High Plains Promise (Love on the High Plains Book 2)

by Beaudelaire, Simone

  “It's from my father,” he replied.

  “Your… but… wow!” Allison stuttered.

  “I know. Why is he writing to me now? I haven't spoken to him in years. He abandoned us. I'm tempted to throw it in the fire.”

  “All right, Wes,” Allison agreed easily, “but you might read it first. See what he has to say.”

  He already had the envelope ripped open. After a quick scan of the contents, he handed it to his wife.

  Dear Wes,

  I know you probably don't want to hear from me anymore. All the unanswered letters should tell me that. But it's not that easy for a father to let go of his son. So I had to try one more time. Soon I'll be relocating overseas and I don't think I'll have the opportunity to return. But before I lose the possibility of making things right with you for good, I need to try once more for contact. There are so many things I need to tell you, I hardly know where to begin. If you have any interest in talking to me, meet me on the first of September at the New Long Branch Saloon in Dodge City at noon. I will wait until nightfall. I hope to see you then.

  Dad.

  Allison set the note on the bedside table and turned to face her husband. He'd stuck his hands into his pants pockets, in a gesture of false casualness.

  “You're not going,” she said, more as a statement than a question.

  “Why not? I'm curious to know what it's all been about. All the years. And he says I've ignored his letters, but he hasn't sent any. I want to know what that means.”

  “Wes,” Allison said gently, though inside she wanted to rage and scream, “I understand your desire to know more, but you really can't leave. What about the train robbers and their threats? Can you really leave me alone? Do you really want to risk your safety for no good reason? Besides, the first of September is tomorrow and our baby is due to be born any day. I can't have you just hopping on the train to Dodge City and being gone. What if I go into labor?”

  “Well, Allison, I don't really know what difference that would make,” he said mildly. “I wouldn't be around during the labor anyway. And I'd be home either late tomorrow night or early the next morning.”

  “You won't be around for the birth of your child?” she asked, incredulous.

  “No, of course not. Delivering babies is women's business. I would just be underfoot. Tell you what. I'll ask Mother to stay with you.”

  “Your mother?” She raised one eyebrow. “How is that supposed to be an improvement on being alone? I'd prefer my sister, since Mom has gone with Dad on that getaway.” She made a face. It seemed everyone was intent on abandoning her at her most vulnerable moment. Oh, don't be a grump, Allison. Dad won that trip to Colorado Springs, and he and Mom deserve the getaway after the year they've had. And this… She stopped berating herself. There was no excuse for this.

  Wesley spoke again. “My mother has been through delivery, Allison. Your sister is barely expecting. It would be better to have someone who knows what's happening. She can get the midwife. I'm going. Probably nothing will happen. But even if it does, you'd be doing this without me either way. I need to know what he wants. Now it's late. Let's go to bed.”

  He headed off to clean his teeth as Allison slowly pulled off her dress. Her body, heavily distorted with the weight of her nearly-due baby, ached constantly. The squirming limbs sometimes felt as though they were about to tear open her flesh. She wanted the delivery over with. And now her husband wasn't even going to be around. Allison stood naked beside the bed, running her fingers over the huge swell which threatened constantly to topple her. How long could it be? Days? A week? Couldn't be than that. She was huge. She had never imagined her body would stretch so far. Surely Rebecca, who was now in her fifth month and sporting a tiny, concealable bump, would not grow so large.

  Wesley returned for bed before she could pull on her nightgown.

  “Allison?” he approached her slowly. Angry as she was, she turned her back on him, reaching under her pillow for her soft cotton gown. It was the only remaining one she could get into.

  Wesley's hands slid down her back and around her waist, cradling the heavy curve of her belly in his arm. His other hand went to her breasts.

  “Don't be angry with me, Allison. You read it. I have one chance to meet him. How can I say no?”

  “I don't know, Wes,” she replied wearily. “I had hoped your wife, the woman who waited for you while you married another woman, who picked up the pieces after your world fell apart and tried to put them back together, who has loved you since you were a child and loves you to this day, and who puts up with your lingering problems, the woman who is carrying your baby and is about to deliver, would mean more to you than a father who disappeared so long ago, none of us remember what he looks like.”

