Rebecca knew he was anxious about the land, about coming to Texas knowing as little about the place as he did. The closer they’d come to arriving, the less he’d talked. They’d discreetly left camp as the sun peered over the horizon because Jake wanted to see his land without the other men milling around.
She watched now as he removed his hat, looking out over the rolling expanse of green that was visible for miles, clumps of trees dotting the landscape. She saw his back straighten with pride and knew, even though she was only staring at his back, that he was pleased with what lay before him. So she was quite surprised when he turned around and she saw all the doubts plaguing his face.
“It’s not much—” he said, as he began walking back towards the wagon.
“I think it’s beautiful,” she said.
His face broke out into the biggest grin she’d ever seen. “It is, isn’t it?”
“Help me down, Jake, so I can set foot on your land.”
He plopped his hat back on his head. “No, ma’am. I’ll help you down so you can set foot on our land.”
He placed his hands on her expanding waist, lifting her down to the ground. She leaned back against him and his arms came around her, drawing her close.
He pointed towards an oak tree, its branches uplifted and spread wide, the dense greenery providing shade to the earth beneath it. “I figure we can build our first house beside that tree there. It’ll be a small house, probably just one room so we can get it up quick. But later, later I’ll build you the kind of house you deserve. And over there, we’ll build the barn and corrals. And right there I want to build a windmill.”
“A windmill?” she asked. Windmills were a rare sight in the West.
“It’ll help us pump water into the house and if we build the well deep enough, we should be able to keep our stock watered during dry spells. And over there,” his arm swept in a semicircle, “we’ll build a bunkhouse and a cookhouse. Hell, eventually we’ll have everything we need.” He placed warm lips against the back of her head. “It’s going to be good here, Reb.”
Placing her hands over his and giving them a squeeze, she knew in her heart that he was right.
Two men guarded the cattle that were released on the open range, while the other men built a hasty corral for the horses. Then they began building the one-room house where Jake and Rebecca would live. Where eventually, she would undoubtedly give birth.
As the days passed, she watched their progress, giving little aid except to bring them water and assist the cook they’d hired just outside of Kentucky.
From time to time, Jake would leave the men, slip his arm around her and ask her a question about the house. Where did she want the windows, the fireplace, the door? At night, their pallets laying side by side, they’d talk about the ranch. What he wanted it to be. Their relationship had remained chaste. In the open air, with seven cowboys and a cook along with them, little opportunity had existed for intimacy. Jake seemed content with their relationship,which more closely resembled that of two age-old friends than that of a husband and wife.
But each day, she felt her feelings for this man becoming deeper. His kindness was unlimited, not only to her and the men, but to the animals as well. She watched him now as he directed the men’s efforts. With any luck the house would be completed in the next day or two.
Rebecca lifted her hand to her brow to shade her eyes from the glaring sun and looked out into the distance. Since they’d been here, they’d not had one visitor. But it certainly looked as if they were getting at least one now. A wagon was pulling up.
The wagon came to a halt not far from where Rebecca stood and all work on the house momentarily stopped as curiosity was piqued. A young man roughly Frank’s age held the reins, and a rotund woman wearing a white bonnet was pushing a younger woman out of the seat.
“Come on, Ruth, get down. We got new neighbors and, thank God, a woman among them.”
Unexpectedly, Rebecca found herself pressed against the older woman’s ample bosom, the woman’s thick arms jiggling as they came away from Rebecca’s back.
“Lord, child, this state can use all the women it can get. My son Luke there said he saw some new folks and I said no but sure enough he was right. I’m Carrie Reading and this here’s my daughter, Ruth. The rest wouldn’t come, couldn’t give up a day of work.” She hit Rebecca’s arm. “You know how menfolk are. And Land O’Goshen, if you ain’t with child!”
Rebecca laughed. Carrie Reading was a true rambler and her sentences were so disjointed, it seemed as if she had been saving up her conversation for years and was trying to throw it all out in one go. Rebecca extended her hand.
