Joe's Wife (10 page)

Her wide, violet-hued eyes followed him as he crossed to where she sat on the window seat holding her rag doll.

If possible, she seemed even smaller and frailer than she had the last time he'd seen her. "How's Molly?"

"Molly's scared."

"What's Molly scared of?"

"She thinks I'm gonna leave her."

Her tiny voice and revealing words pierced that vulnerable place inside him—a reaction he thought he'd toughened himself against, until she'd come into his life. "You wouldn't leave Molly if you could help it, would you?"

"Won't never leave her. She needs me."

How did a person comfort a child losing her mother? Maybe she shouldn't be here for this ugly and terrifying end. But
Rosa
had informed Tye that Lottie still had a few lucid hours now and then when she asked for Eve. The child was all Lottie had in the world, and she seemed to need her there.

Lottie needed Eve. And Eve needed Tye. He would be there for her. He'd promised Lottie.

"Eve, you know your mama wouldn't leave you if she could help it," he said.

"Can't help she's sick," she replied.

"That's right. And she's done all she can to make sure you're taken care of. She doesn't want you to be afraid."

"Can't help she's gonna die," the little girl said somberly.

Did she even understand what that meant? "I'm going to take care of you, Eve," he promised her. "You don't have to be scared 'cause you'll be just fine with me."

He stayed with her for an hour, watching her play, listening to her lilting voice and losing his heart to her every mannerism and word.

"I'll be back," he promised.

"When?"

"As soon as I can." He moved closer, willing strength into her with every ounce of his being. "If you need me sooner,
Rosa
will send for me."

"Where are we gonna live—when you come for me for good, I mean?"

"On a ranch, Eve. It's a wonderful place with lots of room to run and play. And a dog."

"A dog?"

He nodded and she smiled. "Are there any other kids?"

"No. But there's a nice lady. And lots of horses."

"Can I ride the horses?"

He slid to his knees, ignoring the resulting stab of pain, and took her slender shoulders in his hands, noting her diminutive bone structure and running his palms down her arms to her hands. "I'll teach you to ride. We'll eat together every night. We'll go to church and have Sunday dinner afterward. And sometimes we'll even go on picnics."

"What's that?"

"That's when you pack food in a basket and take it somewhere nice, like under a tree, to eat it."

She tilted her head, and her eyes widened. "How do you carry milk in a basket?"

Tye grinned and wanted to hug her. "In a jar, I guess."

She smiled. "That sounds fun. Is it fun?"

"I'm sure it is." He'd never been on a picnic himself. Tye realized he was promising her all the things he'd only dreamed of doing as a child. "Of course it is. It's lots of fun."

"Will the nice lady come, too?"

He nodded.

"What's her name?"

"Meg."

"Is she pretty?"

"She's the prettiest lady I've ever seen."

Her smile turned to a frown. "My mama's the prettiest lady."

"Of course, you're right. Meg is the second-prettiest lady."

She grinned. "I can't wait to go for the picwic."

"Me, neither."

He never left
Rosa
's house without a deep feeling of sadness and melancholy eating at his insides. Fear crept in around the edges of that, making him question his ability to care for Eve, making him wish he'd told Meg up front and not waited until the day was imminent. He would tell her tonight. He had to. She'd need some time to prepare.

Tye stopped at the saloon and picked up his last pay, had a shot and questioned the few ranchers who'd stopped for a drink. One of them mentioned a neighbor who might be interested in breeding his mares, so Tye rode west and paid a call on the rancher.

It was late afternoon when he returned to the Circle T. True to her word, Meg had left a plate on the trestle table. Tye lifted the towel and discovered a sandwich, cut neatly into four squares. He ate two of them and washed them down with cold coffee he found in a pot on the stove.

"I could have heated that up for you."

He turned to find Meg carrying a basket of folded clothing in the door. "No need."

Her eyes flickered to the plate and back. "How was your trip?"

"It was good. I found someone willing to pay to have three of his mares bred."

"Why, that's wonderful!"

"Yeah. He'll send for me when they're in season."

Her expression fell. "Oh, of course. That could be a while."

"Yeah." Meanwhile the payment had to be made to the bank. "There's money from your eggs." He laid the coins on the table, knowing they were barely enough to buy a few staples.

Meg glanced at them.

He'd tell her about Eve later, after supper, after Gus and Purdy were in the barn for the night and everything was quiet.

She placed a few towels beside the money and carried the rest of the laundry into the other room.

At supper all the food was in serving dishes and Meg didn't place anything on Tye's plate, allowing him to select his own portions. She even raised one eyebrow in a question before she poured him more coffee. He exchanged a look with Gus but, never having discussed the matter with the old man, had no idea what was going on in his head. Or Meg's, for that matter. At least he wasn't forced to politely stuff himself and suffer the consequences later.

