The Irish Westerns Boxed Set

by C. H. Admirand

  Jessi watched the way Inga started fidgeting and prompted her, “Did he wash yer back for ye?”

  Inga’s smile was radiant. “Mr. Swenson wasn’t as open in his…”

  Jessi sensed that what Inga wanted to tell her might not be considered proper for an unmarried young woman to hear, but she also had a feeling it might be important.

  “What ye feel for Ben shouldn’t be compared to what ye shared with yer husband.”

  “How do you know?”

  Jessi smiled sadly. “Me mother didn’t really love me father.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Oh,” Jessi said, walking over to the tub and sweeping the tips of her fingers through the water. “She told me.”

  “Why would she do that?”

  “She wanted me to understand why I wasn’t to visit with Mrs. Reilly.”

  “But what does John’s mother have to do with it?”

  “Mrs. Reilly married the man me mother loved but couldn’t hold.”

  Inga’s worried look soothed the memory of the angry words tugging at Jessi’s memory. The other woman began to braid Jessi’s hair.

  “She told you that, too?”

  “That and more.” Jessi cringed. “She bade me good-bye with the back of her hand.”

  Inga tied a ribbon around the bottom of the braid and laid a hand to Jessi’s shoulder. “She didn’t want you to come here, did she?”

  Jessi thought she’d be over that hurt, but from the way her throat tightened, she realized she wasn’t. “When she found out I was leavin’ no matter how she raged, she struck me for the last time, and I left.”

  “Does John know?”

  “What difference would it make?”

  Inga shrugged. “Sometimes it helps to talk things out.”

  Jessi smiled sadly. “Ye’ve been a great help in that regard.”

  “It’s my pleasure. I’ve enjoyed our talks.”

  Needing to change the subject before Inga said something more that would make her cry, Jessi asked, “Have ye already fed Ben and Mrs. Greene?”

  “I have.”

  “Then ye should be restin’.”

  “I rested last night.”

  Jessi nodded slowly. “I’m sure Ben helped ye rest.”

  Inga flushed a lovely shade of pink.

  Jessi patted her hand and smiled at her. “As long as ye slept deeply afterward.”

  Instead of protesting, Inga nodded. “I must have. I don’t remember anything until this morning when Ben was trying not to wake me as he got out of bed.”

  Jessi wondered what that might feel like. Rising in the morning after being with the man you love, sharing your heart and your body with him, knowing that no matter what might happen during the day, he’d be there to hold you in his arms come the night.

  “You really love him,” Inga said. “Don’t you?”

  “I can’t seem to stop.”

  “Does he want you to?”

  Jessi sighed. “I thought he did, but that was before. Now I’m not so sure.”

  “Falling in love is the easy part,” Inga told her. “It’s staying in love that’s work.”

  Jessi couldn’t help it; she laughed. “Yer a true friend, Inga. Ye don’t pick at me until I do what ye think I should, and ye always manage to shift me way of thinking until it comes around to yer way without me knowing it.”

  “I’m not trying to change your mind,” Inga countered. “Just telling you what’s in my heart and what I know, to ease your way if I can.”

  “Thank ye.” Jessi hugged Inga close, ignoring the twinge in her side.

  Inga stepped back and broke into a wide smile.

  When Inga continued to stare at her, Jessi looked down. Her normally pale skin was marred by a patch of red. Worried, she added, “Do ye think it’s Doc’s tonic?”

  Inga shook her head and continued to smile at Jessi.

  “From the look on yer face, I’m thinkin’ I’m in no danger of perishin’ from what the rash is.”

  Inga chuckled and finally asked, “Did John come upstairs last night?”

  Jessi felt her cheeks heat, but didn’t hide the truth from Inga who had only been open and honest with her. “No.”

  “Oh.”

  “I went downstairs.”

  Inga’s smile returned.

  Jessi threw her hands up in the air. “Please put me out of my misery and tell me what this rash might be?”

  “John’s beard.”

  “He doesn’t have a beard,” Jessi said. “He still shaves his face every morning.”

