by Nerys Leigh
He wheeled himself back from the table. “We just need to do one thing before we go.”
“What’s that?”
He smiled and patted his lap.
Her cheeks turning the most delicious shade of pink, she sat and wrapped her arms around his neck. He took his time with the kiss.
“All right,” he said when it was over. “Now I’m ready.”
~ ~ ~
“I’m afraid it’s not very good.”
Louisa held out the sketch, wishing she’d practised her art more. At the time, she hadn’t seen the point.
“No, this looks like him,” Jesse said, studying the drawing. “It’s far better than I could have done. Which isn’t saying much, but it’s still real good.”
“You’re just being nice. Mother thinks sketching and painting are very ladylike pastimes so she made me do it for years. I never was very good though. And you don’t want to see what happens when I get my hands on a paintbrush.”
He laughed, handing the sketch back to her. “I mean it, it’s good. Could you just make the nose a bit narrower at the top?”
“It’s a pity Jo doesn’t live closer to town,” she said as she added some shading. “She loves drawing and she’s very talented.” She showed him the sketch again. “Better?”
He nodded. “This’ll make it much easier to find him.”
Taking the sketch with them, they spent some time walking around the town showing it to people they knew, but most didn’t recognise him. Mr Lamb in the general store said he looked familiar but he didn’t know who he was and so he couldn’t be a regular customer. Zach Parsons was working reception in the hotel and told them the man wasn’t staying there.
Finally they ended up on the other side of the street from the saloon, where Jesse had seen him in the first place. It was a large, slightly shabby building with a balcony on the first floor where two women reclined in rocking chairs. They wore low cut dresses, the hems of which barely covered their knees. Advertising the wares inside, no doubt. One of them was painting her nails. The other was reading a thick book.
Louisa lowered her gaze to the door. “We need to go in there and ask,” she said, trying hard to keep her voice steady.
She’d never been anywhere near a saloon before, where women brazenly lounged with so much skin showing. And as for the men who frequented such places... She watched a seedy-looking man slouched on the stairs leading to the front door spit a wad of chewing tobacco onto the ground and flinched in disgust. The men were the kind she’d cross the street to avoid.
“I’d never get up those stairs,” Jesse said. “They don’t design buildings for people like me. I go to the restaurant in the hotel sometimes, but I have to go around the back through the kitchen to get in.”
She moved her eyes to him. “That’s terrible! You’re a paying customer, the least they could do is install a ramp so you can get your chair in.”
“They could, but they won’t. Such is my life.”
She looked back at the saloon. “I could go in.” She didn’t want to, but for Jesse she’d do just about anything.
“No, absolutely not,” he said firmly.
“But...”
“It’s not safe in there for a woman. You’re not going in there and that’s final.”
She looked down at him and he huffed out a breath.
“Okay, I know I can’t stop you, but please promise me you won’t ever go in there. Please.”
She sighed. “I promise. But what can we do?”
He pursed his lips, watching the spitting man climb unsteadily to his feet and slouch back inside. “Maybe I could ask Will.”
“Will? You mean Sara’s brother in law?”
His eyes snapped back to her. “Never mind, I was just thinking out loud.”
She looked across the street, studying the building. “I think I have an idea. Come on.”
Before he had a chance to object, she hurried across the street, looked around to make sure no one was paying her any attention, and slipped quickly into the shadows along the side of the saloon.
Jesse joined her a few seconds later. “What are you...?”
She raised her hand to stop him and moved to where the balcony attached to the building. “Pardon me?” she whisper-shouted upwards. “Up on the balcony, could I have a moment of your time?”
A few seconds later a blonde woman appeared, the one who had been painting her nails. She leaned over the wooden railing as she looked down, causing her ample chest to almost spill from her indecently low cut dress.
From the corner of her eye, Louisa saw Jesse look away and she suddenly regretted bringing him.
The book reading woman joined the first. Although her dress had no sleeves and was almost as low cut, she stood more carefully, leaning her hands on the rail.
Louisa waved up at them. “Good afternoon, my name’s Miss Wood and this is Mr Johnson and I wonder if you could help us.”
The blonde woman smiled. “Sure, sweetie. What’s it worth to ya?”
The other woman nudged her arm. “Be nice, Peg.” She smiled down at Louisa. Under all the makeup, she was very pretty. “I’m Rebecca. What do you need?”
Jesse handed Louisa her sketch of the man they were searching for and she stretched up to give it to Rebecca. “We’re looking for this man. We don’t think he’s local, but he has been seen around the saloon. Do you know him?”
The two women studied the drawing.
“Hey, that’s Lem,” Peg said. “He’s been in a few times the past couple of weeks. Has a few drinks, sometimes gets in on one of the games. Always has a bath and... you know. If we’re lucky, in that order.” She leaned down to return the sketch, her dress appearing on the verge of giving up the struggle.
Louisa glanced at Jesse. To her relief, he was fastidiously studying the wall. By his expression, he couldn’t decide whether to be embarrassed or amused.
“Do you know his last name?” she asked Peg. “Is he from around here?”
