by Diane Darcy
“No.” Sully stuck out his jaw. “Stories are precious and hard to come by.”
She couldn’t believe he wouldn’t loan her one measly book. “Is that so? Well, for your information, I could tell you stories you’ve never even heard before.”
“Doubt that. Heard it all by my age.” But he’d perked up and looked interested.
“If I tell you a good story, will you loan me a book?”
“It’d have to be a really good one.”
Melissa nodded. “Oh, it is. Better than any you’ve heard before. Do we have a deal?”
“Deal. But I’ll be the judge of what’s good and what’s not.”
Melissa nodded. She cleared her throat, smiled at Richard, and took a deep breath. “These are the voyages of the star ship enterprise...”
Richard laughed.
Sully looked interested.
As a former trekkie, she was well aware the guy didn’t stand a chance.
* * *
Melissa checked on the kids. Worn out from the day, they were sound asleep in the loft.
She stepped down the ladder and ran across the cold floor to jump on the bed. The candle on the bedside crate flickered madly and she giggled.
Getting comfortable, she straightened her tangled nightgown, leaned against the wooden headboard, and picked up the newly acquired copy of Pride and Prejudice from off the crate.
She cracked it open to the first page, a huge grin on her face.
Richard blew out the kerosene lantern on the kitchen table, came in, took off his shirt and folded it neatly on top of the trunk. He closed the curtain, stripped down to his newly-sewn draw-string boxers and climbed into bed beside her to lean against the headboard too.
Ignoring him, she turned the first page.
Richard cleared his throat. “Are you going to read all night?”
Melissa waved a hand, well aware that he wasn’t ready to go to sleep. “Shhh. I’m savoring my triumph.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, Sully did love the story.” He chuckled again. “The look on his face when the Captain Kirk’s crew landed on a planet inhabited by monsters was priceless.” Pausing, he leaned over to study her face.
She couldn’t help it; her grin widened.
“Are you gloating?”
She looked up from the book. “Of course not!” she said primly. “I’m simply pleased to know that all my early years watching television weren’t wasted.” She dropped her gaze to read again, grin back in place.
Richard fell back against the headboard. “Do you know what I think? I think you’re in love with James T. Kirk.”
The surly, vexed tone, made Melissa giggle. “That’s Captain to you. And he is pretty cute; very manly and handsome.”
Richard crossed his arms across his chest. “He always seemed short to me. And he squinted a lot. Without his crew he would have been just a pretty face.”
With a grin, Melissa looked pointedly at Richard. “I like pretty faces.”
He smiled at the compliment. “You know Sully’s going to want to hear more stories now.”
Melissa shrugged. “When I finish this book, I’ll tell him another. But I’m going to read slowly; make it last for a while.”
Richard stared up at the ceiling. “Sully’s a good guy, isn’t he?”
She nodded. “You come from good stock; a little filthy, but still, good stock.”
Richard chuckled. “I guess I do.”
After a few minutes, Melissa turned the next page. The candlelight flickered and she giggled.
“Good book?”
She nodded. “Um hmm. And the candlelight makes reading it so much more romantic.”
“You want romance?” Richard inserted smoothly. “I’ll give you some romance. Come here, sweetheart.”
She looked at Richard, at his bare chest and open arms, and breathed in deeply. She shivered a bit at the seductive way he was looking at her. Actually, he’d been looking at her that way most of the day.
Well, she was getting pretty tired.
And the book wouldn’t last forever.
And she did want to savor it.
Slowly.
She shut the book, set it on the crate and blew out the candle. Reading could wait until morning.
Chapter Twenty-Four
She was sitting in dirt. Again.
Melissa finished stripping the tomatoes off the plant and placed the produce in the overflowing bucket. She ripped the vegetation out of the soil and threw it toward the compost heap before moving on to the next plant.
A few rows away, Jessica and her friend giggled.
Apparently garden detail was reserved for children and anyone else who got in the way. The ladies had tried to make it sound like bottling was a difficult skill to learn. Like she was the lucky one who got to go outside with the kids. But Melissa knew they were just getting rid of her.
She snorted. As if bottling were rocket science or something. As if she really wanted to do it anyway. Not her. Not when she could be sitting in dirt.
Her back kinked and she stretched her arms up in the air, and at the same time noticed Hannah approaching.
Hannah quickly traded an empty bucket for Melissa’s full one without once looking up.
Melissa shrugged off a stab of hurt and tried a friendly grin. “Hi.”
Hannah mumbled a response, ducked her head even further, and headed back to Sarah’s kitchen.
With a sigh, Melissa reached for another tomato and set it in the now empty bucket. In the several weeks since the picnic fiasco, Hannah had pretty much gone back to her old ways of slinking around and keeping to herself. And since her friendship with Hannah had stalled out, Melissa found she missed the challenge. Hannah’s transformation had given her a goal; something to focus her energies on. And okay, she’d thought they were really becoming friends.
Melissa glanced around the depleted garden and sighed again. Chores, chores, and more chores. Laundry day, ironing day, cleaning, cooking, clearing out the garden.
