Deborah Camp (12 page)

She cleared her throat. “I was just … um … stripping the sheet off the cot and –.”

“The hell you were,” he said, his voice coming out raspy.

“What?” Her dove gray eyes darkened slightly when she looked him squarely in the face. He knew she saw there what raged within him. Longing. Lust.

He didn’t want to talk anymore. There was nothing more to say. Hooking an arm around her waist, he pulled her up flush against him. She came willingly, giving no resistance. Her lips parted and he claimed them with a feverish kiss. She moaned and the sound reverberated in his head. He broke the kiss to find that telltale pulse in her neck. Tasting it with the tip of his tongue, he felt her tremble and she released a mewling sound that made him ache with an exquisite pain.

She raked her fingers through his hair and splayed her hands at the back of his head and neck, holding him tightly to her as he pressed kisses along the column of her neck and then ravaged her mouth again. He stroked her tongue with his and she arched against him. He knew she was aware of his arousal because she sucked in a little breath as if she were surprised. But why she would be didn’t make sense. Couldn’t she tell by the way he was caressing her and kissing her that he wanted her, wanted to be inside her, wanted to plunge deeper and deeper?

He mirrored that motion with his tongue and she clutched at his hair. He felt her sag against him as her knees gave way. He tightened one arm around her waist and reached down with his free hand to capture her knee and lift her leg up along his hip, tucking her closer against him as he kissed her mouth again and again, making her breathless.

“Zach, Zach …” she whispered his name like a prayer.

“I want you,” he whispered back. “I want you now.” He ran his hand up under her skirt and petticoat and felt the soft skin of her inner thigh. He thought he might die then and there.

“Oh, Zach … I … we …”

The sound of heels clicking on the kitchen floor broke through the fog of passion and he lifted his mouth from hers. His breath came out ragged, broken, matching hers. Her eyes were dark gray, searching, pleading, and then they widened and she pressed the heels of her hands against his shoulders.

“It’s Mrs. Philpot,” she whispered.

He dipped his head for a few seconds, reining himself in while his heartbeats thundered like a stampede in his ears. Somehow she slipped from his arms and edged around him, leaving him alone. He looked over his shoulder to see that she was standing just over the threshold, standing as still as a statue. Then she lifted her head, brushed her hands down her skirt, and walked briskly into the hallway.

“Do you need help getting the meal on the table?”

Zach marveled that she could sound so normal when he knew that her blood must be singing in her veins and her lips were swollen from his kisses. He moved woodenly to the washstand and lifted his Stetson off the peg. Slowly, he fit it on his head and glanced at himself at himself in the mirror, running a hand down his wrinkled shirt and pressing a palm against his arousal.

What the hell had just happened? One minute he was in control and the next he would have taken her standing up, sitting down, on the floor, any damn way he could have managed it.

He sat on the cot until the raging feelings inside subsided, then he moved quietly into the hall and listened. When he heard Jennie and Mrs. Philpot leave the kitchen and go into the dining room, he walked on cat feet to the back door and let himself out. He went around the side of the house toward the street. Mrs. Carter wasn’t in the rocker to spy him. She had gone in for the noon meal, he supposed.

Shoving his hands in his pockets, he ducked his head and walked stoically toward the law office where there was a fresh shirt and a bottle of brandy waiting for him.

“When do you think it’s suitable for a widowed or divorced woman to be courted by another man?” Jennie asked, trying to sound casual as she rocked back and forth in the porch swing and shelled peas. Her mind kept returned to Zach and the feelings he had stirred in her yesterday. She glanced around at the other women on the Philpot porch. Mrs. Philpot and her mother sat in rockers and Dottie Dandridge sat beside Jennie on the swing.

“Used to have to wait a year,” Mrs. Carter said. “But times have changed.”

“Some say that once a divorce is final, a woman is free to see any man she wants,” Dottie said. “But I don’t know about widowhood.”

“I do,” Mrs. Philpot piped up. “Mama, times haven’t changed that much. Most folks think widow women should wait nigh on a year before they allow for any suitors. Me, myself, I think different.”

“What do you think is suitable?” Dottie asked.

