Later that day as Carl sat in the barn, he reread the words on the Wanted poster. He was surprised Juliet had given him her real name. If there was a bounty on his head for $25,000, he would have made something up. Beyond marrying him, she must not have thought through her plan of escape from Texas.
Well, at least now he knew why she’d come up to meet him as quickly as she had. Phoebe had taken time to say good-bye to her family. Juliet, however, had started her journey up here as soon as she received his letter.
Carl read the contents on the Wanted poster again, as if doing so for the hundredth time would tell him more than what little he knew. It only said she was wanted “dead or alive” and that there was a $25,000 reward for turning her in. There was nothing about what crime she’d committed. But if there was a $25,000 bounty on her head, it had to be serious. That was a lot of money. A person could go anywhere in the country and live very well off of that kind of reward.
As soon as the thought came to him, he dismissed it. No. He couldn’t do that. Not to her. He liked her. He wanted her to stay with him. She was the first person who’d treated him like he mattered, like he had something worthwhile to offer. If she’d been Lydia, he would do it without blinking. But then, he never did like Lydia.
He heard Juliet calling out to him from the cabin. Jerking to his feet, he folded the poster, shoved it into his pocket, and went to the barn entrance before she came out to find him.
“What is it?” he called out to her.
“It’s time to eat,” she called back.
“I’ll be there in a minute.”
She smiled. “I think you’ll like it. I made shepherd’s pie. Ever have it?”
“No, I can’t say I have.”
“My grandmother on my mother’s side brought the recipe with her from Scotland.”
“I look forward to trying it.”
He waited until she slipped back into the cabin before he pulled the Wanted poster out of his pocket. No. He wouldn’t turn her in. And more than that, he couldn’t risk someone finding this poster. He had to get rid of it.
Scanning the barn, he caught sight of the lantern hanging by the door. Of course! He’d burn it.
He went to the table and unscrewed the lid from one of the jars and pulled out a match. After he lit it, he set fire to the poster, holding it until the fire almost reached his fingertips. Then he let go of it and stomped on the flames until he put them out.
He knelt by the bits of the paper that remained. Good. They were too small to tell that they’d once been a Wanted poster. He picked up the scraps and dumped them outside before he went back into the barn and screwed the lid back on the jar.
There. Now Eric wouldn’t get the poster, and no one would be the wiser. He could tell Juliet, he supposed, but since he’d gotten rid of it, he saw no reason to alarm her. He lived all the way out in a small town, and better yet, his cabin was well-hidden in the trees. Someone had to know how to get here in order to find it. As long as he kept her away from town, a stranger coming through wouldn’t recognize her. If the preacher stopped by, he would deny it was her. The man was naïve enough to believe anything. So she was safe. Without a Wanted poster, no one living here would know she was an outlaw.
Reassured he’d taken enough measures to keep her safe, he went to the cabin. The moment he stepped into the small home, the smell of the freshly cooked meal greeted him. He’d never had shepherd’s pie. Until today, he hadn’t even heard of it. But if the smell was anything to go by, he suspected he was going to enjoy it. Then again, he liked all of the meals Juliet made.
He shut the door then removed his coat and hung it on the hook.
“I wanted to try something different,” Juliet said as she placed two cups of coffee on the table next to the plates of hot food. “I don’t know about you, but I was getting tired of stew and sandwiches.”
He shrugged. “I didn’t mind it.” He sat in his seat. “Besides, you made more than those things for supper.”
“Maybe, but it seemed like I made those two things the most.” She put the coffee pot aside and went to her chair. She sat across from him and smiled. “It feels nice to have a wide selection of food to make. I missed it.”
He picked up his fork. “Did you make a lot of different meals in Texas?”
“I did. I lived in a bigger town, and the general store was only a few blocks from my home.”
“Really?” She hadn’t spoken much about Texas. He had assumed she’d lived out of town since she was so comfortable in pants and insisted on wearing braids. “Do women wear pants down there?”
“No. Well, they do if they live on a farm, but they don’t in town. Though I have seen some cowgirls coming through Texas, and they wore pants.”
