by Sara Orwig
“Yes, you will,” he said quietly. “Try again.”
She shot five times; then, on the sixth, a bottle shattered. Zachary cheered and Travis leaned closer to her ear. “That’s good, Crystal.”
She felt no elation about learning to shoot a revolver.
“Now, it’s Zachary’s turn.”
She watched as Travis had Zachary reload and she knew he would want her to do so next. She found the weapon loathsome, but knew she should learn to use it. Her father and her brother should have used their guns instead of letting someone kill them. She looked at Travis as he handled the revolver so easily. It didn’t look big in his hands.
“Let’s see you shoot the targets,” she said.
His brows narrowed slightly as he studied her. He picked up the bottles and handed them to Zachary. “Toss them in the air.”
Zachary threw two high and Travis tossed one. He shot all three easily and she gazed at him coolly.
“I’m not surprised.”
“Part of my wicked ways, eh, Judge?”
“You know how I feel about violence.”
“Yes, but you have expressed some yourself. I seem to recall your aiming at me and pulling the trigger.”
She inhaled, glancing past him at Zachary, who stared at her wide-eyed, his blue eyes filled with curiosity.
“I will never hear the last of that.”
“No, I don’t expect you will,” Travis drawled, handing Zachary the revolver. “It doesn’t pay to push the judge over the edge, Zachary. Just remember that.”
Zachary looked at her and she smiled sweetly at him. “Don’t listen to him, Zachary. You would never push me over the edge. Only one person has done that.”
Travis turned away and bent over the revolver, but not before she saw the corner of his mouth lift in a grin. Zachary smiled, but curiosity stayed in his eyes.
The barn went up steadily, and on a crisp day in September, the roof and outside walls were complete. The nights grew cooler and Crystal ordered three books—The Last of the Mohicans, A Tale Of Two Cities and Dickens’s A Christmas Carol—to read through the long winter.
Travis continued sleeping outside, but he knew the nights would soon be too cold and he would be shut away with Crystal more than ever … unless he fixed a place in the barn to sleep. While he had no inclination to spend his nights in a drafty, horse-smelling barn, it might bring him more peace of mind than lying on a bed only inches away from Crystal.
On a sunny fall day when the wind was slight, he returned to the house about half an hour earlier than usual. By this time of day, he knew his arrival would be no surprise to Crystal. It was warm enough for the door to be open, and as he neared, he heard a peal of laughter. Startled, he listened to merry laughter. He couldn’t imagine such laughter coming from the judge, but his ears did not deceive him. He crossed the porch quietly and looked in.
Crystal and Jacob were seated on the floor, Jacob propped up with pillows. A thin stream of smoke rose from a skillet and Travis guessed their supper was literally going up in smoke while she played with Jacob. Travis would have rescued the searing meal had he not looked at them again.
Seated in front of her, Jacob was making faces that made Travis grin. Jacob puffed out his cheeks, emitting a strange noise, and then chortled happily. Crystal’s laughter rang out again, and as adorable as Jacob was, Travis was mesmerized by the sight of Crystal. Her blue-gingham skirts were spread around her as she sat on the floor with the baby. Her hair had been piled on her head, but locks had fallen loose, tumbling over her shoulders. She had her sleeves pushed high and the neck of her dress was unbuttoned and had fallen open. But it was her laughter that held him immobile. Her green eyes sparkled and she bubbled with merriment. Desire swept him, hot and swift. He wanted to scoop her up into his arms and take her laughter in kisses.
His body responded, and his breathing became heavy as if the air had thickened and heated. The woman was appealing, filled with a joy that made her irresistible. Only he knew he’d better resist. And his food was burning in earnest now.
“Crystal—” He crossed the room and yanked the skillet off the fire, setting it aside and stabbing slabs of meat to turn them.
“I’m sorry,” she said, scrambling up.
“It’s all right,” he said. “It’s only supper. What’s my son doing?” he asked, looking at Jacob.
“Watch him. I’ve never seen him laugh so much. Here’s your papa, love. Show him how you laugh.”
