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February 15, 1874
At school on Monday my students were quieter than usual, and when I saw them whispering together at lunch I knew that the ones who had witnessed my arrival at the church with Hank were spreading the news to the rest. Children are usually intensely curious about their teachers' lives, so boyish smirks and dreamy smiles on the faces of the girls whenever I had been seen out in public with an unmarried male was something that I had soon learned to expect. But the fact that I had dared to "step out" with the irreverent blond saloon owner had apparently set all of Colorado Springs abuzz with gossip. At the end of the day, when I was packing up my books and papers to go home, I heard a bootstep on the wooden floorboards and looked up to see Hank approaching my desk. As always when the handsome barkeep appeared unexpectedly, my heart started beating faster, but now I had to fight down an overwhelming urge to go into his arms for a hug and a kiss. "Apple for the teacher." He winked, offering me the highly polished red treat. "Forbidden fruit?" I smiled. "Why don't ya take a bite and find out?" His voice was low and suggestive as he held it to my lips. Keeping my gaze locked with his, I bit into the apple then watched as he brought it to his mouth and deliberately took a bite from the place where my own mouth had been. "Mmmm...good." I felt my stomach tighten. "Sweet and juicy." He nodded. "Just the way I like 'em." "Not too acidic for you?" I teased. "Real close to perfect." "Despite the fact that it's still green?" "Nothin' wrong with that." Hank's eyes twinkled with amusement. "But if ya wanna go lookin' for an apple tree, I'd be happy to pick up where Will left off--try to ripen the fruit up a little more." "You've been doing a fine job of that without the help of the tree." I laughed. "Do I get an 'A?" The register of his voice lowered another notch. "An A-plus..." I cut the apple and gave him half. "How bad is the gossip about the two of us?" "Only thing I heard 'em say in the Gold Nugget was how the little schoolmarm is even more of a beauty with her hair hangin' down." He reached out and plucked one of the pins from my chignon. "But I been gone since right after sunrise--got back inta town maybe an hour ago." "Stop it," I scolded, taking the hairpin away from him and putting it back where it belonged. "You can't do that here." "Sure I can." He smiled lazily, removing two more pins. "Not if I'm going to walk down the street afterward with even a shred of my reputation intact." I caught his wrist. "You simply visiting me here will give people ample reason to talk." "What's happenin' between us ain't somethin' that's goin' away...so they might as well get used to it." He propped one hip on the corner of my desk. "Hopefully, everyone will--given enough time." "Reason I stopped by was to see if ya might wanna saddle up yer mare and go ridin' 'fore dark." "I don't know if we should," I hesitated. "Not this soon." "Ya gotta give me some help here, woman," Hank protested with a grin. "Case you hadn't noticed, I'm tryin' my best to court you." "This is all happening so fast..." "Don't seem so fast to me," he objected quietly. "Not when I been wantin' to be with you for the last eight months." "I only thought that maybe we should wait--to allow some of the whispering to die down," I confessed. "Coupla days ago you were naggin' at me not to go back to work-- sayin' I might tear this wound open, bleed to death, then get eaten up by a rovin' band of 'stinkin' coyotes." He flashed me a broad, teasing smile. "Ya don't keep me busy, I'll be hangin' 'round the saloon--breakin' up fights--movin' crates of whiskey..." "Are you making fun of me?" I pretended to frown. "Whatta you think?" He laughed. The squeak of the door hinges opening interrupted our banter, and we both glanced toward the entrance to see Michaela standing there. "Caitlyn?" Her voice sounded strained. "May I speak with you, please?" "Remember the Alamo," Hank whispered under his breath, before getting to his feet. Walking toward the back of the schoolhouse, he nodded a greeting to her as he left. Brow furrowed with concern, Mike came to where I waited and sat down at one of the desks in the front row. "You really ought to be told that you're the talk of the whole town," she began levelly. "If you aren't already aware of it." "Because I went to church with Hank." I dropped the apple core into the trashcan. "And because his wagon was still parked in front of your house in the middle of the afternoon. Mr. Lodge was out that way and saw it." "The only reason Mr. Lodge would have for being 'out that way' is if he wanted to check on whether or not Hank was there," I responded drily. "Be that as it may, there aren't many people who haven't heard about it by now." She frowned. "And to make matters worse, do you think that he actually walked over here to the school a few minutes ago without anyone noticing?" "I don't believe that anything happens in this town that someone doesn't take note of and pass along to everyone else." "Caitlyn, you're well aware of Hank's reputation!" She agitatedly brushed her bangs off of her forehead. "It was a shock when you showed up for Sunday morning services with him, but to be alone with Hank at your house for hours... What were you thinking?" "What I'm thinking is that my best friend should feel a little more charitable toward the person who saved my life and almost lost his own in doing it." I met her gaze. "Without Hank I wouldn't be here." "And without me, Hank would be buried in the cemetery," she snapped. "I haven't forgotten that," I agreed mildly. "If you hadn't been able to save him, I would be trying to live down feelings of guilt for the rest of my life." "He would have done the exact same thing in that bank if it had been me or Myra or any other woman!" "Which is one of the few positive things that I have ever heard you say about Hank--even though you didn't mean for it to be..." I