Mrs. Philpot stopped shelling the peas for a few moments. “I think that when you can be in the company of a man and feel something for him and you don’t for one second think of your husband, then you are ready to move on.”

Mrs. Carter studied her daughter for a moment and gave a decisive nod. “That’s righteous. If’n you don’t see his face or hear his voice, then he has gone from your head and you can see your way clear. Don’t mean he is gone entirely from your heart. Sometimes they linger there a long spell. In a corner of it. Women tend to hold on to the memories of good times and let go of the bad times. Can’t say that is wise, though.”

Mrs. Philpot chuckled. “You’re right, Mama. Even if men were more trouble than they were worth, we can’t entirely shake them or the memories. They stick like cockleburs to our hearts.”

They fell silent, each one lost in thought as their hands moved routinely, chasing peas from shells and memories from shadowy corners.

“Why did you ask, dearie?” Mrs. Philpot’s tone was webbed with sly suspicion. “Is someone courting you?”

Jennie kept her gaze latched on the pile of pea pods in her lap. “I was just thinking about how society has or hasn’t changed. I never gave any thought to divorced men and women until I came here. In fact, I don’t believe I ever met anyone who was divorced before I arrived in Guthrie.”

“Divorce ain’t natural,” Mrs. Carter said.

“Maybe not, but it is often necessary,” Mrs. Philpot said, earning a frown from her snowy-haired mother. “I didn’t give it a thought either before I opened up my boarding house here. Then I started meeting the ladies and men who came here to break the chains of cruelty, neglect, abandonment, poverty, and all variety of punishment. Marriage should be a healthy partnership. It should be fertile soil from which a family grows, not a field full of glass shards or desert sand.”

“You take a vow for life,” Mrs. Carter pointed out.

“And when one person breaks that vow, the other person should be free to decide whether to stay or go,” Dottie said, her head coming up and her dark blue eyes bright with resolve. “I didn’t break my marriage vows; my husband did. He just took off one day and never came back to us. My brothers asked around and found out he had gone to California. What was I supposed to do? Stay married to a memory?”

“Of course not, dearie,” Mrs. Philpot said, soothingly. “You have done the right thing. You must be shed of him so that you can make a better life for you and your child.”

Jennie reached out and patted Dottie’s arm. “Will you go back home when your divorce is final?”

“Yes. I will live with my parents until I can find work and get a place of my own. Will you move back with your folks if you don’t get the land away from Luna?”

“No, I … I wouldn’t want to do that,” Jennie said. “Besides, I fully intend to settle on the land Charles purchased for me and Oliver.”

“Are you not on good footing with your people?” Mrs. Philpot asked.

“It’s not like that,” Jennie said, forcing a smile. “I simply want to live on my own.”

“Were they very upset when your husband died and you decided to travel here?”

“I didn’t consult them about coming here, but Charles’s parents didn’t want me to leave St. Louis. They are very fond of Oliver.”

“It’s funny how what some people don’t say is most important than what they choose to say,” Mrs. Carter said, rocking and smiling, her hands idle now that her share of pods had been shelled.

“Mama, some things are none of our business,” Mrs. Philpot said, catching Jennie’s glance and shrugging.

Jennie held her tongue and finished shelling the final peas in her lap. She set the bowl of vegetables on the swing between her and Dottie and rested the side her head against the chain that supported the swing. She closed her eyes. His face swam into view. Blue eyes, darkened by passion. Full lips, glistening from kisses. Zachary. Passion curled in her stomach like a cat circling before settling down. It was a pleasant sensation that she hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

“There’s that gal again,” Mrs. Carter said.

Jennie opened her eyes to see that Mrs. Carter was sitting as straight as a fence post and staring across the street at the shuttered grocery store. At first, Jennie only saw some men gathered around a wagon that had a broken wheel, but then she spotted a slip of a girl walking slowly along the sidewalk, head down, her shawl pulled closely over her narrow shoulders.

“That’s Stella,” Jennie said.

“You know that gal?” Mrs. Carter asked.

“I met her the other night,” Jennie said. “Do you know her?”

