by Linda Broday
What they had wasn’t perfect, but neither was life. Like the town, her marriage still appeared a work in progress.
Nineteen
In the week that followed, everyone worked from sunup to sundown—sawing, hammering, and nailing. The new buildings were making Clay’s dream of a town a reality again and that thrilled Tally. She yearned for her husband to succeed. He’d struggled too hard for too long.
They’d made love every night since their talk, and Tally had never felt so complete. She was slowly losing some of her independence and letting Clay make the decisions. He had her best interests at heart, and she knew he would not do anything to cause her grief. This morning, he made her close her eyes and brought her into the dugout. She opened them to see two new dresses on the bed. She turned to him. “What’s this?”
“I asked Josie to pick you up some new dresses, but when she got here and compared them to one of your old ones, she decided to alter them to fit. She just finished.”
Tears hovered behind Tally’s eyes. “Oh, Clay. I haven’t had anything new in a very long time. They’re beautiful. Thank you.”
Clay kissed the back of her neck, his touch warm against her. “I want to give you nice things. You work so hard and never complain. I can’t wait to see them on you.”
“Is it okay if I wait until after I bathe tonight? I’m all sweaty.”
“I understand, and of course it’s all right. I have to get back to work anyway.”
Tally kissed him and he went out, leaving her with her pretty dresses. She sat on the bed and fingered the texture of the fine lawn muslin of one—a sea green—and lifted it to her face. Clay’s thoughtfulness and caring brought tears. She couldn’t help feeling treasured. The other dress was a simple calico that she could work in. The print of small white flowers against a blue background was very pretty. She’d needed a few new clothes but had hesitated asking Clay.
She wiped her eyes and thought of this man she’d married. He was a mixture of contrasts. He could explode in rage when faced with evil yet make love to her with such gentleness. And he paid attention to her needs, like these dresses.
How she’d gotten so lucky, she didn’t know.
* * *
Over the last few days, Josie Legend amazed Tally. The woman appeared to have gotten a new head of steam, and despite her big stomach, had taken over most of the cooking. So far, she showed no sign of slowing.
Rebel had hung out her barbering shingle, so after the men stopped work for the day, they lined up for a haircut and shave, nail trimming on the side, and whatever else the woman could think of. She had a booming business, and not a big surprise, nighttime appeared to be her prime hours. Tally wondered what else she was offering in that tent but didn’t really want to find out. Since Clay had assured her he was giving the woman a wide berth, she saw no need to poke her nose into Rebel’s affairs.
The saloon was another lively place once the end had been rebuilt, and Rebel’s laughter often drifted through the canvas walls, yet Clay never spared it a glance.
One evening, as the shadows grew long, Tally was happy to see Jack riding in, covered in trail dust. He dismounted and went to her. “Infection is gone from Hester Mason’s wound and I left plenty of herbs and supplies to last awhile.”
She hugged him. “Thank you, Jack. I was so worried. If anything happened to Hester, those women would be at a great loss. And you saved me from going.”
Clay walked up and slid his arm around her waist. “Everything goes better when we work together.”
Jack slapped his hat against his trousers and dirt flew. “Tally, why didn’t you tell me how bad things are for those escapees? Those women are barely surviving.”
“I know, but no one would believe unless they saw it.”
“Well, we’ve got to do something quick.”
Tally felt the urgency as well. The sand in the hourglass was down to a few grains. She and Clay had to put together a plan and soon.
As though Clay read her mind, he rasped, “We’ll get them out.” He swung to Jack. “Did you talk to Darcy?”
Jack’s face darkened. “We talked.”
“And?”
“I don’t know. I just don’t know. She’s torn.” Jack limped toward the trough with his horse.
Tally’s heart ached for the tall outlaw and the life that appeared beyond reach.
Clay draped an arm around her neck. “We can’t fix everything, darlin’.”
