An Unwilling Husband (19 page)

She’d always imagined if one found him or herself attacked by a prickly pear, there would be a few large needles to remove, and presto! Silky smooth and happy skin once more. Not the case. The needles ranged from small, to tiny, to so miniscule she could feel yet not see them.

Garret set to work plucking the largest ones out first while Lenny finished mixing herbs and a creamy substance Maggie wasn’t even tempted to identify. After the visible needles were removed, Lenny applied long strips of cloth coated with her concoction. It didn’t offer any relief. Acutely disappointing. As the medicine set, Lenny studied her with a worried expression.

She must have looked quite awful, to receive such inspection. “I’m all right. Just a little shaken, I guess.”

Garret filled the silence with an explanation in Lenny’s language. A word here and there were recognizable, but most of it, completely lost on her. Proof of how far she still had to go before she spoke Comanche well. Quiet anger seemed to be building in Lenny; then her dark frown said he was at the grittiest part.

“I got a look at the two we got, Maggie,” Garret said, “but not at the one who got away. Did you see him? Can you tell me anything that’ll help me recognize him?”

“I didn’t get a good look at him. The men all covered their faces. But I can tell you who he was, anyway.”

Garret’s eyes widened. “Who?”

“I’ll give you three guesses, but I think you will only need one.”

His features transformed from confusion and surprise to barely checked rage. She and Lenny leaned back in their chairs. Fury so potent couldn’t be held in such confinement for long. He needed an outlet.

“Garret?” Maggie asked quietly. “Can you fetch water to wash my arms? If it isn’t too much trouble, that is.”

He left without a word and, minutes later, was heard chopping wood at a furious pace.

“You’re sure it was Wyatt?” Lenny asked.

“I’m sure. He is a cruel man. I was so scared,” she admitted with a tremor in her voice.

Lenny removed the first strip of cloth from her injured arm. The salve had hardened to the consistency of nearly dried mud and as if by magic, had pulled the tiny needles out while leaving her fine downy arm hair intact. Mostly intact, anyway. It still looked horrid, but the relief at the absence of the irritants outweighed her vanity by a considerable amount.

The rooster crowed from the coop. That blasted bird would ruin any chance at sleep.

“You need rest,” Lenny said after she’d pulled the final cloth away to reveal mostly needle-free skin. “Your mind needs to heal as much as your body. Maybe more.” She tilted her head toward the door. “I’ll take the chickens further out to feed them today.”

Who was she to argue? She could sleep for a week; the simple effort it took to avoid thinking about the night’s events wearied her. Garret was still chopping wood, so no hope for a bucket of fresh water. The water in her washbasin was mostly clean and would have to do. She would not venture outside and risk his wrath. Though not the object of his rage, she was the closest thing he had to an outlet for his anger and wasn’t up for a row.

How long she lay on her bed staring at the thin space between two planks on the wall, she didn’t have a guess. It was important she change out of her clothes but she had no motivation to do so. She tossed and turned, kicked off her covers and stretched out like a star, but still sleep eluded her. Her mind was numb, as dark and empty as the blackened inside of an old whiskey cask. She didn’t think about anything. Just lay there. Just was.

Garret didn’t even bother to knock on the door before he barged in with a bucket of water. Normally she would have at least half jokingly called him names for his rudeness, but she didn’t have the heart. He stared at her as if waiting for the insults, which she couldn’t quite manage to dredge up.

“We’ll have to get you another dress the next time we are in town.”

She sat up slowly and leaned against the headboard. “I’m sure I can salvage this one—” But the dress hung in filthy tatters and shreds, and was more brown than yellow at the moment. “You know, for cloth strips, and torches, and tinder, and such.” She laughed a little hysterically. “If I can get the fabric clean, perhaps I could make curtains.”

Curtains would make the room more homey, and she did have plenty of material.

“All right then. I think it’s high time we get you some shut-eye.” He turned to leave but stopped at the door. “Dammit, woman, I need to know if this is the part where you leave. I know what’s happened is awful. Shoulda never happened. Wyatt Jennings shoulda never had wind of you. Neither of us wanted this marriage, and now we’re both paying for it, ain’t we? I’m not trying to stop you from leaving, Maggie. I just need to know.”

While he’d talked, she’d been fumbling with her laces and was almost too exhausted to catch the subtle note of anxiety in his voice.

“And miss the dance? Apologies, Mr. Shaw, but you can’t get rid of me so easily.” She tried to smile at him, but her lips trembled. Garret hesitated, then his boots thudded softly as they connected with the wooden floor and he approached.

“Here let me,” he said.

She started to argue but was much too tired to care if her obviously uninterested husband helped her undress, and held her arms limply at her sides as he unlaced the back of her dress and removed the layers. His hands were strong and confident. They never wavered or fumbled. The hands of a man who had undressed a woman before.

Her back was to him, clad in only the thin shift. His hands paused their movement, then he traced the curve of her neck to the tip of her collarbone, a light touch. She shivered under his silken caress.

And he was gone, at her washbasin replacing the water with fresh. He kept his back carefully to her while she dressed in her nightgown, but stole glances out of the corner of his eye as if he couldn’t seem to help himself.

Her nightgown was sleeveless, and she let out a sigh at the scrapes and cuts her dress had concealed until now. The brambles that had unsuccessfully hidden her had done a number on her arms.

When Garret cleaned the cuts, she tried not to flinch. Doubtful, though, if he would notice. Or if she sang an Irish jig in his face, the way he couldn’t seem to remove his gaze from her nipples. They’d pulled taut and hard at his earlier touch and hadn’t been inclined to soften.

