The Milch Bride (17 page)

She had him cared for and playing with his toes on the
folded quilt when the men began to arrive for supper. The table was set with
the spicy meat, pulled and seasoned in a big bowl. The rolls were split and the
slaw lightly seasoned. Fresh tomatoes were sliced on a big plate and there was
a bowl of sliced cucumbers in vinegar. The men drank cold water and hot coffee,
and ate quickly, the fresh greens disappearing first. No matter how hungry,
they would eat with a mind to the ones still to eat, and leave enough for the
other men. But something rare, like the greens, was always first come, first
served.

Hattie waited on table, missing the conversation that flowed
so easily when Jackson and James Boyd were present. Mostly, she missed Rubye. Even
though they had seldom gotten along, she was always a little frightened and
edgy being in the house alone with only men.

As soon as she could, she moved to the settee and took J.D.
onto her lap, prancing the pony for him. As quickly and almost as quietly as
they arrived, the men rose to leave, each stopping to thank her for the great
meal. Clearing the table, she covered all the remaining food with a cloth, then
carried plates to the kitchen to wash. The house was silent, the baby playing
with his pony and carved toys.

Hattie shook her head. When would the fear go away? She
could feel her hands shake as she stacked the dirty plates. She knew these men;
they were all respectful to her and had been nothing but kind. But just being
in the house alone with them made her heart beat faster, her knees quake with
fear. Even Jackson, her own husband, whom she respected and felt far more for,
had filled her with terror this morning in bed.

Yet, outside, in the morning sun, when he’d held his son and
smiled at her, her heart had beat with joy, not fear. He was so kind to her,
why couldn’t she be a real wife to him? Finished, she sat and talked to J.D.
while she went back to work on the doll.

She made loops around her hand with reddish orange yarn. Stopping,
she stitched the middle of the loops onto the doll’s head. The double row of
stitches formed the part in his hair and she added a row of stitches along the
bottom of each strand to keep his hair combed, and then clipped the ends of the
loops to leave the doll with a mop of red hair. She went to the room for ink
and pen, then as carefully as possible, drew eyes, nose and a smiling mouth on
the doll. Not satisfied with the mouth, she made a smaller series of loops and
tacked on a mustache, the ends caught with thread and stitched down to give him
a funny, red handlebar mustache.

She shook the doll, laughing at the silly face and hair. J.
D. reached for it and she held him lower for the baby to look at closer. When
he squealed in delight, she handed him the doll. Next she would have to make
the little naked cowboy some clothes. She wondered if she could make a pair of
boots and vest from the rabbit skin, still tacked to the rail on the porch.

As soon as she stepped out onto the porch, she saw the wagon
headed toward the house. She started to run inside, but then recognized James. For
the first time since Jackson left, she relaxed.

That was a mistake; the old cowboy dismounted and almost
fell over the gate. Hattie managed to catch the bottle of vinegar but Boyd let
out a string of curse words. The air still blue, he unloaded the buckboard,
then drove it to the barn to unhitch the horses.

Hattie wondered if he was most upset about the gate or if he
was mad for other reasons. Once he was inside, she invited him to eat while she
put things away.

“Done took supper with Miss White, over at the Dawson’s.
Where’s the boss?”

The nervousness that had shadowed her all day returned. “He
rode out to our ranch this afternoon, promised to take another hand with him. Cliff
and Hank haven’t come in to eat either.”

“Cliff will be gone a couple of days. He had to go into
Waco.”

She smiled sadly, shaking her head. “How is Rubye doing?”

“Ha, we ate in the kitchen, since she’s just help. The
Dawsons set a little higher than other people.”

Hattie knew without asking what Rubye would think of that.
While they talked, James carried the dry goods inside the pantry, helped to
store them. When J.D. sounded off about being abandoned, it was James who went
back to pick him up.

She carried out her mother’s spice jars to the table where
she had left the spices in their small bags, stored the new spices, then
carried the canning jars into the kitchen to wash and stand to drain.

