by Martha Hix
Iron Eagle rushed past them, rifle in hand, shouting, “Two Toes gets away.”
“Leave him be,” Gil said.
Lisette turned slightly to see the Crow hobbling across the valley floor, clutching his injured shoulder.
A question in his eyes, Iron Eagle stood halfway down the grade as he asked Gil, “Do you not want me to kill him?”
“No.” He turned and marched toward Big Red.
“Gil, hold up,” Lisette shouted as he put distance between them. “We must talk.”
There was no response. Not then; not when they returned to the Osage village; not when she changed into the last of her two dresses, nor when they said their thank-yous and good-byes to Iron Eagle, Red Dawn, Laurann, and the others. Lisette couldn’t even enjoy her farewells to Fierce Hawk.
If anything could be found to rejoice in, it was that Frank Hatch was no more.
When they left, she clutched a package under her arm, another gift of clothing from Red Dawn and Laurann. How wonderful it had been, that afternoon and evening in their village. How awful, the leaving.
Onward to Abilene the Four Aces’ company journeyed. August became a thing of the past. Early September sweltered. Lisette’s stomach grew larger, until her skin stretched to the breaking point. In fact, silver lines trailed her flesh.
Her husband didn’t see her changed skin; he made his bed under the stars.
She was beginning to think he didn’t love her.
Each time Gil looked at his wife, it was a mirror into the past. He saw Betty, her stomach large with some man’s child, luring Whittle between her legs. The evening Hatch had mentioned Betty’s affair with the scruffy overseer, he hadn’t been telling Gil anything he didn’t already know, yet it had been a strong reminder of what a fool he’d been to trust a woman.
And now Lisette–who had made like a whore for Two Toes.
What about all the trouble it had taken Gil to get between her legs? Damn it to hell, it had taken every bit of his persuasion to get there, and she’d never been so bold as she’d been with that Crow. Maybe she liked the hatchet-faced type.
Another demon arose. Adolf Keller had mentioned a certain Otto Kapp. Did he have a hatchet face?
And Gil recalled a tidbit he’d overheard in the Osage village. “Your time will come in one moon,” Red Dawn had said, nearly a month ago. Of course Lisette had made denials, but Gil began to agree with Red Dawn. Never had a woman looked so very pregnant at just less than seven months.
Could history be repeating itself? Could it be that her child did not belong to him? That was just too absurd to consider, but . . .
He hated himself for not trusting his wife.
Tomorrow they would reach Abilene, and Lisette would be glad for the journey’s end. She was weary from the cowpath, from the burden of Hermann, from the heat of late summer ... and from her husband’s cold shoulder.
Furthermore, she would be relieved to get off this hard wooden seat. She put a foot up on the splashboard as Pigweed clicked his tongue and headed the team to their final campsite. As usual, Gil rode ahead of the wagon. Finally, he raised an arm to signal an acceptable site. As usual, he had little to say.
But he did allow, “I’m riding into town to hire a couple of men to watch the herd. That’ll free up my cowpokes to eat a last meal together. Make it a good one.”
He left, and Lisette prepared a feast for dinner: steak; mashed potatoes; canned tomatoes doctored with onions; ears of corn bought from a farmer that morning; sourdough biscuits; vinegar pie. And gallons of coffee.
By the time the meal was ready, Gil returned with a cadre of townsmen. The locals took their places in the herd, allowing all the cowboys to gather around the fire.
Gil kept his distance, saying, “I’m going to make a final tally of the cows.”
All the other men were here, except for Matthias and her husband. Oscar, Deep Eddy, Pigweed, Preacher Wilson, Jakob, Johns, Attitude, Toad Face, and Cencero loaded their plates.
Attitude tugged on his long beard and said, “I want to thank you, Mrs. McLoughlin, for being a good partner in this drive. You’re the best damned cook”–Oscar kicked him for cursing–“ ’scuse me. You’re the best cook in the world.”
“You are,” the others chorused.
“Thank you.”
