by Megan Hart
"He ain't stupid, your Pa,” Shorty replied calmly. “And if you keep looking at her the way you done today, nobody's gonna have to tell him anything."
"She told me she's going to honor her marriage contract,” Jed stated grimly, pulling Zeus away from the water and Pinta. “That's marriage to my father, Shorty. I reckon that means keeping my mouth shut. I owe her that much anyway."
Shorty shrugged, gathering his mare's reins and swinging himself up on her back. “I reckon you might owe it to your Pa, too."
Jed watched silently as Shorty rode down the hill toward the house. He did owe his father. Buck couldn't marry a woman who'd slept with his son. The old man had contacted the Baptist program because he wanted companionship, someone to sit with on long winter nights. Jed supposed that meant keeping him warm on those winter nights, too. His throat closed jealously at the thought of Caite lying in his father's bed, submitting to his caresses.
Well, blast it, his father had waited a long time for his bride to arrive. He deserved someone who would make him happy. But why did it have to be Caitleen?
Jed swung back up on Zeus, determined to ride until all thoughts of a certain flame-haired woman were banished from his mind. Zeus pranced and shifted beneath him, seemingly just as eager to go. As the big stallion began to run, Jed could tell he was going to be in for a mighty long ride.
* * * *
Caitleen knew she was not going to accomplish anything by staying in bed all afternoon. The lengthening shadows meant several hours had passed while she hid in this room. After Jed had gone, she had remained undisturbed. Plenty of time for her to think.
She had come here to marry Jed Peters, and marry him she would. Even if it was a different man than the one she had thought. Living with Jed, the one who had met her in Lonesome, would be difficult. She could manage difficult. After all, she had spent the first twenty years of her life living with Desmond O'Neal. She supposed living with Jed Peters, Jr. could hardly be worse.
"I do not have much of a choice,” she spoke aloud. The option of returning to Pennsylvania to become Drake Hammond's wife was certainly unacceptable. Even if the thought of seeing his face when he discovered he had not bought a virgin was enough to bring a smile to her lips.
She was no longer a virgin. The sobering thought quickly quashed her grin. Her future husband would be certain to discover that as well. She shivered suddenly. The thought of a stranger's hands on her body made her cringe.
"You did not mind Jed's hands on you,” she whispered, angry with herself for remembering. She had to find something else to take her mind away from such thoughts.
Caite swung her legs over the edge of the bed and began looking for her shoes. The first thing she needed to do was seek out the kitchen and get to know the household. Lorna had been so kind already ... Caite flushed. She hoped the older woman had believed her story about catching a chill.
"Welcome, Miss Caite,” Lorna greeted her warmly when Caite at last entered the dining area.
Caite smoothed her dress self-consciously. Despite having washed her face and brushed her hair, she was still a little grimy from the trip. She allowed Lorna to draw her to one of the chairs at the long, scarred wood table.
"Please do not mind my appearance,” Caite said. “I could not find my trunk..."
Lorna tutted kindly. “I will not to be hearing a word of it, Miss Caite. We will be having Shorty or Jed carry your trunk in for you. We did not wish to disturb your rest."
"Thank you,” Caite replied simply. She took the cup of tea the older woman offered. It felt deliciously warm against her cold hands.
"I'm glad to see you're up and about,” Cooky called from the kitchen. A low half-wall doubling as counter space separated the room was from the dining area. The spare, kind-faced man leaned companionably against the partition and nodded toward her and Lorna. “Tea's the best thing for a chill. The biscuits'll be right up."
Lorna patted Caite's hand. “We'll be taking good care of you until Buck gets back."
"Buck?"
Lorna smiled and threw her hands in the air. “I am forgetting! All of this must to be so confusing for you, my dear. Buck is Jed's father."
"But I thought...” Caite broke off. She certainly was confused.
"We were always calling them Big Jed and Little Jed,” Lorna explained. “But Little Jed did to grow up, and he was not so small anymore. He did not be liking to be called Little Jed. His father, the hands had always called him Buck anyway. So the rest of us called him Buck. But, so! I am forgetting sometimes and still calling the young master Little Jed. And he does get so angry!"
