Was it his choice to make? Deep down, he didn’t think so.
“Ethan! Oh, God. Ethan!”
At the cry of his name from Jayne’s lips, he struggled to pull in a hint of air. His lungs throbbed with the effort, but he managed to draw in a small breath. No matter how much it hurt, he couldn’t lie here and die. Jayne needed him.
At last able to pant, Ethan pushed to his feet. The rafters creaked and embers swirled like autumn leaves in a storm. The gelding was cowering against the wall. With hot air searing his throat, Ethan grabbed the animal’s halter, covered its head with the shirt and gave a firm tug.
“Come on, Buck,” he gasped. “You’ve got five seconds. Then I’m leaving without you.”
The animal took a single step.
“Let’s go, buddy.”
The horse snorted once, took two more steps and then a third. The door was in sight.
Ethan looked up and saw Jayne staring at the roof in horror with her hands pressed against her cheeks. Buck whinnied in terror, drawing her gaze to the blazing interior of the barn. She ran in his direction, but a wall of heat pushed her back. Focusing on her eyes, Ethan staggered into a starry oasis of open sky. Behind him, the roof collapsed in a roar of flame and groaning timbers. Letting go of the horse, he fell to his knees and inhaled the fresh air.
Jayne crouched down beside him. She had filled a bucket with cold water and was dipping her hands to make a cup for him. Water ran down her elbows as she raised her hands to his mouth. “Drink a little,” she said.
A little? He wanted to dump the whole damn bucket over his head, but instead he cupped her hands with his, as dirty as they were, and sucked down a mouthful of water. He’d never tasted anything so sweet.
“Heaven on earth,” he gasped, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.
Tears welled in her eyes, then she stood tall and put her hands on her hips. Dressed in that fluttering white nightgown and unbuttoned boots, with her feet planted in the dirt and her hair in a tangle, she looked mad enough to scratch and bite.
“You scared the daylights out of me!” she cried.
He managed a wry smile. “It was close, all right. Buck had one more second to make up his mind.”
Shivering in spite of the heat rising from the charred wood, she glared at the ruins. “This is all my fault. I brought LeFarge here. If not for me, you’d still have your barn.”
If not for her, he would have chosen to die.
“The barn means nothing,” he said. It was a bad memory, the place he had left her to grieve alone, where he had endured endless hours of his own despair. Rising from his knees, he raked his hand through his hair. “I’m glad it’s gone. Sometimes it’s better to start fresh.”
When she looked at him with a stark curiosity, he realized they had to talk about the other sparks flying between them—the ones that came from a man and woman rubbing up against each other like two sticks—but this wasn’t the time. The timbers were still burning and his lungs were aching with smoke.
Jayne raised her face to his with a question in her eyes. “Did LeFarge make it out?”
“I saw him gallop off right after the fire started.”
“Do you think he set it on purpose?”
Ethan shook his head. “That wouldn’t have been to his advantage, but I think he was sly enough to saddle his horse before he went spying on us.”
She clamped her lips into a tight line and then blew out a worried breath. “I have to go to the authorities, but someone other than Handley.”
Ethan had hoped to never see Raton again, but Jayne was right. LeFarge had to be stopped, and Handley was a fool. Even with the Reverend’s help, Midas wasn’t safe for her. There weren’t any guarantees that the outlaw would leave for California. Even now, he could be watching from the ridge. Ethan coughed hard, got rid of a mouthful of black spit and wiped his forehead with his sleeve. “We’ll leave for Raton tomorrow. Are you up for a ride?”
“I have to be. How far is it?”
“Three days, maybe four.”
She pressed her lips into a grim line. “I’d walk if I had to.”
He believed her, but walking wouldn’t be necessary. The gelding was grazing in the meadow and the roan would most likely be back for breakfast. Jayne had managed to save both saddles and a hodgepodge of halters and bridles. Still, it was going to be a long ride through country that was open and dangerous. If LeFarge decided to follow them, he’d have an easy time picking up their trail.
