by Rose Jenster
“I’d love to see the horses.” Jessica felt a pang about the tragedy Lane suffered.
After supper, Jessica loaded some of her books onto the open shelves, chatting to him about various titles. She told him when she read each book originally and what the best parts were. Before long, they settled down beside the fire together and she was reading to him from Dickens.
Chapter 8
Jessica was glad she packed her riding habit with its cunning tailored jacket and slim deep violet skirt. She pinned on her riding hat and silently approved of her reflection for an instant before rejoining her husband. At the stables, Lane seemed more at ease with the horses than with her. When she offered the stub of a carrot to a mare, Lane hovered nearby as if the creature would bite off her fingers.
She knew how deeply he felt his wife’s loss and she respected his protectiveness, even if a small part of her did want to laugh at the idea that she, Jessica Donnelly Lane, might be afraid of horses at all. Hadn’t her own father boasted that he had her riding a sidesaddle by the age of three? Hadn’t she excelled at riding and been invited to many a hunt at a country manor?
Of course, she hated the idea of hunting and killing animals for sport and she had declined. But her riding skill was well known. What she lacked in grace for dancing, she made up for with athleticism in the saddle.
Jessica was quite at home with the horses, but she felt that Lane was not. It seemed awkward and she hardly thought it proper to mention his first wife’s death while they were out in the stable. Instead, she stroked the bay’s muzzle and whispered to it. The horse whickered in response and she caught herself smiling—and caught her new husband watching her.
“So you’re not frightened of them?” Lane looked at her with curiosity.
“Not a bit. Are—are you?”
“Not for myself, no.”
“I see,” she said. Jessica didn’t think she should say more.
“I was surprised at how you’ve taken to Bridger, my hound.”
“My father had hounds when I was a child. They used to loll around by the fire in his study until Mother had enough of their hair getting in the Aubusson carpet. Finally, she turned them out. I used to lie beside the hearth with them and nap. I was the despair of my nurse, as you can imagine—invading my father’s study and rolling around with the dogs when I was meant to keep my pinafore spotless,” she said with a smile.
“I’m just surprised.” Lane was very pleased by her affection for animals.
“Did you think when you met me that I would be like the princess with the pea? That any little discomfort or any little thing that wasn’t just---fancy would upset me?”
“I don’t mean to offend you. I expected when I saw you that you weren’t the sort to like animals up close. My first impression was wrong,” he said. “I'm glad I am wrong too!”
“I hope you’re pleased with the result,” she said a little shyly. “May we go for a ride?”
“If you’re—but, no, of course, you’re not afraid,” he shook his head as if to clear his thoughts. Lane saddled the bay for her and helped her onto the mounting block.
As he swung into a saddle, Jessica took off on the bay at a pert canter. She rode out of town and down a long open road toward the mountains in the distance. The broad expanse of space all around her, the high stand of pines and the gray mountains beyond seemed to breathe fresh life into her. It was as if something that had been stifled within now took wing. Jessica looked back over her shoulder and smiled, slowing her horse so he could catch her up. Lane pulled his horse up beside her and nodded his approval.
“I have to get back to the jailhouse, so I’ll cut my gallop short. If you’ve a mind to get to know that bay better, she’s all yours. Satterfield wanted to give me a mount as thanks and nothing would please me more than to give you a horse that suits you,” he offered.
“Thank you. I think I’ll ride her a little longer. She has a sweet temperament and a very even gait. I couldn’t wish for better. It’ll be nice to have transport of my own, since there aren’t streetcars or hansom cabs to be had as there are in Rochester,” she said. “I truly thank you for the horse.”
“You’re welcome,” he said and tipped his hat to her.
Lane's half-smile as he turned away made her heart flutter. She loved the horse and loved the idea of having her own way around Billings. But more than that, she loved his thoughtfulness and consideration.
