High Plains Promise (Love on the High Plains Book 2) (14 page)

“Weren't you scared at your wedding, Allison?”

“Of course,” her sister replied, patting her shoulder. “I knew Mother would throw a fit. And then Mrs. Fulton would throw a bigger one. But Wesley is worth all that.” She dropped her hand to her tummy. She did that constantly now, Rebecca thought idly. Marriage to Wesley was nothing like Allison had expected, and her sister was still reeling a bit from it.

“But were you worried he wouldn't show up?” Rebecca gulped down a wave of nausea.

“No,” Allison replied. “I knew he would be there. And you know Mr. Heitschmidt will be here. He loves you, Becky. Why would he not show up?”

Rebecca shook her head. Her hands were shaking… her whole body was. She laid her arms down on the table and rested her forehead on them.

“Becky?” Allison's voice was filled with concern, but Rebecca couldn't reply. Her world seemed to be closing down on her. “I'll be right back,” her sister said, laying the brush down on the table and hurrying from the room.

Rebecca didn't pay her any mind. She was focused on not fainting, though her stays were not laced particularly tightly. Consciousness faded and wavered. She tried to breathe.
In and out, Rebecca. In and out. Keep on drawing air. Don't hold your breath.
She knew she was being silly, but she couldn't help it.

“What's going on in here?” a deep voice cut through her haze and she lifted her head. It felt heavy as a sack of flour and about as animated.

“James?” His freckles swam in front of her.

“What's wrong, Rebecca?” He turned her chair and crouched beside it, wrapping his arms around her. His warmth dispelled her frantic, panicky state somewhat, but she still couldn't answer. Her fractured thoughts made no sense to her. How could she express them to him?

“I think she's got the worst case of bride nerves ever,” Allison said. “She's talking nonsense, like you were going to jilt her or something. I thought she needed to see you were here waiting. Can you keep her busy so I can finish fixing her hair, please?”

James nodded. At least that's what Becky assumed the strange, wavering movement meant. He pulled a chair around the table so they could sit knee to knee and he took her hand in his.

“Rebecca,” he said gently, “I'm here. It's our wedding day. In a few minutes you'll be my wife. Nothing is going to happen to prevent me from marrying you. Try to relax, love. I'm here, and I'm going to stay right here beside you today, and for the rest of our lives.”

He kept on talking, stroking her hand with his, sometimes squeezing her reassuringly. At last Allison set the brush aside again and grabbed a tiny daisy. Becky figured she was tucking it into the hairpin, which held what could only be a braided bun into place.

“There,” she said. “You're ready. Let's get this over with, before you pass out.”

James stood, pulling Rebecca to her feet. He placed her arm on his bicep and covered her hand with his. Then they walked out. Instead of processing down the aisle, James led her across the front to where Cody stood waiting behind the pulpit.

The organ crashed out a loud note and Rebecca started violently. James patted her hand. Rebecca wavered. She wasn't going to make it. Her high-heeled white boots bit into her feet. James's hand left her arm and snaked around her waist, supporting her. She closed her eyes and opened them, looking up into his face. This was real. Sandy red-blond hair, silvered at the temples. Warm brown eyes. Masses of freckles. Snub nose. Full, sensual lips. Cody's soft drawl sounded, but the words were garbled beyond recognition, so she focused on James instead. James and breathing. Nothing more was needed. His lips twisted, forming words. She furrowed her brow, trying to understand. What had he said? Oh yes,
I do.
She gulped and bit down hard on her lower lip. The sudden sting woke her up enough that Cody's words at last gelled. “… until death do you part?” James gave her a little squeeze.

“I do,” she said. He nodded, and his worried expression gave way to a smile. His face drew close. His lips touched hers. His eyes looked deep into hers. His smile broadened, but his eyes grew shiny. She blinked. The world rushed back into existence in a roar of sound. They turned to face their `audience'. Wesley sat holding his little daughter on his lap. Her parents stared, stony-faced and silent. From the choir loft, Kristina regarded them with an unfathomable expression. Only Allison, seated beside her husband, smiled. And even she looked strained, though Rebecca figured that was because Wesley had shifted subtly away from her.

I need to do something about that
. The random thought threaded through her mind, though what she could do to help her sister's floundering marriage, she wasn't sure. She did want to give Wesley Fulton a piece of her mind, for making Allison pregnant and then acting as though she'd done something wrong. As though married couples were not supposed to make babies together. Clearly,
he
hadn't held back.

