The only other salvageable things were the small table and one crudely built chair. He had no use for either and left them behind, after he released the three grouse that had somehow managed to trap themselves in a small wooden pen. If the birds were a bit smarter they would have realized they could have easily flown over the low sides of the haphazard enclosure. He shuddered at the thought of anyone, even prairie chickens, living in such conditions. Sammy's bark emitted from the back door. The sound forced Kid to make his way toward the house, knowing the dog had alerted Jessie to his arrival. Thick mud from traipsing through the soddy had gathered on the bottom of his boots. He knocked it off on the rock near the steps before climbing the porch stairs and opening the door.
The smell of scorched food made his nose and throat sting. Black smoke billowed from the oven door. Jessie stood beside the stove, waving a cloth at the swirls. He hurried across the room, grabbed the cloth from her hands and used it to 72
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remove the pan from the oven. Coughing at the acrid smoke, he carried the unrecognizable charred mass out the door. After setting the hot container on the ground, he waved the smoke away from his face and gulped for fresh air. Whatever was in the pan continued to crackle and hiss as he turned to walk back to the house.
Jessie stood on the porch, wringing her hands together.
"Oh, Mr. Quinter, I'm so sorry. I've never used an oven before. I thought I could bake some biscuits for supper. I..."
"Those were biscuits?"
She nodded. "I thought I just smelled the wood burning, until I opened the oven door." Her face scrunched with a worried frown.
"Did you burn yourself?"
"No, Sir." She glanced down at her hands, inspecting them.
Kid reached out and took the small fingers into his, looking for red marks. The tiny digits trembled, each one shivering in his palms. His gaze rose up her arms, past the slender neck to the top of her head. The long tresses had been smoothed away from her face and fell behind her shoulders like a cascade of corn silk. The flush on her round, elfin cheeks once again reminded him of a china doll. His fingers itched to see if the flawless skin felt as smooth and soft as it looked. The long, curled lashes of her lids fluttered up and down, making it hard for him to connect with the unique blue of her eyes. Then he caught the moisture on the tips of the lashes. The tears melted his heart. He brushed one thumb over the wetness. "Don't cry over burnt biscuits, Jessie." 73
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The flutters stopped and her gaze met his. "I ... I wanted to have supper ready when you got home." Yup, his heart was melting, warm, thick, blood raced to fill every inch of his six feet height. He squeezed the hand still in his and used his other to turn her around, toward the door. Guiding her beside him, he smiled down on the face looking up at him. "Thank you for trying. That was very nice of you." The haze had cleared, but the smell of burnt biscuits still filled the kitchen. Her pert nose curled up, and a sweet, soft smiled covered her face. "The stew should still be fine." She slipped from beneath his arm, walked to the stove and lifted the lid off a pot.
The separation came too quickly, he reached a hand out, almost grabbing her fleeing form before he realized the movement and shoved his hands in his pockets.
"I'm sure it will be fine. I'm so hungry I could eat a horse." Kid walked to the table. Maybe having a wife wouldn't be so bad, he wasn't much of a cook, but had managed to get by. A hot meal waiting every evening, as well as the company of a welcoming face would be a comfort he hadn't had in years. Jessie carried two bowls to the table, set one in front of him, and sat down. He looked at the dark broth in the bowl. A frown tugged at his brows. Steam floated up from it and tried to penetrate his nostrils. He sniffed harder. His sense of smell must still be irritated from the smoke, because he couldn't catch an appetizing whiff. It smelled more like old jerky. He lifted his spoon and stirred the contents. In the bottom of the bowl of brown water he detected a chunk of something. 74
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Catching it with the spoon, he lifted it into view. It looked like a chunk of old jerky. He glanced at Jessie. She lifted a spoonful, blew on it, and let the soup pour between her lips. Her tongue came out to catch any leftover drips before the spoon went back into the bowl. Kid let the chunk fall back into the bowl and filled the spoon with broth. The hot liquid landed in his mouth. Quickly, he pulled the spoon out and fought to swallow the bitter brew. His gag reflex put up a good fight. With a painful swallow, he managed to win the battle.
