Winds of Paradise (Paradise Valley Book 2) Page 9

  “Cain’t say as ya have.”

  “Ah, Meg was the purtiest thing I ever laid eyes upon. We were married on a Friday at the Episcopal church in Frankfort. Lovely ceremony. We were happy as two larks in spring.” He smiled and his eyes took on a faraway glaze as he got lost in his memories.

  “She was yer wife?” Dusty prompted.

  “Yep, sure was. And Daphne was our girl. She grew up to be a lovely young woman. It was right after Daphne’s own weddin’ – she married a local boy, Edward Little. Fine young man, a farmer’s son. They lived with Meg and I, helped with the farm. The fire … the fire came when I was away, buyin’ seed in town. Burned the house, the barn, the livestock – everythin’, all gone. Weren’t nothin’ left but a pile of ashes and the brick oven with the chimney straight and tall as if nothin’ was amiss …” Cookie fell silent.

  Dusty’s chest ached with sympathy for the old man who’d experienced so much pain, so much loss. A thing like that would take a man a long time to recover from, if he ever did. “I’m sorry for ya, Cookie. That’s more burden to bear than any man should have to in his life.”

  They went quiet again. When Dusty next glanced at Cookie, he saw tears silently rolling down the old man’s mud-covered cheeks. With slumped shoulders, he closed his eyes. How could one man comfort another in that kind of pain? What could he say that would make a jot of difference? He rode beside him in silence, with only the lilting song of chickadees and meadowlarks to interrupt their lonesome thoughts.

  ***

  Jane peeked out the window one last time as the sun set, throwing the town into darkness. Dusty hadn’t come. He’d promised they’d spend the day at the church social, and she’d waited and waited for him – first inside, then out by the road with her bonnet flapping in the breeze. Finally, she’d given up and gone back inside. She was disappointed to miss the social, but even more disappointed not to see Dusty.

  Or maybe he’d changed his mind about her. What if Genevieve had let her secret slip out, not realizing the impact it could have? If he knew everything, he might want nothing more to do with her. And she wouldn’t blame him. She hung her head and ran her fingers through her hair with a sigh. She’d known this could happen. She hadn’t wanted to fall for Dusty, and had fought the feelings as well as she could, knowing it would end badly.

  But when he’d kissed her, she’d ignored the warning in her gut. Now she’d pay for that mistake.

  She pushed the thought aside and drew a deep breath, letting it out slowly. He could’ve just been held up by something. Unexpected things happened all the time on a big ranch. That’s most likely what it was, she told herself – something had come up. She should give him the benefit of the doubt. He cared for her, she knew he did.

  Still, she couldn’t shake the sadness that had rolled itself into a lead ball in the pit of her stomach.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Fall arrived in Bozeman, and that meant the annual fall festival. Jane couldn’t wait to experience it for the first time. She’d been to fall festivals before, but the one in Missoula had been pitifully small. And after everyone found out about her past, she’d tried to avoid community gatherings entirely. It was better for her and for the rest of the town that they not see too much of her – it just seemed to anger them all the more.

  But here in Bozeman, people seemed to like her. They waved to her when she crossed the street. They asked her how she was doing or stopped to discuss the weather. It seemed they were genuinely interested in her, and thanked her repeatedly for the job she was doing as schoolmistress. She wasn’t used to so much adulation and appreciation – it all made her a little dizzy.

  But the best part of the festival was that Dusty was taking her. He’d visited her the Saturday after the church social and explained his absence, that Cookie had been sick and he’d had to help the old man. He’d stayed at the hotel that weekend so he could escort her to church, and it had made her heart sing to have him seated in the pew beside her.

  After church she’d told him about the festival, hoping with fingers crossed he’d ask her to go with him. And he did. It had been so long since she’d been to such a celebration that she couldn’t stop looking forward to it. There would be a hay ride, a potluck dinner, and games and races for the children.

  She brushed her hair, one hundred long strokes, so that it cracked and sparked as much as it shone. She pinned it up in two long loops in front of her ears, then wound the rest into a knot on top of her head. A knock at the door hurried her preparations. She pinched her cheeks in the looking glass and scampered to answer the door.

