Eyes wary, she seemed to consider that and finally nodded.
“The first is that I happily agreed to pay a bride price because I wanted to honor your father’s customs. I don’t give a damn about the money. I didn’t think of it as buying you then, I don’t now, and I never will. Is that clear?”
“Yes.”
“The second thing I promise is that if any other man but me ever so much as touches you, it’ll be over my dead body. There isn’t enough money in the world to ever tempt me otherwise. I don’t want that thought to so much as pass through your mind. I know that kind of thing must happen. Maybe it happens often. But it isn’t going to happen to you. Not ever. Understand?”
She gave a tearful nod. Jake pressed her face against his chest and swayed with her for a moment, so angry he was shaking.
“If anyone ever says anything so despicable to you again, I want you to tell me about it right away. Will you do that?”
“Yes,” she replied in a muffled voice.
Jake squeezed his eyes closed, thinking of all the hours she had held those ugly suspicions inside her. He had made a vow to Denver Tompkins, and he was a man of his word. He was going to take Indigo’s tears out of his hide and then fire him.
Chapter 15
TRUE TO HIS PROMISES, JAKE TRIED TO make his restrictions on Indigo’s activities more bearable. The next day, he went hunting and returned with two deer so she would have meat. In addition to that, though it was nearly dusk and pouring rain, he insisted on taking her for a walk, which he did each evening after, always insisting he wasn’t so hungry that he couldn’t wait until dark for his supper.
His efforts didn’t go unappreciated. Though she still felt uncertain and jumpy while with Jake, Indigo knew he was trying in every way he knew to make her happy. In turn, she made every attempt to hide how truly miserable she was.
Pretension didn’t lessen her misery. It took only a couple of hours each morning to clean Aunt Amy’s house. She had no need to bake because her mother, accustomed to feeding a family, always made extra and sent it home with her. Consequently, Indigo rose in the morning, walked with Jake to her parents’ house to feed the animals, returned home to do her chores, and then spent the remainder of the day listening to the clock tick. The only variation in that schedule occurred when she hauled the tub into the kitchen to bathe, a necessity unless she wished to perform her ablutions at night when Jake was present.
In contrast to the long and boring days, her evenings bolted by like horses racing for the finish line. It seemed to Indigo that Jake no sooner took her for a walk and ate his dinner than she found herself lying beside him in bed, convinced that tonight would be the night he would decide to assert his conjugal rights. When he twitched so much as a muscle, her heart leaped. When he held her close, she lay there, breathless and half sick, waiting for his gentle touch to turn demanding and grasping.
After four nights of such unpleasant expectation, Indigo began to wish he’d just do it and get it over with. Anything would be better than night after night of lying there, knowing he wanted her and wondering, half hysterically, when he planned to take her.
She had prepared herself as best she could. Thus far, he hadn’t discovered that she’d put the rock back under the mattress, at his feet this time so he wouldn’t notice. Though she had little appetite, she was managing to force down at least one helping of red meat a day. She felt confident that when he made love to her, once would get the job done. After that, she hoped he’d go to the Lucky Nugget for his pleasures, as so many other men obviously did. Not that she wished Franny and May Belle bad.
On the fifth day of her marriage, Father O’Grady made ready to leave, listening to last- minute confessions, one of which was Indigo’s, and saying a final Mass. After the service and lunch were concluded, the priest announced that he had several goodbyes to say and left. The moment he was gone, Indigo put water on to heat and began helping her mother to clear the table.
“If you’d like to go, I can get these,” Loretta offered.
Indigo shook her head. “I’m happy to have something to do, Ma. The afternoons seem endless just sitting around that house.”
Loretta sighed. “The first few months of humdrum married life are always a trial. I’ll never forget how I felt when your father finally got this house built and began leaving every morning for the mine. It seemed like the whole world stopped.”
Indigo worked the soap between her palms to create suds in the dishwater. She tried to picture her mother listening to the clock tick. For as long as she could remember, Ma had been a cheerful whirlwind of activity. “I reckon I’ll adjust in time.”