* * *
That night, after putting Violet to bed, she pulled back the covers and slid in next to Clay’s warm body. She rested her head on his chest, the soft beating of his heart beneath her ear. Each joining of their bodies had become even more special. One by one, his gentle caresses and words of comfort slowly filled in all the holes that riddled her heart.
He drew her close, one hand resting on her stomach. “I don’t know what you see in me, but I’m glad you’re my wife.”
“Clay, Rebel really is a thing of the past, isn’t she?”
He nuzzled behind her ear. “Absolutely.”
“I keep seeing her coming from where you are.” She drew lazy circles on his chest. “I don’t think you understand how devious some women can be.” And he definitely couldn’t see the knowing smirks Rebel kept giving her.
“There is one thing you ought to know about me. I’m a one-woman man. My heart only has room for one and that’s you.” Clay kissed her as his palm slid across her flat stomach—and lower.
“You have the softest skin I’ve ever felt. You’re so beautiful. Sometimes I think this is just a dream. If it is, I never want to wake up.” His raspy voice was thick with emotion.
Tally put Rebel out of her mind once and for all and relished Clay’s gentle touch that awakened every sense, made her dream of a forever.
Heated passion raced through Tally, making talk a tad difficult.
“I aim to make you beg for mercy, pretty wife.”
“Oh, you are, are you?” Tally grinned into the dimness surrounding them.
The next moment, she gave a little cry as he fondled her breast, raking a thumbnail lightly across the swollen nipple that greedily raised, begging for more. His lips found hers and she was lost in a haze of heated desire for this man who’d first seen something worthwhile in her letters to him.
A curl of fire slid lazily along her spine and made her breath hitch in anticipation. This husband of hers had quickly learned what she liked, and he took every chance to make sure she got the most pleasure from their lovemaking.
He tweaked, nibbled, licked, and kissed his way down her body until she throbbed with overpowering hunger. This level of heat wouldn’t be satisfied until Clay climbed on top of her. Though he seemed in no hurry, and therein lay a problem. She was ready for him now. This raging need inside her cried for fulfillment.
His hand slid down the length of her, his fingers dawdling at every hill and valley until she was ready to scream. Clay Colby’s slow hand drove her insane. But she did her own share of stoking the fire. She slid her hand between them and stroked his swollen need. Ragged moans escaped from his throat.
Finally, he raised himself over her and she welcomed him.
They did their best to keep quiet, for fear of waking Violet behind the curtained wall. Pleasure washed over Tally in waves, building with each stroke. Gasping, she reached the pinnacle and fell over the other side, into a beautiful, tranquil place where there was no pain, no heartache, no worry.
She lay limp, her bones fluid, drifting, savoring her happiness.
When her heartbeat slowed enough and she could speak, Tally kissed the hard planes of his chest. “I’m glad we have enough men to guard at night so you don’t have to take all the shifts.”
“That makes two of us. It’s been nice having the extra willing people.”
His deep voice rumbled against her e
ar. She loved that sound that reminded her of the wheels of a train—always pulling a load, always moving forward, always strong as steel.
“I can’t believe how fast the buildings are going up.” She drew lazy circles on his arm. They’d already framed two and would start putting on the walls and roofs soon, and that was in addition to the work Clay had started on their house. “I’m happy you’re building us a new place to live, but I wonder if you aren’t rushing things. Maybe we should focus on the stores and businesses first.”
“Nope.” He lifted her hand and kissed the back. “With each board we nail, it’s one more plank in the foundation of our marriage. We’re building both, one board at a time.”
Tally glanced up at his profile in the darkness and traced the scar from someone’s angry knife that ran along his cheek. “I never thought of it that way. Both are going to be sturdy.”
“Yes, ma’am. For a fact.” He rolled a lock of her hair between his thumb and forefinger. “You have the most beautiful hair this side of glory. I never get tired of looking at you. Who would’ve thought this old, scarred-up outlaw would find a woman like you?”
“Scarred-up maybe, but you’re not old. You have your best years ahead of you.”
