Even after all these years she didn't know what had become of him. She had thought he would write. There had been six terrible months while she waited to know where he was so she could tell him about the child they'd made together. But she'd never heard from him again. He could be dead now for all she knew. She didn't mourn him.
Peter fell silent at this admission. He teased her hair with his fingers, drew soft circles on her cheek, then drew one hand downward to fondle her breast. The tip rose in instant response, and he shifted his weight so he could look at her there. Just his look brought a rush of desire to her midsection. Janice shuddered and tried not to rise to meet the press of his fingers.
"My family destroyed a lot of lives," he admitted sadly. "I can't bring them back. I can't even mend them. If it were up to me, I'd give all the money back, but the money was never mine. Did you love him very much? Should I have Daniel look for him?"
"I was fifteen years old," she whispered as his hand took a more possessive hold on her. "What does a child that age know of love?"
Peter shook his head, whether in denial or disbelief, she couldn't say. In relief, she simply accepted his kiss.
This time, they made love slowly, with more care, seeking those places that brought the most pleasure. The first time had left her so enervated that Janice didn't think she could ever respond again, but Peter taught her the fallacy of that assumption. And she learned the joy of bringing him pleasure. She hadn't known it was possible to excite herself by exciting him, but she trembled with need by the time Peter moaned and surged into her, unable to hold himself back any longer. She felt vaguely triumphant that she could reduce him to the same quivering need that she suffered.
The climax was much more intense this time, closer and more intimate now that they knew what to expect. Janice bit back her cries as Peter's seed poured into her. Her traitorous body accepted the liquid heat, opening and welcoming it as he sank deep inside her. But her mind was still terrified of what was happening to her. As pleasurable as this moment was, she knew the horror of what could follow.
She could never explain it to him. She could never tell him how terrifying it was to be left pregnant and alone with no means of feeding her child. She had hoped to persuade him to go off without touching her. Now that he had not only touched her, but taught her to crave that touch, she didn't want him to go.
"Couldn't we stay here?" she murmured sleepily, hoping he was still awake.
"And do what?" Peter rolled her against his side and tucked her head into the curve of his shoulder. "Go to sleep, Jenny, and quit your worrying. I'll be back."
He knew she worried, but he did nothing about it but give her promises. Just like a man. Sighing, Janice gave up the battle for the moment. Sleep had to come first.
Morning didn't make it any easier. She came awake the instant he did with the awareness of her nakedness and his arousal coming together at the same time. The sun spilled across their bodies, indicating the lateness of the hour. Janice looked up as Peter leaned over her and knew she wouldn't stop him. Her hand caressed his stubbled jaw, and she smiled at the prickly feel of this man she could call hers.
He kissed her cheek, then her breast. His beard chafed her skin as he drank hungrily at her growing arousal. She touched him every where she could reach, wondering at the strength rippling beneath tanned skin, marveling at the hardness of his torso. He could hold her pinned to the bed with ease, do as he wished with her, and she wouldn't be able to stop him. She wouldn't want to stop him. She parted her legs at his urging and lifted them to give him ease of entry. She rocked her head back and moaned with the deep-seated bliss of his filling. For this brief moment in time, she was his.
Later, when they lay satiated among the rumpled sheets, Peter covered her breast with a possessive hand and grinned at the canopy over them. His elation was difficult to ignore.
"We're going to make a pair, Mrs. Mulloney. As soon as I wire you that I have that mountain, I want you to start buying yourself some pretty dresses and all the things you'll need to set up a fancy home. Buy a train car full of furniture, if you like. It might take us a while to haul it all up the mountain, but we'll get it there. I want you to have the best."
She'd heard dreams like this before. Stephen had gone off to make his fortune with the same kind of promises. Janice looked at Peter sadly, slipped from his hands, and rolled out of bed. She was sore between her legs. She knew what that meant. She could still feel him deep inside of her, knew even now his seed would be taking root. Stark terror kept her moving.
