by Lyn Horner
“Oh! I . . . didn’t mean to w-wake you.” She clamped a hand over her mouth to smother her weeping.
He padded over to her and cupped his hands around her shoulders. “What’s wrong?” he asked, feeling her shudder.
“I’m a fool!” she blurted. “Moonin’ over m-my . . . .”
“Your brother?”
She sniffled, hesitated and nodded. “Aye, my brother.”
It dented David’s self-esteem to know his lovemaking hadn’t been enough to overcome her sadness. But he tamped down his irritation. Gently, he folded his arms around her. She huddled against him, raining tears on his chest.
“It’ll get easier with time,” he murmured, hoping it was true.
Making a forlorn sound, she rubbed her cheek against him like a cat begging to be stroked. Happy to oblige, he massaged her back and kissed the top of her head. She turned her face up to him, seeking his mouth, and soon, she lay purring in his arms. This time he made sure she was too exhausted to do anything but sleep after their pleasure peaked once again. He was almost asleep himself when he realized he hadn’t stabled the carriage horse. Sighing tiredly, he slipped out of bed, dragged on his pants and went to tend the animal.
When he slid back under the covers a while later, Jessie lay exactly as he’d left her. Cuddling her close, David damned the fact that he would have to leave her at dawn, only a few short hours from now.
* * *
Bright sunlight drew Jessie from the well of exhaustion she’d fallen into after David had made love to her so thoroughly that second time. She smiled drowsily at the memory and reached out for him, but he was gone.
She hastily donned her threadbare robe and went in search of him. All she found was his terse note on the kitchen table.
Jessie, I’ll be back when the job is done. Don’t leave the post for any reason. Stanton is still out there. David
That was all it said. Not one tender word. He’d left to hunt down the deserter he had been sent here to capture, and without even waking her to say good-bye. Had last night meant so little to him?
“Uncouth Texan!” she stormed, repeating Captain Roberts’s words as she wadded up the note and flung it into a corner. “And I’m to just wait here, not knowing when or if he’ll return alive. Damn ye, David Taylor!”
Breaking into tears, she ran back to the bedroom, threw herself on the bed and hugged David’s pillow to her, drinking in his lingering scent as she wept. He was good at making her weep. Last night, she’d let him believe her tears were due to her parting with Tye, but that wasn’t true. She’d cried for her dreams of love, for words David hadn’t spoken and might never speak, for words she didn’t dare say to him, fearing he would scoff at her.
“I love you,” she choked out now, voicing what she’d refused to admit even to herself for so long. She prayed she hadn’t lost her only chance to tell David how she felt. “No! He will come back. He must!”
Jessie clung to that desperate affirmation over the next two weeks as she dragged herself through an endless round of activities with the other officers’ wives. First came the welcoming tea given by Mrs. Morrow. Such affairs were far beyond Jessie’s experience, and she dreaded going, fearing she would embarrass herself and reflect badly on David.
Uncertain how to dress for the occasion, she debated for hours. The gowns Blake had tricked her into ordering were rich and lovely but none seemed appropriate. The ivory silk gown she’d worn on her wedding day was out of the question, and she thought the sapphire taffeta gown too flashy. Plus, it was cut rather low – at Blake’s suggestion, which might have opened her eyes to his true intentions if she hadn’t been such a naïve simpleton. The third gown was cut more modestly and its deep wine-red color complimented her hair, but it was made of satin, and instinct told her it wasn’t right for an afternoon tea.
Finally, with time running short, she settled on the russet gingham gown she’d sewn for herself several weeks before. With that decision made, she arranged her hair in a sedate bun, donned a dainty straw bonnet David had purchased for her, and gathered her courage as she walked to the commander’s quarters.
When she tapped on the front door, she was so nervous her stomach felt as if it were doing cartwheels. But Belle Morrow greeted her warmly and went out of her way to make her feel welcome. The other women followed her example, and Jessie began to relax. Noticing they all wore fairly plain gowns, she was glad she hadn’t overdressed.
