by Craig, Emma
I hope his leg isn’t paining him.
Irked with herself for worrying about Elijah, Joy reminded herself that his having gone and got himself shot wasn’t her fault.
Two wrongs don’t make a right, Joy Hardesty, and there’s no wrapping your sins up in clean linen.
Joy was so startled to hear her mother’s voice in her head after several blissful days of silence that she almost fell out the tree.
Be quiet, Mother. I don’t need another lecture from you. Joy looked around, frowning, as if her mother were there and could see her.
It seems to me you do need a lecture, Joy. You’re behaving in a very childish manner.
So what? Joy demanded childishly. At least I’m not sniveling in a corner like I used to do, thanks to you.
There was a long pause during which Joy heard nothing, not even the rustling of leaves or the howling wind or Elijah and Virginia trying to find her. The sensation was eerie, and Joy wondered if something strange was going on in the atmosphere, or if she was merely out of her mind.
After what seemed like hours, she heard, I never meant you any harm, Joy.
Joy whipped her head back and forth, her mother’s voice having taken on an edge of remorse she’d never heard in it. Was this some sort of parlor trick?
Parlor, shmarlor. She was sitting in a tree beside the Spring River. How could it be a parlor trick? Still and all, Joy’s mother’s voice had never sounded like this before. Because she was disconcerted, Joy said aloud, “Go away!”
“Joy!”
Oh, bother! She’d forgotten all about Elijah. She drew her feet up so that they wouldn’t show through the branches of the tree. She didn’t want to be discovered quite yet.
It’s true, Joy. I know now that I was unkind to you, but I never meant to be. I only wanted the best for you.
A great sense of injustice welled up in Joy. You wanted what you thought was best for me. You never bothered to find out even who I was. How could you ever know what might or might not have been best for me?
Oh, Joy, I’m so sorry. Please forgive me. I understand how wrong I was. But please don’t reject everything I tried to teach you. Surely you value some of the lessons I taught you.
This was insane. Joy knew it was insane, yet the voice was as clear as the New Mexico sky.
To err is human, Joy. To forgive is divine. Please forgive me. I never meant to hurt you.
Good heavens, could it be true?
Elijah’s voice came again, jarring her out of communication with her mother’s voice—or her own insanity. She wasn’t sure which it was; wasn’t even sure she wanted to know.
“Joy! Dammit, reveal yourself! We’ve been looking for you everywhere!”
Wouldn’t you know it? At the very moment Joy felt she might be making a breakthrough in her troubled relationship with her domineering mother, another dominant force—this time an arrogant, sinfully handsome, and utterly bothersome gambler—interrupted. Peeved, Joy tried to reestablish whatever mood she’d been in a second before, knowing somehow that it had been important.
“I see her!”
That was Virginia. Blast! She’d been found. Jerusalem, would she never come to terms with her mother’s legacy? It didn’t seem fair to her, although one of her mother’s admonitions, this one against self-pity, asserted itself, and Joy decided to accept discovery with good grace.
“I’m up here,” she called.
“Up where? I can’t see you, dammit!”
“Stop swearing at me, Elijah Perry.”
“Yes, Uncle Elijah. Nobody likes to be yelled at.”
Perceptive girl, Virginia. Joy liked her. “That’s right,” she said.
“Well, dammit, I’ve been scared to death! What do you expect me to do when I’m that scared? Walk around whistling ‘Dixie?’”
“You might try prayer,” Joy suggested. “It works for many of us.”
She heard Elijah grumble something under his breath. She could see them now. Virginia had evidently lost sight of her in the branches again, because she was squinting up into the wrong tree.
“I’m up here,” she called again.
“Oh, what a lovely place this is!” Virginia possessed an excitement and exuberance that Joy couldn’t help but envy. She didn’t expect she’d ever be as free as Virginia, although she aimed to try.
“It’s even nicer from up here,” she said, parting the branches and peering down at her two pursuers.
Elijah jerked to a halt right under her tree and craned his neck to find her. His scowl was ferocious enough to have scared her if she’d been within his reach. Since she wasn’t, she waved and smiled at him, feeling safe and superior for once in her life.
