Chapter 10

 

“So,” Jeff said as they drove to the ranch. “How was it?”

“I had no idea people still did such lovely handwork. Miss Climson’s workmanship was especially impressive.”

“That wouldn’t be the reason I’d choose her to marry. But what I mean is, how did they treat you? Earlier I got the idea that you were a little worried about that.”

“Oh, no. Everything went swimmingly,” Edith said, not really attending.

“Come to think of it . . .” Jeff peered around the brim of Edith’s hat. “You still look worried. Did something happen? Nobody was rude to you. I know they couldn’t have been.”

Edith watched the red earth spin away beside the buggy. How much could she tell him?

Edith said slowly, “I am a little concerned about Dulcie. When I first met her, I didn’t realize she was the bride-to-be.”

“That’s right. Nobody thought anyone would ever fall for her. Maybe you noticed her teeth . . . ?”

“They’re not that bad,” Edith said, defending her newfound friend. “Everyone seems to think she’ll start gnawing at the trees to build a dam. Yet I have arranged matches for several young ladies who were much less comely than Miss Armstrong. After all, she isn’t wearing a wig or false padding.”

“You don’t have to worry about Dulcie. Her fiancé doesn’t mind her teeth, so why should we?”

He glanced at her. She toyed with her glove, tugging the fingers out of shape and then slapping it into the palm of her other hand. She wasn’t watching the road, as he’d thought, but seemed to be looking inward.

Jeff stopped the buggy. Edith straightened up to face him. “What are you doing?”

“You’re really worried about her. Why?”

“Are you going to stop a buggy every time you want to speak to me? We shall always be late.”

“But what interesting talks we will have had.” Jeff dropped his hand over Edith’s. “Come on,” he said, “Spill the beans.”

Quickly, she slipped her tingling hand out from beneath his. “Don’t do that!”

“Do what?” His face hardened. “Touch you?”

“Excuse me, Mr. Dane. I’m not used to it.” She folded her hands, controlling her sudden need to touch him to dull the sharpness of her rebuke. “I am not a demonstrative person.”

“No, I don’t suppose you’ve had much encouragement.”

“It isn’t a matter of encouragement. A lady should have no need to touch anyone, except with a parasol.”

His smile came back. “What do you do with it? Whack them over the head?”

Edith pulled her lips in tight against her teeth. When she’d fought down the bubble of her laughter, she said sedately, “Of course not. A lady should only . . . poke.”

Jeff chuckled. “Right in the back.”

She didn’t like that cold mask to drop over his features. It was more comfortable to think of him as a happy man than to see the dark emotions he possessed, as did all humanity. Edith would have preferred the whole world show her only its contented side. That way she had no responsibility.

Jeff lifted his hand as though he’d touch hers again. Instead, he cleared his throat. When he had Edith’s attention, he said, “You still haven’t told me what is troubling you.”

She had to tell someone or the burden would be too great. “It’s Dulcie. How well does she know this man she intends to marry?”

“Victor Sullivan only came to town a couple of weeks ago. They met at a church sociable a few days after he got here. I reckon he’s a fast worker.”

“What do you think of him? Personally, I mean.”

“Nothing, so far. I haven’t had much to do with him. He’s popular enough, from what I’ve heard. Why?”

Edith hesitated. How much could he—could any man— believe? “I don’t feel Dulcie is really ... in love with him.”

“What? Did she say something to you?”

Edith shook her head.

“You saw something while you were at the Armstrongs’? Was she kissing somebody else?”

“Of course not. Not if she were promised to another.”

“Well, then . . . ?”

“I just . . . feel it. My feelings are never wrong about things like this.”

“Oh, is that all?”

Jeff shook the reins and started the buggy moving again. Grouchy sat down in the back, satisfied they weren’t getting out.

“Is that all?” Edith asked, shocked.

“Yeah. Just because you’ve imagined a ‘feeling,’ you’re getting all worried. That’s pretty foolish, don’t you think?”

“Certainly not! I rely on my feelings.”