Equal parts mortified and amused, she lowered her gaze but regardless, said, “All you have to do is ask, Garret.”

He dragged questioning eyes up to her face. “Do you still think you love me?”

She nodded, unable and unwilling to lie about such a thing.

“Then I can’t. You deserve better than to make love to a man who doesn’t love you back. Marrying me took that option away from you. Best you can hope for is to make love with a man you’re indifferent to.”

Anger peaked like the crack of a whip. “Are you telling me I should try to hate you? Hate you and then you’ll bed me?”

“Not hate me, Maggie, but there has to be a middle ground. I can’t be what you want me to be. Especially if I think you are forgettin’ what this marriage is.”

“Don’t worry. I know
exactly
what this is. You never, for even a moment, let me forget your distaste for me. And no, I didn’t want this marriage. Not like this. But because of it I’m doomed to feel uncared for and unwanted? For all my life?”

Surely Roy couldn’t have wished this for her. Tears brimmed and blurred her vision. She refused to cry in front of Garret and held it in as best she could.

“You could leave,” he said quietly.

“Get out.”

“Maggie, just listen to reason—”

“Get out!” she yelled. She’d hit her limit hours before and could take no more.

Garret took his leave, closing the door gently behind him. Shaking with anger, she didn’t know whether she wanted to scream or cry or do both at the same time. She had imagined the man she would take as a husband, and the man in her dreams had never acted remotely like Garret Shaw. He drove her mad! In her lifetime, no one had managed to bring out a fraction of the frustration and anger he could on a daily basis. And she had weathered half a lifetime with Aunt Margaret!

She shoved a pillow in the small window to block the rays of morning sunlight attempting to stream into her bedroom, and thrust her desk chair in front of the door. On second thought, she dragged the desk in front of it as well. She would be doomed in a fire, but it was worth the risk if Garret couldn’t pop in unannounced to exasperate her further.

Her arms still hurt and she felt violated and angry. None of that, however, kept her from the sleep she so desperately needed. She would really need to put more effort into despising her husband, was her last thought before drifting off.

Chapter 13

Dearest Uncle,

I fear I am so impatient for you to come and visit me! I want you to see my new life here. I wonder if you would even recognize me now, though it has only been a short time since we’ve seen each other. It feels like a lifetime though, because so much has happened. It isn’t glamorous here, and we do without modern conveniences to be sure, but I’m happy in most areas of my life. I shall be attending a dance later today. I am filled with excitement, yet anxious. I still stick out here, and Garret was an eligible and sought-after suitor. I fear one scorned female in particular could prove to be a cruel and relentless creature, but hopefully I am overreacting. Or if I’m lucky she won’t even be at the dance.

Lenny, the Indian girl I wrote you of, has become a dear and welcome friend. I don’t think I would have survived thus far without her, as she is determined to make me tough and able. I baked my first loaf of bread just the other day. Are you impressed with me, Uncle? Well, hold your applause until I tell you, I have learned to make pies. And yes, they are even edible! If you promise to visit I shall learn to make cobbler, as I know it to be your favorite. I daresay I will shamelessly bribe you with treaties until you show up on the train.

It would do you good to see me thrive here, dear Uncle. I know you worry so over things out of your immediate control, but this is where I’m supposed to be. I feel it to be true in the very fiber of my being. I’m home.

Maggie Shaw

Maggie finished the letter to her Uncle William, fortuitously leaving out the parts which would worry him deeply. Kidnapping, uncaring husband, injury—the worrisome events that seemed to pass for the everyday around the Lazy S. Her uncle’s worry wouldn’t solve her problems. She would simply have to learn to adjust to such ways of life if it meant she could be happy in between. The extremes would simply have to become her normal.

She had slept the entire day through and part of the night, written her letter by candlelight as it was now full darkness outside. Relief at the probability she wouldn’t have to talk to Garret soothed her.

Unable to sleep more, she readied herself with the intention of taking a bath, as it was a few hours yet before dawn would break on the horizon. A quick check of the furniture near the fireplace told her Garret was asleep in his bedroom, leaving her the privacy of her thoughts and a hot bath.

She found solace in the mindless work that went into filling the tub. Her unfortunate adventures of the night before had left her filthy, and she had to look fresh and clean for the barn raising later in the day. If for no other reason than to prove to herself and Garret the trauma she had endured had not broken her as he likely expected.

After the warm bath, she dressed and let her hair hang loosely around her shoulders to dry in the morning air. She would make two pies and hope at least one came out with the desired amount of attractiveness and flavor. She’d take the best looking one, though if they turned out well likely bring both to the dance.

Garret’s bedroom door squeaked as it was opened, but she did her best to ignore it. His apparent desperation to rid himself of her was much too hurtful to cope with.

Carrying a bucket of fresh water for his washbasin, he disappeared into his bedroom without sparing a word for her. Just as well. She was much too upset to be baited so early. The results would be entirely unattractive, to be sure.

Then he emerged in the kitchen to heat water for his bath, which had her retreating to the safety and solitude of her room. It was ridiculous, but she couldn’t help but be wounded by his apparent aloofness toward her after being so cruel the day before. How did one understand a man such as he? Garret was hot and cold and hot again in an almost continual fashion. Clearly, the man fought some barely restrained battle within himself, but she couldn’t even pretend to understand what it was about, and he didn’t seem willing to enlighten her.