This Loving Land (16 page)

This was the first time Jesse had been to McLean’s Keep ranch house, and he looked around appreciatively. The place was solid, permanent, and he had to admit much more to his liking than the fancy frame house at the Rocking S. He had fully expected to see Sadie Bratcher arrive with Summer. The red-haired woman had been in his thoughts of late, and he needed to see her again. He had to get the shadow of her small, frightened face out of the back of his mind and convince himself she was just a woman he felt pity for because she had almost been one of Travis’s victims.

“I’m convinced the robbings and killings are not being done by Indians, especially because a dead Apache is left every time. There’s just too many loopholes.” Captain Slane paced up and down the veranda as he talked. “They’re not very smart, or they would know Apaches never leave their dead if they can possibly take them away.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” Slater said, and told them about the man Sadie shot and about his Indian prisoner. “They’re taking those poor devils alive and killing them at the scene of the robberies. That’s not all, they’re stealing women, too. The Apache that was here had been out looking for his sister.”

The captain paused in his pacing. “You say Mrs. Bratcher killed the man that shot the boy?”

“She shore did.” Jack spoke up: “Killed him deader than a doornail.”

Jesse almost chuckled. Why, that . . . spunky little devil, he thought before he asked:

“What did the man look like?”

“Black beard, black hair, teeth broke off in front, riding a red sorrel, carrying a rifle and a six-gun, but no tucker. Told the women he was lookin’ fer Mr. McLean.”

Jesse and the captain exchanged glances.

“Did he have a heap of hair, but a bald spot on top?”

“Yup. He shore did.”

“That was Black Bealy, a drifter, outlaw. A no-good bastard that would do most anything for a dollar. He hung out for a while in Hamilton, then came out to the Rocking S looking for work. I sent him packin’. Guess he found him a job after all.” Jesse’s mind was racing to a time he had seen Travis ride away with the man. There was no doubt in Jesse’s mind that Travis was the one he was looking for. There didn’t seem to be any doubt in the captain’s mind either.

“We’re making a sortie into the hills, Slater. We’d be glad to have you come along.” Captain Slane’s sharp eyes had intercepted the glances exchanged between Slater and Jack.

“As much as I’d like to, captain, I’ll have to decline. We’re cutting out steers, and after that Summer and I are going to town to be married.” The hard planes of his face relaxed when he grinned. “If we finish in time, I want to take a jaunt into the hills myself for a few days. I don’t like the idea of that bunch coming and going on my land.”

“Wal, now, Jack and I can do that,” Bulldog snorted. “Take that lit’l gal and go on and get hitched up. Ya ain’t gonna be worth a pinch of snuff till you do.”

Jesse felt a stab of envy. Slater had found his love and he had the affection and loyalty of his men. Ellen had been so sure Summer would never marry Slater. But even she would have to see the rightness of it. As far as he was concerned, he was glad a nice, gentle girl like Summer had escaped a life of hell with Travis. Each time he caught the intimate glances exchanged between her and Slater, a tide of loneliness swamped him. Behind this, he also felt a stab of regret, so strong that his stout heart almost stopped beating. A love such as they had, one that would result in a family, was not for him. He was committed to Ellen, and after twelve years of constant companionship, he knew her well enough to know she would never share his time or his loyalty with anyone, not even children. Besides, her childbearing years were likely over. And yet . . . the old yearning held a tight grip on his heart. His life, of late, had become strange and empty.

Later, Jesse excused himself, tightened the cinch on his saddle and rode toward the creek.

There was a clammy, sick feeling in the pit of Sadie’s stomach. It had lain there now for the past weeks, sapping her strength, eating away at her self-esteem, controlling her thoughts to the extent that she realized her actions were often unreasonable. For the first time in her life, she had been happy, felt she could make a permanent place for herself and Mary, something she had not known before or after she married. She knew when she married Harm Bratcher that he was a devil-may-care drifter, a gambler, a man who was content to live from hand to mouth. He was good to her in his own way and his way was an improvement over her pa’s. Pa had thought women were good for nothing but to work in the fields and produce more babies to grow up to work in the fields.

The weather was hot and sultry. Not a breath of air circulated to stir the grasses or rouse the drooping leaves on the gigantic oak trees. The silent heat lightning flashed the promise of a storm. Thoughts ran rampant through Sadie’s mind as she watched the rolling thunderclouds. At least a storm was out there in the open, and you knew it was there. Not like Travis McLean, lurking in the hills, waiting to kill a baby because he had a powerful lot of hate for its mother.

The excitement she felt on hearing Jesse Thurston had come to the Keep had passed. The brief encounter she had with him down by the swing had been crowded from her mind by other worries, although for days after he was gone, she could recall every single word that passed between them. At night, while she lay beside Mary, she fantasized what it would be like to be loved by such a man . . . to couple with him. He would be demanding, she knew, yet gentle; giving thought to her pleasure as well as his own.

When the rider rode into the yard, Sadie thought it was Jack returning early so Raccoon could go to bed. The man tied his horse to the rail and came to the end of the porch. When the lightning flashed and she saw who it was, she got to her feet and stood on unsteady legs, her heart suddenly galloping in her chest.

