Journey of the Heart (26 page)

“Not even for me?” he pleaded.

“If I felt
I could
leave with you, Henry, I’d know I should leave with you.”

“I see,” he said stiffly. “But what of your other plans? Teaching at Fayreweather? Will you stay here and waste your talents on farmers’ and ranchers’ children?”

“At one time, I may have agreed with you, Henry, that it was a waste just to teach a rancher’s son to write his name. But Sadie Hart is a teacher—a good teacher—and I am beginning to think that what she does is very important. I would be needed here, Henry.”

“You are needed there, too, Cait. I need you. I want a home and family of our own.”

When his voice broke on the last words, Cait almost gave in. But she realized again that a man and a woman needed to be drawn to each other by some elemental attraction, the way her parents had been despite their differences. The space between her parents was always charged, as though they lived in their own magnetic field. The space between Henry and her was not alive with that same energy.

“I hate to hurt you, Henry.”

“Then don’t!” he exclaimed, pulling her into his arms and kissing her in a passion of despair and determination. Cait was in his arms and at the same time, watching herself be kissed from some place outside them. It was the first time she had felt such passion from him. It was what she had thought she wanted, yet now it seemed as if it was not what she wanted after all.

She let him kiss her. She owed him that. But when he let her go at last and looked into her eyes, he knew.

“It would not be fair for me to go with you, Henry,” she whispered.

“I think you are right,” he responded bitterly.

“I am so sorry,” she said softly.

“I know and I don’t blame you. But oddly enough, that doesn’t help. Come. Let me get you back to the ranch.”

They rode home in silence and when they reached the ranch, Henry turned to her and said, “I’ll leave this afternoon, Cait.”

“But your train isn’t for a few days, Henry. You don’t have to leave.”

“I can’t stay here, Cait,” he said with a painful smile. “I’ll find somewhere in town to stay.”

“I understand, Henry.”

“I doubt that you do, Cait,” he added ironically.

He was gone very quickly, saying his good-byes to the Burkes, receiving their sympathy politely. They were all standing on the porch, watching him walk to the wagon when Cait ran down the steps and threw her arms around him. “Oh, Henry, I wish things were different!”

“I know, Cait, I know. You will write and tell me you are safe?”

“Of course, I will.”

“I’ll look forward to your letter then. Good-bye, Cait.”

“Good-bye, Henry.”

Michael and Elizabeth watched her stand there, her arm lifted in a good-bye wave.

“I am proud of her,
a ghra.”

“So am I, Michael. Oh, but I know how hard it is not to love back in the same way one is loved.”

* * * *

How she got through the rest of that day, Cait never knew. She couldn’t cry, she couldn’t even talk to her mother about it. There was nothing to do but keep busy. She washed and hung the sheets. She weeded and watered the garden, and when the sheets were dry in the afternoon, she heated up her mother’s iron.

“Whatever are you doing, Cait?”

“I’m going to iron the sheets, Ma.”

Any other day, and Elizabeth would have laughed. Iron the sheets? As though they’d ever had time for it, or even the desire.

“The Beechams would send theirs out to be laundered and sleeping on a freshly ironed sheet is quite luxurious, Ma.”

“I imagine it is, dear.”

Elizabeth left quickly and sought out her husband who was down by the near pasture.

“You must promise me something, Michael.”

“Anything,
a ghra.”

“You will
not
comment upon the fact that we will be sleeping on ironed sheets tonight. Our daughter assures me it is a luxurious experience.”

Michael chuckled. “I will look forward to making love to you on them, Elizabeth. Who knows, I might like it so much, I’ll be havin’ you iron them from now on!”

“It isn’t funny, Michael.”

“I know, Elizabeth. But if it helps her get over this….”

* * * *

Cait was just turning the second sheet when she burned her hand. It was a small, half-moon-shaped weal, but it was deep and red and tears sprang to her eyes as she shook her wrist. She forgot about the iron for a minute when all of a sudden she smelled burning and realized she had just scorched a hole in the sheet. Ironed sheets indeed! Whatever had she been thinking. Lord, but her wrist hurt and the coldest water came from the pump behind the barn. She was almost glad of the pain, she thought, as she walked out to the barn, holding her arm up in front of her. It distracted her from the pain in her heart. She looked down at her wrist. It was angry and red, but at least it hadn’t blistered. But she had forgotten how the smallest burn hurt more than a cut or scrape.

