Читать книгу Joe's Wife - Cheryl St.John - Страница 11

Chapter Four

Tye Hatcher wanted children.

Meg turned the lamp wick down low, removed her clothing and pulled a snowy white linen night shift over her head and buttoned it up to her throat.

Of course he wanted children. Now that he’d brought it up, she might as well get used to the fact that this was going to be a marriage in all respects. She would follow through on her part of the arrangement. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t given a lot of consideration to bringing him here.

She fell to her knees beside the hide-upholstered trunk at the foot of the bed and raised the lid, Reverently, she ran her hands over Joe’s shirts, fingered a hairbrush with a few fair strands still caught in the bristles, and took out a packet of letters held together by a faded ribbon.

Joe had wanted children, too.

These letters were filled with dreams for their future, plans for the ranch, words of caring and commitment. She didn’t want to read them just now. She knew exactly how long it took to read them all, where Joe’d been when he’d written each one, and the post from which each envelope had been mailed.

She knew, too, the bittersweet feelings of melancholy and heartache that swamped her when she allowed herself to open and read them. Those moments were best saved for nights when she could handle the feelings of abandonment and loss.

This wasn’t one of them.

Meg replaced the stack of letters carefully, closed the trunk and, after blowing out the lantern, climbed into bed.

She and Joe had wanted a family.

Each month her body prepared for a baby, and each month came and went without hope for a seed being planted. She was still young though; her body was still firm and strong.

Tye Hatcher was the means to help her fulfill all of her and Joe’s dreams. The ranch. The stock. The children to inherit the land.

That’s how Joe would want it.

She snuggled deep into the coverlet and rubbed her feet against each other for warmth. She would tell Mother Telford tomorrow. Harley and Niles would have to spare her their condescending offers and their patronizing attitudes. She wasn’t going to be put off her ranch now or ever.

Tye Hatcher would help her see to that.

A bolt of unease rocked her midsection and shot a shiver up her spine. She’d known Tye Hatcher since they were children. He was right, about his treatment by the community. She’d told him she didn’t care what the citizens of Aspen Grove thought of her. She wanted with all her heart for that to be true.

She would make it true.

Tye couldn’t help who his parents had been. It was unfair of people to treat him cruelly because of things that were beyond his control.

She could help them see that.

Joe and Tye had never been friends exactly, but Joe had never treated Tye badly, either. This was what Joe would have wanted her to do. Assuring herself of that, she hugged a feather pillow to her breast.

Saturday.

In six days she would marry Tye Hatcher and bring him to the ranch.

Five more nights alone in this bed.

And then she’d be Tye’s wife.

It hadn’t gone well. Not well at all. But then Meg hadn’t expected her announcement to be met with congratulations and hugs of encouragement. Edwina Telford had turned as red as a pickled beet and fairly exploded with indignation. “You can’t be serious!” she’d screeched, bringing Wilsie on the run.

“I am serious, Mother Telford,” Meg had said before Edwina could gather up enough steam to roll over her. “And nothing you can say or do will dissuade me. I’ve made up my mind that I’m going to keep the ranch, and this is how I aim to do it.”

Wilsie brought smelling salts and waved the bottle under her mother’s nose. “My poor Joe will turn over in his grave, God rest his soul,” the woman moaned, wringing her lace handkerchief. “His wife taking up with the likes of that—that good-for-nothing illegitimate rakehell! O-oh! I’ll never be able to hold my head up in this town again.”

“Joe would want me to do whatever it took to hang on to our ranch,” Meg disagreed, refusing to be swayed by her mother-in-law’s histrionics. “It’s not you who’s marrying Tye Hatcher—”

“Don’t speak that name to me!”

“It’s me, and you don’t have to approve of what I’m doing. I’m doing it no matter what anyone thinks. There’s no law against it. I’m an adult and a free woman, and I’ll marry whomever I please. Harley and Niles will have to forsake their plans to disburse my land. It’s going to stay mine.”

