Tangling his fingers into her hair, he brutally took possession of her mouth, his tongue delving deeply, as though to prove he had the ability to conquer.
Had it been any other man, she would have gouged out his eyes, brought the knee resting between his thighs up, and made him regret ever bringing her down to the mattress.
But she knew Harry too well. He never bluffed…but neither would he ever take a woman by force. She lay submissively below him, her hands balled on either side of her head, her mouth complacent, her tongue refusing to waltz with his.
She felt the tenseness of his body slowly unwind like a coiled rattler that had decided not to strike. He lifted his mouth from hers only briefly before placing the most tender of kisses on her cheek.
“You didn’t deserve that,” he said quietly.
She unfurled her fingers and placed her palm against his bearded jaw. He hadn’t shaved since Kansas. “I never took you to be a man who would wallow in self-pity.”
He lifted his head and met her gaze. “You wouldn’t have to bear witness to my foul moods if you’d gone with Kit like I told you to.”
That journey had not been an option. She’d been terrified of losing him, of hearing on the trail that he’d died. But he’d managed to survive—and she’d lost him anyway.
“I wish I knew how to help you.”
“You can help me by leaving.”
Tears burned her eyes, and she squeezed them shut to hold them back. In her heart, she knew he was lashing out at his condition, not at her personally. But knowledge seldom lessened the hurt.
She slid out from beneath him. “I’ll send Magpie to clear away the broken glass.”
“Why? It’s not as though I’ll cut my feet.”
She chortled. “You know, Harry, sometimes I want to shake you every way but loose.”
She marched toward the door.
“Send for Gray!”
“No!” She flung open the door, stepped into the hallway, and slammed the door shut. He was making her life a living hell…and she damned her heart for giving him the freedom to do it.
He’d always thought he possessed an intimate knowledge of hell. He’d been wrong. Hell was waking up and seeing pity reflected in the green eyes of spring.
The pity had been there in Kansas and had deepened with each passing day. He’d jerked Jessye onto the bed for one reason—to force the pity to retreat.
He’d rather see anger burning in her eyes. He’d wanted her to fight him—to lash out at him as though he was a whole man. Instead, she’d surrendered because the battle was so bloody uneven. He wasn’t the man he’d been before Kansas, the man who’d begun to wonder if perhaps he possessed her heart. No, now he was the man she no longer challenged with her anger, her fire, or her passion for life. She never yelled at him. Everything was an “Oh, Harry” in a pitifully small voice, as though he were a child who’d done wrong and must be forgiven because he could do no better.
Whenever she walked into this room, misery accompanied her. Along with frustration and despair.
Sitting up, Harrison made his way to the edge of the bed. Using his hands, he eased his legs over the side. Thank God, his feet reached the floor. How he longed for the days when he’d gotten out of bed without conscious thought.
Bending over, he wrapped his hands around his left calf and slowly pushed his foot over the floor, pulled it back, pushed, pulled. He’d made the mistake of attempting to stand shortly after they’d returned to Fortune. Weakened from the trauma they’d sustained, his legs had buckled beneath him.
Or so the town physician had told him. Not that he completely trusted the man’s knowledge. Time seemed a poor prescription.
Instinctively, Harry knew he needed to rebuild his muscles, an irritatingly slow process. But he would walk again. Even if he took only a few steps, he would, by God, walk.
The door swung open and he froze. He only worked his legs at night, after the saloon fell into silence, and no opportunity existed for anyone to witness his pitiful attempt to become a man once again.
Jonah Kane shuffled into the room, dragging a chair with him.
“What do you want, old man?” Harrison barked.
Jonah snapped up his head. “Jessye said you was looking for someone to play poker with.”
“That was two hours ago.”
“I was serving drinks till two minutes ago. Seen the light under your door, so I figured you was up.” He shoved the chair across the room until it slammed against the bed. “Take a seat while I get a table.”
“You expect me to move to the chair?”
“Iffen you want to play poker. I’d feel guilty takin’ money from a man who couldn’t even get out of bed.”
“You won’t take a penny from me, old man.”
Jonah smiled. “Probably take me a good fifteen minutes to figure out which table I can fit through that door.” He walked out, closing the door in his wake.
Harrison studied the chair. With a bit of patience and caution, he could grab the arms and lever himself into it. His only fear was that his legs would slide out from beneath him, and he’d land on the floor. Scrawny Jonah Kane would be unable to lift him off the floor. When he’d fallen before, to his humiliation, it had taken the efforts of Jessye and Magpie to get him into the bed.
Christ, the thought of a journey to a bloody chair had him shaking with trepidation. The distance between the chair and the bed was barely discernable. Taking a deep breath, he leaned forward to wrap his hands around the arms of the chair, swung over, and down. He hit the seat with a jarring thud that sent slivers of pain slicing through his hip.
But he was sitting, sitting in a chair in which he had placed himself. He reveled in the accomplishment. He glanced at the bed. Getting back into it wasn’t going to be an easy task, but he’d worry about that when the time came.
He heard a tap on the door.
“Ready for me?” Jonah asked.
So now the man knocked?
