Her Wyoming Man (18 page)

Chapter Twenty-Two

“A
re you finished eating?”

“Ye—” She cleared her throat. “Yes, thank you.”

He cleared away the dishes without washing them, then picked up her hat and gestured to the back door.

She took her hat and opened the door, crossing the back porch to unlock the screen door. One after the other, they stepped out into the sunshine.

It was difficult to believe the beauty of this slope of land remained untouched and green with life when everything else had been tumbled about and sullied. Nathan took the lead and strolled toward the stream. His pace indicated no rush. It seemed as though they were simply out for a morning walk to enjoy the weather and each other’s company.

Once they’d reached the bank, now riotously blooming with tiny blue flowers and white-tipped pink clover, he halted and stood facing the gurgling water.

Ella remembered the first time they’d come here and how she’d waded into the water and lost her balance. She thought of the two of them floundering in the cold water—and how she’d impetuously kissed him for the first time.

Was he remembering, too? She wanted to look at him, but stared instead at the sparkling surface.

Beside her he moved and seated himself on the ground. She took her cue, moving to sit several feet away.

Silence stretched between them until a bird broke it by twittering from a nearby branch. Another bird answered in kind. Mates perhaps.

“I know it’s far too late,” she said, automatically smoothing her green skirt and then forcing her hand to lie still. “And you have every reason to be angry. And disappointed.”

He made a low noise in his throat, drawing her gaze to his face.

“Disappointed
isn’t a strong enough word, of course. You have every right to be furious with me. I deceived you, you and everyone else. I pretended to be someone who would fit into your life and make you a good wife.”

He glanced away for a brief moment, but then drew his gaze back to her face.

“At the time I didn’t see any other way,” she told him. “I’d never been on my own, never learned any skills, didn’t know how to earn a living.”

He was probably considering the same thing she was at that moment—thinking about her skills for earning a living. For the first time she could remember, her face grew uncomfortably warm with embarrassment—or more likely shame.

“And then one evening Celeste came to my room. Her eye was just healing from the previous weekend.”

“What happened the previous weekend?” he asked at last.

“One of the young cowboys who preferred her company would drink too much before—and while—visiting her on Saturday nights. But as long as he presented himself well at dinner and was clean and mannerly while in Madame Fairchild’s presence, he was allowed to accompany Celeste to her room. Once there, he promptly pulled out a hidden flask. As the evening progressed he became aggressive. Sometimes, if he grew loud, he’d be tossed out, but he was always allowed back.”

“Because he could pay for her time.”

“Yes, and it was most likely his entire wages.”

“So the night Celeste came to your room,” he prompted.

“She had clipped a notice from the newspaper. The one the men from Sweetwater had posted, regarding your need for young, intelligent, refined maidens of a loving disposition for the purpose of matrimony,” she quoted.

“In hindsight perhaps we weren’t specific enough,” he remarked, rather unkindly.

She directed her gaze to her hands in her lap while she regained her composure.

“Go on,” he said without apology.

She glanced up into the branches of the trees that lined the stream, seeking the birds that were now calling back and forth to each other. One flew from its hiding place and swooped down to the grass, where it plucked a worm from the earth.

“I had just received notice from my gentleman caller that he was moving away. Back East, he said.” She hadn’t mentioned that was where his wife wanted to go. But then Ella caught herself withholding the truth because it wasn’t pretty, and exposed it with her next breath. “His sons were off to university, and his wife wished to move back to be near her family.”

She turned her gaze upon Nathan. He still watched her, but said nothing.

“No money was ever exchanged between the gentlemen and the women. That would have appeared too gauche for Madame Fairchild, who liked the appearance of manners and civility and propriety. There were rules of conduct we had to follow. But that particular night my gentleman caller—”

“You make it sound as though he was courting you.”

She nodded. “That’s the way we learned to speak of our duties. That evening he gave me a bankbook with a balance that took my breath away. He was a very kind and thoughtful man.”

Nathan tightened his jaw, but he said nothing.

“He advised me to leave Dodge while I still could. His warnings mirrored my fears of growing older and being forced to survive in…well, unpleasant conditions.” She swallowed because she had never spoken of this. “That’s what happened to my mother. She wasn’t old when she died. She simply didn’t want to live such a hard life any longer.”