“Cowgirls?”
She nodded and put her fork into her portion of shepherd’s pie. “Most of the cowgirls were Indian or Mexican, but that isn’t surprising since most of the cowboys were Indian and Mexican, too.” She took a bite of the pie and glanced up at him. “Aren’t you hungry?”
Oh, right. The food. If he hadn’t been thinking of that Wanted poster and trying to figure out what she’d done to earn such a high bounty, he would have been paying better attention to the meal. When she’d asked him not to inquire about her past, he hadn’t given it a lot of thought. He wasn’t looking for someone who’d be a friend. That being the case, he didn’t care what had happened to her. But now as he watched her, he realized that was exactly what she’d become: his friend.
“I promise, the food won’t hurt you,” Juliet teased.
He chuckled. “I know. I’m just thinking over everything that’s happened today.”
“Well, there was a lot we brought back from town. I don’t know how you managed to fit all our supplies into the wagon with that hay, but you made it work. My brothers would have envied you for that.”
“Your brothers?” This was the first time she’d told him so much about her past. There was the snippet about the cowboys and cowgirls, and now he was learning she had brothers.
She cleared her throat and turned her attention back to her plate. “I had a couple.” She took another bite of her meal. “It doesn’t matter.”
He wanted to ask her what didn’t matter. Was she talking about her brothers? Maybe they had something to do with that Wanted poster. But then, whatever had happened, it might not have had anything to do with them.
He glanced at the meal in front of him. He had promised her he wouldn’t ask about her past on the day they married, and he wanted to keep his word, especially since she treated him better than anyone else ever had.
After a long moment, he decided she was right: it—whatever it was—didn’t matter. Her past had nothing to do with their future. He didn’t care what crime she committed. The only thing that mattered was that she was with him.
Yes, it was selfish on his part, but he wasn’t going to do anything to ruin the one good thing he had. Maybe that made him a bad person. But he didn’t care. He was tired of being alone.
He finally dug his fork into the food and took a bite. She looked over at him, as if she wanted to know what he thought.
With a smile, he assured her, “It’s good. I like it.”
She returned his smile, and his heart warmed. Whatever it took, he decided he would do everything he could to keep her safe. It was the only way to ensure they would stay together.
***
Four days later, Juliet woke up to an unexpected chill in the air. Despite her nightshirt and blankets, she didn’t feel all that warm. She was tempted to pull the blankets over her head and burrow into the bed, but the traces of daylight filtering through the window told her it was later than she thought.
She threw off her blankets and hurried to get dressed, glad she’d thought to add a thick dress when she had packed her things. She’d been in such a hurry that she hadn’t been sure she remembered to do that. But she had, and it was nice to put on something warm.
A quick glance out the window notified her why the cabin was unusually chilly this morning. There was a fresh layer of snow on the ground. It wasn’t more than a skiff, but it was enough to cool things down. On top of that, the day was a cloudy one. She didn’t know if that meant they could expect more snow or not. Either way, she had to be diligent about keeping the cabin warm.
She put some wood into the cookstove and started a fire. Soon enough, it would start to warm things up. In the meantime, she gathered the ingredients she’d need to make breakfast. She glanced out the window, this time looking at the barn.
Carl never came in until she told him breakfast was ready. She suspected he did that because he was afraid he’d catch her without her clothes on. He still wasn’t making any move to touch or kiss her. If she felt at liberty to talk about their wedding night, it might not be so awkward to broach the topic.
He couldn’t very well get a child by looking at her. It was a shame she didn’t know more about his marriage to Lydia. She was sure it’d clear everything up. Then she’d know the best way to deal with it.
Her gaze went to the ingredients she needed to make pancakes. Maybe today she’d make breakfast while he was in the cabin. It’d be nice to talk while cooking for a change.
Decision made, she grabbed her coat and slipped it on before she went to the barn. Usually, she’d find Carl feeding the horses or sitting in a chair as he stared off into space. But today, he wasn’t doing either of those things. In fact, it appeared as if he hadn’t even fed the horses.
