As if she’d bought dress fabric any other time. “Yep.”
Gage leaned down and kissed her gently. “I’ll buy you more.”
“I’ll just wash it. A few stains don’t matter.”
“It’s coming,” Ike said.
Bailey had forgotten Ike was here, and she never let down her guard around men enough not to know where they were every second. She saw two little front hooves and the first peek at a white nose. She’d done it. The baby was coming as it ought.
Long, quiet minutes passed, and Bailey gathered herself while they watched the birthing.
The head delivered, and Ike said with excitement, “Look, its eyes are blinking. It’s alive.”
“You saved my mare and the foal.” Gage bent down and kissed her again. “You can have all the dresses you want.” He smiled. “And a few you don’t want.”
Ike stayed back from the mare, letting her finish on her own. As the foal’s shoulders and middle inched out, Ike looked up and smiled at Bailey. It occurred to her that she wasn’t a bit afraid of him. Was it because she’d decided he was trustworthy? Or was it because Gage was here and he made her feel safe? Or was she just too confounded tired to feel anything?
Gage turned to watch the foal come, slow but steady, into the world. He held Bailey in front of him. She shamelessly used his strength to keep herself upright. Now that things were in order, the baby came in a rush.
“It’s a little stallion.” Ike dropped to his knees beside the colt. The mother stood with a grunt and turned. Her ears pinned back, and she shook her head at Ike as if to scare him off.
It worked.
“Let’s get out of the stall.” Gage shifted his hold on Bailey and urged her away from the nervous new mama.
Ike came right behind them and swung the stall door shut. Once they were out, the mare turned to the foal and nuzzled it.
“That’s a beautiful mare,” Bailey said as she studied the long legs and sleek muscles of the mare for the first time—at least the first time since she and the horse were standing upright. “I see why you bought her. I’m glad we could pull her through.”
“It’s a big baby.” Ike leaned his crossed arms on the top of the stable railing. Gage and Bailey stood beside him, watching the mother take care of her little one.
The colt lifted its head, and the mother crooned a soft sound and licked her baby.
“He’s the chestnut color of his daddy but with his mother’s white face and white stockings. If he grows up to look like her with the strong build of his sire, he’ll be worth a fortune.” Ike looked at Bailey. “And it’s due to your help, ma’am. You’re a fine hand with animals. Do you know a lot of doctoring tricks?”
Bailey shrugged. “I’ve handled a lot of horses and cows.”
She was between Ike and Gage, and she was only distantly aware she’d moved as close to Gage as she could get.
Gage’s strong arm wrapped around her back. “Let’s leave them alone for a while. You need to get off your feet, Bailey. This was too much to ask of you.”
“You have to protect your animals. God gave us dominion over them. That means they’re in our care. I found the strength because it was necessary.”
As they walked to the house, Bailey realized she was leaning almost completely on Gage. She wasn’t sure she’d have made it if not for him.
“Oh, I just remembered. I came out here to begin with so I could talk with you without Ma listening.” They were almost to the house.
Gage stopped, turned to face her. “What is it?” He leaned closer, attentive, warm. So solid.
“I w-wanted to . . .” His hand had been around her back. Now it slid to her waist on one side, right where she’d been hurt. She flinched.
He glanced down and slid his hand up, then up a bit more until it made her shiver, but she wasn’t one bit cold.
“I hurt you.” His concern was like a caress on her untouched, lonely heart.
“No, it was nothing. But thank you for caring.”
“Of course I care.” His brow knit, and he frowned as if he couldn’t imagine someone not caring.
Bailey could imagine it all too well.
His eyes seemed to look inside her, study her, wonder about her. She looked into those gray eyes and wondered back. His other hand, on her upper arm, not the injured one, slid up to her shoulder, then her neck.
“Bailey,” he whispered as he pulled her closer and lowered his head.
The back door of the cabin popped open. Ma cried out, “Bailey, you should not be out yet. You’re still healing.”
Gage almost jumped away from her and took a nervous look at his ma.
“I’m fine, Ma,” she said.
“You’ve got blood on your new dress.” Ma wrung her hands. She sounded genuinely concerned for Bailey, but was she? Or was she worried about the dress being ruined? Or her son being too close to his wife?
“I helped deliver a colt.”
“You what?” Ma gave a squawk. “Working in the barn is for the men. Come in at once. I’ll help you get changed. Why, I just finished making that for you. I’ll hurry and wash it before the stains set.”
Bailey suspected it was too late for the stains.
“And you shouldn’t be out and about. You aren’t strong enough.”
Bailey wished her husband would tell his ma that having Bailey help with the foaling had been important and he supported it. She wished he’d say she was the strongest woman he’d ever known and he was proud of that. Instead, he looked worried about her, and maybe he was worried about the dress too, after his ma’s work on it.
She spared him a narrow-eyed look.
With a shrug so tiny, Ma couldn’t see it, but Bailey sure did, he slid an arm around her back and urged her forward. “Yep, you need to get inside, clean up, and rest.”
Gage seemed helpless to do anything other than go along with his mother. Leaning close as they neared Ma, Bailey muttered, “You obey your Ma, but you don’t seem to have any trouble refusing to do things my way. Why is that?”