sighed. "So--are you here to talk to me on behalf of the Town Council or as my best friend?" "I don't see that it has any bearing on..." "Of course it does," I interrupted impatiently, sitting on the corner of the desk that Hank had recently vacated. "I have the right to know. Which is it, Michaela?" "I'm here because we're friends--which makes it both easier and more difficult to say what needs to be said." She took a steadying breath. "Whatever your reasons were for spending time with Hank yesterday, it simply cannot happen again. Things are not so terribly different here from the way that they are back East. Even in Colorado respectable women avoid men who own and operate a brothel. In a little more than 24 hours you have already endangered your good name--and if you continue to see him, you will end up losing your position. I don't want to see that happen. I don't think that you do either." "Is there a problem with my teaching?" I inquired. "We couldn't be more pleased with the way that has worked out," she admitted. "The children actually seem to enjoy learning. Your ability to teach isn't an issue." "But the fact that I went to church with someone who the town disapproves of totally negates the fact that I'm doing the job that I was hired to do--and apparently doing it well?" "The Council made it very clear from the beginning that we had certain expectations for the conduct of any person hired to educate our children." "And have I ever given anyone the slightest reason to question my morals?" I raised one brow slightly. "Have I conducted myself in any way that indicated a lack of breeding or class?" "No, of course not." She waved her hand in dismissal of the idea. "Your behavior has been impeccable up until now." "Forgive me if I'm wrong, but I seem to recall that you and Sully spent quite a lot of time alone at the homestead in those years before you were married, and that doesn't seem to have tarnished your own reputation," I reminded her. "You told me yourself how the two of you spent several nights in the woods together--sleeping side by side. Why was that acceptable behavior for you, but simply having lunch with Hank makes me less than a lady?" "Hank isn't Sully." "Perhaps the two of them aren't quite as different as you would like to believe." "They're nothing alike." "When you first met Sully he wasn't exactly what Colorado Springs considered a model citizen--any more than Hank is," I suggested bluntly. "In those days he lived in a lean-to in the woods with Wolf, and in the eyes of the town he was a misfit Indian-lover. He was a loner--an outsider-- someone who people here neither liked nor trusted. Did they not all wonder what you saw in him back then?" "Sully's never been mean and selfish like Hank," she sparred. "I admire Sully's willingness to stand up for what he believes, but I don't fool myself into thinking that it doesn't come at some cost to you and your children. He's not the type to deliberately cause harm to anybody, but in terms of the effect that it's had on your family, there have been times when some of his actions have been both selfish and cruel--regardless of his intentions. He has put you at risk--placed you into a situation where you committed treason for his sake--and where you told the entire town the lie that he was dead. All of those months when he was in hiding--when you lost the baby and Marjorie, and you desperately needed him--it was the choices that he had made that kept the two of you apart. I don't know if what Sully did at the reservation was morally right or wrong. There were Indians there who were suffering, and I know all too well what it's like to live under the control of men who are corrupt and looking for any excuse to wield their power with a heavy hand. But I also know that lives were lost, and the entire town suffered. That there are people around who lost property or family members who continue to find it awfully hard to forgive and forget that Sully's actions were the catalyst for it." "I can't believe that you're saying this." She glared at me. "I thought that you cared for Sully!" "I do. I love him dearly. Sully is the closest thing that I have now to a brother, and there have been times when I don't know what I would have done without him." I refused to respond in kind to her anger. "But if he was standing here, he would agree with every word that I've just said to you. He's a man who walks his own path, just as Hank does. Sometimes each of them makes choices that end up hurting other people. They both have strong beliefs, and whatever one of them does, he is totally convinced that it is justified. He does it because he believes that it's the right thing to do. In their own ways Hank and Sully are equally stubborn. That trait may well be one that you find in every man who had the courage and the determination to be one of the first to come into a place like Colorado territory." "Byron Sully and Hank Lawson are like day and night!" she charged. "You're right." I smiled slightly. "Each of them is made of both the darkness and the light--neither completely one nor the other." "You may entertain as many misguided ideas about Hank's character as you like, as long as you remember that you have a contract with the town of Colorado Springs which you will be expected to honor," she replied irritably. "You were made aware of the terms and conditions of your employment before you came, and you agreed to abide by them in full. The stipulation that you conduct yourself at all times with total propriety clearly excludes public contact with a man like Hank--and the provision that you allow no gentlemen callers would certainly prohibit any future visits such as the one that he made on Sunday. Feeling gratitude to him for saving your life is one thing. Seeing him socially is something else entirely." "As appreciative as I am for what he did, I'm not spending time with Hank out of a sense of gratitude." "A few weeks ago you could barely tolerate the man. What else could it possibly be?" "I'm in