And so would she. She just hoped it would be in her memory and not any more concrete fashion. Her hand came between them to the place where they joined and pressed there, as if to ward off the evil spirits that had filled her once before. There could not be a child. Not yet.
They dressed slowly, mostly in silence. The euphoria of moments before became something else, something bittersweet in the knowledge of their parting. It had to be this way, they both knew. He had to see that she was safe and protected. He had to know that she was with friends and not strangers while he rode to claim their future. In return, she knew she couldn't follow, couldn't stay by his side. She couldn't risk the child that might come of it. She couldn't risk Betsy. She had to cling to what little she had.
But for the first time these reasons were somehow as thin and insubstantial as the paper moon Evie had painted for one of her children's books. A larger version hung in one of the windows now, illuminated from behind. As they crossed the yard into that crescent pattern of light, their fingers intertwined. They knew it was too late to do anything else, but their souls cried out for a different solution.
Still, they had both lived alone before. They knew how it was done. Gradually, as the magic of the night seeped away with the appearance of the house and lights and voices, the moment disappeared, and they were two separate persons once again. What had brought them together in the pavilion was still too new to withstand the parting to come.
Peter went to fetch his valise and say his farewells. Janice remained hidden on the porch, not yet willing to give up the magic of the night air. When he joined her again, he was mercifully alone.
He kissed her temple, not daring to do more. "I'll wire you by the end of August, Jenny, I promise. I couldn't bear anymore."
He meant it now, but would he mean it then? Janice straightened his tie, smoothed his sleeve, and sent him on his way. It wasn't as if they'd exchanged words of love. He was a man, and she was his wife. He would send for her when the time came simply because she belonged to him. She would be a fool to think he would send for her for any other reason, no matter what had gone on between them tonight. Tonight had been a fluke, a moment of desperation. She would remember it always, but she had to be practical.
She would look for a job first thing in the morning.
First thing in the morning, Evie woke her with the news that Betsy was running a fever and couldn't breathe.
Life never went the way one wanted it to.
Chapter 26
Betsy was well enough to travel a few weeks later when the Hardings were ready to return to Texas. In the hours sitting over Betsy's bed, wiping her sweat-soaked brow, listening to her cough, Janice had had plenty of time to think. It only took Carmen's invitation to set her thoughts into action.
"Why don't you come back with us for a spell? Jason's complaining the office work is out of hand. He sure could use your help. And you would be that much closer when it comes time for you to go to Peter." Carmen folded one of her daughter's lace-edged dresses into the trunk she was packing.
Janice put the finishing touches on the hem she was letting out on one of Betsy's dresses. Despite her weakness, Betsy was still growing. She would need a whole new wardrobe before long. And she didn't have a dime to spare to buy one.
"I've been thinking about that myself," Janice admitted. "I suppose Tyler can send a telegram when Peter's message comes through. I don't like to impose on the Monteignes' hospitality any longer than necessary."
Carmen hooted. "Impose? I don't know how they'll do without you, if the truth is told. They'd keep you in a minute. Evie isn't one for cooking and mending and cleaning. Even when you're sitting up with Betsy, you somehow manage to get people to do the work that needs to be done, and you've mended all that drapery at the same time. They're going to raise a cry of protest when I take you home with me."
Carmen's words proved accurate, but Betsy's smile of delight at returning to her hometown was all the encouragement Janice needed. Natchez had made a delightful temporary haven from reality, but it wasn't home. Janice exchanged hugs with Evie and Jasmine, accepted Tyler's fulsome praise with a grain of salt, and shook Ben's hand in farewell. These people would always be dear to her, but they would never be family.
Janice wished briefly that she could return to Ohio to see her brother and sister and Daniel and Georgie, but she didn't have money for that. Tyler offered the free use of his private railroad car to take the Hardings back to Mineral Springs. She would have to take what was offered. Besides, she could be useful in Texas and perhaps make a little money. There would be nothing for her in Ohio but the idleness she was escaping here.
"Daniel is going to be disappointed that he missed you," Evie commented as they waited for the train to pull into the station. "Peter should have taken you up to see him before he left."
Janice smiled absently while keeping an eye on Betsy and Melissa playing among the trunks. "There wasn't time. Peter only had a few weeks left to buy that land. Maybe we'll come back next spring. I imagine there are all sorts of supplies he'll need by then."
A tall man in a battered cowboy hat caught her eye briefly where he leaned against the station wall watching the crowd. Janice thought he seemed familiar, but she was distracted by Carmen's approach, and when she looked again, he was gone. She frowned slightly, then turned her attention back to the matter at hand.
"Are you sure you shouldn't have bought some of the furniture and things Peter said you would need? Tyler's credit is good. We can always forward a few things to you if you change your mind."
Janice took the lunch basket from Carmen and smiled politely at Evie. "I haven't learned to deal with credit yet. I was raised to pay for what I wanted. I'm sure we'll have enough to get by for a while."
The train whistle wailed as the boilers heated, and steam filled the station. Tyler sauntered into view, directing a steady stream of porters to the luggage. When he had events in motion to his satisfaction, he wandered toward the women.
