Wed Under Western Skies Read online

  All she wanted at that moment was for him to pull her close and make her feel the way he had just a little while ago. But Daniel was waiting for them, and even if he hadn’t been, she didn’t know if it would ever happen again.

  They walked out into the dark and Jack closed the barn doors, dropping the board into its brackets.

  “Night, miss,” Daniel said. “Pa, Miss Renlow gave me cookies.”

  “Good night, Daniel,” she returned. “You and Bitsy sleep well.”

  Jack lifted his son to the horse’s back effortlessly, then touched the brim of his hat and pulled up behind him with a creak of leather.

  Charmaine watched them ride away, and climbed the stairs into the kitchen. Dipping water in her usual routine, she passed her father and wished him good-night before going up to her room.

  Removing her skirt and shirtwaist, she washed and changed into her cotton nightgown. After staring out her window for half an hour, she tiptoed down the hall to her parents’ room. The door was open and her mother was seated in her rocker reading a book.

  “Mama.”

  Vera rested the book on her knees. “I heard you come home earlier. Did you get much accomplished on your float?”

  “We did. Darlene was sick, though, so I went alone.”

  Vera’s expression changed to one of concern. “Was that wise?”

  “I didn’t think twice. The work needed to be done, and Jack did help a lot.”

  “He seems like a fine man,” her mother replied. “I am concerned that someone would form the wrong impression, however.”

  Charmaine scooted a footstool close to her mother’s knees and dropped to sit. “Mama, he kissed me.”

  Vera’s brows drew together. “I thought he was a gentleman.”

  “He is. It wasn’t so much that he kissed me, actually, as…well, that we kissed each other.”

  “And he remained a gentleman?”

  Charmaine nodded. “But Mama…” She took a breath to collect her whirling thoughts. “I never knew. I just never! Wayne never kissed me like that.”

  Her mother reached to stroke Charmaine’s hair in a tender caress. “Oh, my dear one. I like the man so much, but if he breaks your heart, I’ll pray burning coals heaped upon his head.”

  Charmaine took her mother’s hand and confessed, “I had a crazy thought. That perhaps if he showed interest, it would provoke Wayne to propose. But now I see the folly of that plan. I could never lead Jack to believe I’m interested in him only to use him that way.”

  “Thank goodness you used common sense on that one, darling. I understand your impatience. But you can’t trick people into doing what you want them to do. It’s for all the right reasons, perhaps, but not the right method.”

  “I know.”

  “These things have to come about naturally. If it’s love, then it happens on its own.”

  “That’s why you married Daddy, isn’t it? You were too much in love with him to think it made a difference where you lived or what he did for a living.”

  “Unlike poor Mildred,” Vera said, referring to her brother’s wife. “She married Eldon because her family knew he was destined to be the richest man this side of the Rockies. I know he loves her, and he’s given her a good life, but it took her years and years to come to terms with her situation. She was a miserable woman.”

  “But she does love Uncle Eldon now, right?”

  “I think so. In her own way. At least she gives it her very best.”

  “Why do things have to be so complicated?” Charmaine asked. “Why can’t I fall madly in love with a man and he with me, and we both know it and don’t fight it?”

  “I wouldn’t cross that off your list of possibilities,” her mother said with a smile. “You’re not on the shelf yet, dear.” She leaned forward to kiss Charmaine’s forehead.

  Charmaine hugged her mother, said good-night and returned to her room. Against the wall on the right were four trunks, stacked two by two. Her hope chests. Her trousseau. By sliding one forward, she was able to make enough room for the lid to open against the wall.

  Inside, stacks of embroidered dish towels and linens were folded neatly beside lacy-edged pillowcases and crocheted doilies and antimacassars of every size and shape. Dozens of them were bordered with a purple-and-yellow pansy design she’d perfected. Charmaine ran her hand over them, recalling all the hopes and dreams stitched into each piece of fabric.

