JOE'S WIFE

by Cheryl St. John

  So simple. Such insignificant words for an enormous act of kindness.

  "You're welcome," he said.

  Gently, he cupped her cheek with his other hand. In the golden light, their eyes met. Meg felt like crying. She blinked furiously.

  Tye laced his fingers into her hair behind her ear, stroked his thumb over her cheekbone. Meg's breath caught in her throat.

  "Are those happy tears?"

  Anticipating his kiss with a flutter in her breast, she whispered, "Yes."

  "Good."

  Music and laughter floated from the livery next door. A moth batted against the dome of the coal oil lamp.

  She wanted him to hold her then, to forgive her for her doubt and her mistrust. For some demented reason she didn't understand, she craved his assurance and his acceptance.

  "I'm thirsty," he said, drawing his hand from her cheek. "We'd better get back inside."

  The loss of his heat and his touch left her feeling bereft. How foolish of her to want him to kiss her out here like this where anyone could happen by and see. She gathered her wits and followed him back to the livery.

  "There you are," Reverence Baker said, spotting Tye. "I was just looking for a bit of gentlemanly conversation."

  "Out-of-doors, Reverend?" Tye asked.

  "Why, yes, don't mind if we do."

  Tye cast her an apologetic glance, and she watched them exit through the back door. She checked on Eve and discovered Lilly Telford sitting beside her on a hay bale.

  "Well, hello, Lilly. It's nice to see you."

  "Hello, Aunt Meg—I mean, Meg. I'm not 'apose to call you aunt anymore."

  "Oh." The information stung like salt in an open cut, but irritation quickly followed the pain. How cruel of the Telfords to turn the children against her. "Have you missed your Alice in Wonderland book? Eve has enjoyed it very much."

  "Oh, no. Mama got me a new one. It has pictures."

  "I'll bet they're pretty."

  "They are. 'Cept the Cheshire cat is kind of scary. I had a bad dream after I looked at the pictures of him."

  Meg started to reply, but Harley's voice interrupted. "Lilly. Come back and stay near your brother."

  "But, Papa, I found a new friend. This here's—"

  "Lilly, return to the other side of the room right now and stay with your brother."

  With a fallen expression, Lilly stood. "Bye, Eve. I gotta sit with my dumb brother."

  "Bye, Lilly," Eve said, and watched the other little girl scamper away.

  Harley took Meg's elbow and pulled her a few feet away. "You have a lot of audacity bringing that prostitute's child to this respectable occasion." One eyebrow lifted in reproach. "What have you fallen into, anyway? Everyone's talking about Hatcher and that kid."

  Righteous anger burned inside Meg. "Eve has just as much right to be here as anyone else."

  "What are you doing with her?"

  "Tye made a promise to Eve's mother. He was obligated to keep it."

  "What kind of man makes promises to a whore?" Harley hissed against her ear.

  "An honorable man, Harley."

  "Think about what you're doing and saying, Meg. Just think about it. No self-respecting man is obligated to a woman like that. Or to a child like that—unless the child is his."

  "No, Harley, no. You don't understand."

  "Oh, I understand just fine, Meg. You're the one who doesn't understand. Or care about your standing in this town."

  "You don't know anything about Tye."

  "I know everything I need to know. And what I know tells me you've made a big mistake." He released her elbow and moved off through the throng.

  Meg struggled with the anger and embarrassment warring inside her. It was bad enough Harley spoke about Tye without even knowing the man, but how dare he say things against Eve—an innocent child!

  "Meg, I'm thirsty," Eve called.

  Meg met Gus's stare. The old-timer shook his head in disgust.

  "I'll get you a drink," Meg replied. "I'll be right back."

  Edwina met her halfway to the drink tables. "Hello, Mother Telford," Meg said, putting on a stiff smile.

  "I'm no longer your mother since you chose to align yourself with that disreputable Hatcher miscreant."

  Meg fortified herself for another attack.

  To her surprise, tears welled in Edwina's eyes. "You could have lived with us, Meg. You could have saved your good name—and our Joe's."

