High Plains Heartbreak (Love On The High Plains Book 3)

by Simone Beaudelaire

  “How do you know so much about it?” she asked, finally looking into his eyes again. Though she hadn't cried recently, the brown irises were rimmed with red. “You can't be much older than me.”

  “I'm twenty-five,” he replied. “And I've lost my share of loved ones.” A sudden image floated up in his mind, of the measles outbreak that had claimed so many just before he left Garden City for good. Of his own sweet Lily, now four… no, five years under the earth. His breath caught. Biting down on the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood, he counted slowly to fifty before he continued. “Loss is part of life.”

  “I hate it,” Addie replied, and this time tears shimmered and one slipped down over her sculpted cheekbone. Angrily she dashed it away with her free hand. “I hate hurting like this. First Mama and now Dad.” She shook her head.

  “Hey, now,” he said, pausing in the middle of the street and turning to face her, grasping both her arms in his hands. She looked up into his face. “I know you must be overwhelmed, Addie. But you'll get through this. You must be one of the strongest women I've ever met.”

  “I don't feel strong,” she replied, her lip trembling. “And I don't want to break down in the middle of the street. Come on.” She shook off his grip and grabbed his hand in hers, all but dragging him across to a small, one story structure that nearly disappeared between a saloon with a girl in fancy knickers hanging over the balcony waving and calling the men who were passing in the street, and a hotel from which the smell of overcooked eggs wafted out horribly, mingling with the sulfur stench of the hot springs and the zephyr of pines on the mountainside.

  Inside, the building proved to be a pocket-sized hospital with two high beds and a small desk behind which a white-haired man labored feverishly over a sheaf of papers. At the sound of boots on the wooden floor, he looked up, taking in his guests.

  “Miss McCoy, does your father need me?” He rose to his feet.

  She shook her head slowly from one side to the other. “Not anymore,” she replied.

  He bowed his head, acknowledging the meaning behind her words. “I know what you need then,” he said at last. “I'll fill out… all the paperwork. I'm very sorry, Miss McCoy.”

  She swallowed and managed a watery smile.

  “Just let me finish up this one thing,” he waved a careless hand at the pile of papers on his desk, “and I'll be up there. Shouldn't be more than an hour or two.”

  “Is it… safe to be near him?” Jesse demanded.

  The doctor crooked one bushy white eyebrow at him. “Yes, son. It's surprisingly hard to catch consumption. Just keep the windows open… and wash your hands. That can't hurt.”

  Jesse felt somewhat less than reassured by this, but the time for delaying had come to an end. Escorting a sniffling Adeline McCoy back into the street, he noticed with a start that quite a crowd of young men had gathered in front of the church. They seemed to be admiring Mercury.

  “Gentlemen,” Jesse said in a carrying voice as he approached the gelding. Several of the gathered group turned, and he saw they mostly seemed to be in their late teens. About Addie's age. He wondered if she would introduce him. Instead, the intrepid girl seemed to shrink at the sight of these youths. She slunk behind Jesse.

  “What did you need, sir?” one of the boys, a blond in ragged trousers, asked. He seemed not to have noticed Addie.

  “I just wanted to be sure everything was all right with my horse,” Jesse replied. “You fellows seem mighty interested.”

  “He's a beaut!” a red-headed boy exclaimed his voice filled with awe. The freckles on his chubby cheeks seemed to be dancing with excitement.

  “Thanks,” Jesse said wryly, suddenly feeling old. He respected and cared for Mercury as though the horse were a trusted friend more than a work animal, but he couldn't remember the last time he'd felt that excited over a mount. Probably before all your hope died.

  “Wah hoo!” A drawling voice hollered from behind him. Another, larger boy drew Jesse's attention as he yanked a small, familiar figure into view. Addie fought the bully with everything she had, scratching and biting, but his grip on her arm remained unbroken. “Look, fellas! It's the half-breed. Who wants a kiss? Pucker up, sweetheart.”

