JOE'S WIFE Read online

If possible, she seemed even smaller and frailer than she had the last time he'd seen her. "How's Molly?"

  "Molly's scared."

  "What's Molly scared of?"

  "She thinks I'm gonna leave her."

  Her tiny voice and revealing words pierced that vulnerable place inside him—a reaction he thought he'd toughened himself against, until she'd come into his life. "You wouldn't leave Molly if you could help it, would you?"

  "Won't never leave her. She needs me."

  How did a person comfort a child losing her mother? Maybe she shouldn't be here for this ugly and terrifying end. But Rosa had informed Tye that Lottie still had a few lucid hours now and then when she asked for Eve. The child was all Lottie had in the world, and she seemed to need her there.

  Lottie needed Eve. And Eve needed Tye. He would be there for her. He'd promised Lottie.

  "Eve, you know your mama wouldn't leave you if she could help it," he said.

  "Can't help she's sick," she replied.

  "That's right. And she's done all she can to make sure you're taken care of. She doesn't want you to be afraid."

  "Can't help she's gonna die," the little girl said somberly.

  Did she even understand what that meant? "I'm going to take care of you, Eve," he promised her. "You don't have to be scared 'cause you'll be just fine with me."

  He stayed with her for an hour, watching her play, listening to her lilting voice and losing his heart to her every mannerism and word.

  "I'll be back," he promised.

  "When?"

  "As soon as I can." He moved closer, willing strength into her with every ounce of his being. "If you need me sooner, Rosa will send for me."

  "Where are we gonna live—when you come for me for good, I mean?"

  "On a ranch, Eve. It's a wonderful place with lots of room to run and play. And a dog."

  "A dog?"

  He nodded and she smiled. "Are there any other kids?"

  "No. But there's a nice lady. And lots of horses."

  "Can I ride the horses?"

  He slid to his knees, ignoring the resulting stab of pain, and took her slender shoulders in his hands, noting her diminutive bone structure and running his palms down her arms to her hands. "I'll teach you to ride. We'll eat together every night. We'll go to church and have Sunday dinner afterward. And sometimes we'll even go on picnics."

  "What's that?"

  "That's when you pack food in a basket and take it somewhere nice, like under a tree, to eat it."

  She tilted her head, and her eyes widened. "How do you carry milk in a basket?"

  Tye grinned and wanted to hug her. "In a jar, I guess."

  She smiled. "That sounds fun. Is it fun?"

  "I'm sure it is." He'd never been on a picnic himself. Tye realized he was promising her all the things he'd only dreamed of doing as a child. "Of course it is. It's lots of fun."

  "Will the nice lady come, too?"

  He nodded.

  "What's her name?"

  "Meg."

  "Is she pretty?"

  "She's the prettiest lady I've ever seen."

  Her smile turned to a frown. "My mama's the prettiest lady."

  "Of course, you're right. Meg is the second-prettiest lady."

  She grinned. "I can't wait to go for the picwic."

  "Me, neither."

  He never left Rosa's house without a deep feeling of sadness and melancholy eating at his insides. Fear crept in around the edges of that, making him question his ability to care for Eve, making him wish he'd told Meg up front and not waited until the day was imminent. He would tell her tonight. He had to. She'd need some time to prepare.

  Tye stopped at the saloon and picked up his last pay, had a shot and questioned the few ranchers who'd stopped for a drink. One of them mentioned a neighbor who might be interested in breeding his mares, so Tye rode west and paid a call on the rancher.

  It was late afternoon when he returned to the Circle T. True to her word, Meg had left a plate on the trestle table. Tye lifted the towel and discovered a sandwich, cut neatly into four squares. He ate two of them and washed them down with cold coffee he found in a pot on the stove.

  "I could have heated that up for you."

  He turned to find Meg carrying a basket of folded clothing in the door. "No need."

  Her eyes flickered to the plate and back. "How was your trip?"

