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

by Simone Beaudelaire

  A delicate whimper escaped, then another. And then a full-throated scream as pleasure obliterated pain in a soul-deep orgasm.

  The sound of Addie's scream wrested Jesse from his haze. Dear God, what am I doing? Exactly what he'd promised not to do. Taking her virginity. Took. It's done. You've claimed her. Concerned, he looked down into her face and saw to his astonishment that she was climaxing. The clamping of her sex proved it. Wetness surged, easing his way to greater penetration until at last he could take no more and released his own pleasure into her waiting depths.

  He lay gasping on top of Addie's body, his mind blank, all wildness burned away by their mutual passion.

  She didn't speak, only stroked his back. Clutched in the most intimate of embraces, they dozed.

  When Jesse opened his eyes, he found Addie still sleeping. Her face relaxed, but the nick on her throat still livid. He touched his lips to the spot. His stomach clenched again as he thought of how close he'd come to losing her for good.

  And now you've claimed her for good. He acknowledged the fact, and considered what to do about it. I always said her virginity should belong to her husband. Should I marry her? Being married to Addie wouldn't be bad. Wouldn't be bad… for him, but what about her? She'd be stuck for the rest of her life with a man who had no heart, a man no longer capable of love. But she's no longer innocent. And the right man would overlook such a thing, not worry about one mistake, any more than he'd worry about her Kiowa blood.

  It's more important than ever to stick to your convictions. Stay the course, man. She isn't for you, and this changes nothing.

  Chapter 8

  “I can't believe this,” Addie sobbed, staring down the road through tear-veiled eyes at a small house tucked into a little valley about a mile south of Colorado Springs. The town remained visible, as the property had a bit of elevation, but the snug little cabin still had plenty of elbow room.

  “What do you mean? I've told you all along this was how it would be, Addie. I've never lied to you.”

  “You also promised you wouldn't take things so far.”

  Jesse's pale cheeks colored. “I didn't mean to do that. I lost control. I'm really…”

  “Don't you dare say you're sorry, Jesse West. Don't you dare,” Addie hissed. “I will not be one of your regrets.”

  Jesse stopped his forward motion and turned towards Addie. They were both on foot at this point, Mercury ambling along beside them. “Nevertheless I am sorry. I shouldn't have done what I did. And I'm sorry you're hurting, Addie, but nothing has changed. The reasons I couldn't be with you are the same.”

  “And what would those be?” she demanded, planting her fists on her hips. “I think you owe me that much anyway.”

  “Well for one thing, my life is dangerous. I wouldn't be able to keep you with me. I'd be worrying about you all the time, and that would put me in danger. I'd have to have you stay somewhere I knew you'd be safe, and I don't think a place like that exists. Even if it did, you'd be there, alone, for weeks or even months on end, never knowing if I was alive or dead.”

  “What if I decided that was acceptable?”

  Jesse reached out one big, calloused hand and cupped her cheek. Despite her rage, Addie couldn't help but lean into his touch. “You shouldn't accept that. You deserve better, Addie. Have you ever been in love, honey?”

  She met his eyes, and saw a deep, deep pain looking back at her. “Yes.”

  He nodded. “I was, once. Heart and soul, nothing held back.”

  That's how I feel about you, you idiot. “What happened?”

  He gulped and stroked her cheek again. “She died. And when she died, my heart died. I can't love you, Addie, and you are a wonderful, special girl who deserves to be loved with all someone's heart. You deserve to have what my Lily had. I can honestly say I wish I could love you like that, but I can't. I can't be what you want me to be, Addie. I can't be the man you deserve. If I were decent, I'd regret… what we did this morning. Apparently I'm not decent either, because I can't regret it. But I do regret hurting you. That's the last thing I wanted.”

  Every word dug into her heart, sharp as hammered nails. If words were bullets, she'd be bleeding right now. Can souls bleed? Mine must be. She closed her eyes and steeled her resolve.

  “If that's how you feel, Jesse,” she said with quiet dignity, the only strength she had left in her, “then there's nothing I can do about it. Please give me my things.”

