A Love Forbidden (19 page)

Still, an aura of melancholy hung over her. Though gradually Jordan ceased disavowing that little Ceci was her daughter, it was more than evident that something was blocking her true acceptance of that fact. Shiloh suspected her sister’s denial hinged on her continued muddled memories of Robert Travers and the night he’d nearly killed her. Muddled memories and sudden if lessening attacks of panic and near hysteria.

Both Shiloh and Sarah tried all sorts of activities to cheer up Jordan. Like today’s picnic lunch down by the creek that ran through the ranch property, just over the hill separating them from view of the main house. It had been a sweltering, very dry summer with many wildfires burning throughout the Rockies, and the three women had longed for any excuse to get out of the overly warm house. So, one hot day near the end of August, Sarah had convinced Shiloh and Jordan that a picnic would be a most splendid idea.

Since Sarah, by now, was in her last month of pregnancy, and Jordan had all she could manage just walking down to the creek, Shiloh offered to carry the blanket and picnic basket. The smells of Emma’s delicious fried chicken, buttermilk biscuits, thick-sliced garden tomatoes, and still warm from the oven applesauce raisin cookies made her mouth water. The ever-thoughtful housekeeper had also included a big jar of cider, tin cups, and, besides a plate for the tomatoes, large cloth napkins to put the rest of the food on.

Even burdened with the basket and blanket, Shiloh soon left the other two women behind. She found a nice drooping willow tree that provided excellent shade but didn’t block the wonderful, cooling breeze, laid out the blanket, and set down the picnic basket. She retrieved the big jar of cider, walked to the creek, which was just a few feet away, and lodged the jar between some rocks. The cold creek water would soon cool the cider to a refreshing temperature.

By the time Sarah and Jordan arrived fifteen minutes later, both were perspiring, flushed, and winded. Shiloh jumped up, helped Sarah work her awkward way down to the blanket, then steadied her sister as she sat.

“This is perfect,” Cord’s young wife said as she maneuvered to lay on her side, the flat of one hand propping her head. “I may just set up house here and stay until the summer’s long gone.”

Jordan chuckled. “Would that be with or without our brother?”

Sarah shrugged. “Oh, he’d be welcome to visit anytime he wanted. Just as long as he didn’t snore. With this huge belly, I have enough trouble sleeping these days, without him waking me up.”

“I’ll bet Cord would deny he snores.” Shiloh pulled out the tin cups. “Anyone ready for a cool drink of cider?”

“I sure am.” Sarah raised her hand. “And you’re right. He does deny it, then turns around and accuses me of snoring. Can you imagine?”

“It’s just his way of diverting the discussion away from him,” Shiloh said and looked to her sister. “Isn’t that the way Cord always liked to win any arguments he had with us? Because he knew he couldn’t outtalk us.”

Jordan nodded slowly. “Yes, I do believe I recall that. Probably where he first learned his wily lawyer ways.”

As the other two women laughed amongst themselves, Shiloh climbed to her feet and headed to the creek to fetch the jar of cider. It had chilled nicely, she thought as she carried it back. Just what all of them needed.

After a couple of cupfuls each, the three women lounged back to rest a bit before they tackled their picnic meal. Shiloh soon rejoined them after depositing the cider jar back in its rocky niche in the creek to stay cool. Profoundly content, she smiled at Sarah and Jordan.

“I’m so glad everything’s turned out as it has,” she said. “You marrying Cord, Sarah, and soon to have your first child. And you doing so well, Jordan.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re home again where you belong.”

Her sister’s pronouncement took Shiloh aback. True, there had been occasional glimpses of the old Jordan at times, but she wasn’t so sure she wanted to continue on the tack her sister seemed to be taking. If Jordan started in again on her job at the Agency being a fool’s endeavor . . .

Before she could even offer up a silent prayer for patience and a gentle rejoinder, her sister hurried on. “Oh, I didn’t mean it quite the way it sounded,” Jordan said. “It’s just that I love having you home. We’ve got so much lost time to make up.” She paused, glancing down for a moment. “I do remember that we never got on very well, after that . . . day . . .”

Relief flooded Shiloh. She smiled. “And I love making up for that lost time.”

“So, are you ever going to write that man—Nathan Meeker, isn’t it?—and tell him you’re resigning?” her sister prodded, lifting her gaze to Shiloh’s. “Or are you of a mind to return to that job?”

