He looked dumbfounded for about two seconds, then he grinned so widely that she lifted her fingers away from her lips and smiled back.
“I reckon a wife oughta know her husband’s name,” Red announced and started laughing. Cassie was amazed to hear the sound of laughter come from her own lips. It was a sound she hadn’t heard for three years. She slipped her fingers back over her mouth to stop herself.
She remembered the moment, the circumstances of the last time she’d laughed. Griff had asked her to marry him and she’d yelled, “Yes!” and laughed and flung her arms around his neck. He’d pulled her arms away from him roughly and shook her so hard her head had snapped back and forth and tears had come to her eyes. He’d told her she was making a fool of herself and to please try and moderate her voice and not flaunt herself.
Griff had corrected her from the very beginning, even before her mother died when he’d cared for the family accounts. Then, when he’d been put in charge of Cassie’s inheritance, he’d been even more strict. She accepted that because he was so much older and wiser. But Griff had always been kind, carefully explaining things to her and with incredible patience telling her he didn’t expect much from her until she’d had the chance at proper training.
But that day, he had shaken her so violently her neck stung and she could feel the bruises forming on her arms. She’d immediately apologized, and she’d begun the hard work of growing up so she could be worthy of a man as fine as Griff. She’d never, never shouted again and she hadn’t laughed out loud in three years.
Now Red was laughing, and she had laughed back. He didn’t seem upset at all. Cassie decided in that moment that it wasn’t what the rules were that was important. It was finding them out and obeying them. She would have to learn a whole new set of rules, but she could do it. She could be the wife that Red deserved.
“My name is Fitzgerald O’Neill Dawson. My mother was born in Ireland and she landed all her love for the Old Country right smack on my head with a single name.”
“Fitzgerald O’Neill Dawson?”
“It’s a mouthful.” Red turned to his ham and started cutting.
“It’s a fine name. Do you want me to call you Red?” She’d always called Griff by his nickname because he had dictated that she should. Now she waited for Red to make his wishes known. Cassie carefully imitated Red’s motions, picking up her fork and knife seconds after he did.
“Red’s okay. I doubt if I’d know to answer if anyone called me Fitzgerald of all things. Even my ma called me Red.”
“Tell me about your parents, Red,” Cassie asked politely. She was suddenly excited about the wealth of questions she could ask of a man she didn’t know at all. She could keep him talking for months.
“Well, let’s see. My pa was a parson. Ma had hair as red as mine, and there were ten children in all.”
“Ten children!” Cassie gasped.
“Yeah, I was the youngest. Six of the kids died of one thing and another, mostly before I was born. So, there are four of us grown. Let’s see…of the six that died, we lost one in the War Between the States. Another fought and got home okay, but scarlet fever went through and killed him. Another brother, the one that was next older than me, and the two sisters next older than him died of yellow fever before I was born. And I had a sister who died having her first babe. I was old enough to remember that.”
A somber expression crossed Red’s face as he recited this litany of death, but he didn’t dwell on it. Cassie didn’t expect him to. Death was a part of living and it made no sense to rail against it.
Red continued. “I’m a straggler anyway. Then losing those three that were next older, there’s a long spread of years between me and the rest of the family. Pa did his preaching on Sundays and owned a feed store besides. Ma and all us kids helped out. The whole bunch of them settled down young and started right in raising families. Last count I had five nieces and eight nephews. I guess I’m the maverick of the family, but there was always something that called me to ranching. Ma said it was the Irishman’s love of the land. Pa said I was a dreamer. When they opened Montana for homesteading, I jumped at the chance. They were old when I was born, near fifty, and they’ve both passed on now.”
“If you’re a rancher, why do you dig graves?” Cassie asked.
“I turn my hand to a dozen jobs in town to make this place pay. The general store lets me work off my bill. The blacksmith keeps my horses shod. I bought a horse at the stable in town, and I’m paying that off with a pitchfork. Whatever it takes to get done what needs doing.”