“Yours! It’s going to fall into the hands of that man, and who knows what he’ll do with it or what will become of you after he’s drunk and gambled away your last dollar!”

“He promised me he would never sell.”

“Promised? What good is the promise of a heathen like that? Meg Telford, you’ve lost your mind! He’ll make you miserable. He’ll take you down with him! Why, he spends his money and his time in the saloons. He drinks and consorts with floozies! I’ve a notion to send you to the doctor in...”

And so it had gone, with Edwina ranting about Meg dishonoring Joe’s memory, and poor Wilsie trembling and casting Meg fearful sidelong glances. Meg had driven the team home, fully expecting Harley to be close on her heels. He hadn’t arrived until after the accounting office where he worked had closed for the day.

And then she’d gone over the same arguments with him. Mother Telford had a room all ready for her. Meg wouldn’t have to bother herself with the running of a ranch. Edwina needed the company. Tye Hatcher was a sorry excuse for a man. He would ruin her good name and hurt her.

But Meg had stood her ground, firm in her belief that she was doing the right thing—the only thing—to keep Joe’s ranch. Harley had ridden off, anger and disapproval leaving a dusty trail behind him.

It was too much to expect them to understand this soon, she could see that, but they would come around. They had to. Eventually they’d see that she’d made a wise choice in taking Tye Hatcher on to save her land. Tye couldn’t possibly be as bad as they’d made him out to be. Why, it would take three men to do all the things he’d reportedly done and would soon repeat.

Meg had to concentrate on taking care of business. Preparing for this wedding certainly wasn’t like anticipating the first. With no time to have invitations printed, she wrote several notes to her friends and family and posted them, but no one showed up to help her, and the only responses she received were regrets.

Their treatment hurt, but she refused to let it deter her. As soon as they saw that what she’d done was for the best, they would change their minds.

Saturday morning, she gave the house a last-minute cleaning before bathing and dressing, then Gus and Purdy accompanied her into Aspen Grove.

Only a pitiful handful of guests sat in the pews when she made her way to the front of the church. Glancing at them, she recalled her first wedding, the freshly polished pews packed with friends and family in their best clothing, the scent of chrysanthemums drifting on the summer air. That had been the happiest day of her life.

Meg recognized Gwynn immediately and breathed a sigh of relief that at least one person from her family had chosen to bless this union.

A dark-haired woman whom she’d seen in town and knew only as Rosa sat several rows behind Gwynn.

Jed Wheeler sat alone at the opposite end of the hard, polished pew Rosa occupied. He slipped a finger into his shirt collar and adjusted it.

Meg smiled at Aldo and Hunt Eaton’s shy, grinning faces, wondering if they’d asked their parents’ permission or if they’d simply left her cattle long enough to attend.

Reverend Baker smiled warmly and gestured for Meg to take her place beside Tye.

Finally, she allowed herself to look at him, the man she was about to marry. His deep blue eyes gave away nothing of what he was feeling. He held his solid jaw stiff and met her gaze squarely.

“Tye?” she questioned uncertainly.

Something behind his eyes flickered. Surprise? Doubt?

She extended her gloved hand.

His unreadable gaze drifted across her hair, fell to her crocheted collar and then to her gloved hand. Without pause, he accepted it with both of his and held it firmly between his large palms. Heat seeped through the fabric of her gloves.

“Are we ready, then?” Reverend Baker asked softly.

“We’re ready,” Tye replied.

The reverend nodded, and to Meg’s surprise, Fiona Hill, whom she hadn’t noticed sitting behind the organ before, unskillfully launched into a wedding song. Meg gave Tye a smile, pleased that he had thought to add music to the hasty ceremony.

“Dearly beloved,” Reverend Baker began, once the last harsh notes reverberated into the morning air.

Meg listened to the same words he’d recited over her and Joe that sunny morning so long ago. She didn’t place the same naive hope in the vows as she once had. Her first marriage had held promise and had been a union of love.

Not that she didn’t take this one seriously, for she did. She meant to adhere to her pledge. But this was a business arrangement, an agreement, and she in no way felt the same love and anticipation she had when she’d married Joe.