* * *
Later, Jessica stopped in at the mercantile to buy a paper of hairpins. She dropped in at the newspaper office to say hello to Charlotte, and decided to visit her husband at the jailhouse as well. She wished she thought to make lemonade and bring him some. Or that she knew how to make lemonade or where to even find lemons in this remote frontier town. Anyhow, she could at least wish him good afternoon and have the pleasure of seeing him.
Dewey, the surly deputy, was alone at the jailhouse, tossing playing cards at his upturned hat that sat on the desk before him. Judging by the quantity of card on the desk and not in the hat, he wasn’t having much luck. If his aim with playing cards was so bad, it might be unwise to trust the man with a six shooter. She introduced herself and asked after her husband.
“Aw, Lane went over to the saloon. Heard there was some men causing trouble over there. I would’ve gone but he’s real touchy about me breaking up fights. He says I always try and shoot someone. I ain’t shot nobody yet. Sure, I shot at people, but I ain’t hit any of them!”
The man was indignant and Jessica couldn’t decide whether to laugh or panic at that announcement. She couldn’t very well follow him into a saloon, where no respectable man would want his wife to venture, and witness a brawl. Jessica perched on the edge of a chair and tried to look unhurried and as if she had planned all along to wait for Lane.
She watched Dewey unsuccessfully throw cards at his hat for a while. He muttered to himself whenever he missed. At last, Jessica got to her feet, smoothed her skirt and took a determined turn around the room, pacing from wall to wall. At last, she picked up a card off the floor, narrowed her eyes at the target and flung the card directly into his hat.
“Here,” she said, “like this,” and she showed Dewey a better way to toss the cards so the air current from the open window didn’t interfere with where they landed. So it was that Jessica Donnelly Lane was throwing playing cards with her husband’s deputy when two men from the bar dragged Lane in and dropped him unceremoniously on a chair. Jessica gave an involuntary cry and went to his side. A gash on his forehead leaked blood in rivulets down his face.
Jessica was on her feet at once. She brushed one of the men aside, shooing them out the door and knelt before her husband. Pushing his hair back with one hand where it fell across part of the cut, she felt his forehead, peered at the wound. She told Dewey to get her fresh water, soap, and some toweling. He produced the water and a partial cake of soap, but shrugged when asked for a towel.
Jessica jumped to her feet, hiked up the hem of her dress and ripped the ruffle off her petticoat beneath. She soaked the fine cambric in water, rubbed it roughly with the strong yellow soap and applied it to his face, cleaning away the streaks of blood and getting a better look at the cut itself. It was long but not deep and she thought if she cleaned it up, it would be fine without stitching.
She leaned close to him, serious as could be, and cleaned the cut, biting her lip when he winced with discomfort but never saying a word. Lane didn’t complain and she didn’t comment. When she was satisfied with the cleanliness of the wound, she tore another strip of petticoat and used it to bind his forehead, wrapping it around his head and tucking the loose end neatly.
“A fella hit me with a chair,” he said. “You took care of that real well, Jessica.”
“My sister, Eloise, was very accident prone as a child. I watched our nurse tend to many a scrape and cut when I was small. I learned to fetch the soap and water and toweling and eventually we didn’t even bother the nurse I would just clean Eloise
up myself. She wasn’t even the adventurous sort—just clumsy,” Jessica said with a smile.
“You miss her, don’t you,” he said, not really asking a question.
“I miss them all, Lane,” she said. “I hope I get to see them in time. I truly hope that they’ll forgive me for running away and we will be able to see them, stay a little while. I like Rochester, I just don’t want to live there under all those stifling rules.”
“Tell the truth, is it really the almond cake you miss?” Lane said playfully. Jessica had told him several times about Cook’s almond cakes.
“Not only that,” she said. “I’d love to show you Rochester. There is a bookshop I’ve loved since I was small, and the park is lovely for walking or riding. I’d just like to share it with you,” she said.
“Then we’ll go together. Next spring?” he said.
She smiled and her heart was full. “Could you really leave your work for such a trip?”
