Joe's Wife

Once she had narrowed her options down to him, the thought of actually carrying out her audacious plan gave her pause. What would he think of a woman so bold as to propose marriage? Did it matter?

If he said no, it was doubtful he’d tell the town of her foolish plan. And even if he told, the townspeople wouldn’t believe him. And if they did, what did she really care? Holding on to the ranch was all that mattered, and at this point, she didn’t have any choice.

Meg recognized the bleak emptiness of this bed where she’d lain alone for the past few years. For too short a time a man’s soft snore had accompanied the night. Now she lay awake listening to the sounds of the house and the wind along the timberline.

She was contemplating bringing a stranger to the ranch. To her home. To Joe’s bed. Plenty of women married men they didn’t know, she assured herself. Tye Hatcher had always been polite and respectful in her presence. He wasn’t bad looking. Not at all. It wouldn’t be like Joe, but maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

This was business, after all. Meg was a determined woman. She could bear a good many things to get what she wanted.

Tomorrow was Sunday. He didn’t attend church, but she’d heard talk that Tye often called on Reverend Baker in the afternoon. She would seek him out. And she would ask him then.

Sunday visits were a custom carried from the East. As a boy, Tye had seen families gather for Sunday meals and an afternoon of visiting and play, and always on the outskirts, he’d wondered what that was like. His mother had never been accepted among the respectable residents of Aspen Grove. She and Tye hadn’t even gone to church because of the rude treatment she received. But on Sunday afternoons she’d taken him to Reverend Baker’s, where she’d had someone who treated her kindly. Apparently it was acceptable for the preacher to receive her calls; he was, after all, responsible for her immortal soul.

But Tye never remembered any talk of saving his mother’s soul on those visits. He remembered only the tiny measure of acceptance and the pleasure that gave his mother, and he would be forever grateful to the preacher for that kindness.

The first time he’d run into the reverend upon his return, the man had greeted him warmly and extended an invitation to come by for pie and coffee. The preacher had been a widower for more than twenty years yet had the most well stocked pantry and cleanest house in the county, thanks to the dutiful parishioners.

As his mother had done, Tye always waited for the dinner hour to pass. Often the reverend accepted an invitation and returned midafternoon. Then Tye would wait for any “real” callers who might stop by to pay their respects. And then, when everyone had gone home to their families, he would call on Reverend Baker.

Today, as a late afternoon sun warmed the porch, they shared a peach cobbler Mrs. Matthews had dropped off and drank strong black coffee.

“Ah, nothing like a fresh pie and good coffee,” the preacher said, leaning back in the wicker chair and folding his hands across his belly. “And then a bit of man talk.”

With a grin, Tye pulled his tobacco from his pocket and deftly rolled them each a cigarette.

Reverend Baker took a drag and smiled a contented smile. “The only thing better than this would have been if Mrs. Baker hadn’t gone ‘home’ quite so soon.”

“I barely remember her.” Tye thought a moment. “She was tall, wasn’t she?”

“Aye. With the face and voice of an angel. I think that’s why God called her so soon. She’s part of the heavenly choir right now.” He gazed upward sheepishly and gestured with the cigarette. “This is just a little afternoon relaxation, my dear, and I still never do it in the house.”

A buggy slowed to a stop on the street, and Tye moved to leave.

“Wait.” The reverend held up one hand. “Don’t go. This is our time.” He handed Tye his cigarette, and Tye pinched the fire from both and slid them into his shirt pocket.

A lone woman stepped from the wagon and, with a dart of surprise, Tye recognized Meg Telford, a beaded reticule dangling from her wrist. She gathered her black skirts and agilely mounted the wooden porch stairs. Her light floral scent reached Tye before she did. Violets.

“Afternoon, Miz Telford.” The preacher rose to greet her.

“Good afternoon, Reverend Baker. Mr. Hatcher.”

The minister smiled in satisfaction at her acknowledgment of Tye.

“Mrs. Telford.” Tye stood and addressed her properly.

She seated herself in one of the wicker chairs and removed her stiff black bonnet. A lock of her shiny hair snagged and caressed her neck for a moment before she caught it and tucked it neatly back into place.