Eyebrows furrowed, she climbed the ladder that led to the loft. Carl was curled up in the corner of the small area, eyes closed and shivering under his blankets.
“Carl?” she asked.
He didn’t answer, so she crawled into the loft and approached him.
She lightly shook his arm. “Carl?”
His eyes flew open, and she realized she’d woken him up. How could he sleep while he was cold? She touched his cheeks. Even the stubble on his face didn’t hide how chilly he was.
Without thinking, she lifted his blankets and slid under them so that she could wrap her arms around him. He stiffened, but she didn’t let that stop her. She snuggled closer to him.
“You’re cold,” she whispered. “I’m only trying to warm you up.” When he didn’t relax, she added, “When you stop shivering, we’ll go to the cabin. I just put wood in the cookstove. It should be nice and warm in there soon.”
“I can go there now,” he replied through chattering teeth.
“I think you should let me help you stop shivering first. Even with your coat on, you’re cold. Your skin is like ice. Why didn’t you come into the cabin last night?”
“I was fine when I fell asleep.”
She almost let him get away with the obvious lie, but she was afraid if she did, then he would continue to sleep out here all through the winter. She didn’t know if he made it a habit of doing that when Lydia was alive, but she wasn’t going to tolerate it. She wasn’t going to put him at risk for getting sick by allowing him to sleep out here anymore.
“I think you were cold when you went to sleep last night,” she told him. “Have I given you a reason to think I won’t let you sleep in the cabin?”
He paused then said, “No.”
“Then why didn’t you go in there? It was much warmer in there even without the fire going in the cookstove.”
He shrugged.
With a sigh, she reached for his arms and wrapped them around her waist. “I care about you, Carl. I don’t want you to go through another night like this. I insist you sleep in the cabin from now on.” When he didn’t assure her he would do as she wished, she continued, “If you don’t, I’ll come out here and sleep with you. At least then I can help keep you warm.”
“I’ll go in the cabin.”
Noting the reluctance in his voice, she rolled her eyes. “I’m not trying to hurt you. I want to do what’s best for you.”
“I know.”
“If you know it, then why are you fighting me?”
Since he didn’t answer, she shifted until she was able to make eye contact with him. As much as she had tried to avoid bringing Lydia up, she didn’t see how she could keep doing it. Lydia was responsible for the wall he had erected around himself. Sure, he hated his father, but his father wasn’t the obstacle that kept coming up between them. If they were ever going to be husband and wife in every sense of the word, they had to deal with his first wife.
“I’m not her,” Juliet whispered. “You don’t have to keep yourself closed off from me. I won’t be the kind of wife she was.” She brushed his cheek with her fingers, glad to note they weren’t as cold as before. “You’re safe with me.”
Then, just because it seemed to be the right time for it, she kissed him. She didn’t expect him to respond. And he didn’t. But she knew better than to push him too much, so she kept the kiss brief then settled back into his arms.
For a long time, neither broke the silence that had fallen between them until he whispered, “I know you’re not like Lydia. Lydia was… Well, she was Lydia. It’s hard to describe her.”
“I’m sure it is.” At least, that’s how it was in words. But the way he spoke and the way he grew tense expressed a lot more than he realized. “I just don’t want her to come between us.”
She hugged him and closed her eyes.
***
Carl came into the cabin that evening after he fed the horses. He set his blankets on the floor along the wall that was as far from the bed as the small room would allow.
Juliet glanced at him from where she was sitting at the table brushing her hair. She only wore a nightshirt, but the table hid her legs so he wasn’t tempted to look at her longer than he should.
Sometimes he thought it might be nice to hold her or kiss her, but he could never bring himself to do it. Yes, she was his friend. Maybe she was even becoming more than that. This should have made it easier to slip into bed with her and try to get her in the family way. But the very fact that he wanted to be with her was the exact reason why he couldn’t.
It wouldn’t be a mechanical act with her. He couldn’t approach it the way he had on their wedding night when his sole focus had been keeping his claim to the stream. No. Next time he was with her, it would require him to be vulnerable. Completely vulnerable.
