Dorothy Garlock - [Colorado Wind 03] (32 page)

“Put it where?”

“On yourself . . . or Mary Ben. There’s one thing I’d better tell you. It’s something Mary Ben might not know about. You be sure that when you’re with her you give her as much pleasure as she gives you.”

“How can I do that?”

“By going slow, holding back. It will take longer for her to feel pleasure than it will for you. Once you’ve let yourself go, that’s it for awhile. So hold off as long as you can.”

“I will, Kain. I want Mary Ben to be happy. More than anything I want her to be happy.”

They reached the gate and started back toward the house. Henry was silent for awhile.

“Mary Ben told me she’d killed a man for hurting her ma. She said she’d shoot somebody for hurting me. I’ve got to take care of her, Kain. I’ve just got to. I’ve got to work and make a home for her and Ma.”

Kain looked into Henry’s tormented eyes, realizing Henry knew his inadequacies. Kain stopped and put his hand on his shoulder.

“You can do that right here. There’s not a doubt in my mind that you’ll be able to do it, Henry. You’re a good man. You’re not lazy, you take direction, and with Mary Ben beside you you’re going to make it a hell of a lot better than most folks.”

“Do you think so?” Henry began to smile. “I wish I’d known you a long time ago, Kain.”

“I do too, but wishing doesn’t change things. I’m proud to know you now.”

*  *  *

Kain was seated at the table when the sharp pain made itself known to him and he felt the familiar sickness rise up in his throat. He had been forced to lounge about the house because Ellie and Vanessa watched him like hawks to see that he didn’t overexert himself. He had drunk cup after cup of strong black coffee, idling away the time while everyone else was busy. Now the coffee was like bitter gall in his mouth. He set the mug on the table, put on his hat, and murmured something about seeing to his horse.

“Kain?” Vanessa called as he headed for the door.

Ellie saw the drawn look on his face. “He’s going to the barn, dear. Will you help me put the draperies back up in the parlor?”

Kain went quickly down the path to the barn, swung open the door and went to Big Red’s stall. He stood there, arms folded on the heavy timbers, breathing heavily. Damn! Damn! He had thought his stomach was better lately. The pains had not bothered him so much. Perhaps this was the onset of that feeling of well-being he remembered had struck the sheriff several times before the end. It was something about the cancer eating through one place, and pausing before going on to another.

It was only at times like this that he really believed he was dying. At other times, there was the faint hope he would cheat death. But it was inevitable, or so the experts said. There was no cure. Still he had read of miraculous recoveries despite all the medical prophecies. He considered that for a moment. Were the miraculous cures proof of mind-over-matter? Could faith in God win over cancer? Or was there some strong force within the body that could be summoned forth and set to working against the disease?

Men critically wounded had survived against all odds during the war. Was it the will to live that saved them? Did they have something as precious as he had to live for? He had the will, but would it be strong enough to defeat his illness?

While he was thinking the pain subsided to a dull ache, but the sickness remained. He swallowed repeatedly so that he’d not retch. Beads of sweat formed on his brow and his face felt clammy. He rested his forehead on his crossed arms and stared down at his feet, willing the sickness to leave.

If he died today, he thought, he had already had more than most men. Vanessa . . .Vanessa, his sweet, sweet woman. He had slept little last night after the first hour of deep slumber. The rest of the night he had lain awake, holding her in his arms, vainly wishing he could see her with her belly swollen with his children and when silver streaked her fiery hair. He wanted to grow old with her, sit in a porch swing holding her hand and reminisce about the time she hit the young bully over the head with the shovel and later worked him over with the end of her shotgun. He wanted to tell their grandchildren about her wearing britches on the trail when as few as a dozen women had dared to be seen in men’s attire. Most of all he wanted to sleep every night with her in his arms, even long after the urge to procreate had left him.

The barn door creaked open. He raised his head to see Vanessa standing there, the late afternoon sun behind her. She came quickly to him. He held out his arm to pull her close.

“Are you all right?”

“Of course I’m all right. I came out to see Big Red.”

“I was afraid you’d hurt your side or your shoulder. You had a lot of exercise last night.”

“Ah, sweet woman! That was the most wonderful night of my life. I’m thinking about a repeat tonight.” The last words were whispered in her ear before his lips traveled around to place a lingering kiss on her lips.

