They camped that night in a stand of newly greened aspens by the banks of the Purgatoire River. Robby, curled by the fire, cat and pup nestled in his arms, wasn’t aware of his mother’s tension, and he slept contented.
Jenny covered her son, envying him his peace. The nights were when the nightmare came, until she’d wake, screaming. But Gran wasn’t here to hold her and then sit beside her until she fell asleep. Gran was back at the fort. Now there was only Charmas.
He sat across from her, smoking, one hand resting on an upraised knee. His thoughtful gaze followed her as she moved away from the firelight. She hated this feeling of panic and she couldn’t seem to stop it. With a nervous gesture, she pushed her shoulder-length hair back from her face. It was growing and would soon be long again. She wanted to hide when she had first come to the fort. But Gran wouldn’t let her, nor would Charmas. At the sound of his footfall behind her, Jenny knew Charmas wouldn’t let her hide again.
He stopped within a few feet of her, not daring to go closer. If she had turned just then, she would have seen the despair lighting his eyes, ravaging his features, and choking his breath. But she didn’t turn and when he spoke, his voice gave no hint of what he felt.
“Jen, do you remember that night at Gran Salinas’s when I held you and kissed you by the fire?” He hadn’t expected her breath to catch so audibly in the dark, nor that she would back away again. But he forced himself to continue as if he hadn’t noticed, hadn’t felt a stabbing pain. “I asked you if you were like the wildflowers, Jen. The words didn’t come easy for me then and they don’t come easy now, but I’m going to try. Wildflowers, Jen, find themselves a small bit of earth and cling there. They lift their heads to the sun and bloom. When winter comes, they burrow deep to hide from the cold. Even they know the cold can kill, Jen. But it’s spring now,” he went on with a growing huskiness to his voice, praying she was really listening to him.
“Spring, and the wildflowers come to life. They push hard against the earth that held them safe, ‘cause they want the sun. They want to share its warmth and be beautiful again.” Seeing the nervous flutter of her hands, he paused, gave thought to letting her silence him, then steeled himself to go on, knowing he had to reach her. “There’s a whole field of wildflowers in the valley, Jen. They’re spun gold and warm like you are inside, holding and waiting for the right time to let new life take hold. And inside them, in the very deep center, they’re the soft red of your lips when I’ve kissed you.
“But did you know, Jenny,” he asked softly, “they never grow alone? You never see just one tiny bloom. Even if the stem is delicate, it has strength. It can bend with the force of the wind and never snap. Only a man can break it. I’ve never been much for picking a wild thing that grows to make a bit of beauty for a man’s eyes.”
Hugging her arms around her, Jenny said nothing, but she was lost in the caressing sound of his voice and the beauty of his words. Charmas wasn’t looking at her now, but his voice soothed her. She wondered at herself for ever feeling fear from this man. How could she forget his gentleness?
“Oh, Charmas, I…”
“No, Jen. I won’t do anything. I’m here for you. When you need me, I’ll always be here for you.”
Charmas told himself he was strong, strong enough to ride this out with her. “I think we should get some sleep if you want to get an early start in the morning. We still have two more days before we reach home.” He started to turn away, then swung back toward her. Almost hesitantly, he brought one hand from his pocket and held it out to her in silent offering.
Within the coolness of the spring night, she thought of all his words meant and very slowly, she forced herself to move forward until she placed her own shaking, slender fingers against his palm. He made no move to close his own fingers over hers. He stood there, looking at her with his heart in his eyes, and said nothing.
Very lightly then, her fingers curled over the roughness of his hand. Each knotted callus spelled love to her. Each deeply drawn breath of his patient waiting reassured her. He stepped forward, turning toward the fire, waiting until she moved alongside him, neither touching but for their handhold.
For a long time that night Charmas lay staring up at the night sky that made him think of Jenny’s eyes. He listened to the snap of green wood in their fire, heard the softness of Robby’s breathing next to him, and of Jenny’s on the other side of the fire. He prayed then, thinking that going home might bring an end to the long loneliness of his life.