“Would you like some cobbler?” the reverend asked. “I have coffee, too.”

“I would enjoy a cup of coffee, thank you,” she replied.

Tye turned toward the door. “I’ll get it.”

He filled a mug from the pot on the stove and wondered belatedly if she’d like cream or sugar. He carried it out and asked.

“Oh, no, just like this is good. Thank you.” She took a sip.

She and the minister discussed the morning’s sermon and a particular passage from the Book of John. Tye listened.

After nearly a half hour of pleasantries, he prepared to leave. “I’d best be on my way. It’s been a pleasure.”

“How did you get here?” she asked.

“Walked,” he replied simply.

“May I give you a ride?” she asked. “I’ll be leaving now, too.”

Did she think he couldn’t walk? His neck grew uncomfortably warm.

“Please?”

He met her eyes and found no pity. Perhaps she just wanted to extend a gesture of friendship. He wouldn’t recognize the effort if it jumped up and bit him on the butt. “Thank you.”

Tye carried their mugs to the kitchen and wished Reverend Baker a good afternoon, slipping him the remainder of his half-smoked cigarette.

He assisted Meg onto the wagon seat and sat beside her. She guided the team onto Main Street. “You’re staying at Mrs. Banks’s?”

“Yes.”

“I hear she keeps a nice place.”

“It’s clean. She cooks daily meals for those who want the cost added to their room.”

She didn’t say anything for a few minutes. Perhaps he shouldn’t have mentioned the cost of meals. Maybe she thought he couldn’t afford them.

“Tye, I wish to speak with you about something,” she said at last.

He looked over at her, thinking she had more questions about Joe. Or the war. “Go ahead.”

Her cheeks were pink in the shade from her hat brim. “Is there somewhere we could talk alone?”

His mind raced. Alone? Surely she didn’t mean alone. That wouldn’t be right. She just meant where they wouldn’t be overheard. On the Sabbath the parlor at the boardinghouse was generally filled with boarders playing cribbage.

The saloon wasn’t open, but he had a key. Stupid thought.

There was a small pastry shop across the street, but it was never open on Sunday afternoons.

She seemed to be looking about with the same dilemma. She reined the horses to a halt and pulled the brake handle. She met his eyes directly. “Your room?”

Tye couldn’t have been more shocked if she’d started to disrobe on Main Street. What on earth did she have to say that she couldn’t have said on the ride here? And why did she want to say it to him? “What if someone sees you coming in?”

“I have a perfect right to visit anyone I like.” She lifted her chin defensively. “I would hardly leave my horses and wagon here in plain sight if I planned on doing something shameful. Besides, we’ll leave your door open.”

Tye glanced from her sincere face to the practically deserted street. “If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.” She hopped down ahead of him, and he took a little longer, easing his foot to the ground without jarring his leg.

Tye stayed between Meg and the parlor door as they passed, preventing her from being seen, not that anyone looked up.

She walked ahead of him up the flight of stairs, and he struggled to keep his eyes from her shapely backside beneath the rustling ebony dress. A titillating glimpse of white eyelet petticoats caught his eye when he looked down. He concentrated on his hand on the banister, thought about placing one foot in front of the other. He was taking Meg Telford to his room.

In a million years, he’d never have even dreamed up this possibility. Unlocking his door, he pushed it open wide and ushered her in.

She glanced around. There wasn’t much to see. His other shirt and trousers were at the laundry. His saddlebags and guns were pushed under the bed. The room looked just as it had when Yetta Banks had rented it to him months ago.

Tye picked up the straight-backed chair and moved it in a direct line in front of the open door and gestured for her to be seated.

She did so, arranging her skirts and holding the reticule in her lap. What did women carry in those silly things, anyway?

Tye had little experience with women of quality, and her presence in his room doubly confounded him. He deliberately avoided sitting on the bed and stood uncomfortably by the bureau.

“I have a business proposition to offer you,” she stated.

He waited, unable to imagine any business Joe Telford’s widow would have with him, and not even willing to guess.

“I’m having a difficult time with the ranch.”

He hated that news. She’d seemed so happy when Joe was alive. “I’m sorry. Can I do something to help?”

