The Widow's Little Secret. Judith Stacy

boardwalk, looking at the Ingram home. He didn’t want to go inside and hear anyone else talk about what a fine man Del was; Jared had had his fill of that already.

      He muttered a little curse directed at himself. What kind of man was he, thinking ill of the dead? Had he forgotten all the good manners he’d once prided himself on?

      Slowly, he nodded in the darkness. His solitary life on the trail, hunting down criminals, hauling them in for trial, had taken its toll.

      The decent thing to do was go pay his respects to the widow of the man he’d grown up with. Del had made something of his life and he deserved all the things being said about him. Jared would go into that house and say something nice about him. It was the right thing to do.

      And he’d get to see Mattie Ingram again.

      Jared crossed the road, passed through the little gate outside the house and stepped up onto the porch. He paused for a moment before he knocked and brushed off his trousers, then took off his hat and smoothed down his dark hair, glad he’d taken a bath and gotten a haircut this afternoon.

      He rapped his knuckles against the door, then waited, waited and waited some more before it opened. He’d expected to find the reverend’s wife greeting mourners, but instead Jared found himself face-to-face with the widow herself. A long moment dragged by while he just looked at her. When Jared finally came to his senses, he clasped his hat against his chest and tried to think of something to say.

      “Mrs. Ingram? My name is Jared McQuaid. I’m—I’m real sorry about your husband.”

      She stepped back without really looking at him, and opened the door wider. “Won’t you come in?”

      He followed her down the little hallway, past a neat parlor, to the kitchen at the rear of the house. The room was warm and comfortable. A cookstove and cupboards were at one end, a sideboard and a table and chairs at the other. All manner of food—or what was left of it—covered the table. Jared’s steps slowed. No one else was in the house. Had he intruded, when he’d intended to comfort?

      “Is it too late to come calling?” he asked.

      “No,” she said simply, and turned toward the cupboard. “I’ll get you something to eat.”

      Jared watched her skirt swirl, and glimpsed her white ruffled petticoat, then studied her backside as she stretched up and retrieved a plate from the top shelf of the cupboard.

      He muttered a silent curse at himself for admiring Del’s widow.

      “Your husband and I grew up together,” Jared said, as he shrugged out of his coat and laid his hat aside.

      Mattie didn’t answer, just turned again and began filling the plate from the dishes on the table.

      “We went to school together,” Jared said, feeling the need to say something. He took a step closer. “I’m a U.S. Marshal, just in town for today. I’m leaving in the morning. I read about Del in the newspaper.”

      Silence filled the house as Mattie heaped food on the plate, and Jared pulled on the back of his neck.

      “So, while I was here I wanted to tell you how sorry I am that Del’s passed on,” he said. “He was a good man. Everybody in town speaks highly of him.”

      Though Jared didn’t understand it, it was true. And regardless of what he thought about Del Ingram, this was his wife, the woman who loved him. She’d married him, lain with him, walked through life with him. The least Jared could do was think of something nice to say.

      “Fact is,” Jared said, “I never heard so many kind things said about one man before. I was down at the Lady Luck just now and Del was all anybody talked about.”

      A little gasp echoed in the kitchen, and Jared saw Mattie press a hand against her lips. Damn it, what was he thinking, mentioning that he’d been at the saloon? That wasn’t what women liked to hear from strangers in their home.

      Jared pushed his fingers through his hair. “The mayor…the mayor had nice things to say, too.”

      She dropped the plate she’d been preparing and leaned forward, bracing her hand on the table. Little sniffles filled the room.

      Good Lord, he’d made her cry. Jared stared at her slumping shoulders as she tried bravely to stand upright. He wanted to go to her, take her in his arms, comfort her. But should he? He didn’t even know her.

      He wasn’t sure what to do but keep talking.

      “The newspaper article about Del was just about the most glowing report I’d ever read. And that eulogy, that was something, all right.”

      A sob tore from her lips and her whole body quivered. Jared stepped closer until he stood mere inches away.

      He wanted to hold her. Oh, he wanted to hold her like he’d never wanted to hold another thing in his life. She looked so frail and helpless; her sobs sounded so pitiful. He wanted to press her against his chest and let her cry, keep her in his arms until her tears stopped.

      “Your husband was a good man. He was well respected, and honest, and hardworking,” Jared said softly. “You’ve every right to be upset, Mrs. Ingram.”

      “Don’t call me that!”

      Mattie swung around, hot anger boiling inside her. She drew back her fist and struck Jared in the chest.

      “Don’t ever call me by that name again!” she screamed. “He was a bastard! A lying, conniving bastard!”

      Mattie braced one hand against the table to keep herself up, unable to hold the words inside any longer. She’d done that for nearly two days now, and she couldn’t contain them another minute.

      “I’ve had to pretend since he died—pretend that he was a good man, pretend that everything said about him was the truth.” A sob tore from her lips. “But none of it is true. None of it!”

      “Mrs. Ingram—Mattie—maybe you should—”

      She batted away Jared’s hand when he reached for her. “It was all a lie. Right from the beginning. Del never loved me.”

      Jared eased closer. “Things might seem that way now because you’re upset, but—”

      “He told me! Just before he died!” Another wave of tears poured down Mattie’s cheeks.

      Jared frowned. “He told you he never loved you?”

      Mattie nodded, the hurt and humiliation throbbing in her chest. “He fell off the roof and was injured badly. He knew he was going to die. So he told me. He told me everything. How he followed another woman here to Stanford because he was in love with her. How he couldn’t have her because she was marrying someone else. How he married me because I had a restaurant, a good home, a good reputation, money.”

      “Son of a…”

      Mattie gulped, her strength draining away. She latched on to Jared’s arms, gazing up at him. “He just used me,” she whispered.

      Mattie fell against him, sobbing, the pain too great to bear alone. She felt big arms close around her. She snuggled deeper against his hard chest.

      With a sharp, ragged breath she lifted her head and gazed up at Jared. “I went by the bank today. My account was nearly empty. He’d taken my money, gambled it away, most likely. Lord knows he never worked a day since I married him. I had to use the last dollar I have in this world to bury him!”

      She fell into racking sobs again and slumped against Jared’s chest. Gently, he stroked his fingers down her back, fearing Mattie was on the verge of all-out hysteria.

      “You need the doctor,” he said. “He can—”

      “No!” Mattie pulled away. “No, don’t get the doctor. Don’t get anyone. I don’t want people to know how stupid I was, how I let myself be swept off my feet by a man I hardly knew. Everyone said I shouldn’t marry him, but I wouldn’t listen.