Anora's Pride

by Kathleen Lawless

  Her color flourished then. She felt herself flush with embarrassment at the casual way he referred to her condition. “I don't believe it's seemly for you to speak to me that way.”

  “I didn't think we stood on propriety, you and I.”

  Anora felt her cheeks grow even hotter. “If I accompany you for a drive, will you promise not to speak of such matters?”

  Solemnly he placed his hand over his heart. “I swear.”

  Jesse handed her into the buggy, then sprang up next to her and gathered the reins. She heard the protesting squeak of wheels in need of oil, and clamped one hand atop her hat as the buggy set off with a lurch. She'd not been in a rig of this sort before, and she settled back in her seat, aware of how different things looked from her perch. Or was it Jesse's presence that made the autumn leaves appear more red-gold? The sky a deeper blue? She wondered, even as she detected a subtle softening in the austere landscape that seemed to flash past them in a blur.

  “Where are we going?” Anora asked, as he guided the buggy away from Boulder Springs.

  “Thought we'd cross the river toward Indian Springs.” She could tell by the look he flashed her that he was aware of her concern at the townsfolk of Boulder Springs seeing them together, and she was grateful for his understanding.

  Silence stretched between them uncomfortably, and she was casting about in her mind for a way to break it when Jesse spoke. “Are you set with everything you need?”

  “I don't know what you mean.”

  “For the ranch. Before winter has us in its grip.”

  “Oh. For the ranch. I should be fine.”

  Jesse shot her an impatient look. “You've yet to spend a winter in these parts.”

  “That's true enough.”

  “Come first snowfall you'll find yourself quite isolated.”

  Anora pulled her spine a little straighter. “I'll make out just fine.”

  Jesse gazed at her sideways. “I didn't mean to imply you wouldn't. But I'll be looking in on you regular-like, just the same.”

  Anora stared straight ahead. “So long as you're here, you mean.”

  He pulled the buggy to a stop and turned to face her. Try as she might, there was no way to avoid his searching gaze. “I'm not up and going anyplace, Anora. And you know the reason why as well as I do.”

  Anora didn't know what to say. The remainder of their drive passed in silence that should have been uncomfortable, yet for some reason it wasn't. In what felt like all too short a time, Jesse dropped her back at the ranch, tipped his hat in farewell, and took his leave, with a promise to be back this way next week.

  In spite of herself Anora found she looked forward to her weekly drive with Jesse. He showed up regular as clockwork, always with a thoughtful small gift such as flowers or fresh honey. Since she had no desire to be beholden, she'd started to reciprocate in kind, presenting him with some fresh-laid chicken eggs or a loaf of her crusty homemade bread. It began to take on tones of a ritual, this exchange of gifts, this peaceful time together, away from town and wagging tongues.

  “What's that you have there?” she asked, as he lifted what appeared to be a huge orange squash from the back of the buggy.

  “Tomorrow's All Hallow's Eve.” Seeing her blank look, he continued, “Don't tell me you're not familiar with the legends of the restless spirits and how to appease them.”

  “What spirits?” Anora followed Jesse inside, where he plunked the squash on the table. To her amazement he pulled out his pocketknife and started to saw at the vegetable.

  “You never heard about Jack and the trick he played on the devil?”

  “No. Should I have?”

  “I thought everyone had heard those old stories. Date back a thousand years or more, the way I heard tell. Pass me a bowl, would you? I'll scrape out the insides.”

  Anora did as he asked, unable to tear her eyes away from the corded strength in his muscular forearms, where he'd rolled his sleeves back past his elbows. As he spoke he hollowed out the center of the squash.

  “Seems the devil didn't take too kindly to old Jack playing a trick on him. After Jack died he couldn't get into heaven, but the devil wouldn't let him into hell, either. So he was left to roam the world with only a lump of coal and a pumpkin.”

  “So?”

  “So?” Jesse echoed. “So nowadays folks light a candle inside a pumpkin to keep Jack and the other restless spirits away.”

  “What other restless spirits?”

  “Samhain, the god of witches, assembles the souls of everyone who died during the past year and puts them into the bodies of animals.”