Loretta sighed. “I reckon. Now that I think back, I had Chase by then, and I was expecting you, so there was plenty to distract me once I got used to having your father gone.”
“Like I said, I’ll adjust.”
Loretta heaved another sigh, and Indigo nearly smiled. When pondering a problem, her ma had a way of sighing that was almost musical, a shrill sound that trailed slowly away into silence. “What you need are some projects, knitting or needlepoint.”
Indigo grinned. “I could knit a quiver for my arrows.”
Loretta chuckled. “Or a sweater for your husband.”
Indigo pictured Jake’s broad shoulders. “Ma, I’d be knitting for a year. Besides, you know how bad I am to drop stitches. He’d unravel in the first high wind.”
Loretta giggled. “You could make yourself something.”
“Lawzy! I’d rather he unraveled than me. I’ve got enough problems getting my baths out of the way before he gets home.”
A blush rode Loretta’s cheeks, and she applied herself to drying dishes. Indigo’s mouth went dry. There it was again, the unspoken taboo.
“How about sewing?” Loretta asked. “I’d let you borrow my machine. Mr. Hamstead has a lovely selection of fabric.”
“What would I sew?”
Loretta considered that for a moment, then visibly brightened. “Dresses! You’ll be needing a wardrobe shortly.”
Indigo’s hands stilled. “For what?”
“Why, for your new life, Indigo. You’ll be leaving soon.” Pain filled Loretta’s blue eyes. She gave a shaky smile. “Lands, how all of us ladies in Wolf’s Landing are going to envy you. You’ll see new places and exciting things. When you come home to visit, we’ll hang on your every word.”
“You sound anxious to see me go.”
Loretta blinked. “Don’t be silly. I’m just being realistic and trying to prepare myself. Jake never made a secret of the fact that he was only stopping off here. Before we know it, he’ll be gnawing at the bit to move on.”
Indigo’s legs felt as if they had turned to water.
“Oh, honey,” Loretta crooned. “Don’t look so stricken. You’ll love your new life. Hasn’t Jake treated you fine so far?”
“Yes.”
“Well, then . . .” Loretta placed a stack of plates on the shelf. “I’m sure he’ll always do fine by you.”
Indigo couldn’t help but wonder why her ma was so unsympathetic to her plight. She wondered if her father had forbidden her to speak against the marriage.
Loretta rubbed industriously with the towel, then held up the saucer she was drying to study her reflection in its shining well. “Jake’s a good man—strong and handsome and seems easy to get along with. Many a girl would be thrilled to marry him.”
Indigo stared at the sudsy dishwater. With trembling fingers, she grasped a bubble and popped it. “I’m not any girl, and this marriage has ruined my life.”
Loretta grabbed up another saucer. “What’s done is done, Indigo. Make the best of it. It’s time for you to forget your childhood dreams and face life, not as you wish it to be, but as it is. Stop fighting what you can’t change. It’ll only bring you heartache.”
“Do you think this marriage won’t bring me heartache? You say not to fight what I can’t change, as if I’m behaving immaturely. Well, let me tell you something, Ma.
I faced the things I couldn’t change long ago, and I accepted them. Now you’re telling me to be something I can’t be.”
Loretta turned saddened eyes toward her. “You should do your best and start preparing to be a fine wife.”
“I can try till the day I die and never be the kind of wife any white man would want.” Indigo grabbed her mother’s hand. “Look at my skin next to yours.”
Loretta curled her fingers around Indigo’s. “Your skin is beautiful. If you’re concerned because you’re darker than most, try rinsing your face and hands with lemon water. I’ve heard it will bleach the effects of the sun. It might work for you.”
Indigo turned back to the dishes. “Sun didn’t do it.”
“Are you ashamed of that?” Loretta asked.
The question left Indigo feeling as though the wind had been knocked out of her. “I’m proud of what I am—you know that.”
“Then act like it,” Loretta replied firmly. “Be the beautiful girl you are and stop hiding behind stained buckskins and that awful old hat. Your leather skirts and dresses are fine for Wolf’s Landing, but they won’t do where the ladies are decked out in flounces and ruffles.”
