Melody (Journey's End Book 2)

by Victoria Phelps

  Mitch opened the door and ushered Melody into a whirlwind of activity. Two women, one with coal black hair and the other a mane of flaming red, hurried about the kitchen. Two tall blond men, the Vikings Mitch mentioned, sprawled in big chairs each with a small child nestled in their lap. An older boy and girl sat on the floor petting two dogs.

  The room tumbled into silence.

  One of the women hustled forward. “You brought a guest for dinner, Mitch. How lovely. Please make yourself comfortable.” She gestured at an empty chair.

  “Well,” Mitch began, “she’s more than a guest. She’s my wife.”

  “Wife?” The redhead put her hands on her hips and glared at Mitch. “How could you keep this from me, brother? I didn’t know you were courting.”

  “I wasn’t, Ellie. I’ll explain everything after the children are settled for the night. It’s a strange story.” His eyes circled the room.

  The men placed a kiss on her cheek and the women hugged her tight. Melody was welcomed, and she loved it. Since her pa died, it had been just her and Clay, and now it was just her. Alone. This warm room and these even warmer people wrapped her in the comfort of their company. No questions asked.

  The little boy took her hand and pulled her to the blanket in front of the fireplace. “Come meet Loki and Chase.”

  “You must be Micah.” Melody had searched her mind for the right name and was happy to have landed on it.

  He shook his head an emphatic yes. “This is Loki. He is our dog, but we share him with Uncle Lars. They had him since they were boys.” A large dog with black and gray fur lifted its muzzle from between his paws. “He’s a husky. He pointed at a dog with long, silky auburn hair and deep brown eyes. “That’s Chase. He’s Uncle Mitch’s dog, but I named him.” Pride vibrated through every word.

  “You did?” Melody encouraged.

  “Yes. When I was little.” Melody suppressed a smile. The boy wasn’t bigger than two shakes of a lamb’s tail now. The child continued. “I would throw a stick and yell ‘chase’. Well, he loved to chase, and he came running when anyone said that word or waved a stick, so he got named Chase,” Micah declared.

  “That’s true,” Mitch agreed. “It was a fine job of naming.” He motioned to the other men. “Let’s unload the wagon before dinner. I need to see to the horses, too.”

  “Wait for me!” the boy shouted.

  Sven threw the child on his shoulders and ducked through the door. Lars and Mitch followed close behind. The two dogs trailed sniffing at the dirt, wandering here and there, lifting a leg on the corner of the house or an unsuspecting plant.

  “Come on,” Ellie swept her hand toward the kitchen. “Let’s get supper on the table.”

  When the men returned, they gathered around the table and arranged children on a lap or close by on the long bench. Such a sweet sight. Melody sighed and stole a glance at Mitch.

  “I reckon it’s my turn to say grace,” Lars declared. He waited while hands were joined and heads bowed.

  “Lord,” Lars began, “thank you for our health, the food on our table, and the love in our hearts. We thank you for bringing Melody into our family. I never did think my brother-in-law would find a woman who’d have him. Amen.”

  “Lars.” His redheaded wife scolded.

  “Settle down, Ellie girl,” Lars said while dropping a wicked wink her way. “Mitch knows I’m just funnin’.”

  Anger boiled. Resentment flared to a red-hot brand. If she were a teapot, steam would pour from her ears and she’d whistle to break eardrums. Why did men tell grown women to settle? They weren’t dogs or children or horses. Melody felt the explosion coming and couldn’t rein it in. She didn’t even try. Pa always ignored her explosions and waited for her to run out of energy.

  “Damn it.” Melody brought her palm down on the table. “Don’t tell her to settle. She’s got a right to…” Melody paused. A table of stunned faces stared wide-eyed. “What?” she asked.

  “Aunt Melody swore.” Micah pointed a trembling finger at the newcomer.

  “Yes, she did,” Ellie said, “but don’t point. It’s not polite.”

  “Excuse us.” Mitch rose from the table. “Come with me, Melody.”

  “I won’t… I’m sorry I swore. I’ll try not to do it again.” Melody smiled and lifted her shoulders. She hoped that apology would get them passing that plate of chicken. Her stomach growled. “I’m afraid my temper is on a short string when I’m hungry.”

