“Oh,” she said. “I see.” And she did. They wanted to be alone, and she was intruding on their privacy.
“I don’t think you do,” Marshal Justiss said, “but we can talk about that later.”
“All right,” she said, moving to walk past them to the hallway.
Mrs. Swenson reached out a hand to stop her. “Couldn’t you sleep?”
Words suddenly caught in Jessi’s throat. Shaking free the last of the thoughts that plagued her, she found her voice and noticed the pots on the stovetop. “Are ye cooking at this hour then?”
Mrs. Swenson nodded. “Ben gets up early.” She gave him a swift kiss on the top of his head before patting his arm to let him know she wanted him to let go of her. When he did, she smiled at Jessi. “Our marshal’s very diligent.”
He lifted his cup of coffee and winked at Jessi. “Very.”
She smiled back at him. The marshal was an easy man to like, once you got past his gruff exterior. “Do ye have any troublemakers about town?”
He set his cup back down and stared at her for a moment before asking, “Why do you ask?”
She wasn’t going to mention the fact that she thought she’d been followed tonight, but then realized she might not be the only one in danger if there were someone out to make mischief. “I’d been out walkin’—” she began, only to be interrupted by the marshal.
“Did you see anyone?”
She shook her head. “I wished I had, but I heard something and saw a large shape melting into the shadows by the stable.”
“Do you think it’s more trouble come to find Davidson Smythe?” asked Mrs. Swenson.
The worry in Mrs. Swenson’s voice bothered Jessi, prompting her to ask, “Does trouble come looking for Mr. Smythe often?”
The marshal shook his head. “We had a bit of trouble about six months ago.”
“In the form of a woman scorned?” Jessi couldn’t keep from asking.
Mrs. Swenson smiled. “It would have been preferable to the hired gunman who’d been sent to kill Mr. Smythe.”
Terror filled her at the thought of someone killing for money. “Is he dead then?”
“You wouldn’t have asked that question if you knew me,” the marshal answered.
The disgruntled look on his face worried her, so she tried to explain. “ ’Tis not that I doubt yer dedication or talent as a man of law,” she began. “ ’Twas just a question.”
He waved her toward the table. When she sat, he leaned forward. “Tell me about this large shadow.”
Thinking back, Jessi realized there wasn’t much to tell. “I didn’t see much other than the outline of somethin’ large movin’ in the shadows next to the stable.”
“If you remember anything,” he said, watching her intently, “will you tell me?”
“Ye have me word,” Jessi promised.
“Would you like a cup of tea?” Mrs. Swenson asked, placing a cup on the table next to Jessi.
“Aye,” she answered and without thinking, reached for her cup with her right hand, knocking it off the saucer, spilling the tea.
She shot to her feet. “I’m terrible sorry for wasting yer fine tea, Mrs. Swenson.”
The older woman placed a calming hand on Jessi’s arm. “Here now,” she soothed. “Sit back down. I’ll fetch another cup.”
Jessi wanted to cry; she’d wasted perfectly good tea. If she was back home and it was her mother’s tea, she would have received a whack on the back on the head for wastefulness.
“I really am sorry,” she whispered.
Mrs. Swenson poured another cup and placed it near Jessi’s left hand. “Try again, with your left hand.”
“It’s awkward,” Jessi said, managing to add a dollop of cream and hint of sugar to her tea. Sipping delicately, she sighed. “ ’Tis wonderful, Mrs. Swenson.”
Mrs. Swenson beamed and passed a plate filled with freshly baked bread and biscuits. “It’s always a pleasure to cook for someone who enjoys eating.”
When Jessi carefully helped herself, without spilling anything or knocking anything over, she sighed and began to nibble the biscuit first and buttered bread second.
“Don’t you want some of my fresh preserves?”
“Aye, thank ye.” Jessi glanced over at the jar of strawberry preserves and waited for Mrs. Swenson to pass it to her. Looking down at her bandaged hand, she wasn’t quite sure how she’d manage it without making a mess.
Before she could ask, the marshal reached over, slid her plate next to the jar and heaped some jam on her bread and biscuits, sliding the plate back within her reach.
