and feeling the tremor of need that ran through her. She swayed backward a little, surrendering to his touch.
“I’d like to take you straight to my bed.” The clean smell of her dark copper hair stirred him. “But I think we’d better see the minister first.”
She swung around, her gaze sweeping his face to be certain he meant it. The rigidity went out of her body as he gathered her into his arms. The deep hunger in her kiss raced through him like fire, shaking him. It was a power she had over him that lifted him to some far height and let him glimpse the glory a man and a woman could know.
When they drew apart, neither of them was satisfied, but it was a simple matter that kisses alone wouldn’t satisfy their needs and there was a moment of assurance required on both parts before another step was taken. Her long lips were swollen from his possessive kisses and the short stubble on his face had reddened her skin. The light in her blue eyes was especially for him. She ran a finger above his upper lip.
“You’re sweating,” she murmured, then took his hand and laid it above her breast. “Can you feel my heart pounding?”
“Yes.” His own was racing like a steam engine, and his breath was coming just as rapidly. He slid his hand down to cover her breast, so taut and full against his palm. “Lilli.” There were a thousand nights of wanting her wrapped up in the groaning whisper of her name.
She came against him, resting her head on his shoulder and possessively curving her arms around him. An exciting contentment was on her, pleased with him and pleased with herself. She studie
d the throbbing pulse in his throat and the tanned column of his neck.
“Why didn’t you come to see me during all that time?” she asked.
Surprise and bewilderment darkened his expression as he tipped his head down, trying to see her face. “You made it clear you were a married woman and didn’t want to see me again,” he reminded her.
“I know,” Lilli murmured.
“Was I supposed to disregard that?” His mouth quirked dryly.
“Sometimes I hoped you would, even though I was relieved that you didn’t.” She was aware of the contradiction in her answer and smiled at it, because it didn’t make it any less true.
“Is that an example of female thinking?” Webb taunted gently. “You ask me to stay away, but you want me to come. You tell me to forget you and find someone else, then hope I don’t.”
She tilted her head back to look at him, smiling, all gay and confident. “Yes, that’s precisely what I meant.”
“That kind of logic is not easily followed.” He kissed at her lips, feeling them cling to his.
Then her fingertips were there, exploring the firm line of his mouth and tracing the crease that ran beside it. “I’ve only been widowed for three weeks. People will talk if we get married so soon.”
That struck a raw nerve. “I don’t care if propriety dictates a year’s mourning period. You’ve fulfilled whatever obligation you felt you owed Stefan. You’ll be my wife—Mrs. Webb Calder—and no one will dare say anything against you. So let them talk. Nothing they might do or say can touch us,” he insisted roughly.
She listened to his words, weighing them against her own feelings. There was a part of her that would have preferred not to rush into marriage, not to allow it to be a solution of convenience to settle where she would go, and to take time to be lovers before they settled into a routine of man and wife.
Her hesitation was obvious, and Webb realized her hint to delay their visit to the minister was a way of obtaining something else. It wasn’t hard to understand, given the meanness of her past life and given the blandness of her practical marriage to Stefan.