"I don't need the best, Peter. I need a home. I like it here. Couldn't you use Tyler's money to start a store or something? I'll be more than happy to help. Maybe there's a building back in Natchez with rooms above the store where we could live until we get on our feet." She wrapped a robe around her nakedness and swung to plead with him face-to-face. "I don't need gold, Peter. We could be happy here."
The expression on his face revealed his shock. "You want me to be a storekeeper? Janice, I've spent five years of my life looking for an opportunity like this. I can't just up and throw it away and pretend it never happened. Besides, I've got a partner back there waiting for me to come back and help him buy that mountain. He's counting on me. We've been through a lot together. I can't let him down."
He climbed out of the bed and gathered up his clothes. He held them in front of him as he met her stoic gaze with a smile. "You're worrying again, Jenny. I told you to let me do the worrying from now on. We're going to be rich. I'll only be gone a little while. I wish I could take you with me, but I can't leave you at the end of the line while I ride like mad for Butte. I'll come back and we'll do it in style. That will be better for Betsy."
He was so damned confident that everything would go his way. That's what happened when a person was raised with riches and given everything he wanted. He didn't know the meaning of failure. He didn't know the meaning of tragedy. Anything could happen out there, but Janice couldn't make him see that if he was too blind to look.
She wasn't a person accustomed to argument. She had always gone her own way, done what she thought best. She would continue to do so. While Peter was out gallivanting across the countryside, she would be looking for a job and a place to stay. If he left her pregnant, she would just have to turn to Daniel for help. At least this time she was married, and her husband had a family she could turn to.
They met Tyler coming in the front door as they came down the stairs. He raised a knowing eyebrow and smirked but only wished them a "good morning" as he headed for the breakfast table. Janice gave Peter a questioning look.
Peter shrugged. "I didn't get the ladder down in time. You'll have to grow your hair long like Rapunzel if you mean to keep locking me out of towers."
Janice blushed and he grinned. "Go on and eat. In this household, one entertaining story more or less won't matter, but I'll take the ladder down before Betsy sees it. She might not be quite old enough to understand." Peter brushed a kiss across her hair and pushed her toward the dining room.
Despite the late hours everyone had kept the previous night, the whole household seemed to be up and running about. Janice met with numerous winks and grins, but the talk was all of the big parade and horse races scheduled for the afternoon. Janice wished she could work up the same enthusiasm, but she felt as if the minutes to doom were ticking away when they talked of the race.
For a few brief moments she almost wished Peter would lose. They would be a thousand dollars in debt to Tyler, but they could earn that back somehow. She just didn't want Peter to go. But that was selfish of her. Some poor man back there in New Mexico waited for him to show up and save the day. And Peter wanted it. She couldn't begrudge her husband for having dreams just because she had given them up long ago.
Well, she might begrudge them, but she didn't have to complain about it. Janice put on a happy smile as Betsy raced into the room talking excitedly of the race that her "Uncle" Peter was going to win. Brother-in-law was just not a
concept she grasped yet, not with all her friends calling the adults "uncle" and "aunt."
The women spent the morning packing enormous baskets of food for the picnic that would follow the parade. The children, as well as Carmen's brothers, Manuel and Jose, spent the time perfecting the tunes they meant to play as they marched. The cacophony arising from the yard was alarming, sending the hens into the bushes and the horses into nervous circles, but it kept the children out from underfoot.
Betsy's delight at being able to slam two pieces of tin together in time to the beat was worth every minute of the noise. When the baskets were packed and the proud mothers crowded onto the gallery to watch their children play, Janice had difficulty hiding her own pride. Betsy looked like a golden princess this morning with her hair curling in tendrils around her small glowing face. Her white eyelet gown only reached her knees and already her white stockings were sagging and dirty, but Janice thought her the most beautiful child she had ever seen.
Just as she realized she might already be carrying another child to be sister to this one, Peter placed his hand on her shoulder.
