Devils on Horseback: Lee, Book 4

by Beth Williamson

  “Just look. It won’t take but a few minutes.” He held the book in front of her.

  She slapped it down so hard, his hand stung. The book landed with a bang on the wood floor and echoed in the quiet cabin. “I said no.”

  “Why the hell not?” He picked up the book and wondered if she had really gotten over her husband’s death. Maybe Genny had loved him too much to even contemplate his stepping out on her.

  “Why not? My husband was a pig, a barely human man who spent his time whoring and drinking. I know where the money went. It doesn’t take a smart person to know. I’ve got a farm that’s falling apart, a crop to be brought in by one man, me and a little girl, I don’t know how much money I have or if we’ll survive the winter.” She took a breath and Lee realized she was trembling. “Oh, and I can’t read or write either, much less do simple arithmetic like a child.”

  With that she walked out the door, leaving Lee to stand there feeling like he’d kicked her. She couldn’t read or write? He’d had no idea. Judging by the way she spoke, she had a vocabulary better than most farm wives. Didn’t he feel like a complete ass. Again.

  Lee set the ledger on the table and went in search of Genny. She was in the back garden pulling up weeds with a vengeance, and he was glad not to be a weed in her chokehold.

  “I’m sorry.” He didn’t apologize often and here he was doing it twice in a matter of a few days. “I didn’t mean to push you too hard, Genny. I just wanted to help. I’m not good with words or people and tend to annoy even when I’m not trying to. One thing I can do is arithmetic, and keeping books. The numbers, they just make sense to me.”

  She continued yanking up weeds, ignoring him and his apology. Lee wished Jake could whisper in his ear what to say. The redheaded devil had been the most suave of them, charming ladies right and left until Gabby had charmed him. Lee couldn’t charm a rock.

  “Please, Genny.”

  She stopped pulling up weeds and let out a sigh that made his heart twitch. “My mother never took me to school or taught me any of that kind of thing. She thought it only important I talked like a lady.” Genny sat back on her heels. “Truth is I’m as ignorant as these weeds.”

  Lee squatted next to her, realizing there was much more bubbling inside Genny than anger over a cheating husband. She had a lot of secrets and they weighed her down. He cupped her cheek, the soft skin fitting perfectly in his palm.

  “I’ll teach you to read and write. Sophie too if you like. We had a tutor growing up so we had all of that crammed down our throats. It’d be nice if it did someone else some good too.” He swallowed, trying to find the right words. “I want to help, Genny. Please let me.”

  Lee didn’t realize how hard it would be to offer help to this proud woman. She nuzzled his hand, then landed a kiss on the base of his thumb. Skitters of desire replaced the discomfort of his clumsy attempt at an apology.

  “All right, I’d be pleased if you’d teach me and Sophie. She hasn’t been to school and I couldn’t teach her.” Genny offered him a tremulous smile. “Seems like you coming here to work on the farm was exactly what we needed.”

  Lee stood quickly and offered her his hand. He wasn’t exactly what anyone needed, but he could try and help the widow Blanchard in any way he could.

  * * * * *

  The next week passed by quickly. Lee spent an hour or two each night teaching Sophie and Genny the alphabet and numbers. They practiced writing their names and sounding them out. Genny admitted to being a bit embarrassed to be learning her letters at her age, but Sophie was excited to have her as a fellow student.

  Lee sat beside Genny at the table, watching as she sounded out the letters in the McGuffey’s Reader. The “b” was especially difficult to watch because she moved her lips as if she were kissing. He wanted her to be kissing him instead of him teaching her to read.

  Why had he ever agreed to it? She was capable of finding someone else to teach her and Sophie. Yet he continued each night, torturing himself and knowing what he wanted was to taste those lips again even as they sounded out the word ball.

  It was the “l” that made his dick roar to life. Her mouth, oh God, and that tongue. Sheer torture, absolutely sheer torture. If only he hadn’t tasted that mouth or known exactly how that tongue felt pressed against his own.