She continued to eat the soup like it was quite delicious. Her little tongue licked across pink lips with each sip. He pulled his gaze from the enticing picture and tried a second spoonful. This one was harder to make go down than the first one had been. It tasted like water old jerky had been boiled in. He searched for the clump in his bowl again, and once he found it, lifted it out. It was an old chunk of jerky. Sparkling blue eyes gazed at him, her smile encouraging him to eat. He gave a slight nod, and hiding a shudder, regrettably slipped the spoon into his mouth. His jaw tightened as he chewed. And chewed ... and chewed, trying to break down the smoked meat.
When Jessie looked back down at her bowl, as discreet as possible, he pulled the meat from his mouth and slipped it beneath the table.
A soft whine let him know Sammy wasn't willing to take it from his fingers. Stupid dog, he eats anything—everything. He glanced down and waved it below the dog's nose. Sammy 75
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lowered to the floor and placed both paws over his long snout.
Disgusted by the mutt, he pushed his chair away from the table. "Come on Sammy, you can go out while we eat." He walked to the door.
Sammy looked from him to Jessie. She reached down and patted the dog's head. "Be a good dog and go outside now." The lab gave him a scowl before he rose to his feet and padded to the door. After Sammy meandered out, Kid threw the chunk of meat out the door and closed it. He walked over to the cupboard and took out a loaf of bread, sliced off several large pieces, found a jar of his mother's jam, and carried it all to the table. Evidently, his new wife didn't know how to cook. Still, he looked forward to her company. Jessie accepted the piece he handed her. "Thank you. Would you like some more stew?"
"No, no, thank you. This will be fine." He pretended to eat a few more mouthfuls of soup before he gave up and filled the empty pit in his stomach with slices of bread. A new thought formed. "Did you find the pantry today?"
"The pantry?"
"Yes, the door, over there, beyond the stove, that's the pantry. There should be most everything you need for cooking in there. And behind the house, the small mound with the door, that's the root cellar. It has more supplies, as well as the ice for the ice box."
"Oh, no, I didn't look in either place. I found this jerky in the saddle bags on the coat rack by the front door, so thought I'd make a stew from it. I got the flour for the biscuits from 76
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the sacks Joe brought up to the house. He said you cut the bags up for dish towels, and bandages." Her eyes went to the scratch on his cheek. "Does your face hurt today?"
"Uh? No, no, my face is fine." That's why it tasted like old jerky, it was old jerky. He hadn't used that saddle bag since spring. Good thing the biscuits had burned. Heaven knows what they would have tasted like; those bags probably had been in the barn for years. He shrugged the shivers off his shoulders. "When you're done eating, I'll give you a more thorough tour, so you know where things are."
"I didn't want to be nosey, poking around your house. I hoped you wouldn't mind that I used the things I did," she said, twisting her spoon around with her fingers. A smile covered his face. "Well, it's your house too, now, so there's no need to worry about being nosey. Feel free to use whatever you need. And if you don't find something, just ask."
Jessie looked at his full bowl of soup. She couldn't blame him for not liking it. It tasted awful. She was used to eating things that tasted awful, but he probably wasn't.
"I'm afraid I'm not much of a cook. I've never used a stove. Soup is about all I know how to make."
"When I moved out on my own, Stephanie wrote down several recipes so I wouldn't starve. I'll show you were they are, maybe they'll help."
Hope at not being a complete failure as a wife rose in her chest. "Oh, yes, I'm sure I could follow a recipe. Russell was never around much for me to cook for." 77
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Kid leaned forward and pulled something from his back pocket. "I believe this is yours." Jessie took the hair brush, the only thing she had left from her younger days. She'd gotten it for her fifth birthday. "Yes, it is. Thank you." The tooled silver felt warm and smooth beneath her fingers, reminding her of plaguing thoughts. "Did you go to the soddy today?"