Chapter Twenty-Five
A blue-white wash of snow and sky were a backdrop for the sloping stands of pines that composed Jenny’s first view of her new home. She looked down at the valley, sparkling ribbons of crystal-clear streams danced between newly greened tall grasses. Her eyes moved toward the stone-and-log buildings. Spring warm sun emphasized the newness of the logged wood, dappling from pale cream to deep golden brown as she looked upon the sprawling cabin, corrals, stone springhouse, and the beginnings of a barn.
Wordlessly, she turned to Charmas, her eyes glittering with tears, and once more found his love waiting in his look.
“Welcome home, Jenny,” he offered in a hushed voice.
“And me? And me, too!” shouted Robby, hugging his pets close.
Charmas half turned. “And you too, Robby.” He ruffled the boy’s hair and turned back to urge the horses down the trail he’d cleared. He said nothing more, allowing Jenny to drink in the same beauty that had captured him from the first time he had come to the valley.
And she was captured. A soft, almost breathless sigh joined the wind to dance between the trees, then rippled with gentleness over the tips of swaying grasses. There was a raw, earthy scent coming from the mud churned by the slow-moving horses, and the whispered song of flitting birds called attention to the newness of the land for them alone. They were almost halfway down the sloping trail, the low murmur of Robby and Charmas’s voices receding from her hearing, when she saw the first of the wildflowers. Shyly peeking from pockets of rock and earth alongside the roughly made road, their scarlet petals opened to reveal golden centers. Her fingers curled with wanting to touch them. Charmas said they were beauty for his eyes, but they were for hers, too.
She was distracted and laughed along with Robby, seeing a golden-mantled ground squirrel, its stripes so like a chipmunk’s, holding one delicate bloom to his nose with sharp claws. Charmas gazed up then, whistling for their attention. Both she and Robby stared in awe at the strong, graceful wings of the red-tailed hawks soaring high above them.
“A welcome of sorts, Jen,” Charmas murmured, smiling.
“The red-tailed hawk is a good sign. My father would say our valley and home will be well protected, Charmas.” Shyly she glanced at his profile, strength dominating the features, and his smile, deepening, lent a softness to its hard planes.
“Will you tell me more of your father’s beliefs, Jen?”
He had pleased her more than he knew with his easy acceptance. “Later, when there is time, I’ll tell you what I remember.” Her eyes tracked the south-facing slopes of the mountains, great craggy lines of gray-faced stone, aged beyond her knowing, leading to the sheltered ravines where the trees edged high up the mountainsides. Wafting scents of pine, sweetly pungent and so clean, stole inside with every deep breath she took. It was old and familiar, and yet a part of the newness Charmas had found for them.
“There’s plenty of game here,” he said with a hint of pride. “More’n I remembered.”
“Oh, look, Charmas!” Robby shouted, pointing. “What are those?”
“Grouse, Robby. Male one’s, too. They have the orange combs over their eyes,” Charmas explained as they disappeared into the low-lying brush. “The females and young ones tend to be brownish, while the male is dark gray. It sure makes them hard to hunt ‘cause they blend right in with the forest.”
“I remember Ben once sayin’ they tasted like chicken. Can we go huntin’ them, Charma
s?”
“Sure. We’ll do that and more here, Robby.” Urging the horses up a slight incline, he leaned toward Jenny. “Happy?”
Sunlit, she turned to him, eyes bright with the joy filling her. “It is home for us now. A beautiful one, Charmas. And yes, I’m happy.”
His hand covered hers, lying on the wooden seat between them, for the barest of moments. He pulled away quickly, warning himself to be content with the bits of sharing she gave freely now. The rest would come in time. But it wasn’t the easiest of tasks he’d set for himself.
The breeze seemed to come and greet them as they came out of the shadowed, dappled forest, and Jenny had her first good look at the cabin he’d spent the long winter building for them.