She raised her head and looked him in the eye, unsettling him, unaccustomed as he was to having women meet his gaze. “There is. I just don’t know if you’ll be willing.”

“What is it?”

“The Telfords are putting a lot of pressure on me to sell.”

Damn! Her husband had bought a prime piece of land, and if she was offering it to him, he hadn’t a snowball’s chance in hell of coming up with enough money.

“I won’t sell, however.” Her chin rose a notch once again. “I’m determined to hang on to the ranch. Joe and I bought that place together. He sank money and time and all his dreams into making a go of it, and I’m not going to sell out just because things are a little tough. Not without a fight.”

“I admire that. I wouldn’t sell it if it was mine.”

“That’s what I want to talk to you about.”

“What?”

“I have two old men and two young boys besides myself. Last year I hired a few extra reps for roundup, but I can’t do it again. I’ve had to sell several things to keep the place going.”

She knew he didn’t have any money, so the only thing she could want from him would be labor. “Are you asking me to work for you? I’ve tried to get work everywhere, but no one will take me on.”

“I couldn’t pay you, Tye,” she said plainly. She took a deep breath and hurried on. “What I’ve decided I need is a husband. That way, you’d have a stake in the place. The work you did would be to your own benefit. As you know, when a man marries, his wife’s property becomes his.”

He stared. Deepening pink tinged her smooth cheeks.

Slowly, he worked at assimilating her words and the idea behind them. He raised a hand to knead the back of his neck and took an unconscious step or two. “I think I’m confused here. What is it you’re asking me?”

“I’m asking you to marry me.”

He looked her over for some gross mistaken identity. This was Meg Telford, no doubt about it. Meg Telford in his room. Asking him to marry her. He shook his head to clear it. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”

“Yes, I do.”

“You can’t. Nobody in Aspen Grove will even look at me or talk to me. You’d lose the respect of everyone in town if anyone knew you were here right now. You saw how your family acted when you talked to me in the mercantile! You can’t want to marry me.”

She stood abruptly. “I don’t give a fig what anyone’s going to say about it. I don’t need this town’s approval to do what I believe is right.”

“You say that now, but you don’t know what it’s like. You don’t know jack squat about how it is to have people look at you like you’re dirt. You.’ve never spent Sundays or holidays alone or seen women snatch their skirts aside so’s not to touch you.” He ran a nervous hand through his hair. “Trust me, you’d think differently after that happened a few times.”

Primly, she moved back to the chair and sat. “Anyone who would treat me like that after knowing me all these years wouldn’t be worth having as a friend.”

Fine talk, but she hadn’t lived it.

Tye studied her perched on the chair. Marriage. To this woman. He couldn’t keep his curious gaze from sliding to her rounded breasts beneath her starched dress, and images of sleeping with her had him moving to stand behind her.

“Ma’am, you’re talking of marriage here. I just can’t believe you’ve thought this through.”

“I’m not an innocent young girl,” she countered. “I know what marriage entails.”

A delicious surge of heat teased his body. He tried to let his brain do the reasoning. “I want children someday,” he said honestly. She might as well know his concerns. He wouldn’t saddle himself with a woman who could give him land, only to find she wasn’t willing to see to his other wishes.

To his surprise, she didn’t blink an eye. “So do I. There’s no reason I can’t give you children.”

What more could he want? Meg was the most beautiful woman in the whole damned county. She was offering to turn her land over to him, marry him and give him children.

He didn’t have to wonder, “Why me?” The privilege had fallen to the only able-bodied, unmarried man in the area. Not exactly flattering.

But promising.

Very promising. And as long as they were revealing their expectations, he had more. “There’s something else I want,” he said.

She turned her head, but not enough to see him. “What is it?”

Tye’d come back with a plan to prove his worth to this community. The war had shown him that when it came to wearing a uniform, picking up a gun and fighting, he was as good as any man. No one he’d fought beside had cared whether or not he bore his father’s name. He’d fought prejudice and ridicule in this town since he was old enough to raise his fists, and these people would only see him differently once he proved himself an equal. “I want to start a packing plant.”

“A—packing plant? Like in the East?”