  The trunk on the other side held personal items, satin nightgowns and dainty chemises and drawers, wrappers and aprons and—tucked away at the bottom—baby blankets.

  Charmaine’s memories took her back over years of stitching and dreaming, and she realized the man she’d planned to wear all these items for, the man she prayed would love her and give her children, didn’t really have a face. At that moment she could not see herself slipping on this blue-ribboned satin gown and welcoming Wayne to her room—to her bed. In fact conjuring up Wayne’s face somehow spoiled her wishful desires.

  Her future husband had been a creation of her girlish fantasies, someone handsome and dashing and completely enamored with her. Someone who thought she was…special.

  The more she thought about it, the more she realized Wayne did not think she was special. If he had, he wouldn’t have wasted all this time dragging his feet.

  Replacing the items, she carefully refolded the tissue around them and closed the trunks. A sense of melancholy swept over her, seeming to plunge her from her previous euphoria. She didn’t even know how Jack felt about her—about what had happened. Perhaps she had characteristically blown the kiss out of proportion. Perhaps he hadn’t even given it a single thought.

  Jack gave up on sleep, pulled on his trousers and walked outdoors to chop wood. The pile was on the opposite side of the house from Daniel’s room, so he was fairly certain he wouldn’t disturb the boy. He had to do something. His head and his body had been a jangle of confusion and nerves ever since he’d been with Charmaine.

  He wasn’t an idiot. It was plain she was carrying out a shrewd ploy to make her hesitant beau move things forward. Jack was a convenient tool because he was new…obviously the most inappropriate person she could think of…and probably the only man around.

  He swung the ax with enough vigor to split the limb and sink a good four inches into the stump. He had to jimmy the head out, working up a considerable steam as he did so. He wasn’t good enough for her, anyone could see that. She was pampered and used to nice things. She’d been treated like a princess her whole life. Charmaine didn’t have the first idea about working to put food on the table.

  Jack set another chunk of wood on end and tempered his swing this time. The memory of Silver Moon came to him as sweat broke out on his forehead. His wife had grown up in a Cherokee village, knew nothing but hard work and survival.

  They’d been happy when Daniel arrived, and she’d been a doting mother. But the following spring, sickness had taken her. Jack hadn’t been interested in another woman since. Another Cheyenne wife would have been practical, and his friend Gray Cloud had tried to give him a woman, but Jack had been content with his family the way it was.

  Their arrangement here was working fine. Far enough from town for him, but close enough to bring out customers and for Daniel to attend school.

  If he had feelings for a woman, everything would have to change. He wasn’t going to give up who he was.

  Tired and sweating, he carried the lantern and a bar of soap to the well. He dipped a pail, stripped and lathered himself with suds and cold water. Then he poured a second bucketful over his head and sputtered, dipping another and another.

  Teeth chattering, he dried off with his shirt and ran to the house for clean drawers. He poured himself a cup of lukewarm coffee.

  “Pa?” Daniel stood in the open doorway of his room off the kitchen, blinking at the light. “What are you doin’?”

  “I was chopping wood and I got hot, so I washed.”

  “Ain’t it the middle of the night?
”

  “It’s late enough that you should be back in your bed. Scoot now.”

  He followed Daniel to his room, tucked him beneath the covers and brushed back the hair from his forehead. Thinking, he perched on the side of the narrow bed. “Do you ever miss having a mother?”

  “I guess so. I really ain’t used to it, but the other kids got mothers, and sometimes when I see theirs, I wish I had one.”

  “Your mother loved you very much,” Jack told him. “She used to sing to you in the evening.”

  “What did she sing?”

  “I only understood a few of the words, but they were about a boy shooting an arrow at a star.”

  “I bet Laughs At Bird knows the song,” he said, referring to his mother’s sister who lived with her people by the Little Snake River. “Will we ever see her again, Pa?”

  “We’ll go visit your aunt when you’re older. Maybe a few more summers.”

  “She’ll forget me by then.”

  “She won’t forget you, Dan.”