  Dusty stood there, leaning against the door frame, hat in hand and a huge grin on his face. “Howdy, little lady. Fancy goin’ on a hay ride?” His eyes sparkled.

  She laughed and reached for her sun bonnet and cloak. “Why, yes, as a matter of fact, I’d love to.”

  He gave her his arm, and they walked through the town until they reached the church where the festival was set to begin. They chatted about the weather, the ranch, and how Cookie was recovering from his illness. Jane’s heart soared as Dusty smiled at her, and her hand against his arm made her giddy.

  “What should we do first?” he asked when they arrived.

  “Hay ride!” she cried.

  He laughed and tipped his hat. “Whatever ya like.” They went over to the wagon that had been loaded with bales of hay. Loose straw filled the bed with the smell of drying summer grass. Dusty climbed up first, then reached down to pull her up. They sat beside three other courting couples, the men perched awkwardly on the bales, the ladies whispering together and giggling behind gloved hands.

  Jane and Dusty exchanged an amused glance and laughed. As their laughter died away, Dusty’s eyes stayed trained on hers and her pulse quickened under his gaze. “Ya look right pretty,” he whispered, his eyes never leaving hers. He reached for her hand and squeezed it.

  She drew a deep breath and blinked. “Thank you.”

  She’d been wrong to think that Genevieve might have told him about her family history. Dusty obviously didn’t know, and she couldn’t think of a reason he’d find out. But could she really go on this way – without telling him everything about herself? What if he proposed and wanted to marry her – what then? Could she marry a man who might walk away if he knew everything about her?

  Her stomach tightened into a nauseating knot. She knew the answer to that – she couldn’t. She’d have to tell him the truth before they got any closer. But at the same time, she knew that if she did, there was a good chance he’d want nothing more to do with her. How many men would link themselves with such a woman? Who would want the mother of their children to be someone like her?

  She sighed and pulled her hand away from Dusty’s. She could see his surprise from the corner of her eye, but didn’t meet his gaze. Instead, she focused on the backs of the trotting horses that pulled the wagon through town.

  ***

  Dusty lifted his empty hand and laid it on his leg. She’d pulled hers away and now wouldn’t meet his eye. Ever since the day he’d missed taking her to the social, something had been bothering her. He wasn’t sure what– surely she couldn’t still be sore about it? He’d explained how Cookie had needed him, and he’d thought she understood. But maybe she was still peeved. He certainly didn’t pretend he knew everything there was to know about how women thought, but whatever it was, she’d been running hot and cold on him for weeks now.

  He fixed his hat and studied the back of her head. She really was lovely. Every time he saw her, he felt a stab of longing. He wanted nothing more than to hold her in his arms and feel her lips on his once again. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized the truth – she wouldn’t be likely to marry him. A beautiful, educated woman from Boston didn’t suit a roaming cowboy. Even if she did marry him, would she be happy with the life he could give her?

  ***

  Jane and Dusty wandered side by side along the street after the hay ride. Jane’s hands were
linked behind her back and she felt as though the wind had been driven from her sails. Dusty hadn’t done anything wrong, but all that thinking she’d done about what he might do had sent her head into a spin. Since the hay ride, he’d gone quiet and seemed lost in his own thoughts. She knew she’d hurt his feelings by pulling her hand away and clamming up, but there was nothing she could do about that now.

  A dozen or so children stood in squares etched into the packed dirt of the street. One walked slowly around the group chanting, “Duck … duck … duck …goose!” He tapped a girl’s shoulder and ran around the others. She leaped to her feet and took off in pursuit, her apron and petticoats streaming behind her. Nearby another group of children skipped in a circle holding hands and singing “Ring around the Rosie.” Jane smiled – she remembered playing those same games in her childhood and it warmed her heart to see them.

  Harvey Thompson waved a chubby hand at her, and she waved back. Then all the children noticed her and soon encircled her, clamoring for her attention and shouting to her all the things they’d done, games they’d played, foods they’d eaten and plans they had for the festival.

