The Devil's Daughter

by Laura Drewry

  After dumping the washtub out back, she set to work around the yard. By the time she stopped for a drink of water, she’d piled up enough chips to last them a week, and in the process had cleaned the yard of every last nasty bit of dung.

  Next she set to work on the barn. If she was going to have to live out there for the next while, she’d damn well be comfortable. A quick search produced Jed’s hammer and a handful of nails, which she pounded into the wall farthest from the stalls. Once the wash was dry, she’d hang the clean clothes inside, instead of leaving them folded in the dirt.

  Next, she rearranged the straw they used for a mattress, added more, then covered it all with one of the blankets. It wouldn’t be a huge improvement over sleeping on the straw itself, but it would be something.

  When she’d satisfied herself with the new arrangements, she returned the hammer to its spot and retrieved the saw. Jed wanted to use the mesquite for a corral, so she’d help him out a little.

  It only took three or four serious jabs of the thorns before Lucy finally gave up and put her gloves back on. Then she set to cutting down the nasty bushes with a vengeance. She didn’t stop for her noon meal, nor did she pay Maggie a second’s glance.

  If the woman wanted to stay holed up in that disgusting little cabin, then so be it. Lucy would get to her eventually.

  By the time the wagon creaked toward the house, Lucy was scratched, poked, filthy and almost warm. Almost.

  Miss Blake sat on the bench next to Jed, her round body jostling against the seat with each dip and jerk the wagon made.

  The woman’s gaze darted to the house, the barn, Lucy’s feet, then to Jed, but never once did she look Lucy in the eye.

  “Mrs. Caine,” she said quietly. “It’s nice to see you again.”

  “Hello, Miss Blake,” Lucy answered. “I’m sure Maggie will be happy to have you here.”

  “Please, call me Berta.”

  Lucy tried to smile, but failed. “I’m Lucy.”

  Jed helped the woman down from the bench, then pulled her small bag from the back of the wagon. He had yet to say anything, but his frown wasn’t exactly encouraging. Now what had she done wrong?

  He probably expected her to have more done, but what?

  “How are you managing out here?” Berta still didn’t look directly at her.

  “Well...” Lucy laughed lightly. “It’s certainly different.” Her forced smile was a wasted effort as neither Berta nor Jed would look at her.

  They stood in the yard for a moment, but no one said anything. Finally Berta cleared her throat.

  “I best see to Maggie.”

  Jed nodded distractedly and led her toward the cabin.

  “Maggie,” he called through the door. “Miss Blake’s here.”

  Lucy stayed where she was, watching, as Maggie cracked the door open just enough to see out, then wider to let the other woman inside. Berta’s skirts had barely cleared the opening before Maggie slammed the door shut and Lucy heard the now familiar thud.

  The Bible was in place.

  With slow, measured steps, Jed made his way back to Lucy, but still he didn’t say anything.

  She’d ruined it. Her chance to prove something to Jed and she hadn’t done it.

  He rubbed his palm across his face and let out a long low whistle.

  “You’ve been busy.”

  A bubble of something – pride? – swelled inside Lucy. She half-nodded, half-shrugged as she followed his gaze around the yard.

  “What d’you think?” she asked, fighting back the hope from her voice.

  “I think I’m glad you’re the one who wrestled those prickles and not me.”

  Jed’s deep laughter filled her with an odd, unsettling, feeling that almost had her laughing with him.

  Almost.

  He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and gave her a soft squeeze. “Suppose it’s too much to hope you wore your bonnet while you were out here working so hard?”

  Lucy grinned back at him and shrugged. “I told you before, husband, you can hope all you like.”

  The look in his eyes proved he did just that – hope. She snuggled against him, lacing her fingers through his as they dangled off her shoulder. It wasn’t something she planned to do, but it felt natural.

  How strange.

  “Have you eaten?” she asked. “I could make--”

  “I’m fine,” he answered, a little too quickly. “Miss Blake brought some food for the ride back, so we ate in the wagon.”

  Though a tiny part of Lucy resented it, she couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief.

