Christine Dorsey (37 page)

“Don’t rightly know for sure,” Linc began but Samantha turned and started out of the smithy. “Some sort of ruckus in the street from what...” His words trailed off as Samantha marched down the boardwalk toward the jail.

What on earth could have happened to get Jake thrown in jail? He knew better than to tangle with the sheriff—Hughes really wasn’t worth the effort. Besides, Lieutenant Farrow would surely take care of any problem that arose.

Samantha banged open the jail door, startling the soldier who lounged in the chair, his feet stretched out on Sheriff Hughes’s desk. He jumped up, reaching for his gun, then laughed self-consciously when he saw who it was.

“Sorry, ma’am. Didn’t know it was you.”

Samantha recognized the young soldier from the time she’d met with Lieutenant Farrow. “That’s all right,” she said, smiling at him. “I’ve heard a rumor that my hired hand is...” Samantha’s gaze drifted to the cell and her hand flew to her mouth, stifling a scream. “Oh, my God, Jake!”

She ran to the cell door, clutching the bars and staring at the bruised and battered man inside. “Jake! Jake, can you hear me?” She jerked her head toward the young soldier. “Open this cell at once.”

“ ’Fraid I can’t do that, ma’am.”

“What?” Samantha was incensed. “This man is hurt. He could be dying.” Her voice caught on a sob but she continued. “I demand—”

“What’s going on in here, soldier?”

Samantha whirled around at the sound of Lieutenant Farrow’s voice. “Oh, thank heavens you’re here. This... this person refuses to unlock the door and Jake needs my help.” Samantha looked into the cell when she heard Jake’s moan.

“I’m afraid he’s just following orders, Miss Lowery.”

“Who’s orders?”

Matthew Farrow removed his hat and hooked it on the peg behind the desk. “Mine.”

Samantha’s eyes shot up to meet his. Her voice was tight and she spoke slowly. “Then order him to unlock it.” Her stare didn’t waver, but then neither did the lieutenant’s until he shifted his gaze to the young soldier watching the scene with undisguised interest.

With a slight jerk of his head, Farrow silently commanded the soldier to do Samantha’s bidding. She rushed through the space as soon as the bars shifted open, dropping to her knees by the cot where Jake lay.

She touched the purple lump on his cheek and his eyes slitted open. “Samantha?”

“Yes, it’s me, Jake.” She wanted to hug him, to kiss him, to thank God he was alive, but she didn’t want to hurt him anymore. His sensual bottom lip was split and Samantha trailed her fingertip over it in a soothing caress. “What happened to you?” Her voice was choked with tears.

“He refused to give up his gun. It’s a new ordinance I’ve established for ex-Confederate soldiers,” Farrow explained when Samantha glanced up at him. “And he resisted arrest.”

“The hell I did!” Jake pushed himself to sitting, fighting Samantha’s attempt to keep him prone. “His soldiers jumped me. Came close to killing me.” Jake shoved to his feet and started toward the open cell door.

“Jake!” Samantha caught his arm. “Stop it.” Though Lieutenant Farrow had retreated a step when Jake started after him, he now stood firm, his revolver drawn and aimed at Jake’s midsection.

“See what I mean? You can’t trust any of these Rebs.”

Samantha stepped between the men. “Well, you can trust this one. If he says your soldiers beat him up without provocation, you can believe it.”

“Samantha... Miss Lowery,” Farrow amended when she raised her brow. “I questioned all five of my men and—”

“Five! Five soldiers pummeled an innocent civilian and you did nothing to them?”

“Now, there’s no reason to get hysterical.”

“Hysterical!” Samantha yelled, fearing she was becoming just that. “I’ll show you hysterical.” She gripped Jake’s sleeve and tried to calm down. “I want this man released immediately.”

“Samantha, I can take care of myself,” Jake began but she ignored him.

“If he isn’t, I shall send a telegram to Fort Scott and report this to Colonel Adams. My good friend, Colonel Adams.” The good friend part was stretching it—though Colonel Adams
had
known her father—but at this moment Samantha realized she would do anything for Jake. A small lie seemed insignificant indeed.

