Lorraine Heath (17 page)

“You made this,” she said.

“But not what’s in it.”

Slowly, she opened the box. Nestled inside was a tiny silver drum with seemingly random bumps running over it. Thin metal teeth touched the drum.

“A music box,” she whispered.

“I was going to buy you one already made, but none of the boxes opened to show you the music, they only showed you another box. Thought you’d like to see the music being made. You wind it up back here.”

Rebecca turned the box around and twisted the tiny knob. She listened and watched in delight as the tiny creation tinkled out the notes to “The Cowboy’s Lament.”

Placing her palm on Jake’s cheek, she turned his face towards hers and brushed a kiss across his lips. “Thank you. It’s beautiful.”

“Open yours, Jake!” Frank said. “You’re the only one left that hasn’t opened his gift.” He and the other men had already unwrapped theirs.

Jake untied the ribbon on the perfectly wrapped gift, revealing a pair of thick gloves.

“Goddamn! She got us both the same thing!” Frank said, holding up an identical pair, wondering why she hadn’t given Jake something special. It was a thought that didn’t cross Jake’s mind.

“They’re supposed to be really tough … for handling barbed wire,” Rebecca explained.

“With all the wire we’re stringing, Frank and I sure can use them. Thank you.”

“Try them on,” Rebecca prodded. “If they don’t fit, we’ll have to send them back.”

Jake slipped his hand inside one and froze, then he
slowly pulled his hand out, clasping a gold pocket watch, its gold chain trailing behind.

“Open it,” Rebecca whispered.

Jake looked at her. “Open it?”

“The watch. There’s something inside for you.”

Inside, carved letters said, “To the one I cherish. Reb.”

“It’s not as special,” Rebecca said. “I didn’t actually do the carving.”

Jake ran a finger across the etched words. “It’s very special,” he said in a hoarse voice, wishing all the men would head back to the bunkhouse now. He needed time to adjust to receiving such a wondrous gift.

“Goddamn! You could at least kiss her!” Frank exclaimed. “She didn’t put nothing in my gloves!”

Laughter filled the barn and Jake was grateful the spell was broken. He turned to his wife and gave her a light kiss. “Thank you.”

“Now, it’s our turn,” Lee said as he stood up, holding a sprig of green over his head. “We had one hell of a time finding this.” He extended a hand to Rebecca. “Come on, Reb, don’t let us down.”

Laughing, Rebecca put her hand in his, allowing herself to be pulled into his arms. “You must really be desperate,” she teased.

“Yes, ma’am, we are,” Lee said as he leaned over to kiss her. “Night, Jake,” he said with a smile as he handed the mistletoe off to the next man.

Frank was the last one in line. He placed his kiss on Rebecca’s cheek, then said, “Thanks for giving me something so fine. Made me feel special.”

“You are special, Frank.”

“Merry Christmas,” he said with a duck of his head as he headed out the barn door.

One small gift remained under the tree. Jake picked it up and slipped it into the pocket of his jacket.

“I’m going to take a quick ride out to check on the herd,” he said.

She slipped her arms around his waist, turning her face
up to gaze at him. “I’m sorry he didn’t come.” Jake nodded. “Maybe next year.”

The night began to turn brisk as the wind picked up. The moon illuminated the herd as the cattle stood bracing themselves against the chill. Zach brought the collar of his jacket up to protect his neck and brought his hat down lower. Jake had said he thought the cattle would be fine with no one watching them tonight and had invited everyone to join them in the barn for a small Christmas celebration. And Zach had wanted to go. He knew what Jake was giving Rebecca, and he had wanted to see her face when she opened the gift. He heard a rider approach, surprised to see Jake drawing up beside him.

“You would have been welcome,” Jake said as he pulled on the reins of his horse.

Zach shook his head. “Just couldn’t do it.”

“The men—”

“It’s got nothing to do with the men.” Zach leaned his head back, felt the wind hit his neck and tucked his chin back into the jacket. “When I was ten, Mother put candles on the branches of our tree, something she had never done before because she was afraid of fire. We were laughing and unwrapping gifts, eating all the food she had cooked. Having one hell of a good time.” Zach turned to Jake. “Then Mother told me to go blow out all the candles. Before I did, I looked out the window and there you were, squatting down in the yard, staring at the tree, the flames from the candles throwing light across your face.”

