“You’ll get hurt again.” Sass’s voice broke, as though she was trying not to cry.
Lydia’s heart clenched as she moved closer to the window, knowing she shouldn’t be listening and yet unable to stop herself. She felt helpless to do anything, but compelled to do something to help.
“That’s not going to happen,” Jeb placated, just as he’d done two nights ago when he’d left at about this same time. “I’ll watch my back. Don’t you worry.”
An eerie silence filled the night air. She didn’t want to doubt Jeb’s integrity. She wanted to cling to that peace she’d just experienced, believing that she’d misjudged God and life and Jeb. Lydia tried to dismiss what she’d heard, but it was useless.
“Lord knows I fret over you,” Sass finally said, her words barely audible. “If I didn’t have the good Lord to lean on, I’d be worrying my hands raw in my own grave.”
“Let go of the reins, Sass. I have to go.” The hint of irritation tainting Jeb’s voice stole Lydia’s next breath.
She clutched the windowsill, her blood near boiling. How could he disregard Sass like that after the years of love and service and nurturing the woman had provided for this family?
“Just listen to reason,” Sass tried again. “This isn’t the answer. You know it isn’t.”
Jeb sighed, loud enough that Lydia could hear. “It’s the only card I have left to play.”
Card…? Play…? Had Jeb been gambling? Is that why the ranch had been suffering so? Because Jeb had been putting the very land he said he loved in jeopardy?
Her stomach churned with instant anger. She’d thought that maybe she could trust him again. That maybe she’d been the one who’d been wrong. But the truth slashed with breakneck speed through her thin veil of hope.
She shoved her father’s things back into the saddlebag. When she turned down the lamp to douse the flame she was determined, no matter what Jeb was doing, to climb right back up to a place of peace again—with or without him in the picture.
Chapter Seven
Lydia urged the gelding down the dark road, staying off to the side where the tree line met the roadway. She followed at a generous distance as he neared the edge of town. To what kind of shadows would his path lead?
Or was she judging him, yet again?
A distant wave of whoops and hollers drifted to her hearing, sending a chill snaking down her spine. As far as she was concerned, that kind of uproar at this time of night could birth nothing of value. She peered ahead, watching as Jeb neared a large barn near the town’s edge—the very place where the loud ruckus seemed to be originating. The few windows spewed out yellow light into the night like futility’s toxic breath. The large structure seemed as if to breathe with wild energy. Even from a good hundred yards away, she could see the distinct outline of scantily clad women, standing at the entrance to the barn like gaudy signs welcoming all sinners.
Lydia swallowed past a sick lump that had lodged in her throat, praying that Jeb wasn’t prey to be caught in their mired web. The thought had no more crossed her mind when he diverted his stallion toward the barn and dismounted at the hitching post.
“No, Jeb…don’t do that,” she whispered, barely able to find her voice.
Lydia’s heart sank clear down to her stomach. She reined her horse to an instant stop, blinking hard at the assaulting sense of betrayal.
Why should she feel betrayed? Jeb had made her no promises. In fact, he’d held his heart at a distance. She’d been the one who’d been foolish enough to believe that maybe she’d judged him wrong.
She watched as he strode to the barn, his long legs eating up the distance with clear and focused intent. When he reached the barn doorway, the two women closed in on him, like giant and dark spiders, clearly hungry for Jeb, their prime prey.
Disgust crawled along her spine. Shuddering, she wrenched her gaze from the repulsive scene. Every inch of her body ached with sadness and revulsion and anger, and all she wanted to do was to collect her things from the ranch and flee. Not more than an hour ago, she’d made a pledge to change her ways and to cling to peace, and already her vow was being tested.
Was peace worth the price?
She felt frozen right where she sat on her horse. Minutes ticked by as she willed herself not to turn around. Each passing second sent her soul tumbling into even greater turmoil. She could hardly breathe for the regret weighting her heart. Could hardly see for the anger narrowing her gaze.
Closing her eyes, she tried to collect herself, but until she got this weight off her chest, she doubted she’d ever take another long and easy breath again.
Maybe she needed to find her voice finally and let Jeb know exactly how she felt—and how she’d felt five years ago. Maybe then she could move on and embrace her future. Maybe then she could, for once and for all, rid her heart and soul of Jebediah Gentry.
She rode closer to the barn and dismounted at the hitching post. Her hands trembled uncontrollably as she secured the gelding, all the while rehearsing in her mind what she’d say to Jeb when she found him.
Would he be draped over a poker table? Would he have women hanging on him as though he was some coat tree?
Her stomach lurched at the thought as she neared the entrance. The raw and boisterous cheering coming from inside nearly drove her courage into the ground.
The same women who’d greeted Jeb were still standing there, their painted and narrowed gazes scanning her up one side and down another, as though she was a miniscule scrap of meat to throw into a den of hungry bears. Their brazen grins sent chills down her spine, and it was all she could do not to turn tail and run.
Unsolicited, a brief yet profound thought dropped into her mind like a lifeline sent down a deep dark hole. Was she judging them just as she’d judged Jeb? She didn’t know what kind of lives they’d led that had brought them to this place.