love with him," I admitted softly. "You can't be serious." Michaela shook her head in denial. "I didn't mean for you to know--at least not for awhile yet." I sighed. "But it's true." "Don't be absurd." Her eyes were wide in shocked disbelief. "You could never love Hank Lawson. He deals in whiskey and women, he's uneducated, illmannered, and entirely unsuitable in every way. There's absolutely nothing that the two of you have in common! If you want male company, spend time with Preston or the Reverend or Jake or Daniel! Anyone but Hank!" "I didn't choose to fall in love, Michaela. It simply happened. The same way that it happened between Sully and you." "I promise you, these feelings that you have will pass. This has all come about because of what happened in the bank. Because Hank was injured while protecting you. In time you will laugh and wonder how you could ever have imagined yourself to be in love with him." "I've been in love with Hank for months now--what I feel isn't new." I massaged my aching temples. "The only thing that's different is that I've finally stopped denying it." "I won't stand quietly by and watch you ruin your life," she vowed, frowning. "Listen to me. Love is something that Hank has no understanding of whatsoever. He will use you and abuse you, then walk away laughing. What kind of life could a man like him offer? Don't jeopardize your job and your standing in this community for no reason! The children here need you. I need you. Especially now, with this baby on the way." "I know as well as you do that Hank can be hard and cynical, but underneath that is a much softer core...someone far different from who you think that he is. Maybe he would allow more people to see that other side if he had what you've given to Sully." "You can't possibly believe that you could change Hank Lawson!" "I wouldn't even try." I exhaled slowly, struggling for a way to make her understand. "I don't have blinders on, Michaela. What's happening is that the blinders are finally coming off, and he's allowing me to begin to see the real Hank." "Whether or not you believe this, I only want what is best for you--and that man is definitely not it!" "I'm the one who has to live my life...the only one who can possibly know what's in my heart." I got up and walked to where she sat, sliding into the seat beside her. "A few weeks ago you said that you believed that somewhere there was a man who I could love--and Sully added that he just might not be what I had expected. He was talking about Hank and me that night in your parlor, Michaela...not the two of you. Sully already knew." "Someone else will come along...someone who truly deserves you. Someone decent, who you can love just as much--even more--than you think that you love Hank," she argued. "You're wrong about that," I said levelly. "For more than nine years I believed that I would never get married. That I would never know the feeling of lying in the arms of a man that I loved. Never have a child like your Katie... Not because I didn't want those things--or no one wanted me-- but because I haven't been able to bear being touched by a man since I was l8 years old. Not since the day that I watched a Union soldier violate one of my sisters. The kind of life that I have now is all that I had come to expect--and it's terribly empty, compared to what you share with Sully. But something about Hank is healing that place inside of me where I've been wounded--making me believe that with him I can find a part of myself that was lost a long time ago." "Oh, Cait." She hugged me tightly, her eyes misty with tears. "Hank's given me back my dreams." My voice trembled slightly with emotion. "God knows, I'm still frightened, but not of being hurt. I'm scared because it's hard to even remember a time when I felt this alive and happy...because doors are opening for me that I had thought were closed forever." "Why does it have to be Hank?" she asked wistfully. "All I know is that he's the one who I'm meant to be with. I can't tell you why. All I know is that I've been given another chance, and no matter what the cost, I have to take it."
By the time I pulled the wagon up into the yard I was feeling tired and drained, my head aching from the pins that held my coiled braid in place and my nerves raw from the confrontation with Michaela. Even though it had ended with a hug, I was well aware that chances were better than good that Mike and I would argue more than once about my feelings for Hank before she learned to accept the fact that I loved him. "Took ya long enough to get here." Startled, I glanced toward a towering maple to see Hank sitting on the ground beneath it, his back against the trunk, with Zeke and Maggie happily stretched out on either side of him. Maggie's head was resting on his leg as he scratched behind her ears, and Zeke's tongue lolled out contentedly in a canine grin as Hank rubbed his belly. "Some watchdogs those two are!" I laughed when neither showed any inclination to even move away from him to greet me. "They're treating you as if you belong here." "Maybe I do," he suggested softly. Getting to his feet, Hank came over to the wagon and reached to help me down. With his hands around my waist and mine on his shoulders, he lowered me to the ground, then pulled me tightly against him for a kiss. "How bad was it?" he asked gently, releasing me. "My talk with Mike? It could have been worse." I reached up and began taking the pins out of my braid, putting them into my pocket for safekeeping. "But it definitely didn't help my headache." "Why don't ya put on yer ridin' gear while I take care of yer horse and wagon? Hard run might clear out the cobwebs." "Sounds good to me." I picked up an armload of books and the spelling tests that I needed to grade and went into the house. After piling everything on the table, I hung up the cape that I had worn to work, then took off my dress and layers of petticoats. I had taken out my split-skirt, with its matching short coat, when my eyes fell on another garment