  “Let her go!” Jesse insisted, stepping forward and crowding into the bully's space, shoving him hard in the center of the chest. Once distracted, Jesse had no trouble wrenching Addie's slender wrist free. She turned her back to the bully and kicked hard like a mule, her boot connecting with his knee. He howled and fell to the ground. Addie stood over him, her chest heaving, her hair flying loose from its burnished braid. “What did I tell you, Ed? What did I say I would do if you ever touched me again?” Without another word, she drove the toe of her boot into his groin with a force that had even Jesse wincing.

  “Slut!” the boy named Ed wheezed. “You're so brave now that you have a man looking out for you. He'll leave you knocked up in a whorehouse somewhere…” the rest of the boy's words were not fit to repeat. The other boys were starting to press forward, hoping to see more trouble. Jesse pushed past them and quickly unwound Mercury's reins from the post, climbing onto the church step before vaulting onto the horse's back. Kicking in gently with his heels, he urged his mount forward, scattering the adolescents. Holding on tight with his knees, he leaned over and hooked one arm around Addie's waist, hauling her across his lap. As soon as her weight stabilized, he urged Mercury into a trot and then a gallop, not running hell bent for leather, but making good time out of the town and back up to the safety of the mountains.

  Once they cleared the last of the structures, he slowed the horse back to a trot. At last Addie managed to right herself, sitting up in the vee between his legs.

  “What the hell just happened?” he asked.

  “Ed Silver,” she replied, as though that explained anything at all.

  “And Ed Silver is?”

  “Someone I wish I'd never known.” She drew in a deep, shuddering breath.

  Jesse leaned his chin on the top of her head. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes,” she replied, exhaling on a sigh.

  “And you were going to argue with me,” he pointed out, “about going to live with your aunt. What would you do, up there on that mountain alone, if that fellow decided he wanted another taste of you? You weren't holding your own too well against him.”

  Addie snorted. “I hadn't really started to fight yet. You'd be surprised what I can do, Jesse.”

  “Oh yeah?” he raised one eyebrow. “Like what?”

  “You mean apart from riding bareback? I can shoot a gun better than many men, I can throw knives with good accuracy, and I know fighting techniques that use my size as an advantage.”

  Jesse shuddered again, remembering the hard kick she had delivered to that boy. He deserved it, but ouch! “You have to sleep sometimes,” he pointed out. “What will you do if you wake up pinned down to the bed by three or four armed men twice your size?”

  Addie's shoulders stiffened. She didn't answer, but he had the feeling she was more sulking than holding out hope of staying alone in that remote cabin.

  By the time they arrived, Jesse's mind had turned back to the unpleasant task ahead of them. He didn't exactly trust the doctor's assurances that the contagion would be difficult to catch, and he knew the sight of his friend choking to death would stay with him a long time.

  Chapter 3

  That evening, Jesse sat beside the roaring bonfire where the soiled bed linens and mattress on which Clevis McCoy had expired were being consigned to ash. His hands still stung from the long wash in lye soap and scalding water to which he'd treated them after helping Addie prepare her father's body for burial. Though normally women's work, he'd lent a hand, knowing Addie had no one else. Certainly, none of the women from the town had hurried up the mountain to help the orphan with her task. So it had fallen to Jesse. At first he'd feared Addie would lose her composure again, but apart from the slow tears meandering down her cheeks, she'd remained
calm.

  Now she sat beside him, cross legged in front of the fire, weeping softly into a handkerchief. It felt natural for him to lay one arm across her shoulders, so he did. She inched closer. He hugged her tighter, and then dared to drop a gentle kiss on the top of her head. “It'll be all right, Addie,” he murmured. “You'll see. Everything will be just fine.”

  “Was it for you?” she asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You told me you had lost people you cared about. Were you just fine?”

  Damn, this girl is perceptive. “All right, you got me. It's true, nothing is the same when someone you love dies. You never go back to the way you were. But, Addie, that doesn't mean your life is over, or that you will never feel happy again. Your life isn't over. It's just changing.” As he spoke, his eyes never left the fire. It crackled and snapped, pouring warmth over the autumnal chill in the meadow. Addie also felt warm against his side. Warm and alive. Her spirit, though wounded by the specter of death hanging over them, remained unvanquished.

