The front door banged, and she jumped. Jasper smiled at her anxiously.
“What are you doing home? You just left,” she said.
He took her hands in his. “How would you like to go home, to Boston, for awhile?”
How had he known? She stared at him silently. Did he want to be rid of her? She knew she had been nothing like a wife to him lately. Though she knew it, she couldn’t help herself, couldn’t shake the grief that hung over her like a shroud.
He rushed on as if he thought he had to convince her. “I’ve checked on stage tickets, and you could leave tomorrow or Friday. You could stay as long as you like, get caught up on all the news with your sister. She would be delighted to see you. The autumn balls will be in full swing soon.”
“I’ll go,” she said. “I have been thinking about it.”
His face lit up, and he hugged her. Her heart clenched with pain. Had he been looking for an excuse to send her home all this time? “I want to go tomorrow,” she said.
His smile dimmed, but he nodded and kissed her forehead. “I’ll buy the ticket.”
Eve stared at her from the kitchen where she had begun the laundry. “I will pack your valise,” she told her.
“I’d rather do it,” Bessie said. “I know what I want to take.” She would take everything important just in case she never returned.
Eve nodded and returned to her chores. Bessie went to the bedroom to pack. The sooner she was gone from this house of painful memories, the better.
§
While standing at the stage stop the next day, Bessie felt as though she were in a cocoon of cotton; she couldn’t feel anything. No pain, no joy, no feelings of any kind. She hugged Jasper and allowed him to kiss her, but her heart felt like wood in her chest. His green eyes stared at her worriedly, then he helped her aboard the stage. Did he suspect she might not return?
“Write when you arrive safely,” he told her.
“I will.”
He looked as though he had more he wanted to say, but in the end, he shut the stage door and stepped away. She lifted a gloved hand and waved at him gravely, then she fixed her gaze straight ahead. She wouldn’t allow herself to feel regret.
§
The days aboard the stagecoach were an ordeal, but Bessie loved the train. The train whistle blew, and Boston was just ahead. She felt the most excitement she had felt since before Ruthie had been ripped from her. Leaning out the train window, she breathed in the moist air. How she had missed the green grass and leafy trees!
When Jasper had kissed her at the stage stop, she had tried to tell him she wouldn’t be back, but the words wouldn’t come. Had that been relief on his face when he waved good-bye?
The train jerked to a halt, and she gathered her valise and reticule. Tying her bonnet firmly under her chin, she pushed her way through the throng and looked anxiously around for a familiar face.
“Bessie!”
She whirled and saw Lenore hurtling toward her at a most unladylike pace. Behind her came her parents. “Lenore.” Tears pricked her eyes, and she flung herself into her sister’s embrace. Her parents arrived, and she hugged them.
“Let me look at you.” Her father held her at arm’s length. “What are these dark circles?” he demanded. “Isn’t that new husband taking care of you?”
She bristled at the criticism of Jasper. “Of course he is. It’s just been a long trip.”
Her father snorted. “I thought you said you wanted adventure.” He linked his arm with hers. Her mother looped her arm through her other elbow, and they strolled toward the waiting carriage. She knew they looked the picture of a happy family. Appearances were so important to her parents.
Lenore kept up a steady stream of comments as she followed them. “Your letters said you were bitten by a rattlesnake. Do you have a scar? What’s it like living in a place that hot? Is it true there is no green grass?”
Bessie laughed and was surprised at the sound. She thought she would never laugh again. This trip had been a good idea.
§
Her room looked just the same. Her clothes were still in the wardrobe, and her extra shoes lined the end of her bed. Her room was the same, but why did it all feel so different? She gazed at her reflection in the mirrored dresser. Her appearance was unaltered, but she knew she was not the same young woman who had stood there eight months before. It was like trying to fit into a dress a size too small. Not impossible, but not comfortable, either.
Lenore pecked on the door. “Dinner, Bessie. Emma made your favorite. Fried chicken.”