  Anora eyed him skeptically. “You're making this up.”

  “I swear. The bigger the sinner, the lowlier the animal he turns into.”

  “I never heard such pagan nonsense. What would the preacher think if he heard you talk this way?”

  Jesse made no response, just continued to scrape out the insides of the pumpkin.

  “Want a scary face or a friendly one?” he asked, the tip of the knife blade flush with the pumpkin's skin.

  “What's the difference?”

  “Beats me,” Jesse said, starting to cut. “My sister, Rose, always wanted a friendly face. She was an awful coward when she was young.”

  “Your sister.” Anora sank into the nearest chair. “Where does she live?”

  “In Philly. She has a dress shop there. Does pretty well for herself and her boy.”

  As he spoke Jesse cut holes in the pumpkin for eyes, a nose, and a toothy grin. Then he lowered a candle stub inside and lit it. The light glowed eerily, illuminating the maniacally grinning face, and Anora clapped her hands in delight.

  “Now what?”

  “Stick it in the front window tomorrow night to keep the unfriendly spirits at bay.”

  “I will. Thank you, Jesse.” For some reason Anora had a lump in her throat. She didn't think she'd ever been given a more thoughtful gift.

  “You're welcome. Now, you ready to take a spin into town with me?”

  “Into town?” Anora blanched. “I don't think...”

  “You can't hide out here all winter and show up next spring with a babe in your arms. Folks are bound to notice.”

  “I'm not ready,” she said.

  “Fine.” Jesse rolled down his shirtsleeves and stabbed his arms into his jacket. She wondered what she'd done to make him so short with her. “Well, let me know when you are.”

  Jesse pulled into the livery and unhitched his rig. After flipping a gold piece to the boy who worked there to see to the horses, he stomped down the street in the direction of his boardinghouse, forced to admit how cold and impersonal his room was starting to feel. Shabby as Anora's shack was, she'd managed to turn it into a home. Every week he went out there it got harder to leave. Well, let her stew for a while. See just how much she enjoyed her own company.

  “Whoa, there, where's the war?” Ricki asked, when he would have brushed past her.

  “Ricki. I didn't see you.”

  “Didn't see anything but red, I'd wager. How's the courting going?”

  “Courting.” Jesse spat out the word as if it were poison.

  “Did you do like I said? Take her little gifts?”

  “For all the good it's doing me.”

  Ricki cocked her head. “And still she's resisting your charm?” she drawled. “Who'd have thought?”

  “I had all I can take of this courting nonsense. From now on, she wants something from me, let her come to me for it.”

  “A woman in a delicate condition needs to be handled in a delicate manner.”

  “Don't you have your own problems to worry about?”

  Ricki's face grew thoughtful. “Matter of fact, I do. Good day, Marshal.”

  Two long and lonely weeks passed, during which Jesse made good his promise to stay away from the ranch. Anora staunchly told herself she didn't care.

  She didn't need him or anyone else. She refused to admit just how much she'd looked forward
to his visits. To their little outings together.

  After making her way from the henhouse to the cabin, a disappointing four eggs in her basket, she pushed open the cabin door, stepped inside, and stopped cold.

  Rosco, the man who'd robbed her last spring, sat with his filthy booted feet propped atop her clean kitchen table.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  * * *

  Chapter 15

  “I don't have any money.” Anora spoke as if unconcerned, although her heart was pounding so loudly she wondered Rosco couldn't hear it. He smelled as bad as she remembered and looked even worse. Ashen-faced. She set down her egg basket at the opposite end of the table from his boots. Somehow she had to get to the sink, where the gun was stashed in an empty tin pitcher.

  “Actually, missy, you're mistaken. You got a considerable swag,” Rosco said. “Mine by rights.”

  “I don't understand.”

  “Me neither. How that idiot husband of yours could have pinched it out from under my nose.”

  Anora's mind was awhirl. Ben stole from Rosco?

  Keep your head, she counseled herself, even as her eye strayed to the pitcher holding her gun. Six paces, no more.

  “Land sakes, I had no idea,” she said. “I must say, I surely did work up a thirst. Can I get you a nice drink of cold water?”