Mrs. Carter shook her head. “But I know she’s got man trouble. She was hiding from a man yesterday morning.”

Jennie stood up. “Excuse me. I want a word with her.” She skipped down the porch steps and moved quickly along the sidewalk and across the street. “Stella! Stella, wait.”

Stella jerked all over and her eyes were wide and wild when she glanced over her shoulder, but when she saw Jennie she pressed a hand to her heart and released a shaky laugh.

“You scared five years off me.”

“How are you, Stella? That man hasn’t been bothering you again, has he?”

“No, and I don’t want to see him any time soon. He don’t usually come to town more’n once or twice a week.”

Jennie took a step closer and could see that Stella’s right eye was swollen and a purple bruise painted her cheekbone. “Did you show the saloon owner what that man did to you?”

“He saw.”

“And? Will he tell the man he isn’t welcome in the saloon anymore?”

Stella looked at Jennie as if she had made a joke. “No, ma’am. As long as he’s a payin’ customer, he’s welcome at the Lantern.”

“You should leave that saloon and work somewhere else,” Jennie said. “If the owner won’t protect you from brutes, then you aren’t safe there.”

“Women ain’t safe most places.” Stella ran the heel of her hand up her dripping nose. “I’m goin’ to the pharmacy for somethin’ to make me feel better. I got the sniffles. ‘Bye now.”

Jennie watched the woman walk jerkily along the sidewalk. She had smelled liquor on her and suspected that Stella was a bit drunk on this Sunday afternoon when the pharmacy was closed.

Perhaps the liquor dulled her pain and kept her from thinking about her wretched life, Jennie thought, feeling sad for the girl and angry at the same time. If only Stella would refuse to be bowed by life. If only …

She went back across the street toward the boarding house. She wondered what Zach did on Sundays. She didn’t even know where he lived or how he lived. She knew very little about him, but what she knew made her want to study him like a girl studies her first butterfly. Zach had stirred in her feelings that were new and powerful. She had never felt wanton before, but in his arms she had known mind-smothering lust. For a minute, the world had slipped away …

Blinking aside the fevered memory, she made sure she was composed before she rejoined the women on the porch. She wasn’t ready to let them know of her tender, budding feelings for Zach.

“Is she still running from that man?” Mrs. Carter asked.

“No, she is just out for a walk,” Jennie said, giving Stella the benefit of the doubt. “A man has abused her – hit her.”

“I saw her hiding from him yesterday,” Mrs. Carter said. “I saw him, too.”

“Did you know him, Mama?”

“No. I have seen him ride by on his pretty pinto pony, but I don’t know him.”

“Well, he’s a devil if he would knock around a girl,” Dottie said. “She works at one of the saloons, doesn’t she?”

“Yes, at the Lantern,” Jennie answered.

“It’s a rough life for those women,” Mrs. Philpot said. “They get no sympathy from anyone.”

“That’s ‘cause they are soiled,” Mrs. Carter said.

An uneasy silence fell among them. Jennie started to defend Stella and Stella’s soiled sisters, but she couldn’t condone their choices. She would rather clean outhouses than work in a saloon and allow strange men to handle her, bed her.

Dottie pushed up from the swing and dumped the peas she’d shelled into the big bowl in Mrs. Philpot’s lap. “Don’t seem right to me that they are soiled and the men who soil them don’t get called nothing worse than ‘Mister.’”

Jennie grinned, and before she could think twice about it, she jumped up from the swing and hugged Dottie’s neck. “Thank you.”

“For what?” Dottie asked with a startled laugh.

“For saying what needed to be said.” She retrieved her shelled peas and spilled them into Mrs. Philpot’s bowl. “Women should stick together just like men always seem to do.” Linking arms with Dottie, she opened the screen door and walked with her into the house.

Chapter 10

Coming out of the church with Oliver, the sun struck Jennie’s eyes and she lifted her free hand to shade them. Oliver squeezed her other hand as he skipped down the stairs, pulling her along. She maneuvered the final steps and was glad when a few children stopped to talk to Oliver, giving her time to adjust her bonnet

A breeze kicked up and rustled her skirts and the tendrils of hair curling at her temples and forehead. She looked up at the robin’s egg blue sky and the cottony clouds. Such a beautiful day, she thought, wondering what she would do with the rest of it. Maybe she could take Oliver for a picnic by the creek. She’d have to borrow the horse and buggy from Mrs. Philpot … Her thoughts skittered to an abrupt stop as she noticed a familiar figure leaning against a buggy across the street.