They heard horses in the yard and Hattie couldn’t hide her
excitement. She ran, stood at the door and felt like crying when Jackson swung
down and handed his reins to Hank. Brushing at her eyes, she stepped onto the
shadowed porch. “You’re home safe,” she cried. Before she could move, he opened
the porch gate and swept her into his arms. This time, in the dark, he kissed
her and she clung to him, fighting back the tears that had shadowed her all
afternoon.

When he finally released her and they moved apart she
whispered guiltily. “James is just back from town.”

“Good, I’ve got a lot of questions for him.” He smiled down
at her, his teeth flashing in the shadows.  “Hattie, that’s the kind of welcome
that makes a man glad to be married,” he whispered, his hand reaching out to
stroke down her cheek and lift her chin so he could see her nervous smile.

She reached up to grab his hand, confused by all the
conflicting emotions sweeping through her and tugged him inside.

James Boyd stood in the kitchen, holding an excited J.D. Jackson
smiled and leaned over to kiss the baby who gave him an open-mouthed kiss in
return. He held his new toy up for Jackson to kiss in turn.

He looked at the funny red-headed doll and turned to grin at
her.

“It’s a cowboy for his pony. I need to make some clothes. I
was going to try to use the rabbit skin for boots and a vest but James came and
I haven’t had time.”

James still held the bouncing baby, even though J.D. was
trying to get his daddy to take him.

“Sorry bucko, but I need to wash up first,” Jackson said,
handing back the doll.

While Jackson stepped into the kitchen to wash up, James
said to Hattie. “There’s a bag of rags in the bunkhouse, old shirts and ripped
jeans. I’ll bring them over in the morning before church. As for boots and a
vest, you might have better luck sewing kid-leather then rabbit skin. There’s
probably some of that in the barn in the leather patching kit, I’ll check for
you.”

“Thank you James. I guess he’s a silly looking doll, I just
thought he might like having another toy.”

“Naw, I think he could make a tough little cowboy,
especially with that big mustache.”

She blushed, glad again for the complement. Jackson smiled
at the exchange, and then moved the cloths covering the food. “Looks good.
Everybody else ate?”

“Nearly an hour ago. James ate in town, but there should be
enough left for you and Hank.”

“You ate?” The question was pointed and Hattie realized she
hadn’t and remembered what had happened the last time she skipped a meal. She
shook her head and sank into a chair. Obediently she filled her plate, making a
sandwich of the pulled elk and sliced tomatoes, taking a few cucumber slices to
eat with it, leaving the rest of the coleslaw for them. James brought up milk
and poured some for her, leaving the pitcher beside her just as Rubye would
have done.

Hank came in and James sat down with the others, sipping at
a cup of coffee.

“Tastes mighty good for elk,” Hank said over a mouth full of
the barbecue.

“I’m sure it was better hot. I probably should have heated
it up for you.”

Jackson shook his head, turned to James. “How’s Rubye
doing?”

He repeated what he had told her before they arrived.

“Any talk about the rustlers in town?”

“None, and when I asked, people gave me the ‘what-you-talking-about’
look. Rubye said it was the same at the Dawsons. The one time she asked Mr.
Dawson, he gave her a look like she was making up a fairy tale – like he didn’t
know rustlers even existed.”

Jackson took the news, chewed on it while he finished one
sandwich and then made another. Hank did the same, spooning extra sauce over
his meat before forking up the last ragged slices of tomato. Hattie wished she
had made dessert. Tomorrow, maybe she would try baking a cake.

“Does she want to come back?” Hattie asked.

“You mean you’re willing for her to live here again?” James
asked.

“Of course, why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well, you seem to have things under control. Handling it
all alone, it looks like you even have time for sewing and canning.”

Hattie smiled wearily. “You and Jackson did my chores before
breakfast or I could barely have cooked for the men. Jackson helped me by
emptying my wash water and helped me hang clothes. Then he fenced the porch and
built the gate so I could make sure Jackie was safe while I worked outside, or
I couldn’t have picked and washed the vegetables. He even helped watch the baby
for me so I could cook supper. I need help.”

“Rubye said some mighty mean things.”

Hattie looked down at the table, and then raised her eyes.
“She would have to apologize to both of us, of course. Do you think she would
be willing to do that?”

“It’s hard to say with Rubye. She can be mighty stiff-necked
sometimes.”

