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“I need the money,” she whispered to herself, nudging the mule forward when it sensed her tension and stopped. Three houses down, Jessica spotted the gate that led to the Durst yard. She slid off the mule and stood there, staring.
It was a white picket gate and could do her no harm, but her knees shook as she reached into her bag and withdrew the letter. The paper’s perfection was a strange pale square in the gray day. When she turned it over, Caleb’s name looked like it had every other time she’d written it. As if she still belonged to him. She didn’t.
She’d heard he had someone else waiting in California. That had likely been a lie too, but Jessica didn’t care one way or another. Men never cared about their faraway sweethearts, after all.
Anger at that thought gave her the strength to open the gate and walk toward the kitchen door. She didn’t knock, though. She only pulled the screen door until it was the tiniest bit ajar, then leaned down to slip the letter inside. The hinges squealed. Jessica dropped the letter in and let the door shut, cringing when it slammed against the frame.
Before she could get farther than the bottom step, the wooden door creaked open, and Jessica spun around.
“Hello?” the cook called out. “Can I help you?”
“No,” Jessica murmured as she backed away.
The cook cocked her head, wiped her hands on her apron, and offered a smile. “Nonsense. What can I—?” The words died on her lips, and her eyes widened. “You!” she gasped.
Oh no. Jessica backed away faster.
“What are you doing here? Get on out of here!”
“I’m sorry,” Jessica whispered.
“Get on and don’t come back!” the older woman yelled in response. She made a shooing motion with her apron. Jessica could remember the cook fussing over a plate of little sandwiches and assuring Jessica that Caleb would surely come home from California soon. Now her face was flushed with anger.
“Get off this property! You should be ashamed of yourself, bringing your nastiness around here!”
Jessica retreated down the stone path that led to a tiny shed and the gate. “I’m sorry,” she managed again, just before a male voice rumbled from the house.
“What’s the problem here?” Caleb asked. He stepped through the doorway, his eyes going from the cook to Jessica before she spun and ran, slamming her way through the gate. The mule shied, but she yanked roughly at his halter, pulling him down the alley without pausing to mount. She ran toward the road ahead and didn’t slow until she’d turned the corner.
Not bothering to catch her breath, she stopped the mule, scrambled onto his back, and kicked his side. No one else saw her as she raced out of town, but the damage had been done. She ignored the tears that rolled down her cheeks and rode on. This wasn’t her place anymore. She had to get out.
* * *
Caleb stared at the spot where the woman’s skirt had disappeared around the shed. He’d barely glimpsed her before she’d fled, and her face had been shaded by a straw hat, but he was sure it had been Jessica.
“Who was that?” he asked Sally.
“Never you mind about that. Just someone looking for a handout.”
“Was it Jessica?”
He looked at the cook when she didn’t respond. Her mouth was tight, and her cheeks flamed red.
“What did she want?” he pressed.
“Who knows what a woman like that wants?” she snapped. “Don’t you bother with that hussy, Caleb.”
He hated Jessica. He wanted to hurt her for hurting him. But he still bristled at hearing her described with such venom.
Abandoning the gentle demeanor he’d adopted with this woman who’d helped raise him, he stood straighter and stared coolly at Sally. “Her name is Jessica,” he said.
She stiffened, sniffing in disdain, but she shrugged instead of spewing more hatred.
His brain writhed with a pain so real it felt physical. His gut was clenched too tight. His muscles ached, urging him to fight someone or something. He wanted to burn this town down, just to kill anyone who’d touched her.
Her father had died and she’d turned to whoring. There were a hundred girls in California with that story. A thousand. And a few more just down the road at Ella Mae’s. Maybe they’d all been as fine and sweet and pure as Jessica had been once. It seemed impossible, but there it was.
He looked at the spot where she’d disappeared. Why had she come here? To try to explain? To apologize? Should he track her down and demand an answer?