  Genny looked at him expectantly and he realized she’d asked him a question. Yet he’d been lost in a fantasy of how deep she could take his dick into her mouth. Jesus Christ.

  “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

  She raised her brows as if to let him know she wasn’t unaware of the nature of his woolgathering. “I said how am I doing?”

  “Oh, you’re doing great.” He managed a smile even as he tried to tell his wayward stiffness to calm down. Being next to her was bad enough, but he had to go and watch her mouth for an hour.

  “Hmm, well good.” She gestured to Sophie, who was currently writing her letters on an old slate Genny had found in Henry’s trunk. “And how is she doing?”

  The girl was so bright, it was almost impossible to keep up with her. As an adult, Genny was more difficult to teach because she was pretty much set in her ways. Stepping back into a learning mode was hard for anyone over the age of sixteen. But Sophie was a marvel. She already knew all her letters and numbers, even took time out each afternoon to practice them again and again.

  “She’s brilliant.”

  Genny closed the book and peered at him, a frown marring her face. “Are you saying that because you are distracted by me or do you really mean it?”

  “I mean it. She’s smarter than both of us put together. Pretty soon she’s going to pass me and we’ll have to put her in a real school.”

  He must’ve said something wrong because Genny’s expression shuttered closed against him.

  “She’s not going to a real school. Ever.” She picked up the book, but her eyes moved too rapidly across the page. Obviously she was only trying to avoid the conversation.

  “Why not? What are you afraid of?” He pushed the book back to the table until she let go of it.

  “I don’t want her to suffer for being who she is.”

  “I don’t understand what that means.” Lee looked at Sophie. “She’s perfectly normal and very smart. Do you think the children at school will tease her or something? That’s normal, you know.”

  Genny shook her head. “No, that’s not what I’m worried about. Sophie is, well, different than other kids. She’s outspoken and stubborn, and she curses like a cowboy.”

  “I’ve noticed that.” Lee wondered how the hell the brat had picked up such a colorful vocabulary.

  “Henry didn’t care who was around when he cussed. She grew up using cuss words the way ordinary folks say hello or good morning.” Genny glanced at her daughter. “I tried to teach her right but Henry, well, he didn’t like me spoiling her. Said it was good enough for a bastard like Sophie.”

  Lee realized what she’d said and it rang like a bell in his head. “What do you mean a bastard like Sophie?”

  Genny’s cheeks colored. “It was just the way he talked. He didn’t mean nothing by it except that she was just a farm girl, didn’t need pretty speech or fancy clothes.”

  It was the first time Lee knew for certain Genny had lied to him. She sucked at it. As much as he wanted to find out why she lied, he didn’t want to push the topic. He could tell she was done talking about it when she stood up and ushered Sophie to get ready for bed.

  A bastard? How could Sophie be a bastard if Genny and Henry had been married?

  * * * * *

  Lee was surprisingly good and patient as a teacher. Genny found her heart slipping farther and farther into his pocket with each passing day. He was a good man and he had so much to offer, if only he’d realize it.

  The biggest problem Genny faced was that they were never alone, and that was Lee�
��s doing.

  He started each day before her, leaving the cabin so early the moon was still in the sky, even took his meals in the evenings after their lessons. It was ridiculous and it was beginning to annoy her. They were good for each other. So she took it upon herself to make him understand that instead of waiting for him to come to his senses.

  She had made biscuits and put the milk jug in the stream behind the house to cool it. The day Genny had asked Gabby for help, her friend had confided to her Lee liked cold milk almost as much as she did. In fact, Gabby had been surprised Lee was drinking coffee instead of milk. At first, Genny thought it was odd a man liked milk, but the more she got to know him, the more endearing it was. A sharp contrast to his rough exterior. Genny wanted to surprise him with a glass of it and warm biscuits with honey.