hidden in the back of the wardrobe. My eyes sparkling with mischief, I pulled on a pair of boy's pants and a soft flannel shirt, then tucked the snugly-fitting trousers into my tall riding boots. Picking up a heavy tweed jacket, I went out to the barn where Hank was saddling Storm. "This has to be the finest blooded mare in the whole territory," he opined admiringly as he tightened the girth. "I was thinking that I might breed her in the spring." "Want me to arrange to put her to stud for ya, I know of a...." He lost his train of thought in midsentence and exhaled abruptly when he raised up and saw me. "Think I just had one o' them heart ruptures." Flushing with embarrassment, I started to turn around. "I'll go back inside and change." "Don't." His eyes traveled up and down my figure appreciatively. "That what you usually wear to ride?" "If I'm sure that no one's likely to see me." I nodded. "Riding habits have yards of extra fabric in the skirt that do nothing but get in the way." "Yeah, I can see that." He grinned, his gaze lingering on the rounded curve of my hips. "Get in the way of RIDING." I swung into the saddle. "Cait?" "Hmmm?" "Wouldya mind doin' that again?" "Doing what again?" "Mountin' up. The view mighta been a little better from over there." "Do you want to go for a ride or not?" I tried unsuccessfully to look stern. "Can't think of anything I'd rather do." He chuckled. "Long as it's with you." "Then would you stop teasing me for at least long enough to get up on that horse of yours?" I suggested with an exaggerated sigh. "If I can." "It's not all that hard." I rolled my eyes. "Put your foot into the stirrup and spring up onto his back--the same way that you've done it ten thousand times before!" "Them other times ya weren't wearin' tight pants," he said lightly, picking up a rucksack that he had left on the porch and tying it to his saddlebag. Suddenly understanding his problem, I brushed bright scarlet at the unintentional faux pas that I had made by my choice of words. Carefully averting my gaze, I settled my hat more firmly, hoping that my flaming cheeks were covered by its shadow. "Which way are we going?" "Depends on how well ya ride." He vaulted into the saddle. "I think that I can probably manage to keep up." I hid a smile. "She's feelin' her oats." He frowned in concern as Storm danced sideways, growing impatient in her eagerness to run. "Woman yer size oughta be ridin' something two hands smaller...an' easier to handle." Realizing that Hank had never seen me on horseback--only driving a wagon--I laughed, abruptly wheeling Storm around and kneeing her into a full gallop as we headed toward the fence. She sailed over it effortlessly, and I gave my mare her head when I glanced back and saw a ruefully grinning Hank in determined pursuit. The bay stallion soon narrowed the gap between us and for several minutes we raced neck and neck, both horses running full out. Finally Hank began reining in to a canter, shouting out to me to take the dry creekbed that was a few hundred yards ahead to our left. I dropped back, content to allow him to take the lead on the unfamiliar trail, and 15 minutes later he veered off and up the bank toward an old abandoned homestead. I looked around curiously at the half-collapsed outbuildings as we rode up into the yard. "Where are we?" "Land belongs to me. Nobody's lived here since Ruby died, so everything's startin' to fall apart." "That roof was patched not too long ago." I squinted at the shingles on the house. "Spent today fixin' the cabin up enough so it's at least good for a few picnics." "Someone told you about Mr. Lodge's Sunday drive." "Heard it first thing this mornin'." He nodded. "Started over to the bank--figurin' Preston needed a lesson in manners--but I knew it would cause more talk. So I rode out here and worked off some of my mad instead." "Climbing up on the roof and driving nails isn't exactly taking it easy. You might as well be back at work." "Now you tell me." "Hank, please get more rest." I studied his face. "You're pushing yourself too hard." "I took time out to go fishin'." He grinned. "Caught us a nice mess o' trout for supper." "It will be starting to get dark soon. Should we cook them back at my house?" "Try to go now, and we're gonna get soaked to the skin." He eyed the darkening sky. "It's about to come up a hard rain. Why don't we get the horses inta the barn and go inside? Wait 'til it blows over?" Even though there were large holes in the barn's roof, the area over the stalls was covered and dry, and Hank forked down hay for bedding while I filled two water buckets. By the time we had finished taking care of my mare and Hurricane the sky had opened up--the rain coming down in earnest--and we both were drenched during the run between the barn and the cabin. When Hank pushed open the door I saw that the floor had been swept and scrubbed and that the glass in the window was clean. A rough trestle table and benches, a piesafe, an old stove, and two wooden rocking chairs separated by a small table were all of the furnishings that remained in the front room, but everything there had been washed free of grime, and an oil lamp on the mantle was filled and waiting to be lit. "Room's still holdin' some heat from when I was here earlier." He knelt, lighting the fire that was already laid on the hearth. "Oughta warm up pretty fast." "Good." I shivered, holding my hands out toward the welcome blaze. Taking off his long coat, he hung it on a peg beside the door, then opened the stove, adding wood to the smoldering embers. "Chimney was still drawin' fine. Nothin' to do but clean out old bird's nests." "I never even knew that this place existed," I confessed, releasing my hair from the braid to let it dry. "Most folks who do haven't thought about it in years." Joining me in front of the fire, he gathered his own long locks into a thick rope, twisting and squeezing as much water from it as he could before shaking his hair back out of his face. "From the little bit of it that