Even Richard’s second payday hadn’t been as big a thrill as the first one. She’d managed to buy some material, but again, the rest of the money went mostly for supplies. She could sew, but what was the point? Once she started it would soon be over. If she didn’t begin, then she still had something to look forward to.
At least things were going well in their family. Richard and Jeremy were having the time of their lives playing cowboy. In fact, she suspected they could live here forever with no problems. Even Jessica wasn’t completely bored. She had a friend to play with, and she babysat the younger kids and really seemed to enjoy it.
But Melissa was slowly going out of her mind. Her stress levels were so nonexistent that most days it felt as if someone needed to check her pulse.
Granted, there was a little bit of conflict between her and the widow still, but nothing to get too excited about. The old bat just avoided her when she could and treated her like dirt when she couldn’t.
Of course, she still had Pride and Prejudice, but she was reading it very slowly. As much out of lack of time as the desire to savor it. Still, the ending was coming up much too quickly.
Melissa contemplated a ripe tomato. If she finished the book, she could go over to Sully’s and get a new one. Then at least she’d have someone new to talk to. Someone who didn’t want to discuss babies, husbands, children or chores. But Sully? Ouch.
She just needed to remember that she’d be going home soon. She should be planning the winter line for work. And starting to think about the spring line too.
She straightened up, sighed and reached for another tomato. On days like this, she really wanted to go home.
* * *
Hours later, fingers tracing the last words of the story, a big smile on her face, Melissa finished reading Pride and Prejudice. She sighed, and relaxed against the tree behind her. The story was wonderful, but unfortunately, she now had nothing good to read. She idly turned the last page, hoping for more.
A folde
d piece of paper, lightly stuck to the backing of the book, resided there. Melissa straightened, wondering how she could have failed to noticed the missive in the past few weeks.
Bit by bit, she carefully peeled the page off the back of the book, and cautiously opened it. The paper crinkled and she didn’t dare open it all the way for fear of cracking the paper.
It was a letter addressed to My Dear Louisa. Obviously a personal letter. A love letter? A twinge of guilt darted through her. She shouldn’t be reading it. She glanced down at the signature. Andrew Sullivan. Sully. A letter from Sully to his wife. She couldn’t help herself; she was curious. Besides, she’d replace it and Sully wouldn’t even have to know. Anyway, he’d obviously forgotten the letter was there or he’d have taken it out before loaning her the book. So no harm done. She started to read.
September 10, 1864-- Fort Goodwin- Arizona Territory
My Dear Louisa,
Your sweet + welcome letter of the 14th came Friday. It has been a long time since I have had the occasion of writing to you, and I gladly avail myself of the present opportunity to let you know that I am among the living.
The Indians have been giving us problems, and Stewart Allen of Kentucky died of a wound to his abdomen. One man was shot on picket a few nights since and will not be able for duty for some time. I was wounded in the arm and quite ill for three or four days but please do not worry for me. I have entirely recovered. We’ll have our revenge soon enough.
Colonel Carleton has been promoted to Brigadier General and most feel he deserves it. The boys all like him well + think him a considerate man.
I hope all is well. What kind of weather have you? We have the most disagreeable weather here I ever saw. The wind blows terrible at night + it’s so hot during the day.
Im tired of eating salt pork + hardtack and long for your home cooking.
You know me well enough to sense I have news to impart. I have met a woman here in need of help. Her name is Janie Taggart and she is a woman of loose morals + has a husband newly returned from the war who is abusive to her person. She has no family to help her + is fearful for her very life. I have purchased a stage ticket and am sending her to you. I hope you can overlook her unfortunate circumstances and be of some help to her. If not, see the woman settled elsewhere. I will write again in a few days if I can get a chance + write you a long one.
I never wanted to see you half as bad in all my life as I do now. Please write soon. We don’t get enough news here--do not know what is going on in the outside world.
Goodbye my own sweet wife,
As ever your devoted and loving husband,
Andrew Sullivan
Huh. Sweet. Apparently, Sully had hidden depths. And he wrote better English than he spoke.
Melissa scanned the letter again, her eyes drawn to the part about the woman. Sully was a nice guy and she could see him helping the girl even if she had loose morals, or in other words, was a prostitute. He’d helped Melissa’s family, hadn’t he? She shook her head in pity for the unknown woman. This was a hard time to live in.
Janie Taggert. Why did that name sound familiar? Melissa would swear she’d heard it before. But where? Back in the future, or more recently? In town?
Her eyes widened and blood surged to her head in rush. The photo in the widow’s front parlor. The photo of the widow when she was young. Janie was the widow, Jane MacPherson!
She shook her head, blew out a breath and chuckled at her own thoughts. No way would the widow ever have prostituted herself. It was absolutely impossible. She had way too much pride. Melissa couldn’t believe it. There must be another Jane Taggert from Arizona Territory.
But what were the chances? The widow did owe Sully a favor; a big one, or their family would have been straight out on their ears. Couldn’t this be the favor? Unbelievable or not, it had to be true. They took her in. They knew she was a prostitute. Perhaps everyone in the entire area knew.
No. Sully and his wife had never told anyone. In this time and place the widow would be an outcast if the truth were known; and there was no question she was well thought of and had a sterling reputation.