"The car is at your command, ladies. Manuel's already on board to see that everything is loaded safely." He kissed Carmen' cheek, then turned to Janice. "I don't believe in farewells. We'll see y'all back here come spring, I imagine. Daniel arranged for a little wedding present to go with you, so don't make a fuss when you find it. Peter's likely to be living in a sod hut for all we know. We want you to start out with something nice."
Janice managed a smile as she shook Tyler's hand and accepted his token kiss on her cheek. Tears burned at her eyes. She hadn't imagined this parting would be so painful, but she almost felt as if the Monteignes had become part of her family.
"I'm going to miss you," she murmured as she hugged Evie again, then bent to hug and kiss whichever of the Monteigne children came running to say farewell. This had been a special slice out of time, like visiting a fairytale palace. She would never know its like again, but she was grateful she'd had this opportunity to see a different world than she had ever known. It made it easier to go to the one Peter meant for her to share.
Betsy and the Harding children ran blithely into the railroad car. They had come to expect these uprootings as a natural part of their lives. Janice wasn't so blasé. She had never yet returned to a place she had left behind. Every move was like leaving a part of herself.
But this time was different. She was actually returning to a place she had never expected to see again. Maybe it was the start of something new. With renewed confidence, Janice joined Carmen and the others at the window, waving to the people standing on the platform watching them go.
By the time the train pulled out of the station, Janice had forgotten Tyler's words about the wedding present.
With a car full of energetic children, she had little time to think of anything at all. This ride was amazingly different from the one she had taken with Peter. Instead of hours staring out the window, worrying about the night to come, she was busy entertaining children, seeing to their meals, conversing with Carmen and Manuel, and more than
ready for her own private bed when she reached it.
She didn't remember the wedding present until she opened her carpetbag just prior to entering the Fort Worth station.
Inside she found one of Daniel's latest dime novels, a copy of the Cutlerville Gazette with the announcement of her marriage to Peter, a letter from Georgina, and an envelope with a $100 bill. Janice stared at this wealth with incredulity. It was nearly as much as she had earned all last year. She resisted her urge to send it back, and reached for the letter before deciding if she ought to be insulted or pleased.
Daniel's wife, Georgina, was everything that Janice was not: effervescent, spontaneous, incapable of worrying. Her new sister-in-law had been born with a silver spoon in her mouth and had never had to work at anything in her life. The fact that she did work at helping others was a credit to the generous person that she was. Janice read her letter with mixed degrees of emotion.
She read that the baby was due the end of August, that the Fourth of July picnic was a huge success sponsored by Mulloney's Department Store. Georgina described the wedding dress she was helping Janice's sister make and declared that Janice's brother, Douglas, would soon be editor of the Gazette, if Daniel could be persuaded that he couldn't do everything himself. And somewhere near the end, Georgina confessed that she and Daniel were terribly worried about Peter, worried that they had somehow wronged him, that he would never return to Cutlerville or his family. She pleaded with Janice to take care of him.
After Georgina's scrawl came a postscript in Daniel's hand: "I couldn't think of a better wife for Peter than you. Our mother sends her gratitude and wishes that you can soon visit, that you will visit. If there is any way at all that you can persuade him back here, please do so. She misses him. Peter is too proud to accept money, and it is possible that he doesn't need any. He doesn't tell us. But Georgie assures me that a woman can always use a few secret dollars with which to surprise her husband. So we send this gift with the knowledge that you will use it to make Peter's life a better one in whatever way you deem necessary, if it's only to buy him a new hat for his birthday. Write when you can and let us know how you fare, and give Betsy a hug from all of us."
Tears streamed down Janice's face before she finished. She read the letter a second time, then carefully folded it and slipped it between the pages of Daniel's book. It was like carrying a piece of home with her. Georgina and Daniel were gifted in that way. Even on paper, their words sounded like themselves. Whenever she got lonely, she could pull the letter out and read it again.
It made the decision about the money much easier. Peter might be too proud to accept money for himself, but she wasn't. She knew in the months ahead there would be dozens of uses for a few extra dollars.
She pinned the crisp bill inside her corset and joined the others as the train pulled into the station. She had more confidence in this homecoming now that she had the means to leave again.
Not until she stepped off the train and onto the platform did Janice realize the traveling hadn't brought on her monthly courses as usual.
She stared in dismay at the unloaded luggage, oblivious to the sounds and sights around her. It had only been a few weeks. There wasn't time to know for certain. She couldn't be. Not yet.
Her gloved hand instinctively covered the draping of cotton twill over her abdomen, but her mind refused to accept the possibility. She looked around to find Betsy. There were things to do, places to be. She didn't have time for imagination.
* * *
Mineral Springs hadn't changed any since they left. Jason greeted their return with gruffness, grabbed Janice's arm, and dragged her off to his office to show her some correspondence he didn't want to cope with.
She couldn't believe she had once imagined she might marry this man. He was a good man who lived for his ranch, but he scarcely knew she existed except as a tool like his typewriter. Peter might be wrapped up in his work, but he knew she existed all right. He didn't look at her as if she were a typewriter.
