The kitchen looked as if a storm had come along and rained clothing. He smiled and buried his face in Rachel’s curls. Oh, how he loved her. Never in all his life had he imagined himself capable of loving anyone this much. She was so wonderful—and so brave—and so openly honest about her feelings. I want to see you, too. How many virgin brides faced their first bedding with such enthusiasm? Oh, Joseph, you’re pretty, too. Was it any wonder he loved the girl?
Exhaustion settled over Joseph like a black blanket. He gave himself up to it, moving from consciousness into sweet, rose-scented dreams.
When Joseph awakened some time later, Rachel had left the bed. As he sat up, he realized that the day had long since dawned, the porch door was flung wide, and the ironwork was hanging open. He slipped from bed, drew on his trousers, and padded barefoot to the doorway. The sight that greeted his sleepy gaze—Rachel, strolling barefoot about the garden, wearing nothing but the gossamer gown—nearly took his breath away.
Weeks ago, he had tried to picture how she might look in her courtyard, but his imagination had failed him on two counts. The garden was far prettier than he had envisioned, and the woman in it was even more beautiful. Her hair fell in a glorious cloud of golden curls to her narrow waist. Her body could have been sculpted in ivory.
Mesmerized by her, Joseph moved out onto the porch. She gave a tinkling laugh when she saw him. “Come look, Joseph. We have a rosebud.”
The only rosebuds he was interested in were at the tips of her breasts, but he obediently followed the path of stepping-stones until he reached her side. After giving the rosebush due attention, he caught his wife around the waist and kissed her. She melted against him in eager surrender, then stiffened slightly and glanced uneasily around the courtyard.
“I’m not sure this is the place for this. I feel self-conscious.”
Joseph nibbled the silken slope of her neck. “No need for that. Except for Buddy, it’s completely private here.” He skimmed his hands up her sides to cup her breasts and then lifted them to his searching lips. “Ah, Rachel, you’re so beautiful.”
She moaned and arched her spine. “Joseph?”
“It’s all right. Trust me,” he whispered.
She moaned again, and by the sound, he knew that he had won. He proceeded to make love to her in the sunlight on a patch of new grass—and then on the porch—and then on the kitchen table.
A man needed breakfast, after all.
Darby remained at Eden for a week after the wedding to give the newlyweds privacy, and Joseph made the most of each day. Because he couldn’t take Rachel anywhere for their honeymoon, their activities were limited. They talked, they ate, they completed the few chores that they absolutely had to, and then they spent the rest of the time doing what they enjoyed most, making love.
Rachel continued to surprise Joseph with her unabashed enjoyment of physical intimacy. Most ladies in his acquaintance adhered to strict rules of social conduct that he suspected followed them to the bedroom. Such was not the case with Rachel. Joseph didn’t know if it was because she’d been sequestered for so long, or if she simply possessed a free spirit. He only knew she never said no to anything.
One evening, upon request, she happily cooked his supper while wearing nothing but her apron. That ended with the meat scorching. Not that either of them cared about eating when the meal was finished. Another evening, they bet articles of the clothing they were wearing while playing poker. When Rachel lost her drawers to Joseph, he threw in his hand.
In all Joseph’s life, he couldn’t recall a time when he’d laughed so much. If ever he’d had doubts about getting married, they vanished during that week. Rachel was his companion, his wife, his lover, and his confidante. He loved to hear her giggle. He loved listening to the inflections of her voice when she read to him. He loved watching the myriad expressions that entered and left her beautiful blue eyes while they conversed about any subject. In short, he just loved the girl. She was everything he could have wanted in a woman, and she made him feel complete, as if he’d found the other half of himself. Even better, he knew that Rachel felt the same way. They were meant for each other, plain and simple.
Darby’s appearance at the garden gate on Monday morning, a week and one day after their wedding, marked the end of Rachel and Joseph’s honeymoon, but Joseph didn’t expect it to end their happiness. While Rachel stayed in the kitchen behind her bars, Joseph let the old foreman into the courtyard, patted him on the shoulder, and invited him to join them for breakfast.
