Lorraine Heath

by Sweet Lullaby

  “I don’t talk about him!”

  “God, Rebecca. You talk about him all the time. On the train, every town we passed, there was something in it that reminded you of him. If you didn’t mention it to me, you mentioned it to my son as though he could understand what the hell you were rambling about.”

  “Jake was an important part of my life for over a year.” Longer than that if she considered the time before they were married, the times when they’d share confidences in low voices so as not to disturb the herd. “I can’t just pretend he never existed. He’s like a habit.”

  “Well, break it! And while you’re at it, take the damn ring off.”

  “No! Not until my divorce papers get here.” “Why?”

  “To remind me that I’m married, that I owe something to Jake until the divorce is final.”

  “Dammit!” He ran his fingers roughly through his hair again, his eyes boring into hers. “Jake is in Texas. I’m here. I’m the man you love; I’m the man you’re going to marry.”

  Rebecca dropped down on the bed, willing the tears not to come. She couldn’t recall ever mentioning Brett to Jake except when he’d proposed. She’d missed Brett when he had left, but his absence hadn’t filled her with an emptiness that grew with each passing day. “I’m sorry. I … I didn’t mean to bring him with us. Give me a couple of days to adjust to this big old place of yours, and I’ll send him back to Texas.”

  Brett knelt down before her, taking her hands in his own, his voice smooth as silk. “It’s going to be good here. You’ll see. We’ll have everything we ever dreamed of, everything we talked about.”

  She couldn’t cite their dreams, but she didn’t think now was the right time to mention that. She could recall vividly all of Jake’s dreams, everything they had planned together, everything they had wanted. She gave Brett a small smile.

  “Do you think the cook or the housekeeper could take care of Jacob for a few hours each day so I can ride the range?”

  Brett stood up, once again furrowing deep tunnels through his hair. “I beg your pardon? You want the servants to care for my son so you can play cowhand?”

  “I enjoy herding cattle.”

  Brett shook his head. “Look at this house.” He waved his arm in a circle. “Look at this ranch. Look at me, for Christ’s sake. This isn’t some two-bit operation in Texas. I’m not going to have my wife parading around in a pair of men’s britches looking like a cowhand. Jake may have needed you riding the range, but I don’t. I can afford to hire enough men to do the work. Hell, woman! I only go out once or twice a week myself.”

  “Then what am I supposed to do? You have someone to clean, someone to cook.”

  “Be my wife. Dress like the wife of a wealthy rancher, meet with society ladies.” He touched her cheek. “Please me.”

  Rebecca closed her eyes. “I don’t want to be an ornament.”

  “You won’t be. You have this home to manage and my son to raise. I’ll handle the ranch.”

  She studied the face of the phantom that had haunted her since that moonless night so long ago. He was still a phantom.

  Jake felt his breath leave his body as he pulled his horse up short beside the bedding hanging on the line. He jumped off his horse and took hold of a handful of quilt. Then he ran into the house, past Maura.

  “Did you wash the bedding?” he asked as he moved behind the quilt and beheld the stripped bed. He dropped down on it bringing a pillow to his face, inhaling deeply.It was all he had left of her, her scent mingled in the bedding. In bed, when he slept, she was still with him, comforting, warm.

  “Thought it could use a good washing,” Maura said as she came past the quilt. “Did I do something wrong?”

  Dropping the pillow, Jake shot off the bed. “No, no. You’re right. It needed to be washed.”

  Lord, he had to let go. It wasn’t easing his ache any to hold on. “I reckon I don’t need this hanging up anymore either.” He yanked on the quilt suspended from the ceiling, bringing it to the floor. “It probably needs washing, too.”

  He looked around the house. What else was chaining memories to him?

  “What’s that little girl of yours sleeping in?” he asked.

  “Bri picked up a crate at the general store last time he was in town. She’s so tiny now, it’ll do her for a while.”

  “Why don’t you take that cradle?”

