Lorraine Heath

by Sweet Lullaby

  Holding the papers in a trembling hand, she said, “I need time.”

  Disbelieving, Brett released her, his eyes filled with anger. “What the hell do you mean you need time? You’ve had almost three months!”

  “I need time to get ready. I want to look my best. I want it to be a moment we’ll remember. Can’t we do it Saturday?”

  Pulling her into his arms, he said, “Saturday it is.” Gently, he brushed his lips against hers. “I know it’s been difficult since we left Texas, but everything will be all right now. You’ll see. You’ll be the happiest woman in the world.”

  Grabbing his black slicker off the hook by the door, he turned back to face her. “I’m going into town to get all the arrangements made.”

  “In this weather?”

  “I don’t think you understand how much I love you. How much I want you to be my wife. I’d brave all the elements of nature at once to have you.”

  Tears sprung to her eyes as she looked at the handsome man standing before her. He opened the door. “On Saturday, when we change your name, we’ll be changing my son’s name.”

  Rebecca had expected that. She knew he’d want Jacob’s last name changed from Burnett to Meier. “Pick out a name you like.”

  Taken aback, she asked, “You want his first name changed?”

  “I do. I want no ghosts from Texas haunting our lives here. And when I get back, I want that damn ring off your finger as well.” He closed the door behind him without another word.

  Rebecca went inside her son’s room, watching as he slept peacefully through the rain, knowing he would wake up soon from his afternoon nap. For the life of her, she could think of nothing else she wanted to call him.

  She walked to her own room, closed the door behind her, and drew a chair up beside the window. The curtains were pulled back, and the rain was hitting the glass and sliding down into a puddle on the ground. Shifting through the papers in her hands, she sought out the letter she had spied when Brett had shoved her mail into her hand, wanting desperately for the letter to be from Jake. With trembling fingers she pulled it out, her eyes scanning for the signature, disappointment reeling through her to realize it was from Doyle Thomas. But then why would Jake write? She began to read the letter:

  Dear Rebecca,

  As you can see, the divorce has gone through all the proper channels and is now valid and legal and you are free to marry again. I wish you the best of luck. Should you ever need my services, do not hesitate to call upon me.

  Yesterday, I drew up Jake’s will. It is his desire that upon his death, all his holdings be given to your children. I advised him against this action as he is still a young man and may have children of his own at some future date, but considering the reason for the divorce, I realize this highly unlikely—

  The reason for the divorce? She had never looked beyond the lines where she’d applied her signature. She hadn’t realized they’d given a reason for wanting a divorce. Hurriedly, she searched the papers. When she found the reason, she was assaulted by a physical pain. Jake had given the one reason with which no one would argue, the one reason that would guarantee Rebecca her divorce—husband’s impotency.

  “Oh, Jake, how you must have felt saying that to a man, knowing other men would read it. Why didn’t you put the blame for our failed marriage on me?”

  With a heavy heart, she went back to the letter.

  Please keep me apprised of any future children you bear and when the little ones grow up and leave the nest, please keep me informed as to their whereabouts. Based on the ranch’s current reputation, I have little doubt, your children will receive a considerable inheritance.

  Your servant,

  Doyle Thomas, Attorney-at-Law

  P.S. I was asked to tell you Maura gave birth to a girl, and Frank and Arlene are getting married.

  Dropping the papers on her lap, she leaned her head against the pane, feeling the rain beating down on the glass. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a small slip of paper float down to the floor. She recognized the handwriting before she picked it up, having seen it many times on lists of supplies that were needed. She ran her fingers over the lettering.

  Dearest Reb

  Dear Rebeeea

  Reb

  Thank you for letting me know you got to Montana safe. Thought you’d want to know Maura gave birth to a girl. Tiny little thing. Brian’s chest is so puffed out with pride, he doesn’t need his bellows in the forge to heat his fires. Frank and Arlene are getting married—probably be married by the time you get this letter. I’m building a house for them and ordered some furniture for you to give them. Thought you’d want to do that for Frank after all the two of you had been through together.