“That’d be good,” Darby said as they followed the stepping-stones to the porch. “I have some news to share.”
“What kind of news?” Rachel beamed a smile through the ironwork as she inserted a key into the lock. Pushing the bars wide, she beckoned Darby inside. “Something wonderful, I hope.”
Darby swept off his hat and nodded. “I think so. I ain’t so sure how you’re gonna feel about it.”
Rachel’s smile faltered. She wore a pink shirtwaist tucked into a gray skirt with organ-pipe pleats at the back. Joseph suspected what Darby was about to say, and a premonition of doom came over him like a gray cloud.
“You’re leaving,” Rachel said softly. It wasn’t really a question. The sadness in her eyes bespoke certainty. “Oh, Darby, not because I’m married, surely. You’ll always be welcome here.”
Darby slapped his hat against his leg. “I know that, honey. This isn’t about me feelin’ unwelcome. It’s about me havin’ a life of my own. You’ve got a husband to love you and look after you now. I’m not needed here like I used to be. I’m finally free to do other things and go where the wind takes me.”
Rachel nodded. And then she smiled just a little too brightly. “Of course.” She clamped a hand over the swirl of braid atop her head. “Oh, of course, Darby. How selfish of me. I never thought. I just never thought. Have you found another job, then?”
Joseph wanted to gather Rachel up into his arms and shield her from what Darby was about to tell her, but the rational side of him realized that he couldn’t protect her from everything.
“Not another job, exactly, although it will mean me workin’ somewhere else.” Darby’s larynx bobbed. “There’s a lady I’ve loved for a good many years, and I’ve asked her to be my wife. I know it’s a little late in life for me to be tyin’ the knot, but I’m gonna get hitched anyhow.”
Rachel’s mouth formed an O of surprise. Then all the clouds of regret vanished from her eyes. She clapped her slender hands, laughed with absolute gladness, and threw her arms around Darby’s neck.
“Married? Oh, Darby, that’s so lovely. And it’s never too late! I’m so happy for you, so very happy! Joseph, did you hear? Darby’s in love.”
“I heard,” Joseph replied solemnly. He thrust out a hand to the foreman. “Congratulations, Darby. I’m happy as I can be for you. I truly am.”
Rachel loosened her arms from around Darby’s neck and fairly danced in front of him. “Who is she? Tell me all about her. Is she pretty? Is she good enough for you? When did you meet her?”
Darby moistened his lips. Then he shot a look at Joseph. “I met her years ago, honey, long before you were ever born. As for whether she’s pretty or not, I think she’s beautiful, and that’s all that counts.”
Rachel’s smile faded again. “You don’t act very happy about it, Darby.”
He sighed and smoothed a gnarled hand over his hair. “That’s because I’m afraid the news is gonna hurt you, and you gotta know I’d never hurt you for anything.”
“That’s just silly. I’m delighted for you. Why would the news hurt me?”
“Because the woman I plan to marry is your aunt Amanda.”
All the color drained from Rachel’s face.
“I’m sorry, honey. I know you’ve got hard feelings toward her. I’m not sure why, but there it is. You’ve got a right to your feelings, just like I’ve got a right to mine.”
Rachel swayed on her feet. Joseph stepped in close to grasp her arm.
/>
“Amanda,” she whispered. “You’re going to marry Amanda Hollister?”
“I’ve waited well over half my life to be with her,” Darby replied. “I’m an old man, and time’s runnin’ out. Forgive me, little girl. I know you’re gonna hate me for it.”
Rachel squeezed her eyes closed. “Never that, Darby. Never that.”
“For the last five years, I’ve made all my choices for you,” the foreman went on. “I don’t regret a single minute, mind you. Please don’t be thinkin’ that. But now that you have Joseph, I can make some choices for myself. I hope you can find it in your heart to understand.”
Rachel wrapped her trembling hands around Joseph’s arm as if she needed his strength to support her weight. “I do understand, Darby. You’ve given five years of your life to me. I shan’t begrudge you a chance at happiness, no matter who it’s with.”
