The Texan and the Lady (31 page)

Austin ate the meal, trying to ask Colton enough questions about Buck Lawton to figure out why the man hated Barkley so much. But Colton was no help. Austin guessed Barkley had never been a man of many words; and regarding anything about the outlaw, he seemed to have been struck deaf. Delta was also of no help. Every time Austin figured he had the conversation headed in the direction he wanted, she changed the subject.

Finally Austin excused himself and went for a walk. As he’d expected, he hadn’t gotten more than twenty feet when True fell into step. “Evening, son.” Austin smiled. “Haven’t seen you around much today.”

“I rode out in the supply wagon. Since then I’ve been scouting out the place. It don’t do to let too many folks know you’re around before you find a few places to disappear into.”

“Have any supper?”

“Sure, over at the bunkhouse. Link even told me I could sleep on the top bunk, but I think I’ll take the room across from Colton and Delta. She said I could have it as mine for as long as I wanted. Imagine that, a place just for me.”

“Imagine that,” Austin echoed, knowing how unbelievable that must be to a child like True.

“There’s gonna be big trouble, ain’t there, Marshal?” True lowered her voice slightly.

“I’m afraid so, son.”

“And all because of a woman,” True added.

Austin stopped in his tracks flabbergasted that True could find something out when he couldn’t. “What woman … Delta?”

“No.” True giggled. “Delta didn’t start this hatred between Mr. Barkley and that outlaw. Mr. Barkley’s first wife did. Seems she wanted to run away with Buck Lawton when he got through with his business, which was robbin’ trains.”

Austin looked doubtful. He’d known True too long not to question the honesty of anything the child said. “True, are you sure about this?”

“Sure as I’m living. If I tell you what else I know, will you promise to keep me with you if trouble starts? I care about the women, but if there’s going to be shooting, I’d rather be behind you.”

“Tell me what you know.”

“Promise.”

“I promise,” Austin answered.

True smiled like a gambler who’d just found himself in a front-row seat for the state prize fight. “There ain’t all that much to tell. Mrs. Barkley, the first one of course, ran off planning to meet Buck Lawton.” As if to verify the story True added, “I heard the hands talking at the bunkhouse during supper.”

The Texan slowly started walking as he waited for True to continue.

“Well, Mr. Barkley got real mad when he seen she was gone, and he hightailed it out after her. One man said it wasn’t three hours later when he brought her back. Talk was he locked her in her room, and come dawn he was out at the barn building a coffin.”

“Do they think Colton killed her?” Austin couldn’t believe he was asking the child’s opinion.

“No. One fellow said something about how she probably took her own life. Another said that the ride and all might have hurt her somehow ‘cause she was pregnant.”

“Didn’t they ask?”

“No.” True’s eyes sparkled as imagination found a plot. “Maybe Colton is a witch. I heard tell witches can be men with black hair and gypsy eyes. Henry says you can’t kill a witch by shootin’ them in the gut, neither. Maybe Colton put a curse on his wife and killed her that way, then poured frogs’ blood or something in the men’s food so they wouldn’t ask no questions. That’s why to this day they’re still sitting around trying to guess how she died.”

“True!” Austin fought down a laugh. “Stick to the facts.”

“How do you know I ain’t telling the facts? He buried her out there beneath those three crooked elms. I’ll bet they make a witch’s cross in moonlight. I might just hang around till the next full moon and see if a ghost walks over the grave. Spirits do, you know, if they’re killed by a curse. I know that for a fact.”

“We’ll see.” Austin laughed. If he saw Colton’s first wife walk over her own grave, he’d arrest the man himself.

As they circled back toward the house, True pulled on the marshal’s sleeve. “Don’t forget your promise. If trouble comes, I’ll find you, but you have to let me stay with you.”

Austin tousled True’s hair. “I wouldn’t want you anywhere else but with me, partner.”

“Good, ‘cause trouble’s coming. I can smell it in the air,” True said, using one of Spider Morris’s favorite sayings. “Just before supper a ranch hand came in asking if some men could help him come morning round up horses that broke loose.”

“That doesn’t mean trouble.”

“It does when things like that come in threes. First the fence is cut on the north pasture, then the horses break loose.”

