High Plains Heartbreak (Love On The High Plains Book 3) Read online

  Whether Jesse's words made sense to the hysterical girl or she simply lost her will to fight, he didn't know, but she turned, burying her face in his shirt and sobbing.

  When he was certain she wouldn't approach her father's body, he relaxed a bit, his hold turning to a hug. He patted her back while she soaked the white linen with tears. With no end in sight and no reason to suspect any would be forthcoming, Jesse lifted the girl into his arms. Again the thought crossed his mind that she must be older than he'd believed. Despite her diminutive size, her weight was greater than he'd expected, as though a multitude of feminine curves were concealed under her dowdy dress. He carried her to the rough-hewn sofa and sank onto the rawhide upholstery. They'd made it themselves, the two of them, he recalled.

  His own heart aching, Jesse cradled Addie on his lap until sleep overtook them both.

  Chapter 2

  “What will happen now?”

  Jesse opened his eyes and groaned. His neck felt as though Mercury had been sitting on it. Sun blasted through the windows, stinging his eyes so he had to squint to see Addie standing before him, extending a cup of coffee. He accepted it gratefully, taking a sip of the scalding liquid as he blinked several times trying to clear away the scratchy, dry sensation. He felt like he'd been pushed, face-first, into a pile of red ants. As he woke up, he thought about how to answer her question. There were practical concerns. The doctor needed to come up. There would need to be arrangements made with the pastor and the undertaker. Thank the Lord it wasn't the height of summer. But Clevis McCoy's mortal remains wouldn't stay fresh forever, and so they needed to get to work right away.

  “Now, Miz McCoy? Once we deal with… everything, I'm taking you to your aunt in Colorado Springs. Your daddy asked me to.”

  She blinked. “No. This is my home. Why would I want to go to Colorado Springs? I don't know anyone there. I barely know my aunt.”

  “Think,” he replied, trying to snap her out of her confusion with a harsh tone. “You're just a young girl. You can't stay here by yourself. Anything could happen to you. Without your father's income, what will you live on? Not to mention the danger!”

  She said nothing. It struck him how incongruous her calmness seemed, especially after last night. The girl had just lost her father. Shouldn't she be sad? He regarded her closely. While there was a bruised, grieving look to her brown eyes, her chiseled face was set, stoic. She resembled her father more in that moment than she ever had before. And there was a stillness about her, a sense of accepting her grief rather than fighting it. I wonder if that's something she learned from her mother. He recalled when Clevis had learned his wife, whom he called Daisy because he couldn't pronounce her Kiowa name, had died while the two of them were tracking a murderer through the mountains. It was the only time Jesse had ever seen Clev cry.

  And now he's gone. The sandpaper feeling of Jesse's eyes turned to a familiar sting. Don't let go of it, Jesse. Hold yourself together. Clev wouldn't want that kind of tribute. Not to mention how embarrassing it would be to go all to pieces while the girl in front of him didn't.

  Addie stared into his eyes and he blinked twice to clear his vision.

  “How old are you?” he blurted suddenly, then felt his cheeks begin to burn.

  “Nineteen,” she replied succinctly, unembarrassed by the impertinent question.

  Now it was Jesse's turn to blink in disbelief. Nineteen? An adult? No wonder her dad was talking about her finding a husband. “Oh,” he said stupidly. Then, to cover his awkwardness, he stood and stretched, groaning again as his neck popped loudly. “Should we go down to town and see about finding the doctor and the minister?”

  The abrupt question brought them back to the present and the awareness of their crushing grief. Just behind the curtain lay the body of a man they'd both cared for. A body that would need to be cleaned and buried, prayed over and finally left behind, with no one to visit his grave.

  This time it was Addie whose eyes shone with tears. Her lip trembled. Jesse gripped her shoulder, trying to bring her a small measure of comfort. “You're not alone, Addie,” he mumbled.

  She nodded, her breath catching on a deep inhalation before she stepped away from Jesse. “Do you want any breakfast?”

  “No thanks,” he replied. “I'm not hungry. When you're ready, shall we head to town?”

  She nodded. “I'm not hungry either.”