Lisette was aware that once the herd was aboard a Chicago-bound train, the majority of her husband’s cowboys would backtrack with the saddle horses and Tecumseh Billy to the Four Aces ranch. She did not know her own plans.
Would Gil wait in Abilene for Hermann’s birth before returning to Texas? A few weeks ago, this question hadn’t been pertinent, but now it couldn’t be ignored. Surely he wouldn’t expect her to stay here alone while he returned to Texas. But he was not only practical about their livelihood, he was not himself in the matter of Jimmy Two Toes.
Her eyes sweeping over the men, she said, “I guess I won’t be with you next year. I’ll be at the ranch, taking care of young Hermann.”
Deep Eddy put his plate on the ground, and the others nodded agreement when he said, “We’ll miss you.”
Pigweed Martin shuffled over to her. “Missus, I been aiming to tell ya: you sure is sweet and nice.”
Sweet and nice. The evening she’d first appeared in the Four Aces encampment, Willie Gaines had said the same thing. Poor Willie. Presently, she paraphrased her words of that fateful night. “I’m rarely sweet and nice.”
Pulling his upper lip above up his bucked teeth, Pigweed clasped his fingers together. “Well, missus, I think you is.”
“Thank you, Pigweed.”
He traipsed to the opposite side of the fire.
“Mrs. McLoughlin, could I fix you a plate?” Preacher Wilson asked, smiling.
Too tired to eat, Lisette declined his offer. She looked up at the minister and recalled how he’d been opposed to her working in the outfit. Yet he hadn’t been sanctimonious about her presence in a long, long time. Furthermore, she recalled his reason for signing on to begin with.
“Eli,” she said, using his given name for the first time, “why don’t you ride on into town? I know you’re anxious to be with your family.”
“Mister McLoughlin hasn’t released me. And there’s my salary . . .”
“I’ll pay you, if you’ll get the strongbox from the wagon.”
He did and she did. Cash reserves were low, she noted–not a problem. The cattle would bring money in, no doubt by tomorrow afternoon. She went for an additional stack of currency.
“Eli, I know you’re wanting to start a church, so take this.” She pushed the bills into his palm. “A first offering.”
Folded money in hand, he tipped his hat. “Thank you, Lisette. May the Lord be with you.” He started to walk away, but stopped. Turning, he said, “You’re a fine woman, and I want to apologize for calling you a Jezebel.”
“That was quite a while ago, Eli. I haven’t thought of it since. And even if I had, I wouldn’t hold it against you. I understand your misgivings.”
“Forgiveness is the Lord’s . . . but I appreciate yours.”
He disappeared into the night.
Lisette sat down, rested her back against the wagon wheel, and sipped a cup of coffee while watching the cowboys devour the food. Tecumseh Billy lumbered over to her; she pulled a carrot from her apron. He ate the treat and backed away.
“Give us a song,” Johns suggested to Cencero.
Long ago, Johns had said those words to José. Long ago.
The grinning Mexican lifted his guitar. “Thees song ees for our Señora McLoughleen.”
All the men cheered; she smiled. She would miss the loyal men of the Four Aces outfit.
Cencero began to strum the guitar, started to warble a lovely Spanish song. When the tune had ended, he began another. For once, the cowboys weren’t squabbling among themselves. Could it be that they, too, were sentimental on this last night of the cattle drive?
Tears stinging her eyes, she set her empty cup aside.
“Juanito, mi amigo,” said Cencero. “Join me.”
Johns produced a harmonica; the musicale continued.
Oscar, walking bow-legged, set his plate in the wreck pan, and stopped in front of Lisette.
“You ain’t et nothin’, girl.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Ain’t good for yer little one, goin’ wit’out chow. Susie always said, ‘A wuman’s gotta take care-a herse’f as well as her babe.’ ” His rheumy eyes moistened. “Sure do miss that wuman o’ mine.”
“I know you do.” Lisette took his leathery hand to squeeze it gently. “You had a good marriage, you and Susie.”
“Sure did. Never was blessed wit’ no younguns, though.” He winked away a tear. “Ye and the cap’n, why, ye don’t know how lucky ye be, startin’ a family right from the git-go. Ye’ll have a lotta good years, ye and the cap’n and yer youngun. Be lotsa years fer more o’ them.”
