“Now I know how my Viking ancestors felt when everyone ran away from them,” he said with a grin.
“They deserved it. You don’t. She’s probably married to some puny little...storekeeper or something.”
The sound of Garrick’s laughter filled the room as she tossed her head and went back to get her coat.
“She’s not the first woman to be afraid of me,” he said with a chuckle as he leaned against the doorframe waiting for her. “My size intimidates a lot of them.”
“Only the very silly ones I’m sure.”
“As I remember, you were pretty nervous at first.”
“I was not!”
“You wouldn’t even look at me.”
“I did too.”
“Nope, I remember distinctly. You ran down the stairs like your dress was on fire, skidded to a stop right in front of me, and then stared at your shoes.” He straightened as she came through the door and fell into step beside her.
“All right, maybe I was a little afraid, but it wasn’t because of the way you look.”
“No?”
“I thought you’d be like my father.”
Garrick stopped in his tracks and looked down at her in astonishment. “And you still married me?”
Becky shrugged. “I learned to stay out of his way most of the time. Anyway, it wasn’t your size that scared me.” She touched the thick blond hair that lay against his collar. “Of course, now that I look, you could use a shave and a haircut. I hadn’t really noticed before.”
“I haven’t shaved since I left. I suppose I do look a little wild.”
“A little.”
“Bad enough to scare nervous women and small children?”
“Maybe.”
They looked at each other for a moment then burst into laughter. It lay soft and warm between them like the memory of their kiss as they stepped out in to the bright autumn sunshine.
“‘Bout time you two showed up,” Ox said, leaning against the side of his wagon. He took one last puff off his cigarette and threw it away. “I do have other customers, you know.”
“But none that offered to drive your second wagon clear from Rock Springs for nothing,” Garrick said with a grin.
Ox’s eyes twinkled. “I probably wouldn’t have needed that second wagon if it hadn’t been for everything you brought back with you. Good to see you, Becky.”
“You too, Ox.”
Garrick wondered with a jealous twinge when they had started calling each other by their first names. “I’ll take Becky home then come back and help you unload.”
“No need for that. We’ll just deliver your household goods now. That window has to come out first anyway.”
“All right,” Garrick said. “Looks like you get to ride home, Becky.”
“You bought a window?” Becky peered curiously at the back of the wagon as Garrick lifted her up onto the seat and then climbed up beside her.
“I figured we needed it with winter coming on.”
“But how did you get it here without breaking it?”
“I’ll have you know I’ve never broken a window in all the years I’ve been hauling freight,” Ox said as he climbed up on the other side of Becky and picked up the reins. “In fact, five or six years ago I hauled three of the biggest dang windows you ever saw clear from St. Jo Missouri to Horse Creek. Brought them out for a rancher named Cantrell who...”
Becky listened to Ox’s story with half an ear as the wagon moved down the street. It was difficult to pay attention when the warmth of her husband’s strong muscular thigh branded her leg from hip to knee. More than anything, she wanted to reach over and hold his hand. Unsure how he’d react, she kept her hands folded in her lap.
Her heart was lighter now that he was back, but Becky was still troubled. She didn’t know why he’d gone or even where for sure. Though her curiosity was about to get the best of her, she decided to wait until they were alone to ask her questions.
But when they finally reached home, she never got the chance. Garrick and Ox unloaded the window first, then a large crate. Garrick pried the lid off and insisted she unpack it. Not knowing what to expect, she dug down through the packing and discovered it was filled with new pots and pans.
Becky was busily unpacking them when the two men came back inside a few minutes later. “Thank you, Garrick! I’ve never had pans as nice as...” She trailed off in amazement as she realized what they were carrying. “A cook stove.” she whispered. “Oh, Garrick.”
Both men were grinning from ear to ear. “Told you she’d be pleased,” Ox said, as they set it in the corner. “There’s not a woman alive who can resist a new stove.”
“I had some extra money,” Garrick explained with a smile. His eyes sought Becky’s and their gazes locked with silent pleasure.
