JOE'S WIFE Read online

She calmed herself with a deep breath and eased onto the mattress, careful not to inch too close or make a move to tilt him toward her. He did take up more room than Joe ever had. She lay flat on her back, the sheet tucked snugly beneath her armpits, and stared at the darkened ceiling, afraid of herself, afraid of the way her head and her body reacted to this man.

  "Until you're ready," he added.

  Oh, Lord. She would never sleep again.

  Tye had fueled the stove and heated water, and now carried a pitcher back to the bowl on the bureau. Meg mustn't have slept well, and he saw no reason to wake her now. She lay on her side with one hand curled daintily beneath her cheek, the other on his pillow.

  The sheet had pulled loose from the end of the bed, exposing a delicate foot and a length of silky calf. Tye's belly ached with the desire to place his face against her morning skin and inhale her. Taste her. His wife. He'd start at her foot and make his way up her leg…

  Don't you think that is serious? she'd asked. He'd never looked at intimate relations from her perspective before, so he'd never considered just how serious they could be. He'd never thought of sex as right or wrong, serious or not. In his experience it had been merely a fact of life. Sometimes pleasant, sometimes manipulative, sometimes a service, sex had never taken on the serious aspects he could see it having with someone like Meg.

  Yes. With Meg, it would be serious.

  He forced himself to face the mirror and lather his whiskers, tamping down the unruly thoughts that would have him in a state of arousal all day. He smiled, remembering her gentle and flustered request that he not visit a whore.

  As if there were a whore in the entire state with more appeal than Meg. As if there were a woman in the world with more appeal. He'd admired her from the first time he'd seen her.

  She'd been nine—ten, maybe—and sitting on the school lawn with the other girls. They'd been braiding one another's hair, and Jacky Mabley's sister—he couldn't remember her name … Joanie? Janie?—sat behind Meg, separating Meg's tawny tresses. Sunlight had glinted like golden fire in her hair, and Tye had wanted to tell Jacky's sister not to spoil that spectacular display by hiding Meg's hair in braids. But he hadn't, of course. He hadn't even spoken. He'd just walked around them as if he were going somewhere, and stopped to take a longer look at Meg. She'd smiled at him, her new adult teeth pearly white.

  He'd looked away and run into the schoolroom to study his times tables. None of the kids played with him, and Mr. Brickey let him come in early from lunch so he didn't have to endure the humiliation of their childish cruelty.

  Meg had always had a smile for him. Even when they grew older, when the other girls and their mothers refused to look him in the eye, Meg had met his eyes and smiled.

  He guessed he'd always loved her.

  Tye stared hard at his reflection, shocked that there were words to go with what he'd felt. She'd always been untouchable. A town girl. Joe's girl. Joe's wife. He'd never allowed himself to analyze his feelings; that would have been disastrous. Futile.

  But now. Now. She was … his wife.

  Tye made the last stroke across his jaw, slowly wiped away the lather with his damp towel and turned.

  She studied him, those tawny eyes shot with golden sparks like the morning sun. "Morning," he said.

  She drew her seductive foot up beneath the sheet. "Morning."

  "I'll bring you some water."

  "I slept so late."

  "Not really. I woke up early." He dumped the water outside and returned with a fresh pitcher for her. She was sitting, holding the sheet to her breast. Her hair tumbled around her shoulders in becoming disarray and tempted a man's fingers. "Thank you."

  He curled his fingertips into his palms. "You do a lot of thoughtful things for me."

  "I do? Like what?"

  "Like bringing me water, pouring my coffee, nursing my leg."

  "Those are just ordinary things."

  "Are they?"

  She studied him, her eyes pretty with sleep.

  "I wouldn't know." He'd never had a wife. Never had a father to know how married people behaved around each another. "Did your mother do all those things for your father?"

  "Yes."

  "Did you do them for Joe?"

  "Yes."

  He realized she was trying not to stare at his bare chest, and he pulled another clean chambray shirt from the drawer she'd stocked and donned it, rolling the sleeves back. "Joe's?"

