Dawson seemed like an easygoing dolt with his odd jobs and his work as a preacher. But Wade had learned that Dawson’s eyes were sharp and he could read signs like an Indian scout. Wade had moved his campsite farther back four times now as Dawson’s snooping had brought the man close to Wade’s hideout.
Wade rested his hand on the butt of his holstered gun, longing to rush in, finish Dawson, and clear out with the china doll in tow. But he couldn’t charge in with guns blazing. He couldn’t risk hitting the china doll with a stray bullet.
And there was more to it than that. Wade rested against the sod wall abutting the door. He tilted his head back and stared at the sky, sparkling with a thousand pinpoints of light. What if he went in and couldn’t pull the trigger?
Please give me the courage to save her.
Wade closed his eyes and came the closest to praying he’d ever done in his life…at least for a long time. He needed the courage to save his china doll.
Wade waited and hoped, but that courage didn’t come. He was a coward. His father was ashamed to call Wade his son. He was a poor excuse for a man.
His mother had put herself between Wade and his father many times. His mother had taken the same kind of cruelty as the china doll. Except Wade’s mother had died bringing a second baby. She’d called Wade in, knowing she was dying. Now, as Wade stood in the frigid cold, shut out of the love he knew the china doll held for him, he was transported to that horrible room, six years old, listening again to his mother’s sobbing apologies for dying, for leaving him alone.
And she’d been right to apologize, because Wade had soon learned just how much his mother had sheltered him. With that shelter gone, Wade had taken the full brunt of his father’s anger.
Now Wade wished he could be that shelter for the china doll. He could protect her, save her.
Red’s voice came though the wall again.
Was he hitting her even now? With a coward nearby who was too weak to protect her. The china doll was taking that same treatment from her second husband.
Red yelled, “You are going to mind me, woman!”
And the china doll answered in a sweet, scared voice, “Yes, Red.”
Words Wade had learned to say to his father, quickly, with just that same obedient tone. And yet, even knowing that, Wade stayed outside. A coward.
Had Red beaten that tone out of the china doll?
“Yes, Red.”
The words echoed in Wade’s mind as if they were repeated over and over. And still Wade-the-Coward stayed outside.
Wade sank to his knees in the bitter Montana November and hated Red Dawson.
Hated his father.
Hated himself.
All the outside chores were strictly Red’s now.
November gave way to December, and winter came down around them so hard that Red didn’t attempt the trip to Divide anymore.
Red held a simple church service for the two of them those days and gained some confidence in Cassie’s faith, although he always wondered if it was real or if she was just following his dictate. In the end, he couldn’t even decide if it mattered.
If she believed, for whatever reason, it was good enough. Except he worried that if something happened to him and she got a new husband, her new husband might not share her faith, and it would die as easily as it had been born. That in turn meant the only way to make sure Cassie got into heaven was to outlive her. Red couldn’t exactly fit that notion with any scripture he’d ever read.
Because he couldn’t rightly decide what to believe, he also called a halt to the kissing after that one sweet night. He just couldn’t stand the thought of her accepting his touch without thinking she had a choice. She’d tried to kiss him a couple of times and Red said no. It was the closest she came to being annoyed with him. Well, fine. It would do his obedient little wife some good to get mad.
The baby was due anytime, so Red took to staying even closer to the house. He’d found definite signs that Wade was in the area until the last few weeks. No footprints or horse tracks had shown up lately. Red reluctantly left her alone in the cabin if the weather was too bad, but he was never gone for long.
He went out to ride herd on his cattle one particularly bitterly cold day with snow sleeting down, turning the whole world into an icy, slippery nightmare. He stayed away from Cassie as long as he thought he dared. Then in a wind that had picked up to near-blizzard strength, he made his way back to the house. He found Cassie coming out of the chicken coop.
While he was still at a distance, he saw her walk slowly over the glaze, carrying a bucket of eggs. She was in the house before he could get to her, so he put Buck away with a fine fury riding him and marched into the house to have it out with his contrary wife.
