Lila nodded softly. “Jessica, we would love to have you and Marlena come stay with us for a time. I am still in need of your sewing skills and we will pay you in advance for whatever supplies you need. We can pick up anything you’d like at the store in Carson on our way back.” Jess heard the words, but wasn’t processing them clearly, so she didn’t answer and Lila prodded. “Will you come with us now?”
She looked around at all of the heavy faces, and when she locked eyes with Ellie, her lips quivered as tears rushed to her eyes. “Oh, Ellie. Your wedding dress…”
The proprietress could not contain her flow of emotion, but she went briskly to Jess and wrapped her arms around her, comforting her as they cried together.
“Don’t you worry about it, darlin’. Sandy would marry me in rags. It’s you my heart’s hurtin’ for, and I want you to know you are welcome to stay with me for however long you need to.”
Jess couldn’t speak so she nodded.
“I think you ought to go along now with Lila and Morgan. Take a few days to clear your head and work this through.”
She nodded again, grateful for Ellie’s maternal urgings. She had been the one in control, the one responsible for so long she needed the interference of someone else to point her in the right direction.
“Now, go on and climb in the wagon. Marlena, you too, darlin’.”
Jess climbed in behind her sister and leaned against the sideboard and shut her eyes. They fluttered open when she felt Val’s arm circle her neck from behind. He rested his lips on the top of her head and kissed her softly. She turned to face him.
“Thank you for pulling me back,” she said. “From the fire and from Stacy.”
He cupped her cheeks and pressed his forehead to hers as he took a deep breath. “This is all my fault.”
“No,” she said, placing her hands atop his. “This is Stacy’s fault.” Her eyes filled with tears again. “I just don’t know what we will do now.”
“Shhh,” he whispered. “Go to Morgan’s. We’ll work it out in the morning.”
“You’re coming down?” she whispered back, her energy too spent even to speak in a normal tone. He nodded against her forehead.
“I’ll be there as soon as I find Achilles.”
Her eyes widened and she sat up, but he held a silencing finger against her lips. “I saw where he went. The fire just spooked him is all. I’ll get him and meet you down there.”
She nodded and sat back down in the buckboard. Morgan and Val exchanged a glance and then Morgan snapped the reins. Her eyes drifted shut, heavy with fear and fatigue, and she allowed the constant clatter of the wheels and axles to lull her to sleep.
Chapter 25
The hearth fire was warm as Jess sat before it, Marlena brushing her freshly-washed hair until it gleamed and crackled in Lila and Morgan’s front room. They each wore a borrowed nightgown from Lila with Jess in a light blue robe she had made for the woman last summer.
The home was quaint compared to a grand edifice like Stacy’s, but perfect for the couple’s needs. A two-story log cabin with two bedrooms and an open loft upstairs, the downstairs housed a humble kitchen with a round table and fireplace with two rocking chairs and a rug.
The hour grew late, with Lila and Argyle retiring before Val’s return. They had not stopped in Carson, for Jess had been asleep and no one wanted to disturb her, but she wished they had. She longed for supplies to busy her hands and mind with work. Now, she had nothing but to stare at the fire with its flames bouncing in a smug dance.
Morgan sat in a rocking chair, devouring some piece of literature she hadn’t cared to study. He was waiting for Val as she was. Her nerves burned to know he and Achilles were safe. Marlena continued to brush, knowing the long sweeping motions comforted Jess. A sudden attack of guilt stole into her and she reached up to still her sister’s hand.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “Why don’t you run upstairs and get some rest. Your eyes are heavy and I slept most of the ride down.”
Marlena’s nod was weary before she climbed the stairs to the loft. Jess grabbed a blanket Lila had left on her rocking chair and draped it around her shoulders, listening to the pages of Morgan’s book flip methodically every other minute. His gaze never wandered from the page as she went to the window and looked out into the black, moonless night for a silhouette. The only shadows moving belonged to tree branches, and her breath fogged the glass as she huffed.