  Carrying a basket with a milk bottle, honey jar and biscuits, she crept into the barn and closed the door behind her. Sophie had been following Lee around all week and was exhausted enough to take a nap every day. For the most part, Genny was alone with Lee during those precious nap times.

  Newly clean, the barn looked wonderful and actually smelled like a barn instead of an outhouse. Ned seemed happier, if that were possible, and Lee’s horse was amenable to the stall he called home too.

  Lee had been sorting through the tools Henry had accumulated. There were a bunch of hand tools, some equipment for the fields and a tangled pile of tack that may or may not actually be useful. Most of it was in the tack room or on the bench at the back wall of the barn. The shadowed interior was cool in the warm, late-summer afternoon.

  She heard him mumbling to himself, or rather cursing under his breath, as she approached the back of the barn. She had to hide a smile when she heard him sigh almost as dramatically as Sophie did. Although he called her “brat” and seemed to barely tolerate her, Genny knew he’d taken a liking to Sophie. She was a wonderful girl even if she tested everyone’s limits sometimes.

  Genny came around the corner and saw Lee peering at the cradle, the tool used to harvest the wheat. Henry had been too cheap to buy a mechanical reaper so he usually hired a couple of farmhands to harvest the wheat with the cradles he stocked in the barn.

  “It’s called a cradle.”

  He started at the sound of her voice and scowled mightily. “You need to wear a bell, woman. Stop sneaking up on me.”

  She smiled at his grumpy response. “I brought you an afternoon treat.” Holding up the basket, she headed for the workbench. “Sophie’s taking a nap and I just made these biscuits. They smelled so good I thought you might want one.”

  As she laid out a cloth on the bench, he watched her, his unreadable expression never wavering.

  “I brought honey too and I hope you don’t mind, but I was thirsty for milk.”

  His eyes widened at the sight of the bottle covered with condensation. “It looks cold,” was all he said.

  “Oh it is. I learned from Gabby to keep it in the stream and it stays cool even without a root cellar.” Another thing Henry had been too lazy to dig out. All she had to store vegetables and roots in was a small trapdoor beneath the kitchen.

  “Hmm, I guess I could use a drink, even if it is milk.”

  Genny hid the smile at his casual attempt at pretending he didn’t want the milk. She poured some into the two mason jars she’d brought and handed one to him. As she slathered honey on a few biscuits, he drank the entire glass. When he realized what he’d done, his eyes widened and he looked at her guiltily.

  “I brought plenty. Don’t worry.” She handed him a biscuit and took the jar to refill it.

  Other than lesson times, they hadn’t been alone all week. It was the first time in days he hadn’t run the other direction when she entered the room if Sophie wasn’t present. Milk was apparently a magic potion. He leaned against the bench and munched on the biscuits, alternately taking normal sips of milk.

  “This thing is called a cradle?” He pointed at the reaper lying on the bench.

  “Yes, it’s a cradle. These long fingers attached to the handle, which I think is called a snath, let the wheat fall through so they lay down in a row for collection.” She ran her fingers along the handle and his gaze followed their path. “The handle is long enough to be able to stand up as you cut the wheat.”

  “Ah, I see.” He stuffed the rest of the biscuit in his mouth then licked his fingers. “Probably should’ve washed my hands first but damn that was good.”

  Genny smiled. “I’m glad you liked it.” She slid closer to him. “I wanted to come out here and see you. I think you’ve been avoiding me, Lee.”

  “I spend time with you every night,” he protested.

  “Now you know that’s not what I mean. Learning letters and numbers isn’t spending time together.” She held his chin until he looked at her. As her hand left his chin, the sound of his whiskers scraping her skin was loud in the quiet barn. “You’ve been hiding from me.”

  He frowned. “No, I’ve been busy working on getting this farm back in shape. I’ve got to start harvesting in a few days, right?”

  She scoffed at his excuse. “That doesn’t mean you have to get out of bed with the moon.”

  “I get up early because—”

  “Or lock the bedroom door.”