I've seen, this is a beautiful piece of land--with the river winding through those trees. But wasn't it awfully lonely out here for Zach and Ruby--with it being so far from town and no neighbors around for miles?" "That's one of the main reasons I bought the property," he admitted grimly. "For a long time Zach didn't like bein' around people--and folks in town didn't want him around. Thought there was something wrong with his mind." "Why?" I turned to him in surprise. "Saloon ain't the best place for a growin' boy, but we couldn't afford to live nowhere else, and he seemed happy. Least he did 'tilsometime after he turned three." Hank stared into the fire. "When the gold rush started, we kept the bar open 24 hours a day, seven days a week. I was puttin' in a good 16 or 18 hours a day, and Clarice wasn't far behind me. Zach quit talkin' an' started hidin' in closets, me'n'her thought it was because the noise was so loud and never stopped...and the whole place was full of smoke an' packed wall-to-wall with strangers. We figured it was somethin' he'd get over, once he got used to it. "But he never did." He rubbed his forehead wearily. "Then Clarice died...and I stayed drunk 'round the clock for months after I buried her. When he needed a pa most, I couldn't be one. Never even claimed him as mine. Not 'til after Ruby passed, and half the town started callin' Zach an idiot and wantin' to put him in an asylum. I'd been payin' for his keep since the day he was born--'fore I even knew for sure he was my own blood--but the boy was twelve years old when I gave him my name. Ain't somethin' I'm proud of." "The other night when you said that you had a son, it was the first time since I came to Colorado that I had ever heard Zach mentioned," I confessed. "Where is he living now?" "In a boardin' school in Denver--studyin' art. Turned out he can draw real good, an' teachers at the school helped him catch up with readin' and writin' and them other things he'd missed. It took him workin' year-round, but he finished all eight grades in six years. He'll be graduatin' in May." "You don't have any idea at all of what might have happened to Zach when he was three?" I asked curiously. "Nothin' but a feelin' I got about it." His jaw tightened. "We tried to keep up with the boy, so's he didn't see things he shouldn't, but he loved to play hide'n'seek. We was always draggin' him out from under the bar or outta a cupboard. I figure Zach woke up one night and came lookin' for me or his ma--that he was hidin' somewhere in one of the rooms while Clarice was entertainin' a customer an' saw the whole thing." "Oh, Hank..." "Swore I'd never raise another one of mine in a saloon," he admitted softly. "Kids deserve better." I went into his arms, the two of us clinging to each other for several minutes, with no need for words. Then he pulled back slightly and looked down at me. "Fish are cleaned and ready, whenever you wanna eat." "Does that mean that you're already hungry?" I smiled. "Starvin'." There was fresh water in the pitcher on the shelf, and I poured some into the matching basin, its glaze cracked with age, and washed my hands. When I opened the piesafe I found that he had stocked it with basic cooking utensils and supplies, and I brought out onions, potatoes, cornmeal, and seasonings. "I'll peel the potatoes and cut 'em up," he offered, washing his own hands and tossing the water out the door. While fat melted in iron skillets on the stove, I rolled the fish in cornmeal, then mixed up batter for hushpuppies, and soon the scent of potatoes sauteed with onions and frying trout filled the small house. Hank came up behind me, slipping his arms around my waist and bending to kiss me on the side of my neck. "Been livin' in a bar so long, almost forgot how it makes a place feel like home to smell supper cookin' on the stove." "It's nice to have someone to cook for, after being by myself for all these months." "When we got yer letter, answering that ad--an' you agreed to come to Colorado Springs to teach --I was expectin' some dried-up, prune-faced, old maid with more whiskers on her chin than me," he teased. "Last thing I figured on was that I'd start wantin' you so bad I could almost taste it the minute I saw you." "Last thing I figured on was fallin' madly in love with a hot- headed, hard-drinkin', cigar-smokin', Norwegian mountain man," I playfully copied his accent as I turned around to face him. "Or I might've hopped right back on the train." "Ya mean that?" "A year ago I couldn't have even imagined a man like you--not in my wildest dreams," I confessed, resting my cheek against his chest. "Now I can't imagine my life without you." "Do me a favor?" "What's that?" "Don't try real hard." He gave me a gentle squeeze. Stepping away from him, I dipped the last of the potatoes from the hot grease and carried the platter over to the table. Hank poured coffee into our cups, waited until I sat down, then took a place across the table from me. "Guess I don't need to be frettin' about whether or not that mare of yers is too much of a handful." He grinned in self-mockery, helping himself to two trout, half a dozen hushpuppies, and a huge serving of potatoes. "Guess not," I agreed. "Where'd you learn to sit a horse like that?" "I've been riding since I was four." I shrugged. "I grew up on a plantation with a daddy who appreciated good horseflesh, and there wasn't a nag in the stable. Either I learned to ride well, or I could expect to be spending an awful lot of time picking myself up out of the briar-patch." "Judgin' by Storm, you got his eye for horses." "By the end of the war, all of ours were gone--the Morgans, the Thoroughbreds, and the Tennessee Walkers--to one army or the other. So he had to start looking for new breeding stock. I went with him on as many of those trips as I possibly could, and I learned quite a lot. With John dead, eventually one of us is going to have to know how to take over, and I'm the only one of the girls who is interested in running the plantation." "Takes