Chasing Clovers (8 page)

Hungry and sore all over, he
opened the back door and tramped inside. John took his hat off and hung it on the peg. "Somethin' sure smells good."

Ben and Emily were already seated at the table, and Livy was standing over them dishing up potatoes. He grinned. Ezekiel had stopped in
―he could tell. John was pleased he asked the cook to come and offer some assistance. His stomach rolled when he thought of the salty pancakes they'd had this morning.

He
peeked at her out of the corner of his eye. She didn't seem to be angry with him for interfering. In fact, she acted as if he weren't there. She still couldn't be mad about earlier, could she? That had been hours ago. He flexed his jaw. Well, too bad if she was. He was in no mood for a fight, and had no intentions of riling her anymore today.

Damn he was hungry. H
e pulled back his chair and every muscle in his arms throbbed. The pain reminded him of the warm bath he would soon sink into.

"
What happen to you, Pa?" Ben asked, staring at John's muddy shirt.

"
Had to pull a few calves out of a mud hole up in the south-west corner of the field."

"
Must've been deep." Ben said.

"
Sure was, son." He picked up his knife and buttered a piece of bread.

"
Smells like it was more than mud too." Livy wrinkled her nose.

He was learning fast that this woman always seemed to have an opinion. He turned and gave her a look.

"
Isn't there a stream you could've washed up in?" she asked, as she passed Ben the peas.

This was his house, damn it, and if he wanted to come in here stark naked he would, let alone covered in mud!

"
Actually, Miss Green, there is. I chose to bathe in the house tonight, and last time I checked, I owned it."

Her eyes sliced r
ight through him. She didn't say a thing through dinner or later while he was in the sitting room reading a story to the children. She sat in the chair and flipped through her damn cookbook.

John couldn't quite figure her out. What was her problem? Irritated by her cool demeanor, he closed the book he'd been reading.

"
Okay, story's over. It's time for bed." He slid Emily and Ben off of his lap, and put the book on the shelf.

"
Me want Miss Liby to tuck me in," Emily said.

John stared
at Livy. She hadn't moved. Her eyes darted about the room, panic in their depths.

"
Um, I….I have dishes to do." She stood and the cookbook fell to the floor in her haste to leave. She scooped it up and fled the room as if a pack of hungry wolves were after her.

He
shrugged. She sure seemed nervous and he'd bet ten to one she hadn't been around many children, and hadn't the foggiest idea how to put one to bed. "C'mon Angel, Ben, let's go."

Livy went upstairs after she finished with the dishes, relieved she didn't have to go and help John put the children to bed. She could hear him now, as he talked to Ben and Emily. They were saying their prayers. She frowned. She didn't say prayers anymore. They were never answered anyway.

She sat down on her bed
. Why did a man like John believed in God. He had lost his wife, a reason, if any, to be mad at God. Yet he still said prayers with his kids, asking God to bless them. She picked up her satchel and threw it onto the bed. Well, He sure hadn't blessed her. Anger and resentment rolled around inside her ready to explode.

Since arriving yesterday, she hadn
't bothered to unpack. She tipped the tattered satchel upside down and emptied it onto her bed. Two dresses fell out. A blue cotton one trimmed with yellow lace, and a dark green dress, her favorite of the two. Scooped around the neck, the green dress hugged her body in all the right places, and pleated below the waist to flow to the ground. She placed them on hangers and hung them in the large armoire in the corner of the room.

She
stood back to look at the unused space. The two dresses left ample space for more, which she didn't have. She couldn't do anything about her scant wardrobe, and was used to living without the fancy dresses most women had.

Her brush, some ribbons, and her nightgown lay on the bed. She had gotten the ugly white nightgown from one of the girls in the last saloon she had sung in. She unbuttoned
and replaced it with the used nightdress.

Still on the bed, in a rumpled heap, was Emma
's blanket. Livy's hands shook as she lifted the ivory cloth to cover her face. She took a deep breath, but her daughter's scent was no longer there. The sorrow nestled deep within her soul strived to be released.
Breathe. In. Out.

T
he blanket still covering her face, she sat down on the edge of the bed. Her throat tightened while her body unconsciously rocked back and forth. A haunting tune seeped past her lips and her eyes burned with unshed tears.

Emma
.

Livy
's arms ached to hold her one more time, to breathe in her milk-and-honey fragrance. Why did
she
have to go? Why didn't God take me instead? She squeezed the blanket until her knuckles turned white. The memories were torture. Like someone held a whip and beat her with it, re-opening the wounds over and over again.

No.
She shook her head. She had to stop the memories. She had to make them go away. She could feel her insides turning, and the panic welling up.

Breathe. In. Out
.

She
took deep breaths. Straightening her back, refusing to play into her emotions any longer, she placed the only keepsake of her daughter back inside the satchel. Put her shaking hands over her face to rid the lingering memories. She took two more deep breaths. Needing to get out of the room, she went to the door and quietly opened it a crack. All was quiet, so she crept down the stairs and into the kitchen.

The sight before her stopped Livy dead in her tracks. John was bathing in a tub fashioned from a barrel cut in half from top to bottom. His eyes were closed as he relaxed in the tub. His broad sho
ulders and wide chest hardly fit inside the cramped barrel. The dark, curly hair on his muscled chest glistened in the candlelight, and lay in a
v
shape as it descended down his belly.