  "Yes. I thought you needed more work clothes. That way I don't have to wash them so often."

  "Sounds sensible. I'm off to milk," he said.

  She nodded.

  He headed for the barn, the image of her in the morning forever in his mind … and in his heart. Meg. Joe's wife.

  A buggy pulled by a single horse headed up the road. As the vehicle drew closer, Tye recognized Niles Kestler. The man pulled the buggy around to the front door. Tye followed.

  "Hatcher," he said, pulling to a stop.

  "Kestler. What brings you out?"

  "I wanted a word with you."

  "Come on around to the kitchen and have a cup of coffee. Nobody uses the front."

  Niles frowned but prodded the horse, and Tye followed the buggy to the other side of the house. Niles got down, brushing dust from the sleeves of his jacket and his impeccably creased trouser legs.

  "Come on in." Tye stood back and allowed the slender man to pass by. "I'll let Meg know you're here."

  Niles removed his derby and nodded.

  Tye stepped into the bedroom and Meg glanced up in surprise. One hand went to the already perfect hair she'd just pulled into a knot. She fastened the top button of her pink-striped shirtwaist.

  "Niles Kestler's here."

  "I thought I heard a wagon. Whatever does he want?"

  "Don't know yet. He's in the kitchen."

  "I'll be right out. I started the coffee."

  Tye returned to the other room. Major bumped against the screen door until he jostled his nose in and appeared with a stick of wood.

  "Good boy." Tye used the stick to prop the door open as he'd seen Meg do. "Get more."

  The dog tore off.

  Meg entered, smoothing the skirt of her faded work dress self-consciously. "Niles! What a surprise." She glanced at the stove where the pot had begun to boil.

  "I was just getting breakfast started. Will you join us?"

  "No thank you. I've eaten."

  "The coffee will be ready in a minute. Have a seat."

  She appeared more flustered than usual. Normally, she was at ease in her kitchen, but their visitor's presence seemed to throw her off.

  Niles seated himself on one of the benches, placing his hat on the table.

  Hastily, Meg picked it up and hung it on a hook.

  Major returned with more wood. Tye patted his head and gave him a lump of sugar. The dog plopped down by the stove.

  "I've had an offer for the ranch," Niles said, ignoring their morning routine and coming directly to the point. The words were directed at Tye.

  Tye took his time seating himself.

  "The Circle T is not for sale," Meg said tightly.

  "I'm speaking with Mr. Hatcher," Niles pointed out.

  Meg's body stiffened visibly, and her face grew pink. The tight set of her mouth revealed her anger.

  "Meg hasn't seen reason on this from the beginning," Niles said to him. "I'm hoping you will. I've found someone willing to offer more per acre than Joe paid for the property. You won't get another offer like this."

  Tye met Meg's flashing eyes, their tawny color darkened to the hue of fiery whiskey.

  "Meg already told you," he said, turning back to Niles. "The ranch isn't for sale."

  "Five more days and you won't have a choice," Niles replied. "Take the offer while you can still get something for Joe's land. If you let the bank take it back, you'll get nothing and you won't even have a way to support your wife."

  Rage simmered in Tye's veins, rage and helplessness and a bur
ning humiliation he'd felt enough of to last forever. He had sufficient savings to make the note good this once. But if he spent it, what would he use to start his packing plant?

  But selling was out of the question. Even if he didn't have plans of his own for the land, he'd given Meg his word.

  "We're not selling."

  Niles stood. "I thought a man like you wouldn't have his head in the clouds. You already understand how dismal the hopes of keeping this land are."

  "A man like me has learned not to let stuffed shirts have the say in matters that don't concern them," he replied easily.

  "This concerns me," Niles argued. "You're going to see just how much this concerns me when I bring the foreclosure notice."

  Tye stood, facing him. "Make sure you use a nice soft piece of paper to write it on because you'll either eat it or I'll stuff it up—"

  "Tye! Niles, the coffee is ready."

  "No thank you." The man went for his derby. "My business is finished here. You can't help people who don't want to be helped." He stopped. "You deserve this man, Meg." He settled the hat on his head and exited the door.