“Forget all that for now. I’ve got your crocks outside and
that meat mill,” Jackson interrupted. “But I want a hot bath. So, let’s get
some water on to boil. James, can you help?”

The old cowhand rose and left to get the water and Hattie
went back to the kitchen to fire up the stove again. When the tub was filled in
the pantry, the men left the house so Hattie could take the first bath. Jackson
stood on the porch, the sleeping baby cradled against him, his head on his
broad shoulder, the new toy wedged between them, and stared down at James.

“What was the reaction to the news that we’re married?”
Jackson asked.

“I didn’t get a chance to tell Rubye before the preacher dropped
by and gave the Dawsons and her the low-down. You don’t want to know what they
all had to say. Reckon he’ll have the word spread around town before church
tomorrow.”

“I was hoping that it would remove Rubye’s objections and
she would want to come home. I knew the Dawsons would be upset.”

“Upset, don’t begin to cover what Irene Dawson was. She
started ranting like a crazy woman.”

“I don’t want Hattie to have to put up with any more
nonsense. We’re married, she’s my legal wife, and I won’t tolerate any slurs
about my wife. Maybe I should wear a gun, maybe we should just stay home again
this Sunday.”

“Ain’t that what started all the uproar the first time? You
want people to quit talking, you’ll need to face them down, both of you,” James
said.

Jackson nodded. “You’re right, as usual. Did you get a
chance to talk to Rubye alone?”

The way the older man hesitated, Jackson knew he was grateful
to be on the dark porch too.

Hank must have felt his discomfort. “I’m going to turn in
guys, talk some more in the morning.”

When he was gone, James finally answered. “She’s unhappy,
mighty unhappy. She feels guilty for what she said, for leaping to conclusions
and saying what she did. She felt even worse because she went to the preacher
with her concerns.”

“She ought to feel ashamed. She’s known me my whole life.
Hell, after being with Hattie all this time, she had to know there was nothing
secret going on.”

Jackson wished they were inside, so he could see the other
man’s eyes.

“She could see what the rest of us could see. You two are
crazy in love, and not just with that baby. Hell, your eyes never leave each
other. Since you’re both too stupid to admit it, she pointed it out. You have
to understand that she loved Donna, she wants to protect her interests.”

“Donna is dead. J. D. and I are still alive. That baby is
her interest and I’m doing my best to take care of him.”

“Rubye broke down and cried, that’s how sorry she feels. After
that preacher came into that house, telling how he married you guys, she’s
afraid she’s the only reason it happened. The way he’s telling the story, he
shamed you two into giving up your sinful ways and into getting married.”

For several minutes, there was nothing but a blue cloud of
profanity. Finally, a shaken Jackson stopped as J.D. woke, crying in terror. He
reined in his temper, cooing and trying to soothe the baby, but J.D. was having
none of it.

James beat a retreat without any more arguments.

<><><> 

She was nearly asleep in the cooling water when the door
opened and Jackson burst in with a frantically crying J.D. She held her arms
up, and Jackson lowered the squirming, squalling baby to her. “What’s wrong
with him?” she gasped, half-rising from the tub.

She felt beneath the gown, surprised to find a dry diaper.
His kicking feet hit the water and as quickly as he had begun to cry, he gasped
and stopped. She pulled the gown, carefully working his arms loose and handed
the gown to the silent Jackson. Then she removed the diaper and slowly let the
baby into the tub with her. Using his body to hide her own from Jackson’s gaze,
she gently lapped the water over him. Jackie laughed and kicked playfully and
for a minute they were all content to just enjoy the moment.

Jackson knelt down, careful not to block the lamplight, and
using soap and washcloth, gently soaped and washed the giggling baby. With
Hattie’s help, he lathered and rinsed his hair. As the boy changed from playing
to wanting to nurse, Hattie raised up, ready to get up.

Instead, Jackson continued to soap the washcloth, and then
gently and thoroughly, he soaped her back and tugged her left arm loose so he
could soap it as well. He soaped and washed the arm cradling the baby, gently
washing under her arm, the curve of her breast and down along her side. Hattie
knew she should protest, but he made sure to cradle and raise the baby as he
did it, and the rough gentleness of it made her relax even more. J.D. continued
to suckle, even as Jackson lifted her hair, and proceeded to shampoo it. His
firm fingers against her scalp, made Hattie lean her head back. He rinsed her
hair with the bucket she had beside the tub. The splattering water only made
J.D. stretch, but not give up his nipple.

