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LAURA HAD GONE THROUGH plenty of rough nights, but none that had left her so drained and demoralized as the previous one had. It wasn’t entirely due to Dan, of course; he had come around again about midnight and was able to talk and even eat a little bit before they cleaned him up and put him to bed in his own room.
The worst thing, and what had kept her up so late and awakened her so early, was the sickness in her gut over how quickly she had let herself dream about a new life, when it was so clear that she would never escape the old one. Men like Joe and his son weren’t meant for women like her; they were reserved for women like this Patty gal, who surely wasn’t dogged by a history like Laura’s. She would stick to her original schedule and leave tomorrow morning; it would surely be best for everybody.
She lay in bed watching the sky slowly growing lighter as dawn approached, and it was hard not to feel empty inside. Maybe it’s better I never took him into my bed, she thought. I just have to get through one more day. Today I’ll make breakfast for the boys, and tomorrow I’ll leave all this behind forever. Someday thinking about it won’t hurt as much, and maybe I’ll even forget about them one day. I hope.
~ ~ ~
JOE MADE IT A POINT to ride up to the north line every morning. It was the highest point on his land, and from there he could get a good view of everything. He could watch the herd, the men he paid to watch the herd, and on occasion, a wolf watching the men watching the herd.
He always brought his rifle out, slung in a scabbard hanging from the saddle, in case he needed to dispatch with pests. Sometimes, though, he simply sat there, staring at nothing while he turned some problem or another over in his mind. Lately there had been a lot more thinking and a lot less shooting.
He reached into his vest pocket and took out Patty’s most recent letter. He kept it there not because he wanted it to be close to his heart, but rather because he still couldn’t quite believe that he was engaged without seeing the evidence in his hand.
Dear Josiah, she had written. After a great deal of thought and prayer, I have decided to accept your proposal. I am certain that we will enjoy a fruitful, pleasant and practical union and I look forward to making your acquaintance.
Joe folded the letter again and tucked it back in his pocket. It was surprising how much you could get to know about a person without actually knowing them at all. Patty, for example, was from Rye, New Hampshire, where she had spent her whole life aside from occasional visits to Maine. The daughter of John and Liza Garner, she enjoyed quilting and making pressed flowers. She could not abide men who smoked tobacco nor drank to excess, and she was willing to try very hard to act like a mother to Dan. All of this he knew from her letters, though he had no idea of what her voice sounded like, nor whether she laughed easily, nor a thousand other things that a man might like to know.
Her tintype in the window of the marriage agency showed a woman with no hint of a smile nor spark in the eye; she must have considered all of this as serious business, which it undoubtedly was, and Joe couldn’t fault her for that. Truth be told, their union wasn’t going to be based on a physical attraction—at least, not on Joe’s end. She was a little on the skinny side, with a kind of pinched expression that Joe doubted was due to built-up lust. She looked like the kind of girl who considered relations only suitable for trying to conceive children. Still, when he’d gone to the marriage agency, there hadn’t been many suitable women to choose from at the time, and though she wasn’t a woman he normally would have noticed, she also wasn’t one he would mind too much.
It was no use wondering whether he should have waited a bit longer or no. He had waited years already and still hadn’t met the right woman, so there had been little point in waiting any longer. He had made his choice. He asked for her hand, she said yes, and that was that. He was engaged.
Even now, however, he felt his stomach clench up a bit when he thought about what he had done. It was a heck of a big step, getting engaged by mail, and he often had to remind himself why he even asked her in the first place. The boy needs a mother, he thought. And I need some companionship as well. The ranch can be a very lonely place for a man without a wife by his side.
He had run those reasons through his mind countless times, but this morning they didn’t seem as compelling as they had in the past. Maybe it was because Laura was around; he had to admit that the ranch didn’t seem very lonely at all just now, and Dan had taken to her as soon as she’d arrived. Just goes to show, he thought. We need a woman around.
After a moment, another thought crept into the back of his mind. I just don’t know if Patty’s the woman we need. Joe pushed his hat back and rubbed his forehead. It was natural to feel cold feet, he supposed, but he couldn’t help wondering if there was more to it than just nerves.
She seems like a nice woman. She may not be perfect, but then again, nobody is in this world. And if I held out for perfect, then I’d never find a gal. And that wouldn’t be fair to Dan. He also remembered what Laura had said: it wouldn’t be fair to him either. Well, there you have it, he thought. Even Laura thinks I need a wife. Guess that settles it.
His reverie was broken by the sound of the dinner bell, and Joe turned to look down the plain toward the house. Breakfast time, he thought. There was Laura, waving a towel in the air, and he raised his arm to wave back before turning his horse down the slope toward home.
When he arrived at the house and stepped inside, Laura was just setting plates out. In the center of the table was a platter with still-steaming griddle cakes, and she had a skillet of sausages and eggs that she had just pulled from the fire.
“Looks good,” Joe murmured. He had never really been a breakfast eater, but Laura was making him reconsider. He felt his stomach grumble as he eyed the food.
“It should,” she said. “I’ve been making flapjacks for half an hour. By the way, before I forget, I thought for lunch we’d go out and have a picnic down by the river,” she said. “If you have time.”
“I’ll make the time,” he said. “What’s the occasion?”
“No real occasion, I just thought it would be fun. Dan could use some fresh air and sunshine,” she said. Then, casually, as if it were hardly worth mentioning, she went on. “And I’ll be leaving tomorrow.”
“What?” The hunger he had felt was replaced by the distinct sensation that somebody had just punched him in the gut. “Already?”