“Yes.” He abandoned his inhibition and moved to sit on the edge of the bed, where he could look directly at her. “I listened to cattlemen the last few years. I heard their stories of losing hundreds of head while driving them or shipping them by rail, about how the cattle lost weight and brought less money. If we could slaughter them here, we’d save the trip and the hardships. We’d ship the dressed meat right out. Think how much more meat will fit in the railcars already dressed.”

“What kind of investment are you talking about?” She was listening!

“A big one. I’ve been saving because I needed to buy land. But if I already have the land, all I have to do is build pens, a slaughtering house, and then hire workers.”

“There are no workers.”

“There will be if there are jobs for them.”

Thoughtfully, she studied him. Her gaze wavered reflectively to a spot over his shoulder, then back to his face. “But you’d still help me with the ranch? I need your word on that. And you have to promise me you’ll never sell Joe’s ranch.”

“If I agree to marry you, I’ll do whatever I can to make the ranch a success. But I would need the same promise from you.”

“About the packing plant?” she asked.

He nodded. “It would benefit you. You wouldn’t have to ship cattle.”

“All right. If you’ll marry me, I’ll help you get your packing plant started. And—you won’t ever sell?”

“I won’t ever sell. Unless you ask me to.” Something here was too good to be true. But then, he was her only choice. Belittling as that might be, her proposal was an end to his quest for land. He could have his dream.

“All right,” he said. “These are the terms—I help you keep the ranch and get it going. You help me get the plant started. This will be a marriage in all respects.”

She blushed noticeably, but she nodded.

“Then I agree to marry you.”

She paused only momentarily before getting to her feet. “Very well, then. We’ll arrange it as soon as possible. Next week sometime. Will that be convenient?”

“I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

“Perhaps Saturday?”

“Whatever you’d like.”

“I’ll let you know.”

He walked her out the door, down the flight of stairs, and assisted her onto the wagon. This time when he extended his hand, she looked at it, and then up at him, before she placed her gloved one in it. It would have been much easier if he’d simply lifted her, but she obviously got up and down unassisted the rest of the time, and he wasn’t comfortable with touching her in a more familiar manner.

Yet.

She raised herself up to the seat and straightened her skirts. She met his eyes and he could have sworn she was thinking the same thing. “We’ll be in touch, then,” she said.

He nodded.

She unwound the reins from the brake handle and flicked them over the horses’ backs.

Tye watched her go and told himself that the anticipation already warming his blood was due to the stroke of luck in having a site for his innovative business dropped into his lap.

But the word wife echoed teasingly in his head. A thought entered his awareness too late. Perhaps he should have mentioned he’d soon be getting a child to raise. Lottie couldn’t last much longer, and he’d promised her that he would come for Eve.

Maybe Meg wouldn’t even mind; after all, she wanted children.

There would be time to tell her later.

Chapter Four

Tye Hatcher wanted children.

Meg turned the lamp wick down low, removed her clothing and pulled a snowy white linen night shift over her head and buttoned it up to her throat.

Of course he wanted children. Now that he’d brought it up, she might as well get used to the fact that this was going to be a marriage in all respects. She would follow through on her part of the arrangement. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t given a lot of consideration to bringing him here.

She fell to her knees beside the hide-upholstered trunk at the foot of the bed and raised the lid, Reverently, she ran her hands over Joe’s shirts, fingered a hairbrush with a few fair strands still caught in the bristles, and took out a packet of letters held together by a faded ribbon.

Joe had wanted children, too.

These letters were filled with dreams for their future, plans for the ranch, words of caring and commitment. She didn’t want to read them just now. She knew exactly how long it took to read them all, where Joe’d been when he’d written each one, and the post from which each envelope had been mailed.

She knew, too, the bittersweet feelings of melancholy and heartache that swamped her when she allowed herself to open and read them. Those moments were best saved for nights when she could handle the feelings of abandonment and loss.

This wasn’t one of them.

Meg replaced the stack of letters carefully, closed the trunk and, after blowing out the lantern, climbed into bed.

She and Joe had wanted a family.

Each month her body prepared for a baby, and each month came and went without hope for a seed being planted. She was still young though; her body was still firm and strong.