Tye understood that.

“And repeat after me, ‘With this ring I thee wed.”’

Tye released her left hand, and Reverend Baker waited expectantly.

Meg stared in numb recognition at the silver band Tye held between his long thumb and forefinger. “Oh.”

She hadn’t been expecting a ring. She had a ring. Awkwardly, she tugged off her glove and glanced at the gold band she still wore. Joe’s ring.

But of course, she wouldn’t be able to wear the ring Joe had given her. Her face warmed in embarrassment. Without stopping to think about what she was doing, she twisted the band from her finger, dropped the ring into her pocket and extended her hand.

“With this ring I thee wed.” Tye’s voice sounded oddly distant as he repeated the words. He took her hand and slid the warm silver band into place, his fingers strong and hard. She stared down, finding the silver piece strangely out of place on her finger.

A new pain, deep and dull and laced with bitter resignation, expanded in her chest. She blinked back the humiliating prickle of tears and unthinkingly gripped Tye’s hand hard. His other came to rest over the back of hers, its gentleness and warmth a much needed reassurance.

“I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”.

Without a second’s hesitation, as if he feared she might balk or bolt or burst into tears, Tye leaned forward and kissed her cheek, then quickly straightened.

With a characteristic lack of finesse, Fiona banged out the wedding march, and Meg allowed Reverend Baker and Tye to escort her to the back of the tiny building. One by one, the few guests offered congratulations and stepped out into the sunshine.

Gwynn gripped Meg’s fingers. “I hope this is right, Meg,” she said shakily. “I do wish you the best”

“Thank you for coming,” Meg managed to say around the knot of distress in her throat. “I’m going to be just fine. Don’t worry about me.”

“Well, you come to me if you need anything.” She glanced around. “Harley doesn’t know I came. So I’d best hurry home before he figures out where I went.” She pressed her cheek against her sister-in-law’s. “I’ll see you in church tomorrow.” She rushed down the wooden stairs.

Her concern touched Meg.

“This is Rosa Casals,” Tye said from beside her.

“Of course,” Meg said, turning to greet the dark-eyed woman. “Thank you for coming.”

“I just wanted to congratulate you both. Here’s a little something from me and Lottie. It’s not much.” She pressed a small, paper-wrapped package into Meg’s hands.

“Why, thank you!” Meg said with surprise. A wedding gift!

“Well, goodbye and good luck,” Rosa said. “Hatch, I’ll see you before I leave town.” Hastily, she left the church.

Meg looked at the package in her hands. None of her Telford family except Gwynn had come to this ceremony. None of the other church members. If her hired hands and Tye’s two friends hadn’t come, no one would have witnessed their marriage.

Tye stepped into the small cloakroom with Reverend Baker, and Meg realized he was paying him for the ceremony. “Come sign the certificate, Meg,” the reverend called easily.

A few minutes later, they stood outside the building, and the surroundings seemed oddly ordinary compared with the rest of this surreal day.. “Well,” she said. “Do we need to go get your things?”

Tye nodded.

Gus pulled up the wagon, Purdy riding in the bed, then got down and climbed in beside Purdy, leaving Tye and Meg to climb onto the springed seat.

“You know Gus and Purdy?” she asked.

“Worked roundups with ’em,” Tye said, nodding to the two older men. “Guess we’ll be working the ranch together now.”

Purdy leaned forward and shook Tye’s hand, mumbling his congratulations. Tye took the reins and drove the team to Banks’s Boardinghouse. Meg and her hands stood, preparing to get down, but Tye stopped them with an upraised palm. “I’ll be right back.”

“We’ll help,” Meg offered in bewilderment.

“Don’t need help.”

She exchanged a glance with Gus, then sat back down. Tye eased himself to the ground carefully. A few minutes later he returned carrying a saddle and saddlebags, a bedroll and two rifles. He wore his hat and had strapped his gun belt to his hips. He stashed the saddle and bags in the back, the rifles under the seat, climbed back up and took the reins.

