by Norah Hess
Slicing the cake, she mused that she had spent much time in wondering about her new friend. There were times when he was so gay and full of fun that he reminded her of a young boy enthralled with the business of being alive. Then there would be times when no matter what she said or did to bring a smile to his lips, he remained morose and somehow withdrawn.
The coffee was brewed, and Marna pulled it to the hearth. She moved to the window and looked out. Jake should be appearing any minute.
Today, Marna was more anxious than usual for Jake's visit. Last week when he was leaving he had hesitantly mentioned that he might have something to tell her the next time he dropped by. Drumming impatient fingers on the windowsill, she wondered what it could be.
She stopped her nervous tapping and leaned closer to the window. She smiled. Jake's wide figure was just emerging from the forest. He almost always walked the five miles from the post. "It keeps me fit," he explained one day. "I've spent most my life sittin'. It's high time I get this old body in workin' condition again."
Henry and Dove had been visiting at the time, and Henry had chuckled drily. "Sounds to me like you're fixin' yourself up to find a young woman."
Jake had winked slyly, retorting, "Ain't nothin' wrong with that." Glancing down at Dove, he added, "If an old codger like you can do it, I don't see why I can't."
Henry had smiled proudly and reached over to pat Dove's slightly protruding stomach. "Yeah, and this old codger can still plant a strong seed."
Marna smiled, remembering the good-natured give and take between the two older men.
Her smile faded as she started suddenly. Matt had come around the big pine and now stood talking to Jake. Their conversation was brief, and she was puzzled at the angry look on both their faces when they parted. But when Jake entered the cabin, his cheeks red from the cold, only pleasure at seeing her shone in his dark blue eyes.
I must have imagined the anger, Marna thought to herself.
They had finished their cake and coffee before Jake spoke on the matter he had mentioned to Marna. He took a great deal of time filling and liting his pipe, as though reluctant, or uneasy, about what he had to say. Then, avoiding her eyes, and groping awkwardly for words, he stammered out, "Marna, I...I... uh... there's a young woman who is gonna move into my cabin with me." His relief at getting his words out rushed through his teeth.
When Marna stared at him in dismay, his temper flared. "Dammit, Marna, I'm not that old. And Betsy is a well-educated woman, and"-he stopped to give a rakish laugh-"she's the best I've ever had in bed."
"Betsy?" Mama had gasped in a low whisper. She reached out now to stop his pacing. "Please, Jake, not her. Anybody, but not her."
Jake frowned down at her, disappointed that a child of his would be so snobbish. After a moment he said curtly, "Look, Marna, Betsy is a fine woman. I know what she's been, and I don't hold it against her. A person sometimes has do the best he can in this world. Betsy has had her share of misfortune."
"Jake, you misunderstand me. I don't even know the woman. I wouldn't even try to judge her."
Understanding flashed through Jake's mind then. His features softened and he patted the bent head. "You're just a little jealous of her, eh?"
"Well, she did keep Matt away from me for a while there."
"You're mistaken, Mama. Matt kept himself away. He did it out of pure stubbornness and orneriness. You see, Matt ain't never known a female like you before, and he don't know how to handle himself when he's around you."
He glanced over at Marna and chuckled. "He's jealous as hell of me comin' over here all the time. He stopped me outside before and wanted to know if I wasn't comin' over here too often."
Excitement flushed Marna's face. "What did you answer him?"
"I told him that since he wasn't livin' with you, it was none of his business how often I come."
"And?"
"He said it wasn't any of my business whether he lived with you or not, you were still his wife."
"And?"
"I just laughed in his face and told him I'd keep comin' here until you told me to stop."
Marna smiled wistfully. "I guess with Betsy and all, you won't be visiting me anymore, anyhow."
"Marna, child," Jake exclaimed. "Betsy has nothing to do with our relationship. I'll be over here like I always have if you'll let me." He paused a moment before adding, "I would like for you and Betsy to become friends. She is wise in many things, and like your grandmother, she could be of great help to you."
Marna glanced at Jake doubtfully. She could still see the attractive woman sitting on her horse next to Matt, that knowing smile on her face.
