High Plains Wife

by Jillian Hart

  “The storm’s kickin’ up.” He sounded grim as his buckle jingled. “Got to keep an eye out. Looks like lightning’s heading this way.”

  “Will that be a problem for the livestock?”

  “The cattle can get spooked and stampede. You stay here warm and snug.” He leaned toward her in the pitch dark, his presence a warmth she could feel before his lips brushed hers. “Get some sleep for me, okay?”

  “I’ll even have a good dream for you, too.”

  “Hmm…as long as it involves a sunny afternoon in my hammock, that’ll satisfy me.” The rough pads of his fingers traced the curve of her chin.

  She loved how he touched her so tenderly. “You be safe out there.”

  “I’ll dodge any lightning bolts. Promise.”

  He left her smiling. Nick could feel it even though she didn’t say a word. What had happened tonight? He’d give just about anything to have stayed in that bed, where experience and common sense couldn’t touch him, and love Mariah one more time.

  He’d never be able to go back to her again.

  Logic and common sense had been waiting for him right outside the door, or so it felt like. And with every step down the hall, the trouble he was in only got clearer. You messed up, Gray. Wanted to get yourself in more trouble, didn’t you? Life wasn’t challenging enough with the problems he had. No, he had to go and make love to Mariah. Take a step on a path there was no coming back from.

  Dakota’s door opened. “Heading out?”

  “Trying to stay ahead of the storm. Doesn’t feel like twister weather.”

  “I disagree, big brother.” Dakota followed soundlessly on the stairs, a wraith in the dark.

  “You think we’ll have trouble?” he asked once they were outside in the high wind.

  Dakota took a minute, standing with his hands on his hips, scenting the air, feeling the storm. “Yep. Might not be too bad, though.”

  Nick had learned long ago his baby brother was always right. “Let’s get moving. We’ve got work to do.”

  “Will is not lying around in a warm bed if I’ve got to be out in this.” Dakota grabbed a rock and sent it sailing against the upstairs window with a sharp tap. “That’ll wake up our lazy brother. We’ll make him ride point and take the brunt of the wind.”

  “He deserves it.”

  The wind changed direction halfway to the stable. Coming straight from the northwest in a cold, mean line. The dark twist of clouds in the distance, glowing with spears of lightning, was heading their way. A possible twister storm, and the first of the summer.

  There were horses to bring in, cattle to herd, and haystacks to cover before the brunt of the storm hit. But the work wasn’t enough to drive thoughts of Mariah from Nick’s mind. Battered by hail and wind strong enough to knock him on his butt, he couldn’t stop thinking about her. About the way she’d reached out and touched his heart.

  No doubt about it. He’d married the wrong woman, and it was too late to undo it. Too late to go back, to reverse the night and erase the love they’d shared. There was nothing to do but to step forward on this path that had no happy ending for any of them.

  Mariah listened to the wind turn cruel against the side of the house, rattling a loose board, and climbed out of Nick’s bed. She shrugged into her nightgown and padded down the hall. Only the children’s bedroom doors were closed tight. She imagined the others had wakened with the worsening of the storm and headed outside. It might be a long night.

  A flash of distant lightning lit the window in the hallway. Thunder rolled like a stampede through the dark. A distant sound, but not strong enough to rattle through the house. Yet. Mariah wondered how Georgie fared through lightning storms. She opened the girl’s door, but Georgie was sound asleep, her breathing a near silent rise and fall.

  Good. Mariah vowed to come check on Georgie again, just to be sure.

  In the kitchen, she lit a lamp and blew the banked embers to life in the stove. While the kindling caught with loud popping crackles, she measured coffee beans into the hand mill and ground them. As the lightning flashed through the kitchen, Georgie’s scream filled the air. “Mama!”

  Mariah turned down the damper so the kitchen wouldn’t catch fire and raced up the stairs with all her might. Georgie’s scream had faded, but the sound of her sobs led Mariah straight to the child’s bed.

  “I want my mama,” Georgie wept, huddled among her pillows, hugging her rag doll tight to her chest. “Mama, Mama, Mama,” she chanted, crying harder with each word.