  “Why don’t Miss Renlow have no kids?”

  “She doesn’t have a husband.”

  “Is she gonna get one?”

  “I expect so.”

  “Her kids will have lots of kittens to play with, won’t they?”

  He didn’t want to explain that those particular kittens would be grown by then and that she wouldn’t be living on her father’s ranch when that scenario happened, so he held his silence.

  “She said I can come see the rest of the kittens any time I want. She said she would show me how she makes those flower cookies, too.”

  The last thing he wanted was to drill into his son that people were untrustworthy, but neither could he stand to see him hurt and disappointed. “Sometimes people say things just to be nice, and then they forget later.”

  “She won’t forget, Pa. She’s a nice lady.” The boy snuggled into his covers. “It would be good to have a ma sometimes. But we take care of each other fine. Don’t worry.”

  Jack patted his shoulder through the covers. “Okay. Night, son.”

  “Night, Pa.”

  Jack closed the curtain that separated the small room from the kitchen and picked up the cup he’d left on the table. The coffee was cold now. He poured it back into the pot and kindled the fire. Once the tin pot was hot, he poured another cup and added sugar. Doing so reminded him of Charmaine, and he thought of how she’d sat here with them, daintily drinking coffee and eating biscuits as though she was at one of her fancy tea parties.

  All the while he reminded himself of what a misfit he was in her world, he couldn’t still the anticipation that swelled behind each thought. She’d be coming back tonight.

  Chapter Nine

  That night when Charmaine arrived, Darlene was on the wagon seat beside her. Jack’s heart didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed. “How do, Mizz Redman.”

  “Mr. Easton.” The young woman allowed him to assist her to the ground.

  Charmaine, on the other hand, climbed down the wheel on the driver’s side and waved to Daniel, who came running forward. “I have something for you,” she told him.

  “What is it?”

  Jack approached and kept his voice level. “Miss Renlow, I don’t think it’s a good idea to bring the boy gifts every time you see him. And we don’t need any more pets.”

  “Oh, it’s not a cat, I assure, you.” Her blue eyes twinkled. “But there may be a cat’s eye or two. Please, allow me to spoil him just this once?”

  Daniel was looking up at him as though Jack held the fate of the world in his hands. “All right, but no more presents. I don’t want him to expect things from people.”

  A little frown started to wrinkle the skin between her brows, but she smiled it away. “Don’t be silly. Gifts are gestures from the heart, not obligations or expectations.”

  “And what did you bring my son from your heart today?”

  “Don’t mock me, Mr. Easton.”

  Darlene glanced from her friend to Jack with curiosity in her expression.

  So it was Mr. Easton again, was it? he thought without much surprise. Maybe that was for the best.

  She took a bag from the pocket of her skirt and held it out.

  Daniel accepted it with an excited smile, and as he did, the contents clacked. His eyebrows rose and he stared up at Charmaine.

  “Open the bag,” she urged.

  He did and a handful of colorful glass marbles spilled into his palm. “Marbles!”

  “You shouldn’t have spent your money so foolishly,” Jack told her.

  When she turned her gaze on him this time, their blue fire shot sparks. “As a matter of fact, I didn’t spend a cent. I’ve had those in a bottom drawer for years and years. Levi Cutter gave them to me on my seventh birthday, and I played with them a few times. Never really got the hang of it. None of the other girls would play, because they didn’t want to get their dresses dirty. Annie couldn’t get out of her wheelchair back then, and the boys wouldn’t let me join them.”

  “I never knew you had such a deprived childhood,” he replied.

  Charmaine’s brows rose and her gaze burned into his.

  “I’m going to the barn,” Darlene said. She turned and headed the opposite direction.

  “Thanks, Miss Renlow,” Daniel said. “I saw how the other boys played. I’m gonna go practice. Wanna help me?”

  “I’ll join you after I paint,” she promised.

  He ran toward a shady flat spot on the ground a distance away.

