Midafternoon was far too hot to do something as strenuous as chopping wood, and if he'd been smart, J.D. would have put it off until closer to sundown. Trouble was, he'd run out of stuff to do, and it was either this or sit inside the house and watch Amelia sort through things. He'd tried that for a while, but he didn't find it very comfortable, and neither did she.
There didn't seem to be much she wanted, just a few of the little odds and ends she'd brought with her when she married. It probably wouldn't take her long to finish. They might actually have time to make it back to town today--which would render his present task pointless--but they hadn't even talked about that possibility. J.D. didn't want to talk about it, either. He wanted another night with her before they had to get back to their real lives. She wasn't leaving until the day after tomorrow, and he hated the notion of spending a whole day with her in town, trying to act like none of this had happened.
He hated the notion of her leaving, too. Whenever he tried to deal with that, his thinking got very confused. He was smart enough to know that what was happening couldn't last, but it was so good that he couldn't help wishing it could go on for just a while longer.
Setting another log up on the chopping block, J.D. brought the axe down on it with a hard, smooth blow that split it cleanly. He hadn't done this much--it had never been part of his regular chores--but he had a lot of strength in his arms, and he'd caught the rhythm of it pretty quick. Now, he was kind of enjoying it, even though the sun was beating down fair to fry him, and sweat was pasting the knitted vest to his back.
He already had more wood than they were ever going to need, so he set the axe aside, gathered up an armful, and carried it straight into the house where it would have some extra time to dry before they used it. Amelia looked up from the table to smile at him, then went back to what she was doing, rolling her great-grandma's teapot in a towel so it wouldn't get busted.
He finished carrying in the wood, then retrieved his shirt from the post where he'd hung it, and carried it with him over to the well. Reeling up a bucket of water, he pondered the pleasant possibility of just pouring it all over his head, but decided that wet dungarees would be even less comfortable than dry ones. He settled for sliding out of the vest, leaving it dangling around his waist while he picked up the dipper to give himself a rinse off.
"Here, this'll help."
He hadn't heard Amelia come outside, so he jumped a little at the sound of her voice.
"Startled me a bit," he admitted, turning to face her. "You move awful quiet."
"Sorry."
He finally noticed she was carrying the bath sponge he'd used yesterday. She dipped it in the bucket, lightly squeezed out the excess water, and stroked it across his shoulder. The water felt like ice against his sweaty skin.
"Yeow, that's cold."
She must have guessed it wasn't a complaint, because she dipped the sponge again, then caught his elbow and turned him so his back was to her. Another sweep of icy cold down his spine shocked free a gasp of pleasure and discomfort.
"You're burned a bit."
"Ain't surprised," he admitted. Even as a kid back East, he'd been really sensitive to the sun. Out here, he'd discovered the hard way that he would burn right through his shirt sleeves if he wasn't careful. Taking off the shirt had been a mistake, but he'd been miserably hot.
"I wasn't out that long," he added hopefully.
"It's not bad. You'll just be a little sensitive for a day or so." She swept another strip of his back clean of sweat, then J.D. felt the light brush of her lips against the still-tingling skin.
"That ain't a problem," he assured her, laughing.
She dipped the sponge again, this time squeezing it out above his shoulder so that icy droplets rained down on him, dribbling along the hollow above his collarbone and running in little rivers down his back. Turning him to face her again, she dipped the sponge and repeated the action. This time, she caught the droplets that beaded down the center of his chest with her tongue.
J.D. gave serious consideration to whether or not he was capable of doing anything with all this potential, and came to the unhappy conclusion that he wasn't. He would've been willing to give it a try, but he didn't get the feeling Amelia was asking him to. She just seemed to be having fun with him, so he relaxed and enjoyed the teasing, kissing her when she came close enough to let him, basking in the pleasant feeling of having his skin scrubbed clean.
He sighed in disappointment when she finally stepped back and handed him his shirt.
"You'd better cover up or you will be uncomfortable."
That was the truth, so he swept the shirt along his arms and shoulders as a makeshift towel, then got himself dressed.
"You done inside?"
"Yes. I found an old laundry basket. Everything I want fits in it."