  “Poor baby.” Mariah sat on the bed and pulled the child into her arms. Georgie put up a struggle, then just as suddenly stopped, slumping against Mariah’s shoulder. She smelled of cookies and soap and little-girl sweetness that tugged at Mariah’s heart. She cradled this child, her stepdaughter, and pressed a kiss to her brow. “You’re safe. I promise you. The storm can’t hurt you here.”

  “I want my mama.” Georgie’s muffled plea rang with pure heartache. “She’s gone. Long gone and far away.”

  “That’s right, sweetie.” How could anyone have left you? Mariah hugged her daughter tight, rocking her gently. “You’re safe here with me. And Joey, he’s across the hall. And your papa and your uncles and your grandpop. You’re not alone at all, see?”

  Georgie nodded, sobs shaking her little body. So frightened and fragile. We all are, Mariah realized. Maybe it was simply part of being human. Part of walking through this journey of life. The blessing of it was that no one had to walk that path alone. She’d never known what family was before, what it was like to love a man and his children, to have a house where she was more than safe. Where she was accepted and wanted and loved for who she was.

  She felt the ghosts of her childhood slip away, the experiences that became memories and for nearly three decades shaped who she was. No, who she’d thought she was. She’d been prickly, sharp-tongued Spinster Scott, behaving as she did to keep everyone away. To prove her father was right.

  But he was wrong, and tonight had been proof of that. She was lovable.

  She was no longer the little girl too afraid to speak at night when her father returned from the coal yard in a bad mood. She was no longer the girl watching her mother work long hours cleaning other people’s homes, only to work long into the night washing their laundry and cleaning their house. She was no longer the names her father had called her, worthless, a burden and cold-hearted. Useful only when it came to doing housework. That part of her slipped away like a ghost in the night, quietly and irrevocably.

  She felt stronger. Brighter. The Mariah she was meant to be. Mariah Gray, wife and mother.

  She smoothed the sleep-tangled locks out of Georgie’s eyes, damp from the tears still brimming her eyes. “Don’t you worry. I’m going to stay and take care of you.”

  “Until my mama comes back?”

  Mariah knew Georgie had heard all about heaven and how no one returned from there, but she didn’t understand. How could she? “I will stay and take care of you for as long as you need, okay?”

  Georgie nodded, tears still falling, not satisfied, but better. She snuggled against Mariah’s shoulder, sweet and precious. “You ain’t goin’ to heaven, too, are you, Mariah?”

  “No. I’d rather stay here with you.”

  “Okay.” With a shaky sigh, Georgie rubbed away the last of her tears.

  “Why don’t you come downstairs with me, and I’ll make you some cocoa.”

  “Yes, please.” Georgie wiped her face on Mariah’s shoulder, apparently exhausted.

  She cradled Georgie carefully, holding her close and safe and tight. Now, if she could manage to keep hold of the child and somehow get them both off the bed…

  “Let me.” Nick’s near whisper rumbled with the same booming note as the thunder rolling in the sky overhead.

  Her love. Mariah’s heart swelled simply from watching him cross the dark room. She couldn’t see him, but she could hear the brush of his boots against the carpet and the rustle of his cloth
es as he bent close. The heat of his kiss brushed her lips.

  “Had to make sure Georgie was doing all right.” His hand brushed Mariah’s as he lifted Georgie out of her arms and into his. “Come here, princess.”

  “Papa. The house is rattlin’.”

  “I know. The thunder is mighty fierce, but I don’t want you to worry—” Nick’s voice faded as he carried his daughter down the hall.

  Mariah climbed to her feet, weary. Lightning flared nearby, bright enough to throw light into the room, and a few seconds later thunder drum-rolled across the top of the house, shaking the windows in their panes. Downstairs, she heard the rattle of the stove door.

  The fire! It was probably out by now. Mariah hurried through the dark, following the faint glow of light at the bottom of the stairs and into the kitchen where the lamp cast a warm puddle over the table where Georgie sat, her hair tangled and tears drying on her reddened face. She looked up with watery eyes. “I wanna cookie, too.”

  “Just one.” Mariah ruffled the girl’s hair on her way past the table.

  Nick squatted in front of the stove, balanced on the balls of his feet, stacking kindling on the fledgling fire. “Thought I’d help you out before I head back outside.”