  "Edwina, please, dear," Meg said with a catch in her throat at the older woman's obvious hurt and dismay. "We've gone over and over this. You know how I feel about keeping the ranch."

  "What does keeping the ranch have to do with that child? You continue to bring scandal to our good name."

  "I'm sorry you feel that way," she said, controlling her voice and choosing her words carefully. "I never intended to hurt you. All I ever wanted was to keep the Circle T, you know that. Tye has kept more than his share of our arrangement. He works harder than any two men. He's honest. He's dependable. And he takes his obligations and his promises seriously.

  "And even more important than all those things, Edwina, he cares about others. He's been hurt by small-minded people—" she glanced about to see who was watching "—like you—his whole life, but he hasn't let that turn him into a mean, insensitive person. Far from it. He intends to see that Eve has a good life. And I'm going to help him do it. We're adopting her."

  "You'll regret this," Edwina said. "My poor Joe would turn over in his grave if he could see how you're behaving. I'm sorry he ever married you in the first place."

  Meg bit her lip. Her anger was no armor for the woman's wounding words. Would Joe see Meg's side of this or would he agree with his family? There was no way she'd ever know that.

  She stared Joe's mother in the eye, swallowing the hurt that threatened to rise up and pour out in a rush of anguished tears.

  Finally, Edwina spun in a flurry of black taffeta and rustling crinolines and stomped away.

  Meg glanced at the surrounding eavesdroppers. Holding her chin high, she poured two cups of punch and carried them back, handing one to Eve.

  "I made a new friend, Meg. Did you see her? She's your niece you told me 'bout."

  "I saw her, honey."

  From the corner of her eye, Meg noticed a short figure in a calico dress move toward her. Fortifying herself for another attack, she turned and, to her great surprise, recognized Mitch Heden's wife, Annie. She wore an almost sympathetic expression and gave Meg a friendly smile.

  "Hi, Meg."

  "Annie."

  The other woman reached for her hand and Meg took hers, noting the less-than-smooth skin of a rancher's wife. She was sure her own palms felt the same, and it was an odd comfort.

  "Mitch told me you had a good winter, didn't lose many head."

  "Not at all."

  They spoke briefly about roundup and then Annie added, "Mitch is happy for Hatch that he has a chance to work a place of his own. He's worked for us over the years, and we've come to know him better than most. He needed a chance like this."

  Her obvious compassion moved Meg immeasurably. "I needed him, too."

  "Congratulations on your marriage. The boys were down sick or I would've come to the wedding."

  That news was a balm to Meg's bruised and aching feelings. She squeezed Annie's hand hard. "Thank you. You don't know how much it means to me for you to say that."

  "I think I do."

  Tye skirted the gathering and came across to them. "Miz Heden," he said.

  "Hatch. You're looking fit."

  "Meg's as fine a cook as you are."

  "Flatterer," she said with a smile, then released Meg's hand. "You two ride over some Sunday."

  "We'll do that," Tye replied.

  Annie turned and headed away. Her kindness touched Meg, but it couldn't make up for the hurt the Telfords had inflicted. Meg's evening had been ruined, and she wondered why she'd thought it would be any different.

  Tye looked Me
g over. "Is something wrong?"

  She shook her head but said, "Maybe we should go now."

  "If you're sure."

  "I'm sure."

  Tye turned to Gus. "How about you?"

  "I was ready an hour ago."

  "Where's Purdy?"

  "Card game over yonder."

  Meg led Eve out while Tye found Purdy. Behind her she heard a few of the men call good-nights to Tye.

  "You all right?" Tye asked, helping her onto the seat.

  "I'm fine."

  "Did something happen back there?"

  She shook her head. Inside her chest, a sick ache consumed her. One minute she wanted to cry and hug Tye, erase all the insults he'd suffered and show him love and acceptance. The next minute she had the sweeping urge to strike out at him, hit him and punish him for making her doubt herself, for making her doubt her love for Joe. She couldn't blame him for her humiliation and the Telfords' treatment; she'd marched into this marriage with her eyes wide-open and Tye's fair warnings ringing in her ears.

