Joe's Wife (9 page)

"Tye, when your leg hurts you, give yourself a chance to—"

"To what?" he interrupted. "The only thing my leg needs is time. And that passes quickly enough." He took the sack she'd hung on a nail and wiped the horse down.

"You'll let me tend to that leg tonight," she said, brushing past him.

"There's nothing to be done."

"We'll see about that." She left him in the barn.

She had no idea what had happened to his leg, or where or how badly he'd been injured. Sleeping on the hard attic floor these past nights couldn't have helped his discomfort, and physically pushing himself to the limit undoubtedly added to the strain.

Meg felt responsible on both counts. He'd chosen to sleep in the attic to spare her, and she hadn't opposed his decision. She'd also asked him to help her, and she'd explained just how bad things were and how much work there was to be done. He was driving himself too hard, and it was partly her fault.

Gus had supper waiting, and Meg kissed his grizzled cheek. Then, she quickly changed clothing and helped him place the food on the table.

That night Tye returned to the house after a few chores. He hadn't said no last night when she'd pressed another warm slice of her apple pie on him. He'd eaten it, drunk the coffee she'd poured and promptly chucked it up into the tall weeds behind the outhouse.

His stomach had pained him the duration of the night. He wasn't used to so much food. But he couldn't refuse her.

He hadn't said no to her request to accompany her to church that morning, and he hadn't refused when she'd asked him to come back to the house early this evening. He entered the kitchen, praying she wasn't going to ask him to eat again.

"What happened to your leg?" she asked, and he turned to find her coming from the pantry.

"Took some shrapnel."

"Thank God you didn't lose it."

"Yes," he agreed.

"Let me have a look at it."

He tensed instinctively. "It's not something you'd want to look at."

"There are plenty of things I don't want to do that are necessary."

Like marrying him?

She poured steaming water from a kettle into a teapot and placed the lid on it. Turning, she picked up a tray. "Follow me."

He followed her through the rooms, hesitating when he saw she planned to lead him into her bedroom.

She turned and waited expectantly, and he grudgingly followed.

"Take off your pants and lie down," she instructed.

Tye stopped dead in his tracks. "Ma'am?"

Chapter Six

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T
ye didn't know why those words from a woman's mouth should draw him up short, but they did.

She reached to take his hat and hang it on the metal bedpost. "I can help you with your boots. I gave the jack to Gus."

He'd consorted with women since he was old enough to shave, but he'd never been with a woman like Meg. His dignity demanded that he take control of the situation. "I can take off my own damned boots."

Her gaze narrowed, and she paused in the midst of unfolding the crisp white sheet she'd brought from a drawer. "Very well then, do it."

She left the room.

Tye forced himself to move and sat on the edge of the soft mattress. Her violet scent emanated from the bedding and triggered a spiral of unease through his chest. He could have used her help. Bending his leg to pull the boot off brought cold sweat to his forehead. He managed it, removed the other and unbuckled his pants.

She'd left the sheet for a purpose, he realized gratefully, wrapping it around his waist to protect her modesty and easing back onto the bed.

She returned with an oilcloth and two cups of tea. "Drink this."

He accepted the cup. The pale liquid had a bitter minty smell, and he sipped it, grimacing. She reached for the sheet and he steeled himself for her reaction. She folded it away from Tye's upper leg, and he knew the instant his thigh became visible. A distressed expression crossed her gentle features. "Oh my," she said softly on a gust of breath.

Mercifully, the bone had only been nicked, but the muscles had been laid back and the skin shredded. The doctors had told him it was a miracle he'd never contracted gangrene. They wouldn't have been able to save his leg—possibly his life—if he had.

But pieces of flesh had been missing, and the remaining muscle and skin had been left to rejuvenate on its own. It had taken months for much of the area to fill and scab over, and now, even nearly a year afterward, the tight scar tissue tormented him, and the muscle, when strained, shot anguish throughout his leg.

"Can't say I didn't warn you," he said, though her reaction hadn't been what he'd expected.

She eased the oilcloth beneath his leg. "I just feel bad for how painful this must have been," she said, her voice thin and reedy. "Or still is."

"I'm alive," he replied.