Melissa smiled, folded the letter and replaced it in the book. Wouldn’t the widow hate it if that were to change? What Melissa could do with this information!
Her heart beat hard in her chest, and she glanced up to see the foreman walk by. She could pay that witch back for her cruelty; expose her, or threaten to. The widow deserved anything she got and more. Melissa could demand more money for Richard. Granted, they wouldn’t be here much longer to enjoy it, but that wasn’t the point. What was important was that the tables were turned!
* * *
The next morning, Melissa felt slightly indecisive, which ticked her off. The widow deserved anything Melissa chose to dish out.
Didn’t she?
Melissa’s boots tapped out a sharp rhythm on the dirt path. Yes, she did. Melissa was getting a raise for Richard. She was going to show that woman, once and for all, that no one messed with Melissa Kendal. Not for long anyway.
Besides, it wasn’t as if Melissa would ever actually ruin the woman’s life. She’d just threaten to. But Richard was getting a raise out of this.
She slowly mounted the steps to the ranch house porch, took a deep breath, and knocked on the door.
The widow answered immediately, lifted her chin in that snooty way she had and snapped, “What do you want? How many times do I have to tell you to stop pestering Hannah? Leave her alone!”
A sting of hurt ripped thorough Melissa and she embraced it. See? She was perfectly justified in what she was doing. After being attacked like that, her decision was made. “What I want is a pay raise for Richard. Twice the money, effective immediately.”
The widow looked at her like she was crazy. Her face crinkled in distaste, emphasizing her wrinkles, and she shook her head. “No.”
Melissa gathered her courage. “Hmm. Well then, shall we talk about something interesting? How about your days as a, let’s see...” Melissa tapped a finger to her chin. “How was it phrased...a loose-moraled woman?”
The widow stilled. “What are you talking about?”
Melissa folded her arms, smiled, and played her trump card. “Mrs. Janie Taggert of Arizona Territory.”
The widow’s mouth parted. She lifted a hand to blindly grab at the doorframe and seemed to slump, looking suddenly older. “Sully?”
Melissa immediately grasped her meaning and shook her head. “No, of course not. Sully never breathed a word.”
At the widow’s stricken expression, Melissa suddenly felt ashamed and some of her momentum faded, but she plowed forward anyway. “Give Richard a raise, or I will expose you to the entire community.”
Melissa wasn’t sure the woman heard as she stared blindly, face slack, almost seeming to look inward.
Melissa was starting to feel very ashamed of herself, but she was now in this up to her eyeballs. Besides, the widow deserved it, didn’t she? She treated Melissa like dirt, didn’t she? Underpaid her employees? Right?
Regardless, Melissa felt horrible all of a sudden; sick to her stomach. There was a dirty name for what she was doing: blackmail. She winced inwardly. Back at her job, she wouldn’t have felt a twinge of remorse for using dirt on someone, but now, well, apparently the past had changed her.
She thought of her family and couldn’t believe was standing there, doing this. Richard would die if he knew. Her children would be mortified. She felt ill.
“I can’t believe Sully told you.” The widow mumbled the words, practically whispered them. “He’s the only one who could have.”
This was just getting worse and worse. Melissa didn’t want Sully blamed. She didn’t want Sully to find out what she’d done. Too late she faced the ugly fact that she’d used him. If he knew, that sweet old man would look at her with contempt.
“Sully didn’t say a word.”
At this point, Melissa couldn’t believe that she’d said anything herself.
What had she been thinking? She was blackmailing an old lady. What was the matter with her?
The widow shook her head. “There is no other way you could have known.”
Melissa sighed. “If you must know, I found a letter his wife saved.”
Sudden heat seared the widow’s cheeks, giving her some color. Her eyes went stormy and her lips tightened. “That woman!” She lifted her jaw and straightened her spine. “Mrs. Kendal, do your worst.”
“Fine.” Shame warred with intense relief and Melissa quickly turned, stumbled down the steps and walked away. She wanted to put as much distance between herself and the widow as possible. She was actually relieved the old lady had called her bluff. All she wanted to do was get out of there and forget about the whole thing. She wished she’d never done it in the first place. What had she been thinking?
“What are you going to do?” the widow called out.
Melissa stopped, turned.
The widow’s face was gray once more and she clung to the door frame.
The sick feeling in Melissa’s gut intensified and she felt as ill as the widow looked. If the woman dropped dead from heart failure, Melissa would never forgive herself. The least she could do was put the woman’s mind at ease.
Melissa walked back a few steps. “Nothing. You called my bluff. You win. End of story. I’m not going to do a thing.” Apparently a career as a blackmailer wasn’t going to pan out. Melissa started to turn away, just wanting to get out of there, but sighed, stopped and swung back. She had to make this right somehow. Perhaps she owed the widow an apology?
Shifting her weight from one foot to the other, Melissa studied the porch stairs. “Look.” She clenched her hands together wondering exactly how a person did apologize; she hadn’t had a lot of practice. “I just want you to know that I...well, that I regret bringing this to your attention. I should have minded my own business. I don’t know what got into me.” Melissa glanced up, hoping she’d said enough.