On the other hand, they were sitting ducks on the ranch. Ethan looked at the smoldering barn. One by one, the orange embers were dying, like the poppies that bloomed at dawn and wilted by dusk. Smoke rose in ghostly pillars. His lungs hurt and the burns on his back were coming to life with a vengeance.
“The fire’s just about out,” he said. “Let’s go inside.”
He put his arm around her shoulders and cringed when she touched one of the burns. Stepping to the side, she looked at his singed long johns. “My God, what happened?”
“I took a tumble. It’s nothing.”
Her eyes filled with worry. “I have a jar of aloe in my trunk.”
Walking side by side, they crossed the yard and entered the cabin where she told him to slide his arms out of his sleeves. He turned a chair backward against the table, straddled it and rested his head on his forearms. In the darkness, he heard the swish of her nightgown, the creak of the trunk and then fabric being torn.
Looking up, he saw her shredding one of her petticoats. “Don’t waste your pretty things on me. Use some of that cotton I bought.”
She shook her head. “This is softer.”
When she finished tearing the cotton into strips, she filled a basin with warm water and set it on the table. Ethan put his head down, hiding his face as she positioned herself behind him. “These are deep,” she said. “I’m sorry, but it’s going to hurt.”
“I expect it will.”
She cleaned the wounds and then applied the aloe, smoothing it in small circles. He’d forgotten how good it felt to be touched by gentle hands. It calmed him, until her loose hair grazed his shoulder and he remembered being in bed with her. His shoulders tensed and he let out a miserable groan.
“Did I hurt you?” she asked.
No, but he’d almost hurt her. He had wanted her badly enough to take the gift she’d offered without thinking about the consequences. He had to apologize, but he didn’t have the strength. “I’m all right.”
She dabbed the aloe even more gently until every blister had been soothed. “There, I’m finished,” she said. “You should lie down.”
Ethan pushed out of the chair and faced her. She was drying her hands on a towel, looking at them as if they belonged to someone else. “We’re both worn out,” he said. “You take the bed.”
Her cheeks flushed pink “No, you’re hurt. I can’t sleep anyway.”
Ethan knew what pregnancy did to a woman’s body. She needed her rest. “Even so, you should lie down. Especially if we’re going to ride to Raton tomorrow.”
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “Of all the places to have to go…”
Raton was the last place on earth he wanted to be, but Las Vegas was seven days to the south over harsher terrain. A lump rose in his throat. “I don’t like it, either,” he said. “But it has to be done.”
When she didn’t reply, he nodded toward the bed and its tangled sheets. “Get some rest,” he said. “I’m going to make sure the fire’s out.”
He snatched his favorite blue shirt off the hook by the bed, shrugged into it and glanced at the mattress. He was sorely tempted to collapse on top of it, and even more tempted to ask Jayne to lie with him, just to sleep close. He wouldn’t, though. A man could only put out so many fires at a time, and right now he had to tend to the one outside. Grateful for the distraction, he walked out the door and closed it tight.
Ethan had intended to leave the next day, but the roan had shown up at the cabin with a stone in his shoe and a brui
sed hoof. Taking off on a cross-country ride with a gimpy horse was just plain stupid, so he’d made his peace with the circumstances by sticking close to the cabin and carrying his Winchester everywhere he went.
It was at his side now, propped against a bucket while he surveyed the wreckage of the burned-out barn. He’d used the gelding to haul away the heaviest timbers and then hacked at the mess with an ax until he could manage the rubble with the garden shovel and a rake.
He had piled up a small mountain of charred wood and twisted metal on the edge of the meadow. Thanks to yesterday’s rain, it reeked of mold and rot. As Ethan scraped at the debris, particles rose in a cloud and clung to his skin. He decided to wash off in the creek before supper, his third bath of the week.
“A penny for your thoughts?”
He looked over his shoulder and saw Jayne walking toward him with a wadded-up napkin in her hand. Her eyes were still blurry from her afternoon nap and she was sucking on a lemon drop.