bein' there to do a job like that," he said quietly. "Yes--it does." For a moment our eyes held, both of us knowing that if our relationship had a future, the time would come when Hank would have to return with me to Georgia, or I would have to let go of land that I loved--property that had been a land grant to an English ancestor of mine long before the Revolutionary War. It was a choice that would not come easily for either one of us. "Waitin' for you to come home, I noticed the woodpile was gettin' lower'n it oughta be, with more cold weather comin'," he changed the subject. "I'll take care of it, soon as this broken rib'll let me swing an axe." "I don't expect you to take on any of my chores." "I like doin' things for ya." "Admittedly, I'm not very skilled at cutting and splitting wood," I relented. "But what is all of that labor going to cost me?" "Pie and kisses." He winked. "With some rabbit stew and white cake thrown in so's I don't get too weak from hunger." "Consider that a deal--as long as you don't start until after Michaela says that it's all right." "Still got that headache?" he asked quietly. "It's almost gone--but it will be back tomorrow." I sighed. "A bad headache has become an everyday thing for me." "Told Dr. Mike about that?" "She examined me and couldn't find anything wrong." "Maybe we oughta take ya to see one of them specialists in St. Louis?" "Are you going to start worrying about me every minute of the day and night instead of fighting with me?" I inquired mildly. "Figured it was the better choice of the two." He grinned, scraping the remaining potatoes onto his plate. "Known ya was this gooda cook, I woulda been sweet-talkin' you a whole lot sooner." "If I had known that feeding you was the way to get you to quit acting like a grouchy, old sore-toothed bear, I would have brought covered dishes and cakes to all of those Council meetings." I laughed. "Although there were times when I might have been tempted to put just a pinch of arsenic into your serving..." "Only time I could count on you talkin' to me was when you was spittin' mad over somethin' I'd said or done." "And all of this time I've thought that making me furious was just a natural-born talent that you had!" I joked. "Nah. I been practicin' for years on Michaela." "Quite successfully... Mike made it clear today that unless I stop seeing you I'm likely to lose my job." "Michaela don't decide what's what all on her own," he fumed irritably, "There's five of us on that Town Council." "If my best friend is willing to fire me, I don't think that I can count on any other vote but yours." "Loren and Jake wouldn't...." "I can't even begin to guess how Robert E and Loren might see things, but you've even said yourself that Jake is interested in me as a woman," I interrupted. "He's not going to be terribly happy with the idea that I chose you instead of him." "Yer the best teacher this town's ever had. We'd have to be plumb loony to ever let you go." "But technically, Michaela is right. According to the terms of my contract, my employment can be terminated if I spend time alone with you." "So what did you tell her?" Hank abruptly got up and opened the door a crack so that he could light a cigarette and blow the smoke outside. "I said that I love you." Pushing my plate away, I picked up my coffee cup and took a sip. "That you're the first man who has made me believe that I might be able to forget about the past and live a normal life." "That still ain't sayin' whether yer pickin' me or the job." I saw his muscles tense. "School will be over in mid-April. If we..." "If Michaela and the rest of this town thinks they're gonna make me stay away from you for two months, then they're crazy!" he growled, his eyes dark with anger. "Quit the damned job! That way you can stop worryin' yerself to death 'bout what people are gonna think or might do, and tell 'em all to go to hell!" "Quit and do what?" I snapped in frustration. "Work for you?" "Hire you, none of my other girls would earn another dime." He tilted his head back, exhaling smoke rings. "I would rather starve to death than to--ENTERTAIN!" I glared at Hank, suddenly furious. Realizing that I had misunderstood what he had apparently intended as a compliment on my appearance, Hank tossed the cigarette out into the rain and crossed the room, obviously intending to take me in his arms--then changed his mind when he saw me stiffen. "Don't ya know there's no way in hell I'd willin'ly let another man touch you?" His eyes sought mine. "You were willing enough to allow other men to sleep with the mother of your own child! How can I be sure that you wouldn't be equally generous with me?" I demanded angrily, squaring off with him. "When I see a stranger watchin' you walk down the street, sometimes I wanna grab him by the throat and ask him what the hell he's lookin' at," he admitted softly, reaching out to gently cup my jaw with his palm. "I need you so bad it's like I got a sickness inside o' me. Never understood a man wantin' to tie himself to one woman 'til you come along, but soon as I laid eyes on you, I knew ya were gonna be changin' my mind 'bout a whole lotta things. Got no right to even be sayin' this-- considerin' everything I've done--but I'm glad there ain't never been another man. That yer gonna be mine--and nobody else's--first to last." The anger ebbed away as quickly as it had come, and I allowed him to take me into his arms. Tangling his fingers in my hair, he pressed my head to his chest. "Things was different with Clarice--I was 16 years old and already used to her bein' a whore. Never knew her when she was anything else. It was just business. Some things you can buy. Some you can't." "I'll want every part of you, Hank--or nothing at all." My face burned with embarrassment. "I've been jealous of those women at the Gold Nugget ever since I realized that they have all--shared your bed." "No reason to be jealous," he reassured me gently. "Already had enougha whores to last me two lifetimes." "What I