Hiding? Her mother thought she was hiding? Feeling oddly disoriented, Indigo reeled her thoughts back into line and attempted to concentrate on the conversation. Flounces and ruffles? In all her vivid imaginings of the world beyond the mountains, she hadn’t considered what sort of clothing she’d be forced to wear.
Somehow, she managed to finish the dishes, listening all the while to her mother prattle about patterns she’d seen in Harper’s Bazaar and how nicely this or that bolt of fabric would work up. Indigo headed for home with visions of corsets and petticoats and lemons swimming in her head.
Feeling drained, she knelt by the bed to begin the penance Father O’Grady had given her in confession, three rosaries. She felt that was more than fair, and fully intended to say an extra round of Hail Marys for good measure, just in case her mother’s God was good at division. Sometimes, Father O’Grady was too lenient. Three rosaries went into seventeen lies five times, with two left over. She wanted to make sure there were no taints left on her soul. Lies were mortal sins, and Father claimed lying to her husband was about the worst kind she could do.
Two hours later, the ache in Indigo’s chest was rivaled by a new ache in her knees. Three rosaries required a powerful lot of praying, especially when she kept forgetting where she was and had to start over. Dresses. Ladies decked out in flounces and ruffles. Lemon water. Indigo’s throat tightened, and tears filled her eyes. She was sorry for lying to Jake, she truly was, and if she didn’t do her penance, she was sure as rain going to be eternally damned. But what difference did it make? Going to hell couldn’t be worse than the punishment her life had become.
The rosary slipped from her fingers, and she dug her fists into the bedding. The soft chenille made her think of Lobo’s fur. She pressed her face against it and wept, tortured by images of a few days past when he had trotted beside her through the woods. She bent her body over the edge of the mattress. She felt as if a hundred little knives were slashing her innards.
A deep yearning filled her, not just for the wolf but for all he had represented. She imagined the shadows of the woods and could almost hear the wind whispering to her. How could she live the rest of her life confined? How would she bear month after month of not hearing her heart’s song, of not feeling the breeze against her skin? Why, oh why, had her father done this to her? He of all people understood her affinity with the wild and her aversion to confinement. Why had he made her marry a white man who would never be able to comprehend how she felt?
She pushed to her feet, driven by a primal need. Jake’s face was a blurred image. His orders that she stay in the house had become meaningless whispers. All that seemed real was her hunger to be embraced by those things familiar and dear to her.
Just this one last time. . . .
Jake looked up from the sluice to see Father O’Grady. Mud streaked the priest’s cassock, and his plump cheeks were red with exertion from the steep climb. Well aware that a man in Father’s physical condition wouldn’t willingly embark on such a grueling walk, Jake’s first thought was that something awful had happened.
“Is Indigo all right?”
Fighting for breath, the priest nodded.
“Has Hunter taken a bad turn?” Jake peeled off his gloves.
“No one’s come to harm, Jake me man, but there is a matter of some importance I must discuss wit’ ye.” With one hand clamped to his chest, the priest huffed for breath. “I’ll be leavin’ today, ye see, so I’d be appreciative if ye could give me a moment of yer time. In privacy, if ye can arrange it.”
Jake gestured at the surrounding woods. “We’ve got a whole mountain at our disposal.”
Still out of breath, the priest nodded. “Just so long as ye lead me downhill, lad, and not up.”
Jake led Father to a little clearing where he frequently escaped to eat his lunch. Bearing in mind the priest’s penchant for yelling, Jake judged this spot to be far enough away from the mine to afford them some privacy. With a shaky sigh, the priest collapsed onto the fallen log where Jake usually sat. Jake, though concerned about what might be wrong, refrained from pressing for answers until the older man got his breath.
Finally Father spoke. “’Tis not my habit to break a confidence, understand, and I’d never divulge a word said to me by anyone during a confession.”
Jake nodded, growing more perplexed by the moment.
The priest threw Jake a distressed glance. “This is a circumstance, however, where I have become privy to information during a conversation, and though ’tis essentially breakin’ a trust, I feel I can do naught else. Hunter is bedridden. His son and Swift are gone. There’s no one but me to take ye to task.”