“What happened to her?”

“The women no longer young and those not considered beautiful have a more difficult time,” she explained.

“How did you come to be at Madame Fairchild’s in the first place?”

“Most likely I was born there,” she answered. “I can’t remember anything else.”

Nathan heard her explanation, but it took a full minute for the concept to settle into his mind. Born in a whore-house? His thoughts immediately raced to his children and the way they’d been protected and cosseted and shielded from every unpleasant thing.

He remembered Ella’s reaction upon meeting his children and learning of their daily routine. Everything about Sweetwater, about his life and family had been a foreign experience. And he thought back to how she’d wanted to take them to see the acrobats, and how she’d enjoyed the day as much as they had.

He tried to imagine her upbringing. “What was it like?” he asked finally, unable to wonder any longer.

“I always had my own room. Tutors were provided. I had books and nice clothing and good food.”

“What about friends?”

“There were no other children. I saw my mother on Sundays, until she died that is. I was nine, I believe.”

She’d been groomed for her position. Groomed by a heartless woman who saw a beautiful child as a commodity. The thought sickened him. He experienced fear on her behalf. “What about men?” he asked, then clarified, “Customers?”

Ella brushed nonexistent lint from her skirt. “I didn’t have a gentleman caller until I was seventeen.”

Nathan’s tense jaw and body relaxed a measure.

“Although I was coached and occasionally I watched.”

He swallowed hard and took a deep breath.

“Once I was old enough, I learned that Ansel had been waiting for me. He was always kind and thoughtful,” she told him. “Even then.”

Nathan’s gut twisted. “The same man that gave you the bankbook?”

She nodded. “Even then he was considerate. I was almost able to pretend I had a life like the characters in the books I read, except I had no choice in the matter, of course.”

“You were a prisoner,” he said.

“A pet,” she pointed out and turned her face away. “When I first came here I felt as free as these birds.”

Of course she had. The wide-eyed enjoyment she showed over discoveries of the most simple things made perfect sense now. If what she said was true, she’d had no choice about her upbringing or her position before running away and coming here.

But that didn’t change the fact that she’d married him under less-than-scrupulous conditions.

Earlier she’d said she’d pretended to be someone she wasn’t in order to fit in and make him a good wife, and her words had stuck in his craw. She had fit into his life perfectly and made him an excellent wife, that made this turn of events all the more confusing and difficult to sort through.

Hearing her speak of this Ansel fellow was more than he could cope with at the moment. Even if she’d been raised into that life and knew nothing else, it didn’t hurt him any less to think of it now.

He had a compulsive need to know details that could only wound him. “You said last night that there weren’t a hundred men.”

“That’s correct.”

If she wasn’t forthcoming, he’d have to ask. He took a breath. “Can you make a guess at how many?”

“I don’t need to guess. I know.”

He turned then and found her looking at him as though she’d been waiting for him to meet her eyes.

She was as lovely as she’d always been, incredibly beautiful, though she didn’t like the word or the reminder. He wondered briefly now why that was. Obviously it had something to do with her feelings of value—or lack of.

Her chaste white blouse and pale coloring gave her the deceivingly youthful appearance of innocence.

“You were the second, Nathan. There was only one other.”

At last he was able to release a breath and ask, “How can that be?”

“Because he was extremely wealthy and able to afford my exclusive attentions. He secured me for himself, enabling me to have only a sole gentleman caller. I was extremely fortunate.”

Everything was relative, depending on one’s background and experiences, he thought. The fact that she considered being someone’s pet fortunate only pointed out how much worse her situation might have been—and how much worse those of the other women most likely had been.

But she’d done an excellent job of deception the first time. He had no reason to believe she couldn’t do it again to secure her home. “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.”

Of course she couldn’t expect him to believe her. Ella folded her hands in her lap and turned her head to watch the sparkling stream from beneath the brim of her straw hat. He would most likely divorce her. She’d be unable to get a job in this town—no one would hire her. Even if someone did give her employment, she’d be unable to face the ridicule and scornful looks.

“I regret hurting you,” she said at last. “And the children.”

“They don’t know,” he said.

“They will. Christopher goes to school. Parents will talk.” At that moment, with thoughts of how the children would suffer because of her, she closed off. Shut down. Not feeling was what she did best.