“What in the name of holy hell are you doing up a tree, Joy Hardesty?”
His voice was so loud it made her ears ring and the leaves rustle—unless that was the wind. Virginia clapped her hands over her ears.
“There’s no need for such a horrid noise, Mr. Perry. I can assure you I’m not deaf. At least, I didn’t use to be.” Joy liked the way she sounded, tart but not sniveling. She’d have to practice that tone some more, in private. Or on Elijah.
He sucked in a breath big enough for her to hear, and used it to say, in a much calmer voice, “I beg your pardon, Joy.”
Joy could hardly believe her ears.
“But would you please come down now? I promise you, I won’t holler anymore.”
Joy considered it. “Well, I don’t know. . .”
“Please, Miss Hardesty? There are so many things I want to ask you about life here in the territory, and about your missionary work—”
“She doesn’t have any missionary work,” Elijah snapped.
Virginia glanced at him and didn’t reply. “—and all sorts of other things. I think what you’ve done is so exciting!”
“Climbing a damned tree?”
Virginia gave him a soft whack on the arm, and he said, “Ow,” but it didn’t sound as if he meant it.
“Actually,” said Joy, trying to sound nonchalant, as if she climbed trees every day, “I’m rather enjoying the view. Won’t you climb up and join me, Miss Gladstone? I assure you, a body can see almost forever from this altitude.”
Virginia’s expressive face brightened right up.
Elijah shouted, “No! Dammit, Joy, you come down here right this minute!”
Joy eyed him for a moment, feeling defiant as anything. “I’m sure there’s room for you, too, Mr. Perry, if you’d care to join us.” Then she smiled, hoping this particular smile of hers was even half as wicked as one of his.
“I couldn’t climb that tree if I wanted to, and you know it, Joy.”
She could tell his teeth were clenched, because the words came out strained. “What a pity.”
Suddenly a huge clap of thunder shook the air around them. Joy jerked and almost fell from her perch.
“There’s a thunderstorm starting, Joy,” Elijah said. “Quit playing now, and get down from there. A tree’s the last place you want to be in a thunderstorm.”
He was, unfortunately, right. Joy knew it. And she didn’t fancy getting fried merely for the sake of annoying Elijah Perry, no matter how richly he deserved it. Maintaining a haughty demeanor, she said, “Oh, very well. Stand aside, if you will.”
In truth, she wasn’t sure how she was going to maneuver her way down the tree. She’d almost killed herself climbing it. She’d rather die than tell him so.
“Stand aside, my ass. I’m going to stand right here so I can catch you if you fall.”
Another boom of thunder rattled Joy’s nerves. Bother the weather! The weather back east might be bad more often than not, but at least it was dependable. Out here in the territory you never knew from one second to the next what the weather might do. It was a characteristic she’d not found particularly annoying until this minute.
On the other hand, she didn’t trust Elijah Perry not to do something despicable. “Close your eyes, please, if you insist upon standing benea
th the tree.”
Virginia made a choking sound in her throat. Joy endeavored to ignore her.
Elijah yelled, “For the love of God, stop being stupid, Joy! I’m not going to shut my eyes, because that would defeat the purpose.”
“I will not have you peering up under my petticoats, Mr. Perry, so don’t you even think it.”
“Oh, for God’s sake. All right, I’ll close my eyes.”
Joy didn’t trust him. “Don’t peek.”
He let out an exasperated huff. “I won’t peek.”
Joy still didn’t trust him. “Miss Gladstone, will you please keep an eye on your uncle for me?”
“I’ll be happy to, Miss Hardesty.”
Thank heaven for Virginia Gladstone! “Thank you very much.”
She took a deep breath and surveyed the tree. However had she managed to get up here in the first place? It seemed an awfully long way down.
A crash of thunder smote her ears and at the same time she heard a tremendous crack. Her eyes opened wide when she saw, about fifty yards downstream, a tree split in half and, smoking, fall into the river, creating a wave that splashed water over the riverbanks on both sides. Merciful heaven. She stopped thinking, grabbed onto her tree limb, and maneuvered herself to a lower branch.
