Joe's Wife (12 page)

"Yes."

"Did you do them for Joe?"

"Yes."

He realized she was trying not to stare at his bare chest, and he pulled another clean chambray shirt from the drawer she'd stocked and donned it, rolling the sleeves back. "Joe's?"

"Yes. I thought you needed more work clothes. That way I don't have to wash them so often."

"Sounds sensible. I'm off to milk," he said.

She nodded.

He headed for the barn, the image of her in the morning forever in his mind … and in his heart. Meg.
Joe's wife.

A buggy pulled by a single horse headed up the road. As the vehicle drew closer, Tye recognized Niles Kestler. The man pulled the buggy around to the front door. Tye followed.

"Hatcher," he said, pulling to a stop.

"Kestler. What brings you out?"

"I wanted a word with you."

"Come on around to the kitchen and have a cup of coffee. Nobody uses the front."

Niles
frowned but prodded the horse, and Tye followed the buggy to the other side of the house.
Niles
got down, brushing dust from the sleeves of his jacket and his impeccably creased trouser legs.

"Come on in." Tye stood back and allowed the slender man to pass by. "I'll let Meg know you're here."

Niles
removed his derby and nodded.

Tye stepped into the bedroom and Meg glanced up in surprise. One hand went to the already perfect hair she'd just pulled into a knot. She fastened the top button of her pink-striped shirtwaist.

"Niles Kestler's here."

"I thought I heard a wagon. Whatever does he want?"

"Don't know yet. He's in the kitchen."

"I'll be right out. I started the coffee."

Tye returned to the other room. Major bumped against the screen door until he jostled his nose in and appeared with a stick of wood.

"Good boy." Tye used the stick to prop the door open as he'd seen Meg do. "Get more."

The dog tore off.

Meg entered, smoothing the skirt of her faded work dress self-consciously. "
Niles
! What a surprise." She glanced at the stove where the pot had begun to boil.

"I was just getting breakfast started. Will you join us?"

"No thank you. I've eaten."

"The coffee will be ready in a minute. Have a seat."

She appeared more flustered than usual. Normally, she was at ease in her kitchen, but their visitor's presence seemed to throw her off.

Niles
seated himself on one of the benches, placing his hat on the table.

Hastily, Meg picked it up and hung it on a hook.

Major returned with more wood. Tye patted his head and gave him a lump of sugar. The dog plopped down by the stove.

"I've had an offer for the ranch,"
Niles
said, ignoring their morning routine and coming directly to the point. The words were directed at Tye.

Tye took his time seating himself.

"The Circle T is not for sale," Meg said tightly.

"I'm speaking with Mr. Hatcher,"
Niles
pointed out.

Meg's body stiffened visibly, and her face grew pink. The tight set of her mouth revealed her anger.

"Meg hasn't seen reason on this from the beginning,"
Niles
said to him. "I'm hoping you will. I've found someone willing to offer more per acre than Joe paid for the property. You won't get another offer like this."

Tye met Meg's flashing eyes, their tawny color darkened to the hue of fiery whiskey.

"Meg already told you," he said, turning back to
Niles
. "The ranch isn't for sale."

"Five more days and you won't have a choice,"
Niles
replied. "Take the offer while you can still get something for Joe's land. If you let the bank take it back, you'll get nothing and you won't even have a way to support your wife."

Rage simmered in Tye's veins, rage and helplessness and a burning humiliation he'd felt enough of to last forever. He had sufficient savings to make the note good this once. But if he spent it, what would he use to start his packing plant?

But selling was out of the question. Even if he didn't have plans of his own for the land, he'd given Meg his word.

"We're not selling."

Niles
stood. "I thought a man like you wouldn't have his head in the clouds. You already understand how dismal the hopes of keeping this land are."

"A man like me has learned not to let stuffed shirts have the say in matters that don't concern them," he replied easily.

"This concerns me,"
Niles
argued. "You're going to see just how much this concerns me when I bring the foreclosure notice."

Tye stood, facing him. "Make sure you use a nice soft piece of paper to write it on because you'll either eat it or I'll stuff it up—"

"Tye!
Niles
, the coffee is ready."

"No thank you." The man went for his derby. "My business is finished here. You can't help people who don't want to be helped." He stopped. "You deserve this man, Meg." He settled the hat on his head and exited the door.

Tye didn't move to follow him. The sounds of the horse and buggy leaving floated in to them.

"Thank you, Tye," Meg said softly.

"For what?"

"For not agreeing to sell."

He raised his head and studied her. "I gave you my word."

She nodded. "Yes, you did."

"Five days," he said, ignoring the appreciation in her voice. She wouldn't be so grateful after those days were gone unless he used the money he'd saved. And right now he saw no way around it. Using his money would earn him three months to come up with something else before the next note was due.

And now that he'd faced down Niles Kestler, Tye had even more at stake. He set his jaw stubbornly. "A man like him" had learned to meet his knocks head-on.

He went to the bedroom and returned with one of his rifles.

"What's that for?"

"Aldo rode in and said a cat got one of our calves last night. We're going after him."