“Yes.”
Jonah opened the door and smiled. “Knew you could do it.”
Cocky bugger. Harrison flexed his fingers while Jonah shoved a table into place. Harrison planned to take the old man for every penny he had. Jonah set two glasses, a bottle of whiskey, and a deck of cards between them. Then he grabbed a chair that Jessye kept near the window and pulled it to the table.
“I shall deal,” Harrison informed him.
“Be my guest.”
Harrison shuffled, finding comfort in the whisper of the cards. He slapped the deck on the table. “Cut.”
Jonah tapped the top card. Harrison picked up the cards and began to deal.
“You’re breakin’ my daughter’s heart.”
Harrison stilled, his hand tightening on the deck until he could feel each remaining card cutting into his palm. “That is not my intent.”
“Still, you’re doin’ it just the same. The only reason I ain’t castrated you yet is ’cuz I figure you’re in enough pain.”
Harrison narrowed his eyes. “Did you come to lecture or play cards?”
“Play cards.”
“Good, because I have no interest in lectures.” He dealt the last card and studied each one he held. Two pair.
“It’s eatin’ her up thinkin’ she’s responsible for your legs bein’ like they are.”
Harrison set down his cards. “I have told her she is not to blame.”
“Maybe you ain’t told her in a voice that says you believe the words you’re spittin’ out.”
“I do not hold her responsible for what happened. I cannot control what she thinks. I cannot control what she does! I told her to go with Kit. Her dream was to take the blasted cattle to market and hold that money in her hand. She was supposed to follow it.”
“Maybe her dream changed betwixt the time you left here and the time you got to Kansas. You asked her of late what her dream is?”
He hadn’t asked anything of her since Kansas. They no longer shared conversations or secrets.
He couldn’t stand the way she looked at him, as though he’d never walk again.
“Are you playing or talking?” Harrison asked.
“Playin’.” Jonah tossed a quarter into the pot.
Harrison tossed one in as well. “How many cards do you want?”
“None.”
Harrison snapped his gaze to Jonah. “None?”
“I see your hearin’ ain’t impaired none.”
“You’re holding nothing, and you’re not going to try to get something better?”
“How do you know I got nuthin’?”
“I dealt the cards.”
Jonah rubbed one of his gnarled fingers across his chin. “And you know what you give me, do you?”
“I know that your cards cannot beat mine.”
“What’s the point in playin’ if you always win?”
“What is the point in playing if you always lose?”
Jonah shoved his chair back and stood. “Time for me to get these weary bones to bed.”
“But we haven’t finished the game.”
“I have. You done told me that you beat me.”
“But I haven’t shown you my cards.”
“I’m takin’ your word for it.”
Leaning back in the chair, Harrison sighed. “You didn’t come in here to play poker.”
“Nope, came in here to get you out of the goddamn bed.” He cackled. “Bet Jessye five dollars I could do it.”
“You sorry son of a—”
Jonah held up a finger. “Watch what you say, boy. This bein’ my saloon, I’d hate to have to kick you out on your ass.”
“Jessye wouldn’t allow it.”
“Probably not, so I’m gonna leave you with a bit of advice since you know cards so well. Life is just like ’em. Winning ain’t in holding a good hand, but in playin’ a poor one well.”
“Hear tell you moved from the bed to a chair last night.”
Harrison glared as Dr. Hickerson poked and prodded his useless legs. The man’s gray hair stuck out at odd angles, reminding him of the quills on an enraged porcupine.
Stilling his hands, the physician looked at Harrison with a challenge clearly reflected in his brown eyes. “That true?”
Harrison gritted his teeth. “Are my minute accomplishments to now serve as fodder for the town gossips?”
“I doubt Jessye mentioned it to anyone else. And I wouldn’t call it a minute accomplishment.”
“I didn’t use my legs. I simply swung into the chair like an ape traveling from branch to branch.”
“Shouldn’t be so hard on yourself.” He squinted. “Are you moving your legs around like I told you?”
“Yes, but I can’t see that it’s making a damn bit of difference.”
He smiled triumphantly. “I can. You’ll be using those crutches before long.”
Harrison didn’t bother to look at the wooden monstrosities leaning against the wall beside the bed. He despised the things and the thought of using them. “How much longer before I can walk like a man?”
Dr. Hickerson unfolded his body, his bones creaking. “That’s up to you.”
“Damn it, man, that’s all you ever say. Can’t you give me something a bit more substantial?”
“You want me to tell you that you’re going to start walking tomorrow or next week or next month, and I can’t do that because I don’t know. If you had come to me with that many broken bones, I would have amputated your legs, so I don’t know everything I should to help you walk again. I know it’s frustrating, but it’s going to take time.” He opened his black bag and brought out a jar. “I made some salve that you can work into your legs when your muscles start cramping.”
Harrison took the jar and set it on the bed. He would have preferred to sling it across the room, but his legs ached more often than not, and they always felt so damned tired. He even felt exhausted, which made no sense, when he did nothing all day. He’d been less weary herding cattle.
Dr. Hickerson picked up one piece of the broken figurine. “What happened here?”