“Hurry up,” she heard Elijah mutter. He sounded worried, and she appreciated it, but she didn’t dare hurry up. She wasn’t about to tell him so.
A few fat raindrops splattered onto the leaves beside her. Wonderful. Just what she needed was for the sky to open up and drench them all. She wished they hadn’t come after her. This would be much less embarrassing if she were by herself.
As if the devil’s minions had heard her, the sky opened up. She heard Virginia squeal when a torrent of rain gushed down from above. It sounded like a delighted squeal, which didn’t surprise Joy as much as it would have coming from anyone else. Virginia seemed to take a good deal of pleasure from the oddities of life, a characteristic Joy both envied and appreciated.
Oh, Lord, she hadn’t realized how slippery a cottonwood tree could be when it was wet. For the first time, Joy felt some trepidation. She grabbed another branch, and her hand slipped. She managed to catch herself on another branch. Fortunately, she didn’t weigh much. Unfortunately, the little she did weigh was too much for the branch she was using as security. It broke off against the trunk with a noise like a whip cracking. Joy was too surprised even to scream.
It seemed like an eternity that she flailed there in mid-air, trying and failing to grab another branch. And then she was falling, scraping herself against tree limbs, reaching wildly for purchase, grabbing at branches and sliding off, her hands scraping against wood as she stripped leaves from the tree and the leaves stripped the skin from her hands.
She heard Virginia scream and cry out, “Uncle Elijah, she’s falling!”
Elijah shouted, “Joy!”
And then she heard a terrible crunching sound, pain ripped through her body, and everything went black.
Chapter Eighteen
Joy decided she must be in church, although she didn’t remember seeing a church in Rio Hondo. Being in church would account for the choir she heard singing. It was a wonderful choir; much more tuneful than the one that used to sing in her father’s church.
But if she was in church, why did she feel so wonderful? She never felt wonderful in church; she only ever felt guilty. She tested the sensations flooding her body, and decided she must be dreaming. Her mother would kill her if she discovered Joy sleeping in church.
Her eyes wouldn’t open. Hmmm. Joy pondered this phenomenon, and then realized she was in Elijah Perry’s arms. She was in his arms, and they were in the softest, most comfortable bed Joy’d ever slept in.
So she must have married him. She didn’t remember having done so, but she was very happy she had. She really did love him awfully. And, in spite of his background—and hers—he loved her too. The sweetness of this awareness filled her, and she sighed.
He was going to make love to her now. Sweet, beautiful love. In spite of her mother’s lectures, Joy knew that the marriage bed wasn’t meant to be one of suffering. It was meant to be shared by two people who loved each other and who had committed themselves to each other. If anyone could teach her how to enjoy the act of love, it was Elijah Perry. The good Lord knew, he’d had plenty of practice. Joy considered writing to Mary Ellen Loveless and thanking her for her part in Elijah’s education.
Alive with anticipation, Joy sank into Elijah’s arms, longing to feel his long, strong hands stroking her naked flesh. They were going to be the happiest couple in the territory. She knew it in her bones. And they’d ask Mac to stand godfather to their first child. And Virginia could be godmother.
On that delightful thought, Joy sank further in the soft comfort of the bed.
# # #
Mac sat in his rocker, his pipe between his teeth, waiting. He hoped Elijah wouldn’t suffer too much from having to carry Joy home from the river. He hoped Joy wouldn’t suffer too much from having fallen out of that tree. Mac would be sure she healed properly so that not even a twinge of rheumatism would ever trouble her from the experience.
He’d done it for the best. How better to assure a quick solution to their problems than to have them fear losing each other? This way, Joy would understand how much she meant to Elijah. And Elijah would be forced into admitting it out loud. He’d never win her any other way.
Mac wasn’t worried about Virginia. She was a strong, brash lass, and had secured the happiness of her own future long ago, by dint of her fearless personality and open mind. He smiled. Mac was fond of Virginia. He was fond of Elijah and Joy too, even though they’d needed more work than Virginia.
