Brides Along the Chisholm Trail Boxset

by Maxine Douglas

  “Those two are gonna weep like babies for days on end.”

  Startled by the sound of Logan’s voice, Gabe reached for his gun.

  “Hold on there! You’re jumpy as a bullfrog in a pond.” Logan stepped back, his hands in the air, far from the gun belt on his hips.

  Shaking his head, Gabe holstered his firearm. “Sorry Logan, you startled me. Guess I was thinking deeply about those two.”

  “Now be honest, you were thinking about all those days and nights being alone with Abby with nothing but an occasional coyote call or prairie dog. I know I would be if it were Rose and me going in your place.”

  “I was wondering whether this wagon will make it in one piece or not. Abby has everything but the lumber from the house packed under this canvas.” Gabe strolled around the wagon bed, checking each iron wheel for wear, the axles for any cracks, as well as the hound and tongue. He’d even inspected the grease bucket for a third time, knowing full well it was plumb full and there was plenty extra in the wagon bed.

  “I’m thankful we’re not traveling west over the mountains; we’d never make it without leaving half the cargo behind on the trail.” Gabe chuckled, finally satisfied with the wagon and mule team he’d spent close to a fortune on. Spade, tied to the back of the wagon, whinnied, as anxious as Gabe to set out.

  Logan placed a large basket covered with a red handkerchief into the jockey box. “Rose wanted to make sure you had some hardtack, sweetbreads, and preserves along the way. She’s been putting them up for days now.”

  “Abby and I are appreciative.” Gabe nodded his thanks, taking Logan’s hand in his. “It’s been a pleasure working alongside you, Logan. Take care of my town for me until Marshal Jones returns. That new marshal seems green to me.”

  “A Pinkerton always gets his man.” Logan smiled, squeezing Gabe’s hand a bit tighter.

  “Abby, we really must be going,” Gabe called out, checking the series of knots holding the canvas down over the bed of the wagon one last time.

  Abby gave Rose a final hug then approached the wagon, her nose red and eyes moist from crying. Gabe placed his hands around her waist. Over the past few days he’d come to know every inch of his wife and his body reacted as he easily lifted her into the box.

  “Bye, Rose. Give Lilly a hug for me,” Abby said, dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief.

  Gabe climbed aboard, rocking the wagon slightly.

  “You take care of Abby, Gabe Hawkins, if it’s the last thing you do!”

  With a swift snap of the reins, the mules stepped out and the wagon lurched forward. Rose’s words drifted away in the breeze as Gabe turned the team and headed south out of Dodge City.

  “How much longer will it take to get to our new home, Gabe?” They’d been on the trail nearly a couple of weeks, the sun blazing down day after day. Abby tugged at the frayed ribbons of her bonnet, pulling the covering from her head. Her hair fell loose around her shoulders, and the warm breeze swept the heated beads of moisture from her neck. Even a hot breeze felt good to her in the unyielding heat since they’d set out this morning.

  It was long past the urge she’d had to lean around in her seat to look back at Rose as they drove out of Dodge City. She’d lost her nerve about asking Gabe to turn back. She didn’t think her husband, while he may have obliged her, would have appreciated it. Now she was thinking she should have; then she’d at least be on solid ground with a good bed to sleep in and a hot bath when she wanted it. Not one to complain, Abby had had her fill of the bumpy wagon, sleeping in the wagon on packed wooden crates or under the wagon if the ground wasn’t rocky, and traveling in the endless heat.

  At least she’d been able to bathe in a stream when they happened upon one. Never really a proper cleaning, she washed some of the trail dust from hair and body as quickly as she could. That was something and better than not being able to bathe at all. They’d had to sleep under the wagon only once since they’d set out when the heat of the night was intense. There was little room under the cover of the wagon for them both, but she’d arranged the crates and blankets in a manner that wasn’t totally uncomfortable. It was better than sleeping on rocks while God knew what crawled around. She’d certainly gotten to know Gabe a bit more. Abby had slept wrapped in his arms safe and warm each night. Not an unpleasant situation.