Janice was beginning to desperately miss those heated looks he bestowed on her when they were surrounded by people and he could do nothing else. She wouldn't consider how much she missed what he did when they were alone.
In their absence, Ellen Fairweather had had her baby. Her husband had hung around long enough to put a roof on the house he had started building for her, but a week of the baby's squalling had apparently put an end to his connubial responsibility. Jason spat in the dust as he told of Bobby's disappearing in the middle of the night, leaving no one to mend the fences on the south range.
Janice had to smile at this typical Jason manner of speaking. He related his disgust to the ranch and not to the wife and child abandoned to their fate. But she knew without being told that Jason had made some arrangement for Ellen and her baby. He just didn't talk about those things.
As soon as she had settled into the room the Hardings had made up for her and Betsy, Janice went to work. She disliked being a burden or accepting charity, but she knew the ranch and the work that needed doing. She could be useful here.
As soon as she had some of the chaos in the office brought under control, she asked to accompany Carmen into town. She needed to handle some ranch matters there, but most of all, she wanted to see Ellen, to see how she was managing. Janice wouldn't admit to herself that she wanted to see the baby.
Ellen greeted her arrival with delight. The house Bobby had built was little more than a shack, but it smelled of new wood and fresh laundry. A wooden crate made the baby's bed, and Ellen's bed was little more than a mattress on ropes hanging in the corner of the house's one room. But Ellen had covered every bare surface with colorful scraps of gingham patchwork, and the result was cheerful in the August sun. Janice hugged her former student, catching even herself by surprise. She wasn't normally one to give hugs.
"Oh, Miss Harris... I mean, Mrs. Mulloney!" Ellen giggled and led her toward the infant's bed. "It's so good to see you again. I thought you were gone forever. That new schoolteacher they've hired has come to town, and he's an old wart! I don't want him teaching Mary Jane."
Janice knelt beside the makeshift cradle. The infant slept soundly on her stomach, one fist bunched up at her mouth where she could suck it occasionally. Her hair was a ring of sparse dark curls that Janice couldn't resist stroking. The baby stirred, exposing tiny bare feet beneath her thin gown, and Janice felt an odd tug of envy. She had never wanted a child. She hadn't wanted Betsy. She had hated the responsibility and the constant demands and the draining away of her own life. But she wanted to pick this child up and hug her to her breast and pretend she was her own.
"She's beautiful, Ellen," Janice murmured, scarcely able to tear her gaze away. "Does she eat well?"
"Like a little pig," Ellen declared proudly.
Janice felt her own breasts ache at the thought. That had been the only pleasure she had known when Betsy was a baby. She had loved holding the infant to her breast and feeling her suck. It had been a quiet time of fleeting contentment. It could be even better this time, with a husband to share her joy and to take away the worry.
She was having crazy notions. Peter would only now be arriving in Butte, if his luck was good and the tracks and trail were clear. It would be months, maybe years before he could see a profit, providing the gold was really there. They couldn't afford a child. There wouldn't be any joy, just worry. She couldn't live through that again.
Her monthly courses were just late. The upheaval of moving probably had that effect. She wasn't real regular. There wasn't a baby. She touched the infant in the cradle again and stood up.
"Is Mr. Holt going to let you go back to work for him?" Janice asked casually, as if she hadn't a worry in the world.
"I think Mr. Harding told him he'd better. He said I could take Mary Jane with me and keep her behind the counter. I know I can do it. I'll work twice as hard and prove it." Ellen's eyes gleamed defiantly.
"I know you will. He ought to be glad to have such a good worker. Mayb
e now that you've been away for a while, he'll have learned to appreciate how much you do for him. Have you heard anything from Bobby?" Janice took the stool Ellen offered and didn't object when she was given a cup of coffee without a saucer. She might use some of the wages Jason had offered her to buy a few dishes as a baby gift.
The militant light left Ellen's eyes. She took her seat on the bed beside the cradle. "I don't reckon I will. Bobby just wasn't cut out for married life, I guess. I should have thought about that when he was courting me."
That wasn't something most young women in love thought about, Janice knew from sad experience. She sighed and sipped the weak coffee. Every woman ought to be told to think what kind of father a man would make before they went to bed with him. Maybe that would cool their ardor some.
She tried to imagine what kind of father Peter would make, but she couldn't say. He'd got along well with the children at The Ridge. He seemed to be a responsible person. But she couldn't fathom how he would respond to the knowledge that he was about to become a father. He just might take it as his due and her problem and go on.
"Well, marriage takes some men that way," Janice responded. "It's better to know right off, before you start depending on them. You'll make a fine mother. And everyone hereabouts will look after you. I don't think you need to worry." Fine thing to tell a mother. Mothers always worried. But Ellen was smiling again and Janice didn't feel guilty for the lie.
"Were there any more fires after we left? Did they ever catch who did it?" She changed the subject before she was led any deeper into sin.
Ellen immediately looked worried again. She fretted at her apron strings and didn't look Janice directly in the eye. Finally, she admitted, "There wasn't a one after you left. They never did catch anyone. A stranger poked around town a few weeks after you left, asking questions, but there wasn't any fire."
Texas Moon TH4 Page 22