“It offended me.”
Glancing at the mirror, the doctor shook his head. He touched a finger to his brow. “The healing has got to start here before it can start there.” He pointed to Harrison’s legs.
“There is nothing wrong with my head.”
“Except visiting you is about as refreshing as being burned at the stake.” He grabbed the crutches and laid them against the bed. “Try using them.”
Despair swept through Harrison. “I have tried.”
“I don’t know how to help him.” Jessye lay on her back, the warm, gently flowing water of the river soothing her as she stared through the canopy of leaves above.
“These Englishmen are a proud lot.”
Jessye watched Abigail Rhodes dip her three-month-old son Colton in the water. “I guess you’d be an expert on that, being married to one and all.”
Abbie smiled. “I don’t think any woman ever becomes an expert on men. Just when you think you’ve got them figured out, they do something you’d never expect.” Her smile withered away. “But I do know whenever Grayson visits Harry, he comes home, grabs a hoe, and beats at the ground like there’s no tomorrow.”
Jessye straightened. The water wasn’t deep in the center of the river, and when her toes settled against the silt at the bottom, the water lapped at her waist.
Colton released an excited screech, and Jessye watched his feet kick the water, sending droplets flying. Abbie laughed joyfully.
“Abbie, can you come here a moment?” Grayson yelled.
Jessye dunked into the water until it covered her shoulders. She saw Grayson peering through the brush at the edge of the river, around the bend where he’d taken the other three children to swim as though sensing that Jessye needed to talk with Abbie woman to woman. Yet even knowing that his gaze wasn’t fastened on her, she blushed furiously.
“Will you hold Colton?” Abbie asked.
“Sure.” Jessye took the child, keeping her eye on him as Abbie waded through the water. “Wonder what your pa wants?”
Colton slapped his fists against the water. His feet made contact with her chest. He gave an unexpected shove that nearly forced her to lose her grip on him. “You’re a strong fella, aren’t you?”
She crooked her leg and raised it until his tiny feet could find purchase. Careful to keep his head above the water, she watched him bob as he bent his knees.
“Having fun?” Abbie asked as she returned.
“Yep. What did Grayson want?”
Abbie smiled. “A kiss.”
Jessye felt the heat warm her face more than the summer sun. “I’m sorry. I’m imposing—”
“Don’t be silly. We come to the river to swim almost every afternoon. Grayson insists we play an hour each day. Funny. Before we were married, it seemed like I didn’t have enough hours in the day to get the work done, and now…well, I reckon some of my priorities changed.”
“You look younger,” Jessye told her, then grimaced because the compliment sounded more like an insult.
Abbie’s smile grew. “I think it’s the laughter, or maybe it’s just the smiles.” She shrugged. “I only know he makes me happy.”
Jessye felt the tiny feet walking along her leg as Colton reached for his mother. “He’s walking here!”
“It’s the water. Holds him up so he thinks he’s a big boy.” Abbie tickled him before playfully snatching him away from Jessye.
Jessye furrowed her brow. “So he’s not walking?”
“No, it’ll be months before he’s walking on the ground.” She blew air against his belly. He kicked frantically at the water. “But he can kick.”
“You say you come every day?”
“Mmm-hm. I think that’s why he has such strong legs. I don’t remember my other children having a kick this strong.”
Jessye flopped back, arms outstretched, and the water lifted her to the surface. She’d never noticed how easy it was to move in the
river. She jerked upright. “Abbie, I got a big favor to ask of your husband.”
And she prayed Harry would forgive her.
Chapter 16
“Are you out of your mind?” Harrison asked, staring at Grayson Rhodes. “Accompany you and your family on a picnic?”
“My son is three months old, and you’ve yet to see him.”
Harrison waved his arm magnanimously through the air. “So bring him to my prison. I’m allowed visitors.”
“Self-pity doesn’t become you, Harry.”
He watched with increasing dread as Grayson jerked aside the curtains and the morning sunlight spilled into the room. “It’s a beautiful day, the sun is shining—”
“It’s August. It’s hot.”
Grayson turned. “All the more reason to go outside where you can at least sit in the shade or feel a bit of breeze. It’s unbearably stuffy in here.”
“In case you’ve failed to notice, I’ve lost the use of my legs.”
“I’ll carry you.”
Harrison slammed his eyes closed. “As though I were a child—”
“As though you were the closest thing to a brother that I’ve ever known.”
Harrison’s throat tightened as he opened his eyes. “I can’t, Gray.”
Grayson crossed the room in long, easy strides that Harrison hated himself for envying.
“I placed the wagon behind the saloon. We’ll go out the back door. No one will see. When we ride out of town, people will have no idea how you came to sit on the bench seat. Besides, it’ll be well worth your efforts. Abbie has prepared the tastiest picnic.”
“This isn’t one of those large community affairs she’s fond of, is it?”
“No. Just my family on our land, a pretty little spot by the river.”
Harrison scratched his beard. He’d allowed it to grow back. In defiance, he supposed. Whatever closeness had developed with Jessye he’d severed with his surly attitude. “Do your children know about my…condition?”
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