She wrapped her arms about his waist, being careful of his side, and buried her face in his shirt. “Kain? I can’t bear to let you out of my sight. I’m so afraid! Please tell me why we can’t plan a future together. Everyday I’m dying a little inside not knowing. Is someone coming to kill you? Why are you so fatalistic about it? You weren’t that way about Tass. I’m hoping, praying something will happen, that . . . you are mistaken, that we can get help from your friends if you think we can’t handle it here. Please don’t put me through this hell of not knowing.”

“Sweetheart . . . you promised to not think about it.” He almost choked on the words. “Please, please don’t ask me. If I thought it would make you feel better I’d tell you.” He held her tightly against him and stroked her hair.

Vanessa squeezed her eyes shut as tears welled. Her heart constricted and she struggled to keep the sobs from breaking loose. When she raised her head to look at him there was a smile on her face, but her lashes were wet. She took a deep breath.

“I can’t promise I won’t think about it.”

The look she saw in his eyes, the look of love, adoration, and utter helplessness brought a great swell of emotion within her. She clasped her arms about his waist and her lips gently brushed his chin.

“I love you. It will make no difference if we are a million miles and a million years apart. Always remember that I love you.”

On a cool, still autumn day John drove the team with Henry beside him on the wagon seat, and Kain rode alongside the wagon on Big Red when the trail widened to permit it. Jeb and Clay stayed behind to slaughter one of the two steers Clay had brought out from town.

“It’s best,” Clay had said that morning at breakfast, “to let the meat hang fer a day or two. ’Sides, it’ll take Jeb that long to dig the hole to cook it in.”

The sense of humor the Texans concealed behind their quiet faces came out more often now that they felt more at ease around the women.

“If’n I got to dig it by myself, I jist might dig it out by the outhouse,” Jeb retorted, then turned brick-red when he realized what he had said. When Ellie paused on her way from the stove to the table to look at him, he said, “I’m jist joshin’, ma’am.”

“Course you are, Jeb. I never thought for a minute you’d do such a thing.”

“Hogwash!” Clay snorted. “I remember the time we was at a shebang down on the Red River. The ramrod we was workin’ fer was half sloshed ’n meaner ’n all get out. He was sittin’ there shootin’ off his bazzoo ’n Jeb put a frog in his whiskey jug. He took a swig a that whiskey ’n that frog dang near choked ’em to death.”

“Oh, my goodness! You men must have ironclad stomachs!” Ellie exclaimed and shuddered with revulsion.

Jeb sent a quelling glance at his brother, gulped his coffee, and got to his feet. “You’ve run off at the mouth enuff, Clay. Get outta here afore Miss Ellie throws ya out on yore ear ’n I got to skin that steer all by my ownself.”

Thinking about it now as she sat behind John and Henry with Vanessa and Mary Ben, Ellie recognized how fortunate they were to have such good friends. John had worked most of the day taking the top off his wagon and building a seat in the back for them to sit in. And Kain . . . when she thought of what awaited him and the pain Vanessa would have to endure, her heart felt like a rock in her breast.

*  *  *

Vanessa pulled the gray wool shawl tighter around her shoulders when they left the shelter of the timber. A cold wind coming down from the mountains made her aware that winter was but a month away. Her dark print bonnet allowed wisps of copper colored curls to show around her face, making the skin of her face appear all the whiter, her eyes bluer.

As they approached town, Kain reined in and waited for the wagon to catch up. “I’m going to turn off here and go on to the preacher’s house. I’ll meet you at the mercantile in about half an hour.”

“Oh, please! Don’t go off by yourself!” There was a kind of desperation in Vanessa’s voice.

“There’s nothing to worry about. Believe me, honey. I’ll see you in a little while.” Feeling the warmth of her concern, Kain’s eyes were reluctant to leave her face. Here was the consummation of all the yearning dreams he had had through the years of empty waiting. Her smile told him she had received the message of love and assurance that he had sent with his eyes, and her lips formed a kiss that he carried with him as he turned his horse and rode away.

A freight wagon took up most of the space in front of the store, so John turned the corner and went a good way beyond the saloon before he pulled up. Henry jumped down and helped the women from the wagon while John tied the team to an iron ring in a post.

“It isn’t a very big town, but it’s busy,” Vanessa remarked, and moved back as another wagon rounded the corner.