Crystal made a whinnying sound, shaking her head, her curls flying, and Jacob giggled gleefully.
Grinning, Travis dropped to the floor beside Crystal and could not resist sliding his arm around her waist. She smelled of roses and was soft, her waist so tiny. She laughed merrily at the baby while Travis had to fight every inclination to pull her to him. He ached to hold her in his arms, though he shouldn’t and couldn’t. There was so seldom a moment like this in his life that he couldn’t bear to walk away from it.
She made a silly sound at Jacob again, and the baby shook with a laughter that was infectious. Travis laughed, and so did Crystal.
“No one can resist a baby,” he remarked, sneaking a peek at her again. The neck of her dress gaped open, but revealed little more than her collarbones; his imagination pushed away the rest of the blue gingham. A longing to hold her swamped him. She turned her head and gaze into his eyes. A wide smile still wreathed her face and her eyes sparkled, but her laughter faded as she looked at him.
His heart thudded because her green eyes darkened and he could see the change in their depths. His gaze lowered to her mouth, so rosy and soft. A yearning for all he had lost tore at him again. He wanted to pull her into his arms, to forget, to kiss her laughter away, taking her joy and exuberance into himself. Everything sensible inside him protested a senseless yielding to emotion. He stood abruptly.
“I’ll see about supper,” she said behind him, suddenly subdued and solemn.
“If you want, I’ll watch Jacob for you,” Travis offered, scooping up the baby and heading outside without glancing back.
Wiping his brow in the shade of the porch, he set Jacob down in the grass before he went to the pump to wash. He was aroused, something happening more often around her. He was torn between wanting her and wanting to avoid an emotional entanglement that could rip apart his heart for the second time.
As he pumped water over head, trying to cool himself and think clearly, he realized Crystal had another accomplishment to her credit—she was taking him out of the darkness of grief. He would always love Elizabeth and cherish her memory; but thanks to Crystal, the terrible pain of loss was diminishing. Day by day, Crystal’s joy and optimism and companionship were melting away his hurt.
Life was better now than it had been when he’d brought her home with him. His meals were still burned and they might not ever improve, but she kept his clothes washed and the house tidy and cared for Jacob. His life was much better, but Travis didn’t want to open his heart up to her or anyone other than Jacob ever again. One such devastating loss as he had suffered was enough for a lifetime.
As he dried, he talked to Jacob, letting his body cool down, unable to get the burning images of Crystal out of his mind. This was more than merely wanting a desirable woman. It was too many things—loneliness; need; constant daily contact; raging, fiery desire; and an admiration that was the bedrock of his feelings for her. He had always known she was a strong, intelligent woman. Now, to discover she was all-woman, feminine and beautiful, threatened his sanity.
“Aw, damnation,” he muttered, sweeping his wet hair back from his face. “Sorry, Son. Your mama said I have to watch my language around you.”
He fastened his hair behind his head with a strip of rawhide. “Someday I’ll tell you all about your real mother. She was beautiful and loved you with all her heart. In the meantime, Crystal is your mama now and she loves you, too. And I suppose you love her already.”
He picked up Jacob and carried him inside. Crystal
was braiding her hair. She had rolled down her sleeves, buttoned her dress, and combed her hair. His gaze flicked over her, mentally stripping away the blue dress and remembering in sensual detail how she looked naked. There was no erasing that vision from his memory. Her gaze met his in her small mirror. She continued braiding without a word. As her fingers moved deftly, weaving strands of shiny hair, he had the urge to take the braid out of her hands and undo it and tell her to tie it with a ribbon.
Instead, he sat down near the table and jiggled Jacob on his knee, singing to him and struggling to avoid watching her.
