Hawke's Pride, page 9
A sneer lifted Meyers's thin lips. "Is that right? Tell me, Lillie, what is his wife's name?"
Uneasiness swept over Lillie's hard, attractive face, and she looked at Hawke, plainly asking for help. When she started to stammer, fumble for words, Hawke said offhandedly, "Come on, Rue, it's time we get goin' if we're gonna make the ranch before dark."
The thought of waiting a minute longer for a drink of water brought all of Rue's pent-up fury bursting loose. "Hawke Masters, I'm not leaving this porch until I get a drink of water," she declared tightly.
The three stared at Rue, blinking at the fire shooting from her eyes. Hawke stirred uneasily as red crept over his face. He should have seen to it that she got some water. His guilt intensified when Meyers mocked, "You sure look after your new wife's comfort, don't you, Masters?"
Before Hawke could answer, for what could he say, the rancher turned to his highly agitated wife still clinging to his arm. "It would appear, Lillie, that your graciousness doesn't extend to our neighbor's wife. Go fetch her a glass of water, a cold one, from the spring."
Rue had a suspicion that Lillie Meyers had never moved so fast in her life. But during the few minutes it took her to return, the air was highly tense and Rue wondered if she shouldn't have kept her mouth shut and managed somehow to tolerate her thirst until she reached her new home.
However, when Lillie held out a glass of water to her, Rue practically snatched it from her hand, spilling some on her way to her mouth. Never had anything felt so good as that cold liquid running down her throat. As she thrust the empty glass back to Lillie, and smiled her thanks to Sam, both Meyerses took a closer look at the small, delicate face. A satisfied smile lifted the man's lips, while the woman's pouting ones curved downward. Her narrowed lids said that it was possible that later on she might have competition from Hawke's very young wife.
Hawke was mounted and waiting impatiently as Rue scrambled onto the old mule's back as best she could while trying to keep her skirt pulled down around her knees. A sidelong look showed her Lillie's smirking face. It pleases the bitch that my husband treats his stallion better than his wife, she thought darkly, and kicked the mule so hard it jolted him into a half trot.
She rode alongside Hawke in silence for a minute, then unable to hold her tongue any longer, asked flatly, "Are you carrying on with your neighbor's wife?"
Hawke looked at her as though she were an annoying fly buzzing around his head. But as she returned his gaze steadily, he looked away, muttering inaudibly.
"I'm sorry, but I didn't hear what you said," Rue prodded, determined that he answer her.
"I said"—a muscle twitched in Hawke's cheek—"what's it to you if I am? Did you have the crazy idea that I was goin' to be true to my little wife?"
Cut to the quick by his sneering words, Rue burst out furiously, "I never thought that for a minute. Men of your caliber are always tomcatting, married or not. But it's plain Sam Meyers is crazy about his whoring wife and I don't see why you can't leave her alone."
Hawke felt a sting of guilt. Old Sam did love Lillie, probably in the same way Pa had loved Ma, and Ben had loved Sara. It struck him for the first time how his father and brother would have felt had their wives gone to bed with another man.
Nevertheless it irked him that the thin, mountain girl riding beside him had made him see the wrong he was doing his neighbor. He sent her a look from beneath hooded eyes and sneered, "I expect you're an expert on whores. Like always recognizes like."
It was all Rue could do not to fling herself at the hateful man and scratch his face to ribbons. But knowing that he would never let her get started, she used her tongue as a weapon. "You low-life womanizer," she ground out. "I hope Sam Meyers kills you someday, then I'll be rid of you."
Hawke laughed easily. "That won't happen, little girl, so get it in your head; you're stuck with me until I no longer need you. I lost a lot of money on you, and, by God, you're gonna earn it back for me."
Rue made no response and silence prevailed between them until Hawke surprised her by saying, "I didn't take Lillie to bed today, if that's what you're thinkin'."
"I'm not thinking anything," Rue retorted. "It's nothing to me how many women you lay with. I just think it's a shame that you go after another man's wife."