“It was a beautiful tree,” Jake admitted, remembering the sight of the candles flickering in the window and reflecting on the snow.

“I was on the inside looking out; you were on the outside looking in. Well … now, you’re the one on the inside and you deserve to be.”

“There’s room on the inside for you, too, Zach. Reb would have liked for you to have been there with us.”

Zach smiled. “That’s reason to go, I suppose. If you both
feel the same next year, I’ll join you.”

Jake reached into his pocket and extended the small gift to Zach. “It’s just a little something I picked up.”

Zach unwrapped the gift and smiled at the harmonica he found inside. He wished he had thought to get something for Jake.

“I heard you playing on a harmonica one night. I liked the way it sounded,” Jake said.

“Unfortunately, Father heard it, too.”

“Your father called it Satan’s noise.”

Zach turned the instrument over in his hand and said quietly, “He was your father, too.”

Jake shook his head. “Takes more than planting the seed to make a man a father.”

And it took more than having the same father to make two men brothers, Zach thought.

“Besides,” Jake continued. “I’m not convinced he was my father. Hell, Zach, my mother was a whore. Any drifter passing through could have sired me.”

Zach’s gaze intensified as he studied the man before him. “She wasn’t a whore before she conceived you,” he said, his voice low as though he were revealing something he had been sworn to secrecy not to tell. “She was my mother’s sister.

“She had come to live with us after our grandparents died. After she got pregnant, she moved into town, went to work at the local bordello. It was years before Father knew why she’d left, years before my mother knew who had fathered her sister’s baby.”

Jake had no words to express what he was feeling. Zach expected none. He sighed, lightly tossing the harmonica in his hand. “We weren’t allowed music. Father gave you twelve lashes because I played this damn thing.”

“It was only ten. And he’s not here now. Good night, Zach … and thanks for telling me. I always wondered.”

As he galloped away, the strains from “Amazing Grace” filled the air, replenishing a tortured soul with peace.

Standing beside the bed, Jake looked down on his sleeping wife. She was lying on her back, her hands palms up
resting on her pillow, the music box sitting on her stomach. He caressed the etched letters on his watch with his thumb. She cherished him. He wondered how close that came to love.

Slowly, she opened her eyes. “Did you find him?”

Jake sat down on the bed. “Yes. He wouldn’t come because I wasn’t allowed to celebrate Christmas with his family.”

She shook her head. “In many ways, I think Zach suffered almost as much as you did. Maybe Ethan did, too, although I find it difficult to feel any sympathy for him. You’re the one who should have been bitter, who should have grown into an angry man.”

Jake smiled in remembrance. “I can probably thank my mother that I didn’t. I was only five when she died, but I can still hear the softness of her voice, feel the gentle touch of her hand. I carry her with me always. Only thing that got me through sometimes.”

“That’s the kind of mother I’d like to be,” Rebecca said.

“I have no doubts that’s exactly the kind of mother you will be.”

Rebecca lifted the music box off her stomach. “I was letting him listen to it.”

“You think he can hear it?”

She shrugged. “I hope he can hear what’s going on out here, otherwise I’ve spent a great deal of time singing lullabies to myself these past few months.”

He opened his hand, revealing the watch. “I want to thank you for the watch. I never had such a fine gift before.”

Rebecca sat up, brushing his hair up off his brow. “I wanted you to know how much you mean to me. You’re my best friend, Jake. Under the circumstances, I don’t think there’s anyone else I could have married.” She slipped two fingers up the cuff of her gown and retrieved the sprig of green. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice that you didn’t get in line?” She held the mistletoe over his head. “Don’t disappoint me,” she whispered.

And he didn’t.

P
RESSING TIGHTENED FISTS
into her lower back, Rebecca arched her spine trying to ease the dull ache that had begun early that morning. They were five days into the new year. According to her estimates, she had nearly three more weeks of waddling like a duck and feeling the increased discomfort she was fighting now.

