43

TUESDAY, JULY 6, 1909

The trial was scheduled to start tomorrow. Hattie controlled her jumpiness around family and friends, but the effort rubbed her raw. Hiding her feelings was never her strong suit.

At bedtime, she tried to avoid looking at Jake, propped against the headboard, watching her brush her hair. She didn’t allow her gaze to rise above the gleam of his bare chest in the lamplight as she slid under the blankets.

He reached for her, and Hattie rolled over, curling into him. He stroked the length of her hair and she felt warm, comforted, the restlessness soothed. But when he touched her breast, she found it irritating, then painful when his hand bumped over her nipple. Reacting blindly, Hattie knocked his hand away. “Don’t!” Even his lips, finding pulse points against her neck, aggravated her, and she strained away.

Jake stilled. Slowly, he opened his arms, and Hattie moved away. She felt bereft the instant his warmth no longer encased her yet knew she would testily resist any attempt he made to keep her there. Miserably confused, she turned her back. Tension strummed the darkness.

Then Jake rolled to the side of the bed and turned on the lamp. As soon as a soft pool of light illuminated the room, he turned back to Hattie and lightly stroked her shoulder. Asked gently, “What’s the matter, baby?”

“Nothing,” she mumbled.

Jake, too, had been on edge all day, and his temper snapped. “Bullshit,” he said through gritted teeth and summarily whipped her onto her back, looming over her on stiffly locked arms. He glared down at her. “What the hell is the matter with you?”

She glared right back at him. “My bosoms hurt, all right?”

“And?”

“And what? That’s it.”

“If that were all it was, you would have simply said so instead of trying to knock my hand to kingdom come and giving me your back.” He risked soothing her tumbled hair off her face, relaxing slightly when she accepted the comfort of his touch. “I’m sorry if I hurt you,” he added softly. “But, Big-eyes, something more than sore tits bothers you and I wanna know what it is.”

Sidetracked, she protested primly, “You shouldn’t call them that.”

“Why? No one’s here but you and me—and you like it when I talk dirty.”

“Jacob,” she remonstrated, but while she blushed and lowered her eyes, he noticed she didn’t dispute his claim.

After a moment’s silence, Hattie’s turbulent whiskey-colored eyes met his. “I should be on the witness stand along with Opal,” she whispered fiercely.

He whistled softly through his teeth. “So that’s what this is all about.” He eased over onto his back, stuffed a pillow beneath his head and shoulders, and gathered her to him.

She came willingly, her temporary umbrage apparently forgotten as she rolled onto her side and propped her chin on the hand she spread against the swell of his chest. Her nightgown’s skirt hitched up as she draped her nearest thigh over Jake’s. “I feel so useless and cowardly,” she confessed miserably. “Opal is risking everything with this trial. And I’m contributing nothing.”

“That’s not true.” He rubbed a rough-skinned thumb over the grooves in his wife’s forehead, willing them to smooth out. “I’ve heard Opal say a dozen times she couldn’t get through this ordeal without your support. That’s a fundamental fact, Hattie. You called it the night we arrested Lord: you are the only one who fully understands what Opal’s been through. The rest of us grasp the trauma she’s suffered, but you understand it at a gut level, because you’ve experienced it. It means a lot more to her than you appreciate. You have sat with her through questioning; you’ve held her hand. You tell me when Opal’s at her breaking point and I need to back off. And just the fact you’re willing to discuss your own experience with her and listen to her work through her own has helped her immensely.”

“It’s not enough,” Hattie replied. She searched for words to make him understand but couldn’t find them. After a moment’s hesitation, she finally said in frustration, “Darn it, Jake, I don’t know how to make you understand it is just not enough . . .”

His hands tightened on her. “You think I don’t understand?” he asked, his voice suddenly gritty with suppressed savagery.

Startled, Hattie raised her head to meet his gaze. It held a febrile glitter and his tension was palpable in the muscles now solid as the house around them.

“I know about not enough!” he growled. “This trial is a prime example. Hell yes, it’s bound to get dirty, but ultimately it will be a civilized process.” His fingers gripped her painfully. “Well, you know what, Hattie? When I allow myself to think of what that sonovabitch did to you, I don’t feel civilized! I’ll prosecute the bastard with all the calm professionalism I can muster, and, baby, I promise I will put him away. But it sure as hell won’t be enough! What I’d really like is to geld him like one of my horses and give you his testicles for a change purse. Maybe then I’d feel satisfied justice was finally served.”