She was almost sobbing from the pain as she turned the corner and only then became aware that someone was ahead of her. Gabe Hart was there, working the pump and as she watched, he cupped one hand and brought the water up to his lips, drinking some and then splashing his face with the rest. She was just turning away, when he looked up and saw her.

“Miss Cait, good afternoon. Did your Da want me?”

Cait shook her head and tried to hold back her tears. She held out her arm and said: “I burned it and was just going to run it under the pump.”

“I’ve heard that some sort of grease is good for a burn,” said Gabe.

“Ma says cold water works best,” she answered.

“Then come over here, Miss Cait,” drawled Gabe. “Hold your hand under and I’ll pump.”

Cait winced as the water first hit, but then the cold began to bring some relief.

“How did you burn it?”

“I was ironing sheets and I didn’t get my hand out of the way quick enough.”

“Ironing sheets…well, I can’t say as I’ve ever slept on ironed sheets but I imagine it would be real nice,” said Gabe politely, thinking that
clean
sheets were a luxury.

Cait looked up into his face and laughed. “Oh, it was ridiculous of me, Mr. Hart. It was just something to do this afternoon to keep me busy. I was through washing and weeding.”

Gabe had noticed her reddened eyes and suspected that the tears she had shed were as much over Henry leaving as for the burn.

“Let me see your wrist now,” he said, letting go of the pump. Cait held it out to him and he held it as he ran his finger gently next to the angry-looking mark.

“This must hurt quite a bit,” he said softly.

“The water helped, Mr. Hart.” And it was true. The pain had subsided enough that she was less conscious of it and very conscious of the touch of Gabe Hart’s finger on her arm.

“I am sorry to see you in any kind of pain, Miss Cait,” he said awkwardly. It wasn’t his place to say anything about Henry and her decision to stay, but he hoped she knew that his sympathy included more than the mark on her arm, thought Gabe, as he stroked around it. Or maybe it was just that her underarm was so white and soft.

Without looking up at her he continued. “I think it took a lot of courage to do what you did, Miss Cait. And after all this is over, well, you can join Mr. Beecham back east.”

“I won’t be doing that, Mr. Hart,” she answered, her voice catching on a little sob. He looked up in surprise. Cait gave him a smile, but the tears were spilling down her face again. “It wouldn’t be fair to Henry,” she whispered.

He felt her sway a little against him and looked around. There was a rough old bench against the barn where a man could sit and pull off his boots. He guided her over to it. “Sit down, Miss Cait. You’re likely feeling a little faint, given everything that’s happened today.”

Cait let herself be led and sank back gratefully against the barn wall. The mad energy that had filled her all day had drained out of her so suddenly that she felt as if nothing was holding her up. Gabe sat down next to her and they sat quietly for a minute, each aware of the other’s closeness.

Cait could not help be aware that his thigh was touching hers. She could feel the warmth of his leg through her light cotton dress. She should move, she knew, but it felt so reassuring to have him close that she didn’t want to.

“How is your arm feeling now?” Gabe asked, when what he wanted to ask was “
What
wouldn’t be fair to Henry?” Did she mean she didn’t love Beecham? Or just that she couldn’t keep him waiting till things were settled on the ranch?

Cait held her arm out and he very naturally let it rest in his hand as they both looked. “It still looks as red, but it feels better,” said Cait.

“It may not heal without a scar,” said Gabe, tracing the area around it with his finger again. “It’s not that long, but it looks deep.”

“Well, the scar will serve to remind me of my foolishness,” Cait said lightly.

“Not foolishness, Miss Cait,” Gabe said softly, looking up into her face. His eyes were so blue against his tan, she thought. There were thin white lines around them from where he squinted against the sun. It was a strong, weather-beaten face, almost a hard face, except for his mouth, The curve of his lips softened everything.

All of a sudden, the empty feeling was gone and in its place grew an awareness, an exquisitely tuned awareness of a current flowing between them. She was being drawn to him and he to her, she thought, as her face lifted and his lowered to hers and their lips touched.