He shut the door with an unnecessarily loud crack.
Cassie whirled to face him with her usual welcoming smile.
“You’re supposed to stay inside. You know Wade could be around, and even if he isn’t, it’s a sheet of ice out there. You could have broken your fool neck!”
Cassie’s smile quickly faded to fear.
Red stormed up to her.
“B–But, Red, Wade wouldn’t be out in this weather. And you’re working so hard. I thought just this once it would really save you—”
“You,” Red cut her off, “don’t save me ten minutes with your blasted help. But I’d spend the rest of the winter working doubletime if you broke your leg. If you don’t have the sense to be afraid of Wade, you could at least have a little consideration for me!”
Cassie flinched away from him.
That made Red madder. She had a lot of nerve being scared of him when he’d been so patient…except maybe for right now.
“But Red, I can at least feed the chickens and gather the eggs. It’s not like the chickens can drag me along on the ground.”
“Don’t argue with me.” Red felt his temper flare white hot when she referred to the way Buck had bullied her. Her scrapes had barely healed from that episode. “It’s icy outside. You could fall on your way to the chicken coop.”
Cassie nodded, and her meek obedience blew the top off what little restraint was left on Red’s temper. He bent over her so she had to lean back to look him in the eye. “Say it,” Red demanded.
“Say what?”
“You know.”
“No, I don’t know what you’re talking about, Red.” Cassie furrowed her brow. He knew she was trying desperately to think what he wanted from her. Trying to be the obedient wife. Trying to be everything he wanted before he had to ask. But he didn’t want that. He wanted her mad. “Say that nasty, awful thing you’re thinking. Mind me, wife.”
Cassie’s eyes widened, and Red knew she really had been thinking something awful. He almost smiled.
“Why Red, I wasn’t thinking anything nasty about you,” she said sweetly.
“And I say you’re a liar,” Red announced with soft menace.
Cassie’s eyes flashed.
Somewhere buried inside his meek little wife was a volcano under intense pressure and threatening to erupt. He couldn’t stop himself from goading her. “A liar, and a poor one at that. And a coward who won’t speak her mind.”
“Red Dawson, I am not …” Cassie’s fingers flew to her mouth.
Red pulled her hand away. “What did you just say to me? Did you contradict me, woman? No wife of mine is gonna say anything to me but—” Red spoke in a wavery falsetto, a terrible mockery of a woman’s voice, “‘Yes, Red. Yes, sir. I’ll do whatever you say, and I’ll do it right quick.’ ”
Cassie made the same instinctive movement she always made with her fingers, but this time she pressed her fingers against Red’s mouth. He fell silent. Then from behind her fingers, he said softly, “Say it, Cass.”
Her cheeks turned the most amazing shade of pink, and she sucked in a deep breath but didn’t speak.
Red caught her hand and lifted it from his mouth and held it gently. “Say, ‘You’re a polecat, Red Dawson.’ Tell me I’m a
mangy, growly old bear. Tell me I’m a sneakin’, low-down coyote. Tell me I’m as mean as a rattler and as cantankerous as Buck and as stubborn as an ox. Say it or admit you’re a liar and a coward, Mrs. Dawson. Tell me I’m a—”
“All those animals,” Cassie interrupted, “are put here by God for the exact purpose they serve.” Rather sharply she added, “You’re the problem.”
Cassie seemed to realize what she’d said, and she pulled back a step. She’d have covered her mouth again if Red hadn’t held tight to her hand.
Red grinned for a second. Then he tipped his head back and laughed out loud. It was a full belly laugh, and when he looked back at her, his eyes were damp from laughing and he had to wipe them. “Why, Cassandra Dawson, I do believe you just insulted me.”
“Oh, Red, I’m sorry.”
Red pulled her into his arms and kissed her. He kissed her until he felt the starch go out of her knees. Then he swept her, big belly and all, into his arms, strode to a chair, and settled her on his lap so he could surround her completely.
