Snow fell in a steady white curtain and she knew the lamp from the kitchen could not be detected from beyond the barn. And still Lucas did not come. Supper was on the back of the stove, a mess of green beans from those canned just months past simmered fragrantly on the fire, and she thought of the day she had put them into jars, with Ida’s help. The kitchen had rung with feminine laughter and she’d thought that all was right with her world.
Except for the fact that Susan was gone, she found little to fret over, and the knowledge that a child of her own would soon fill her arms and heart made Susan’s leaving a bit more palatable. Still, the sadness lurked and she wished for more than the occasional letter from her parents, telling of the child’s growth and intelligence. They were doting grandparents, but her mother noted that Susan seemed to be looking for Jennifer around every corner.
Now Jennifer felt alone, almost bereft, and she wondered at the depth of emotion that overcame her. Surely Lucas hadn’t—no, he was all right, just slowed by the snow. As a man determined to seek out his home and wife, he’d surely appear any minute now.
A horse outside made himself known with a shrill whinny, soon answered by another and Jennifer went to the door, checking to see that her shotgun stood beside it, lest she have visitors who might be unfriendly. Since Kyle’s visit, she remained in the general vicinity of her shotgun at all times while she was alone in the house.
Opening the door a bit, she made out two horses, the first caught in the light of her lamp through the doorway.
“Ma’am? Mrs. O’Reilly? It’s Sandy.”
She recognized Lucas’s partner and swung the door wide. “Come in, Sandy. What are you doing out in this weather?” And then she saw the second horse, noted the rider, slumped in the saddle, and her heart caught in her throat.
“Lucas? Lucas.” She stepped onto the porch and would have sought the steps had not Sandy spoken sharply.
“I’ll bring him in, ma’am. Go on inside and I’ll be right there. You might want to get some warm blankets. He’s pretty cold.”
She did as he bade her, hurrying to the bedroom where three quilts were piled on the chest. Carrying them back to the kitchen, she watched as Sandy half carried, half dragged Lucas inside. Both men were pale and obviously shaken, Lucas almost unconscious, his eyelids lifting but a fraction as he saw her in front of him.
“Jen.” It was all he said, but it was enough. He was alive and her heart beat more strongly. No matter what the problem, she could handle it, so long as Lucas lived and breathed.
“What happened?” she asked Sandy, and received only an abrupt nod in reply.
“Let’s get him warm first,” the man told her, placing Lucas on the floor in front of the stove. He bent to his partner, stripping Lucas’s coat from him and tugging off his boots. They wrapped a quilt around the prone man and Sandy murmured a soft word of comfort in Jennifer’s direction. “He’ll be all right, ma’am. Right now he’s just chilled to the bone, what with falling in the river when his horse went down. There’s a gash in his scalp where he landed on a rock.”
“Lucas fell off his horse? What are you talking about? What happened to the horse?”
“A stupid yahoo shot his horse out from under him, and my guess is that he was aiming at Lucas and missed,” Sandy said. “But the rascal didn’t last long. He made the mistake of getting closer to check out his work and one of the men got him with one shot.”
“Who would hurt Lucas? He’s a good man,” Jennifer said, tears flowing as she bent over her husband’s beloved form.
“A fella you might know,” Sandy said, his discomfort showing. “One of the men said it was the man who was givin’ you a bad time in town, way back. Kyle somebody or another.”
“Kyle.” She spoke the name, shivering as she did, and lifted blurry eyes to Sandy’s face. “Did you say someone shot him? I don’t have to worry about him showing up here, do I?”
“He’s deader’n a doornail, ma’am. Somebody took him into town already. I reckon you’ll have a houseful of folks out here pretty soon, once they hear that Lucas got hurt.”
“Help me get him into bed,” she said. “I’ll need to look at his head.”
“We already washed it out and put a bandage on it,” Sandy told her. “He’ll be fine, just plagued with a dandy headache is my guess. I’m thinking he’s just as well off out here by the stove where it’s warmer.”
“I’ll fix a pallet for him then,” she said, rising with the help of a chair.