Zachary.

He was dressed in a dark, vested suit and light blue shirt. His arms were folded and he held his Stetson in one hand. Sunlight combed through his blond hair and the breeze lifted a few strands and then let them fall back onto his forehead. She could tell he was looking at her. A half-smile graced his lips. He was waiting for her and the knowledge of that made her blush. She hadn’t seen him since the scorching few minutes last weekend in that small room in the boarding house, but she had thought about him every day, several times a day. She had wondered if he ever thought of her. She had her answer.

“Oliver, come along,” she said, reaching for Oliver’s hand again. Confidently, she crossed the street toward him. “Good morning,” she said, brightly. “Were you in church? I didn’t see you.”

He shook is head, then directed his attention to Oliver. “Howdy, little man. You look like quite the gentleman in that get-up.”

Oliver grinned up at him. “Is that your horse and buggy?”

“The horse is, but I borrowed the buggy from a friend.”

Oliver slipped his hand from Jennie’s and went to the jet black horse. “Can I pet him?”

“Yes, but he’s a girl. Her name is Diamond because of that white diamond on her forehead. Do you see it?”

“Uh-huh.” Oliver reached up to stroke the horse’s neck and soft nose. “She’s pretty.”

“Yes, she is.”

The sensuous note in his voice sent Jennie’s gaze dancing to his. Her blood heated in her veins when she saw that he was talking about her now and not the horse.

“You look like quite the gentleman yourself. If you haven’t been to church, are you headed somewhere else?”

“I thought you might like to see the land your husband purchased.” He straightened from the buggy and fit his hat over his blond hair.

“Yes, I would.” She glanced around. “Now?”

“Unless you have other plans.”

“No, we were just going back to the boarding house.”

“Then my carriage awaits you, m’lady.” He essayed a bow, sweeping an arm across his midsection and bending at the waist. “Oliver, you can drive the buggy.”

“I can?”

“He can?”

Zachary chuckled and cupped a hand to his ear. “Is that an echo.”

“He’s never driven a buggy, Zachary. I don’t think —.”

“It’s time he learned. We’ll be fine. Diamond doesn’t need much guidance.” He motioned for Oliver. “Come along, partner.” Zach caught Oliver around the waist and lifted him up into the buggy. Sit there in the middle.” Then he turned back to Jennie and held out his hand. “You’re looking mighty pretty this morning, Jennie.”

“Thank you.” She lowered her gaze as she slipped her hand into his. His fingers closed around hers and he stepped closer.

“You blush like a girl with her first beau.”

“I’m not blushing,” she lied. “It’s a bit warm out. The sun is very bright.”

He chuckled and stepped away from her, balancing her as she stepped up into the buggy. She sat beside Oliver, whose eyes were wide with excitement. He grinned at her and then released a burst of giggles.

“I’m going drive the buggy, Mama.”

“Yes, you are,” Zachary agreed, sitting on the other side of him. He unlooped the reins from the brake and held them out to Oliver. “Here you go. Give them a little shake and tell her to walk on. See how her ears are turned around to us? She’s listening to us talk about her. She’s just waiting for you to tell her what to do, Oliver.”

Jennie watched as Zachary instructed her son patiently and with a kind expression on his handsome face. Oliver listened and nodded, his countenance one of concentration. He wanted to do everything right so that Zachary would be proud of him, Jennie thought, and felt a pang of regret that he was fatherless. He needed a man around to teach him the ways of boys and men. She knew she coddled him too much and that he was reaching the age when he wouldn’t want to be referred to as “her baby.” Although he always would be her baby in her heart, she thought, unable to resist stroking his hair, her finger combing it back from his freckled forehead.

“I’m doing it, Mama!” Oliver said, his voice piping to almost a squeak. “I’m driving the buggy!”