  “Allison,” Wesley said, his voice serious, though his caressing of her tender nipples was far from innocent, “the only person on earth who means as much to me as you do is Melissa. I'm sorry I haven't been the husband you hoped for. But this is my one chance to find out what it was about. Please, Allie. Don't make this a problem. Let me go. I'll come home to you as soon as I can.”

  He turned her around and looked down at her, his eyes flaring with heat.

  “How can you want me when I look like this?” she demanded.

  “How could I not? You're the image of womanhood. Come on, love. Who knows how many chances we'll get before the little one arrives.”

  “Wes?”

  He led her to the bed, pulling back the covers. She lay on her side. “What is it, Allie?” he asked, angling his body so he could kiss her.

  “Do you want this baby?”

  He went still, considering his words. The unequivocal answer she'd hoped for had not arrived. He didn't know.

  “It's not the baby, Allie. And it's not you. I can't forget how hard it was before, with Sam. She… well, you know. I don't know.”

  “So I'm suffering, and so is your little one,” she captured his hand and placed it on her belly, “because you bedded an easy girl. That's not fair.”

  “I know,” he said.

  “Melissa is yours because you love her and because you've claimed her. This baby is yours in every way,” she pointed out.

  “I know that too, Allie. I know.” He petted the straining skin.

  “But do you believe it? Not just with your head, Wes. Do you know it deep in your soul? Do you have faith in me? I've never betrayed you, Wes. These are the only hands that have touched me.” She grasped his fingers and slid hers between them. “I love you, Wes. Only you. Do you not love me anymore?”

  “My goodness, expectant mothers are dramatic,” he replied, distracting her with kisses as his hands went to the sensitive places on her body. She let him, because she was too tired to fight. But her heart wasn't in it.

  When Wesley attempted to roll her to her back, she protested. “I can't do it like that. The baby's too heavy.”

  “That's all right, love,” he replied, lying back himself and extending a hand so she could straddle him. He guided his sex to her entrance and slipped through the pregnancy-moistened passage to her fullest depth. The lovemaking felt good. Of course it did. Wesley knew how she liked to be taken and held her up, both hands on her hips while he glided gently in and out. Eventually her snug sheath tightened in pleasure and a soft gasp escaped her lips, but the intense closeness sex had brought in their early marriage was no more. Wesley had withdrawn from her. So she had withdrawn from him, the two of them living side by side, their bodies touching, but their hearts shielded from contact. How had they come to such a place? She didn't know, and in the aftermath of a climax, a quarrel, and frustration, she suddenly felt exhausted. Wriggling away from Wesley, she flopped down on her side and quickly fell asleep.

  Chapter 16

  The following morning Wesley slipped out of the house while his wife was still sleeping. He didn't want to continue arguing with her about whether he should go. He had said what he intended to say. He made his quiet way through the early morn
ing stillness to his mother's house, the bank, and then to the train station where he purchased a ticket to Dodge City. He would be there well before noon and have time to gather himself before he confronted the man who had made his childhood so difficult.

  Allison woke up feeling sore and grumpy. She had an ache in her back, another in her hip, and her shoulder was more than half numb. Bright sunlight seemed to assault her senses. She hauled her heavy body into a sitting position.

  “Mama Allie?” a little voice chirped from the bedroom doorway. “Mama Allie, I'm hungry.”

  The mention of food made Allison's stomach heave. “I'll get you something in a moment, baby.”

  “Please hurry. My tummy is rumbling.”

  Allison groaned. “As quick as I can,” she replied. Smoothing a scraggly wisp of blond hair out of her eyes, she gripped the bedpost and used it to haul herself to her feet. Her calf knotted in a painful cramp. She whimpered, flexing her foot to sooth the ache. She reached down, trying to dig a knuckle into the charley horse, but couldn't reach past her enormous belly.