“He should be here by now, don’t you think?” she asked Morgan.
With a long, tired sigh he closed his book and looked at her. “Yes, I think he is overdue.”
He stood and stretched before putting a kettle on the fire, and she frowned at his easy demeanor.
“Aren’t you worried?”
“I am always worried about Val,” he said, stoking the embers with an iron rod. “For the past five years I’ve done nothing as much as worry about him. But I have to let him find his way and only intercede when needed.” He must have known she scowled at his back, for he turned with a slight smile. “You will soon learn this lesson with Marlena.”
Her forehead relaxed along with the tight pinch of her lips, and she felt a sudden kinship with him. Both older siblings, they knew the cares of overseeing the younger ones. Her laugh was slight and breathy, more a sign of resignation than amusement.
“It’s a cross we bear forever, isn’t it?” she asked, and he nodded. “I suppose we have to trust we’ve filled their heads with good sense.”
“It’s not Val’s head that worries me.” Morgan removed the kettle and poured them each a cup of coffee. “Val is all heart. He cares easily and deeply for a great many people and ideas, often to his detriment. His ability to seek and find the good in anything is a trait I admire, even if it has gotten him into some serious scrapes. I don’t possess his optimism.”
She snorted. “Val’s problem isn’t his optimism. It’s him thinking he can fix everything on his own.”
“Much like you?”
Her hand stopped in mid-air as she reached for the coffee cup. “I don’t think that.”
Morgan nodded for her to take the cup, and when she did he chuckled. “You and Val are more alike than you realize. Willful, witty, stubborn and determined, and ruled by your hearts in all ways but with each other.”
She swallowed and nearly spat the scalding liquid back out. After a few coughs, she returned to the window. “In matters of the heart it’s vital to lead with your head.”
“If that were true, the world would be short many great loves.”
“And many broken hearts.” She shook her head. “I think great love is a myth perpetuated by men in an effort to coax women into submission.”
“I think you use cynicism to hide your fear of the affection you feel for my brother.”
Her spine stiffened. “Things are far more complicated than that.”
“So, remove the complications.” She heard him settle back into his rocker. “Strip the circumstances of the past, present and future. Reduce everything down to the vital, life-giving organ pumping blood through your chest and what do you want? Who do you want?”
She rolled her eyes as goosebumps pimpled her flesh. “That’s very poetic, Morgan, but it’s not that simple.”
“That’s the thing,” he said. “It really is that simple.”
She spun, feeling her cheeks flush and her heart beat at the base of her throat. “I gave in to what my heart wanted six years ago and it nearly destroyed me.”
The words ground out of her clenched teeth. Sympathy softened his eyes until she regretted her outburst. He took a sip of his coffee and pinched his lips.
“I don’t know what happened to you, Jessica, but I do know the kind of love I’m talking about doesn’t exist until the love of your other half brings it to life. I mean the real kind, not the kind that tempts us into folly. I mean the kind that makes us stronger and braver and selfless.”
His eyes were like Val’s, his words like Val’s, and sh
e turned to face the window again. That definition of love was foreign, and she steeled herself against the doubt pushing into her memory. She believed she truly loved Grant, though their romance had flamed quickly and they’d been married in less than a month of courtship, if what they shared could be labeled a courtship. Morgan’s words echoed, and she wondered. Had Grant made her feel braver, stronger or selfless? Even in the beginning?
If she was willing to admit the truth, all he’d made her feel was passion and desire, charming her with his good looks and she, too naïve to resist. The first flick of his tongue against hers, the first brush of his hand over her nipple, that same hand sliding between her legs all gave birth to a wanton recklessness she embraced without restraint, a physical feeling she equated with love.
For a person who prided herself on good sense, strength and control, it was the ultimate humiliation to have been trapped by her naiveté. The degradation that came on the heels of her folly sent her searching for a place to lay the blame. Anywhere but on her. So, she blamed love for blinding her, and she deepened her love for Grant with every thought. Better to believe she loved him too much to see the truth than to acknowledge he duped her with little more than ecstasy and earfuls of sweet nothings.
