Read The Devil's Daughter Online

Authors: Laura Drewry

Tags: #Man-Woman Relationships, #Western Stories, #General, #Romance, #Historical, #Fiction, #Texas, #Love Stories

The Devil's Daughter (20 page)

“Also true,” he answered, taking the seat Charlie indicated and tossing his hat on the one in the corner.

“Good for you.” The other man took a long sip from his coffee mug, then promptly spat it in a bucket near his feet. “Guh – hate cold coffee.”

“Nothing worse,” Jed agreed.

Charlie wiped his mouth, then propped his feet up on his desk. “What can I do for you, Caine?”

“We’d talked before about me bringing you the trees off my spread to plane into boards for the barn and house, but I need to change that. Seems my herd’s on its way already, and I’d like to have a barn up and ready by the time they get here in case there’s some that need tending and such.”

“How much d’you need?”

Jed rattled off the measurements of the barn he’d planned. “And I’ll be needing more for another pen. Seems George saved me two bulls instead of one.”

Charlie nodded, his eyes narrowed slightly in thought. “You know my prices, Caine. And if you want it delivered, that’s another two dollars.”

Jed nodded. “Fair enough. How soon can I get it?”

“Well that depends.” He pulled his feet down and leaned across his desk, a wave of embarrassment crossing his eyes. “Your. . .well. . .oh hell. Here’s the thing.”

He chewed his cheek before continuing.

“Sam put in a fair-sized order a while back, and it’s been sitting here for over a week.”

Jed swallowed hard.

“I’m sorry as hell ‘bout what happened to him,” Charlie went on. “But I can’t hold that lumber much longer, Jed. If you don’t want it, I’ll have to sell it to someone else.”

Sam’s lumber. He’d ordered it the day he disappeared, and had planned to build his wife and baby a proper home. Now that plan sat in ruin, along with Maggie’s hopes for a happy life with her husband.

Dammit.

“I’ll take it, but I’ll need my order as well.” He’d use Sam’s lumber to build Maggie a home, a place for her to raise her baby and still give her a connection – albeit small – to Sam.

Charlie gave an abrupt nod as he dug through the papers on his desk. “Here’s the amount owing. Is tomorrow too soon to deliver it?”

“Nope. Tomorrow’s just fine.” He pushed up from his chair and retrieved his hat. “I’ll get you the money and be back shortly.”

He shook Charlie’s hand and left the way he came in. Jesus, Mary and Joseph, but he’d never spent so much money in all his life. What with the herd and the lumber, there’d be hardly anything left in the bank.

And how could he forget Lucy’s new dress? The idea of her being happy swelled his heart. The idea of her in a fancy new dress swelled a whole different part of him.

 

 

CHAPTER FOURTEEN
 

Lucy stepped out of Miss Celia’s dress shop and shaded her eyes against the sun’s glare. While Miss Celia took care to wrap the new purchases properly, Lucy pulled her new black wool coat closed and fastened the buttons up to her neck.

She could have stayed inside the shop, where it was warmer, but Jed had been gone too long. What if he’d met up with Deacon when Lucy wasn’t there to intercede? Or worse - what if Deacon had. . .

No. She wouldn’t think about that.

Where could he--

Jed. He stepped up on the boardwalk way down at the end of the street, but Lucy could pick him out of a crowd without hesitation. He had a certain way of holding himself straight when he walked, his head high, his eyes straight ahead.

Deacon hadn’t hurt him.

Lucy brushed the thought aside. Deacon didn’t matter. All that mattered was her husband was still very much alive and walking the earth. In fact, he was walking directly toward her, a huge grin on his face.

“Nice coat,” he said, then leaned in to kiss her cheek.

“Thank you.” She grinned. “I like it.”

He stepped aside to let her back into the store, then paid Miss Celia in full before leading Lucy back outside.

“I rather thought you’d be wearing your new dress,” he teased.

“Oh no,” Lucy shot back. “That one’s for your eyes only, husband.”

Color shot up Jed’s neck. He licked his lips twice and blinked hard.

“Then I guess we should be on our way.”

Lucy looped her hand beneath his elbow, ever watchful for any sign of Deacon. Her brush with the reverend had been enough of a fright for one day; the last thing she needed was to meet up with her brother before she’d fully recovered.

She held her breath while Jed settled the bill at the livery, then helped her up into the wagon. It wasn’t until they were well out of town that she began to relax again.

“Did you get your business taken care of?” she asked.

“Even more than I’d planned.”

“How do you mean?” she asked, scooting closer to him.

Jed moved the reins into his left hand so he could wrap his right arm around her shoulders.

“The lumber for the barn’ll be delivered tomorrow, so we can get to work on that right away.”

“Good news,” she muttered, then laughed and rested her head against his shoulder. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“That’s my girl.” He kissed the top of her head. “It’s all going to work out, Lucy. Just you wait.”

Oh, she was waiting all right. Waiting and worrying – two thing she didn’t have time for.

“So we’d best get to work as soon as we get home then,” she said. The thought of clearing more cacti and bushes made her want to cry, but she didn’t.

She couldn’t.

Weak women cried, and she didn’t have time to be weak.

“Well,” Jed answered, his voice low. “Not as soon as we get home.” When she looked up, he smiled and shrugged. “Seems there’s a dress I need to see first.”

Maybe tonight would be the night Jed finally gave in to her. Maybe tonight she’d finally get what she wanted.

What was it that she wanted again?

Freedom.

Freedom from an eternity in the deepest, darkest, depths of Hell.

She bit her tongue just as the word began to slip from it. Oh yes, she wanted her freedom. And regardless of how warm and wonderful Jed made her feel, regardless of how much she’d miss him when he was gone, and regardless of how much she’d grown to. . .