Hattie felt his body strain with the fury of his emotions, and ignoring his tightening fingers, she pressed against him, offering silent comfort.

His hands abruptly released their death grip on her flesh and he wrapped his arms around her, clasping her against his hard torso with bruising force. Jake exuded such easy self-confidence Hattie sometimes forgot he didn’t display all his emotions for the world to see the way she generally did. He’d been so busy, so professionally calm and competent, overseeing the running of the ranch and preparing for the trial, that she had envied his sense of purpose. She’d failed to peek below the surface.

Now she realized there must have been a corner of his mind all along holding himself responsible for her debasement at Lord’s hands. Hattie couldn’t bear that he was in pain. God, she loved this man. So much. Hoping to diffuse the tension, the rage, making him so stone-hard stiff, she pressed a kiss against the warm skin of his chest. Whispered hesitantly, “Jacob?”

“Yeah?” His voice was gruff.

“Um . . . what are testicles?” She thought she knew, given the context of what he’d been saying, but she wasn’t positive.

He stilled; then the awful tension keeping his body so rigid broke and he laughed loud and long. He slid a hand down her arm to wrap around her wrist, then guided her hand beneath the covers. An instant later she was cupping soft, weighty sacs in her palm. “These.”

“What do you know,” she marveled softly, “that’s what I thought they were.” She caressed him absentmindedly for a moment while she marshaled her thoughts.

“I won’t allow you to blame yourself for what happened to me,” she finally whispered with fierce emphasis. “No sane person could foresee the sheer wickedness in that man. We both know you were trying to keep me pure that night. And, Jake, there is every indication he would have found a way to get to me anyway. He was very determined to relieve me of my virginity.”

Jake lifted her hand from his balls, brought it up to his abdomen, and pressed it there with his own. Dipping his chin, he stared at her for several moments. Her honest eyes returned his look levelly, and a knot he’d carried deep in his gut finally began to unravel.

She rubbed her cheek against his chest for an instant, then once again met his eyes. “You have done more than anyone to see some sort of justice prevails. I don’t need a change purse, Jacob, and I don’t want you to do eternal penance for a single bad judgment. A nice, long jail sentence will suit me just fine.”

“Sweetheart, do you really want the entire town to know what happened to you?” If she needed that, if that was what it would take to put this behind them once and for all, then against his better judgment, he would agree to use her testimony.

No, by God, he probably would not. Every particle of his being rebelled at the idea of her setting herself up for the pain that would bring.

Hattie longed to say she didn’t care what people said but admitted, “In my heart, I prefer nobody ever knows. But doesn’t cowering behind Opal’s testimony make me dishonest?”

Jake snorted. “Honey, you have never cowered a day in your life. And as for honesty . . . Dammit, I’ll put you on the witness stand, if that’s what you want.” Man, you are such a liar, he thought, but aloud merely added with deceptive mildness, “But I’d really rather not.”

He chose his words carefully. “I admire your honesty a lot, Hattie. But you can take it to extremes. We’re going to put that bastard in jail, and I hope he rots there forever. We will do that with Opal’s testimony; then we’ll see to it she has a chance to begin again somewhere no one will point a finger at her.” He caught her chin in his hand and met her eyes. “Where does it say you owe it to the people of Mattawa to also bare one of the most private and degrading moments of your life? It’s redundant, baby. Totally needless.”

Hattie looked unconvinced, and Jake continued in a low voice, “If it was just my name blackened in the process it wouldn’t be a problem. I could maybe even learn to live with it if it only affected you and me. I’d hate it with every fiber of my being if some righteous, so-called good woman dared sweep her skirt out of your way, but together we could ride out any scandal that ensued. Sooner or later, another would come along to take the heat off us, and the people we really care about would never condemn you for something you had no way of preventing.”

He hesitated, then pulled out the biggest gun in his arsenal. “But it won’t always be just you and me,” he said. “Someday, Big-eyes, we’re gonna have us a passel of red-haired babies. And while I don’t doubt every last one will be a scrapper like their mama, I don’t want our kids having to fight for acceptance like you did.” His words were true, but it wasn’t his immediate concern. His primary goal was to protect Hattie right here, right now.