“Dewey can be left in charge. I’ll just take all the bullets with me on the train,” he said with a wry smile. “In fact, I’ve been meaning to train another deputy, look for someone to take on some of the work so I can be gone. You know, I don’t….have to be sheriff if it isn’t something that works for our family. It was a way to pass the time and do some good. I wouldn’t mind spending some time in New York every year, see your family and friends, maybe miss the worst of the Montana winter,” he said.
Jessica had tears in her eyes. She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him, “That would make me happier than anything,” she said honestly. “ I'd be so grateful to have my life with you on the frontier and to have a long visit with my family each year, too. It would be having the best of both worlds and I cannot believe I’m so lucky!”
“You’re not the lucky one, Mrs. Lane. I’m the lucky one. Only you must forgive me one thing,” he said.
“What’s that?” she asked, nestling against his shoulder.
“The day I married you, I told you I hadn’t known you long enough to love you yet. It wasn’t true. I said it because, well, I reckoned you felt that way, like I was still a stranger, but I hoped in time you’d come to care for me. So I lied, to keep from seeming foolish,” he said, dropping a kiss on her hair.
“I loved you ever since you wrote back to me, you foolish man!” she said with a laugh.
* * *
John Donnelly arrived in Billings the day before his daughter expected him. Jessica had thought he couldn’t possibly arrive before the four o’clock train on Thursday, but he arrived on Wednesday instead. He made his way to the inn, introduced himself to Henry, the innkeeper and stablemaster, and paid for a room.
“I’ll only be here one night. I plan to be on the noon train back East tomorrow with my daughter,” he said.
“You must be Mr. Donnelly,” Henry said.
“Yes, I am. How would you know such a thing?”
“Because my dear friend Timothy Lane is the sheriff in this town and Mrs. Lane was a Donnelly from Rochester, if I’m not mistaken,” Henry said.
“Mrs. Lane? Do you mean to tell me my daughter’s already married?”
“I reckon you’d better speak with her about that yourself, but I can tell you that Lane brought his new bride to meet my family yesterday. She and my wife, Leah, got to talking fashion and clothes and embroidery and I thought they’d never stop!”
“About so high? Pretty little thing with brown hair, wears a lot of lace, bit of a clever clogs and likes to tell people what to do?”
“That would be the description of the new Mrs. Lane, I believe,” Henry said, “Let me give you the direction of their home.”
Within minutes, John Donnelly was knocking on Sheriff Lane’s door. When his daughter opened it, wiping her hands on an apron, he stared at her for a moment. She didn’t look like a desperate runaway who had made a hasty decision. She looked like a woman who was making supper, with a fine looking hound at her side. While he was staring, Jessica launched herself into his arms.
“Oh, Father!” she said, squeezing him. “I missed you!”
“We miss you as well, daughter. And I’ve a mind to stuff you in the passenger car at noon tomorrow and stuff my ears with cotton wool so I won’t be hearing you when you carry on about it,” he said.
“Do come in,” she said. “You’ve had such a long trip! “Now, I slept perfectly well on the train during my travels, but I know you have a bad back…”
He let Jessica fuss over him, settle him in a comfortable chair and bring him tea.
“Sit down and talk with me, child,” he said, pressing her hand. “Your mother’s none too happy with what you’ve done and I can’t say I don’t agree with her.”
“I’d like to explain, if you’ll hold off on stuffing your ears full of cotton,” she said, sitting opposite him. “I didn’t want to go to England. I wanted a chance to marry a man who liked me for myself and not for your money. So I answered three ads and only one man responded. We exchanged letters and liked each other and so I came out West. Now, I admit we got married faster than expected because Mother warned me by telegram that you were coming. Well she wasn’t trying to warn me at all. In fact she was threatening me with your arrival, but it gave us time to take our vows.”
