West of Heaven

by Victoria Bylin

  As good as he felt, he also suffered moments of stark terror. Whenever she left the cabin, he broke into a sweat. The hour she had spent bathing at the creek had made him edgy enough to check on her three times. The view had made him crazy with love, but the thought of losing her turned him livid with fear.

  Maybe that’s why his first reaction to the Reverend sitting at the table eating cookies wasn’t kind. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  The preacher lowered his coffee cup and chuckled. “Well, hello to you, too, Ethan. I came to pay a call, and your wife kindly offered me refreshments. Want a cookie?”

  “I’m not hungry.” Ethan dropped into his chair and glowered at their guest as Jayne filled their coffee cups.

  “The Reverend invited us to church on Sunday,” she said. “The women are planning an ice-cream social. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

  “Hell no! It’s not safe,” declared Ethan.

  John leaned back in his chair and arched his eyebrows. “Are you sure about that?”

  “I’m dead sure. People will gossip. If LeFarge comes back, he’ll head straight this way.”

  Jayne sat between the two men and turned to Ethan. “It’s been three weeks since we left Raton. Maybe LeFarge is in jail and we don’t have to be afraid.”

  Ethan grimaced. “Or maybe he’s sitting in the Midas saloon and asking nosy questions.”

  The Reverend pushed back from the table. “I should be going. Ethan, why don’t you walk out with me?”

  He wanted to ask John to wire Chief Roberts, so he stood as the preacher put on his hat and nodded his thanks to Jayne. “I hope to see you on Sunday.”

  “I hope so, too,” she replied. Her words were for John, but her eyes stayed firm on Ethan’s face. He turned away and followed the Reverend out the door.

  As they walked to John’s mare, he glanced at Ethan. “Do you mind if I switch from visiting to meddling for a minute?”

  “You’ll do it anyway, so go ahead.”

  “Stay on your toes, but don’t be too cautious. It’s not courage that gets people killed, it’s fear.”

  Ethan’s gaze drifted to the pile of black rubble from the fire. No one had to tell him about fear. He lived with it every day in a way few men could understand. “I appreciate the advice, but I intend to take precautions. LeFarge is a real threat.”

  “Maybe so,” John replied. “But it’s time to clean up the mess he left, including that pile of rotten wood. Your wife doesn’t enjoy looking at it.”

  “How do you know?”

  “She told me. You need to get busy on a new barn, too.” A trace of a smile curled the Reverend’s lips as he climbed into the saddle. “Think about Sunday. You can sit in the back row and I’ll watch the door from the pulpit.”

  “It’s just not safe.”

  “Sure it is.” John pulled back his coat to reveal a Colt Peacemaker with a custom hammer. With a cocksure dip of his chin, he said, “I like a good fight now and then.”

  Ethan didn’t doubt John’s sincerity. He’d been known to use his gun and his fists. Rumor had it that he’d knocked Zachary Biddle all the way to next week when he’d caught him abusing his wife and baby daughter.

  As he took the reins, John studied Ethan’s face. “Can you stand one more piece of advice?”

  “I doubt it, but go ahead.”

  “Take your pretty wife to bed and forget this crap for a while. Something tells me you two haven’t figured out how to be married yet.”

  Ethan’s mouth gaped wide enough to catch a fly and then he chuckled. “Are you always this direct?”

  “Hell yes,” the preacher replied. “If you have a lick of sense, you’ll finish what God and nature started, and you’ll do it soon. You’re both tense enough to snap.”

  When Ethan didn’t deny it, John turned serious. “Do you love her?”

  “I do.”

  “Then why don’t you tell her?”

  Ethan shook his head. “I don’t think I could survive losing her.”

  “So you’re wasting today because you’re afraid of tomorrow.” The Reverend’s stare was hot enough to start a fire. “Don’t be stupid, Ethan. Grab the joy God has for you and don’t let go.”

  Without another word, he clicked to the mare and rode into the meadow. Ethan’s gaze stayed on the man’s back. He couldn’t tell John to go to hell because he’d already been there and had decided to leave. Grateful for a friend who understood him, Ethan raised his chin and shouted, “Hey, John. We’ll see you Sunday.”