She smiled and murmured, "I'll see."
"You'll like her, Marna." Jake urged. "This is the first time I've cared for a woman since your.. .since my wife died."
Mama patted his hand and said sincerely, "I'm glad you've found someone, Jake."
Jake left shortly after that, waving until he was out of sight. Marna returned to the rocker, trying to pull herself out of the gloom that had settled around her.
Jake was halfway to the post when a thin and angular figure stepped from behind a tree and stood in front of him. Piercing, sharp eyes peered from under a woolen scarf tied about a graying head.
Startled, Jake swore under his breath. The old hag had scared the wits out of him, popping out like that. But as he continued to stare at the gaunt, weatherbeaten features, a vague remembrance stirred within him. Could it possibly be?
"It's been a long time, Egan," the old woman said.
"My God, is it you, Hertha?"
"Yes, it's me."
Jake put his arms around the bony body and held it tenderly. "The years have been hard on you, Grandma."
Hertha swiped at her wet eyes. "Yes, they have." She drew back, looking up at him proudly. "But they've fared well with ...I guess you know who I mean."
"Marna?"
"Yes. Did you ever see anyone prettier, or nicer?"
"Only once. A long time ago."
A softness came into Hertha's eyes. "Yes, my little Hester. After so many years I get the two of them mixed up. They're so much alike."
"Yes, they are much alike, but Marna isn't always gentle like her mother was. She can get downright mean sometimes."
Hertha's eyes twinkled. "I know. I can't decide if she gets that streak from her grandfather or her father."
Jake's gaze twinkled back. "I guess it could come from either side. I'm only thankful that she's got spunk.
I wish my Hester would have had more."
Hertha looked away from the pain in Jake's eyes and said, "I thought you were dead, Egan. It was like the ground opened up and swallowed you. Where have you been all this time?"
"Mostly in Philadelphia, off and on. That first year and a half I spent in Canada. I can't clearly recall the months spent there. I was drunk more than I was sober. Then one morning I woke up in some dive and realized that I had to get back to the business of living. I suddenly wanted that baby girl of mine. I felt that through her I would have a piece of my Hester. But when I returned to Philadelphia and went to your house on River Street, strangers were living there. They couldn't tell me anything, nor could anyone else."
Jake paused as though he couldn't talk about the disappointment that had flowed over him. After swallowing hard a couple of times, he continued.
"Hertha, I have searched for you and Marna for fifteen years. I had about given up hope of ever finding you, when one night in a tavern I overheard two men talkin'. They were discussin' a medicine woman, and when one of them referred to her as old Hertha, my ears pricked up. And when one of them called her husband that old bastard, I thought my heart would jump out of my chest. Almost afraid to ask, I bought the two men a drink and inquired if there was a girl livin' with the couple. At first they looked dubious, then finally one of the men said he believed there was a girl. A woods queer girl. I had such a premonition that it was you and Marna, I struck right out. I can't tell you what it d
id to me that first time I saw Marna."
Hertha shot him a fast look. "I been wonderin' why you ain't looked me up yet."
Jake grinned at her. "I been wonderin' the same thing about you. I thought maybe you didn't want to see me."
"Is that the reason you haven't told Marna who you are?"
"Partly. But mostly I dreaded what I might see in her eyes once I told her." He looked anxiously at Hertha. "Has Emery treated her badly, Hertha?"
"No, not physically. He knows that I would kill him in his sleep if he ever abused her. But I was gettin' awful worried as Marna grew older. I was able to keep her beauty hidden beneath dirt, but her body blossomed out so, I couldn't keep it hidden. The old devil was plannin' on makin' money with that body."
In silent accord they had commenced walking, Jake holding the sharp elbow encased in a shabby coat. Hertha picked up her story. "I was so worried about Marna's welfare, I think I made a big mistake. Emery had declared that he was gonna sell Marna to his friends, and I was frantic. For some time I had been tryin' to make up my mind whether to kill him or to run away with Marna, when Marna saved Matt Barton's life. He seemed like a decent man, and at the time I thought he was the perfect answer."
