Fateful Waters

by Jackie Anton

  “You are so damn stubborn. If you’d told me, we could have called Doc Callahan, and had that taken care of a lot earlier.”

  “Right! Just how were you going to explain the injuries? Blue wouldn’t have been able to take the blame at that point.”

  “I don’t have to explain anything to him, or anyone else.”

  That answer deflated her flicker of hope for their future. Cutter was lord of the manor, and as such was beyond reproach. She changed the subject and filled him in on the goings on regarding Decker’s old place. She added the fact that the new owner of the Lazy K was a real estate and land holding company that Benson Potter owned a considerable interest in. The news that the body recovered from the ruins still had not been identified wound up her account. She still kept the threats on her person behind closed lips.

  “Are you telling me that Decker drugged Melinda and kept her imprisoned at that ranch while you were out of commission?”

  “And after. Mel was so under his control that she severed our friendship, and sent me packing.”

  “No wonder Benson is so bent on revenge. His daughter was abused to the point she miscarried.”

  “How is what Decker did to Mel any different than what you did to me last night? He used drugs to force her to his will, and you used your superior size and weight to force me to yours.”

  “Lex, you’re my wife and I love you. It’s not the same at all.”

  “Don’t you think David told Mel repeatedly that he loved her, and proposed, to boot? He really did his research, and had her trust fund as well as her family money in his crosshairs. But let’s get back to you and me. Because we have a marriage license, you have the right to abuse me any time the urge strikes you. Have I got the difference straight?”

  “It is no excuse, but I lost my temper after you knocked the wind out of me so easily. But, Lex, I don’t recall more than a token resistance.”

  “If you hadn’t tossed me around like a damn football or a no-account rag doll, I wouldn’t have tried to eliminate your drunken ass. Just because you know how to manipulate a woman’s body doesn’t give you the right to use it against me. Should you ever go for a replay of last night’s assault Cutter, it will be the end. If one of us isn’t pushing up daisies, Mr. Potter will be serving you divorce papers.”

  Cutter filed away her objection to his behavior the night before along with the wealth of new information she’d supplied him about recent events at the Lazy K. The revelation that Benson Potter was in effect the new owner relieved his anxiety about the rescued cattle. By the time he returned from ferrying their empty glasses and pie plates, she was sound asleep in the armchair. She didn’t wake or make a sound as he scooped her up or when he deposited her back on the bed where he had found her earlier. Removing her shoes, he covered her with the precious quilt that she’d brought from Ohio; it obviously brought her comfort. He potted Skip, and returned him to take up his post at the foot of her bed.

  It had always been his experience that women catered to him and wanted to please him, but he’d always had the feeling they were more interested in his bank account than him as a man. He had a lot of empathy for Melinda Potter. His wife, however, had no interest in his wealth, but she didn’t mind taking a pot shot at him for bad behavior. If he could make amends and keep her from packing up and heading back to Yankee-land, he had a feeling their married life was going to be anything but dull.

  Cutter worked late and went to bed alone. He didn’t want to trust himself to move her into his bed. He wasn’t old enough to just sleep close to her without wanting more; he wasn’t sure he ever would be that old. He was determined not to make the mistakes that Grandpa Cutter accused Cutter’s dad of making with his own mother, but he was off to a miserable start.

  He woke to the sound of shattering glass along with a familiar Yankee string of curse words coming from the bath. He barreled through the door on his side in time to hear her order Skip to stay. Then she turned to him, and in the same tone she’d used with her dog, she warned him to stop. She gave his naked body a worried glance.

  “There is glass everywhere; you will cut your feet.”

  He pulled on his Wranglers and boots, not bothering with the whole underwear issue, and for the second night in succession, retrieved the broom and dustpan after commanding her to stay put. She was worried about everyone else, but she was standing in the middle of the glass shards barefoot. Cutter picked her up and deposited her into the bedroom next to Skip when he returned with the cleanup tools before proceeding to sweep up the remnants of the glass.