Caite smiled. “I have witnessed Jed's temper."
Lorna looked at her shrewdly. “Was he rude to you, Miss Caite? Buck would not stand for it."
Quickly, Caite shook her head. The last thing she wanted was to give any indication the relationship between her and Jed had been anything but proper. “No, as I said before, Lorna, Jed was a perfect gentleman."
Lorna snorted again, joined by Cooky. “If Jed was a gentleman, it will have been the first time."
Caite relaxed in her chair. Surely this deception would grow easier with time. Besides, it would soon seem as though nothing had happened. The years would probably soften the memories until she would not even be sure they were real.
I'll have other memories to replace them, she thought uneasily. The memories of another man's hands upon her. Perhaps another man's babes to hold in her arms.
"...to greet you."
Lorna had been speaking. Caite blinked. “Pardon?"
"I said it was sorry I am Buck was not here to greet you,” Lorna repeated. “He had been waiting so long to hear from the bride program."
"Where has he gone?” Caite asked, curious to know more about the man she was going to marry.
"To Staghorn,” Cooky mentioned. He winked, sliding a plate of gorgeous brown biscuits across the divider for Lorna to grab. “I reckon if he'd known how pretty his bride was gonna be, he'd a stuck around!"
Lorna tutted, handing Caite one of the savory treats. “Be paying him no mind, my dear. Albert is to be fancying himself quite the Casanova."
By the fond look the housekeeper cast at the cook, Caite guessed the pair had more than a working relationship. “When do you expect him back? Buck, I mean."
"We could be waiting several days, or even weeks. When Buck goes to town, he likes to stay for a while."
"I see.” Caite waited to feel disappointment. Instead, she felt relieved.
Lorna again patted her hand. “Do not to be offended, Miss Caite. If Buck had known you were coming, he surely would have been waiting. Shorty came from Lonesome and told us about the telegram only the day after Buck left. Shorty was to tell Buck the good news, but his favorite mare took lame. He had nurse her, and oh, la!” Lorna threw up her hands. “The troubles that can pile up! So we decided to wait for Buck's return."
"I suppose it is my good fortune Jed and Shorty were in Lonesome, then,” said Caite.
Lorna looked at her conspiratorially. “Those two were up to no good, I am certain of it. Women, gaming ... If it is good fortune for anyone, it is you did to arrive before they could to be getting into troubles!"
Caite nodded, but inside her stomach twisted. There were plenty of saloons in Lonesome. She had seen just a few from the station. Saloons and saloon girls, she would hasten a bet. Girls just willing to give a handsome man like Jed Peters a tumble.
"That is none of my business,” Caite said to admonish herself as much as to reply to Lorna.
For an uncomfortable moment, the other woman stared at her. In that instant, Caitleen was certain Lorna had guessed some, if not all, of the events that had taken place during the trip to Heatherfield. Then Lorna smiled and sipped from her cup of tea, and the moment passed.
"Come,” Lorna declared after they had polished off the last of Cooky's delicious biscuits and homemade jam. “Let me show you the rest of the house."
Heatherfield was lov
ely inside and out, Caite learned as Lorna guided her around. Although she was used to the grand verandah, interconnecting rooms and steep staircases of Serenity, Caitleen quickly warmed to the ranch house's more casual layout. The sheer size of the great room amazed her. She was used to the tiny parlor and sitting room at Serenity. She found she liked the wide-open spaces so common in both house and countryside.
"Jed's room,” Lorna announced, shoving open the carved door closest to the great room.
"Oh, I do not think..."
"He is not minding,” Lorna told Caite briskly. “There comes a time for every bird to be leaving the nest. If he is having a concern for privacy, perhaps he should to be moving to a home of his own, yes?"
Caite laughed awkwardly. She did not know what to say. She had to admit, she was curious about the way Jed lived. Not that I have any reason to care, she reminded herself briskly, ready to turn from the room without even a glance.