Her body shuddered at the fount of memories shivering through her. In less than three weeks, Grant Wilson had managed to saddle and tame the notorious Beauregard girl, the spitfire whirlwind of the county known for her outmatched skill with a bullwhip and six shooter pistol. Tongues wagged and eyes bulged when their engagement was announced.
Some said their union would bury the hatchet between her father and his. Others claimed her nature would whip the young Grant Wilson into shape, molding him into the kind of cattle baron the region needed. Neither proved true.
Before she could think beyond, the telltale snort of Achilles gurgled in the night and she set her coffee cup on the table and threw open the door, clutching the blanket to her. A swirl of wind circled her ankles and wove through the lengths of her hair, sending it flying around her. Val rode into the light thrown across the lawn from the house, and looked half-asleep in the saddle. She and Morgan rushed to the horse.
“Are you all right?” she asked, and he nodded as he slid from the saddle.
“Bone tired, though,” he added. “Things took a bit longer than planned. He’s a slippery buggar when he wants to be.” Val tugged on the reins while giving the horse’s snout a light pat. “I’d give my entire savings for a hot bath right now, Morg. Any chance of that?”
“Come on in and sit by the fire,” Morgan told his brother. “We’ll see what we can work out.”
Val limped toward the house with a bend in his back and Jess winced. After the hide races and the long ride antagonizing his injuries, his body was twisted in pain.
“Morgan, bring me a lantern, will you?” she called out. “I’ll get Achilles settled in the barn while you see to Val.”
Morgan did her bidding and she led the horse into the enclosure and hung her blanket over a saddle rack. Once Achilles was relieved of his burdens she spent a good while brushing him down and cooing to him. The tiredness was evident in his eyes, so she threw an extra helping of hay into his stall and returned to the house to find Lila, Morgan and Argyle sitting around the table conversing. Her fingers went to the knot of her robe as she realized she’d left the blanket in the stables.
“How is Achilles?” Lila asked. “Is he still spooked from the fire?”
“He doesn’t seem to be,” she returned, taking the empty seat at the table. “He’s lived through worse. Did Val get his bath?”
“Yes,” Lila answered and shook her head with sympathy. “He looked as gnarled as an old tree when he went in there.”
“The hot water will work wonders, and I threw some salt in the water,” Argyle said, rubbing his wrinkled brow. His eyes glistened with weariness and age. He swiped them with his fingertips. “I want to take a look at him when he’s done, though, to make sure his cuts from the rodeo are superficial.”
“I wish you all would stop fussing over me. I’m fine. Nothing broken, nothing bleeding.” Jess watched Val stride down the hallway toward them. He stood tall and looked refreshed and revived. Her shoulders relaxed at the sight, and her lungs released a slow, clear breath. He pulled the rocking chair over to the table and squeezed between Lila and Argyle. Once her gaze left Val, she realized every eye was fastened on her and hot bile rose in her throat. It was time to reveal what she’d been fighting to hide for three years.
“I guess this means you’ll be wanting some details about me. It’s only fair given what you’ve done for us.” She took a deep breath and felt her brow tighten. “This isn’t easy for me, so please have patience.”
After a round of encouraging nods, she swallowed past the lump in her throat and began.
“I’m the daughter of a cattle rancher. I was born and mostly raised in Colorado, but we moved into the northern area of the New Mexico Territory when I was ten and Marlena was just an infant. Our mother died giving birth to her and we fled our grief. My father owned more than six hundred acres and sold to markets in both territories. But what I’m sure you’re most interested in is how we ended up here.”
She tucked her hair behind her ears and leaned her elbows on the table.
“I married the son of our biggest rival against my father’s will. I was seventeen. He was twenty and the handsomest man I’d ever seen. He charmed and courted me under false pretenses and we married in less than a month.”