“I certainly hope so.”
“Why don’t ye let ole Oscar fix ye a plate, Miz Lisetty?”
Now that she’d had some time off her feet, food did sound appealing, and she accepted his offer. A few bites were enough. Standing, she departed the campfire. Away from its warmth, the night air brisk, she attempted to hug her arms. Hermann got in the way.
“You’re a nice get-in-the-way, my son.”
She scanned the horizon, seeing the outline of cattle, cattle, cattle. Where was her husband? She wanted a moment alone with him. She needed to find out, had to have an answer to the question: For herself, for Gil, for Hermann, what would the next few months bring?
Chapter Thirty-five
“Meine Liebe, where are you going?”
Irritated that Matthias needed her when she sought her husband, Lisette nevertheless stopped in her tracks. For a friend, Matthias could be as pesky as Tecumseh Billy.
“I’m looking for Gil,” she answered.
“He has gone back into town.”
“What for?”
“Lise, he doesn’t confide in me. How would I know his purpose?”
Why had Gil left the herd again? There was no reason she could imagine, unless he wished to visit a saloon and cry in his beer. Verdammt! What did he have to cry about? The cattle drive was at an end, Hatch was no longer a threat, and he would become a father in a little over two months.
Yes, she had been coarse and deceptively receptive to Jimmy Two Toes, and Gil didn’t want to hear her reasons, but her husband had many things to be happy about.
The saddle creaking, Matthias dismounted, and reins in hand, he walked toward her.
“Excuse me,” she said, trying to step around him. “I fancy a walk–alone.”
“He hasn’t been good to you, has he?”
“Matthias, respect my wishes.”
“Except for my few days with Cactus Blossom, I’ve always wanted to be by myself. But I–” He paused. “There’s a pond not far from here. It’s a nice place to be with an old friend. Will you share it with me?”
She lifted her hand to brush the hair from her temple–Gil hadn’t noticed that she had combed it loose for him. “I will,” she answered at last.
Matthias leading his mount, they found the pond. The horse drank from the water while frogs and crickets made noise. Lisette settled on the soft grass, with Matthias to her right.
Rather than have him pose questions, she asked, “What will you do, now that the drive is at its end? Will you rush back to Texas with the remuda and T-Bill?”
“It depends.”
“Depends on what?”
“My choice depends on what your husband does. I fear he’ll leave you in Abilene, Lise, and if that comes to pass, I intend to stay and make certain you’re all right.”
“Gil will take care of me.”
Recalling her husband’s promises of a honeymoon in Illinois, of introducing her to his grandmother, Lisette choked down the lump in her throat. How long had it been since he had mentioned anything of the sort?
“You’re blind where the Scotsman is concerned,” Matthias commented. “I don’t think you even know that he has a chip on his shoulder.”
“I ... I know he has problems, but it’s not your place to worry over them.”
“I do–because it affects you. All I want is your happiness. And Gil isn’t making you happy. If I knew why, maybe I could help.”
“I don’t need help.”
“You’re wrong there.” Matthias drummed four fingers on his knee. “Lise, as long as I’ve known Gil, he’s been a man possessed by some ghost.”
“His divorce hurt him a lot,” she replied after a minute.
“And you’re paying the consequences.” When she said nothing in response to his comment, Matthias pressed her. “Talk to me, Lise.”
Feeling traitorous, yet gaining a bit of peace from bearing her hurts, she admitted the awful truth about Jimmy Two Toes and the buffalo valley. “... And Gil took it all wrong. He won’t listen to me.” Her throat tightened. “How could he ever think I’d want that horrible Indian?” She hesitated. “I guess it’s because he equates me with his former wife.”
“She was unfaithful?”
“More than simply that.”
She told him about Betty, and when she finished, Matthias said, “If he could forgive her, he could forget her.”
“A simple concept. A difficult thing to accomplish.” Lisette’s hand moved backward to massage the small of her back.
