Where The Wind Blows

by Caroline Fyffe

  Reentering the room quietly, Jessie looked about. Gabe sat in front of the fire with Sarah perched on his knee. When the child saw Jessie, however, her smile disappeared.

  Jessie’s soft voice grew gentler still. “Sarah, honey, don’t you remember me?”

  Sarah stared, motionless. It was as if she hadn’t heard a word. Jessie turned questioningly to Mr. Hobbs.

  “No worries. She can hear all right,” he said. “And she understands everything. But she rarely speaks. Every once in a while she surprises us, though. Don’t you, Sarah?”

  Sarah’s somber gaze tracked slowly from Jessie to Mr. Hobbs and back again.

  “Quiet is fine with me.” Jessie ran a finger lightly down Sarah’s cheek.

  “Amen,” Mr. Hobbs agreed, chuckling. Gentle warmth shone in his eyes. “Just between you and me, I’ll take the quiet ones any day.”

  Gabe snorted in disbelief. “Well, she wasn’t very shy this morning. When I opened my eyes, there was Sarah, grinnin’ like the skunk that got the last egg. She’d gotten into the honey and had it smeared all over.” Shaking his head, he gazed fondly at the child.

  “How long will Mr. Strong be gone?” Mr. Hobbs asked.

  “I’m not sure.” She looked away quickly, cringing inside for lying so easily. “What are your plans?” she asked, changing the subject. “How long can you stay?”

  “Not too. We’re shorthanded back home. I wish I could stay a few days and visit with you a spell. It’s been a time since you left the orphanage,” he replied with an apologetic look.

  Jessie’s guilt thickened at her feeling of relief.

  “Tonight will have to suffice—if the weather doesn’t get any worse, that is. Oh, I almost forgot,” he added, rummaging around in his satchel, pulling out a tattered piece of paper.

  “I’ll need to get both of your signatures on the adoption papers.”

  Wind blasted through the trees, causing pine bows to bob and wave crazily in the air. The storm had grown into a near gale, with sudden strong gusts that bent many saplings precariously close to the ground. Gray and black thunderheads tumbled furiously across the sky, mirroring Chase’s rumbling frustration.

  He sulked silently as he rode, brooding. The stormy weather, with its promise of snow, added to his black mood. Normally he found Cody’s easy stride relaxing and enjoyable, but now it did little to ease his mind.

  If she was looking for husband number two, she’d picked the wrong man. He’d always known he had too much tumbleweed in his blood to ever settle anywhere. Besides…after Molly, he’d vowed he’d never be responsible for anyone ever again.

  With an exaggerated grunt, he pulled his hat lower on his head, sending a rivulet of water gushing onto his saddle horn, over his leather chaps, and down to the wet earth. Hell! The storm was building, and so was his mood. He clamped his legs around his gelding a bit too hard, and in return, the horse pinned his ears irritably. Chase reined him toward a thick copse of pines, in hopes of finding a little cover. He’d wait out the worst of it.

  As a boy, and homeless, he’d been a target for bullies, and even a few mean-spirited men. He’d been taken advantage of, spit on, and laughed at. He’d been run out of town twice. Jessie’s deception stirred up an anthill of anger inside he hadn’t felt in a very long time. He’d worked darn hard to forget all that—to get past it. He didn’t appreciate being reminded. Still, he’d sure felt funny when she’d threaded her arm through his, claiming him as her own.

  Well, he wasn’t a boy anymore, and he’d stopped taking what was being dished out long ago. Despite the meager food sustaining him, when he’d hit puberty, he’d grown tall and muscular. He’d learned how to fend for himself, and although he didn’t go looking for trouble, he didn’t back down from it, either. Men walked a wide circle around him.

  Spotting a sheer wall at the base of an arroyo, he headed in its direction. “Whoa, Cody.” He beat his gloved hands together and reached back into his saddlebag for the small flask of brandy he carried for cold days like this.

  He rummaged around, identifying each article by feel. Cody’s brush. Pocket watch. Pouch of jerky. Harmonica. His hand stilled. Something unfamiliar. He felt it again.

  Stunning realization hit him like a bullet between the eyes. He cursed a blue streak through clenched teeth and pounding heart.