Gage didn’t answer, just kept moving forward. Then they were too close and Bailey had to stop talking. She was sure that was exactly what he intended.
And she was too worn out to grab the man and shake him, not to mention what Ma would make of that.
Ma rushed forward, caught Bailey’s arm as if to keep her from collapsing. Gage let go and stepped back. Ma hustled Bailey toward the house.
Gage said, “I’ll have another look at the colt before I come in for supper.” Which was two hours away. He left her in Ma’s care. The coward was gone before Bailey could say a word.
Ma badgered her the whole time she helped her clean up, as she so often did. Sounding concerned but using words that left little cuts in Bailey’s heart. It was so familiar to be criticized, she tried to pay it no mind. Pa had never let up. But coming from Ma Coulter and laced with concern and help, it left Bailey more wounded than Pa’s shouting. Bailey knew she should say something, tell Ma to stop with the hurtful words.
But Bailey couldn’t manage much herself. And Ma was the only one around, so Bailey endured Ma’s veiled insults over doing such an unladylike thing as assist when a baby animal was born. For a woman from a Texas ranch, Ma seemed overly upset about the mess.
Finally, the scolding was over and Bailey was back in a clean dress. She found herself right back to sitting at the table—where she’d been slowly going mad with boredom all week.
At least Ma didn’t make her stay in bed.
It was only after she rested awhile when her energy returned enough to remember she’d seen all those men leave Gage behind and she’d rushed out to talk to him. He was always surrounded by a crowd of men when he was outside.
She’d wanted to know how the investigation was going. She wanted to check over his stallion and see how he was healing, and she’d wanted to tell Gage she was ready to ride over to her homestead and check her cattle. Surely the trails were open by now. Yes, Gage could send men over
there, but she wanted to go herself.
More than anything, she wanted a few hours away from Ma’s sharp little claws.
Of course, she had no gumption left to do such a thing today, but she’d been up to it until she had to deliver a foal.
Ma was probably going to throw a fit over Bailey wanting to see her old homestead. She wouldn’t approve that Bailey had lived there alone, and God save them all if Ma found out Bailey had worn britches.
That was Bailey’s reason for wanting to talk to Gage when he was outside, but not when he was surrounded by his men.
She could whisper her questions to him at night, except she’d been falling asleep hard the moment she lay down every night.
Tonight, she promised herself, she’d stay awake and have a talk with him. It had to be better than standing by a window hoping all his men would go away and he would stay. Because she wasn’t going out there to talk to him when they were around.
“Gage, I need to talk to you.”
Gage’s eyes shot open. His wife was awake. He’d been coming in as soon as possible at night, after giving her privacy to change, hoping to get a bit of her attention and maybe a good-night kiss.
But every night she’d already dropped down into that bed before he got here and as good as passed out. He knew she was still healing. With her wounds and her blood loss, she needed sleep to mend, so he understood. But he couldn’t believe he slept next to his pretty wife night after night and never spoke to her.
Watching her be so injured, realizing how strong and heroic she was to stand over him with a rifle when she was wounded, knowing she was inside putting up with Ma while Gage could go hide by working long hours. The more he knew the true measure of this woman, the more he wanted to spend time with her and let her know his feelings were warm and growing warmer every day.
He could tell her none of this, because she fell asleep on him. It wore on a man. And now here she was, awake.
“What is it?” He rolled onto his side and propped his head up on his fist.
It was a perfect spring night, the full moon and blazing stars making the outside almost as bright as day. The glow streamed in from the window behind Gage’s back. He was careful not to hover too close so that he shaded her face. He wanted to see those golden eyes turn silver in the light of the night sky. He rested a hand on her middle and enjoyed the movement as her breath rose and fell. He looked down at her, eager to hear every word.
“I’ve wanted to talk to you, but I’ve been so tired at night and I had things that couldn’t be said in front of your ma. Today when I came out—”
“You ended up saving my new colt instead of getting to talk.” Gage’s hand flexed on her belly. She felt so alive under his hand. “I sure appreciate that, Bailey. You were there when I needed help. You knew what to do and had the skill to do it well.”
And what was a man to do when thanking his wife kindly for doing something so fine? He leaned down and kissed her. He meant to just brush her lips. A gentle kiss and then they’d go back to their talk. He wanted to talk with her, too.
Then she kissed him back and thoughts of talking fled. He deepened the kiss and moved closer until he had her nearly tucked beneath him. Her hand rested on his arm, and he got hold of himself, prepared to be wise and give her more time to heal, more time to know him better.
He lifted himself away, amazed at just how close he’d gotten.
“Come back, Gage. Don’t give me time to think.” Her strong, clever, lifesaving hand slid slowly up his arm, over his shoulder, and behind his head. Her fingers sank deep into his hair.
But the fear in her voice—perhaps unfortunately—brought Gage to his senses, and he reached for her hand and unwound it from his hair. Feeling like a fool to stop her, he brought her hand around and kissed it.