  “Can you ride?” he asked, hoping Mercury would allow it. Normally the horse balked at anyone other than him on his back. “I don't have a sidesaddle.”

  Addie froze and turned, staring at him, the full rosebud of her lower lip drooping slightly open. “Sidesaddle? Sacrilege. Do you honestly think either of my parents would ever have permitted me to use one?”

  Jesse, who had just taken in a mouthful of coffee, swallowed quickly to avoid choking on it. Humor even now. What spirit this girl has. He smiled sadly. Clev must have been so proud of her. No, that was wrong. Jesse was no longer clear on what he believed about anything. But he had no doubt that somewhere, right now, his friend was looking down at his daughter and smiling. “Point taken,” he said. “Get some shoes on and let's get moving.”

  “I hate shoes,” Addie replied, but she consented to stick her feet into a pair of men's boots anyway. Or rather boy's boots, Jesse thought with amusement. No man ever had feet that small.

  As Addie busied herself getting ready for the ride, Jesse opened every window he could find in the cabin. While the wind in the mountains blew much less intensely than in his prairie hometown, he hoped it would be enough to dispel any contagion lingering around the room. Then he proceeded to the lean-to which housed the McCoy family's ancient, swaybacked mule, their milk cow and half a dozen chickens. Wait, what happened to Stormy? Sure enough, Clev's gelding was nowhere to be seen. The stall in which Mercury stood should not have been empty. Must have gotten rid of him, once he got too sick to work.

  A chilly breeze reminded Jesse of the inclement weather. The unhappy chickens clustered together in a patch of sunshine, their feathers fluffed. I wonder how they keep the birds warm in the winter… I wonder what will become of them.

  He slipped Mercury's bridle into place and led him out of the makeshift stall where he'd spent the night. The gelding leveled a sour look at the sorry-looking structure and tossed his glistening mane. Shabby housing or not, Mercury had been well groomed. Jesse regarded the saddle. The trip into town – if the unincorporated collection of buildings around the Pagosa Hot Springs could be called a town – would take the best part of an hour on foot, which would be their only means of transportation since the old mule hardly looked able to meander across the meadow, let alone carry anyone. Though the sun shone brightly on the still-damp grass and pale green shoots that would someday become spring flowers, another chilly breeze ruffled Jesse's hair and shot straight through his shirt. He shivered.

  The sound of dry grass crackling drew his attention to his left, where Addie approached, dressed in an oversized leather coat he'd seen many times. He looked askance at the girl, one blond eyebrow raised. She shrugged, making the heavy fabric creak, and turned to Mercury. The horse whickered a greeting, clearly having forgiven her for putting him in the hated barn. She approached without a hint of fear and stroked his velvety nose for a moment before circling around. Jesse turned to retrieve the saddle from the rear of the storage area which formed the right-hand side of the 'barn'. A sudden noise snared his attention and he turned, startled to find Addie sitting astride the barebacked horse, her legs hanging down over his flanks. Jesse's jaw dropped. “But… the saddle?”

  She shrugged. It seemed to be her signature gesture. “That's the sissy way. I don't need it. Besides, it's not big enough for both of us.”

  He blinked. “I thought I'd walk.”

  “Walk? With this strong boy standing by?” She patted the horse's neck. “He can carry us both to town. Hop on, Mr. West.”

  His formal name sounded wrong on her lips. Though he'd seen her a few times over
the years, they'd never exactly known each other well enough to be friends, and yet…

  “Call me Jesse,” he said gruffly as he vaulted onto the horse's back. Damn, this is hard without stirrups. Seizing the reigns, he turned the horse towards the township of Pagosa Springs.

  “All right, Jesse,” Addie said, her voice so soft the breeze threatened to carry it away. With her body pressed close to his, he became far more aware of her warmth and the softness of her curves than he would really have liked. “I never much cared for the Miss and Mister business anyway. What purpose does it serve to create distance?”

  This time Jesse shrugged. “It's just the way it's done, Addie.” After all she'd just said, calling her Miz McCoy again made no sense.

  “Not good enough. I like to know the reason for something before I do it.”