  Mitch circled her waist with a brawny arm and lifted her from the bench. She dangled by his side. The more she struggled the tighter the clamp of his arm. Her legs churned empty air.

  “I’m sorry for the disturbance,” Mitch stated. “I’ll be back in an hour or so. There are some things you need to know about our marriage.”

  He hefted her over his shoulder until her head hung down his back and locked an arm around her thighs. He gave her bottom a smack. “Settle,” he instructed.

  She gave a spirited wiggle at the hated word, but that little swat had her bottom stinging and her brain whirling.

  Mitch covered the ground to his cabin with such quick steps she grew a little dizzy. After opening the door, she slid down the rock-hard muscle of his chest to her feet.

  “Is this your house?” Melody asked.

  “Our house,” he replied.

  “Yes, well, the marriage is in name only,” she began.

  “The only place that matters is the bedroom. In all other ways, you are my wife. I explained it all to you before the ceremony. Were you listening?” Mitch drew his eyebrows into a single irritated line.

  “Yes, but I didn’t think you meant it. Not really,” Melody protested.

  “I never say anything I don’t mean. Did your pa not stick to his word?” Mitch wondered.

  “Well, he threatened, but if I apologized, he was content.” She twisted her hands together and peeked at her husband through lowered lashes.

  “The apology is appreciated, but consequences still apply. You agreed to them before we married, so I don’t see much need for talking.” Mitch pulled a chair to the center of the room. He held his hand out. “Let’s get this behind us.”

  Melody scooted a few steps away from the large man perched on the chair. “Now I know you were serious, Mitch, I’ll do better. I’m sorry I broke the rule.”

  “That’s what a spanking does, Melody. It helps you be better. It helps you remember. It helps you think before you speak or act. Come here. I don’t aim to chase you.” Mitch waved an impatient hand at his bride.

  Melody dashed for the door, but before her hand hit the latch, Mitch had her clamped in the iron band of his arm once again.

  “I was going to let you keep your bloomers, but you just lost that privilege.” He plopped onto the chair and arranged a struggling Melody over his legs. “Settle,” he said and added a swat. “You can count on me keeping my word. If I say you need spanked, you’ll be spanked. And if I promise to take you to Oakville and your ranch tomorrow, we’ll go. Trust me. I keep my word.”

  Melody twisted to get a look at her captor’s face. “Ok. I know that now. Can’t we start over?”

  “Yup,” he agreed, “as soon as this spanking is over, we’re square.”

  His hand snaked under her body and pulled on the string holding her bloomers.

  “No, no, no, no,” she shrieked and bucked like a bronc with the first saddle on his back.

  “Stop that,” Mitch said his voice stern and steely. “The more you fight the harder this is for both of us.”

  He dragged her underclothes to her knees and pinned her legs with one of his own. She wiggled and writhed, but she was trapped.

  “Now, just to review. No swearing, no temper tantrums, no putting yourself or others in danger. Hear me?” he asked and added a hearty spank.

  “Yes, I hear you. Stop,” she wailed.

  “Sweetheart, we’ve just begun.”

  Melody tried not to cry. She tried not to squirm. She tried not to ple
ad. But she did all three. When her bottom stung like a thousand bee stings and throbbed like she’d sat on a red-hot stove, Mitch stopped spanking and began soothing.

  He rubbed her back and patted her flaming behind. Lifting her upright, he set her on his lap pulling her head to his chest. He removed the pins from her hair and let her locks uncoil down her back. It was heaven to have her scalp be free of its burden. When he ran his hand from the crown of her head to the middle of her back, she sighed and snuggled into his body. All the while, he whispered words of comfort into her ear.

  Melody wanted to be angry, but she couldn’t summon that particular emotion. Being wrapped in his arms brought peace. Security. Intimacy. Tenderness. She struggled to make sense of it, but those were the feelings that flooded her body like a full moon pulled the sea. They sat quiet in the twilight.