Her hands stilled.

"And I've got my leg."

Joe had stepped into the room as surely as if he were flesh and blood.

She got to her feet, swept from the room and returned with a basin of steaming water. She placed the basin on the floor and wrung a piece of toweling gingerly. Holding it over his leg, she met his eyes.

"Go ahead," he said with a curt nod.

She draped the hot cloth over the scarred tissue, and he clenched his teeth against the searing agony.

"I'm sorry," she said softly, needlessly. She wouldn't have deliberately caused him anguish.

After a few minutes, the heat seeped into the muscle, and Tye relaxed, once again sipping the special tea she'd prepared.

The hot packs did a miraculous job of extracting the pain and easing the muscles. Meg changed them with regularity, going once for a fresh basin of hot water and even bringing a cool cloth to gently wipe the perspiration from his face.

She stroked the cloth over his forehead, his temples, down his nose and across his cheeks. She ran it over his rough jaw and chin, then over his lips. Her hand stilled and she studied his face for a moment too long, her gaze lingering on his mouth.

He couldn't help a slow smile.

Her tender aid moved Tye in a deep and unfamiliar way. No one had ever touched him like this. The doctors and nurses who'd tended his injuries had been perfunctory and terse. The women he'd bedded had been paid to take care of his needs.

This woman touched him as if she cared.

That notion didn't go to his head. She was a good woman, a lady, and she would care about any hurting creature. And for some unknown reason, she apparently didn't see the shame of his birth in the same light that everyone else did.

Tye relaxed his body and closed his eyes, blinking them open when she took the cup from his hand.

"Go ahead," she said. "Rest."

He obeyed her gentle command as he did every other, not knowing why he did, only knowing that he didn't have it in him to refuse. Behind his closed lids, he saw her rich hair, shot with golden fire from the lantern. He saw her hands, so small and yet so strong, arranging the steaming towels on his unsightly thigh. He recalled the feel of the cool cloth on his face, soothing and sensual, and remained awed at her graciousness.

Wafting through the strong tea smell, her violet scent wrapped around him and comforted him as much as the heat penetrating his aching muscle and flesh.

He saw her as she'd been that day in her saddle, her shoulders straight, her cheeks flushed from the sun and the wind, a pair of men's knickerbockers visible beneath her hiked skirt.

He'd wanted to kiss her.

His mind's eye conjured up the slope of her breasts beneath her dress, the curve of her cheek, the way she sipped her coffee and how her tongue darted out to touch her lip.

"I want you to sleep here tonight."

He opened his eyes lethargically.

"Those stairs aren't easy to climb, and that floor up there is too hard. You'll sleep here."

Her damp fingers touched his lips before he could form a protest. The intimacy startled them both, and she drew her hand away.

Her touch remained on his mouth. Her sweet smell enveloped him on this pillow. His body had a strong, immediate reaction.

Tye raised his good knee and held her gaze.

She backed away, took the cooled towel from his thigh and gently dried his skin. He closed his eyes and ached in a wholly pleasurable new way.

And then she touched him. The nerve endings on his leg weren't sensitive, but he sensed the pressure and opened his eyes. She held a bottle of liniment in one hand, and with the other she worked the greasy salve into his puckered skin without a qualm. His leg absorbed the warmth, and he relaxed even more, once again allowing his eyes to close.

He sensed when she'd left the room, for the heat and the light seemed to leave with her. He experienced the softness of the mattress beneath him, the gentle brush of cool night air from the open window, and wearily tried to recapture the glow of her presence.

He didn't remember falling asleep, but he woke to the sounds of water splashing and the smell of freshly ground coffee beans. Early morning light streamed through the lacy curtains.

Tye glanced at the other side of the bed and found no evidence of her having been there. Of course she hadn't slept beside him. Where
had
she slept?

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and, to his surprise, found that much of the stiffness and soreness in his leg was gone. The memory of her care the night before pierced him anew.

He tugged on his pants and boots and frowned at his rumpled shirt and the dark growth of whiskers he discovered in the oak-framed mirror that hung over her bureau.

