by Emma Lang
He licked his lips, a cramp of thirst gripping his belly. They couldn’t possibly mean to give him this responsibility when he wasn’t two weeks without a drink. It would be madness, and he sure as hell would never make it back to the Blue Plate.
“This is good. Ya, this is good.” Pieter looked at Shane, his bushy eyebrows beetled together into a V. “I ask Lettie to go with him. Together they can bring back the supplies.”
“Lettie? She can’t stand to be in the same room with me,” Shane blurted. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”
“There is no one else. Karen has to take care of Dennis, and Alice, she does not work so hard.” Pieter nodded. “Sam has to stay to take care of our Angeline since she is with child. My hands are too crooked now to help. That leaves Lettie. She is strong and good worker.”
It was logical to pick her. Logic be damned, it wasn’t going to work. Sitting next to her on a wagon seat, he’d be able to smell her, to feel her heat, to get lost in the fake memories he had of making love to her. Shane broke out in a sweat, panic flirting at the edge of his mind.
“She won’t go,” Shane reiterated. “I’m sure of it.”
“Oh, she will go.” Marta’s face was set with determination. “Lettie will help the restaurant no matter her foolish notions. We need her help.”
“I can go by myself.” Was he a complete idiot? He couldn’t possibly go by himself, and if he did, he’d end up at the bottom of a whiskey barrel.
“No, you are not healed enough to go alone. You need help.” Marta crossed her arms and frowned. “The only thing you do now is make bread and biscuits. This is not heavy or hard. Driving a wagon is hard, and you need a partner.”
A partner. He’d had a partner once, or thought he had, and now she was gone, laid in the earth to become part of it again. Shane would never have another partner. His heart had died with the first, and there was nothing left inside him. The Gundersons couldn’t possibly know that, of course, and he wasn’t going to share the story of his loss. Seven years later, it was a knife buried in his gut, festering and bleeding.
“Then it’s settled. They will leave in the morning.”
Marta’s pronouncement startled Shane. While he’d been thinking, she and Pieter had convinced each other the plan was sound. Shane was helpless as a leaf in a swollen creek, barreling along toward a fifty-foot waterfall. The trip would be a disaster. He could feel it. Didn’t they realize how untrustworthy he was? Or how much Lettie didn’t want to be near him?
She would refuse to go. He could feel it in his bones.
Lettie stared out the window of the restaurant. The predawn grayness outside matched her mood. The day would be painful, but she would endure it because the Gundersons needed her. Marta told her the restaurant would suffer without her help, to the point they would lose customers and perhaps several days of income.
She had said no more than once, but Marta kept asking and asking until finally Lettie relented. Since then, the thought of spending the day beside Shane on a wagon seat, alone, had made her break out in a sweat.
It would be excruciatingly awkward, but Lettie would endure. That was what she did best—endure. She’d lasted through five years of marriage to a monster. One trip to buy supplies with a man who offered her the promise of an empty future could be done. Lettie knew she should not be distressed about the trip, but her gut and her heart told her different.
Loathe to admit it to herself, Lettie had begun to daydream about the night dreams she had of him. Perversely, she wanted to have another night dream. She wanted to feel it all again, even if it had been conjured by her own imagination.
She had resigned herself to keeping distance between them, ignored him with every bit of her. He needed to pick up and move on. She struggled to maintain disinterest and at the same time wanted to know more about him. She wanted to ask him about the scar on his shoulder, the other one on his stomach, the mole on his back, and the strawberry birthmark at the base of his neck. Unfortunately for her she had cataloged every inch of him during his bath. Each tiny detail appeared in her dreams as well. Her lips had kissed the scars, her tongue had licked them. She closed her eyes, remembering the salty flavor of his skin that she had never truly tasted.
Lettie was losing the battle with her determination to forget Shane and everything they had done or said. He was a constant reminder of what she couldn’t have. Now Marta had talked her into spending the day, the entire day, in his company, alone. If she didn’t know any better, she might have suspected the older woman of conspiring to put them together.