  “Back to work,” she said, offering him a smile. “The boss doesn’t put up with slackers, you know.”

  “Is that right?” Jed pulled her up tight and gazed down at her. She was filthy and wrinkled, but Lucy didn’t care. She’d made Jed happy, and that was all that mattered. It put her one step closer to her goal.

  “Yes,” she sighed teasingly. “Work work work. That’s all he thinks about.”

  A soft rumble began in Jed’s throat as he leaned closer. “That’s not all he cares about.”

  His kiss was soft and tender, his hands strong. She leaned into him, letting him lead her until the last of her strength drained away and she was left clinging to the front of his shirt.

  He moaned softly. “This isn’t helping me get the chores done.”

  “There’s more to life than chores, dear husband.”

  Jed’s laughter breathed through her hair. He kissed her neck, then the top of her head before releasing her.

  “All right,” she muttered. “We wouldn’t want the boss finding us here doing nothing.”

  She waggled her brow at him, then headed back to the partially destroyed mesquite bush. She’d certainly rather be doing something else, but at least she had something to look forward to later.

  o0o

  Lucy lifted the coffeepot above her head, all set to hurl it into the fire, when Jed’s voice stopped her.

  “Please don’t.” His gaze flicked between her and the pot as though she were holding a priceless treasure.

  “I hate this stupid thing.”

  Even though Jed drank it without question or comment, she knew the truth. Every pot was worse than the one before.

  Of course, coffee was but one of her frustrations. Her husband had yet to do anything more than kiss her. Yes, his kisses were amazing, and yes, she welcomed each one. Worse, she found herself longing for the next.

  But she needed more.

  Too many times she found herself so caught up in his kisses, she forgot why she was really there. She needed to remember the plan.

  And if it meant she had to control her temper and learn patience, then that’s what she was going to do, even though the temptation to stomp on that coffeepot into the earth was more than any being should be faced with.

  “What am I doing wrong?” she demanded. Still clutching the pot in her fist, she whipped it through the air, spilling thick brown sludge down her skirt and over the toes of her boots.

  Great. More washing.

  “Nothing.” Jed stepped closer and reached for the pot, but she moved it out of his reach.

  “Then why can’t I do it?”

  “You just need to have patience.” He continued to flick his gaze between her and the annoying piece of tin he loved so much.

  “Patience?” she cried, tightening her grip on the pot. She shoved it against Jed’s chest and pierced him with an accusing glare. “I’ve been making pot after pot for over a week now, and it’s still horrible. Are you sure you gave me all the directions?”

  “Yes.” He reached for the pot, but she yanked it away again.

  “And I’m not forgetting any steps?”

  “No.”

  She fought the urge to scream at him. How could he stand there so calmly when something as simple as making a pot of coffee was driving her completely mad?

  “It’s okay.” Jed wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her int
o a tight squeeze, but Lucy was no fool.

  “Nice try, Jed, but you’re not getting this stupid pot back.”

  He made a dive for it, but she jerked her arm back, out of his reach.

  “Some people just don’t have the knack for it.”

  A soft breeze whispered his scent under her nose. She inhaled deeply, momentarily lost in the warm musky smell.

  “But I’m doing it right!” Lucy pushed away from him and stamped her foot. “There’s no reason for me to fail at something as simple as this.”

  He reached for her again, but she slapped his hand away.

  “Don’t.”

  A look of shock flashed across Jed’s face. She’d never refused his touch before. In fact, she’d always been the one asking for it.

  “I’m sorry,” she muttered. “But this is madness. It’s just a stupid pot of coffee!”

  “Ah.” He nodded solemnly, but those dark eyes of his crinkled anyway. “I think we’ve just discovered the problem.”

  Why was he smiling? He better not be mocking her. Another human had mocked her once. Only once.

  “It’s not ‘just’ coffee, Lucy.”

  “Yes, Jed, it is.” She tossed the pot beside the water bucket and let out a low growl.

  He rescued his precious pot, rinsed the leftover sludge from inside it, then refilled it with clean water and set it over the flames.

  “Making coffee,” he explained. “Making good coffee, is a talent. You either have it, develop it, or keep as far away from it as you can.”