"I'll pack you a lunch in case you have to go far."

He turned away from the look in her eyes and headed out the door. He didn't deserve her gratitude. His bravado toward
Niles
had been pure bluster; he hadn't a clue what he was going to do. But he had only five days to do it in.

Five lousy days.

Chapter Seven

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^
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A
fter
Tye and Aldo tracked the mountain lion and Tye shot him, Aldo went back to the herds and Purdy helped Tye cut more pines for the fences. Tye worked from dawn to dusk for three days, sawing, cutting, thinking—planning how he'd raise enough money to pay the next banknote. He had enough in the bank for one payment only.

Late at night he worked on the cat's hide, scraping and cleaning and softening the leather, thinking … thinking.

The tiring work made it easier to sleep at night. He fell asleep exhausted rather than lying awake, smelling the woman beside him, hearing her soft breathing, the rustle of her bedclothes, and aching.
Aching.

Meg had saved supper for them each night, and this night, after Purdy had eaten and gone to the barn, Tye picked up his plate and carried it to the pan of sudsy water. "I'm going into town to pay the note in the morning," he announced.

She took the plate from him and scrubbed it. "No need."

"What?"

"No need to make the trip. I did it today."

"You…?" He stared at her. "Where did you get the money?"

She rinsed the plate and wiped it dry without looking up. "I sold something."

He looked around, strode to the end of the room and took note of her mother's china cabinet and the other furnishings still in place. "What?"

"Something I didn't need."

"What?" he asked again, more insistently.

"A ring."

Her words made it around the fog in his head and he filtered through them. Immediately, he focused on her hand. She still wore the silver ring he'd placed on her finger. But the unease didn't leave his chest. "Joe's ring?"

"No."

No? Her restraint irritated the hell out of him. "What ring, then,
dammit?"

She glanced up at him warily. "My father's wedding ring."

Having said that, she moved away to place the plate in a cupboard. Tye ran a hand through his hair in annoyance. "You sold your father's wedding ring, but not Joe's."

His thinking at this point was irrational, he realized, but her action stabbed him with humiliation and … something else he couldn't define.

"That ring is small, Tye, not worth much, really. I'll sell it if I need to, but if I don't, I thought it should be saved for Edwina or Wilsie, or perhaps one of Gwynn's children. An heirloom, sort of, since I have no children to give it to. My father's ring was large and heavy—I got enough for the banknote and the seed."

Tye's supper felt like a stone in his belly. A clawing regret climbed its way through his chest. Shame was a familiar companion, but one he detested with all his being, and one he didn't care to share with anyone else. "Who'd you sell it to?"

"O'Roarden, the only pawnbroker in Aspen Grove."

"He probably didn't even give you what it was worth."

She said nothing to that, just stood with her back to him, her head lowered. Of course she hadn't gotten what it was worth. How could a person place a realistic value on a keepsake? It had no doubt been invaluable to her.

"I'm sorry," he said softly, regretting his anger, regretting he'd been unable to do a thing as simple as make the loan payment before she'd had to sacrifice another part of her heritage. His inadequacy had never been so hurtful to another person before. He could bear it himself, but for her to suffer it shamed him beyond endurance. "I'm sorry you had to do that."

She turned slowly and he recognized tears when she looked at him. "It's okay, Tye. I'd do it again. I still have the ranch."

The ranch. Joe's ranch. She'd give up anything, wouldn't she? Do any unpleasant and ugly thing to keep her precious Joe's ranch. Even marry
him.
"Yes. You still have the ranch."

He turned and escaped out into the darkness to smoke. And think.

He was tired but not sleepy. Not now. He sat on a stump a distance from the house and watched the lights go out, all but the one in the front room. She left it burning low so he'd find his way to bed.

Chill mountain air seeped through his clothing while regret eased through his knotted pride, pushing his own feelings aside and forcing him to look at hers. She'd lost too much. Her husband. Her dreams. She was a brave, strong woman, a determined woman. She'd proven she would make any sacrifice to keep this place. Any sacrifice, even sharing the ranch with him.
Even sharing a bed with him.

This was a joint effort, and he had yet to pull his own weight. He was angry that she'd come up with a solution before he had, and humiliated that she had the means instead of him.

She shouldn't have to lose everything dear to her. He wouldn't allow any more sacrifices on her part. And he'd get her father's ring back for her—somehow. If she'd received enough for the payment
and
the seed, he probably didn't have enough in the bank, but he could earn the rest. Jed Wheeler hadn't wanted to let him go, claimed he could get anyone to clean up, but a piano player improved the atmosphere and made people spend more money.

In the past Tye had disciplined himself to get by without much food. Sleep had to be the same. He crushed his cigarette butt beneath his heel and headed for the barn to saddle a horse.

Meg hadn't realized Tye would be so angry over the ring. She'd done what she had to do. She hadn't seen a choice.

She drifted into a light sleep. He returned hours later and climbed into bed, his hair smelling like smoke. Where had he been all that time? The saloon?