When he tugged her foot up to soap it she initially tugged
it back, but he persisted, rubbing between each toe, and moving the washcloth
up her leg, even under the water. She swallowed nervously, her eyes all pupil
as she stared up at him. He carefully changed legs and repeated the process.
When the baby finally relaxed, releasing the nipple, Jackson smiled, hung the
washcloth on the side of the tub and lifted the warm, relaxed baby up, motioned
her to stay still, and left the room with the baby.

It was five minutes later before he returned. Hattie watched
as the shirtless man grinned down at her. “It was wet,” he answered the
unspoken question. He picked up the washcloth and she sighed, started to get
up, but he stopped her, gently soaping her chest, fondling each breast lovingly,
and then trailing the washcloth down beneath the water over her flat stomach.
When she didn’t protest, he moved the cloth down between her legs and ended in
the nest of curls. She gasped and stared up at him. Startled, she grabbed his
arm but did not pull away, instead trembled in pleasure beneath his touch.
Minutes later he rinsed her and lifted his sleepy wife, wrapping her in a towel
and carrying her to the bed.

“My hair is wet,” she murmured.

He sat her there on the edge of the bed, toweling her hair
gently, grabbing her gown to pull her arms through, much as he had the baby
minutes ago. She lolled under his rough touch, and once again he lifted her in
order to tuck her beneath the covers. Leaving her damp hair in a dry towel
wrapped around her head, he kissed her cheek and disappeared.

Jackson scooped out a bucket of the lukewarm water, and
carried it outside to dump. Then he lifted the hot water from the stove and
carried it back to sit beside the tub. He worked quickly, stripping the rest of
the way, making sure to wash thoroughly from head to toe, and enjoy the hot
water shampoo and rinse. But fear of what might happen or not happen kept him
in the water until it had grown cold. Toweling roughly he donned the silly
looking nightshirt and short underpants that James had brought him from town.
Thus armored, he entered the bedroom.

Inside the dark room, he stood by the door, waiting until
his eyes adjusted and listened to the even breathing of the baby and the woman
who was now his wife. His own breathing quickened as he tiptoed to the bed,
lifted the cover and slowly crawled inside. As he leaned back stiffly, he was
surprised to see her eyes were open and she was staring at him.

He waited for the terror of the previous night but she
surprised him by smiling. He raised his arm and she accepted the invitation and
moved against him, resting her head on his shoulder.

Restlessly, she stirred against him, trying to nestle
comfortably then pushing away. He waited, holding his breath. She sat up,
pushing the towel away, revealing her tangled hair. He sat up too, reaching for
the hairbrush on the dresser.

“Here,” he whispered. “Turn around and let me brush it.”
Like bathing her, these were intimacies he had never shared with Donna, but
then Donna hadn’t been terrified of men. Gently he worked the brush through the
long tangles, holding the hair above so it wouldn’t pull. Finally he had it all
brushed, letting it fall in silken waves over her shoulders, working the hair
with his fingers to brush it back from her face. She leaned her head back and
sighed. Gently he leaned closer and kissed her cheek, nuzzling her ear.

This time she turned into him and he was kissing her as he
had dreamed of doing. Gently he rubbed her ear, cupped her neck, slipped his
tongue into her softly opening mouth, and then dropped his hand to move in
tantalizing strokes until her nipples peaked against the soft fabric. As she
moaned, he took a minute to tug at one sleeve, then the other, removing the
gown as gently as he had slipped her into it.

As soon as he tugged the gown free, the moon escaped the
cloud cover and bathed her in a shimmer of moonbeams. As lovingly as he had
touched her, the light followed. It caught in her golden hair, caressed her
strong cheekbones and big eyes, and slipped over the full, ripe breasts and
slim body. Shyly, she tried to lift the covers and he pushed it away and stood
beside the bed to stare at his moonlit goddess.

