JOE'S WIFE

by Cheryl St. John

  Tye nodded to Meg and they climbed onto the wagon seat and headed for the ranch. The sun broke through the clouds as they reached their land, and Eve had fallen asleep against Meg's side.

  Tye carried her in, placed her on the bed and changed into his work clothes.

  "I didn't know you could sing," Meg said as he crossed the kitchen.

  Tye studied the way the bow of Meg's apron flattered her nicely rounded backside and remembered the silken feel of her bottom. "Don't know many church songs," he replied. "You picked one I knew." He stepped behind her, and she edged away as though she were uncomfortable with the closeness.

  She picked up a pan. "What's your favorite pie?"

  He studied the silky-looking tendrils that hung against the back of her neck, wanting to press his lips there. "Don't have a favorite," he said finally.

  He stood right behind her, his lips near her ear.

  From his vantage point, he noticed the pink blush creep up her ivory cheek. Was she embarrassed about what they'd done? She obviously wasn't comfortable with him. Did he still seem like a stranger to her?

  "I haven't even kissed you," he said, realizing it at the same time he spoke it. He hadn't courted her, hadn't eased her into a physical relationship, and now he regretted his lack of romantic preparation.

  Her skin grew redder than ever. She deliberately shied away from his nearness, but still she said nothing.

  Perhaps it had suited her just fine, after all. He'd known whores who wouldn't kiss the customers. Was kissing too intimate for her? Were her kisses something she'd saved for Joe?

  "Kisses are for lovers—is that what you're thinking?" he asked, not hiding the resentment in his tone.

  Meg's heart ricocheted inside her breast and embarrassment clawed at her skin. She hadn't been thinking anything. She didn't know what to think!

  "What are we?" he asked.

  She didn't know what they were. She wasn't sure of anything anymore, least not herself or her feelings.

  His boots thudded across the floor toward the hooks. The door opened and closed, and he was gone.

  Meg released the breath she'd been holding and pressed her hand to her thudding heart. She closed her eyes and a tear rolled down her cheek.

  Silently, so as not to wake Eve, she entered her room and opened the horsehide trunk at the foot of the bed. She touched Joe's hairbrush, his razor and mug and picked up the bundle of letters, reminding herself, castigating herself.

  She'd done what had needed doing. She'd done what Joe would have had her do. She'd clung to his dream with all her being and held his memory and his land dear.

  Why, then, did she look twice at the hairs caught in the bristles of his brush, trying to remember their exact color? Why did the image of shiny dark hair and strong, callused hands come to the forefront of her thoughts?

  Meg held the letters to her breast, tried to recapture their importance and sentiment, but heard only Tye's questioning words: Kisses are for lovers… What are we?

  * * *

  Chapter Nine

  « ^ »

  The sky overhead had turned dark and the gray underbellies of fat rain clouds hung over the landscape. Tye strode to the barn, not eager to spend time cooped up with the men yet not willing to force his company on Meg. He uncoiled and recoiled the length of new rope he'd been dragging behind his horse for weeks in hopes of loosening it up. The hemp was finally getting soft and pliable, and, satisfied, he looped it over a nail and pulled down his saddle.

  Perching on a nail keg in the open barn door, he worked oil into the leather, noting the first pelting drops of rain that spattered in the dust outside. That day he'd awakened more relaxed and feeling better than he had in a long time. The memory of Meg's eager body and their unexpectedly satisfying union left him half-aroused and more than happy with himself.

  But her embarrassment and avoidance had dimmed his pleasure. What was going on now? Was she sorry? She'd been the one to suggest he satisfy his needs with her, and he never would have if he hadn't known she'd been as eager and as ready as he was.

  And the more he thought back over it, the more he was sure he hadn't pressured her. He didn't know which of them had actually initiated the act; it had been a gradual yet mutual joining; she had been a willing participant. He wasn't dull enough to think he'd done anything against her wishes.

  But maybe that assessment was unfair. Maybe she'd been half-asleep and not really using all her faculties for a decision.

