Boot Hill Bride (14 page)

"What if they don't have the money?"

"Don't have the money?" Belinda let out an evil laugh.

"Don't you know who you married?"

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Of their own free will, Randi's shoulders shrugged.

Whether it was out of confusion or to chase away the shiver

rippling up her back, she wasn't quite sure.

Belinda rolled her eyes and let out a long exasperating

sigh. "Kid Quinter's ranch is one of the largest in the state,

and Skeeter is a millionaire because of the fossils found on his

property."

"But I'm not married to Kid or Skeeter," Randi explained.

Belinda lifted a hand, and Randi flinched, ready for the

slap. Her stepmother must have had second thoughts,

because she lowered the hand without striking.

"Nonetheless, you married a Quinter, and you will get that

donation for your father. A very large one." She whipped

around and climbed into the buggy.

Before Randi had a chance to reply, a hand settled on her

shoulder. She glanced up and met Howard's gaze. A frown

tugged his brows tight.

"Are you all right?"

She nodded, but couldn't speak. Could do little more than

offer a small wave as her father climbed in the buggy. She

watched as he and Belinda drove away.
How much money

constituted a very large donation
?

Two weeks flew by faster than Randi could blink. From the

time the sun rose in the morning until it set in the evening,

Howard, his brothers, and a flock of workmen, sawed,

pounded, and mixed mud, creating a magnificent brick

building that had created a buzz rolling through the streets of

Dodge louder than the ever present rail cars. Every day

people, some just moseying by to look, others stopping to sell

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wares and services, and some hoping to find work, flocked to

the area.

Randi was busy as well. She not only fed her husband and

his brothers three meals a day, but also provided the noon

meal for the workmen. The work kept her active, and besides

cooking, there was the constant trail of people who, for the

most part, stopped by the tent instead of the building site to

ask questions. By the time night rolled around, she was

exhausted and usually fell asleep long before Howard stepped

into the tent. However, the moment he did, a sixth sense

would rouse her enough to move over, give him the warm

spot on the bed, and wait for his arms to mold her back

against his chest before allowing her to fall asleep again.

Now, during an unusual lull, her gaze automatically went

to the building where men stacked dozens of rock-red bricks

on top of each other, plastering thick mortar between each

one. She twisted slightly toward a silent draw. Howard stood

on the front steps, and their gazes met. A very familiar stir

rolled across her stomach, filling her insides with pleasure

she'd become accustomed to, and yet, one she wondered

about steadily. It was an extraordinary mixture of joy and

longing—quite perplexing.

Howard tipped the brim of his hat, a simple social gesture

that tickled her from the inside out. As natural as breathing,

she lifted a hand, responded by wiggling her fingers in a

downright silly wave that made her giggle aloud.

"If'n ya don't quit makin' googly-eyes, your bread's gonna

be burnt crisp," Ma Quinter's gruff voice broke the silent

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communication and made Randi twist about to glance at the

Dutch oven holding two loafs of bread for supper.

When the heat in her cheeks cooled enough to promise she

was able to speak, Randi assured, "It's not going to burn,"

then added for good measure, "and I wasn't making googly-

eyes at anyone."

Ma gave out a guffaw. "Yeah, and I ain't got five sons

either." She grabbed Randi's arm. "Come take a gander at the

curtains I just finished. They're some of my best work, if I say

so myself."

Randi paused at the doorway, unable to follow the other

woman into the tent due to the remembrance of yesterday

flashing before her eyes. The breakfast dishes had been done

and water for laundry heating over the fire when Ma had said

if Randi wanted a bath she should do it before they started

washing clothes. Determining the men wouldn't return to the

camp for several hours, she'd accepted the invitation and

quickly set about dragging the large tub into the center of

Ma's tent and filling it with buckets of water.

The other woman had stood guard outside the tent, and

Randi had taken her time washing away the fine sand the

non-stop wind settled into her hair. She'd completed bathing

and had just stood to retrieve a towel when the flap had

slapped open. Assuming it was Ma, she'd stretched over to

pick up the cotton when a startled, "Sweet Lord," rumbled the

interior.

Looking much like a startled deer, Howard had stood in the

doorway, his eyes glued to her breasts. She'd been just as

shocked and just as incapable of moving. Then he'd twisted

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about and bolted. The entire tent had shuddered and flapped.

His feet had become tangled in the canvas of the doorway.

She'd grabbed the towel and leaped out of the tub as the tent

came crashing down around her. It had been difficult, but

she'd managed to garb herself while crouching next to the

tub. By the time she'd crawled out of the tent, Ma had

stopped shouting at Howard long enough to assist him in

repairing the toppled center pole.

He'd left the camp without a word, his face prickled red.

Ma had giggled half of the morning, but thankfully when it

was time to serve lunch, she'd quit sniggering, and Howard

seemed to have dismissed the encounter, for he was as polite

and kind as always during the meal.

"You coming in or not?" Ma poked her head out the flap.

"Yes, I'm coming," Randi said, hoping her blistering face

didn't give away her thoughts and ducked into the tent.

Yards of deep blue fabric covered every spare inch of the

small area. Drapes, fringed with long tassels and gold ropes

were spread out on all three cots.

"These are beautiful." Randi moved forward to run a finger

over the thick velvet.