"I thought maybe you'd want some of the furniture."
"None of it's mine," she answered simply.
"I guess you're ready to go, then?" After it slipped out, he couldn't believe how miserable the question sounded.
"I thought we should start back first thing tomorrow. It's going to rain again tonight."
J.D. looked upwards. This time there wasn't a single cloud in sight, just solid, clear blue stretched like a canopy from mountaintop to mountaintop.
"You're making that up."
"I'm not. This time I'm paying attention. Can't you feel the wind changing?"
He was tempted to ask what it was changing from or to, but he didn't really care. A storm that might never come was as good an excuse as any to stay. Hell, by now, Buck must've decided they were either having a grand old time or they were dead, and either way there should be no reason to go bothering them.
"So, I guess that means we've got to find something to do for the rest of the day?" Maybe he wasn't all *that* tired. Amelia laughed and hugged him, then drew back so she could see his face.
"There's a place I'd love to show you, if you're up for a walk."
"Sure, why not?" It wasn't quite what he had in mind, but in the long run, it was probably better for his life expectancy. J.D. had heard tell that too much of a good thing could kill a man--or at the very least leave him walking funny for a day or two, like happened with Buck now and then.
"Where we going?" he inquired, when he'd retrieved his hat. "Up there." She pointed towards a rocky hill that ran along behind the homestead. High up at the top, he could see a single, enormous tree.
"What's up there?"
"Nothing much. The view's nice." She started off towards the base of the hill, and J.D. fell in beside her.
It wasn't a hard climb, especially since Amelia had to stop every few minutes to point out some interesting rock or clump of wildflowers. In ten or fifteen minutes, they were on the crest. Up here he could really feel that the wind was picking up again, though he didn't know if it meant what she thought it did.
Amelia had a light shawl draped over her shoulders. Standing on a flat rock, she held it by the ends and tossed it upwards so that it caught the wind, flapping like a brightly colored banner. She laughed at the sight of it, and J.D. laughed too at the picture she made with it with her hair and the skirts of her dress billowing out wild and free around her.
Eventually, she dragged in the shawl and pulled it around her again. Walking in under the spreading limbs of the ancient tree, she settled down on the grass with her back against it. J.D. drifted around for a few more minutes, still wondering why she'd brought him there. It was a pretty view, though not as spectacular as the one they'd seen from the entrance to the valley, and there didn't seem to be anything much to look at that they could see just as well from down below.
"You're wondering why I brought you up here," she echoed his thoughts when he finally settled beside her.
"Kind of."
"This used to be my special place. Where I'd come when I needed to get away from the house." She drew up her knees and wrapped her arms around them, then rested her chin on them like a little girl. "I just wanted to see it again. I'm sorry, it's probably boring for you."
"No, it ain't that." He stretched out flat on his stomach, propped up on his elbows. Plucking a handful of grass stalks, he began to idly dismember them and let the breeze take them away, one by one. "I used to have a spot like that, back home. Weren't as nice a view. Weren't no real view at all, actually. It was just this little cubbyhole up under the roof of one of the barns. Only thing that could get in there was me and some pigeons, and that's only 'cause I was small and good at climbing. There was a crack in the boards, so I could look down on the yard and watch what was going on."
"That's when you learned to notice things?"
"Guess so." He grinned. "Drives some people crazy."
"I'm sure it does."
After a couple of minutes of companionable silence, he ventured, "You know, I never thought it could get to be so comfortable, talking to a woman. Didn't know what to say to you at all at first, but now... Heck, I think you know more about me now than anybody alive."
She laid a hand on his back, not starting anything, just touching him in a contented, friendly sort of way.
"And perhaps you know more about me than anyone else. I don't wear trousers in front of just everybody, you know," she teased lightly.
"When I was living back in New York, I heard tell that some ladies claim all women should dress like that. An' I saw a photograph once of some lady doctor, back in the war. They say she wore trousers all the time and worked in army hospitals just like a man."