  Maura glanced at the cradle, feeling guilty because she had thought many times of asking for it.

  “Nah. I canna take it. You put a lot of love into the making of that fine cradle.”

  “I got no use for it. Take the rocker, too,” he said as he headed out the door.

  Maura ran her hand lovingly over the cradle, wondering how Rebecca could have left it. Her head jerked up when she heard Jake come back into the house, turning his hat in his hands.

  “I changed my mind.”

  “Canna blame you for that,” Maura said.

  “Why don’t you and Brian move in here? I got no need for a house. I’m seldom here, and I mostly watch the herd at night. All I need is a bed. Got plenty of those in the bunkhouse.”

  Maura rocked back on her heels. “But you’re the owner, man. You canna sleep with the workers.”

  “Where I sleep won’t change what I am. I want y’all to move in here. I should have built you a house as soon as I realized you were going to stay. Man and wife ought to have a house.”

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  Jake shrugged. “Say yes.” He set his hat on his head. “Thanks, Maura.”

  She wasn’t sure exactly what the man was thanking her for. She was the one who should be thanking him.

  As Jake walked out of the house, Frank pulled the wagon up in front of the barn and hopped down.

  “Got the supplies!” he called out as he ambled over, his face beaming. “Got this, too.” He held out an envelope.

  Jake took the worn envelope from him, handling it carefully. He read it before casually slipping it into his pocket.

  “It’s from Reb,” Frank explained.

  “I can see that.”

  “Maybe she’s writing because she wants to come back and needs some money,” he said hopefully.

  Jake shook his head. “I gave her money when she left.”

  “Ain’t you even going to read it?”

  “Later,” Jake said as he reached for the reins of his horse.

  Frank grabbed his arm, then released it, and began an intense study of the soil beneath his feet. He looked back up, meeting Jake’s questioning gaze squarely. “I was wondering … well … I asked Arlene to marry me and, hot damn, she said yes. We’ll be getting married at the end of the month, and I was wondering if you’d stand with me.”

  Jake quirked a brow, a small smile on his face. “Hot damn?”

  Frank turned red, obliterating the freckles that covered his face. “Yeah. Her eyes tum brown otherwise. I figured out I need to keep those eyes green if I want her to be happy.”

  Jake’s smile broadened. “I’d be honored to stand with you. Are you planning on staying on here?”

  “Reckon so. Don’t know how to do anything else, and been spending my money, so I can’t buy us a spread yet.”

  “Why don’t you take Arlene for a ride, find a spot the two of you like, and I’ll build you a house.”

  “Goddamn! I mean, hot damn! You mean it?”

  Jake’s smile grew into a grin. It was going to be a while before Frank could keep those eyes green. “Yes. And take Maura and Brian with you. Let them pick out a spot.” He decided Maura and Brian’s brood would need a bigger place than his. “Guess if we’re going to have all these families here, I’d best start providing them with decent places to live.”

  Frank took Jake’s hand, shaking it so fiercely that Jake thought Frank might have dislocated his shoulder. The young man went to unload the supplies and Jake rode off to visit a place he hadn’t been to since Rebecca had left.

  Sitting on the hillside, Jak
e removed the envelope from his pocket, turning it over and over in his hand, weighing it, trying to decide whether he really wanted to know what was inside. He tore open the end, reached in, and pulled out the single sheet of paper.

  Dear Jake,

  Thought you might want to know we arrived safely in Montana. So much was left unsaid. And a letter is not the place to say it. Know only that I was more than proud to be your wife, and I will always cherish the time we had together.

  Reb

  He ran his finger over her smudged signature before carefully folding the letter back up and slipping it into his pocket, over his heart. She was in Montana, and he was here, and the chasm separating them was widening with each passing day.

