Prairie Wife (14 page)

A tap sounded on the door. "Jesse?"

Eden hung on.

The door smacked against the wall.

Jesse raised his head and realized his hands were on Eden's waist,
whether to push her away or not, he didn't remember.

In the open doorway, gripping her shawl with white-knuckled
fingers and wearing a stricken expression, stood Amy.

Amy
opened her mouth but no words came out. Her chest felt as though
someone had struck her with a two-by-four. She stared at the scene before her,
her befuddled mind grappling with what her eyes conveyed. Chest bare, eyes
hooded, Jesse stood with his hands on Eden's waist. That sight captured her
breath and drew out the painful moment like living a nightmare.

One strand of Eden's hair draped against her ivory-skinned neck.
The bodice of her unbuttoned dress hung forward, exposing the tops of her
breasts where they were pushed upward by a lacy corset. She lazily drew her
hand across Jesse's shoulder and stepped back to adjust her dress. Wearing an
expression like that of a cat who'd just lapped up a bowl of cream, she tucked
away the strand of hair.

"Well, hello, Amy. We weren't expecting you."

Amy found her voice. "I can see that."

Jesse reached a hand toward her. "Amy, it's not—"

Following her first instinct, she turned and fled. She ran out of
the boardinghouse and across the yard. "Amy!"

At the sound of his voice and his steps behind her, anger roiled
up inside. Balling her fists, she changed her direction and, instead of heading
into the house, she spun around, heading straight back for him.

Jesse saw her coming and planted his feet.

Amy came to a stop a foot away. Without forethought, she slapped
him as hard as she could, jolting his head to the side. He stood that way for
an endless moment, the night wind ruffling his hair. Slowly, he turned to look
at her. He swayed on his feet as though the breeze might knock him over.

With her hands fisted in the fabric of her skirt, she used every
ounce of control she possessed not to hit him again. Her breath came out in
tight-chested pants. "Do not follow me into the house. I'm going to lock
the door. And I'm going to lock the bedroom door."

She whirled and marched toward the porch.

"Amy."

"Don't say my name!" She ran again. Inside, she did as
promised, turning the locks back and front, making her way upstairs and
slamming down the wooden bar that barricaded her in her room. Diving onto the
bed, she covered her head with the pillow as if hiding beneath it could shut
out this last prevailing horror.

Images flashed in her mind's eye, each more unbearable than the
next. Jesse's hands on Eden's waist. His eyes staring at her across Eden's
bare, rounded shoulder. Him standing steadfast with his face to the side after
she'd struck him.

Throwing off the pillow, she stood and took deliberate, calming
breaths. She was stronger than this. She wasn't going to bury her head and
wallow. She always picked herself up and went on, no matter what. In three
steps she reached her dressing table. The mirror reflected her wild hair, her
face pale with disgust and confusion. With trembling hands, she performed her
nightly ritual, changing her clothing, braiding her hair, all done while
feeling nothing.

A thousand torturous images had already been buried in the recesses
of her mind and the untouched places of her heart. What were a few more?
Visions of Jesse with Eden in his arms would have to be added to those. Closed
up. Locked away. But she had to capture them first...

It was as much her fault as his.
No guilt!
Tuck that out of
mind too.

What the hell did she care?
Jealousy?
Not allowed.

She knew he still loved her, she knew it!
Doesn't matter, no
regrets.

So many times she had lamented and questioned what she had done to
their relationship, agonized over her responsibility for the breakdown of their
marriage. But her world had slipped tonight. Everything familiar, no matter how
wrong, had been lost and a new doubt had been born.

What had
Jesse
done to them?

***

A rooster crowed and Jesse rolled over on his bunk with an
agonized groan. His mind was a woolly gray mass and his head ached so bad he
thought it would split in two when he lifted it off the mattress.

He was already wearing his trousers, so he stumbled outside and
around the corner. Knocking aside the lid of the rain barrel, he plunged his
head deep. He stayed that way, holding his breath, feeling his pulse pounding
in his ears and the cold seeping into his numb brain, bringing cells to life.

With a gasp, he straightened and flung his head back, cold water
running down his chest and back, air hitting the rivulets and sending painful
messages to his body.

This was the worst. He'd never felt this bad, never come this
close to staying in bed and saying to hell with a day. Never before had he felt
the need to go right back in and open a new bottle to work off some of the pain
behind his eyes.

He gritted his teeth.

And then he remembered. Dread gripped his heart.

Eden. Coming to his room. Kissing him.

Amy. Walking in. Hating him.

He fell to his knees and grasped dry weeds and grass as
self-loathing washed over him. Staggering to his feet, he stumbled to the rear
of the building where he retched, muscles spasming, until his belly ached.

Don't follow me. Don't say my name.

Anger and hurt and betrayal had weighted every word she'd spoken.
Shaken her voice. Darkened her eyes. He could have continued sleeping in their
room and endured the nights. He could have resisted the lure to drown
everything out with whiskey. He could have been the man she needed him to be until
she found a better way to cope with their son's death.

Jesse's hands shook, and he stared at them as if they belonged to
someone else.

They did. He'd become a stranger.

***

Sam rode his horse into the barn and slid off. He removed the
saddle and let the mare into the corral. Smoke spiraled from multiple chimneys
this morning, from the house, the soddy, the bathhouse—a homey, welcoming
scene. His steps were light, and he whistled softly as he crossed the yard.

The boardinghouse was silent when he stuck his head inside. He
sighed in disappointment. Over the last few weeks his Sunday afternoon
"rides" with Eden had become a much-anticipated event. The rest of
the days, she cast him furtive looks and those soul-burnin' smiles. Sometimes
if he caught her alone of a mornin', she would invite him into her room and
tease him senseless. Around the others, however, they hadn't let on that
something was happening between them—and that had started to feel wrong.

