by Kaki Warner
When Edwina started to argue, Sally Brodie made an impatient gesture with the stained handkerchief. “Fine. If you truly want him, you can have him . . . once I’m dead.” Then she laughed until it dissolved in a coughing spasm, but by then, Edwina was walking out the door.
It was late when Declan headed back to the hotel. The town was dark except for a single light up at the mine and dim lamplight shining through the grimy windows of the Red Eye Saloon. No light showed in the upstairs windows of the hotel.
It had been another long day. It seemed everybody had wanted to stop and ask him what he was going to do about his two wives. Declan had tried to keep it light by saying he was thinking of turning Mormon. A stupid answer, but it was either that or break the laws he was being paid to enforce by letting his fists answer for him. But it occurred to him after a while that most folks were asking out of concern—not so much for Sally, as for Ed. She had made a lot more friends in a few short visits to Heartbreak Creek than Sally had in a two-year stay. Sort of sad, that.
A long day, but productive. He had spent most of the morning with Doc Boyce, learning what he could about consumption. Apparently, the disease was a death warrant, and from what Doc said, Sally was declining fast. Even more troubling was that Doc was convinced that whenever Sally’s fever flared up or she fell into a coughing fit, she was putting everybody around her at risk of catching it, too.
“No one’s quite sure how it’s passed around,” Doc had explained, leaning back in the oak swivel chair beside his overflowing cubby-holed desk. “Not even sure it’s contagious. But from what I’ve read, if one member of a family gets it, then others follow. Especially the ones who do the nursing.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
“Other than keep the children and yourself clear of her?” Doc sighed and shook his head. “Some say dry desert air helps. Slows it down, anyway. Strict diet. Rest. Sunshine. But nothing I know of will stop it.”
Declan stared out the window, trying to imagine a life without mountains around him, a life spent nursing a woman who hated him, and worrying every day if his children would be getting sick next.
“There are also sanatoriums,” Doc went on. “Believe there’s one in Maine, and a few others in Europe. Germany, maybe Poland.”
“Europe?” Declan gave a bitter laugh, his hopes of coming up with a workable solution fading fast. “I couldn’t afford to send her to Europe.”
The old man shrugged bony shoulders. “Not sure it would do any good, even if she survived the trip.” Removing his spectacles, he rubbed the lenses with a scrap of cloth he pulled from his desk. After looping the wire earpieces over his protruding ears, he sat back again and studied Declan through sharply intelligent blue eyes that had lost none of their intensity despite his six decades of age. “There’s another place closer by. Town called Las Vegas down in New Mexico Territory, with hot springs that reputedly have healing powers. Might help. Might not. I heard there’s a fellow there who runs a sort of sanatorium. More of a boardinghouse, really. Maybe you could send her there. Hire someone to watch over her.” A thoughtful look came into the old man’s eyes. “Unless you intend to nurse her yourself?”
Declan knew what Doc was really asking. Janet, Doc’s wife, had taken a shine to Ed, and he knew the Boyces were as curious as everyone else in town about how he intended to rid himself of an extra wife.
Declan wished he knew, too. Feeling more discouraged than ever, he rose from the chair beside Doc’s desk. “I’d appreciate it if you would find out all you can about the hot springs and the boardinghouse. I’ll talk to Sally. Maybe going there will give her ease. Lord knows, she’s suffered enough.”
After leaving Doc, Declan had gone back to the sheriff’s office, where he had found Judge Kelvin Witherspoon leafing through the arrests file.
When he saw Declan in the doorway, the judge showed startlingly white, perfectly aligned porcelain teeth in a smirky smile. “Heard you were sheriff again. Ranching not agree with you?” When he talked, the heavy dental plates clicked together as they moved up and down. Declan had to force himself not to stare.
“It’s only temporary. I’ll get back to ranching pretty soon.”
“After you figure out what to do about your wives?”
Declan wondered if the judge’s original teeth had been removed by a fist. He’d like to thank the fellow.