  I think of you and Jacob often.

  I miss

  My love

  Love

  Your friend

  She read the letter until she could see it with her eyes closed, every word written, every word scratched out for fear he’d reveal more than he wanted her to know. Finally, unable to decide on the best words, he must have given the scrap of paper to Doyle Thomas so he could convey the message. She could envision Doyle, who would lose his glasses if they slipped to the end of his nose, adding Jake’s thoughts to the end of his own letter and then shoving Jake’s note into the envelope along with the other papers.

  She watched the papers wither where her tears splashed upon them. Her marriage to Jake was truly over. Her life in Texas, her marriage to the man with the velvet brown eyes and the endearing smile, was now in her past. It was time for her to begin her new life, her life with Brett. Come Saturday, she would marry Brett Meier, the man she had fallen in love with so long ago, who had made love to her beneath the stars on a moonless night, who had given her a son and searched the country until he found her. It was time to sever all ties, all memories of Jake. She lifted her hand, grasping the ring as her face mirrored the pane beside her, the tears of Mother Nature, the tears of a woman washing away the pain.

  In the early morning hours it was difficult to believe that before the sun set that evening, it would attempt to scorch every living thing on the earth, green, brown, or otherwise, plants and animals alike. It had been trying all summer with a great deal of success since rain had been scarce. Jake’s cattle had been spared suffering because the barbed wire fencing had protected his waterholes from marauders, and his windmills drew the precious liquid out of the earth.

  Lying on the hill that had once been blue, leaning up on an elbow, Jake pulled a reed of grass out of the earth and inserted it between his teeth, gnawing absently, tasting the bitter and the sweet. He didn’t think he’d ever be free of the ache in his heart, but at least it had lessened. Having Doyle Thomas draw up his will had helped considerably, given him a reason to climb out of bed in the mornings. He hoped one of Rebecca’s children would see fit to run the ranch, but even if they sold it, he had no reason to complain. He wanted his years of work to be worth something to someone when he was gone, and he could think of no one else that meant as much to him.

  He smiled, wondering if Rebecca was already carrying another child. He imagined she was pregnant five minutes after she stepped into Brett’s hotel room. After all, she loved the man, she had no reason to deny him. He assumed she was not carrying his own child since he had only heard from her the one time. There were moments, usually late at night when he heard a lonesome howl, that he regretted denying her his seed that last night. But then he would feel the dull pain associated with thoughts of Jacob, wondering if he was walking, if he had spoken his first word, if it had been “Papa” directed towards Brett, and he would be grateful that there were no other children.

  Removing the grass from between his teeth, he stood, lifting his arms up and stretching his lean frame, squinting as the sun hit his eyes. He mounted his horse, deciding to ride along the fence line. He had experienced little trouble of late, but still, it didn’t hurt to check. He couldn’t afford to have cattle wandering off. With the heat spell,
he wanted to keep them close to known watering holes.

  Spotting an unfamiliar group of longhorns, their hides rangy from lack of care, he slowed his horse and cautiously approached the band that was lazing around before a small grove of trees. To their right lay his fence, part of it cut, part of it torn down, but he could see no one minding the cattle. He retrieved his rifle and dismounted, then ran a hand over the flank of one of the steers. No brands marked the cattle. Moving to the fence, he swore under his breath. The fence was used to keep the cattle from going into the ravine that ran along the land. He’d have to find the owner of the cattle and tell him to get the cattle off his land or sell them to him. And he’d have to get the fence fixed immediately. He had already had three cattle wander off down this ravine and fall, injuring themselves. His men had been forced to shoot the animals to relieve their suffering.

  The sound of a rifle being cocked caused Jake to curse himself as he slowly turned around. The last person he wanted to see was Ethan Truscott, and there he was, with half a dozen men behind him.

  “It’s against the law to cut fences,” Jake said.

  “Only if you’re caught.”

  “Look, Ethan. I don’t want any trouble. Just get your cattle off my land, and I’ll overlook the mess you made here.”