  Feeling Chase’s agitation, Cody tossed his head several times and snorted loudly. Chomping on the curb bit, he pranced in place and pinned his ears.

  Nathan’s bankroll! He’d forgotten the most important reason he’d made the trip out to Jessie’s place. First, he’d been distracted by her blue eyes and pretty smile. Then in his anger, he’d ridden off without even giving it a thought.

  “We have to go back. Six hundred and ninety-eight dollars is a hell of a lot of money.” He brought the leather pouch around to the front of the saddle and looked inside.

  There was a roll of greenbacks Nathan had won in the poker game the night he was killed. A bank note from his last job. A few loose coins and a golden, heart-shaped locket on a rusty silver chain. On the back, the name Jessie was inscribed.

  “She’ll think I did this on purpose. That I wanted to come back. She’ll be dancing the Texas two-step when she sees me,” he bit out crossly. He stuffed the pouch back into his saddlebag and sat in silence. Long minutes passed. He stared across the blustery landscape. His Stetson took a beating as he leaned into the wind’s anger. Slowly, he felt an old familiar grin creep across his face. Satisfaction spread through his bones.

  “Well, Cody, maybe at first she’ll be happy to see me, but then…Guardian angel, huh? She’ll be wishing for one when I teach her a little lesson. We can spare a few days, let this storm blow over. The ranch in Miles City isn’t expecting me for another three weeks. Besides, she is Nathan’s widow, after all,” he enlightened the edgy horse.

  Chase dismounted and gazed across the landscape back toward his new destination. He slapped the reins methodically over and over onto his glove-covered palm. “I felt a mite guilty riding off with her so unprepared for winter. I most certainly did.”

  He exhaled with satisfaction, sending a cloud of vapor billowing from his mouth. “I can’t wait to see her face when she sees I’ve decided to come back and play ‘husband’ after all.”

  Chapter Five

  Jessie was figuring out sleeping arrangements when she heard a peculiar sound above the howling of the storm. Was that…whistling? Concentrating, she listened. There it was again.

  Whistling, definitely. In moments, boot steps sounded on the porch, and the door opened. Startled, she swung around.

  Chase Logan stood in the doorway. His hat was tipped back and he had a most mischievous look in his eyes.

  “Evenin’, sweetheart. Save me any supper? I’m so hungry I could eat a horse, hooves and all. Sorry, Cody,” he chuckled, nodding in the direction of the barn.

  Activity in the small cabin ceased. Three sets of eyes turned to peer at the rangy cowboy. Sarah scurried behind Gabe’s legs, wrapping one of her arms around each and peeking between the two.

  “You—you’re back!” Jessie managed at last. “I wasn’t expecting you home so soon.” Her heart thudded and she wondered, was it possible to be pleased and frightened at the same time?

  Chase tossed his saddlebags into the corner and hung his coat on a peg. He sauntered into the room like a man staking claim. He stopped just short of Jessie.

  Bending low, he whispered into to her ear. “Did you miss me?” He straightened and looked her full in the face. His whiskey-colored eyes searched hers. Her face grew warm, and she dropped her gaze.

  A feather’s width away, she breathed in his scent: peppermint, crispness of outdoors, and—man. Chase arched an eyebrow and turned to the others.

  “I’ve surprised my little wife speechless,” he quipped. “Guess I’ll just warm up a bit before this cold turns into frostbite. Don’t let me interrupt you all.” With that said, he stepped to the fire and spread his hands befor
e it.

  Jessie hurried to the stove and began gathering biscuits and beans and a few leftover slices of the ham Mr. Hobbs had brought. She warmed the coffee and set him a place at the table, using the one tan earthen plate that wasn’t chipped. As she worked she studied Chase surreptitiously.

  He stood by the fire, periodically stamping his feet. His face, chapped and red, was fascinating. He was, in fact, the finest-looking man she’d ever seen. Heat prickled her cheeks again. She tried to draw her gaze away, but couldn’t.

  His forehead was rimmed with damp, wavy brown hair, creased from his hat. His eyebrows were dark and his lashes abundant. But it was his lips that caught and held Jessie’s attention. Rough from the weather, they were drawn up at the corners in a secretive smile.

  Apparently feeling her stare, he turned. When he held her gaze in his, he nodded slowly, knowingly. Jessie snapped her attention back to the table and the supper she had set there. Her cheeks burned.