“‘Course you do. You’re a woman. Gwen was the same way. She’d get a creepy feeling and stop dead in the middle of whatever she was doing. Once she told me the henhouse was haunted. She didn’t dare go in. Took me two weeks to convince her there was nothing wrong.”

“How do you know there was nothing wrong? She might have been right.”

“Don’t tell me you believe in spooks? That’s .  .  .”

“What? Ridiculous? Asinine?” Edith began to feel very warm. A strange jumpy sensation in the middle of her stomach made her understand what the expression “making my blood boil” really meant. His calm dismissal of one half of human existence was enough to send her into a passion.

“Yes! Damn it, every time a woman wants to get out of trouble, she talks about her ‘feelings’ or her ‘nerves.’ Men don’t play that kind of game.”

“No, men simply dismiss anything they don’t understand!”

“We don’t invent ghosts that aren’t there, that’s for sure.”

“How do you know there weren’t any? If you can’t see them, how do you know they aren’t there?”

“What?” He shook his head as though to clear it after a punch. “This is too stupid to talk about. How did we get into whether there are ghosts are not?”

“I don’t know. But personally, I’d rather believe Gwen’s feelings than yours! At least she had them!”

They rolled into the farmhouse drive. Edith did not wait for his help to climb down. Putting her nose in the air with a sniff, she walked quickly up the path.

Jeff caught up to her in the cool porch. He seized her by the elbow and turned her around. “Look, Edith, I’m sorry. This ‘feeling’ obviously upset you. Sit down and we’ll talk it over.”

“There’s no point,” Edith answered, irritated further by his so obviously humoring her. “You aren’t about to believe what I say merely because I have a feeling about Dulcie and this man.”

“Would it make you feel better if I found out a little about Sullivan? I could go to the Red-Eye and talk around some.”

“The Red-Eye?”

“It’s a saloon. Sullivan has been spending time there in the evenings.”

“A drinker?” she exclaimed, repelled.

“Don’t look like that. A man likes to take a drink now and again. Even I ...”

“You’re a father. You shouldn’t be going into saloons.”

“I’m a father, not a saint.”

Lifting a stray strand of hair off her forehead, he tucked it under the brim of her golden straw hat. It seemed like the same loving attention he’d given his daughters that morning, but it felt far different. Jeff wanted to pull free the comb that trapped her hair and thrust his hands into the soft, free waves.

“Edith, men and women are ... different.”

It might have been wiser, Edith thought, to go directly into the house. It was certainly far from wise to look up into Jeff’s face and murmur, “Different? How?”

He leaned down slowly to brush the corner of her mouth with his. Her skin was as soft and sweet as the first peach of summer, and Jeff knew a surge of hunger. But he controlled himself, waiting for her to scream, to slap, to run away. Instead, a tremor ran through her as her eyes closed. Ever so slightly, her chin lifted.

Edith’s knees were trembling. It spread through her body, leaving her too weak to turn away. His scent, so virile and real, filled her senses and made her head whirl. As he cupped her face with his roughened hands, she swayed toward him.

His lips were warm and soft as they nudged hers. Edith held very still, hardly breathing. He withdrew the merest fraction as though waiting for something.

Her own lips felt so dry she had to lick them. She chose to do so at the exact moment Jeff kissed her again.

“Edith!” he said with his chuckling laugh. Then he pulled her close. His mouth, resolute now, swept over hers. Her knees weaker than ever, she clutched his shoulders as he bent her slightly back.

She didn’t know what to do except hold on. He teased and taunted her, kissing her delicately, then abruptly harder, only to draw away as she pressed closer. A new feeling, something she’d never known before, welled up inside her. Impatience. Blazing impatience.

Edith kissed him back. She didn’t really understand what she was doing, he knew that, but when she leaned into him, her hands tightening, her inexperience didn’t matter. He wanted to teach her. “Open to me,” he whispered.

Her modesty made her hesitate but her newfound heedless-ness drove her on. She didn’t know what this would lead to. She realized that at this moment she didn’t care.

The firmness of his tongue seduced her. She gasped, a tiny noise that seemed to inspire him. As he pulled her nearer still, one of his hands slipped down to cross her waist, pressing on her lower back. Without a second thought, she urged her body against his. From his body, she felt something surge forward that she instinctively both feared and longed for. The fear increased more quickly than the yearning.