Frantically he removed the starched nightshirt and short
underpants, but Hattie put out a hand to stop him from climbing back in bed.
Just as he had studied her, now she stared at him. Jackson straightened, stood
motionless while he tried not to smile at the changes in her face, very aware
of everywhere her eyes were focused on his body.

Suddenly, even as he watched, her eyes pooled with tears,
her lip trembled, and her body shook. Jackson sank onto the edge of the bed and
gently folded her into his arms. “Shh,” he whispered, rocking her like the
baby. Automatically Hattie turned to squirm into his lap, pressing her body
close to him. Carefully, using all the control he had left, he pulled the
covers between his body and hers.

He kissed her cheeks, used the cover to wipe her nose and
tear streaked cheeks. “Sweetheart, don’t cry. I promise we won’t do anything
you don’t want to do. I’m sorry, I thought it was what you wanted, too. Here,
we can put the nightclothes back on.”

Hattie pulled away, sat up in bed and blew her nose on the
hem of the gown he handed her. “You don’t understand. It is what I want. I’m
just so afraid...” Her voice faded to a whisper.

“Damn those worthless bastards. I promise I’ll make them
pay.”

She shook her head, the words coming out in gulps, “No,
today I was so afraid they might be hiding at our ranch. I was so afraid
something might happen to you. I couldn’t bear it if they hurt you.”

Jackson shook out the sheet and coverlet, covering both of
them, settling her back into his arms. He heard the baby whimper in his sleep
and lowered his voice. “I was afraid for you too when I left you alone. I kept
thinking of the finger on the mantle, the day you and Rubye chased them away.”

Without realizing she was doing it, she kissed his throat
and then his chin. “I kept thinking of the shootout, when you brought the
cattle back. It seemed worse, the fear, since I thought it was finally over,
that they’d been forced away. But when you left, I knew it wasn’t true and the
fear came rushing back.”

“You were afraid for me? Why?”

She leaned back so she could see him, her head on his arm,
suddenly aware of being completely naked in his arms. As her awareness grew,
she felt his body’s answer.

Smiling he leaned closer and whispered. “I love you too,
Harriett Stoddard Harper.”

She smiled and leaned in to kiss him. “I love you,” but her
voice still held the tears of earlier.

When he started to fold her body beneath him, again she put
a hand on his shoulder in panic and he paused. Sighing, he collapsed back on
the bed and stared up at the shadows of the ceiling. Rolling his head to stare
at her he whispered. “Touch me Hattie, however and where ever you want.”

Timidly she reached out, her hand following the smooth, hard
muscle of his shoulder, down the corded arm to touch the inside of his wrist,
then on to the callused palm, letting her own fingers tangle with his.

Jackson breathed deeply, forcing himself to relax, even as
she pulled her hand free of his fingers, gently traced a hand across his chest,
boldly over the rows of muscles in his stomach, and then lower. He sucked in a
deep breath, praying she would touch him where his throbbing need waited, but
she trailed down along his hair roughened leg, feeling the strong muscles
there. Bending forward, she traced down one leg, then up the other, letting her
taunting fingers circle his nipple as he had done hers when he bathed her. But
slowly as she did, she moved closer, her body brushing against him, her
breathing growing more rapid.

When she drew closer, her mouth pressed against his
shoulder, her leg raised to rub against his, he dared to ask, “Tell me what to
do, when and how you want me to touch you,” he growled. She reached out and
lifted his hand to her breast. He teased her until she was moaning, then he
raised his head to kiss her temple, her nose and then her mouth. enjoying her
response. Her body glided over his as she moved into the kiss and he felt her
dampness and knew he would die if she pulled away again. When she tugged his
hand down her stomach, he knew exactly where she needed to be touched. Minutes
later, he lifted her and slid inside her slick entrance, grateful for the power
of her need, the urgency they both felt. In minutes, she was arching backward,
then falling forward and he felt the release he had needed so long.

They lay together, their body’s one, finally united as man
and wife. He rolled to his side, holding her in place, so he could stare into
her face. “Sweet Hattie, I love you. Did I hurt you darling?”

She leaned back, feeling a huge swell of love at the tender
question. She raised glowing eyes to smile at him. “Will it always be so
wonderful?”