  He couldn’t be serious.

  “It’s coffee,” she repeated. The urge to kick the grinder out of his hands was almost too much to bear. “If you follow the recipe, it should taste the same every time you make it.”

  Jed glanced up long enough to wink, then shrugged. “And yet we’ve proven that’s not exactly true, haven’t we?”

  “That’s ridiculous!” She took a breath, readying herself to continue the battle.

  “Temper, temper, Lucille.” Deacon’s voice taunted from the darkened shadow beside the house. She should have expected him; should have known he’d wait for her to lose focus for a moment, then slither in like the slimy snake he was.

  Jed whirled around just as Deacon stepped into the light.

  The horses whinnied nervously and stomped inside the barn.

  “What the. . .?” Jed moved between Lucy and her brother. “Who the hell are you?”

  A smirk twitched against Deacon’s lips, but Lucy couldn’t be sure if it was because of Jed’s reference to Hell, or because he thought he could protect her from Deacon.

  “Lucille – you haven’t told him about me yet?” Her brother stepped closer, hat in hand, and offered a short bow.

  Jed didn’t flinch. “No, she hasn’t.”

  Deacon smiled in his mocking way and shrugged. “That’s odd, since she’s told me quite a bit about you.”

  “Jed--” Lucy tried to step around him, but his arm shot out, blocking her way.

  Deacon’s eyes flamed for a second, then cooled. “I’m Lucille’s brother, Deacon.” He eyed Jed with icy disgust. “And you are Jedidiah Caine.”

  Jed seemed to stand a little straighter. “Lucy never mentioned a brother.”

  “No,” Deacon smiled wickedly. “I’m sure she didn’t.”

  “We’re not exactly close,” Lucy hastened to explain as she stepped around Jed’s arm.

  The worst thing she could do is show Deacon fear; he’d devour them both as they stood there. She had to act as though his presence meant nothing to her. As though he dropped by every night for coffee.

  Jed’s entire body remained tense, his dark eyes scrutinizing every breath Deacon took.

  “How’d you get here?” he asked. “Didn’t hear a horse or wagon.”

  Deacon’s gaze flicked to Lucy for a moment, then back to Jed. “I’ve never been particularly taken with beasts of burden.”

  “And as you can tell,” Lucy said pointedly, gesturing toward the barn, “they’re not particularly taken with you, either.”

  Deacon brushed unseen dirt from his spotless lapel, then frowned at the toe of his shoe, set deep in the middle of a crumbled buffalo chip.

  “Sorry,” Lucy smiled. “Must’ve missed one.”

  He raised his eyes slowly, each movement deliberate. With his right hand, he reached inside his coat pocket and pulled out his ferret, which he cradled like a baby as he stroked its neck.

  Deacon meant to unnerve her – and Jed – but Lucy would have no part of it. She’d barely moved a breath before Jed’s hand closed around her arm and tugged her closer, his hard glare never leaving Deacon’s face.

  “You’re saying you walked the ten miles from town?”

  Deacon hesitated briefly, then shrugged. “Okay.”

  “That’s an awful long walk.” Jed didn’t seem to pay any mind to the rodent sniffing its way around Deacon’s neck.

  Deacon shrugged again. “’Suppose.”

  “And yet your clothes look like they’ve just come back from Mrs. Lee’s laundry.”

  Lucy released a soft chuckle. “Except his shoe, of course.”

  Deacon’s expression didn’t change, but the fire in his soul belched enough steam to reach Lucy’s. Jed held Deacon’s gaze, not challenging him, but simply making it clear he would not be intimidated.

  If she didn’t need his trust and his soul, Lucy might have laughed at him. Jed seemed to think Deacon was no threat to any of them, a mistake he’d soon regret.

  Jed relaxed, but barely. “Any family of Lucy’s is welcome here, of course.”

  As Lucy fought back a groan, Deacon’s face lit up.

  “Excellent,” he said, his gaze still fixed on Jed, almost testing him. “There’s nothing more important than family, isn’t that what they say?”