She smiled when he winked at her. “Thank ye, Marshal.”
“You’re starting to make us feel old, Jessi,” Mrs. Swenson said. “Why don’t you call us by our first names, Ben and Inga?”
“That wouldn’t be proper at all.”
“Well, then, when you’re more comfortable, please do.”
“Thank ye for the offer.” Jessi looked from one to the other. “Ye’ve been more than kind to the likes of me, after all I’ve done.”
“I thought we’d gotten past that,” Marshal Justiss said, rising to his feet. Reaching behind him, he grabbed his Stetson off of the chair next to the table, placed it on his head and bent down to kiss Mrs. Swenson good-bye. “I’ll be home around midday for lunch.”
Jessi sighed as they kissed one another. When he’d closed the door behind him, she sighed out loud. “To be loved like that.”
Mrs. Swenson was staring out the door after her man and hadn’t heard Jessi. “He’s a good man,” she said at last, watching him disappear around the front of the boarding house, heading toward the stables where he kept his horse.
“I used to think that about someone I knew.”
“Are you ready to tell me what happened over at Doc’s earlier?”
Jessi thought about it, but in the end shook her head. “ ’Tisn’t anything I can do about it now. ’Tis done and beyond my control.”
Mrs. Swenson sighed loud and long. “Men are the damndest creatures.”
Jessi couldn’t help it; she laughed out loud. “They are at that, Mrs. Swenson. If I’m careful, would ye let me clear yer table?”
The other woman nodded. “As long as you tell me what happened at Doc’s.”
It was Jessi’s turn to sigh. “I’d rather not talk about it.”
“I know,” Mrs. Swenson said, squeezing Jessi’s hand before letting it go. “But sometimes, it does a body good to unburden your soul and tell your troubles to someone who’s had enough of her own to want to share your load.”
Since she’d put it that way, how could Jessi refuse without seeming ungrateful for all Mrs. Swenson and the marshal had said and done for her?
“Mr. Reilly was indeed ailin’,” she said slowly. “But I hadn’t realized he’d hit his head that hard.”
“How hard?”
“He said some awful things to me,” she hesitated. “Things I can’t tell ye just yet.”
Mrs. Swenson patted her hand. “Well, then, whenever you’re ready, dear,” she said. “You just let me know and we’ll talk about it.”
“Thank ye kindly.”
“It was probably his injured pride doing most of the talking.”
“That’s what I’ve been wonderin’.”
“It’s my laundry day. When we finish up here, I’ll start heating the water.”
“I’m not much good with one hand,” Jessi said. “But I’ll do me best.”
Mrs. Swenson smiled at her and reached for the cup and saucer Jessi bobbled. “I couldn’t ask for more,” she said. “No one can, or should.”
Jessi thought about those words the entire time they spent in the kitchen cleaning up, and all the while they heated the water for the big laundry tub Mrs. Swenson kept in the small lean-to next to the back of the house.
But it wasn’t until they’d scrubbed and wrung out the clean laundry that it hit her why it stayed with her. “I’m guessin’ I should tell Mr. Re
illy why I’m here.”
“And why’s that?” Mrs. Swenson asked, holding out her hand for another clothes peg. Jessi placed it in the woman’s outstretched hand and reached for another.
“He may be worried that I have bad news from home.”
“Do you?”
Jessi shook her head.
“Well, then,” Mrs. Swenson said, “it must be happy news.”
Jessi kicked at a clump of grass with the toe of her half boots. “It was meant to be, after…” She let her words trail off. How could she explain without sounding like a complete eedjit?
Finally she decided to simply get it said. “It would have been good news, if the dolt had taken me in his arms and kissed me like we’d planned.”
“You and Mrs. Reilly?”
Jessi’s shoulders slumped. “Aye.”
Mrs. Swenson held out her hand for another pin. “It’s early days yet.”
Jessi didn’t know quite what to make of that last statement. “So I should wait a bit, then?”
Mrs. Swenson nodded. “He’ll come around. You wait and see.”