Pressure on her back. James was leading her again. James, her husband. Slowly a bright smile spread across Rebecca's face. She'd done it. She's actually managed to get married. Now she had a husband, and it was James. What could be better? They stepped out into the early April sunshine as a married couple.

Two hours later Rebecca sprawled on James's bed… their bed… in her chemise and bloomers, her dress draped over the back of the chair. She pulled pin after pin from her hair until it tumbled free in a shower of gold and white flowers.

James froze in the process of removing his tie and collar.

“Pretty,” he said and heat bloomed in her cheeks.

He shrugged off his black suit jacket and tossed it aside, slipping his suspenders from his shoulders before joining her on the bed.

“So, Mrs. Heitschmidt,” he said.

“So what, Mr. Heitschmidt?” She giggled.

“You seem better. I was worried about you.” He scooted close to her and slipped one arm under her waist.

“I was acting like a ninny,” she said, a little embarrassed. “I hope I didn't hurt your feelings.”

“Well, love, I wasn't thrilled at how little trust you have in me, but under the circumstances, I did understand. I'm just glad the day is done.” He grinned. “I bet you are too.”

“Relieved is more like it,” she replied, trying not to think about the part where he felt she didn't trust him. “I don't exactly know what came over me, but I think I nearly fainted.

“I'm sure you nearly did. I'm so glad you stayed on your feet through the wedding.” He touched his lips to her forehead. “And now?”

“Now I'm waiting for reality to sink in that I'm really your wife and have every right to be in this bed with you in my unmentionables.” She smiled.

“If they're unmentionable, love, we'd better get rid of them,” he replied solemnly. “I can't have my lovely wife embarrassed by wearing garments which cannot be named. He reached for the hem of her chemise and lifted the garment over her head. “There,” he said, as though proud of his accomplishment. “Is that better?”

The heat in Rebecca's face spread down to the parts of her he'd just uncovered. Her skin prickled with tingling arousal.

“It's somewhat better,” she replied. “I'm only half unmentionable now.”

He winked and reached for the little ribbon which held her bloomers in place.

“Cody?” Kristina said softly, cuddling her husband. He rolled in her direction and snuggled up against her.

“Are you awake?” she asked.

“No,” he replied, resting his forehead against the full softness of her bosom.

“If you're not awake, why are you answering me?” she asked, her tone ironic.

“I'm talking in my sleep,” he replied.

Kristina dug her fingers into his ribs.

“Argh,” Cody shouted in protest. “What are you doing, woman?”

“Just making sure,” she replied smugly.

“You are evil and cruel, Kristina,” he said. “What did you want? I hope after that rude awakening, it's something pleasant.” He took her in his arms and kissed her. She let him for a while. Then she wriggled out of his grip and said, “I heard a rumor.”

“Kris, I just got through telling your dad you don't listen to gossip.”

“Well, normally I don't,” she replied. “But in this case, it comes from a reliable source.”

“What source?” he asked.

“Allison.”

“What rumor?”

“Well, she doesn't know for sure, but she thinks Rebecca is expecting. She said she saw signs in her sister she recognized in herself.”

Cody sighed and raked his fingers through his hair. “I don't know what you want me to do about it, darlin'. I've done what I could. They're married. I can't prevent the gossip if that's true.”

“Oh, it's not that, Cody. I'm just thinking… I mean… well Allison and Wes are expecting and now if Dad and Rebecca are too… well, I'm not.”

“Is that a problem, Kristina? I mean, we've only been married a few months. I'm enjoying having you all to myself, darlin'.” He rubbed his nose against hers.

“I don't know, Cody,” she replied. “I'm not really worried exactly. I just didn't know how you felt about it.”

Cody let the thoughts settle in silence for several minutes. When he spoke, it was in a calm, serious voice. “Kristina, if the Lord sees fit to bless us with children, I'll welcome them. If not, well, this life we have; each other, the church, your father, and visiting my folks and sister sometimes… it's a good life and I wouldn't regret keeping it just this way. You're enough for me, darlin', all by yourself.”

“I love you, Cody,” she said, hugging her husband.

Hold up, cuz!” Edgar Fulton called to Wesley, as he passed the post office on his way to a brief deacons' meeting. Wesley was looking forward to the meeting greatly and wanted to get there. He was in no hurry to get home.

Don't be unkind, man. It's not Allie's fault she's in a bad mood. She's so huge I don't know how she stands up anymore.
The thought of why his wife was so swollen set his insides squirming uncomfortably. As did the thought of her crabby, whiny demeanor, which only seemed to worsen with every passing week.
And if you're honest, you'll admit that even her worst is nothing like as bad as what you once knew.
It wasn't, but that didn't stop him from resenting it, just a bit.