“And the third?”

True hesitated. “Delta told me I was gonna have to take a bath tomorrow come hell or high water.”

Austin tried to hide his smile. “I see what you mean. You’d best stick close.”

True saluted and vanished into the night as Austin stepped onto the back porch. He’d left through the front, but he figured if he went back this way, he’d at least pass Jennie’s door.

The house was laid out in a square, with a private, unkept garden in the center. The main rooms—parlor, dining room and study—were along the front. The kitchen, washroom and sewing room were on the left, where most of the day shade from the cliffs kept the rooms cool. Colton’s rooms were on the right of the house, facing the sunrise. The last section of the square had been cut into four bedrooms designed for company who weren’t staying long or children. The two rooms along each wall were small with a dressing area to divide them.

Though across the hall from Jennie, Austin’s room might as well have been across the county. He walked down the hall wishing he had the nerve to knock on her door. But she’d given him no indication that she’d welcome such an advance.

Everyone in the house had either gone home or retired. Austin decided he’d just look in on Jennie and make sure she was sleeping peacefully. He had reached for her doorknob when he realized he might frighten her. After a moment of hesitation he moved down the hall to the bedroom next to hers.

Austin passed silently through the empty bedroom, following a light shining from the dressing area.

As he slowly pushed the door open a few inches, he froze at the sight before him. Jennie was sitting in a copper tub of water. Several candles lit the room to a yellow glow. Steam from the water made the air seem thick enough to grasp. Her ebony hair was piled high, and her skin glowed in the soft light.

For a moment Austin just watched. He couldn’t remember ever seeing anything so beautiful in his life. An artist could have never captured the beauty of her slender neck and back as soapy water trickled over her flesh.

While he watched, she stood. Without bothering with a towel, she took the few steps to the stack of hot bricks banking coals designed to keep water hot and the room warm. She lifted a large kettle of steaming water and poured it into her bath.

He slowly moved his gaze along her slender lines. He’d touched her in the darkness and known that she would be beautiful, but nothing as grand as the wonder standing before him.

Climbing back into the tub, she reached for the lye soap and Austin caught sight of her face. Tears streamed down her cheeks. He watched in horror as she dipped the harsh soap into the water and roughly scrubbed her body. The smell of the lye filled the thick air. She dipped the bar again and again into the water and rubbed the soap across her tender skin.

Austin looked more closely. Her skin didn’t just glow with the warmth of the candlelight, it had been reddened by the soap as well. All along her body, bruises darkened just beneath the skin. Her eyes were puffy and red from more than a few minutes’ tears.

Finally she stood, and Austin took a breath, thankful she’d stopped bathing. But she only moved to the small stove and gathered more steaming water. She took a moment to add cold water to the kettles for later.

He watched the same scene he’d once thought so lovely, now with a bitter ache twisting through him. Again she poured the steaming water over her skin. Again she scrubbed with the harsh soap as though she were washing her very soul. Again she cried.

“Jennie,” he whispered, feeling in his heart every stroke made over her flesh. “Jennie, stop!”

She looked up, for a moment not believing she’d heard her name.

Austin appeared from behind the door. “What are you doing?” His words were kind as he took the soap from her hand.

“I can’t get clean,” she cried. “I can’t get clean.”

Austin didn’t care if he got wet. He didn’t care if he woke the whole house. He pulled her from the tub and lifted the kettle in one hand.

The water tested warm as he poured it first on his hand and then over her skin. Up close he could see how raw her flesh was from the bathing. Judging from the amount of lye soap in her bathwater, she’d been here quite awhile.

Jennie didn’t move as he washed the soap off her. She only stared at him with huge eyes.

Grabbing a towel from the shelf, Austin wrapped it around her. “Stay here,” he ordered as he stormed across the hall and grabbed a bottle of lotion someone had left in his bedroom.

When he returned, Jennie hadn’t moved, but she was shivering. He carried her into her bedroom and jerked one of the quilts from her bed. Before putting it over her shoulders he rubbed the lotion on her back and arms. With the blanket resting over her, his large hands quickly moved up and down her body spreading lotion. He knew if he didn’t do something quick, her skin would be so dry in places it would be cracked and bleeding by morning. All pleasure of touching her was forgotten in his haste.