She ripped away, her breath too fast, feeling as though she’d leapt out of the heat of a living fire. With the back of her hand against her lips, she stared at Jeff. His broad chest rose and fell to hurried breaths. She saw he stared back, with as much bewilderment in his eyes as must be in her own.

“Oh, my God,” he said.

Her fingers crept to her crimsoned cheeks. “This is dreadful. I don’t know what came over me. Please accept my profoundest apologies, Mr. Dane.”

“Apologies? Edith . . .”

“I should not have tempted you.”

“Edith,” he said again, stepping forward.

Just as rapidly, Edith stepped back. “Obviously, I did something to tempt you, or you never should have behaved so. A lady will always be treated as a lady so long as she deserves to be. I have failed . . . somehow.” She hung her dark head in shame.

“You’re joking, right?” Her scarlet face told him she was not. “Listen, Edith, you’re not responsible for ... what just happened. It was me. I ...”

“You’re very good to take the blame, Mr. Dane.”

“Jeff. Please remember to call me Jeff, from now on.” He longed to hear her sigh it, to breathe his name in his ear as he buried himself in her. Jeff clenched his shaking hands. He’d never had his imagination run away from him like this before.

Everything was so clear. He could almost feel it, her white arms entwining around his neck to pull him down, to rest his head against her roundness, urging him on with those arousing whimpers at the back of her throat. And he’d give her such pleasure ... to drive her wild in his arms so when he at last . . .

Jeff tried to listen to what she was saying, to empty his mind of the riot of carnal images that filled it. “Please, repeat that.”

“Yes, Mr. Dane. As I was saying, it’s good of you to take the blame. It is what I would expect of a gentleman such as yourself. But I acknowledge my own fault. I shall try not to tempt you again.”

She saw that his gaze had dropped to where her hand was attempting to still the furious beating of her heart. She took her hand away as quickly as though the ribbon at her throat had turned into a band of fire.

Sputtering, she said, “I ... I think I should return to town later to investigate the ladies more closely. The sooner we make a decision the better, Mr. Dane. I mean, Jeff. It may be difficult to decide. I like them all.”

“My father’s going later on. You can ask him to take you.”

“Yes, yes, I will. Very difficult,” she added as she hustled indoors to find his father.

Difficult, Jeff thought, wasn’t the word for it. The half-frightened, half-pitying look she threw him as she left told him what she thought. So might she have glanced at a famished dog to whom she’d thrown a needed if skimpy bone. Clearly, she wished she could do more but had nothing else to offer.

Jeff ran an unsteady hand through his hair. She had much more to offer than she knew. The untapped passion of her virgin kiss dazzled him. A man could die of such a woman, die happily.

* * * *

Later Sam Dane showed some surprise when Edith asked him to let her drive along with him. “You were just there this morning. I wouldn’t have thought Richey had so much to show a lady that she’d head back so soon.”

“She’s a hard worker,” Jeff said from the next stall. He stood up and looked over the dividing planks.

Edith tried to pretend he wasn’t there, shirtless. She saw his bare shoulders when he stood. The telltale heat of a blush crept up her cheeks. She addressed herself solely to Sam.

“Your son has told me, Mr. Dane, that my coming here was your idea. I want to get my work done as quickly as I can.”

“All right. I can respect that. But I have to warn you . . . I’m just taking the wagon. It’s not very comfortable.”

“I’m sure it will be fine.”

“Okay, then. We’ll get going in a bit.”

‘Thank you. Uncle,” Edith said, catching a glimpse of one of the girls out of the corner of her eye.

“Oh, yeah. I almost forgot . . . ,” Sam said, then broke off to cough, covering his slip.

Little Maribel came around the corner of the barn, a long black cord trailing from her hand. When she saw the adults, she grinned, showing the gaps among her teeth. “Look what I got,” she said, twitching the cord so it made an interesting swirl in the dust behind her.

Crouching down to be on the child’s level, Edith said, “Whatever is that?”

Holding it up. Maribel said with glee, “It’s a snake!”