Cassie pulled back, bewildered. “Red, does this mean you’ll kiss me when I’m rude to you?”
“I reckon it does, Cass honey.”
“I…I’ve been wanting you to kiss me, Red. I just never dreamed the way to get you to was to—”
Red kissed her again just for saying she wanted him to.
Cassie wrapped her arms around his neck, then slid her hands to his face and lifted herself away from him. “If you wanted me to be sassy, you should have told me you’d do this.”
Red laughed again but not for long. He started kissing her again, exploring her face with his lips. He had been tormented by how sweet she smelled when she lay next to him and the tiny sounds she made as she slept. He’d dreamed of tracing the outline of her perfect, silken cheekbones with his lips.
He was so busy satisfying his curiosity that it took him awhile to notice Cassie wasn’t being a shy little creature now. She had her arms tight around his neck, and she made little gasps and sighs of pleasure that were driving him crazy even before he was conscious of them.
Then suddenly she let out a gasp that was different from the others. She went rigid in his arms, so tense and distressed he pulled back, ashamed at his lack of restraint. He didn’t get a chance to apologize.
Cassie snatched her arms away from his neck and grabbed at her stomach. “Something’s wrong.”
Red looked from her belly to her face to her belly to her face about fifteen times before he got his eyes under control. “Is it the babe? Do you think the babe’s coming?”
Cassie’s attention had been riveted on her stomach. When Red asked about the baby, she looked up at him frantically. “I can’t have the baby yet!”
“But I thought you said it was due the middle of December. That’s now, Cass. Why can’t you have it yet?” Red tried to think of every possible thing that could be going wrong that made it dangerous for Cassie to have the baby right now.
Tears filled Cassie’s eyes as she looked to him to fix whatever was wrong. She wailed, “Because I’m too young to be a mother!”
Red had seen her cry a few times, silent tears with an occasional genteel sob. Her mouth hadn’t twisted, her skin had been pure, flawless white. She had cried more beautifully than any woman Red had ever seen. And with a bunch of big sisters, he’d seen a few.
This was nothing like that. Cassie opened her mouth and made a terrible ruckus with her sobs. Her skin got all blotchy, tears turned her eyes red, her nose ran, and her hair started sticking to her face wherever she was soggy.
Red rubbed her back. “There, there.” It was all he knew about birthing babies. Although he’d made Muriel tell him a few things.
Birthing babies? Muriel! Red thought of the vicious sleet pounding down more fiercely every minute. No one was going to make it out here to help bring this babe.
“Ouch!” Cassie shouted through her tears.
“What? What’s happening?” Red asked desperately.
“You’re crushing me!”
Red was sitting, thinking about what was in store for them, and he’d been strangling her. He relaxed his hold.
“Go for help, Red,” Cassie whispered. Her voice caught. She gasped raggedly for a second, then she choked out, “Go to Jessups’ and send for Muriel.”
Red was struck speechless. He wasn’t going ten feet in this weather. He was going to have to do it alone. Cassie was too young to have a babe, and Red realized with a sickening twist of his gut that he was, too.
An urgent desire to do something, anything, made Red stand with Cassie still in his arms. “Let’s get you to bed.” He carried her into the bedroom.
By the time Red had her in the back room, she started pushing at his shoulders. “Let me down. I’m not going to bed.”
Then she glared at him. “Muriel can’t come out in this weather. Don’t you dare go for her!” Cassie sounded calm and confident, not the frightened little girl she’d been two minutes ago and not the shy, submissive wife she was the rest of the time.
Red was having a little trouble adjusting. “No, I mean, yes, I mean, what do you want me to do?”
“Let me down this instant!” Cassie shoved at his shoulders again.
He lowered her to the floor, never letting go of her in case she sank into a heap on the ground or started moaning again or burst into flames…or whatever women in labor did.
“That took me by surprise, but now that I’m ready for it, it won’t be so bad next time.” Cassie looked around the bedroom ceiling as if she were searching for cobwebs and considering knocking them down. She gave a nod of her head and dusted her hands together and left the room.