  With a calm she was far from feeling she started toward the sink. One pace. Two. Three. Mustn't let him see her eagerness.

  “No water,” he said, adding sarcastically, “though I surely do thank you for your hospitality. Got any whiskey?”

  “ ‘Fraid not.” She waved a hand. “Do you mind if I get myself a drink?”

  “Hell, no.” Rosco got to his feet and hitched his pants. “Though I was hopin’ I wouldn't hafta take this shack apart board by board.”

  Anora grabbed the gun, whirled, and planted the barrel against the side of Rosco's head. “Hands in the air!”

  He rolled his eyes to the side of his head where the pistol lodged and swallowed thickly as he slowly raised both hands.

  “Don't move,” she told him. “Don't breathe. Don't even blink. This pistol has a really touchy trigger.”

  “I hear you, Miz King.”

  “That's good. Now you head on out that open door, down those steps, and move on down the road. If I ever see you around here again, I swear I'll shoot first and ask questions second. That clear?”

  Under her watchful eye Rosco edged slowly toward the door, Anora on his heels. Her right hand was trembling so badly she gripped her wrist with her other hand to steady it. All the while she didn't take her gaze from the back of Rosco's head.

  Once outside, past firing range, Rosco's bluster returned with full force. “You ain't seen the last of me yet, missy. Not till I get my hands on the booty your husband stole.”

  The second Rosco was out of sight, Anora collapsed on the porch. Her hand retained its deathlike grip on the gun, and she had to use her free hand to unclench her fingers one at a time. The gun dropped to the floorboards with a hollow clatter.

  “Thanks, Jesse,” she whispered through trembling lips. Too bad he hadn't given her the bullets.

  Once the shakes passed, Anora was struck by the irony of her situation. Two men. Each wanted something from her. And she didn't for one minute believe either of them would give up. If, as Rosco claimed, Ben had stolen from him, she had little doubt that he'd make good his threat to tear the ranch apart, board by board. Besides which, recently she'd had the creepy feeling of being watched from a distance. She'd been sleeping poorly and starting at unexpected noises outside, neither of which was good for the babe.

  Sometime in the wee hours of the morning, the solution to her double-edged problem struck her. Get rid of Rosco and she'd see Jesse pack up as well, having accomplished what he'd set out to do: rid Boulder Springs of the hoister. First thing tomorrow she'd stop by Jesse's office.

  To her chagrin, Jesse didn't question her request for the bullets, just fetched her a boxful.

  “Here you go,” he said. His gaze skimmed her ripening form, taking in the subtle changes wrought by her condition. “I'm glad to see you heeding my advice to have some firepower on hand.”

  Anora chose her words carefully. She wanted to let him know Rosco had been at the ranch, but incidentally. Right now he probably just thought that she'd missed him and was using the bullets as an excuse to see him. “I realized you were right. A woman alone can't be too careful.”

  His words were low and charged with feeling. “You needn't be alone.” As he spoke he caught her hand in his.

  Anora closed her eyes against the flood of emotions. She could feel the strength of Jesse's fingers, clasped around hers. His skin was warm, callused. How easy it would be. One word from her and...

  Her eyes flew open. She pulled her hand free. It was Jesse's job, damn it, to keep the countryside safe. Where was he while Rosco was out at Three Boulders? Tucked up nice and safe with his old friend, Ricki?

  “You manage to trap that bandit Rosco yet?” she asked with seeming lack of concern as she tucked the bullets safely inside her bag.

  “I expect to any day now.”

  “Good.” Anora prepared to take her leave. “ ‘Cause it fair gave me the creeps the other day, him showing up at Three Boulders and all.”

  Jesse moved so fast her vision blurred. One moment he was across the desk. The next thing she knew he was disturbingly close, gripping her shoulders with his large, warm-palmed hands. “What did you say?”

  She braced herself against the myriad of sensations wrought by his nearness. His familiar scent. His awesome physical strength, tempered by a gentleness she'd never before experienced in a man.

  “Rosco paid me a visit. Spun some yarn about Ben helping himself to money that wasn't his. Has the notion it might be at the ranch. Isn't that ridiculous?”