“Heard about your Indian trouble,” Witherspoon went on with that smirk. “Shame.”
The little dandy was a hell of a grudge carrier. Even though he had reluctantly added his endorsement to Declan’s letter to Edwina through the Matrimonial News, he had never forgiven him for releasing Lone Tree before his sentence was up. Interfering with the law, he’d called it. Witherspoon didn’t like being second-guessed.
But Declan didn’t want to get into that again, so he didn’t rise to the bait. “That should be resolved soon. But thanks for your interest.” He could be sarcastic, too.
Moving to the side of the desk, he rested an elbow on the tall, locked cabinet that housed the extra rifles and ammunition, crossed one ankle over the other and looked down at the smaller man. “However, there is something you can help me with.”
“How’s that?”
“You can tell me what legal tomfoolery I have to go through to get down to only one wife.”
After he had his laugh, the judge had told him. Surprisingly, it wasn’t that difficult to dissolve a marriage, which was sort of sad, too.
That was hours ago, and now, his rounds done and his head swimming with more information than he could organize, Declan went wearily up the hotel stairs to check on his children and Ed. If she was up, and he had the strength for it, he’d tell her what he had decided to do.
If not, he’d enjoy the quiet and watch her sleep.
Twenty-one
Declan paused in the darkened second-floor hallway. He heard nothing. No light showed under the door of the room Ed shared with Brin.
He went in anyway.
The moon had risen late and now hung as bright as a gaslight globe outside the bedroom window. His wife was stretched on her back, one hand beside her face, the other resting by her hip. The covers had ridden down, and he could see the flattened mounds of her breasts beneath the worn cotton of her gown.
Unable to help himself, he reached out and drew a fingertip across one soft mound.
She shifted. Her lips parted.
Emboldened, he stroked gently with his whole hand.
He felt a shiver run through her. A soft sound escaped her that he felt all through his body.
Her lids fluttered open. “Declan.”
He looked down into her eyes as he continued to stroke her, watching her body awaken to his touch. He wanted to pull up her gown and take her now, while she was half asleep and softly yielding, but his daughter slept a foot away. “Come to my room,” he whispered.
Smiling a sleepy smile, she raised her arms.
Needing no more invitation, he scooped her up in his arms and carried her from the room. Yawning, she nestled against him, her wrists locked loosely behind his neck. She smelled like sleep and that rose-scented soap she favored and warm, aroused woman. At the door to the suite he stopped.
“Fish the room key out of my front pocket.”
She gave him a drowsy smile. “With what? My third hand?”
“Okay.” He set her down and raised his arms. “Now fish it out.”
She gave him a befuddled look, then her brows shot up. “That’s just plain nasty,” she scolded, giving his chest a playful slap. “Which pocket?”
“Try both.” Eventually, after a long and enjoyable search, she found the key, and once he’d locked the door behind them, he scooped her up again and carried her toward his room. As she reached down to open his door, he thought he heard a sound behind them, but when he scanned the shadowed hallway, he noticed nothing out of the ordinary. Until he saw the knob on Sally’s door rotate slowly back into place.
A momentary sadnes
s moved through him. He didn’t want to hurt her by flaunting Ed in front of her. But he wasn’t going to mask his feelings, either. Sally was part of his old life. Ed was his future.
Stepping inside his room, he gently kicked the door closed and carried his wife to bed. After helping her out of her gown, he lifted the covers for her to slide under, then went back to lock the door.
“Light the lamp,” she said.
“Why?”
“So I can see you.” When he hesitated, she sighed. “Just do it.”
He lit the lamp. Aware of her watching, he began to undress, feeling suddenly clumsy, and ham-fisted, and every bit the lumbering carnival bear he’d once been called.
“You’re so beautiful,” Ed said.
Surprised, he glanced over to find her up on one elbow, staring at him. The look in her eyes made him miss a button on his shirt. “Me?”