  “What is it that you don’t like about me?” Charmaine asked as soon as Daniel was out of earshot. “Why are you so disapproving?”

  “I don’t want the boy spoiled.”

  “Like me?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “He’s hardly spoiled. I brought him a barn cat that needed a home and a few marbles.”

  Jack took note of the pink tinge in her cheeks when she was angry. He looked away to gather his thoughts and compose his next words. “Okay,” he said, looking straight into her eyes. “I don’t want you to get him used to you being his friend and paying attention to him, and then have him hurt when you tire of your—your—amusement.”

  Her expression was wounded, almost convincing. Her eyes narrowed. “Is this about last night?”

  “What? No. No, it’s not about last night.” He wasn’t a good liar. He glanced at Daniel and back. “Maybe it’s partly about last night.”

  “Because?”

  “Because I saw how different we are. I came to Copper Creek so Daniel could go to school, not to be drawn into anything.”

  “And you think I’m dra-awing you into something?” She dragged out the word and waved her fingers at the same time, as though conjuring up a magic spell.

  He ignored her sarcasm. “I think you’re trying.”

  “What? What am I drawing you into?”

  “Your little performance you have going on, for one thing.” Her mouth opened to object, but he went on. “Tell me you haven’t been thinking about making your reluctant beau jealous.”

  Her cheeks pinkened visibly.

  “Daniel and I are not your playthings, Miss Renlow.”

  She clenched her jaw in indignation. Gathering her skirts, she spun to walk away, but paused, turned and marched right back to face him. “You’re right. I did think about that. Forcing Wayne to move things along crossed my mind. But that was the last thing on my mind last night when you…when we…you know.”

  “Kissed?”

  The blush crept all the way from her neck to her pretty ears. “Yes,” she whispered.

  “Do you really expect me to believe that?”

  “What have I done to make you think I’m a devious person?”

  “You change like a weathervane spins in a windstorm. One moment you’re almost as regular as anyone, doing your share of work, climbing up and down from your wagon, wearing things like that.” He gestured to her plain skirt and shirtwaist. “But the
next minute you’re prim and prissy with your fancy clothes and your—your cookies and that breathless accent.”

  “Dressing smartly and having nice things is devious now, is it?”

  “Why is it you suddenly need help getting up to a buggy seat when your beau is around?”

  “Well—it’s rather unladylike to scramble up and down like a tomboy, so I…I don’t want him to think I’m uncouth. It’s just good manners. Is that so hypocritical?”

  “If he doesn’t want you for who you are, what’s the point? Would you spend the rest of your life pretending to need his help?”

  She didn’t answer for a minute. Maybe she didn’t have an answer. Maybe she hadn’t been prepared for the question. “What does that have to do with you?” she answered finally. “And what threat is there to me bringing some old marbles for your son?”

  “I explained myself already.”

  She placed a hand on her hip and studied Daniel playing with the marbles for a long minute. A number of emotions passed over her delicate features, and regret had a chance to worm its way into his conscience. He hadn’t meant to hurt her. Hadn’t meant to say some of those things. But then he hadn’t meant to kiss her either. He chided himself. Confusion and self-doubt weren’t excuses.

  If she cried, he would crumble into a thousand pieces.

  When her gaze returned there weren’t tears in her eyes however, and he was relieved. She said in a thoughtful tone, “I’ve never had an argument with anyone except Annie in my entire life.”

  “So how was it?”

  She shrugged. “I’m seeing myself in a new light. I never saw myself like that—like you do. I guess I do seem like two people. The person I want to be…and the person I can’t get away from. Just me. Just plain old me.”

  “I’m sorry if I was hurtful,” he managed.

  “Truly, I only thought of making Wayne jealous, I never acted on it. I’m sorry you can’t accept that as true.”

  She paused and looked at her hands for a moment. “If I didn’t believe Wayne just needed a nudge,” she said, “then I was left to believe there was something wrong with me. As I’ve suspected for some time now. I guess I was trying to be perfect. Trying to be…special.”