  "It was good. I found someone willing to pay to have three of his mares bred."

  "Why, that's wonderful!"

  "Yeah. He'll send for me when they're in season."

  Her expression fell. "Oh, of course. That could be a while."

  "Yeah." Meanwhile the payment had to be made to the bank. "There's money from your eggs." He laid the coins on the table, knowing they were barely enough to buy a few staples.

  Meg glanced at them.

  He'd tell her about Eve later, after supper, after Gus and Purdy were in the barn for the night and everything was quiet.

  She placed a few towels beside the money and carried the rest of the laundry into the other room.

  At supper all the food was in serving dishes and Meg didn't place anything on Tye's plate, allowing him to select his own portions. She even raised one eyebrow in a question before she poured him more coffee. He exchanged a look with Gus but, never having discussed the matter with the old man, had no idea what was going on in his head. Or Meg's, for that matter. At least he wasn't forced to politely stuff himself and suffer the consequences later.

  After dinner, he rolled a smoke in the corral, checked on the animals and milked the cows. He found Meg had pulled the rocker into the cramped sitting room. A basket of mending sat at her feet, a shirt in her lap. The front door stood open, and she sat in the line of the chilling breeze. The sun had gone down behind the mountains and the temperature had dropped quickly. He carried a comfortable chair in and sat a few feet from her.

  "You'll let me see to that leg again tonight," she said.

  The leg hadn't bothered him near as much that day, and he knew her nearness would be a test of his resolve. But the heat and the liniment had helped, and her tender care was an exquisite torture he'd endure at any cost. His silence was his acquiescence.

  His heart beat a panicked rhythm. "There's something I need to tell you."

  Her fingers didn't halt their progress with the needle and thread. "All right."

  "I probably should have found a way to tell you before, but there never seemed to be a right time."

  "Tell me before what, Tye?"

  "Before we got married."

  "We didn't have a before."

  "Yeah, that's right."

  "What is it?"

  "You asked me who Lottie was, and I told you she was a friend."

  "Yes." Her fingers paused, then continued.

  "She used to work in the saloon. Years ago."

  "I see."

  "She's sick now. Dying of consumption."

  Meg raised her tawny gaze. "I'm sorry to hear that."

  A calf they'd been doctoring bawled from the pen. Meg shivered.

  Tye got up, closed the door and lit the fire he'd already laid in the fireplace. "She has a little girl. Her name's Eve."

  Meg just looked at him as if she were wondering when he was going to get to the point.

  He watched the flames catch and grow, then sat back down. "Lottie and I used to be friends. There was never anything serious between us. Just—friends."

  Still she waited.

  "I must be the only person she really knows—besides Rosa—that she feels she can trust."

  Meg gave up on the sewing and let her hands rest in her lap.

  "She asked me to take care of her little girl."

  Meg lifted a brow at that. "You? Did that strike you as unusual?"

  "I guess so. But like I said, she doesn't have anyone else."

  "Who's her father?"

  "She wouldn't know."

  She couldn't look at him. Even Tye felt a wash of embar
rassment at saying something so obviously shocking to this genteel woman before him. "How long does Lottie want you to take care of her for?" she asked finally.

  "Forever."

  Meg was pretty good at keeping the astonishment from her expression. "She just wanted to give you this child of hers?"

  He nodded.

  "When did this take place?"

  "The same week you came to me with your … proposal."

  Finally, she picked up the material again and started the chair to gently rocking. "What a preposterous thing to do. What did you tell her?"

  "I told her I would."

  Her hands stilled. The chair stopped.

  "You'll love her, Meg. She's a beautiful child."

  She leaned forward and placed one hand on the arm of the rocker. "We can't take someone else's child just like that!"

  "Why not?"

  "Well, I don't even know this woman, or her child."

  "That doesn't change the fact that Eve needs a home."

  "This Lottie worked in the saloon, you say?"

  He nodded.