  Why in the world has he returned?

  “Your supper’s ready. Come and eat. I’ll pour your coffee.” Her gaze skittered whenever he looked her way, yet she could feel his stare almost as truly as if he’d reached out and touched her.

  While Chase ate, Jessie readied Sarah for bed. She daubed the little girl’s face with a warm, moist cloth, then brushed and braided her hair.

  Tucking her into the tiny bed Nathan had built in anticipation and moved into the room next to the fire, she kissed the child on the cheek. “Don’t be scared now, Sarah, honey,” Jessie whispered. “Gabe is going to be sleeping right here beside you. Isn’t that right, Gabe?”

  “You betcha.” Gabe gave Sarah a wink. “Let’s hope she don’t keep me up with all her chatter.”

  Sarah’s solemn gaze moved around the room until it rested on Mr. Logan. The child studied the big cowboy as he hunched over his meal. Before Sarah’s eyelids fluttered closed, Jessie leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “Sleep well, my precious.”

  Jessie turned to find Mr. Logan staring again. What was he up to, anyway? He was making her jumpier than a hen in a yard full of roosters.

  He, on the other hand, seemed the picture of calm. He’d pushed his chair back from the table and was sipping contentedly from his cup. Catching her gaze once again, he winked and smiled suggestively—much like a husband waiting for the young’uns to fall asleep. The heat radiating from her face was almost unbearable. She reflexively smoothed the front of her apron and hurried to the sink.

  The interplay went unnoticed by the travelers. Wearied by their trip, Mr. Hobbs and Gabe lay on their bedrolls by the fire next to Sarah’s bed. Their eyes were closed, but Jessie knew it was too soon for them to be fully asleep.

  When she went to fetch the broom, Chase caught her hand and placed it on his shoulder. “I’ve had a catch in my shoulder all day, darlin’. Would you mind rubbin’ it?”

  Jessie jumped back as if scalded.

  Chase chuckled. “Don’t go gettin’ riled. The way I see it, a man has a right to ask his wife for a little back rub now and then.”

  Jessie’s pulse thrummed through her veins. Chase had her over a barrel, and she knew it. What scared her was that he knew it, too. Biting her lower lip, she stepped behind him and placed her hands on his shoulders.

  “That’s my girl.”

  He blew out a long breath and she felt him relax. With determination, Jessie leaned into her hands, squeezing his shoulders with all her might.

  Chase lunged out of his chair. “Why, you—! I ought to turn you over my knee right now!” His voice rumbled ominously as he rubbed the offended spot.

  “Wh-what’s the matter?” Mr. Hobbs sat up, trying to focus his eyes.

  “Nothing. Nothing. I was just trying to rub a kink out of…of…his neck.” She smiled sweetly. “You can go on back to sleep.”

  She glared at Chase. He glared at her. Neither of them wanted the other to get the upper hand. Then Jessie remembered the saying about catching more flies with honey than with vinegar. Smiling sweetly, she nodded toward the chair. Chase sat back down, slowly, and she massaged his large shoulders in earnest. Her heart firmly lodged in her throat.

  “Thank you, Jessie.” He drawled out her name. “That feels real nice.”

  She heard the lazy way he used her name. The tenderness he’d shown her yesterday when he’d first consoled her about Nathan’s death was gone.

  Jessie turned, her gaze resting for a moment on her bedroom door. My word, what was she going to do now? He plainly meant to sleep with her and act the part of her husband. And there was absolutely nothing she could do to stop him, unless she revealed the truth. But that would mean losing Sarah.

  Moments passed like steps on a hangman’s scaffold, each bringing her closer to disaster. “Would you care for anything else?” she asked, her voice soft and solicitous.

  Chase’s eyes narrowed as he gave her a long look. Finally, he held up his cup.

  Jessie took it to the stove, refilled it, and handed it back to him. “There you are. Take your time. I’ll just be getting ready for bed.”

  The voice was sweet. Too sweet. Chase took a sip of the lukewarm brew, contemplating this puzzling switch. All of a sudden she seemed almost eager to turn in for the night. Maybe she wasn’t missing her dead husband as much as he’d thought. He took another sip.