  “Why didn't you tell me this sooner?”

  Anora flashed him a look. “You led me to believe the man was as good as in jail.”

  Jesse rubbed a weary hand across his jaw. In spite of herself Anora found her eyes drawn to his mouth. As she recalled the feel of those firm, warm lips in all manner of intimate contact with hers, an embarrassing warmth flooded her limbs. A wanton heat that made it hard to concentrate on their conversation.

  “I want you to move into town.”

  “What?” The one word came out as an outraged squawk.

  “Stay with Miss Spencer or Lettie till Rosco's behind bars.”

  “I will do no such thing. Leave my home? Not at the whim of some two-bit outlaw or anyone else.”

  Jesse seemed to reach a decision. “If that's the way you want it, that's the way it'll have to be.”

  Something in the way his shadowy gaze rested on hers increased her uneasiness. Maybe this plan wasn't fully realized yet. Maybe she'd been a trifle hasty telling Jesse about Rosco's visit.

  “What'll have to be?”

  “If you won't move to town, then you leave me no choice but to move out to Three Boulders. We can do it legal-like. Man and wife. Or we can live in sin. Doesn't much matter to me which way we call it.”

  “I already told you no.”

  “You're forgetting one thing. I'm bigger and meaner than you are.”

  “I will not be bullied, Jesse Quantrill. Not by you or any other arrogant man.” Doing a sharp about-face, Anora reached for the doorknob. Strangely, it remained just beyond her reach. The room continued to spin. She saw spots. Then darkness.

  Anora awoke in a strange bed, surrounded by unfamiliar smells. A weird greenish half-light filtered in through a dark green blind. She tried to lift her head just as the blind was snapped up and the room flooded with light.

  “Well, well, Mrs. King. Glad you could join us.”

  “Doc,” she said weakly, as she flopped back against the pillows. Her mouth was dry as old dust.

  “Where am I?”

  “The infirmary. Marshal fetched you here when you blacked out.”

  “Wh
at happened?” Instinctively she reached to clutch the slight mound of her stomach. The doctor followed her actions with his eyes.

  “I reckon the wee one's doing better than you. You haven't been eating a whole lot of late, if I don't miss my guess.”

  “At first it was hard to hold anything down,” she said, feeling her cheeks pinken.

  Doc patted her hand. “There, there, now. I'm a medical man. No need to be embarrassed. Woman having a baby is a perfectly natural occurrence. Some good solid food. Plenty of rest. We'll have you right as rain before you can say ‘confinement.’ Right, Marshal?”

  A shadow in the far corner of the room moved into the light. Jesse!

  “Now, Marshal here has promised me that he'll see you get the best of care. Oh,” he added as an afterthought. “Allow me to be the first to offer my congratulations.”

  Anora's tongue felt swollen and unwieldy. “C... congratulations? “

  “Marshal here tells me you two are making a match.”

  Anora decided to ignore that last comment. “Why am I so tired?”

  “Growing a youngster takes a powerful lot out of a woman. You need red meat and plenty of it, to build up your blood.”

  “I'll see to it, Doc.” Jesse's voice was a muffled rumble from across the room. “Can I take her home?”

  “In a buggy,” Doc said firmly. “No more walking into town and back. And no riding, either. Not till after the young one's born. Spring, I wager. That be about right?”

  “That...that's what I figured on.”

  The doc paused to pat her hand. “Marshal explained how you feel. That it's too soon after Ben's passing to be getting hitched again. I wouldn't let that worry you none. More important that you and the young one are cared for than what some old busybody considers a decent period of mourning.”

  Anora turned away as the doctor left the room.

  Jesse remained where he was.

  “You tell him you're the father?”

  “He didn't ask.”

  “And if he had?”

  She heard Jesse cross the room and kept her face averted, unable to stop the one lone tear that zigzagged down her cheek.

  “I was worried about you. Anyone would be, after you swooned that way. I had to tell him about your condition. And it's not something I'd know about unless we were close. When old Doc asked me how close, well, I told him we were secretly engaged.”