by Angel’s End
She pointed to the cupboard on the far left corner next to the stove. Cade opened the door. A shaving brush stuck up from a small wooden box. Cade easily reached it and saw the contents, a brush, razor, soap and a strop. He handed it to Leah and turned to shut the door. There was a shadow on the shelf, behind where the box had sat. A shadow that looked very much like a rolled-up gun belt and the ivory handle of a.45. He shut the door quickly and quietly and gave Leah a perfect smile of contentment.
Her cheeks flamed. His pants were sagging again. Cade casually hitched them up and she turned away to pull out a chair.
“Sit down, please,” she said. “I’ll just be a minute getting the towels.”
Cade wearily settled at the table as she darted from the room. He was so tired, he needed to sleep, and to plan, but there was no way in hell he was going to pass up a bath, especially from Leah. The water hissed in the pot with the melting snow. His eyes darted to the cabinet. Dodger let out a huff of disgust.
“What?” Cade said to the dog.
Dodger lay down on his bed and stared at him with his dark, incriminating eyes.
NINE
“I cannot believe I cussed in front of him.” Leah lectured herself as she gathered the bathing supplies from the cabinet in her room. She didn’t worry about waking Banks as she spoke in hushed tones. Banks could sleep through anything. The kitten, however, was disturbed and meowed sleepily from the pillow by Banks’s head.
“Go back to sleep Ashes.” Leah rubbed the tiny head between the upturned ears and the kitten yawned before closing its eyes. Leah grabbed her comb from the washstand and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. “Oh my goodness.” When she woke to hear Cade in the kitchen she wasn’t thinking about propriety, just that he might need something, that his health may have deteriorated again. She’d stood before a man of God wearing nothing but her old, faded gown. If nothing else, she’d given Pastor Key plenty of fodder for a sermon. If he judged the entire town by her standards, it would be a miracle if he didn’t light out as soon as the snow melted.
“Which won’t be till spring,” Leah grumbled as she yanked on her robe and tied the sash with a sturdy bow. He’d seemed very casual about standing bare-chested in her kitchen with his pants slipping around his hips. “Still he might decide to live somewhere a lot more holy than my place.” She couldn’t resist a grin. “Good luck in finding a place like that around here.” They were no saints in Angel’s End, unless you wanted to count Bettina, and just the fact that she considered herself one put her out of the running in Leah’s mind. “Judge not…” Leah looked in the mirror again. Straightened her braid. Ran her fingers under her eyes to chase away the shadows. Winced when she used the injured fingers.
“I’ve really got to bone up on my Bible verses,” she said with a sigh. The one about lust came to mind. Lust at seeing Pastor Key standing in her kitchen with his bare chest and his pants sagging dangerously low and revealing a trail of dark hair and well-corded muscle. She had even lusted after him while he was praying over her hand.
“I guess I best get used to spending some time on my knees.” It had been pretty simple to let things like reading the Bible and worship get away from her since she hadn’t been close to a church in the years since Nate brought them to Angel’s End. Sure the circuit preacher came around occasionally, performed weddings, baptisms and funerals, along with the obligatory prayer meeting. But the daily things that one should do had just slipped away in the battle to just make it through another day with a roof over their heads and warm clothes on their bodies. Yes, she prayed, but they were more like arrows that she shot into the heavens when she thought about it, not actual worship. Pastor Key would have his hands full with all the backsliders in Angel’s End, including her.
“Lord give me strength.” For what, she wasn’t sure. Leah gathered her supplies and went back to the kitchen.
The pastor’s head was bent forward and his arms wrapped around his body. Was he praying? He moved with a start when she came in and the sight of his bare chest once more shocked her senses. She would just have to get used to having a man about the house again. A minister… Leah reminded herself.
“Aren’t you cold?” she asked. “You must be freezing.”
He shrugged. “I just don’t think about it. I taught myself a long time ago to ignore physical pain as much as possible.”