"Yes, I did." He leaned back in his chair and rubbed a hand over his chin.
"Did it survive the storm?" She'd wondered all day about the condition of the little house and worried about who would pick fresh grass for her prairie chickens.
"Not very well."
She sighed. "I was afraid of that. It needs so much work before winter sets in."
"I went there because I thought you might need some of your things. Clothes and such, but I didn't really find much." She picked the bowls off the table and rose to carry them to the counter. He now knew of her dismal life. He probably thought she was as money hungry and conniving as her brother. "The brush you found is about all I have."
"You don't have any other clothes or-or personal possessions?"
She shook her head. "I had another dress, but had to leave it in Dodge City when we left." After setting the dishes down, she turned to walk back to the table. Kid stood right behind her and stopped her before she could walk past him. "How long have you been living in the soddy?"
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"Almost three months, but I wasn't squatting. I went into Nixon a couple months ago and claimed the land. It's in my name and filed with the government." Her voice trembled. She knew first hand how most people felt about squatters.
"I know you weren't squatting." His hands rubbed her shoulders.
She hadn't felt comforting touches in such a long time. The soothing, warm pressure made her throat burn. Over the years, she'd met many kind people who took sympathy on her situation. Usually, within days if not hours, Russell would do something to make those same people turn their backs on her, simply because she was his sister. The thought made her heart hurt, again, like it had so many times before. That wellknown, lonely ache in the middle of her chest also said it would happen again.
She stepped aside and lifted her chin a touch. "No, this time we weren't squatting."
His stare, the one she couldn't see, but felt burning her back as she walked to the table to get the empty bread plate, made her eyes sting.
"What do you mean, this time?" Kid asked. Jessie twisted to face him. Something in his brown eyes was so kind and caring. She pressed her empty hand against her breastbone, already sorry for whatever the future would bring.
"I've been a squatter before and didn't want to be one again. People are not kind to squatters. People don't like..." her voice trailed away, a thick sob in her throat blocking any other words.
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"Aw, sweetheart," he whispered. Solid arms folded her against his chest so tight the plate in her hand flattened between them.
The affectionate, gentle caress of his hands moving across her back and running down the length of her hair offered more compassion than she'd ever known. The sob became uncontrollable and escaped with a croaking sound. Tears began to stream from her eyes. His embrace grew stronger and as soft words of comfort tickled her ears, she wept into his chest. Years of troubling and scaring times floated through her mind.
Jessie cried until she had no tears left, and the sobs eased into slow even breathing. She felt drained and oddly refreshed at the same time. Taking a cleansing breath, she lifted her face from his chest. Gentle brown eyes gazed down, an easy grin lifting the corners of his mouth. The smile made little creases appear in the sun-browned skin around his mouth and eyes.
Her heart somersaulted. The corners of her mouth curved into a smile as she lifted a hand to wipe at the moisture on her cheeks. "I'm sorry, I..."
"Shhh," his lips puckered.
Jessie stared in awe as they lowered to gently brush against her forehead, soft and warm. They floated across her skin, leaving a small trail of healing kisses. She closed her eyes, and a moan released from her throat at the soothing affects.
His lips continued to appease, gliding across her cheeks, touching on her nose. When they touched her mouth, the 80
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connection surprised her enough to make her lips part with a slight gasp. The warm sensation flowing through her veins wasn't frightening or upsetting, instead it was encouraging and quite delightful.
Kid's mouth coupled with hers, the movement acted like a leash, pulling her to copy his actions. Their lips joined, then separated and searched for another way to unite, the whole while making the warm stir in her body move faster, until it became heady and desirable. It was so natural, like walking, she didn't need to think as each movement naturally followed another. But Jessie was thinking, thinking kissing Kid was truly amazing and wonderful.