“I’m Rebecca Burnett.”
“Hell, girl, I don’t see enough women to want to shake their hands!” Then her arms were back around Rebecca, hugging tightly.
Jake had ambled over, keeping a safe distance, and Rebecca couldn’t blame him. Public displays of affection were foreign to him, and she hoped Carrie wouldn’t press him to her bosom.
“Mrs. Reading—”
“Carrie, darling. Call me Carrie. We were friends before we even met.”
“All right, Carrie. This is my husband, Jake.”
The woman turned, with arms outstretched, taking a step towards Jake who took a step back and tilted his hat. “Ma’am.”
“Oh, a shy one!” She punched Rebecca’s arm again. “I like the shy ones. They usually make the best lovers.”
Rebecca brought a hand to her mouth as she watched the heat suffuse Jake’s face.
“If you’ll excuse me, I gotta get back to work,” he said with a duck of his head.
“No, wait!” Carrie called out. “I take it you’re the owner of this spread.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And you need a barn. Tomorrow night, we’re having a dance for my Ruth here to celebrate her sixteenth birthday. We’d just love for y’all to come—all of you. Give you a chance to meet your neighbors and next Saturday I’ll get all their lazy carcasses out here to build your barn. What do you say?”
“That’s real nice of you to offer, ma’am.”
“We’d love to go to the dance, Carrie, but I think we have enough men to build our own barn,” Rebecca said, noting Jake’s discomfiture with the situation.
“Not in your life, girl. Hell, we all build each other’s barns around here. Only way to get it done. We’ll see you tomorrow night at sunset. Just go south. You can’t miss our spread, the Triple Bar.”
She gave Rebecca one last hug before heaving herself up into the wagon and hitting her son’s arm, her signal that it was time to go.
“Now don’t disappoint me!” she called out. And Rebecca wondered if all the women here were like her.
“Did that invitation include me?”
Rebecca turned to Frank. “I think it included everyone.”
“And that Ruth’s going to be there, that pretty girl?” “Yes, she is. The dance is for her.” “Goddamn. I need you to teach me to dance.” She pulled his hat off his head and tousled his hair. “I’d be happy to, Frank.”
Rebecca watched the hues of the sunset cross the sky. One thing she loved about Texas was its sunsets. Caught unaware, she screamed when she felt herself being lifted into Jake’s arms.
“What in the world are you doing, Jake Burnett?”
“Taking you home.”
He carried her to the house, up onto the porch and through the threshold of the simple wooden structure, then set her down on the puncheon floor of flat cedar logs. The walls were built of twelve-inch, rough-hewn cedar logs, chinked with clay. The only door was made of heavy boards. It fastened with a latchstring.
“It’s not much,” he said, waiting for her disappointment to show. It was far nicer than the building he had grown up in, but it was nowhere near as nice as the home in which she had been raised.
Rebecca pivoted slowly on the balls of her feet, her eyes taking inventory and assessing each feature of the single room. The wall to the righ
t of the door housed the stone fireplace. The wall across from it held the stove. To the back of the house was space for their bed. Because Rebecca liked the sun to visit inside as much as it did outside, each side of the house had two windows, protected by heavy wooden shutters that hung on handwrought hinges. She completed her circle, smiled up at Jake and slipped her arms around his neck.
“I love it.”
His eyes lowered to her lips. Yes, Jake, she thought. I want you to kiss me.
Frank stuck his head in the door. “You want us to start hauling the furniture in before it gets too dark?”
Sighing, Jake released her. “Now it’s your turn to work, Reb. Just tell them where you want everything.”
It didn’t take long as they had brought only the barest of necessities. They set a sofa before the fireplace, a table and four chairs before the stove, and beside it a pine cupboard. A four-poster bed was set in the corner in the back so one window looked down on it. A dresser and a mahogany wardrobe rested against the back wall. They would add more as time went by, but for now it was enough to get them through.