  Eve fell asleep against Gus's side in the wagon bed. Tye carried her in, then hurried back out to put up the horses and check the stock in the barn and the corral.

  Meg changed Eve into her nightdress and tucked her into her pallet with her doll. She paused to brush her dark hair away from her forehead, thinking how much the tresses resembled the color and texture of Tye's.

  Harley's accusing voice came to her again. No self-respecting man is obligated to a woman like that. Or to a child like that—unless the child is his.

  Unless the child was his…

  * * *

  Chapter Twelve

  « ^ »

  Doubt rose up like a great ugly beast in her breast. Had Tye fathered this child? As much as he hated his own illegitimacy, if that were true, wouldn't he have married the child's mother and given Eve a name? Yes, without a doubt, he would have.

  Meg had already done Tye enough injustice by believing the worst of him regarding his nights in town. She'd made a fool of herself over that, while he'd proven himself as honorable as always.

  She must give him the benefit of the doubt in this situation. If Eve were his child, he would have told Meg.

  She tucked the covers under Eve's chin and went into her room to change her own clothing. She took the ring from her dress pocket and dropped it from its flannel pouch into her palm. Lamplight glittered from the gold band.

  She stared at it until the gold blurred, remembering the heart-wrenching questions Tye had asked about her father. Remembering, too, her father.

  He would have liked Tye, would have respected him.

  She closed her fingers over the ring. Several minutes later, she returned it to its former place of honor in her bureau drawer. Thank you, Tye.

  Rapping lightly, Tye pushed open the partially closed door. Meg stood before her bureau, her fingertips resting on the front of the top drawer. Her hair flowed in waves over her shoulders and glistened like warm honey in the lamplight. She looked over at him, a meditative look on her lovely face.

  "You need more time?"

  She shook her head and moved to the bed. "No."

  Tye carried in a kettle of warm water and poured it into the basin. He removed his gun and holster, rolled the belt around it and placed it beneath the bed. Unbuttoning his shirt, he shrugged out of it and washed his face and hands and arms. He turned once and found her propped on her pillow, watching him. "I smelled smoky," he said.

  "I don't mind."

  "No?"

  She shook her head. "It'll still be in your hair when you come to bed. I'm used to it. How's your leg?"

  "The leg's good."

  "You haven't been limping much."

  "No. It's stronger."

  "Sure doesn't harm your dancing."

  Her compliment warmed him. "No?"

  "No." She snuggled down beneath the star-patterned quilt. "It had been a long time since I'd danced."

  "Since Joe was here," he said at the reminder.

  "Yes. Since then."

  "What did you do with his boots?"

  "His boots?" She frowned a moment. "Oh. I gave them to Hunt."

  "Why'd you do that?"

  "I don't know. They were good boots. Hunt's feet looked about the same size… Something wrong with what I did?"

  "Not at all. It surprised me, is all."

  "You don't think of me as generous?"

  "I see you as very generous. But I know you're sentimental."

  "Is that bad?"

  He sat on the edge of the bed. "No."

  She climbed from the bed and rounded the end in a moment's time, kneeling before him in a puddle of white cotton and taking his boot heel in hand.

  Her willingness to serve him seemed wrong. "Meg, you don't have to do that."

  "I want to."

  He studied her lovely tawny eyes and pulled his foot from his boot with her help. Meg set it aside and reached for the other. "I got them off by myself every night when you were sleeping," he said.

  She grasped the other boot. "Sometimes I was sleeping."

  The boot came off and she placed it with the other. Did that mean she'd been lying awake waiting for him? Quickly, Tye got up and reached for the cloth he'd washed with. "Here."

  She stood, a quizzical expression lining her forehead.

  Holding one wrist at a time, Tye cleansed her palms and the insides of her fingers with the cooled cloth. "I just came from the barn."

  She allowed his touch, watching him perform the task without looking up. He studied her delicate hands, remembering the feel of them on his skin. He had an overwhelming urge to pull them to his face, to kiss her palms, to draw her fingertips into his mouth and taste her. Dancing with her tonight had been one of the greatest pleasures of his life.