Darby’s green eyes filled. He nodded and looked out through the ironwork at the garden. “I’ll be stayin’ on here for about a week, if that’s okay. If you’d rather I didn’t, I can sleep in Amanda’s barn until our nuptials.”
Rachel’s nails dug into Joseph’s arm. “This is your home, Darby McClintoch. You can remain here however long you wish.”
Darby left without joining them for breakfast. The tension in the air was so thick it could have been eaten with a spoon. Rachel sank down on a chair at the table, braced her arms, and covered her face with her hands. Joseph sat across from her.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” It was all he could think to say.
She didn’t look up. “I want him to be happy,” she said in a strained voice. “I truly do, Joseph. Only why must it be with her?”
Joseph chose his words carefully. “Can you tell me why you hate her so?”
She shook her head.
“There has to be a reason, darlin’.” Joseph sincerely believed that. Rachel had such a loving and caring heart. He couldn’t envision her hating anyone without good cause. “There just has to be.”
“My dreams,” she whispered raggedly. “It’s something in my dreams. She was behind it. I know it. I just don’t know for sure how I know it.”
“Can you tell me about your dreams? Maybe if we talk about them, maybe if you can describe to me what you see in them, we can come up with some answers.”
Long silence. Then, “Blood. I see blood. Everywhere, Joseph, everywhere. On the grass. On Denver’s yellow fur.” Her shoulders jerked. “Tansy’s pink dress, drenched in blood. And Ma. Oh, God. Oh, God. No face. Pa’s p-playing his fiddle, and she’s d-dancing over the grass, laughing and smiling at him. But then she has no face.”
Joseph’s stomach rolled. “You mentioned once that you see Denver leaping up to bite the man’s leg, and that the man pulls his revolver and shoots him between the eyes. What else do you see, sweetheart? Picture his boot. Picture his leg. Is there anything special about the gun—or possibly the saddle? If you see his leg, if you see his hand holding the gun, you must see other things.”
No answer. Joseph studied her bent head for a long moment. Then he sighed. “If it’s this painful for you, honey, just let it go.”
Still no reply. A cold, itchy sensation inched up Joseph’s spine. “Rachel?”
She didn’t move. Concerned, Joseph reached across the table and drew her hands from her face. Her lashes fluttered open, but even though she appeared to be looking at him, she didn’t seem to see him.
“Rachel?” he whispered.
Nothing. He looked deeply into her eyes, searching for any sign that she heard him. It was as if everything within her had been snuffed out.
“Oh, Jesus.”
Joseph carried his wife to the sofa and sat with her cradled in his arms. Morning came and went, and still Rachel didn’t move or speak. She just lay there against him, limp, eyes open but unseeing, not hearing when he spoke to her. As the hours dragged by, Joseph began to fear that she might never return to herself.
His fault. He’d pushed her into thinking of that day. He’d forced her to describe what she saw in her dreams. Her mother, without a face. He closed his eyes, so sorry for pressuring her that he ached.
It was nearly three o’clock in the afternoon when Rachel finally stirred. Pushing against his chest, she sat straight, stretched as if she’d just awakened from a long nap, and beamed a smile at him.
“My goodness. How long have I been asleep?”
Joseph glanced at the clock. “For a bit.” Over nine hours, to be exact.
“Lands, just look at the time. I should have made bread today.” She swung off his lap. “It’s far too late for that now, Joseph. Will cornbread do for supper?”
Joseph’s body was cramped from sitting still for so long. He worked his arms to get the achy cricks out, his gaze fixed on his wife. She didn’t seem to recall their discussion, leading him to wonder if she even recollected Darby’s news. If so, she gave no sign of it. Humming the wedding march, she tied on her apron and hurried about the kitchen.
“I am so hungry. I’d swear I had no lunch.”
Or breakfast, either. A cold, crawling fear moved through Joseph. Rachel was not only hiding behind walls, but also behind memory loss. He’d never known anyone who could simply erase unpleasant memories from her mind, but that seemed to be what she was doing.