“Don’t remember him ever mentioning his last name. He’s not much of a talker. Oh, once he mentioned something about having to get back before they did something stupid. Don’t know who they were or what he thought they were going to do though.”
“I think there’s a group of them,” Rebecca said. “I’ve seen them in the bar. None of them are local and they don’t sit together or anything, but I just get the feeling they know each other. They all started coming in around the same time. You know, Peg? There’s Cyrus and Jeb and Luther and Ralph and that other one with the scratchy beard and yellow teeth.”
Peg grimaced. “Yeah. Hate that beard.”
Louisa suddenly felt immensely sorry for Rebecca and Peg. She couldn’t imagine what it must be like for them to have to go through what they did every day, in addition to having everyone else look down on them as soiled doves.
She smiled up at them. “Well, thank you so much. You’ve been very helpful.”
“Our pleasure,” Rebecca said, returning her smile.
Peg’s eyes went to Jesse. Now she was standing more or less upright, he was looking up again.
“I’ve seen you around,” she said, leaning one elbow onto the railing and curling a strand of blonde hair around her finger. “Never kept company with someone in a wheelchair before, specially not as good looking as you. You know, if you was to come on inside, I bet I could get Rufus to give you a discount. If you’d like.”
The smile dropped from Louisa’s face. “He wouldn’t,” she said as firmly as she could, so as to leave no doubt. “At all. Ever.”
She glanced at Jesse. His lips were pressed together, eyes sparkling with suppressed laughter.
“Peg!” Rebecca exclaimed. “She’s standing right there.”
“What?” Peg looked between Louisa and Jesse. “They ain’t married.”
Rebecca rolled her eyes. “Sorry.”
“Thanks for the offer, ma’am,” Jesse said, “but I’m afraid I’ll have to decline. And we’re obliged
for the help, ladies. It’s been a pleasure meeting you.”
“Pleasure’s all mine,” Peg called after them as they made their way back to the street.
“What are you smiling at?” Louisa huffed as they walked away from the saloon.
Jesse’s attempt to straighten his face was entirely unsuccessful. “Oh, just the way you were so eager to make sure Peg knew I wouldn’t be needing her services now or ever as long as I live and possibly as long as the earth exists.”
She looked at the dusty road in front of her. “Well, you wouldn’t... would you?”
He reached out to briefly touch her hand. “Don’t worry, there’s only one woman holds any appeal for me.”
The way her heart felt, it must have been doing a dance of joy around her chest. “So what do you think of what Rebecca said about there being more than one of them?”
He shrugged. “To be honest, I have no idea. Let’s go home and think about it over those scones you brought.”
Chapter 21
They hadn’t come up with any new ideas about the Ransom situation by the time Jesse took Louisa home that evening so the following morning he decided he was ready for a break from the whole debacle.
He wasn’t giving up, simply having a rest and concentrating on more important things, the most important thing in his life at that moment being Louisa. She was out with Mrs Jones when he stopped at their house so he gave Pastor Jones the invitation he’d written to pass on to her and carried on to work.
That afternoon, when he was done with another excruciating day at the bank, he went to the general store for supplies and then hurried home. He didn’t have much time to get everything ready.
~ ~ ~
An hour and a half later there was a knock at the door.
Jesse grabbed the matches to light the candles on the table then went to let Louisa in. He should have been used to having all the breath leave his body whenever he saw her, but her beauty still overwhelmed him. Especially today.
“I was wondering if the dress you wore yesterday is my favourite or this one,” he said as she walked in, “but I think I’ll go with this one.”
She lifted the skirt of the midnight blue dress she’d last worn to break into the bank and twirled in a circle. “And look, it doesn’t drag on the ground anymore. I decided to get rid of that awful bustle once and for all and sew the excess material at the back. Bustles may be the very latest fashion, but I find I truly don’t care anymore.”
He took the opportunity to drink in all of her, from her lustrous auburn hair to her exquisite, he assumed as he’d never seen them, feet. “Well, I don’t know about fashion, as Nancy often tells me, but for what it’s worth I think you’re the perfect shape without any help.”
It occurred to him that commenting on her figure might come across as overly intimate, but if her delighted smile was anything to go by she didn’t mind.
“I think blue suits you very well,” she said, touching his shirt. “It makes you look even more handsome.”
“Thank you.” He held her gaze, not caring that his admiration must be written all over his face. Surely by now she must know the depth of his feelings for her.
After a few seconds her eyes lowered, a slight flush to her cheeks and a smile playing on her perfect lips. He considered pulling her into his lap, a move she was becoming familiar with and seemed to have no objections to at all, but then remembered the food he had cooking. If he became lost in her kiss now all they’d have to eat would be charcoal.
“May I take your shawl?” he said, hoping for an uninterrupted view of her bare arms and shoulders for the evening.
She allowed the green article to slip free and he hung it on one of the pegs by the door, waving her through to the kitchen.
Once there she took in a deep breath. “Something smells delicious.”
He lifted the lid on the bread sauce, gave it a stir, and removed it from the heat. “I hope you like gammon. One of Mrs Goodwin’s recipes with a few tweaks of my own.”
“I like gammon very much. Can I help?”