  “And by nighttime?” Inga prompted, motioning for Jessi to lift her good arm. When she did, Inga helped her slip the nightgown the rest of the way off.

  “It grows something fierce,” Jessi finished for her, touching the tips of her fingers to the abraded skin. The realization of what had caused her rash combined with the memory of John’s magic touch. It filled her and had her sighing.

  While she washed in the lavender-scented water, Inga talked of the day’s chores and their meeting later in the day with Pearl, Maggie and Bridget.

  “Do ye think we’ll be able to get Millicent to admit to her lies?”

  “She’s not always rational,” Inga cautioned.

  “Then we may have to resort to a bit of trickery.”

  Inga held out a hand to Jessi, who waved her away. “If I lean against ye and we both fall down, I’d never forgive myself.”

  “How will you get out of the tub?” Inga asked holding the drying cloth for her.

  Jessi grinned at her and said, “One foot at a time, starting with me good side.”

  She faltered for one moment and nearly gave in to Inga’s pleading, but she managed to get out of the hipbath in one piece without knocking Inga down. It took a lot out of her, and she realized she’d have to accept the older woman’s offer to help rewrap her ribs and dress. Otherwise, she’d spend the rest of the day with the cloth wrapped around her. And wouldn’t that just be the perfect thing to wear to the meeting?

  “You should have let me help.”

  “Scold me later. Can ye help me rewrap this bandage?”

  Inga sighed, but gave in. “I’ve fresh-baked bread and hot tea downstairs.”

  “You’re kinder to me than my own mother.” The sadness in Inga’s gaze pulled at Jessi. “I’m sorry, Inga. I don’t mean to say things that will make ye sad.”

  “I know. Having lost so many babies over the years, and praying that the Lord would send me another, I can’t help but feel sorrow that a woman who could have children treated them so poorly.”

  As Inga helped her to wrap her ribs, and then dress, Jessi thought about what her friend had said. “The truth of it is that I’ve always cared more for John’s mother than me own.”

  “And so you should have, from the sounds of things.” Inga brushed her hands on her skirts and started to reach for the tub, but Jessi stopped her. “What are ye doin’?”

  Inga stopped short. “Dumping the water?”

  “In yer condition?” Taking the other woman by the arm, Jessi led her out of the room and down the stairs. “Time for tea. I’m sure Ben told you he’d send someone over to dump out the water, didn’t he?”

  Slicing bread and moving the preserves and butter toward Jessi, Inga nodded. “I guess he did, but I was a little preoccupied at the time.”

  Jessi nodded. “Then he was paying ye the right amount of attention.”

  When the water in the kettle was hot enough, Inga poured it onto the tea leaves in her crockery pot and set the pot aside to steep.

  “What time will the ladies be here?”

  Inga poured their tea, saying, “Early afternoon.”

  “Did you think of anything to talk about yet?”

  Inga nodded. “Mr. Peterson has recovered enough to talk about what happened. I say we bring the man some of your spice cake and my bread to cheer him.”

  Jessi grinned at her friend. “Do you think Mrs. Greene would like to visit the poor
lonely man?”

  Inga’s smile was her answer.

  A few hours later, they had packed a basket with a jar of Inga’s strawberry preserves and a loaf of bread. Tucked next to the bread was a good-sized portion of Jessi’s spice cake.

  The kindly widow was delighted to accompany them on their walk over to the tiny house where Mr. Peterson lived. When he opened the door and saw the three of them on his front porch, he grinned. “If I’d known all a man had to do was trip over his own feet and crack his head in order to have three of the loveliest women in Emerson come to call, I’d have done it sooner.”

  Ushering everyone over to the table, Mrs. Greene proceeded to fuss over Mr. Peterson while Jessi added a few small lengths of wood to the cookstove and Inga unpacked their gift basket.

  “I’ve wanted to visit you before now,” Jessi began.

  He waved her to a chair. “I heard what happened to you and haven’t had a chance to thank you for saving the horses.”

  “What about you?” Mrs. Greene demanded.

  He cringed. “I’m a crusty old bachelor,” he grumbled. “No one would miss me.”