Jesse could see only her blurred outline in the dark. He took off his hat and fumbled in his pocket for his tobacco and felt the peppermint stick. He drew it out and moved toward the white blur.

“Evening, ma’am.” He held out the slim stick. “I thought your little girl would like another sweet, seeing she’s so fond of them.”

“Thank you.” Sadie accepted the candy, then asked politely, woodenly, “Won’t you sit down?”

Raccoon let the chair he had tilted against the wall come down with a thump.

“How you be, Jesse?” He got up and held out his hand.

“Fine, Raccoon, just fine.”

Raccoon settled back down in his chair, wide awake now, and curious as to why Jesse would ride over when all the talk was going on at the other place. He didn’t have to wait long.

“Jack said you were keeping Mrs. Bratcher and the young’uns company. I thought I’d ride over and give you a break till Jack gets here.” Jesse didn’t add that he had overheard a certain conversation between Jack and Bulldog.

“Ah . . . well . . .” Raccoon said, and a silence followed. In that silence, it suddenly occurred to him that Jesse had come to call on Sadie. “That’s real good of ya, Jesse. I am a mite stoved up. I’ll jist wander on over to the Keep, then, and turn in. It’s been good ta see ya again, Jesse.”

“It’s been good to see you, Raccoon. Looks like those clouds up there are stirring up a storm.”

“Yup, sure do. But we need the rain.”

Events were happening so fast that Sadie’s head was spinning. She wanted Raccoon to go and she wanted him to stay. What she really wanted was for her crazy heart to settle down so she could gather her thoughts into some kind of order before she made a fool of herself.

“Thanks for staying, Raccoon. I told Jack that we’d be all right, but he wouldn’t hear of it. I’m making doughnuts tomorrow. Come on over and get a batch.”

“Wal, I reckon I’ll be here if’n I have to swim fer it. And it looks like I jist might hafta. It looks like it’s a rainin’ pitch-forks up in the hills yonder, and if’n it is, that creek thar will rise quicker’n greased lightning.”

Not a word was spoken between the two left on the veranda until after Raccoon had splashed across the creek. Sadie’s tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth and she kept her eyes on the clouds that were rolling in now, and on the brief forks of lightning that were growing brighter.

“Storm coming up,” Jesse said. “Acts like a bad one.”

A backlash of lightning showed momentarily against the overhead blackness, and in that instant Sadie turned her eyes toward him. He was looking at her with deep intensity. She flushed and caught her lower lip between her teeth to stop its trembling.

“You afraid of storms?” The voice that beat against her eardrums was the well-remembered one from the brief encounter under the cottonwood tree.

“Not of storms. I’m scared of cyclones, though.” Her voice, coming out of the tightness in her throat, sounded better than she expected, so she added, “I was in a bad one once.”

Lightning now flashed almost continuously, lighting up the sky weirdly. The bulging clouds were lower and the wind had commenced to stir. Sadie felt detached from the approaching storm. The enchantment of being alone with Jesse Thurston consumed her.

“I didn’t come just to bring candy.” His voice seemed very near. “I wanted to see how you were doing.”

“I’m doin’ fine.”

“Still glad you came here?”

“Yes. Only . . .”

“Only . . . what?” Jesse asked. She had known he would, drat it.

“Nothin’. I don’t know why I said it.”

“I like to think of you being here.” He said the words quietly, and she peered at him in the darkness, trying to see the expression on his face. At that moment, a dazzling flash lit up the area, followed instantly by utter darkness and a tremendous clap of thunder that left Sadie with her hands over her ears.

“Oh . . . the kids will wake up and be scared!”

Jesse went to the end of the porch and scanned the sky. Without warning, the wind swept through and a few big drops of rain hurled down, plopping on the stone floor. Sadie dashed to pull the flower box, that was full to overflowing with bright marigold blooms, up against the house. Jesse came to help her.

“I’ll put my horse in the shed.”

“You better hurry up, or you’ll get a soakin’.”

Jesse took off at a run, and Sadie watched the wind tearing at his hair and remembered to pick up the hat he’d left lying on the chair. Her heart was singing as she went into the house, fumbled in the darkness for the lamp, lit it, and hurried to the mirror over the washstand. After patting her bronze curls in place, she whipped off her soiled apron and stuffed it under the bunk, pulled the curtain that separated her sleeping quarters from the kitchen and quickly glanced around to be certain everything was neat. Trying to keep the smile off her face, she shook down the ashes, filled the stove with kindling to make a quick fire, and set the coffee pot on to boil.

She peered out the window. A blaze of lightning showed Jesse racing toward the house. She flung the door open as he got there. He ducked inside just as the storm struck. The rain came in a tremendous sheet and, driven by the powerful wind, hit the side of the cabin with a force that shook the walls.

Happiness bubbled up in Sadie and she laughed up at Jesse. He laughed with her, and the change in his face was astonishing.

“Yore all wet! I’ll get you a towel.”