When they were finished, they sat around the campfire and ate supper with the men, listening as Lee Hastings sang ballads in a deep resonant voice. The stocky man had beefy arms and curly black hair touching his shoulders. When he stood, his short legs rounded out so he always looked as though he were still sitting upon a horse. He began to sing “The Cowboy’s Lament.” The song was Rebecca’s favorite. She snuggled back against Jake as his arms encircled her. When the last note was sung, the couple said good night and walked side by side back towards their house.
Jake closed the door behind them and brought a plank of wood down against the door barring entrance. He set the lantern down on the table and smiled at his wife. It was the first time they had been alone since the night they had gotten married.
Rebecca lifted her shoulders, spreading her arms out. “It’s our house.”
Jake looked around, smiling at the towels she had hung over the windows. “Guess we need to get some curtains. Men don’t think of things like that.”
“You seem to have thought of just about everything else.”
“I tried. Are you tired?” “Yes, I am.”
He went to the back of the house and brought out a hammer and some nails.
“I thought we could tack up a quilt to give you a little more privacy.”
“I’d like that.” She moved to a chest and took out a faded quilt. “This one should do.”
Standing on a chair, Jake nailed it up. He stepped down, admiring his handiwork. It was crooked.
“I’m not much of a carpenter.” “You built the house.”
“With a lot of help.” He studied her standing there, her eyes as big as the moon. “Why don’t you get ready for bed?”
She nodded, then slipped behind the quilt. After removing her clothes, she wiped her body with a damp rag and pulled her nightgown over her head. She was five months pregnant and she didn’t want Jake to see her body in its present state. The little mound of her belly seemed to be doubling in size every day. Another aspect of pregnancy that didn’t thrill her. Then she felt the flutter of butterfly wings inside her, and smiled, rubbing the small mound. She didn’t feel it often, and at first she hadn’t been sure what it was, but now she recognized it as the baby moving inside her. It was one thing about pregnancy she loved. She unbraided her hair and brushed it vigorously before braiding it again. Then she shrugged, unbraided it, ran her brush through it and poked her head around the quilt.
“I’m ready for bed.”
Jake was sitting on the sofa, his long legs stretched out before him. He turned his attention from the empty fireplace to her.
“Good night, Reb. Have sweet dreams.”
She was unexpectedly hit with disappointment. “Good night,” she said softly.
Rebecca climbed into bed, drawing the covers up over her. Then she threw them off and clambered out of bed. She marched across the tiny room until she was standing in front of Jake, hands on her hips.
“What do you mean by ‘Good night. Have sweet dreams’? For months now, I’ve been lying on the hard ground, my pallet beside yours, resting my head on your shoulder with your arm around me. Every night I’ve thought how nice it’d be when we could sleep in a soft bed again and now you’re telling me ‘Good night’ like you’re not planning on sharing that soft bed with me! Get yourself up off that sofa and get into that bed now!”
He stood up, giving her a big lopsided grin. “I just wanted to make sure that’s where you wanted me.” He touched her cheek. “You looked scared as hell when I closed that door behind us. I don’t want you to ever be afraid of me, Reb. I’d never hurt you, and I’d never do anything you didn’t want.”
“Then come to bed and hold me so I can get some sleep.”
She climbed into bed, and lay on her back with her eyes squeezed shut while he undressed. Then she felt the bed dip under his weight. She scooted over, placing her head on his shoulder while his arm came around her.
“This is as nice as I remembered it,” she said.
“I didn’t know you liked this.”
“Actually, Jake, there’s not a lot about you that I don’t like.”
“What is something you don’t like?” She drew her brows together in thought. “Well … do you promise not to get your feelings hurt if I tell you?” “I promise.”
“Well, then. I thought you should have given Carrie a great big hug and a kiss smack dab on the lips.”