"She looks just like you, you know," he whispered in her ear. "If our daughter is only half as beautiful, I'll be twice as proud."
Shocked, Janice glanced up to meet her husband's eyes. He knew.
Chapter 24
If he really knew that Betsy was her child, Peter didn't seem very concerned about it. He wrapped his arms around Janice's waist and pulled her back against him. She thought he must surely feel her shivering from the shock, but he was grinning and exchanging comments with Tyler on the possibility of using firecrackers to replace the erratic drummer.
Surely he wouldn't say anything to anyone else. He couldn't know for certain. Betsy mustn't learn from idle gossip that her adoring older sister was actually her mother. Janice wouldn't have her ever learn that if at all possible. The child had enough difficulties in her life without learning she was a bastard, that the father and mother she could scarcely remember were actually her grandparents. Janice would deny it until the end of time, but there would be no difficulty in discovering the truth if someone wanted. Everyone in the town she lived in before Cutlerville knew her shame.
She would have to speak to Peter. He would understand. Taking a deep breath, Janice tried to enjoy the moment. The Fourth had dawned brilliant and hot. Heat waves shimmered above the dust. But the children didn't seem to feel it. They raised their joyous noise and laughed and broke into spontaneous dancing when Benjamin's toddler—too young to hold an instrument—began to wiggle and clap in time to the music. Soon, the lawn sported an impromptu reel in imitation of their elders, and everyone was laughing.
"We'd better get the rascals loaded into the wagons and into town before they look like ragpickers," Tyler commented as the reel deteriorated into a giggling heap of wrestling children. He turned to Peter. "You riding that brute over there or saving your strength for the race?"
Peter didn't hesitate. "I thought I'd ride him. When we get close enough to be seen, he's guaranteed to raise a ruckus for the audience. That ought to shoot the odds up even more."
Tyler grinned. "I didn't take you for a gambling man, but I can see it's in the blood. You catch on real quick. Odds are already at fifteen to one. Think we can make it to twenty?"
They wandered off to the paddock, making their plans, and Janice bit her lip to keep from crying out her protest.
Evie gave her a hug. "You might as well get used to it. You wouldn't want a man who would do everything the way you wanted it done, would you? He'd be no man at all. Working out those compromises is the hardest part of being married until you get used to it. I think that's why God gave us beds. Sometimes, that's the only thing that keeps you together at first. There were times when I really thought I would have to kill Tyler to get him to listen to me. Now I just make him give in on the really important things, like not naming the baby Fannie Mae after his favorite aunt."
Janice couldn't help but smile at this eccentric assessment of marriage. Evie was ten years older and had been married since she was twenty. Maybe she ought to be given credit for a little experience. But Evie had always led a protected life, going from a loving home to Tyler's strong arms. Janice felt like she had a vast amount more experience in the ways of the world than her hostess. But none of that experience told her how to deal with a husband.
The laughter and the noise carried them into Natchez, where crowds had already begun to gather. Janice did her best to hide her apprehension. She could do many things to improve her lot in life, but she had never learned how to fight fate. If Peter won the race, she would kiss him farewell. If he lost, they would be bankrupt and in debt over their heads. Neither alternative particularly appealed to her. It was too late to do anything about it.
They stood on the sidelines and watched the mayor and his wife go by in their grand carriage decorated for the occasion. They watched the Confederate soldiers in their faded uniforms march and ride and show off their medals. The town band strutted and performed a stirring marching song. And the children rollicked in between, performing their song when Manuel got their attention, laughing and giggling when he did not. It was a grand day for a parade, and the onlookers laughed and clapped for everyone.
Janice could manage happiness just by watching Betsy. Betsy couldn't run in the three-legged sack race, but she almost won the egg contest, tripping at the last minute and splattering her egg all over the winner. The loss didn't seem to bother her. Just the fact that she had been able to play thrilled her. Perhaps, at long last, she was growing out of the bad spells.