Willing her face, body and mind into complete composure, she discovered a squirrel digging at the base of a tree, most likely searching for an acorn he’d buried the previous fall. She envied the animal its mindless pursuit of food, without concern for relationships or opinions.

She wouldn’t think about leaving the children behind—about saying goodbye. She would assess her finances, pack and rent a room at the hotel. While staying there, she would buy a newspaper and see if there was a position available in a nearby town—or even a town far away. At this point it didn’t matter where she went.

Nathan had spoken, but she didn’t hear his words. She stood and made her way up the grassy slope to the house. The sooner she cut herself off from him and this place, the better.

Chapter Twenty-Three

N
athan had dressed in trousers and a plain cotton shirt, the sleeves rolled back and collar open in deference to the sunny morning. Saddling a horse from the livery, he rode to the Adams place, enjoying something he seldom took time to do anymore.

After their conversation the day before, Ella hadn’t left her room the rest of the day or that evening, even when the children returned. Before leaving this morning, he’d asked Mrs. Shippen to take her a tray of food.

Dismounting at the gate that opened into a dooryard of mostly dirt and pecking chickens, he tied the horse and glanced around.

The door opened, and Celeste exited the tiny dwelling. She had cut her hair, so that it was only two inches long all over her head, and the remaining waves were a bright orange-red in the sunlight. The tresses had a tendency to curl and formed a shining cap upon her head. He found the look surprisingly attractive, and much of that was due to the air of confidence and peace she’d adopted over the few weeks he’d known her. Right now she appeared puzzled at seeing him.

“Mr. Lantry,” she said, wiping her hands on her apron. “What brings you out here alone?”

“I was hoping to talk to Paul,” Nathan told her.

“I think he’s mending fences to the west.” She shaded her eyes and gazed in that direction. “I won’t see him until noon.”

“Thank you.” Nathan reached for the reins to untie the horse.

“How is Ella?”

“She hasn’t come out of her room.”

“May I call on her?”

He nodded. “Yes, of course.”

He touched the brim of his hat in a polite farewell and mounted the horse. Paul wasn’t difficult to find. Nathan followed the line of freshly repaired fencing until he spotted the man.

Paul bent over a post, wrapping wire in place. At Nathan’s approach, he straightened and tipped his hat back on his head. He took a red kerchief from the rear pocket of his overalls and wiped his face. “What brings you out here, Nathan?”

Nathan got down, still holding the reins. He walked toward the other man. “I was hoping we could talk.”

Paul studied him briefly, then turned and pointed to a stand of willows. “How about in the shade?”

Nathan led the horse beneath the branches and tethered him to a low branch, where he could crop grass. A saddlebag nearby indicated Paul had already been using this spot for his breaks.

Paul lowered himself to the clover and sat holding his hat, his wrists draped over his bent knees. He waited for Nathan to speak.

Nathan cleared his throat. “Ella said you already knew about Madame Fairchild and Dodge City before Lena told the entire county.”

Paul nodded. “Celeste told me.”

“Why do you think she told you?”

He appeared to consider the question. “A lie is a burdensome thing. I think she didn’t want to carry it around anymore.”

“How did you…? How were you able to accept the truth? Did it change things? Did it…cause you pain?”

Paul gazed out across his land before looking back at Nathan. “It’s easy to get comfortable in our narrow little worlds,” he said finally. “Sometimes we forget just how hard life is beyond this place we’ve created. Females without fathers or husbands to look out for ’em have a rough time of it.

“Celeste’s daddy sold her off when she was no more ’n a girl. He thought the fellow was gonna marry her, but instead he dragged her ’n a couple other girls in and out of the railroad camps, where they lived in tents. They cooked, washed ’n whored for the men who built the rails.

“When Celeste got away from that man, working at that parlor house in Dodge City seemed like a fair-weather picnic. Besides, it was all she knew how to do.”

He looked directly at Nathan then. “It don’t matter none to me what she did before. She didn’t choose that life. She didn’t have no choice but to survive any way she could. She survived, and she’s here now. She’s a good person with a big heart for love.”

Nathan let the other man’s words sink in. It was plain he loved the wild-haired woman he’d married. He over looked her background because he loved her.

