by Prairie Heat
Mattie nodded, her heart aching at the sudden coldness in his tone. To avoid his gaze, she began to brush the dirt from her Levis, wincing as she did so. It was then she noticed that her arms were red and swollen where the spines had pierced her skin.
“It’ll pass,” Jess assured her. “There’s an old saying in these parts that you haven’t really been initiated into the desert until you’ve pulled a couple of those damned things from yourself or your horse.”
“My horse,” Mattie exclaimed. “Is she all right?”
Jess shook his head. “I don’t think so.” Stooping to examine the mare’s left front leg, Jess shook his head again. “She’s been snake bit.”
Mattie covered her mouth with her hand. The chestnut’s leg was already swollen, stained with blood.
“We’ll have to ride double,” Jess remarked as he drew his Colt and thumbed back the hammer.
“What are you going to do?”
“Put her out of her misery.”
Mattie bit down on her lower lip, then turned away, her hands over her ears. The gunshot echoed like thunder in the stillness.
“Come on, let’s go.” Jess picked up his canteen, and stuffed his kerchief in his back pocket. “Ready?”
Mattie nodded and Jess reached for her hand. He held it for a timeless moment before lifting her into the saddle. He stood looking up at her, the expression in his smoky gray eyes unfathomable, and then he swung up behind her and urged the big gray gelding into a walk.
Mattie stared at the buzzards already circling in the sky. The desert seemed so peaceful, so devoid of life, and yet danger was always near at hand. Poisonous snakes lurked in the rocks. There were poisonous spiders and venomous lizards, and Indians waiting to take your scalp. And once the desert had destroyed you, there were ugly black birds lingering just out of sight, waiting to prey on your corpse.
They made camp at nightfall, ate a meal that neither of them tasted, then rolled into their blankets. But sleep was a long time coming.
Mattie stared into the darkness, longing for Jess to take her in his arms, ashamed of the thoughts that kept repeating in her mind: If only she were not married, if only Kane were dead…
She was glad when they reached Tucson late the following afternoon.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Tucson was an old town surrounded by mountains. It had first been settled in 1776 by the Spanish; now it was the territorial capital of Arizona.
Mattie paid little attention to the town as they made their way down the dusty street, her thoughts shifting back and forth between the two men who had become the most important people in her life.
Today, as hard as it would be, she would bid Jess McCord a last farewell and put him out of her mind, out of her heart. It sounded so easy, but she knew it would be difficult to forget Jess. From the moment she first saw him sitting across from her in the stagecoach, he had been almost constantly in her thoughts. She had been attracted to him even then, when she thought he was a criminal, and now…
She refused to think of how much he had come to mean to her. Instead, she focused her thoughts on Josiah Thornton, her husband. She would meet him today, at last. Once the thought had filled her with excitement and anticipation. Now she felt only a curious sense of apprehension. Just nerves, she told herself, perfectly normal considering she was a new bride meeting her husband for the first time.
Yes, from now on she would concentrate on being Mrs. Josiah Thornton, on having and raising a family, on being a good wife and a credit to the community. Josiah had promised they could be married in church, and she let herself think of white wedding gowns and flower-bedecked aisles and the good wishes of Josiah’s friends. But instead of cheering her, the thought left her feeling sad and empty. She was no longer worthy to wear virginal white, and she had no one to stand up with her in church, no best friend, no mother or sister. Her best and only friend was Jess McCord.
Mattie gave herself a sharp reprimand. She had vowed to love, honor and obey Josiah Thornton, and she would do just that. She would cook and sew and wash and scrub and do all she could do to make her husband happy. She would be cheerful and agreeable; she would laugh at his jokes and lament his troubles. She would make certain he never had cause to regret marrying her. They would discover each other, have a child, attend church together and live happily ever after. She would see to it.
Mattie’s plans for a rosy future burst like so many soap bubbles when they reached Thornton’s Dry Goods Store.
“He sold out and moved on,” the new proprietor told Mattie. “Haven’t had a chance to get a new sign made up yet.”