  “I'll walk you to the door,” he offered.

  She shook her head. “No. I don't want you to. I want you to ride away and leave me alone. If you care for me at all, you won't make me have some kind of emotional scene in front of an aunt I only know from letters. Ride away, bounty hunter. Don't come back.”

  “I have to go back to Cañon City, deal with that murderer and his gang. Then I'll come back,” Jesse insisted. “I hope by then you'll have found it in your heart to forgive me.”

  “There's nothing to forgive,” Addie replied in her coldest voice, hoping to freeze her own tears to prevent them from escaping. Harsh regret and a touch of hurt burned in Jesse's eyes. “You never gave me any reason to hope for a different outcome. If I made any assumptions about what I meant to you, they're my own fault. There's nothing for you to come back to.”

  “Addie…” his fingers traced her cheek. Addie stepped back sharply, breaking away from his drugging contact.

  “My things, please,” she insisted.

  Jesse closed his eyes for a moment then nodded and circled her and the horse to the far saddle bag, where he retrieved her possessions.

  With nothing to hold them in, they represented an awkward, almost unmanageable bundle, but Addie grimly accepted the stack of clothing and a few personal items and with a nod walked forward. She glanced over her shoulder. “Go on, now. Don't follow me.”

  “Goodbye, Addie,” Jesse said. As she watched, he swung onto Mercury's back, urged the horse to turn, and rode away into the woods, disappearing from view.

  Addie took a deep breath and turned, fixing her eyes on the cabin before her. Wishing she had a free hand to wipe her eyes and nose, she steeled herself once more and moved forward.

  Leaving the shade of the trees, the pale warmth of the spring sun broke over her and touched the farmstead with golden light, as though a divine presence had settled itself on every surface. You're never alone, she reminded herself.

  While the property had once clearly been a farm, now the acreage had been converted into a field of flowers. Lilies bloomed in riotous array, neatly arranged by color, starting with a dark burgundy red closest to the house. A little furrow of earth separated the dark red from a lighter, brighter shade, and then a deep orange, a bright orange, pink, yellow. The strips of long stemmed flowers made her smile in spite of her broken heart. So this is how Auntie Beth makes a living. I wondered. The plants looked well-tended, no discolored or insect-chewed leaves. No rot or rust on the petals. Addie took a moment to enjoy the sight, and the fresh, spicy scent of the pine trees beyond.

  “You there,” a deep and melodious female voice rang out across the yard, “those flowers are for sale only. If you want one, you'd best be prepared to pay.”

  Addie turned on the spot and found herself confronted by a disgruntled-looking woman in her late forties, her red hair loose and flying in the gentle breeze. She had dirt under her fingernails.

  “Aunt Beth?” Addie asked.

  The woman stopped her tirade abruptly and stared, her tawny eyebrows drawing together. While she looked enough like Addie to make the connection obvious, her eyes were a pale, silver color.

  “Adeline?”

  “Call me Addie,” she responded with a nod.

  “Oh, good, Addie. I'm glad you're here. I was starting to worry about you.”

  “Sorry. I'm here now, and I'm just fine.”

  The woman moved as though to extend her hand, but then stopped, taking in the loose bundle of fabric clutched in Addie's arms. “Let's get you inside so you can
put all that down.”

  She walked away, her niece trailing along after her, through the yard and a small door into the interior of the cabin. The inside could have been a mirror of the home she'd grown up in, a large room which seemed to comprise parlor, kitchen and dining room all in one. Open doors off the left side and the back revealed small bedrooms, each with a bed which sported a crazy quilt in a pattern of flowers, one mostly in shades of red, the other in blue. More quilts warmed the lath walls and helped muffle the drafts that wanted to creep in at the edges of windows.

