Indigo Blue (20 page)

“I think we’re about finished.”

The unexpected sound made Indigo start. She whirled from the window and pressed her palms to her waist. Her mother had an uncanny knack for reading her thoughts sometimes. “I, um . . . Yes, I’m done in here, at any rate.”

Loretta smiled and smoothed her apron. “We’d best step fancy. I don’t want my ham to overcook.” She wrinkled her nose. “We should sprinkle some vanilla around in here. This house has been shut up for so long, it smells musty.”

“Vanilla! It wasn’t on my list. I’ll need it for baking.”

Loretta raised an eyebrow. “You, baking?”

Indigo licked her lips. “I might change now that I’m getting married.”

“Maybe. One thing’s for certain—you need a dash of vanilla in here to freshen the air. I reckon there’s time for you to go over to the general store and get some.”

Indigo could scarcely conceal her eagerness.

“Just don’t get sidetracked,” her mother warned, wagging a finger. “You’ve still got to bathe and dress. If I have things figured right, Jake should be back with Father O’Grady in a couple of hours. You can’t get married in buckskins.”

As her ma finished speaking, a wistful expression entered her eyes and she flashed a tremulous smile. From that look, Indigo knew her mother was seeing her for the first time as a woman. Love and pride shone on her face. The moment lasted only an instant, but Indigo knew it marked her passage from childhood. The realization made her feel alone, incredibly alone.

 

Indigo made fast work of going to the general store. Afterward, she tucked the vanilla into the waistband of her britches and ran to the north end of town to circle the buildings. A gnarled oak stood at the left rear corner of the Lucky Nugget. She shinnied up it, gained the roof, and crept to Franny’s window. After rapping on the glass, she shrank against the clapboard siding so she wouldn’t be spotted from the street.

She heard the window open. Franny’s blond head poked out. “Indigo! I didn’t expect you until tomorrow.”

Indigo ducked under the sash and into Franny’s room. “I’m desperate, Franny. I need to talk to you.”

Franny’s green eyes filled with concern. “Lands, Indigo, what’s wrong?”

Winded from running, Indigo tried to pace her breaths. “Just don’t tell me never mind like my ma always does. Promise?”

“I don’t usually like to promise when I don’t know what I’m promising.” After considering Indigo for a moment, Franny finally nodded. “But you’re special. Now tell me what’s wrong.”

“I’m getting married.” Running the words together in her haste, Indigo told everything that had happened since she had seen Franny a few hours earlier. When she finally finished, she said, “Tonight’s my wedding night, Franny. I wouldn’t admit this to anyone but you. I’m so scared my knees are knocking.”

“Oh, my . . .”

The compassion Indigo read in Franny’s eyes confirmed her worst fears; wedding nights were an ordeal. Deep down, she had been hoping Franny might say the sexual act wasn’t so bad.

“I scarcely know him,” Indigo blurted. “How will I bear—well, you know. You’re the only person I can turn to.”

Franny’s mouth twisted. “Because I’m not a lady?”

Indigo had never meant to hurt Franny. “Oh, Franny, no! You’re my friend. I figured if anybody was an expert on how to bear up, it had to be you. There has to be a trick to it.”

Franny frowned and pursed her lips. Then she finally smiled. “You’re right on all counts. I am your friend, I’m also an expert on bearing up, and there is a trick to it. At least there is for me. I don’t know a whole lot about other women.” She drew Indigo toward the bed and patted a spot. “Sit down and get that horrified look off your face. It’s not a pleasant situation, but living through it won’t kill you.”

“I’d wish myself dead if I thought it’d work.”

“I’ve wished it a few times myself.”

Franny straightened the lapels of her pink wrapper, tightened the sash, and perched on the edge of the mattress. Looking at her, Indigo found it hard to believe she did what she did for a living. She had an incredibly sweet face that made a body think of an angel. Her blond hair added to the illusion, a coronet glowing like a halo. At seventeen, she was two years younger than Indigo, and her huge green eyes shone with an artless innocence. She didn’t belong in a place like this.

For several seconds, Franny studied the ceiling. A deep sadness crept across her pretty little face. At last, she said, “How to bear up? My, Indigo, when you ask a question, it’s a powerful hard one to answer.” She lowered her chin. “Do you ever make pictures in your mind and go into them?”