After answering a few polite questions about her background, she was content to sip her tea and listen quietly while the women chatted about their families and discussed plans for upcoming social events. However, she wasn’t left in peace for long. During a lull in the conversation, Elvira Hampton, the older of the mother-daughter duo who had given Jessie such cold looks at the wedding reception, abruptly spoke up.
“Mrs. Taylor, we’ve all heard how you met Captain Taylor on your way west, and how he pursued you after being posted here. It all sounds so romantic.” The matronly woman smiled tartly. “But I must say I’m surprised you managed to bring the captain to the altar. He seemed rather shy of marriage. At least, that was my impression from his comments when we had him over to dinner.”
“You’re right, mother,” her daughter, Angela, chimed in. Turning to Jessie, the slightly plump, pretty blonde added with wide-eyed innocence, “And that was only a few days before he announced his engagement to you, come to think of it. How odd that David, um, I mean Captain Taylor didn’t mention you to us then. However did you convince him to propose so suddenly?” She gave a little laugh. “Or is that a secret?”
Jessie felt her color rise as she glanced at the embarrassed faces around her. The brazen young woman had uttered what they all plainly suspected, namely that Jessie had carried on a shameful liaison with David which had ended with her in a family way, thus forcing him to marry her. She also noted Angela’s use of his given name, as she was meant to do of course, and concluded the girl was infatuated with him and jealous because she hadn’t won him for herself.
Jessie’s temper soared. How dare the cheeky minx all but accuse her of whoring with David? The fact that she’d come close to doing exactly that on more than one occasion was beside the point. Furious, she was about to tell Angela and her sour-faced mother to take their nasty implications and choke on them, but their hostess saved her the trouble.
“Angela, dear, I really don’t think that’s any of our business, do you?” Belle chided in a flinty tone. “Let’s remember our manners, please.”
Now it was Angela who turned red. Beside her, Elmira Hampton stiffened. Her lips compressed angrily, but she said nothing, obviously not daring to challenge the commander’s regal wife.
“Besides,” that good lady now observed with a twinkle in her eye, “Captain Taylor isn’t the first stalwart bachelor to do an about-face on the subject of marriage for the sake of love. Fortunately for us all.”
Her comments drew relieved laughter from around the room. Jessie gave her a grateful smile, though the suggestion that David loved her caused a sharp pain in the vicinity of her heart.
Thankfully, Angela and Elmira Hampton kept their distance following this incident. Meanwhile, although Jessie would live among them for only a short while, the other officers’ wives were determined to include her in their circle. Rather than offend them, she went along with their efforts, realizing they meant to take her mind off her constant worry over David -- the same way they coped with their own fears when their men rode off into danger.
She attended several more teas and took supper with one family or another almost every night, enjoying the homes with young children the best. Recalling David’s desire to start a family, she wondered if she might already be carrying his child. The possibility comforted her when she lay alone in the night, longing for him and praying he was safe.
Her new friends also introduced Jessie to the cultural side of army life. One evening, she attended a drama at the camp theater; on another, a meeting of the Good Temp
lars, the local temperance society. Digging in her heels, she refused to go to the Saturday night dance at Camp Douglas Hall, insisting she would not enjoy it without her husband, which was surely true.
Mindful of David’s warning not to leave the post because of Blake Stanton, Jessie also tried to beg off of a Sunday excursion to Lake Point, a favorite bathing spot along the shore of the Great Salt Lake. But the other women insisted she must go, and since several of their husbands were to accompany them, she decided it ought to be safe enough. In the end, she was glad she went. Otherwise, she would never have known the delight of floating weightless as a feather on the briny waves.
Night had fallen by the time she returned home. Bidding the couple she’d ridden with good evening, she stepped inside her dark bungalow. She’d barely closed the door when she heard a match strike. A tiny flame blazed in the inky darkness of the parlor. Thinking instantly of Blake, she gasped in fright, dropped her damp bundle of swim clothes and flattened herself against the door. Then a lamp flared to life.
“David!” she cried, seeing his familiar features. She pressed a hand over her thudding heart while joy cascaded through her.