  Tye didn't move to follow him. The sounds of the horse and buggy leaving floated in to them.

  "Thank you, Tye," Meg said softly.

  "For what?"

  "For not agreeing to sell."

  He raised his head and studied her. "I gave you my word."

  She nodded. "Yes, you did."

  "Five days," he said, ignoring the appreciation in her voice. She wouldn't be so grateful after those days were gone unless he used the money he'd saved. And right now he saw no way around it. Using his money would earn him three months to come up with something else before the next note was due.

  And now that he'd faced down Niles Kestler, Tye had even more at stake. He set his jaw stubbornly. "A man like him" had learned to meet his knocks head-on.

  He went to the bedroom and returned with one of his rifles.

  "What's that for?"

  "Aldo rode in and said a cat got one of our calves last night. We're going after him."

  "I'll pack you a lunch in case you have to go far."

  He turned away from the look in her eyes and headed out the door. He didn't deserve her gratitude. His bravado toward Niles had been pure bluster; he hadn't a clue what he was going to do. But he had only five days to do it in.

  Five lousy days.

  * * *

  Chapter Seven

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  After Tye and Aldo tracked the mountain lion and Tye shot him, Aldo went back to the herds and Purdy helped Tye cut more pines for the fences. Tye worked from dawn to dusk for three days, sawing, cutting, thinking—planning how he'd raise enough money to pay the next banknote. He had enough in the bank for one payment only.

  Late at night he worked on the cat's hide, scraping and cleaning and softening the leather, thinking … thinking.

  The tiring work made it easier to sleep at night. He fell asleep exhausted rather than lying awake, smelling the woman beside him, hearing her soft breathing, the rustle of her bedclothes, and aching. Aching.

  Meg had saved supper for them each night, and this night, after Purdy had eaten and gone to the barn, Tye picked up his plate and carried it to the pan of sudsy water. "I'm going into town to pay the note in the morning," he announced.

  She took the plate from him and scrubbed it. "No need."

  "What?"

  "No need to make the trip. I did it today."

  "You…?" He stared at her. "Where did you get the money?"

  She rinsed the plate and wiped it dry without looking up. "I sold something."

  He looked around, strode to the end of the room and took note of her mother's china cabinet and the other furnishings still in place. "What?"

  "Something I didn't need."

  "What?" he asked again, more insistently.

  "A ring."

  Her words made it around the fog in his head and he filtered through them. Immediately, he focused on her hand. She still wore the silver ring he'd placed on her finger. But the unease didn't leave his chest. "Joe's ring?"

  "No."

  No? Her restraint irritated the hell out of him. "What ring, then, dammit?"

  She glanced up at him warily. "My father's wedding ring."

  Having said that, she moved away to place the plate in a cupboard. Tye ran a hand through his hair in annoyance. "You sold your father's wedding ring, but not Joe's."

  His thinking at this point was irrational, he realized, but her action stabbed him with humiliation and … something else he couldn't define.

  "That ring is small, Tye, not worth much, really. I'll sell it if I need to, but if I don't, I thought it should be saved for Edwina or Wilsie, or perhaps one of Gwynn's children. An heirloom, sort of, since I have no children to give it to. My father's ring was large and heavy—I got enough for the banknote and the seed."

  Tye's supper felt like a stone in his belly. A clawing regret climbed its way through his chest. Shame was a familiar companion, but one he detested with all his being, and one he didn't care to share with anyone else. "Who'd you sell it to?"

  "O'Roarden, the only pawnbroker in Aspen Grove."

  "He probably didn't even give you what it was worth."

  She said nothing to that, just stood with her back to him, her head lowered. Of course she hadn't gotten what it was worth. How could a person place a realistic value on a keepsake? It had no doubt been invaluable to her.

  "I'm sorry," he said softly, regretting his anger, regretting he'd been unable to do a thing as simple as make the loan payment before she'd had to sacrifice another part of her heritage. His inadequacy had never been so hurtful to another person before. He could bear it himself, but for her to suffer it shamed him beyond endurance. "I'm sorry you had to do that."

