Once in a Blue Moon (19 page)

She tasted the stew
again. Yes, it was a little bland. But still edible. Any
improvements were beyond her newfound culinary skills. She sighed
and admitted to herself that she might have been a little hasty in
leaving Sully’s earlier. She still needed to know how to cook. But
the thought of going back there turned her cold.

What she really needed
was a cookbook. Or a pen and some paper to take cooking notes. Or a
new house, and a job. Or a time-travel machine. She might as well
dream, since none of it was going to happen.

She
crossed the room and opened the front door, glancing in both
directions.
Where was he?
A cowboy sauntered around the corner then cut
between two cabins and headed toward the garden. Why was he off
work and Richard wasn’t? Surely Richard had been finished about
this time yesterday? The vegetables might overcook if they didn’t
eat soon.

Turning, she scanned
the room. The table was as clean, neat and tidy as she could make
it. A loaf of bread sat in the middle, a new offering from their
anonymous benefactor. A plate of sliced cucumbers sat to one side,
another of tomatoes. The dishes didn’t match, but there were folded
napkins at each setting. Well, dishtowels really, but better than
nothing. Everything she’d used to cook with had been washed and the
room looked as inviting as she could make it.

Jeremy swung a leg back
and fourth and Jessica sat with her arms crossed, obviously
bored.

Melissa sighed. “Okay.
Go find your father.”

The kids jumped up and
ran outside.

“But don’t get dirty!”
Melissa called after them.

About ten minutes
later, she finally heard footsteps. She glanced up from stirring
the stew, a smile on her face, but Richard wasn’t with the twins.
She looked past them.

Breathless, Jeremy
clutched the door frame. “Dad went to the saloon in town with the
other cowboys.”

“What?”

Jessica, also breathing
heavily, nodded. “Mrs. Dade told us. He went to the saloon.”

“The saloon?” Melissa
stilled. After a moment, she took a deep breath, nodding once. “I
see.” She put the spoon down and took another deep breath. “I see.”
She focused on the kids. “Sit down.”

They sat.

Jessica looked at her
warily. “What are you going to do?”

Melissa shrugged. “Do?
Feed you kids dinner, of course.” Using a mug, her hand trembling a
bit, she scooped soup into their bowls. She cut them both a
generous slice of bread and wrapped the rest of the loaf in a
cloth. Her movements stiff and controlled, she put a lid on the
soup and took it off the heat. She pulled off her apron and hung it
on a nail.

“I want you kids to
eat. Then I want you to wash your dishes and go to bed. Under no
circumstances are you to leave this cabin. Do you understand?”

Wide-eyed, they both
nodded.

“Where are you going?”
asked Jessica.

Melissa headed for the
door. “I’m going to have a little talk with your father.”

* * *

The sounds from half a
block away reached Melissa: tinny piano music, low booming voices,
as well as a woman’s high-pitched laughter. The cool evening breeze
did nothing to calm the anger building with each step she took.

Richard was
inconsiderate
.

Her low heels clicked
sharply against the boardwalk as she passed by stores closed down
for the evening.

He
was
insensitive
to her feelings.

Her fists clenched and
unclenched.

He didn’t care what she
was going through.

A newly formed blister
throbbed where the handkerchief had slipped off her heel about a
mile back.

Wasn’t he always complaining because they never had dinner as
a family? She’d made dinner,
slaved
over it, and where was he? Off carousing with a
bunch of low-life losers in a saloon, that’s where!

Melissa pushed through the swinging doors, scanned the
crowded room and had her suspicions confirmed. A rough-looking
group, all of them losers. Fat men, tall men, lean men, short men,
hairy-faced men. Denim, leather, and hat-wearing, poker-playing,
drinking, smoking
losers
. And that was only the
men.

Her eyes narrowed on
Richard, standing at the bar, two idiots with him and all talking
to a flirtatious girl clad in an interesting outfit. Red satin and
white lace barely covered the generous curves thrust in front of
Richard’s face, the dress length showing off plump, overweight,
stocking-clad thighs.