  Sweet, sweet Meg. So many times in the past he'd studied her without her knowing. So many times he'd admired her feminine grace and golden beauty. So many times he'd seen her with Joe and experienced a keen pull of envy. Joe had won her heart. Joe had initiated her to lovemaking. For the millionth time, Tye cursed fate for his own unworthy position. He'd spend a lifetime regretting not being a man who deserved a woman like Meg.

  She'd danced with him tonight. The event was almost as incredible as the fact that she'd married him, had given him her body. If only she could be as proud of him as he was of her.

  But she had danced with Tye Hatcher in front of the citizens of Aspen Grove. He wanted to take her in his arms and waltz her around the room for good measure.

  Tye didn't realize his washing had become a caress until she pulled the cloth from him and draped it over the side of the bowl.

  He unfastened his pants and slid them down while she hurried back to her side of the bed. She turned down the lamp's wick, plunging the room into darkness. Tye stretched out beneath the covers.

  In the blackness he relived those moments with her in his arms.

  "Tye?"

  "Yes."

  "I want to apologize."

  "For what?"

  She was quiet for only a second. "For my dishonesty."

  He sighed, thinking he didn't want to hear this. "I can't imagine you not being honest."

  "I thought the very worst of you all those nights you were gone."

  "I figured that."

  "But you let me think it."

  "I've never told anyone what to think of me. Wouldn't do much good."

  "But you could have explained."

  "I'm not much for explainin'."

  The silence stretched longer this time. "You're right," she said finally. "A person doesn't have to defend himself when he knows he's not in the wrong. Actions speak louder than words, don't they?"

  He turned his head at the vulnerability in her voice. "Someone say something hurtful to you tonight?"

  "It doesn't matter."

  "Matters to me, Meg," he said softly. "These people used to be your friends and your family. It's because of me you've lost that."

  "No. It's
because of them that I've lost that."

  "I'm sorry," he said lamely. "I'd make it up to you if I could."

  She turned toward him, and his heart skipped. "Thank you for my ring, Tye."

  In the dark, she brushed the back of the hand he'd draped across his chest, then placed her hand over his. Her touch moved upward, accidentally brushing his nipple, finding his face and outlining his lips with her fingertips. Tell her you love her.

  He rose on his elbow and leaned over her, relishing her hand against his face. She pressed her plush, warm body against his eagerly, the thin sheet separating them. He kissed her, and she curled her fingers into the hair at his neck, meeting his lips with hers, responding in the way that drove him mad and made him forget she didn't love him back.

  Tye broke the kiss, captured her hand and brought it back to his chest, where he held it firmly in his, his heart pounding beneath. "You don't owe me anything."

  "You insult me if you think I can be bought," she replied, her voice husky.

  It would be so easy to run his hands over her, to grow mindless in his passion and take her. He wanted her with all his heart. He loved her, his sweet and beautiful Meg. But his thoughts traveled to the trunk at the foot of the bed and her precious treasures that lay within. She may have given Joe's boots away, but she still had shirts and ties and letters … his hairbrush and shaving gear. She still clung to his things … still held fast to her love for him.

  He placed his thumb over her lips, sealing them.

  This was still Joe's bed. Still Joe's wife. The knowledge pierced his heart as sharply as the rejuvenating nerve endings pained his leg. Each time the knowledge hit with a force that made him want to cry out.

  There had been no one in Tye's heart before Meg. It belonged to her wholly and without reservation. The thought of her enduring love for Joe quelled his ardor as effectively as a dunk in an icy lake.

  He released her and lay back against his pillow.

  "Tye?" Her hand came searching.

  He grasped it and held it fast against his chest. "Go to sleep," he said softly. "It's late."

  Her silence could have meant anything. Disappointment. Embarrassment. Relief.

  Earning the money for the ring hadn't actually improved his position in her eyes. She was merely grateful. He didn't want her to sacrifice herself because she felt obligated to him. He still had to show her he was as good as any man. The only way he knew to do that was to show his merit.