She nodded and exchanged a long look with Zachary. She mouthed “thank you” and he shrugged as if it was nothing, but they both knew better than that.

“We’re taking this road to the east up here,” Zach said, motioning ahead. “Pull the reins gently to the right as we near the road. That’s good. She understands what you want, so you can relax the reins again. What you have to understand is that horses are smart, Oliver. They learn our language because we’re too stupid to learn theirs. If they get upset or confused or scared, it’s usually because we’ve given them the wrong information. Don’t ever blame a horse for defending itself or trying to get away from danger – or get away from
you
if the horse figures you’re as dumb as a stump. And don’t ever whip or beat a horse. Nothing good ever comes from a beating.”

“That’s right,” Jennie said. “You should never whip or beat anything, man or beast.”

“What if somebody hits me first, Mama? I can’t hit back?”

“Hitting is not —”

“Sure, you hit back,” Zach interrupted. “You have to protect yourself and you don’t want to be a chicken and run.” His gaze locked with Jennie’s.

She wanted to argue, but the words dried on her tongue. She didn’t want Oliver to be cowardly, but it was hard for her to picture him in a fist fight.

“Some things and some people depend on us for protection,” Zach said, resting his hand on the back of Oliver’s neck. “You shouldn’t lord it over them and be cruel to them. But if someone your equal picks a fight with you, your honor demands that you fight back. Don’t start fights, though, Oliver. You know why? Because there never is a winner. Believe me. Even if you finish a fight, you don’t feel like you’ve won anything.” He patted Oliver’s back and grinned. “Hey, it’s too nice a day to talk of such dark things. You’re doing such a great job of driving this buggy, I can sit back and enjoy the scenery.”

Oliver grinned and kept his eyes focused on Diamond’s bobbing head.

“Are we close to the property yet?” Jennie asked.

“It’s not too far. Just a couple of miles,” he said. “We’re not going onto the property, you understand. The fella living there might take a shot at us. He’s dry tinder looking for a flame.”

“I wish I could examine the land and see inside the house.”

“We will have to put that off for another day.”

She glanced at him and smiled, silently thanking him for his optimism. “You have good news for me on that front?”

His smile grew jaded. “No, Jennie, but it’s not for a lack of trying. The bald truth is that we are going to have to uncover a mistake or a loophole in the laws to wrestle the land from Luna. If you hear anything from any of your women friends in town that doesn’t sound right, be sure to let me know. I’m bound and determined to look under every bush and rock for you.”

“Why are you showing me the land if you haven’t made any progress?”

“Because you deserve to see what Charles bought. It was your money that paid for it, right?”

“Mostly, yes, it was my dowry money.”

“Then you and Oliver should see it.”

“Mr. Warner?”

“Yes, Oliver?”

“Is that a rifle by your leg?”

Jennie stiffened and followed Oliver’s gaze with her own. She saw Zachary close his hand around the butt of a rifle that rested beside his leg, the one farthest from her and Oliver.

“Yes, partner, it is.”

“Why did you bring that?” Jennie asked, the innocent outing suddenly taking on a different feeling.

“I bring along a firearm when I venture out of town. In fact, I usually have a firearm when I’m in town.”

“Do you expect trouble?” Jennie asked.

“Indians!” Oliver said, hopefully.

“There are some of those around here,” Zachary said with a chuckle. “But there are other things to consider. Some folks get strange when they get some land.”

“Like Luna,” Jennie said.

“Right,” Zachary agreed. “Folks get scared that someone is going to try to take something from them – their property, their chickens, their cattle. We’ve had some rustling out here.”

“Is that why Luna has her cousin living on the land?”

Zachary chuckled again. “He was in prison for a few years for rustling cattle.”

“He was? Who told you that?” Jennie asked.

“I have been doing some investigating. I figure she has him out here to keep folks from squatting. It’s a nice house and if it sits empty, someone might decide to move on in.” He rested a hand on top of Oliver’s head. “Rein her to a stop, partner.” He nodded ahead of them. “See how the fence posts change? That’s where the land Hastings bought begins. The house is on up there a ways.”