  Mrs. Greene surprised them all by pressing a kiss to top of his bald head then patting his cheek. “I would, Peter.”

  Mr. Peterson’s eyes widened and his mouth opened, but he ended up shaking his head and closing it without speaking.

  Inga smiled, placing a bit of bread and jam on the plate Mrs. Greene unearthed from the cupboard. When he took the plate, Mr. Peterson nodded to Inga. “In that case,” he said slowly. “Then I understand I have you and Miss Fahy to thank for pulling me out of the barn before the roof caved in on me.”

  “You’re welcome.” Inga smiled. “Do you remember what happened?”

  He nodded and talked around the mouthful. “Damned lightning struck the roof, rattling the post-and-beam construction and scaring the bejeezus out of me. I tripped over my own two feet, and that’s all I remember until I opened my eyes and Doc was standing over me.”

  “We heard the crackling pop, the boom of thunder, and then saw the smoke.”

  “I’ll be forever grateful that you did, ladies.”

  Noticing the way Mr. Peterson and Mrs. Greene sneaked glances at one another, Inga touched Jessi’s hand and reminded her, “Don’t we have to get back soon?”

  Jessi followed the direction of Inga’s look and drew in as deep a breath as her bandage allowed. “Yes, we’re expecting company this afternoon.”

  Mrs. Greene’s face fell and Inga rushed to reassure her. “Why don’t you stay and keep Mr. Peterson company for a while longer.”

  Mr. Peterson and Mrs. Greene beamed at each other, and Jessi and Inga rose to leave.

  “If there’s anything I can ever do for the two of you ladies,” Mr. Peterson said, “just let me know.”

  Inga stopped with one foot in the kitchen and the other on the back porch. “As a matter of fact, there just might be.”

  “Name it,” the older man said, patting Mrs. Greene’s hand and making the woman blush.

  “Would you be willing to stand before the town and tell everyone what happened?”

  He looked down at his hands and shook his head. “Even the part about where the lightning scared the bejeezus out of me?”

  Inga nodded. “That would be the most important part.”

  Mr. Peterson looked from one woman to the other. “Does this have anything to do with the latest batch of lies that old bat Millicent Peabody is spreading?”

  “It does.”

  “In that case,” Mr. Peterson said, sitting up straight and tall, “I’d be happy to.”

  “We’ll stop by after supper. You can walk over to the church with us.”

  He nodded. “See you both later.” Turning back to the woman still seated at his table, he grinned. “Do you know what’s more fun than playing pinochle?”

  Mrs. Greene’s delighted laughter carried out of the house and warmed their hearts as Inga and Jessi walked back to the boarding house. “I think they really seem to like one another,” Jessi said.

  Inga grinned and shook her head. “They’re both lonely and should be able to help each other forget how much, for a little while.”

  “We’d best get back to the kitchen and our plans.”

  “How many more witnesses do you think we need?”

  Inga shook her head. “I was thinking one for each incident, but now I’m not so sure. We might need at least two for each.”

  “What incidents do ye mean?” Jessi asked, twisting her hands, wringing them.

  “The fire,” Inga began. “Mr. Peterson and the uh . . . fights between Michael and John.”

  “What about the way I punched John—”

  “That,” Inga said, walking through her back door, “is something you’ll have to own up to.”

  “I do and I will,” Jessi promised. “But the other—”

  “Men do what men must,” Inga reminded her. “Let’s put supper on and then we can start on the pies.”

  “John’s partial to apple.”

  “He prefers Maggie’s apple pie,” Inga huffed. “Not mine.”

  Jessi nodded and wisely kept silent.

  While they worked putting the stew on to simmer, they talked about who they’d remembered seeing after they’d pulled Mr. Peterson and his horses out of the barn.

  “What about when Mrs. Peabody pushed you?” Inga asked.

  “I didn’t see her push me because me back was to her.”

  “But you know it was her.”

  “Aye.”

  “Ben said Mick saw her push you.”

  “Why didn’t you say so sooner?”

  “You were hurt and I was distracted,” Inga admitted.