  The preacher acknowledged with a wave, and Ethan walked into the cabin. Jayne was standing at the counter with a dishcloth, rubbing a tin plate hard enough to give it a shine. At the sight of him, she squared her shoulders.

  “I’m going to church and you can’t stop me,” she declared. “I’ll walk if I have to.”

  She looked mad enough to beat him at arm wrestling, not that it was necessary. She had already won the argument, but Ethan was in the mood for a bit of a tussle. Besides, manly pride demanded at least a grumble about going to church, if not a full-fledged whine.

  He settled for a huff. “I can put up with gossipy old biddies if you can, but that out-of-tune piano is too much. We’ll go, but we’re sitting in the back pew.”

  Two beats of silence told him that he’d surprised her. He liked having the upper hand, but it didn’t last long. She crossed her arms over her chest. “All right,” she said. “But we’re staying for ice cream.”

  “Agreed.” If they were going to be a couple in public, he wanted to be one in private first. He made his voice husky. “Saturday night comes first. Wear something pretty, just for me.”

  When her mouth gaped, he walked out the door before he changed his mind about waiting until Saturday to make her his wife in all the ways that mattered.

  As soon as the door closed behind Ethan, Jayne hugged herself and bounced on her toes. The circle of white flesh on his ring finger was nearly as brown as the rest of him now. With all the talking they had done, she felt as if Laura were a pen pal, someone she hadn’t met, but whom she knew and liked just the same. Best of all, not once had Ethan turned away from her to hide his feelings.

  With thoughts of Saturday night making her blush, she decided to fix a special dinner, including a cake to celebrate. In her trunk she had the perfect dress to wear. She had intended to sell the stylish evening gown in California, but wearing the royal-blue silk for Ethan had far more appeal. With its off-the-shoulder bodice and lace trim, the dress was both alluring and bridelike.

  The only thing missing was a gift for Ethan, but if she hurried, she could make him a Sunday-best shirt. She had worn her beige skirt just once, and the fabric was ideal for what she had in mind. After glancing out the window to make sure he’d gone to the corral, Jayne lifted his most ragged shirt off the nail by the bed. It fit him perfectly. She knew it was his favorite because he’d worn it every day until he had made that first trip to town and bought something new.

  The garment was beyond repair, but it would make a perfect pattern. Pleased with her plan, she opened her trunk and took out her mother’s scissors. Imagining a look of pleasure on Ethan’s face, she cut the shirt into pieces.

  For the next few days Ethan kept busy by working on the corral and putting the glass panes into the cabin windows. Jayne had chased him away every afternoon by saying she wanted to nap, but he had managed to finish the project by late Saturday afternoon.

  With the sun low on the horizon, he set his tools on the porch and walked to the well. Stripping off his shirt, he splashed water on his chest and arms and raked back his hair. This morning she’d given him a trim and he’d enjoyed every minute of it. She had been cooking all day, too, and a tantalizing aroma tickled his nose. Unless he missed his guess, she had baked something special for dessert.

  With his stomach rumbling, he shrugged back into his work shirt and walked through the door. His gaze went straight to Jayne who was inspecting her face in the mirror and pinching
her lips to give them color they didn’t need.

  No woman had ever looked more beautiful. The bright blue silk matched her eyes, and the front of the dress was cut low enough to give a man something to look at. “You’re lovely,” he said.

  “Thank you.”

  He dragged his eyes away from her just long enough to hang up his hat. “Supper smells good.”

  She gave him a shameless smile. “I baked a cake for dessert.”

  Ethan nearly blurted what was in his heart. I love you. I want you to be my wife, my soul mate, my best friend and lover. He wanted to take her to bed right now, but he also wanted to give her candlelight and shadows, the pleasure of a man’s anticipation and the memory of a proper marriage proposal. So instead of scooping her into his arms, he walked to the wall where a clean shirt was hanging on a nail. “I need a minute to change,” he said.