Now that was a strange thing for a preacher to say. Or was it? It wasn’t as if she ever knew one personally. Sure she’d gone to church when she was a child, but the extent of her relationship with her minister had been passing the potatoes when he came to dinner and repeating the vows when she married Nate. He quirked an eyebrow at her in question. He thought she was stalling. Was she? Leah placed a towel around his shoulders. “This should help with the cold.”
A lopsided smile lit his face. “Thank you.” He pulled it around in front. He might say he ignored the cold, but he wasn’t immune to it. He was just like every other man, pretending to be stronger, smarter or warmer. He was just a man, after all. A man who needed her help.
Leah quickly arranged the shaving supplies on the table. She crossed to the stove and checked the water. It was warm. She dipped some out into a bowl and dropped a small towel into the pot. She wrung it out and carried both towel and bowl to the table. “I thought you could start with a shave while the water warms up enough to bathe.”
“Sounds wonderful,” he said. He raised his head obligingly while she wrapped the warm, moist towel around his jaw. He tilted back and his eyes closed in contentment. She had thought that he’d shave himself, but by the looks of him, he was quite willing to let her do it for him. As if he read her mind, he said, “I’m so weak that I’d more than likely drop the blade and cut off my toes.”
Leah looked down at his bare feet and the long toes that seemed to want to bury themselves into the braid of the rug as if they were seeking warmth. His pants were damp nearly up to his knees and she realized he must have gone outside that way. Not only did he think he was immune to the cold, but also to pneumonia. Or maybe he just believed that God would look out for him. As he had, since he survived being shot.
Leah placed the soap in the water, swished it around and scrubbed at it with Nate’s brush to create lather. Behind her, Dodger yawned loudly and then settled into his bed. The stove cracked and popped with the heat from the fire and the water hissed in its pot. The quick ticktock of the cuckoo clock kept time in the background. Leah removed the towel and scrubbed the lather into the thick dark bristles that covered his lean jaw. While it soaked in she got the lamp from the shelf, turned up the wick and placed it on the table.
She picked up the razor and checked its edge. Four years of disuse had not dulled it, still she ran it across the strop just to make sure. One dark eye opened to watch her.
She couldn’t help herself.
“Are you afraid I’m going to cut your throat?”
“You wouldn’t be the first woman who wanted to.” He closed his eyes once more and sighed deeply, as if he’d resolved himself to what was to come.
She smiled at his quick rejoinder. Once more, he didn’t talk like a preacher, or how she thought a preacher should. She placed the blade against his cheek and scraped. Leah studied the angles of his face while she worked. Without opening his eyes he knew the placement of the razor and moved his face to line up with her strokes. His lips were mobile and expressive, even while he was relaxed. It was as if his thoughts were connected directly to it and each one caused a different reaction to show itself upon his mouth. Leah had never shaved a man before. Nate had never given her cause to.
She quickly realized it was all a matter of trust. The fact that Pastor Key trusted her not to hurt him made her all the more careful with the way she moved the razor over his face and then down around his neck.
Just one slip and she could hurt him. Why did he trust her? Was it because he was a man of God, and therefore saw the good in everyone?
“Tell me about you
r husband,” he said.
The blade hovered at his neck. Relax…It was an innocent question.
Why shouldn’t he want to know about Nate? It wasn’t a secret. Anyone in town could tell him about Nate.
“He was the sheriff,” she said. “He died four years ago.”
“I reckon you were a child bride.” He cocked one eye open and looked up at her.
A sense of relief washed over her when he didn’t ask about how Nate died. It was too painful to talk about. Pastor Key’s coming had made it fresh again, brought all the memories to the surface. “I was seventeen,” she said with a smile. “Nate was twenty. The town advertised for a sheriff and Nate got the job.”
“Twenty years old and he got hired as a sheriff?”
Every time the pastor spoke she raised the blade so she wouldn’t nick him.
“His father had quite a reputation from the border wars. The town figured Nate had to be just as good.”