“No, me. I was talking to myself. Of course you, you silly man. Haven’t you ever looked in a mirror?” She must have noted his addled expression because she laughed and waggled her fingers. “Please. Do continue. I so love your peep shows.”
He fumbled two more buttons.
“I talked to Sally today,” she said.
That didn’t sound good. He tossed the shirt over the bedpost, then dropped into the chair to tug off his boots. “About what?”
“What her plans are.”
It didn’t surprise him that Ed had gone to see Sally. His sweet southern wife hid a core of steel beneath her gracious smile and wasn’t one to shy away from a confrontation. But he was a little apprehensive about what his first wife might have said. There was a lot of anger and bitterness inside Sally, and he didn’t want it directed at Ed, the innocent in all this.
Setting his boots aside, he stood and began unbuttoning his fly. “What’d she say?”
“That she won’t let you go.”
No surprise there. He stepped out of his denims, dropped his unions, and slipped under the covers. “Ed,” he said, as he reached out and pulled her against his side. “I don’t want you worrying about what—”
“How can I not worry?” she cut in, her voice thick with tears. “She could infect you and the children. And she won’t go to San Francisco.”
Sensing the ruin of his plans, Declan tried to figure out why she was crying, and how San Francisco got into the conversation, and what he could do to get her back on track. He should have moved Brin into the sitting room and made love to his wife while she was still soft and willing. Now he would have to start all over. But before he could, she started talking again, her voice rising as more tears constricted her throat.
“I don’t want to lose you, Declan. Or the children. I couldn’t bear it.”
“You’re not losing me.”
She raised up on one elbow to scowl down at him. “Aren’t you listening? She won’t let you go, and she won’t go to San Francisco. She—”
He lifted his head and gave her a quick, hard kiss to shut her up. “You’re not losing me.”
“But she—”
Trapping her head in his hands, he kissed her again and kept at it until he felt her soften against him. Then, letting his head fall back, he looked into her beautiful eyes and said, “I’m divorcing her, Ed. I’ve already filed the papers with Judge Witherspoon.”
Her mouth sagged open in shock.
As Declan watched emotion shift across Ed’s expressive features, he decided the eyes truly were the mirror to the soul, although how such a thing was possible, he didn’t know. Yet Ed’s cornflower blue eyes truly showed it all. Disbelief. Befuddlement. Hope, joy, and befuddlement again.
“But what about the children?”
“They’ll stay with us.” He had hoped to explain his decision to Sally and the children first, but now that the subject was on the table, he knew Ed wouldn’t let up until she’d heard it all. With a sigh, he pulled her back against his side. “I talked to Doc this morning. He said there’s not much we can do for Sally except keep her comfortable and see that she gets rest, good food, and sunshine. He also says that anyone who stays close to her can catch her illness. I won’t put the children at risk. I’m hoping she’ll understand and accept that. Now get on top of me.”
“You’re sending her away?”
“Okay. I’ll get on you.” He did, settling happily into the warm cradle of her thighs. Rubbing against her just enough to keep things interesting, he explained about the place in New Mexico Territory with the hot springs. “There’s a sort of hospital there where she can get the care she needs. I wasn’t going to tell her until all the plans were set just in case that place doesn’t work out and we have to find another. You cold?” He smiled down at her pointy breasts. “You look cold. Here, I’ll warm you up.”
“I can’t believe she’ll go willingly.”
“Maybe not,” he mumbled through a mouthful of breast. “It’s her choice.” He couldn’t believe he was talking about one wife while he tried to make love to another. It was wrong in so many ways he didn’t even want to think about it. “Is any of this working for you?” he asked, moving to the other breast.
“I feel bad for her. She’s suffered so much. Lost so much. You, the children—”
Christ amighty. With a groan of exasperation, he lifted his head. “She didn’t lose us, Ed,” he said more harshly than he intended. “She left us. She made her decision when she rode away four years ago, and now I’m making mine. And I’m not giving you up.” To punctuate that, he moved inside her, his whole body shuddering at the joy of it. “God, you feel good.”