“And how did you decide to live in this cave?”
Red grinned and shrugged. “I’ve got a better home for my chickens and pigs than I do for myself.”
“Oh, no! This is a wonderful home,” Cassie protested.
“Do you really like it? Because I didn’t want to build a house for a few more years.”
“If you do build a house, whenever you do it, could we just add it on to this one?” Cassie asked. “I’d never want to give up that cold spring.”
“Yeah, sure, that’s what I’ve always had planned. It may be awhile.”
Cassie heard the note of warning in his voice. She said, “I like it just the way it is. When a house gets too big, it’s next to impossible to keep it warm. This is so cozy with only the fireplace burning.”
Cassie went back to her meal while Red talked. Asking questions was the perfect way to pass the rest of her life.
“Now tell me about your folks, Cass. You and Griff came from New York, right?”
Cassie was struck dumb. She had a mouthful of mashed potatoes, and she had to force herself to swallow them. She hadn’t been asked to offer much to a conversation in years.
Suddenly words wanted to rush out. She had so many things she wanted to say, the words jammed behind each other like piled-up logs at a narrow spot on a river.
She just looked at Red and shrugged silently, acting just as stupid as Griff had always said she was.
CHAPTER 7
Do you have brothers and sisters?” Red scooped himself a big bite of potatoes.
Cass found she could answer a direct question. “No, I am an only child.”
Red looked up from his plate. “That sounds lonely. Although I was so much younger than my brothers and sisters, in some ways, I was almost an only child, I reckon.”
Red ate his potatoes, then casually sliced a generous piece off his ham steak and laid it on Cassie’s plate. “I’ve got too much here.”
She didn’t know if handing her food counted as a criticism or not. She didn’t have time to decide.
“So what does your father do for a livin’? Or has he passed on?” Red attacked his meal with relish.
Cassie realized that as long as he talked, he couldn’t eat. Maybe he thought it was rude of her to question him when he was hungry. She inhaled slowly and decided she had to talk so he could finish his meal.
“My father worked for the railroad. First in an office in New York City, but before I was born, they’d moved to Illinois, to Chicago. Mother was Spanish, but several generations ago.”
Red smiled. “The pearls from the Spanish countess.”
Cassie nodded and resumed talking. “She was four generations away from the Spanish countess, and our family these days is more German and English than Spanish. But my mother was still as proud of being Spanish as your mother was of being Irish.”
Red was eating with relish now, and Cassie’s heart lightened at his enjoyment. “Father died when I was very young. I just barely remember him. He left us quite well fixed, though. Mother and I lived alone from then on in a large house in Chicago. Mother died six years ago. I was twelve.”
Red stopped eating and his forehead wrinkled. “That’s really hard to lose your parents when you’re still a child. Who took care of you?”
“Griff did.”
“What?” Lowering his fork, Red stared at her.
He looked so shocked, Cassie hurried to explain. “Th
ere was no other family, and Griff was an assistant my mother hired to see over our affairs after Father died. He had fallen out with his father and been disinherited, so he had no start in the world. He became less of an employee over the years and more of a family friend. When my mother died, she’d left the management of my estate to him and named him my guardian. We were married when I was fifteen.”
“Wow, that’s young for marriage.” Red slathered butter on his biscuit.
Cassie found that watching his hands and the melting butter was easier than looking him in the eye. “One day, when we’d been married about a month, I overheard some gossip between a storekeeper and our cook about Griff marrying me when he was closer to my mother’s age than mine. Griff was furious at me for listening to gossip, especially because I had gone out to the shops without gaining his permission. He fired the cook at once, of course, and I was forbidden from leaving the house alone again.” Cassie rubbed the side of her face, still remembering the stinging slap she’d earned for her childish defiance. It wasn’t the first time Griff had punished her, but it was the first time he’d left marks where they’d be visible to others. She’d been banished to her room for two weeks, allowed to see no one but Griff until the bruises faded. She’d been so badly behaved back then.