“Nope. You’re my guest and I plan on spoiling you. Go on outside and I’ll bring you a drink.”
She stepped through the back door and came to a halt, her hands going to her mouth. “Oh!”
It was exactly the reaction he’d hoped for. He wheeled out behind her and stopped at her side. “Do you like it?”
“It’s so beautiful,” she breathed, looking around her.
Candles and lanterns adorned the table and walls and raised flowerbeds and, even though sunset was still two hours away, they created a twinkling patchwork of light. Multi-coloured ribbons wreathed the trunk of the tree in the centre of the garden and draped from its branches. The table was covered with a white, lace-edged tablecloth, courtesy of Malinda, and the chairs adorned with ribbons and cushions. The whole effect had an enchanting, fairytale quality to it.
He’d asked Malinda and Nancy to help him and they’d outdone themselves in the short amount of time they’d had. Nancy had been thrilled with the finished effect and now wanted all her birthday parties, and everyone else’s, to look exactly the same.
Jesse couldn’t help thinking, though, that it all paled in comparison to the woman it was all for.
He reached out to take Louisa’s hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the back. “Have a seat. I’ll get that drink.”
It was so easy with Louisa. He didn’t have to behave differently, didn’t have to constantly guess what she wanted or what would make her happy. The connection between them felt simple and easy, and yet at the same time deep and profound.
Jesse had thought he’d found her, but he knew he couldn’t have made such a perfect choice on his own. He had no doubt God had picked her out especially for him. The years of frustration and loneliness when the disease he was born with drove every other woman away made sense now. Louisa was worth every moment of the wait.
They talked over the meal, laughed, relaxed in the simple pleasure of being together. Afterwards, with the lowering sun just beginning to taint the clouds with orange, they moved to one of the benches which Jesse had covered with blankets and pillows in anticipation of this part of the evening. He wrapped his arm around her without having to worry if she’d want him to and she leaned into his side, resting her head on his shoulder.
She’ll stay, he thought as he pressed a kiss to her forehead and she smiled. There was no way she would leave him, not with their relationship growing the way it was. Not when they so clearly belonged together.
“Was it difficult for you, growing up?” she said, taking his hand and knitting their fingers together.
“Sometimes.” His thumb traced slow circles on the back of her hand. “There were times when I got frustrated, especially when I hit puberty, but I had some real good friends and people like Pastor and Mrs Jones and Adam’s folks and George who helped make my life as normal as it could be. Though I wouldn’t have got the chance at any kind of life if it hadn’t been for my pa.”
She nodded against his shoulder. “It’s easy to see how much he loves you. I imagine he did everything he could to take care of you.”
“Not just that. He saved my life, in more ways than one.”
She raised her head to look at him. “He did?”
“When my mother died giving birth to me, there were people who told him he ought to give me up for someone else to raise, that a man on his own couldn’t take care of a baby, but he refused. Then when it became obvious I wouldn’t ever be able to walk, the doctors said he should put me in one of those institutions, but he refused again. He told me I was his son and a part of my ma, and there wasn’t anything or anyone on earth who could take me from him.”
Louisa blinked glistening eyes. “I’m so glad you have him.”
“Truth is, I may not have still been alive if I’d been in one of those places. I’ve heard they don’t take care of children real well. And people with Little’s Disease don’t always live to be a
dults anyway.”
Worry clouded her face. “Are you all right? Could you...”
“No. At least, I’m pretty sure not. Doctor Wilson, when he took over the practice here sixteen years back, he studied up on it so he’d be ready if I needed anything.” He smiled. “It helps when the town doctor’s sister is married to your father. But I’ve always been all right. Some who have it have trouble with their breathing, but I never did. And my pa always made sure I was healthy. At the first sign of a sniffle he’d rush me to the doctor when I was small. He encouraged me to be active and get strong and do everything I could.” He leaned forward to whisper in her ear. “And he made me the dumbbells you like so much.”
She giggled, her cheeks flushing.
“So, all things considered, I’ve had a pretty good life.” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed the back. “And just lately it’s become even better.”
She smiled and lay her head back against his shoulder.
“How about you?” he said. “What was your life like growing up in New York?”
“Not so bad, I suppose. We didn’t have much. My father works on the docks and I don’t think they pay very well. Although my parents didn’t ever tell me and my sisters about money, but I always knew. My mother takes in sewing when she can get it.”
Jesse frowned in confusion. “But I thought, from your letters and the way you carry yourself, I thought your family was wealthy.”
“That’s what my mother and father wanted you to think. And I did too, at first.” She tightened her hold on his hand, as if afraid what she said would make him pull away. “All my life it has been instilled in me that my sisters and I had to improve our social station by marrying well. My mother has always wanted better for us than she had, so we were taught manners and bearing and to behave like proper ladies, and we weren’t allowed to associate with what she thought of as the lower classes, even though they were our neighbours. But it didn’t work because people still knew who we were. I’ve had plenty of suitors, briefly, until their families discovered I wasn’t who they thought I was. Not that it bothered me overly. Most of them were either louts or bores, just with money. So my mother finally came to the conclusion that to find a suitable husband we would have to look elsewhere, where no one knew who we were.”
