“It won’t--not ever. It will just get better. Every hour, every day I will love you more. I promise you,” he said.
The ride back home was a slow one. T.J. and Hannah curled up and slept in the back seat. A warm breeze blew off the canyon walls, and the moon found the Payette and melted onto its surface like butter. A million stars lit their way; it was a perfect night for romance and it didn’t go begging.
“I love you, Belle,” Hank whispered.
"And I love you.” Belle would never tire of hearing Hank profess his love for her.
Chapter Nineteen
Belle harvested the garden’s first bounty of the season as she watched a cloud of swallows swoop down to the field, hover and fly away.
She threw her head back and let the sun warm her eyelids as she relished the scent of locust blossoms. The last few days had been a sweet love poem.
She was twenty-six, the mother of half-grown children, and she was just discovering for the first time in her life what it meant to love and be loved. Passion surged through every cell of her body, and thrust her spirit to new heights. Her yearning for Hank knew no hounds, yet she was principled, having been raised with strong moral ethics she could not ignore. Her overwhelming desire to give herself to him completely must be constrained. True, she was not a virgin as the existence of her two children testified, but she was obedient to the longing in her heart for her lost perfection. Her love for Hank Gallagher was sacred and deserved to be sanctified by God.
Hank was her soul-mate, the father T.J. had never had and the one Hannah didn’t remember. In such a short time, he had become the most important man in all their lives.
There was no duplicity in him; he gave Belle his heart without reservation.
On Saturday, T.J. and Hannah had gone to a party at the O’Donnells’ and Hank and Belle were alone.
“Flag’s up,” he yelled from the porch, “can I come in?”
“Glad you remember the rules,” Belle snickered. Hank walked into the kitchen, where Belle was cleaning up, and pulled a silver dollar out of his pocket, flipped it and caught it on the back of his hand.
“Heads . . . we’ll go down to the river for a swim.”
"And tails?” Belle asked.
“We’ll go down to the river for a swim.”
“Give me ten minutes,” she said, throwing him a flirty grin and shoving a greasy cast-iron skillet into the oven.
In her bedroom, she put on her bathing suit and tied a huge bow, the latest fashion, on top of her head.
She hurried out to the porch where Hank was prancing around in a skin-tight, yellow and black striped bathing suit with legs to his mid-calf. All he’s missing is a handlebar mustache, she thought.
“My,” Belle blurted as she looked him over, trying to hide her amusement.
“My--good or my--bad?” he asked.
“My, aren’t you just the most handsome man on the ranch?”
“I’m the only one, Belle.”
“I know,” she teased.
“Well, you m’dear, look like Clara Bow.”
Belle put a hand on her hip, the other behind her head and posed. “Well, the bow part anyway,” he said grabbing the bow out of her curls and running for the river with Belle squealing at his heels.
Stretching out on a tiny sandbar after paddling around in the shoal, Belle looked up at Hank. “Your dream to see the other side of the mountain, what about that?”
“What mountain, what other side? Since you came into my life, I can’t even remember my name. Nothing is as important as being with you. I’d lay my life down for you. Promise me something?” he said as his fingers gently surveyed her breasts and she could feel herself succumbing to desire.
Belle pulled away. “Ye’ll not bed me until you wed me, Hank Gallagher. It’s best that ye be watching your hands.”
“I know. I know. But we’d better marry soon. I can’t stand much more of being near you.”
Belle ran her fingers over his face tracing the cleft in his chin.
“Promise you won’t ever quit looking at me like that?” Hank whispered.
“Like this,” Belle said as she crossed her eyes and wrinkled her nose.
Hank laughed. “Oh, for a camera. My mother needs a picture of my cross-eyed lady.”
“Hank. Are you sure you won’t get itchy feet and rue the day you married me?”
“Never, m’love.” He drew a big heart with a stick, covering every inch of their little sandbar and inside he wrote: “HANK LOVES BELLE.”
Belle kissed him and then kissed him again. “That’s sweet, Hank.”
“Thank God you don’t have a long name like Henrietta. There wouldn’t be enough sand and we’d have to break off our engagement.”
Belle woke in the middle of the night in a terrible panic. Was it a nightmare or was Hank gone? She had dreamed about Tommy, Ben and Harlow. They stood over her, pointing their fingers at her, accusing her of being a sorceress. As she woke, she was troubled with those old feelings. She was cursed; every man who had grown close to her had gone to an early grave. Her greatest fear was that Hank might be lost to her forever. Hot tears rolled down her cheeks as she ran out the kitchen door and up the hill to the bunkhouse. The night was moonless; she had to feel her way.
“Hank. Hank. Are you there? Oh, say something Hank. I am so frightened. “
Out of the darkness, two strong arms wrapped around her and a body she knew so well pressed against her and held her close. “What is it, Belle? What has happened?” Belle whimpered. It wasn’t like her.
“Here. I’ll light a candle; hop into my bed with me, you’re shivering.” Belle wrapped herself against him as he held her.