“Kansas?”
“Yes. His father was against slavery. And not afraid to fight for what he believed in. Nate was a lot like him.”
“So he packed up his bride and brought her west.”
“Yes. We left the day after our wedding.” She couldn’t help remembering it all. The trip west in the wagon with the things she’d inherited from her grandmother, the way Nate made love to her in the back of the wagon when they camped at night. The realization that she was pregnant with Banks almost immediately, and how Nate cared for her after that, not even letting her lift a bucket of water. A thousand memories or more ran through her mind.
The water for his bath bubbled on the stove. Leah wiped the remaining soap from Cade’s face and examined her work. He smiled lazily with his eyes closed as if he knew she was studying him. The smile created deep creases in his cheeks, and lines fanned out around his eyes.
“I could get used to this,” he said.
Leah picked up a towel, wrapped it around the handle of the pot and moved it from the heat. She looked over her shoulder at him. The look of contentment on his face was sweet, like a kid who’d gotten way more than he asked for at Christmas. “It’s a onetime service,” she replied. “Because you’re so weak.” And because I don’t trust myself around you.
“How do you know I’m not playing possum?” His eyes were open now and he watched her as she tested the water with her finger.
Was he teasing her? Leah stopped what she was doing and turned to look at him. “Because a few hours ago I wasn’t sure if you were going to live or die.”
His dark eyes were hidden beneath his deep brow and shaggy hair. She should trim it for him, after she washed it. His expression turned serious. “I wasn’t so sure either.” His mood seemed to be ever-changing and it confused her, made her feel off balance. “You saved me,” he said.
Her skin heated at his steady perusal. Leah felt the flush rise from her neck and over her face. She turned back to the stove and tested the water once more. It was tolerable. “I really didn’t do anything.” She tossed the line carelessly over her shoulder.
“For I was hungry, and ye gave me meat; I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink: I was a stranger, and ye took me in.” He looked away from her, as if he were suddenly shy, or even embarrassed.
“We look out for each other around here,” she explained. “We take care of each other.”
His voice was husky when he spoke again. “You are lucky to have that. Not everyone does.”
“Is that why you left Ohio and decided to come here?”
He blinked, and momentarily looked off balance, then he smiled. “God said to feed his sheep.”
“He also moves in mysterious ways.” Leah carried the pot of warm water to the table. “I bet you didn’t count on being shot and robbed before you got here.”
“Just like you didn’t count on being a widow with a son to raise,” he returned.
His comment, so out of the blue, stunned Leah. Did he understand how hard it was for her to be a widow? How lonely she sometimes felt. How she missed having someone to share her life with. A man to help around the property, to laugh at Banks’s antics as well as take pride in his accomplishments. “You can’t predict the future,” she finally said. “There’s no way of knowing anything for certain. All you can do is step out in faith.”
His eyes turned distant, as if he were trying to remember something.
“Wherever God leads me.” He said it quietly, as if Leah wasn’t there.
As if contemplating the odd events that led him to be sitting in her kitchen as an injured man.
“You still don’t remember what happened to you?”
He looked away again. “No.”
“Maybe a good night’s sleep will bring it all back.”
He studied her. “Does it matter? Whoever did this is probably long gone and his trail lost in the blizzard.”
“I guess it doesn’t,” Leah agreed. “Although I hate to think of a killer being out there somewhere.”
“The town is safe,” he said as if that was all there was to it.
Leah wasn’t so sure. What about Jake? He’d left town the same night that Pastor Key was found. What if Jake, on the way home, had come across whoever it was? He could be dead or hurt and buried under the snow. Leah shook her head at her foolishness. Her mind was looking for trouble while the water was getting cold. She could tell by the set of his shoulders that Pastor Key was nearly done in. She’d best get him bathed before the poor man fell asleep in the chair.
