She still hadn’t said she’d marry him. Of course, she hadn’t said she wouldn’t, either. Then again, he hadn’t asked her except that one time, and he wasn’t altogether certain that counted since he hadn’t actually come right out and said, point blank, that he wanted her to be his wife. For the rest of his life. For the rest of her life.
Jubal wasn’t sure why the thought of marriage held such terror for him. Probably an heirloom left over from my parents’ example, was his dour assessment.
Maggie chatted happily about the patio and about how much she enjoyed being around Beula as they bumped along in the rough ranch wagon. Jubal was surprised that he didn’t find her chit-chat annoying. He usually didn’t enjoy listening to women gab. In fact, he hated it. But Maggie was different. She didn’t blither.
After a while, though, Maggie ran out of chat. She sat on the hard seat and hugged Jubal’s arm and stared about her. Jubal noticed that a sigh escaped her occasionally.
After about the fourth one of those sighs, he began to worry about them.
“Is everything all right, Maggie?”
Maggie was a little taken aback at his question. “Of course everything’s all right, Jubal. Everything’s just fine.”
Jubal frowned slightly. “Then why aren’t you talking anymore?”
Maggie looked up at him in surprise. “Why, I don’t know. I guess I don’t have any more to say.”
Jubal scowled down at her. “Then why are you sighing?”
Maggie eyed him for a second or two before answering the question. Then she sighed again.
“Oh, I don’t know,” she admitted. “I guess I’m just thinking about how nice it is to be at your place and to be fixing up that pretty patio and having a friend and Annie having friends and all that. And—and being with you. It’s going—Well, I guess it’s going to be real hard to leave it all.” She swallowed hard after that admission.
Jubal’s scowl was growing more ferocious by the second. There she went again, rattling on about going back to that blasted farm of hers. At least she’d stopped yakking about her dead husband every other second.
“I wish you’d stop talking about going back,” he grumped.
Maggie blinked up at him. She opened her mouth and then shut it again with a snap. Her brow furrowed and she looked a little bit confused.
“Well,” she finally said, “I don’t guess there’s anyplace else I can go, is there?”
She sighed again. Of course, she might be willing to consider staying with Jubal Green, if he’d ask her. Maggie had tried and tried to remember what exactly it was that he’d said to her the night they arrived, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it, no matter how hard she pondered. She was absolutely certain, however, that he hadn’t looked at all happy when he said he’d been thinking about marrying her. And he hadn’t asked again.
The thought of marrying Jubal Green actually appealed to her a great deal, but she’d be roasted in hell before she’d make him marry her if he was reluctant to do it. Besides, she really did have to go back to Kenny’s farm. She was honor-bound to go back. It was Kenny’s dream.
Maggie felt ashamed of herself when she realized just how far away from being her own dream Kenny’s farm had slipped. In fact, the thought of returning to that hard-scrabble farm was becoming downright depressing. She sighed yet again, and knew she had to go back. The farm was not merely Kenny’s dream; it was Annie’s legacy.
“Will you quit that?” Jubal was near to shouting now.
“I’m sorry, Jubal. I don’t mean to fret you.” Tarnation, this man was touchy. Maggie tried to keep her annoyance tamped down.
“And stop apologizing to me, damn it!”
Maggie didn’t know what to say for a second. Then she gave up trying to figure out what he wanted and cried, her voice brittle, “Oh, Jubal, I can’t help it. I really don’t know what else to do. I don’t want to leave you. I can’t give up my farm. I’ve got to make a decision that I’m going to hate one way or the other. And you won’t even let me apologize for making you mad. I don’t know what to do!”
She was kneading her hands together now and looked up at him with such a poignant combination of emotions playing on her features that he couldn’t stay angry. He realized that she was unsure of her future and knew it was his fault. That made him feel bad and he wanted to reassure her. But, although he wanted to, he didn’t think it was appropriate to declare his intentions right this minute, as they sat together on the hard plank seat of a rough wood wagon while they bounced along through the dust devils on the dry dirt road towards El Paso.