It turned out to be an effective argument, however. “Oh God, Jake, neither do I!” Her eyes were big with horror at the very idea. “I never thought of it like that, but no one knows better than I what it’s like to be different in this town. No child should ever have to be called upon to defend his mama’s name.”

She thought of all the ways a child’s life could be made miserable and lifted troubled eyes to her husband. “I’d be crushed if someone hurt a child of mine for any reason. But to do so just to register disapproval of me?” Her eyes lit with militant fire. “I’d want to slaughter them. No one gets to undervalue our babies . . . not for any reason!”

Jake grinned at her vehemence. Good. Maybe now she could accept some well-earned protection against spiteful gossip without feeling she had to sell her soul for the privilege. Much to his gut-deep satisfaction, the specter of their future children effectively cooled her desire to destroy her reputation. He couldn’t watch her pay the price again for an atrocity she shouldn’t have had to endure in the first place. Everything inside him rebelled at the thought. Why should she set herself up to be shamed all over again? It was like letting her be raped twice. He wasn’t posturing when he said if it were only his name being blackened, he could live with the consequence; he could—and count the cost cheap. But he’d most likely punch anyone who dared snub his wife. Hopefully, with her maternal instincts firmly roused, the need would never arise.

Still feeling a heap of inner tension, Hattie lay in Jake’s arms and tried to sort through her feelings. The emotions his words produced were unexpected. She’d been shocked by the strength of protectiveness she felt at the mere idea of babies she had yet to conceive.

Considering everything that went on before and after their marriage, it was surprising she had never spared a thought to the kids they might someday have. Other than learning soon after her marriage that their night in the stable hadn’t resulted in pregnancy, Hattie hadn’t given even the vaguest consideration to the fact that she and Jake would someday likely have children.

She thought about them now. With Jake as their father, she knew their babies would be special. And if, God forbid, they were unfortunate enough to be born with red hair, she knew Jake’s constant praise of its color would ease the sting of any negative comments they’d receive away from home. And it would be a cold day in hell before she or Jake allowed the Murdock kids to be given a cold shoulder by this sometimes thoughtlessly cruel town.

Her own relationship with many of the townspeople had improved dramatically since her younger years. She didn’t fool herself, however, that the strides she’d made since coming home would shield her if her rape was made public. It would be a rare friend indeed, if the brutal truth were known, who would accept her. For women were always labeled culpable in their own downfall.

She wondered if the day would ever come when society stopped believing women were responsible for their assaults, when blame was instead placed strictly on the men who attacked them. Hattie fervently hoped so. But change tended to come slowly, if at all, and she honestly couldn’t visualize that day. God knew she would much rather keep her rape private. Yet an overwhelming sense of guilt that Opal was going to draw all the fire when Hattie too could give testimony to strengthen the case against the bastard had been a heavy weight in her stomach for the past several days.

That guilt was gone. She had not sinned; she had been sinned against. She didn’t underestimate the ordeal lying ahead for Opal, but at the end of it the girl could move on to a place where she wasn’t known. Hattie could not. And in all honesty, why should she have to?

Jake was right; she didn’t owe this town knowledge of her most hurtful traumas. Why provide ammunition that could be used to hurt her further? Neither did she deserve to have her future children abused socially because she hadn’t had the physical strength to stop a man from violating her in the worst way possible. The more she thought about it, in fact, the angrier it made her. No one who hadn’t suffered through an ordeal like hers had the right to sit in judgment. Then a small smile curved her lips. Why get angry when she could get even instead? Actually, there was a delicious irony to all this. Wouldn’t it be poetic justice to see Roger Lord convicted without the town having the slightest idea he’d also harmed her? He would know and it would chafe his overweening sense of superiority that he could do nothing about it without incriminating himself. The sheer beauty of it appealed strongly to her sense of justice.

Aware of Hattie’s tension, Jake held her quietly and gave her as much time as she needed to work through things in her mind. When he felt her begin to relax, he cupped his hand over hers and started moving their combined fingers in slow circles on his stomach. He did so in part to coax her away from the rest of her tension. But mostly because it was impossible to be near her without wanting to touch her. Heal her. Love her.

Slowly, he eased her hand down his body beneath the blankets. “Enough serious thoughts for tonight,” he whispered. “Now, how about we teach you some of the other words still lacking in your vocabulary?”