This was madness.

Nothing made sense anymore. All the emotions she was used to feeling – impatience, fear, anger and hatred – disappeared when she was with Jed. Instead, she felt. . .what?

It didn’t matter what she felt. All she cared about was her freedom. Once she had escaped for good, she could take the time to try to understand these new feelings.

But between now and then, she’d stay right where she was, in Jed’s warm embrace, and hope she’d be able to remember it when she was free.

Free and alone.

She’d been alone in her life thus far; she could certainly remain that way once this was over. How hard could it be?

Lucy closed her eyes and inhaled slowly, trying to loosen the knots from her stomach and shoulders. But no matter how hard she tried to block them, disturbing images crashed and crowded through her mind; Deacon hovering over Jed’s lifeless body, then setting his evil sights on Maggie. Then Lucy.

A nudge on her shoulder brought her back to reality.

“Hey,” Jed murmured. “We’re home.”

“What?” Lucy sat up slowly, glancing around. Sure enough, the wagon had come to a stop just outside the lean-to barn.

“You slept almost the whole way.” Jed smiled at her. “All that shopping must have worn you out.”

“Yes,” she fumbled to answer. “I guess it did.”

The memory of her dream wouldn’t leave her alone. She tried to shake it off, but threads of the image lingered in her mind even as Jed lifted her down from the wagon seat.

He handed her the large package Miss Celia had wrapped and turned her toward the barn.

“Go.”

“But what about. . .” she faltered.

This was no time to hesitate. She’d spent all this time trying to get Jed to show interest and now that he finally was, she was gripped by a fear so deep she wasn’t even sure she could walk.

“I’ll take care of this.” Jed shrugged toward the supplies in the back of the wagon, then pointed at the package in her hands. “You go take care of that.”

She swallowed hard and forced a smile, one that showed no signs of convincing Jed of anything. Ugh – she was so stupid. This was not the time to be afraid. This was the time to finish things. If she didn’t, Deacon certainly would.

Lucy hurried inside the barn, back to the far corner where they slept, but took several minutes to catch her breath before she moved a step farther. She could do this. She had to do this.

Breathe
.

What if Jed didn’t react the way she wanted him to – or the way she needed him to?

What if, once he realized she wasn’t as experienced as she’d led him to believe, he’d be so furious at yet another lie that he refused to have anything to do with her?

 Jed Caine was a man of truth, and even though this wasn’t a big lie – or even a bad lie – he’d no doubt consider it a lie nonetheless.

Breathe
.

She’d have to deal with that when the time came. Right now, she had to focus on getting him to that point. And that meant she’d have to shake off these fears and finish the job she came here to do.

A rush of warmth pooled in her belly, the same warmth that came with every thought of Jed touching her. No one else had ever caused that odd rush inside her. What did it mean?

Trouble, that’s what it meant.

Outside the horses whinnied and snorted while Jed released them from the harness and led them inside the lean-to. A few minutes later, the sounds of the wagon bed creaking beneath his weight hurried Lucy into action. She had to be ready by the time he’d finished.

With careful fingers, she removed the string around the package and laid it open on the blanket. The deep purple silk appeared almost black in the dimness of the barn. No lace, no ribbons, no. . .what was the word Jed had used that first day? Frippery. No frippery.

It was everything she knew it should be, and nothing Jed would be expecting.

She pulled off her green dress, shook it out, and hung it on one of the nails she’d hammered up. Shivering against the cool air, she hastened to rid herself of drawers, stockings and chemise, too.

Poor Jed. He had no idea what was coming.

When he’d sent her into the store for a new dress, he hadn’t been overly specific about what kind of dress she was to purchase.

He no doubt expected a fancy supper gown, much like the green one now hanging on the nail. Originally, Lucy had thought the same thing, but then Miss Celia had shown her this amazing garment instead.

A nightgown was still a gown.

Fingers trembling, she shook the silky fabric out gently before slipping it over her head and letting it slide down her body. The only thing better than the feel of silk against her skin was Jed’s hands, but she wouldn’t think of that.

She
wouldn’t
.

She’d think about the silk. Beautiful plum-colored silk.

It had been a long time since the last creak of the wagon – surely he hadn’t finished so soon. Lucy hurried into the matching silk robe and fastened the tie at her throat, her fingers trembling harder with each movement.

No bustle, no hoops, no frippery. Just plain and simple. Almost practical. She glanced down at the neckline and grinned. Maybe not so practical.

She pulled her brush and hairpins from the shelf and set to work. Miss Celia had suggested she wear her hair up in a soft knot, and if anyone knew style, it was Miss Celia. So up it went.

With her neck bare to the wind and cold, and the thin silk doing nothing to keep her warm, she’d have to live with that for one more night. After all, one more night of cold certainly beat an eternity of hellfire.

Her stomach fluttered and pitched with every breath, and her hands trembled incessantly. With a final deep and shuddering breath, she opened the barn door and peeked out into the last light of day.

At first she didn’t see him. Perhaps he’d gone into the house. . .

There he was. A hundred yards down the path to the creek, he’d stopped cold and was staring at her. Even with the distance separating them, she could sense his clean shirt prickling against his chest and arms, could feel his fingers aching to scratch it. But he didn’t.

Maybe because his hands were full of dirty clothes.

Lucy swallowed hard, but remained where she was. She could do this. She could. Couldn’t she?

After a long, earth-tipping moment, he finally took a step, then another, each longer than the last, until he stopped two arm lengths away. The dirty clothes tumbled from his arms as he walked--first his shirt, then his other pair of pants and underthings. He tripped over them as he walked, but didn’t slow down or move to retrieve them.

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