  She leaned back. "I didn't fall off the cart yesterday, Tye. I know what that means."

  "Eve can't help what her mother is, what she did."

  "That doesn't mean we have to take her."

  "I gave my word."

  "Without asking me!"

  "Lottie asked me to take Eve before you asked me to marry you. Even if she'd asked afterward, I would have done the same thing. The kid will go to an orphan asylum if I don't take her. Lottie made me promise I wouldn't let that happen. I don't want to let that happen."

  "Can't you find someone else to take her?"

  "There isn't anyone else."

  "There must be someone."

  "There isn't. No one wants a bastard child. No one." His revealing words hung in the brisk evening air between them.

  Meg pulled the shawl from the back of the chair around her shoulders.

  "I really thought that you, above all others, would understand," he said softly. She'd never treated him as though he were tainted. He fought disappointment over her reaction.

  "Do you feel that you owe this woman something?"

  He studied the floor for several minutes, then met her eyes. "I guess I do. Compassion. Kindness. Friendship."

  "My family won't speak to me already," she said just above a whisper. "This will only make it worse."

  "I warned you about that from the beginning," he said honestly. "But you were willing to risk that. You said if the good people of Aspen Grove snubbed you, they weren't worthy of being your friends."

  Her beautiful eyes filled with tears and he immediately regretted putting them there. He wished he could take her in his arms and comfort her, somehow make it better. Eve was his responsibility, and he certainly didn't mean to place Meg in an awkward or embarrassing position.

  Quickly, she lowered her gaze to the shirt in her lap.

  "I don't want you to be sorry," he said, barely above a whisper. "I don't want you to lose your family and friends. We could still change our minds."

  Her head snapped up. "Are you saying if I want you to keep our agreement I have to accept this?"

  "No, I'm just saying it's not too late. We can get an annul—"

  "No!" She tossed the mending to the floor and sat up straight. Meg stared into Tye's eyes, unfathomably dark and blue in the lamplight. She'd vowed she would do anything, endure anything to keep Joe's ranch. She'd already married this man she barely knew. What was so unreasonable about taking in an orphan, too? What choice did she have now? "We'll work it out. Let's take care of your leg."

  "You don't have to—"

  "When your leg hurts too bad, you're cranky and you can't do as much work."

  "And you need me to work the ranch."

  "Yes." She stood, knowing it was an unkind thing to say and using it to get back at him for this—this unsettling development. She hurried into the kitchen with a swish of skirts and returned with the bowl and towels.

  As though he deserved the reminder of his purpose there, he got up and followed her into the bedroom. She turned her back while he removed his pants and reclined beneath the sheet. "Where did you sleep last night?" he asked.

  She turned back and placed the oilcloth beneath his thigh, mentally distancing herself from this man who now shared her life … her home. "On the floor."

  "In here?"

  "Yes."

  "I don't want you to sleep on the floor."

  "I don't want you to sleep on the floor."

  "Can't we share the bed?"

  She paused, keeping her gaze on the towel in her hands, and pulled the shawl a measure tighter around her shoulders. Her heart skipped a beat, and she didn't understand why. She'd thought out this arrangement, mentally prepared herself for each situation and development.

  "I mean just share the bed. Not … any thing else."

  She believed he meant that. And if he desired to make more of their sleeping arrangement, she had already determined she could do that, too. It would happen sooner or later anyway, wouldn't it? "I guess we can. This is hot."

  "Go ahead."

  She placed the steaming towel on his mutilated flesh and he released his breath in a hiss. She didn't derive any pleasure from knowing the remedy hurt him. After repeating the treatment several times, she opened the bottle of liniment and rubbed it into his scarred skin, hoping the oil and the massage would help to ease and stretch the taut new skin.

  The lower half of his long leg, his knee and his shin, were muscled and covered with dark hair. His foot was nicely proportioned and his toes long, curly hair sprinkled there, too. She wondered if Tye had that dark dusting over all his limbs as well as his chest. Joe had been fair-haired.