“I’m hexed, plain and simple. I can’t marry you.”
“What are you saying?”
She unraveled the sad story about the three men who had been the center of her life. She went on in detail and before she was through her eyes were dry but her heart was heavy. “Marrying me would be like signing your own death warrant.”
“Belle, my sweet, I’m not afraid of any hex.”
“Are you laughing at me?” Belle asked.
“No, never.” He puffed up his biceps. “But, you’ve got me now. I’ll fight your dragons.” He struck out at the air with clenched fists. Belle had to laugh. She wanted to believe him. And more than anything, she didn’t want to let anything stand in her way of a life with this man.
The time had come and she must tell him about Du Cartier. If they were to share their lives, there would be no secrets. She told him as he lay quietly, listening. When she finished, his strong arms encircled her and held her close; she felt the strength of his body.
“Belle, I’m glad you told me. Now I know you trust me. Let’s bury it. There’s better things for us to think about.” He pulled her closer. “Are you sure we have to wait?”
“Yes. I’m sure.” Belle said. Hank held her in his arms until the rooster crowed and a pale light outlined the top of the mountain and then he carried her back to her own bed and tucked her in. She would marry him and she’d better marry him soon. Nothing stood in their way. Belle fancifully danced around the kitchen as she put breakfast on the table.
“More coffee, m’love?” Belle held up the pot.
“Thanks but I’d better get on my way,” Hank said, putting his arm around Belle’s waist and pulling her close. “I’ll be back before you’ve had time to miss me."
“I miss you already,” she said throwing her head back, closing her eyes. His lips were on hers. She loved the way he smelled, the way he felt…him.
“Belle, I can’t take much more of this. You’ve got to quit kissing me like that and you’ve got to stay out of my bed.”
“Out of your bed? That was your idea.”
“Yah, but I didn’t think you’d do it.” His eyes sparked. “The beast is coming out,” he said, as he swung his arms close to the ground. His eyes grew wild, as he chased Belle around the table.
“Out, out!”
Belle laughed, opening the screen door, motioning with her arm.
“Yes, I’d better leave or I’ll be hauling you off to the hayloft.”
“You’d better leave or I’ll beat you there.”
Belle watched him as he went down the hill and disappeared behind the corral. She loved the square set of his broad shoulders, his jaunty stride, his firm slim hips. Standing over the stove, she whipped egg whites until they were stiff and then dropped the yolks into them and mixed them together until they were light yellow. We are like this mixture, she thought, now we are together, there is nothing that can separate us.
Belle and Hannah were sweeping out the henhouse when John Larkin came up from the river. He yelled at her.
“What is it, John?” Belle ran to meet him.
“It’s Hank. He’s in jail,” John said trying to catch his breath.
Belle’s heart sank, her cheeks flushed. “Why? What happened? He hasn’t been gone more than three or four hours.”
“He and Blackwell had one hell of a fight.” John grimaced. “It had something to do with you; that’s all I know. I got this second hand from a guy on the road crew who just came back from Horseshoe Bend. Thought you oughta know.”
Although the Tin Lizzy might have been faster, she wanted the speed of Blue beneath her. She bridled him--there was no time to saddle. She threw Hannah on behind her and headed for Horseshoe Bend.
“Hold on for dear life, Hannah. I’m in a hurry,” Belle said as she coaxed Blue into a full run. Belle let him have his head and he ran like thunder. Yet the road to Horseshoe Bend had never been so long. Hannah screamed with excitement as her body shifted off-center on every curve.
Sheriff Allen sat behind his desk when Belle stomped into his office.
“You can’t do this," Belle said, as she pounded her fist on his desk.
“Oh, but I can, and I have. Sit down, Belle, listen to me. Would you rather have that Gallagher guy dead, or just in jail? They were about to kill each other. Would have, if I hadn’t been on the job.”
“There’s not an ounce of violence in Hank Gallagher. I don’t understand. “
“Well, it looks like an old story to me, a love triangle. Two men and one woman. It has always meant trouble.”
“I’ve had nothing to do with Blackwell. I don’t even like him. People say he’s daft.” Belle looked the sheriff in the eye.
“I believe you but he likes you, ma’am and Gallagher isn’t taking it too well. That’s the size of it."
“He’s a good man; let him go.” Belle pleaded.
“Soon as he’s cooled down and had time to think,” he said as he took a toothpick from the corner of his mouth. “I don’t tolerate no fighting around here, no matter who you are.”
“Can I see him?” Belle persisted.
“He’ll be out soon enough. Now go on home,” he said waving her out the door.
“No, I’m sitting right here until he’s free,” she said squaring her shoulders.
“This is no place for a lady, Belle.”
“Then, release him.” She softened her tone as she caught his eye.
“Well, what’s the harm? Guess he’s got my message by now,” he said. “Hey, Jim,” he yelled to his deputy in the back room. “Go fetch Gallagher and bring him here.”
