Bushedwhacked Bride (19 page)
“Ah—so your reasons
are
self-serving.”
“What do you mean?”
“You want them to go to church not to save their souls
but so they’ll become interested in other young ladies—
and won’t compete for me.”
Now Cole was angry. “Damn right, I do! How do you expect me to feel after today? Should I want my brothers
touching you, kissing you?”
“You’re thinking of yourself, Cole—not your brothers’
best interests.”
“Oh, I have their best interests at heart,” he stated
harshly. “And it’s definitely
not
in their best interests to
be murdered by me.”
She shuddered. “You needn’t fear I’ll succumb to one of them. I shouldn’t even have succumbed to you.”
That comment hurt even more. “I didn’t think we ‘suc
cumbed’ to each other today. I thought we shared what
we felt. I know I gave part of myself to you. Did you give
part of yourself to me?”
“You know I did,” she admitted in a small, tortured
voice.
His voice was tormented, too. “Then why are we hav
ing this discussion? Why aren’t you here in my arms?”
“You know why, Cole.”
“No, I don’t.”
But even as Cole reached for Jessica, she stepped back and held up a hand again in warning. “I just want you to know that, whatever your reasons, I’m glad you changed
your mind about church, Cole.”
Then she fled back inside the house. Cole stood grind
ing his teeth till his jaw hurt. Then he muttered every
curse he knew, and invented a few more.
He felt so frustrated, his emotions so torn. Jessie had
given herself to him, then pulled away. It hurt like hell.
What did she want of him? It wasn’t enough that he’d
offered to marry her. Obviously he had to change for her,
too, really change. Could he do it? And could he really
trust her with his feelings and his heart?
***
Jessica sat in her room, rocking in the darkness, unable to
get the day’s events out of her mind. She felt so torn
about succumbing to Cole—like an alcoholic who’d had a massive slip. And she wasn’t even a drinker!
Her conduct had been rash and foolish. What if she
were pregnant? She realized with relief that it was un
likely she would conceive so close to her period. And
that
should be great fun here.
Despite all her misgivings, she couldn’t deny how
deeply drawn she was to Cole Reklaw, how moved she’d
been by their lovemaking. Even now she ached to be in
his arms again. Resisting him on the porch had been hell,
especially as she sensed that his emotions were also in
turmoil. Could his feelings for her run deeper than she
had assumed?
And Lord, was she falling in love with the wrong man?
For Cole did seem wrong for her in any time. She was well educated, he a man of the land. She was upstanding,
he a lawbreaker. Worse yet, she doubted she could ever
trust him with her feelings, trust him not to hurt her. Just
before they’d made love, he’d admitted he didn’t trust her.
Still, there
must
be a reason why she was here, perhaps
to show Cole and his brothers the right path . . . before he
corrupted her beyond salvation.
Chapter Seventeen
On Sunday morning, Jessica sat wedged between Cole
and his mother on the front seat of the family’s buckboard
as it plodded through a canyon passageway on the narrow
dirt road to Mariposa. The four younger Reklaw brothers were squeezed on the seat behind them. The late August
morning was balmy and scented of evergreen; a bald
eagle circled in the clear blue skies overhead. On the
mountainside beyond, Jessica spotted two mule deer munching grass, as well as a big-horned sheep warily watching them from his perch on a high rock. In the fir
and aspen trees along the canyon walls, colorful bluebirds and larks flitted about.
As they passed the familiar “Wanted Dead or Alive” poster, Jessica felt her confidence lagging. Would today’s
masquerade work? She prayed they weren’t on a fool’s
errand.
At least appearance-wise, they should pass muster. All
seven occupants of the conveyance were attired in “Sunday best,” and the scents of pomade, talcum, and perfume were heavy in the air. Ma and Jessica were ensconced in
starched calico dresses and matching bonnets. Ma’s en
semble was dark brown and high-necked; she wore cro
cheted gloves and clutched the well-worn family Bible in
her lap. Jessica’s frock was a pleasing light blue, with
long sleeves and a lace-trimmed, rounded neckline;
white gloves and a blue knitted reticule completed her
ensemble.
Glancing behind her at the boys, Jessica noted how
very handsome and solemn they looked, all clean-shaven, wearing the various brown and black suits, starched linen
shirts, black string cravats, and dress western hats that she
and Ma had purchased for them in town. Much as the boys
had begged to wear some of the finery they’d stripped
from the men of the Aspen Gulch Consortium, Jessica and
Ma had prevailed on them to avoid such foolish conduct,
which might well be an invitation to be arrested.
