Jake Walker's Wife Read Online Free Page B

was a spirited steed. "I told her he wasn't ready for such work just yet...." Still, he'd let Mary convince him they couldn't spare the other horses for her mission of mercy at the neighbors' that day. She'd reminded him she was an able horsewoman, and that the short ride to Lizbeth's was the best use they could make of the newly-acquired animal. If he'd been more forceful....
    It had been decided, between the sheriff and the doctor, that Mary's horse had likely reared up, frightened by a rabbit or a raccoon, upturning the wagon and tossing Mary into the underbrush. The doctor assured Micah she hadn't suffered, but the fact did little to ease the family’s pain.
    Bess had been twelve when it happened, Matt and Mark, barely walking. In the graveyard, Micah promised his children that he'd miss and remember his Mary always. He'd also promised that sadness would not haunt Foggy Bottom. "She's with Jesus now," he'd said, "and that's something to be joyful about."
    She had taken comfort from the strength of his words. But in the weeks and months to follow, Bess learned Micah hadn't believed them , himself. If she'd known then what she knew now about her father's fragile emotional condition, she'd have been even more diligent about filling Mary's shoes.
    Gradually, Bess took over more and more of her mother's duties. By the age of seventeen, she was running the house with organized yet gentle efficiency, and kept Micah's ledgers in better order than even he ever had. It was good, she repeatedly told herself, that the work kept her so busy, because although her determination was genuine, Bess missed her mother more than she cared to admit. And of course, she couldn't admit it, for Bess sensed how much her father and brothers depended on her stubborn strength.
    Only in the privacy of this room could Bess give in to loneliness and despair. Only here could she admit feeling tired, overburdened, deserted. Only in this peaceful, private place did she have the freedom to voice the whys and wherefores of death and dying...or dare to let tears fall. Surrounded by the things her sweet mama had so lovingly made, especially for her, Bess did her most honest mourning.
    Now, she took a deep breath and sat back, peering out into the dark, silent yard. A rabbit raced alongside the corral fence, a barnyard cat close on its heels. She said a little prayer for the bunny and glanced at the clock on her mantle. Nearly midnight. She could almost hear her mother's voice: "The breakfast bell rings early at Foggy Bottom; better get some sleep, or you'll pay the price tomorrow!"
    But not even the comforting weight of the afghan Mary had crocheted sooth ed Bess's ragged nerves. Her mind swirled with thoughts of Jake. Where had he come from? And what deep secret had darkened his beautiful blue eyes? He'd flirted blatantly with her during dinner. Why, to be honest, he'd started flirting the moment he climbed down from the wagon!
    The thought made her smile a bit as she stretched, yawned, closed her eyes. At the sound of whinnying horses, she opened them again. As a mother reads the meanings of her baby's cries, Bess knew her horses' moods. It wasn't like them to make such a racket at this hour.
    She'd heard in town yesterday that rustlers had run off with a dozen of Abe Macpherson's best quarter horses.... Well , she determined, getting to her feet, they won't get away with ours. At least, not without a fight !
    Quietly, she scrambled across her room and, without lighting a lamp, stepped into her boots and buttoned them halfway. She belted a navy skirt atop her nightgown and shrugged into a red lambswool jacket, fastening it as she hurried down the stairs.
    For a moment, Bess stood in the shadowy foyer and peeked through the bubbly leaded window beside the door. Instantly, she recognized the tall silhouette. She threw open the door and half-walked, half-ran toward the corral. " Jake Walker," she whispered loudly, "what're you doing out here at this hour?"
    He'd