“Moved?” Mattie said.
“Yep. His wife was kilt by ’Paches, and Josiah felt he needed a change of scene.”
“Where’s he gone?”
“Santa Fe.”
“Santa Fe!” Mattie exclaimed.
The man nodded. “Yep. Bought hisself a bigger store, and a hotel too. It’s a right nice one, way I hear it, that new hotel.” He frowned at Mattie. “Who might you be, miss?”
“I’m his wife.”
“Well, I’ll be danged,” the man said, grinning broadly. “We thought you was dead. All’s they found where the coach went down was some bloodstains and yore hat, leastwise they figured it was yore hat.” The man chuckled. “Well, hell, won’t Josiah be surprised to see you.”
“Yes, indeed,” Mattie answered. He’d be surprised all right, if she ever reached him.
“Thank you for your help,” Jess said, taking Mattie by the arm. “Come on, let’s go.”
Mattie followed Jess out of the building, hardly aware of what she was doing. She had come so far, endured so much, and now this. It wasn’t fair. Darn it, it just wasn’t fair.
She looked up as her foot hit a step. “Where are we going?”
“To get a room, and then something to eat. And a bath sounds good too.”
“A bath,” Mattie murmured. “Oh yes, a bath sounds wonderful.”
Thirty minutes later she was soaking in a hot tub, her eyes closed, as she thought of all she’d been through since she left Boston. She had coped with dust and bumpy roads, survived an Indian attack, nursed McCord’s wounds, lost her trousseau—oh that lovely trousseau she had purchased with such care!
She had sampled Indian cooking, slept in a brush-covered wickiup, helped a man escape a fate that made her shudder, lost her virginity and now, after all that, when she’d thought her destination safely reached at last, Josiah Thornton had moved on.
She let out a long sigh, relishing the warm water that soothed her weary body. Jess had gone to see if there was a stagecoach to Santa Fe. He hadn’t mentioned Kane, but she knew he was anxious to be rid of her, anxious to start out after the man who had killed his wife.
The thought brought a lump to her throat. She’d been nothing but trouble to him, she thought morosely, and now he couldn’t wait to put her on a stage and get on with his own life. The fact that she’d let him make love to her meant nothing to him. It had just been a pleasant diversion along the way.
Two fat tears slid down her cheeks. Excess baggage, that’s all she was, excess baggage to be put on the first available stagecoach out of town and forgotten.
She was drowning in self-pity when she heard McCord’s voice.
“Mattie? Open up.”
“I’m in the tub.”
“So get up and unlock the door.”
She hesitated a moment, then grabbed a towel and wrapped herself up in it before opening the door. Her eyes widened as she saw the armload of packages he was carrying.
“What’s all that?”
“You can’t go around town in men’s pants, and I’m sick of the sight of that blue traveling suit of yours,” Jess answered, grinning roguishly. “So I bought you some new duds. Hope they fit.”
“New clothes?” Mattie said. “For me?”
Did he have any idea what a rare thing it was for her to have anything new? Her Aunt Flo had a daughter two years older than Mattie
, and Mattie had practically grown up in her cousin’s hand-me-downs, considering herself lucky if she got a new dress at Easter or Christmas.
“New clothes are prideful,” her aunt Hattie Claire had said on more than one occasion. “It’s the beauty of the spirit that counts, not costly apparel.”
Mattie’s mother had agreed. “It’s what’s on the inside of a young woman that matters,” she had often remarked. “Pretty clothes don’t make a pretty girl.”
But they helped, Matilda had thought rebelliously, and secretly envied the other girls at school who were always showing off new hats and shoes and scarves and the most divine dresses.
Mattie sat on the bed and unwrapped the packages, revealing a bright-blue print with a square neck and short puffed sleeves. There was a long-sleeved white blouse and a wine-red skirt as well. She found a dark-green riding skirt and matching shirtwaist in another package.
“There’s unmentionables in that one,” Jess said, pointing. “I asked the clerk what you’d need.”