For a moment, Lydia paused, longing for some kind of peace to fill her, but all she could seem to grasp hold of was her incessant need to have it out with Jeb.
With her fists balled, she strode right past them, gathered all the courage she could find in the corners of her soul and entered the barn. She squinted against the yellow light and smoky air to see a room full of men—and even some women—their focus set at the center of the barn.
When Lydia turned that direction, she felt her world give way.
Clad in just his britches and looking larger than life, Jeb stood in the center of a sawdust-covered, roped-off platform. His fists were raised. Head lowered. Every muscle was bunched and glistening in the lantern light. And he was fighting.
Jeb was fighting a meaty giant of a man.
What would possess him? In her idealistic mind, she could understand fighting for the honor of someone you loved. But this?
She couldn’t tear her gaze away from him, watching as he shifted back and forth across the floor. Lunging. Dodging. Bearing down on his opponent.
Though Jeb’s cuts had opened and he was bleeding heavily, he was dominating the challenger. Jeb was almost toying with the contender as he’d jab and punch, wearing his opponent down as he’d work him into a corner then let him free again.
The opponent took a sudden shot at Jeb, his power-packed punch landing on Jeb’s jaw, sending sweat droplets flying off into the smoke-filled air.
Lydia gasped. Slammed her eyes shut as she willed this horrible nightmare to stop.
The stale air hummed then surged with raw energy as she pried her eyes open and watched Jeb stand his ground. He gave his head a shake and bore down on the man as though his very life depended on it. Cocking his arm back, Jeb pummeled the contender once. Twice. Sending him stumbling back against the ropes and falling to the floor.
While Jeb shifted back and forth in front of the downed man, the crowd roared
their sick approval.
“I’ve got fifty dollars on this fight!” one man howled.
“Do him in!” another screamed.
“Get ‘im, Jeb. You’re our man,” another man yelled, the veins at his long thin neck bulging.
Something deep inside Lydia snapped as she heard a man in the ring counting, his sharp voice cutting through the frenzied roar. “One. Two. Three.”
Jeb turned toward the crowd, his face looking far worse than before. He kept moving as though if he stopped he might not be able to move again.
“Four. Five. Six,” the moderator shrieked as the whole place rumbled.
She couldn’t stand to watch another minute of this. But her feet felt weighted to the packed dirt floor. She clenched her hands. Her head swirled with a thousand different emotions as Jeb heaved in a breath.
“Seven,” the moderator called as Jeb peered out into the crowd, his shoulders slumped in fatigue. “Eight.”
His opponent stumbled to standing. Swayed. Then locked his focus, as dark and sinister as a whole host of demons, on Jeb.
Jeb’s head whipped in Lydia’s direction as if he’d just caught sight of her. Under a furrowed, swollen and bloody brow, he peered at her through the smoke and haze.
“Lydia?” he called, her name lost in the howling snarl of spectators.
Just then the challenger lunged hard at Jeb. Growled. Cocked his fist back, but Jeb was unaware.
Lydia’s heart came to a screeching halt. “Jeb! Watch out!”
Chapter Eight
Jeb flinched as his opponent’s fist slammed into the side of his head.
Again.
And again.
And again.
He groaned. Struggled to fight back. Tried to get away, but he couldn’t seem to move. Not even an inch.
“Jeb? Jeb… .” The gentle voice seeped through the raging noise all around him. “It’s all right, Jeb. Wake up.”
Wake up? Had he been dreaming?
He willed his heavy eyes to open. Struggled to climb his way to consciousness. Pain assaulted every part of his body.
The lingering image of his thick and hungry opponent flashed in his mind. It’d been the fight of Jeb’s life. And he’d been winning. But then a familiar glimmer of blue caught his attention off to his right. He’d turned. Spotted Lydia.
What was she doing there?
“Lydia… .” He blinked, his swollen eyes throbbing as he struggled to focus.
“Thank God you’re all right,” she whispered, her soft breath drifting over him, coaxing him to wake.
Jeb struggled to drag himself out of his sluggish state. “What happened?”
“You were knocked out,” she said, placing a cool cloth on his forehead, her touch, so soothing.
“Knocked out?” He formed the bitter words through swollen lips. His last chance at keeping the ranch had slipped right through his hands?
Failure’s taunting voice was so close, trying to pummel him deeper and deeper. He had to climb above now or he’d never find his way out.
In some folks’ eyes he’d failed. In his father’s eyes, certainly. But Jeb had given all he’d had to give.
She grasped his hand, the feel of her quivering fingers nearly breaking his heart. “Jeb, I am so sorry. Had I not marched in there and distracted you, you probably wouldn’t be lying here now.”
He could guarantee he wouldn’t be lying here now—he’d had his opponent worn down and the fight almost wrapped up—but he wasn’t about to tell her that.
He loved Lydia and only wanted to make her happy. But would love be enough to carry them through a tough and uncertain future?
Jeb clenched his teeth and managed to roll over to his side, every muscle in his body screaming in pain as he shoved himself up to standing.
Grasping his arm, Lydia peered at him as though he’d just risen from the grave. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Getting up,” he said, staggering a bit as he struggled to focus. “I have to get home.”