started to say before you decided to put words into my mouth was that with only two more months left on my contract, I think chances are good that if we don't flaunt our relationship in their faces the rest of the Council will probably decide to look the other way." I sighed, still clinging to him. "To simply leave us alone." "An' if they don't?" "Then they can fire me--or I'm willing to resign. Whatever happens, happens." "Ya never hafta work another day in yer life, less it's what you want to do," he said quietly. "I earn more'n enuff to support a family." "I could never live off of money that other women make by--lyin' on their backs." "Kinda figured that out for myself." Hank grinned ruefully. "Fact is, I already told my girls I was probably gettin' out of that part of the business before long. That when I did, I was willin' to pay 'em to do respectable work--cleanin' rooms and waitin' tables--if they wanted to make a fresh start. An' if that didn't suit 'em, they'd need to think about movin' on." "You would really do that for me?" I asked shakily. "Can't think of anything I wouldn't do for you." We were silent for a moment, then I raised my head, listening to the sound of rain drumming hard against the roof. "If this doesn't let up, we're going to have one miserable, wet ride back." "Night's still early." He released me. "Rain oughta break off sooner or later. I'm gonna bring in more wood from the shed, then get started on them dishes." "You caught our dinner and helped cooked it. I'll clean up afterward." "I still owe ya one--since I didn't get around to doin' dishes on Saturday night." He put on his coat and went outside. I had put dishwater on to heat before we sat down at the table, and I was almost through with the washing up by the time that Hank had brought in several armloads of firewood. After he finished drying and putting everything away, he disappeared into the bedroom and returned with a quilt that he spread out in front of the fireplace. Taking my hand, he pulled me down with him to sit on the floor. "Was this one of Ruby's?" I ran my palm lightly over the double- wedding-ring patchwork pattern. "Found it in her Hope Chest and aired it out while I was here. Hafta be hung in the sun awhile longer to get rid of all that cedar smell." "Ruby had a Hope Chest?" I felt a knot tighten in my throat. "Whores start out little girls with dreams--exactly like all the rest. Their dreams just don't work out the way they planned." "Except for the lucky ones like Myra." "Didn't see you lookin' especially thrilled to be out on the town them nights you had supper with Horace," he teased. "Mr. Bing is a very nice person--but he's not the man that I fell in love with." The memory of that seemingly endless wait on the clinic porch while Michaela operated on Hank drifted back to me. "Did Myra ever really love him--or has she always been in love with you?" "She'd loved me, she wouldn't have left me for Horace. Not sayin' I didn't deserve it." He shrugged. "He offered her something better than life as a whore, and I couldn't." "But you did have feelings for her once." "Myra's part of where I been," he answered quietly, meeting my gaze. "Yer where I'm goin'. Yer the one I want--the only one I'm gonna want for the rest of my life." "Are you sure?" I whispered. "Love's a word I ain't in the habit of throwin' around." Hank's eyes held mine. "When I say it, I mean it." "As different as the two of us are, I want to believe that this can work," I confessed. "That we can find a way to make it work." "We will," he promised softly. "What happened to Horace and Myra?" I settled into the crook of his arm, resting my head on his shoulder. "Do you know?" "He tried to make her into somebody she never was--'stead of lettin' her be. I did the same thing, so I'm not faultin' Horace. Neither one of us had the sense God gave a billy-goat when it come to Myra. I could see in her eyes she wasn't happy, even before Samantha was born." "She told me once that the only reason that she came back here was to give Sam a chance to grow up knowing her father." "Could be I'm the father," he admitted flatly. "Baby came less'n nine months after the weddin'. Color of her hair an' them curls sometimes makes me wonder." "Have you asked Myra?" "Don't know if I could watch Sam grow up and never let on, if I knew for sure." He shook his head. "Wouldn't wanna hurt her." "But if--" "Man what raises a kid is the real Pa, no matter how one gets started," he said quietly. "The right thing to do for that little girl is to let sleepin' dogs lie." "You're an amazing man, Hank Lawson." I studied his face. "Been called a lot of things in my life, but never that." "Get used to it," I whispered, reaching out to run my fingertip across his lips. "Gonna stop callin' me pig-headed and stubborn as a mule?" His voice was soft with amusement as he drew the end of my finger into his mouth and sucked gently. "Probably not." "First time you looked up at me with them big brown eyes flashin' fire and started givin' me a piece of yer mind, I knew I was a goner," he teased. "Can't remember what you were jawin' about --didn't hear a single word you said. Couldn't think of nothin' 'cept how bad I wanted to kiss you 'til you ran outta breath an' didn't have air enough left to fight. Then kiss you some more." "It's a good thing for you that you didn't try!" "Figured you'd kick me in the knee." He chuckled. "Or worse." "Now that we've stopped fighting each other, it seems that we're going to have to fight with the rest of the world, if we want to be together." "Nobody gets a say-so in this, 'cept for you'n'me. If what it takes is me sellin' out, plenty of other places we can go." "For some reason I thought that Michaela might be happy for me-- that of all people she would understand." I sighed. "Real lady comes along out here once in a blue moon. Folks don't appreciate seein' somebody like you wasted on a man like me." "I don't consider it a waste." My gaze lingered on his lips. "Far from it." Hank leaned over to