It was Shiloh’s turn now to look down. “I haven’t decided.”

“But isn’t the deadline he gave you about ended?”

The passing thought that Jordan’s memory could be surprisingly acute, despite her head injury, flitted through her mind. “In another month, so I’ve still got time. But I need to get a letter off in the next day or two so he’ll know what I intend to do.”

“What exactly is holding you up, Shiloh?” Sarah asked, concern shining in her eyes. “From deciding, I mean.”

How could she share her feelings about Jesse? Shiloh still hadn’t sorted them out herself. Despite the ensuing months since he’d left, time and distance hadn’t soothed the tumult she felt whenever she thought of him. It had only clarified the certainty that she loved him, and that he indeed had feelings for her. Whether they were ones of love, however, Shiloh didn’t know.

All she knew was she’d never have the answers unless she confronted him, and to do that, she had to return to the Agency. There was also the growing conviction that she should honor the agreement to fulfill her year’s contract. Problem was, she was now fully aware of the difficulties awaiting her if she returned. The difficulties of getting any straight answer out of Jesse, as well as the demands of her contract. Even before she’d left to rush to Jordan’s side, Shiloh’s doubt that she’d be able to get the Utes to allow their children to attend school had reared its ugly head.

No, she decided, she couldn’t tell Sarah and Jordan about Jesse, but her concerns about her teaching job seemed safe enough to share. “I suppose I’m just enjoying being home too much, and I dread the task awaiting me back at the White River Agency,” she finally replied.

With the other two women’s encouragement, Shiloh soon had the tale told of the Utes’ reluctance to have their children schooled, and Meeker’s problems establishing a lasting, positive relationship with the Utes. “And then,” she finished, “the unrealistic demands and unfulfilled promises of the US government to the Indians haven’t helped much either.”

“It puts everyone in an untenable position,” Jordan said. “Indeed, a no-win situation.”

Shiloh nodded. “The Utes most of all. But I still haven’t given up my hopes to help them by educating their children. I truly believe that it’s their only chance of survival in a world that’s so rapidly changing around them.”

“First, though, they must face the fact that there’s no going back, no matter how badly they wish it so.” Sarah reached for the picnic basket and pulled it over. “If you can just accomplish that, you’ll have given them a great gift.”

The thought heartened Shiloh. She didn’t know how she was going to accomplish such a thing, but at least she had a definite, if less grandiose, goal to work toward now. A baby step, to be sure, instead of the giant ones she’d first envisioned, but hopefully the first of many steps. Because it was truth, what Sarah had said. There was no going back for the Utes, or any of the tribes for that matter.

“Thank you,” she said, her heart full of gratitude.

Sarah’s brow furrowed in puzzlement. “For what?”

“For clarifying some things for me.” Shiloh motioned to the picnic basket. “So, are you going to hold on to that all day, or are we going to eat some lunch?”

“Oh, are you hungry?” Her brother’s wife shot her an impish look. “And I thought it was just me, having to eat for two and all.”

Jordan laughed. “Hardly. The smells coming out of that basket have been driving me crazy for the past half hour.” She scooted closer to Sarah. “Let’s eat!”

They enjoyed a tasty meal, full of laughter and camaraderie, and even argued over who’d get the last piece of fried chicken before deciding Sarah and the baby needed it most of all. As they cleaned up and put all the remnants of the lunch back in the basket, Sarah winced and put her hand to her belly.

“Is something wrong?” Shiloh was quick to ask.

“Oh, no.” Cord’s wife shook her head and managed a smile. “Just some prelabor contractions. I’ve been having them for the past few months. They come and go. Doc Saunders says it’s my womb practicing for the big event. Though, usually they don’t hurt or last so long.” She leaned back and began rubbing her distended belly.

“Just give it a few minutes and it’ll be gone,” Jordan offered, then stopped short. “Now, how did I know that?”

Shiloh bit her lip. Though Jordan helped with Ceci’s feeding and care these days, she remained distant and stiff with the child. But this unexpected comment on the childbearing process was encouraging, actually the first one Jordan had made since her injury.

“Guess you’re starting to remember the birth of your own child,” Shiloh said, ignoring the enigmatic look her sister sent her. She looked to Sarah. “Is the contraction going away yet?”