However, Lettie knew the freight wagon had been damaged when the driver was killed, and supplies were very thin at the store. She’d been in there two days ago, and the shelves were looking bare. Even the cracker barrel had been almost empty. Nearly as empty as her heart.
“Lettie?”
She turned around to find Angeline by the door, her brow furrowed and concern evident on her face. “Marta told me about the supply trip.”
Lettie knew her friend understood how uncomfortable the experience would be. Angeline crossed the room, weaving her way through the tables and chairs until she reached the window. She wore a beautiful blue dress, and Lettie had a crazy notion she wanted one just like it instead of her usual brown. However, a woman like Lettie didn’t wear bright colors.
Angeline leaned against the windowpane, her arms crossed. “Let Sam go in your place.”
“No, that ain’t right. He needs to be here for you. It’s only a one-day trip. It’s not like I’m running off for a month with Sha—with a man. I’ll be fine.” Lettie’s words sounded weak like the big fat fib they were.
Angeline shook her head. “You are a terrible liar.”
Lettie managed to shrug off her friend’s concern. “I do what I need to.”
“Marta shouldn’t have pushed you to go. It’s too much to ask.” Angeline sounded guilty yet she had no reason to be. Lettie had made her choice.
“I would do anything for the Gundersons.” The truth, at last. Although she knew it would be hell on earth, Lettie would do what was asked because she owed the couple so much. Her life, her job, her future.
“Me too.” Angeline looked as though she wanted to hug Lettie but kept her distance. “I would also do anything for you.”
Lettie’s throat tightened, and she had to shake off the impending cloud of dark emotions. Now was not the time for them. “You already have. Let’s not get all sappy and stupid.”
“I’ll think about it.” Angeline grinned, coaxing an answering one from Lettie.
The phrase was one they’d repeated to each other during their journey from Utah to Wyoming. It kept them alive and awake when they were running and hiding. No one but Angeline would understand their relationship or how much they had survived because of it.
“I’d best go check on the basket of food Marta is packing.” Lettie knew her friend was there out of concern, but she was done talking about it. Hell she’d spent the entire night thinking about the day ahead. Now she wanted to get it over with so she could forget it.
Liar.
She didn’t know what she wanted. Spending the day with the man who haunted her dreams was what would happen.
Shane walked into the room dressed in the same outfit he wore every day. It reminded her of how little he had, only one set of clothes, ones that didn’t belong to him. Although he hadn’t said anything, she was fairly certain the boots were too small. The man had big feet and Pieter did not.
Angeline raised one blonde brow at Lettie, her expression surprised and curious. Oh hell, now she would have to introduce them. She didn’t want her friend meddling in this business, but she couldn’t very well be rude and not introduce them. Actually she could, but she wouldn’t out of respect for Angeline.
“Shane Murphy, this here is Mrs. Angeline Carver.” The introduction was as flat as her enthusiasm for the day’s events.
Shane surprised her by taking off his hat and nodding to Angeline. �
��It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Carver. I’ve heard a lot about you from the ladies here at the restaurant.”
“Really? I’ve heard very little about you.” She grinned at Lettie then turned to Shane. “I’m so pleased to see you’re healing well after your injuries. Our Lettie is a miracle worker.”
“I’ll second that.” A frown creased his brow. “She did a right kind thing by taking care of me. I’ll never forget her.”
His words skittered down her spine, their double meaning raising every small hair on her body. She wanted so badly to throw caution to the wind and kiss him. But she didn’t and she wouldn’t. What she’d told him a week ago was still the truth. She could never be the woman he needed. As far as Lettie was concerned, nothing would change that.
Angeline looked between them. “Interesting.”
“Stop it, Angeline.”
“Stop what? I didn’t do anything. It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Murphy. I can see why you have all the ladies in a tizzy here.” With another grin for Lettie, she walked toward the front of the restaurant. “Try not to kill each other. Blood will ruin the flour.”
