Loveland

by Andrea Downing

  “Why, no. He’s on his way over to see the location I believe.”

  Alex sat back and looked across at Tom. Jesse patted her hand again. “His character I can vouch for,” she said at last. “It’s despicable. As for his business sense, well...he’s a gambler, a womanizer, a drunk and—oh yes, a wife beater. At least he was for the four days I was married to him.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  July fourth fell on a Thursday but by Saturday, when the party was to be held, the heat was so intense the men claimed sweat was drying before it showed. Cattle had either pushed each other into the river or lain down on the grassland as if ready to sleep. Alex looked over the herd briefly but everything shimmered in the distance like a watercolor that had streaked. She wore her hat way down on her face and her hands in gloves to protect her skin from the ferocious sun, but later decided the best thing was to sit in a bath all day. Men working to put down the boards and tables for the evening’s party had stripped off their shirts, the first time she could ever remember seeing them do that—although when she rode back in, Beesley hurriedly pulled his shirt back on.

  “What’ll it be like with torches lit?” she asked Tom who was helping out.

  “Lord only knows. Hopefully it’ll be a might cooler after dusk but maybe we’ll use more lanterns and light fewer torches.”

  Alex liked the July fourth party. In fact, she decided, she loved it. She loved the regularity of the seasons as they came around, the special holiday dates, the ranch year, the knowledge of what lay ahead relieved by what one couldn’t foresee. It gave her a sense of belonging and community, of continuity, of place and time. It gave her a sense of permanence.

  Sunset spread itself on the horizon like a fire through the trees. As she walked across from the main house she guessed that everyone was there, including Garrett hobbling around on a crutch with his one-legged pants and his cast. “Better late than never,” he observed as she stopped to chat with him. “I thought you wore dresses to parties.”

  “Couldn’t pull myself out of the bath, as it happens, and then the thought of all those petticoats... Which reminds me, don’t get that plaster wet. It’ll disintegrate and we’ll have to do it all again.”

  Coates came over to ask her to dance and she went off, observing Jesse and Cal across the floor with Sara Beth and the Yosts. They waved as she went out on the floor and took her place in a line. Jesse took Annie out while Tom took his daughter, but the heat soon got to Alex and she excused herself at the end of the dance.

  She helped Garrett to a plate of food and stayed by him to give him company. Various punchers came over to talk with them and would then wander off but Alex just liked watching. Jesse, she saw, kept busy with Sue Ann and then Millie and Sara Beth, gentleman that he was.

  “I hope you’re gonna eat,” said Annie, suddenly behind her. “Look at these ribs. You’ll like those.”

  “Did you make them?” Alex asked.

  “I may have,” Annie replied coyly, coaxing her friend. “Look, they’re pork, and the sauce, Tom says, is my best.”

  Alex gingerly lifted one from the platter and bit into it. The sauce dripped down her chin and she laughed, bending slightly over the table so it wouldn’t go on her shirt. There was a quick tap on her shoulder and she straightened up but knew from Annie’s expression it was Jesse. She turned to face him, rib in hand.

  He shook his head disparaging of her, took the rib from her hand and put it on a plate, then shook out a handkerchief and wiped her chin. “Want to dance?” he asked.

  She looked at him a moment, taking in the burn he had got on his nose, the shaggy hair that was bleaching from the sun now, and the freckles that were darkening. Her heart lurched. “I thought you’d never ask,” she replied.

  He put an arm around her and pulled her to him, but just stood there for a moment as if they might melt into each other. She thought he might kiss her but instead he said, “Want to get married?”

  Her sun-up smile spread across her face and she gazed at him for a long moment. “I thought you’d never ask.”

  Jesse’s hold got tighter but before Alex knew what was happening, he lifted her and put her over his shoulder. Alex laughed. “Jesse, put me down,” she giggled. “Put me down!” He moved off toward the shadows with her, into the dark, and she couldn’t stop laughing. The whole party was laughing for the most part, watching Jesse walk off with Alex thrown over his shoulder.

