As the deft foreman labored on her aching back, Jessie closed her eyes and surrendered to his masterful touch. His pressure was firm and purposeful, yet gentle and persuasive. After a while, his hands moved to her neck.
“Lift your braid,” he told her.
Jessie captured it, bent her head forward, and draped it over her face. His thumbs traveled up and down the stiff cords of her neck while his fingers rested on her collarbone. Jessie rolled her head to help loosen the sore area. Matt’s hands drifted to her shoulders to give them attention and comfort. His knowing fingers eased the kinks in her upper torso. Soon, the redhead felt better.
“That’s wonderful, Matt; thanks. Now I have to stir the soup before it sticks and burns.” She went to tend that task, but hated to leave his soothing touch.
The foreman let her do her chore, then caught her right hand to pull her back to him. “I’m not done yet, Boss Lady.” He guided her into a chair at the table, then sat down near her. “These hands need loosening, too.”
Jessie watched Matt as he massaged the water-puckered skin and grumbling bones. His strong hands were rough from work. She didn’t mind, as his touch was restorative and soothing. She gazed at his lowered head of dark-brown hair that fell in mussed waves toward a sun-bronzed face. Her gaze drifted down his neck to the hollow at its base. Dark hair was visible where the top buttons of his faded blue shirt had been undone in deference to the hot, dry day. The shirt fit snugly, emphasizing his broad shoulders. Where his sleeves were rolled to his elbows, she saw muscles honed from years of labor. She watched them move as his fingers worked on hers.
Jessie’s eyes roamed upward to his face with its sunny smile and sparkling brown eyes. He was.very gentle and soft-spoken for one so rugged in body and character. He was also quite handsome and virile. She wondered why Mathew Cordell had never wed. What had happened during his thirty-five years to keep him from choosing a wife and settling down on his own place? A woman couldn’t find a better man than Matt to share her love and life, so why was he still unattached?
Matt glanced up to find the redhead’s inquisitive gaze on him. “Is something wrong, Jessie?” he asked when she continued to stare at him.
Jessie liked the comforting sound of his voice. “No, just the opposite. I was thinking how lucky I am to have you around, Mathew Cordell.” A broad grin came her way. His chocolate eyes softened and glowed. Yet, he looked suddenly shy and a little surprised by her words.
“Thanks, Jessie,” he murmured, almost squirming in his seat.
Jessie warmed to his unfamiliar expression and mood. “No thanks are needed. It’s the truth.” He looked as if he wanted to say something, but felt he shouldn’t. Jessie decided not to intrude on his private feelings. “That’s what I needed,” she remarked, pulling her hands from his and flexing them. “I best get back to work. The next time you overdo, I’ll return the favor.”
Matt smiled and replied, “I’ll hold you to that promise, Boss Lady. Fact is, I might cheat just to get it,” he teased.
“Mathew Cordell be dishonest? The seasons would end first.”
In a serious tone, he said, “It would shock you what some men would do for you, Jessica Lane.” He stood and replaced his chair. “I’ll get busy, too.”
Jessie watched him leave, then returned to the simmering soup. She pondered his curious words. She asked herself if she could be the reason Matt had stayed on the ranch and never wed. That seemed unlikely in view of the fact he had never tried to court her. Yet, if he did have romantic feelings for her, she had to be careful not to hurt him.
The two women and men remained on the Bar F to continue their task. Hank stayed home to prepare supper for the cowhands. Tom was with him to tend the chores he had taken over from Mary Louise. When the canning group halted that night, bodies were tired and hands were wrinkled from hours in water. The boys stayed in the bunkhouse. Gran spent the night in one of the guest rooms, Matt in another, and Jessie in the master suite.
She looked around before falling upon the inviting bed. She let her imagination wonder about the nights and days Wilbur Fletcher had spent in this room. Soon she should go through the clothes and possessions he had left behind. She would give Matt first choice, then pass the remainder to the other hands. She liked this lovely and comfortable Spanishstyle house. It was a shame to leave it standing empty. Soon, she must also decide what to do about it.
