Joe's Wife (26 page)

Gwynn shook her head gently. "No, no, it's true."

"Joe wasn't like you, Edwina, or I wouldn't have loved him or married him. He saw people as equals. He was never unkind to Tye.
You're
the one he's ashamed of if he's watching today."

Meg felt herself sway. Gwynn stood and took Meg's arm to steady her, and Meg sensed Tye come up behind her.

"Meg's right," Gwynn said to her mother-in-law timidly. "I want my children to grow up loving others, not condemning them. I don't want them to be critical, with no forgiveness in their hearts."

A commotion on the street outside the window seized Meg's attention, and several men and women ran past the café shouting.

Tye left Meg with Gwynn and stepped to the door. "What's wrong?"

"Fire at the livery," Claudelle Parks called loud enough for them all to hear. "Jon Whitaker sent for help."

"Stay with her," Tye said to Gwynn, and shot out the door.

"Harley and Forrest are there with the pony," Gwynn said, terror lacing her voice.

Meg clasped her hand and they followed.

Black smoke curled into the bright blue sky, and a scorched scent permeated the air. The group of women and children and the café owner hurried toward the source.

One entire side of the wood structure was in flames, smoke billowing from the open double doors.

Gwynn gripped Meg's hand so hard she winced.

"Perhaps they're out riding," Meg suggested, searching the confusion for Harley and her nephew as well as Tye.

Men shouted and ran in all directions. It seemed to take forever before buckets appeared and the bystanders organized themselves to dip water and pass the heavy containers forward.

"Let's help with the buckets, Gwynn," she said, pulling her toward the nearest trough. They hung their handbags from a hitching post and pushed their sleeves up.

"Cinnamon!" a youthful voice cried in panic. Meg spun to see Forrest racing across the street toward the flaming building, Harley quite a ways behind.

"Forrest!" Gwynn screamed.

A horse whinnied, and Tye came through the smoke-filled doorway into the safety of the street, holding a feed sack over the eyes of a mare he could barely control. Meg's heart plummeted at the sight of him covered with soot. Tye uncovered the mare's head and let her run.

Blinking against the daylight, Tye spotted the young boy tearing past him toward the stable. He turned and bolted after Forrest.

Gwynn screamed, stumbling forward to her knees. Harley helped her up.

"Forrest!" she cried, yanking away. "Go after Forrest!"

Harley turned and took a couple of hesitant steps toward the livery.

The boy's shouts could be heard over the commotion before they saw him. "Cinnamon's in there! My pony's in there! Let me go! Put me down!"

Tye carried him out over his shoulder, the lad kicking and pounding his back. Tye held him firmly until he reached Harley, and then deposited the boy at his father's feet. Harley clamped his hands over Forrest's shoulders and detained him.

"My pony's in there," Forrest sobbed. "Please, mister!"

Gwynn ran and hugged her son. He sobbed and pointed to the building.

Another man, his face and hands blackened, led another panicked horse into the street and released him.

"That it?" Tye called to him.

"Two more in the rear stalls," he gasped. "We'll never get to them in time."

"Cinnamon!" Forrest screamed.

Tye grabbed a bucket from the nearest man and poured the contents over his head and shoulders. Meg's breath left her lungs when she realized his intent. "No! Tye!" she shouted, panic constricting her voice to a croak.

Before she could move forward, he'd darted back into the thick, choking smoke.

Chapter Fifteen

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M
eg watched the doorway with her eyes burning and her heart in her throat. "It's a horse," she said in shock, weighing the risk. "A horse!"

"Listen to you," Gwynn replied from beside her. "You've made more sacrifices than most people because of your love for horses."

"Not just for the horses," Meg said with a shake of her head and a sob in her throat. "For the dream. So I could still be me."

"He didn't even stop to think about going in there," Gwynn said. "He just ran in."

Harley had come to stand beside Gwynn. He now held Forrest, who still sobbed hysterically. Meg fought against echoing his desperate wail by mouthing a fervent prayer.

Too much time passed. Meg's anxiety increased with each second. An ear-splitting crack signaled the collapse of the barn roof; sparks flew, and a shingled section fell over the open doorway, blocking any further passage.

Meg watched in horror.

Gwynn supported her weight when her knees buckled. Wilsie, too, appeared from the crowd and helped Gwynn ease Meg to sit in the dusty street. Meg could hear Lilly crying behind them somewhere. The stable rolled in undulating heat waves.

Wilsie uncapped the smelling salts and swiped the bottle beneath Meg's nose.