"Generally speaking, women who believe in emancipated dress are not considered to be ladies, and Dr. Walker's fashion statement could not be considered a vast success," Amelia returned wryly. "The idea of a lady doctor doesn't bother you?" J.D. shrugged. "Never thought about it much. Miz Travis's been running the newspaper in town since 'fore I got there. That's man's work, but it don't seem to bother her none to be doin' it... D'you do something like that, back in St. Louis? You ain't never said."
"No, I'm afraid I own a very traditional little china shop, with a gentleman friend and his wife in partnership to give it respectability. I'm really not a radical-thinking sort of female, except in my father's eyes. I've never wanted anything more than a chance to be happy. Though that's bad enough to him, since it included more than being his obedient daughter and then Sam's obedient wife."
J.D. rolled over onto his back and scrunched around until he was using her leg as a pillow. He stared up at the tree overhead, and the way he could catch little glimpses of the sky every time the wind stirred through the branches. He felt a kind of fidgety guilt that he couldn't think of something to say to put her uneasiness to rest. Right or wrong, it was obvious that her choices were a lot more troublesome to her than his had ever been. A few words weren't liable to change that, but he tried anyway, because he didn't want her to think it didn't matter. "You told me once, that you were happy when you were away from here," he reminded her. "Sounds to me like you're just thinking about it too much, what with being here, and running into your pa again and everything. I bet when you get back home to St. Louis, everything'll seem right again."
"Perhaps you're right."
She pushed his hat aside, ran her fingers through his hair, then massaged his scalp with light nails. It felt so good that he just closed his eyes and let out a long sigh of contentment. "It was the right thing to do, wasn't it?" she asked a few minutes later.
J.D. frowned without opening his eyes, trying to puzzle out what she could mean by that. She sure didn't seem to regret their being together, not now that she trusted him not to think less of her for it.
"You coming here. Me going to St. Louis," she explained, when he didn't answer.
"I ain't got the least bit of doubt on that." He cracked open one eye just long enough to locate her free hand and settle it cozily within his. "An' you shouldn't neither."
#######
J.D. didn't mean to fall asleep, but he'd been running a bit short of rest the last little while. One minute he was chattering idly with Amelia, and the next thing he knew, the branches above him were thrashing wildly in the wind and tossing spatters of rain in his face. He sat up with a startled jump and stared around. He must to have been asleep for several hours, because the blue sky was now a lowering expanse of black clouds that were spitting down the first droplets of another storm.
Settled with her back against the sheltering expanse of the tree trunk, Amelia was still asleep, her chin tucked down against her shoulder. The past few days had been pretty hard on both of them, in both good ways and bad, so it wasn't surprising they'd been oblivious to the rising wind. But now they were going to get another good soaking, and J.D. was getting darned sick of unscheduled baths. At least this time there was no mud.
"Amelia."
He shook her lightly, and her blue eyes flickered open. Still more than half asleep, she smiled at him in a way that did weird, butterfly things to his stomach.
"Come on, wake up. You were right. It's raining again." "Oh!" She snapped fully awake, straightened up and stared out at the gray world. "Oh, my."
"Come on, if we hurry maybe we can get back to the house before we're soaked again."
Sometimes God just had the wrong sense of humor, because the words had no sooner got out his mouth than the heavens opened wide. Scrambling hastily to their feet, they retreated together to the tree trunk, which was wide enough to shelter both of them when they put it between them and the wind.
"I'm getting darned tired of this," J.D. muttered, then flinched a bit when a low rumble of thunder rolled overhead. Standing under a sole tree atop a hill in a thunderstorm didn't sound like a smart idea, even if there were dozens of higher mountains to all sides.
"It isn't close," Amelia told him, guessing that concern. "We'll be all right."
"You sure?"
She nodded confidently, so he shrugged and settled in closer against her, sharing the shelter and enjoying the feel of her cuddled tightly against him. They found ways to keep themselves occupied while they waited out the storm. At first, they just touched and snuggled, but later they explored the outrageous limits of what two people could do together when they were standing upright, fully dressed, and not able to move around much unless they wanted to get soaked.
The rain blew itself out quickly this time, freeing them from their leaf-covered prison no more than an hour after it had trapped them there. It wasn't late, but with the heavy banks of clouds overhead, they made their way down the hill in deep twilight, carefully picking a route through the soaking grass to the shelter of the homestead.