This was all the more difficult for Nathan because he had fallen in love with Ella. Because he’d trusted her and now felt betrayed. “What about the lie?” he asked. “Doesn’t it bother you that she deceived you in order to get married?”

“It did at first, to be sure. But then I thought about what I would have done if it had been me an’ I’d needed a way out of that life. The frontier is mostly about starting over,” he added. “My pa robbed his share o’ trains in his day. Then he had a family and settled down to raise us. He was a good man and brought up his sons to obey the law. People change.”

Nathan studied him. “I never knew that.”

“All the people in Sweetwater have a past,” Paul said with a shrug. “Some good, some bad. Seems to me a person is who they turn out to be, not who they were before.”

“But…” Nathan took off his hat and turned it by the brim in his hands, without looking at Paul. “How do you reconcile thinking of her with those men? That happened.”

Paul took a jar from the saddlebag. He unscrewed the lid and offered it to Nathan. “Lemonade?” At Nathan’s polite refusal, he took a long drink and screwed the lid back on. “Celeste’s with me now because she wants to be. And because she has a choice. She chose me.”

Nathan threaded a hand into his hair.

“She’s past that,” Paul said. “If you love Ella…if you still want her for your wife, you have to move out of your own way.”

Nathan looked at him then.

Paul’s eyes were bright in his sun-darkened face. “Don’t let pride stand in the way of what you might have.”

Anger stabbed Nathan. Pride? That was fine for Paul to say. His career wasn’t dangling in the balance.

Immediately, he corrected himself. Paul had just as much, if not more, to let go of than Nathan, and he’d done so. And he appeared happy and quite content.

Celeste had, however, come to him with the truth herself. Nathan wondered how much of a difference that would have made for him if Ella had been forthcoming before it was too late.

They sat for a while longer, and the subject turned to the weather and the summer wheat. Finally, Nathan stretched to his full height, shook hands with the other man and took his leave.

The rest of that day and the next passed with his mind in turmoil. When he went to work, his presence drew a few stares on the street, and the man who worked for him, taking care of paperwork inquired only about business matters. Everyone knew he’d been made a fool of, but so far no one had spoken of it.

Ella had come to supper, but she’d been silent, eating as though waiting for something to happen. Perhaps she waited for him to address the subject…or for him to ask her to pack and leave.

Fortunately, the children hadn’t been exposed to the unpleasantness and therefore went about their days and evenings as though nothing had changed.

“Will you read to us tonight?” Christopher asked as they finished their meal.

Nathan glanced up to see his son had directed the question to him. He nodded. “Yes, of course.”

They settled in his study, with all three youngsters piling around him on the divan.

Grace stretched both arms toward Ella, indicating she wanted her to hold her and join them.

Nathan nodded at her.

She picked up the child and seated herself beside Nathan, without allowing their arms to touch.

Nathan read aloud, and the children quieted. Sometime later, he glanced over to see his daughter snuggled into Ella’s lap. Even though Robby sat on his lap, he had reached for and held her hand.

His children had already grown to love and depend on her.

Later, as they tucked them into bed, his chest ached with unexpressed emotions. Grace picked up the rag doll Ella had tucked in beside her and spoke to it. “What? You want Momma to give you a hug and a kiss? Okay.”

She turned the doll’s cloth face up toward Ella.

He didn’t know who was more surprised, him or Ella. But she very calmly leaned down and gave the doll a hug and a kiss. “Good night, Dolly,” she said. “You’re a very special little dolly, and I love you.”

Grace had referred to Ella as Momma. He could hardly draw a breath. He understood now the parallel that Ella drew between herself and these children. She had never known the love or protection they took for granted, but instead of resenting them for it, she was appreciative and protective.

As he kissed his daughter good-night, he considered what it had been like for a child like her to grow up in a gilded cage with no say in her future. If his precious innocent daughter had been placed into the same circumstances, she wouldn’t be evil or immoral. She would be a survivor.

Truth be told, Ella had been innocent. She was innocent. By no desire of her own had she been ensconced in that lifestyle and rented out to that man like a buggy he took for a Sunday drive.

They left the room and stood in the light cast by the hissing gas lamp on the hallway wall. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on. He missed having her beside him at night. He missed taking her in his arms, knowing her warm willing kisses and the pleasure of her body.