Edith was proud of herself for not shrieking in alarm. However, as she toppled over in terrified surprise, she could not claim to have much dignity left.

Both men raced over to pick her up, though Grouchy got there first. He poked his black, wet nose against her cheek. Jeff pushed the hound out of the way and helped her up. He studied her, while his father bent to brush off her skirts.

“It seems to be my day for falling down,” she said blithely.

Recovering, Edith pushed away from Jeff’s warm body, only to discover naked skin beneath her fingers where her hand rested on his chest. Soft, crisp hair curled around her fingers, and seemed to cling as she pulled back.

“Oh, dear,” she said, staring, fascinated by the fact that he wasn’t smooth. She never considered that the male of the species might have anything she did not have. The hair spread out across the strong, solid contours of his chest, glinting golden in the sunlight driving in through the barn doors. His arms, tanned brown, supple with muscles, seemed to ripple as he lifted his daughter up.

“Where’d you get the snake?” he asked.

Edith shuddered as the little girl lifted the limp reptile to show her father the sightless head. “I found it,” Maribel said proudly. “It’s all dead.”

“Hey!” Louise’s outraged voice sounded from the doorway. She ran in, shouting, “That’s mine. I found it first.”

Her bare feet sent up puffs of dust as she slid to a stop in front of her father and sister. “Give it back!”

“Won’t! I found it!”

“Didn’t! I did.”

“No, you were looking in the water. . . .”

“But I saw it first!”

Taking advantage of Maribel being still in her father’s arms, Louise grabbed the tail end of the snake and began to tug. Maribel gripped tighter, howling, “Mine, mine, mine!”

“Hold it!” Jeff bellowed. Two pairs of identical eyes switched onto him. “Leave the poor critter in peace. Dad?”

Sam took the flaccid creature from the girls and measured him out. “He’s a good three feet, son. Wonder how he came to give up the ghost.”

“Feel like tanning him, Dad?”

“Sure thing. Make a fine pair of snakeskin belts for a couple of young hellions I know tell of.”

“Me, Grandpa!”

“No, me, Gran’pa!”

Jeff let the squirming Maribel slide down. “Unless you’d like it, Cousin Edith. Guests should have first choice.”

Edith swallowed. “No, thank you.”

“All yours, Dad.”

Casually, Jeff reached out to shrug on his chambray shirt. He left a few of the top buttons undone, and Edith saw the diamond glints of sweat beading the hollow of his throat. The gentle hands that had roamed her body now rested on his narrow hips. She realized the latent power of his form. His wide shoulders and flat stomach seemed to be the most perfect shape a man could take. For some reason, her lips were dry again.

The milk cow lowed. “Care to make another effort, Edith?” Jeff said, jerking his thumb toward the sound.

“No, thank you. I’d better prepare to go ... freshen up. Get the hay off my skirt. . . .”

She stumbled blindly toward the exit. All she could see was Jeff, as though he were imprinted on her inner eye. The sunlight dazzled her but didn’t conquer the afterimage Jeff had caused.

Troubled by her reactions, Edith sought the sanctuary of her room. Yet even here, thoughts of Jeff pursued her. She’d lain awake for an hour last night, acutely aware that this was his room. As soon as she began to feel sleepy, she’d roll into the hollow in the center of the mattress made by his body. The thing that frightened her most was that she fit so well into the space. It seemed far too intimate a thing for an unmarried lady to experience.

But Edith knew that the difficulties of the night before would pale before those that would keep her awake tonight. For now she knew what it was like to be held by him.

Peering into the mirror propped on top of the dressing table, she sought for an outward change in her appearance. She looked just the same—”like a pickled calf’s head,” she murmured.

The curl Jeff had adjusted had once more fallen into her eyes. She withdrew the long hatpin and laid her hat aside. Her long hair fell in untidy waves to the crest of her bosom. She attacked the waves with her brush.

Someone knocked at her door. It couldn’t be Jeff, she thought. He never waited after a knock to come in.

At Edith’s summons, Louise poked her head around the door. “Ooh, how pretty!” she said, and bounced into the room. Standing slightly behind Edith, she looked at her in the mirror. “Did your hair take a long time to grow like that?”

