by Janet Dailey
“Thank you.” It was an awkwardly polite expression of gratitude for his help with the snarl.
“It’s no good, Lorna.” His reflection in the mirror showed a nerve twitching near his mouth. “I’m a man, not a priest. We’re going to have to reach some kind of understanding, because I don’t know how long I can keep from touching you.”
She turned very slowly to face him, aware of the harsh reality of his statement and the choice she had made to stay with him. It was going to be very difficult to say these next words, because she knew it was too soon.
“I told you on our wedding night, Benteen, that I had no right to deny you the privileges of the marriage bed. That’s still true.” She tried to brace herself to endure what was to come.
Benteen stared at her, his eyes narrowing. “My God, Lorna,” he muttered thickly. “Why don’t you just call me an animal for expecting you to submit to me, instead of being so meekly dutiful?”
“Because I know what you said is true.” She had the intelligence to understand that, even if she wasn’t sure she was emotionally ready to become intimate with him again. “I recognize it’s a man’s need. It’s something you enjoy.” She couldn’t look at him while she explained the reasons behind her acquiescence.
“And you?” Benteen challenged quietly.
“I’m not sure I will without …” Lorna had intended to say, “… without remembering when you took me in violence.” But she left it unsaid, knowing Benteen would read in the rest.
He walked to within a foot of her and stopped. All expression was kept from his face as he hooked a finger under her chin and raised it. There was a panicked acceleration of her heartbeat, but Lorna quelled it and tried to return his steady gaze.
“We’d better find out if you can,” Benteen said.
With calculated deliberation, he slowly bent his head toward her, watching closely for any adverse reaction from her. Inside, she was recoiling, but she was able to keep it from showing. When his mouth made its first tentative brush against her lips, Lorna didn’t resist. His mouth came back to move gently over them, mindful of their chapped soreness. The kiss was warmly reassuring. Lorna could accept its gentle pressure and find a small degree of corresponding warmth.
His body did not touch hers, but she could feel its heat radiating from him. If it could stay like this, she could handle it. His hand moved onto her neck, lightly tracing its long curve to the hollow of her throat. She started to feel the tension threading through her nerves. When his mouth tried to coax her lips apart, her mind flashed back to the last time when no such persuasion had been used. She tried very hard to block out the degrading memory, but she felt herself growing rigid under his touch. She didn’t want it to be like this. She wanted to feel that raw passion of all the other times before the last.
Although she let her lips part in an attempt to force the feelings, Benteen sensed the difference. The kiss was stopped cold as he slowly drew away to look at her. Her gaze wavered under the deliberately aloof inspection of his.
“You aren’t any good at faking it, Lorna.” He knew if he let her go through with this charade of desire and made love to her, as he desperately wanted to do, she would ultimately resent this exercising of the privileges she said he had. She would despise him more than she already did.
“Benteen, I’m trying—”
“If it can’t come naturally, I don’t want it,” he broke in roughly. “Be honest about what you’re feeling, even if it’s hatred.”
“I don’t hate you,” Lorna said, but didn’t enlighten him about what she did feel.
“I’ll stay away from you for a while. You tell me when you want me to be your husband.” And he hoped to God he’d have the strength to wait for that day—and that it wouldn’t be too far into the future. He turned from her and walked to the window to look onto the street below. Without looking, Benteen was conscious that Lorna was still standing in the same spot. “Your hair is dry enough now. You’d better put your dress on.”
“Yes.” Her head was bent. She realized she had been foolish to think she could pretend to feel pleasure. But accepting his advances had appeared to be a way to assuage her guilt for goading him with her threat to run away, which had brought about the rape. She couldn’t plead ignorance, because she’d known how violently angry Benteen had become over his mother’s picture. She should have guessed he would be overly sensitive to any hint that she might repeat what his mother had done.
Lorna wasn’t so generous that she believed it had given him the right to rape her. It was merely an acceptance that a portion of the fault was hers—only a portion. There was an uneasy feeling that she had tried to transfer that small part to Benteen a moment ago by nobly sacrificing herself to his lust.