Meg said nothing. She’d been in his rented room once, yet she hadn’t realized he owned nothing more than these few possessions. A man didn’t need much, she guessed.

He made another stop at the stables for his horse, tied it behind the wagon and led the team out of town. They didn’t speak more than a few words on the ride home, Meg knowing that the two old men were seated behind them and that any awkward thing they might say would be overheard.

Tye couldn’t get the image of Meg’s shock and confusion over the ring out of his mind. Had she planned to wear her first husband’s ring even though she was marrying him? No, she must’ve just forgotten. But it bothered him.

She’d stared at that gold band on her hand, and he’d stared at it, too, knowing it was worth a lot more than the silver one he’d loaded fertilizer for four nights to earn.

And then, as if she’d been sacrificing an arm, she’d worked the ring from her finger and allowed him to replace it. No one in attendance believed theirs was an alliance of love and passion, so he had nothing to hide. But the fact that she’d worn Joe’s ring to their wedding seared a new, yet familiar brand of humiliation into his previously callused hide.

Tye observed the land they reached and the meager assortment of buildings with mixed emotions. Legally this land was his now. Morally, it was Meg’s. They’d struck a bargain. His entire life he’d never owned anything worth more than a rifle or a horse. He’d never had a place to call home or to sink time and sweat and energy into. He meant for this to be that place.

And he meant to do right by Meg and by their agreement.

Gus took the team and Tye retrieved his things.

Meg led him into the house.

The kitchen, smelling of warm bread, took up the entire back half of the structure. An enormous castiron stove stood at one end of the room. Two long trestle tables, lined end to end, occupied the center of the floor, benches along their lengths. The other side of the long room held a fireplace, a rocker and a few mismatched, overstuffed chairs. That area, which opened into an L-shape, shared the fireplace with whatever lay beyond the doorway.

Meg removed her bonnet and gloves and set the small package on the table.

Tye deposited his belongings near the door.

“I’ll show you the rest of the house,” she said matter-of-factly.

He followed her down the length of the room to the bottom of the L. The space around the corner held a sofa and chair, an oak cabinet of some sort and a glass-fronted china closet.

“That was my grandmother’s. Joe and I planned to have a real house someday, with a porch and a dining room and a parlor. I have my mother’s china packed away. No sense using it out here with only cowhands eating at my table.”

“You can still have your house with a porch and your dining room,” Tye said.

She didn’t look at him. “Maybe someday,” was all she said.

After a minute, she opened a door that led into a bedroom that smelled like violets—like her. He followed her uneasily.

He first noticed her chest of drawers just inside the door, a tall, hand-carved piece of heavy furniture. A comb and brush, a book and a few hairpins lay on the top. Meg’s things. He had the crazy desire to reach out and touch them, but he kept his hand at his side.

A metal bedstead stood against the wall, the mattress covered with a star-patterned quilt, soft-looking, homey, inviting images of sleeping with her beneath its downy comfort. He refused to entertain those thoughts right now and let out a slow, self disciplining breath.

At the foot of the bed sat a horsehide chest. The stand beside the bed held a pitcher and face bowl on an embroidered scarf. He pictured her standing there in her underclothes... or less... washing. A reprehensible tide of heat and longing engulfed him, and he reminded himself she’d brought him here to show him where he’d sleep, not to rip off his clothes and immediately sate his aroused body.

Whatever happened between them would have to happen naturally. Slowly.

He turned abruptly. A wardrobe stood on the opposite wall. Tye’s attention was riveted on a pair of black polished Union boots standing beside it. Joe’s boots.

Joe’s room.

With a sinking feeling of disappointment in his gut, Tye pulled his gaze from the boots.

He didn’t let himself look at the bed again.

Another man still occupied this room.

Inasmuch as they’d struck a bargain, he was a stranger to this woman. She’d been widowed barely a year. He’d seen the grief and pain in her eyes that day outside the mercantile when she’d asked him about her husband’s body.

