A Place Called Harmony, page 24
The urge to slide in beside her tempted him, but he’d wait to be invited. She might like the kissing and touching, but he wasn’t sure she’d welcome more.
Pulling off his gun belt and boots, he spread out on the pallet by the window and closed his eyes. He’d missed holding her tonight, but maybe he’d have a night or two before he had to leave. For some reason he wanted to store up memories to hold him over on the long trip to Dallas. A few more nights, a few more touches would never be enough.
He was almost asleep when he heard the bed creak and guessed she must have rolled over. He swore she checked on the baby in her sleep every hour.
One of the floorboards made a slight popping sound, but he didn’t move. They were both safe, locked in their little room.
As light as a breeze, she moved in beside him on the pallet and placed her cheek on his shoulder. She hadn’t made a sound, but her body molded against his as though she’d rolled beside him a thousand times before.
After a few minutes, he raised his arm and pulled covers over her. She settled against his chest.
He was wide awake and guessed he would be the rest of the night if he didn’t figure out why she’d come to him. “Karrisa, dear, what are you doing?”
She wiggled as if irritated he’d woken her. “Sleeping,” she whispered.
“Wouldn’t you be more comfortable in bed?”
“No.” She pushed on his chest as if he were a pillow she could fluff.
“Why?” he tried again, thinking that he’d be in his grave, lying there under a pine lid, still trying to figure out this woman.
“Because you’re not there.”
Some people need fancy speeches or romantic words to move them, but all Clint needed was an invitation, and this was probably as much of one as he’d ever get from his quiet wife.
He lifted her away from him, stood, then picked her up and carried her to bed. As he lay down beside her, he whispered, “This night is half over, but I plan to sleep in this bed right next to you until dawn. If you have any objections, dear, you’d better voice them now.”
She put her head over his heart and made a sleepy little sound of contentment. Within a few breaths her body had melted against his and he knew she was asleep.
Lying there thinking of all the things he’d like to do now that he’d finally made it to her bed kept him awake until almost dawn, but in the end he did nothing beyond holding her because no matter how grand the fantasies he planned, he was already in heaven and maybe that was enough for tonight.
Chapter 33
As he sat in the field behind the barn, Patrick watched dawn’s glow spread across the land. He smiled, almost thinking he could see the outline of Harmony reflecting in the sparkles of light. He hadn’t even bothered to try to sleep after he’d left Solomon talking to himself. He’d checked on Annie asleep in the barn loft, then slipped out the back. All night he’d walked through the days of his childhood and now it was time to put them aside. He had a wife, a new life.
As morning turned golden, he stood. Annie was probably already making breakfast over at the trading post and wondering why he hadn’t been beside her when she woke. Usually she woke happy and in a hurry to start the day, but the past few mornings she hadn’t felt well and he worried about her. This living in the barn didn’t seem to be agreeing with her. Like the others, Annie needed to be in her own home. A woman needs her nest, his mother used to say, but a man only needs his woman. He decided that was true.
Anxious to start the day, he walked over to the trading post and noticed a few extra wagons tied up to the hitching posts. They must have come in very early. Soldiers, he’d guessed, for they often traveled both night and day thanks to extra drivers.
He bumped into Truman as he stepped onto the porch. “Morning.” Patrick didn’t miss Truman’s frown. The man must have had it tattooed on at some point.
“What’s good about it?” Truman asked in his typical grumpy mood. “Army wagons are here and Matheson thinks we should hitch up the freight wagons and head out with them. I thought I’d be here to help another couple of days, but it doesn’t look like it. The Romas, Harry Woolsey, and I may be on the road in an hour.”
“Don’t forget your prisoner. He might not talk, but I hear him snoring below us.” Patrick tried to look on the bright side. “The sooner you get started, the sooner you’ll be back.”
Truman looked like he hadn’t slept in days. “When I get back, will you have my house finished?”
Patrick smiled and used one of Truman’s favorite words. “Hell, we’ll probably have the whole town built. You’re going to miss it if you don’t get back quick.”
That finally brought a smile to the hard man. “Good.” He pointed with his head toward the kitchen. “Four soldiers mustering out of the army were riding along on the wagons heading toward Dallas. Matheson just talked them into staying around here for a few months, so looks like you got your first real crew.”
Patrick jumped with excitement and started moving toward the kitchen. “Are they any good?”
Truman laughed. “Hell if I know. They’re bound to be better than me.”
Patrick didn’t take the time to argue. He rushed to the kitchen to meet his new crew. Daisy and Karrisa were filling plates as fast as they could as a dozen soldiers stood around waiting. The Roma boys had set up barrels and boards to make a long table on the porch for all the extras. Momma Roma, holding Truman’s baby, sat between Harry Woolsey and Ely. They already had their plates but she was too busy talking to little Danny in Italian to eat.
“Where’s Annie?” Patrick asked no one in particular.
“She’s out back,” Daisy said as she passed. “Sick again.”
Patrick fought his way through the mob and found Annie out back sitting on a tree stump. She looked so small and young. She might be a year older than him, but with her hair in long braids, she could have been sixteen.