It was what she had expected to feel with Henry, and never had, this force between them. Then Gabe pulled away and she almost sobbed aloud in her disappointment. But it was only to look into her eyes and give her a questioning look. She looked back a ‘yes,’ nodded a ‘yes,’ and he ran his finger down her cheek as gently as he had touched her arm. Then he lifted her chin and kissed her.

The first kiss was a gentle brush against her mouth. The second one encouraged her lips to soften and open. With the third, he asked her for all the passionate response she had wanted to give to Henry. It was a long, demanding kiss that took her breath away.

When he pulled away, she wanted to cry out “No, don’t stop, don’t ever stop.” But instead she whispered, her face red with embarrassment, “Oh, Mr. Hart.”

“I am sorry, Miss Cait. I had no right to do that. Especially since…well, Mr. Beecham may be gone, but he’s still your fiancé.”

Cait shook her head. “No, I broke the engagement, Mr. Hart. I realized I didn’t love Henry, not the way he deserved to be loved. I’m…I’m glad you kissed me,” she added with a quick smile. “Henry’s kisses, well, they never made me feel like yours did, Mr. Hart. I know I made the right decision for both of us,” she added.

“It’s been a hard day for you,” said Gabe, standing up and holding out his hand to her. She took it and he helped her to her feet.

“Uh, I’d better get cleaned up for supper,” he stammered awkwardly.

“Yes, and I’d better get in to the house and help Ma.”

She could feel his eyes on her as she walked away and she wanted to turn around and walk right back into his arms. But he likely had a great deal of experience of kissing women like that. She had no idea what it had meant for him. Probably very little. And for her it had meant so much.

Gabe watched her go. Lord, he couldn’t believe he had lost control like that with Mr. Burke’s daughter. Those had been some kisses, though, he thought with a rueful smile and he’d been wanting one for a long time, he had to admit to himself. Her response had been sweet and strong. But that had meant nothing. He’d caught her when she was most vulnerable. As she’d said, they only helped her realize that Beecham wasn’t the man for her. Which was not at all the same as saying that Gabe Hart was.

“Elizabeth? Are ye still awake?”

His wife sighed and stirred. “A little, Michael.”

Michael smiled and stroked her hair. He had been sitting down in the parlor after all had gone to bed, trying to imagine an easy way out of his impasse with Mackie. He could think of only one, which was, of course, unthinkable: selling his land.

It was possible Eduardo’s murder would be the end of it and Mackie would finally realize he couldn’t be intimidated. They could wait and see. But he was tired of waiting for Mackie’s next move.

“I am ridin’ over to Mackie’s in the morning, Elizabeth,” he told her as he climbed in next to her.

Elizabeth became more than a little awake when she heard that. “Why, Michael?” she asked. Sitting up against the pillows. “You haven’t decided to sell, have you?”

“No,
a ghra.
Unless you want me to? If this is all too much for you, I would, ye know.”

“Of course I don’t want you to, Michael,” she said forcefully.

“I am tired of waiting around to see what the
gobshite
will do next, Elizabeth. I intend to tell him to his face that murdering Eduardo will not make me change my mind. That nothing he can do will change it. He has been running the show long enough.”

“You can’t just ride in there alone, Michael!” Elizabeth said, reaching out to grasp her husband’s hand.

“He can hardly get away with shooting me outright,
a ghra.
I’ll be safe enough.”

“Please, Michael, ask Gabe to go with you.”

Michael patted her hand. “All right, if it will make ye feel
any
better. And only if Gabe is willing to go.”

“But he said he is with us, Michael.”

“Well, working for me is one thing. Openly confronting Mackie is another, Elizabeth, should Mackie decide to go further. Which he won’t, I am sure,” he reassured her.

Michael slid down and pulled his wife in front of him, and spooning against her, fell asleep almost immediately. Elizabeth lay awake for a long time. This country had given her so much, she thought: her first husband, Thomas, Michael, who was her life, Caitlin, good friends in Serena and Antonio. Yet everything it had given had come with the violence that seemed to be a part of this hard land. It had taken her parents and her brother and Thomas. The Dine had suffered greatly for their love for it. And now the killing had started again. She could only hope and pray that Eduardo’s death was the beginning and end of it.