  The muscles of her abdomen tightened as well. Allison clung to the post, waiting helplessly for the pains to stop. They did, eventually.

  “Mama Allie!” Mellissa yelled, hurtling into the room.

  “Missy, stop!” Allison shouted. The little girl pulled up short, her lip quivering. “I can't pick you up, baby. I'm sorry.”

  “Why are you so fat, Mama Allie?” Melissa asked.

  Allison cautiously released her stranglehold on the bedpost and took a step. Her calf ached, and so did her back, but she moved forward anyway. “Remember how I told you I'm going to have a baby, Missy?” she replied. “That baby is right here.” She patted her belly. “Any day now you'll have a little brother or sister.”

  “Oh.” Melissa considered this. “What's for breakfast? Can I have cinnamon rolls?”

  “Sorry, I don't have any dough ready for that,” Allison replied. “I can try to make some for you for tomorrow. How about eggs?”

  “I hate eggs!” The child stuck her nose in the air, so that her messy golden hair fluttered down her back. Allison sighed. The food games her stepdaughter played sometimes exasperated her to the point of exploding.

  “I can offer you oatmeal with cinnamon,” Allison said, “but nothing else.”

  “I s'pose,” Melissa replied, apparently acquiescing to Allison's exhausted expression.

  Allison descended the staircase, groaning along with each wooden tread. In the kitchen, she stirred the oatmeal with one hand. The other was fisted against her lower back. The ache was so intense she wanted to cry. Not to mention the smell of the oatmeal made her want to vomit. Plunking a bowl in front of Melissa, she splashed cool milk on the hot cereal and staggered out of the kitchen to use the necessary.

  “Hello,” a voice called from the other room.

  “Becky?”

  “Yes, Allie. Where are you?”

  “Just a minute,” Allison replied. She settled her nightgown back around her. “Um, James didn't come with you, did he?”

  “No,” her sister replied. By the sound, she was now standing outside the bathroom door. “He's at the shop.”

  “Good.” I can come out in my nightgown if only Becky is here. Opening the door, she saw her sister standing before her, dressed in a pretty calico dress which only strained slightly around the curve of Becky's pregnancy. “Hi there. How's my favorite nephew?” Allison pressed her hand to her sister's belly.

  Becky took in the sight of Allison, swollen and disheveled, still wearing her nightgown. “You look like hell,” she said bluntly.

  “I know,” Allison replied. “At least I'm consistent.”

  “Tell you what. Why don't you go get dressed? I'll play with the munchkin for a while.”

  Allison tried to smile, but she could feel it was little more than an unhappy grimace.

  “Actually,” Becky said, “maybe I should just take her with me. Would that help?”

  “Becky,” Allison said, “you're an angel.” Tears of gratitude stung her eyes. Then another vicious cramp tightened down her spine and she cried out softly.

  “On the other hand, maybe I should stay. I don't think you should be alone. Honey, are you in labor?”

  “I have no idea,” Allison replied, leaning her head weakly against the door frame. Her swollen feet throbbed. “Is Mother at home?”

  “Sorry,” Becky replied, smoothing a strand of hair out of Allison's face. “She and Dad went out of town, remember?”

  Tarnation. I did know that. Why can't I think straight? “It's hard to remember anything,” Allison said. “My head feels like it's stuffed with cotton.”

  “I know what you mean,” Rebecca replied. “I'm not looking forward to this winter.”

  “At least it won't be so HOT for you,” Allison replied, panting.

  “Are you having pains?” Becky laid a hand on her sister's belly. “I can't tell if you are or not.”

  “I don't think so. It's my back that hurts.” Hurts is an understatement. It feels like a fist clenching down on it.

  “Help me out here, Allison,” her sister pleaded. “I don't know what to do. Should I get the midwife?”

  Allison met Becky's worried blue eyes. Just then another spasm gripped her lower back. “Owwwww,” she whimpered, clutching the aching muscle. “I don't know!”