“What's up, Ed?” he asked his cousin. The young man hurried across the street. Summer rain had turned the dirt between the stones into a quagmire, and he slipped and skidded, finally grabbing Wesley's arm for support. Thankfully, Wes had seen the move coming and strengthened his stance to compensate.

“You have a letter,” Edgar replied, waving a rectangle of paper in front of him.

Bank business,
Wesley thought, remembering he was expecting correspondence on a shipment which was due to arrive next month.
As if the train robbers weren't bad enough, when all they wanted was revenge. If they knew we were getting…
He didn't finish the thought. Didn't have to. Edgar tucked the letter into his hand and one glance at the envelope revealed to Wes that he had been completely wrong. Heart-stoppingly, gut-wrenchingly wrong. The return address was headed by the name `Andrew Fulton'.

Wesley blinked, not knowing what to think or feel, moments before a wave of irrational terror washed over his insides like the swollen Arkansas River.

Oh grow up,
he chided himself.
It's a piece of paper. It can't hurt you.

“It's from your dad,” Edgar crowed, oblivious to Wesley's inner upset. “Don't that beat all? After all these years.”

“I know,” Wesley replied, forcing wooden words past paralyzed lips. Thanks, Ed. I have a meeting.”

His cousin waved and sauntered back across the street to the post office, wiping his forehead as a wind which held the stale rankness of overripe summer sent a few crispy blades of dried grass waving south towards the Oklahoma panhandle and the whole of West Texas. Wesley turned, facing into the wind. Clutching the letter in one hand, he fought his way through the gusts toward the church.

“Don't read it,” he muttered to himself. “Why the
hell
should I care what he has to say now, almost twenty years later? I was only a kid when he took off. What must I have been, seven?”

Seven, yes. And why do I not remember it? Losing a father should be a memorable event. I don't remember much of anything from before that time.
He didn't want to remember either. The very thought had his stomach and jaw clenching.

“So don't read it. Tear it up and throw it in the river!”

But do you really want that? What would it hurt to know what the old bastard has to say? You sure don't have to respond.

By the time Wesley reached the church, he was still of two minds about the unexpected missive and just what exactly he should do about it.

“What have you got there, Wes?” Allison asked, hefting herself out of the rocking chair and waddling across the bedroom floor to her husband. He hugged her awkwardly and kissed the top of her head.

“It's a letter,” he said.

She gave him a look. “I can see that. So what? You get letters every day. Why is this one special?”

“It's from my father,” he replied.

“Your… but… wow!” Allison stuttered.

“I know. Why is he writing to me now? I haven't spoken to him in years. He abandoned us. I'm tempted to throw it in the fire.”

“All right, Wes,” Allison agreed easily, “but you might read it first. See what he has to say.”

He already had the envelope ripped open. After a quick scan of the contents, he handed it to his wife.

Dear Wes,

I know you probably don't want to hear from me anymore. All the unanswered letters should tell me that. But it's not that easy for a father to let go of his son. So I had to try one more time. Soon I'll be relocating overseas and I don't think I'll have the opportunity to return. But before I lose the possibility of making things right with you for good, I need to try once more for contact. There are so many things I need to tell you, I hardly know where to begin. If you have any interest in talking to me, meet me on the first of September at the New Long Branch Saloon in Dodge City at noon. I will wait until nightfall. I hope to see you then.

Dad.

Allison set the note on the bedside table and turned to face her husband. He'd stuck his hands into his pants pockets, in a gesture of false casualness.

“You're not going,” she said, more as a statement than a question.

“Why not? I'm curious to know what it's all been about. All the years. And he says I've ignored his letters, but he hasn't sent any. I want to know what that means.”

“Wes,” Allison said gently, though inside she wanted to rage and scream, “I understand your desire to know more, but you really can't leave. What about the train robbers and their threats? Can you really leave me alone? Do you really want to risk your safety for no good reason? Besides, the first of September is tomorrow and our baby is due to be born any day. I can't have you just hopping on the train to Dodge City and being gone. What if I go into labor?”

“Well, Allison, I don't really know what difference that would make,” he said mildly. “I wouldn't be around during the labor anyway. And I'd be home either late tomorrow night or early the next morning.”

“You won't be around for the birth of your child?” she asked, incredulous.

“No, of course not. Delivering babies is women's business. I would just be underfoot. Tell you what. I'll ask Mother to stay with you.”

