Dorothy Garlock - [Wyoming Frontier] (18 page)

Katy obeyed. She swung her leg over the horse’s neck so that she sat astraddle in front of him. Her buttocks were pressed firmly against his crotch, but she kept her back stiff and away from his chest. She took off her hat and held it in her hands, when she felt the brim bumping his chin.

Apollo settled into a pace behind the mare. After a while, Rowe looked over his shoulder and said, “The horses are following. The poor things look beat.”

Katy looked down at the hand holding the reins. Rowe’s fingers were long, the nails short and clean. A sprinkling of fine black hair covered the back of his hand. His other hand rested on a long, hard thigh that lay alongside hers. Despite the cool mountain air she felt hot, alive, and . . . strange.

“You’re going to be sore tomorrow.” His hand moved the few inches from his thigh to Katy’s.

“I’m aware of that.” The warmth and the strength of his hand on her thigh caused her mind to go blank. In seconds, reason returned. She lifted his hand and moved it back to his own leg.

“You have beautiful hair, Nightrose.” His lips were close to her ear. He blew into it, gently sending her mind spinning again.

“Many women have the same color.”

“Do you ever let it hang?”

“What do you think I am? A hussy? Only a loose woman lets her hair hang down her back in public.”

“Someday, I’m going to undo that braid and spread this glorious hair out over a pillow.”

“I think not! And I thank you to keep such thoughts to yourself,” she said tightly. For some crazy reason she was having difficulty breathing.

“Women back East are cutting their hair,” he said, not at all put down by her sharp remark.

“Cutting it?” She looked at him over her shoulder. “How in the world do they do it up?”

“They don’t. They cut it to about here.” He ran his finger along the nape of her neck. “It works best on women who have curly hair.”

“And that’s socially accepted?”

“In some circles.”

“How nice not to have to go to all that bother of brushing out the tangles. I think I’d like that new style.”

“I don’t. If you cut your hair, I’ll beat your butt.”

“It’s none of your business what I do with my hair, Mr. Rowe.”

“Yes, it is. Now, hush up. I don’t want to spoil this sweet time with you by arguing.” He felt her stiffen even more. He grinned and rubbed his chin against her head. “You’re stiff as a poker. Loosen up, Nightrose. Lean back against me and we’ll both be more comfortable. It feels right and natural for you to be riding in front of me with my arms around you. It’s like we’ve done it a hundred times before. Don’t you agree?”

He didn’t expect an answer and he didn’t get one. He didn’t figure that she’d relax against him, and she didn’t—until later. Gradually, fatigue overpowered her pride. Her shoulders slumped and her backbone curved as she sagged against him. Rowe made no comment. His arms enveloped her, shielding her from the brisk evening breeze that blew down from the snow-covered mountain peaks.

“Nights are cool up here in the high country,” he murmured, pulling her even closer.

“I’ve got a shawl in my valise.”

“I’ll keep you warm. We’ll be at Sam’s in a little while. We’re on his land now. You’ll like Emily. She speaks with a Southern drawl, but it’s not as pronounced as yours.” Rowe’s lips were close to her ear. “I’ve known them for several years. Emily is almost blind without her glasses. Sam is crazy about her. They don’t seem to need anyone but each other.”

“Do they have children?”

“Their first baby was stillborn and now they’re expecting another.”

“I’d think she’d be lonesome way out here.”

“They’re only an hour from Virginia City.”

“You said your friends lived halfway.”

“I said they were more than halfway.” He chuckled and she could feel the rumble against her back. “You’re a surprising woman, Nightrose, and foolish. I’m going to take that Derringer away from you. Good Lord!” he exclaimed as he thought of her facing a man with a buffalo gun and shooting the measly pistol from her pocket.

“No you’re not!”

“I died a thousand times when I saw that man holding his gun on you. Dammit, Katy, a man like that is like a timber wolf. He thinks no more of killing than he does of taking a drink of water.”

“He was a horrible man! I wasn’t going to give up without a fight.”

“Spunky and foolish and . . . sweet.” He breathed against her cheek. His warm lips nibbled at her ear, his tongue stroking the rim.

“Don’t—” She wiggled trying to move her head away.

“Why not? I like tasting your ear.”

“I don’t want you to—” He caught the lobe lightly with his teeth and Katy lost track of her own words.

“Don’t is such an ugly word.”

“Rowe, I can’t . . . think when you do that.”

“Good. I’ll keep it in mind.”

“And . . . your mustache tickles.” In spite of herself, she giggled as she placed her hand on his thigh and leaned to the side.