  “I’m not moving my cattle. By all rights, this land should be mine. Now, you just set your rifle down and remove the holster, and I’ll think about letting you live.”

  Jake slowly shook his head. “Ethan—”

  “Take him!” Ethan shouted.

  Jake had no opportunity to defend himself before he was battled to the ground. Once subdued, he was lifted back up to his feet, two burly men holding onto him.

  Ethan smiled. “Take his shirt off.”

  Jake was like a madman as he broke free, taking a great deal of satisfaction in feeling his fist land squarely on Ethan’s nose. It took four men to pull Jake off as Ethan came up spitting blood and holding his hand over his face, the blood trailing down his arm.

  “You broke my nose, you bastard! You’re going to regret that. Get his shirt off!” He stomped over to the fence and began yanking on the barbed wire, his thick gloves protecting his hands. When he had a lengthy piece pulled free, he extracted a pair of cutters from his hip pocket, and clipped the wire free, dragging it behind him as he moved towards Jake.

  Brown eyes met brown.

  “You’ve been wrapping barbed wire around your land without giving any thought as to how the land feels. Well, now, you’re going to find out.”

  He brought his fist up into Jake’s ribs knocking the wind out of him. While Jake struggled to breathe, Ethan pressed the tip of a barb into Jake’s flesh to secure it and began wrapping the remaining length of wire around him. Jake clenched his jaw against the tiny shards of pain, alone not much to bother a man, but increasing in number until the sharp bite of one barb became indistinguishable from the other.

  “Maybe I ought to brand you. Wonder if you’d yell as much as that red-haired kid did.” Ethan laughed. “No, I reckon you wouldn’t. You wouldn’t even holler when Father took the strap to you. Get me some more wire!” he yelled back to one of his men.

  “Come on, Ethan, you’ve done enough.”

  Ethan spun around. “Get me some more wire.” The man had never seen so much hate in his life, and he wondered if Ethan were sane. “You can release him.”

  As soon as the men released him, Jake gathered what little strength he had left and threw himself against Ethan. With his arms pinned to his sides, his movements were hampered and he could do little more than knock Ethan down. Ethan scrambled out from beneath him and delivered a series of blows to Jake’s already battered body, driving the barbs deeper into his flesh.

  Then Ethan snapped the barbed wire that was handed to him and bent down, wrapping it securely around Jake, taking pleasure in watching him break out in a sweat as he clenched his jaws tighter. When he was finished, he stood up, placing a foot on Jake’s chest and pressing him back to the ground, standing over him.

  “You’re going to die, Jake Burnett. Not by my hand, but by the hand of God. You’re a child of sin, and when Satan has welcomed you into Hell, I’ll claim this land as mine. I’ll tear down your fences and make it open range.” He increased the pressure of his boot bearing down on Jake’s chest until he was satisfied with the grunt Jake emitted.

  “Throw him down the ravine,” he ordered his men. Not one man moved.

  “Bastards!” he yelled as he hauled Jake to his feet and threw him so he rolled down the steep incline.

  Jake had no way to halt his progress down the slope, stopping only when it leveled off. He was unable to move as the pain intensified. The sun beat down on his back. The blood trickled over and down his flesh. The insects came to inspect the open wounds. His mouth dried like sawdust. Closing his eyes, he saw every smile that Rebecca had ever directed his way and knew a pang of regret. He would have liked to have held her in his arms one last time before he died.

  Chapter Nineteen

  HE WAS IN Hell, just as Ethan had promised. And the fiery flames licked at his body unmercifully. He opened his eyes, not expecting to find Hell such a dark place, with only one solitary light illuminating the region. Why didn’t the fires of Hell brighten the place up?

  He felt a cool hand, small palm, slender fingers touch his cheek. A woman’s hand? His mother’s hand? She had touched his cheek when he had smallpox. Had his mother come for him? She had always managed to take away the pain when he was a child. He hoped she could take it away now, because the more aware he became of her soothing palm on his cheek, the more aware he became of the pain spreading through his body, the flames consuming him.