Sarah nodded. “Yes.” She sat up again. “That was a strange one, though. I’ve never felt one like that before.”

“Well, you are getting close to your confinement, aren’t you?” Shiloh set the picnic basket aside.

“Still have a couple more weeks before it’s really safe to deliver.” She picked up her tin cup. “Any cider left in that jar in the creek?”

“Just a little.” Shiloh rose. “I’ll go fetch it for you.”

They finished up the cider, put away the cups, and stretched out on the blanket for a nap. Despite the heat, it had been a perfect day, Shiloh thought as she lay there, watching the long, limp willow branches gently sway in the breeze. Her time here at Castle Mountain Ranch had been pleasant, especially once Jordan began to recover. It wasn’t the same as it had been when she was a child, but it was pleasant nonetheless.

Soon, however, she must head back to the Agency. Perhaps not for long, or for the extent of the full year. That would depend on Nathan Meeker. It would also depend on how things went with the Utes. But she was determined to give it her best try.

The White River Agency and the Ute people were where God had called her. She’d known that from the start, and the certainty hadn’t faded. True, she’d been very discouraged at times, and she wasn’t sure if, despite the Lord’s summons, she’d ultimately be successful.

Well, successful in the eyes of men, anyway, Shiloh quickly amended. She needed to change her way of viewing things, she well knew. Most times, she saw things with human eyes rather than the eyes of God. Her notion of success was so shallow, going no deeper than the superficial perception the world took of things.

She yawned. A heavy drowsiness settled over her. She levered up on one elbow and took in the sight of her two companions, both sleeping soundly.

Let them doze for a while longer, she thought. No harm done. She’d stay awake and keep an eye on things. Keep thinking about what it would take to change her outlook, to see everything in a new and better light.

To accomplish that, however, she’d have to do something about her infernal pride. She didn’t like to fail. Perhaps, though, a lot of that was caught up in how others might see her if she failed. As hard as she tried to deny it, she was very much directed by the opinions of others.

Yet Christ had never let the opinions of others direct Him. Indeed, He’d instead emptied Himself of His pride to the point of becoming a servant. He hadn’t viewed His role as being and acting godlike, but solely in doing His Father’s will. And that was the view of success she must take from here on out. Becoming a servant of others, being obedient, doing the Lord’s will.

A warm, soft breeze caressed her face. Birdsong came from somewhere up in the willow, sweet and soothing. She felt replete, at peace. Her lids began to droop, and this time Shiloh didn’t fight to remain awake.

Sometime later, she was jerked awake by a soft cry. She pushed up, rubbed her eyes, and looked around. Sarah was kneeling there, both hands clutching her belly, rocking back and forth.

“What is it, Sarah?” Shiloh asked anxiously. “What’s wrong?”

Tears filled Sarah’s eyes and trickled down her cheeks. “The baby . . . I think the baby’s coming . . .”

13

Early the next morning, Sarah delivered of a son. Though the dark-haired infant was small and a few weeks earlier than expected, he was vigorous and strong. Cord and Sarah named him Caleb after her brother who had died before his time.

Shiloh couldn’t recall Cord ever looking quite so proud. She had also, she thought with an affectionate grin of remembrance, never seen him so frantic and scared as when Doc Saunders had pronounced his wife to be in true labor. Emma, always the one to take charge in an emergency, had soon shooed him from their bedroom where Sarah labored, assigning his brother Nick to keep Cord occupied and out from underfoot. Jordan had been given charge of young Danny and the infant Ceci. And Shiloh had been appointed to assist Emma and Doc Saunders with the delivery.

Actually, she mused as she set the bloodstained bedsheets to soak in a tub of cold water late that morning, she’d really mostly run errands from the upstairs bedroom down to the kitchen and back. It amazed Shiloh how many bed linens and nightgowns a person could go through in the process of birthing a child. It was her first chance to view a human birth, and she found it both messy and beautiful. And, though Sarah’s labor certainly didn’t last near as long as some, according to Doc Saunders, Shiloh was nonetheless relieved for Sarah—and Cord—when it was over and done with.

Emma soon hurried everyone from the room, so Cord and Sarah could spend a few moments enjoying their new son in private. But, after a time, the cleanup began. For the women, anyway. Nick, Danny, and baby Ceci were soon in bed, fast asleep, and even though Jordan offered to help with the chores, it soon became evident that she had also expended nearly all of her energy.