Argyle leaned forward to interrupt. “You married without your father’s blessing?”
“He gave it eventually. As you can imagine, I was an obstinate daughter, and he knew once my mind was made up, it was not to be changed. I would have married Grant without the blessing, so he gave it to keep peace. It is the one time in my life I wish the man would have put his foot down to stop me, for Grant was anything but the man I thought I loved and married. His cruelty was unimaginable.
“Once we married, his manner toward me swung like a pendulum. He made it known he was only after my inheritance. I told him I wanted a divorce. That was the first time he hit me, and my father was dead within the week. As my husband, Grant inherited the land and the business and we moved into my father’s home. He locked our firearms away from me and hired men to watch the house in case I tried to run. I was a prisoner in that home for three years. Until the night that changed everything.”
Chapter 26
Val felt his blood heating as it moved through him, scalding his body from the inside out. He clasped his hands together on the tabletop to keep them from fisting as she spoke. She told the tale matter-of-factly. The only hint of emotion or upset was the haunted quality of her voice. As she moved toward the night she received her scar, he held his breath, waiting for details that were sure to push him over the edge of reason.
“He was brutal to the servants,” she said as her hand slid up her throat to cover her scar. “I finally found the courage to dismiss them for their own protection. Though I was certain he’d be angry with me for a while, I never imagined…”
She took a steadying breath and licked her bottom lip.
“Word of my dismissing the staff traveled fast, and the minute he walked through the door that night, I knew trouble was brewing. He came home full of whisky and a foul temper, shoving me against the wall the second I entered the foyer to confront him with the news.”
Val watched her eyes glaze over, as if she slid back in time to relive that horrible night. Her voice was trancelike as she spoke.
“His eyes burned like heated gold. ‘You are not the master of this house,’ he growled in a controlled voice. ‘Do you hear me, you stupid bitch?’ And then he did something he’d never done before. He dismissed the men watching the house. There was only me, him and Marlena. My heart was beating furiously…threatening to pop out of my chest. And all I could think was thank God Marlena was up in her room sleeping. I prayed she would stay there.
&nbs
p; “Moments after the men left, a wicked smile curved Grant’s lips as he grasped my throat firmly. He leaned in and whispered, ‘If you ever presume to overstep my authority again, I will kill you–just like I killed your father.’”
She closed her eyes and rubbed the backs of them as air filled her lungs in uneven breaths.
“My father’s death was no accident,” she said before her eyes opened again to study the wood grooves of the tabletop. “Some part of me always knew that was the case, but hearing the words from his mouth sent me into a rage I’d never known before. I threw myself at him, attacking with my nails, my fists, my boots, but he was stronger, and he knew it.”
Val gnawed on the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood. A bright red blush flooded her cheeks, and she covered them with her palms. She shifted back and forth in her seat and still refused to meet anyone’s gaze.
“He overpowered me and slit my throat.” Her hand swiped the air with finality before it landed on the table with a loud slap. “But he was too drunk to do the job efficiently, and only went deep enough to sap my blood and brand me for life. Then, he passed out.
“The commotion woke Marlena and she came running to my side. I grabbed his gun and ran out of there with Marlena’s help. We got on Achilles, but as we were about to leave the stables, Grant was suddenly there, blocking our path.”
Her gaze lifted to lock on his.
“I killed him. Marlena rode us to a nearby priest who worked with the sisters of a convent to heal me and sew me up. He drove us to the next town in his covered wagon. We hid there for a few days until I was well enough to travel without opening the stitches and worrying about infection. We escaped and have been on the run ever since, wanted for murder. That was three years ago.”
She pressed her lips together, a sign she’d say no more. Nobody spoke. Even the cricket song went still, lending the air a thick silence that made the hairs on Val’s arms rise. It was Lila’s voice that broke the quiet.
Desert Sunrise (Love in the Sierras Book 2) Page 17