Being with Lydia had never been easy, but love had never factored into the equation. That being the case, he was able to emotionally distance himself from her during the process. She hadn’t resisted him when he came to the bed. He often thought she enjoyed it since it gave her a chance to remind him of how inadequate he was.
It wasn’t uncommon for her to compare him to the other men she’d been with or ask him how much longer he was going to take. One would think this would have made the process impossible for him, but it didn’t. All he had to do was focus on his mission to get enough gold to get out of this town, and as long as he did that, he was able to drown all of her words out.
It wasn’t until he was done that the full impact of what she’d said finally sunk in. That was why he retreated to the barn loft. He never let her know how much she’d hurt him. To do so would only give her more ammunition to hit him with later.
Beyond their first year of marriage, he hadn’t gone to bed with her until he found out about his father’s will. Of course, he hadn’t known she’d already been with child. Had he known that, he wouldn’t have put himself through the misery.
He drew himself out of the past. He hated thinking of Lydia. It only brought up things he’d rather not remember, just as he didn’t like to think of his father.
He turned from the blankets he’d put on the floor and removed his coat. After he placed the coat on the floor next to him, he sat down and took off his boots. He didn’t realize Juliet was watching him until he set his boots at the foot of his makeshift bed.
“Is something wrong?” he asked.
She’d stopped brushing her hair, but something in his question—or perhaps the way he’d asked it—prompted her to continue running the brush through her thick tresses. “Aren’t you going to sleep in the bed? We’ll keep warmer that way.”
He’d been hoping she wasn’t going to ask him about the odd sleeping habit he’d acquired during the colder months while Lydia was alive. “It feels fine,” he finally said. “You did a good job keeping the fire going in the cookstove.”
“Well, yes, it is warmer than it was this morning.” She spoke slowly, letting him know she was carefully choosing each word before she said it. “But it’s more comfortable in the bed than it is on the floor.”
“I don’t mind.”
Then, to show her he meant it, he settled under his blankets, pulled them up to his chest, and closed his eyes.
“Aren’t you going to remove your clothes?” she asked in bewilderment.
“I’m more comfortable if I keep them on,” he replied.
“I couldn’t get comfortable sleeping in my clothes.”
He waited for her to add something to her statement, but she didn’t. After a few minutes, he figured that was the end of their conversation for the evening and focused on going to sleep. But then, something light touched his arm, and he jerked into a sitting position, his eyes wide. He saw that she was kneeling beside him.
“I didn’t mean to startle you,” she said with an apologetic smile. “I’m not sure how to say it, so I’ll just come right out with it.” She cleared her throat. “You are welcome to try for a child any time you want.”
Lydia had been bold in her speech, so it wasn’t the fact that Juliet was being upfront with him that shocked him. What shocked him was the spark of interest he had at the invitation. But no. He couldn’t. Not between his fears that he didn’t know the first thing about pleasing a woman or the fact that he wouldn’t be able to separate his feelings from the act of making love to her.
“It doesn’t have to be tonight,” she added. “I just wanted you to know you’re welcome to in the future.” She shrugged. “Or tonight.”
She stood up and went to the bed. He told himself not to stare at her. It would only give him an erection, and it was hard to go to sleep when his body was pressing him to take care of his needs. But he couldn’t look away from her. She had long legs. He’d enjoyed seeing them when she rolled up her pants when they were at the stream. It was even better when she had no pants on.
Her breasts were nice, too. Full enough that he could fill his palms with them if he wanted. He hadn’t taken time to touch them on their wedding night because he was afraid he’d lose his arousal if he didn’t consummate the marriage right away.
All it would have taken was for her to sigh in disappointment or chuckle at his pathetic attempts, and he wouldn’t have been able to go through with it. There was no stress on her part. All she had to do was lie still and take him into her. The burden of the work, of maintaining an erection and giving her his seed, fell on him. She had no idea how difficult that was. Women had it so easy compared to men.
He settled back in his bedding and turned his back to her. He didn’t care to see if she was disappointed in him or if she felt sorry for him. Either way, he was better off not seeing the expression on her face when he didn’t go to the bed with her.