They spent most of the afternoon at one of the general stores. Lorna had only a couple of small purchases to make, but she went through the entire store with a critical eye, comparing it to her father’s store in Fort Worth. The surroundings were so familiar to her that she hated to leave. Benteen must have guessed it, because he took his time buying the supplies needed to restock the chuck wagon. Several of the customers who came in were men he knew, either cowboys who had been on previous drives with him or trail bosses like himself. He stopped to shoot the breeze with them, not hurrying to load the wagon.
That night, they dined in the hotel’s restaurant. It was a wonderful treat for Lorna to eat off a table again. Although Rusty was more than a passable cook, the monotony of the trail fare had begun to wear on her. Which made the restaurant meal taste even better. Lorna kept looking around at the other diners, hoping to see that lady again so she could point her out to Benteen, but she never did see her.
Benteen was quietly attentive, willing to indulge her idle chatter, yet keeping himself slightly aloof from her. All the conversation that she could hear going on around her was about beefs, brands, beef prices, and shipping costs. It was very noticeable when a hush fell briefly over the room.
A well-dressed man in a dark suit and vest had entered the dining room. But there was a difference. A huge revolver was strapped to his hip and a shiny badge was pinned to his vest.
“Benteen”—Lorna leaned forward to murmur to him—”do you suppose that man is Wyatt Earp?”
His passing glance made a sweep of the man. “Yes.”
“I’ve heard that when he shoots, he shoots to kill,” she murmured, remembering some of the exciting stories she’d heard about the infamous lawman. “But he only kills those who deserve it.”
“You didn’t hear that from any Texan,” Benteen said dryly. “They’ve put out a thousand-dollar bounty on his head.”
Her eyes rounded, shocked that any of her fellow Texans could do anything so cold-blooded. “I don’t believe it.”
“It’s true.” His smile was only a half a smile. “As for shooting to kill, a man hadn’t better have any other reason for drawing his gun, or he’ll be the one who’s dead.”
He said it so matter-of-factly that Lorna suddenly wondered, “Have you ever killed anyone, Benteen?”
There was a glint of humor in his eye, reminiscent of their courtship days. “None that didn’t deserve it.” He mocked her with the justification she’d used for Wyatt Earp.
Killing a man was nothing to boast about in his book. Those times he had reason to draw his gun, the men facing him had either been Indians or raiders attempting to take his herd. There hadn’t been that many occasions. It was enough to say that he was alive and there were others who weren’t.
“I’ll bet you’ve never killed anybody,” Lorna insisted, eyeing him with a doubting look.
Benteen shrugged mildly and let her comment ride.
When they had finished and left the dining room, Lorna pulled her shawl a little tighter around her shoulders in a contented gesture. “I’m so full,” she sighed, and glanced wistfully at Benteen. “I don’t suppose we could take a short walk before going to the room?”
He was well-acquainted with the boldnes
s of a liquored-up cowboy. The dance halls, saloons, and gambling houses would be in full swing, and the bawdy houses would be open for business. The streets in Dodge City were not the place for a respectable lady to be taking an evening stroll, certainly not his wife. He shook his head. “We can step outside for some fresh air, if you like,” Benteen offered instead.
“No.” It was the walk she wanted, more than the fresh air.
With the impersonal guidance of his hand at her elbow, Benteen escorted Lorna up the stairs to their room. He unlocked the door and pushed it open for her to enter, but he didn’t follow her inside.
“A couple of the boys are coming into town tonight,” he said. “I want to make sure they stay out of trouble so I won’t have to be bailing them out of the hoosegow.” He made light of the possibility. “After you lock the door, take the key out. I’ll get another one from the desk to let myself in.”
Although Lorna couldn’t say it, she was relieved he wasn’t going directly to bed with her. Then she realized he was making an excuse, saving them both the tension.
“All right,” she agreed to his suggestion.