Hawke sent her a searching glance. Could his unattractive wife be jealous? But there was only chilly unconcern in Rue's eyes, and for some reason her obvious lack of interest rankled him. As did her arrogant aloofness. He swore under his breath. He'd take some of that out of her before he was through. He'd see to it that she worked her rear end off around the ranch. By the time she cooked and cleaned and looked after Susie and Tommie, she'd be so tired she wouldn't have the strength to raise that stubborn chin so high. He lightly nudged Captain into an easy lope. Let the smart-ass bitch ride alone.
Hawke's thoughts went backward to the Meyers. "Why, he wondered, hadn't he taken the willing Lillie to bed? He'd had every intention to, had thought about it all the time on the trail. But when Lillie would have led him to her bedroom something had held him back. He was at a loss for the reason, but suddenly he'd had no desire for the woman he'd lusted after for two years.
When a small voice suggested, Maybe you didn't want to cheat on your wife, he scoffed at the idea. That one would never keep him from going to bed with another woman. It probably had to do with the strain he'd been under, losing his brother and all.
Captain lunged up a small rise and the rich, green valley lay before Hawke. Long shadows of approaching twilight covered half its length. He pulled in the stallion and waited for Rue to catch up.
"There it is," he said, pride in his voice, "my ranch."
Rue looked down on the darkening length of land that lay on both sides of a river, scattered with growths of pine and spruce. It's a wild land this man has brought me to, she thought. There's nothing but trees, sky, and mountains. And no doubt wolves howling in the night.
But, oh so beautiful, she added as Hawke lifted the reins and rode toward the buildings nestled in the foothills of the mountain less than a mile away.
A lone rider, keeping in the cover of a wide pine, watched Hawke and Rue until they faded into the distance. Eyes full of hate looked out of the man's fat, heavily whiskered face. His hand stroked the butt of the rifle shoved in its sheath.
"No," he rasped, "shooting is too good for the bitch. She must suffer."
Sly Burford stroked his maimed manhood, his eyes glittering as he thought of ways he'd get his revenge on Mrs. Rue Masters. He lifted the reins of his stolen mount and turned it in the direction of Sam Meyers's ranch. A fancy big spread like that one would always need extra help. He'd hire on there and bide his time.
Rue smiled thinly as she and Hawke arrived at the large native stone and pine log house. This husband of hers did have finer feelings after all, she mused as she watched the softening of his features as he gazed at his home.
She gazed at what made satisfaction glow in his green eyes. The roof of the wide porch running the length of the house sagged in the middle. The porch had several floorboards missing, and the warped shutters hung askew at the windows. The yard was rubble and weed-filled, with a narrow path cutting through it to the house.
Rue stared at the place for a long time. Although it was shabby and run-down, it fired her imagination. Strangely it didn't have that aura of poverty, of hopelessness, like the one she had grown up in. There was a stability about it, a promise of better times. She determined that for whatever time she might be here she would make a home in this untamed West.
Hawke interrupted her silent vow. "Go on in the house and start supper." He slid to the ground and reached for the mule's reins. "You'll find everything you need in the cupboards."
Rue slid to the ground, grabbed her small bundle, and watched him lead her old pet away. She felt a sense of loss as its bony rump swung awkwardly away. He was the last link to her old life. Would her future one be any better? She wondered as she carefully stepped on the rotting porch and pushed open the heavy door.
She stepped into a large room and stood a moment, adjusting her eyes to the gloom. Only the weak rays of the setting sun through a dirty window gave any light. Her vision cleared and the first thing to catch her eyes was the huge fireplace situated in the center of the right-hand outside wall. It was constructed of fieldstone and open at both ends. It had a raised hearth, high enough so that large backlogs could be slid in from either side. Heat from it would flow in three directions. She had no doubt that this room would be cozy and warm come winter when the fierce winds blew.
She turned slowly, taking in the rest of the room. There were only two pieces of furniture, two rockers badly in need of repair. She doubted either one could take Hawke's weight without falling apart.
With a deep sigh, she walked across the dirt-littered floor and stepped through a door that led her into a kitchen. Her lips pursed as her eyes went at once to the rusty range in a corner. It didn't look in much better condition than the one she had sweated over making the skimpy meals for her half brothers.