“Sometimes, when I’m idle, which isn’t often.”

Franny smiled. “Just as long as you know how, that’s what counts. I learned a long time ago that a woman can live through almost anything if she goes outside of herself and into a pretty picture. It takes a little practice, but you can get so good at it that you don’t even know what’s happening.”

“Truly?”

Franny narrowed one eye. “How else could I stand to do what I do? You don’t think I like it, do you?”

“No, but pictures? It doesn’t sound like a sure solution.”

“It is.” She gestured toward the door. “With the first knock on that door of an evening, the thinking part of me leaves.” She shrugged her slender shoulders. “I go and sit by a sparkling stream somewhere and listen to the birds sing. Or I conjure me up a big field of daisies that dance in the breeze, and I lie on my back and watch the clouds drift by.”

A dreamy smile spread across her mouth. “It’s heavenly. And the men who visit are a blur. The same fellow could come five times in one night, and I’d never even realize. I don’t see their faces, I don’t hear their names, and I feel nothing.”

“Nothing?”

Franny’s smile suddenly vanished. “Except for twice, which isn’t a bad average. And that won’t happen to you.”

“What won’t?”

Her mouth thinned. “In my line of work, every once in a great while, a mean-natured man comes along.”

Indigo’s heart caught. “What if Jake’s mean-natured?”

Franny laughed. “He’ll come calling at the Lucky Nugget, my luck! Relax, Indigo! If you cooperate with Jake and do as he asks, why would he deal harshly with you? Just lie back in a field of daisies, and it’ll be over before you realize it.”

Indigo gulped. “Tell me true. Does it hurt?”

“The first time. After that, it doesn’t.”

“How bad?”

Franny sighed. “It depends. If your husband has a care, it won’t be bad at all.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

Shadows filled Franny’s eyes. Indigo knew then that Franny’s first man hadn’t had a care and that he had hurt her, badly. The realization made her forget all about her own troubles for a moment, and when she came back to them, they didn’t seem quite so monumental. But for the grace of God, she could be in Franny’s shoes.

Franny licked her lips and didn’t seem able to meet Indigo’s gaze. “Even with an uncaring man, it doesn’t hurt bad, Indigo. No worse than a thorn prick on the finger.”

Indigo knew Franny was fibbing to spare her. In a tight voice, she said, “I love you, Franny.”

Franny flushed with pleasure. “Do you, truly?”

“I’ve never had a sister. I think you’re as close as I’ll ever come. Thank you for talking to me.”

Still rosy-cheeked, Franny flashed a dimple and said, “What is a sister for, if not to talk to?”

Wishing she could stay longer, Indigo threw a nervous glance at the clock on the bedside table. “I guess I’d better go before Ma wrings me out and hangs me on a post to dry.”

Franny nodded. “Cheer up, hm? The next time I see you, this will all be behind you, and we’ll laugh about it together.”

“I hope you’re right.”

Franny pushed up from the bed. “Think of all the women who have gone before you. We’ve all survived. You will, too.”

As Indigo started out the window, she paused and turned back to give her friend a quick hug before she stepped out onto the sharply sloped roof. Franny grasped the bottom rail of the double- hung window to draw it down. “Have a care. Don’t slip.”

“Right now, I’d welcome a broken neck.”

Franny giggled. “Just remember, think daisies.”

As Indigo shinnied back down the oak tree, she sent up a quick prayer of thanks for having been blessed with such a good friend. Franny, the soiled dove. For at least the hundredth time, Indigo wondered what had led such a sweet girl into a life of prostitution. Franny had never said, and Indigo respected her right to privacy, but that didn’t stop her from being curious.

One thing was for sure. If Franny could survive what she did, night after night, by thinking about daisies, the same method was bound to get Indigo through the first night with Jake.

 

By the time Jake got back to Wolf’s Landing, he was saddle weary and hoarse, the first because of the twenty-mile ride, the second because Father O’Grady was deaf and loved to converse. When Jake opened the front door of the Wolf home and called out to let everyone know he was back, he forgot to adjust his volume and startled Indigo. No explanations proved necessary. When Father followed Jake in and began booming “Hello” and “What’s that ye say?” it became apparent why Jake was roaring. Within seconds, so was everyone else.