Shane scowled. “Blood will ruin the flour?”
“She’s expecting, and it’s made her act foolish.” Lettie snatched up the basket of food on the table beside her. “Let’s get going then. Sooner started, sooner finished.”
She tried not to notice his scent or his nearness as she passed within inches of him. The man stood in her path, after all, and he wasn’t being polite and moving out of her way. She stuck her nose in the air, her anger simmering at Angeline, at Shane and most of all, at herself. The entire situation was her own fault, and she’d have to muddle her way through it.
He touched her elbow, and she flinched. A breath hissed through his teeth, but he didn’t say anything. She kept walking, wondering if life would ever be anything but painful. She had reached a point where she was content, and now emotions were turning her inside out again. Damn the man for falling onto her shoes. She’d never forgive him for it.
The wagon was ready and waiting outside the restaurant. The rig and the horses had been rented from the livery in town, costing the Gundersons money. Yet she knew others in town had contributed some, asking for supplies of their own. Lettie had a hefty list of goods to purchase, and she hoped the store in Benson had everything she needed.
Without waiting for assistance, she climbed into the wagon and settled onto the seat. The wood creaked and popped as Shane hoisted himself up beside her. He didn’t say a thing, but his thigh settled inches from hers. Feeling petty but unable to help herself, she pulled her skirt closer so it didn’t touch him.
What was wrong with her? He was a seemingly good man, who for some unknown reason found her attractive, and she pushed him away. It wasn’t logical, and she could hardly explain it to herself. Here they sat, uncomfortable and out of sorts, barely speaking. It seemed like a lifetime ago she’d bathed his body and they’d kissed. In the days since then, she had dreamed of making love with him.
A twister roared through her, tying her up into tight little knots she couldn’t possibly undo. Sitting there was as uncomfortable as she’d expected, even more so. She counted each clop of the horses’ hooves as each second ticked by. It helped pass the time and gave her something to do besides be silent and awkward.
By the time she reached two thousand four hundred and thirty, she was gritting her teeth. She could swear Shane was deliberately inching closer to her. The metal handle on the seat was currently digging into her hip.
At six thousand two hundred and fifty, she gave up counting entirely. Her hip was throbbing, she had to pee and she had swallowed a bug. It was time to stop and rest for a few minutes.
“Stop the wagon.”
“Huh?” He turned to her, as though he had been daydreaming about anything but sitting beside her on a wagon.
“Stop. The. Wagon. I need to, ah, use the necessary.” Lettie refused to say please. That was not in her vocabulary anymore when she spoke to men, any man.
“Oh, sure thing. I could stretch my legs too after the last couple hours.”
“A couple hours? It’s only been a couple hours?” She punched him in the arm.
“Ow.” He pulled the wagon to a stop in a grassy area and set the brake. As he rubbed the spot where she’d punched him, he scowled at her from under the brim of his borrowed flat-brimmed brown hat. “Why did you hit me?”
Lettie stared, horrified by the fact she had punched him. The man had been beaten nearly to death, and she knew very well how much fists hurt, far longer than the bruises lasted. Yet she had deliberately hit him.
“I’m sorry.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. When he opened his mouth to respond, she turned and leapt off the wagon. She landed hard on her right ankle, which then throbbed as she tottered off to the nearby bushes to relieve herself.
Lettie was never this out of sorts. She felt itchy, as though she could jump out of her skin any minute. As she found a suitable bush, she pulled up her skirt and did what she needed to. She never forgot for a second that Shane was close enough to hear her urinate. It was another strange thing about a strange day.
By the time she cleaned herself up and straightened her clothes, she had calmed down sufficiently to return to the wagon. Her swollen ankle complained with each step, and her boot was too tight. The day kept getting worse.
Shane leaned against the side of the wagon, his feet crossed at the ankle, a stalk of grass stuck between his teeth. He watched her approach, his face hidden by the shade of his hat so she couldn’t see his eyes. She didn’t like that one bit.