Clay sighed. “Sometimes I feel as old and worn-out as this land. And then I look at you and think I’m twenty again. You were worth every bit of the wait.” With a light palm on her throat, he hungrily kissed her upturned mouth.
Outside, goats bleated, and inside, Bullet moved through the dugout, a silent guard. They were safe, happy. Secure.
Clay’s soft breath ruffled at her temple, his hand lightly resting on her stomach.
Tally drifted off with a smile on her face. She’d never known such peace.
A woman’s sudden scream cut through her languid dream.
For a moment, she was back in the dark gloom of Creedmore Lunatic Asylum.
Tally covered her ears to block out a woman’s screams. She made herself as small as she could in a corner of her small, dirty room. The screams continued and Tally curled tightly into a ball. If Tarver came to her room, maybe he wouldn’t see her. Guilt rushed through her that someone else was suffering in her place. Where was the knife she’d stolen from the kitchen?
Clay’s voice penetrated the nightmare. “Wake up, Tally. Something’s wrong.”
Finally, the dream released its hold. She wasn’t in Creedmore.
Another scream ripped into her, sounding like something from a wild animal.
“Josie!” Her heart thudding against her ribs, Tally leaped from bed. She and Clay frantically dressed and bolted from the dugout, leaving Violet asleep.
Luke ran from the wagon where he and Josie had made their bed. “Dr. Mary! Come quick!”
The doctor hurried from her tent, clutching her black bag tightly. Houston raced past Tally, his face haggard, eyes grim. He joined his brother, who stood with Clay, surrounded by the chaos of the night.
Tally didn’t break stride, arriving at Josie’s side with the doctor.
Sweat drenched Josie’s face. “He’s coming! He’s not supposed to come now. Oh God, he’s not supposed to come yet. Please save him. Luke needs his son. Don’t let this babe die.”
“Lie back, Mrs. Legend, and try to relax.” Dr. Mary’s voice was calm, her touch comforting. “I’m going to see what’s happening. It could be nothing.” But when Dr. Mary lifted the sheet, Tally could only stare in horror at the soaked blankets Josie lay on. No one had to tell her what this meant.
She inhaled sharply. Reaching for Josie’s hand, she gave it a comforting squeeze. “Hold on, Josie. Don’t panic. Take some deep breaths. We’re going to get you through this.”
“I’m scared. The babe is too early. Oh!” Josie moaned and gripped her stomach.
Dr. Mary laid her hand over Josie’s. “Now, honey, don’t fight the contractions. Just relax and let it happen the way it’s supposed to. Women give birth every day.”
The doctor’s tender ways with Josie and the calm that oozed from her voice bolstered Tally. “Josie, I’m going to get Luke to carry you to the dugout. Our bed will be much more comfortable. And I’ll get some water heating, Doctor.”
“All good ideas.” Dr. Mary drew a light blanket over her patient.
Tally met Belle as she climbed from the wagon and laid a hand on the old woman’s shoulder. “It’s as you feared.”
“I didn’t want it to be true.” Large tears rolled down Belle’s wrinkled cheeks. “I knew by how the little thing was twisting and turning that something didn’t seem right.”
“The doctor will do her best.” Tally tenderly smoothed back a strand of silver hair from the old woman’s face. “Can Violet sleep in your tent?”
Belle managed a wan smile. “Absolutely. Let’s move her now.”
With a nod, Tally hurried to the men, and in no time, they had both Josie and Violet moved and settled.
Inside the dugout with Josie on the comfortable bed, Dr. Mary took Tally aside and spoke low. “The babe is breach. This will be difficult at best.”
She didn’t need to be told what the worst would be. “Have you told Luke?” Tally glanced at her old friend.
He sat beside the bed, his large hand clutching his wife’s. Tally blinked hard, overcome by the lines of worry etched on his face. Tally’d once brought Luke back from death’s door after he’d been shot up, and he’d never once abandoned her and the other women hiding in Deliverance Canyon. The man who’d kept them in food and supplies now faced the possible loss of his child—and maybe his wife as well.
