Chapter 14 #2
Red had even put aside his worry about Cassie’s faith.
She bowed her head with him at every meal, and she’d seemed content to attend services with him.
Unless… Red’s heart panged and he froze in mid-step.
Maybe Cassie was trying to turn herself into a perfect wife for Red Dawson, just as she’d turned herself into a perfect China Doll for Lester Griffin.
Rosie plowed into him and shoved him along until he was walking again.
Cassie had agreed so sweetly to wait for him to do the chores.
Red had told her to sit in that chair, and suddenly, he was sure she wouldn’t even stand up the whole time he was gone.
She’d said, “I’ll be proud to obey you, Red,” right out loud at the church service.
He didn’t want Cassie to twist and turn herself around trying to become whatever Red wanted her to be.
That made him no better than Lester Griffin.
He wanted Cassie to feel safe enough to be herself.
She’d been living by someone else’s wishes since she was fifteen. No, since she was twelve, because that’s when Griff had first gotten charge over her.
How many times had Red witnessed Cassie sitting perfectly still in the carriage, waiting for Griff, her hands folded in her lap, the unnatural look of composure on her face?
She had been out there because Griff had insisted she stay, like a trained dog, confined to that carriage as surely as the horses had been tied to the hitching post. No one learned to be so submissive without a harsh taskmaster administering the lesson.
Even now, fear flashed in Cassie’s eyes every time she thought she might have displeased him. Once, she’d even flinched away from him. No doubt there’d been more than scolding and insults involved in Griff’s discipline. Sickening.
At that moment, Lester Griffin was fortunate to be dead and beyond Red’s reach.
Red contrasted Cassie’s detached serenity in her Mrs. Griffin days with the girl who had pitched in and helped Muriel yesterday. Was that what Cassie wanted to do, or was she just following Red’s example?
Teaching her all the ranch chores would be easy, and he could have the perfect little ranch wife, hurrying to do his bidding. And he could kiss her as often as he liked and have a dozen children if he wished. And he’d never know if any of it was what Cassie wanted.
Besides that, how would he ever know if Cassie’s faith was real? Red the husband could fumble around and do his best with Cassie, but Red the preacher couldn’t settle for letting Cassie’s soul be neglected.
Red had decided to start out teaching her because she really did need to learn, but what he wanted was for her to defy him. He wanted Cassie to look him in the eye and say, “I’m doing enough around here. Do it yourself.”
He tied Rosie up in her stall and started for the house. Unfortunately, he no longer wanted to grab Cassie and kiss her senseless. She’d just go along with that too.
As he reached his soddy, he paused. His mind had led him in a big circle, right back to where he started.
Until he was sure what her wishes were, he was never going to kiss her again.
Wade scuffed his foot against the bedding of pine needles as he waited impatiently for Dawson to go into the house. He was learning their schedule.
Morning chores. Ride out to check the cattle. Noon break. Ride out for slightly longer to check the cattle. Evening chores. Supper. Dawson always stayed inside after supper. Always hurrying, always working.
Wade knew better than to leave much sign of his passing.
Although Dawson never scouted around the highlands behind his cave, he did move like a man who had lived in wild country.
He would study the landscape. Take time to look at the sky.
Pay attention to any ruckus set up by his horse or his stock.
Was that how Dawson always acted, or was he suspicious for some reason?
Wade’s pa was suspicious. Pa had never paid much attention to what Wade did.
There were plenty of hands to take care of things.
But Wade had taken to leaving before first light almost every day and riding for over an hour to set up his lookout of the Dawson ranch, and Pa had noticed.
So far, Wade had defied his father’s curt questions about Wade’s comings and goings.
The defiance felt good and added to the visceral pleasure he got from watching the China Doll.
Wade waited hungrily for sight of her. She came out and helped with chores a lot, and Wade could hardly keep himself from charging down to that pitiful ranch and grabbing her.
Oh, she’d fight him. She was a respectable woman, after all, and she was married.
But inside, she’d be glad he took her. She’d even be glad if her husband was dead so she’d no longer be bound to him.
Wade used to watch the Griffin place until her fool husband rode off to town.
As soon as Griffin was gone, he’d ride up to the house.
He’d come up on the porch and hammer on the door until she opened it.
Then he’d deliberately stand too close to her.
He’d wanted her to be afraid. But now he understood.
She wasn’t afraid of him. She was afraid of what he made her feel.
The anger surged upward again, and he grabbed for his whiskey flask to wash the anger back down before it choked him.
He thought about Dawson inside that house with the China Doll for the night, and suddenly, something snapped inside him.
He wanted to kill Dawson, then drag the China Doll off and marry her before his father knew anything about it.
And if his father objected, Wade would kill him too.
Wade’s hand itched to pull his revolver and go down to that house and have it out once and for all.
His gaze traveled over the Dawson place, over the cattle moving slowly toward a water hole Dawson had dammed up across his creek.
Wade’s eyes narrowed as he thought of how he’d always pulled back from killing.
He took a long pull on his whiskey, let the burn stoke the fire of his rage, and thought of a way to strike a blow against Dawson.
This he did have the guts to do, and maybe it would make the next time, the time Dawson died, easier. Wade drank until his conscience was silenced, then he planned. Soon he left his lookout and rode home to get what he needed to strike before morning.