After dinner, he rolled a smoke in the corral, checked on the animals and milked the cows. He found Meg had pulled the rocker into the cramped sitting room. A basket of mending sat at her feet, a shirt in her lap. The front door stood open, and she sat in the line of the chilling breeze. The sun had gone down behind the mountains and the temperature had dropped quickly. He carried a comfortable chair in and sat a few feet from her.

"You'll let me see to that leg again tonight," she said.

The leg hadn't bothered him near as much that day, and he knew her nearness would be a test of his resolve. But the heat and the liniment had helped, and her tender care was an exquisite torture he'd endure at any cost. His silence was his acquiescence.

His heart beat a panicked rhythm. "There's something I need to tell you."

Her fingers didn't halt their progress with the needle and thread. "All right."

"I probably should have found a way to tell you before, but there never seemed to be a right time."

"Tell me before what, Tye?"

"Before we got married."

"We didn't have a before."

"Yeah, that's right."

"What is it?"

"You asked me who Lottie was, and I told you she was a friend."

"Yes." Her fingers paused,
then
continued.

"She used to work in the saloon. Years ago."

"I see."

"She's sick now. Dying of consumption."

Meg raised her tawny gaze. "I'm sorry to hear that."

A calf they'd been doctoring bawled from the pen. Meg shivered.

Tye got up, closed the door and lit the fire he'd already laid in the fireplace. "She has a little girl. Her name's Eve."

Meg just looked at him as if she were wondering when he was going to get to the point.

He watched the flames catch and grow, then sat back down. "Lottie and I used to be friends. There was never anything serious between us. Just—friends."

Still she waited.

"I must be the only person she really knows—besides
Rosa
—that she feels she can trust."

Meg gave up on the sewing and let her hands rest in her lap.

"She asked me to take care of her little girl."

Meg lifted a brow at that. "You? Did that strike you as unusual?"

"I guess so. But like I said, she doesn't have anyone else."

"Who's her father?"

"She wouldn't know."

She couldn't look at him. Even Tye felt a wash of embarrassment at saying something so obviously shocking to this genteel woman before him. "How long does Lottie want you to take care of her for?" she asked finally.

"Forever."

Meg was pretty good at keeping the astonishment from her expression. "She just wanted to
give
you this child of hers?"

He nodded.

"When did this take place?"

"The same week you came to me with your … proposal."

Finally, she picked up the material again and started the chair to gently rocking. "What a preposterous thing to do. What did you tell her?"

"I told her I would."

Her hands stilled. The chair stopped.

"You'll love her, Meg. She's a beautiful child."

She leaned forward and placed one hand on the arm of the rocker. "We can't take someone else's child just like that!"

"Why not?"

"Well, I don't even know this woman, or her child."

"That doesn't change the fact that Eve needs a home."

"This Lottie worked in the saloon, you say?"

He nodded.

She leaned back. "I didn't fall off the cart yesterday, Tye. I know what that means."

"Eve can't help what her mother is, what she did."

"That doesn't mean we have to take her."

"I gave my word."

"Without asking me!"

"Lottie asked me to take Eve before you asked me to marry you. Even if she'd asked afterward, I would have done the same thing. The kid will go to an orphan asylum if I don't take her. Lottie made me promise I wouldn't let that happen. I don't
want
to let that happen."

"Can't you find someone else to take her?"

"There isn't anyone else."

"There must be someone."

"There isn't. No one wants a bastard child. No one." His revealing words hung in the brisk evening air between them.

Meg pulled the shawl from the back of the chair around her shoulders.

"I really thought that you, above all others, would understand," he said softly. She'd never treated him as though he were tainted. He fought disappointment over her reaction.

"Do you feel that you owe this woman something?"

He studied the floor for several minutes, then met her eyes. "I guess I do. Compassion. Kindness. Friendship."

"My family won't speak to me already," she said just above a whisper. "This will only make it worse."

"I warned you about that from the beginning," he said honestly. "But you were willing to risk that. You said if the good people of Aspen Grove snubbed you, they weren't worthy of being your friends."

Her beautiful eyes filled with tears and he immediately regretted putting them there. He wished he could take her in his arms and comfort her, somehow make it better. Eve was his responsibility, and he certainly didn't mean to place Meg in an awkward or embarrassing position.

Quickly, she lowered her gaze to the shirt in her lap.

"I don't want you to be sorry," he said, barely above a whisper. "I don't want you to lose your family and friends. We could still change our minds."