“This is it?” Jennie’s heart hammered in her ears and she strained forward, her eyes wide as she tried to take it all in. The land she had dreamed of, longed for … spread out before her like a pretty patchwork quilt of green, gold, red, and brown. “I could get Oliver in to school from here without too much trouble.”

“Let her walk on slowly, Oliver.”

The buggy creaked and began rolling again. Jennie strained forward, eager to see every speck of the land from her vantage point.

“The house is back there in front of the copse of sycamore and cottonwoods. It looks well-kept from the outside. It’s good ranch land and could be good farm land, too. Doesn’t appear to be too rocky.”

The house was white with a green roof. There was a porch, big enough for a couple of rockers and maybe even one of those wringer/washers she’d seen at Pendleton’s Hardware. She imagined the path leading up to the house lined by flowers and rose bushes in front of the railing. A trellis would be lovely, she thought, thinking she would place one at the end of the porch so that all spring and summer climbing roses would perfume the air around the house.

Counting the windows, she thought there might be two bedrooms. A kitchen was probably at the back and a parlor at the front of the house. She saw three outbuildings – a privy, a well house, and a small barn behind a corral. A brown and white pinto stood in the shady part of the corral, its tail swishing at flies.

She could hang a swing in one of the trees for Oliver. He’d like that. Where could she put a vegetable garden …

“Jennie? Are you okay?”

Blinking away the vision, she realized that Zachary was examining her with a mixture of worry and fascination. “I’m fine. I was just daydreaming. Oliver, I think there might be two bedrooms in the house. Wouldn’t it be nice not having to share a bedroom?”

“I guess. But I don’t mind sleeping with you, Mama. You don’t snore like Papa did.”

She laughed along with Zachary and stroked Oliver’s soft hair. “I don’t mind sleeping with you either, Ollie.”

The pinto trotted up to the fence and nickered. Diamond’s ears flicked forward and she called back to him.

“That’s a handsome horse,” Oliver said. “He looks lonely.”

“That’s Mel Parks’s pinto.”

A pinto … a man riding a pinto was looking for Stella … Jennie glanced back at the horse. “I met a woman a few days ago who was …” She glanced at Oliver and chose her words carefully. “She was in a ruckus with a man and she was hiding from him. The next day Mrs. Carter said she saw the woman hiding from a man who rode a pinto. Do you think it might have been Mel Parks?”

“Who was the woman?”

“Stella Carlson. She works at the Lantern Saloon.” Jeannie twisted to look back at the house, wanting to burn it into her brain so that she could recall it and dream of living in it soon.

“I’ve met her. I wonder if Luna knows that Cousin Mel is sporting with saloon women in town.”

“Do you think she would care?” Jennie asked, facing front again with a sigh.

“She has a reputation to protect now. It wouldn’t do if folks talked about how her cousin was getting liquored up and making trouble.”

“He was in prison, so she must not be too concerned about being associated with him.”

“People in Guthrie don’t know about Parks and his checkered past. This might be something I can use to cause a little rift between her and the judge. If he thinks the land is a problem and he doesn’t like having Parks out there, he could talk her into selling it.”

“That would be wonderful. Oliver and I could move in —.”

“Hold up,” Zachary said. He reached behind Oliver to rest a hand on her shoulder. “It’s only an idea. Don’t go buying furniture and curtains just yet.”

She released a slow breath. “You’re right, but it’s so hard not to get wrapped up in my dreams. I have thought of little else but this land since I found that deed among Charles’s papers. Of course, I have no money to buy land or furniture or even curtains.”

“Where are we going now?” Oliver asked.

“Let’s go on down this road and see the rest of the land.” He motioned ahead of them. “It goes on quite a ways and then it stretches back to a little creek at the eastern edge of the property. There is a pond back there. See that thicket of trees and brush where the cattle are gathered? That’s where the pond is.”

“Are those our cattle?” Oliver asked.

“No, partner. They belong to a neighbor.” He looked at Jennie over Oliver’s head and smiled. “Do you think you’d like to be a cowboy out here, Oliver?”

“Yes!” He nodded enthusiastically. “I could learn to rope!”