Hank walked into the room, his shirt-sleeve torn, his cheek split open, and his eye swollen shut. He smiled at Belle.
“Oh, Hank,” Belle said, jumping to her feet. “Look at you. That crazy louse might have killed you.”
“But he didn’t,” Hank said.
“Get him out of here,” the sheriff grumbled at Belle. “Gallagher, if anything happens to Blackwell, you can bet your booties I’ll come looking for you.”
Belle found Hannah sitting by Blue where she had left her. In her distraction, she had almost forgotten about her. Poor little thing had been crying. She was terribly upset about Hank being in jail.
As they rode home Belle asked Hank, “It was because of me, wasn’t it?"
“Oh, he’s got some damn fool idea that he has a chance with you. No way to figure what’s in that guy’s mind,” Hank said.
Belle washed Hank’s wounds, put a cool cloth on his head, and bandaged the open cut on his cheek. In only minutes, he was on his feet looking for a clean shirt. “I’ll be late coming back,” he told her. “There’s some catching up to do so they can blast again tomorrow. Don’t wait dinner for me."
She was in his arms and he kissed her. “But, your face,” Belle said.
“It’s just a scratch.” Hank was out the door and disappeared toward the river.
The moon was high in the sky. The air held the heat of the afternoon as Belle sat in the porch chair waiting for Hank. Hannah was asleep. It had been quite a day for all of them. Her eyelids grew heavy. Yawning, she dozed off.
She woke with a start. Opening her eyes, she saw Blackwell standing over her. Startled she jumped to her feet. Turning, she threw the chair in his direction as she staggered toward the door. Once through the door, she attempted to close it but Blackwell had thrust his foot inside.
“Get out of my house,” she screamed as she stamped on his foot with all her body weight.
He pushed the door open and Belle fell backwards.
“Why don’t you be nice to me,” he grunted. He grabbed her and held her in a vice-like grip. Belle kicked him in the groin as hard as she could. He moaned, stepped back and in rage he grabbed at her, tearing her blouse. He pushed her down on the fainting couch. Belle trembled. She screamed, kicking and clawing at him but he was so huge it was as if he didn’t feel a thing. Was she about to be raped for the second time? How many years it had taken her to heal after Du Cartier? Would she survive this? Would he kill her? That girl called Nellie was found dead. Oh, God in heaven . . .
Like an answer to the prayer that was still on her lips, Hank sprang through the door. He hit Blackwell again and again, somehow managing to duck Blackwell’s fists. Then Hank struck a mammoth blow that sent Blackwell toppling backwards. His head hit the corner of the table and his massive body fell limp to the floor.
“Is he dead?” Belle whispered. She got to her feet, pulling her torn blouse around her.
Hank knelt down. He put his ear on Blackwell’s chest. “It looks like it. I can’t get a heartbeat. He’s dead, all right.” Then in disbelief, “My God, he’s dead. I’ve killed him. What a fool I’ve been. I should have known he’d come after you. Why did I leave you alone? Are you all right, Belle?” Hank asked as he hugged her.
Belle nodded. “No, Hank, it’s my fault. I should have had my rifle. I fell asleep on the porch waiting for you. What are we to do, Hank? Oh, this is terrible. Should I call the sheriff?”
“How can we? You heard him say that if anything happened to Blackwell, he’d lock me up,” Hank said.
“But, you didn’t kill him, Hank. He fell against the table; it was an accident. You were protecting me.”
“But I threatened him. The sheriff heard me do it. His testimony will be as good as a noose around my neck. Are the kids asleep?” He was pacing again.
“Hannah is but T.J. is down at McGregor’s.”
“I remember, now."
“What are we to do?” Belle sobbed. “It’s the hex, Hank. Ye shouldn’t have anything to do with the likes of me.” Belle slumped on the fainting couch.
Hank’s face was ashen, his voice strained. “No, you can’t think that way. I had no intention of killing him but who would believe that.”
“We can’t risk your life over this lunatic, Hank. We have to dispose of his body.”
“But then what?”
“I don’t know. My mind’s a jumble,” Belle sobbed.
Hank and Belle dragged Blackwell’s body across the parlor floor through the pantry into the kitchen and out the kitchen door where Hank loaded it in a wheelbarrow. Belle took a lamp off the table to light the way. As they made their way down the hill toward the barn, Hank stopped. “I heard something. Someone’s th
ere by the shop. Can you see anything?”
Belle held the lamp away from her face and peered through the darkness. “No, I don’t see anyone.”
“Guess I’m just jittery, but I swear I saw something move.”
“Hank, if it hadn’t been for me, this wouldn’t have happened.”
“Quit talking that way, Belle. Things will work out.” As they reached the river and although they hadn’t spoken of it, Hank pushed the wheelbarrow to the water.
“Of course, everything will be all right.” Belle wanted to believe that but she feared their life together would disappear in the raging waters of the Payette River with Blackwell’s body.
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