He wanted to confront her, to ask what she recalled of the morning. But fear held his tongue. What if he upset her and she went away from him again? Even worse, what if she stayed away next time? Joseph had heard of people going into trances. Sometimes they never came right again. He loved Rachel too much to take that chance.
And so he pretended with her that the events of the morning had never happened.
That evening when Joseph left the house to do chores, he went looking for Darby and found the old fellow resting in the bunkhouse.
“I still tire easy,” Darby explained as he swung his legs off the bed and finger-combed his hair. “Do a little bit, then I gotta sleep.”
“You lost a lot of blood, and you’re still not completely healed yet.” Joseph made a mental note not to allow Darby to overdo it during the week he planned to remain there. “Something happened up at the house this morning, partner. You and I need to talk.”
Darby gave him a questioning look. Joseph briefly explained about his conversation with Rachel and how she’d blinked out on him when his questions upset her. “I don’t think she remembers any of it,” Joseph said in conclusion. “Not our talk—or your news about marrying Amanda.”
“I’ll be.” Darby shook his head. “That’s beyond strange.”
It was the strangest thing Joseph had ever witnessed, and it made him scared to death of losing his wife. “I’m thinking it might be best if you don’t make any further mention of your marriage.”
Darby sighed and pushed to his feet. “I can’t for the life of me understand what’s going on in that girl’s head. Amanda still loves her with all her heart. She came to your wedding, hiding behind a veil.”
“I know. I saw her there, Darby.”
“It’s so sad. She’d give anything to hug that girl and cuddle her up. How did Rachel get it into her head that Amanda was behind the killings?”
Joseph had no idea, and he was coming to accept that he never might. He also realized that his first loyalty had to be with his wife. “I know that it’ll pain Amanda that I’ve asked this, but when next you see her, please tell her that I don’t want her coming around here again, veil or no. If Rachel were to recognize her—well, I just don’t know how she might react. That trance she was in today scared the bejesus out of me. I never want it to happen again.”
The following morning when Joseph went out to milk the cows and feed the stock, he found Darby in the barn, saddling up his gelding, Poncho.
“Where are you off to so early?” Joseph asked.
“Thought I’d ride fence line,” the old foreman replied. “Maybe count cows if I don’t tucker out before I get around to it.”
Joseph hadn’t
been out to check on the cattle since his marriage. The livestock grazed for feed and had water aplenty, so during his honeymoon he’d let them fare for themselves. “How about trading jobs with me? That’s a lot of fence line to ride.”
“It is, at that, but I’m no invalid, son.”
“I never meant to imply that,” Joseph replied. “But those cows are my worry now. If you’ll stick close to the house to keep an eye on Rachel, I’ll be happy to get out for a while, truth to tell.”
“All right, then.”
Darby started to loosen the saddle cinch. Joseph brushed the old man’s hands aside and handed him the milk bucket.
“I can lift my own saddle,” Darby protested.
“Never thought for a minute that you couldn’t.” Joseph quickly swept the saddle from Poncho’s back and settled it over a stall rail. “The cows are bawling to be milked. I’ll take care of your horse and saddle my own.”
Muttering about bossy young pups, Darby sauntered away to do the milking.
After finishing the chores and eating a breakfast that Joseph handed out through the garden gate, Darby took up squatting rights under the oak tree, his rifle resting across his outstretched legs, which were comfortably crossed at the ankle. As Joseph left to ride fence line, the old foreman yelled, “No need to worry while you’re gone. I won’t get caught with my back turned twice.”
Joseph nodded. He had every confidence that Darby would keep a sharp eye out for trouble. He rode close to say, “Been a week since I counted the stock. I’ll be taking my dog along to help sniff them out.”
Darby lifted his hat in farewell. “Have a good ride.”
It was a beautiful April morning, and Joseph had every intention of enjoying it. He was never happier than when he was in the saddle, especially when the mount beneath him was Obie. The stallion, sired by Ace’s black, Shakespeare, had his daddy’s fine conformation and even gait. Joseph had never owned a horse who gave him a smoother ride, and Obie was steady and trustworthy, to boot, never spooking, always responsive, and as sure-footed as any animal Joseph had ever seen.