  “Jesse Makepeace!” She giggled trying to be stern, hammering on his back. “You put me down this minute! This instant! Jesse! Jesse! I’ll be sick,” she threatened, “I’ll be sick all down your back!”

  But he kept on going. He had her now and he wasn’t about to let go. Not until he got her back to the house.

  ****

  Everyone at the Faringdon knew, of course. They knew about the empty space in the bunk house, knew about the garden doors left open for more than a summer breeze, knew about the arrangements being made for an August wedding. A discreet silence encircled the couple. What happened at the ranch was no one else’s business as the men had always maintained. And if Tom and Annie knew, they also knew August was just around the corner.

  The 27th fell on a Tuesday but it was Alex’s twenty-first birthday and Jesse insisted that was the day. The wedding would be held late afternoon and people could take time off work as if it were a Saturday. David had been wired although it was doubtful he could now arrive in time. Tom would give Alex away and Cal would be best man. Arrangements went ahead.

  Alex threw herself into it—invitations only to people they both liked (Miss Bea but not the Hendersons), hothouse flowers, champagne, food, extra staff, a request for the dress wired to Monsieur Worth in Paris, along with measurements of Sue Ann and Annie for bridesmaids. It would be similar to Alex’s eighteenth birthday party with the ceremony in the garden and the reception over at the corrals done up for a sit-down dinner. They just hoped they could pay for it all.

  They went to see the minister to get permission to hold the wedding at the house.

  “Ah, Lady Alexandra, just the person I wanted to see,” he said as they entered his study.

  Alex panicked for a moment and threw a quick glance at Jesse. She thought she was about to be scolded for her immoral behavior so she tucked her skirts about her and primly sat, as if a newfound decorum might put things to rights. “You wanted to see me?” she inquired at last.

  “Yes, I have a huge favor to ask.” The reverend sat forward in his seat a bit, clasped his hands on his desk and cleared his throat. “I wonder if there is any chance of you donating a painting for the church drive. You see, we’re trying to raise funds for a new roof and we’re having an auction in a couple of weeks. I thought perhaps a small painting of yours might be auctioned off. People are donating all sorts of things, mostly items they no longer want, but—”

  “Really, Reverend, say no more.” Alex breathed with relief. “I’d be delighted. I have a view of Loveland, which I just finished and I think will do.”

  “That would be perfect. Thank you!” He sat back. “But I take it you came to see me about something?” His face lit with a slight smile.

  “Yes,” said Jesse. “You may have heard that Lady Alex and I are gettin’ married.” He waited for the minister’s acknowledgement. “We’re hopin’, of course, that you’ll perform the ceremony but, thing is, we’d like it over at the house, in fact out in the garden if the weather holds.”

  “I don’t see why not,” the minister said amiably, “as long as it is held in a Christian manner and everyone behaves.”

  Alex looked at Jesse and he knew what she was thinking: Miss Bea. Neither of them said a word. By the time the minister would be aware of their guest, it would be too late. “In any event,” as Alex said to Jesse later, “what could be more Christian than to have a fallen woman as a guest?”

  “Well, the dang bride’s a fallen woman, if you ask me. Half the state knows what’s been going on,” Jesse replied, though he said it
smiling.

  Alex liked having Jesse in her bed. Even in the searing nights of the July heat wave, she liked the comfort of his body next to hers, his arms wrapped around her, his breath on her neck, their legs entwined. She inhaled the scents he brought with him, of leather and grass and sweat and smoke. She loved his weight on top of her and the rhythm of their two bodies moving. She didn’t mind the sweat that trickled between her breasts or dripped sometimes from his face to hers, nor the whole messiness of lovemaking. She loved listening to his breathing, to his sighs, to the quiet little gasps of pleasure, and loved that he knew her, too, knew her body intimately, what she was comfortable with, what pleasured her. And most of all she loved being able to lose herself with him, to let everything go and to forget whatever demons held her past because now there was a future—a beautiful, endless, happy future.

  And yet...