“My pa didn’t forbid my ma to do much. She wasn’t one to take orders a bit good.” Red took another bite of biscuit and chewed slowly, watching her so carefully she wished she could end her story.
“I convinced him to forgive me, but he was still very upset about it. To avoid the talk, Griff decided to come west. He had dreams about being a cattle baron and proving himself to the world. With my inheritance, it seemed like Griff’s dreams could come true. But it takes a lot to get started in the West.”
“Not if you live off the land like I do.” Red had quit eating.
“Griff wanted a home for us like the one we’d left behind, and of course, things Griff wanted to make our home pleasant were so costly out here.” Cassie sighed. Things Mr. York and probably others thought she’d demanded.
“Then Griff was cheated when he bought cattle. They never gained weight well and most of the calf crop was lost. The grass on our property was never as lush as we had hoped. And the property was heavily wooded and mountainous rather than grassland, not what had been represented to us at all. It was just one thing after another. We’d have made it, I’m sure, if Griff hadn’t died.”
Cassie noticed Red’s plate was nearly cleared. “Do you want more? There are more potatoes and biscuits.”
Red shook his head, leaned back in his chair, and rested a hand on his stomach. “I am stuffed. I can’t remember when I’ve enjoyed a meal more. The food was delicious, and I did like havin’ a beautiful woman talk to me while I ate. I’d drink a cup of coffee, though.”
Cassie stood, but Red waved her back. “Let me get it, Cass. You’ve had a rough day.” Red moved to the fireplace and picked up the heavy coffeepot with a towel to protect his hand. He poured them each a fragrant cup of the boiled coffee and, with a clank of metal on metal, returned the pot to the hook.
He moved gracefully, at home in the kitchen handling women’s work. Griff had never lowered himself to do anything like that, but somehow, when Red did it, it didn’t seem like he was less a man. Cassie added a new rule to her collection. Man’s work and woman’s work wasn’t the same in every family. Instead, like all rules, they were set by the man to be how he wanted.
Red slid a cup of coffee in front of Cassie. She cradled the tin coffee cup in both hands, absorbing the warmth even though it wasn’t a cold night.
“When is the baby due, Cass?” Red settled back in his chair.
Shocked, she lifted her head from her contemplation of the new rules. She’d never dreamed Red would ask such personal things about the baby. Griff had avoided the whole subject, saying it was inappropriate to discuss such things. She felt her cheeks heat up as she floundered for something to say.
“I didn’t mean to embarrass you.” Red sat up straight in his chair, looking as uncomfortable as she felt.
That made Cassie feel even worse. The only reason he would have mentioned her embarrassment was if the heat in her cheeks meant she was blushing. She set down her cup and clapped both hands over her cheeks to cover the red. “I didn’t think you’d want to talk about it.”
“If you’re uncomfortable talkin’ about it with me, I understand. I just want to know when it’s due. We may need to have the doctor out, and as winter comes on, that gets harder, so I was wonderin’ if it’s very soon.” Red shrugged and lapsed into an awkward silence.
“I…I don’t exactly know. How can a woman know such things as when it’s coming?” She wanted to tell him what he needed to know.
“You mean you don’t know how long you’ve been expectin’?”
“Um…I know that. Griff thought it was unseemly to discuss fe–female things ….” Cassie fell silent, exhausted from forcing such personal words past her lips.
“Oh.” Red nodded for a second. Then Cassie was amazed to see him smile. “I don’t really think of having babies as a female thing, Cass. Well, in a way it’s probably the most female thing there ever was, but there’s got to be a father somewhere and it looks like I’m it. So, that makes it a male thing, too. So, tell me how long.”