“There,” he said as he wrapped the quilt tightly around her. “That’ll help.”

She stared at him with tear-filled eyes. Feeling as though she’d reached the bottom pit of her world, she realized that somehow he’d found her.

“Jennie,” he whispered. “Everything’s all right, Jennie. No one is going to hurt you.”

“Promise you’ll come if I need you,” she whispered. “Promise.”

“I promise,” he answered as he held her. “I’ll watch over you for as long as you need me.”

She cried softly against his shoulder. “I can’t get clean.” How could she tell him that no matter how hard she scrubbed she could still feel the touch of Ward’s hands clawing at her body?

“You’re clean, Jennie.” Austin’s words interrupted her thoughts. “I’m here if you need me.”

As she forced her grief into a darkened closet of her mind, Jennie realized she’d lived through the attack and must go on with her life. “I’m afraid,” she whispered, remembering her family, who’d always said she couldn’t survive alone. “More afraid than I’ve ever been.”

Austin swore in frustration. He was never any good at talking. Fighting was much more to his liking. But how could he fight a memory of what she’d gone through? How could he fight past pain?

He looked at her, so beautiful all wrapped in a quilt, with her hair clinging around her face in damp, soft curls. What could he say to her that would make her feel better?

“Jennie,” he whispered, but she didn’t look at him.

Slowly he lifted her in his arms and walked over to the room’s only chair, a rocker. He sat down with her and rocked back and forth. Where was the strong fighter he’d met on the train, the compassionate woman who’d stayed up all night helping during the train wreck, the warrior who’d been willing to lie to him forever to save her friend?

As he rocked, her body slowly relaxed in his arms. He pulled her close against his chest. “Come back to me, Jennie,” he said over and over, like a prayer.

After a long while her arm slid up around his neck and her head rested on his shoulder. But when he said her name, she didn’t answer. She needed time to think and heal, but she couldn’t deny the tender way he held her, making her feel cherished for the first time in her life.

Long afterward she fell asleep wishing he could reach her … wondering if he’d be able to help even if he did. Maybe he’d done all he needed to do. He’d held her.

Chapter 29

J
ennie awoke long past dawn. The pale light of day ambled lazily into the room as though only planning a temporary visit. When Jennie moved, the quilt tumbled around her, mingling with the memory of Austin coming to her bath the night before.

Crossing to the window, she remembered how he hadn’t tried to kiss her or make love, yet all his actions had silently whispered of loving. He’d rocked her in his warm arms until she felt safe, with all the pain of the attack melting from her mind. She’d thought of telling him how much he meant to her, but the days without sleep had finally overtaken all reason, and she’d slumbered so soundly she hadn’t even felt him lift her into bed.

Now, looking at the gray, brooding sky, she wished she’d told him how she felt. He’d sailed like a dream lover through her fears and brought her to rest on tranquil shores. The night had been a passing, a healing, that she’d needed.

Jennie scrambled into one of her two dresses that weren’t uniforms. She hadn’t worn her calico since the dance, but the cotton still felt soft against her skin, and the layers of petticoats brushed warm over her legs. Combing her hair, Jennie let it hang free, for within she felt a new freedom building.

When she looked in the mirror, she liked the person looking back. Not the dress and hair, but the eyes. She’d had her days of feeling sorry for herself and wishing she could run back home, but now was a time to realize she was a survivor. She wasn’t some mousy, homely sister who’d always need others to make decisions for her. She’d faced evil and won.

Squaring her shoulders, Jennie opened the door, ready to face the world.

But the world didn’t seem ready for her. The house was quiet. She walked from room to room expecting to find Delta or Colton and a few of his men behind every door she opened. But the already drab house seemed even more so without the sound of voices. Even Austin’s room looked like it hadn’t been occupied all night.

Finally, Jennie pulled on a light shawl and went out onto the long front porch that ran the length of the house. The breeze was cold, encouraging her to stay close to the house and out of its path. The only sound she heard was the creaking whine of the porch swing as it twisted like an old man in the lazy wind. Bubbling blue-gray clouds hung so low they almost touched the roof of the barn. A whistling sound whispered of a storm brewing in the sky far above her.