  Studying the man sitting before her, Rebecca was often reminded of her father. Brett wore a woolen suit every day, even when he rode the range. She couldn’t recall ever seeing him actually get down off his horse and put in any hard labor on the ranch in Kentucky either. He hadn’t worn a suit then, but she remembered him barking out orders even though he had only been at the Lazy A a few months. And she remembered men jumping to do his bidding. He simply had a mien that spoke authority. She tried to remember when it was that she first decided she loved him, and more and more often she found herself wondering exactly why it was she loved him. She inhaled deeply, ignoring the fluttering in her stomach. “How would you feel if I was pregnant?”

  Brett’s fork halted halfway to his opened mouth as his eyes snapped from the plate to her. Slowly he lowered his fork, his mouth closing tightly, his jaws working to unclench.

  “To be honest with you, Rebecca, I wouldn’t like it much. Do you think Jake would come and take it after it was born?”

  The invariable it again.

  “I’m sure he would,” Rebecca said. “But I’m not sure I’d want him to. Part of the baby would be me.”

  Brett looked down at his plate, moving the beans from one side to the other and then back again.

  “I could never love it. I could never accept it as my own.” His eyes came up to hers. “But I’d never abuse it. When’s it due?”

  “It’s not. I’m not pregnant.”

  “Then why the hell did you ask such a damn fool question?” he bellowed.

  “Because Jake accepted your child as his long before it was born, and I was just wondering if all men would do the same or if Jake was just special.”

  Brett held up his fork, pointing it in her direction.

  “I’ll tell you what Jake Burnett is—a fool. He was married to you and he let you go. Let me assure you now, Rebecca, I’ll never let you go. I love you too much. Once you’re mine, you’re staying mine.”

  “Even if it would make me happier to leave?”

  “I love you more than Burnett ever did, could, or would love you. I’m telling you now, woman, once we’re married, it’s for life. I love you too damn much to ever let you go.”

  And Jake had loved her too much to ever make her stay. She wondered which love was the strongest.

  Brett walked into the foyer. Rebecca gave a low whistle, coming to stand before him, running her hands up his white shirt.

  “Don’t you look nice? Are we doing something special this evening?”

  He averted his eyes. “I’m going into town.”

  Removing her hands from his chest, she said, “It’s too late to buy supplies. And it’s a Saturday night. What are you going into town for?”

  He released a short breath. “Look, Rebecca, you have a need to remain faithful to Jake until those damn divorce papers get here. I understand that. You gotta understand that I have needs, too, and there’s a little blonde in town that’ll take care of my needs.”

  “I see. And how much does she charge you?”

  “Charge me? Darling, women don’t charge me anything. As you are well aware, it is an honor and a privilege to have me make love to a woman. Hell, some of them have even offered to pay me.” He hesitated, judging the wisdom of his next words. “But I’ll stay here if you’ll unlock your bedroom door to me.”

  Rebecca was shocked, realizing that the only way he could have known her door was locked was if he’d tried to open it after she’d gone to bed. “And why were you trying the lock on my door?” she asked.

  “Because I love you, and I want you so much it hurts, and I’m getting damned tired of waiting!” He looked contrite. “Should I stay?”

  “No, but I appreciate the opportunity to compete with the whore.”

  He brushed his lips against hers. “Don’t wait up. I probably won’t be back until morning.”

  She knew she had no right to be upset. She wasn’t giving him anything, and men did have powerful urges to mate. She squeezed her eyes tight, forbidding the tears to come. So he had never had to pay a woman to want him.

  She walked to her bedroom, undressed herself, and slipped into bed, wrapping her arms around a pillow. She wondered what Jake was doing this Saturday night, if he was watching the herd so all the other men could go into town for a little recreation. Time was passing much too slowly up here in Montana. She shouldn’t be thinking of Jake at all, but she did, every night before she went to sleep. And she missed him terribly.

  The flaming red curtains whispered in the open window, the red satin pillows thrown hither and thither around the room. A solitary candle sought to provide an intimacy to an intimate act which under the circumstances was anything but intimate.

