Innocent Hearts Read online

  "Doctor," Kate asked, her voice low but steady, "may I see her please?"

  The doctor replied in a startled voice, "But she's not awake yet, my dear. She wouldn't know you were there."

  "I don't care about that," Kate insisted. "Just for a moment. Please." Her voice was firm.

  "But--" he began.

  Mae took a deep breath, thinking how Kate had waited all day, pale and patient and determined. Knowing she'd probably regret it, she said, "Can't do no harm, can it, Doc?"

  He looked from one to the other; each regarded him steadily, their eyes never wavering. Strange pair, a young society lady and a lady of the evening. But he'd seen stranger things out here in this godless country, and many things far worse. He decided that he was no match for the two of them together.

  "Not more than a minute," he relented. "And don't wake her."

  * * *

  An oil lamp in one corner, turned down low, cast flickering shadows throughout the small windowless room. A single iron bed stood in the center of the narrow space, a straight-backed wooden chair nearby. The sound of low, raspy breathing broke the deep silence. As her eyes adjusted, Kate made out the still shape of Jessie's body beneath the covers. She pulled her lower lip hard between her teeth to stop its trembling, and quietly stepped to the side of the bed.

  Jessie's eyes were closed, her face pale and impossibly defenseless. A bandage covered the right side of her head, and the sight of a bright spot of blood in its center tore at Kate's heart. She was reminded that Jessie, for all her strength, was vulnerable, too. Kate watched the slow rise of Jessie's chest beneath the thin blanket and realized how quickly life could change, forever.

  She reached out and softly stroked Jessie's cheek.

  "It's Kate, Jessie," she whispered softly. "You're going to be all right." She lifted Jessie's cool fingers and cradled them in her hand, stroking the work-roughened palm gently. "You must sleep, and get well."

  She wanted to make Jessie well; she wanted to give Jessie her strength and shield her while she healed. Kate felt so helpless that her chest ached. Her throat tightened with a longing so intense she had to close her eyes against the pain, drawing comfort from the steady sound of Jessie breathing.

  Finally, she leaned forward and brushed her lips gently over Jessie's cheek. "Rest now," she whispered.

  When she returned to the room where Mae waited with the doctor, Kate said, "I'd like to help you look after her, Mae. You can't possibly do it all yourself."

  Mae looked at her steadily for a moment, wanting to refuse, not entirely certain why. "I don't think I could keep you away, could I?" she asked quietly.

  "No, Mae. You couldn't."

  Mae nodded silently. Some things would have to be settled later.

  * * *

  "Martin," Martha Beecher began in an agitated voice after Kate had made her announcement and gone up to bed, "you simply must speak to Kate. It is just not fitting for her to be spending time in that - that place. And with those women! She has her reputation to think of!"

  Her husband frowned, and replied shortly, "For heaven's sake, Martha, she wants to help take care of a woman who was - injured -saving people's lives." He thought it best not to remind his wife that Jessie had been shot. Martha was already distraught enough. "No one is going to think anything evil about Kate for that!"

  Martha was hurt by the harsh tone in his voice and tears came to her eyes. "I'm only thinking of Kate!"

  Martin went to his wife and put his hands on her shoulders. "I know you are, dear, but you must try to understand. Life is hard and women out here have to be different. All of us must do things we never had to do before. Kate understands that. She is doing the proper thing."

  Martha looked at him, clearly unconvinced. "What she needs is to be settled and safe. I'm not at all sure that this place is good for Kate. Not sure at all."

  He sighed, "This isn't the usual situation, Martha. I'm sure that Kate will fine. You said yourself that you liked Ken Turner."

  Martha rested her head on his shoulder, her anger draining away. "Oh Martin, I'm so worried about her. She seems to have changed somehow since we came here. I feel like I hardly know her."

  He smoothed her hair, holding her carefully. "Kate is a good child, Martha. Let's give her a little time, and if you still feel she's not on the proper course, we'll talk about what needs to be done. I'm sure that you know what's best for her."