The room captivated her, however. As the other rooms she had seen, Jed's room was large and comfortably furnished. A big bed, nearly identical to the one in Buck's room, stood against one wall. She quickly looked away. She did not want to think about the place where Jed would lay his body.
The low bedside table held a faded photograph of a woman. Fair-haired and pale eyed, she was not smiling. Patricia. Caite did not want to look at the woman Jed had wedded and bedded in this room, probably on that very bed.
"A person's room can tell you a lot about them,” Caite noted, turning from the picture. She had meant to keep the comment to herself, but had spoken aloud.
"Than you shall be thinking Jed is careless and sloppy,” Lorna huffed, running a finger along one of the tall bureaus flanking the door. “And yet he is not so."
Caite did not want to think about Jed anymore. Suddenly finding his room too intimate, too close to him for comfort, she hastened out of it. “Can we see the rest of the house?"
Lorna followed her. She made no comment on Caitleen's change of mood. She pointed to the next door in the hallway. “And your room, you have seen."
She led Caite further back the long hallway jutting off the main living area. All the bedrooms, it seemed, were off this one hall, leaving the rest of the house for the dining, kitchen and living areas. Rather than being dark and foreboding, regularly placed windows let in the sun and gave the long stretch an airy feel.
"Mine and Albert's room,” Lorna said, opening the door with a flourish.
"Oh!” Caite cried, standing in the doorway to the cozily furnished room. “I did not know you and Cooky, I mean Albert..."
Lorna chuckled merrily. “Oh, yes, my dear. My Albert and I have been married nearly twenty-five years."
Caite blushed, lamenting her porcelain skin that could flush so heavily. “It is not really any of my business."
"Nonsense, my dear!” Lorna scolded good-naturedly. “You must to be stopping your apologies! You live here now. You should to be knowing everything about those of us who are becoming your family."
The older woman's kind and generous welcome touched Caite deeply. Impulsively, she hugged Lorna. The woman planted a kiss on Caite's cheek.
"Thank you,” Caitleen murmured. “For making me feel so welcome."
Lorna patted Caite's shoulder. “You are welcome, my dear."
Grateful tears filled Caite's eyes as she hugged Lorna again. Heatherfield was her home now. She was home.
I'm going to like living here, she thought fiercely. She vowed to make Buck Peters a good wife. She would forget she had ever opened her heart to Jed if she had to knock herself on the head to do it.
CHAPTER 8
I could love Heatherfield, Caite thought. From the great mountains shining in the distance to the chuckling stream in which she now wet her toes, she had seen only beauty and peace. Except for Jed, but she resolutely put him from her mind. She tipped her face to the sun. The day was early, not yet blisteringly hot, and she relished her solitude.
She had ventured out to the stream early this morning hoping for some privacy. She needed a place to sit and think, a place where she did not have to smile all the time. Most of all, she needed to get away from Jed. The sight and smell of him permeated the house. If he was not there himself, she caught glimpses of his personality everywhere she turned.
"Just put him from your mind, Caitleen.” She sighed aloud. “He is hardly worthy of your attentions."
Lorna has made me feel as welcome at Heatherfield as anyone ever could, Caite thought, but she still felt as though she were dangling in the spider's web, waiting to learn her fate.
It was hard to believe she had only been here five days. Five long days of settling in, learning the routine. Five days of waiting for a man who would become her husband. She could not decide if she were eager for Buck to return, so she could move on with her life, or if she hoped he would never come back.
She really needed to write to Gerda and let the older woman know she was all right. It was a letter Caite had been putting off for days. So much had happened to her over the past several weeks, the thought of putting pen to paper and capturing all of it was exhausting. She felt a twinge of guilt knowing her old friend would be frantic for news of Caite's safety and well being, but Gerda could not read.
If Caite sent a letter now, there was a strong chance it might fall into her father's hands. No, it would be far better to wait until after she was married. Then her father would have no chance to drag her back to Serenity ... and Drake Hammond.