Melissa’s temperature
shot up, and dizzy, she gritted her teeth and lifted her chin.

She forced a calming
breath. She supposed the outfit passed for risque and sexy in this
time, but the poor dear would have to do better than that if she
wanted to capture Richard’s attention. The guy watched Baywatch
reruns, not Bonanza.

Regardless, he was
dead.

She started forward and
the stench of the place hit her; unwashed bodies and the sour smell
of ale and tobacco. Smoke burned her eyes.

A very large muscular
man, clean shaven, with a sharp indent in his chin and dark curly
hair, blocked her path. “What have we here?” His grin stretched
from ear to ear.

Melissa was forced to
stop, and she slipped on the sawdust.

The man’s hands shot
out and he gripped both her arms in his meaty paws and grinned down
into her face like he’d just won the lottery. “Whoa there, filly.
What’s your name?”

Melissa tried to look
past him to Richard, but his bulk blocked her view. “Remove your
hands or you will lose them,” she said, her tone as cold as a pair
of frozen shears.

He laughed. “Don’t be
that way. I’m Curly Jenkins. You and me could have some fun
tonight,” he leered. “Let’s spend some time together. Get to know
each other. We could be real good friends.” He pulled her
forward.

Melissa’s rage hit a high point. “
I
do not
--” She grabbed one of his hands,
deftly turned, pulled it over her shoulder, backed up a pace and
with a loud yell, leveraged his upper body weight and flipped him
onto his back. “
Have any
interest
--” She kicked him in the side,
placed both hands on her hips and leaned over him.
“
In spending time with
you
--” She kicked him again. “Or in being
your
friend
! And
if you touch me again, if you even
look
at me again, I’ll
break both your arms
!”

The tinny music
stumbled to a halt, the saloon going silent as everyone stopped to
witnessed the drama.

Melissa glanced up.

Everyone was
staring.

Heat seared her
face.

Curly
chuckled and grinned up at her. “I am
in
love
!” He grabbed one of her hands. “Marry
me, darlin’!”

Everyone laughed.

Melissa’s face burned
even hotter.

Catching her gaze, the
bartender smiled. “You lookin’ for a job, honey?”

Melissa straightened
and yanked her hand out of Curly’s sweaty grasp. She’d had enough.
She would try to leave with some dignity. First gambling, now
brawling in a bar, all in one day. She just kept sinking lower and
lower.

She took a deep,
calming breath, then met Richard’s stunned gaze. “Richard, dinner
is ready.” She turned and walked toward the exit.

“Richard, better get on
home before your wife gives you a beatin’!” A low raspy voice
called out.

Laughter exploded in the saloon and she could specifically
hear Richard’s laugh joining in. The
idiot
.

Curly’s voice boomed
back to her. “That your wife?” His tone was disappointed.

“Yep. Sure is,” he
actually had the nerve to sound boastful.

“She have a
sister?”

“Sorry boys, but she’s
one of a kind.”

Hearing the pride, the
bragging in his tone, Melissa shook her head, huffed out a breath
but actually smiled as she went through the swinging doors. His
obvious pride was kind of sweet. The doors swung closed behind her
and she headed down the boardwalk.

But he was still a dead
man.

* * *

By the time Richard
untangled the horse’s reins from the hitching post, Melissa was
more than halfway across the main street and headed home. He
mounted the horse and went after her. As he drew closer, he could
see she was limping.

He dismounted, caught
hold of the horse’s reins and pulled the animal along behind.
“Honey?”

She didn’t even look at
him, simply stared straight ahead and kept walking.

Richard tried again.
“Sweetie?” He tried to catch hold of her swinging hand.

Melissa slapped him
away.

“Are
you upset?” He winced at the lame question. Of course she was
upset. He just didn’t want to guess
why
she was upset. Volunteering
information might give her more ammunition. He’d been married to
this woman for fourteen years, and if he’d learned anything, it was
to keep his mouth shut when she was angry.