  “About three or four more days if the weather holds up and this wagon stays together. Might get lucky and arrive a day sooner.” Gabe glanced over at her for a moment keeping the team lumbering forward. “I know it’s been slow going and not so comfortable for you, Abby. I’m unfamiliar with this territory so there may be more places where we’ll have to be on foot while I guide the team along. And if the next river we’re to cross is high we may have to swim next to the wagon and hope it stays afloat, unlike the Cimarron which was low enough for us to drive right over and through.”

  “I’m not afraid of a little water, Gabe. Nor will I be opposed to getting off this hard seat and feeling the blood flowing through my veins again.” Abby adjusted herself, giving emphasis to her words. She didn’t think she’d ever feel anything on her backside again after the endless days of being jostled about. “It must be just as difficult and tiring driving the wagon as it is for me sitting here bouncing along at the will of the trail. I can’t imagine what it would be like to control two bullheaded mules.”

  Abby swept some of the layers of trail dust from her skirt, then glanced over at Gabe as the wagon bounced over the rutted trail. The reins were loose between his long fingers and his strong hands hung relaxed. She’d no idea how he managed to guide the mules with so much ease. His hands and fingers were powerful enough to control two stubborn beasts pulling a wagon with all their worldly belongings inside, yet gentle when they skimmed across her skin at night. Her body recalled the ghost of his touch and she shivered with heat the memory left upon her.

  “It depends. A light hand keeps them calm as long as you remember you are the one in control.” Gabe gathered the reins in one hand then reached for her as if reading her spirited thoughts. Awareness sparked between them when his hand touched hers. “If you want to give it a try, I’ll show you.”

  Abby quickly moved her hand from under his, rubbing the spot the spark bore into her. “No, not now. Maybe later on, just not right now. I feel guilty I’ve been of little help to you when we’ve stopped for the night.” The closeness of their persons next to each other distracted Abby. She had to keep her mind from wandering back to the nights after their departure so many days ago. The warmth of Gabe lying next to her. The tenderness of his kisses. The way her heart raced like a runaway horse even now.

  “Abby, you’ve done more than you give yourself credit for. You’ve cooked our meals over an open fire, which I know you’ve never done before. You keep the wagon organized and clean, giving us a place to sleep in comfort rather than on rocky ground. Believe me, half of everything would be scattered through the wagon and I’d have used my saddle for a pillow rather than your soft breasts if left on my own.”

  Abby looked to the clear blue sky, shielding her eyes from the sun beating down on them. Her stomach lurched, and she knew it was well past time to eat. Or was it the thought of Gabe’s head upon her? “Gabe, will we be stopping soon? I think we should at least get our feet on solid ground and have lunch, don’t you?”

  Gabe looked around, then turned the team toward a grove of trees. “Might be a good idea to give the mules a chance to rest. Getting out of the sun and a dip in the pond over yonder to cool off would be nice.”

  “A pond? Will I have time to bathe?” Abby couldn’t keep back the giddiness she felt. “I do hope it’s in a proper place, away from unseen eyes. It’s been days since I felt clean, and I’d like nothing more than to really scrub the dirt from under my skin and nails.”

  Gabe laughed. “That’s my intention. Keep in mind bathing with your husband could be a dangerous proposition, Mrs. Hawkins.”

  Abby felt a rush of heat that slowly settled on her cheeks.
“Mr. Hawkins, you are quite a scoundrel!”

  They’d lingered longer than he’d planned after bathing and having a quick bite to eat from the remaining preserves and bread in the basket the Grangers had given them. Gabe had found plenty of dry sagebrush for their fire and it burned hot. The prairie hen he’d killed and plucked waited for Abby to do what she would with it as their last meal of the day. The plucking task and gathering of more kindling for the fast-approaching evening kept his mind off of Abby humming Golden Slippers, a tune he’d long forgotten. When she quieted, Gabe had looked in on her to find she was propped against a bow of the wagon, fast asleep. Abby deserved a good rest at least once during their move into Indian Territory. He didn’t have the heart to wake her, only to watch the gentle rise and fall of her breasts.

  His wife continued to be a marvel to him. Abby rationed out their food, making sure they had enough for each meal but no more. Not once had she complained. Gabe couldn’t have found a better woman than Abigail Johnson Granger. No sir, she was priceless, and he’d do all he could to hold up his part of their marriage…to love, protect, and cherish. Ha, he’d even obey her if she asked him.