She grabbed her shawl and joined her sister in the hall. Their parents were already seated at the dining room table. Her father rose politely until his daughters were seated; then he rang for Emma to serve the meal.
As they ate their meal, Bessie was conscious of the stares the three of them sent her way when they thought she wasn’t looking. She knew the inquisition would begin after dinner. When the last plates were cleared away, her mother suggested they retire to the game room. Bessie laid down her napkin and followed her family.
“You look terrible, Bessie. I want to know what’s been going on out there in the desert. Is your husband kind?”
“Oh, mother, of course he is. Jasper is the sweetest, kindest man I’ve ever met.” Bessie was shocked they would think anything different. She had written them of her husband’s many fine qualities.
“Your sister finally confessed her part in your hasty marriage,” her father began ponderously. “I must say your mother and I were shocked you didn’t confide the truth to us.”
“I wanted to go, Father,” Bessie began timidly.
He waved his large hand. “That is beside the point. Your sister acted irresponsibly, and so did you.”
Bessie couldn’t argue with that. She glanced at Lenore, but her sister avoided her gaze.
“Have you left your husband?”
How had they guessed? She took a deep breath. “I haven’t decided. Don’t think it’s Jasper’s fault.” She pressed her hands together. “We lost the child we’d adopted, and I’m afraid I haven’t dealt well with the loss.”
Her father frowned, and she saw Lenore lean forward, her eyes sparkling. Was she still yearning after Jasper?
“Whose child was it?” Her mother sounded bewildered.
“An Indian child, Mother.” Bessie burst into tears and sobbed out the story of Ruthie.
When she raised her head, she saw her mother’s face pursed in disapproval. “You should have searched for the child’s parents immediately, Bessie, and you would not have gotten attached to her.”
She knew they would react this way. Why had she tried to deceive herself? She straightened her shoulders and got to her feet. “I’m tired,” she said. “May I be excused?”
Her father’s expression darkened, but he nodded curtly. “We will discuss this tomorrow,” he said ominously.
As Bessie fled for the sanctuary of her room, she heard Lenore demanding to know what she intended to do. She shut the door behind her and threw herself across the bed. Lenore wanted Jasper. Bessie had seen Lenore’s acquisitive expression when she heard Bessie might be annulling the marriage. But hearing her father ask the question had made Bessie realize how impossible the very thought of it was.
She didn’t belong here. This large brick structure with fine furniture and more room than they knew what to do with was no longer her home. Her home was an adobe three-room building with a cot for a sofa and a handmade kitchen table. Jasper was her family. She belonged with her husband.
Her parents would tell her they loved her, but real love was what Jasper had been showing her for months. He might not have said the words, but he told her with his actions, just like the Bible said he should. She saw his love in the way he saw to her needs, his kind words, and tender care. Why had she doubted?
She had been hurt and confused, but now she realized she was on the verge of a huge mistake. She thanked God He had guarded her from herself. What would Jasper s
ay when she got home? Would he even expect to see her again? Had he realized the finality of her good-bye?
She looked up at the knock on the door.
“Can I come in, Bessie?” Her sister’s voice was soft as though she feared their father would hear.
Bessie opened the door. “I’m not giving up Jasper,” she announced. “You can come in, but if you’re here to try to convince me to leave him, you’re wasting your breath.”
Lenore stared at her and shook her head. She brushed past her and shut the door. “I don’t want your Jasper, Bessie. You should know better. I can see you love him. All I’ve ever wanted was for you to be happy.”
Bessie searched her sister’s eyes and nodded. What had she been thinking? Lenore was sometimes irresponsible and thoughtless, but she would never deliberately harm her.