The tension in the small dusky room was palatable. Samantha stood, fists balled on hips and stared at Farrow. She imagined she could hear him thinking, deciding the best way out of this corner she’d wedged him in. She could feel Jake beside her, felt his anger and knew it was close to erupting. Dust flecks danced in the thin stream of sunshine that penetrated the grime-covered window as the seconds ticked away.

Finally when Samantha thought she could bare it no longer, Lieutenant Farrow cleared his throat. “I’m keeping his gun.”

“Now wait a damn m—”

“That’s fine.” Samantha’s arm coiled around Jake’s.

“And I want him to get out of Hager’s Flats... the whole area. And stay out.”

Jake snorted. “We have no difference of opinion there.”

Lieutenant Farrow’s eyes narrowed. “If I catch him around here again, I’ll lock him up. I can’t have my soldiers being—”

“Where’s his horse?” Now that the decision was made, Samantha wanted to get Jake out of there as quickly as possible. And she didn’t want to listen to any lecture given by Matthew Farrow.

“At the livery.” Farrow obviously didn’t like the turn events had taken. “Samantha... Miss Lowery.” He reached out his hand to her. “You don’t have to trouble yourself with him. I can have the doctor take a look at him, then send him on his way. He’s nothing but a Reb.”

Samantha could feel the tension of coiled muscles in Jake’s arm as her hand tightened. She gave the lieutenant the coldest of stares. “Please step out of our way.”

Jake and Samantha garnered their share of inquisitive glances as they walked down the boardwalk toward the livery. Jake pulled his hat brim low over his bruised eyes. “Seems like word spreads quickly in Hager’s Flats.”

Samantha didn’t answer but she straightened her back, raised her chin, and kept walking.

After they had gathered the horses—Jake’s from the livery, hers from in front of the smithy—Samantha tightened the bow on her bonnet, then hesitated. “Are you able to ride? I can help you if you like.” He’d walked all right, his tread firm and steady, but he looked so awful, his shirt torn and splattered with blood. And his poor face.

But Samantha knew the moment she offered that she shouldn’t have. His pride had already suffered enough of a blow without her unwittingly adding to it.

“Damnit, Samantha.” Jake’s voice was tight as a wound spring. “I can sure as hell get on a horse by myself.” Which he managed despite some difficulty. “Don’t mother me.”

Neither spoke on the ride back to the farm.

For Samantha’s part, she was wishing she’d kept her mouth shut, and that she’d never let Jake go to town in the first place. But then it hadn’t been her place to stop him, she reminded herself. If only the solders hadn’t beaten him. If only she hadn’t sent for them. If only there hadn’t been this awful war. Because she knew what was going to happen now. There was no doubt in her mind.

“Samantha.” Jake drew up his horse as they neared the twin cottonwood trees marking the edge of her farm.

The sound of him saying her name, coupled with the inevitable statement she knew was coming, made Samantha blink back tears.

“Aw, now don’t go crying on me.” Jake dismounted and went around to Samantha’s side. His hands circled her waist and she slipped down into his arms. “I’m sorry about what I said. I had no call blaming
you
for anything.” He touched the golden hair that trailed down her back. “If truth be known, I thought you were pretty wonderful back there.”

“Oh, Jake, I’m so sorry they did this to you.” She buried her face in his shirt, loving the feel and smell of him... pulling back abruptly when he winced. “I’ve hurt you.”

“No. No. Never you.” Jake enveloped her against him. “It’s just that one of those soldiers had damn sharp knuckles.” Jake looked down into her face. “That’s supposed to make you laugh.”

“I can’t, Jake.” Samantha stared up at him through tears that turned her eyes to crystal blue prisms. She reached up and touched a spot on his cheek that wasn’t discolored. “I can’t.”

Jake pulled her close again and stood holding her in the middle of the road. The horses whinnied softly and wandered off to the side to graze on the grass and still they stood, the wind whipping her skirts at his legs, absorbing the strength of each other.

“Samantha.” Jake lifted her chin with his thumb and brushed his lips across hers. “I can’t stay any longer.”

She knew it was coming, yet forewarning didn’t make his announcement any easier to bear. She swallowed, closing her eyes against the pain and regret she saw in his.

