by Jodi Thomas
“Beautiful,” Austin finished her sentence. “Magic. Wonderful.”
“Unreal,” Jennie answered. “I’ve always thought I wouldn’t allow a man to touch me unless I was sure he loved me.” She waited, as if giving Austin the chance to reply.
But he couldn’t answer. He’d never said the words. Maybe he did care for her more than he’d ever cared for a woman, but to love her would be opening himself up to be hurt again. He’d loved his mother. He’d loved his brother. They were dead. He wasn’t sure he could survive another love in his life. Why couldn’t she be like the few other women he’d found comfort with? Why couldn’t he just walk away from her before either of them was hurt?
Tossing the unused cigar away, Austin shoved his hands into his pockets. “Love’s something for poets and romantics.” Suddenly, for no good reason at all, he wanted her to feel as uncomfortable as he did. “Now, honesty is a trait worth looking for. If a man and woman can be honest with one another, then they’ve something to build on.”
Jennie’s eyes shone with tears. “I think we have nothing more to say to one another, Marshal McCormick.”
“No,” Austin agreed and watched her leave. When he’d heard the door close, he added, “Except that I’ll miss you every day for the rest of my life.”
Only the wind and a small child listening at the window above heard his statement.
Chapter 24
I don’t understand. By all rhyme and reason you should be food for the worms by now.” Audrey spread another quilt over Colton’s bed. “Granny Gates would have made you spit three times in an open grave for the trick you played on death.”
“Sorry to let you down,” Colton grumbled, “but other than feeling like I swallowed a handful of lead, I’m doing pretty good.”
“Oh, I’m not sorry, just surprised. Three days ago I wouldn’t have given you a hare’s chance in a buffalo stampede, but now I’m beginning to think, thanks to you, my calling is doctoring. I keep changing the bandage expecting to see fresh blood, but you’ve decided to keep what little you have left.”
“Since I’m doing so grand, how about sending up something besides broth?” Colton’s words still had an edge to them, as if he were giving an order, not making a request. “A rare steak with a half dozen eggs on the side sounds like a fair follow-up to that bowl of soup you called supper.”
Audrey wasn’t ruffled by his gruffness. “You’ll have nothing but broth until I say you can eat more.” She diluted her order with a smile. “Now, get down in those covers. We’ve got a norther blowing in that promises snow before nightfall, and, even with the quilts, I doubt you’ve got enough blood to keep you warm. If you survive the night, I’ll give some thought to oatmeal in the morning.”
Colton closed his eyes and growled at her suggestion. In truth he’d felt chilled all day as the temperature had been dropping. He knew it was more thanks to his blood loss than the weather, but he’d fight it alone. The girls here had enough to keep them busy without having to worry about one gut-shot rancher feeling cold.
As Audrey said good night and left the room, he heard his wife enter and take her seat by his bed. He hadn’t been too ill to notice she ate little more than broth. Even that seemed to make her sick from time to time. He tried to remember the color of her eyes, but couldn’t. In all honesty he’d never looked at her closely before he’d been shot, denying himself a passing pleasure so that he wouldn’t miss her when he sent her away.
He’d been a fool to ask a woman to travel all the way to Kansas in hopes of marrying him. What did he have to offer her but widowhood? If the bullet hadn’t found him three days ago, it would have before the year was out.
“Colton?” Delta whispered. “Are you awake?”
He slowly opened his eyes and stared at her. Sky blue, he thought. How could he have forgotten that her eyes were sky blue? Just as she had the nights before, she’d left the room to change into a cotton gown and robe. He had no idea why she changed. She spent the night, as she spent the days, sitting in the chair between him and the window.
She looked so fragile, like a sudden gust might blow her away. But he’d seen her inner strength these past few days. Like a true wife, she’d been there whenever needed. She made decisions quickly yet never said a harsh word, even though he knew she had to be exhausted. He looked at her closely for the first time, remembering how she’d cried when she thought they were alone and he was asleep. “I’m awake.” He tried to force the edge out of his voice. “How are you, Mrs. Barkley?” he asked, even though he knew she wouldn’t tell him if she were ill.