“I just want to hear about the West. Do you think I could come for a visit? My hopes for marriage here have not materialized. I’m so sick of Boson society, of Father’s determination to find me a man of substance.” She shook her head. “I don’t care about money. I want a man who is a real man, not my father’s paid lackey.” Her eyes gleamed. “I’ve thought about writing and asking, but I was afraid you’d say no. But now that you’re here and I can tell you I have no designs on your husband, maybe you’ll take pity on me.”
Bessie laughed. She felt as though a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Lenore didn’t want Jasper. Her smile faded. What if he still yearned for her? The last thing she needed was for Jasper to be around Lenore. She knew the comparison would be devastating to her marriage. “Are you sure you don’t still care for Jasper, Lenore? You wrote to him even after I went west.”
A guilty expression raced across her sister’s face. “Yes, I did,” she admitted. “I’m surprised he told you.”
“He didn’t. I saw the letter.”
“Did you read it?” Lenore’s question was casual. Too casual.
“No. I couldn’t betray Jasper like that.” She frowned at the relief on Lenore’s face.
Her sister got to her feet. “I must get to bed,” she said airily. “Don’t worry about the letter, Bessie. It meant nothing. Not to me nor to Jasper.”
Her eyes narrowed, Bessie watched her sister’s hurried departure. What had been in the letter?
§
The days were lonely for Jasper without Bessie, and the nights even lonelier. The little house echoed. The laundry was neatly folded and put away and the house was spotless after Eve’s visits, but it lacked Bessie’s touch. Several times Jasper had been tempted to send Bessie a letter begging her to come home, but he managed to restrain himself. He wanted the old Bessie back, and if he forced her hand, he feared he would never see his laughing wife again, just her empty shell.
October was drawing to a close; soon the welcome monsoon would arrive. Would she be home for Thanksgiving, for Christmas? Would she come home at all? He forced himself to face the possibility that she might not. Her good-bye had seemed so final. As she had clung to him with a strange desperation, she searched his eyes with her grave gaze, as though imprinting his likeness on her mind. Why had he never realized before just how precious she was to him? Was it too late to tell her?
He thought of Ruthie. How was she getting along with her father? He was tempted to ask Black Will several times, but he didn’t want to speak with the man who had been responsible for this turn of events. He told himself he was being unfair; after all, Black Will was Ruthie’s uncle, but he couldn’t seem to rid himself of the animosity.
It was late when he let himself in the house. How odd. The lamp in the bedroom was lit. Frowning, he walked through the parlor and kitchen and pushed open the bedroom door.
Bessie lay in the bed fast asleep. His mouth gaped. She must have come in on the stage late this afternoon. He had heard the normal stage commotion, but he hadn’t thought anything about it. She couldn’t have been in Boston longer than a few days. What had caused her to come back so quickly? He wished he could believe it was because she missed him.
Relief flooded him. If she hadn’t come soon, he knew he would have been compelled to go after her. In spite of the strange circumstances of their marriage, Bessie was his wife. He knelt by the bed and just drank in the sight of her. Her light brown hair spread over the pillow, and he buried his face in it. He kissed her gently, but she didn’t awaken, and he saw the shadows of exhaustion under her eyes. What a grueling trip she had to have endured. He ran his fingers over her lower lip and kissed her.
“Bessie,” he said softly.
She opened her eyes and stared at him. Then she smiled and opened her arms.
Jasper gathered her close. “Don’t ever leave me again, Bessie. You’re all I have. We can have a baby together and build our family from tonight forward.” He kissed her gently at first and then with mounting passion. “I love the way your hair smells as fresh as sunshine, the way you tilt your head when you smile,” he muttered against her neck. “Promise you’ll never leave me again.”
“I promise,” Bessie whispered. Then she moved over for him to join her in their bed.
fifteen
The smell of coffee awakened Bessie. For just a moment she forgot where she was. Then she smelled the scent of sage wafting through the open window and saw the bathtub hanging on the wall. She smiled and stretched. She was home.
She heard Jasper moving around the kitchen, and she got up and quickly dressed. He whistled as he banged the coffeepot back down on the stove.