He adjusted the lamp wick then straightened to face her. “It’s about time you got back,” he barked, a scowl accentuating the shadows of fatigue under his eyes.
“I-I didn’t think we’d be so late,” she stammered, still recovering from her initial fright and the great relief of seeing him alive and well. “I went swimming with some of the others, and –”
“So I heard. I told you not to leave the post. You little fool! Don’t you ever tire of risking your life?”
She stiffened at his harsh rebuke and her joy washed away. Stepping over the pile of wet clothing at her feet, she stalked toward him. “Don’t ye be callin’ me names!” she stormed, giving her brogue free reign. “And I won’t have ye lecturin’ me about riskin’ me life, either. Not when you’re the one who went recklessly chasin’ off after a killer within a day of our wedding, sir.” Fists on her hips, she halted a scant foot away and glared up at him. “Without a single fare-thee-well, and expectin’ me to wring my hands and worry about ye, no doubt. Humph!”
Crossing his arms, he eyed her skeptically. “Did you worry about me, Jessie? Or have you been too busy socializing to spare me a thought?”
She gritted her teeth at his scornful remark. “Aye, I worried about ye,” she grudgingly admitted. “A wee bit. You’re my husband, after all.”
He gave a grating laugh. “Glad to hear you remember that. And by the way, my reckless chase, which I was ordered to carry out, paid off. My resignation has also been approved, meaning we leave tomorrow.”
Jessie’s stomach plummeted. “So soon?”
“There’s no point in putting it off.”
Turning away, she hugged herself. “No, I suppose not,” she mumbled.
David watched her, battling with himself. He hadn’t intended to fight with Jessie the minute he saw her again. What he’d planned to do was take her straight to bed and lose himself in the sweetness of her flesh – and forget the last two miserable weeks.
He’d finally tracked down Ellis over west in Stockton, but the deserter had refused to give up. They’d exchanged lead, ending with the bastard dead and himself laid up thanks to a bullet he hadn’t been quick enough to dodge. Once he could sit a horse again, he’d pushed hard to get back here to his wife, only to learn she was off swimming, of all things. Bone-tired and hurting, and furious because she’d ignored his order not to leave the post, he’d wanted to go after her, fearing Stanton might have grabbed her the minute she showed herself. But logic told him someone would have reported back if that had happened. So he’d spent the last hour or more sitting here in the dark, worrying and fuming at her. Now that she was safely back, he wanted to paddle her bottom and, at the same time, smother her with kisses.
One thing for sure, he didn’t like seeing her act as if he’d just pronounced her death sentence. Sighing, he said impatiently, “Look, if you want, I’ll take you to see Ivar Andersen in the morning. We need to pick up a few things in town, anyway, before we catch the train to Ogden.”
“Aye, I’d like that,” she said, her voice trembling.
David guessed the cause. “Still unhappy about leaving your brother behind, Jessie?” he snapped.
“I . . . I can’t help it.”
“If you’re having second thoughts, I won’t force you to come with me,” he said bitterly, tired of her reluctance.
She whirled to face him, a shocked look on her face. “Y-you’d leave me behind? But you’re my husband,” she repeated.
No, he couldn’t leave her behind, not with Stanton still running free. He’d stay and hunt down the mad dog himself if he had to, because he wasn’t going to make Jessie go with him – or remain his wife. “Only if you want to stay married to me,” he said.
Her eyes narrowed furiously. “I don’t know what ye take me for, David Taylor, but I told ye once I’d not break my wedding vows, and I meant it. And if ye try leaving me, I’ll . . . I’ll shoot ye dead!”
Relief rushed through David. Remembering all the times his mother had threatened to leave his father before she’d finally carried out her threat, dying in the process, he’d thought sure Jessie would take him up on his angry offer. Instead, she was threatening to kill him if he left her.
He grinned like an idiot. When he reached out to stroke her tightly compressed lips, she flinched and blinked in confusion, but her lips softened.
“Jessie darlin’, you’ve got a temper like an outlaw bronc. But this is one time I don’t mind getting kicked,” he drawled, bending to kiss her.