Jake walked into their home holding two plates heaped with vittles, the weary lines etched on his face deepening as he caught sight of his wife.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes,” she sighed. “My back is just aching. I feel like this baby turned into a steel cannonball today and fell from my ribs to my knees.”

“You think a hot bath would help?”

A hot bath would be heaven, and if she weren’t an invalid, she’d take one. But she wasn’t going to ask Jake to prepare one for her.

“It’s too much trouble,” she said, trying to keep the longing out of her voice and succeeding, but her eyes failed her efforts.

Jake set the plates on the table and tugged on his shirt. “There’s no way I can lay in that bed with you tonight smelling the way I do, and washing up’s not going to do me any good. I’d like a bath, too.”

Once the dishes were cleared away, Jake brought out a large wooden tub and set it up behind the quilt. Then he began hauling water in and heating it up. When he had
filled the tub with steaming water, he stepped out from behind the quilt and bowed, extending an arm towards the bath.

“You first.”

Laughing, Rebecca walked past him. “I won’t argue this time.”

Leaning back against the wooden tub, the warm water lapping around her body, Rebecca closed her eyes and signed. She longed to sit in the water all night, but she knew Jake would use the same water when she was finished. It was too much trouble to empty the tub and refill it. She had felt guilty the first time they had used the tub because she hadn’t realized that he would use her water, and it was cold by the time she clambered out.

Picking up the lard soap, she began rubbing it between her hands, thinking of French soaps and other things that were rarely found out here. The hard soap went slipping out of her hands, thudding and skidding across the floor, beneath the quilt and into the other side of the room. She froze. Should she climb out of the tub and try to get it herself? Should she ask Jake to get it for her?

Jake looked at the uneven ball of soap as though it were something alien, something he had never before seen. Should he step outside so she’d feel free to get out of the tub and get it herself? Should he kick it back under the quilt? Dammit! She was his wife, he’d see her body and a whole lot more before the next month rolled around. Jake got up and walked towards the quilt, bent down and picked up the soap. He weighed it in his hand as he weighed his options.

He stepped around the quilt. Her back was to him and she glanced at him over her hunched shoulders. She tentatively held out a hand, while the other ineffectually covered her upper body. Her dark hair was piled on top of her head, dampened tendrils framing her face. He took a step forward and placed the soap in her outstretched hand before turning and heading out of the house.

Standing on the porch, he inhaled deeply. Handing her the soap was not what he had wanted to do. He had wanted
to scrub her back, to ease that ache in her lower back. Sweet Lord, but he wanted to touch her the way a man touches his wife, the way a man touches the woman he loves. He bowed his head, wondering if she would ever want him the way he wanted her. But he realized he was being unfair. Right now, she was swollen and miserable and the last thing she probably wanted was a man touching her.

The door squeaked behind him and Rebecca stuck her head out.

“I’m finished,” she said quietly.

Turning, Jake gave her a small smile and went into the house to scrub the grime off his own body.

Sitting on the sofa with her feet drawn up under her, Rebecca listened to the muffled sounds of Jake’s movements behind the quilt. She heard the gentle lapping of the water as he set his lean frame down into the tub. Then drawing in a deep breath, she got up, and shoving the sleeves of her gown past her elbows, she moved around behind the quilt.

He was scrubbing his face, and she watched the play of muscles across his back. Then she knelt down behind him and placed a finger on his shoulder. All his actions, including breathing, ceased.

“I’ll wash your back,” she said, extending a hand forward to receive the soap.

He glanced back over his shoulder. “I can do it.”

She shook her head. “You’ve been working hard. It’s the least I can do, and I won’t strain myself doing it.” She shook her hand. “Give me the soap and lean forward.”

He did as she asked. She lathered up the soap and began washing his back, rubbing it and massaging it in the process. Had anything ever felt so nice?

“I wanted to do this for you,” he said quietly.

“Why didn’t you?”

“I wasn’t sure you’d want me to.”

She continued to wash his firm back, rinsing the soap off and then re-washing until she heard his steady, slow rhythmic breathing.

“Jake?” She pressed two fingers into his back. “Jake?”

His head snapped up, his eyes trying to focus, his mind trying to remember where he was. “I’ll finish,” he said groggily.