“Aw, Maggie, I didn’t mean to be crabby. It just drives me crazy when you talk about leaving me,” he confessed.
Maggie tried to smother the gasp of raw pleasure that Jubal’s confession evoked. She was afraid he would take the look of glorious relief in her eyes amiss. In her heart of hearts, she was virtually positive that her honor would make her return to that poor farm, but she was ever so pleased to know that he’d miss her. She’d miss him for sure. In fact, the thought of living another fifty or so years alone on that miserable farm without him was so painful she couldn’t even bear to think about it right now. At least she’d have Annie. She held that thought close to her heart.
“Thank you, Jubal,” she said at last. “I’ll miss you something awful.”
God damn it, thought Jubal. He didn’t dare say anything for fear he’d holler her right off the wagon.
Maggie was not reassured at the glare he shot her. It was so full of angry frustration that she was afraid for a moment that he was going to begin yelling at her again. She knew, because her aunt had drilled it into her, that it was bad to make people mad, so she decided it would be best not to say anything else for a while.
Jubal came to that same conclusion on his own. His own emotions were confusing the hell out of him. At the moment, he was so frustrated that all he wanted to do was kick something. He hoped he’d have everything all figured out by tonight.
They rode along in silence for a while, with only the slow crunching of the wheels and the clop-clop of the mules to keep their tumbled thoughts company. Maggie squinted into the dry countryside and knew that tomorrow, on her way back to Jubal’s ranch, she’d be able to see all of this. She tried to concentrate on that happy thought and not on the roiling emotions she felt and the unpleasant decisions she knew she’d have to make once this terrible feud was resolved.
Finally, in order to ease the tension that had begun to weave its wicked, thorny web around them in the dusty warmth of the morning, Jubal said, “When we get to El Paso, I’ll check us into the hotel and then go to the post office while you freshen up. Then I’ll take you to Garza’s. We can buy most of the things you’ll need to pretty-up the patio there.”
He looked over at Maggie, hoping those promises would perk her up. She’d stopped sighing, but now she was staring straight ahead of her, and she didn’t look happy.
“Will that be all right, Maggie?”
Maggie smiled at him with love shining in her eyes. She’d miss him so darned much, she just wanted to burst into tears. She wouldn’t do it, of course. He’d hate that.
“That would be just fine, Jubal. Thank you.” He was so nice to her.
Her answer and the way it was given eased his mood a good deal, and he smiled. “Fine. That’s fine.” Then he felt better.
As soon as they got to El Paso, Jubal was as good as his word. He checked them into the same wonderful hotel they’d stayed in before. This time, since they were alone, he registered them as Mr. and Mrs. Jubal Green. He didn’t ask for Maggie’s permission. Besides, he figured, he might just as well get used to it now as wait until they were officially married. The practice surely couldn’t hurt.
Maggie was a little shocked. “We’re sharing the same room, Jubal?”
He frowned at her. “Shoot, Maggie, we’ve been sharing the same room for two weeks now.”
“But nobody knows about that, Jubal.” Her face flushed
up delightfully.
He grinned at her. “The hell they don’t. I got a blistering lecture from Beula just yesterday.”
Maggie’s mouth dropped open and her color deepened. “Oh, my land,” she whispered. “Oh, my land. Oh, my God, I’ve never been more embarrassed in my life.”
“It’s all right, Maggie.” Jubal took her gently by the shoulders. “Beula doesn’t mind. She understands.”
“How on earth can Beula understand when even I don’t understand?” cried Maggie. “We’re not married. We’re not even promised! I’m so ashamed of myself.”
Jubal didn’t like the shimmer he saw in her eyes. It worried him. That shimmer looked perilously close to tears to him. He was also irritated by her words.
“What do you mean, you’re ashamed of yourself, Maggie? Just what does that mean? You’re ashamed to be with me? Is that it? I’m not good enough for you? Just what is it you’re ashamed of, anyway?”
Maggie’s surprise at Jubal’s suggestion smothered her embarrassment in an instant. “Not good enough for me? What are you talking about, Jubal Green? You’re a rich Texas rancher. I’m just poor Indiana trash who was lucky enough to marry a good man who loved me and gave me a farm in the Territory and a precious baby. I’m the one who’s not good enough for you!”