“How’re you feeling?” he asked.
“Better than this morning. I’m sure tired of tossing up my breakfast.”
“I bet you are, but it’ll get easier,” he said. “In another few weeks you’ll feel better than ever. At least, that’s how it was with Laura.”
“I hope so.” Jayne shook her head. “I can’t imagine doing this more than once.”
Ethan managed a smile. “Just wait until the end. Laura used to say she felt as big as a house. I told her it wasn’t true, that she looked more like Daisy, our milk cow.”
“That’s shameful!” she cried. “You should have told her that she was the most beautiful woman on earth.”
“Actually, I did better than that. I painted the kitchen and—” He choked on dust as he remembered making love to his very pregnant wife and feeling the baby kick at them both. “You’ll be fine, Jayne. Trust me.”
“I do,” she replied. “But I’m still annoyed with you.”
Ethan knew why. She had wanted him to sleep in the bed so that he could lie on his belly while the burns aired, but he had flat-out refused. To settle the argument, he had dug out the two-headed coin he’d given to William on April Fools’ Day. When he had bested Jayne by calling heads, he felt as if he’d shared a joke with his son.
Lowering his head, Ethan went back to raking the debris. “The floor’s fine for me.”
“It’s not, but I’m tired of arguing.” She held out the napkin. “I baked cookies. Do you want some?”
Laura used to bake cookies on Saturdays, and she’d scold them all for sneaking them off the tins. Ethan had been the worst offender. As the aroma of sugar and vanilla spread from Jayne’s outstretched hand to his nose, the memories of Laura faded and his mouth started to water. He felt a twinge of guilt, but he couldn’t help himself. He wanted a damn cookie. So what?
Grunting his thanks, he lifted one to his mouth and polished it off in three bites.
“Take some more,” she said. “There’s a whole batch in the house.”
As he helped himself to seconds, she looked out to the meadow where the roan was grazing. “How’s Rocky?”
She had named the horse when it showed up lame after the fire. “He’s ready for the trip.”
“Then so am I.”
The taste of sugar turned to acid on Ethan’s tongue. He couldn’t bear the thought of coming within a mile of Laura’s grave and the one next to it holding his sons. Seeing Katie’s name on the marker would just about kill him. Raton couldn’t be avoided, but hell would freeze before he’d set foot in that churchyard. Nonetheless, the trip had to be made. “We’ll leave tomorrow.”
He glanced at Jayne who was shaking crumbs from the napkin. The sun reflected off the crown of her head, turning the loose strands into gold filament. She had washed her hair at least five times since the fire. The honeysuckle soap had rinsed out the smoke and the dullness left by the coffee she’d used to change the color.
She was a lovely woman—tender and generous, kind and strong at the same time. His eyes drifted from her face to her throat and then lower still to her breasts. With a power of its own, the memory of lying in bed and touching her there came alive. He could almost feel her nipple against his palm and the soft mound filling his hand. He’d come within an inch of pushing aside the cotton gown and suckling her breast like a needy babe.
If a man loved a woman and wanted to make her his, nature was a powerful ally. If he didn’t, it was a fearsome enemy. With Old Faithful threatening to make a fool of him, Ethan knew he had a problem as old as time. He wanted sex. He just didn’t want to have it with Jayne, or anyone other than Laura.
He had tried it once. A few months after the Raton fire, he’d gone to Santa Fe, gotten stinking drunk and found a whore with big brown eyes. He had been both grateful and embarrassed when Old Faithful had hung there like an old rope.
That wasn’t a problem today. Old Faithful was pointing due north, straight to Raton. Ethan took it as a sign that it was time to prepare for Jayne’s inevitable departure.
“It’s been a week since the fire,” he said. “Maybe you should pack your things. LeFarge could already be in jail. If that’s the case, we can get an annulment and you can be in Kentucky in a couple of weeks.”
The smile faded from her eyes as she folded the napkin and put it in her pocket. “I’ll need to find work. I don’t have enough money for train fare.”