“Your mother?” She raised one eyebrow. “How is that supposed to be an improvement on being alone? I'd prefer my sister, since Mom has gone with Dad on that getaway.” She made a face. It seemed everyone was intent on abandoning her at her most vulnerable moment.
Oh, don't be a grump, Allison. Dad won that trip to Colorado Springs, and he and Mom deserve the getaway after the year they've had. And this…
She stopped berating herself. There was no excuse for this.

Wesley spoke again. “My mother has been through delivery, Allison. Your sister is barely expecting. It would be better to have someone who knows what's happening. She can get the midwife. I'm going. Probably nothing will happen. But even if it does, you'd be doing this without me either way. I need to know what he wants. Now it's late. Let's go to bed.”

He headed off to clean his teeth as Allison slowly pulled off her dress. Her body, heavily distorted with the weight of her nearly-due baby, ached constantly. The squirming limbs sometimes felt as though they were about to tear open her flesh. She wanted the delivery over with. And now her husband wasn't even going to be around. Allison stood naked beside the bed, running her fingers over the huge swell which threatened constantly to topple her. How long could it be? Days? A week? Couldn't be than that. She was huge. She had never imagined her body would stretch so far. Surely Rebecca, who was now in her fifth month and sporting a tiny, concealable bump, would not grow so large.

Wesley returned for bed before she could pull on her nightgown.

“Allison?” he approached her slowly. Angry as she was, she turned her back on him, reaching under her pillow for her soft cotton gown. It was the only remaining one she could get into.

Wesley's hands slid down her back and around her waist, cradling the heavy curve of her belly in his arm. His other hand went to her breasts.

“Don't be angry with me, Allison. You read it. I have one chance to meet him. How can I say no?”

“I don't know, Wes,” she replied wearily. “I had hoped your wife, the woman who waited for you while you married another woman, who picked up the pieces after your world fell apart and tried to put them back together, who has loved you since you were a child and loves you to this day, and who puts up with your lingering problems, the woman who is carrying your baby and is about to deliver, would mean more to you than a father who disappeared so long ago, none of us remember what he looks like.”

“Allison,” Wesley said, his voice serious, though his caressing of her tender nipples was far from innocent, “the only person on earth who means as much to me as you do is Melissa. I'm sorry I haven't been the husband you hoped for. But this is my one chance to find out what it was about. Please, Allie. Don't make this a problem. Let me go. I'll come home to you as soon as I can.”

He turned her around and looked down at her, his eyes flaring with heat.

“How can you want me when I look like this?” she demanded.

“How could I not? You're the image of womanhood. Come on, love. Who knows how many chances we'll get before the little one arrives.”

“Wes?”

He led her to the bed, pulling back the covers. She lay on her side. “What is it, Allie?” he asked, angling his body so he could kiss her.

“Do you want this baby?”

He went still, considering his words. The unequivocal answer she'd hoped for had not arrived. He didn't know.

“It's not the baby, Allie. And it's not you. I can't forget how hard it was before, with Sam. She… well, you know. I don't know.”

“So I'm suffering, and so is your little one,” she captured his hand and placed it on her belly, “because you bedded an easy girl. That's not fair.”

“I know,” he said.

“Melissa is yours because you love her and because you've claimed her. This baby is yours in every way,” she pointed out.

“I know that too, Allie. I know.” He petted the straining skin.

“But do you believe it? Not just with your head, Wes. Do you know it deep in your soul? Do you have faith in me? I've never betrayed you, Wes. These are the only hands that have touched me.” She grasped his fingers and slid hers between them. “I love you, Wes. Only you. Do you not love me anymore?”

“My goodness, expectant mothers are dramatic,” he replied, distracting her with kisses as his hands went to the sensitive places on her body. She let him, because she was too tired to fight. But her heart wasn't in it.

When Wesley attempted to roll her to her back, she protested. “I can't do it like that. The baby's too heavy.”

“That's all right, love,” he replied, lying back himself and extending a hand so she could straddle him. He guided his sex to her entrance and slipped through the pregnancy-moistened passage to her fullest depth. The lovemaking felt good. Of course it did. Wesley knew how she liked to be taken and held her up, both hands on her hips while he glided gently in and out. Eventually her snug sheath tightened in pleasure and a soft gasp escaped her lips, but the intense closeness sex had brought in their early marriage was no more. Wesley had withdrawn from her. So she had withdrawn from him, the two of them living side by side, their bodies touching, but their hearts shielded from contact. How had they come to such a place? She didn't know, and in the aftermath of a climax, a quarrel, and frustration, she suddenly felt exhausted. Wriggling away from Wesley, she flopped down on her side and quickly fell asleep.