“Be still, sweet one!” he cautioned, and he sounded as if he were in pain. His arms lifted her and moved her bottom away from the part of him that was throbbing and painfully aware of what was pressed against it. “Be still or I’ll embarrass the hell out of myself when I get off this horse,” he whispered.

“Oh!” she murmured and let out a long shuddering breath.

“Yeah, oh!” he mocked and pressed his cheek against hers. “My natural male mating-instincts are causing me pain.”

“Glory be! It’s not my fault that you’re as randy as a billy goat,” she blurted.

Rowe burst out laughing. Katy had no control over the sudden laughter that joined his, or the words that came mixed with the laughter.

“It would serve you right to be embarrassed. Don’t expect any sympathy from me. I didn’t ask to ride with you.”

The arm across her middle tightened, locking her to him. “You’re right where you belong, Nightrose.” He lowered his voice and whispered in her ear. “And I’m going to keep you with me forever.”

“What are you using for brains, Mr. Rowe? You’ve no claim on me. I go where I please.” She slammed her elbow into his ribs to emphasize the point and was pleased to hear a grunt of surprise.

“We’ll see about that, little she-cat!” he gritted fiercely, but he was smiling as he buried his lips in her hair.

Eleven

Rowe was right about Katy liking Emily Sparks. After thirty minutes in Emily’s home, Katy felt as if she had known her for years. The tall woman, who, Katy suspected, was nearer to Mary’s age than her own, was in the last stage of pregnancy. She wore moccasins on her swollen feet and a granny dress that hung loosely from her shoulders. Round, wire spectacles with thick lenses magnified her blue eyes. She smiled easily and seemed to be sincerely fond of Rowe.

It had been past supper time when they arrived. For her guests Emily had set a loaf of fresh bread on the table along with slices of cold meat and dried peach pie. The meat was delicious. Katy hadn’t eaten beef for months and didn’t realize how much she had missed it. Sam, Emily’s husband, a tall, quiet man with a head of thick, dark hair, helped his wife lay out the meal.

Katy had expected to find the Sparks living in a crude log house. To her surprise, the house was built with sawed lumber and consisted of one large room with two smaller rooms to either side. Narrow-cut vertical boards ran partway up the walls; above them the walls were covered with wallpaper. Leading to the loft was an open stairway with a handrailing attached to the inside wall. Comfortable chairs sat on either side of a cobblestoned fireplace, and an oval-braided rug covered a large portion of the plank floor. A bookcase holding more books than Katy had seen at one time since she left Alabama was built into one wall.

Water was piped into the kitchen; a rare convenience even in a town. A black iron handpump sat on one end of a tinlined sink. The shiny iron cookstove, big enough to help heat the house in the winter, looked as if it had just been scrubbed and greased. It had two warming ovens at the top and a large hot-water reservoir on the side.

Sam left his seat beside the table to take the teakettle from his wife’s hands as she lifted it from the stove top. He carried it to the sink and worked the pump handle until the water flowed and filled the pot.

“I can do that, Sam,” Emily whispered.

“You can do it when I’m not here, love.” He set the teakettle on the stove; then he checked the firebox, added a few sticks of wood, and returned to his chair. “Three fellows came through about noon today. They wanted to trade three worn-out horses for three of mine with nothing to boot. I had the feeling they would have tried to take them when I refused to trade if it hadn’t been for my crew in the corral breaking mustangs. Guess they’re the ones you ran into up on Hogback Mountain.”

“They may have run one of the horses to death.” Rowe mused. “One horse was carrying double. Lend me a couple of men and digging tools, and I’ll ride out in the morning to bury them. Sorry as they were, they were human, and I can’t leave them for varmints to gnaw on.”

“I’d go with you, but I don’t want to leave Emily for more than an hour or two, now that her time is near.”

Rowe’s eyes were bright with affection as they settled on Emily. “You make the best pie I ever ate. Will you teach Katy how?”

“I’ll be glad to. But there isn’t anything special about it. I get a lot of practice. My husband has a sweet tooth.”

Katy looked at Rowe as if she’d like to hit him with the plate she was drying.

“I pity the man who has to eat my cooking,” Katy said, placing the plate on the shelf. “My sister, Mary, is a far better cook than I am. We’re going back to Alabama soon where we can pick peaches right off the trees.”

“Oh, my,” Emily exclaimed. “It’s been years since I’ve had a fresh peach. I’d almost forgotten that those dried up little chips were once a whole fresh peach.”