  “I appreciate it, but you have work to do.” She knelt beside him, her hand falling to the hard curve of his knee. “I can do this.”

  “I know. You’re a capable woman, Mariah.” He hefted a few sticks of wood in a cross pattern so the fire could breathe. “You can build a fire, too, but I want to do this for my wife.”

  “What a thoughtful husband I have.” She brushed a kiss to his cheek, a brief caress of heaven against his face.

  “Thanks, beautiful.” He rose, leaving the door ajar to give the fire more air. It was hard to sort out all he was feeling, and there wasn’t much time for that now. Lightning illuminated the kitchen, followed by a slap of thunder that shook the house. “I’ve got to go.”

  “Don’t go, Papa!” Georgie’s cry rose above the first wave of rain against the side of the house.

  He kissed her brow, recalling the image of her safe in Mariah’s arms. That was one worry gone, one problem solved. “Mariah will take care of you. Be good for her.”

  It wasn’t easy walking out, but responsibility was riding on his shoulders. Lose this ranch or a portion of his livestock, and he was in deep trouble. He had a family to provide for and brothers to keep gainfully employed. He hesitated on the walkway, with the straight-out wind beating at him and the hail bruising his head, to turn toward the kitchen window, glowing golden and bright, like a lone beacon in the infinite dark.

  Through the glass panes he could plainly see Mariah, her hair tangled from their lovemaking, sweeping across the room toward the window and Georgie. The love on her face was unmistakable as she knelt in front of the girl and brushed the tears from those cherub’s cheeks.

  You can’t mess this up, Gray. He felt as if he were dying inside as he turned his back on the woman he loved and the bold glowing light that shone so bravely in the night.

  Mariah set the coffeepot on a trivet to keep warm. She’d done her work quickly, and there was nothing more to do. Leftover biscuits from supper were in the warmer, along with a plate of sausages and scrambled eggs she’d fried up just in case the men were hungry when they came in from their work.

  Hail rammed into the west side of the house, echoing like a thousand hammer strikes through the still rooms as she turned the lamp down a notch. It was enough for the men to see there was food for them. Satisfied she’d done all she could, she lifted a drowsy Georgie out of the chair. The girl’s head nodded to a rest against Mariah’s throat. Lightning flashed and thunder boomed, jerking Georgie awake. Seeing she was safe, Georgie gave a vulnerable, rattling sigh and struggled not to doze.

  The scent of sweet chocolate clung to Georgie’s face and fingers, a pleasant scent that accompanied them all the way upstairs.

  “Don’t wanna go to bed,” Georgie whined, rubbing her face in Mariah’s shoulder.

  “Would you like to sleep in my bed?”

  Golden curls bobbed against Mariah’s chin as Georgie nodded.

  “We’ll be snug and safe together,” Mariah assured her.

  Lightning led the way through the room as she stepped into it. Thunder cracked a second later, so loud it made the silence that followed ring.

  “Don’t like thunder.”

  “Neither do I. We’ll be safe from it under my comforter. Go ahead, climb under it.” Mariah lowered the girl to the pillows, trying to lift the coverlet at the same time.

  Georgie crawled under it like a cave dweller, tented by the fabric.

  “Like normal, Georgie,” Mariah instructed, lifting the top sheet.

  A half second of eye-burning lightning caught Georgie in the act of crawling beneath the sheet, then the darkness came so quick, it hurt Mariah’s eyes. Thunder crashed like a runaway train through the house. Even the floorboards quaked.

  “Scary.” Georgie reached out.

  It was. The wind sounded mean, but not dangerous. Mariah knew that if there looked to be a chance of a twister, Nick would come fetch them.

  They were safe, and Mariah slipped into the bed. She burrowed beneath the covers, pulling Georgie close. They cuddled together in the soft pillows as the next flash of lightning seared through the dark, showing a dark-haired boy standing in the open doorway, and then the thunder pealed.

  “Joey, come in.”

  “I’m not scared of the lightning or anything.” He sounded defiant.

  “That’s good.” Mariah wasn’t fooled. The storm was practically overhead, and it was scaring her. Lightning was dangerous, and she couldn’t think about Nick outside on his horse, a perfect target for lightning to strike. “C’mon in and join us. Georgie would probably feel better if you were here.”