That night after supper, while Turtle River held Jacob and Zachary read, Crystal found Travis watching her with that inscrutable, brooding look that she had begun to notice more often. He sat relaxed, his long legs stretched in front of him, his booted feet crossed at his ankles. Momentarily forgetting what Zachary was reading, she looked at her son. She did think of Jacob as her son, and she loved him beyond measure. Her dream of sunny California had vanished. She would never willingly leave Jacob when he was thirteen. She loved him as her own child and she wanted to be a mother to him always. He was a precious, happy baby with none of the stormy temperament of his father. Yet in fairness, she knew that Travis had had enough disasters in his life, and at an early age, to give him a volatile disposition.
She wondered what thoughts ran through his mind. She had caught him watching her more and more often. Was he regretting this alliance? With his steady gaze so often on her, something was on his mind. Zachary and Turtle River never received any such scrutiny. Or was it simply because he had walked in on her in her bath? She rejected that at once, fully aware that she did not have a body like his Elizabeth or even one that had ever caused any man a stir.
Forgetting Travis, she tried to concentrate on Zachary’s reading while she watched Jacob.
Shortly, the book was passed to Turtle River, who had the most difficulty, but he had known the least when they started. Zachary had had a smattering of learning. So had Travis, but Turtle River had had none. He read slowly and carefully, struggling with new words and getting help from Travis, who sat next to him.
When they finished, all three men left. As the door closed behind Travis, she felt alone, wishing he had stayed to talk as he occasionally did. She picked Jacob up.
“Time for night-night, love. Off to bed.”
Crystal changed to her nightgown and took down her hair, singing to Jacob and watching him as he played with the rag doll she had made. She dressed him for bed and put out the lamps, sitting down to rock him.
She held the baby in her arms until he fell asleep and she placed him in his crib. She would have to ask Travis to make a bed for him because soon he would outgrow his small crib. She wound a silky curl around her finger. She loved him deeply, but felt a sudden longing for another baby. Leaning down, Crystal kissed Jacob and lay down on her bed. She turned on her back to stare into the darkness. Why couldn’t she have her own baby? Even in the darkness the thought made her burn with embarrassment because she could not have a baby without Travis. But the notion would not go away. They were man and wife.
The ranch was thriving and the livery stable profitable. Travis might be happy for another son. She fell asleep thinking about another baby.
October came and faded into November. The nights were chill and blustery, yet Travis still did not sleep in the house. One November afternoon, Crystal took Jacob to look at the horses. Meandering into the new barn, she saw a bed of hay with two blankets hanging on the wall beside the straw. So, this was where Travis was sleeping.
A mixture of conflicting emotions filled her. She felt relieved that he slept elsewhere because he was too disturbing. At the same time, she suffered a familiar sense of disappointment and rejection that he preferred the cold drafty barn to sharing the bed with her.
She shrugged her shoulders and turned away, but even the sight of Travis’s solitary bed of hay could not dispel the now ever-present desire for another baby.
Jacob grew more adorable by the day and she yearned for companionship for him. Ellery had meant so much to her. Jacob needed a brother or sister. She brushed little Jacob’s curly locks from his forehead, watching them promptly spring right back. “We’ll look at the horses again,” she told him, carrying him outside. The pinto waited and one of the blacks ambled over to the fence. She held Jacob near the animals so he could pet them.
One night in the first week of December, while a fire crackled and the wind howled wildly around the house, the men finished reading and stayed talking and playing with Jacob. When Turtle River and Zachary rose to leave, Travis sat rocking Jacob, telling them good night but making no move to go himself. Crystal took Jacob from him to change him and dress him for bed.
With an easy movement Travis handed the baby to her. “The wind howls. I will sleep in here tonight, Crystal.”
“You have before, and I would think the barn would be cold and uncomfortable.”
He shrugged shoulders clad in blue chambray. “I grew up accustomed to sleeping on the ground and in a tipi. It matters little.”
He crossed the room to get the harness he was mending and moved to the table, setting a lamp in its center, while she carried Jacob to the bed to change him.
“I’ve been thinking it would be best to build a room onto this house. We will need more room as Jacob grows.”
Surprised, she nodded, looking at his dark head bent over the table, the lamp making strands of his black hair shine. His hands were strong and capable and she watched him turn the leather in his hand.
“Another room will be good. It might be better to build two rooms.”