Delta smiled shyly. “Fine,” she answered. “Or I will be as soon as I warm up. With the sun setting, all warmth seems to have vanished from the world. The house is packed with folks asking for more blankets.”
“Are you sorry I haven’t died yet and left you a widow?” He knew she hadn’t married him out of any love, and he’d already guessed his land wasn’t the card that had won her. She had her reasons, just as he had his, and she might tell him if there was enough time shared between them.
“No,” she replied. “I’m getting used to having you around. I’d miss you if you died on me now.”
“You know, I’d miss you, too,” Colton added honestly. He’d decided years ago that he preferred being alone, but he didn’t mind her nearness.
The wind rattled against the windows already white with frost. Delta glanced at the open space the curtains didn’t cover and hugged herself. She could feel the storm blowing across the country.
“Take the quilt Audrey brought,” Colton ordered as he tried to lift it off his legs. “You’ll freeze tonight sitting in that chair.”
“No!” Delta jumped to straighten his covers. “I couldn’t. You’ll need it.”
Colton leaned back among the pillows, frustrated that he wasn’t strong enough to force her to accept. How could he rest easy in a bed when she was shivering at his side?
Delta tucked the covers around him, her wide blue eyes filled with worry. “Please,” she said, “you’ve got to stay warm.” This night promised to be hard on the healthy. “The last thing I want is for you to catch pneumonia.”
“I can’t lie here with you cold. Leave me. Go find a warm bed among the girls’ quarters.”
“No.” Delta’s voice was low, but firm. “I belong here with my husband.” She didn’t add that she felt safe here even though he was wounded. Delta had no faith in Jennie’s belief that Ward was gone. She knew he’d be back for the deed or to make sure she was dead and buried.
Colton opened the covers at his side. “Then lay beside me and we’ll both be warm.”
Fear hit Delta like an icy slap. She’d seen her stepbrother make the same gesture, and she’d been beaten when she hadn’t joined him. Backing against the wall, she raised her hands as if to ward off another blow. “No!” she cried, trying to push herself into the very wall.
Colton took one look at her face and would have given all he owned to be able to take back the words. He’d only voiced an option, but in his usual way his words had come out too harsh. She stared down at him with a terror unlike any he’d ever seen.
“Mary Elizabeth?” he questioned, hating himself for having frightened her so. “It was only a suggestion for warmth, nothing more. Mary Elizabeth!” He realized she wasn’t hearing him. “Mary!” Even the sound of her own name didn’t shake her.
He leaned back against the pillows, wishing he had the strength to stand and pull her back to reality, but knowing that if he touched her now, he’d probably only frighten her more. “Mary, don’t be afraid.” He rubbed his forehead in frustration.
Slowly, she forced a mask across her face and lowered her fists to her side. “Yes,” she said, seeming to pull away, even though her body remained stone still.
Colton raised his hand slowly, as one might to a wild, frightened animal. “I don’t know what crossed your mind just now, but I assure you I would not hurt you in any way even if I had the strength.”
Delta nodded, as if forcing herself to listen. “Thank you for the offer, but I’m really not that cold.”
“You act as though I asked something improper. I don’t think it’s all that unusual for a man and wife to sleep in the same bed.”
“No,” Delta reasoned.
Colton relaxed back, wishing he wasn’t so tired. “If I live, I had thought we’d be married in every way; but if you don’t wish it, I’ll not press the point. I have no illusion of you marrying me for love. There’ll be no physical side to our marriage if you wish.” He had to make her believe he would never hurt her. He felt as if he’d just slapped an angel.