“I’ll do whatever needs doin’,” Sandy told her, taking her arm and helping her to sit on the chair. “Just tell me where everything is and I’ll take care of it. You can wash him up a little if you want to. He’s kinda grungy, what with workin’ all day, tryin’ to get things done so he could come home.”
“All right.” She needed to do something to help Lucas, even if it was only to clean him up, wash his face and maybe his hair. At least get the dirt out of it. He must have landed on the river bed, for bits of gravel and stone were there in the thick, dark hair on the back of his head. It was a wonder he hadn’t drowned. And at that thought she shivered, her body gripped by a chill.
A basin of water and a towel were easy to search out and she placed them beside him on the floor, then lifted his head to her lap. At least what there was left of a lap below the bulge of her baby.
“Lucas.” She spoke softly, not really expecting an answer, only wanting to speak his name, needing to let him know she was near. But much to her surprise, his eyelids fluttered and he looked at her, his eyes unfocused, but holding a look of recognition.
“Sweetheart.” It was all he said, but it was enough. Lucas would be all right. As surely as she knew there were stars in the sky, beyond the clouds that were dropping their burden of snow, she knew that Lucas was not hovering on the brink of death. He was strong and vibrant, and would be able to conquer even this injury.
A sound outside the back door alerted her. When the door was opened carefully and Ida peeked through the opening, she waved the woman into the room.
“There’s a bunch of folks out here,” Ida said. “I won’t let them in unless you say so. All but the doctor. I think you need him, from the looks of things.”
“Ida.” Speaking her friend’s name seemed to release the floodgates and Jennifer found herself crying silently. Quickly, she stifled her fears, knowing that Lucas would not have her weeping over him.
I never cry. Those words, spoken so many months ago, would forever rise up to haunt her, she thought, and Lucas would laugh every time at her insistence.
She smiled as Ida came in, followed by the doctor from town, a man Jennifer had only seen once when one of the miners had broken his leg up the valley and had been brought back to the boardinghouse. Now she welcomed the man into her kitchen with an uplifted hand.
“These men will freeze out here, ma’am,” the doctor said. “Can they come in and get warm?”
“Of course.” Jennifer felt ashamed that she hadn’t issued the invitation herself. The men of the town council filed in silently and stood against the far wall as the doctor approached Lucas. He’d closed his eyes once more, his head cushioned on Jennifer’s legs, her hand on his forehead, fingering the bandage Sandy had applied.
“Let’s take a look-see, ma’am.” With a tender touch, the man’s big hand patted Jennifer’s back as he knelt beside her. “I think you’re in about as bad a condition as Lucas here. When’s that baby due to arrive?”
“Soon,” she said, not caring about herself, so wrapped up in Lucas’s wound she could hardly think of the child she carried. “In a few months.”
He bent over Lucas and dealt with the bandage. “Looks like he hit pretty hard, but the main thing is to get him out of this wet clothing and wrap him in warm quilts,” he said, and Jennifer sighed in relief. “This looks clean to me. I’ll just put some good salve on his head and a fresh bandage and then we’ll see about getting him into bed.”
He looked up at Jennifer. “Do
you need someone to stay here with you tonight?”
“I’m staying.” Ida’s words were expected, but Jennifer was grateful nonetheless when her friend spoke emphatically, leaving no room for questions. “I know this house like my own and this girl needs to sleep, or we’ll be having us a baby before we’re ready for it.”
“I agree,” the doctor said. “I’ve got some pills for him to take for the dandy headache he’s gonna have for the next couple of days. Other than that, you’ll just need to change the bandage twice a day, Ida, and watch him for fever. If you have a problem, send for me.”
“And who am I supposed to send?”
“I’ll be here,” Sandy piped up. “Lucas is my partner, and I’m not about to leave him alone without a man’s protection.” At Jennifer’s words of protest, he held up one hand. “I know you can shoot, ma’am, but Lucas would never forgive me if I didn’t stick around and look after things for him. There’s animals to tend and I’ll bet I can find a couple of other things to keep me busy.”