  She couldn’t help laughing at the cacophony of voices and the pulling of little hands on her gown and cloak. She patted a hand here, stroked a head there and congratulated or commiserated with each of them as appropriate. She glanced up to see Dusty watching the exchange with a half-smile on his handsome face, his hazel eyes sparkling.

  After a while Jane tried to keep walking, but was hemmed in on all sides by the children, who had begun bickering over who should be allowed to tell their story to Miss Wilder first and who got to sit with her during the potluck.

  Dusty pulled a clean kerchief from his coat pocket and held it high above his head. “Who wants to play Blind Man’s Bluff?” he cried.

  All the children jumped and jigged in place, shouting in delight. He placed the kerchief over Hubert Thompson’s eyes and secured it behind his head with a half-knot, then clapped his hands to quiet the mob. “So Hubert here’s gonna try to catch ya, and ya have to keep outta his reach. Don’t go far, and make sure to call out to him every now and then. All right, off ya go now.”

  The children ran in all directions, squealing and laughing, with Hubert lurching after them trying to grab them. Jane giggled at the sight, and her gaze fell on Dusty’s happy face. He was watching the game, egging Hubert on and shouting with delight when the boy caught one of the others. She’d never seen this side of Dusty before and it warmed her heart.

  He caught her eye and winked. “Shall we?”

  She took his arm with a slight dip of the head and a shy smile. Her heart pounded and her head swam with a confused jumble of thoughts, desires and longings. Oh, how she longed to be able to trust him fully with her heart. But she’d done that once before. She’d placed her confidence in a man, believing him to be good and kind, someone she could spend the rest of her life with. And he’d deserted her when she’d needed him most – turned his back on her and rejected her as everyone else had.

  In truth, she hadn’t felt about him the way she did now about Dusty – not in that heart-pounding, head-spinning kind of way. But she’d believed in him, and he’d given up on her the moment he discovered her secret. Why should she believe Dusty would do any different, just because she felt so much more for him?

  But Dusty was more a mystery to her than any other man in her life had ever been. She was never entirely sure what was going on in his head, and couldn’t be certain how he really felt about her. He certainly seemed to have affection for her, but how deep did his feelings run? She wished she knew – and at the same time she was glad she didn’t. For now, she liked living moment to moment, holding onto his arm and strolling down the street, believing he loved her and that the feeling would never change.

  They reached a row of tables built from leftover timber and old stumps and covered with tablecloths. The potluck lunch was already underway, and people swarmed around the food, holding plates high above the heads of children weaving in and out of the crowd. Dusty saw Cookie up ahead, setting a large black pot on one of the tables, and tipped his hat. “Cookie, good to see ya! What have ya got there?”

  “Liver and onions in this one. That one over yonder has yams.” Cookie stuck a large ladle into the pot and set the lid beside it. He drew a deep whiff of the rising steam and grinned. “Smells good.”

  “That looks wonderful and smells amazing,” Jane concurred. “I’m going to have some for sure. I’ll just get us some plates.” She hurried off to find plates and silverware.

  “How’s it goin’?” asked Cookie, nodding toward Jane’s retreating back.

  “Good, I think.” Dusty tipped his head back and scratched an itch on the tip of his nose. “She’s a wonder, that’s for sure. I’m never quite sure …”

  “Where ya stand?” finished Cookie with a smirk.

  “How’d ya know?”

  Cookie laughed and patted Dusty on the back. “It’s the bane of a man’s existence, lad. Womenfolk are hard for us cattlemen to fathom. We know longhorns and the trail, how to rope a steer and hunt for meat. But women? Pshaw – they’re a mystery.”

  Dusty grimaced and pushed his hat firmly back into place. “Is that so? What’s a fella to do about it, then?”

  “Don’t ask me, lad. I was married for nigh on twenty years and never quite figured it out. Ya can still be happy, though. ‘Course yer life‘ll never be yer own again. No doubt that’s what yer wantin’ with that pretty schoolmarm, though.” Cookie chuckled again and wandered off.

