This Loving Land - Dorothy Garlock [68]
“As much as I’d like to, captain, I’ll have to decline. We’re cutting out steers, and after that Summer and I are going to town to be married.” The hard planes of his face relaxed when he grinned. “If we finish in time, I want to take a jaunt into the hills myself for a few days. I don’t like the idea of that bunch coming and going on my land.”
“Wal, now, Jack and I can do that,” Bulldog snorted. “Take that lit’l gal and go on and get hitched up. Ya ain’t gonna be worth a pinch of snuff till you do.”
Jesse felt a stab of envy. Slater had found his love and he had the affection and loyalty of his men. Ellen had been so sure Summer would never marry Slater. But even she would have to see the rightness of it. As far as he was concerned, he was glad a nice, gentle girl like Summer had escaped a life of hell with Travis. Each time he caught the intimate glances exchanged between her and Slater, a tide of loneliness swamped him. Behind this, he also felt a stab of regret, so strong that his stout heart almost stopped beating. A love such as they had, one that would result in a family, was not for him. He was committed to Ellen, and after twelve years of constant companionship, he knew her well enough to know she would never share his time or his loyalty with anyone, not even children. Besides, her childbearing years were likely over. And yet . . . the old yearning held a tight grip on his heart. His life, of late, had become strange and empty.
Later, Jesse excused himself, tightened the cinch on his saddle and rode toward the creek.
Eleven
There was a clammy, sick feeling in the pit of Sadie’s stomach. It had lain there now for the past weeks, sapping her strength, eating away at her self-esteem, controlling her thoughts to the extent that she realized her actions were often unreasonable. For the first time in her life, she had been happy, felt she could make a permanent place for herself and Mary, something she had not known before or after she married. She knew when she married Harm Bratcher that he was a devil-may-care drifter, a gambler, a man who was content to live from hand to mouth. He was good to her in his own way and his way was an improvement over her pa’s. Pa had thought women were good for nothing but to work in the fields and produce more babies to grow up to work in the fields.
The weather was hot and sultry. Not a breath of air circulated to stir the grasses or rouse the drooping leaves on the gigantic oak trees. The silent heat lightning flashed the promise of a storm. Thoughts ran rampant through Sadie’s mind as she watched the rolling thunderclouds. At least a storm was out there in the open, and you knew it was there. Not like Travis McLean, lurking in the hills, waiting to kill a baby because he had a powerful lot of hate for its mother.
The excitement she felt on hearing Jesse Thurston had come to the Keep had passed. The brief encounter she had with him down by the swing had been crowded from her mind by other worries, although for days after he was gone, she could recall every single word that passed between them. At night, while she lay beside Mary, she fantasized what it would be like to be loved by such a man . . . to couple with him. He would be demanding, she knew, yet gentle; giving thought to her pleasure as well as his own.
When the rider rode into the yard, Sadie thought it was Jack returning early so Raccoon could go to bed. The man tied his horse to the rail and came to the end of the porch. When the lightning flashed and she saw who it was, she got to her feet and stood on unsteady legs, her heart suddenly galloping in her chest.
Jesse could see only her blurred outline in the dark. He took off his hat and fumbled in his pocket for his tobacco and felt the peppermint stick. He drew it out and moved toward the white blur.
“Evening, ma’am.” He held out the slim stick. “I thought your little girl would like another sweet, seeing she’s so fond of them.”
“Thank you.” Sadie accepted