  His gaze skittered around the room, landing anywhere but on Genny. The man apparently could not lie to her. “I don’t want you to throw your life away on someone like me.”

  “Isn’t that for me to decide?”

  “I thought it best for both of us.” He shifted away from her, but she followed. “People in town will think I took advantage of you.”

  Genny chuckled without humor. “Not likely. No one in town really knows me or likes me, Lee, except maybe Gabby and Mr. Marchison. After living here eight years, I’m more of a stranger than you are.”

  “I don’t understand.” He stopped moving away and looked at her with a puzzled expression. “Did your husband keep you prisoner here at the farm?”

  “No, I chose to keep myself here.” She had started the conversation to test him, and now she’d opened up the door to the past which lurked behind her every second of every day. “I’m not the pristine widow you think I am, Lee. I’m trash from the streets of New Orleans.”

  Her heart pounded as she let all the feelings she kept buried inside come creeping up her throat. So many nights she wondered if the first half of her life would ever fade from her memories. Obviously they never would. Deep wounds become permanent scars.

  “Everybody has a past. Hell, I should’ve been dead ten times over already. Stupid, reckless ass that I am, I lost my arm six weeks before the war ended after years of fighting every damn day.” He laughed without humor. “Nothing in your life compares to the idiocy of mine.”

  Genny knew he’d given her the opportunity to back away, to keep her secrets buried, but she didn’t want to. If there were any chance they could be together, he had to understand exactly who she was and where she’d come from.

  “My mother came from a nice family in Louisiana. She had the unfortunate luck to fall in love with a gambler from New Orleans who’d come to visit at her parents’ plantation. She gave herself to him and he left her with a babe in her belly.” Genny perched on a barrel, sitting on her hands so Lee wouldn’t see them shaking. “She followed him to New Orleans only to discover he was already married. She didn’t care, she just wanted to be with him, no matter how much shame or abuse he heaped on her. My father was a bastard through and through. He set her up in a house in the red-light district and sold her to his friends. She let him turn her into a common whore, or not so common because the society men who fucked her did it with gloves on their hands and left her with scars.”

  Lee watched her, not moving from his spot, the leftover milk in the jar beside him. “You knew this as a child?”

  “How could I not? I grew up with my father c
oming by to ignore me and bed my mother. This was Sunday only. The rest of the week, men would come by with the ‘secret password’ he gave them to use my mother’s services. Each of them had their own nasty way of getting their satisfaction, from whips to candle wax, and some of them were sodomites. Thank God I wasn’t a boy.” The laugh that came from within her was laced with pain and bitterness, but she let it loose, glad to have some of it gone. “Sometimes they even wanted me to watch.”

  “Jesus Christ,” he breathed.

  “By the time I was ten, there were men who wanted to bed me, even begged her for the experience. They liked them young and tight, don’t you know. She had begun to like liquor a bit too much, and spent most of her time either in bed with the men, drinking with them around it, or passed out on it. I was raised by a housekeeper named Mrs. Markum who pitied me enough to make sure I was fed and took baths. I think my father might have paid her to do it.” She shrugged at the memory of the cold, thin woman who served her meals and scrubbed her raw with a brush in the tub. “One night, one of the men came by but my mother was too drunk to service him so he raped her. I tried to stop him, but he slapped me, then raped me too.”

  Lee stepped toward her, but she held up a hand to stop him. “Let me finish. I want you to understand just what a wonderful person I am. I can’t let you touch me until I finish, and then you might not want to touch me.”

  “Then I’ll stay right here.” He moved over and sat on the barrel facing her.

  Genny took a deep breath and swallowed back the tears of pity that threatened. Self-pity brought her nothing in her life except heartache, there was no need to let it loose again, especially now.

  “It took me some time to recover and that was only because Mrs. Markum called a doctor. I found out who the man was, stole money from my mother and hired two street thugs to kill him.”

  She let that information sink in, not daring to look Lee in the eye. He had to know and she had to tell him everything.