She felt a rush of embarrassment as she imagined Jess buying her such intimate articles of clothing. “Thank you, Jess,” she said, her heart filling with gratitude. “How can I ever repay you?”
“There’s no need. I’ve put you through hell these past few weeks, and I’m sorry.” He coughed and looked away, then reached into his shirt pocket. “Here.” He handed her a yellow slip of paper. “You’re booked on the eastbound stage first thing in the morning.”
She looked at him blankly for a moment and then nodded. “Thank you,” she said quietly. But she didn’t feel thankful. She felt miserable. A feeling that only increased when he handed her a small wad of cash.
“What’s this for?” she asked sharply.
“You can’t travel from here to Tucson without any money.”
She stared at him, feeling as though she was being paid for services rendered. She was tempted to throw it in his face, but he was right. There might be expenses along the way. Feeling her cheeks burn with shame, she tucked the money into her pocket.
If he noticed the sudden flush in her cheeks, he didn’t remark on it. “Well,” he said, rising. “Why don’t you change clothes, and I’ll meet you downstairs. The hotel will be serving dinner in about a half hour.”
Mattie nodded. “I won’t be long.”
She felt desolate when he left the room. The eastbound stage. First thing in the morning. He really was in a hurry to get rid of her.
*
Jess ordered the best meal the hotel had to offer, but Mattie didn’t really enjoy it. Each minute that ticked by made the moment of parting that much closer, and she didn’t want to leave him. All her good intentions to be an exemplary wife to Josiah Thornton brought little comfort when she thought of leaving Jess forever.
She studied him surreptitiously as he ate, memorizing the strong line of his jaw, his fine, straight nose, the rich ebony of his hair, the deep gray of his eyes, the width of his shoulders, the way his smile tugged at her heart.
She reminded herself that he had killed men, that he was a half-breed and a bounty hunter, that he intended to kill Elias Kane or see him hanged, but to no avail. She didn’t care who he was or what he was. She loved him, loved him with her whole heart and soul. She didn’t know how or why it had happened, only that it had.
Sitting there, she wished that she had never heard of Josiah Thornton, that she had the nerve to throw her arms around Jess McCord and tell him how she felt, but of course she couldn’t do that. Jess had only one thing on his mind, and it wasn’t her. And she belonged to someone else, lawfully, legally, morally.
But it was Jess McCord she loved. Nothing could change that.
*
Mattie stood beside the stagecoach door, her heart pounding as she gazed at Jess for the last time. The silence stretched between them. They had been through so much together, shared so much, and now they had nothing to say.
Mattie wished she dared tell Jess she loved him, that she had enjoyed every minute of the time they had shared in spite of everything that had happened. But she had no right to tell him such things.
Jess gazed down into Mattie’s face, wishing he had the right to pull her into his arms and give her a farewell kiss, that he could tell her how much he was going to miss her. But the shadow of Josiah Thornton stood between them and in the end, he took her hands in his and dropped a chaste kiss on her cheek.
“Have a safe journey, Mattie,” he said quietly.
She nodded, unable to speak past the lump rising in her throat.
And then the driver was calling, “All aboard!” and it was time to go.
Jess handed her into the coach, threw her a parting smile and stepped away from the door.
Mattie sat down near the window, her gaze focused on the floor. She was leaving, and he was letting her go. She told herself it was for the best. She had her life, and he had his. But the tears came anyway, falling like silent raindrops. And then the coach lurched forward, carrying her away from Tucson and Jess McCord—toward Santa Fe and Josiah Thornton.
Jess stared after the coach until it was lost in a cloud of churning yellow dust, and then he made the rounds of all the saloons, inquiring if anyone had seen a man answering Elias Kane’s description. He wasn’t surprised when no one had seen Kane. He hadn’t expected the man to come this way, but he had to ask, just to be sure.
He made a quick stop at the general store, loaded up on ammunition and provisions and rode out of town. His next stop would be Lordsburg, and then Silver City, and then all the way back to the East Coast, if necessary.
He let out a long sigh, wishing that things could have turned out differently between himself and Mattie, but of course, that had been impossible. She was a married woman, and he had a job to do.