“Ah well. Everything will be all right soon.”
In his mind’s eye he saw Elijah lift Joy from the muddy river bank and hold her close to his heart. He felt Elijah’s fierce terror on her behalf. He watched Elijah tenderly feel for broken bones, but Mac had planned Joy’s fall carefully. She had sustained no breaks, although Elijah couldn’t know it yet. Mac had made sure she’d bumped her head hard enough to render her insensible. He’d also filled her head with sweet dreams about the life she was going to live with Elijah.
He allowed her one pathetic, unconscious moan just to key Elijah’s worry up a notch. Virginia was wringing her hands and looking on, wishing she could help. She’d already done her best, however, and Mac didn’t really need her any longer. She deserved to see the end of this drama, though, so he aimed to let her help nurse Joy. If Elijah would let her.
Chuckling, Mac rose from his chair and went to the front door. He wanted to be prepared when Elijah struggled through the rain and mud, carrying Joy home in his arms. Mac had already gathered his medical supplies together. Not that he needed them. But people expected them. They didn’t have the magical powers possessed by Mac and his race of wizards. Humans needed trappings and medicaments, and Mac would see that they got them.
If Mac’s timing was as finely honed as he believed it to be, Joy would be just about fixed when the Reverend Mr. Hezekiah P. Thrash’s emissary arrived in Rio Hondo from the South American jungles, aiming to take Joy back with him. Elijah would be ready for him too. It’s a good thing Mr. Thrash intended to send a fellow who was strong in the faith, otherwise he might not survive the tongue-lashing Elijah was going to give him.
But there was time enough for those things. Mac didn’t want to spoil the fun by refining too much upon what was going to happen. He aimed to enjoy events as they unfolded.
Ah, yes. There they were. From where he stood—and even without using his wizardly powers—Mac saw the expression of consternation on Elijah’s face. Virginia was worried as well. She was trying very hard to be useful and succeeding only in making Elijah’s nerves jump like cats on a hot stove.
Mac hummed an ancient Scottish air as he went out on the porch. He tutted as he watched Elijah’s progress. The poor boy needed rescuing now almost as much as he had whe
n he’d arrived in Rio Hondo, although for a very different reason.
“Howdy there,” he called to the returning adventurers. “What’s wrong with our Joy?”
Virginia, spotting him, picked up her skirts and pelted through the pouring rain and sloshing mud to him. Mac shook his head. The girl was taking her chances, running like that on Rio Hondo mud. The stuff was clay, and as slippery as ice. He managed to keep her upright by judicious use of his magical powers.
“Oh, Mac, it was terrible! Miss Hardesty fell out of a tree!”
“A tree? And what was our Joy doin’ up a tree?”
“She lost her mind.” That was Elijah, and he sounded both angry and scared to death. “I can’t believe she did that.”
Clucking his tongue in spurious dismay, Mac came forward, feeling a little sorry for Elijah. The poor lad’s arm was aching like fire since he’d been carrying Joy for a good quarter of a mile. His barely healed leg wound would begin to throb pretty soon, too, if it wasn’t throbbing already, and his scarred ribs felt like someone had taken a knife to them.
That was all right. People needed their little aches and pains to remind them they were alive.
“Here, lad, let me help you.”
“No.” Elijah’s voice was as tight as the Gordian knot. “I’ll carry her.”
Wouldn’t let go of her in spite of his own pain, eh? Good sign, that. Mac grinned inside. “All right. Virginia and I’ll get her bed ready. Then I’ll brew us up a nice pot of hot tea. Take the chill off those cold, wet bones o’ yours, lad.”
“Tea,” Elijah muttered under his breath.
Mac knew Elijah wanted to consign tea and Mac and everything else in the world that wasn’t Joy to the devil at the moment, and he didn’t blame him. The poor boy was worried. He feared he was going to lose what he believed to be the one thing in the world he’d ever dared to love. The lad didn’t know it yet, but his capacity for love was boundless. He’d never tested it before, was all.