  No doubt Joe had known the proper way to make love to a lady. He'd probably never been driven by his baser instincts. Meg knew Tye had been with other women. Perhaps that dirtied him in her esteem, too.

  Or maybe she hadn't liked it.

  Tye recalled her moist welcome, her eager movements, the way she clutched at him, clung to him. No, she'd liked it.

  The oily rag stilled on the leather. He stared at the worn saddle. She'd liked it. His weakness for her had him aroused just remembering.

  Another thought stole in to eat away at his short-lived pleasure. Maybe in the darkness of night she could pretend he was Joe. And in the daylight she had to see him for who he was.

  The thought hit him like a kick in the chest. It knotted his stomach and sickened him.

  He stood, grabbing up the can of oil and hurling it against a wooden beam with all his might. With a disappointing thud, the can hit the wood and fell to the hard-packed dirt.

  Tye kicked his saddle and pain shot up his leg.

  He limped in a circle and cursed inventively until Purdy appeared from the back room. "Somethin' ailin' ya?"

  Tye waved him off, leaned against the doorjamb and lit a smoke. He inhaled deeply and held it in his lungs until they burned, then drew another punishing breath and finally exhaled.

  Major appeared from the depths of the barn and sniffed around Tye's ankles. Tye glanced down at Joe's dog. He looked around the inside of Joe's barn, then peered through the sheets of rain at Joe's house.

  Quickly finishing with his saddle, he returned the supplies to their shelves and saddled a horse. He wasn't getting anything done here; he might as well ride into town. That's where everyone would be until the rain either let up or got so bad they had to go ride the river for stuck cows.

  He donned his hat and slicker and mounted the horse, riding slowly past the house. He peered at the light in the window, noted the smoke coming from the chimney and, as if a ghost were on his tail, spurred the mare into a run for Aspen Grove.

  Meg couldn't say she was surprised that Tye didn't come for supper. He hadn't remained home evenings before Eve had arrived, but she'd hoped that the child being here would make him feel obligated to stay. Obviously, it made no difference.

  "Where's Tye?" Eve sat near the fire, her ever present rag doll in her lap.

  Meg looked up from the dress she was mending. "He went into town."

  "When will he come back?"

  "Probably not till late. After you've gone to sleep." After I've gone to sleep.

  The child's lower lip quivered at that reply, and Meg chastised herself for her thoughtlessness. She stuck her needle in the fabric and laid the skirt aside. "What shall we do to pass the time this rainy night?"

  Eve shrugged.

  "What did you and your mother do in the evenings?"

  "Mama worked at night."

  "Oh." Meg bit her lip. She was really earning favor this way. "Well, I work in the daytime, so you and I will have time together in the evenings."

  "What about Tye? Will he be here?"

  Meg wished she had an answer. She wished she knew what lured him to town every night. "I don't know. Sometimes. What would you like to do? Shall I read to you?"

  Eve moved to sit on the footstool and adjusted her skirts primly. "Okay."

  Meg opened a drawer of her grandmother's china cabinet and pulled out McGuffy's Eclectic Reader, which had been hers as a child, as well as a couple of books Lilly had left behind. Running her fingers over the cover of the Charles Perrault
collection of fairy tales, she found she missed Gwynn and Harley's visits. Her in-laws had never stayed long, finding the house and amenities lacking, but at least the family had been a diversion for an afternoon or evening.

  "Whose book is it?" Eve asked innocently.

  "It's my niece Lilly's."

  "What's a niece?"

  "A niece? Well, if you have a brother or sister, their little girl is your niece."

  "You have a brother or a sister?"

  "I have several. And several nieces, too." Before she had to explain that Lilly was her niece by marriage, she opened the book and read.

  Eve listened politely, occasionally stroking her doll's dress. Halfway through "Puss In Boots," Meg stopped. "Are you enjoying the story?"

  Eve nodded sleepily.

  "Shall we save the rest for tomorrow night?"

  "All right."

  Meg poured Eve a glass of milk and herself a cup of coffee. They ate the few cookies that were left.