His gray eyes clung to her face. “I’d a been wetter if you hadn’t a had the door open.” He wiped his face and hair on the towel. At the washstand he washed his hands and used the comb that lay in the comb case attached to the wall. His hair was surprisingly thick and curled back from his forehead in deep waves.

“I’m surprised the young’uns are still asleep after all that racket the thunder made, but they play so hard they’re wore out by night-time. You know how kids are, got more ginger than brains.” She moved quickly and set two cups on the table after whipping away the cloth that covered the caster set. “That’s a fierce storm,” she said after another particularly loud clap of thunder. “I was in one once in a covered wagon and, I tell you, there ain’t nothin’ scarier.” Pinching the doughnuts in the warming oven to test their freshness, she wished they were a day newer and said so. “If’n I’d a cooked doughnuts today like I was goin’ to, they would be a heap better. The men on this place! Land-a-goshen, how they eat doughnuts. They’d eat ’em if’n they was a month old and the crows had been at ’em.”

She set the plate on the table and looked at Jesse. His face was relaxed and his usually grim mouth was slightly parted and tilted at the corners. His eyes . . . how could she have thought they were cold? They were warm and bright and . . . twinkling! Color came slowly up her neck and turned her cheeks crimson. She put her palms against them.

“I’m a talkin’ too much? she wailed.

Jesse put his head back and laughed out loud. The sound startled her. He got to his feet and reached her in one stride. He pulled her hands from her face.

“I was hopin’ you wouldn’t stop.” He released her hands. “Sit down. I’ll pour the coffee.”

Sadie sank down in the chair and stared straight ahead, her face red, her hands dug deep in her lap. She sat there, feeling an aching torment. Why had she made such a jackass out of herself by rattling on like that?

Jesse was on his second doughnut and she hadn’t said another word.

“You’re not all talked out, are you?” His voice held a tinge of amusement.

Her green eyes lifted from her cup and dejectedly gazed into his. “Sometimes, my mouth works and my brains don’t.”

He laughed again. “You still make a mighty good doughnut.”

From the laughter in his eyes, she knew he was teasing, and her pounding heart released a flood of happiness that reflected in her brilliant smile.

The thunder rolled and the wind-driven rain lashed the house. A small puddle of water began to form under the door. Sadie placed a rag rug against the door, stepping on it so it would absorb the water. Jesse refilled their cups and it gave her a chance to look at him without his steady gray eyes on her. He was as tall as Slater and slightly heavier. This was the first time she had seen him without a hat. His hair had silver strands at the temples. She suspected he was the type of man whose hair would be completely gray before he was very old.

Jesse sat down and stretched his legs out in front of him.

“Mama . . . pee, pee.” Mary came out from behind the curtain. Her bronze curls, so like her mother’s, were tangled, her small face flushed with sleep. The nightdress that ended halfway between her knees and ankles was an old, cut-off shift of Sadie’s.

Sadie went to her quickly. “Are you sure, Mary?” The whispered words sounded choked in her throat.

“Pee, pee,” Mary said again, and Sadie groaned inwardly. Why did she have to say it so loud? She drew her behind the curtain and pulled the chamber pot from beneath the bunk, lifted the child’s nightdress, and set her on the rim. As Mary let the water go, the tinkling sound caused Sadie to grind her teeth. Replacing the lid, she slid the pot under the bed, and lifted Mary back on it.

“Go to sleep, baby.” She leaned over and kissed her cheek, ignoring the green eyes that stared at her in the semidarkness, and went back into the kitchen, keeping her own green eyes turned from Jesse.

She had no more than sat down and lifted her cup to her lips, when Mary came out from behind the curtain and made a beeline for Jesse.

“Mary . . . baby . . .”

Mary ran the last few steps and crawled up on Jesse’s lap. He lifted her up and cuddled her against him. Sadie reached to take her.

“Let her stay,” Jesse said, stroking the curls back from the child’s face. “I don’t get to hold such a pretty girl very often.”

Sadie stood uncertainly beside the chair, and an emotion rose up in her as acute as pain. A longing to be held, cuddled, protected and cherished was so strong in her that she felt weak and sat down, but not before Jesse’s sharp eyes caught the look of yearning on her face.

He lifted the child up closer in his arms, liking the feel of the small, warm, trusting little creature clinging to him. God . . . what must it be like to have one of your own?

“Where did you live before you came to Hamilton?” He wanted to hear her voice. It had a light, musical quality to it.

“Just about all over. Georgetown, Austin . . . even Waco.” She lifted clear eyes to his. “My . . . husband was like a skeeter. He flitted around a lot.”

“Did you love him?”

“No!” Her voice was almost angry, then softened. “No, but he warn’t so bad.”

“Why did you marry him?”

Sadie shrugged the question off.

“Did you have to marry?” Jesse persisted.

Her nostrils flared, angry lights flashed in the green eyes, and she said through tight lips:

“No, I didn’t! If you got to know why, it was cause I ain’t built to pull no plow, that’s why!” She tossed her head and glared at him. “Why do you do what you do?”

In Jesse’s mind a thousand thoughts clashed in riotous confusion. Why did he do what he did? Because he had found a niche for himself, that’s why. He had Ellen, a job, responsibility. It was enough reason for any man.