She wore a pale green cambric dress with darker green stripes, obviously not new, but nice, and he’d been pleased to see her appear in it that morning. Of course, she couldn’t wear mourning to her own wedding ceremony, so this dress didn’t mean anything, he realized. She was still wearing black in her heart.

She needed Tye to help her keep this ranch. But she didn’t love him.

“Is there another room?” he asked without much hope. The house hadn’t looked that big from the outside, and this seemed like the only space left behind the kitchen.

“A pantry,” she replied. “A root cellar. And some storage space in the attic.”

“Can I see it?”

“The attic?”

He nodded.

“Well... sure.”

She led him back into the other room and pointed to a trapdoor overhead. “Pull on there,” she instructed, indicating the dangling rope.

He did, and a narrow set of stairs extended. Grimacing against the pain in his thigh, he climbed the steps and surveyed the room above. It ran the width of the house and had a tiny window at each end. A few packing crates sat in a far corner, probably holding Meg’s mother’s china. The space wasn’t tall enough to stand in, but the flooring was solid and there was room to stretch out.

“I’ll sleep up here,” he decided aloud.

“What?” she called from below.

He descended the stairs carefully, holding his expression firm. “I’ll sleep up there.”

Her wide hazel eyes rounded with surprise. “Why?”

“I can’t sleep in the barn, because I assume your hands have rooms out there.”

“Yes, but—”

“So, I’ll sleep up there.” He started to walk away from her, then decided he owed her an explanation and turned back.

She met his eyes, doubt clouding hers.

“We need a little time to get to know one another,” he said. Besides, there was already one man sleeping in that bed with her, three would make a crowd. “Let’s give each other that time.”

Was that relief he saw in her expression?

A deep rose flush darkened her neck and cheeks. Her gaze moved to his shirtfront. If she had any feelings on the subject, she kept them to herself. But she didn’t argue with him.

He’d known she wouldn’t.

“Why don’t you open your gift?” he suggested.

“Oh, oh yes, of course.” She bustled into the kitchen. The small package looked pathetically alone on the enormous table. Meg approached it, reminded of her wedding to Joe and the reception that had followed at the Telford home, with guests spilling into the yard and gaily wrapped packages stacked atop a table on the veranda.

That had been before the war, when the citizens of Aspen Grove and the neighboring ranches had still been prosperous. Many of the items she and Joe had received that day had since been traded or sold.

Meg slipped the white ribbon from the package and peeled back the paper. The box held a set of carefully wrapped, cut-glass salt and pepper shakers with sterling silver lids.

“They’re lovely,” she said, and meant it. She’d had an entire set, much like them, consisting of spoon trays and berry bowls, jelly dishes and cruets, but those had been among the items she’d sold for feed last winter. “Rosa said it was from her and Lottie. Who’s Lottie?”

He couldn’t explain Lottie to her. Not just yet. “Lottie is...another friend of mine.”

“Oh. Well, it was kind of them to send a gift. I’ll be sure to send a proper thank-you.”

“I’m sure you will.”

She met his eyes uncertainly.

He’d have to tell her eventually. He’d given his word to take Eve and raise her.

Tye watched the mixture of expressions cross her lovely face, studied her straight spine as she turned and placed the salt and pepper shakers in her cabinet. The pale green dress was lovely on her. Its cinched style showed off the tiny waist he’d often admired and left him wondering about the softly rounded hips and legs so well hidden beneath the folds of the skirt.

A small, knitted purse with tasseled ties still hung forgotten from her elbow.

It had been all he could do in the time he’d had before today to earn the cash money for the ring. He would have liked to have given her something else, an heirloom or something meaningful, something a woman like her deserved. He’d never had much more than the clothes he wore. When he was old enough, he’d made enough to provide for his mother, and the rest...well, the rest he’d drunk and gambled because he was isolated and lonely—and because it was expected of him.

She wouldn’t have wanted anything that had belonged to his mother, anyway, even if he’d had somcthing.

Two solid thumps on the screen door brought him out of his thoughts.

Meg turned with a smile. “That’s Major. He must have been out hunting when we arrived. He’s probably curious to know who’s here.”