“To task?”
The priest swelled his chest and fastened fiery blue eyes on Jake’s. “I’ll admit it’s me hope to avoid unpleasantness, lad, but don’t let me age and this collar of mine fool ye. In me day, I was a fine boxer. And if ye get me dander up, I can still execute a fancy step or two.”
Jake raised an eyebrow. “Father, are you threatening to kick my ass?”
“What’s that ye say?”
Jake leaned closer and boomed, “Are you threatening to kick my ass?”
The priest reared back a bit. “Ye won’t be intimidatin’ me by gettin’ in me face. If the only way to settle this is with our fists, then so be it. God will surely be my champion.”
Jake couldn’t believe his ears. “What have I done?”
O’Grady narrowed an eye. “That’s what I’m hopin’ to discover. The wee lass came to me in great distress, she did! And I demand ye mend yer ways. ’Tisn’t right for a man of yer stature to be harsh with a girl who’s so defenseless against ye.”
Jake digested that. In a loud voice, he replied, “I can’t agree more. Would you care to divulge how I’ve been harsh?”
The priest jutted his chin. “Bein’ the loyal little miss that she is, she just blushed and wouldna say. But I’m sure ye must know. Ye’re the cause of her fall from grace, after all.”
Jake focused on the revelation that his wife had fallen from grace. In his estimation, it would be a mighty long tumble. “Did she actually say I had been harsh with her?”
“She didn’t have to. I’ve a nose for trouble after all these years. When a lass who’s confessed to lying a half-dozen times in all her life tells me she’s lied to her husband seventeen times in five short days, I start askin’ questions.”
At that, both of Jake’s eyebrows shot up. “Seventeen times? She’s lied to me seventeen times? That’s—”
“Three to four times a day,” the priest finished.
Jake eyed the priest with growing alarm. “Has she been sneaking off into the woods while I’m at work? If she has, Father, you’d better tell me. She could get hurt.”
An angry flush crept up Father O’Grady’s neck. “Do
ye truly believe a lass who’s lied six times in all her life would disobey ye?” The priest’s brogue thickened apace with his building anger. “Ye’re a blind, hardhearted man, Jake Rand, if ye don’t be knowin’ what a good sweet girl she is. Sneakin’ off to the woods! Hmph. She’d ne’er do such a thing.”
“What has she lied to me about then?”
“That’s what alarms me!”
“I can see you’re alarmed, Father, and now so am I. Would you mind making your point?”
“I’ll be makin’ it. Just let me do it in my own way. ’Tis no easy thing, ye understand. After our conversation, the lass made her confesson. I’m walking a very fine line here. I must weigh every word carefully. Before I proceed, I’ll have yer word that ye’ll not be punishin’ the girl for what she’s told me.”
Jake slapped his gloves against his jeans. “How in hell can I promise that? It depends on what it is she’s done.”
“’Tis not what she’s done that worries me. And ye can stop with those gloves. Ye look like ye’re warming up to go home and be harsh again. If ye do, I’ll have yer hide, Jake Rand, God is my witness.”
Jake gave an incredulous laugh. “What in God’s name has she told you? I’ve never laid a hand on her!”
“Do I have yer word ye won’t punish her?”
Jake raked a hand through his hair. “Only if I have your word she hasn’t been up to something where she might get hurt.”
“Ye have that.”
“Then I won’t punish her.”
Father straightened his shoulders. “Yes, well . . . now, where was I?”
For the life of him, Jake couldn’t recall.
Father held up a hand. “Oh, yes. I was tellin’ ye she came to me in tears, saying she’d lied to ye. Seventeen is no small number and was indicative to me of a serious problem, so I felt compelled to ask the nature of the lies. She explained she’s told ye seventeen times that she wasn’t afraid of ye, when in truth she was.” He hardened his jaw. “I want to know what ye’ve been doin’ to terrify the poor wee thing.”
For a moment, Jake was so taken aback that he just stood there in stunned amazement. Then he threw back his head and barked with laughter. When his amusement ebbed, he said, “She confessed to that? I can’t believe it!”
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