  Lexie scrounged up her shoes while he cleaned up her mess. When he took the swept-up glass to dispose of it, she seized the opportunity to enter his room and secure one of her oversized tees to sleep in instead of her clothing. He came back before she could exit.

  “What are you doing, Lex?”

  “Getting something besides my clothes to sleep in.” He was standing in his room’s open door bare-chested, his jeans only partially buttoned up and looking too male and predatory for her comfort. She began to retreat toward the bathroom as he moved in her direction. He stopped at the closet and removed a blue plaid shirt. He took her tee from her hand, replacing it with the snap front shirt.

  “You will find this easier to get into. Did you take your medication?”

  “No. I dropped the glass trying to fill it. Don’t you have any non-breakable glasses in this place of super hard floors?”

  “I guess we’ll have to purchase some.”

  He had the gall to grin at her disgusted epitaphs, then turned and walked down the hall. She beat a hasty retreat to the other bedroom, and was struggling to unhook her bra when he returned. He set a plastic bottle of water on the nightstand, and then moved behind her to unhook her before continuing on to his room, closing the bathroom door on his way through. Lexie finished undressing and struggled into the hauntingly familiar blue plaid. He had loosened the cap on the water, so it was not difficult for her to remove it to down the pain reliever. Less than twenty minutes later, she was in a restful, deep sleep.

  Cutter didn’t see much point in returning to bed for less than two hours. Getting a head start on his day might allow him to take his wife to lunch, and shop for some non-breakable glasses and cups.

  Lexie got a smaller cast the end of October, and just needed an ace bandage on her left wrist for support during the day. She resumed her bookkeeping duties as well as her riding. Blue was her mount when he was available, but on the days Cutter used him for ranch work, she rode old Blaze. She confined her equestrian exercise to the indoor arena or the back pen where they started the colts. Skip was still with her. The Williams boys had come and gone twice, but she was reluctant to let Skip go. He was her company, her only friend—or so she believed—and he was so loyal. He wouldn’t understand if she sent him away, and he seemed to be settling in. He was even becoming attached to Cutter. She was still in the other bedroom, but was only taking the medication at night, or if she overdid things and her right arm was giving her fits. The pain reliever made her nauseous.

  November brought much-needed rain and bouts of cool weather. Lexie made a trip to Lubbock mid-month to get her cast removed, and received instructions not to take any more Vicodin. The doctor was also concerned about her habit of skipping meals. She was given vitamins and a prescription to combat her frequent and hasty trips to the bathroom. It had been difficult to get away for this appointment without Cutter. Ever vigilant, he didn’t think she should make the long trip alone. Lexie headed back to the ranch rather than taking time to shop and listen to another lecture. Thank God she and Skip had eaten lunch in Lubbock; just the smell of the enchiladas and refried beans that Maria had prepared for lunch sent her touchy stomach rolling. She made an iced tea, filled Skip’s water dish, and retired to the office to work on the books. It had bothered her at first that her faithful dog couldn’t have the run of the house the way he had at home, but he didn’t seem to mind.

  A few days later, s
he was on her way back from a late morning workout with Blue when she caught a whiff of the distinct scent of sauerkraut. She hadn’t run across that aroma since leaving Ohio; it would have been an understatement to say the smell made her homesick. Intrigued, she wandered over to the cookhouse and introduced herself to Ollie, the new cook for the crew. He served her up a plate of heaven. She hadn’t had bratwurst since she and Mel used to visit the German Village in Columbus. Several times that week she shared lunch with the hands. Of course, word got back to her husband.

  Cutter was getting a lot of razzing about his wife hanging out with the cowhands. He hadn’t thought much about her absence from the noon meal; she often worked through lunch. He decided to confront her about the inappropriate behavior. It galled him that she would spend time with the men at the cookhouse rather than have lunch with him. As he’d suspected, she was working on the computer. He sat in his old leather chair and waited for her to acknowledge him.