  “I’m going to put you to bed for a little nap. You’re plumb wore out. It’s been a big day.” Mitch lifted her in his arms and headed for a closed door. He pushed it open with his foot and turned sideways to enter. “This is your room. I’m heading over to the big house, that’s what we call Sven’s place, and explain about your brother and why we married so darn quick. I’ll bring dinner back for the two of us.” He laid her on the bed and covered her with a quilt. “Be back soon, sweetheart,” Mitch whispered before laying a gentle kiss on her forehead.

  Melody nodded and closed her eyes. What a lovely word – sweetheart. She’d been called a handful, a pest, a brat and a nuisance, but never sweetheart.

  “Sweetheart,” she exhaled the word like an incantation, a blessing, a prayer. “Sweetheart,” she repeated. Melody closed her eyes and drifted toward slumber.

  Chapter 4

  “Time to get up, sleepy head,” Mitch rapped on the door with the back of his knuckles before pushing it open. His wife lay curled on her side with her hands tucked under her cheek. He sat on the side of the bed and lifted a honey blonde curl from her face and let it fall over her shoulder. She was a beauty, and in spite of all denials made to the contrary yesterday, she was his. Sort of. Mitch pulled at the front of his britches to get some room. Name only, he reminded his body.

  Melody opened her eyes and blinked. “What time is it?”

  “Nine o’clock. I’ve been up for hours doing chores. The wagon’s hitched and as soon as we’ve eaten and you’ve washed up, we’ll head for Oakville.” Mitch wandered to the door before turning to face the bed. “I’ll get the bacon cooking,” he said. “That’s warm water in the pitcher.”

  Thank you,” Melody swung her legs over the side of the bed and sat up. “I’m going to look like I slept in my clothes since that’s exactly what I did.” She gave a ragged laugh and ran her hands over the wrinkles in her skirt.

  “Ellie and Caroline wanted to loan you some clothes, but those two barely clear five feet. I said you’d make do,” Mitch chuckled.

  “I’m tall for a woman, five feet nine inches in my stocking feet,” Melody reported.

  “Well, I got you beat at six feet,” Mitch called over his shoulder. “I like me a long drink of woman.”

  He approached the stove, lifted the lid and added wood. He let the skillet heat on the black surface before laying slices of bacon in the pan.

  “That smells good. What can I do to help?” Melody moved to shut the door to the cabin.

  “Leave it open for a bit. I like the cool morning air, and Chase will be back in a minute.” At the sound of his name the dog pranced into the room, tail wagging and long hair flowing. A gentleman in top hat and tails would have to work hard to look as elegant as Mitch’s dog. He folded his long legs and arranged himself on his blanket next to the fireplace.

  “Slice off a little bread. Butter’s in the cupboard,” Mitch instructed.

  He added eggs to the skillet and scrambled them with vigorous swoops of his fork. He divided the food onto three plates, set two on the table and the other on the floor. Chase uncoiled his lean body and sauntered to the plate on the floor. He finished his portion in a few bites, licked his lips and bent over his long front legs into a canine bow.

  “You’re welcome,” Mitch tipped his head. “That dog’s more human than some people I know.” He stroked the dog’s silky head.

  They finished their meal in silence broken by scraping forks and sips of hot coffee.

  Melody washed, Mitch dried and Chase supervised from his blanket.

  “Take care of your needs and meet me at the wagon. We’ll head into Oakville.” Mitch hung the dishcloth on a peg in the wall and waited. Did she object to every order or just some? He exhaled long and slow when she nodded and headed for the outhouse behind the cabin.

  After placing Chase’s blanket in the back of the wagon, Mitch called the dog from the house. He vaulted in one smooth leap into the wagon and settled on his bed. Chase lowered his elegant head between his paws and watched developing activity with intelligent eyes.

  A cool breeze soothed the sting of a hot July day as the wagon rolled down the well-traveled road. At noon, they crossed the river. The sun had moved past its zenith when they left the wagon at the Livery in Oakville.

  Mitch snapped his fingers. “Come on, Chase,” he called. The dog jumped to the ground and stood with regal presence next to Mitch’s leg. “Let’s visit the lawyer first, and then get some dinner.” He held his arm toward Melody, and she slipped her hand into the crook of his arm. “Where is his office, sweetheart?”