“It’s so big!” she cried out, clasping her hands together before she turned to him again. “You did this all yourself?” Without waiting for an answer, she hugged him tight, and once again she felt nothing of his sudden tension. And while she held him, murmuring softly of the land’s beauty, the size of the cabin, its balm to her spirit, Charmas held the reins with taut hands, fighting to ignore the press of her soft breasts and belly against his side. Swallowing rapidly, wanting nothing so much as to toss the reins aside and hold her, he managed to stop himself as she became aware of what she was doing.
Sighing in her own confusion, she studied her new home. The cabin was larger than her old one had been, set upon a rock-strewn hillside overlooking the widest of the streams. Two lone pines stood at the front comers, a stand of her much-beloved aspens shading one side, a sloping field of wildflowers blanketing like a carpet spread in welcome on the other. A small stone springhouse sat on the edge of the stream not more than fifty feet away from the wide, encompassing front porch.
Robby’s excited demand to get down broke the tension. With laughter, Charmas tied the reins to the pole brake and swung Robby and his pets down. Robby ran straight for the cabin until an order from Charmas stopped him. He wanted Jenny to see the cabin first, so Robby turned to explore the stream.
Charmas jumped down and held out his arms for Jenny, hiding his tension at her hesitation before she slid across the seat, waited a few moments until she leaned close enough to let him lift her, then swung her around. Her feet barely touched the ground when he released her, quickly stepping back.
“Come,” he said without offering his hand.
Lightly cupping his cheek, she whispered, “Thank you for loving me so much.”
“Can you measure it, Jen? I can’t. I don’t want to try.” His eyes closed a moment before he gazed at her and said, “Just don’t expect too much. I didn’t finish all I wanted to do inside. I was … I just wanted you here.”
Her smile at his touching admission warmed her face and his quick grin made her realize how much of himself he had put into building a home for them. Vowing that no matter what she found inside she would show him joy, she slid her hand over his. A light sprinkling of hair hid nothing of the scars, and her eyes filled with tears at the price they had both paid.
“I want to see our home, Charmas.”
He stood aside as he opened the door for her, allowing her to enter first. Sun-warm ribbons of light entered with them into the large front room with the raw wood table and chairs set beneath an open window on their left. Two small open shelves were on the wall above, her mother’s large crockery bowl set in the middle of one. “Why did you go back for that?” she asked, bewildered.
“It was your mother’s. It had nothing to do with what happened there. Don’t bring the past’s anger here. Please, Jen.”
Smoothing her hair, she turned away. “I was surprised to see it, that’s all. I didn’t know you’d gone back.” It was a lie; she didn’t want memories brought here. Didn’t he know she wanted them left behind, that they were cut so deep inside her she didn’t know if she’d be free again? She trailed her fingers on the tabletop. “You made this? And the chairs?”
“Still smells of the pine I used. And yes, I did all this for us. It filled the nights for me. They were, well, winter nights. Long and—”
“Lonely,” she supplied, aching for the wanting in his voice and yet so very afraid of it. With a glance at the smooth golden wood, she looked up and faced the fireplace. Blue-gray stone rose halfway up the wall and ran the length of the room, the opening large, a wood box set half into the stone. There was even a small oven above.
He was pleased with her smile when she noticed it. “I know you like baking bread, and that’ll make it easier for you.”
“And you,” she teased, “enjoy eating every crumb.” For a moment she was Jenny again, laughing with him, basking in the sharing between them. Stepping across the wide-planked floor, her mind was busy with plans for the few new things she’d brought with her. Some were gifts from Gran Salinas and the wives of the soldiers she had made friends with during the long winter, and some she had bought with the money earned from the sale of her mares. But Charmas had stocked the mantel with crocks of all sizes; one in the center was filled with wildflowers and pine flanked by two candlesticks.
With one finger, she touched the delicate beauty of one blossom. “Show me the rest,” she said with a husky note.
He seemed to be lost in his thoughts for it took him several minutes to move closer. “The windows have skinned coverings now, but I’ll buy you real glass for them, Jen. Once the cattle and horses start paying off, you will have everything you want.”