Last night he'd decided. He was going to just come out and ask her
to stay so he could court her proper. He'd been thinkin' it was disrespectful
the way he'd been taking his pleasure with her without a commitment. Maybe she
wasn't sure of him, either. Maybe one of them just needed to say something out
loud.

Sam moseyed up the back stairs to find the kitchen door open.
Voices slowed his pace and he paused, unease creeping into his bones.

"Fine man like that needs looking after, and it's plain you
don't intend to do it," a feminine voice mewled. "I'm more than happy
to take your place if you don't want your husband in your bed."

Eden?
Those confusing words made blood roar in Sam's head.

"You've worn out your welcome at Shelby Station," Amy
replied in a hostile tone Sam had never heard. He stepped right up to the door
and listened. "Pack up your things and be on the next stage—I don't care
which way it's headed. If you don't, I'll put you on it. I don't care if I have
to strap you to the boot with the other baggage!"

"You are a coarse, drab, unfeminine bore," Eden replied
haughtily. "This place is uncivilized and backward. It's obvious you
belong here and, as you so rudely pointed out, I do not. It no longer amuses me
to stay, and I choose to leave on my own."

The screen door flew open and Eden practically ran into Sam. He
steadied her by taking hold of her elbows. "What's goin' on?"

Her face was flushed and she wore an expression of disdain. After
glancing up at him, she jerked away, held her skirts aside and hurried down the
stairs.

"Don't forget to pay for your breakfast," Amy called
from the doorway.

Sam stared after Eden, a sick feeling raising bile in his belly.
He wanted to chase after her, but Amy would never understand. He turned on his
daughter. "What the hell is going on?"

Amy pursed her lips and stood with her hands on her hips. He'd
never seen her so angry, and half expected her to fly after the retreating
woman and snatch her hair out.

He couldn't have heard right. "Did she say something about
takin' your place in Jesse's bed?"

For the first time in over a year, Sam saw tears come to Amy's
eyes. She blinked them back and controlled her quivering chin by raising it a
notch to look him in the eye. "Last night I found her in Jesse's room at
the boardinghouse."

"What?" Jesse and Eden together? His mind wouldn't wrap
around it. "Doin' what?"

Her cheeks flushed and her eyes glistened with unshed tears.

"In—in bed together?" he asked.

She pressed a hand to her cheek. "No. But getting there, I'd
imagine. He had his shirt gone and her dress was nearly off. He was—" She
stopped and bit her lip, fought for composure. "He was kissing her."

Stunned, Sam absorbed the facts. Amy had seen this with her own
eyes. She was relating the truth. His ego was takin' a monumental beating, but
Amy—good

Lord, Amy. All his well-hidden doubts bubbled to the surface.

"Oh, honey," he said, stepping forward to lend her
comfort.

She backed inside and he followed, but she kept him at arm's
length with a shake of her head and an outstretched arm. "Don't" was
all she said.

She was too proud, too hurt, too afraid of letting herself feel.
Anger rose in Sam's chest and riled his blood. For a minute nothing but Eden's
soft curvy body and succulent kisses were in his head. He drove them out and
thought of his daughter's pain instead. Sam was a damn old fool, but Jesse was
a married man!

"I'll kill the son of a bitch." He turned and stormed
out.

"No! Daddy, no!" Amy cried, following him. "Let us
handle this."

"That's the problem. You don't handle anything!"

"Stop!"

Adele popped her head out of an upstairs window at the
boardinghouse.

"Jesse up there?" Sam growled.

She shook her head and watched them pass.

"Jesse!" Sam shouted, heading for the barn. Inside, he
crossed the hard-packed dirt in determined strides. "Jesse!"

Pitch darted out of Sam's path, slopping water from the bucket he
carried.

Jesse stepped from the tack room in the rear. His skin was paler
than normal except under his eyes, where dark semicircles gave him a weary
appearance.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Sam demanded.

Jesse swiped a hand down his face and his gaze traveled to Amy,
where she hung behind, then back to her father. "I need a chance to
explain. I know it looks bad and I was in the wrong but—"

"It'd take a heap of explainin' to fix this. I don't think
you have that much wind in ya."

A few of the hands had heard the commotion and gathered nearby.

Sam waved his arms. "Get the hell outta here and earn your
pay!"

They scattered out of the building.

Sam stomped toward Jesse until they stood face to face. "I
know my daughter hasn't been a proper wife to you this past year. But that's no
excuse for
stupidity."

What was he saying? He was equally as stupid. Just not married.
Who was he mad at? Himself? Eden? At the thought of her and the way she'd let
him think she wanted
him,
Sam saw red.

"You're right." Jesse looked from Sam to Amy. "I'm
sorry. I'm so sorry. I was
stupid
drunk and I wasn't thinkin' straight.
I shouldn't have been out here." He drew a shaky hand over his face.
"I should have stayed in our room no matter what. It shames me just to
face you now, Amy. It's killing me for you to see what I've become. If I could
change things, I would. If I could take us back to before all this, I'd do it.
But I can't. And I don't know how to fix so much wrong."

Amy heard the regret in Jesse's voice, saw the misery in his eyes.
He was sorry, truly sorry. This was an opportunity for forgiveness and healing.
More than anything she wanted to let down her emotional barriers and believe
him. But her defenses had been constructed well and reinforced daily, and her
fear of being the tiniest bit vulnerable held her rooted to the spot and kept
her lips sealed.