  They crossed the dusty street, and Melody tipped her head toward a door with the words Brad Martin, Attorney at law painted in gold letters. Mitch pointed to a spot by the door, “Stay, Chase.” The dog circled twice before lowering his lean body to the ground.

  “Let me do the talking, sweetheart,” Mitch instructed as he ushered her in before him.

  A man with long sideburns and eyes like glass beads sat behind a polished desk. He rose to his feet with a practiced smile on his lips. Mitch felt a shiver of revulsion. He recognized this kind of man – a taker, a manipulator, a man with a smooth smile. This man could slip a knife between your ribs and keep on walking.

  “Miss Williams.” The lawyer came out from behind his desk and slipped a palm beneath her elbow. “I was just finalizing the papers for the sale of your ranch. We have received a generous offer.” He gestured toward a chair, and Melody sank to the wooden surface.

  Mitch entered the office and shut the door behind him. “Who made the offer?” he asked.

  “Oh, well, the buyer prefers to remain anonymous.” If Mitch hadn’t been watching the man closely he might not have seen the shadow of annoyance flash across his face, but he did see it, and it made his hackles rise. The lawyer’s face resumed the mask of placid disinterest.

  “That seems mighty strange,” Mitch commented. “Why the secrecy?”

  “I can assure you the offer is from an upstanding member of this community, and that it is made in good faith.” The lawyer turned toward Melody. “I’m sorry to bother you with such noisome business matters so soon after your brother’s,” he paused, “…um …demise.” He laid a long-fingered hand on his Melody’s shoulder. “The fact is you need to sell the ranch. We both know you have no operating funds. Sign the papers, and I’ll send a telegraph to your uncle to come fetch you. Mrs. Morris at the boarding house has agreed to provide room and board until he arrives.”

  “I’d be mighty obliged if you would remove your hand from my wife’s shoulder.” Mitch’s request seemed mild enough if one ignored the undercurrent of suppressed violence.

  The lawyer jumped as if to avoid a rattler strike. Color drained from his face and his hand flew to his throat. “You’re what?” he demanded.

  “My wife, Melody McBride,” Mitch answered. He placed his own hand on Melody’s shoulder and brushed his fingers across the fabric of her dress. Damn, but he didn’t like that man’s fingerprints on his woman. “We didn’t come to sell. We came to get her trust fund released.”

  “Husband? What kind of mischief are you up to? Melody was not m
arried yesterday,” the man spluttered.

  “She’s married now,” Mitch declared.

  “Impossible,” the lawyer asserted. He picked up the papers lying ready for signature on his desk. “I have the deal written up. All that’s needed is Melody Williams to sign.”

  “Melody McBride,” Mitch repeated, “and she’s not signing. She will sign the necessary documents to release her trust.”

  Melody had been sitting meek and mild, but Mitch didn’t suppose it would last, and he was right.

  “You weasel,” she hissed. “How dare you try to sell my ranch without my permission.”

  The lawyer’s eyes swung from Melody to Mitch and back again. “I was trying to be of assistance, Miss Will…” Mitch’s glare brought him up short. “Mrs. McBride.” The man’s fingers trembled. “Do you have proof of this marriage?”

  “Show him, Mitch,” Melody demanded.

  Mitch withdrew a folded document from his shirt pocket and unfolded it with care. He laid it on the desk next to the documents of sale. Minutes passed as the lawyer examined the marriage license.

  “All right. That seems like a legal license, but I must object. How dare you take advantage of a grieving woman? You are nothing but a low-down fortune hunter. Somehow you learned of her distress and thought to turn it to your advantage,” the lawyer fumed.

  “I’d stop right there, Mister, unless you’d like to take this disagreement outside.” Mitch took an intimidating step towards the man.

  The lawyer raised his hands in surrender. “All right. I was just taken by surprise is all. I will review the trust and prepare the documents if you will return tomorrow.”

  “My wife and I will go to the café for dinner. When we return in about an hour, we will expect the papers to be ready for signature. We also expect a draft for the money to be prepared by tomorrow. Will there be a problem?” Mitch questioned.