Her nose stung and her vision cleared immediately. "Oh, my God, Tye," she whispered. He couldn't be trapped in that inferno. He couldn't be! He couldn't die! She couldn't go on without him. She wouldn't want to. She brought her hand to her mouth.

And Eve. The new adoption papers were in his vest pocket. Meg couldn't even conceive of going to the ranch and telling the child that something had happened to the man she adored, that she'd lost not only her mother, but the father she'd just found.

The man that Meg, too, adored.

Flames danced across the shape that had once been the doorway. An oppressive panic roared in Meg's chest. This couldn't be! Tye couldn't be dead. She stared in disbelief.

A shout came from the alley side of the livery, where men were digging a trench between the blaze and the nearest building. An unfettered horse shot from between the buildings, his eyes wild and rolling, and men scattered out of his path.

Tye stumbled into the clearing next, his fist securely knotted in the Shetland's mane. The poor animal skittered and flung its head up in panic, but Tye held him securely.

"Cinnamon!" Forrest shouted.

Tye led the pony to his owners, and Forrest immediately kicked out of his father's arms. Harley stared at the tears streaming down Tye's char-smeared face. "Why did you do that?" he asked, astonishment written plainly on his features.

Meg had struggled to her feet to run toward Tye. He reached to embrace her against his side. He smelled of acrid smoke. "How did you get out of there?" she asked in joy and wonder.

"Chopped a hole in the back wall," he said, still breathing hard and coughing. "There weren't any flames against that back corner, but I couldn't see through the smoke." He wiped his eyes on his sleeve.

"Here," she said, leading him toward one of the nearly empty troughs. "Wash your eyes."

He obeyed her, plunging his head into the tank. She kept her hand at the small of his back, not wanting to break contact. She flipped up the hem of her skirt, offering him the use of her white eyelet petticoat to dry his face.

"I got it all dirty," he apologized, standing once again.

"I don't care if my petticoat's dirty. I almost lost you in there, you foolish man!"

"Meg, I'd been in there already, I knew the fire was pretty much at the front and along one side. I just didn't expect the smoke to be so bad."

"Don't ever,
ever
do anything like that again," she demanded, striving for composure. "Promise!"

"I promise," he said with a grin.

She flung herself against him, not caring who saw or what they thought. "Oh, Tye, I was so scared."

He ran a thumb over her cheek and held her securely. "You won't have to be scared like that again."

"I refuse to be scared like that again."

She gloried in his masculine strength, his arms around her and his reassuring words. She loved him.

The realization flitted around her, daring her to take notice. But he pulled away. "Sit over there safely away from the fire while I help the men get the last of the flames out."

She watched him go, a lump in her throat.

Harley, too, joined the men, and the women and children watched in silence as the danger of the fire spreading passed. Eventually the charred remains of the livery stood smoldering in the afternoon sun.

Weary and ash-covered, the firefighters headed for their homes and places of business. Tye came toward Meg, Harley on his heels.

"Thank you, Mr. Hatcher," he said from behind.

Tye stopped before Meg and turned to observe the man's uncomfortable expression. Gwynn stood three feet away, satisfaction on her pretty face. Wilsie hung behind her, her wary gaze darting from Tye to the others and back.

"Thank you, Mr. Hatcher," Forrest seconded in his still-wavering childish voice. He gripped the Shetland's mane securely. "Papa, where are we going to keep Cinnamon now?"

Harley obviously hadn't had time to think about it.

"You're welcome to leave him at the ranch," Tye said immediately. "I'm sure he'd be comfortable there until a new livery is built. There's room in the barn, and he could exercise and graze."

"Can we take him there, Papa?" Forrest asked, looking up at his father hopefully.

"Well, I … I guess so."

"Good," Tye said. "We have a wagon here, if you want us to take him now. I have to get back to the hay."

He and Harley led Forrest and the Shetland away. Meg and Gwynn exchanged a surprised look and followed, Wilsie on their heels. Lilly, straining to pull away from Edwina, finally broke loose and ran to her mother. Gwynn hugged her and took her hand.

Edwina gave the women on either side of her a sheepish look and dropped in behind. Meg remembered she'd been in the middle of dressing down her former mother-in-law when this whole nightmare had unfolded.

To her great surprise, Edwina huffed forward and touched her arm as they walked briskly behind the men. "Do you feel well enough to ride back?" she asked. "You could come to the house and rest for a while."

"I think I'd feel better going back home," Meg replied. "Besides, Gus and Eve will start to worry if we're gone too long."

"Is that old man able to care for her properly?" she asked with a frown.