Once Jake had quizzed Loretta about her visit with the marshal and had learned Brandon Marshall was being questioned, he was able to relax a little. The moment he did, he found he couldn’t take his eyes off Indigo. She wore a white doeskin skirt and blouse with matching moccasins, all embellished with beadwork. With her hair brushed to a tawny, silken cloud that rippled past her waist, she was the loveliest woman he had ever clapped eyes on. She was also the palest. Her skin had blanched so white he couldn’t be certain where the doeskin began and she left off.

Jake couldn’t help but anticipate the coming night. Neither could he ignore the fear he read in her gigantic eyes. She seemed almost timid, which didn’t correlate with the spirited, brave young woman he had come to know. He wished she hadn’t ended their talk in the barn so abruptly. It couldn’t be easy for her, being thrust into marriage with a stranger. The least he should have done was set her mind at ease. As if he could. He had enough of his own misgivings.
Marry in haste, repent at leisure.

After embracing and bestowing his blessing upon both Loretta and Indigo, Father O’Grady went into the bedroom. In his lilting Irish brogue, he boomed, “Hunter, me good man, why is it that every time I see ye, ye’re lying about like a lazybones?”

Not quite certain how he wanted to deal with Indigo as yet, Jake went to the bedroom doorway and leaned a shoulder against the jamb. It amazed him how relaxed the priest seemed to feel in the Wolf home, as if he were a relative here for a visit.

“Good evening, Father.” Hunter closed his eyes when the priest bestowed a blessing upon him. “It’s good to see you.”

“What’s that?”

Hunter raised his voice and repeated himself.

“Especially on such a happy occasion, eh?” Father lowered himself into the rocker. “Oh, but the old bones do ache!” He glanced toward Jake. “’Tis a fine son- in-law ye’re getting.” Father rocked forward and gave Hunter a conspiratorial wink. Measuring off an inch between thumb and forefinger, he said, “Except for one wee flaw, that being that he’s a Methodist.”

The priest said Methodist like he might have said leper, but Jake took it as it was meant and chuckled. O’Grady settled back and set the chair into motion with a push from his stubby legs.

Casting a glance beyond Jake to make certain the women hadn’t approached the doorway, the priest whispered, “Ye’ve heard the one about the nun who asked all the wee children what they planned to be when they grew up?”

Hunter smiled and glanced at Jake. Father’s whisper was nearly as loud as a normal speaking voice. “No, Father, I have not,” he replied, just as loudly.

“When asked, one wee girl said she wanted to be a prostitute. The nun gasped and cried, ‘What did ye say?’ The wee girl repeated herself.” The priest began to chuckle so hard that Jake doubted he’d ever get the joke told. “When the nun finally understood her, she sighed in relief and said, ‘Oh, praise God, I thought ye said a Protestant!’ ”

Jake laughed. Hunter, however, didn’t. He eyed the priest with absolute solemnity and asked, “What is a Protestant?” The disgruntled expression that crossed O’Grady’s face struck Jake as more funny than the joke, and he laughed all the harder.

“Hunter, me man, sometimes ye do try me patience. A Protestant is a non-Catholic, ye see.”

“Why did you not say non-Catholic?” Hunter asked.

The priest waved a hand. “’Twould ruin the whole thing.” He threw Jake a glance. “’Tis me hope that the point did not go over yer head like the joke went over his.”

Jake grinned. “I told you I’d study the faith and give conversion a lot of thought.”

Father nodded. “A great deal, I pray. A mixed marriage isn’t at all the thing, ye know, and with the wee lass’s Indian beliefs tossed in—well, a couple needs a bit of common ground.”

Jake agreed. He rubbed the stubble on his chin. “If you’ll excuse me, Father, I think I’ll wash up.”

The priest waved him on his way and turned to boom a question at Hunter about the mines.

Jake washed, shaved, and changed clothes in record time, thankful that no one downstairs wore formal clothing. In keeping with his assumed identity as a miner, Jake had packed only denims and work shirts in his saddlebags.

When he climbed down the loft ladder, he approached Indigo at the table, where she was intent upon frosting the cake. She lifted wary eyes to his. Once again, Jake was baffled. Was this the same girl who had braved a dangerous mining shaft?

“Can you leave the rest of that to your mother?” he asked. “I’d like to talk to you for a few minutes before the ceremony.”