“Sleep well,” he said.
After she had closed the door, she turned the key and removed it from the lock. In the hallway, Benteen listened to the sound and felt the trembling urge to beat the door down. He reached into his pocket for the makings of a cigarette instead. His hand shook as he rolled it, spilling tobacco onto the floor. Finally he wadded the whole thing up—paper, tobacco, and all—and tossed it aside to stride down the hall.
After lying awake for a long time, Lorna finally fell asleep. She didn’t hear Benteen come into the room in the wee hours of the morning. Half-drunk, he stared at her sleeping face.
“Don’t leave me.” His voice was half-slurred.
He undressed in the dark and crawled into bed. He passed out almost immediately, the alcohol working its magic to deaden his sexual drive.
When Lorna woke up the next morning, Benteen was gone. Only the rumpled pillow next to hers told her that he had slept there last night. She rose and dressed hurriedly, not certain when he might come back.
As she was smoothing the last strand of hair into its neat coil, there was a knock at the door. She went to it, and paused, noticing the key in the lock.
“Benteen?” she asked.
“Yes.”
When she opened the door, his gaze flicked to her dress and back to her face. “I thought you might be awake by now.”
“I got up a few minutes ago,” Lorna admitted. “Is it very late?”
“After nine o’clock.”
It seemed impossible that she could have slept so long. Her exhaustion had obviously been of the mind as well as the body.
“Are you ready to go down for breakfast?” Benteen asked.
“Yes. I suppose you’ve eaten,” she guessed.
He nodded. “I’ll have coffee with you. Then I’ll have to ride out to the herd. There’s a buyer who wants to look over those three hundred head of steers I plan to sell.”
“Oh.” Lorna wasn’t sure why she had expected him to spend most of the day with her. Wasn’t it always the cattle? She was sure if it ever came down to a choice between their marriage and the cattle, the cattle would win.
“You’ll be all right, won’t you?”
“Of course,” she declared on an airily sarcastic note that he didn’t understand.
The cattle buyer stopped by their breakfast table to see when Benteen wanted to ride out to the herd. Lorna could tell how anxious Benteen was, so she suggested that he leave now, assuring him she would manage fine on her own. Then she was irritated when he accepted it without protest.
She wasn’t used to all this idle time, and didn’t really know what to do with it. After breakfast she spent some time in the room. But that was too confining. She ventured out of the hotel for a short walk, and returned in time for lunch.
The dining room was full. When she couldn’t find a place to sit, she started to leave rather than draw attention to the fact she was unescorted. As she turned, Lorna nearly walked right into the man entering the dining room.
“Mr. Giles.” She was surprised to recognize a familiar face after seeing so many strangers.
“Mrs. Calder.” He took off his hat and made a little bow to her. “I thought I might bump into you and your husband here. It’s his usual hangout in Dodge.”
“I guess you brought your herd safely here,” she said.
“They’re a couple miles outside of town, eating grass and getting fat,” he confirmed.
There were some people, Lorna supposed, who would be intimidated by the man’s bigness and his brutish appearance, but she felt completely safe with him. He showed his interest in her as a woman, but always with respect. She knew he wouldn’t make any overtures unless she invited them.
“Have you had lunch, Mrs. Calder?” he inquired.
“Actually, no,” she admitted. “But the tables are all taken.”
“Someone’s just leaving over there.” He nodded toward a table where the men were standing up to leave. “I’d be proud if you’d join me for lunch. Or are you waiting for your husband?”
“He took a buyer out to look at some steers he’s selling. I’m not sure when he’ll be back.” Eating alone wasn’t a pleasant prospect after being left to her own devices all morning. “I’d be happy to lunch with you, Mr. Giles.”
15
Lunch with Bull Giles was a thoroughly enjoyable experience. All that brawn masked a man with a keen mind and a cutting wit. In his dry quiet way he mocked the cattle talk going on around them and the well-dressed men engaging in it. Several times his biting comments made Lorna laugh aloud.