"
Getting a good look?" he asked, without opening his eyes.

She jumped and spun around, hitting the wall with her nose. Her eyes watered as pain shot up her face. Blood crept down her nostrils and dripped onto her lip.

"
Hang on," he said, as he splashed around behind her. "Let me turn the lamp up."

The room grew bright.
The aura of the once dim light was gone. Still facing the wall, she held her hand cupped under her chin, holding some of the blood from her nose.

"
You can turn around now," he said.

She turned slowly so she didn't get any blood on her nightgown. He stood before her with a white towel wrapped low around his midsection. She couldn't stop her eyes from descending to look at his flat stomach and his protruding pelvic bones. Mortified at how her insides reacted to him, she whirled around again, and slammed her nose into the wall a second time. The pain was unbearable.

"
Damn it," She muttered. The blood, unstoppable now, poured like a river through her fingers and onto her nightgown.

"
You'd think you saw a damn ghost."

No,
only a half-naked man standing in his kitchen.

He gripped her shoulders
―the heat from his hands burned through her nightgown branding her―and turned her around to face him. "You're a mess." He led her over to a chair and pushed her into it.

Please don
't let his towel come undone.
She stared hard at the floor. What was happening to her? She wasn't repulsed, or disgusted by his half-naked body.
How would his strong arms feel wrapped around her?
She closed her eyes, and slowly shook her head. She didn't understand the way her body responded to his near naked one. Her eyes watered from the pressure in her nose, and she was glad her hand covered her pink cheeks.

He
glanced at his dirty bath water then went outside to dunk a cloth in the rain trough. He lowered her hand and placed the cool cloth gently on her nose. She pulled back from the pain that seemed to encompass her whole face.

"
Easy now," he whispered. His dark hair was wet and draped down his forehead, as droplets of water dripped onto his face. "Have to be more careful."

She didn't need a lecture right now. Her face hurt like hell, and her nose felt as large as a clown's.

"
What'd ya go runnin' into that wall for anyway?"

"
I didn't do it on purpose." She spoke from behind the cloth.

He glanced down at her nightgown. "Well, looks like that'll have to go in the trash."

"
I don't have another one." She inched backward, away from him, and the soapy smell invading her senses.

"
We'll just have to fix that."

"
How?"

"
I'll take you shopping." He thought on it a moment. "Yup, we'll head in to town on Saturday. I need to get a few things anyway, and I figure we should get hitched then too."

She
straightened. She didn't want to marry him yet. He thought she was a virgin, and if they were wed, he'd expect her to consummate their marriage. How was she going to explain that one? The awful night had been her first time, and it had been brutal. The bruises between her legs had taken weeks to fade. Since then she had never been with another man, nor had she wanted to.

"
You don't have to."

"
Yes, I do."

"
No really, it's fine."

He took the cloth from her face, and examined her nose
. "Nope it's my fault your nightgown is ruined."

"
Please, don't bother with a new one."

H
is finger tenderly traced the length of her red and swelling nose. He was too close, and she inched back.

Could he se
e how his touch affected her? How her body reluctantly yielded to his slow and gentle caress? Unfamiliar feelings began to stir inside of her. Feelings better left alone. She pulled away from him.

"
I will buy you two nightgowns."

"
I'll simply wash it in the morning."

"
I didn't give you a choice, Livy." He pulled her back toward him, and continued dabbing the blood from her lips and cheeks.

He was careful on her tender skin, and her shoulders sagged, her body relaxed.
Do not let this happen, Livy. You can't trust any man.
But, his smooth fluent motions mesmerized her. Eyes closed, she relished in the slow movements.

"
You're so beautiful," he whispered.

His delicate brush of the cloth hypnotized her and she could fee
l herself falling under his spell. Ignoring all her warnings, she opened her eyes, and found him watching her.

He leaned closer. "Does it still hurt?"

She couldn
't speak, so she nodded instead.

He bent and lightly kissed the tip of her nose, his mouth hovering above her own.

Her hand let go of the cloth, and she leaned forward.

He
stood, breaking the spell. "There, that should make it feel better."

Her face grew hot, and she tried to swallow past the lump in her throat. What had she been thinking? She wanted him to kiss her, wanted to feel his arms around her. Why? Why now? She vowed to never let another man touch her. Why had s
he let him? Her eyes simmering with tears, she got up, muttered a polite thank you and ran upstairs.

"
Don't you want me to tuck you in?" he called after her, his usual arrogance lacing his words.

She didn't answer him, and sought the solace of her bedroom. Once inside her room she closed the door and pressed her forehead to it. Her body still responding from his touch, she wiped at the tear on her cheek.

John cursed as he
dragged the tub outside and emptied it into the yard. He'd almost been asleep when he'd heard her come down the steps. The nightgown she'd worn left little to his imagination. The candle's glow offered a clear view of her body, and he was glad he had been in the tub. Where the hell was her wrap? Didn't most women own a bloody robe? Well, he would fix that on Saturday. He'd make sure she had two of the damn things, just in case. He brought the tub back inside, and hung it on the peg in the storage room.

When she
'd hit her face on the wall, he'd been glad for the distraction. He shook his head. She sure was a clumsy thing. Why the hell did he have to help her? He should've told her where the cloth was and let her get it. He ran his hand through his wet hair. She acted as if she'd never seen a man bathe. It wasn't like he stood before her naked, damn it.