As the redhead lay in the darkness, she wondered how Mary Louise had yielded to a man she hardly knew, a cruel and evil man. How many times had Fletcher and her defiant sister made love in this very room? What had it been like between them? Passionate and satisfying as with her and Navarro? Mary Louise was such a wild and reckless girl, such a greedy one. Would her sister miss her times with Wilbur as she missed hers with the desperado? Would Mary Louise seek to continue those carnal pleasures with another husband or a lover? Jessie couldn’t imagine another man taking her lost love’s place, but if she didn’t allow one to do so, she would be alone for the rest of her life: lonely, empty, childless, and unfulfilled. Could she stand such a barren existence? She wished Navarro were there with her, holding her and kissing her and making love to her.
Jessie turned to her side. She couldn’t get in a comfortable position. She was used to sleeping on her stomach, but her breasts were too sore to permit pressure on them. She realized she had missed her “woman’s way” in early June and in July, too. She assumed all her troubles had affected her body. She felt puffy, and hoped her impending flow would ease the tension and discomfort she had been enduring recently. She wanted to be back to normal. She didn’t like feeling queasy, exhausted and moody, like this. She had even halted her long rides with Matt because she was having to use the outhouse or chamber pot so frequently. It was bad enough to have her mind and heart not working right, but it was unbearably irritating to have her body fight her, too.
The canning was completed by Saturday afternoon. They left the filled jars in the kitchen, to be divided next week for use in both locations. They did have another round of canning to do soon when their own garden came in. They packed their things and were home before dark.
August arrived with a hot dryness that made the redhead even more miserable. She didn’t want to worry Gran, but a strange illness was plaguing her. She prayed she hadn’t caught a curious disease that would make her waste away. To hide it, Jessie rushed to the outhouse each time a wave of nausea came over her. She tried to conceal her fatigue and weakness. Sometimes she wanted to rest or sleep so much that she feared she would faint and expose her unnatural condition.
On Friday, a distraction came when Jimmy Joe asked if he could borrow a certain Mexican dress and mantilla to play a practical joke on Rusty Jones. When she saw Rusty arrive later, Jessie sneaked to the corner of the bunkhouse to catch the much-needed entertainment.
Jessie listened as the “woman” told the fiery-haired man with a beard that she was carrying his child as a result of the night he spent with her in the saloon two months ago. The confirmed bachelor didn’t know what to say or do, except to ask her to repeat her astonishing story.
Jessie peeked inside for a quick look. The “girl’s” back was to her uneasy victim. The thick, dark mantilla concealed the towhead’s identity, who spoke low and soft to prevent too early discovery of the practical joke. Jimmy Joe spoke good Spanish, and Miguel translated at certain points. The story—based on a real incident—worried Rusty.
Jessie knew enough Spanish to comprehend most of the humorous conversation, and Miguel’s assistance closed any gaps she or the other men had. At first she was amused, and she had to cover her mouth to silence any giggles.
“I don’t follow your story, señorita,” Rusty said in desperation.
The “girl” explained in Spanish, “I carry your child, Seiior Rusty. I am not a soiled dove as the others who work for Señor Bill. You were my first and only man. After you left my bed, I ran away from the saloon. I could not do such things again with strangers for money.
Do you not remember I was a virgin?”
Rusty glanced at his friends, looking embarrassed and nervous. He motioned for their help, but they all shrugged and grinned. He scowled at them.
“Do you not remember, Señor Rusty?” The question was asked again.
The bearded man cleared his clogged throat and replied honestly, “Yep, I was first to…sleep with you, señorita.”
“First and last” was the soft correction.
“I didn’t force myself onto you, señorita, and you weren’t no prisoner there. You said I didn’t hurt you. Why’d you come to me with your bad luck?”
“My father and brothers learned of my shameful secret. They say I must marry the child’s.father. You must help me.”
“Help you?” Rusty asked, panicking more each minute.