  “You can just set the two dollars on the dresser there, darlin’,” Velvet directed the man standing uncertainly beside the door, looking as though he might dart out if she moved too quickly. If she hadn’t closed the door, he wouldn’t even be in the room.

  Looking at the lace doily resting on top of the scarred wooden dresser, the only decoration in the room that he thought was homey, he dug down into the pocket of his pants and brought out the two required coins, laying them quietly on the dresser.

  “Did you take a bath before you came? The madam insists that our patrons be clean.”

  For the first time since she had started flirting with him downstairs, he met her gaze squarely. She had never before seen such beautiful eyes on a man.

  “Yes, ma’am, I did.”

  “Then come here, darlin’.”

  Torn between putting off the inevitable and rushing to get it over with, Jake walked over to Velvet, her red corset laced so tight he wondered how she could breathe. The woman wasted no time in placing her hands on his shoulders, turning him slightly and pushing him gently down on the bed. She swung a leg over his lap, presenting her firm backside as she lifted his foot and grabbed his boot.

  “Just put your foot on my butt and give me a little shove, darlin’.”

  Jake closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, wondering why the hell he had come, knowing full well why. “I’d rather not, ma’am. I can take them off.” Velvet glanced over her shoulder. “It won’t hurt me.” “I can take them off.”

  She shrugged, swinging her leg high and turning to clear his lap. She had once danced the cancan in fancy saloons, but the money wasn’t as good and men were always pawing her. She had figured then she might as well get paid for their pawing. She stood back, watching the man slowly removing his boots. She never asked her clients their names—she didn’t want to know them. They’d never speak if their paths crossed on the street anyway. And Velvet wasn’t her real name, so what did it matter if she didn’t know their names?

  “This your first time, darlin’?” she asked.

  Jake set the boot down and looked up at the buxom redhead, her breasts straining to break free of the material keeping them imprisoned. She had pretty violet eyes, and he figured that was the only color on her that she had been born with. Nature couldn’t make hair that red or skin that white.

  “No, ma’am.”

  His eyes left her as he set about removing the other boot, and she studied him. Men came to see her for all kinds of reasons: they were lonely, hurting, missing someone special. He was here for all those reasons
and more. Sometimes men would jump on her as soon as the door closed, be done in less than a minute. This man was not one of them.

  “Was she pretty?” Velvet asked in a soft, understanding voice.

  The brown eyes snapped up to hers, the pain reflected in them making her hate a woman she didn’t even know.

  “I’d rather not talk about her, if you don’t mind,” he said, easing his shirt out of his pants and beginning to undo the buttons.

  Velvet shoved herself away from the wall. She straddled his lap, placing warm hands on the back of his neck, kneading his muscles.

  “No, darlin’, I don’t mind. It’s your money. You just tell Velvet what you want.”

  He looked away from her, gauging his answer. Then his eyes met hers, his voice hoarse. “I want … I want you to want me.”

  She pressed him down on the bed, laying her body on top of his. “I do, darlin’, I do want you,” she said in the sultry voice she had perfected over the years.

  It wasn’t unusual for men to be depressed, sad, just plain down when they stepped into Velvet’s room, but they usually didn’t step out that way. She had the distinct impression that the man lying on top of her was feeling worse now than he had before. He had called out a name, and she was certain it was the name of the woman who had hurt him. She didn’t like to care about the men who came to see her; it just wasn’t good for business. But she was finding it increasingly difficult not to care about this one. His trembling stopped, and she ran her hands along his firm back.

  “Since you’re already here, darlin’, if you’d like, I’ll want you again for a dollar.”

  Jake lifted his head from where it had been buried in her flaming red hair. “No, ma’am.” He eased himself off of her and began putting his clothes back on. “But thank you anyway.”

  Velvet pulled herself to a sitting position, her back against the red velvet headboard that had been specially made and ordered out of New Orleans. She drew her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms tightly around her legs, resting her chin on her knees.