When Bull Giles showed an inclination to linger over coffee and stretch out the lunch, Lorna knew she shouldn’t allow it to happen. It would be too easily misconstrued. As it was, Benteen would not be pleased that she had spent any time with Bull Giles. She was beginning to understand just how strong that possessive streak was in Benteen.
But she was enjoying Bull’s company. It was innocent and harmless, so why should she deny herself of it? That small seed of rebellion had not been completely stamped out. Did she always have to do things to please someone else? Surely she could chat with a person she liked simply because it was what she wanted to do. After all, they were hardly alone, not with a restaurant full of people around them.
Lorna didn’t refuse when a waiter stopped at their table to refill their coffeecups. She lifted the china cup, delicately blowing to cool the coffee before taking a sip. Over the cup’s rim, she noticed the absorbed way Bull watched her.
“I’m probably keeping you from your business. I’m sure you’re anxious to show your herd to cattle buyers.” For a vain instant Lorna wanted the reassurance that Bull desired her company, unlike Benteen, who placed a higher priority on the cattle.
“I’m not so anxious that I’m willing to deprive myself of the company of a beautiful lady,” Bull declared with his usual charm.
“Why is it that men feel that way before they are married but not afterward?” Lorna had meant it to be a lightly teasing retort. Only after she heard herself saying the words did she realize it revealed her disillusionment about marriage. She tried quickly to cover it with a deprecating remark about her own sex. “I suppose women are that way, too.”
“I’ve never known a beautiful woman, married or single, who didn’t want the attention of her man.” Bull talked in generalities the way she had, but Lorna sensed he was seeing through it.
She took another sip of coffee, then held the cup and traced a portion of its rim with her finger. Aware she was displaying uncommon interest in a simple cup, Lorna used the opportunity to change the subject.
“Isn’t it strange how much better everything tastes—food, coffee—when you aren’t having it out of a tin plate or mug?” It was something she could admit to Bull Giles, but she hadn’t said it to Benteen. He would have seen it as a complaint, whereas Lorna fel
t Bull would understand.
“With tablecloths and napkins,” Bull added with a hint of a responding smile.
“Two days of this”—Lorna let her glance stray around the room, taking note of so many things that now represented luxury—”will spoil me.”
“You deserve to be spoiled,” he asserted. “A trail drive is no place for a lady like you.”
“It certainly isn’t an easy way to travel.” She deliberately understated the hardships that had tested her endurance and taken her one step beyond her limits. “But everything will be fine when we reach Montana.” She said it without conviction as she studied the polished silver of a spoon against the white tablecloth.
A moment of silence followed; then Bull spoke very quietly. “You don’t have to go to Montana, Mrs. Calder, if that isn’t where you want to go.”
Her glance lifted to meet his. Bull Giles was much too intuitive, she realized. Lorna smiled, but with a trace of aloofness because he had guessed too much. “My husband is going to Montana. I go where he goes, Mr. Giles,” she stated to establish firmly her determination to make their marriage work.
“Of course.” But there was doubt in his expression.
It had been a mistake to linger over coffee, so she made it clear to him in a subtly polite way that it was time to leave. Bull made no attempt to persuade her otherwise, and escorted her from the dining room.
“Was there any shopping you’d like to do?” he asked her when she stopped in the lobby to thank him for lunch. “I’ll be glad to accompany you.”
Lunching with him could be explained by the lack of empty tables, but accepting his company beyond that would not be proper.
“No, thank you,” she refused. “Benteen took me to do all my shopping yesterday.”
“If you need anything—”
But Lorna didn’t want him to extend the offer. “I enjoyed lunch, Mr. Giles. I’m sure you have a great many things to do. I won’t keep you from your business any longer.”
“Then I’ll leave you.” His bulky frame made a half-bow toward her. “May I say, though, that I’ve never enjoyed a meal so much before, thanks to you, Mrs. Calder. Maybe we’ll meet again.”