“Yes. We must marry. I must stay here with you. If we do not, we will be in much danger.” The “girl” pretended to weep in sadness and fear.
“In danger?” Rusty echoed, shifting about as if his whole body itched.
“Yes. They will come here and kill you for dishonoring our family.”
Rusty’s gaze grew wide and alarmed. He licked his dry mouth. His quivering fingers played with his red beard. His legs trembled. “K-k-kill me?”
“Sí” came the dreaded response.
Rusty’s face became a bright red. His gaze pleaded for help from the observant men, to no avail.
“You must do right by her, Sefior Rusty,” Carlos said.
The others agreed, nudging the man nearby and nodding their heads.
“And for your baby, Señor Rusty,” one added. “Don’t forgit about him.”
“Who says that seed’s mine? I ain’t never heard of having to wed no soiled dove after one night’s fun. How do I know I was last? How do I know she ain’t laying a trap for me? If I knew for sure she’s telling the truth, I’d marry her to give my child his rightful name. But this is suspicious.” Rusty swallowed hard. He tapped the “girl’s” shoulder and asked, “How can you be sure I’m to blame? How do you know you got a baby inside?”
When the “girl” related her symptoms, Jessie paled and shook as she recognized them as her own. She had been around animals mating and giving birth all her life, but she hadn’t seen morning sickness or been around a woman in the early stages of pregnancy since she was ten and her mother had Tom. The truth of her condition struck her hard. She felt weak and shaky and and scared.
Before she escaped to her room, she heard Jimmy Joe burst into chuckles and tease Rusty. The others joined in and howled with laughter. Jessie fled the enlightening scene and hurried to her bedroom for privacy.
She closed her door and paced the floor. How stupid and naive she was, she scolded herself. She had missed her monthly flow before, during illness or from other unknown reasons, but this time her breasts were sore and her body was puffy. She had passed her queasiness off to bad food and her sluggishness to hard work and tension. She had even ignored her crazy moods because of all she had endured recently.
Jessie reflected on her “woman’s way” and her nights with Navarro. She had missed the first one in June, right after her love’s return during the storm. She had skipped her July one, and it hadn’t appeared earlier this month. That meant she had to be over two months’ pregnant. What, she wondered in alarm, could she do?
Navarro had been gone since June twelfth, almost nine weeks. She hadn’t received any word from him and had no idea where he was. She doubted he would ever return. Even if he sent a letter, he wouldn’t tell her where to locate him. She was carrying his child, and he would never know!
Jessie waxed between happiness and fear. She caressed her stomach and thought of their child growing there. Apprehension flooded her as she realized it would be born a bastard. Her child would be forced to fight the same stigma and heartache that its father had suffered. No, she couldn’t allow her child to be tormented. She had to think of something, she fretted, but what?
Visions of disgrace entered her turbulent mind. She would soil the Lane name. She would become the topic of horrible gossip. Having a child out of wedlock would tarnish her, her family, her home, not to mention her child. Everyone would discover her “sin” with the fugitive drifter. Her beautiful love would become something ugly and shameful, something destructive, if she didn’t prevent it.
Jessie knew she had to make a decision fast. She would be unable to hide her condition in a couple of months. She figured up the timing and decided the baby was due in early March. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she realized that was the month she had met Navarro Breed. If only he would return…
Jessie’s tears and panic increased as she told herself that was a hopeless dream. This was a problem—a stark reality—she had to work out alone.
Chapter Eighteen
Saturday afternoon, Jessie let Tom go riding with Matt so she could speak with her grandmother alone. She could not put off telling her any longer. She had worried over it all night and had come up with an idea. Now she had to discuss it with Martha Lane. There was no use waiting and praying for Navarro to return in time to give their child a name before he had to leave her side again. She had stopped fantasizing he would ride up and pull her into his arms any day and make everything all right. But if he did, the redhead knew she would leave with him and take her family with them to begin a new life in a faraway place.