  Wasn’t he the one who was supposed to be making her nervous? Not the other way around. Actually, he had no intention of bedding Nathan’s widow. He’d…been teasing, to teach her a lesson.

  He drained his cup and clumsily plopped it back in its saucer with a clink. Slowly his eyelids drifted down to halfmast. The cold weather must’ve taken more out of him than he’d realized. Resting his head in the palm of his hands, he closed his eyes.

  Just for a moment. I’m so exhausted.

  From the bedroom, Jessie peeked out the door. He was still sitting at the table, but his head was propped in his hands—a good sign.

  With luck, Mr. Hobbs would be on his way home in the morning. Right now, though she had to figure out a way to get Mr. Logan into the bedroom.

  Jessie fretted at how small the bed looked. It was definitely too small for his large frame, but she’d just have to manage somehow.

  Tiptoeing, she blew out the lanterns, leaving only the one on her dresser burning. Returning to Chase, she bent close and whispered, “Psst, Mr. Logan…You awake?”

  No answer.

  She gave his shoulder a little shake.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Get on up now and follow me.” Trying not to wake him too much, she took him by the shirtfront and pulled.

  Nothing happened.

  Shaking him a bit harder, she breathed into his ear, “Mr. Logan, please. I have a nice soft bed waiting for you. Think how good it’ll feel. Just a few steps away.”

  A tiny smile curved the corners of his lips. He struggled to open his eyes.

  With effort, she pulled him to his feet, slinging his arm over her shoulder. His weight almost toppled her. When she slid her other arm around his waist, he mumbled something and tried to snuggle her closer. Determinedly, she shepherded him into the bedroom.

  With her door closed, she turned him around and gave a push. He sat with a plop on the end of her bed and fell back. His head glanced off the bedpost before landing on the pillow, but he didn’t seem to notice.

  “Serves you right.” She lifted a boot to remove it. She pulled. It didn’t budge. She tried again with the same results. “Dad-blasted old boot!”

  “Turn around and straddle me, darlin’,” Chase mumbled groggily.

  “What!”

  “Go on now.” His words were slurred. “I won’t bite.”

  Mortified, she hiked up her skirt and stepped over his leg, taking hold of his boot. She sucked in her breath and leaned forward. Her face flushed with the effort, but nothing happened.

  Chase lifted his other leg and rested his boot firmly on her backside. He gave a push.

  The boot came off with a whoo
sh, landing Jessie on her knees. She repeated the process for the other boot, blushing in the dim light at the feel of his stocking foot on her bottom. She straightened his legs out on the bed, checked to see that he was still asleep, and blew out the lantern.

  In the dark room, she sat in her rocker and pulled her quilt around her shoulders. Chase’s breathing was the only sound.

  What in land’s sake had she gotten herself into? She hadn’t known how much laudanum it would take to knock someone of his size unconscious—so she’d been extra generous. One thing was certain. He was going to be one hungover, angry cowboy in the morning.

  Chapter Six

  A whisper of sound stirred Chase out of his sleep. His temples reverberated painfully, a result of little hammers banging away in his head. Light pierced through to his brain as he dragged his eyes open. Immediately, he slammed them closed.

  Feeling the bed move slightly, Chase peeked through his lashes to the foot of the bed. There sat the little girl, the special delivery, snuggled in a blanket and playing quietly with something.

  As if feeling his gaze, Sarah’s head popped up and she stared at him, startled. Chase groaned at the gentle sway of the bed, and her eyes widened even farther.

  “Mornin’.” His attempt at soft came out gravelly and cross.

  She watched him curiously for a moment, then ever so slightly elevated the socklike doll she held in her hands. He looked at it and then nodded his appreciation.

  No mistaking Sarah understood his admiration, for she proceeded to play happily as if he weren’t there.

  Chase rubbed his hand across his throbbing eyes and tried to settle his rolling stomach. Whatever Jessie had slipped him last night had knocked him out good. He hadn’t been this sick in years.

  Jessie stood close to the slightly ajar bedroom door, listening. The murmur of voices drifted out. Mr. Logan must be awake now, and talking with Sarah. A niggle of fear stirred inside her stomach as she tried to hear what he said. She was temped to peek in to see if any color had returned to his deathly white face, but resisted.