“Oh, Declan.” Her long legs wrapped around him, pulled him tight. “Do you mean it?” Kisses fluttered across his cheeks, mouth, brow, nose, chin. “Truly?”
“Truly,” he said through gritted teeth as he began to move. “You feel wonderful. Better than—”
“No, I mean do you really mean we can be together?”
He choked on a laugh. “We’re together right now. Can’t you just lie back and enjoy it instead of pestering me with questions? Christ, I’m working here.”
She went still.
Realizing his mistake, he lifted his head.
It must be exhausting to be a woman, he decided, as he watched yet another emotion move across Ed’s face. In the last few minutes he’d seen everything—even tears of sympathy for a woman who stood between her and the family she loved—and now hurt. It was no wonder females were so confounding.
“I’m sorry, Ed.” With a sigh, he dropped his forehead against hers. “But I don’t want to talk about Sally right now. I don’t want to talk at all. I just want to show you how much I love you. Can we do that?” When she didn’t respond, he lifted his head and found her smiling up at him.
“Well . . . if you insist . . .” And as she ran a hand over his hip, he watched a whole new emotion take hold.
Lust. One of his favorites.
Again, he awoke to sunshine and an empty space beside him. But he smiled anyway. Today was going to be a grand day.
Hopefully, they would hear back from the man in Las Vegas, and the boardinghouse by the hot springs would have a spare room.
Then he and Doc would talk to Sally, explaining how the warm, dry climate and healing powers of the hot springs would be better for her than the cold, snowy winter in the Colorado Rockies. If she insisted the family go with her, Doc would appeal to her motherly instincts by pointing out the risks such close contact would pose to the children. Then once all the medical issues were out of the way and Doc left, Declan would tell her about the divorce.
Hopefully again, she would agree without a fuss and sign the papers so he could get them back to Witherspoon before the judge left on his next circuit. Then it would be done. Ed would be his only wife—once he married her again—legally, this time. Sally would be able to get the care she needed. And his life could get back on track.
Assuming the children could weather another parting from their ma.
And he could resolve this thing with Lone Tree.<
br />
And he could set the ranch to rights before winter.
And he would have enough cattle left to stay afloat another year.
Hell. Maybe he shouldn’t get up, after all.
Edwina was in a dither of excitement most of the day. Odd, how a night with Declan always left her body worn out but her mind invigorated. She desperately wanted to tell Lucinda and Maddie about the divorce and sanatorium, but knew she had to wait until Doc heard back from the man in Las Vegas and Declan had a chance to speak to Sally and his children about his plans.
So she kept her silence and stayed as busy as she could, mending hotel bedding, making sure vacant rooms were dusted and ready for guests, and helping Brin with her letters. Again, she wished for Pru. Her sister would have had the child reciting the alphabet in record time. Probably in Latin.
She tried not to think about what Pru had suffered and why Thomas felt he needed to sequester her in the mountains in order for her to heal. Declan had said Pru seemed more shocked than injured. Edwina had noticed that same condition in the battered men wandering home after the war. Some recovered. Some didn’t. But Thomas seemed a patient, gentle man, and Edwina knew he cared deeply about Pru. So for now, all she could do was wait and hope for the best. Then once this thing with Sally Brodie was over, and they were sure Lone Tree was no longer a threat, she could get back to the school she was putting together for Pru’s return. That would certainly lift her sister’s spirits.
Despite her chores, the day dragged. When she took a lunch plate to the sheriff ’s office, Declan said they hadn’t heard back from Las Vegas, so Doc was looking into other sanatoriums in case this one didn’t pan out. They’d also decided not to talk to Sally until they’d found a place for her.
By the evening meal, Edwina had fretted herself into such a nervous state she could scarcely muster an appetite. Which didn’t escape her husband’s watchful eye.