Turning back around, Jessica glanced at Cole and sti
fled a surge of longing. A strong, silent stranger sat be
side her in his elegant black suit and matching western
hat. Expression stoic, Cole stared ahead and worked the
reins. Although Jessica could feel the hardness of his
muscled thigh next to hers, could even smell his spicy,
enticing scent, emotionally he seemed a world apart. Ever
since their lovemaking and her emotional retreat after
ward, Cole had become a different man, cold and remote, hardly the hot-blooded, charming rogue she remembered.
His distance now made her ache for him all the more.
The rest of their week had been tense, with lots of hot, accusatory looks between her and Cole. The few conversations they’d had had been strained and impersonal. But
he hadn’t made any further moves to touch her, for which
she was grateful.
If he had, she likely would have been lost.
Still, she wondered at his reserve. Was it possible she had actually hurt more than his pride? Perhaps she hadn’t given him enough credit; perhaps his feelings for her ran
deeper than she’d realized. Under the circumstances, it
had been gentlemanly of him to propose marriage. But
even if he had proposed out of genuine caring, and not
just to win the contest and bed her, their relationship was
still wrong, wrong, wrong. He was an outlaw—and she
might not even belong in this time.
“Miss Jessie?” prodded Billy, breaking into her
thoughts.
Jessica turned to face him. “Yes?”
“What did you say our new names was, ma’am?”
“Were.
What did I say your new names
were.”
“Yes, ma’am, that’s just what I asked.”
Biting back her frustration, Jessica regarded all four
boys soberly. “All right, we’ll go over it again. You must
all go by different names in town or else risk discovery.
Your ma is already known as ‘Mrs. Lively,’ so all of you will assume ‘Lively’ as your surname. As for your Chris
tian names, the new ones I’ve chosen for you are different from your actual names, but also similar enough so you can readily remember them.”
“Will you tell us them again, ma’am?” pressed Gabe.
“I was just getting to that. Gabe, you’ll be Gill. Billy,
you’re Bobby. Luke, you’ll be Lyle, Wesley will be Walt,
and Cole, you’ll be Clay.”
Cole made a sound of contempt. “And you really think
those silly monikers are gonna fool anyone?”
“The new names should be adequate to cover your ac
tual identities. They’re subtle enough.”
“Yeah, about as subtle as a peddler’s red bandwagon..”
“Well, what do you propose?” Jessica demanded. “If I
were to suggest names vastly different from the ones I’ve
already chosen for the boys, they’d only get confused.”
“Yeah, they’re pretty damn stupid, my brothers.”
Jessica felt her hackles rising. “That’s
not
what I said.
I’m just trying to keep things simple.”
“Simple?” he mocked. “What I say is we should aban
don this whole haywire scheme of going to church.”
Jessica was mystified. “B-but the other night, you said
you were supporting me in this!”
As Ma and the boys looked on intently, Cole shot her
a heated look which for once revealed some depth of
emotion. “Well, maybe I’ve reconsidered. Maybe females
aren’t the
only
ones who can change their minds about
what it is they want.”
Jessica knew exactly what Cole was referring to, knew
he’d made his remark strictly to bedevil her—and he’d
succeeded. She felt hot color flooding her cheeks. She
wondered if he really had given in on church just to
soften her up. Maybe now that his ploy wasn’t working, he was retaliating. The scoundrel.
But before she could respond, Ma intervened. “Hush
up, you two. I say I’m glad Miss Jessie put her foot down and made us all go to the meeting house. ‘Bout time you
rascals turned away from the devil’s doin’s, even if it’s
just for the Lord’s day. ‘Sides, I haven’t darkened the door
of a church since I wed my Joseph, and I’ve missed the
sermons, the hymns, and the praying. So I’m thankful.”
Ma got the final word on the subject. Cole grudgingly fell silent.
Moments later they pulled into town and approached the small white frame church. Jessica noted the church
yard was crammed with conveyances; a young family
was climbing the front steps together, while other mem
bers milled about in the yard.
Sobered by the sight and the reality of all they were
risking, Jessica turned to the boys. “Remember, you’re
farmers, not bandits. No talk of lawbreaking, or even of hell-raising in
Colorado
City
. Is that clear?”
“Yes, ma’am,” the men replied in unison.
Cole parked the conveyance, hopped down, and came
around to help the ladies out. He assisted his mother to the
ground, then offered Jessica his hand, helping her step out.