They walked along in silence again for a while. Then Jake spoke. "By the way, I'm called Jake South in these parts."
"I know." She crooked her arm in his, to steady her progress along the ice-encrusted trail. "You don't know how glad I was when you showed up, Jake South. There's somethin' brewin' between Emery and a hunter called Corey. I just know it has somethin' to do with Marna. Corey attacked her once, but Matt came along in time to save her from the varmint" A long sigh escaped her. "I talked Matt into marryin' Marna so that she'd be protected from Emery, but he don't even live with her."
"Matt Barton is a damned fool," Jake burst out. "He thinks all he has to do is warn a man off. He don't seem to realize that there are some men who would risk their lives to get their hands on his wife."
After another few moments of silence, Hertha stated quietly, "You've got to tell Marna she's your daughter, Egan. You've got to move in with her and give her your protection. Otherwise, I fear for what might happen to her."
Jake's sigh was long and ragged. "I know you're right, and I want to tell her I'm her father. I want it more than anything in the world. But Lord, I don't know where I'll find the courage to do it."
Hertha squeezed his arm. "It won't be as hard as you think. The girl already loves you like a father. You're all she talks about. She's gonna be happy beyond words."
Jake pulled Hertha to a stop in mid-stride. Excitement in his voice, he demanded, "You're not just saying that, are you, Hertha? You're not makin' it up to encourage me?"
"I wouldn't lie to you about somethin' this important, Egan."
They started to walk again. "If you're right, Grandma, I have my own plans for Marna. I couldn't stay here in the hills. My business has expanded in Philadelphia, and I need to live there and take care of it. I want to take Marna to Philadelphia. I can give her a good life there. The kind of life she deserves. She'll have a beautiful home, fancy clothes. And a suitable husband, too. She's wasted on that wild hunter."
Hertha's leathery face sagged and she aged ten years before Jake's eyes. "I would never see her again," she cried. "Oh, Egan, I don't think I could stand that."
Jake squeezed her arm against his side. "We wouldn't leave you behind, Grandma, you know that. It would please me beyond anything to take care of you from now on. It would be small payment for all those years."
"Raisin' Marna has been my pay, Egan," Hertha said stiffly.
Jake patted her hand. "I didn't mean it to sound that way, Hertha."
Hertha nodded. "I guess I knew you didn't, Egan." Then, half to herself, she mused, "I wonder what it would be like, back in Philadelphia again. To live a life that Emery had no part of." Her brown eyes gleamed. "He couldn't follow me if he wanted to. He's wanted for murder back there. I didn't know it for a long time. He let it slip out a few years back when he was drunk one night."
Suddenly Hertha brought them to a stop. "What about Betsy, Egan? You were supposed to move her into your cabin today."
Jake gaped at her. "How did you know that?"
"Oh, I know everything that goes on in these hills," she said, grinning.
They came to a fork in the trail, and Hertha disengaged her arm. "I turn off here." She peered up at him anxiously. "When do you think we can leave?"
Jake scratched his head in thought. "The only thing I have to do is find someone to take care of my livestock. A horse, a cow, and six chickens. I'm sure I can give them to some homesteader. I don't think it would take Betsy long to gather her things. I'd say by the end of the week I could be ready." He shoved his hands into his pockets and hunched his shoulders. "That is, if I can get up the nerve to tell Marna who I am...and then convince her to leave the hills."
"Yeah, I been thinkin' about that, too. For her sake, I wish Matt Barton would be the one to leave these hills."
"It would sure solve our problem. In the meantime we'll just have to rely on Marna havin' some good common sense and realizin' that he's not for her."
Hertha pulled the scarf tighter around her head. "With both of us workin' on her, maybe we can wear her down. And knowin' Matt, it's time he pulled some fool trick to make it easier for us."
Hertha squeezed Jake's arm. "You go on and tell Betsy our plans, and keep me informed about everything. You can send me a message by any of the Indians around here. We're on good terms."
She hurried off then, and Jake continued on, eager to start fulfilling his dream.