Her gaze was drawn next to the rough, dirt-grimed table. Every inch was covered with dirty dishes, pots, and pans. She advanced into the room, picking up a bench and aligning it with the table. She bumped her knee on its mate as she skirted the table and went through another door leading into a long hall.
Four doors led off it. Three rooms were empty, the fourth holding a sagging bed and a rickety table beside it. A kerosine lamp, with a smoked chimney, sat on its surface, a box of matches beside it.
The bed was unmade, its covers tossed in a rumpled pile. At least a month's supply of soiled, male clothing had been tossed in a corner. Rue frowned. What did he do, buy new ones every time he needed a change of clothing?
"There's a main of work ahead of me," she muttered, returning to the kitchen. But that was all she'd ever known, so she dismissed it from her mind as she tackled the old stove, building a fire inside it from the plentiful supply of wood stacked a safe distance away from the black monster.
She set the rusty damper, then turned to the table with a sigh. She glanced at the water pail among the mess. Was it possible it held any water?
It was empty. "Damn," Rue muttered. How far would she have to walk to the water supply? And where was it? she wondered, picking up the pail and going through a side door that took her outside.
Another path lay in front of her, leading off through waist-high weeds. Speculating that it led to a source of water, it being so well-trodden, she followed it around to the back of the house and on to a high formation of rocks and boulders rising in a thick stand of cottonwood.
She heard it before she saw it. A rushing torrent of water. It gushed from under a large boulder, lashed against the rocks in its path, filled a scooped-out hole lined with smooth stones, then disappeared into a dense thicket.
Rue dropped to her knees beside the small pool and dipped her fingers in its icy coolness. There would be no more half-mile walks to fetch water from a river. She had a constant flow of healthy, gravel-strained water only a few yards away from the house.
She filled the pail then hurried back to the kitchen where she poured half its contents into a big black kettle on the range. While it heated, she attacked the table. While she scraped dried food off plates and out of bowls, she muttered, "I doubt if there's one clean piece of crockery, or anything else for that matter, in this entire house."
The kettle steamed and Rue poured the hot water over a bar of yellow, lye soap she'd unearthed in a bottom cupboard. She swished the piece of rag that had been wrapped around the soap in the water until she had a good amount of suds, then picking up the stack of plates, she plunked them into the pan, adding the bowls, cups, and eating utensils.
While they soaked, she inspected the plentiful supplies stacked neatly in an upper cupboard. With a sharp pang, she remembered how bare the shelves were back at the DeLawney shack and wondered if her half brothers had eaten that day.
The sun had slipped behind the mountain when Hawke entered the kitchen and sniffed hungrily at the mouth-watering aroma of frying meat. His eyes widened as they lit on the scrubbed table, the two shiny plates with knife, fork, and spoon placed beside them, two bowls filled with steaming fried potatoes and string beans, and a platter of lightly browned slices of ham.
By the bright light of the lamp in the center of the table, its chimney sparkling clean, its wick trimmed, he watched Rue take a pan of biscuits from the oven. At least she's not lazy, he thought, removing his hat and hanging it on a nail beside the door. Wordlessly, he sat at the table.
At Rue's raised eyebrows, he growled, "I washed up at the horse trough," and began heaping food onto his plate. Rue filled the two cups with coffee, then placing the pot within his reach, took a seat across from him.
The meal was eaten in silence, only the scraping sound of forks and knives heavy in the air. Hawke glanced at the silent girl across from him a couple of times, thinking that he should compliment her on the delicious supper. He couldn't remember ever tasting anything better. But she wore that same aloofness on her dirty face and he held his tongue. He would only receive a sharp retort for his trouble.
"When he had cleaned his plate and poured a second cup of coffee, Rue stood up and cleared the table, placing the dirty dishes into a pan of fresh, sudsy water. Hawke scowled at her back as she walked to the kitchen door and leaned in the opening, her stance saying plainly that she was waiting for him to finish his coffee and leave.