  "Can Major come in tonight?" Eve asked.

  "To sleep with you?"

  She nodded.

  "I guess it doesn't hurt anything for him to sleep in here." They made a trip to the outhouse and Major found them on their way back. Meg dressed Eve in her nightgown and took her time brushing her thick dark hair into shining waves and braiding it. Finally, she tucked her into the pallet.

  "If Tye comes, tell him I was a good girl," Eve said.

  "He knows you're a good girl."

  "Okay, but make sure he knows."

  "Why, Eve?"

  The tiny girl shrugged. "'Cause Mama said I must be good for Tye."

  Meg took one of the dark curls that escaped near Eve's ear in her fingers. "I'll tell him."

  Eve gave her a halfhearted smile and rolled to her side, the doll beneath her chin.

  Meg stroked her hair tenderly, wishing she was more of a comfort to the child. Maybe she'd needed to talk about the funeral that day. Meg didn't know what to say to her. Tye should have been here for her. She was his obligation, after all.

  How thoughtless of him to go off and abandon Eve when she needed him here with her. He'd been concerned enough about the girl to accept responsibility for her, and now that she was here, where had that concern flown?

  Meg worked herself into a full-blown huff, then wondered if she was really mad about him leaving Eve or if she was mad about him leaving her.

  Both, she realized. For reasons she didn't wish to examine, she felt abandoned, too. Well, Tye was her husband. She had every right to expect him to behave like one.

  Eve had fallen asleep, so Meg checked the fire and took herself off to bed.

  She'd been dozing when sometime later she awoke to the sound of Tye's clothes rustling and his weight dipping the mattress.

  He smelled of rain and faintly of smoke, but she didn't detect liquor.

  She couldn't say why she rested easier when he was beside her. It was as though her house were in order when he came home, and so, anger forgotten, she allowed herself to drift back into sleep. She'd barely closed her eyes when his hand threaded into her hair and his fingers stroked her cheek.

  Instinctively, she brought her hand up to his and nuzzled his palm. Warmth spread through her insides at his gentle caress, and her heart started its crazy pounding. Guilt and ecstasy warred, and sensory pleasure and aggressive need won out. She rolled against him and pressed herself along the length of his strong body.

  He gripped her scalp hard and pulled her face up to his, unerringly finding her mouth in the darkness and covering it with his. For a first kiss, it wasn't hesitant or exploratory. It was demanding and eager. This urgency between them was foreign and somehow shameful, but Meg held her misgivings at bay by kissing him back and losing herself in the sensual gratification.

  He didn't taste like liquor; he tasted like Tye and faintly like mint. His lips were firm and insistent, and she welcomed the kiss while denying in some distant recess of her mind that she shouldn't.

  He kissed her long and breathlessly, pausing to taste her lips, her chin, her cheek. He kissed her with slow and tender persuasiveness, blocking caution from her mind and resistance from her body, and she remembered his words, Kisses are for lovers.

  His tongue coaxed her lips apart and he kissed her deeply and soundly and with delectable thoroughness. Meg had never been aroused like this. She squirmed against him. He wedged a knee between her thighs, a poor substitute for her desire, but she made an appreciative sound.

  He tugged at her nipples through her cotton gown until she wanted to cry her frustration.

  And then his hands began their marvelous journey beneath her gown, along her electrified skin, setting her nerve endings ablaze.

  Meg clutched at his shoulders and drew him against her, over her, into her. Nothing existed but the two of them and this wild, unchecked quest for release. The aching fullness brought an immediate and unexpected wash of pleasure, and she sobbed it against his mouth.

  "Say my name," he said insistently, framing her jaw with one strong hand.

  Meg fought for a coherent thought. "Tye," she whispered.

  "Again."

  "Tye." This time the word came out as a hoarse utterance.

  "Again."

  She said it once more and he thrust against her forcefully, muscles straining, as though he sought to grind himself into her very being. The metal headboard thudded unrestrainedly against the wall and Meg gripped the sheets for a measure of stability.