She felt rather disappointed that he didn’t grab her about
the waist and swing her to the ground as he normally did.
Crossing the churchyard, the entire group remained
hushed. They caught curious looks from several men. The
sounds of “Shall We Gather at the River,” played on an
off-key piano, spilled out from the church beyond.
As the group paused before the steps, Ma hugged her
Bible to her chest and flashed the others an ecstatic smile.
“Ah, that heavenly music. How I’ve missed it. Come on,
sons, Miss Jessie. Let’s not be shy in the Lord’s house.”
With Ma proudly taking the lead, they all trooped up
the steps. Inside the vestibule, they were greeted by Merchant
Allgood; the short, portly man wore a brown striped suit, and his thinning hair was slicked back. “Why, Widow Lively, Miss Garrett,” he greeted pleasantly. “What a
pleasure to have you both here to worship with us today.”
“Merchant Allgood,” Eula acknowledged, briefly
pumping his hand. “I reckoned we’d see you today.”
“Indeed, I never miss a Sunday.” He smiled at Jessica..
“How lovely you look, Miss Garrett.”
She smiled and shook his hand. “Thanks, Mr. Allgood.”
He glanced at the men. “Mrs. Lively, are these your
sons?”
“Yeah “ Eula replied. “Their names is—”
Terrified Ma might fumble, Jessica announced, “Clay, Lyle, Gill, Walt, and Bobby.”
Although Allgood appeared perplexed at Jessica’s out
burst, he soon recovered his composure. “Pleased to have
you with us, gentlemen, though I do wonder why we’re
never seen you before.”
‘They’s been busy working the farm, just like I told
ya,” Eula responded in no-nonsense tones. “And I’m sure you’ll also recollect how I said Cousin Jessie here put her
foot down and made us all come in to church.”
“Oh, of course,” Allgood replied with a nervous laugh.
“Very devout, Cousin Jessie is,” Eula added.
“Indeed.” Allgood gestured toward the sanctuary. “By
all means, come right in, folks, and take a pew.”
As they all paraded down the aisle of the almost
packed sanctuary, Jessica noted that most every eye
seemed glued to them. The churchgoers appeared neatly
dressed but hardly prosperous; their garments ranged
from neat muslin and calico for the women and girls to
ofttimes threadbare wool and broadcloth suits for the men. The group also ran the gamut age-wise, ranging
from squalling infants to white-haired geriatrics. Jessica noted a couple of young women dressed in black, each
with several small children in tow, and wondered sadly if
these ladies were mine widows.
Unfortunately, the only vacant seats left were at the front, so Jessica and the others were compelled to walk
the full length of the sanctuary. Jessica was pleased to
note a rowful of pretty girls bedecked in lovely hues of
gingham and calico. There were three brunettes, an
auburn-haired beauty, and a plump though attractive
blonde—and all of them were already making eyes at the
boys. Like ants spotting spilled honey, the younger
Reklaw brothers were quick to take note and pause, grin, and tip their hats, until Ma sent each boy on his way with
a scolding look or a less-than-gentle nudge. The six
Reklaws and Jessica seated themselves in the front row
just as the choir trooped in, singing, “Bringing in the
Sheaves.” Cole and his brothers listened stoically. Ma
was so affected, she dabbed at
tears.
Soon, the tall, gaunt
,
gray-haired minister appeared.
The congregation stood as he ascended the pulpit. At the
conclusion of the hymn
,
he held up a broad hand.
“
Brethren, heed these
words from the book of Joshua:
‘The Lord your God, He it is that fighteth for you.’ Shall
we pray.”
There followed the
usual succession of prayers
,
hymns,
scripture readings, and a
lengthy, passionate ser
mon. Although Jessica had
expected a preacher from this time to
spew forth fire and
brimstone, she was rather sur
prised when the reverend’s approach was more inspira
tional, when he expounded
on several uplifting biblical
themes, including an encouraging verse from the Psalms:
“Sit thou at My right hand, until I make thine enemies thy footstool.” The rousing closing hymn, “A Mighty Fortress
Is Thy God,” left all of the attendees with smiles on their
faces.
As soon as the group began to disperse, Mr. Allgood
strode forward, escorting a thin, gray-haired lady in black
silk. “Mrs. Lively, Miss Garrett, gentlemen, I’d like you
to meet my widowed mother, Mrs. Allgood.”
Ma shook the hand of the frail lady. “Howdy do,
ma’am.”
The other woman smiled back. “Horace tells me you’re also a mine widow, Mrs. Lively.”