“It’s cause towns is scarce out here. Go on, Mary Ben, go on with Henry,” John said when she stood uncertainly beside the wagon. “I aim to be here awatchin’ the sights ’n keepin’ my eye on the wagon.”

Mary Ben reached down and patted the head of the old yellow dog who had trotted behind the wagon all the way to town.

“Yo’re plumb wore out. Ya stay here with Mr. Wisner, now. Me ’n Henry’ll be back in no time a’tall.” She tucked her hand in the crook of Henry’s arm and they headed toward the main street.

John reached into the wagon for Ellie’s basket. “She’s mighty purty all duded up in that dress ’n bonnet with ribbon on it, ma’am.”

“Yes, she is. Our children make a handsome couple, don’t they, John?”

A smile made the wrinkles in John’s weathered face even deeper, and his blue eyes shone with pride. “Yes’m, they sure do.”

Ellie walked beside Vanessa down the boardwalk. “There seems to be an awful lot of men here and a very few women. A bakery would do well, Vanessa. I didn’t see one as we came through town, did you?”

“No, but I saw an eating place. And it’s a good one, if the woman I saw standing on the porch is an indication. She was so fat she’d have to go through the door sideways.”

“I’d still like to try my hand at a bakery sometime. Oh, my, look at that fancy buggy coming into town. Oh, shoot! It turned. I was hoping it would come on by so I could see who was in it.”

“It looked like the buggy Kain’s sister was in. I hope we don’t run into
her.”

Mary Ben and Henry were waiting beside the open door of the mercantile and followed them inside. At first glance Vanessa wasn’t sure they would find what they wanted. It was as different from a ladies’ emporium in Springfield as day from night. Here farming tools were set beside dress goods, and tins of crackers, barrels of rice, beans and jugs of sorghum were set alongside ribbons and scented soaps.

“Howdy, folks.” The storekeeper walked from behind a screen of hanging harnesses. “Cooper! I didn’t know—” His voice stopped as he came face to face with Henry. “Young man, I thought for a minute you were a friend of mine. By jinks damn if you ain’t the spittin’ image of Cooper Parnell.”

“Do you know Cooper Parnell?” Henry smiled broadly. “He’s gettin’ an invite to our wedding. He’s a friend of Kain’s.” He glanced at his mother, then stuck out his hand. “I’m Henry Hill, and this is my intended, Mary Ben.”

“Glad to meet you. And you too, young lady.”

Henry looked proudly down at Mary Ben, but she was gazing at the floor.

“I’m Henry’s mother, Mrs. Hill. And this is my niece, Vanessa Cavanaugh.”

“Name’s McCloud. Are you folks moving in or passing through?”

“We’re at Mr. DeBolt’s place about five miles north of town,” Ellie said. “I believe the place was
formerly
called The House.”

“Ah . . . so you’re the ones. I heard you had visitors the other night.”

“A few,” Vanessa said dryly.

McCloud chuckled. “I hope you ladies wasn’t too put out. It’ll take awhile, but folks’ll come to know it ain’t . . . what it was. I’ve not seen Kain since he come back.”

“He’s to meet us here later on.”

“Good. Good. What can I show you?”

“Shoes, for one thing,” Ellie said, digging for her list in the purse that hung from her wrist. “And ribbon, sewing thread, and a piece of white goods. We need something to make streamers to decorate the parlor and eggs for the cake.”

“Sounds like you’re having a real shindig.”

“It will be as nice as we can make it on this short notice. A woman cherishes the memory of her wedding all her life, Mr. McCloud. My niece is marrying Mr. DeBolt, and my son is marrying this young lady.”

“A double wedding! That’s something. You’d better not noise it around or you’ll have half the town out there. Let’s see, now. The shoes are right back here.” The storekeeper went toward the back of the store.

Ellie urged Mary Ben along with a gentle hand on her back. “Something nice and soft. Oh, yes, do you have white stockings?”

After Mary Ben had been fitted with shoes, she sidled over to stand close to Henry. He was examining the collection of whips that hung from the ceiling on a wire.

“Looky here, Mary Ben, at this six-plait whip. The feller who made it didn’t pull his strips tight and he should of run them through the splitting gauge one more time to get all the hair off. Did you know I can make a eight-plait whip? Someday I’m going to try my hand at a twelve plait.”