Joe's Wife (16 page)

Meg called out and the men joined her, finding only the head and horns of a steer visible above the water. Tye's gray had proven himself the horse with the ability to pull on a rope without getting skittish, so Tye waded out and slipped a loop over the steer's horns.

He waded back, mounted, wound the end of the rope around his saddle horn loose enough so that he could drop it quickly, then urged his horse backward.

The cow's struggles aided the gray, and the pulling tore the animal loose and dragged him up on the bank.

Tye dropped his rope immediately.

The steer gained his feet and charged. Prepared, Tye galloped out of the way and observed as the animal shook his head, then found some brush and worked off the rope.

Meg rode out to recover it and carried the muddy rope back to Tye.

He took it from her, their gloved hands bumping. "Good job, cowboy."

God, he loved her smile. Even with her hair hidden beneath a dripping hat and wearing a slicker that could fit two of her, she was the prettiest thing he'd ever seen. He didn't tell her so. He'd learned she was uncomfortable with any expression of their attraction or any words of an intimate nature. Her reasoning was still a puzzle, but his fear that she had to force herself to imagine him as her past husband had been ungrounded.

She might not pretend he was Joe, but she no doubt wished it were Joe here with her instead of him. She'd loved her first husband. The fact wounded him anew each time he let himself think of it.

Tye headed them along the river in search of calves or weaker stock. Meg rode alongside him. "Eve asked about you last night."

"What did she ask?"

"She wanted to know where you were and if you were going to be with us in the evenings."

"What did you tell her?"

"I didn't know what to tell her, Tye. I tried to assure her you'd be there sometimes."

He didn't say anything. From beneath his hat brim, he just studied the landscape with a watchful eye.

"She's a good little girl, Tye, but I think she needs you to spend some time with her right now. You're the one she trusts. You're her only comfort in her suddenly lost world. She probably needs to talk about her mother."

"I'll do what I can."

No explanation. No excuses. No promises. Irritated, Meg looked away.

They'd gathered a few calves and headed them back toward the herds by the time she spoke again. "What are we going to do about Eve during roundup?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I've never had a child to look out for before. I work the cattle just like everyone else. We're too shorthanded for anyone to stay at the house with her."

"Who stays to do chores?"

"Purdy. Riding is harder for him."

Tye nodded. "Eve can come to camp with us. She'll stay with the chuck wagon. Gus handles that, right?"

"He and one of the fellas from the Bar Sixteen."

"That way we'll be with her every night. There's a meeting day after tomorrow at the Bar Sixteen to plan how we'll work the territory. Everybody's short-handed. We'll camp at the usual sites. It might take us a lot longer at each one than it used to because of so few reps."

"It'll be a far cry better than the roundups during the war," she said. "Most of us barely kept enough cattle alive until spring to have any to sell. And half of them aren't branded. We'll have to trust one another to sort them out fairly this year."

"You held it together, though." His words were as serious as his expression. "I can't imagine how, but you did it."

"I had to keep looking to the future," she said. He'd reined in near an outcropping of rust-colored rocks, and she stopped beside him. "Every day and every night I prayed for the war to end, and for…"

"For Joe to come home?"

Tears blurred her vision. "Yes. And my self-pity was so small, considering what he was probably going through, what all of you were going through."

"You couldn't have spent much time feeling sorry for yourself. You had too much work to do."

She shrugged. "Some."

"You wouldn't have been human if you hadn't felt a little sorry for yourself."

"Did you?"

"Sure. Cried in my beans every time my toes got so cold I couldn't feel them anymore. Once my regiment got lost, and after marching in circles for two days, we stumbled into a whole camp of Rebs. After the smoke cleared and the remainder of us hightailed it for cover… Well, let's just say that was one of my more self-pitying days."

Meg studied his profile against the late afternoon sun. Tye was always frank. And he always managed to make her feel better about herself … about nearly everything … except Joe.

At first she'd been so appreciative of his insight into the probability of the army actually having shipped the correct body. She'd experienced a certain kinship because he'd been a soldier like her Joe.

But now … now so many confusing elements played into her already chaotic feelings that he was more a chafing reminder than a comfort.

He reminded her that Joe was gone.

He reminded her of all that she'd lost.

And he reminded her that she was a woman.

A woman who'd loved her husband. She'd wanted to be Joe's wife since she'd been a young girl. She'd dreamed of it, planned for it, waited for the day. And she'd married him and pledged her love and fidelity.

Meg tried to recall how those vows about "until death do us part" went. She certainly hadn't stopped loving Joe after his death. What had that part meant?

"So does that sound okay with you?"

She refocused. "What's that?"

"Eve coming to camp with us."

"I guess we don't have a choice, do we?" Any choice had been Tye's when he'd accepted responsibility for the child.

As if reading her thoughts, he said, "Do you resent her? Or the extra work?"

Meg looked inside herself and replied honestly. "No, Tye. I don't resent her. I'm grateful for her company."