  He heard a soft voice calling him and turned towards it, trying to focus the vision before him. It wasn’t his mother. If he weren’t so tired, he would have smiled. He hadn’t expected to find an angel in Hell.

  The angel, her image blurred, a whiteness surrounding her, would understand. The angel would know.

  “Why couldn’t she love me?” he asked. The angel’s answer was garbled. He strained to understand the words, but all his senses failed him as he slipped back into the abyss on the edge of Hell.

  And the angel knelt down beside the bed and wept.

  Jake struggled to open his eyes, to wade through the thickness surrounding his mind. Maura was sitting in a chair beside the bed, his bed, in his home. So he wasn’t in Hell after all. Wouldn’t Ethan be disappointed? Maura looked so pretty sitting there, her face filled with love and concern. Her hair was braided, the braid draped over her shoulder. He had never seen her wear a braid before. She didn’t look like herself.

  “Maura, you look like Reb when you wear your hair like that,” he croaked.

  “It is Reb, darling,” the sweet voice said.

  He lifted his head, studying the woman before him, before dropping back down to the pillow. “Just take what you need. Don’t wait on me to get well.” He now knew there were two kinds of hell. He could deal with the physical burning, but not the other one. Gratefully, he allowed the black abyss to engulf him.

  Leaning forward, wiping the sweat from his brow, Rebecca whispered, “I need you, Jake. Please don’t leave me now.” She brushed a kiss on his cheek, then laid her cool cheek next to his fevered one, wishing she could do more to break his fever, to ensure his survival.

  Brett had returned home that rainy afternoon to find her sitting on the sofa, Jacob in her arms, her packed bag at her feet.

  “What the hell is going on here, Rebecca?” he had asked.

  “I’m going back to Jake.” “The hell you are!”

  Rebecca had moved her head slowly from side to side. “Whatever I felt for you long ago is like the dwindling flame on a candle. It’s been flickering since that night, attracting me, diverting my heart. I had to come to Montana, I had to touch the flame, but when I did it sputtered and died. And I hurt a good man doing it.”

  “When I got back to Kentucky,” he
had said, “when I learned you had gotten married, I ranted and raved at myself for having ever left you in the first place. I had planned to come back here and begin again. But I couldn’t. I had to see you, even if only from a distance. When I finally found you and saw how you were living, I knew I had to at least try to get you back. You deserve all I have to offer you. You deserve to be married to a gentleman.”

  “I was married to a gentle man.”

  “You were married to a cowhand, and not a very charming or handsome one at that.”

  “Is that what you see when you look at Jake?”

  “That and the fact that he doesn’t deserve you.”

  “He doesn’t deserve me only because I’m unworthy of him. Let me tell you, charming, handsome man, what I see when I look at Jake. I see a man who suffered smallpox as a child and survived, a man who took the love his mother gave him and held on to it like a lifeline when he was thrown into a sea of hatred, a man who would give his coat to another if he thought that man needed it half as much as he did, a man who married me knowing I carried another’s child and never once condemned me for it, who brought my child into this world and called him son. He didn’t give me a big house, but he gave me a home. He didn’t give me gifts wrapped perfectly in beautiful paper and ribbons … but, oh, he did give me beautiful gifts, and I carry them all in my heart.”

  “I won’t let you take my son.”

  She’d had no intention of leaving Jacob, but neither had she wanted to spend any more time arguing over her decision. Calling his bluff, praying he wouldn’t call hers, Rebecca had deposited the child in Brett’s arms and had begun emptying her bag.

  “What the hell are you doing?” he had bellowed.

  She had faced him with innocence. “You’ll need Jacob’s things.”

  “You love my son so little?”

  “I love Jake so much.”

  “Dammit, woman! You know I’m bluffing.”

  Her gaze had become intense, blue eyes delving deeply into blue. “I’m not,” she had said calmly.

  And so she had returned to Texas, with her son and her heart. As soon as she had arrived in Pleasure, she had stopped off at Doyle Thomas’s office. Overjoyed to see her, he’d hitched up his buggy and driven her out to the ranch.