  She turned slowly and he recognized tears when she looked at him. "It's okay, Tye. I'd do it again. I still have the ranch."

  The ranch. Joe's ranch. She'd give up anything, wouldn't she? Do any unpleasant and ugly thing to keep her precious Joe's ranch. Even marry him. "Yes. You still have the ranch."

  He turned and escaped out into the darkness to smoke. And think.

  He was tired but not sleepy. Not now. He sat on a stump a distance from the house and watched the lights go out, all but the one in the front room. She left it burning low so he'd find his way to bed.

  Chill mountain air seeped through his clothing while regret eased through his knotted pride, pushing his own feelings aside and forcing him to look at hers. She'd lost too much. Her husband. Her dreams. She was a brave, strong woman, a determined woman. She'd proven she would make any sacrifice to keep this place. Any sacrifice, even sharing the ranch with him. Even sharing a bed with him.

  This was a joint effort, and he had yet to pull his own weight. He was angry that she'd come up with a solution before he had, and humiliated that she had the means instead of him.

  She shouldn't have to lose everything dear to her. He wouldn't allow any more sacrifices on her part. And he'd get her father's ring back for her—somehow. If she'd received enough for the payment and the seed, he probably didn't have enough in the bank, but he could earn the rest. Jed Wheeler hadn't wanted to let him go, claimed he could get anyone to clean up, but a piano player improved the atmosphere and made people spend more money.

  In the past Tye had disciplined himself to get by without much food. Sleep had to be the same. He crushed his cigarette butt beneath his heel and headed for the barn to saddle a horse.

  Meg hadn't realized Tye would be so angry over the ring. She'd done what she had to do. She hadn't seen a choice.

  She drifted into a light sleep. He returned hours later and climbed into bed, his hair smelling like smoke. Where had he been all that time? The saloon?

  He must have fallen asleep immediately, for his breathing grew deep and even, and he relaxed his long body and draped one leg over hers. The physical contact kept her from returning to sleep. Not because it was unpl
easant—but because it wasn't. She'd missed someone to lie with, someone to hold her, someone to dispel the loneliness.

  Joe had been a solid, comforting presence beside her at night, and she'd longed for that. Sometimes he had turned to her, touched her through her cotton gown, kissed her tenderly, reverently, and joined their bodies. Now those times seemed like only a sweet dream.

  She'd told Tye he could do that. He had every right as her husband. And he'd told her … he'd said she would have to tell him when she was ready, because a man was "always ready." What had that meant?

  She wished he would consummate their marriage though, so the waiting would end. The thought, and his hair-roughened leg against hers, created unsettling feelings she didn't know what to make of. If he turned to her, she'd relish his warmth, his weight, his possession.

  Why?

  He wasn't Joe.

  Perhaps it was just unnatural for a man not to—not to turn to his wife like that.

  Perhaps he'd… No. He'd told her he would not turn to one of those women in town.

  Toward dawn she fell asleep thinking she hadn't taken care of his leg that night.

  Meg awoke cranky the following morning. On her way past the idle fireplace, she paused before it and studied the thick fur rug that had been placed there.

  "Thought it looked like a good spot," Tye said from behind her. "All right?"

  Tired, head hurting, she nodded.

  She scorched the first griddle of hotcakes and had to toss them out. Even Major turned up his nose at the charred disks in the yard, and she mumbled under her breath as she stirred more batter.

  Gus and Purdy ate as quickly as they always did and hurried off to do chores. Tye poured himself another cup of coffee at the stove and stood looking out the screen door. "I'm going to work on the fence for the south pasture today," he said. "I'll be in at noon."

  Meg scrubbed at the blackened griddle. "Are you all right?"

  His voice, so close, startled her. She stopped her furious scouring and nodded. He stood directly behind her, his breath fanning her neck. Remembering his leg touching hers and the wanton thoughts that followed, she fought down the flutter in her chest. Tears prickled behind her eyelids, and she knew they were irrational.