This Loving Land - Dorothy Garlock [95]
Ellen raised dull eyes to his. “You do love me, don’t you, Jesse? You won’t leave me?”
“No, Ellen, I won’t leave you.” His voice was thick and hoarse with anguish.
Summer and Sadie stood as if paralyzed. Sadie finally let the air escape from her lungs. Ellen was dying!
She followed Jesse into the house and threw the quilt back from the bed. Gently, he lowered Ellen down. The wound was high up in the middle of her stomach, her blood a bright blossom beneath her breast. He unbuttoned her bodice while Sadie went to fetch bandages.
Summer stood at the end of the bed holding tightly to Mary’s hand on one side and John Austin’s on the other. For once, the boy was awed into silence.
Jesse placed the wad of cloth on the wound and almost immediately it was soaked with bright blood. He placed another cloth on top of the first one and bent to remove Ellen’s shoes.
“I couldn’t let him shoot you, Jesse.” Ellen’s voice came suddenly. “He had a little temper fit, but he’ll get over it. He needs you, Jesse. He needs you to look after him. You’ll make things right, won’t you?”
“Yes, Ellen. I’ll make things right.”
“He didn’t make sure of Slater. He didn’t make sure he was dead. If only he’d let me help him plan things. But he’s a McLean and proud and stubborn and didn’t want his mama helping him.” She looked appealingly up at Jesse. “You’re not mad at him anymore?” Jesse shook his head and she tried to smile. “He’s a handsome boy. I’ve always been so proud of him.”
Sadie looked down on Jesse’s bent head and could hardly hold back the retort that came to her lips. She longed to shout that Travis was nothing to be proud of. In fact, he was nothing but a rotten . . . Tears filled her eyes. She went to the head of the bed, where Ellen couldn’t see her, and placed a hand on Jesse’s shoulder. Maybe her touch would tell him that she cared,
“He’s not as strong as you are, Jesse. Not as strong as his mama, either.” Ellen’s voice had surprising strength. “When I want something, I fight to get it. The only thing that I ever really wanted that I didn’t get was . . . Sam.” Her lips trembled and her face puckered as if she would cry.
She looks old, Sadie thought. She looks twenty years older than she did this morning. Her soft skin was almost yellow, her lips thin, and wrinkles creased the comers of her mouth. It was as if before she had kept herself young-looking by sheer willpower. She didn’t look cold and haughty like she did. She looked . . . pitiful.
“I did everything to win him. He’d tell me to go home to Scott. Scott was so dull and . . . adoring. He would forgive me anything.” She closed her eyes and each time Sadie wasn’t sure she would open them again.
Jack came in, stood silently looking down, then laid his hand on Jesse’s shoulder briefly and went out.
“It was that Nannie!” Ellen’s voice was weaker, but there was no mistaking the venom in it. “I was prettier and had a finer bosom. She was scrawny and backwoodsy.” Her face crumbled, tears slid out of the comers of her eyes. She lay quietly while Jesse wiped them away with the bed sheet.
Sadie put her lips close to Jesse’s ear. “Do you want me to go?”
He said just one word: “Stay.”
She touched his cheek with her hand and backed into the shadows. They were alone with the dying woman.
Summer fed the children their supper in the kitchen. She gave them cold mush and milk, and for a treat she let them smear the last of the honey on their cornbread.
Evening finally came. Sadie lit a lamp and set it on a shelf so only a dim light shone on the bed. Ellen talked in snatches. Sometimes it was to Jesse, other times to Travis or to Sam, as her mind wandered.
“When I got the letter I cried and cried. He had been to bed with . . . her. Gave her a child! He wouldn’t have me, but took her. I hated him! I wished he was dead a million times. I planned what I was going to do, Travis. Your mama can plan things.” It was difficult for her to breathe, but she continued to talk. “Jesse went off to get lumber for the new house and you, dear boy, were sporting with