It was almost as if she were trying not to look at him as she bustled around the kitchen, setting the silverware out. “It’s time,” she said. “You two have a real nice life here, and I need to get out of your way. I have to go see if I can find my own nice life.”
“Laura, I...I don’t know what to say. We’re going to miss you.” Joe had a quick mental image flash through his mind, comparing Laura opening the bedsheets, inviting him into bed wearing naught but a smile, and Patty lying there with the sheets clutched up under her chin, just waiting for him to get it over with. Yep, he was going to miss her around.
She gave him a quick, neighborly smile. “That’s real nice of you to say,” she said. “I enjoyed it too. But I’ve got to clear out before your Miss Patty arrives. She wouldn’t take too kindly to another woman staying here, would she?”
“No, I can’t imagine she would.”
“Will you go get Dan and have him wash up before he comes in?”
“I, uh...sure, of course.” He stepped outside and walked over to the paddock. Dan looked a lot better upright and not bleeding, though he’d decided to give the saddle a rest. Instead, he was working a longe line with his pony, but he eagerly abandoned that when he heard about the breakfast waiting for him.
While they ate, Joe hardly spoke, but then neither did Laura. For perhaps the first time, Joe was thankful for how much eight-year-old boys talk, as Dan filled the quiet with a detailed explanation of the new tricks he was working on with his pony.
Joe caught none of it. He ate mechanically, unable to appreciate the food and only stopping when his plate was empty. The breakfast might have been wonderful; it might have been horrid. He really couldn’t tell. In fact, for the rest of the day Joe felt as if he had been the one with the concussion; he found it impossible to pay attention to what he was doing, and instead of attending to his work he ended up riding around aimlessly for hours.
Even the picnic was more of a chore than a pleasure. At noontime he returned to the house and hitched up a wagon to take Dan and Laura out to the creek, where they spread a blanket beneath the trees at the shore. They ate there by the water while a breeze both killed the afternoon heat and forced the mosquitoes away. It was a pleasant time for Dan, and by the looks of it, for Laura.
After they ate, Dan went wading, and Laura followed him soon after. She gathered her dress around her calves and splashed around as much as Dan did, getting him as wet and muddy as he was trying to get her, the two of them laughing the whole time.
Joe didn’t find it funny. In fact, it was only annoying. How can she laugh like that? It’s like she’s not bothered at all by leaving us, he thought. He fixed her with a stare, trying to figure out what she was thinking, but he only felt another twinge of pain deep inside. It was a pair of painful aches, in fact; one in his heart in anticipation of her departure, and one in his groin for the same reason. Her calves were smooth and firm, and he couldn’t help but imagine her lounging in a tub, lifting a leg out of the water as he scrubbed the mud away.
It wasn’t much of a stretch to imagine him scooping her up out of the water and taking her to bed, dripping suds and water all the way, and driving himself deep between her legs. Or throwing her onto her belly and covering her backside with kisses. Or slipping his cock between those full, heavy lips of hers. Girl like that, so young and sweet, I’d probably have to teach her how to suck cock, he thought. Not that I’d mind. In any case, her leaving just ain’t right. She should be upset too.
As if to answer his thoughts, Laura turned toward the shore and caught him staring. She gave him the same smile she had earlier in the day—quick and polite, like the smile you’d give to a neighbor you didn’t know well—but then something changed. In her eyes he saw a flash of anguish before she turned her face away and resumed her splashing with Dan.
It was as if a shard of glass was twisting in Joe’s chest. It was one thing to think that she didn’t care—that, he could handle. Some people were just cold like that. But if she really did hate having to leave, if she really was feeling the same things that he was now...well, that was a whole new kind of pain.
He busied himself with cleaning up the supplies, and when he drove them back to the house, he said nary a word. In fact, aside from mumbled thanks for a supper later that afternoon, he didn’t say anything to Laura the rest of the day. There was nothing he could say that would change anything, so what was the point?
Even his most basic desires had disappeared. He ate without hunger, drank without thirst, and at night he lay in bed without being sleepy in the least. It felt like a wall was crumbling all around him—one that he hadn’t even noticed was there until it started to fall—and soon he would be exposed to the harsh world again.
He spread his arms wide, reaching to each side of the mattress. There would soon be a lot less room in his bed, and for the first time since he got engaged, that seemed to be less of a promise and more of an ill omen.
Joe rolled onto his side and dropped his feet to the floor. He suddenly realized that his head was killing him, and as he sat on the edge of the bed, he rubbed his temples. I may not be the smartest man who’s ever lived, but I do know this one thing tonight. This is all wrong. The thought of Patty arriving filled him with neither happiness nor anticipation, and the thought of Laura leaving left him with an ache in his chest. There’s no way around it. I picked the wrong woman.
Joe stood up, went to the wardrobe in the corner of the room and withdrew the letters that Patty had sent him. He flipped through the envelopes in the lamplight. They all looked exactly alike; they were addressed in a careful, practiced hand. Like everything else about her, Patty’s penmanship was nice. But sometimes nice just wasn’t good enough.
He strode into the kitchen. When he opened the stove door, he could see that the embers were still hot, and he thrust the letters inside, fanning them in a layer across the coals. In only a moment the letters caught fire, and the flames raced across the paper as if the stove itself wanted to remove any trace of Patty from the house. When there was nothing left but a pile of curling ash, Joe went for a clean sheet of paper and sat down at the kitchen table.
Dear Patty, he began. This is a difficult letter to write, but I’ve had a change of heart.