| |
Luther broke the silence after several minutes. “We’ll be goin’ up there.” He gestured into the woods with one hand. “Take about four hours.”
“Four hours?”
“Yep. Cart’s loaded, and there are two of us on Clara here. Trail’s all muddy. It’s been raining a lot.”
He returned to his thoughts. After all this time, he’d got himself a wife. It had been more than a year since he gave Jed the papers and the money to mail. He had almost given up on finding someone willing to come here.
He never dreamed he’d be bringing home a wife today, and he never imagined he’d have one as lovely as Michelle. Although he was used to living alone and didn’t need a woman to look after him, he wanted someone to cuddle with on cold winter nights.
Luther guided Clara along the narrow tree-lined trail. The cabin was on the far side of the ridge, deep in the wilderness. From the way he recalled leaving, it wasn’t fit to receive company. Dishes needed washing, clothes were thrown everywhere, and the wood had to be chopped...
His thoughts were interrupted by a rumbling noise behind him. He turned and looked at Michelle. There she went again, holding her head. She had one palm pressed against her temple, and her brown eyes were closed. Her white bonnet was half-untied, and a lock of blonde hair hung past her shoulder. He didn’t know much about women, but he knew when someone was hurting.
“Anything wrong?”
Michelle opened her eyes and leaned back, pulling away from him. “I’m fine.”
“You hear a noise?”
“No.”
He searched his mind for something to say. They were supposed to be husband and wife, yet they were strangers. He frowned. Maybe paying for a woman was a foolish idea, like Redfeather had said. Redfeather had warned him not to give Jed his money, but he’d gone ahead and done it anyway. Wouldn’t Redfeather be surprised when he saw Michelle?
“Jed bother you any? I saw you in the store.” He half-turned and Michelle leaned away again. “What about the stage driver?”
“No. Why?”
“Jest wonderin’. Men ’round these parts can be a bit rough on a lady if they choose to be, especially one all alone. I’m surprised they sent you this far with no escort.”
“Who?”
He watched Michelle rub her head again. Poor thing, she looks pained. “The mail-order people, that’s who. Lean into me while we go under this branch.”
Michelle leaned close, and her breasts pressed against his back. He closed his eyes and tried to ignore the hot stirring in his groin. “Where are you from?”
“Back east.”
Of all the places. “Been traveling long?”
“Two weeks.”
“You came all the way from back east in two weeks’ time?”
“No. I was on that coach for two weeks. Why does it matter? Please, I don’t feel like discussing it now.”
“Fine then.” He nudged Clara along. They had a lot of time to kill and he wanted to know everything about Michelle. He had a hundred questions for her. Where exactly was she from? What things did she like to do? How were her folks, did they miss her? Why did they approve of this?
The moment he saw her, he knew Michelle must be rich. Her lacy blue dress had to be expensive, she used big words, and she had an air about her. She’d brought along two trunks filled with hidden treasures. Was it a dowry? Why did she become a mail-order bride? She was so pretty, any man would have married her proper.
“I’m sorry. I’m tired. I don’t feel like talking.”
He glanced back and saw Michelle holding her head again. “I understand Me-chelle. I’m curious, that’s all. You’re new and different and sure are interestin’.”
He would have to take his time with her and let her get settled. Maybe after supper she’d warm up to him. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out an apple. “Here.” He handed it to her over his shoulder.
“I don’t—”
“Go on, take it. I know you’re hungry. I’ve been listening to your stomach growl for the last mile. You ain’t ate in a while, have ya?”
“No. Not since yesterday. Thank you.”
“My pleasure, m’lady.”
* * *
KATHLEEN BLINKED A few times and looked around, confused. Was she dreaming? She wasn’t in the coach. How did she get on a horse? A second later, everything flashed back to her. Luther was taking her to his cabin. Why had they stopped?
Luther was standing next to a tree, looking up at her. She focused on him, bleary-eyed.
“Scoot forward, Michelle. Get where I was sittin’.”
She scowled. Michelle? Why did he call her that? She opened her mouth to correct him, then remembered her lie at the last second. She was Michelle now, not Kathleen. From this moment on, Kathleen no longer existed.
She inched closer to the horse’s neck and Luther hopped up behind her. As he reached his arm around her, she jolted awake. “What are you doing?”
“Ridin’ back here for the rest of the way.”
Luther’s mouth was so close to her ear that his hot breath tickled her neck. He leaned forward and took the reins, then curled his other arm around her waist.
She slapped his hand. “Don’t get fresh with me!”
“Hush, I need to steer. You go back to sleep.”
“Sleep? I wasn’t asleep.” She hadn’t been, not really. Maybe she had dozed off for a second, but she hadn’t fallen asleep alone in the woods with a man she had just met.
“Of course not.” Luther chuckled. “You dang near fell off Clara. Now how’s it gonna look for you to have come all this way on a nasty coach, meet your new husband, and fall off a horse and kill yourself? Not a very good end, huh?”
“No. I guess not.”
Luther rested his hands on her shoulders. “Settle yourself back...”
“Don’t touch me.” Michelle bolted upright. She couldn’t fall asleep, not now. Who knew what he might do to her?
“Easy, easy now,” he soothed. “I ain’t gonna bother you none. Lean back and sleep. We got two hours ahead of us yet.”
Luther squeezed her shoulder and eased her to his chest. She tried to resist, but found herself reclining against his warm, wide body. “Settle in, that’s right,” he whispered. After a minute, she relaxed. “You rest. When you wake up, we’ll be home.”
* * *
WHAT SEEMED LIKE SECONDS later, the horse stopped. Michelle opened her eyes and found herself in front of a brown-gray cabin on a plot of dried mud.
“Come down, Michelle. We’re home.” Luther had dismounted and stood near Clara’s head. “I’ll unload the supplies and fix you a proper supper.”
She sat immobile. This was home? From an elegant, five-bedroom house she was reduced to living in this shack? She swung her leg over Clara’s back and dropped to the ground. Right now her need was more immediate than supper. “I need to use the facilities.”
Luther glanced up from untying the supplies. “The what?”
Michelle rolled her eyes. “Facilities, the...” She searched for a polite term. “The privy?”
“Oh, the outhouse. Lord, I never thought of that. You must be ready to burst. It’s this way.”
She followed Luther over a muddy hill to the right of the cabin. “Mind your dress,” he called out.
A tiny wooden structure stood fifty feet behind the cabin. The plank door was closed.
“What I do is give it a good whack on the side, like this.” Luther pounded on the side of the outhouse. “That scares off any critters that mighta crawled in.” He paused. “I’ll leave you to your business,” he said, then headed back over the hill.
Michelle grimaced. At home, people were civilized enough to use a chamberpot. Doing private business outdoors was inconvenient, to say the least. She held her breath as she stepped inside and closed the door behind her.
Alone in the darkness, she buried her face in her hands and burst into tears.