Muttering a mild oath, he urged his horse into an easy lope, shutting his mind to everything but the need to find Elias Kane.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Mattie spent the first thirty miles of the journey lost in thought, wondering what her meeting with Josiah Thornton would be like. Seeing her alive would surely be a shock when everyone thought she’d been killed in the attack. She imagined several scenarios, picturing Josiah as being thrilled, stunned and amazed by turn, but each scene ended with them smiling at each other, both relieved that she had finally arrived.
With a sigh, she closed her eyes, and Jess McCord’s swarthy image immediately jumped to the forefront of her mind. For a moment, she let herself delight in his image, in the deep-gray eyes that had looked at her with such intensity, his gaze making her tingle with awareness. How handsome he had been, and how she longed to see him again, to kiss him one last time, even though she had no right to kiss him at all.
She wished suddenly that he had abducted her, carried her off to live with the Apache, kept her against her will and made her his woman. In truth, he would not have had to keep her against her will. She would have gone with him to the ends of the earth if he had but asked.
Sitting up, Mattie opened her eyes and looked out the window. In the past weeks, she had come to appreciate the stark beauty of the desert, the gray-green cactus, the blood-red mesas, the endless miles of shimmering sand, the bold blue sky that housed a relentless sun.
“Going far, miss?”
Mattie looked across the aisle at the man who had spoken to her. “Santa Fe,” she answered politely.
“Not a bad place,” the man remarked. “I’m Gordon Trimble. I sell a variety of kitchen goods. Hope to open a store in Santa Fe and settle down.”
“I’m pleased to meet you, Mr. Trimble. I’m Mrs. Thornton. My husband owns a store in Santa Fe.”
Gordon Trimble smiled good-naturedly. “Nothing like a little friendly competition,” he remarked cheerfully. “Tell me, Mrs. Thornton, how do you like Santa Fe?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never been there. This is my first trip West.”
Gordon Trimble nodded. “I’ve been there a few times in the past. Not a bad place, as I said. It’s
an old town, you know. Founded by the conquistadors over a hundred years ago. Most of the buildings are made of adobe, warm in winter, cool in the summer…”
Mattie nodded, glad to have someone to talk to, someone to take her mind off Jess McCord. She listened politely as he rambled on about the town, about some of the people he knew. Mattie glanced at the other two passengers. They were nuns, clad in somber black.
After about twenty minutes, Gordon Trimble lapsed into silence and one of the sisters spoke up. “You must be sure to visit the Loretto Chapel when you reach Santa Fe,” she said in a soft voice. “We sometimes allow visitors to enter our chapel to see the staircase. It is a miracle, and a wonder to behold.”
“A miracle staircase,” Mattie repeated, intrigued.
“Oh yes. The chapel was completed in 1778 for our order, the Sisters of Loretto, who had come out from Kentucky by wagon train. But the builder forgot to put in a stairway from the chapel to the loft. Once the chapel was completed, it was decided that a staircase would take up too much room, so they would have to use a ladder instead. But a ladder was very awkward, so the good Sisters of Loretto prayed to St. Joseph, and one day an itinerant gray-haired carpenter arrived riding a donkey. He told the Sisters he had heard of their need and had come to build them a staircase. He had only a few tools with him but, in time, he completed the staircase and then disappeared before the Sisters could pay him. He never came back. Some people doubt the story, but we believe it was St. Joseph himself who came and built the stairs.”
“That’s the most remarkable story I’ve ever heard,” Mattie said, charmed by the tale. “I shall certainly come by and see your staircase.”
The day grew warm and the other passengers drifted off to sleep, but Mattie remained awake. Gazing out at the passing landscape, she let her thoughts drift back in time toward her childhood, to the happy times before her father passed away. Robert Conway had been a kind, wonderful man and when he died, it seemed as if all the sunshine in the house died with him. Mattie’s mother went into deep mourning and never really came out of it. She grew introspective and withdrawn, shunning the company of others, keeping to herself, having little to do with anyone but the women whose dresses she made.