“What?” Jubal’s bellow made Maggie flinch. “What the hell are you talking about? What in holy hell does that mean, you were lucky enough to be married to a good man who gave you that dratted farm, anyway? I’m really sick of hearing about how wonderful Kenny was, Maggie. He’s dead, damn it.”
“I know he’s dead, Jubal.” At the thought of her sweet, dead husband, a painful ache started throbbing in her heart.
“Well, then, quit telling me about him! I’m really tired of it.”
Maggie wanted to wipe away the treacherous tears that burned her eyes, but she wasn’t able to because Jubal still held her by the shoulders and she couldn’t lift her arms.
“Stop squishing my shoulders, Jubal! And I’m sorry. I didn’t know you minded.”
Jubal squeezed his eyes shut in frustration. “Will you stop apologizing to me every other second, damn it, Maggie?” He was yelling again.
Maggie finally just gave up. She didn’t understand any of this. She found her emotions so unsettling that she forgot all about her aunt’s admonitions and was hollering when she said, “I’m sorry, Jubal. I’m sorry I’m sorry. I can’t help it. I can’t help missing Kenny, either. He’s the first person on the face of the earth besides my mother who ever loved me. He’s the first person on the face of the earth besides my mother who ever cared whether I was happy or not. And I don’t even remember my mother half the time!
“Kenny’s the first person who ever told me I was worth more than—than a slave. Him, and then Mr. Blue Gully, when I was nursing you. Those are the only two people on the face of the earth who ever said I did anything right, Jubal. I can’t help it if I miss Kenny. I’m sorry if you don’t like it, but I can’t help it!”
Maggie gulped down a big breath of air. “He loved me, Jubal,” she choked out. Then she couldn’t say anything else, because her words couldn’t swim out past the tears that had dammed up behind her anger.
Jubal stared down at her while her words lashed at him and he suddenly understood Maggie Bright. His hands slid down from her shoulders and around her back, and he pulled her to his chest. His little Maggie.
Jubal wasn’t a fanciful man, but all at once his mind’s eye painted a vivid picture of what Maggie’s life must have been like before Kenny Bright married her. Her aunt and uncle resented the care of her and used her as an unpaid maid. He could imagine a sweet-tempered little Maggie trying in vain to win a smile or a nod from either one of them, working herself to a frazzle in the attempt, only to be rebuffed time and time again. Small wonder she apologized for everything. She’d probably grown up apologizing for living. No wonder Kenny Bright had been transformed into a saint by her.
Kenny loved her. Her words lacerated Jubal’s heart. Kenny loved her. That one fact, all by itself, was enough to bind Maggie to him forever.
“He isn’t the only one, Maggie,” he said in a gruff whisper.
“Yes, he was, Jubal.”
“No, Maggie. He wasn’t.”
Jubal took a deep breath, expelled it before he could use it, then swore viciously at himself, called himself every kind of coward, and berated himself for a fool. When he was through doing that, he sucked in another huge breath and said, before he could lose his courage again, “I love you, Maggie. Kenny Bright wasn’t the only one. I love you, too.”
Maggie didn’t hear him. She was so upset that she could only shake her head miserably against his chest and run through the catalogue of her sins, sins her aunt had drummed into her head until Maggie sometimes wondered why the good Lord let her live, she was so awful.
Jubal wondered why she was shaking her head and wondered if she’d heard him. So he said it a little louder. “Kenny wasn’t the only one, Maggie. I love you, too.”
She heard his voice only dimly through the litany of her many failings that she was reciting to herself. His words penetrated her misery very slowly. In fact, she was so busy telling herself how unlovable she was that at first she was sure she hadn’t heard him correctly.
Then he said it yet again.
“I love you, Maggie. I tried to get over it, but I couldn’t. I love you so much I can hardly stand it. I love you so much it hurts.”