But perhaps a
compliment couldn’t hurt. “You sure look nice tonight.”

Nothing.

“Your hair sure does
look pretty.”

Melissa’s lips
tightened. “What about the girl you were ogling? Is my hair as
pretty as hers?”

Oh, boy.

“A
thousand times prettier. A million.
A
billion
! And I wasn’t ogling. Why would I
when I’m married to the most beautiful woman in the world? She
couldn’t hold a candle to you.” He wasn’t sure, but he thought her
face softened a bit. He grabbed her hand and held it. She tried to
pull away; but not too hard.

He entwined their
fingers and held on tight. “Anyway, I was only talking to her to be
polite.”

Melissa snorted. “She
had fat thighs.”

“I didn’t even
notice.”

She turned narrowed,
disbelieving eyes on him.

“But I’m sure they were
disgusting!”

Melissa smiled for a
moment, but her lips quickly formed a pout. “I made dinner tonight.
I spent hours cooking and cleaning.”

Richard groaned, realizing why she’d walked the two miles to
town. No doubt rage had given her wings. “And I missed it. I
am
such
a
jerk.”

Melissa nodded in
agreement.

“You’re limping. Come
on, let’s ride the horse.”

He mounted, kicked his
left foot out of the stirrup and held out his hand to her. The
horse shied a bit, but Richard held her steady and hefted Melissa
up. Grabbing hold of her hips, he set her on his lap, both legs off
to the left. “Okay?”

She clutched his arm.
“Maybe I should ride behind you.”

Richard wrapped both
arms around her. “No, I like this just fine.”

They rode in silence
for a while, listening to the clomping of the horse’s hooves on the
hard-packed dirt as the evening sun dipped lower in the sky.

Melissa slowly relaxed
against him. “It’s so quiet.”

“Yeah, isn’t it
great?”

She slapped him on the
chest. “No. I hate it. I miss home.”

“What do you miss?”

“Cash, decent clothes,
soft beds, gourmet restaurants, walking shoes, the hustle and
bustle, cash; take your pick.”

“Yeah, but what about
the smog?”

“And showers. Long hot
showers.”

“What about the news?
Murders and rapes every night.”

“Razors.”

“Hmm, let’s see,”
Richard slid a hand up under her dress to feel her legs.

She slapped his hand
away. “Birth control.”

Richard laughed.

“Convenience food,” she
said.

“Now wait a minute!
You’ve got to admit the food tastes great here. No preservatives.
And the water! Have you tried that well water?”

Melissa stuck her chin
out. “It’s not Evian.”

“It’s better.”

“There’s no ice.”

“There’s ice here. Just
not for drinks. What about all the fresh air.” He breathed in
deeply. “Isn’t this great? Come on, you’ve got to admit it’s
great.”

“My career.”

“No alarm clocks to
wake up to. And more time for the kids.”

Melissa turned toward
him and sniffed suggestively. “Deodorant.”

Richard laughed again,
then tightened his grip around her waist. “Riding a horse on a
deserted country road with my wife in my arms.”

She seemed to think
about it for a moment, then smiled and snuggled closer. “Yes, this
is nice.”

The pace was slow, the
horse simply walking. As far as Richard was concerned, they could
do this all night. He felt content with her in his arms. It had
been a long time since they’d been this undistracted.

Relaxed as she was,
Melissa seemed softer, more approachable. He kissed the back of her
neck.

She shivered.

Richard smiled and
kissed her neck again. “Speaking of birth control, are you still
wearing your patch?”

“I’m due to change it
in two weeks.”

“So it’s still good
right now, isn’t it?”

Melissa lifted one
shoulder. “Forget it, I’m not interested.” She shivered again as he
ran a hand up and down her arm.

“We could just make
out,” he coaxed.

She shook her head, but
arched her neck when he kissed her behind her ear.

Using the reins,
Richard urged the horse off the path.

“What are you
doing?”

“Just taking in some
new scenery.”

She looked at him.
“It’ll be dark soon and we need to get back to the kids.”

“The kids are
fine.”