  He groaned.

  She whispered his name.

  He slid to her side and gathered her tightly against him.

  And Meg cried. A purging release of emotion and pleasure, and something far deeper than their physical bonding.

  "I didn't hurt you?" he asked, his tone conveying distress at the thought.

  "No."

  He kissed her temple and smoothed her hair, and beneath her palm his racing heart slowed its pace. Outside the rain pounded steadily.

  A twinge of guilt pierced her when she thought of the letters in the trunk at the foot of the bed, so she pushed the thought from her mind and concentrated on the softness of the mattress beneath her, the warmth and strength of Tye's arms around her, the enticing smell of his skin and his solid body along hers.

  Here was someone to hold her. Someone to share the nights. She wouldn't feel guilty for that.

  The following day Purdy remained at the house with Eve while Gus, Tye and Meg rode out to search for cows, a task more suited to spring. Carefully, they inspected the marshes for animals that had wandered too far from the bank and become immobilized in the mud.

  Meg called out and the men joined her, finding only the head and horns of a steer visible above the water. Tye's gray had proven himself the horse with the ability to pull on a rope without getting skittish, so Tye waded out and slipped a loop over the steer's horns.

  He waded back, mounted, wound the end of the rope around his saddle horn loose enough so that he could drop it quickly, then urged his horse backward.

  The cow's struggles aided the gray, and the pulling tore the animal loose and dragged him up on the bank.

  Tye dropped his rope immediately.

  The steer gained his feet and charged. Prepared, Tye galloped out of the way and observed as the animal shook his head, then found some brush and worked off the rope.

  Meg rode out to recover it and carried the muddy rope back to Tye.

  He took it from her, their gloved hands bumping. "Good job, cowboy."

  God, he loved her smile. Even with her hair hidden beneath a dripping hat and wearing a slicker that could fit two of her, she was the prettiest thing he'd ever seen. He didn't tell her so. He'd learned she was uncomfortable with any expression of their attraction or any words of an intimate nature. Her reasoning was still a puzzle, but his fear that she had to force herself to imagine him as her past husband had been ungrounded.

  She might not pretend he was Joe, but she no doubt wished it were Joe here with her instead of him. S
he'd loved her first husband. The fact wounded him anew each time he let himself think of it.

  Tye headed them along the river in search of calves or weaker stock. Meg rode alongside him. "Eve asked about you last night."

  "What did she ask?"

  "She wanted to know where you were and if you were going to be with us in the evenings."

  "What did you tell her?"

  "I didn't know what to tell her, Tye. I tried to assure her you'd be there sometimes."

  He didn't say anything. From beneath his hat brim, he just studied the landscape with a watchful eye.

  "She's a good little girl, Tye, but I think she needs you to spend some time with her right now. You're the one she trusts. You're her only comfort in her suddenly lost world. She probably needs to talk about her mother."

  "I'll do what I can."

  No explanation. No excuses. No promises. Irritated, Meg looked away.

  They'd gathered a few calves and headed them back toward the herds by the time she spoke again. "What are we going to do about Eve during roundup?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "I mean, I've never had a child to look out for before. I work the cattle just like everyone else. We're too shorthanded for anyone to stay at the house with her."

  "Who stays to do chores?"

  "Purdy. Riding is harder for him."

  Tye nodded. "Eve can come to camp with us. She'll stay with the chuck wagon. Gus handles that, right?"

  "He and one of the fellas from the Bar Sixteen."

  "That way we'll be with her every night. There's a meeting day after tomorrow at the Bar Sixteen to plan how we'll work the territory. Everybody's short-handed. We'll camp at the usual sites. It might take us a lot longer at each one than it used to because of so few reps."

  "It'll be a far cry better than the roundups during the war," she said. "Most of us barely kept enough cattle alive until spring to have any to sell. And half of them aren't branded. We'll have to trust one another to sort them out fairly this year."

  "You held it together, though." His words were as serious as his expression. "I can't imagine how, but you did it."