“As long as we’re at it I’ll change your bandages.” Leah knelt by the chair. The bandages were tied in place under his arm. He lifted his elbow and watched her as she concentrated on untying the knot. Her fingers continually brushed against his smooth skin. She must have touched him a dozen times before, when he was unconscious, and never felt awkward. But now with his watchful dark eyes on her she felt self-conscious and clumsy. She looked up at him apologetically as her hand slipped.
“You must have gotten pregnant right away,” he said.
Leah blushed. It was such a personal observation. Nursing him was one thing, sharing the intimate secrets of her life with Nate, quite another.
He studied her face. “I’m sorry,” he said. “None of my business.” She didn’t want things to be awkward between them, she felt strange enough as it was, so she decided to plow forward. “I did,” she said and it wasn’t as personal as she thought it would be. “Nate was beside himself with joy, especially when Banks was born.”
“He wanted a son?”
“What man doesn’t?”
He gave a slight humph in agreement. “Where did the name come from? I’ve never heard of anyone named Banks before.”
“It was my grandmother’s last name. She raised me after my parents died. They drowned. We decided to name our baby after her. Sarah if it was a girl. Banks for a boy.”
“I like it,” he said. “It’s a good name.” His eyes studied her again, the anguish she thought she’d seen earlier now hidden. “A strong name,” he added. “Not that you need my approval.”
Finally the knot on his bandage came loose and she was able to unwind the length of linen. The padding on the back pulled off easily but the front was crusted with blood. “I’ll have to soak that off.”
He studied the wound. “I guess I was pretty lucky.” He placed his hand next to it. “I think the bullet nicked a rib. I feel like I got kicked by a mule.”
“I’ll make sure to rewrap it tighter.” Leah rolled the bandage and set it aside. “You must have a guardian angel.”
“I never would have thought so before.”
Once more his response was cryptic and totally unexpected. Leah lathered up a washcloth. “Lean forward,” she instructed. He obliged by folding his arms, placing them on the table and then resting his forehead upon them. One side of his face was turned up and the set of his jaw was tense, as if he dreaded what was to come. Leah moved behind the chair. She stopped, suddenly, as she went to place the cloth on his skin. His b
ack was crisscrossed with long and faded scars. Oh my goodness…She hadn’t noticed them before. She’d kept the light dim in his room and most of the time he’d been on his back. How did he come to have such scars? It looked as if he’d been beaten, but it had to have been several years ago, when he was much younger.
He shivered. Leah shook her head. It wasn’t her place to ask. She quickly rubbed the cloth across his back, unaware at first that she used each stroke of the cloth to trace the line of a scar. Did he realize it? Or were the wounds so old that he didn’t even think about them? He must have been barely more than a child when he got them. Why? It’s none of your business.
He sighed and his face relaxed. Leah pushed harder with her palm and used the cloth to knead the muscles that followed the long line of his spine. He arched against the pressure and she consciously felt his body give in to the sensation. Leah rinsed the cloth in the bowl, dipped it once more in the clean water and wiped the soap from his skin. After lathering the cloth again, she touched the back of his right arm and he lifted it. She took his wrist in her hand and scrubbed from his shoulder down to his fingertips. He relaxed into her hold and she turned his arm back and forth, to cover every inch of his skin.
Time ceased to move for Leah. The only sounds were the ticking of the clock, the slosh of the water and Dodger’s soft snores. She did not think of anything beyond the section of skin that she washed. When she finished with his arms she decided to wash his hair. He kept his eyes closed when she tilted his head back. She placed a bucket behind the chair and poured water over his hair to wet it. She used the almond shampoo that Nonnie made and worked it into his thick locks.
He groaned with pleasure as she massaged his scalp. He wrinkled his nose when some of the soap escaped and trickled in the groove between his nose and cheek. She quickly captured it with the towel, rinsed and then dried his hair until it hung in thick waves. It needed a trim, but that could wait until she was done with his bath.
She moved beside him, her knee against his thigh as she faced him. He raised his head, opened his eyes and the look he gave her was so tragic, and so very, very lonely, that her heart shattered.