Her eyes glittered. She tried to get away. She was thinking and she’d asked him not to let her. But he didn’t want passion to flare up between them when instead there should be honesty, and her fearful request and the grip of her hand reminded him that he’d always known there were deep secrets inside Bailey. And until she could talk them through, he didn’t think she’d be able to lay them down.
In fact, she’d just proven she’d rather make their marriage real in all ways than have the talk that was long overdue.
“Why do you say that? ‘Don’t give me time to think.’ Think about what?”
She shook her head frantically and pulled away. Caging her with both hands, he didn’t let his weight settle on her. Whatever her fear—and he had an awful dread for what it might be—if he physically restrained her, it might turn her against him for good.
“Gage, let me go. If you don’t want me to give you wifely attentions, that’s f-fine.” Her voice broke, and she fell silent. He was far enough away that he could see her eyes, as dry as a desert. She never cried.
“What is it that’s kept you a near prisoner in this house since you came here? You don’t like being around my men. Tell me why.” He kissed her again with aching gentleness. “Please.”
He fell silent and waited. She wasn’t going anywhere until they got this settled. Because the other part of this night, something he now realized he wanted very badly, could not begin until he knew what haunted her.
22
Maybe if he’d shouted.
Maybe if he’d pinned her down.
Maybe if he’d goaded her or even insulted her like her pa did all the time.
Maybe then she could have kept silent.
Instead, he’d offered her warm, gentle kisses that awakened the womanly side of herself, something that confused her terribly because she’d always considered what passed between a man and woman to be an ugly thing. That was the only way she’d ever seen it, and now she was taken aback at how strongly she was drawn to him. And then he’d—
“You controlled yourself,” she said.
Gage’s eyes narrowed. “Bailey, I’m not going to let you rush into something you fear. I’d hate for passion to ignite between us and sweep us along, only to have you regret it afterward.”
Bailey reached a hand up to touch him on the temple, beside one of his gray eyes. “Control. That’s what I’ve always thought of when looking into your eyes. Icy control.”
“Back in Texas, when I wouldn’t go to war, I had to listen to some folks say terrible things to me and I didn’t dare fight back. I reckon I learned to control myself.”
“I considered that cold control your worst flaw, but right now I thank God for it, because . . . because you’re right. I might have regretted it later.” She might even regret it during, and what passed between them could become a nightmare for her . . . to go with the others she had.
“If you consider self-control something to thank God for, then I might just be the best husband you could have ever found.”
“And God arranged for me to find you.”
Gage grimaced. “By sending Ma for a visit?”
Bailey almost smiled. “I can’t imagine much else that would have convinced you to ask me. And the bribe you offered, well, that got me to say yes. God knew He was dealing with a stubborn pair.”
“Tell me, Bailey. Get your fears out where we can both see them. If that doesn’t get shut of them, then at least I can share the weight of them with you.”
She drew her finger down his cheek and touched the corner of his lips. “I’ll try.”
He bent over and kissed her, then eased back, waiting. Patient. Controlled.
It was a story that she’d vowed to never speak of, but the solitary way she lived . . . who had she ever talked with anyway? Her sisters? She would die before she’d lay her burdens on their already overburdened hearts. But Gage was strong enough to hear it.
“Kylie managed to get herself assigned as a secretary of sorts to an officer. That got her out of most of the battles. Shannon found herself in the medical corps. She still saw terrible things, but she’d go to work on the injured after the cannons quit firing.”
Gage sho
ok his head slowly. “All three of you went to war. Your pa oughta be strung up for that.”
“But I never got out of the fighting.” Bailey’s hands clenched on the front of Gage’s nightshirt as she thought of how she’d run into the middle of gunfire. Bayonets. Charging horses. Cannon fire.
“You really went to those battles?” Gage asked.
She knew he was just trying to urge her to speak of the worst of it. She didn’t know how to go on. She just didn’t.
“And that’s why you don’t like being around men? Because you were surrounded by them and saw them do such ugly things?”
A humorless laugh escaped her clamped jaw. “That ought to be enough. But I think I got through it all right. I felt like I was fighting for my country, and I saw it as a noble thing. So many of the men were terrified, too. And the company I was with, we all got tough. The terror eased, or maybe we just got used to it. I did come to see the Southern point of view, though. They were fighting for freedom. Not freedom to hold slaves, because most of them weren’t slave owners. But freedom from a tyrannical government who could make laws from far away. In some ways the South was fighting for a more American thing than the North. The South saw themselves as repeating the Revolutionary War, while the North was fighting for a powerful government, a royal government like we’d just escaped.”
“Did you talk like that to the other soldiers? Were they furious about it and did something to you?”
Bailey touched Gage’s mouth with her fingertips. “Let me just get this all said, Gage.”
He nodded behind her fingers, and she pulled her hand back and closed it. The warmth of his lips caught and held tight.
“Toward the end of the war, we were assigned to Sherman. I marched right along with him toward the sea, and we destroyed everything. We razed houses and barns, we killed and ate the livestock, we drank our fill from the wells and then we poisoned them. The whole idea was to crush the South, to leave them nothing to live on so they’d quit fighting. We did terrible things and in the midst of that madness I did them, too. I didn’t kill any women or children, but many did and I felt the bloodlust of it.”
Fire and Ice Page 17