“I…I knew I was…that is, my time…my lady’s time…didn’t…wasn’t there…in March last. I told Griff about it a couple of months ago and he said I was most likely bearing a child, and we weren’t to discuss it or be…be close until after, because a woman was unclean when she was bearing …” Cassie gave up again, humiliated. She propped her elbows on the table and rested her burning face in her hands.
Red caught one of her wrists in his hand. “Cassandra Dawson?”
Cassie looked up and saw Red smiling kindly at her. “Yes?”
“We aren’t going to have things we don’t talk about in this house. Having a baby does not make a woman unclean. I reckon I’m the head of this house, and I say that’s the way it is. Now, if you need to blush over this, that’s okay, but we’re still gonna talk about it. If you missed your…um…time in March, that Means …” Red sat silently for a few seconds and Cassie saw him ticking off his fingers. “That means you’re seven months along. A woman takes nine months to grow a child inside her, so you’ll be having this baby in December. We’ve got two months.”
“Nine months…are you sure?”
“Cass, didn’t anybody ever tell you these things? Didn’t your ma have a talk with you, or wasn’t there a woman friend?”
“Mother died when I was twelve. I can’t remember her saying anything about it except what to do about my…my …”
“Your monthly lady’s time?” Red asked gently.
Cassie’s cheeks heated up again. She nodded, hoping they could move on from this topic. “I’ve got to clean up the dishes.” She reached for the plate in front of Red.
Red had never released her wrist. He tightened his grip and held her still. “So you have no idea what to expect when the baby comes?”
Cassie shook her head, keeping her eyes on the table.
Red tapped her on the chin, and she looked up at him. His eyes were as warm as a Montana summer and he smiled at her even as, with his calming touch, he held her in her seat and made her look at him. “There is nothing wrong or unclean or embarrassing about having a baby, Cass. It’s the most natural thing God ever created. Birth is the foundation of the world. Every plant has a seed, every animal recreates in its own kind. God put people on the earth and told them to be fruitful and multiply.” Red let go of her wrist and slid his chair out from the table so he could lay one hand on her stomach. “This baby is a gift from God.”
Cassie flinched away from the unfamiliar touch. Griff never touched her, never held her hand except for a moment when she would step out of a carriage perhaps, never hugged or kissed her. Except for the brief and infrequent coming together in the dark, nothing physical ever passed betwee
n them.
Red didn’t let her move away from him, and after the first shock, she found she liked his touch. It was like a part of her uncurled and grew, nurtured by the human contact. She didn’t tell him all that, but she forgot herself enough to lay her hand over Red’s and press it against her stomach.
“Cassie, I want you to take pleasure in this gift and understand the glorious work you are doing to bring a new life into the world. This baby will be a blessing to both of us.”
Red’s voice was so solemn Cassie felt as if they were exchanging wedding vows a second time.
“I’ll try, with God’s help, to be a good husband to you, Cassandra Dawson, and a good father to the baby. We took vows before God today, and I want you to know I intend to keep them. I don’t think we know each other well enough to promise to love like a romantic love. That will take time. But for now, I love you because God calls us to love others as we love ourselves, and I can promise to keep doing that. I’ll honor you. That means I want to know what will make you happy. I’m not talking about things. I can’t give you nice things like Griff did, but I want to give you what you need for your heart and your soul. I’ll give you all of that as part of honoring you.”
Cassie nodded, unable to look away from Red’s kindness.
“And I’ll cherish you. That means love, too, but to me it means more than that. It means enjoying all that is special about you and making sure you know I do.”
Cassie listened, wide-eyed. She’d never heard such talk from a man before.
He went on. “And the vows say a woman has to obey her husband, but I want you to know I’ll never ask you to do something that sets wrong with your conscience, and I won’t be issuing a bunch of orders and demanding you obey them. We’ll talk things through and make decisions together. If the day comes when we just can’t decide something, really disagree over what is right and wrong, I may pull out the marriage vows and try to insist you obey me, but I don’t make a very good dictator. I had too many bossy older brothers and sisters.
Mary Connealy Page 8