  She usually made a point of turning her back when he undressed, but tonight she watched as he lifted a fresh shirt off a hook just above her scrap basket. He had seen that basket before, but tonight it caught his eye and wouldn’t let go. His old blue shirt, the last one Laura had made for him, was in tatters.

  She had given him that shirt for his birthday, and he had worn it nearly every day for two years. On cold nights he had slept in it. On warm ones he had held it against his bare chest and remembered his wife. It had been like a second skin to him. At times it had been her skin. Air hissed through his lips and his fingers went numb. The soft glow of the lantern brought back pictures of Laura loving him, of her fingers unbuttoning that shirt. Heat rushed up his neck and he was back in Raton, standing helplessly at the fire.

  He didn’t want these memories now. He wanted Jayne. He wanted to tell her he loved her, but he couldn’t turn around, and he was painfully aware of her gaze on his back.

  “Is something the matter?” she asked.

  Why the hell couldn’t he talk? He shook his head.

  “Oh, God.” She clasped her hands to her cheeks. “It’s the shirt. Laura made it for you, didn’t she?”

  His throat had closed to a pinhole. He tried to tell her that the shirt didn’t matter, but his voice came out in a strangled grunt.

  “I’m so sorry,” Jayne cried. “I made a present for you, and I used that shirt for a pattern.”

  He wanted to tell her that these feelings were just a reaction, like stubbing his toe and yelping with pain. Seeing the shirt had hurt like hell, but it would pass in a minute or two. Except he didn’t have a minute. Jayne was starting to sob.

  “I—I should have known it was special,” she said. “I used it because it f-fit you so well. It was too worn-out to mend, and I thought—”

  “It’s not as simple as you think.” His voice was none too steady, but it was a start. Swallowing hard, he looked at her. “That shirt doesn’t matter.”

  “Yes, it does.” More tears welled. “I thought we had a chance, but I was wrong. Laura will always be first in your heart. I’m just here.”

  “That is not true!” Ethan hurried to her side and gripped her arms. “We had plans for tonight. Don’t let a knee-jerk reaction ruin it.”

  She pulled away from him and walked to the stove where she began to dish up their supper. “It’s too late, or too soon. Or maybe it’s just not meant to be. I can’t stand feeling second-best. Oh, God, Ethan. I saw your face. I feel so bad.”

  He came up behind her and clasped her shoulders with both hands. “Listen to me. What you saw was a man get bit by a snake.”

  Ignoring him, she picked up their plates and set them on the table with a clatter. Then she sat down and straightened a linen napkin in her lap. “We might as well eat.”

  Ethan dropped into his chair and willed her to look at him. When she finally glanced across the table, he started to talk.

  “Have you ever seen a snake?” he asked. “I got bit when I was about thirteen. You don’t see it coming. One minute you’re walking through the woods and the next thing you know you have fang marks on your boot. That’s what it’s like to live with memories. They sneak up and bite you. Everything hurts again, but just for a while.”

  She gave him a look full of pity. “I know you, Ethan. I can almost read your thoughts. You can’t hide the truth.”

  “I don’t intend to.” He put iron in his voice. “You need to understand that I felt all sorts of things when I saw that shirt. I’ll always love Laura and the children. There isn’t anything wrong with that, and I’m not going to apologize. But that was then and this is now.”

  Ethan waited until she swallowed a bite of food and then looked up. “I love you, Jayne. I want you to share my bed, my future, everything.”

  When she sucked in a breath, he felt a glimmer of hope until she picked up her knife and buttered a slice of bread. “Eat before it gets cold,” she said.

  A smart man ate what a woman cooked, so Ethan raised a bite to his lips, giving her time to think. Silence hung between them like too much salt on a good meal. Their cups clanked on the table. Knives scraped against the plates. As soon as he polished off the last bite, she snatched away the tin and carried it to the scrub bucket.

  In one smooth motion she picked up the cake and set it on the table. The scent of vanilla was more than he could stand. “You didn’t answer my question. I want this marriage to be complete.”