So, it was left to Shiloh and Emma to serve Doc Saunders breakfast and several cups of black coffee, then send him on his way, and to finally see to the laundry. Shiloh didn’t mind, though. She was still too keyed up from the excitement of the birthing and knew she’d only have lain awake for a long while if she’d gone to bed right away.

As she leaned over the washtub and tried to scrub out as much of the blood as she could from the sheets and nightgowns before they actually washed them, her thoughts turned to Cord’s and Sarah’s happy expressions as they gazed down at their firstborn. As she watched them, something had changed within her. She’d felt a yearning rise from deep within, a yearning to hold a child of her own in her arms. Her and Jesse’s child.

The revelation was surprising, to say the least. In all the years of her youth, unlike her sister, Shiloh had never been one to play much with dolls, dream of a fine wedding, or pretend at married life. She’d much preferred riding and roping, climbing trees, catching tadpoles down by the creek, and helping the menfolk with chores. Indeed, when there was opportunity for conversation after supper, Shiloh naturally gravitated toward the men rather than the women. Talk of babies, favorite recipes, dress patterns, and the like bored her to no end.

But the thought of the joyous pride on Jesse’s face as she handed him their first child, all wrinkled and red, filled her with happy anticipation. Working beside him as they built their first house, dug their first garden, and raised their first barn was the stuff of dreams. Together, they’d make a life for themselves and their children. And if that required her to cook, and wash, and sew, then she’d do it.

Because the necessary, if tedious, times would be far outweighed by the satisfying moments. Moments spent together after a long day, sitting on their porch watching a glorious sunset. Playing with their children. And lying in each other’s arms at night, after everyone was in bed. To spend a life with Jesse, to raise their children with him, and then to grow old alongside him was surely as close to heaven as she could get on earth.

“A penny for your thoughts, honey.”

Shiloh jerked up her head from her intent scrubbing of a nightgown. She rinsed it then held it up for examination. She’d about gotten out all the stains.

“Oh, I was just daydreaming, Emma,” she said as she twisted the nightgown free of excess water and laid it aside. “Seeing Sarah and Cord with little Caleb just got me thinking, that’s all.”

“About having babies of your own someday?” Emma smiled. “Maybe with that handsome young man who brought you home?”

She could feel the heat creep up her neck and into her cheeks. “You mean Jesse?” She feigned a nonchalant shrug. “Oh, maybe. Or maybe not.”

“Well, I don’t know. The whole time he was here, you two near to couldn’t take your eyes off each other. And when one wasn’t looking, the other sure was. Land sakes, I don’t recall ever seeing such hungry looks in all my days!”

“Emma!” Shiloh covered her burning cheeks with her wet hands. “Now you’ve gone and done it. I’ll bet I’m as red as a beet.”

“Yes, you sure are, honey.” Emma wrung out the towel she was scrubbing and placed it with the other laundry awaiting the final washing. “But you needn’t be embarrassed. The good Lord created man to want woman, and vice versa. To love and cleave to. Are you sure, though, that your Jesse’s the marrying kind? Leastwise, when it comes to marrying a white woman?”

The housekeeper had hit the nail square on the head. She knew Jesse was the marrying kind. He’d married that Ute woman. But it seemed these days he was trying his hardest to see himself as a Ute, and only a Ute, all the while rejecting his white blood. That might well be part of the problem between them. He didn’t want to live as a white in any way. And perhaps every time he was with her, he feared being with her would inevitably compel him to do so.

She suspected, though, that it was more than just that. Even when she’d known him the first time, Shiloh had sensed that Jesse bore a terrible secret. A secret that had a lot to do with how he viewed himself and his place in the world.

And, as self-confident and capable as Jesse was, beneath that façade he didn’t think all that highly of himself. Shiloh wondered if that poor self-image, that sense of unworthiness, was part of the reason he’d so easily gravitated toward her when she was a child. Because she looked up to him, imagined him perfect in every way. Her hero worship likely stroked his ego.

Not that her opinion of him was the only source of their friendship. Even as young as she then was, she knew there was a special bond between them. They’d understood each other, shared similar views on things, and felt so comfortable in each other’s presence.