Jessie brushed her long hair to release part of her tension. She had been sick again upon arising, sicker than any morning thus far. But as the hours passed, so had her nausea. She put the brush aside, caressed her stomach, and whispered, “It’s time, little one, to make plans to protect you from the hurt and shame your father endured.”
Jessica walked into the kitchen. “Gran, I have something to discuss with you,” she said. “I know you’ll be hurt and disappointed in me, and I’m sorry. I’m in trouble, Gran, big trouble, and I don’t know how to tell you about it.”
Martha looked at the girl who stood there with lowered head and clenched hands. She went to her granddaughter and hugged her. “You’re carrying Navarro’s child,” she said in a gentle tone to help Jessie begin.
Jessie’s head jerked upward and she stared at the white-haired woman. Her blue eyes were wide and her mouth was open. “How…did you know? I only realized it yesterday.”
Gran guided them to chairs in the eating area. She sat close and kept the redhead’s cold, damp hands clasped in hers. Her voice and gaze were compassionate. “The Good Lord gave me three fine sons, but found it in His way to call them home to Him. A mother never thinks she’ll outlive her children. I’ve borne and buried three children, Jessie, so I know the symptoms.”
Jessie’s eyes misted, her cheeks glowed, and her voice cracked with emotion. “Why didn’t you say something? I must be stupid and naive, because I didn’t make the connection until recently.”
“How could you, child? You’ve been around men most of your life. I should have had a talk with you long ago, especially after I saw what was happening between you and Navarro.” When Jessie looked surprised, the older woman continued. “I watched how you two reached out to each other. I’ve known you from birth, Jessie. I saw how he was changing you, and how you were changing him. But he’s a drifter. I thought your feelings would pass after he left.”
“If he hadn’t had to leave, Gran, he would have married me. He loves me.”
“I’m sure he does, Jessie, but that hopeless dream is over, gone with him. I knew you had troubles. I’ve seen you running for the outhouse many times, and I’ve seen how moody and weary you are. I was waiting for you to come to me.”
“I would have come sooner, Gran, but I only learned what was wrong yesterday.” Jessie explained how she had made her shocking discovery. “We love each other so much. We knew we didn’t have much time together. At first I didn’t know why. I didn’t even believe Navarro when he kept swearing he couldn’t stay long. When he came back that stormy night after Papa’s death and the range fire, I needed him
so much, and he needed me. I didn’t understand how much until he told me he was leaving forever.”
Jessie thought it was best for everyone if her grandmother were led to believe she had “sinned” only once, as Martha Lane was a firm believer in God and in right and wrong. It was hard enough for the older woman to learn about such a wanton weakness without having to be told it had happened several times. “I’m sorry, Gran.”
“But you still love him and you’re carrying his child,” Martha reminded her.
“Yes, Gran, but I didn’t want it to be like this. The best thing to do is move somewhere until the baby is born, or to live there permanently. I’ll have to lie and say I’m a widow, so my child won’t be treated as a bastard.” Jessie related enough of Navarro Breed’s history to let the woman know how he had suffered. “I’ll wait another month to make certain Navarro won’t change his mind and return. Then we’ll leave before I start coming to season. We can decide afterward whether or not to return. I’m afraid people might guess the truth from the time of the baby’s birth and its looks.”
The older woman looked worried and distressed. “Sell the ranch, Jessie?”
“No, Gran. We worked too hard to keep it, and our family is buried out here. I plan to let Matt run it for us. In this fix, he’ll do a better job than I could. Eventually I want to return and live here. This is our home. Maybe Navarro will find a way to end his trouble.”
Martha squeezed her granddaughter’s hands, then grimaced in pain from her arthritic condition. “Don’t live in a dream world, Jessie. Face the truth, child; he can’t ever return. He wouldn’t, because he loves you and wants you safe. You’ll be blooming soon, so you have to act quickly. A scandal can ruin the baby you’re carrying and this ranch. You have a duty to them. Time is working against you, but there is another way. Do what you must, child.”
Follow The Wind Page 39