  Lucy and Jed both snorted, then glanced at each other in surprise.

  “Yeah,” Jed agreed. “That’s what they say.”

  The fire crackled gently behind them – the only sound for a few very long seconds.

  “Where’s our manners, Lucy?” Jed finally spoke. “I’ll bring out the chairs and we can all sit down for a visit. It’ll give me a chance to get to know your brother.”

  “Yes,” Deacon sneered. “Wouldn’t that be. . .nice?”

  He eased the rodent from around his neck and set it back in his lap. It leapt to the ground and scurried off toward the barn, yet still Jed paid it no mind.

  With a short nod at Deacon, Jed gave Lucy’s hand a quick squeeze before heading to the house.

  Lucy turned on her brother the second Jed disappeared behind the door. “What do you want, Deacon?”

  Her brother’s eyes were void of any emotion. “Just wanted to stop by for a little social time with my sister. Is that wrong?”

  She cast a glance toward the house, then lowered her voice to a tight whisper. “Let’s not waste each other’s time.”

  “It’s not me wasting time.” He flicked an ash from his sleeve, and looked up at her with complete indifference. “You’re the one who insisted Mr. Caine’s pride would be his downfall. Either that or his lust. And yet here we are, a week later, and you’ve made little to no progress.”

  Before she could answer, Jed pushed open the door and carried the two chairs toward the fire.

  “Have a seat,” he said, offering Deacon the first one, and Lucy the other. “Miss Blake will be out in a minute.”

  Deacon wiped the chair with his gloves as he’d done before, then perched himself on the edge, his bowler hat balanced upside down on his lap. His ferret darted back across the yard, up Deacon’s pantleg, and disappeared inside his bowler hat.

  Deacon reached inside to touch his pet, then jerked his hand back, a single drop of blood falling from his fingertip. Instead of reacting violently, as Lucy expected, Deacon simply wiped the blood on his handkerchief and smiled down at the ferret.

  Suppressing a shudder, Lucy took the other chair as Jed bent to the coffee.

/>   “Do you live in town?” Jed asked, not looking up from his task.

  “No.” Deacon rolled his eyes, but only Lucy saw. “I don’t really have a place to call home.”

  After a moment’s hesitation, Jed’s gaze swung uneasily from Deacon to Lucy, but even as she shook her head, the words fell from his lips.

  “So will you be needing to stay here, then?”

  The grin that split Deacon’s face was enough to make Lucy want to hit him. Hard.

  “Wouldn’t think of it,” he said.

  “Of course not.” It was Lucy’s turn to grin. “Couldn’t let those clothes get dirty, could we?”

  She looked over at Jed just as he released a long breath. Damned conscience of his could have gotten them into serious trouble.

  He bent back over the coffeepot, and for a moment the only sound in the cool night air was him carefully tapping grounds into the rapidly boiling water. There was a certain rhythm to his movements, a gentle yet continuous motion that slipped the grounds into the water in an even pattern, not anything like the way Lucy dumped them all in at once.

  Maybe that was her problem.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by Deacon’s forced cough.

  “It’s a lot of land you’ve got here, Jedidiah.” His expression showed naught but indifference. “Lot of wide open, empty land.”

  Lucy’s hard glare went ignored.

  “It’s a fair size.” Jed straightened from the fire and looked around with that air of determination he always wore when talking about his land.

  “Yes, but what will you do with so much emptiness?” Deacon wrinkled his nose, one brow arched in distaste.

  This was a tactic Deacon used all the time, and in fact, one Lucy had used herself when she first arrived. With each small disappointment, a tiny bit of darkness pressed into Jed’s soul. She needed to prevent Deacon from causing too many of them, or Jed would fall to her brother instead.

  “Might seem empty now.” Jed shrugged. “But not for long.”

  His face shone with resolve and pride, and for a moment, Lucy wanted to share those feelings with him; to be so sure of something – so sure of anything – that she could ignore the dissenters and make her plan work. Problem was, her dissenters wielded more power than she did.

  “We’re going to turn it into the best spread this county’s ever seen, ain’t that right, Lucy?”