To his consternation, a fresh shirt lay at the foot of the bed. He picked it up and looked over it. It had obviously been Joe's. It still had plenty of good workdays left in it, though, and beggars couldn't be choosers. A basin of warm water had been placed on the stand, along with his razor and shaving soap.

He shaved, shrugged into the shirt and found the sleeves too short. He rolled the sleeves back, then carried the basin of water to the front door and dumped it on the ground. In the kitchen, Gus shuffled back and forth between the table and the stove. He looked up only long enough to nod a good-morning.

Meg entered from outside, pails full of milk in both hands. Major followed her and plopped on the floor beside the stove. "Morning, Tye," Meg said with a bright smile.

"Ma'am."

She covered the pails with wet towels. "How's your leg this morning?"

"It's much better. Thank you."

"You're welcome."

He poured himself a cup of Gus's coffee. "I have to make a trip into town."

She nodded indifferently, having no idea where her new husband was off to. Maybe he should tell her now.

Meg, I'm going to see Lottie. She's a whore. Well, she used to be a whore, back when we were friends. She's dying. And Meg, I've promised to take her little girl to raise. I hope you won't mind.

She set a plate of eggs and biscuits on the table for him. "Will you be here to eat at
noon
?"

Maybe this wasn't the best time to tell her. He sat and picked up a fork without enthusiasm. "I don't think I'll be back in time. I have another stop to make, too."

"Hunt and Aldo plan to be here. I'm going to bake some potatoes and slice the rest of yesterday's ham. I'll save a plate for you." She turned and busied herself at the sink.

Gus sat across from Tye and motioned for him to place one of the eggs on his plate. Tye did so quickly.

"Those hens are laying more than we can eat," she said without turning. "Do you want to sell some eggs in town?"

"Sure."

She turned around then and checked their coffee cups. "Gus, you must have dropped a biscuit."

Major licked crumbs from the floor, then sat and looked at Tye expectantly. Tye ignored the dog and placed his fingers over his cup before Meg could fill it.

Gus didn't say a word.

Major's tail thumped against the floorboards.

Meg set the pot back on the stove.

Tye and Gus exchanged a conspiratorial look.

Purdy came through the doorway, and Tye stood and grabbed his hat. "I'll see you this afternoon."

Meg watched him leave. "Does he think we're so poor he can't have seconds?" she thought aloud.

"Meg, you're shovin' so much food on the poor fella, he's stuffed to the gills, and he can't tolerate it."

She turned to Gus. "What do you mean?"

"I thought he'd turn hisself inside out pukin' that apple pie the other night."

"Oh my … is there something wrong with him?"

"Nothin' a little time won't cure. Somebody what ain't used to eatin' three squares needs to go slow. He was a soldier, and he probably didn't get much more'n hard tack and beans toward the end."

Meg thought about all the food she'd pushed on him, and remorse washed over her. "I had no idea…"

"'Course you didn't. Now ya do." Gus finished his breakfast and ambled out the door.

She glanced at Major licking biscuit crumbs from between the floorboards. Tye had eaten everything she'd placed in front of him—except maybe that biscuit. Why hadn't he said something?

Pride? He did have an abundance of that, she thought, remembering him sitting in the dirt in the barn because he refused to let her see how badly his leg hurt.

Courtesy? Was it that he didn't want to hurt her feelings? He'd been more than polite, to the point of calling her "ma'am." He could have refused the food. Look what it had cost him not to.

Her thoughts drifted back over the last couple of days, back to Sunday mornings. He hadn't refused to attend church with her, either. "I'll go if you ask," he'd said, and without considering the consequences for him, she'd asked. What had that cost him? Never before had he attended. He'd done it for her. He'd made the sacrifice for her and had been snubbed and insulted. She'd let that happen—no, she'd
made
that happen.

Shame and repentance washed over Meg, and she regretted her callousness. Why had he gone with her? Simply because she'd asked? Did he think he had to do her bidding as part of their bargain? She couldn't grasp his thinking. But she'd be mighty careful what she asked of him from now on.

Lottie was worse. Much worse. She didn't seem to recognize Tye. He sat beside her for half an hour, not saying much, feeling inadequate and helpless. Finally
Rosa
relieved him, and he entered Eve's room.