  “Gabe?” Abby all but cried out from the safety of the wagon.

  “Out here, Abby.” Gabe smiled at the slight fear that edged her voice. Had she come to depend on him out of necessity, or was it something else?

  She popped her head out of the back of the wagon, squinting at the sun setting in the west. “What time is it? You shouldn’t have let me sleep, Gabe. Aren’t they expecting you in a day or two?”

  Gabe rose from his perch next to the fire. He reached up, his hands circling her small waist, and lifted her down. “They can wait a day more. I’d much rather have my bride rested for the rest of the journey.”

  Gabe pushed away the lock of hair that fell across her eye and smiled at the pink that blushed across her cheeks. “Do you know how beautiful you are, Abby?”

  “Gabe Hawkins, there are more important things than you losing your head over a pretty face. Is that dinner waiting for me to roast?”

  Abby fluttered her lashes and he couldn’t help but laugh at her. “Yes, it’s ready and so is the fire. Tell me what else you need out of the wagon and I’ll get it for you.”

  “I put some apples in water last night to soak; you can get those for me. We’ll have some dried apple pie for dessert, and what’s left of the hardtack Rose made.” Abby picked up the hen, inspecting it thoroughly. “Salt and pepper, sugar, my spice jars, and a square pan as well. It should be in that box under the seat, along with a bit of bacon grease.”

  Gabe gathered up everything she asked for, setting them down on a crate before jumping down from the wagon. “Are you sure this is all that you need, Abby?”

  He was amazed by Abby’s skills in butchering a hen, even a prairie hen. She had the bird pieced out and in the pan before he placed the items she’d requested next to her. “That looks like it would feed a family of four rather than just two of us.”

  Taking the salt and pepper from the pan for the apples, she smiled as she seasoned the poultry. “That is why I do the cooking and you do, well, whatever it is you do.”

  “Humph, whatever it is I do. Nothing much but drive a two-thousand-pound wagon over a rutted trail and through riverbanks. Find meat when I can and prepare it for you to cook.” Gabe stood next to the wagon, cleaning his knife. “I know I don’t do much, but at least it’s something.”

  “That it is,” Abby commented continuing with preparing their dinner.

  It wasn’t long after the hen was on the fire that they were eating. The apple pie cooking over what was left of the fire smelled mouthwatering and Gabe couldn’t wait to taste it.

  “Abby, I don’t know if I could possibly put another bit of food into my belly.” Gabe sat back against the tongue of the wagon, stripping the last thighbone of its meat. He gave a contented sigh. The mules were grazing nearby, and the sun had finally set in the west. He loved this time of the day on the trail with his wife.

  “Then I’ll leave the pie for the natives. I’m sure they’d love to have your leftovers, Mr. Hawkins.”

  “Mrs. Hawkins, if you do that, you’ll be walkin’ the rest of the way. I ain’t leaving no apple pie behind for the coyotes to feast upon, no sir.”

  Abby offered him a large piece. He took her wrist, pulling her down next to him. “I think we should share this one piece and save the rest for another day.”

  They sat next to each other, sharing the pie, the moon overhead bright in the clear night sky. Gabe wrapped his arms around Abby, pulling her closer to him. The fresh scent of lavender lingered in her hair from her earlier bath in the pond. He smoothed down a few stray strands then lifted her chin, capturing her mouth with his. He’d never wanted a woman in his life as much as he wanted this one.

  Abigail ignited something in his soul he didn’t know was there. A burning need to protect her. To serve her. To love her.

  And he would do all three of those things for now and for eternity.

  4

  “Gabe! Look!” Abby pointed to the east at the cloud of dust rising over the horizon. “What is it from? Is there a cyclone?” Fear of being swept into a swirling devil chilled her to the bone. She wasn’t ready to leave her new life behind.

  Gabe pulled up the mules, shielding his eyes from the late morning sun. “Looks to be cattle on the move. A large herd, judging from the size of that dust cloud. Probably smell water up ahead. We’d best keep moving and stay out of their way.” Except for the occasional Indian signs indicating a tribe was in the area, the dust kicked up by the cattle was the first real sign of life they’d seen since breaking camp.

