The WidowMaker by R. A. Constible

Author:R. A. Constible
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Leavitt Peak Press
Published: 2022-04-24T00:00:00+00:00

BOOK 3:

We are as one;

Living within frameworks

Sculptured by the winds of time, and Tempered by self-imposed moralities.

I feel the caress of your mind;

Massaging emotions run rampant

With hearts desires.

I reach out to touch

The elusive butterfly;

Seeing the dreams of ages,

An evolving metamorphosis

In a static world.

TWENTY TWO

The ridges and valleys surrounding the Picquett farm stood in silent witness as Jesse McPherson and the widow Hatty Picquett plunged headlong into an affair of the heart. Each day and night was filled with the unexpected, the unforseen; the physical attraction intoxicating in its spontaneity.

His relationships with Angéline, Molly, and Belle O’Conner; the aftermath of New Orleans and then Wyoming; the seven years of wandering; all had contributed to the creation within McPherson of an ability to remain calm and detached. He had learned in his years in the West to evaluate situations for what they were, to quickly recognize the underlying motives of the people involved; and on numerous occasions, the ability had served him well—that is, until he came face to face with Hatty Picquett.

She personified many of the particulars that characterized the women who had played a part in his growing up: strength of purpose, courage, a freedom of spirit. Her self-assurance gave new meaning to his concept of being alive. She probed the depths of his emotions, flouting customs she was raised with, yet their tryst was very much affected by the times in which they lived. Caught up in the dizzying atmosphere of love, they tossed caution to the wind, unconsciously avoiding the consequences of their passion…

As the early hint of sunshine began to peek over the ridge east of the farm, Hatty busied herself by starting a pot of coffee and making breakfast to share with the man she had invited into her bed. Since ris- ing an hour or so before, she periodically looked in on him, taking pleasure in seeing him asleep in her bed, yet each time wanting him to be up and around. It was the first time since his arrival that he had relaxed enough to let go completely, and had slept through the better part of the night. It was also the first morning that she could reflect on what had transpired over the previous month, to consider the implications of his presence—his appearance at the farm had caused her life to take a most unexpected turn.

She had resigned herself to being Mister Picquett’s wife whenever he saw fit to stop in, but she had long past grown weary of making excuses for her errant husband. She tired of hearing the loudly whispered asides of women she passed on the street when she went into town for supplies, tired of the insinuations made toward her when she was seen talking with the menfolk, and most of all, tired of the blatant accusa- tions that followed in her wake. As a consequence, she stopped going into town except when absolutely necessary. Then one day out of the blue, a stranger rode into her life, a stranger who seemed to fit into every dream she could remember.

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