J.D. lit a fire in the hearth, and Amelia started fussing around the kitchen, pulling together a meal--more playacting at being something they weren't, two people living a regular life together. He suspected she must be a pretty good cook given half a chance, because she could do a lot with just a few tins and jars and long-stored food. Of course, using up energy the way he was, he was so perpetually hungry that he probably wouldn't have noticed if she'd fed him Josiah's chili-and-beans--and his sole encounter with that over-spiced dish had convinced him chili peppers could be fatal to anyone not raised on them from birth. They ate mostly in silence, as though coming back to the house had thrown a pall over both their spirits. J.D. kept finding himself staring at the basket at the far end of the table, its contents swathed in the multi-colored quilt he had brought out to put over her when she slept by the fire.
Finally, Amelia got up, gathered together their plates and utensils, and dumped them in a basin to be washed.
"Ain't a lot of point in that, if you're just going to leave them here."
"I want to leave the place tidy," she told him, as she filled the basin with heated water from the stove. "Oh, by the way, I washed your clothes this afternoon and ironed them. I thought you'd probably be happier to have them when we go back to town. Less explaining to do."
"Thanks. I made a real mess of 'em. Ain't had much practice with that sorta thing."
With his elbows propped on the table and his chin in his hands, he watched her finish her few chores. Trying not to think about going back to town was getting harder, the closer the time came.
When Amelia dropped the final dish back into place and turned around, she studied him silently for a moment, then came around the end of the table to stand close to him. J.D. slid an arm around her waist and rested his head against her stomach. "It's our last night. Don't let's have it sad." She combed her fingers through his hair again, caressing him with her nails. "Don't make sense to be sad about one of the best things that's ever happened to me." He sighed. "I guess I'm just wishing it didn't have to end."
"This is just a dream. We both know it doesn't have any place in our real lives... Besides, things are most perfect when they're finite. That way, you live every single moment to the fullest so you'll have more to remember when it's gone."
J.D. laughed and tightened his embrace. "Now you're startin' to talk like Josiah."
"Well, I suppose that's a lesser condemnation than having you inform me I sound like Ezra."
He rose to his feet, sliding up her body until he was holding her in both arms.
"Didn't mean it was bad or nothing. He just talks that way sometimes, so's you wonder where it's coming from. 'Specially when he's drunk."
"Oh, thank you so much. I'm not drunk."
She tried to tickle him again, but this time he was ready to fend off the attack before it landed anywhere vulnerable. After that, things got all silly and playful, both of them losing themselves in each other for the sheer joy of it, and because they knew they were saying goodbye.
A long time later, sprawled in an exhausted heap on the rug amidst a tangle of female flesh and half-discarded clothing, J.D. stared pensively into the fire. Deep inside, he knew he'd never recapture quite this same experience again. Now that he had confidence in what he was doing, he'd hopefully have better luck dealing with women. But even if he got to be as good at it as Buck, there would never be another moment when everything was so new and exciting. Never a time when everything held the same sense of unrestrained discovery.
He didn't have Josiah's way of spinning high-sounding nonsense, nor Ezra's for that matter, so he didn't even try to put that feeling--both sad and blissful--into words. When he found the energy to move and speak he just planted a kiss on the salty, damp skin of Amelia's shoulder, and asked, "That was another howl, wasn't it?"
"What is this problem you have with a lady expressing her appreciation of certain events in a somewhat... vocal... manner?" "Ain't got a problem with it at all. It's just got some funny memories, that's all."
He was trying to trace her lips with his forefinger, but Amelia kept catching it into her mouth, nibbling and sucking on it in a way that made him decide she wasn't entirely finished with him yet. That was a very good thing, so long as she didn't mind giving him a few minutes to get his enthusiasm up again. "Care to tell me about them?" she asked.
"Wouldn't be polite."
"Oh." She pursed her lips sulkily, then lost it and smiled at him. "J.D.?... Thank you."
"What for this time?" She always seemed to be saying that, but the way he figured it, he'd gotten more out of all this than she had. A lot more.