Edith couldn’t help being flattered by the child’s gaze of open admiration. “Not very long. It was cut very short a few years ago, when I had an illness.”

“Short as mine?”

“Much shorter.” She ran her hand around her head at the level of her earlobes. “Like that.”

“I don’t like mine this short,” Louise said. “All the other girls wear theirs in two long braids with big bows.”

“But yours is such a pretty color.”

Louise yanked on a piece of it. “It’s straight as a board, Grandpa says. Maribel’s is all curly.”

“Many babies have curly hair,” Edith said, aware that she was speaking out of a vast inexperience. “F m sure yours curled too when you were very young.”

Louise looked doubtful. Edith hurried on, “Besides, smooth, straight hair is all the fashion. Ladies even put special compounds on their hair to make it like yours.”

“Really?” The young girl stood on tiptoe to see herself more fully in the mirror. She ran her hand over the bright golden hair that hung on either side of her face. Licking her hand, she flattened the sharp fringe above her eyebrows.

Edith thought the hard angles of the little girl’s hair rather unbecoming to her pointed face. She would not say so, however, not for all the world. Even now, she could feel the unblunted pain of overhearing a visitor saying, “What an ill-looking child! Why ever did you pick her?” Though Aunt Edith had put the impertinent person in her place swiftly and succinctly, the shame of being thought unlovely remained with Edith to this day.

“You know,” she said, getting up. “I have a ribbon here somewhere that would be so nice on you.”

“Grandpa doesn’t hold with ribbons. He says they take too long to fool with ‘em. String is just as good.”

“Oh, but all little girls like a pretty ribbon to set them off.” She rummaged through the drawer she’d filled with her new undergarments. “Here,” she said, pulling the ribbon from the bodice of a nightdress. “Let me put it on you.”

Her hands shaking a little, for she’d never dressed anyone’s hair but her own, Edith tied the blue satin band around the child’s head, hiding the ends under her hair. The broad ribbon softened the severe hairstyle instantly.

“Look how blue your eyes are now, Louise.”

The girl bit her lip as she leaned forward into the mirror Edith held low for her. “It does look kinda . . . okay.” She turned her head from side to side, trying to see the whole effect. Her smile was wavering. “Do I look funny?”

Jeff’s warm voice flowed over them from the open door. “You look like an angel, honey.”

“Look, Daddy,” Louise said, racing across the plain pine floor. “Cousin Edith tied it for me, an’ everything!”

“Pretty as a picture,” he said, dropping a light kiss on the ribbon itself. His daughter glowed at the praise.

“Maribel’ll be sick as a dog when she sees. Huh, who needs any old snake?”

She ran down the hall, with Jeff watching to be sure she didn’t slip on the long rag runner. Then he turned back to Edith. “My daughter didn’t say it, so I will. Thank you, Edith.”

“It’s nothing. I now have so much that a ribbon won’t . . .”

“I’m not thanking you for the ribbon. It’s for caring enough to help her with it. Believe it or not, Louise doesn’t think she’s pretty.”

“No woman ever really believes that she is. Except if she’s vain, of course.” She’d picked up her hairbrush again but could not use it with him watching. That would be another step on the road to intimacy, and she must remember every moment that she’d be on her way at the end of the week.

“She’s beautiful to me. Both my daughters are beautiful. I try to tell them that but . . .” He shrugged.

Edith pictured his unclothed shoulders moving while the muscles in his back worked beneath his brown skin. Suddenly, her high collar was too tight.

Jeff leaned against the post at the end of the bed. “I guess it’s like I was telling you before. They need a woman in their lives. Now that you’ve met Miss Climson, Miss Albans and Mrs. Green, what do you think of them?”

“As I said, I really can’t judge so quickly. I’m used to letters. Meeting these people in reality, well, it puts my concentration off.”

“How?”

Edith made a futile gesture with the brush. “Two of them are going to be disappointed. They may get their feelings hurt. If it were just a matter of choosing among a stack of letters, then the personal element doesn’t enter into it. It’s just yes or no, this pile or that. I don’t get entangled.”