  They passed two sofas, arranged at right angles to each other, the larger facing an oversized window that revealed a view of the flower garden, the smaller, a red brick fireplace. The wooden arms of the furniture pieces revealed their age, being worn and scratched, but their upholstery remained fresh-looking, in a cozy shade of dark brown. An oil lamp rested on a small, round table. Another, larger table stood behind the seating area, set with four chairs. A bouquet of orange and white lilies in a low, clear vase brought a note of color. On the right, the kitchen area of a sink with a pump handle, a stove, and a honey-colored icebox. A wooden counter stretched between the appliances, forming a workspace. Cabinets below and shelves above provided storage. Aunt Beth led Addie straight through to the back, into the bedroom with the blue quilt. The space, though small, more than met Addie's needs, providing a perfectly comfortable looking bed with a delicately-sized wooden headboard, a trunk at the foot of the bed, a wardrobe in the corner, and a mirrored bureau on which rested an oversized white bowl for washing up.

  Addie set her mass of clothing down on the bed and turned, at last able to greet the woman who'd been kind enough to provide her a place to stay.

  She reached out a hand to Beth, and instead found herself crushed in a warm hug.

  “I'm so glad you made it safely here, Addie,” Beth said.

  “Me too,” Addie replied, though she wasn't exactly sure how safe the journey had been, or that she'd arrived unscathed.

  Chapter 9

  Addie sniffled and pummeled the pillow in mute misery. Her body ached, still recalling the rough way Jesse had used her. Her heart, numb while she'd said goodbye to Jesse, throbbed even more fiercely now that she was alone. She grieved as she'd never grieved in her young life, for her long-dead mother, her recently lost father, her first love's abandonment. And the most painful of all, for herself, for the innocence and hope that had colored her view of the world up to this point. Disillusioned by too much loss, Addie pressed her mouth into the pillow and sobbed. Not with hysterical tears, but with the long, soul-deep whimpers of agonized despair. What life will I have now? What future? I wish I had died with my father and spared myself this.

  Giving herself over to her misery, Addie wept long into the night.

  Jesse stared into his campfire, watching the flames lick at the kindling. Perhaps in the fire I can find the answer to how life can be this way. Why did I lose an angel only to abandon a good woman? What's wrong with me? He hurt. The weasels were back, chewing on his guts. He felt sick with shame. If I can't love Addie, why did I have to want her? Why did I harm a good girl? For lust? Has this wild way of life finally damaged my soul? Knowing he'd never hurt an innocent so badly, he grieved. Grieved for Addie's loss, a loss he'd perpetrated on her, taking her innocence. He would never forget the look of agony on her face when he left her at her aunt's house. She'd tried so hard to be stoic, but couldn't conceal the pain. Some friend you turned out to be. For shame, Jesse West. Shame was right. Shame wrapped around him like a blanket. Shame turned his heart to ice. I don't deserve a woman like Addie. And my actions prove I never deserved Lily either. And yet, what could he do now to fix it? Only what he had done.

  The pounding on Addie's door matched the pounding in her head. She groaned as the sunlight assaulted her swollen eyes.

  “Addie?” Beth's voice cut through, “Are you okay? It's almost noon.”

  Noon? Oh no! “Sorry, Aunt Beth. Yes, I'm okay. I'll be out in a minute.”

  “Okay,” Beth replied. “There's coffee here and I was going to fix up some chicken soup.”

  “That sounds good,” Addie called, groaning as she dragged herself from the bed. As she pulled on bloomers and a simple gray dress, her stockings and boots, she imagined wrapping her Kiowa acceptance of life and suffering, grief, pain and death around her like a cloak. It settled on her wounded heart, not staunching the flow of misery, but muffling it, allowing her to put one foot in front of another.

  “Are you sure you're all right?” Beth asked as Addie stepped outside the bedroom door.

  “Yes,” Addie replied.

  “Loss hurts.”

  Oh please, don't sympathize. I'm holding on by a thread! “I'm fine,” Addie said again, her voice flat.

  Beth nodded. “I understand. If you feel like you need to cry, I for one won't tell you otherwise. Listen to yourself, Addie, so you can heal and move on.”

  I'll never move on from this. Never. But somehow she had to, had to pack up the broken pieces that had once been her heart and move forward, not to love or marriage or family, but at least to something like a regular life. “Thank you for letting me stay with you, Beth. I want to earn my keep. What can I do to help?”