  Martha nodded, wishing fervently that Kate had stayed behind in Boston.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  FOR A LONG time there was a horrible pain somewhere inside her, and when it began, her mind retreated. She slept. While she slept, she dreamed. She wandered over vast barren prairies and through dark mountain passes, searching for a place to rest. Each time she stopped, she waited, lonely and so cold, for the comfort that never came. She drifted in and out of consciousness, dimly aware that she was not alone. Soft voices soothed her and softer hands placed cool cloths on her burning forehead, bathing the fever from her skin. Gentle, insistent hands held her and forced nourishment between her lips. She struggled less and less with each touch, letting herself be healed. In the end, it was hunger that woke her.

  Jessie opened her eyes and turned her face slowly toward the open window. She blinked against the first assault of sunlight, even as she welcomed the banishment of the dark that had surrounded her for so long. A breeze gently fluttered the curtains. Kate was sitting before the window, a book open in her lap.

  Jessie lay silently for a moment, studying her. She didn't appear to be reading. She stared down into the street, her expression distant. Wisps of black hair, too thick to be contained, framed her face. Her full lips were unsmiling and there were dark smudges under her eyes. She looked worn and weary, and older than Jessie remembered. Even in her exhaustion, Jessie thought her beautiful.

  "How long have you been here, Kate?" Jessie said quietly.

  Kate gave a cry, turning to Jessie, her eyes wide. What she saw was what she had prayed for, every moment of the endless days since the wagon had carried Jessie into town: Jessie, her deep blue eyes clear and strong; Jessie, perfect lips curled into a faint smile of greeting. Jessie.

  The resolve that had sustained Kate through near sleepless nights and days of worry dissolved with the swift rush of relief, and tears sprang to her eyes. She whispered Jessie's name, holding herself tightly, and cried.

  Jessie waited for the storm to pass, wishing she could comfort her. "Kate," she said gently as Kate's quiet sobs abated. She made one feeble attempt to sit up, but quickly abandoned the idea when a searing pain ran down her arm. She gritted her teeth for a moment, then tried again. "Kate."

  Kate swiped at the tears on her cheek and came to Jessie's side, smiling tremulously. "Don't try to get up."

  "Don't worry," Jessie gasped, leaning back on the pillow. "I'll save that for a bit later."

  Kate brushed her hair back, but the heavy locks would not be tamed. "I must look a fright!" she said, suddenly self-conscious.

  "No," Jessie said seriously, "You're beautiful."

  Kate colored slightly, but her eyes shone with pleasure. She asked tenderly, "Are you in pain, Jessie?"

  Jessie forced a grin. "Not as bad as the time the bull ran me down when I was ten." She held Kate's eyes for a long moment, marveling at their dark beauty, and quickly forget the throbbing in her shoulder. "How long have I been here?" she asked at last.

  "Almost a week."

  A week during which she and Mae and several of Mae's 'girls' had taken turns sitting by Jessie's bed, changing her nightshirt when she soaked it through with sweat, replacing the bloody bandages and cleaning the terrible wounds, forcing her to drink and soothing her when she had cried out in the throes of some dream terror. Kate had come every day, despite Martha's increasingly vocal objections, and she often sent the others away, preferring to look after Jessie herself. All except Mae. Mae would often come in when Kate was there, to simply stand at the foot of the bed and watch Jessie sleep.
When she was satisfied that Jessie was all right, she would disappear into the night. Where she went and what she did were none of Kate's affair, although Kate was fairly sure that she knew precisely what Mae was doing. Kate found that she didn't care. Jessie had almost been killed. Realizing that if it hadn't been a gunshot it might have been a stampeding horse or a rockslide up in the hills, Kate suddenly had a new appreciation of what truly mattered in life, and it certainly wasn't judging what someone else did to survive.

  "The doctor says you'll be fine, but you need to rest," Kate assured her.

  "Damn, I feel weak as a kitten," Jessie frowned. "And I'm not going to get any stronger laying up here."

  Jessie tried again to push herself up again. A wave of dizziness rolled over her, followed quickly by a fierce surge of pain. She groaned and struggled not to faint. Kate reached for her without thinking, moving onto the edge of the bed and supporting Jessie's shivering body against her side with a protective arm around her shoulders. She held Jessie's face to her breast, stroking the damp hair back from Jessie's forehead. Jessie trembled and Kate caught her breath as something inside of her turned over.