“What’s wrong with your foot?”
“Nothing. I twisted it a bit is all.” She went around the back of the wagon and reached into the basket for a bite to eat. With her stomach jumping like a passel of frogs, she didn’t need to get sick from having no food.
“Is there enough in there for me?”
“No.”
“You sure are being ornery, Lettie.” Shane wasn’t accusatory, but he was annoying.
“Then you know the real me.” She found a ham biscuit and turned her back to him. No need to flaunt the food at him—she wasn’t that mean. It wasn’t because she didn’t want to look at him. Or at least that was what she told herself.
“No, but I’m waiting to meet her.” Shane’s response made her pause in mid-motion.
She swung around and speared him with a glare. “What do you mean by that?”
He shrugged. “Just that. You don’t let anyone see you, Lettie.”
His words hit her square between the eyes. It was the truth, of course, but painful nonetheless. She managed not to spit out the bite in her mouth that had turned to ash on her tongue. Lettie swallowed what she could to save herself from looking foolish. Her hands shook with anger.
A little voice deep inside told her it was fear.
“That’s none of your business, Mr. Murphy. You don’t mean anything to me.”
“I know that.”
“You are a drunk, a stranger who puked on my shoes and nothing more.”
“I know that.”
She was within a foot of him, her sharp words whipping through the air like knives. He didn’t flinch or move as she beat him with her verbal fury. Her chest heaved as she struggled for breath, overwhelmed and out of control.
“You are here out of pity. Marta and Pieter felt sorry for you. You aren’t part of our family and you never will be.” Her mouth fairly burned with the viciousness of her attack.
“I know that.”
“Stop saying that.” She thumped one fist on his chest, then the other. Soon she was punching him for all she was worth. Her throat burned, her eyes shed angry tears and she let loose a torrent of sobs that sounded more like a wounded animal than a woman.
Lettie lost all sense of time and self. She tumbled down into a dark, deep hole and huddled there. Strong arms surrounded her, keeping her from sinking any further. Soft crooning echoed in her ear w
hile warm hands rubbed her back.
She couldn’t tell how much time had passed before she realized she was curled into a ball on someone’s lap. A male lap. Her arms and legs were stiff, her face hot and wet. She shifted, flush with embarrassment over her attack on him and her subsequent fit. Angeline was the only one who knew about them. Until now.
His arm tightened around her shoulders. “Sit.”
“I can’t sit on your lap, Shane.” She got to her feet, her legs trembling. When she took a step, she lost her balance and fell. He caught her in midair, his arm pushing the breath out of her lungs.
“I reckon you’ll sit now.” He flipped her around, and she found herself right back in his lap.
She should have gotten up, should have told him to let her go, but she didn’t. The sad truth was, he was comfortable, he smelled good and she didn’t want to move. Normally after losing control like that, she felt sick the rest of the day. Shane’s presence must have kept that sickness at bay because her stomach wasn’t hurting in the least.
“I, uh, I’m sorry about what I did.” The apology was like sawdust in her mouth, dry and tasteless.
“You don’t need to apologize.” His voice was honey smooth in her ear.
“Yes I do. I didn’t mean to. I’ve been having fits for a while. I can’t rightly control it.” Her cheeks burned as she admitted there was something very wrong with her.
“I get that way too with whiskey,” he admitted. “I have days, hell weeks, I don’t remember.”
She knew whiskey could make a man stupid but didn’t know it could snatch days from his memory. Another reason not to drink a drop of it. She wondered if Shane would fall back into the bottle again or if he could resist the lure of its amber depths. Lettie didn’t have a choice when it involved her black periods, but maybe he didn’t either.
The sounds of life surrounded them, birds sang, squirrels chattered and bees buzzed. The sun shone brightly on the meadow while Shane and Lettie sat in the shadow of the wagon. It seemed only they knew how dark life could be.