“Oh!” she said into his mouth. After that, neither of them said much for a good long while.
* * *
“Morning, Mrs. Taylor,” David’s voice whispered in Jessie’s ear. Then something tickled her bottom. Moaning drowsily in complaint, she tried to get away, but her legs seemed to be tied down.
The tickling ended with a swat. She yelped and opened her eyes to a face-full of pillow and tangled hair.
“Time to get up,” David declared from somewhere above her.
Vivid images of the past night came back to her, and she knew why he sounded so self-satisfied. Blushing, she attempted to roll over, but found her legs wound in the bed sheet and realized they were the only parts of her that were covered. Mortified, she frantically freed the stubborn sheet and dragged it up.
“You’ll only have to kick it back off,” David said with a chuckle. “Besides, I’ve already admired everything you’re trying to hide.”
“I’ll have ye know I don’t enjoy being leered at and slapped on my . . . my . . . .”
“On your tempting backside?” he supplied.
Clutching the sheet high, she rolled over and gasped when she saw him standing by the bed, naked. With total unconcern, he scratched his bristly jaw and grinned. Her shocked gaze swept over his broad chest and lean hips, drawn to his bandaged right thigh -- where he’d been wounded in his battle with the deserter. She recalled her burst of panic last night, when she’d discovered the bandage, and his maddeningly offhanded explanation. Then her eyes locked on the male part of him she knew so intimately but had never dared to look at before. Surrounded by springy dark hair, the object of her fascination thickened and grew before her eyes, turning her breathless.
“Keep looking at me that way, darlin’, and we may not get away from here ’til tomorrow,” David warned, his voice soft and low.
Jessie’s gaze shot upward. Meeting his teasing, smoky green eyes, she snapped her own eyes shut and felt her face redden once more. “You’ve no modesty, sir,” she croaked.
“And you’ve got too much, wife. But I reckon you’ll get over it.” Floor boards creaked as he stepped away; then came the sound of him rummaging in the wardrobe, followed by a rustle of cloth.
“You can open your eyes now,” he said laughingly a moment later.
She opened them cautiously, rel
axing when she saw him fasten the top of his yellow-striped blue trousers. He grinned at her again, then stepped to the wash stand and bent to splash water on his face. Silently admiring the muscles that rippled across his back with every movement, Jessie watched him lather his jaw and shave off the growth of beard that had chafed her skin during the night, in places that made her pulse race with the memory.
Finished shaving, David toweled his face dry and returned to the wardrobe, sending her a rather testy glance. “Come on now, get up and dress,” he prompted, pulling out a red plaid shirt and slipping it on. “I’ll fix coffee and some breakfast. Then we can pack up and be on our way.”
“I’ll not move until ye leave the room,” she said stubbornly.
“For Pete’s sake, Jessie, I told you I’ve . . . .” He stopped, lowered his head, and air whistled through his teeth. “All right, blast it! Anything to get you up and moving.” Grabbing his boots, he strode to the door.
“Hurry up!” he barked, banging it shut behind him.
“Bully!” she grumbled. Tossing back the sheet, she quickly washed, put on clean underclothes and brushed the snarls from her hair. With a flash of naughty inspiration, she donned the lilac gown David had practically taken off her in Mrs. Wilson’s parlor. She hoped it would unsettle him, because she’d like to have a good laugh at his expense for once.
However, when she entered the kitchen, he merely looked up from the eggs he was frying and gave her a brief glance. “Ham’s done and the eggs are almost ready. Why don’t you pour us some coffee,” he said, turning back to the stove.
Jessie wanted to stamp her foot in frustration. He didn’t even remember the gown. Grumbling under her breath, she poured the coffee.
Once they were packed and ready to leave, David reluctantly granted her time to pay a brief farewell call on Belle Morrow. Jessie thought it the least she could do to thank the woman for easing her stay at CampDouglas. Belle agreed to pass on her thanks to the other wives – with one exception who neither of them mentioned – and wished her good fortune. After that, Jessie sat quiet and pensive during the ride into town.