The sheen of tears in her eyes caught him by surprise. “Why are you crying?”

“You heard her,” she said. “What she called me.” She fumbled with her sleeve, withdrew a lacy handkerchief and blotted her eyes. “I never meant for them to be hurt, Nathan. You have to believe that.”

“I do,” he relented. He touched his knuckle to her chin and raised her face. “I don’t believe you wanted to hurt anyone.”

She raised the hand that clenched the hankie to his chest and took a tiny step forward.

He took a step as well, and she was in his arms, as soft and warm as he remembered and smelling of cinnamon and musk. His body reacted as it always did at her scent and her nearness, blurring everything else and bringing his need for her into sharp awareness.

He lowered his head and kissed her deeply, his tongue searching for hers. She responded in kind, with a heady intake of breath that brought her breasts up against him.

He swept her up easily, and she wrapped her arms around his neck and held on tightly. In several strides, he reached the door to his room, kicked it open and strode ahead to lay her on the bed.

She reached for his jacket, tugging it away, followed by his shirt, which he helped her remove. He urged her to roll facing away so he could unfasten her dress. Tugging the fabric downward, he met resistance where she lay on it and urged her up, so he could remove the garment and toss it aside.

Within seconds, he’d divested her of her corset, her chemise and pantaloons, and rubbed the wrinkled skin of her sides and belly in the manner that made her purr and wrap herself around him.

He remained standing beside the bed, and she got up on her knees to frame his face with both hands and kiss him. He was weak where she was concerned. He couldn’t resist her, had never been able to deny this passionate desire that burned between them and consumed them both.

The thought of her with that other man drove him crazy. The thought of that man with his hands on her ate at him like acid. He wanted to obliterate anyone else from her mind—from her past, from her experience. He was greedy for her, selfish with need. Hell-bent to possess her.

He released her to free his hands so he could kick off his shoes and tug off his trousers, and then he pushed her back on the bed. She reached for him, touching him until he shuddered. His skin tightened and his pulse roared in his ears. This mindless need for her was crazy and all consuming.

Nothing could have stopped him from raking his tongue across her skin until she whimpered. He teased her with just enough pleasure to make her entire body tense in rigid anticipation of more…and then let the sensations abate while he moved his attentions elsewhere.

“Nathan,” she said at last, her voice gravelly with desire. “Nathan, come to me now.”

He held himself above her, pinning her in place with his gaze, then brought his knee up and ground it against her until she gasped. She pulled him to her. He buried himself, rocked against her, hard.

He loved her still, loved her as he’d never loved before. He couldn’t imagine a lifetime without her. She was his wife now, and as necessary to his existence as breathing.

She let out a soft cry and shuddered against him, and he followed her into blissful release.

Nathan rolled to his side and cupped her face to look into her eyes. He kissed her and held her close, their arms and legs entwined. He didn’t know how, but he knew he had to get out of his own way, as Paul had advised him.

Pride and inflexibility would be his downfall if he didn’t learn how to unselfishly love and forgive her.

Most of his shame and anger stemmed from the fact that he’d always felt out of control with her. He’d succumbed to his desire for her like a witless fool. She made him feel alive. Made him feel like a man. And the fact had embarrassed him, as though he considered himself above those kinds of emotions—and shameless devotion.

“Ella?” he said softly.

She didn’t respond.

“I’m used to being in control,” he said. “All I know how to do is keep things neat and tidy and adhere to a code of ethics. I expect too much, I know. I’m inflexible.”

He kissed her smooth, cool forehead.

“I’m tired of keeping everything in balance,” he confessed. “And I don’t know what to do when circumstances are beyond my control. I don’t like the feeling.”

She had fallen asleep, but he tested the words on the air. “I feel out of control with you, and that scares me. But I like it, too.”

He smoothed her hair over her shoulder. “I’m sad for the child you never got to be,” he whispered.

Minutes later, sleep overtook him.

Nathan woke and opened his eyes.

The house was silent. The bed beside him was empty.

He sat and took his bearings, getting up to wash and dress. He checked the time before tucking his pocket watch away. He’d never before been late to work that he could recall. Why had Ella let him sleep so long?