“There was a time when I thought... well, maybe there was a place for me here.”

“Jake...”

“Shhh.” His fingers touched her lips. “I care about you, Samantha. But it just isn’t going to work.”

“I know,” Samantha whispered, wondering how the words got past her tight throat. And how she could stand here in the middle of the road surrounded by the scent of wildflowers while her heart was breaking.

~ ~ ~

Will did most of the talking at supper that night. He was righteously indignant for Jake’s sake when he heard what had happened.

“I’ll bet you put up a real humdinger of a fight,” he said, shoveling a forkful of grits into his mouth.

“Will, there were five of them,” Samantha chided as Jake shook his head laughing.

“You know, Will, what fighting I did do probably only made matters worse.”

“Well,” Will said proudly. “I’m sure they know better than to tangle with you again.”

“And vice versa,” Jake assured him, giving Samantha a crooked grin.

She smiled back and stood to reach for the pan of bread pudding. Jake had looked a lot better since he’d cleaned up. His fresh shirt covered the purpling on his ribs, and without the dried blood, his cuts weren’t so noticeable. Still, his eyes were bruised, one nearly swollen shut, and his bottom lip was split. And she still thought he looked incredibly handsome.

Samantha dipped out the bread pudding—an extra-large helping for Jake, who once confided it was his favorite dessert—and sat down at the table, waiting patiently for Will to go to bed. But it was Jake who stood first.

“A mighty fine meal, Samantha,” he said, reaching for his hat. He was sure as hell going to miss her cooking. But then he was sure as hell going to miss her. And Will. And the sense of belonging they’d both given him. But he didn’t belong here. The Yankee lieutenant had made that perfectly clear.

Jake turned toward the door. “I think I’ll turn in early tonight.”

“Do you need anything?” Samantha was beside him in an instant, her hand on his arm, where he’d rolled up his shirtsleeve. His flesh felt warm and strong and she didn’t want to let go.

“No. I’ll be fine.” He stared down into her blue eyes and could barely resist the desire to take her in his arms. But Will was sitting at the table finishing his dessert, and Jake and Samantha had decided to wait until morning to tell the boy he was leaving. So instead he reached for the latch and walked out the door.

Samantha looked around at the tin dishes on the table and her brother sitting beside it. He must have sensed her gaze, for he glanced up.

“What’s wrong,” he asked.

“Nothing.” Samantha reached for the shawl folded on the pie safe.

“Then where are you going?”

“To the barn,” Samantha answered honestly. “To be with Jake.” She wrapped the knitted material around her shoulders, aware of Will’s surprised expression and the questions he wasn’t asking. “If I’m not back when you go to bed, don’t forget to lower the lamp wick.”

The soft glow of a candle pushed aside the darkness as Samantha opened the barn door. Jake turned, his hands on the shirt he was stripping down his arms when she entered. He stared at her a moment across the musky space and shrugged the shirt back over his shoulders.

“This probably isn’t a good idea,” he said, dropping his hands to his side.

Samantha shrugged, letting the shawl slip off her body. “I thought I had an invitation. At least I did yesterday.”

“A lot of things can happen in twenty-four hours.”

“Does that mean you don’t want me anymore?” Samantha’s question was as brazen as the tilt of her chin.

Jake spiked fingers back through his hair. “Hell, you know better than that. But I’m leaving,” he explained. “This will just make it harder.”

“It can’t be any more difficult than it already is.” Samantha’s fingers started a lazy journey down her bodice, leaving unfastened buttons in their wake. Her breathing was shallow as she spread the calico fabric, baring her flesh and simple shift to his gaze.

Slowly she lifted her lashes, and her legs trembled at the expression of unbridled passion in his eyes. “Make love with me,” she murmured, moments before he rushed forward and crushed her in his arms.

D
awn came too quickly.

Samantha tried to ignore the insistent crowing of the cocksure rooster and snuggled closer to Jake. His arm tightened and he mumbled something in his sleep that made Samantha smile. She reached up and brushed a strand of light brown hair from his forehead, careful not to bump his bruised face. The innocent gesture filled her with longing and she curled her fingers and bit her lip to keep from crying.