“I already do, Charmas.”
Walking ahead, he led her to the door on the far left wall, wondering at her words. Did she mean to leave things as they were? “This is Robby’s room.” He blocked the way before she could open the door. “Before you go inside, I want you to know the bowl isn’t the only thing I took from the cabin. And don’t say a word till you hear me out. Robby doesn’t know what happened there. I pray he never finds out. But he asked me for his bed and he wanted the two chests your father built. They’re inside, Jen. He has a right to them and I wanted—”
“You don’t need to explain,” she interrupted in a choked voice. He wanted Robby to be happy and he wanted her. Was that so much? Still, she couldn’t meet the rawness of the desire in his eyes. Swallowing rapidly, clasping her hands before her, she willed him to move aside.
The room was sunny, with two windows: one faced the aspen stand, the other, the open roll of the valley. Robby’s bed, the quilt she had made for him, the chest her father’s hands had labored over—all came under a sweeping glance. Above the bed, mounted on the wall, was her father’s gun and his knife in its beaded sheath.
“They belong to him, too. You can’t keep letting the past come and take from us the present.”
Hiding the tremble of her body with a spinning turn, she met his piercing gaze. “I can only promise you again I’ll try and put it aside.”
He hesitated, her stilted tone making him angry. Warning himself yet again that she needed his patience and caring, he drew her attention to the small fireplace. “I built the two chimneys so we could have fireplaces in four rooms. Robby’s backs the pantry and the other bedroom backs the front.
“The woodpile is in a small lean-to on the side of the house. It’s half-full now and before summer is over, Robby and I will fill it. The winters are bitter cold up here, Jen. I hope you won’t be sorry for trusting me to find a place for us to start off new.” He wasn’t going to give her time to linger and think. Gently taking her hand, he led her across the large front room and opened still another door. “Use this for storage now, but later we might need it.”
Panic sent the blood pounding inside her. “For a child?”
“Later, Jen. When everything’s right between us, we’ll talk about it.”
She searched his features. “You’re so sure,” she murmured. “I wish I could be as certain it will all be right again.”
“Then trust me. I promised you I’d wait. You need to believe that.” His firm voice was simmering with barely checked emotions and the
n he felt the weight of the pressure he’d put on her. With a halfhearted smile, he once more offered his hand. “One more room you need to see.”
On the same wall as the large fireplace stood the door he slowly opened. Urging her inside with a sweep of his hand, Jenny stopped at the doorway. Tears came, for there were no words, but she turned to him. Sniffing, she asked how he knew.
“The bathtub? Oh, Gran told me you always wanted one of your own.” He brushed the tears away, a sweep of laughter in his voice. “No more, Jen. You don’t need to cry here. And if you’d told me what else you long for, I would find a way to get it. I want you to be happy.”
“But I am. I…” Too moved to say more, she walked inside. The bedstead was plain pine like their table, but sturdy. Seeing it covered with a quilt from Gran’s store, she vowed to see the love bloom between them again. There was a large chest and in the far comer between two windows stood a built-in wardrobe. The open doors invited her to look and she did. “Charmas? The gown … you bought.”
“You never did wear it for me, Jen. I’d be pleased to see you in it.”
“I’ll—” Distracted by Robby’s calling out to them, Charmas stopped her. “I’ll go. You look around while we unload the wagon.”
She did, wondering again at the love this man offered without taking anything in return. There, resting on the top shelf of the wardrobe, were two shawls, soft, new wool ones. Petticoats trimmed with lace wrinkled as she crushed the soft cotton in her hand. How could she deny him? Behind the cream-and-blue embroidered gown were two more. Slowly she drew them out. Delicate lace trimmed a light blue one, and staring at it she despaired of his need and her inability to meet it ever again. Rehanging the dress, she barely glanced at the butter yellow one. Her gaze swung toward the bed, thoughts running ahead to night and all the nights to come. It was a long while before she roused herself to join them.
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