Meg would have laughed if her limbs weren't still trembling from the scare she'd had and if she hadn't been too relieved over Tye's safety to give anything else a second thought. Edwina wouldn't be Edwina if she didn't have something to harp about. "They do just fine."

Tye helped Harley and Forrest tie the pony securely to the back of the wagon.

"Won't he get tired walking all the way to your place?" Forrest asked. "Shouldn't he ride back there?" He pointed to the wagon.

"He might be small, but he's hearty," Tye replied. "He'd get too scared if we tried to put him in the wagon bed."

"When can I come see him?" Forrest asked. His face still bore red blotches from his crying.

"Anytime you like," Tye responded with a tired smile.

"This is quite forward of me," Gwynn said, Lilly close at her side, "but if you don't have other plans, why don't we come for dinner after church this Sunday? I'll bring my butter rolls and a pecan pie."

Meg wondered if she'd heard correctly. She wondered if she'd fainted back there and was having some sort of wild dream.

The looks on everyone else's faces told her she was awake and that Gwynn had taken the initiative and made a suggestion that could breach the hard feelings. Forrest beamed. Harley avoided making eye contact and studied the tips of his once shiny boots. Wilsie blinked like a baby bird, scanning the others' faces.

Edwina's cheeks were tinged with bright spots of pink, but she made no objection. What could she have said when Tye had just saved her grandson and his horse in one fell swoop?

Tye looked at Meg, uncertainty lacing his features.

"I think that's a wonderful idea," Meg managed to reply at last. "Nothing would make me happier than to have company for Sunday dinner. Gus and Purdy eat with us," she added as a warning to Edwina. She wouldn't exclude the men who'd been loyal through thick and thin just because the Hatcher name had gained a sudden speck of esteem.

If they were going to accept Meg again, they were going to accept Tye and Eve and her hired hands in the package.

"It's set, then," Gwynn decided. "We'll see you Sunday."

Tye lifted Meg onto the seat, and she waved to the Telfords as the team drew them away.

"I can't believe you risked your life for a horse, Tye," she said in reproach.

"I've risked my life for more thankless reasons," he replied.

"But you have a family now. You have a wife and a daughter."

She couldn't decipher the surprised glance he cast her way.

"You have to think of Eve first," she declared.

He'd lost his hat somewhere and squinted in the afternoon sun. "I've never had a family before," he said, his meditative gaze touching her face, her hair. Streaks of soot remained under his chin and near his eye. His hair had dried in loose waves. "I'll remember that in the future."

"See that you do."

Meg's obvious fear and relief were a surprise to Tye. He thought over her reactions and her words the next day as he forked hay out of the wagon into an enormous pile near the barn.

This situation was new to him. It had been a long time since his mother had been alive and he'd quit school to provide for the two of them. Even then he'd only taken care of her for a few years until she'd died. After that it had never mattered if he took a daring chance because he'd never had anyone counting on him or anyone who cared whether or not he returned.

Meg had behaved as if she cared. She'd brought him to task verbally, but she'd touched him as if to reassure herself of his safety. She'd cried tears of relief.

And all that had followed her magnificent tirade in the café.
Tye
was accustomed to ignoring the gibes, even prided himself in his practiced ability not to allow the comments and snubs to provoke him.

He'd never had a defender before. He hadn't needed one, but it had been nice to hear the things she'd said on his behalf. She'd called him a kind and wonderful man. But more amazing than that, she'd declared herself Meg
Hatcher.
In front of a dozen people, she'd denied being a
Telford
. He could see her now, her face flushed and pink, her lovely tawny eyes flashing sparks, her spine stiff with indignation.

Why that particular announcement touched him above all others, he could only guess. He'd thought of her as Joe's wife for so long, it wasn't conceivable to think of her as his. He wasn't good enough for her. But then, had Joe been good enough?

Having a daughter was wonderful, but his life wouldn't be complete until he truly had a wife. She'd been hurt by the fact that Eve was his child. He understood that, but he couldn't change it. All along he'd thought he could somehow prove himself worthy of her, and yet he'd never been able to accomplish that.

You have a wife and a daughter now,
she'd told him. She hadn't even realized the importance of those words.

Encouraged by her display of concern and that revealing declaration, Tye found the workload light and the tasks a pleasure. He had a purpose now. And just maybe he had someone who cared. Just maybe she was starting to think of him as her husband.

By Sunday the news of the fire and Tye's part in it had swept the town. The tone of the whispers rippling among the congregation had a whole new sound. Tye still played the organ, even though Fiona no longer wore the sling, and the newest rumors were that she hadn't really injured her arm at all, that she and Reverend Baker had devised a plot to initiate Tye to the position of church musician.