"Yeah, they are, aren't they?" Ma picked up another bolt of

cloth, gold brocade with swirls of blue velvet. "This here is

what I'm using to make the tablecloths."

"Oh, my. It's gorgeous." Randi glanced about. "What about

napkins? We could use both blue and gold. Wouldn't that be

pretty?"

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"Hey, good idea. I'll go down to the mercantile and see if'n

Mr. Street can order me in some. I hadn't thought of the

napkins yet."

"It's going to be wonderful isn't it? The hotel, I mean. It

will surely be the best one in the world."

"Yup, I'm thinking so."

Randi continued to finger the material, completely caught

up in the thought of the fancy restaurant and hotel. The

opening date was getting closer every day, and her hopes

that her father, well mainly Belinda, would stay away at least

until she had a chance to see it all in operation grew stronger

every day. The peace and harmony her life held was so

wonderful. She never wanted it to end, but the reality that

hung out in the back of her mind told her it would as soon as

her family returned. Then, of course, there was the fact she

was expected to secure a large donation.

She tried to ignore the nagging tension tugging at her, the

one that said get the donation or else. She knew the or
else
.

Had seen the wrath of her father before, but it had never

been directed at her. Her mother, no matter how worn and

ragged by the tuberculosis, had always found the energy to

put herself in the path of Thurston Fulton, protecting Randi

until the day she died.

Randi let out a distressing sigh. The loss of her mother had

the capability of infusing raw pain in an instant. She pressed

a hand to the burning behind her eyes, realizing it wasn't just

Mama's death plaguing her. She wanted to stay here. Stay in

Dodge and help Howard with the hotel. Prove to him, and

maybe to herself, that she could become a wife, possibly even

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a mother someday. She and Howard were getting along just

fine and dandy. However, it wasn't like they had a real

marriage, one with all the amenities. She dug the heels of her

palms into her eyes, somewhat embarrassed to admit, even

just to herself, that she and Howard weren't intimate.

Problem was she was at a loss as to how to rectify the

situation. It wasn't right, she thought, to want to further their

relationship in the marital way, but she had to. She had these

wonderful happy dreams where she was pregnant and

Howard promised he'd never send her away. In those dreams

she had the family she'd always longed for.

She'd even gone down to Danny J's, hoping her aunt would

have some insight as to what she could do to spark Howard's

interest, but both times the woman answering the door had

said Aunt Corrine was indisposed and couldn't be disturbed.

Her stomach churned with a sick feeling, one that said her

plan was deceiving and unjust. A consoling touch fell upon

her shoulder.

"Are you all right?" Ma asked, concerned.

Randi nodded with false confidence, not trusting her ability

to speak.

"Well, then let's check the bread, if'n it's done we can head

to town," Ma said.

Randi took a deep breath, willed strength to keep her voice

from cracking. "I'll see to the bread. You go ahead and go to

town to see about the material for the napkins and the other

items."

"Don't you want to go to town with me?"

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The opening of the tent had been tied back, letting the sun

and warm air flow in. Randi paused in the doorway and let out

a heavy disgusted sigh.

"What for?"

"I don't know. Ain't you needin' anything?"

Her gaze floated across the way, settled on the big

building. "No, I don't think I can buy what I need," she

mumbled.

"When are you two gonna quit your tomfoolery?"

"What?"

Ma Quinter stood beside her, arms folded over her

bosoms. "When are you two gonna make that bed you've

been sleeping in a real marriage bed?"

She pressed a hand to her hot cheek, completely

wondering if her mother-in-law had read her mind.

"Ma," she groaned.

"What ya so embarrassed about? I'd say the way you two

are carrying on should be the embarrassing part."

"Ma—"

"Quit Mawing me! You sound like a sick calf." Ma waved a

hand toward the building site. "What's wrong with that son of

mine? I can tell the two of you are head over heels within'

each other."

"Ma," Randi said sternly. Shaking her head, she walked on

somewhat shaky legs to the fire pit. "There is nothing wrong

with your son." The need to come to Howard's defense was

too strong to hold in.

"Then why ain't you two shaking the mattress?" Ma had

followed, standing inches behind her.

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"Ma!"

"I said stop that." Ma grasped her arm, forced her to twist

about. "Talk to me, girl, tell me what's wrong."

"There isn't anything
wrong
," Randi said, shaking her

head.

"Oh, yes, there is. Those boys of mine are as hot blooded

as their pa."

Randi choked on the lump in her throat, had to swallow

hard to keep from fully gagging. She couldn't possibly tell Ma

how she thought about their marriage bed almost nonstop

lately. Her body ached with a need eating her from the inside

out. A natural, inborn sense told her what she hungered for,

but Howard seemed perfectly content to just hold her during

the long nights. It wasn't a woman's place to be forward, to

talk about such things, yet the fact he didn't want to do those

things with her was also something she worried about—

constantly.

Ma took her hand, leading her to the table. Randi sat down

and covered her face with both hands, hiding her blazing

cheeks, but also to keep the tears from sprouting. She wasn't

a wife. She was little more than something else for him to

take care of—at a time when Howard had more than enough

to worry about. That's all she'd ever been to anyone—one

more thing to worry about. She most likely was a

disappointment to him, too. And then of course there was the

donation.

"What's wrong, Randi?"

The kindness in Ma's voice made her stomach sink to her

shoes.

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