  “If you need an answer tonight, it’s no. If you’re willing to wait, the answer is maybe.”

  Ethan pushed back from the table, scraping the chair legs against the floor as he rose to his feet. “Dammit, Jayne. You’re stubborn beyond words.”

  “I’m being sensible,” she said. “I know what it’s like to live in someone’s shadow. My mother did it with Arthur Huntington, until she caught him cheating on her.”

  Ethan saw six shades of red. Propping his hands on his hips, he said, “Do you think I’d cheat on you? That’s an insult to who I am.”

  “You wouldn’t hurt me on purpose, but you’ll always think about Laura. I realized something tonight. I don’t want to feel like a hand-me-down that’s been made over and doesn’t quite fit.”

  “What do hand-me-downs have to do with anything?” Ethan scratched his head in confusion. “I love you. I want to spend my life with you.”

  After giving him a look that said he had missed the point, she walked to the hook where she hung her clothes, reached behind a dress and lifted out a shirt. “Maybe this will explain it. I made it just for you. It won’t replace Laura’s, but maybe you can get some wear out of it.”

  He imagined Jayne’s fingers measuring the seams and working the needle. He didn’t know a thing about stitchery, but he could see that the garment would be a perfect fit. “It’s the nicest shirt I’ve ever owned,” he said. “Thank you. I’ll wear it to church tomorrow.”

  “I’m glad you like it.” Her chest rose as she took a deep breath. “I’ll be staying in Midas after the service. I can pay for a night in the hotel, then I’ll take the train to Raton. With a little luck, Madame Marchand will still need a seamstress.”

  How the hell had they switched from talking about shirts to going their separate ways? Baffled and furious at the same time, he raked his hand through his hair. “You can’t leave.”

  She looked him straight in the eye. “I need time to think. It’s true that I love you, but you keep trampling all over my feelings. I know it’s not on purpose, but it still hurts.”

  “I understand that. We can talk it out.”

  After shaking her head, she walked back to the table where the cake was sitting untouched. “I’ll be in Raton. You can visit me in a few weeks.”

  The thought of visiting her made him mad enough to spit. Crossing his arms over his chest, he rocked back on one hip. “I don’t particularly like being told what to do.”

  She looked ready to hurl the cake at him. “I’m trying to find a compromise! You’re the one being stubborn.”

  “Oh, no, I’m not.” His voice picked up volume. “You’re my wife, dammit. You’re carr
ying a baby I consider mine, and you’re acting as crazy as a loon!”

  As soon as the words left his mouth Ethan realized that he’d stepped in a giant cow pie. He’d been through three pregnancies with Laura. Rule Number One was never tell a pregnant woman she looked fat. Rule Number Two was never call her a loon. He needed to back up, and fast. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. It’s just that—”

  Jayne’s cheeks flushed red. “Don’t you dare ‘sweetheart’ me!”

  “You’re just a little emotional,” he said, holding up his hands to calm her. “I can understand that. We can wait awhile before we make this a real marriage. We can do whatever you want.”

  “What I want is to leave!” She spun on her heel, opened her trunk and started to fold the clothes hanging by the bed. “How dare you call me a loon! I’m being perfectly logical about the whole mess. You’re the one who’s confused.”

  “Like hell! I know exactly what I want. I want you.” Right now. Under my roof. At my table. In my arms.

  She shook her head. “You want someone to cook for you and warm your bed. Any woman would do. As soon as I get to Raton, I’ll ask Chief Roberts to wire the bond money to you.”

  “I don’t want the goddamned bond money!”

  “And I don’t want to live with ghosts or, for that matter, a man who’d call me crazy just because I have concerns.”

  Ethan rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m sorry about the wisecrack, but you’re not being fair. After all we’ve been through, I can’t believe you’re letting one little incident get in the way of our future.”

  “This isn’t ‘a little incident,’ at least not to me.” She crouched down and pulled her everyday shoes out from under the bed. Pushing to her feet, she said, “Would you please excuse me? I want to change clothes.”