“I’ll pay it,” Ethan said. “It’s a gift.”
She shook her head. “It has to be a loan. I want to pay my own way. What about my trunk?”
“We’ll carry everything we can manage and I’ll ship the rest of your things when you’re settled.”
Ethan watched as she hooked that wayward strand of hair behind her ear and gazed past the cabin and out to the meadow stretching east. A breeze stirred and the grass shimmered in the afternoon sun. The scent of lemon drops reached his nose. Someday she’d make another man a fine wife.
After taking a deep breath, she put her hands in her deep pockets and faced him. “I appreciate all you’ve done for me,” she said. “I know this has been hard for you.”
Ethan grunted. “So is breathing.”
Lowering his chin, he went back to sweeping up the soot.
Chapter Ten
J ayne dried the frying pan and hung it over the stove in the exact place she’d first seen it. Wiping her hands on the linen towel she was leaving, she looked around the cabin to make sure she wasn’t forgetting anything.
Hank’s letter, her mother’s scissors and the silver dollars were tucked in the saddlebags she had saved from the fire. She had rolled her clothing last night, and Ethan had lashed the bundles to their saddles, along with supplies and his Winchester. At the thud of his boots on the front porch, Jayne looked through the open door.
Ethan stopped at the threshold and placed one hand on the frame. “Are you ready?”
“I think so.”
She forced a smile, but a small lump rose in her throat. Under different circumstances, she could have been happy in New Mexico. The open spaces stirred her blood in a way that Kentucky never had. Blue-grass and white fences had a gentle charm, but the West had passion and grit. So did Ethan. He was a good man—far better than Hank—but his heart would always belong to Laura. That was a fact.
With a prayer for him on her lips, she closed the door and put on the old Stetson he’d given to her, telling her to keep it as a memento. Her farewell gift to him was just as practical. She had darned his socks, mended every tear in his shirts and replaced all the missing buttons.
He was standing in the yard, holding Buck steady for her. His wedding band caught a ray of sunshine and glimmered even brighter than the day. He had been particularly grim this morning, fussing about the weather and checking their gear at least three times. The trip to Raton would be miserable if he couldn’t manage an occasional smile.
Jayne raised her face to the sky and took a deep breath. “It’s a beautiful day,” she said.
He gave h
er a dour look. “It’s going to rain later. I want to get to shelter before dusk. Do you need a leg up?”
“I’m from Kentucky. What do you think?” Before he could answer, she swung into the saddle and took the reins. “You better hurry if you want to keep up with me.”
“And you better take it easy. It’s a long ride.”
“Good,” she replied. “I feel wonderful this morning.”
Still scowling, he put his foot in the stirrup and mounted Rocky. His denim-clad thigh flexed as he assumed a relaxed posture that put the horse at ease without relinquishing a bit of authority. She couldn’t help but notice the way Ethan took to the saddle. He rode a horse the way he kissed—with a gentle command.
Heat flared up her throat. She had to banish such thoughts. It wouldn’t do any good to remember the way his mouth fit with hers, or the muscular flex of his shoulders as he held her. She had places to go and things to do, a job to find and a baby to raise.
With that plan in mind, she rode out of the yard, trying her best not to look back. She couldn’t help it, though. When they reached the edge of the forest, she glanced down at the empty homestead where she imagined children playing in the yard, clucking chickens and a whitewashed barn.
Maybe someday Ethan would be able to love again. She hoped so, but only a foolish woman would settle for a man who didn’t love her with his whole heart.
Louisa McKinney had made that mistake and paid dearly. Jayne had been fourteen years old when Arthur Huntington charmed her mother into marrying him. It had been a perfect match, or so it seemed until her mother caught him in bed with a woman who resembled his first wife.
On an ordinary Saturday morning, Jayne had gone downstairs for breakfast and found her mother dressed in her best suit. “Pack your things,” she had said coldly. “We’re moving back to the shop.”
The whispers in town soon made Jayne wish that Mr. Huntington had never set foot in their lives.
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