  And yet at the back of her mind was a sense of losing something, a part of herself, her freedom, the liberties she had been granted in leaving England. Weighing up those losses against having Jesse forever she knew she would choose, always choose Jesse. And yet…and yet…

  ****

  The church auction, held in the town hall at Loveland, garnered a big attendance. All the men who were off from the Double F, including Cal and Garrison along with Millie, came in to see if there were any bargains to be had or small items they might purchase for a sweetheart. Ranchers, including the Hendersons, and townspeople like the Benders were all there too. The Yost’s couldn’t make it because J.J. had come down with a fever and Annie wouldn’t leave him, so Alex and Jesse took the buggy in on their own to see how her painting sold.

  The number of people gathered in the early August heat made the room so oppressive that Alex thought it best to stand at the side near the open doors rather than be seated. Jesse, in his Sunday suit, was also uncomfortable, and although Alex told him to take off his jacket, he said if she could stay in that fancy French dress of hers, he could stay in his suit.

  The minister had got in an auctioneer from Denver for the occasion and it turned into quite a show. There were saddles, both used and hardly used—“Should have got rid of the blasted side saddle,” commented Alex—old gas lamps, fine china, odd pieces of silver. People had a good laugh at a doll with which someone had sadly parted, a set of lace antimacassars, and a pair of sheep shears, which got booed by the ranchers. Alex spotted Cal and Garrison standing together at the other side of the room near the back door, and she saw them stomp and catcall when the shears were offered.

  “Anything you want, you let me know,” said Jesse, rubbing her neck lightly.

  “I don’t want anything except you,” she replied looking up at him with a smile. “Anything you want?”

  “Oh, I might bid on that painting by that funny woman. What’s her name again?”

  Cal bid on some silver spurs but didn’t get them, and Beesley timidly raised his hand once for an old Army Colt but gave up. Garrison bought Millie an embroidered reticule, which made him hero for a day, and Terry managed to get himself a silver slide for his bolo. Alex’s painting had been touted as the highlight of the evening, which seemed somehow to go on forever. A few people had left, which made the room less cramped and stuffy in the heat, but the clanging of the back door with people coming and going gave Alex a headache by the time her painting came up for auction.

  “And now,” called out the auctioneer, “last but most certainly not least,” he said in his resonant voice, “we have this beautiful painting, aptly titled Loveland, by Lady Alexandra Calthorpe.”

  “Good thing I sign my paintings Alex,” she remarked to Jesse, “or I’d have to think about changing them all.”

  “No, you wouldn’t.” He pulled her to him and put his arms about her waist so she could rest her head back against him for a moment.

  “I understand Lady Alexandra’s paintings sell for a good deal of money in New York City,” the auctioneer went on, “so I hope you’ve been saving up for this. Let’s not be shy. I’ll start the bidding at twenty-five dollars even.”

  “Fifty!” shouted Jesse shooting his hand up.

  “Oh, for goodness sake, Jess, we haven’t got that kind of money with the wedding and all. And I can paint you another one.”

  “Two hundred,” came a voice from the back.

  Alex stiffened. She turned slowly as Jesse shouted out, “Three!” but when Alex turned back to him, the color was drained from her face. She swayed slightly as he looked down at her and the other man shouted, “One thousand dollars!”

  The audience gasped.

  Jesse saw the well-dressed stranger at the back and understood. In that moment, such hatred welled up in him, he felt himself losing control. There was a rifle in the buggy but he wasn’t wearing a sidearm and his hands went sweaty with the knowledge.

  Alex just stood there staring at him, her face becoming more ghostly by the second. Jesse made a movement with his head, signaling Cal. While the auctioneer waved his hands to quiet the audience, Cal and Garrison moved to either side of the stranger and hustled him out the back door. Alex suddenly moved to the side door. Jesse followed.

  As Jesse grabbed Alex’s hand and the couple came around from the side of the hall, the stranger tried to struggle out of the grasp of the two punchers, forcing Cal to trip him. Lord John Hayford fell, and then looked up at the two men before spotting Alex.