Jake laughed. “She was something else, wasn’t she? Do you think she’s always like that?”
“Probably. I bet her husband is quiet.”
“Makes sense. You got a quiet husband. I have a loud wife.”
“I am not loud!”
“Shh. The men will hear you.”
“What are you going to have them do next?”
“Since we’ll have help with our barn, I’m going to have them start on the bunkhouse. The weather seems pretty mild here, but you never can tell, and I don’t want them shacking up with us if it gets cold.”
Rebecca snuggled against him.
“What was that?” he asked.
“What?”
“Be still,” he ordered. “Did you hear something?”
“No, thought I felt something. Was it the baby?” he asked.
“Yes.”
He rolled her over onto her back and came up on an elbow. They had slept in all their clothes every night, and since their first night Jake hadn’t been able to feel Reb’s body, let alone the tiny movements within her. He moved the covers off, gazing down at her.
“Oh, Jake, don’t look at it.”
“Why not? It’s beautiful. Can I put my hand on your stomach?” She nodded.
He placed his hand lightly on her stomach and waited. Through her cotton gown, he felt the baby kick. And waited.
“Will he move again?” he asked.
She heard the disappointment in his voice and wished she had the power to make the baby move. “I don’t know. He doesn’t move very often.” She took his hand and moved it to her left side. “He seems to like this side.” She placed her hand over his and pressed it against her side. And they waited.
And waited.
Then Jake felt the slightest tremor beneath his palm.
“Lord, how long has he been doing this?”
Rebecca smiled, surprised by the joy she felt at being able to share this moment with him. “About three weeks. At first I didn’t know what it was.”
“Does it hurt when he moves?”
“No. Actually, it’s the one part about being pregnant that makes me think all the rest is worth it.”
“What’s it feel like … inside, when he moves?”
She glanced down at her stomach. How could she explain it? It was really like nothing she had ever felt before.
“Have you ever cupped your hands around a butterfly?” she asked.
Jake nodded.
“T
hat’s what it feels like.”
His hand roamed over her stomach. “I hope we meet the doctor tomorrow night.”
“You could deliver the baby.”
“If you were a horse.” “It’s the same principle.”
His eyes came back to hers. “If I have to, I will. But I’d prefer to have someone here who knows exactly what he’s doing.”
He lay back down, drawing her up against his side. She was too precious, too important to risk losing.
Slowly, Rebecca opened her eyes as the sunlight filtered in through the towels hung in the windows.
“Put the woman in a soft bed and she sleeps the day away,” Jake teased.
“I don’t see you up and about.”
Oh, he was up, and when she unconsciously moved her leg up his thigh, he rolled out of bed and into his pants.
“Thought we’d take a ride over the land today,” he said to her over his shoulder.
“I’d love to, but what would I wear?” She splayed her fingers on her stomach. “I can’t get into my pants or my split skirts anymore, and I don’t ride sidesaddle.”
“Find your split skirt while I saddle our horses.”
He walked out before she could protest. A few minutes later, he returned with biscuits and grits. Then he took a knife and her skirt and ripped open the front seam. He poked two holes in her now open waistband and drew a thin rope through them. Rebecca watched with interest while she downed the breakfast. He held up his creation.
“That ought to do it.”
Rebecca’s eyes widened. “I’ll be poking out!”
“Exactly. You can wear one of my shirts over it and no one will be able to tell.”
She chewed the last of her biscuit, contemplating the idea. Then licking her fingers, she scrambled out of the bed and took the skirt from him, brushing him away to the other side of the quilt.
A few minutes later she came out from behind the quilt looking like a little girl with her hair braided and her face freshly scrubbed. She placed a hand on her tiny mound.
“Won’t you be embarrassed to have me beside you?” she asked.
His eyes were warm as he shook his head. Smiling, she shrugged. “All right. I’m ready if you are.”
Lorraine Heath Page 5