The door opened without her crossing to open it, and an enormous, long-haired dog nosed his way through. He carried a chunk of wood in his mouth, promptly crossed the room and dropped it in the wood box beside the stove.

“Good boy, Major,” she said with a laugh.

The dog immediately zeroed in on Tye and came forward slowly, nose sniffing the air, tail wagging low.

Meg crossed to Tye and touched his arm. “This is Major,” she explained, the touch obviously a sign for the animal that he was a friend.

The heat from her fingers seeped through his shirtsleeve, and Tye stopped himself from moving away from the temptation of her nearness. She moved away herself soon enough. “I’ll change now. I was going to make a pie for our supper.”

“I’ll change, too. And then I’ll acquaint myself with the place.”

“I know it doesn’t look like much right now,” she said apologetically. “We’ve had to let some things go in order to care for the stock. The fellas try, but, well...”

“It’s the best place I’ve ever lived, ma’am,” he told her honestly. “I’ll do all I can to take care of things now.”

She smiled then, a genuine smile of reassurance. “I believe you will, Tye. If I didn’t believe that, well, we wouldn’t be here right now. Neither one of us.”

Meaning she’d have been put off her ranch, and he’d still be trying to earn enough money to buy an acre or two. This way they each had what they wanted.

It would be a fine place to bring Eve to, as well. Maybe he should have told Meg about the child before they’d gotten married, but there just hadn’t been the right time. Working extra hours for the ring and these clothes had seemed the imperative need at the time. He had no idea how he was going to find the words to tell her now.

Besides, there would still be a little time for her to get used to the idea—he hoped. He hadn’t checked on Lottie for several days, so he really wasn’t sure about her condition.

Tye picked up his belongings, stowed them in the attic and changed into work clothes. No time like the present to get down to business.

Meg hated herself for the sense of relief that had accompanied Tye’s decision to sleep in the attic. She should have spoken up, shouldn’t have allowed him to postpone the inevitable. But she’d gone along. And the fact that she’d been unable to fall asleep that night was likely due to guilt over his uncomfortable sleeping arrangements.

She rose early and prepared breakfast as she always did. Gus, probably allowing them privacy, hadn’t ground the beans or started the coffee, which added another task to her routine.

Tye appeared from outside with Gus and Purdy. The two hands hung their hats and took their places beside each other on a bench. Tye stood awkwardly to the side.

Meg placed a hot plate of skillet cakes on the table, then realized he was waiting for her to assign him a seat.

“There.” She gestured to a single chair at the end. The chair where she usually sat. The chair that had been Joe’s.

Tye stood behind it.

Gus and Purdy dug into the food without hesitation.

“You don’t have to wait for me to sit,” she said, realizing his intent. “I jump up and down a half-dozen times during a meal.”

Tye seated himself.

Meg poured coffee, then sat to his left.

No one said much as they ate together, their first morning in this new situation. Meg tried to make it seem natural but knew she wasn’t fooling anyone.

Tye ate more slowly than the ranch hands. And he didn’t eat half as much as most men she’d cooked for.

She tasted everything to make sure she hadn’t made a mistake in her haste. It all tasted fine to her.

“Everything all right?” she asked hesitantly.

He looked up from his plate, his deep blue eyes vibrant in the morning light that streamed through the long kitchen windows. “Everything’s just fine, ma’am. Thank you.”

Meg glanced at Gus, and he met her eyes only briefly, then popped his last bite of ham into his mouth, downed his coffee and stood.

Purdy followed, going for his hat.

“We’ve just got enough time to change,” Meg said, folding her napkin.

Tye laid down his fork and sat still.

“Tye?” she asked curiously.

Gus and Purdy tromped out the door with a screech of hinges.

“You don’t want me to come to church with you,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

“But of course I do. I always go to church.”

“I don’t.”

She had started to get up, but she eased back down on the bench. “Aren’t you a God-fearing man, Tye Hatcher?”

“Yes, ma’am. But for your sake, I fear God’s good people more.”