  She was thinking about him as a man … as a husband. The thoughts shocked her, but she couldn't help herself. "Tye?"

  "Hmm?"

  "Lottie. She's—she was—a prostitute?" She couldn't look at him.

  "Yes."

  "Rosa, too?"

  "She was. She's getting married."

  "You … you knew these women?"

  "I knew Lottie."

  "In the biblical sense."

  "It was a long time ago."

  "But you said there was nothing serious between the two of you. Just friends. Don't you think that is serious?" She had a difficult time imagining doing something so embarrassing with someone you weren't "close" to.

  It took a long time for his reply. "You're right," he said finally. "That is something serious. At least it should be."

  Suddenly, inexplicably, she hated the idea of him with those other women. "You don't go there anymore?"

  "No!"

  "I don't think it would be good if you went to see one of those women."

  "I'm not going to see anyone. I told you, Lottie was a long time ago."

  "Well, husbands shouldn't do that. They should … be with their wives."

  "I agree."

  "And you're a husband now. If you want to do that, you shouldn't go to town."

  "You mean I should come to you. My wife."

  Heat flared in her entire upper body, and she knew he could see her embarrassment even in the light from the lantern. Was that what she'd been getting at? No. She simply didn't want him humiliating her in an unnecessary manner. "Yes."

  "And what if you should want to … do that?" he asked, and she imagined she heard a smile in his voice.

  Why, she'd never initiated such a thing with her own husband! Surely he didn't think she'd be the one to ask him! "I am not having this conversation with you, I am simply saying you mustn't shame me by going to town for that. I already have to deal with what people think of us getting married, and now I'll have to deal with this child. I won't cope with that, too."

  "I won't go."

  "All right."

  "But I think you should be the one to tell me when you want to. I'm a man, I can be ready anytime. You're the one who needs to adjust to the whole thing. You know, get
comfortable and choose when the time is right. You were married, you know what I'm talking about."

  What on earth was he talking about? She turned to view his face.

  He was studying her with a hot look that started butterflies fluttering in her stomach. And he was serious. The situation struck her full force. He was lying in her bed, the bed she'd shared with Joe, but he seemed to take up so much more room. She'd touched him, no matter how innocently, and she'd had unseemly thoughts of his body. Images of him wife those other women had disturbed her. She'd shocked herself. "I'd better go wash my hands."

  She gathered her supplies and left the room, only to wash her hands, splash cool water on her face, then stand in the kitchen with her heart beating crazily in her throat. Finally, she gathered her wits, blew out the lantern in the other room, checked the fire and returned to the dim bedroom.

  He'd finished undressing and lay against the pillow, one arm over his head, exposing a thatch of dark hair beneath. His chest, above the sheet, was covered with thick black curls, just as she'd wondered. He lay with his eyes closed, so she studied him, her knees weak, her heart racing as though she were preparing to jump off a cliff.

  This new husband was so much older than Joe had been—so much more of a man. But then Joe would be older, too, if he were still alive. That had been years ago. Intimacy with Joe had been … comfortable. Thinking of Tye in that way was anything but comfortable.

  He opened his eyes and caught her staring. "I won't look while you undress," he said.

  Meg turned away and fumbled in a drawer for her nightgown. Locating it, she blew out the lantern before removing her dress and underclothing.

  "You didn't have your corset on under that dress, did you?" he said, his voice a husky suggestion in the darkness.

  "How did you know that?"

  "Just did."

  "You were thinking about my undergarments?"

  "Yeah."

  She'd never known anyone so embarrassingly frank.

  "Don't tell me you didn't think about me. Especially when you got me out of my pants and into your bed. Something crossed your mind."

  Meg gasped and pulled her nightgown on quickly, buttoning it up to her throat.

  "Get in."

  She stood there trembling, though the room was warm and her body temperature even warmer.

  "Told you we were just going to sleep together," he said. "Nothing else."