She pulled away from him a little bit and noticed the big wet spot on his shirt. She brushed her hand over it as if to wipe it dry. Her hand, of course, had no effect at all on his shirt, so she used it to swipe at her wet cheeks.
“You—you what?” she whispered. She was still sure she couldn’t have heard him right.
But Jubal didn’t want her looking at him right now. This was hard enough without having her stare at him while he made such a difficult confession. He yanked her to his chest again and put his big hand over her head to hold her there.
Maggie didn’t mind. Her arms went around him and she squeezed him tight.
“At first I didn’t know what was wrong with me,” he said. His voice was hoarse and he had to keep clearing his throat. “I figured it was just because I was gunshot and weak. I thought it would go away, this funny feeling about you. But it didn’t, Maggie. It was while we were eating in the restaurant downstairs that I finally figured it out.”
He stopped talking. But Maggie wanted to hear it again. She wanted to be sure he’d said what she thought he’d said.
“What—” She had to clear her throat, too. “What did you figure out, Jubal?”
Her head was tucked neatly under his chin, but he drew it back a little bit so he could look down at her. He thought she was teasing him. When his critical glance took in her tear-stained face, swollen eyes, and expression of utter incredulity, he decided she wasn’t teasing. He hugged her tight again.
“I figured out that it wasn’t just being gunshot and weak and sick. It was love.”
In spite of her recent fit of anger and tears, Maggie couldn’t help giggling a little bit.
“You mean loving me was like being sick?” Her voice was shaky.
Jubal’s brow began to furrow. “It’s not funny, Maggie,” he announced. “I’ve never been in love before. I didn’t know what it felt like until now.”
Maggie’s heart soared like the proverbial eagle. She tightened her arms around him so hard that Jubal grunted. Then, out of deference for her beloved and because she didn’t want to annoy him, she tried not to laugh. She wanted to shout and sing and holler. He was in love with her. Jubal Green loved her, Maggie Bright.
“Do—do you really mean it, Jubal?” she asked in a quivery voice. She realized that was the wrong thing to ask when he scowled at her.
“I’m sorry, Jubal. I didn’t mean to doubt you.” Then Maggie remembered how much he hated her to apologize, and she blurted out, “I didn’t mean that. I’m not sorry. I’m—oh
, I don’t know what I am. I’m happy! That’s what I am. I’m happy, Jubal Green. I’m happy.”
And she burst into tears again.
Jubal sighed and hugged her hard. He’d never understand women as long as he lived.
He did, however, know what to do with a woman when one was in his arms, particularly when the woman in his arms was Maggie. Her breasts were crushed against him and driving him crazy. She was such a perfect little armful. He decided that now that they had the issue of who loved whom out of the way, it was time to offer a little demonstration.
Maggie slowly became aware that the way he was holding him had undergone a subtle change. Instead of holding her tight, like he wanted to comfort her, his hands began to make delicious swirling caresses on her back and down her arms. He reached up and slid his fingers through her hair, loosening all the pins. His fingers sent tingling shivers ricocheting from her scalp to her toes. He pulled her hairpins out one by one and laid them on the bedside table.
“I love your hair down, Maggie.” Then he remembered something that had been shimmering in the recesses of his consciousness for a month or more. “I remember seeing you standing by the window brushing your hair when I was so sick. I thought you were an angel.”
Maggie’s laugh was a little watery. She used Jubal’s shirt to wipe her cheeks. It was already sopping wet; she didn’t suppose it mattered much now.
“I remember you asked me if I was an angel, Jubal,” she whispered. Her smile was terribly tender as she unbuttoned his shirt.
“What did you answer me when I asked you that?”
Jubal was working on her shirtwaist buttons while she unfastened his shirt. His chest went all over goose bumps with the feel of her hands on his flesh.
“I told you I wasn’t an angel, but just a poor widow woman who was trying to help you get better.”
Jubal shook his head. His warm hands sent shivers of pleasure shooting through Maggie’s body like lightning when he smoothed her shirtwaist down over her arms. Then he slipped the straps of her chemise down and, when his hands covered her breasts, Maggie groaned with delight.
One Bright Morning Page 31