He walked up slowly, noticing she was crying. When her brown eyes focused on him he saw fear and uncertainty for the first time in his brave little Annie. She’d been the one from the first who believed in this crazy plan, and now something was very wrong.
The fear that she’d learned of his lie and knew that he’d gone to meet his father last night tightened Patrick’s heart. He loved her so much he wasn’t sure what he’d do if she walked away from him.
“Annie?” he whispered, knowing he’d have to face her and make everything all right if she knew. And if she didn’t know about the meeting, maybe now wasn’t the best time to tell her. Something terrible must have happened, for his Annie never cried.
“Annie, you all right?” If she was ill, or dying, the joy would go out of his life. He’d taken her away from all she knew, and now she was sick. This had to be his fault.
“I’m fine,” she said, but didn’t look at him.
He lowered to one knee beside her and brushed one of her braids over her shoulder. “Talk to me, Annie. You know you can tell me anything.”
“I love you,” she whispered. “I really do.”
“I know, honey. I love you, too.” He thought of how easily loving had come to him, and to her, he guessed. “It’s just me and you against the world, and as long as I got you, I’ve got all I need.” Her face looked so pale and her eyes were red and swollen from crying. He couldn’t stand seeing her like this.
She leaned into him as if too weak to hold her head up. “Could you carry me back to the barn? I don’t feel so good.”
He lifted her in his arms, wishing he could take whatever she had from her. He was the strongest. He could fight off what was making her sick.
When they made it to the silence of the barn, he helped her up the ladder and spread blankets over her. Fear had burrowed in his heart and seemed to be settling in. Worry over his father was nothing compared to what he felt now.
“What is it, Annie? Tell me where it hurts and I’ll make it go away.”
She shook her head. “I don’t want it to go away, Patrick.”
He decided she was delirious. “Of course you do.”
“No,” she whispered.
“Then give it to me. I’ll be the sick one.”
She laughed and rolled over to her side. “That would be funny, Patrick. A man having a baby.”
It took him a few seconds for her words to swing back across his brain, and then realization hit him between the eyes. “You’re going to have a baby?”
“Daisy says I won’t know for sure until I miss another time of the month, but it seems I have all the signs.”
Patrick fell back on the hay beside her.
“We’re going to have a baby. That’s impossible. It takes a lot longer than a few months.”
“It is possible. Haven’t you noticed what we do under the covers? You put a baby in me.”
“Me?” Patrick tried to get his brain to stop spinning inside his skull. “I think we both had equal parts.”
She laughed. “I’m hoping he has my brains and your looks. Don’t worry, we’ll have months to get used to the idea, Papa.”
Patrick jumped up and ran down the ladder and out the back of the barn. He barely made it to the grass beside the corral before he threw up.
Truman, ten feet away harnessing horses, stopped and watched him. When Patrick finally stood and wiped his mouth, Truman said, “You sick?”
“Nope,” Patrick answered. “I’m with child.”
Chapter 34
Clint ate his breakfast in silence, hating the noise and all the people between him and Karrisa. The thought occurred to him to fire off a few shots to clear the room, but all the soldiers were armed and might fire back.
Finally he gave up and headed back out to the corral. Everyone on the place seemed to think it was time for him to leave but him. The Romas were already packed and the ladies had loaded Momma Roma down with enough food to feed an army. Harry must have talked to Ely about hauling just for the trading post because he was hugging the women good-bye and asking what they wanted him to bring back.
Everyone was ready except Clint. He didn’t want to leave, not yet. Not without another night with Karrisa. She was in the middle of all the action, helping get everything ready, so he had no hope of getting her alone.
By nine the wagons were lined up, looking very much like a caravan. The army sergeant said he’d take over guarding the outlaw, who’d been complaining about his treatment since being caught. He said the food was good, but not enough, and he planned to come back and kill every last one of them. The sergeant didn’t listen. He had men to guard and the knowledge to make sure the man made it to his trial in Dallas. For him, taking over the prisoner was just part of his job.
Clint saddled his horse. He planned on driving his wagon down and back, so he wouldn’t have to hire an extra wagon to haul everything he needed for his house. Only Momma Roma’s youngest son, Antonio, said he’d like to give driving a try, and everyone agreed he was old enough. They put the boy in the middle of the line so he wasn’t likely to get in much trouble.
As the wagons pulled out, one by one, past the trading post, Clint finally saw his wife standing alone between the store and the barn.
He rode close, then jumped off his horse to say good-bye. When he was a foot away, he couldn’t think of all he wanted to say to her and, as always, she didn’t say anything. She just stared up at him with those haunting blue eyes he’d never get tired of looking at, and he realized how beautiful she was.
He straightened, shocked that he hadn’t noticed before. The frail, thin woman he married was still slim, but she was so lovely, like a fine lady, far too good for the likes of him.
“You be sure and eat regular,” was all he could think of to say. “And take good care of Danny. I don’t want him hanging around those Matheson twins picking up bad habits.”
She smiled that tight little smile of hers.