  “Yeah. Because of Georgie.” As if it pained him beyond all possible words, Joey crawled into bed on the other side of Georgie.

  Mariah lit the bedside lamp and stole a book from Georgie’s room. Once back in bed, she read out loud, while Georgie yawned and Joey pretended not to be interested in the story. Lightning crackled and hail hit the roof, sounding like rocks falling from the sky. They snuggled together, safe and warm, and listened to the storm rage.

  Cold and dog-tired, Nick kicked off his boots. He was the last man back in the house, and he’d wanted it that way. He’d needed the space as he rode one last sweep, assured the livestock had made it through the storm without trouble. The hail was melting in a steady sluice off the porch roof, a pleasant sound as he headed into the kitchen to find his brothers and father at the table, forks clinking against their plates, silent as they ate. Coffee, he expected since he’d rebuilt the fire for Mariah, but all this…

  “That wife of yours ain’t half bad,” Pop commented around a bite of a flaky biscuit. “In fact, I’ve never seen a woman work so hard. And to think she did this out of her own thoughtfulness.”

  “Must have figured we’d be cold and hungry,” Will agreed. “She fried up a lot of food for us.”

  “Don’t look at me, I’ve always liked her.” Dakota pushed away from the table, plate in hand. “I’m headin’ up. Will, you’ve got first rounds in the morning.”

  “Me?” Will eased off the chair, stiff with fatigue, and followed Dakota to the worktable, where they left their empty plates. Their low, rumbling argument went with them through the house and upstairs.

  So, the tide was turning. He was surprised it had taken this long for his family’s opinion of Mariah to change. Nick grabbed the platter with the leftover sausages and eggs and dug in. “Couldn’t leave a biscuit for me, could you?”

  “Nope.” Pop didn’t look sorry. “Figured I’d best do my duty and eat every last one of them.”

  “I surely do appreciate that.” He loved Mariah’s biscuits. “Are you likin’ her a little more?”

  “I figure you showed some wisdom in marrying her.”

  That was the cl
osest Pop had come yet to admitting he’d been wrong. Just Nick’s rotten luck, or a bad sense of timing, or something. Whatever it was, it wasn’t right that the moment his father began liking Mariah, Nick wanted to send her away. Troubled, he finished the rest of the food, sucked down a cup of coffee hot enough to scald his guts, and headed up.

  What was he going to do about Mariah? Every step up those stairs took him closer to her. What if she was waiting for him in his bed? With her hair tangled, naked between the sheets, the way he’d left her when the storm had interrupted them. What if she was naked, all smooth warm skin and soft curves, on this dark night when he needed her most?

  He groaned, unable to take the image. He wanted Mariah as he needed air and sustenance and sleep. He’d give anything for the right to climb into bed with her after the long workday was done, to find comfort and pleasure in her arms, and fulfillment in her love.

  A thin line of lamplight beckoned him down the hall. It came from Mariah’s room. She wasn’t in his bed? He was both disappointed and relieved. He wanted her. He didn’t have the right to love her.

  His steps stilled. He raised one hand to lean against the threshold and soak in the sight. Beautiful Mariah had fallen asleep propped up in the pillows with a book open on her lap and an equally asleep Georgie snuggled close, using Mariah’s stomach for a pillow. Joey lay on his side, asleep. The lamp’s gentle glow framed them like a picture.

  Life had never been this way. Lida hadn’t climbed out of bed and made sure a hot meal was ready for them at three in the morning. She hadn’t read Georgie to sleep. She hadn’t brought this sense of peace to their home. His life was transformed without the resentment and the sadness.

  He’d never been happy, not like this. Not this in-the-guts, to-the-bone, down-deep sense of contentment.

  But his children’s lives…that was the real change. Joey wasn’t pale and worried anymore. He was cool and reserved around Mariah, but a new stepmother was a lot to get used to. Nick had faith in his son. The boy would come to love her, when he was ready. Look at him now. Asleep in bed with his sister, without one worry line on his face. And Georgie, her small hands fisted into the skirt of Mariah’s night-dress, holding on for dear life, even in her dreams.