  “Thank you for being honest,” she said. “Are we really leaving the day after tomorrow?”

  “Yeah,” he replied, inhaling a fragrant waft of wood smoke and distant pines, of meadow grass and rotting leaves. “I think it's best if we do. It will take the best part of two weeks to get to Colorado Springs, and we don't want to be traveling on horseback if any mountain snowstorms hit. Besides, if I don't get back to work soon, I'll run out of money.”

  “I'll help, you out,” she replied. “It's the least I can do. You can have part of the money from the sale of my property.”

  He shook his head. “It was lucky that fellow from town offered to buy up the place from you, including the animals, but he didn't pay you enough by half. That's your dowry, Miss Addie, and your lifeline. If anything happens, you'll need that money to live on. It's much easier for me to find honest work than you.”

  She responded to his words with a slow dip of the chin.

  Morning found the two bereaved souls seated in a pew at the little church, regarding the gray, waxy-looking face of Clevis McCoy. Addie, it seemed, had cried herself out. She stared straight ahead, her expression far away. Today it was Jesse who struggled to contain his emotions. His eyes burned and he kept his handkerchief clutched in his fist, frequently wiping at his nose and silently cursing his fair coloring that turned red so easily around the eyes and nose. From the piano bench, a tall, overweight woman in a blue gauzy dress began to sing, “I'll Fly Away.” Her voice appealed to Jesse far more than her appearance.

  “Who is that?” he breathed into Addie's ear.

  “Saloon owner's wife,” she replied in an undertone.

  How strange.

  Uncomfortable looking at the mortal remains of his friend, Jesse scanned the room instead. A simple church for a simple town, this one consisted only of two rows of pews, he guessed it totaled seating for about fifty, with a simple rail up front with a pulpit in it, and a piano on the left hand side. Not much to look at, he thought, compared to back home.

  An image of a gorgeous, oversized building with an ostentatious organ and looming bell tower swam up in his mind. With Kristina seated at the organ, making the pipes bellow. Jesse missed his friend. Missed her fiery temper, her fierce loyalty, even her red gold hair. And here's another redhead. I seem to find them everywhere. Jesse bit the corner of his mouth to suppress an inappropriate grin.

  The song ended and the pastor stood, looking taller than he was, elevated on the stage.

  “Let us pray,” the little man said in a booming voice that must have emerged from the tips of his toes. “Dear Lord, we gather together today to bid goodbye to our dear Clevis McCoy. This was a man who loved justice, loved his family and loved his friends. He may not have been popular in the eyes of the gossips, but I for one liked him better for his broadminded views. He leaves behind a beautiful daughter, which is the sort of legacy a man should be proud of. Lord, you promise that those who mourn will be comforted. Comfort us now, and help us remember that in your house, there is no goodbye, only 'see you later'. Because we will see one another again, in your kingdom. Amen.”

  “Amen,” Jesse and Addie echoed.

  The two men, along with the undertaker, approached the casket, lifting it onto their shoulders and carrying it out to the churchyard, where a hole awaited. The sight seemed to have a powerful impact on Addie. She staggered and went still, forcing the pallbearers to veer off course to avoid a collision. Carefully they skirted the frozen girl and gently lowered the coffin into the hole. It hit the bottom with a resounding thud that made Addie jump. A look of agony clouded her features. Quick as he could, Jesse circled the open grave to her and wrapped one arm around her waist. She felt stiff as a church pew, and did not in any way melt into his embrace. Knowing there was no way to ease this moment for her, he remained still, supporting her but not trying to stop her from feeling bad. She would feel that way. She had to. Denying it would be worse. And you of all people know how much worse. But Addie, being a girl, was allowed to be fragile, allowed to grieve and not put on a strong face. He envied her that. In some way, holding her while she mourned allowed him to lay his own emotions about his friend's passing to rest. Addie could grieve for them both.

  Eyes downcast, Addie tossed a handful of dry mountain flowers into the grave. They contrasted sharply with the dark wood of the coffin before disappearing under a shower of earth. She dusted a dirty hand on her skirt and watched with a trembling lip as the undertaker set to work with his shovel.

  “Goodbye, Daddy,” she whispered. “I love you forever.”