  Jessi nodded and Inga continued, “Maybe someone will step forward tonight at the meeting.”

  “How will we get the word out?” Jessi wanted to know.

  Inga grinned. “We tell Millie.”

  “But she won’t want to be there.”

  Inga shook her head. “She won’t miss out on a chance to publicly humiliate you.”

  “Why does she hate me so?”

  “It’s not you in particular,” Inga said. “It’s the ideal of who she thinks the good citizens of this town should model themselves after.”

  “I take it that wouldn’t be me.”

  “And you’d be right about that.”

  “But ye said she didn’t like Pearl or Bridget either.”

  Inga added a pinch of salt and rolled out the first crust, while Jessi peeled and sliced apples. “No rhyme or reason to what Millicent Peabody and Sarah Burnbaum think, say, or do.”

  “Are they dangerous?”

  “Not unless you count their ability to rile a crowd or flay someone alive with the sharp edges of their tongues.”

  “I’ve been told that I have that same ability,” Jessi admitted, sprinkling sugar over the apples. “How is that ye have sugar to bake with when I’ve heard it’s so costly?”

  “I’m never without boarders for long,” Inga told her.

  Jessi looked up at Inga and wanted to ask about the marshal, but didn’t want to hurt her friend’s feelings.

  Inga chuckled softly. “Ben and I have had an arrangement for the last few months.”

  “Oh?”

  Inga smiled. “We barter.”

  “Do ye?” Jessi smiled down at the piecrust she was filling.

  “What does he think a roof over his head and a fully belly is worth?”

  “Not as much as the love that comes with it.”

  “Yer a lucky woman, Inga Swenson.”

  Sniffling back tears of happiness, Inga nodded, borrowing one of Jessi’s favorite sayings, “Faith, don’t I know it.”

  They were laughing when Mick showed up at the back door. “Marshal Justiss said you needed someone strong to dump out the bathwater.”

  Inga nodded. “I’ve two buckets already upstairs,” she told him. “If ye make three trips and are careful not to spill any water, you
can have the first slice of pie.”

  Mick’s eyes rounded with delight. “I’m your man, Mrs. Swenson.”

  Jessi laughed. “So ye can be bought with a single slice of pie?”

  Mick shrugged. “I like sweets.”

  Inga patted his arm and gave him a bit of uncooked crust. He popped it into his mouth and sighed. “I’ll be finished before you know it.”

  “Oh, Mick?” Inga called after the boy.

  “Yeah?”

  “Will your mother and Emma be coming over later?”

  “They were getting ready to leave when I was saddling my horse.”

  “Wonderful.”

  “You won’t give away that piece of pie before I finish, will you?”

  “Why would you ask—”

  “Because the boy’s smart and knows how I feel about your cooking,” came a voice from the doorway.

  “Ben!”

  “Did you rest?” Justiss asked.

  Inga and Jessi exchanged a glance before she answered. “Absolutely.”

  Jessi looked away so she wouldn’t laugh at the way the marshal narrowed his eyes and stared at Inga.

  “Your face is flushed and you look tired.”

  “Maybe that has more to do with how much rest she got last night,” Jessi said, “than what we were doing while you were out.”

  He didn’t say a word, but he did shake his head at her. “I hear tell that there’s going to be a meeting at the church tonight. Do either of you know anything about it?”

  “We might,” Inga answered.

  “Do you want to tell me what you and your partners in crime are planning, so I can be ready for it?”

  “Ready for what?” Jessi asked.

  “Trouble,” he ground out. “Wherever Inga and her friends go, trouble follows.”

  “And John told me I was the one who causes no end of trouble.”

  The marshal smiled and said, “You do cause trouble for Reilly.”

  “But I don’t mean to.” Jessi sighed.

  “He knows,” Justiss reassured her. “Just try to stay away from Millicent until tonight.”

  “Why?”

  “Reilly said you’d ask me that.”

  “He does seem to know me better than I’ve given him credit for.”

  “Then you will?”

  “Will I what?”

  Justiss tilted his head back and counted softly. When he reached ten, he looked at Jessi. “Stay. Away. From. Millicent.”