Lydia held on tight. “You are home.”
“What?” Peering around the room through swollen eyes, he spotted his small bureau of drawers, the pegs where he’d hang his clothes, and his worn boots flopped over in the corner. With a frustrated growl, he slid down on the edge of the bed again, trying to block out the hammering in his head.
Lydia sat next to him, her distress almost as palpable as the pain in his head. “The doctor helped me get you home. You don’t remember anything?”
“Not a thing.”
“Well, you were in and out of consciousness.”
“Thank the good Lord you woke up!” Sass announced as she entered the room, her loud voice making his head pound even more. She set down a pitcher of water on the nightstand then peered at him, her eyes unusually red rimmed. “Jebediah Gentry, you really gave me a scare this time. Don’t know what would’ve happened had this little lady not been there to pick up the pieces.”
He flashed a grimace Sass’s way. “That doesn’t make me feel any better, Sass.”
“This is all my fault.” The sorrow filling Lydia’s voice made Jeb want to wrap her up in a comforting hug.
“Certainly not, dear,” Sass said.
“Don’t blame yourself.” Jeb reached for Lydia’s hand and gave it a quick squeeze.
“Just look at you.” Cupping his chin in her hand, Sass surveyed his face, and Jeb could tell by the way her eyes were still misted over that she’d been crying. “You poor thing.”
He leaned away from her well-meaning attention, hoping to put her at ease. “I am not a poor thing. I chose to fight.”
He just wanted to go about his day as though nothing had happened. And he’d do just that if only the room would quit spinning.
“Well, you’ll be good enough to let me have my opinion, thank you,” Sass quipped in that toe-to-toe attitude of hers.
“You always do,” he grumbled.
“Now, you need to lay your head back down on that pillow and get some rest.” Turning to the nightstand, Sass poured a glass of water.
“That’s not going to happen. I’ve got chores that need tending.” Jeb shoved off the bed and willed his legs to stay steady as Lydia stood beside him, her hand set gently to his back, as if she might have the chance of catching him if he fell.
“Take a sip and see if you can keep it down this time,” Sass said, handing him a glass of water.
“What time is it, anyway?” He took a drink of the cool liquid.
“It’s nine o’clock.”
“In the morning?” he choked out, nearly splattering his housekeeper with a mouthful of water.
“Yes, in the morning.” Sass perched her hands at her hips.
“Why did you let me sleep this long?” The moment he wiped a hand over his mouth, pain seared through the open cuts.
“We tried to rouse you, Jeb,” Lydia offered.
“You need to stop worrying about the chores. Lydia, here, finished off the nightly ones and already did the morning chores.”
“You did?” he asked, peering at her and feeling ashamed, pleased and grateful all in one. “You shouldn’t have done that.”
“It was the least I could do,” she said, looking almost as fatigued as she had the day she’d shown up here.
“Jeb, all of this fighting is over,” Sass announced, grasping his forearm. “You need to let go of this before you get yourself killed.”
“I can’t.” Glancing downward, he noticed he was without a shirt and shoved his gaze to where it hung on a peg.
“There are some folks coming out to help today,” Sass offered. “And if you were to ask me, I’d say it’d be wise of you to stay—”
<
br /> “What are you talking about…folks coming out here?” he shot back retrieving his shirt. “Who? And why?”
“When the doctor helped get you home,” Lydia began, taking the shirt from him and fishing for a sleeve that was inside out, “he asked if you would be able to take it easy for a few days. And I told him that maybe you might need a little help,” she measured out, carefully helping him shrug into his shirt since it took him three tries to find the armholes. Longer yet to pull it over his head.
When her fingertips lightly grazed his chest, a quiver of undeniable awareness inched down his spine. “Listen…I appreciate the thoughtfulness and all, but I can see to things just fine on my own.”
“I’m going to round up something for him to eat while he rests,” Sass explained to Lydia as he tried to make his swollen fingers work enough to button his shirt.
When she breezed out of the room, Lydia took over buttoning his shirt. “Why were you fighting, Jeb? Is it because of the ranch?”
Jeb shuffled over to the corner to grab his boots, each step sending a shock wave of pain through his body. He set his back teeth and dragged in a deep breath. “Lydia, there are some things that I just won’t talk about, and this is one of them.” He sat down on the bed so that he could slide on his boots. “I have my reasons—or at least I had my reasons.”
While he struggled at the simple task, Lydia hunkered down and assisted him. To say that his pride was pricked was a given, but even so, he breathed a sigh of relief for her kind consideration.
“Something is terribly wrong, Jeb.” She leaned back on her haunches, her silky dark hair whispering over her forehead. “First you’re working day and night, and then you’re fighting—and for a crowd who seems to glory in the gore of it all.”
“Oh, believe me…I’m not fighting for them.”
“Well, then will you please tell me what is going on? Please let me help you?”
“There’s nothing you can do.” Once he tugged his pant legs over his boots, he stood again, his head and stomach churning with instant nausea. “Besides, this is my problem. Not yours.”
Brides of the West: Josie's Wedding DressLast Minute BrideHer Ideal Husband Page 23