The time for the horse race came soon enough. Peter grabbed Janice, kissed her hard for luck, and ran off to join the others. She clenched her fingers into fists and watched him go without raising a word of protest when what she wanted to do was scream and rail against the fates.
"That man of your'n is riding a mighty mean stallion, ain't he?"
Janice looked up in surprise at the tall stranger leaning against a nearby walnut tree. His grizzled beard probably hadn't been cut in weeks, and his worn leather vest was probably more disreputable than the one Jason Harding wore. Still, he looked like a relatively harmless old man, until he shifted his stance and she could see the guns he wore on his hips.
Except for this one, the men were all around the paddock or the track. Carmen and Evie and Jasmine were all concentrating on keeping the children away from the horses and out from under the feet of the men. No one heard the question but herself. She ought to ignore him and walk off, but she couldn't. Something compelling about the stranger's gaze prevented her from dismissing him.
"I don't know much about horses," she offered carefully, moving toward the other women and away from him.
"Reckon he can keep the brute on the track?" the stranger inquired, undeterred by the distance she created.
He must be trying to decide on a wager. Janice wasn't precisely certain how betting worked, but she couldn't be less than honest with the man. She nodded. "Peter can ride him. I've seen him."
The old man grinned and fished in his pocket for a cigar. "Oh, I saw him all right. Put on a pretty show for the greenhorns, he did. Had that animal on his back feet like a dancing bear. Odds are twenty to one against his winning and five to one he'll get himself killed out there. I wouldn't want to see the boy killed. If you say he can ride him, I'll take your word on it."
Killed? She hadn't considered that alternative. With rising panic, Janice searched the paddock for some sign of Peter and the horrible animal he'd chosen to ride. She had considered his winning or losing, but she hadn't thought he'd be foolish enough to get himself killed. Surely Tyler wouldn't let him ride a horse that dangerous.
She couldn't see anything but a blur of milling horses, riders, and dust. When she looked back to the tree, the man was gone.
The stranger appearing and disappearing like that made her even more nervous. She didn't like it. Checking to see that Betsy was safely sitting on the carriage seat,
bouncing up and down with Melissa in an attempt to see the track better, Janice forced herself to walk closer to the railing.
She knew the race was over a mile long. The track was little more than a field that had been used once too often for racing. Over the years, distance markers had been tacked up haphazardly, and today a form of starting gate had been built. The grass was thick and dry, and there didn't seem to be any obstacles in the way. Janice couldn't see anything that would pose a danger, other than the horse itself. She might know nothing of horses, but surely the men did. They would know if it was safe to race the stallion.
Manuel materialized at her side, and she sent him a quick glance. He was probably a year or so older than she. He'd been running his uncle's ranch back in Mineral Springs until Peyton had sold it to the Hardings. Now that Manuel had seen his kid brother through college, he was footloose and fancy-free, figuring Jose could support their youngest sister Maria and uncle now that he was a lawyer.
Manuel's Mexican good looks were an oddity here in Natchez where everyone seemed to be blond and fair, but he didn't seem to have any trouble attracting girls. If she wondered why he'd chosen to stand beside her and not one of the Southern belles looking his way, his first words answered the question.
"Pete said I'd better keep an eye on you. Can't quite tell if he expects you to throw something at him or to faint. I told him you're more likely to take a ruler to his hand, but he ain't seen you behind a school desk, and he doesn't believe me. Are you going to do anything rambunctious, Mrs. Mulloney?"
His dark eyes laughed, but they watched too. Janice smiled at his concern. "I'll wait until after the race if I mean to do anything rambunctious. That pretty girl with the blue ribbon is looking over here. Why don't you go entertain her with your wild tales?"
Manuel pulled on his hat, studied her face one more time, then grinned. "I just might do that. Do you think she'll believe the one about me blowing up the town?"
Texas Moon TH4 Page 20
