Lonesome Bride Read online

  She peeked through the doorway of the small building to see an immensely tall, incredibly thin man with the palest skin she had ever seen, including her own. His hair was an inky, oily black that seemed to shimmer in the dim light of afternoon. He was sitting, bony knees drawn up, behind the desk at the front of the room. The schoolmaster, then. He was very clearly bored, listening to a lisping boy of about ten read his lesson.

  "Hastings, sit down,” the schoolmaster suddenly thundered, slamming a thick ruler along the edge of the desk. “Your incompetence astounds me."

  Caite watched the next student, a carrot-topped little girl with her two front teeth missing, rise from her desk. In a clear, halting voice, the child began to read the words scrawled on her chalkboard. When she had finished, she made a little curtsey and sat down, clearly relieved to have made it through the lesson without complaint from the schoolmaster.

  There would be ample time tomorrow to interview with the man running the school. Caite was not very hopeful, however. There seemed to be hardly enough students to keep one teacher occupied. The chances the town would need another seemed slim indeed.

  "There you are,” Jed declared when she entered the hotel lobby. “Our room is all ready."

  His words stopped her in her tracks. “Rooms, you mean."

  Jed came over, grasped her by the upper arm, and steered her toward the rickety looking staircase to the left of the front desk. Smiling heartily at the desk clerk, who was looking at them suspiciously over his spectacles, Jed remarked in a loud, carrying voice, “Yes, darlin', our room is ready."

  "What are you talking about?” Caite tried to wrest her arm away from him without success.

  By this time they were ascending the stairs to the hotel's second floor. Tugging her down the hallway lit intermittently by foul-smelling oil lamps, Jed hushed her. Finally, they stopped in front of one of the doors, and Jed pulled a key from his pocket.

  "They only have one room left,” he explained, opening the door and pushing her inside. “They'll only rent it to married couples, Caitleen. Unless you want to spend the next two nights in the stable, you'll shut your yap and play along."

  "Oh, no you don't,” Caite exclaimed. “I won't have it, I tell you! I know exactly what you are trying to do, and it will not work!"

  "Caite,” Jed said wearily, shutting the door behind him. “Believe me, this is not what I had planned.” At her dubious look, he amended himself. “All right, I had planned something like this, but that was before."

  "Before what?” she demanded, hands on her hips.

  The look he gave her made her feel suddenly small and shrewish. “Before this afternoon."

  Before she had unmanned him, she could almost hear him saying. Before she had rejected him yet again. Well, poor Jed Peters, Caite thought vehemently, angry he might be trying to make her feel guilty. She was the one being rejected over and over, not him.

  "What do you propose we do about this?” Her eyes raked the well-worn room from top to bottom and found it severely lacking.

  "We make the best of it,” Jed replied.

  "The best of this?” Caite found herself laughing. “This is the sorriest excuse for a room I have ever seen, Jed. Even worse than your cabin."

  At the mention of the cabin, each fell silent. She could remember what had happened the last time they had been forced to share a bed, and she knew he could, too. She did not think it was something either one of them was likely to forget.

  "I'll sleep on the floor,” Jed declared gruffly, as if he were reading her thoughts.

  "Good.” Caite moved to the tiny washstand and poured some water into the basin. “I don't know about you, but I think I'd like to wash up."

  "Go ahead,” he replied, walking over to the tiny, grimy window and peering out.

  Caite stared at him pointedly. “I'd like to do so privately, if you don't mind."

  He turned to look at her, amusement tinged with annoyance in his clear green eyes. “As a matter of fact, I do mind. If you want to get washed up, then go ahead. But I reckon I paid for this here room, and I'm not going to spend my time standing outside in the hallway."

  Caite blushed. “For modesty's sake, Jed, please."

  He guffawed incredulously. “Caitleen, I've seen you naked as the day you were born! You've got nothing to hide from me."

  "Please. At least turn around.” She must have looked as miserable as she felt, because he suddenly looked chagrined.

  "All right,” he grumbled, throwing his hands into the air to show the world what a fool woman she was being. “I'm going out anyway. I might as well go now."

  "Where are you going?"

  He looked levelly at her. “To the saloon. To have a good time."

  Oh, she understood the good time men had in saloons, all right. It was her father having that kind of good time that had landed her in this mess in the first place. Caite laughed harshly.

  "To drink, you mean,” she said spitefully. “To drink and to gamble."

  Jed looked at her, cocking his eyebrow in the expression she had come to imitate so well. “I reckon I might do some of those things."

  How easy it was for men to do as they pleased! Caite clenched her fists in sudden anger. Men could get themselves stinking drunk, if they wanted. They could gamble away everything they owned, and even what they did not, and no one would condemn them—because they were men. Suddenly, Caite was sick to death of men and their selfish pastimes.

  "How common of you,” she sneered, tears sparking against her eyelids. She saw Jed's face pinch in anger, and was almost glad of it. She wanted to drive him away, wanted him out of this room with her. Out of her life! “How just like a man. Go and drink, then, Jed! Go and gamble away the money you take from working your father's land. Go and lose your dignity in liquor so you can stumble back singing your own praises and the praises of every man on this earth who is just like you!"

  "You forgot one other thing men go to do in saloons, Caitleen,” Jed answered coldly, his eyes snapping like pine knots in a fire.

  "Tell me, Jedson,” she snapped meanly, emphasizing his full name. “What else do men go to do in saloons?"

  "We go to whore,” Jed replied stonily. He slammed the door behind him, and he was gone.

  CHAPTER 12

  Macintosh's Saloon was alive with activity, despite the sun barely having gone down. Jed slammed through the batwing doors, strode to the bar and plunked down enough money to keep him swilling good, hard booze for the rest of the night. Caite's accusations were still rankling in his gut. He didn't know where she got off lumping him in with every rowdy cowboy in the world anyway. Before she'd blown up at him, he'd only intended to have a beer or two and catch up on the latest news. Now, instead, her words had pushed him to want to do everything she had accused him of, and more.

  "Keep ‘em coming as long as I can handle ‘em, Mac,” Jed announced to the gap-toothed bartender.

  "Yes sir, Jed!” Mac grinned, filling a shot glass with three fingers of his finest rotgut.

  Jed downed the drink in one gulp, feeling the fire fill his belly and sting his eyes. The sensation was nothing compared to the ache in his crotch. He shifted uncomfortably, willing the alcohol to dull the pain there as he knew it would everywhere else.

  "Got a game starting directly, Peters."

  Hal Overton clapped Jed hard on the shoulder and pointed him toward the table in the back. As tall as Jed, but with a few more years and pounds on him, Hal dug deep into his pocket to show Jed the handful of money he was carrying. With the other hand, he drew out a deck of well-worn cards.

  "You in?"

  Jed nodded. “Yeah, I reckon I am. Get ready to lose that wad of yours, Overton."

  Hal laughed, clapping Jed on the back again. “So you say every time, Peters. So you say."

  "Maybe I feel lucky tonight.” Jed slid into an empty chair. The whiskey was starting to make him feel good. He raised a finger to Mac, indicating he wanted another shot.

  "Lucky?”