“That’s a bit dire, Jessamine. Seems you’ve inherited your old da’s sense of theatrics. We want you to be happy, child. If running off to the ends of the earth to marry a sheriff and burn a skillet of fish is what you wish, then you’re welcome to it.”
Jessica dashed back to the stove and moved the frying pan off the flame. She turned the fish over, wondering if there was any way to scrape off the burnt part.
“You do realize that your mother and I hardly met in a drawing room on someone’s country estate,” he said with a grin.
“I know you’re Irish and that she came from a nice family in England.”
“You might say that. Or you might say your mother was Lady Eustacia, the only daughter of the Duke of Wellingford in Sussex. I was an ignorant mick who happened to help fix the broken wheel of her carriage one rainy day.”
“She brought a chaperone the next day so she could come thank me and give me a nice basket of fresh fruit. I told her I didn’t want the cherries and pears, but I’d have a kiss instead. She took me up on it, right there in front of her maiden aunt the chaperone!” he chuckled.
“Really?” Jessica asked with fascination. “My proper mother?”
“Really. But her father was plenty furious and wanted me run out of Sussex. He got his way except his daughter went with me and we eloped to Scotland. I heard there was opportunity in America, where an Irishman who had only made money in a boxing ring or unloading ships at a dock might make something of himself. So. we went to New York. We only known each other two weeks, and been married for one, when we left for a new country together.”
“Did her parents disown her? I mean, they must have since I’ve never met them.”
“They didn’t disown her as such. They gave her the dowry because they wouldn’t have let their only daughter starve at the mercy of some fool of an Irishman who was probably a drunkard. That's what they said by letter. They declared she was welcome to come home, but I was never to step foot on their estate again. So we’ve never gone back.”
“That’s so---romantic,” Jessica said in disbelief. “Why didn’t I know this?”
“Would you tell that story to your maiden daughters who were raised to make respectable marriages and not to run off with uneducated foreigners?” Mr. Donnelly smiled and his eyes twinkled.
“I guess not. I see your point. Still, it surprises me that Mother was so impulsive and so---“
“You think I wasn’t a handsome enough lad?” He loved to tease his daughter and didn't realize how much he missed doing so .
The door opened and Lane came in from work. He took off his hat and nodded to her father.
“Mr. Donnelly?”
“The very same. Mr. Lane, I expect,” her father replied,
putting out his hand for Lane to shake.
Lane took his hand in surprise. “It’s good to have you for a visit. I hope you’ll stay for supper as I’d like to get to know my wife’s father.”
“Thought you’d put one over on me, marrying her so quick, did you?”
“I’m sure sir if you put your mind and your influence to it, you could still have it annulled. I’m asking you respectfully not to interfere in our marriage. It may seem quick to you, but I’ve loved your daughter since the day I received her telegram demanding three letters at once. That took guts and determination and she’s got both in spades.”
Lane continued, “I got smacked in the head with a chair when I was trying to break up a fight two days ago. Instead of screaming and fainting like you’d think a fine young lady would, she ordered my deputy around and cleaned the gash. She fixed me right up without so much as a complaint. You’ve raised an incredible young woman, Mr. Donnelly. I’d be honored if we could have your blessing.” Lane looked at Mr. Donnelly respectfully.
“You may as well call me Seamus, if we’re to be family.”
“Seamus?” Jessica asked. “What's that name?”
“Your mother made me change it to John for business reasons. Smart woman, your mother, but I never much liked having a different name. So among my close relations, let it be Seamus,” he said.
Jessica was torn between embracing her father for his unexpected generosity of spirit and embracing the husband who just professed his love. He told her before, of course, but declaring it to her disapproving father was an act of such love and loyalty that it moved her. Overcome, she hugged first her father and then Lane.
“After supper we must go to the inn. I’ve a small trunk of things your mother sent along for you to set up housekeeping. A matter of some dresses you left behind and other necessities. She wrote a long letter and said you weren’t to take this as a blessing so much as acknowledgment that no daughter of hers would ever change her mind once she made it up,” her father said.