Hertha hurried around a bend in the trail and ran full tilt into Matt. As he quickly reached out to keep her from falling, her mind raced, wondering whether he had overheard any of her and Egan's talk. It was important that the word of their leaving didn't leak out and get back to Emery. Still, maybe it was good if Matt did hear them. Matt might straighten out if he thought he was truly losing Marna. She still felt that the man cared for her granddaughter.
"You scared me half to death, Matt," Hertha barked. Eying him suspiciously, she asked sharply, "What are you doin' here? Are you following' me?"
Matt gave her a puzzled look. "How can I be followin' you when you're comin' from the other direction?"
Confusion swept over Hertha's face. He had her there. Drat it, she'd spoiled any chance of finding out if he had overheard anything.
"Yes, that's right, ain't it?" she muttered weakly. Peering up at him, she asked, "Where you goin'?"
"To the post."
Hertha's brown eyes kindled. She would bait him a bit, she decided. See if she could rile him. When Matt was real angry, he couldn't always hide his feelings.
Her sly eyes watched him as she asked, "You gonna get Marna some more furniture?"
A film of red spread over Matt's face and he answered curtly, "No, I am not. If you must know, I'm goin' to buy some gunpowder,"
Suddenly, Hertha was undecided. Was she doing the right thing, deliberately rousing Matt's anger? Shouldn't she warn Matt to stay away from Betsy? Egan would be a tough man to tangle with. Even though she was disappointed in Matt, she still liked him and wouldn't want to see him hurt.
Nervously she cleared her throat a couple of times, then ventured, "I guess you know Jake South has moved into your territory."
She wasn't prepared for Matt's savage reaction. His face dark with rage, he ripped out furiously, "That's a damned lie,"
Surprised, Hertha leaned toward him. "I didn't know you cared that much for Betsy, Matt."
His eyes widened. "Betsy?" he asked feebly. "I thought you meant... hell, I don't care that way about Betsy."
Hertha's old eyes gleamed with satisfaction. "You thought I meant Mama, didn't you?"
"Hell, no," he blustered. "She wouldn't be interested in that old man." But the doubt and bravado of his words lay heavy on his face.
Hertha willed away the glint of amusement that fought to shine in
her eyes. She forced herself to say seriously, "He's not that old, Matt. Betsy finds him young enough, and God knows she could pick and choose. It shows on South's face that he has known many women and has learned much about them." She paused a second at the clouding of Matt's eyes. She was getting to him, and she was glad. He had hurt her Mama so much, and it was time this rooster got a little bit of it back.
Warming to her subject, she rushed on, "Jake knows how to treat a woman. He knows the words, and the manner in which to say them. They would melt a young girl."
When Matt made no response but only stood clench ing and unclenching his fists, held tightly at his side, Hertha hesitated again. She didn't want to push a fight between the two men. If either should be killed, there would be an irreparable rift left between Marna and the survivor. Any way you looked at it, Mama would be the loser. She ended by saying weakly, "If I was you, Matt, I'd move back to my wife."
The stubborn pride that was so much of Matt's makeup rose to fight the pain in his eyes. In a voice that was harsh, he grated out, "Well, you ain't me. And I don't give a damn who she lays with."
He spun on his heel and headed back toward camp, his hurrying feet kicking up the snow. Hertha stood gazing after him. "Like fun you don't," she grunted.
His face a mask of raging jealousy, and a devil at his heels, Matt walked rapidly. The old woman's words were a reflection of what was being said in camp. They were all laughing behind his back.
"And why shouldn't they?" he demanded of the crunching snow. First South had moved in on Betsy. Not that he gave a damn about that. Almost any woman could fill the need she had taken care of. Still it had rankled him when Jake pushed him out of the picture. But the randy old bastard hadn't been satisfied with that. He had to start making a play for Marna, too.
When he reached camp, Matt banged open the door of the flimsy headquarters. Flinging himself down at the table, he pulled a cup toward him and picked up the jug. He splashed some whiskey into the cup, corked the jug, and set it down. Slowly and methodically Matt drank the raw whiskey until the jug was almost empty. But the solace he sought from it did not come. His thoughts of Marna and Jake were as sharp as ever. He brought his fist slamming onto the table. Would nothing dull this nagging of his brain?