“Well, Swede,” Ox said finally. “What do you say we get the rest of your equipment unloaded so you can spend some time with your wife? After two and a half weeks I expect you two will have lots to talk about.”
His meaning was obvious, and Becky blushed to the roots of her hair.
“Ja, I guess so. I’ll be back as soon as I can, Becky, but probably not before supper.”
“Can I come help?”
Garrick flashed her a smile. “No, I want to have everything ready before you see it.”
“Oh.” Her heart sank. A casino. What else would he want to keep secret?
“I’m sorry I can’t take time to set the stove up now,” he was saying, “but I can probably do it after supper.” He dropped a kiss on her forehead, and then he was gone.
Though he’d spent the last two and a half weeks making his dream a reality, Garrick found it difficult to concentrate now that it was so close to completion. All he could think of was Becky. He’d missed her like the devil while he’d been gone, but his welcome home had almost been worth the loneliness. Her sweet kiss lay like a warm caress in his mind. As he and Ox unloaded the equipment he’d traveled so far to buy, Garrick found himself wishing he could just leave it all and go home to his wife.
The thought brought him up short. His wife? When had he started to believe his own charade? Then again, maybe it wasn’t really a pretense any more. Their relationship certainly felt like a marriage, or at least what he thought a marriage should be like.
The feelings he had for her now were not the same as they had been five months ago. No longer could he complacently imagine her falling in love with another man and leaving. In fact, he found himself wanting to somehow bind Becky to him so tightly she couldn’t leave. Maybe it was time to woo his wife.
“That’s it,” Ox said as he set the last crate down with a thunk. “You plan on stayin’ here and gettin’ started on this tonight?”
Garrick looked around the spacious interior of his new building with more than a little anticipation. Yet, as impatient as he was to throw the doors open for business, he shook his head. “Actually, I’m pretty tired. Think I’ll just go home to supper and have a nice hot bath.”
“And probably turn in early, too,” Ox said with a grin. “Can’t say as I blame you. If I had a woman like your Becky—not that I’m ready to settle down yet,” he added quickly when he saw his friend’s scowl. “Come on, I’ll walk part way with you. Reckon I’ll go see if I can get in a good card game at Angel’s.”
Garrick was suddenly tempted to ask Ox’s advice. He knew his friend had been married before the war and would surely know the proper way to treat a woman like Becky. His own experience with decent women was nonexistent. The hurried, unemotional coupling with a prostitute was very different from what went on between husbands and wives.
Unlike Collette, Becky wouldn’t be thrilled to the point of swooning by the very idea of bedding him. No, he’d have to go slowly. Luckily, he had plenty of time. There could be no thought of sleeping with her until long after the baby was born.
“I’ll be dammed. I wonder what a federal marshal is doing in South Pass City.”
Ox’s voice brough
t Garrick out of his self-absorption with a jolt. Suddenly, his heart was pounding in his ears as he followed his friend’s gaze. Even at this distance there was no mistaking the glint of a badge in the late afternoon sunlight or the familiar red handlebar mustache. The man didn’t seem to have changed at all in six years. With seeming nonchalance, Garrick reached up and pulled his hat low over his eyes as though to shade them from the sun.
“Hmm, think I’ll go find out what brings him clear up here,” Ox said, then grinned. “I don’t suppose you’d care to come with me?”
“I don’t particularly care why he’s here.”
“At least not with the lovely Becky waiting at home. Can’t say I blame you. Give her my best.” Watching Swede walk away, Ox felt a flash of envy. “Lucky S.O.B,” he muttered to himself. Then, with a shrug, he sauntered down the street to the saloon he’d seen the marshal enter.
“Howdy, Marshal,” Ox said walking up to him at the bar and offering his hand. “Ox Bruford’s the name.”
“Daniel Dutton.” The two men sized each other up as they shook hands.
“Join me in a drink, Marshal Dutton?”
“Don’t mind if I do. My throat’s full of trail dust.”
Ox ordered a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. “What brings you to South Pass?”