“You got that right.” Gruff tones spoke the words and Jennifer looked down at her husband. “Let him stay, Jen.” Lucas might be laid out with a gash on his scalp and a throbbing headache, but that hadn’t made him any less arrogant, she decided.
“All right.” She could do nothing but agree. When the men carried Lucas to bed, she followed docilely, content to have lost control of the situation. Ida pulled the sheet back and the men stripped Lucas, replacing his drawers with a clean pair Jennifer took from the dresser. Then they placed him in the bed, covering him to the neck.
He moved restlessly and called her name. “Come lie down, Jen.” It wasn’t a request but an order, given in typical fashion by a man who expected his will to be obeyed.
“Everyone clear out now,” Ida said, watching Jennifer, as if she recognized the weariness that seemed to have enveloped the younger woman. “Thanks for putting Lucas to bed, fellas, but I think his wife needs to get off her feet, too.”
The men seemed to agree, each of them walking past Lucas to pay their respects as they said their goodbyes to him. “See you in a few days, Luc,” said one.
“Don’t let ’em keep you down,” advised another. A third gave Lucas a succinct reminder that he had work to do and didn’t need to be ‘layin’ around fritterin’ away his time.’”
The bedroom emptied and Jennifer found her gown beneath her pillow. “You don’t need that,” Lucas said, his eyes half open as he watched her.
“Oh, yes I do. You’re going to lie still and behave yourself, and I’m calling the shots tonight, mister. You’ll listen to me for a change.”
“Yes, ma’am.” His voice held amusement, but she recognized his capitulation to her edict. Lucas would cooperate.
He was warm, only his feet and hands holding a chill, and she threw another blanket over his feet. Then she crawled into bed beside him and placed his hands against her breasts, holding them with her own, rubbing them so that the blood would circulate more freely. He murmured his approval of her method and she scolded him briefly. Then she touched his mouth with kisses that told him without words that he was loved, that she would be close during the hours until dawn broke in the eastern sky, that she would keep him safe against any danger throughout the night.
“Sandy?” he murmured, and she soothed him.
“He’s on your pallet out in the kitchen and Ida is on the couch in the parlor.”
“Love you.” He mumbled the words and she nodded, understanding the effort it took to utter them out loud.
They slept, Lucas waking once in pain, his head seeming to be pounding. Jennifer rose and found his pills, held him upright as he swallowed two of them with a glass of water, and then touched his forehead with careful fingers lest she disturb his wound.
He slept until dawn then, and when the stove lid clanged, he jerked in the bed. “Damn fool.” The words might have been a mystery to another, but Jennifer read his mind well, after months of living with the man.
“Kyle should have been hanged for doing this to you.”
His voice slurred the words, but he seemed lucid. “He’s dead, Jen. That’s good enough.”
“I can’t believe it. And I can’t understand what he came back here for. Surely not just because he was angry with you.”
“Probably.” And that, it seemed, was all he had to say on the matter for his eyes closed and he reached to touch her, one big hand curling around her breast.
“Your hands aren’t cold anymore,” she told him, but nevertheless allowed the caress. Allowed? She reveled in it, that this strong, brave man should want her, loved her enough to give her his best, and even now was willing to seek her favor.
“I’ll be better in a day or so.” His voice sounded firmer than it should, she thought, almost as if he were back to normal. But a long look at his pale features and the bandage on his head made a lie of that notion.
“You’ll stay right here till the doctor says different.” She was proud of her staunch stand, the solid tones of her vow, and was set back but a little when he smiled, his face assuming the lofty look she’d often scorned.
As if he were the one setting the rules, he murmured one word. “Phooey.”
And she was overcome with laughter, so much so that Ida poked her head in the door and scolded her. “You’ve got a sick man there, girl. Don’t be having a party in here now.”
“Good idea.” His murmur reached Ida and she sniffed as she closed the door.