He must have fallen asleep immediately, for his breathing grew deep and even, and he relaxed his long body and draped one leg over hers. The physical contact kept her from returning to sleep. Not because it was unpleasant—but because it wasn't. She'd missed someone to lie with, someone to hold her, someone to dispel the loneliness.

Joe had been a solid, comforting presence beside her at night, and she'd longed for that. Sometimes he had turned to her, touched her through her cotton gown, kissed her tenderly, reverently, and joined their bodies. Now those times seemed like only a sweet dream.

She'd told Tye he could do that. He had every right as her husband. And he'd told her … he'd said she would have to tell him when
she
was ready, because a man was
"always
ready." What had that meant?

She wished he would consummate their marriage though, so the waiting would end. The thought, and his hair-roughened leg against hers, created unsettling feelings she didn't know what to make of. If he turned to her, she'd relish his warmth, his weight, his possession.

Why?

He wasn't Joe.

Perhaps it was just unnatural for a man not to—not to
turn to
his wife like that.

Perhaps he'd… No. He'd told her he would not turn to one of those women in town.

Toward dawn she fell asleep thinking she hadn't taken care of his leg that night.

Meg awoke cranky the following morning. On her way past the idle fireplace, she paused before it and studied the thick fur rug that had been placed there.

"Thought it looked like a good spot," Tye said from behind her. "All right?"

Tired, head hurting, she nodded.

She scorched the first griddle of hotcakes and had to toss them out. Even Major turned up his nose at the charred disks in the yard, and she mumbled under her breath as she stirred more batter.

Gus and Purdy ate as quickly as they always did and hurried off to do chores. Tye poured himself another cup of coffee at the stove and stood looking out the screen door. "I'm going to work on the fence for the south pasture today," he said. "I'll be in at
noon
."

Meg scrubbed at the blackened griddle. "Are you all right?"

His voice, so close, startled her. She stopped her furious scouring and nodded. He stood directly behind her, his breath fanning her neck. Remembering his leg touching hers and the wanton thoughts that followed, she fought down the flutter in her chest. Tears prickled behind her eyelids, and she knew they were irrational.

"Anything you want me to take care of before I go?"

She took a calming breath. "No."

"All right, then." His hand and corded forearm appeared in her vision, placing his empty mug on the drain board. His boot heels scraped the floor as he moved away. "Thanks for breakfast."

The screen door banged shut. Major barked.

Meg let the tears fall unheeded, wondering when she'd grown so weak.

The men didn't say much during the
noon
meal and were seemingly glad to leave the house. By supper she'd pulled herself together and managed a decent meal and some light conversation.

Tye left the house as soon as darkness fell.

She sat with her rocker pulled before the fire and listened to the snap and hiss of the burning wood. Was this to be her life, then? A husband who worked hard and played harder? He'd promised he wouldn't shame her with a slattern; he hadn't promised not to visit the saloons.

Again, he came to bed long after
midnight
, the night chill emanating from his body.

"Where were you?" she asked into the darkness.

He hesitated only a moment before replying, "The Pair-A-Dice."

The scent of smoke and the yeasty smell of beer drifted to her. "Were you drinking?"

"I had a couple."

"Was that necessary?"

"I thought it was."

"Are you a drunk, Tye Hatcher?"

"No, ma'am."

She turned on her side away from him. She wouldn't chance him cozying up to her this night. She needed her rest.

Saturday night he stayed out longer than usual but was up and ready for church without her asking. A new tension had developed between them, brought on by his nightly trips to town and her lack of knowledge over what to do or say to correct the situation.

Once again, Meg endured stares and whispers and deliberate snubs as they attended the worship service and made their way out of the tiny church.

Reverend Baker greeted them warmly. "I'm looking forward to dinner again," he said, shaking Tye's hand and smiling at Meg. Tye had invited him this time.

"Why don't you ride out to the ranch with us," Tye offered. "I'll bring you home later this afternoon."

"That sounds right nice," he said. "Won't have to rent a buggy that way."

Tye led Meg down the church steps, his hand at the small of her back. He adjusted his hat on his head, the brim angled down over his eyes.

Edwina, decked in a starched black dress and bonnet, stood with a gaggle of her friends in the shade of a young oak tree. Her adherence to her mourning garb shouldn't have made Meg feel uncomfortable for wearing her apricot ombre with the pleated bust and yoke that her mother had sent her last winter, but the way they stared, she felt as if she'd worn only her old red flannel petticoat.

"I understand Tye Hatcher is spending his nights in the saloons," one of them said.

Tye's fingers tensed at her waist.

"Joe
never sullied himself in those vulgar surroundings," another replied, deliberately loud enough for them to overhear. "Of course, Joe's parents brought him up right."

Meg's steps faltered.

Tye took her arm securely and led her to their wagon.

She glanced up.

A muscle twitched in his jaw. Concealing a grimace, he bent one knee and made a step of his fingers. His hat hid his face.

Meg placed her hand on his shoulder and her sole in his palms and accepted his assistance onto the wagon. She was at a loss for what to say to him. He'd placed himself in this particular circumstance.