On the journey from the Agency to home, there’d been moments when Shiloh had experienced that same comfort and bonding again. It had been like old times, only better. Better because now the mutual attraction had been electrifying, setting her heart to pounding, her mind reeling, and an intense yearning to rise within her. And she’d seen, known with a woman’s instinct strong and sure, that Jesse had felt the same things.

But were their high emotions and desires for each other enough to overcome the obstacles that society and personal demons would place in their way? Shiloh didn’t know. Indeed,
was
Jesse the marrying kind when it came to a white woman?

She sighed. “Truly, Emma, I don’t know if Jesse would wish to marry me and live the white man’s life. Not after how he’s been treated all his life by whites, including his own father.”

“So, what is it about him then that makes you even think of him for a husband? Surely you’re not trying to save him out of pity?”

“Pity?” Shiloh laughed. “Oh, and wouldn’t Jesse just love that? There’s not much he detests more than pity.”

“Well, that may be,” the housekeeper said. “And I’m not looking to pry into your private matters. I just think a woman should give a lot of thought to why she’s attracted to one man and not another.” She paused. “Knowing that he was educated in a mission school for several years, do you think it’s possible he’s at least a Christian?”

Jesse’s obvious ability to read and his education at a mission school had become common knowledge around the ranch when he’d first come to them nine years ago. Only Shiloh, however, had ever been privy to the actual details about the mission school near where he and his parents lived. The first teacher, Brother Thomas, had been a gentle man filled with the love of the Lord and the children under his tutelage. He’d seen no difference in them, be they half-breed or full-blooded Indian. Jesse had come to love the burly, bearded man and had finally accepted instruction in the Christian faith and baptism.

In time, Brother Thomas had been called to another mission farther north in Wyoming. Brother Isaac had soon arrived to take his place. By then, Jesse was fourteen, and from the start, Jesse and Isaac had butted heads.

Some of the friction between them arose from the increasing difficulties at home, as Jesse’s father became more and more abusive to Jesse and his mother, keeping Jesse unsettled and constantly on edge. Some of it was the result of the normal heightened emotions and rebelliousness of a boy edging into manhood. But a large part of the conflict stemmed from the fact that Brother Isaac was not Brother Thomas.

Brother Isaac didn’t particularly cotton to wasting his valuable instruction time on what he considered unappreciative children, and he wasn’t above punishing any student he deemed disrespectful, unprepared for his daily lessons, or who dozed off in class. And, thanks to the turmoil at home, Jesse found it increasingly difficult to study, complete his homework assignments, or stay awake in the afternoons. He, however, though stoically accepting punishment for his own academic failings, found it increasingly difficult to tolerate the beatings some of the younger students received.

His schooling abruptly terminated one late spring afternoon when he intervened in the caning that a seven-year-old Indian boy was to receive. One thing led to another, angry words were exchanged, and when Jesse didn’t back down, Brother Isaac turned the full brunt of his outrage on Jesse. The teacher was only able to land one blow with his cane before finding himself flat on his back, looking up at Jesse.

As Shiloh recalled, the details were vague after that. Jesse was expelled from school. His father tried to punish him; his mother intervened, and somehow she was hit trying to protect her son. She fell to the floor, striking her head hard on the fireplace hearth. Nothing could be done for her, and she’d died the next morning.

Jesse had ridden out, never to return, just as soon as his mother had been properly buried. A few years later, he’d shown up at Castle Mountain Ranch, already an experienced ranch hand. And, though he’d finally come to trust her enough to tell her the story of his earlier years, he had also made it plain that he was through with the white man’s schooling and God. Shiloh had decided it best not to broach the subject of either.

But Emma hadn’t asked for a long-winded tale, Shiloh reminded herself. All she wanted was a simple answer.

“I believe, in the depths of his heart, Jesse still believes in God,” she replied. “Maybe he doesn’t give much thought to Jesus Christ anymore, but I think he still believes in a good and loving Creator. And I believe he tries to live his life by those beliefs. That he is a kind, generous, loving man.”

“Well, sounds like you’re giving this a lot of thought,” Emma said, wringing out the last towel. She threw it into the basket, wiped her hands on her apron, then picked up the pot of steaming water on top of the cookstove. “In the meanwhile, I think we’ve got a load of laundry to wash.”

Shiloh grinned, grabbed hold of the basket, and followed the housekeeper outside to the big washtub.