“Should I be here when he does?”
Mrs. Swenson smiled at her. “Absolutely not. The man needs to suffer a bit first.”
Jessi smiled back at her. “Ye remind me of John’s mother.”
Chapter Six
“I’ve come to see if the rumors were true.”
Mrs. Swenson stared at the woman standing in her front parlor and wanted to kick her in the backside, but knew it wouldn’t do any good. Millicent Peabody wouldn’t move until whatever rumors she had heard were either confirmed or denied.
Deciding to play along for the moment, Mrs. Swenson asked, “And what have you heard, Millicent? It’s been rather quiet of late.”
“Where were you yesterday when the stage arrived?”
Mrs. Swenson nodded at the clothes hanging on the line. “I’ve boarders to be fed, rooms to clean. Today, as you can see, there are bedclothes to be laundered,” she answered. “What happened that has brought you to my door, when you haven’t bothered to visit these six months past?”
Jessi watched the woman pause and wring her hands together before answering. “I’ve been busy.”
Mrs. Swenson stared at her. “I understand the Committee for the Betterment of Emerson was disbanded six months ago.”
The other woman visibly flinched, but held her head high. “Marshal Justiss had no right—”
“He had every right to disband your hypocritical group,” Mrs. Swenson told her. “The only good your group ever did was to raise funds to build the church, and for that I’m grateful.”
“What about the quality of life in our good town?”
Mrs. Swenson put her hands on her hips and glared at the woman. “What about the decent, hardworking women down on their luck? The ones you’ve tried to run out of town?”
Millicent swallowed audibly, but didn’t back down. “Well, there’s one more we don’t want in our midst.”
“And who might that be?”
Jessi had the distinct feeling they were talking about her, but she wasn’t ready to face the other woman’s wrath just yet. She was still stinging from the blows to her pride delivered by the man she thought she loved.
“You know very well to whom I’m referring,” Millicent said. “That Irish hoyden you’re boarding here, the one who struck poor Mr. Reilly.”
Jessi’s stomach churned as she remembered how badly he’d been injured, and all because she couldn’t control her temper. She wasn’t supposed to hit him yet; she was supposed to wait until they were wed, and only in a case of extreme need.
“I don’t have anyone staying here that fits your description. If you’ve nothing further to impart, I’ll ask you to be on your way,” Mrs. Swenson said. “I’ve work to do.”
“Well, I never.”
“That’s not quite what I’ve heard from Henry.”
Millicent rounded on her with her hand raised to strike a blow. “You leave my man out of this.”
“Why?” Mrs. Swenson countered. “You continue to bring mine into your twisted little games of intrigue. The last one nearly killed a friend of mine—and Sarah’s son!”
“This isn’t over,” Millicent warned, storming out the front door.
“What was that all about?”
Mrs. Swenson brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes and shook her head. “Nothing that you need to worry about just yet.”
“But she was talkin’ about me,” Jessi said. “Wasn’t she?”
“Yes, but it’s too fine a day to be worried about Millie Peabody.” Putting her arm around Jessi and drawing her close, she hugged her before letting go. “Would you like to meet some of my friends today?”
“Have we hung out all of the linens?”
“Yes. We have just enough time to drive the wagon over to see Maggie Turner before we have to be back to put the stew on.”
“I’d love to meet her,” Jessi said. “Is she the one married to the rancher John works for?”
“No. That would be Bridget, mother to Mick and stepmother to little Emma.”
“Stepmother? Like in a fairy tale?”
Mrs. Swenson chuckled. “Not quite. Bridget, like her sister-in-law Maggie, is a warm and wonderful woman.”
Trying to follow along with the names and whom they belonged to, Jessi asked, “If Bridget is married to the rancher, who is Maggie?”
“The rancher’s sister,” Mrs. Swenson said. “Maggie’s married to the marshal.”
“I hope ye’ve more than one marshal.” Jessi’s head was starting to ache from trying to sort through all of the information Mrs. Swenson was cramming into it.