KEEPING HIM IN BED was a lesson in patience, Jennifer found, for Lucas was not a man to be held captive against his will. Only her presence kept him from rising and dressing and heading off for his claim. After the second day, Sandy left in a huff, weary of Lucas telling him to get back to work in the valley.
“You ought to be ashamed,” Jennifer said, scolding him as she helped him into a shirt. “That man has been here for two days, looking after things and keeping us all safe. And you treated him disgracefully.”
“He’s fine. He was itchin’ to get going anyway. I could see the signs.”
“Lucas is probably right,” Ida agreed. “Sandy isn’t one to sit around for long. He needs to be working. He said he figured he could do Lucas more good by working the claim than he could by staying here looking at the walls. Besides,” she said, “we haven’t anything much to worry about, with Kyle out of your lives.”
“He must have been crazy to come back here after Lucas. Do you suppose he really thought he could get away with shooting him?”
“I think the man was demented,” Ida told her. “He didn’t behave logically in any way, shape or form, so far as I could see. The silly fool brought that child here, taunting you and being hateful, and then tried to come at you with a gun. If Lucas hadn’t stopped him that day, he’d have laid you out dead on the kitchen floor, you mark my words. And so, the idiot was madder than a wet hen at Lucas for ruining his revenge against you, even though he really didn’t want the baby, just wanted to make some money off of her.”
Ida shook her head, stuffing her hands into her apron pockets. “We’ll never know what was going around in his head, girl. He was loony, is my guess.”
“Evil.” With a single word, Lucas spoke Jennifer’s mind and again she was reminded that their thoughts seemed to run in the same patterns.
“Lucas is right. Any man who would be willing to sell his own child doesn’t deserve to live,” Jennifer said. “I never thought I could be so cold-blooded, but there it is. I didn’t know how fortunate I was to have Lucas until I took a good look around and saw the men in this world. I hadn’t ever spent much time thinking about men before I got out here in Montana. And I’m more thankful than anyone knows that Kyle was such a lousy shot.”
“Thank God,” Lucas muttered.
She looked at him. “I’m not sure what you meant by that.”
“He’s talkin’ about you lookin’ over the men in your life. What he meant was if you’d looked around at the menfolk back home any too good, you’d p
robably have been snatched up by some Yankee and he wouldn’t have had a chance at you.”
“Amen.” Lucas seemed to be getting somewhat religious today, Jennifer thought.
“Well, anyway, I’m glad Kyle is gone and we don’t have to be concerned about him any longer.”
“Now, you get yourself finished with dressing that man, and come on out in the kitchen for some dinner,” Ida told her. “I think he’s well enough to sit up to the table and take a little nourishment.”
Getting Lucas’s trousers on was not a simple task, Jennifer found, for he put on an act of total helplessness, requiring her to close up the front placket, first tucking in his shirt before she buttoned the buttons and put him together. He enjoyed it far too much for a man with a gash on his head, but there was no accounting for Lucas. And if the truth be known, she wouldn’t have him any other way.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
LUCAS FRETTED and stewed. The fact that Jennifer was handling chores he deemed to be beyond the strength of a pregnant woman didn’t seem to cut any ice with her. She just smiled and did as she pleased, and all of his growling seemed to have little effect on her.
“I need to be taking care of the horses,” he told her. “What if one of them crowds you up against the side of the stall? Then what? What if—”
“What if, nothing,” she responded. “I’m capable of taking care of horses, or milking a cow and feeding a few chickens. I did it before, and I can do it now.”
“You weren’t pregnant before.” He glared at her, but confined as he was to a chair for the next two days, it seemed he hadn’t much choice. The doctor had been explicit. He’d had a concussion and it was nothing to fool around with. He’d do as he was told or Jennifer was to come to town and get him.
The thought of his wife heading off for town alone was enough to make Lucas blanch, and he tried to cease his grumbling. She’d do it. As sure as shootin’, she’d get on that damn horse, or else harness the mare and hitch her to the buggy. Either way, she stood to be hurt should either animal make a wrong move. They were gentle horses, but it wouldn’t take much to knock Jennifer off her feet, as unwieldy as she was.
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