She pinched some color into her cheeks and opened the door. Everything had changed last night. She felt shy at the thought of facing him this morning.
He turned at the sound and grinned. “Couldn’t stand a place with no snakes or spiders, huh?”
She smiled. “And no bats.” She drank in the sight of him with his silly grin and tender eyes.
“I missed you,” he said softly.
“I knew as soon as I arrived in Boston that I had made a mistake. There’s nothing left back there for me.”
“And here you have sagebrush and sand, rattlesnakes and scorpions. What more could you want?”
“Ruthie,” she said without thinking.
His mirth faded. “I know,” he said.
“Have you heard anything about her at all?”
He looked away and sighed heavily.
“Tell me!” She panicked at the look of resignation on his face.
“It’s nothing bad,” he said quickly. “It’s just—” He broke off and sighed again. “I’m not sure it’s the best thing for either of us, but her uncle said we would be permitted to visit her.”
Joy flooded her heart. To see her baby again, to touch her. “When?” she asked eagerly.
“Whenever you want. The family is still in the area right now. They will be leaving next week to go back north.”
“Can we go today?” She wanted to go right now, this minute. She couldn’t wait to feel Ruthie’s chubby arms around her neck, to smell the sweet baby scent of her.
“I’ve already asked for the day off.”
“Let me comb my hair.” She hurried to the bedroom, brushed her hair, and put it up. She picked up her bonnet and rushed toward the front door, but Jasper stopped her. “You must eat something, Bessie. You’re white with fatigue.”
“I’m not hungry.” She smiled. “Let’s just go. I can eat later.” But when she swayed, she realized he might be right. When had she eaten last? She hadn’t been able to force down much at the stage stops.
Jasper guided her to a seat and pushed her down gently. “You have to take care of yourself. You’re all I have.”
Bessie was touched at his admission. She searched his tender gaze. “All right,” she said. “I’ll have some bread and jam. That coffee smells wonderful, too.” She started to get up, but he shook his head firmly.
“I’ll get it. You look like a stiff wind would blow you over. I don’t think much of the care your family has given you.”
She smiled but di
dn’t tell him they had said the same thing about him. “How’s Eve?”
“She’s taken good care of the house, as you can see. She’ll be glad you’re back.”
Why were they talking about such mundane things? Why didn’t he sweep her into his arms and tell her never to leave again? Had he really missed her? What had last night meant to him? The questions stuck in her throat.
“I’ll get the buckboard while you finish your breakfast,” he told her.
By the time she was done, he was back. “Ready?”
She took a last gulp of coffee. “Ready.”
Several of the soldiers waved and welcomed her home. The buckboard bounced over the ruts and scrub, and she clung to Jasper’s arm to keep from being thrown from the seat. The scent of creosote and sage was like a tonic. How good it was to be home!
They headed toward the small encampment west of the fort. Several ramshackle adobe buildings squatted amidst the cactus and yucca. She saw half-clothed children playing in the dirt with several dogs, and her heart sank. Was this the kind of life her Ruthie would have?
Jasper stopped the buckboard at the first building and asked where he might find Thomas. The somber woman pointed to the last building in the row. He tipped his hat, and they went on. The building looked deserted, and Bessie frowned in disappointment. What if the family had already left? Jasper helped her down, and they went to the door.
Bessie felt as though she could barely breathe. The door finally opened, and Thomas’s mother stared at them impassively.
“We’ve come to see Ruth,” Jasper said.
The woman motioned them inside. It took several moments for Bessie’s eyes to adjust to the dim interior; then she saw Ruthie lying on a blanket. The baby slept with her thumb corked in her mouth as usual. She was clean, her hair neatly done in tiny braids.
Bessie went onto her knees with a soft cry. Ruthie opened her eyes and stared at her. Her mouth puckered, and she sought her grandmother’s face.
To Love a Stranger (Wyoming Series Book 4) Page 13