  With an effort, she said quietly, "You can't get up. Not just yet."

  Jessie relaxed into Kate, too weak to protest, and Kate just held her. Kate had never been this close to another human being before, other than her parents. Nothing she had ever imagined had prepared her for the wave of tenderness that swept through her. She could scarcely breathe.

  "Well," Mae said acerbically from the doorway behind them. "I guess our patient's getting better." She carried a tray to the dresser before turning to the women on the bed.

  Kate released Jessie gently and stepped quietly to one side. She met Mae's eyes squarely but could not read the expression in her cool green gaze. Then Mae looked away from her toward Jessie, and her face softened.

  "How are you, Montana?" Mae asked, her voice husky.

  Jessie worked up a smile. "I'm downright embarrassed, Mae. Letting a couple of no-goods get the best of me, and causing all this trouble!"

  Mae smiled fondly. "Jess, the only trouble you would have caused is if you'd up and died on us!"

  Jessie grinned a little sheepishly, but the pain had taken its toll. "I can't seem to stay awake," she complained weakly."

  Mae turned to Kate, a hint of challenge in her eyes. "I suspect we'd both better go and let Jessie rest a bit."

  "Yes." Kate answered slowly.

  * * *

  Jessie awakened the next day to discover that the sun was already high in the sky, and she had lost nearly another day. She didn't mind so much when she found that she was not alone.

  "What is that you're reading, Kate?" Jessie asked, managing to sit up this time with much less pain.

  "The sonnets of Mr. William Shakespeare." Kate placed her finger on the page and lightly closed the cover on the leather-bound book. She looked across the room at Jessie, heartened to see how much better she appeared. There was color in her face and a sparkle in her eyes that Kate had feared she might never see again. "Do you know them?"

  Jessie shook her head. "I've heard of him, but I'm not much for poetry. I'd rather have a story, I guess."

  Kate smiled. "Every time I read one, I find something new to enjoy, even though I know most of them by heart."

  Jessie nodded, contemplating Kate's words seriously. Finally she ventured, "Like always being surprised at how pretty the sunset is, even after seeing a thousand of them."

  "Yes," Kate said quietly, her gaze meeting Jessie's tenderly, "exactly like that."

  Jessie flushed, having never known such quiet communion in the rough world of cowboys. For some reason, it did funny things to her breathing, and it wasn't from something broken, but from something right. Kate's hands trembled as they held tightly to the thin volume in her lap, knowing that Jessie saw her as no one ever had. To others she had always been just another young woman with her future predetermined by virtue of her sex and status. Her father had allowed her to be different than other young girls, but only to a point. She might read in the college library, but he had not suggested she attend classes there. Jessie seemed content to let her simply be. The silence grew heavy as their eyes held, two women united not by common experience, but by a common sensitivity that drew them together more surely than convention or class.

  Eventually Jessie, comforted in body and soul, closed her eyes and slept again. Kate, her heart full, smiled at her and returned to the poems.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  JESSIE PULLED THE curtain aside, looking down the street for Kate. It was well past the time that Kate usually arrived in the morning, and Jessie was starting to worry. It was only a mile or so from Kate's home into town, and almost the entire route was well populated, but still she was a woman out alone. Ordinarily Jessie wouldn't have been so anxious, but her nerves were jangling as she considered what she was about to do.

  "Well, you're up and dressed awfully early," a voice behind her observed.

  Jessie turned. Mae stood just inside the door, still in her dressing gown. "I want to go home, Mae," Jessie said without preamble.

  "Now Jess," Mae said, working to keep her voice even, "the Doc said you couldn't ride yet. You know darn well if you go back to the Rising Star that's the first thing you'll want to do!"

  Jessie leaned against the window and muttered under her breath. Her face was thinner, but her color had returned. "Mae, I just can't stand it anymore! Lord knows what's going on out there! Jed is a good man, and I know it. But that's my ranch!" Jessie paced the room impatiently, frowning. She just wouldn't be right until she got out into the air again, out of town!