His dark gaze met hers and his brows arched.
“A room for our bed,” she said, although her face flushed at the words our bed because the term barely fit. “And a room for little Jacob.”
Travis nodded and bent over the harness. They worked in silence until she sat down to feed and rock Jacob. The rocker made a steady creak as she went back and forth.
“Crystal, Clem Mandeville and his wife have a party every year in December.”
“I remember. I didn’t attend last year, but Ellery went.”
“Why didn’t you go?”
“I find parties tedious,” she answered, rocking steadily, her feet pumping as she found the rhythm soothing. The room was cozy and quiet, but her mind was in a turmoil because he would sleep beside her this night. And she feared she would be able to get little sleep.
“I think we should go.”
“Why?” she asked, aghast, all her attention returning to their conversation. He put down the leather strap and knife in his hands and leaned back in his chair.
“Clem Mandeville is my friend. It will hurt his feelings if no one shows up.”
“My goodness!” she exclaimed, dismayed. It had never occurred to her that she could hurt anyone’s feelings by refusing to attend a party. This new awareness bothered her.
“Almost everyone will be there,” she acknowledged. “Ellery said there couldn’t have been more than ten people in town who didn’t go last year,” she said uncomfortably. Ellery had chided her for not attending.
“That’s probably true. It’s winter. The harvest chores are behind us and it’s a time to celebrate. The holidays are just ahead of us.”
She frowned. “I’ve been thinking about the holidays. You will miss your Elizabeth and I’ll miss Ellery. Little Jacob won’t know it’s a holiday. Turtle River will not care; it is not his holiday … or yours. Since I doubt that Zachary has any warm memories, perhaps we should simply ignore them this year. Next year Jacob will be old enough to know and we can celebrate then.”
Travis nodded. “We can at least have a holiday supper. I’ll bring us meat.”
“And I’ll burn it.” She tried to make light of her housewifely deficiency.
“You’ll learn to cook,” he said encouragingly. “You’re better than when you came here.”
“Thank you, but I think you exaggerat
e,” she said, yet she was pleased.
“Well, holidays or no, we need to consider the Mandeville’s party. I think we should attend.”
She drew a deep breath, wanting to argue with him but having no good reason to object. “You know I don’t have friends in town.”
“It’s time you did, Crystal,” he said firmly. “For Jacob’s sake, you need to get to know the other women.”
She looked at the sleeping baby in her arms and sighed. Travis was right. They could not live in isolation, and she should get to know the other women. Jacob would go to school in town and he would have friends there. It would be easier for him if she had friends there as well.
“I suppose you’re right.” She placed Jacob in the crib and stroked his cheek.
“If you need to make a dress, you can get material when you’re in town Friday.”
She shook her head. “I have dresses from Baltimore.”
“Crystal,” he said solemnly, “wear your hair down. I don’t know how women fix their hair, but wear yours with ribbons.”
She stared at him with consternation. “I see no reason to do so. They all know me as Judge Spencer.”
He crossed the room to her, and her pulse jumped beneath his steadfast look. He took her arm and led her to her oval mirror. She looked at his reflection as he stepped behind her and unfastened her hair, removing the pins.
Crystal felt on fire. Her pulse raced and she was aware of each little tug against her scalp, each brush of his fingers against her. He stood too close for her to get her breath, and she suspected he could hear her heart drum. She watched his image in the mirror.
“What are you doing?”
“Taking your hair down,” he answered quietly. His dark eyes held her immobile. She could not tear her gaze from his, as if looking into the darkest midnight and feeling drawn by a power she couldn’t resist. If only he had not lost his heart in grief…
Yet if he hadn’t lost his wife and been buried in grief himself, he would never have wed her. The long strands tumbled over her shoulders, and then he combed his fingers through them gently. Relishing each stroke of his hand, she wanted to step closer to him and close her eyes. She looked up at him, her gaze dropping to his mouth. She knew she blushed, but she could not control the heat that flashed through her. What would it be like to feel his mouth upon hers?