Red trailed behind her.
Cassie headed for the cooler and ducked inside.
“What are you doing? What do you need in there?” Red joined her in the cramped room. She was slicing the ham.
Red grabbed the knife from her. “We don’t need to eat now.”
Cassie turned to him. “I don’t believe I’ll eat, no. But it’s near your noon mealtime. You’ll be wanting something.”
The mere thought of food made Red want to choke. “Don’t you think you should lie down?” Red asked, hacking at the ham just for something to do.
“Muriel says I should stay up for as long as possible. She said I’ll be so sick of lying in bed by the end that I’ll want these first few hours back.”
“Hours?” Red stopped slicing and looked sideways at her. “How many hours?”
“Muriel said her first child made his appearance about twenty-four hours after the first pains.”
“Twenty-four hours!” Red yelled.
Cassie patted him on the arms as if he were the one facing a full day of pains.
“Yes, but Libby said her first was only four hours and Leota said ten, so I guess we can’t know for sure.” Cassie took the slice of ham and didn’t mention the fact the Red had hacked it into four pieces. She left the cooler.
Red hurried to catch up.
Cassie turned into a woman Red had never met before. She was utterly calm, totally competent, and almost maniacally busy.
She cooked him a noon meal even though it was only about half past ten. He didn’t mention that fact, and she didn’t seem to care. She peeled potatoes and mixed a batch of biscuits. She started a new rising of bread for tomorrow and wiped every inch of the kitchen.
And she talked. She talked more words in the following half hour than Red had heard her say since they’d gotten married.
“I never gave eggs much thought back East. Then when we got out here and there were no chickens, Griff had some sent from St. Louis. The cost of those chickens! And none of them lived out the first week we had them. We had a pig that died, and a milk cow that never gave us so much as a swallow of milk. Griff told me coyotes got the chickens and …”
Cassie bustled around the kitchen at about twice her normal speed, chattering about chickens and how much she liked eggs. She occasionally asked his opin
ion about something, and it took Red about five minutes to catch on that he’d better have an answer right quick, but it’d better be a short one. Her eyebrows would furrow, and she’d look nervously at him if he didn’t hold up his end of the conversation. But if he answered more than, “Yes,” or, “No,” or, “Whatever you say,” she’d start talking right over top of him. She was listening to him for the sound but she wasn’t really hearing anything he said. He just humored her because he didn’t have any idea what else to do.
He took anything the least bit heavy out of her hands and moved it to wherever she had in mind. He stayed out of her way as best he could, while she whirled from the table to the sink to the fireplace, preparing him a dinner he didn’t think he could begin to eat.
Red had been hovering nearby for nearly half an hour, watching her for the first sign of impending disaster—which Red assumed was inevitable—when she stopped in her monologue to stiffen and hold her stomach.
The exact moment she started breathing hard, he stepped away from her because she’d been heading for the cooler with a bucket. He’d taken it from her, almost resulting in a tug-of-war before she let it go. He headed to the cooler to refill it. He glanced back at her and saw her gripping the back of a chair with whitened knuckles and staring blankly into space. He dropped the bucket and dashed to her side and held her.
“Don’t touch me,” Cassie snarled.
Red jumped back as surely as if a rattler had attacked him. Then her voice deepened almost to a growl. “Get your filthy hands off me.”
It was a voice he’d never heard come out of his submissive little wife before.
The minute he backed away, Cassie turned to him and grabbed him around the waist. She buried her face against his chest. “Hold me, please, Red.”
His head spinning, he cautiously wrapped his arms around her. He kissed her silken hair softly, like he did when they slept side by side. He rubbed her rigid shoulders. She moaned as if the touch were comforting. He felt her stomach grow hard between them, and his heart ached as Cassie whimpered with distress and burrowed closer to him. Since she seemed to like her shoulders rubbed, he slid one hand down her back and around to massage her taut belly.
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