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.

Дата добавления: 2015-11-14