Her hand unconsciously wandered to the small of her back as she spoke. Sam got up immediately and went to take her elbow.

“You’ve been on your feet long enough, Emily Rose.” He steered her to a chair and eased her into it. “Sit down. I’ll get the tea.” Before he straightened, he placed a light kiss on her temple.

It would be wonderful to be loved like that, Katy thought, as she watched Emily reach for her husband’s hand, then release it reluctantly when he moved away to get the tea. Emily was so lucky! Rowe said that they didn’t seem to need anyone but each other, and for once Katy believed him.

“He spoils me.” Emily was saying with a small smile on her lips.

“You deserve to be spoiled. You’re giving your man a son to carry life into another generation.” Rowe spoke gently, but his eyes had narrowed and his mouth tightened, as they always did when he was agitated.

“How’s your brother, Mrs. Sparks?” Anton asked smoothly, seeing the need to steer the conversation into a less personal channel.

“Charlie is fine. He helped to build the Federal Penitentiary at Laramie and then went back to his homestead when Sam and I came out here. Charlie decided that he prefers the ranch to working with prisoners.” Emily’s eyes sought Sam’s. “Sam and I wouldn’t be surprised if he got married. He’s been calling on a lady who works at the orphanage. We’re waiting for Mara Shannon and Pack to get here and tell us the news.”

“Do you know the Gallaghers?” Katy asked.

“We certainly do! Heavens to Betsy! Mara Shannon and Pack are our dearest friends.”

“Well, it certainly is a small world,” Katy exclaimed. “I worked for them a while. I’m hoping to go back to the orphanage and work again for a few months before my sister and I go home.”

“The Gallaghers are due out here anytime now. Pack went back east and bought two Hereford bulls: one for him and one for Sam. They have hopes of improving their herds. Pack and his young brothers are bringing Sam’s bull out. Mara Shannon and Brita are coming partway on the train and the rest of the way by stage. They’re going to stay with us for a while.”

“What about the children’s home?”

“Mara Shannon wouldn’t leave it unless it was in good hands. In her last letter she said they have eighteen children there now. She and Pack are devoted to that farm for homeless children.” She smiled mischievously at her husband. “Sam and I think they left it in Charlie’s hands so he’d have to spend more time with the new teacher.”

The new teacher.
Katy felt as if she’d had a rug pulled out from under her. She didn’t have enough money to see her and Mary and Theresa back to Alabama, and she had counted on teaching at the orphanage. One thing she was sure of as she glanced at Rowe and at what she considered his self-satisfied look:
he
would never know that she didn’t have sufficient funds to leave Trinity. She turned a bright smile to Emily.

“Have you see Mara Shannon’s little girl?”

“Oh, yes. Brita is three. They named her after Pack’s mother. She’s a darling. Her hair is black like Pack’s and her eyes are blue like Mara’s. Mara wrote that Pack dotes on her and has already taught her an Irish jig.”

“She was only a tiny baby when I saw her last.”

“Does Mara Shannon know you want to go back to work at the orphanage?”

“No. I’ve been in Trinity for the past ten months and couldn’t get a letter out. Heavens! It seems more like ten years. I can hardly wait to get to civilization.” Katy was careful not to look in Rowe’s direction. She heard the chair squeak as he moved restlessly; she decided to add a little more fat to the fire. “Mr. Rowe was kind enough to escort me to Virginia City where I can send a wire to ah . . . friends back home. I also intend to look for work while I’m there.”

“You shouldn’t have any trouble. A lot of women live in Virginia City, but a very few of them are qualified to teach school.” Emily’s laughing eyes sought her husband’s again, and they smiled at each other.

It came to Katy’s mind that Emily and her husband were so close that they even shared the same thoughts. She felt a pang of envy, then a pang of guilt for being jealous of this sweet, gracious woman who was so nearsighted that she couldn’t see without thick glasses.

Trying to choke down his anger, Rowe leaned back in the chair and listened to the conversation. His dark eyes were rooted to Katy’s face.
The ornery, single-minded little devil.
He wanted to shake her until the freckles on her nose rattled. This prattle about going back to Alabama was just that, prattle. Mary had told him that they only had distant cousins there. Katy had better get it into her pretty head that she wasn’t going anywhere without him. They were meant for each other. He knew it as sure as he knew his own name, and he thought he had made it clear to her. Hell! She knew it, but she wouldn’t admit it. But by damn, she would! She would be his, legally, before they left Virginia City. He hadn’t wanted to do it that way, but if that was what it took to keep her near him so that he’d have time to win her love, that was what he’d do.