High Plains Promise (Love on the High Plains Book 2) (20 page)

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High Plains Promise
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Garden City, Kansas 1885

“Jes…se?” A broken voice penetrated Jesse West's focus for the briefest of moments. He lifted his head. The rarest of commodities, a gentle breeze warmed by a kind late-April sun seemed to kiss the tears streaming unceasingly down his cheeks. Then his gaze dropped back to the raw mound of earth at his feet. All around him, under the partial shade of wind-blasted oaks, other freshly dug graves, too many of them, clawed the earth apart. Earth like hearts. He dropped his eyelids.

Warmth penetrated the shoulders of his shirt. It was no surprise, and he did not react to the touch except to murmur softly, “Kristina.”

“Jesse, I'm so sorry. So sorry.” The grip of her capable musician's hands became a full-bodied hug as she crushed him from behind.
She's so strong.

But not strong enough to stem the flow of tears, or to stop his heart from bleeding.
Can a heart bleed to death?
He wondered idly, staring at a furrow in the upended soil.
Just bleed and die and leave a shell of a man who eats and breathes but isn't really alive?
“I wish it had been me.”

“Oh Jesse!” Kristina began to sob and her tears soaked into the back of his shirt.

Reluctantly he turned his back on the grave.
Not like it matters. She's with the angels now, not in the cold ground. And it's not like I'll ever forget the sight.
“Kris, I…” his voice broke. It was just as well, as he had no idea what to say.

“I'm so sorry,” Kristina sobbed again. “Lily was such a good girl. I was so happy for you both…”

Her words cut fresh lacerations in the bleeding wounds on his soul.
The best girl,
he replied silently.
Every man's dream of a woman. How could this happen? Tomorrow was supposed to be our wedding day!
The unfairness of life clogged Jesse's throat so badly he felt he could choke on it.
I wish I would.

But here was one of his closest friends, standing five feet from her mother's equally fresh grave, trying to comfort him.

“I know, Kris. I…” He took a shuddering breath. “You're no better. Your poor mama…”

At his words she went completely to pieces, shuddering as she cried.

“Hey,” he said, lifting her face so he could look into her ocean-green eyes. She had been so ravaged by grief, every inch of visible skin between her heavy freckles had tear stains. Her snub nose ran unchecked. He handed her a handkerchief. She wiped without the slightest attention, her eyes locked on his. “Kris, I'm sorry about your mama. But at least you'll be away from all this grief soon. You'll be glad to get back to school, won't you?”

She shook her head. “I'm not going.”

Jesse's jaw dropped, the shock of her words cutting through his sorrow. “Kris, what?” His eyebrows drew together into a solid line. “You're the most talented musician I've ever known. How can you even consider not going back to the conservatory? How can you stay here in this gossip-factory of a town with all these memories?”

“I have to,” she replied, her lip quivering. “I can't leave Dad alone.”

“Cal can stay,” Jesse insisted.
Let those two stallions battle it out. Cal can help at the general store.

“Cal left. When we woke up this morning, he was gone. Left a note on the table.” Her full lips, her prettiest feature after her eyes, twisted into a wry parody of a grin. “He said he'd had enough of Dad's bossy ways, and with Mom gone, he was going to seek his fortune.” She sniffled.

Why that little…
“I'm sorry, Kris.” This time the pain lashed her features.
And rightly so. Poor Kris. With those freckles, who knows if she'll ever find a husband? And then to lose her career too. Life's unfair.
At the thought of just how unfair, another tear escaped him, trailing down his wind burned cheek and moistening his stubble.

“You should go back anyway,” he told her with brutal honesty. Go and live, Kris. You can't stay here. This town is a dead end. You'll never have a future here. Go and finish school and play your music all over. Don't let your dreams die.”

“I can't.” Desolate despair weighed down her pugnacious features into the caricature of a bulldog. “But at least I'll have my friends around me.” There was a pleading in her turquoise eyes.
I know what she wants, what she'd never admit to, standing here over Lily's grave. But it won't be. I can't marry Kristina. I don't love her enough, and that's worse than being alone.

Slowly, his soul burning as badly as his eyes, he drove another nail into the coffin of her future. “Not me. I'm leaving in the morning. I don't think I'll ever come back.”