  “Oh, must we? I’d love to see them,” Abby chirped, relief flooding her that the possibility of death wasn’t imminent. Rising from her seat, she felt giddy as a girl on Christmas morning hoping there was a great gift waiting for her. She’d never seen Texas cattle before, or the men who drove them to market. It was part of the west she’d hoped to experience at least once in her life. You are being so city right now, girl, she laughed to herself.

  “Sit yourself down and no, we are not stopping to watch them. I’ve seen a herd overturn wagons and trample horses and cowpokes. I don’t plan on meeting my maker any time soon so get the thought out of your head.” Gabe gathered the reins and urged the team of mules to move out. “As long as we stay west of the herd, we should be safe.”

  Abby watched the cloud as it intensified and then all but disappeared. Two riders came over the ridge, one riding toward them while the other turned back and out of sight. “Gabe, I think we’ve got company.”

  Gabe glanced around her, then pulled up the team of mules once again. “Looks to be a couple of cowpokes, chasing a longhorn most likely. Abby, listen to me, and get in the back of the wagon. I’ll handle this.”

  “Are you telling me—” Abby struggled to curb her anger. It was rare for Gabe to treat her like a child, telling her what to do, and she didn’t like it. “You’ll not tell me what to do. We are partners in this marriage. No one rules over the other.”

  “You are my wife Abby. For now, I’m telling you to get in the back of the wagon.” Gabe tied off the mules, then checked his gun holster. “As your husband, it is my duty to protect you…always. So do yourself a favor and get your pretty little self out of sight.”

  “Well, I never!” Abby huffed, her skirt hiked above her ankles she crawled into the back of the wagon. She’d go, but only because if Gabe was getting his gun ready it had to be serious. Even so, she wasn’t about to let him think he’d won—even if he had.

  “No doubt, but for now keep quiet, Mrs. Hawkins,” Gabe warned, a scowl deepening his brow. “And don’t go peeking your head out to see what’s going on either!”

  Abby settled herself on a crate they’d shared the night before cradled in each other’s arms and her heart softened. He did a wonderful job in making her feel save—even loved a small bit.

  Gabe drew the strin
gs on the canvas until she was shut in. Her pulse pounded in time with the thunder of horses’ hooves drawing closer. She bowed her head. Please Lord, please keep Gabe safe no matter how insufferable he is at times. I trust You to guide him.

  “Howdy,” Gabe greeted, his voice tense.

  “Saw you as we chased down a stray. You coming from Dodge City?”

  “Yes, on my way to the trading post in Fred.”

  “I’ve got about five hundred head I’m takin’ up to the stockyard. Need to meet up with a Logan Granger about some cattle rustlers that have been hitting my herds the last few drives north.”

  “Logan Granger, the bartender at the Dodge House?”

  “Unless there’s two of ’em, the one I’m lookin’ for works at The Lady Gay.”

  Muted light filled the wagon, spilling over Abby. She peeked out through the canvas. A man with whiskey-colored eyes sat on a big cream-colored horse. The man tipped his hat, reins in one hand and the other on the horn of his saddle. His smile was big, broad, and friendly. His eyes sparkled with surprise as she edged her way out in the open. He looked as much at home in the saddle as she did in the kitchen.

  “Ma’am.” His voice was deep and accented with a drawl foreign to her northern ears.

  “Abby, darling. Come on out here and meet Cyrus Kennedy.” Gabe gave her a hand, as she struggled into the jockey box. “If all accounts I’m familiar with are true.”

  “Now how would a homesteader know of Cyrus Kennedy?”

  “Marshal Gabe Hawkins at your service, Mr. Kennedy. I’ve been reassigned from Dodge City. Detective Granger and I were working on finding those rustlers. There are a few of your head waitin’ for you at the stockyard,” Gabe stated, helping Abby settle back onto her seat then he pulled her close. “Abby, this is Cyrus Kennedy, one of, if not the, richest cowmen in Texas. Mr. Kennedy, this here is my new bride, Abigail. Her friend just married Granger a month or two back.”

  “Ma’am, I truly hope you can keep this law-dog in line.” Cyrus nodded, then pulled his hat off, shaking his head. “Whoosh, things have changed since I last had a correspondence from Detective Granger. Although we’ve not met until today, this one’s a good man, judging from the way he and Granger have been handlin’ those cattle rustlers.”