Her obvious dislike of him was strangely disturbing to Hawke. Why did she have such low regard for him? he asked himself She should be damned grateful that he had taken her away from that shack… even married her… Sly Burford's castoff And he still didn't know whether or not she was carrying the fat man's seed.
What if she is? Hawke pondered. What could he do about it? Besides needing her to care for Susie and Tommy later on, he was legally married to her. By law he couldn't just tell her to leave.
He stood up, deciding he'd worry about that problem if and when it came up. Taking down his hat from where it hung just a few inches above Rue's head, he said brusquely, "You can use the bed. I'll be bunking in with the cowpunchers."
Rue heard the front door close behind him and muttered, "Your way of letting your men know that your dowdy wife doesn't appeal to you. Well, that's fine with rne." She attacked the pan of dirty dishes with a fury that made her pause after a moment, wondering at her anger.
Why was she so angry? she asked herself Weren't things working out the way she wanted them to? Hadn't she told herself over and over that she wanted as little as possible to do with that man?
"But it hurts," she whispered, tears stinging her eyelids, "To know that the man you're married to has nothing but contempt for you, that you might have to spend the rest of your life unwanted and unloved.
Rue wiped an arm across her tearing eyes and told herself to stop thinking foolishly. Very few men ever loved deeply and for any length of time. Didn't she have plenty proof of that? Look how Sly had used her mother, making her continue to sell her body. And what about those men who came to the shack every night? More than half of them had wives.
"No," she said firmly. "I can live without a man's so-called love."
In a short time the kitchen was cleaned, and two large pans of water were heating on the stove. Before she went to bed tonight, she was going to have a warm, soaking bath, and scrub away the dirt and grime of the trail.
Rue picked her bundle off the floor where she had laid it in a corner upon arriving. Opening it up, she unfolded the new dress, shook out some of the wrinkles, then spread it out on one of the benches. Next, she placed one of the rose-scented bars of soap, washcloth, and towel on the table, then busied herself with dropping the long bars across both outside doors. Going to where a large wooden tub hung from the wall, she struggled it to the floor and dragged it to a spot well away from the window. One of the hands might be lurking around outside, hoping to get a glimpse of the wife their boss didn't want to sleep with.
Rue soaked in the hot water until it grew cold. When she stood up, a good amount of dark scabs floated on top of the water. As she dried herself off, most of the remaining ones came off in her towel.
"At last." She laughed softly, and hurried to pour warm water into a basin to wash her face. "When she finished lathering and rinsing, she peered into a broken off piece of mirror propped on the windowsill. Her white teeth gleamed in a wide, pleased smile. Every last scab was gone. There were only spots of pinkish dots which would fade by morning.
Rue held her greasy hair away from her face and for the first time in her life studied her features. She saw a creamy, honey-tanned complexion, a straight, of moderate length nose, full, red lips above a stubborn, little chin. The high cheekbones beneath stormy blue eyes she had inherited from her father and grandfather.
She blinked her heavily lashed eyes against tears as she remembered her grandfather. How worried he and grandma must be about her. Maybe someday she could get a letter off to them.
Rue let her hair fall back to her shoulders, undecided whether to wash it now or tomorrow. She came to the decision that she better wait as she ran her fingers through the long, heavy tresses. She needed the sun to dry it fully, or to sit before a fire for an hour or so.
"And I'm too tired to stay up that long," she muttered, yawning. And still naked, she blew out the lamp, and in the soft glow of moonlight coming through the window, she walked to Hawke's bedroom and crawled into his bed.
Somehow, Hawke's scent wasn't repulsive to her as she immediately dropped off into a dreamless sleep.
Rue yawned and stretched, and waited for the little ones to start their hungry whining. Then she caught Hawke's scent and her eyes flew open. She wouldn't be hearing those whimpering cries anymore. She was married and hundreds of miles away from them. She pushed away the pictures of their thin, little faces and leaned up on both elbows to peer at the window at the foot of the bed. A rosy glow in the east managed to penetrate the dirty windowpanes. The sun would be up soon. She sat up and swung her feet to the floor.