He could see her body relax a fraction from a fear she must have been fretting over since the wedding. “Thank you,” she answered. “I don’t think I could live if …”
“Then I won’t touch you!” He didn’t want her to have to describe what she obviously found so ugly. “You’ll be my wife in name only if that’s what you want.” Colton couldn’t bear to see the pain returning to her face. He wondered if something terrible had happened in her past or if it was him she found so distasteful. “I swear I’ll never touch you. You still have my gun. You can shoot me—if you can find a place left undamaged to aim at.”
Delta smiled, remembering their first day together and how he’d handed her the weapon.
“That’s better.” Colton had never wanted to hold a woman so much in his life, but he didn’t make a move. “Now, will you make me a promise?”
“Yes,” Delta answered. “If I can.”
“Will you promise to crawl beneath the covers if you get cold? I swear I’ll not attack you, and sharing the bed seems our only option.”
She nodded, realizing he wasn’t even strong enough to pull on his own shirt; he could hardly overpower her.
Colton closed his eyes, wishing he knew more about this beautiful creature who was his wife. Wishing he’d live long enough to convince her he wasn’t going to harm her.
An hour later, as the storm raged outside, Colton felt the covers move on the far side of the bed. Delta slipped beneath the blankets without touching him. After several minutes he felt the warmth of her beside him and relaxed. As his breathing returned to normal, her hand slid across the sheet and touched his arm. Her fingers rested lightly just above his elbow.
He didn’t move, or cover her hand with his own as he longed to. He kept his promise. He fell asleep for the first time in years with a wife beside him and a reason to wake up in the morning.
JENNIE HELPED THE late crew wash up because she was restless. Snow already covered the ground, convincing those passengers who’d arrived on the afternoon train to spend the night and take a look at the weather come morning.
As she put the serving dishes up along the top shelves, she couldn’t get Austin’s last words from her mind. They’d only known each other a little while. How she wished she could go back and change everything they’d said from the beginning. How she wished she could tell him the truth.
The back door to the kitchen blew open, sending freezing winds whirling around the room, rattling hanging pots with enough noise to make the entire hotel seem as if it shivered.
“Close the door!” one of the cooks yelled while the other raised her apron to protect against the blast.
“Sorry,” a railroad employee answered as he fought the door closed. “It’s a hell of a night. Freeze the—” He glanced up at the women in time to stop his remark from embarrassing both himself and them. “Freeze … the winter corn off its stocks,” he finished, smiling proudly that he’d thought of something decent to say.
Jennie moved to find a cup. Most of the railroad employees had learned where the back door was and that there was always coffee on as long as the light burned. “I hope you’re planning on staying here tonight.”
“You guessed it, honey.” The railroad man smiled, showing teeth that looked like a piano keyboard, with every third one or so solid black. “I thought I’d come up here rather than sleep down at the depot; but I’m not getting out in this again until the wind dies down, even if I have to sleep on the floor.”
One cook poked the other and smiled with pride. “He’d have to look hard to find a cleaner or warmer place to bed down.”
The railroad worker agreed with a nod. “Everyone’s looking for warmth tonight. Everyone except that little ragamuffin kid who hangs around here. I saw him down at the barn over an hour ago. He said there were too many people in this place, and he was making him a pallet on the hay.”
Jennie turned around. “Was the child named True?”
The worker shrugged. “Didn’t tell me his name. But he’s the one who came in about the same time all you new girls arrived a few weeks ago. I’ve seen him around but never paid much notice.”
She didn’t wait. Running up the back stairs, she checked her room. True had taken to sleeping under one of the beds, but he wasn’t there. She checked all the dark, warm corners the child had discovered in the past few weeks, but nothing. True wasn’t in the hotel.
Audrey rolled over and pushed her nightcap from her eyes. “Time to get up?” she asked with a yawn.
“No,” Jennie whispered. “I was only looking for True. Go back to sleep. I’ll make sure the boy is sleeping warm and try not to wake you again.”
Audrey rolled over without argument. Four A.M. came very early for a pastry cook and part-time doctor.
