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By Root 977 0

Mr. Jesse Thurston, ’n you can tell that fancy woman of yores, if that low-down polecat son of hers comes near me or my baby, I’ll gun him, that’s what I’ll do. I’d think no more of it than if’n he was a rattler, ’cause that’s just what he is, a belly-crawlin’ snake. Come to think on it, he’s lower than a belly-crawlin’ snake, ’cause a snake’s got other things to do ’sides fornicatin’ and a threatenin’ to kill little babies. He’s a buzzard, that’s what he is!” Tears gushed into the wide green eyes. “I just wish he would come back, I’d take that gun and I’d give that fancy woman somethin’ to look down on me for . . . and that ain’t all of it, neither. I’d . . . oh, you’d not help me. You ain’t nothing . . . you’re . . . you’re as thick with her as eight in a bed! Her lap dog’s what you are!” She choked on a mouthful of words and tears blinded her.

Suddenly, gentle hands lifted her from the chair and strong arms drew her against a warm, comforting chest. Her face found refuge in the hollow beneath his chin, and the sheer luxury of being held, consoled, caused the floodgates to break, and she cried as she had not done since she was a small child and her mother had died.

When it seemed she had cried herself dry, she found herself cuddled in his lap. He sat in the big chair and he was smoothing the bronze curls back from her face as he had done with Mary. The place where her face was pressed against his throat was wet with her tears, and although she wanted to wipe her nose and dry her eyes she also wanted to stay nestled against him for just a moment longer. The sheer heaven of it made her feel as weak as a kitten, but never in her whole life had she felt so safe, so at peace.

Jesse’s voice against her ear roused her.

“Feel better?”

She bent her head almost to her knees so she could wipe her face on her skirt and made a move to get up, but his arms refused to release her. He pressed her head down on his shoulder.

“Use my shirt. It isn’t often I get to hold such a pretty girl and . . .” She could feel the chuckle vibrate in his chest. “I don’t know if I ever saw a prettier one.”

She was almost lightheaded. It was as if her tears had washed away her strength. Closing her eyes tightly, she reveled in the smell of his shirt, the tobacco smell of his breath, the steady beating of his heart against hers.

“I don’t know what got into me. I ain’t much given to bawlin’. I’m sorry I said them things ’bout you and Mrs. McLean. It ain’t no business of mine.” The words were muffled against his chest. It was heaven being so close to him, his hand stroking her head. She prayed silently: Don’t stop. Please don’t stop, just yet.

“It’s all right. I know what’s said about me and Ellen.”

“I still don’t have no right.”

“I want to know about you, Sadie.” His voice was low, gentle. “I want to know all about you. We’re much alike, I think.”

“There ain’t nothing much to tell ’bout me, Jesse.” She felt as if she had known him forever.

“Tell me,” he said and leaned his cheek against the top of her head. His hand traveled down her back. He could feel every rib, every vertebra in her small body, yet her hips were well rounded and the breasts pressed tightly to his chest were full and warm and tempting.

The storm outside had moved away, leaving only a steady downpour of rain. Inside the cabin, in the glow made by the flickering lamp, Sadie nestled in the arms of the big, frightening, sometimes violent man, and related the details of her struggle to survive from the time she was old enough to hoe cotton and carry water to the day she rode away from the dirt farm on a mule behind Harm Bratcher.

“He didn’t really want me, ’cept for . . . you know. He wanted to play cards and get drunk. Mary was born in a wagon outside of Waco. He never ever really looked at her, poor little mite.” She talked on, leaving nothing out. “I never went to bed with any men.” She tilted her head back so she could see his face. “After Harm was killed, I worked hard to keep me and Mary. I ain’t any of them things Travis said. I ain’t a whore.” There was pleading to be believed