  "It won't be much longer, Jess," Mae tried again. Lord, you couldn't tell these cowboys anything! "If you open up that tear in your shoulder, you could be in real trouble."

  "Mae, I swear!" Jessie fumed, pushing her hands into the pockets of her levis. "I just don't feel healthy in here. And as kind as you've been, I feel like I'm fettered."

  Mae went to her, laughing, and put her hands on Jessie's tense shoulders. She had to stand on tiptoe to look into Jessie's eyes, and she leaned against Jessie lightly for support. She shook her head, smiling at the perplexed expression in Jessie's eyes. "Oh, I know you're grateful, Montana. And I know just what you're feeling. I've known a lot of cowboys in my time, and I know better than to try to tame one. But if you go, you'd better promise to look after yourself. You ain't seen nothing til you've seen me mad!"

  Jessie smiled down at Mae and put her hands gently on Mae's waist. "I want to thank you, Mae, for everything you've done for me. I know how bad off I was, and I owe you my life, I guess."

  "I had help," Mae acknowledged as she tilted her head back and searched Jessie's face. Suddenly serious, she said softly, "Something special would have gone out of my life if I lost you, Jess." She pressed closer, sliding her arms around Jessie's shoulders, and put her lips gently on Jessie's mouth.

  Kate pushed open the door and let out a startled cry of surprise. She stared, speechless, at Jessie holding Mae in her arms.

  Jessie looked up, quietly releasing Mae. The kiss had taken her by surprise, and she was momentarily stunned by the softness of Mae's lips. She remembered dreaming, that night in the bath, of kissing lips as soft as those. But it had not been Mae she dreamed of, and, with a hint of relief, she said, "Why, Kate! Come in."

  "I'm sorry. I should have knocked," Kate said coolly. Kate's first flush of embarrassment at coming upon such an intimate scene was quickly replaced by something else. She wasn't sure with whom, or why, but the sight of Mae in Jessie's arms made her angry.

  Jessie smiled, innocently pleased to see her at last, the kiss forgotten. "I've been wondering where you were!"

  Kate stared from one to the other of them, confused. Jessie's greeting was warm and welcoming, the way it always was. She chided herself for making too much of what she had seen, but a feeling of disquiet still lingered.

  Mae stepped slowly away from Jessie, turn
ing toward Kate with an enigmatic smile. "Yes, Kate. Do come in. I was just, uh, saying goodbye to Montana here."

  "Goodbye!" Kate cried, her anger forgotten. She had consciously avoided thinking about what would happen when Jessie was healed, because she knew that Jessie would leave. Then, Kate feared, she would be left as she had been before, alone in a life she found increasingly oppressive. Her heart sinking, she repeated softly, "Goodbye."

  Mae touched Jessie lightly on the arm as she headed for the door. "Don't forget to come calling now, Jess."

  Kate turned sharply to Jessie, who was awkwardly trying to strap on her gun belt without using her injured arm.

  "What are you doing?" Kate asked, fear making her tone sharper than she intended.

  Jessie looked up in surprise. "Why, I'm going home, Kate."

  Kate put the parcel of books and basket of food she had been carrying on the dresser and crossed to Jessie. "You'll hurt yourself," she admonished, struggling not to raise her voice.

  Jessie held up a hand when she saw the frown on Kate's face. "Now don't you go at me, too! Jed is coming in the buckboard so I won't have to ride."

  "You haven't been out of bed but for a day, Jessie," Kate said softly, reaching around Jessie's waist with both arms to settle the wide holster on Jessie's narrow hips. She stood close to her, threading the worn tongue through the silver buckle, fumbling slightly with the clasp.

  Jessie went very still as Kate worked, acutely aware of Kate's fingers brushing over her legs. Kate's hair smelled fresh, like flower petals ripe with spring pollen.

  "I promise to lie low when I get home," Jessie insisted. "But I need to get home, Kate."

  "How does this thing tie?" Kate asked, her head bent as she studied the thong hanging from the holster.