As she moved back down the stairs, Jennie’s worry for True grew. She’d always thought the child wise for one so young, but if True were sleeping in the barn, there might be a death come morning.
Jennie grabbed Delta’s stained jade-colored cape from the hook by the door. She wrapped the soiled garment around her and headed out toward the barn.
As she stepped from the porch, the icy wind hit her full blast. Snow blew around her so thick she could barely make out the outline of the barn. Pulling the cape’s hood over her face, she marched on, determined in her mission. She had to save True.
She turned once, twice, glancing back toward the hotel. Even though the wind whirled around, seeming to come from all directions at once, she thought she heard someone running across the frozen ground behind her. She could see nothing but a white, blinding blur, making the blackness beyond even darker.
Her fingers were almost too cold to move as she reached the small barn door to the side of the big opening. Everything seemed out of place. Jennie couldn’t remember ever seeing the barn doors closed and barred. Even when it had rained, the workers had left one door slightly ajar in case they had to house another wagon. But anyone would be a fool to be out tonight.
Glancing back once more, she still couldn’t shake the feeling someone was walking in her footprints even before the wind had a chance to erase them.
Forcing panic down her throat, she pulled the door open and stepped inside. The sudden stillness pressed against her chilled skin, heavy with the smell of damp hay.
“True?” Jennie whispered as she moved into the dim light. Four lanterns flickered from poles in the center of the barn. Stalls, filled with horses, surrounded her. Each horse had a full manger of oats and a blanket over his back. The thought occurred to her that folks around here paid more attention to their animals than they did to a child.
“True?” She took another step. Without the wind, the freezing air drifted silently around her, chilling her slowly.
Something moved in the shadows. Jennie jumped to one side, silencing a scream with her fist. The shadow moved again closer, materializing from blackness.
For a moment she couldn’t relax, even when the shadow turned into a gray-and-black cat. Her mind registered the animal, but her heart wouldn’t stop pounding and her legs still ached to run. The huge cat stretched in front of her and moved away.
“True?” Jennie’s voice was unsteady. She forced herself to relax her fingers. She couldn’t go around screaming at shadows. She’d frighten the poor little child to death.
As Jennie looked around the barn fo
r True’s sleeping form, the little door she’d come through popped open, allowing wind to enter. The animals along the barn walls stomped and neighed noisily, complaining about her lack of sense in allowing the door to reopen.
Moving back into the shadows, she faced the snow so that she could close the door more securely this time. A strange smell of sour whiskey and unwashed flesh blended with the fresh, icy smell of snow. She pulled her cape lower against the wind and ignored the foreign odor.
As her hand reached for the latch, someone’s fingers closed around her arm, biting into her skin like cold iron—huge, fleshy fingers strong enough to snap the bone if she fought.
Jennie’s blood seemed to leave her body at once. She opened her mouth to scream as the hand jerked her sideways into the darkness beside the door. A large palm slapped across her mouth even before she could fill her lungs with enough air to make a sound. She fought for breath, but the hand shoved even harder against her, splitting her lip and blending blood in with the taste of dirt and whiskey.
“Make a sound and I’ll gut you right here, missy,” a low voice hissed against the side of her face. She felt the cold blade of a knife sliding along her throat, taking the top layers of skin as it moved.
The jingle of a bridle sounded from the other side of the barn. Male voices reached the dark corner where Jennie struggled. Even though they were too far away to make out individual words, hope glimmered for an instant as she realized she wasn’t alone.
The man holding her heard them also and swore to himself in a drunken slur. With one mighty push, her attacker shoved her from him. Her back hit the rough barn wall. He grabbed her shoulder with the hand that held his knife, as if to steady her. When Jennie looked toward his beefy fingers trying to hold her shoulder and the knife, his other fist slammed into the side of her face.
For a moment she felt no pain, only the sudden jerk of her head in reply. Then lightning exploded across her brain and burned an instant before shattering into total darkness. Another blow replaced the first, then another, then another, piling pain upon pain until her mind could accept no more.