"For giving me one of the happiest weeks of my life." She kissed him lightly, then rose to her feet. Holding down her hand, she pulled him to his feet, then led him toward the door to the bedroom.
EPILOGUE
J.D. gazed down the street, watching the departing stage swerve to follow the curve of the road in front of the church. When it passed out of view, he sagged back against one of the awning posts of the Butterfield depot, and let out a long sigh. "Well, hey there, J.D." Buck found himself a leaning spot against the opposite side of the post and checked out the stretch of empty street J.D. was still staring at. "I see the stage got off on time."
"Yup."
J.D. threw him an uneasy glance, waiting for whatever was going to come next. Since he and Amelia got back to town yesterday, the big man hadn't been acting at all the way J.D. had anticipated. Buck had seemed glad to see them back and in one piece, but he hadn't been hovering. He hadn't dogged J.D.'s heels, asking questions and tossing out sly innuendoes, even though Amelia had spent most of the afternoon finishing up her business, which had left J.D. to slide back into his regular routine.
Well, maybe Buck could sense that he was an entirely different man than he'd been three days ago, and had finally decided to treat him like an adult...
J.D. pondered that possibility for all of three seconds before he rejected it entirely. More likely Josiah had been sitting on him, telling him to "give the boy a bit of room," or something like that. If so, he was glad of it, but he didn't figure it would last forever, especially now that Amelia was gone.
Gone. He still didn't quite believe she was gone. Everything was still so vivid, the memories rubbed right into his skin. "D'you want to join me for a drink?"
"I don't want to talk about it, Buck," J.D. told him firmly, getting rid of the brainless grin that had started to take possession of his face. The strange thing was, he was telling the truth, and it wasn't even because he thought Buck wouldn't believe him. He figured Buck would have recognized the truth as easily as he'd seen through the baloney.
Hell, Buck could probably guess the truth just by looking at him, but that was the only way he was ever going to have it. He was an adult, however Buck and the others saw him, and he was enough of a gentleman to know that Amelia's honor wasn't fodder for half-drunken tales in the saloon. The wonderful things that had happened between them were their own private business and nobody else's.
He straightened away from the pole and started off down the street. Buck, naturally, was beside him before he got two steps. "Did I ask you to talk about it?" the big drifter demanded, in mock annoyance. "As I recall, I just asked you to join me for a drink."
"So you buy me two whiskeys, and then I'll tell you everything, right?"
"Only if you want to, son."
"I don't want to."
"Well, then don't." Buck didn't sound too annoyed by the put-off, but his voice seemed a bit quieter and less boisterous than usual. "Ain't like I'm going to pry it out of you."
"Yeah, right."
They walked a few more steps in silence, which had to be some sort of a record for the two of them. For the first time, J.D. noticed Buck eyeing him with something that looked like genuine concern, like maybe he was being nosy not just because it was part of his nature but because he was honestly worried that whatever had happened had left J.D. miserable.
He was about as far from miserable as a man could get, though he was a bit disoriented that everything was so ordinary again... and a bit sad, but in a weird, almost happy way. Well, all right, that didn't make any sense, but it was how he felt, and he couldn't figure out any other way to describe it.
"Fine then, I do need to ask you just one question," Buck admitted, saving him from trying to figure it out. "Then I promise I'll shut up."
They had reached the doors of the saloon. Buck shoved through them, then stepped to the side a bit, holding one open while J.D. decided whether or not he was going to follow.
"What question?" J.D. asked suspiciously.
"Are you glad you met the lady?"
Just about anything else Buck might have come up with to ask would've been a struggle to answer. He had a bushel of memories he would have loved to crow about from the rooftops, but his sense of honor wouldn't allowed it. And there was a little bit he might've liked to cry about, too, but neither his pride nor his common sense left room for that.
Answering this particular question, though, was dead simple. "Oh, yeah." Reaching a decision, J.D. walked through the opening and headed for the table in the corner, where Josiah, Nathan and Vin were settled around the comfortable enjoyment of a bottle and deck of cards. "I'm damned glad I met her."
"Can't ask for better'n that, son." Releasing the door, Buck followed J.D. into the dark, smoke-filled familiarity of the saloon. "You purely can't ask for anything better than that."
END