“Your emotions, you mean.”

“Yes. Now, I shall be imagining two of them hurt, and that makes me uncomfortable.”

“What about that couple you were telling me about? The girl who had to really like cows.”

“That was different. I knew as soon as I read Miss Fiske’s letter that she would be the perfect person for Mr. Hansen. There was no question of choice.”

“What do you mean . . . you knew?” Still leaning against the post, Jeff crossed his arms and gave her a hard, straight look.

“I ... knew.”

From downstairs, she heard Sam Dane shout, “Come on if you’re ready, Miss . . . Cousin Edith!”

“Just a minute. Dad!” Jeff yelled back, only just turning his head. He fixed his eyes on Edith to compel an answer.

She sought for one, something believable. As though he read her thoughts, he said, “Don’t try to lie. You can’t deceive me.”

“I wasn’t going to,” she answered, stung. “I’m just trying to think how to . . .”

A sound of heavy boots came clumping up the stairs, and Sam appeared in the open doorway. “Come on, Edith. If you two start talking, it’ll be Christmas before we get going.”

“Just a moment, while I pin up my hair.”

“No time,” Sam said. “Got to get to the depot so I can sign for the goods that are coming in.”

“What goods?” Jeff asked.

“Never you mind, son.” His father lay his finger alongside his nose. “Just get your hat on, Edith, and let’s go.”

“But I must put my hair up. It isn’t decent . . .”

“Ah, heck! I’ve never seen a woman yet that wouldn’t primp if she got half a chance.”

“That’s true, Dad. Do you remember how Gwen and Mother would keep us waiting? First one would come down and then the other and then they both trot back up because they’d forgotten something, or the other one would notice something wrong with the first one’s hair or dress.”

“Yep, that was it. We were five minutes late to church every single Sunday.”

By the time they’d finished their complaints, Edith was waiting by the door, her dark red hair smoothed into its dull bun. “Well, come on, if you’re in such a hurry,” she said.

The Dane men exchanged a wink. Then Sam followed her.

Jeff lingered a moment. It made him feel warmly sentimental to see the brush and comb sitting on the dressing table, while a green ribbon, caught when the drawer was closed, peeked out. It had been a long time since a woman’s dainties had adorned this room. He liked it and hoped it wouldn’t be long before such things were here to stay.

He could trust to Edith’s sense of responsibility. She’d stay, he knew, just as long as it took to find him a suitable wife. In the meantime, he’d have to keep his hands to himself. Soon enough, he wouldn’t have to be so careful. There’d be a nice woman here to warm his bed.

After all, it was only celibacy and Edith’s nearness that made such a dangerous combination. He couldn’t, in honor, do anything about the first fact, but he could keep her at arm’s length. He’d simply have to manage not to be alone with her.

Glancing at the white coverlet, he wondered how well Edith had slept. Probably she slept like the virgin she was, peacefully, dreamlessly. Her sleep could only be restful, untroubled by any ardent dreams.

He hadn’t slept well at all. He woke himself shivering in the cool breeze that blew through the windows his father left open year-round. His father tended to take up more than his fair share of the mattress, and he was a cover stealer as persistent as Paul Tyler, his partner of the Trinity gold days. Jeff shook his head ruefully, remembering those wild, carefree days.

The nights had been wild too. Edith, shocked by the thought of him taking an occasional drink, would be horrified by those all-night poker games that had been carried on in an atmosphere of heavy smoke and easy virtue. On occasion, he’d paid for his pleasure, for there were no respectable women near the gold fields.

Yet no kiss, not even from the most expert and wanton woman, had aroused him the way naive Edith Parker’s had done. Perhaps it was knowing that it had been her very first. He’d never tasted lips so sweet or so innocently responsive. Not even with Gwen, for she’d been wildly popular with the boys since her girlhood and had kissed a dozen boys or more before he’d come back into her life.

Jeff supposed he should be ashamed of himself for stealing that kiss from Edith, without, after all, having honorable intentions. Yet he didn’t regret it. As a matter of fact, he wondered when he’d have the chance to do it again before remembering that he had vowed not to.