  “There isn't always a reason, Addie, except to stay out of trouble,” he said patiently. She's still so young.

  “People see me and automatically assume I'm trouble,” she replied. “At least if they knew my mother.”

  “Are they right?” he asked, an impish smile playing around his mouth as his eyes scanned the horizon. Or at least what he could see before the view was interrupted by blue mountain peaks capped in white. Before them, pine trees crowded close, their fragrance perfuming the gentle breeze. This is so unlike Kansas. Something about the mountains and trees never failed to make Jesse feel unsettled. Growing up in the middle of an unending prairie, able to see the horizon in all directions, the wind constantly in his ears, all the obstructions made him feel closed in.

  “You're tense. What's wrong?” the girl asked.

  I'm not about to admit to her that mountains make me edgy. “I'm heading into a town I don't know, to meet with people I don't know to plan my best friend's funeral.”

  “You don't need to,” she replied. “Dad made all the arrangements weeks ago. We only need to let the appropriate people know.”

  Of course. That fits perfectly. Scared or not, Clev couldn't have faced death with anything less than the strength and preparedness with which he embraced life.

  Addie's shoulders trembled. Poor girl. She's trying so hard to be strong, but she's basically alone in the world. Must be terrifying.

  Her fear and loneliness resonated with Jesse. He knew exactly what she was feeling. But as the gentle rhythm of the horse's hooves and the sweet scent of pine washed over them, some of their tension melted away.

  “Do you know the first time I met your dad?” he asked.

  She moved her head in a 'no' fashion.

  “I was in jail.” Jesse chuckled at the memory.

  “What did you do?” her voice, soft and curious, filtered back to him.

  “I got drunk. Then I cheated at cards. Then I got in a fight. I thought they were going to string me up, but as hung-over as I was, it seemed like a pretty good idea. Your dad stepped in and pointed out that I hadn't taken anyone's money, and a couple of broken barstools was a pretty small crime to stretch a boy's neck for. I was just your age at the time.”

  She didn't reply, but he knew she was listening. There was a sense of alertness in her silence.

  “He bailed me out and convinced the owner of the bar I busted up to exchange a couple weeks' work for his troubles, since I didn't have any money. Your dad stayed around to make sure I paid off my debts and then dragged me out of town and taught me how to do honest work.”

  “He always was a hero,” she said, and Jesse detected a hint of irony in her voice.

  “A hero to everyone else, huh?”

  “Yes,” she replied. And then a little sob escaped. “Damn it.”

  Jesse raised his eyebrows at the curse. “Not much of a lady, are you?”

  She chuckled, though her breathing was far from steady. “No, not at all.”

  “Good,” he replied. “Then I won't have to worry about offending you with my coarse, bounty hunter ways.”

  She laughed again, a little more convincingly this time. “What do you think my dad was? I learned a lot from him, when he was home. Jesse…” she broke off.

  “What is it, Addie?”

  “We're here talking and laughing about Dad. He… he passed yesterday. Is it wrong?”

  Jesse thought about her question. “No,” he replied at last. “I don't think so. I mean, I knew him pretty well. I think he'd like that we're remembering him with laughter rather than tears.”

  “Or at least only tears,” she added, wiping her eyes.

  “He was an unconventional man. We'll mourn him and remember him in the way that's most fitting, agreed?”

  “Agreed.”

  They lapsed into silence.

  All the long way into town a warm sun shone on their shoulders and heads while the cold nibbled their fingers and noses. At last the town came into view. A small collection of flat-fronted, two story buildings painted garish colors fronted a large body of water. A few pioneer homes dotted the landscape nearby.

  Addie directed Jesse down the path to the one cobblestone street, turning left and following the shore along its edge to a tall, slender wooden structure painted gleaming white with brown trim, tucked into the shadow of a great Ponderosa pine. A wooden cross over the entryway identified the building.