The thought of her upcoming marriage to Buck sobered her and diminished some of the pleasure she had been feeling in the sun. Somehow, since learning the truth about which Jed Peters she was going to wed, the prospect of marrying a stranger had become much more daunting. Yes, everyone had told her Buck Peters was kind, generous, and even handsome. So why did her stomach roil like a sack of snakes whenever she thought about meeting him?
"Your face is going to look like my favorite leather satchel if you insist on going around without your bonnet."
Startled, Caite's bare feet splashed down into the creek water, wetting the hem of her dress. More embarrassed at being caught unawares than the damage to her clothes, Caite glared at the intruder. “Must you always comment so unfavorably upon my choice of attire?"
Jed ambled toward her, an amused grin on his face. “Relax, Caite. I didn't come here to fight."
Trying to ignore the way her heart thudded at the sight of him, Caite sniffed. “What a relief."
She scooted herself further up the creek bank, tucking her feet beneath her skirts and swiftly pulling on her bonnet. Jed sighed loudly and looked at her slightly askance. To her consternation, he sat down next to her on the grass. Not close enough to be improper, mind you, but too close for her, just the same.
"Caitleen, I want to talk to you."
Caite rolled her eyes. “Again, Jed? Why is it every time we have one of your little talks, you end up insulting me, or worse?"
"Are we going to stay at odds like this forever?” he asked quietly.
"So you want to be friends now, is that it?” Her words were clipped, harsh. His closeness was unnerving, reminding her as it did of what they had shared.
"I don't see why we can't be,” Jed replied. “You said yourself we were going to be family."
She had meant an entirely different family, and he knew it. She chose to ignore his last statement, responding instead to his earlier question. “The only time we are at odds is when we are alone, which fortunately, is almost never. I've never exchanged harsh words with you in front of anyone else. I've been very careful not to act with any interest toward you at all, Jed. Just as you requested."
"That's just it,” he cried. “You look right through me as if I'm not even there. You don't even ask me to pass the butter. I reckon that's a sight more odd than if you'd just pretend I was one of the ranch hands."
"You're not one of the ranch hands,” Caite retorted, getting to her feet so she could stare down at him. How could she tell him that i
gnoring him was the only way she was able to face him at all? That if she had to force herself into small talk and casual chatter, she might as well announce to the world she was in love with her future husband's son?
"No, I reckon not."
He got to his feet, too, so she no longer had the illusion of power. She felt very small, and close to tears. She wanted nothing more than for Jed to just leave her alone before she said something she regretted.
"What do you want from me, Jed?"
"Caite, I won't spend the rest of my life apologizing to you for something that isn't my fault!"
His outburst triggered her own. “I'm not asking you to!"
"You sure could've fooled me,” he growled, stepping toward her.
"You cannot have it both ways, Jed,” she snapped. She stood her ground against him, her fists balled on her hips. “If you want me to pretend I don't know you, I can do that. If you want me to laugh with you, to act as though we're the best of friends, I'm sorry. I cannot. I cannot pretend to be friends with someone who so abused me."
"Blast it, Caitleen!” Jed barked, and by his tone she knew she had struck a nerve. “Any one who takes a look at how clearly you despise me is going to wonder what exactly I did to earn your disgust! And anyone with half a bucket of brains is going to figure out what exactly a man could do to a woman to make her hate him so much!"
"And I suppose your father has at least half a bucket of brains."
"Caite, I don't want to hurt my father."
She laughed bitterly. “How admirable."
He gripped her arm, forcing her to look at him. “When are you going to stop acting so high and mighty and admit I'm not the only one at fault here? I never forced myself on you."
Wordlessly, Caite jerked her arm from his grasp. Her face felt hard and taut like an iron mask. Her lips were pressed so tightly together, she thought she might have bruised them.
"Get your hands off me,” she gritted through clenched jaws. “Leave me alone. Have you not done enough?"
Jed did not rise to the bait. Instead, he just looked at her calmly. “What happened to the truce you proposed way back when?"