  “Ah, Alexandra my darling, my angel,” the young lord scorned her from his place on the walkway.

  “What are you doing here, John?” she almost spat.

  “Come to see you, of course, my precious, my dear wife.”

  Jesse flinched but Cal and Garrison still stood guard either side of the almost prone visitor.

  “Why now, Johnny, why now? I’m not your wife, you know that. The marriage was lawfully annulled nearly three years ago. I have the papers.” Jesse paced a few steps away from her, then turned back and watched. “You know that, Johnny, you’re wasting your time here.”

  “But my sweetheart...” he continued.

  Cal gave him a hard kick in the side. “Let’s not get too friendly. I think your business here might be finished, mister.”

  “Oh, I think not.” John Hayford rested back on his left hand, while making a grand gesture with his right. “You see, I’m really used to having what I want, paintings and artwork. Or women...”

  But it was at Jesse he was pointing.

  “No!” Alex rushed to push Jesse out of the derringer’s line of fire.

  The shot rang out.

  Alex gasped and sank in Jesse’s arms.

  Jesse just held Alex, rocking her as he had when she was small.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “Metal stays,” said the doctor, noticing how the corset built into Alex’s dress was almost like a suit of armor. “Dang bullet just bounced right off them things, thank the Lord. Poor child, fainted dead away.”

  When Jesse had realized there was no blood anywhere on Alex, he carried her to Miss Bea’s with the doctor at his heels. Smelling salts soon brought her around and Miss Bea offered her a shot of whiskey, which Alex declined.

  “That bastard,” Alex said when she had revived a bit. “He put a hole in my Worth gown, didn’t he? I won’t be getting many more of these.”

  Jesse laughed. Then he laughed a bit more and a little bit more. “You crazy woman,” he said, holding her to him, “what am I gonna do ’bout you?”

  “Marry her for chrissake, Jess,” Miss Bea advised, “‘fore the whole town comes out to tar and feather you both. Church auction, indeed. I tell ya, if ya hadn’ta gone to arrange your wedding that minister would be ex-communicatin’ the two of yous. Or whatever it is they do in that stuck-up Church.” Bea took a swig of her own liquor. “Jess ever leaves you, sweetheart, I tell ya, you come work for me.”

  ****

  “I don’t know,” moaned Alex. “You’d think with electricity and telephones now over in Utah and Kansas there would have been some way of con
tacting David. The whole bloody northeast of the country has got all those things. This is a modern world yet I still can’t locate my brother. Nor Monsieur Worth. What do I do if we don’t get the bloody dresses in time?”

  “Well, for a start,” answered Jesse gently, “let’s hope they’re not bloody dresses. We don’t want them ruined ’fore you’ve even had a chance to wear ’em.”

  “Funny, very funny.”

  Jesse kissed the top of her head. “You’ll manage. You always do,” he said as he went off to work. Yet he knew she was getting wound up over details, and if things didn’t improve she would panic badly.

  When Tom asked later that day how things were going, Jesse replied, “We should’ve eloped, truth be told, but we wanted ever’one to be with us, to celebrate. Sooner this is over, the better.”

  “Well, I got some good news anyway,” said Tom, and he showed Jesse a telegram he was holding.

  ****

  They had decided to have a rehearsal and dinner a few days before the wedding so Alex could thereafter relax and calm down a bit, and Jesse could be entertained to a last bachelor night by the men. With the dresses still not arrived, and no word from David, Alex was wound like a guitar string tuned too tight. But that wasn’t the only thing bothering her. What was bothering her she could no longer put into words. She was too absorbed in the minutiae of planning the wedding to define what niggled her, fretted her constantly and drove her to tears for no reason at all. Jesse was aware of this, watched the growing signs, and kept his thoughts to himself without worrying. He tried to keep a steady influence on Alex and calm her down the best he could.

  The night of the dinner, Alex came down in her gray silk evening dress, her auburn hair falling in tendrils from one side, flowers set in it, already looking like a bride. Everyone was gathered in the drawing room, the minister included, and the company of such good friends composed her.