The other woman’s stern expression answered Jessi’s question, but Mrs. Swenson clarified it by saying, “Marshal Turner retired shortly after coming to Emerson and capturing the cattle rustlers and Mr. Emerson, crooked banker that he was.”
“ ’Tis himself the town’s named for?”
“Yes, but Emerson broke the law and was jailed for land fraud.”
“What did he do?”
Mrs. Swenson warmed to her topic. “I’ll tell you while we pack a few things to bring to Maggie.” Reaching up, the older woman grabbed a square-bottomed basket from a peg high up on the wall. “Maggie’s in the family way.”
Jessi’s heart ached. She’d hoped to have a family of her own, but now knew it wasn’t meant to be. “She’s a lucky woman.”
Mrs. Swenson nodded. “Not everyone can bear children.”
Jessi realized too late that she might have said something that hurt the other woman’s feelings. Needing to make things right, she reached out with her injured hand and grabbed ahold of Mrs. Swenson’s elbow. Shards of pain rippled through her hand and shot up her wrist.
Blinking back tears, she held on. “I didn’t mean to hurt ye, Mrs. Swenson.”
Shaking her head at Jessi, Mrs. Swenson tsked again. “You have to be careful not to injure your hand further.”
When Jessi refused to let go, Mrs. Swenson reassured her. “My husband and I weren’t meant to have children, but we were very much in love.”
“Yer lucky, then,” Jessi whispered, dropping her hand and cradling it to her waist with her good one. “I’ll not be havin’ the chance to marry the man I love.”
“You sound as if you’re feeling sorry for yourself.”
Jessi realized the woman was right. “I was,” she answered. “But I didn’t sleep much last night, and yesterday was a very difficult day.”
“As long as you don’t wallow in it, we’ll get along fine.”
Jessi wished she wasn’t quite so tired. It would be hours before she could excuse herself and go to bed. Vowing not to complain again or feel sorry for herself, she nodded. “What are we bringing to your friend, then?”
“Some of my strawberry preserves, a fresh loaf of bread, and a few embroidered sleeping gowns for the baby.”
“What can I do to help ye?”
“Hold
this,” Mrs. Swenson handed the basket to her, and Jessi held on for dear life; she daren’t spill the delicious jam.
“Does Maggie favor strawberries?”
Mrs. Swenson smiled. “Lately, she’d eat dirt if Doc or Joshua would let her.”
Jessi hadn’t heard of that particular craving before, but this was a new country to her. Maybe it was something special. Still she couldn’t keep from asking, “Is that wise?”
“I wasn’t serious.” Mrs. Swenson chuckled and cupped Jessi’s chin in her hand. “I forget how young you are.”
“ ’Tisn’t me age,” Jessi reminded her, “ ’tis the difference in our two countries.”
The other woman nodded. “I think you could be right. Still, I was trying to explain just how hungry Maggie’s been.”
“Then why didn’t you just say so?” Jessi’d never understand people out here.
“We’ll talk about that later. I’ve got to hitch the horse to the wagon so we can be back in time.”
Between the two of them, they managed to put the bit in the horse’s mouth, put the bridle on him and settle themselves on the wagon seat. “You’d best sit on my left,” Mrs. Swenson suggested. “The road’s a little rough, and we don’t want you falling out of the wagon.”
“But I’ll be bumping into you,” Jessi protested.
“Exactly,” the older woman said with a grin. “Better bumping into me than falling off the other side of the wagon, ending up on the ground because you tried to lean on your injured hand.”
Seeing the wisdom in the kindly woman’s suggestion, Jessi climbed up and settled herself next to Mrs. Swenson. They drove through the town and out toward the river. “Is it safe to cross this time of year?” Jessi’d seen enough swollen rivers flooding the land—here and back home—to be wary of the body of water in front of them.
The sun glinted off the surface of the river, refracting light until Jessi swore the water danced before them. Were there Little People here in Colorado, too? That would explain the beauty of the water as it glistened in the sun.
“It’s safe,” Mrs. Swenson reassured her.
“Fine then,” Jessi said. “Are there any shallows?”
The Irish Westerns Boxed Set Page 78