“You don’t need to worry; you’ll be safe here until I get back.” He stared down at her, wishing he were the kind of man who could say fancy words to let her know how important she was to him, but all he could do was stand there as she slipped a piece of paper in his pocket.
“I wrote down a few things I’ll need in Dallas. If you have time—”
“I’ll have time.”
She smiled and patted his pocket. “Come back to me,” she whispered.
Circling her waist, he lifted her up. “I will, dear. I promise.”
He kissed her then. Not as long or as hard as he wanted to, but long enough to let her know that she’d be on his mind every day he was gone.
“Truman!” Patrick yelled from the corner of the porch. “If you don’t hurry up and say good-bye to Karrisa they’ll be in Dallas before you catch up with the wagons.”
Clint swore, then kissed her again. “When I get back—”
Giggling, she buried her face against his shirt. “I know. I feel the same.”
He knew if he didn’t pull away, he might not be able to leave this woman. She wasn’t just his wife, she’d become a part of him. The best part, he decided.
As he rode off doing his job of scouting, she never left his thoughts. The ache to hold her wouldn’t go away. All he could do was get this job over with and get back to her as fast as possible.
Near sunset he thought of the note she’d placed in his pocket. He stopped his horse on a rise where he could watch the wagons and pulled it from his pocket.
Just as he’d expected, the penmanship was perfect. She’d listed exactly what she needed. A special kind of thread he would find only in a dress shop. Ribbon in several colors that Ely didn’t carry. The makings for a summer bonnet. A yard of lace that she’d drawn the width of and made tiny circles showing him what it would look like. He could tell she was sewing for the others and wanted to make each dress unique.
Clint laughed when she said she wanted a dress the same shade of green as little Jessie’s eyes. He’d barely noticed the girl and had no idea what color her eyes were. She had to have eyes. He would have noticed if she hadn’t, but the color?
At the end of the list, she wrote one sentence. Come back to me, my one and only love. Karrisa.
Clint stared at the writing. From the beginning he’d known she’d married him because she had no other choice. She and the baby would have starved to death or ended up in a kind of hell on earth. She came with him, cooked his meals, made his clothes, all because it was her only way to survive. Only, somehow in all the work of living, she’d learned to care for him. She loved him even when he told her from the first that he’d never love her.
The sun was too low to offer enough light to see her words clearly again. He folded the piece of paper and put it in his pocket. He knew he was a hard man, but he’d always tried to be fair. Only, he wasn’t a person most folks liked or cared about. He kept to himself and, for the most part, wanted everyone else to do the same.
Only Karrisa had written that she loved him. He didn’t want that. If she’d said it, he might have thought she’d just said the words because she was supposed to. But she’d written them down.
He didn’t want to hear them or see them written because Clint knew he’d never say them to her. Part of him wasn’t free to love. He was too weary of life to fall in love again. He’d never stand the loss again.
All he wanted from Karrisa was for her to be a wife. She’d been doing a good job of that. The bit of passion they’d shared had been more than he’d expected. He liked that, but it wasn’t love. He would never let it be. Only how does a man tell his wife to take back the words she wrote?
That night after supper, he sat down next to Momma Roma. When no one else appeared to be listening, he asked, “You know what happened to my wife back a year ago?”
Clint would bet every dime in his money belt that Karrisa hadn’t told anyone at the trading post, but he’d seen her talking to Momma Roma in Italian sometimes and knew they were close.
“I know,” the tiny woman said.
He took a deep breath. “She could have told me, but all she did was make me promise never to ask. Whatever happened, I would understand.”
“You her future, not’a her past. She no want’a you to look at her through that memory.”
“If I knew the monster who hurt her, I’d kill him.”
Momma Roma patted his arm. “You a hard’a man, Truman, but I think’a you are the one for her and she knows it. She tell’a me you very gentle to her. She say when she in your arms she feels cherished like you think she’s great treasure.”
He doubted he was gentle enough. The little woman was right; he should let the past go. It didn’t matter that Karrisa had gone to prison. He’d feel the same way about her. It didn’t even matter that she hadn’t told him about what she’d done to go to prison. He understood that he was her future and what had happened in the past should stay in the past.
It mattered that someone had hurt her. It mattered a great deal to him.
As the days passed Clint looked at the note in his pocket several times. When they rolled into Dallas, he couldn’t wait to get headed back home.
Harry Woolsey had the list of tools and supplies Ely and the others had ordered. He agreed to deliver Buford’s wagons, make sure the Romas got their pay, and start collecting the supplies. They planned to use Clint’s wagon on the journey home. Until they had everything loaded, Harry said he’d sleep in Buford’s barn and keep an eye on the wagon.
Clint followed one of the army wagons to the sheriff’s office to deliver the prisoner, who had spent enough days tied up and seemed willing to talk. The sergeant had convinced him that if he told all he knew of Dollar Holt’s activities, he might not hang. After staying in a barn and riding tied up in the back of a wagon, prison didn’t look so bad.
Clint filled out all the paperwork and gave his statement. A heavy fog had settled over Dallas when he left the sheriff’s office deep in thought. Two steps out the door, he bumped into a mountain of a man coming up the steps.