  “Actually, Addie, I was hoping you'd help me with my business. During the growing season, I sell flowers for church altar decorations, weddings, funerals, all that. In the winter, I sew quilts, and also make pine wreaths and garland. I know from your letters that you're good with plants.”

  Addie slowly tipped and raised her chin. “I can do that.”

  “So tell me,” Beth continued, making idle conversation, “how did you get here? You didn't come all this way alone, did you?”

  “No,” Addie replied, pouring coffee into a blue tin mug. “A friend of my father's escorted me.”

  She glanced at Beth. Her aunt was regarding her with a questioning expression.

  “His name is Jesse West,” Addie offered, but her heart clenched painfully even mentioning the name of her faithless lover, and she made no further comment. After a while, Beth shrugged and went on about her business, leaving Addie to brood into her cup of coffee.

  Jesse rode Mercury out of town, returning the spot where the bandit had attacked Addie. With a disgusted sigh, he lowered a rope and hauled the bloody remains of the man up from the bottom of the cliff, wrapping him in the remaining blanket. I hope there's a reward. There's no way I'm using this one again. Laying the stiffened bundle across the horse's back, he pondered his next move.

  The temperature had dropped further, in that uncertain way March was known to do, and he huddled deeper in his coat. The leather of the reins slipped and slid through the leather of his gloves. His eyes and nose stung with the cold, and his cheeks felt like fire as he fought forward through a driving wind. Riding would be so much easier. But he had no desire to share space on the horse's back with the stiffened, contorted corpse. I just want to get to town as fast as possible. Urging Mercury to move faster, Jesse crested a hill and left Colorado Springs behind him, heading back into Cañon City to deliver the body and find out if any reward had been offered. Then it would be back into the mountains to seek his prey. While he knew the man who had accosted them had not acted alone, he had no idea under whose authority the man had operated, nor what their objectives were. As he walked, the thoughts clicked and clattered in his mind, trying to fit together in coherent pieces.

  He was quick, resourceful and violent, but not clever. He let slip he was part of a group. He underestimated Addie. A clever man would have been on guard against those things. He didn't have leadership qualities. An underling, but a high-level one. Someone else was holding his leash. Someone who could manipulate, but probably lacked physical strength. A man who is physically strong and manipulative does his own missions. He wouldn't trust an underling unless it was necessary. So we have a smart leader who is physically less than imposing, and a strong but not too clever second. Are there more? There would be more. Two
men could easily have fled, moved camp. It would have to be a large group and a wanted one to risk an assassination rather than waiting… or hiding. There was every chance he and Addie had stumbled across a major operation on that mountain. Probably too many for me to take them alone. He urged Mercury on towards Cañon City.

  “Addie,” Beth called. “Are there any Calla lilies left?”

  “I'll look,” Addie called back, wrapping a shawl around her shoulders and stepping out into the brisk March air. In the week she'd been with her aunt, she'd been learning how to run a flower business. While she knew a great deal about how to use plants, she'd never tried selling them.

  It's early for a wedding. I wonder if there's a funeral. It was hard to feel much emotional attachment either way. Though she'd met quite a few people when her aunt took her to town, and to church last Sunday, she didn't know anyone well, and still felt powerfully alone.

  A quick glance at the flowers told her everything she needed to know. Shivering, she hurried back into the house.

  “There are enough left to make one bouquet, and maybe three or four tiger lilies for contrast.”

  “I thought so,” Beth replied. “But never mind that. If the Calla lilies had been used up, there would have been plenty of other colors to make a bouquet.

  “I don't want colored flowers,” a whiny-sounding voice complained. “I came for white.”

  Addie regarded the girl sitting at the kitchen table with her aunt. She appeared quite young. Maybe even a couple years younger than Addie. Not a funeral then, it looks like. Could it be a wedding? If so, some poor boy is in for an unpleasant surprise.

  “Rachael, this is my niece, Adeline McCoy.”

  Addie nodded to the girl. “Well you're in luck, if you need the flowers right away. As I just said, there are enough left for one bouquet.”