Matthias scooted closer, his fingers pressing against her ache. “Your husband should be rubbing your pain away.”
The sole time Gil had taken such action had been in the meadow–the place where Hermann had been conceived. Did he have any understanding how difficult it was to be with child, especially one so large as his son?
There was a lot about Gil beyond her understanding.
Matthias’ hand closed around a hank of her hair. “Remember when I used to tug on your–”
“Get your hands off my wife.”
Gil. She sprang away, catching sight of her husband and Big Red. “I ... I thought you were in town.”
“Obviously.”
“I wanted to take a walk.”
“Did you, now?” Not waiting for her reply, Gil hoisted his arm and jerked a thumb across his shoulder. “Beat it, Gruene.”
Matthias pushed to stand. “You’d like it if I would just get lost, wouldn’t you, McLoughlin?”
“I wouldn’t shed any tears.”
The strawboss, his fist balled, said, “The night you married Lise, you promised to be good to her. You haven’t been.”
“You have a problem with English? I said shove off.”
With pleading eyes, Lisette looked up at her old friend. “Go. Go now.”
“Is that what you truly want, Lise?”
“Yes.”
When Matthias was out of earshot, Lisette stood; it took an ungraceful effort. She closed the distance between herself and Gil. “What do you want, mein Liebster?”
“Answers.” Grasping the pommel, he swung a leg over the saddle. His boots on the solid ground, he slapped Big Red’s rump; the stallion galloped toward the remuda. “Lisette, why do you want other men to touch you?”
“The only hands I want on me are yours.”
“Don’t give me that. Discounting Matt, you were acting the whore for Jimmy Two Toes.”
“I was trying to get an edge on him, and–”
“You would’ve gotten an edge on him, all right.”
She didn’t think; she acted. Her arm arcing, the air resounding with the whang of her palm against jaw and bone, she slapped his face.
Gil moved not a muscle. The moon shadowed the set lines of his face.
“Damn you, Gil McLoughlin, I am tired of your brooding silences. I am sick of your acting the wronged husband. And I won’t abide your innuendoes!”
“That so?”
“Yes. And I want you to know something. When I was in that valley with Jimmy Two Toes, I was scared to death.
He had a gun pointed at me, and I thought if I could get hold of it, I could save our child’s life.”
“Sounds convincing, but I’ll never know if you speak the truth, since you don’t have his ‘revolver’ to prove your claim. And I never saw it. I know one thing for sure.” Gil’s jaw tightened. “Since the last time I’ve known your abundant charms, I’ve caught you with two men. So, what am I to think?”
“When was the last time you wanted my ‘abundant charms’?”
“You don’t want to know.”
An invisible knife slashed her chest and twisted in her heart. She whirled around, making for camp. Before she’d taken five steps, her feet quit moving. Her chin dropped. If the tables were turned, she would be just as angry as Gil, provided she’d twice happened on him in compromising positions.
Pivoting, Lisette asked, “Do you still love me, Gil?”
“I’m not sure.”
His answer hurt, but if pride kept her on the path to the campsite, they might never clear up his misconceptions, he might never express his love again. And mean it.
She wouldn’t ask if he still wanted her. The answer, no doubt, would cause more pain. How long had it been since . . . ? The last time he’d wanted her, in the Osage village, their lovemaking had been cut short. He had to be just as frustrated.
Tonight, right here, right now, she would make him admit his longings, make him act on them. In each other’s arms, they would chase away ghosts.
He wanted to be as cold as his heart, yet it had been a long time since they had been together. He stayed put. Reaching back and walking toward him, Lisette untied her apron. It fell to the ground. She wore the last of the two dresses Red Dawn had sewn. Damn it, he ought not to want her.
Yet she was still the woman Gil had fallen in love with, was still the woman he had taken to wife, was still the woman who crowded his thoughts, but what was wrong with him that other men’s leavings held appeal?
What was wrong? For weeks, jealousy had eaten at him. If he’d been thinking right, he’d have known she hadn’t set out to seduce that Indian, and he damned himself for not listening to her pleas. From the beginning. Yet . . . Two Toes was only part of the problem.