He adjusted his hat, an unnecessary act but obviously a gesture to cover his reaction to that comment. Nudging his horse with his heels, he picked up their pace.

Tye spent that very evening in town. But this time he didn't wake her when he came to bed.

A long and tiring week passed until the rain stopped and the sun came out and roundup began. Hunt and Aldo rode out with the other reps to locate and sort strays. Gus and Lem Higgins set up camp. The two old men entertained Eve while they cooked and doctored ranch hands and kept fires going.

After chasing cattle, smelling scorched hides and watching dehorning, Meg didn't eat much that first evening. The men bathed in the river, then Tye followed her to the bank and stood guard with his back turned while she washed in the frigid water.

The rest of the men played poker, but Tye read from
Alice in Wonderland
by the fire. Ever since Meg had spoken to him, he'd made a particular effort to spend time with the child. A few times he'd even brushed her hair until she grew sleepy-eyed.

Meg watched him now, reading to Eve, patiently stopping to answer her never-ending questions. Against her will, her thoughts strayed to all the nights the past week that he'd come to bed and not touched her.

She should have been happy because she didn't have to experience the sanity-eating guilt that had followed both highly charged encounters.

She had only her experiences with Joe to compare with what had happened between her and Tye, and the comparison shamed her. She'd been happy with Joe. She'd loved him. Theirs had been a respectful, appropriate relationship.

Tye, on the other hand, made her crazy.

She hadn't married him for love. The physical details of their marriage were supposed to be perfunctory and matter-of-fact, not disturbing and memorable—definitely not unforgettable. The fact that she was even thinking about it now was all wrong. What on earth was the matter with her?

Tye settled Eve into her bedroll, spoke with Gus, then saddled a fresh horse and rode off.

Meg dragged her aching body into her own roll, clamped her eyes shut and cursed herself. Why did she get so angry over what he did in town at night?

He wasn't visiting the sporting women, of that she was fairly sure. He'd have to be more than a mere mortal to keep up the pace he did during the day and entertain ladies in the evening.

This camp would keep them apart at night now, and she should be grateful for the time to regroup. She had to force her thoughts on to other subjects, and she hated herself for that growing weakness.

She awoke once during the night, glanced toward Eve and discovered Tye awake on Eve's other side. Their eyes met in the waning firelight, his dark and vigilant.

"Go back to sleep," he said softly. "You have a couple of hours left." She closed her eyes and obeyed.

Several evenings later, the reps from the Double Oarlock, along with Mitch Heden, shared their campfire and their meal. Meg scooped a ladle of stew over Tye's biscuits.

"Thank you, ma'am," he said, and moved to sit with the others.

Meg served the next hand, prepared herself a plate and sat on one of the few stools Gus had brought along.

Mitch spoke to Tye, and they laughed.

She hadn't seen him laugh often. The corners of his eyes crinkled, and his teeth shone white in the stubble that covered his face since they'd been camped.

He sat perched on his bedroll, his right leg extended as it usually was. He'd unbuttoned his leather jacket and left his hat somewhere. The firelight danced on his hair.

Here among these men, he seemed no different than any of them. If the reps or the ranchers on this roundup considered Tye beneath them, they hadn't shown it. Mitch spoke to him the way he did to any rancher.

Tye glanced up and met her gaze.

She smiled and broke off a piece of her biscuit.

Ma'am,
he'd called her again. They'd shared the intimacies of the marriage bed in the dark, but he never called her by name. As she remembered his forceful insistence that she say his, and the obvious pleasure it gave him, a glow that she had no business conjuring up tonight or any night ignited inside her.

She tamped the feelings down, unwilling to give them credence, afraid to give them a name. She had a level head and a goal in her sights. Tye was her partner. Feeling more than friendship or even fondness and appreciation wasn't in the plan.

Meg finished her meal and helped Lem wash the tin plates and cups in a bucket. Gus left for the Circle T to check on Purdy and the house. Mitch and his men called their thanks and rode back to their herd.

Eve had moved to stand beside Tye. He snagged her around the waist and pulled her onto his lap, where she sat, content to stroke the dress of the doll she seldom laid down.

"Are you leaving tonight?" she asked, and Meg strained to hear his reply.

"I was thinkin' on it," he said.

"Where do you go?"

"I have things to take care of in town. Grown up things."

"Maybe I can come with you."

He studied her face. "I don't think so. You need to stay here and go to sleep."

"I'm not tired."

Meg observed Tye's gentle expression. Eve gave him one of those pleading, violet-eyed looks. He shifted her to his other leg. "I don't have to go until later."

The child bounced delightedly and patted his cheek, her smile brighter than the stars overhead.

Meg poured herself and Tye fresh cups of coffee and joined them near the fire. Her body ached everywhere, and she eased herself down with a groan. Immediately her thoughts went to Tye's leg. He hadn't seemed to limp too badly for all the strain he'd been giving it. "How's your leg?"

"Holding out. I've used the liniment every night."

"I noticed the bottle was missing."

"Did you need it?"

"Wouldn't mind some on my shoulders."