  “I can't, I mean I don't… I'll get help. Come on, Melissa!” she grabbed the toddler, who had just wandered into the room, and hurried out the door.

  The intense, painful sensation eased and Allison moved cautiously out of the door frame of her water closet, hoping to make it to the sofa before anything else happened. One slow, painful step at a time, she inched her way into the living room. About halfway across the open space, her muscles locked again. With nothing to grab, she crumpled to the floor, rocking on her hands and knees while her pelvis ached and throbbed. Somehow, being in this position helped, so she stayed. The clenching returned, but this time, it felt right to lower her chest to the floor, so she did. It eased the horrible pressure considerably, no matter that she looked like an idiot. She sighed, shifting her hips to one side and then the other. If this was labor, she wanted no part of it.

  A strange swooping sensation rolled through her body. It was forceful enough to take her breath away. The next time her body tightened, it was clearly coming from her belly. It hurt, but not as intensely. Cautiously, Allison raised herself up from the floor. She didn't want to sit, but leaning against the arm of the sofa helped. Shifting her weight from foot to foot, she struggled to remain calm through what she now realized was the beginnings of labor pains.

  Wesley looked out the window of the train, taking in the golden stalks of autumn grass which waved across the landscape from horizon to horizon. Endless, the grass, eternal. Like life. Everything changed. A person, like a blade of wheat, was born, matured, and eventually shriveled and died without disturbing a blade no more than ten paces away. Each lived out its own existence, mostly alone, mostly not affecting those nearby. Some were cut short, disease or natural disaster truncating their lives, but even those who arrived at maturity were cut down in their time. And no one was unique or different. All experienced much the same existence. Like a grain of wheat, he'd propagated again, spread his seed and borne fruit. Or maybe it wasn't again. Who knew? Allison was right that it didn't matter whose Melissa really was. She was his by his choosing. His legally. What difference did the rest make at this point?

  A new thought occurred to Wesley. Out of all the boys she'd fooled around with, Samantha had chosen him to be the father of her baby, to provide the home they needed. In a twisted sort of way, it was flattering. Allison would say to keep that with my other good memories of her. Maybe she's right. And he'd done the same with Allison; chosen her to be the mother of his child, and to provide the home he needed. And she'd risen to it the best she could, given her all, even her heart, to keep him happy. You repaid her about as well as you were repaid.


  Depressed by the similarities, Wesley turned his attention back to the winter wheat.

  “What are you doing?”

  Allison, in the midst of yet another pain, didn't immediately respond to her mother-in-law's arrival. She hummed a little, low and deep, not quite a groan, but almost. She'd been doing that for a while. It gave her something to think about, and helped her take her mind off her discomfort.

  At last Allison lifted her head to take in Wesley's mother. Her steel-gray, curly hair was escaping its pins, hovering around her head like a halo. Her eyes, also metallic in color, peered suspiciously through wire-rimmed spectacles. Her thin lips compressed into a sour expression.

  “I'm in labor,” Allison explained simply. “I'm all right so far, but would you please go and get the midwife?”

  “Bah,” Mrs. Fulton dismissed the request with a wave of her hand. “It's too soon. You don't need that yet.”

  Another cramp tightened Allison's belly and she moaned. This one was harder than any previous pain, and it had come faster too. She concentrated on turning her moan into a hum, like she had before. It still worked, but not as well. This was a definite change over the previous hour.

  “Please,” she begged. “Please go get the midwife.”

  “Soon,” Mrs. Fulton replied. “And in the meanwhile, stop that infernal racket. Don't you know you'll wear yourself out moaning and groaning? You've barely started. It gets much worse than this.”

  “Wonderful,” Allison muttered. Another pain seized her and she leaned against the arm of the sofa, rocking her hips and trying not to make a sound.

  An hour later, Allison's contractions were right on top of each other and had strengthened to the point where her soft toning no longer sufficed to distract her. She still tried, but at the peak of each one, the pain overcame her concentration, making her cry out sharply.

  As the contraction waned, she whimpered, panting. “I can't do this, Mother. Please go get the midwife.”