  “He knows that,” Jesse reminded her. “He loves you too.”

  She met his eyes. Her own were a red and swollen mess. “Do you think so, Jesse? Do you think our loved ones remember us in the next world?”

  He nodded slowly. “I'm sure they do. What would heaven be without someone to look forward to?”

  Addie sniffled.

  “Come on, honey. Let's go. You don't need to watch the burial. Your dad is long gone. He's probably corrupting the angels with dirty jokes right now.”

  A dry, wheezy chuckle emerged, and Addie consented to turn away from the cemetery toward the street. They crossed to the hotel, where a cold supper had been laid out. I bet Addie won't want food at all. But I'm a bit hungry.

  His hand on her back for support, he led her up the creaking wooden stairs. The front door flung outward, nearly knocking them off the step. A large-bellied man with thinning hair and a ferocious scowl blocked their path. Jesse noted a gold star pinned to the front of his shirt.

  “New city ordinance,” he boomed. “No half-breeds allowed in public institutions. You can come in, sir, but your whore will have to wait in the street.”

  What the hell? “Miss McCoy is no whore, and this is her father's funeral. What on earth are you talking about?”

  “I'm talking about laws. Do you know about laws, mister?”

  “I'm an officer of the law, just like you,” Jesse replied.

  “Then you'd best take her away. Injuns aren't allowed on these premises.”

  “Yeah,” piped up a belligerent voice from behind the sheriff's shoulder. “Get that filth out of here.”

  As shock faded to fury, Jesse's fists clenched of their own volition, until Addie closed gentle fingers around his hand. “Let's just go, Jesse. I'm not hungry anyway. Come on.”

  This time she led him away, down the streets of town for the last time. Her face showed neither regret nor nostalgia for the place she'd lived for who knew how long. Once they'd reclaimed the horse and ridden well away up the side of the mountain, he asked, “What the hell just happened?”

  She shrugged. “I can only guess, but it's a good guess. Remember Ed?”

  “Yeah,” Jesse replied, his eyes on the thin dirt trail that meandered between the pines. It wouldn't do to have Mercury lose his footing on a slippery stone.

  “His father owns the hotel, and both of them are close friends with the sh
eriff. I'm sure this is their revenge for what I did to Ed. His temper would never stand for being taken down by a girl. And they already barely tolerated me.”

  “Sounds like you two had… some history,” Jesse commented, steering the horse over a fallen log.

  “Yes,” she replied, but volunteered nothing further.

  While the incident still made Jesse's blood boil, in one way he was glad of it. The confrontation had, at least for the moment, distracted Addie from her grief.

  “Can you explain,” he continued, letting the conversation drift in a different direction, “why you want to stay here? Those folks didn't seem too welcoming, if you know what I mean.”

  Addie tipped her head back against his shoulder with a sigh. “You're right. They're not. I guess I just… well I've lost my mother, my father. Everyone I cared about. I didn't want to lose my home. It was a blessing Mr. Miller was willing to buy it. I don't know…”

  “Scared?” Jesse asked, keeping his voice gentle and sympathetic.

  “A little,” she admitted.

  “I understand. Throwing over everything you know is scary. But I think you could do better in another place, you know? Maybe your aunt will be wonderful and her town too. Maybe you'll fall in love with someone kind and wealthy and live in a nice house surrounded by friends and family.”

  Her tense shoulders relaxed a fraction. “That does sound nice, but also like a dream. Remember my mixed blood, Jesse.”

  “The right man wouldn't care, you know,” he replied. “And it only seems unreal because you haven't experienced it yet,” he reminded her. “You're young. You're one of the strongest women I've ever met. You'll always rise, Addie. Believe me.”

  “I don't feel like I will,” she replied, and a shudder ran through her.

  “I know. It's hard to see the dawn at midnight. You have to trust that the sun will rise. Believe me, I know suffering and grief. You feel like you want to lie down and die with your loved one. But if you keep on, if you muscle through each agonizing moment, one day you'll wake up and hurt less. You won't feel good, but you'll be in less pain. And then another day will be better. And then one day you'll feel happy again.”