  Jane appeared at Dusty’s side and handed him a plate and fork. “Would you like me to serve yours as well, or do you have preferences on what you’d like to eat?” She smiled up at him and his stomach did a flip.

  “Thank ya, I can do it. Ain’t used to havin’ a pretty woman wait on me, though I’m sure it could grow on me.” He grinned and she returned his smile, her blue eyes crinkling at the edges in a way that set his heart racing.

  But at the same time, his mind swirled with the things Cookie said. He hadn’t thought about how marrying would change his life, not really. He’d thought about how nice it would be to come home to a wife and maybe even some children if God ordained. But he hadn’t stopped to think much about how he’d be stuck in one place. He couldn’t do as he wished, couldn’t head off for a few days without a moment’s notice to chase down some runaway steers, couldn’t sleep out under the stars just because he felt like it.

  Or could he? Would marriage change everything? Cookie said it would, and he’d been married for years. What if he never truly understood Jane, even after they wed? The thought that he might always have this feeling deep inside that he had to somehow win her over, that she was holding herself back from him, made him cringe inside. He didn’t want to live that way. It’d eat him up. He wanted her to be his, body and soul, or not at all.

  He scooped a ladleful of liver and onions onto his plate, then some mashed potatoes and gravy and a helping of beef stew. He and Jane strolled off to find seats. He sat beside her and their legs brushed together, hers under layers of gown and petticoats. Even under all that fabric, the thrill of her touch set his pulse racing.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Dusty tightened Rebel’s saddle girth and tested the fit by pulling on the saddle. It stayed in place and he grunted in approval. A few of the hands were joining a hunting party from Bozeman to try for some deer. Genevieve wanted to put away as much venison and smoked meat as possible before winter hit. Sarah wanted to join them, but seeing as how she was about to have a child any moment, she couldn’t. And was none too pleased about it.

  He’d thought about inviting Jane, but changed his mind – she wouldn’t like hunting, a city girl like her. Anyway, the last time he saw her she’d been standoffish. He was supposed to visit her the previous weekend, but hadn’t been able to. Some cattle rustlers were in the area and he and Dan had chased them off, but not before the scoundrels managed to nab a few of their fines
t cows. No doubt they’d show up again sometime with their brands altered. Rustlers liked to add a line or circle to the existing brand, making it seem as though the animal was from a different ranch.

  He shook his head in disgust and adjusted the saddle blanket, wondering what she’d thought when he didn’t show as planned. No doubt she was sore, but there wasn’t anything he could do. Thomas had already given him so many Saturdays off, the other ranch hands were getting sour over it. He could hardly skedaddle off to town right when they needed every available man.

  He swung his leg over the saddle and patted Rebel on the neck. “Let’s go find us some deer, boy.”

  Thomas, Dan and Vaquero were waiting for him at the end of the drive, and he clicked his tongue to hurry Rebel onward. Before long, they were all sailing across the valley. They let their mounts have their heads and the beasts all galloped gleefully, glad of the chance for a run.

  After a while, they slowed to a trot and Dan began whistling an unfamiliar tune. Dusty listened with half a mind, enjoying the beautiful fall day and the song all at once. He spurred Rebel forward to fall into step beside Dan’s chestnut mare. “Where’d ya learn that one?”

  Dan smiled. “Ma was a music teacher back in New York. I learned piano ‘til I was sixteen. Violin as well. I sure do miss it sometimes.”

  Dusty’s eyebrows arched in surprise. “I didn’t know ya was from New York?”

  “Yep. Not the city, mind – a town upstate called Schenectady. I left there when I turned seventeen – wanted adventure, and that’s what I got. Didn’t know where I’d end up and look at me now.” He sighed loudly and closed his eyes for a moment. “It doesn’t get much better than this. Did you learn piano when you were a kid, Dusty?”

  Dusty shook his head. “Nossir, I didn’t. My family didn’t have money for such things. I would’ve loved to. I did learn the fiddle and the mouth organ, but only from watchin’ other folks and tryin’ it myself.”