Tye Hatcher was the means to help her fulfill all of her and Joe’s dreams. The ranch. The stock. The children to inherit the land.

That’s how Joe would want it.

She snuggled deep into the coverlet and rubbed her feet against each other for warmth. She would tell Mother Telford tomorrow. Harley and Niles would have to spare her their condescending offers and their patronizing attitudes. She wasn’t going to be put off her ranch now or ever.

Tye Hatcher would help her see to that.

A bolt of unease rocked her midsection and shot a shiver up her spine. She’d known Tye Hatcher since they were children. He was right, about his treatment by the community. She’d told him she didn’t care what the citizens of Aspen Grove thought of her. She wanted with all her heart for that to be true.

She would make it true.

Tye couldn’t help who his parents had been. It was unfair of people to treat him cruelly because of things that were beyond his control.

She could help them see that.

Joe and Tye had never been friends exactly, but Joe had never treated Tye badly, either. This was what Joe would have wanted her to do. Assuring herself of that, she hugged a feather pillow to her breast.

Saturday.

In six days she would marry Tye Hatcher and bring him to the ranch.

Five more nights alone in this bed.

And then she’d be Tye’s wife.

It hadn’t gone well. Not well at all. But then Meg hadn’t expected her announcement to be met with congratulations and hugs of encouragement. Edwina Telford had turned as red as a pickled beet and fairly exploded with indignation. “You can’t be serious!” she’d screeched, bringing Wilsie on the run.

“I am serious, Mother Telford,” Meg had said before Edwina could gather up enough steam to roll over her. “And nothing you can say or do will dissuade me. I’ve made up my mind that I’m going to keep the ranch, and this is how I aim to do it.”

Wilsie brought smelling salts and waved the bottle under her mother’s nose. “My poor Joe will turn over in his grave, God rest his soul,” the woman moaned, wringing her lace handkerchief. “His wife taking up with the likes of that—that good-for-nothing illegitimate rakehell! O-oh! I’ll never be able to hold my head up in this town again.”

“Joe would want me to do whatever it took to hang on to our ranch,” Meg disagreed, refusing to be swayed by her mother-in-law’s histrionics. “It’s not you who’s marrying Tye Hatcher—”

“Don’t speak that name to me!”

“It’s me, and you don’t have to approve of what I’m doing. I’m doing it no matter what anyone thinks. There’s no law against it. I’m an adult and a free woman, and I’ll marry whomever I please. Harley and Niles will have to forsake their plans to disburse my land. It’s going to stay mine.”

“Yours! It’s going to fall into the hands of that man, and who knows what he’ll do with it or what will become of you after he’s drunk and gambled away your last dollar!”

“He promised me he would never sell.”

“Promised? What good is the promise of a heathen like that? Meg Telford, you’ve lost your mind! He’ll make you miserable. He’ll take you down with him! Why, he spends his money and his time in the saloons. He drinks and consorts with floozies! I’ve a notion to send you to the doctor in...”

And so it had gone, with Edwina ranting about Meg dishonoring Joe’s memory, and poor Wilsie trembling and casting Meg fearful sidelong glances. Meg had driven the team home, fully expecting Harley to be close on her heels. He hadn’t arrived until after the accounting office where he worked had closed for the day.

And then she’d gone over the same arguments with him. Mother Telford had a room all ready for her. Meg wouldn’t have to bother herself with the running of a ranch. Edwina needed the company. Tye Hatcher was a sorry excuse for a man. He would ruin her good name and hurt her.

But Meg had stood her ground, firm in her belief that she was doing the right thing—the only thing—to keep Joe’s ranch. Harley had ridden off, anger and disapproval leaving a dusty trail behind him.

It was too much to expect them to understand this soon, she could see that, but they would come around. They had to. Eventually they’d see that she’d made a wise choice in taking Tye Hatcher on to save her land. Tye couldn’t possibly be as bad as they’d made him out to be. Why, it would take three men to do all the things he’d reportedly done and would soon repeat.

Meg had to concentrate on taking care of business. Preparing for this wedding certainly wasn’t like anticipating the first. With no time to have invitations printed, she wrote several notes to her friends and family and posted them, but no one showed up to help her, and the only responses she received were regrets.