kiss me, then stopped, drawing in a quick breath as his hand moved to press hard against his lower back. He closed his eyes, caught in the grip of a muscle spasm that was painful enough to cause a light sweat to break out on his forehead. "Are you okay?" I touched his cheek. "Twisted wrong. I shoulda stayed offa that roof. Now I'm payin' for it." "Turn around, and I'll rub your back." He unbuttoned and shrugged out of his shirt, then paused when he saw the look of surprise on my face. "Guess you didn't mean for me to take this off?" My eyes shifted downward and up, moving from his hard, flat stomach to the rippled abdominal muscles up to the dark gold sprinkling of hair that covered well-developed pectorals. "No....but I don't want you to put it back on again either." Chuckling deep in his throat, he kissed me lightly on the lips before turning to offer his back. Thick and heavy--as soft as the finest grade of silk--his mane of blond curls flowed down over the sculpted muscles, ending below the mid-point of his spine, and as I breathed in the spicy warm scent of Hank's skin I felt my stomach churn with what I had already learned to recognize as desire. "I love your hair," I whispered, burying my face against the golden mass. "Jake's been after me to cut it ever since we went inta the hotel business. Says I'd look more respectable." "Tell Jake Slicker to go suck an egg," I suggested, reverting back to my favorite childhood taunt as I gathered the long strands together and draped them forward over his shoulder so that I could nuzzle his nape. "I've never seen another man with hair half as beautiful as yours. It was the first thing that I noticed about you." My gaze dropped to the angry pink scar that marred the smooth skin above his waistband on his right side, and I swallowed hard. The last time that I had seen Hank shirtless blood had been pouring from that raw wound, soaking his clothing and splattering mine. Only during the last few days had I truly understood how much that bullet could have changed my life--and had changed my life. "The day that you got this--when you were lying on the floor of the bank, covered in blood, and I thought that you were dying--I realized that I was losing the one thing that I needed more than anything else in my life." I pressed a kiss against his bare shoulder as I gently rubbed the scar. "I was terrified that it was too late for saying words that should have been said between us months earlier." "We wasted a lotta time arguin' when we shoulda been kissin'." "Does that mean we're going to have to do extra kissing to make up for lost time?" I smiled. "Count on it." Our lips met, and as the kiss deepened he shifted, taking me down onto my back so that when he finally lifted his head I was lying beside him on the quilt. For a moment I stiffened reflexively at the sight of him poised above me, and he immediately reversed our positions, rolling over so that I was resting on top of the upper half of his body. "That better?" he asked gently. "It's not really you that I'm afraid of." "I know." His smile was understanding. "The bastard who raped Beth got off easy...he's been dead for all of these years. She and I are the ones who keep on paying...who were left with wounds that may never completely heal." "In time yer gonna have good memories to replace the bad--I'll make sure of it." "You've already turned my life inside out." I lightly traced his moustache with my fingertip. "When I look at you I want--something--so badly... And each time that you touch me that need just gets stronger." "I know I'm a long way from bein' the kinda man you deserve..." Hank's voice was low and smokey. "Wish I could go back an' change a lotta things... But when you come along, all of a sudden I started thinkin' 'bout what it would be like to come home at night to a real house--with supper on the stove and you waitin' by the fire, lovin' me and wantin' to be with me much as I wanna be with you. Started thinkin' 'bout fillin' yer belly with a baby that was part of me'n'you both...us raisin' a family of our own together...gettin' old with you layin' beside me. Things I ain't never even thought about wantin' before." "Oh, Hank..." I whispered, tears in my eyes. "I ain't goin' back on my word--you can have all the time you need to feel ready...to make up yer mind--but nobody's ever gonna love ya more'n I do." He licked his lips nervously. "What I'm tryin' to say is...Cait, if you'd have me, I wanna marry you." "Are you telling me--or are you asking me for an answer?" I swallowed hard. "Both." "Yes," I breathed, my lips inches from his own. "Yer willin' to be my wife?" His eyes searched mine. "I love you with all that I am, Hank...and I always will." I tangled my fingers in the hair falling over his shoulder. "I want the same things that you do--all of them. With you. More than I've ever wanted anything else in my life." Wrapping his arms around me, Hank's mouth captured mine, his tongue at war with my own. He slid his palm down my back to cup my hips, bringing my denim-clad pelvis tightly against his, making his pent-up hunger impossible to ignore. A longing burned in my lower belly as I raised my head to see my own desire reflected in a pair of penetrating blue eyes. He was beautiful--whipcord lean and strong, the firelight playing on his skin and making his hair glimmer like quicksilver--and I loved him beyond all reason. Forcing myself to pull away from his embrace I sat up, trying to slow my racing pulse. "You do realize that you have this all backward?" I teased, feeling lightheaded from an overwhelming urge to lie back down in his arms. "That most men do their 'courting' long before they ask a woman to marry them?" "Fire burns this hot, might be safer to do mosta our courtin' after there's already a ring on yer finger," he admitted softly. "I'm beginning to think you're right--that this wedding may need to take place a lot sooner than I had thought...before I no longer have any right to wear a white dress," I confessed shakily. |