  Lexie finished the entries she was working on, and hit save before she raised questioning eyes to her husband. It was obvious from his clenched jaw and cool gray eyes that he had a bone to pick with her. “Okay, now what did I do to piss you off?”

  “It has come to my attention that you have been having your lunch at the cookhouse with the ranch hands.”

  “So?”

  “So, it’s not appropriate for you to be fraternizing with the hired help. You can have lunch here with your husband, like a respectable wife.”

  “Are you telling me I am not supposed to associate with anyone on this ranch but you?”

  “I don’t think you should be spending so much time there with other men.”

  “Fine, every other day I will go to Lubbock for lunch, or you can get me a microwave and small fridge for the office.”

  “Lex, you’re being unreasonable. There is plenty of food in the kitchen, and Maria is an excellent cook.”

  “Just the smell of that Tex-Mex slop is beginning to turn my stomach.”

  “You are acting like a child in the throes of a temper tantrum. I think it is about time you started acting like a grown-up married woman. That includes sharing my bed now that you are no longer in constant pain.”

  He waited for an argument that never came. She just turned extremely pale at his comment. She got up from behind the desk and walked out of the room followed by her dog. Cutter followed in her wake after he got his temper under control, and found her emptying her dresser to throw the contents on the bed. When she hauled out her luggage, he intervened, taking it from her grasp. “Just what the hell are you doing?”

  “Going home.”

  “This is your home now. Are you planning on running back to Mommy every time we have a disagreement?”

  She just glared at him, took off her rings, and threw them at him. He left the room to keep from strangling her. He called Jim to inform him he would be unavailable for the remainder of the day. There was no way in hell she was going to pack up and leave.

  Lexie started ferrying her packed luggage down the hall, only to be thwarted by her bully of a husband. Cutter literally yanked the traveling cases from her grip. Her wrists weren’t back to a hundred percent, but she doubted it would have made much difference. She took a swing at him. He was prepared this time, and avoided her intended blow. She was scooped up like a sack of grain and thrown across his shoulder; then he smacked her on the posterior to add to the insult, and carted her back down the hall. Once again, he threw her on his bed, warning her not to move. He removed Skip, she assumed to the office. Feeling ill, she hurried to the bathroom to lose the meager contents of her stomach, and was seized with a bout of dry heaves. She rinsed out her mouth and went into the room she’d been occupying since she fractured her arm. That is where he found her. He was angry that she’d, in his view, defied his order to stay put.

  Cutter was at the end of his rope. He’d given her plenty of time to heal and come around. It appeared to him that she was settling in, but now she was ready to chuck their marriage and return to Ohio. If she thought she could avoid him by retreating to this room, he was about to debunk her of that notion. He just got in the smaller bed and pulled her beneath him.

  Lexie was terrified of a repeat assault like the last time he forced her onto a bed and pinned her beneath his much larger body. She began to cry hysterically. “Get off me!”

  Anger he could handle, but her uncontrolled weeping and the panic in her eyes undid him. However, he was reluctant to let her up; he knew she was still intent on packing up and heading north. “Lex, just calm down so we can hash this out.”

  “If you rape me again, I will file a police report this time. You may not care about me, but you could damage the baby.”

  The shot he took in the abdomen wasn’t nearly as painful as his wife accusing him of rape. Admittedly things had gotten out of hand the night she was injured, but… “What?”

  “You heard me. I will fill out a police report.”

  “No— you aggravating woman, the part about the baby.”

  “I am not telling you anything else until you get off of me and let me up so I can get the pill I came in here for.”

  Cutter let her up and watched her take a pill from a bottle kept in the small drawer of the nightstand. When she went to the sink for a glass of water he looked over the label. “When were you going to tell me that you were pregnant, Lex?”

  He had thought the evening before his drunken botch job of their promising relationship that she was likely to have conceived. That speculative moment had slipped from his mind with all the recent turmoil.