  Without waiting for Mercury to stop, Addie slid from the back of the horse and ran to the door, knocking twice and then opening. By the time Jesse had wrapped Mercury's reins around the church's support pillar and climbed the rickety wooden steps into the one-room structure, Addie had found her way to the front and was sitting beside the pastor, a gentleman of indeterminate years with silver threads in his dark hair and a smooth, unlined face. He grasped Addie's hands gently in both of his, Jesse saw as he reached them. This must be the mealy-mouth Clev disliked so much. Though to be honest, the pastor didn't seem like such a bad guy. He clearly cared about Addie. She on the other hand, had the stiff shoulders and frozen expression of someone who isn't comfortable. She nodded politely at the pastor's soothing words, but didn't seem connected to them.

  “Reverend,” Jesse said, breaking through the conversation.

  Both faces turned to him and he saw a flash of relief in Addie's eyes.

  “Hello there. I'm Pastor Joseph Allen. You can call me Joe.”

  “Jesse West.” Jesse extended his hand, which forced the pastor to release Addie so he could turn around and shake.

  He met the girl's eyes over the top of the man's head and she raised her eyebrows. Jesse schooled his face into stillness. He doubted Miss Adeline McCoy would have been swayed in the slightest by this man's attempts to woo her.

  “Pleased to meet you, Jesse,” the reverend said. “Are you a relative of the McCoys?”

  “Just a family friend,” he replied, switching his speech to the more proper patterns he'd learned as a child. “Miss McCoy informs me that her father has already made arrangements for his funeral and burial?”

  “Yes indeed,” the pastor replied, rising to his feet. Addie also stood, and the three stepped into the aisle. While two people could converse comfortably in a church pew, a trio in that configuration would mean someone always had their back to someone else. Jesse had to suppress another grin when he realized the pastor was only a bit taller than Addie. Hope he makes up for his size with some fiery sermons and fist pounding.

  “So what's the plan then?” Jesse asked.

  “Once the doctor,” Reverend Joe made a face, “has tended to the body, Mr. McCoy requested an immediate burial with only a small service to mark it. I can have everything arranged by tomorrow. Can you two have Mr. McCoy ready by then?”

  Jesse gulped. He'd forgotten that the burden of washing and dressing Clev would fall on them. “Only if the doctor agrees it's safe.”

  Addie made a face at him, one which clearly labeled him a sissy. So be it. Like Clev, I'm not afraid of dying, but slowly choking for years isn't the way I want to go. Giving the girl a quick eyebrow gesture, he returned his attention to the pastor, who was regarding them both with a
curious expression.

  “Of course,” the little man agreed. “No one wants to start an epidemic. So far, consumption has more or less passed us by, except for poor Mr. McCoy, of course. And we'd like to keep it that way.”

  “So it will be a small, simple service then?”

  “Yes,” Addie replied. “Dad didn't have much use for preachers, as you know.” She sent Joe one of her silent looks, this one clearly an apology. He acknowledged the gesture with a wry twisting of his lips. The pastor smoothed his dark hair with his fingertips as Addie continued. “He only wanted, as he said, 'a prayer said, a song sung, and some good food eaten.'”

  “That sounds like him,” Jesse commented. “I'm not the least bit surprised.”

  Addie dipped her chin, acknowledging his comment.

  I like this girl, Jesse thought to himself. I like her quiet ways.

  “And he spoke to the pianist, a lady who knows how to cook really well, and me,” Pastor Joe added. “As well as the undertaker and the doctor. Basically all you have to do is make sure Mr. McCoy is ready for the funeral.”

  The mention of a pianist brought to mind Kristina. It had been so long since he'd even written her a letter. I wonder if Addie knows anything about music. I wonder why, having known her father so long, having eaten so many meals across the table from her, I know so little about her. He tried to meet the girl's eyes again, but she was staring at the floor.

  Realizing there was nothing left to say, Jesse wrapped up the conversation with the pastor quickly and ushered Addie out the door.

  “How are you holding up?” he asked her.

  She glanced his way for a moment and then looked down again, studying the dirt between the cobblestones with great intensity. “About as well as you'd expect,” she replied. “Sometimes I want to cry, and other times I feel like laughing, though I can't understand why I would.”

  “All mixed up,” he replied. “That's how it is. Shock, hysteria, and just plain grief. Let it play out the way it wants to, Addie. Don't kick yourself for feeling all muddled. That's normal.”