A breach birth…she’d heard how often they’d had to bury the child. And sometimes the mother too.
“Yes, he knows.” Dr. Mary’s gaze followed Tally’s. “I’m told that man has seen his share of trouble, but he appears strong. I can’t get him to leave his wife’s side.”
“He loves Josie so much.” Tears stung the back of Tally’s eyes as she gathered every soft cloth she could find, then hurried to the well. She drew a pail of water and placed it amid the glowing coals of the campfire to heat.
As though sensing she needed him, Clay moved beside her and put his arms around her. She leaned into his warmth, borrowing from his strength, thankful he wasn’t the kind to run from trouble.
Clay held her tightly to him. “How bad?”
“She may lose the baby. It’s breach.” Tally rested her head on his shoulder and took comfort in his hand rubbing her spine. “If this babe dies, I don’t know that Josie can take it. Or Luke either. They’ve pinned so many hopes on this child. Oh, Clay, my heart breaks for them. Do you think it was from all the jostling in the wagon, making those trips here?”
“I suppose it’s possible, but I sure hope I’m not to blame.”
“Whatever happens, it’s not your fault. Josie is too headstrong for her own good. Luke tried to get her to stay behind this time, only she refused.”
Giving her one last kiss, Clay released her. “You need to go. Don’t worry about baby girl. I’ll see to her.”
Tally nodded, unable to speak any more past the lump in her throat. Before she took a step, she heard Clay mumble, “Damn Mondays.”
Dr. Mary worked tirelessly through the night with Tally and Belle helping at her side. Luke refused to leave, holding Josie’s hand, love and dark worry clouding his eyes. Several times, he turned his head into the shadows, to hide his tears, she suspected.
Would their marriage withstand it if the baby didn’t survive—or worse? Tally tried to brace herself against the possibility of Luke not only losing the infant but Josie as well. The woman was so weak and fading in and out of consciousness. If Luke lost both…
Outlaws like Luke and Clay needed very little reason to let anger and despair take over and return to their old ways. That was often easier than learning to live with loss.
Tally glanced out the window
where Clay stood smoking, waiting with the nervous men. She admired the strong set of his shoulders and lean form. Would they face this same situation one day? It was a distinct possibility that she could be with child right now. She placed her hand on her stomach. But that would be a miracle after everything that had happened to her at the horror that was Creedmore.
Behind her came the whisper of desperation as Dr. Mary worked to turn the baby in Josie’s womb.
The minutes ticked slowly by.
With each passing breath, Tally’s heart pounded harder.
She clenched her hands together and prayed.
After what seemed an eternity, she heard the doctor’s relieved sigh. “I got the babe turned, Luke.”
“My child’s going to be all right?”
“Not saying that. There are no guarantees in this life. From what I’ve heard about you, Luke, you should know that. Your wife is unable to push and that compounds the situation.” Dr. Mary washed her hands, then turned her attention to Josie, checking her breathing.
Josie lay with her eyes closed, her face ashen in the lamplight.
Worry darkened Dr. Mary’s eyes and fear again swept up Tally’s spine. If the doctor, with all her knowledge and ability, had doubts about Josie’s and the baby’s chances, then Tally had little hope left to cling to.
Luke leaned over his wife and brushed damp tendrils of hair from her face. “Fight, corazón. That’s what you told me as I lay dying. Fight with everything you have—for me and our unborn babe. We’re a family and, Dios mío, we’re going to stay one. Do you hear me?”
Although his words appeared harsh, Luke wrapped them in velvet. His agony was hard for Tally to bear.
Josie’s mouth moved and her eyes opened. Her voice was weak. “Luke, I never thought I’d love anyone the way I love you. Promise to raise our child yourself, not give him to someone else to care for. A son needs his father.”
“Don’t talk like that.” Luke sobbed brokenly. “You’re going to come through this.”