  “I hadn’t made up my mind until your obvious disapproval of me came to light a short while ago. At that point I decided not to tell you, and just return home.”

  “Lex, at the risk of sounding like a broken record, this is your home.”

  “No, Cutter, this is your home, and it is more Maria’s home than mine. I am a virtual prisoner in this house, confined to spending my time in here or in the office to keep from causing another confrontation or uproar in your home. Now you tell me I can’t associate with the only humans within fifty miles because they happen to be male. I am going home where I can follow doctor’s orders by eating three meals a day of regular food without someone making a big deal of where and what I eat. For your information, most of my friends have always been male. Mel is one of the few exceptions. You seem to be the only one your gender that I can’t get along with, which doesn’t paint a bright future for us.”

  He had to admit that he was out working the better part of most days, and had little knowledge of what it was like to be confined. He agreed to take her to lunch and shop for the microwave and the fridge if she just gave it until the first of the year.

  Lexie released her dog from his confinement on the way out the door, while Cutter informed Maria they would be having lunch in Lubbock. She thought that news probably went over like a lead balloon. Cutter glanced at Skip in the backseat and his eyebrows came very close to being a unibrow, but he didn’t make an issue of the dog accompanying them.

  They had completed the purchases of the appliances for the office along with a couple of microwavable bowls and utensils. Cutter had intended to take her to one of the better restaurants in town, but she just wanted a burger and fries. So they sat at an outdoor table with their lunch. Skip was busy on his plain burger when he suddenly jumped up, alert to something neither one of them could see or hear. An old blue pickup rounded the corner of the nearby intersection, slowed up, and then the driver threw a burlap bag out the passenger side window before picking up speed and roaring away. Skip took off at a dead run out into the busy road with two much slower humans in hot pursuit. Cutter’s longer legs got to her dog as he was dragging the bag from the street. He relieved Skip of the burden.

  Lexie was about to ask what was in the old feedbag when the cry of little puppies came from inside it. “Oh, my God! How could anyone do something like that?”

  Cutter didn’t say anything, and he woul
dn’t let her look in the bag until they arrived at the nearest vet’s office. The vet carefully took the puppies one by one from their burlap prison. Out of seven, only four were still alive, and the vet didn’t hold out much hope for the smallest pup.

  Rose Jenkins D.V.M. wanted to keep the pups for a couple of days for observation. Lexie said she would be back in two days to pick up the survivors.

  “They’re going to need a lot of care for a while, Mrs. Ross, it doesn’t look like they are quite old enough to be weaned.”

  Cutter relented when she said she wanted the puppies. He figured it would give her something to focus on other than thoughts of how to escape from him. If he’d had a clue as to the resulting turmoil, he might not have been so quick in agreeing to adopt the remaining four puppies.

  20

  Thanksgiving came and went. Lexie was relieved to find a traditional turkey for dinner on the usually poultry-free cook’s menu, but the bird was stuffed with some rice concoction instead of the traditional bread stuffing she was used to. But Ollie came through with a care package of stuffing and gravy. When he had found out she wasn’t permitted to eat at the cookhouse any longer, he brought her little care packages several times a week. With his help, and her new fridge and microwave she was able to eat more often.

  The puppies were also on their way to better nutrition. They were wolfing down solid food now, and beginning to climb out of their little nest in the tall cardboard box that she and Cutter had rigged up for them. Lexie figured that on the next trip to town she needed to get a playpen to confine the rambunctious little devils. They were really cute; Doc Rose thought they looked like a Hound-Rottweiler mix. Two were black and tan with the typical markings of the Rottweiler, but all had the look of a hound. One male sported the coat as well as the look of a blue tick, and the tiny female was black with a white patch on her chest, and four white paws. Ollie had spoken up for the blue tick, and Sam wanted the black and tan male. It was no surprise to Lexie that in this male dominated society the two females were unspoken for.