“Just passing through. We’ve had some complaints of two-bit outlaws working the road between here and Cheyenne. I came to look the situation over.” Dutton took a swallow of his drink. “Couldn’t help but notice your friend up the street. His name wouldn’t happen to be Ellinson, would it?”
“Nope, Swenson.”
“Damn, I was hoping…” He sighed. “Wishful thinking, I guess. I used to know a big Norwegian who looked an awful lot like him.”
“Couldn’t be the same man. He’s Swedish, not Norwegian.”
“I think your friend’s a little bigger anyway.”
Ox grinned. “That’s not surprising. Swede’s bigger than just about everybody.”
With a knot of ice in his stomach, Garrick covered the distance home in record time. How could he have forgotten even for one minute he was a wanted man?
Knowing Becky would recognize his agitation immediately, he by-passed the house and stumbled into Sophie’s shed. Shaken to the depths of his soul, Garrick leaned unsteadily against the wall. With the scruffy beard and longer hair, Dutton probably hadn’t recognized him, but he hadn’t had such a close call in years. What was Dutton doing out of Dakota Territory anyway? Surely South Pass City was way outside his jurisdiction.
Garrick thought of Becky. This time he couldn’t run. She and her child were a responsibility he wouldn’t even consider shirking. A feeling of hopelessness welled up inside him. Even if Dutton’s presence was a coincidence, it was only a matter of time until somebody discovered him here. He’d never be able to build the life he wanted with Becky. It would be far better for her if he maintained his distance.
For a moment he thought he would choke on the huge lump in his throat as he reached into his pocket and pulled out the ring of braided gold and silver he’d bought in Omaha. It was a wedding ring meant for a princess, his princess. Turning it over in his hand, he gazed at it sorrowfully. Suddenly, he knotted the hand into a huge fist and smashed it into the wall. He almost welcomed the pain as it rose in a tide from his battered knuckles to merge with the ache in his heart.
Chapter 15
“Where is he?” Becky wondered out loud as she looked out at the darkening sky. With a sigh, she threw her shawl around her shoulders and opened the door. She’d better go feed Sophie before it got dark.
Walking the short distance to the shed, she told herself Garrick would be along any minute now. After all, he’d promised to put the new stove together tonight and he never—
“Garrick?” Becky stopped just inside the shed door; surprised to see her husband crouched down next to Sophie. “What’s wrong?” Becky had never seen the mare lying on her side before. With a rush of fear, she hurried across the shed.
“Shh, it’s all right. Look,” Garrick said quietly as he rubbed the mare’s neck soothingly.
Becky followed the line of his finger and gasped. Two diminutive hooves protruded from beneath Sophie’s tail. As she watched, Sophie strained, and a tiny head appeared pillowed between two long legs. With a final grunt from the mare, the rest of the body slipped out with a surge of fluid.
“Oh, Garrick, help it,” Becky cried as the baby tried to lift its head then weakly dropped it back onto its legs.
“Don’t worry, Sophie will take care of him.”
As if on cue, Sophie heaved herself to her feet, turned, and began nuzzling the youngster.
Moving out of the way, Garrick went to stand beside Becky. “How did you know?” she asked, never taking her eyes off the foal.
“I didn’t. It was just one of those times I happened to be in the right place.”
“I’m glad you were here. If anything had happened to Sophie or her baby...”
He smiled down at her. “I didn’t do much. Sophie took care of it by herself.”
Together, they stood and watched as the mare cleaned her baby and gently nudged it to its feet.
“Look,” Becky cried as the youngster took its first wobbly steps and nosed his mother’s flank. “He knows exactly where to go.”
“Ja. It’s amazing how Nature takes care of her babies.”
As they watched the colt locate his mother’s milk and have his first meal, Garrick was achingly aware of the woman beside him. His mind was suddenly filled with the image of her within the shelter of his arms, her back pressed against him and his chin resting on the top of her head as they shared the miracle of the colt’s birth. “Is supper ready?” he asked abruptly.
“What? Oh, yes. I was just waiting on you.” Becky was surprised to see him turn and stride from the shed without another word. Was he angry with her for some reason? She followed him uncertainly into the house.
“Is something wrong, Garrick?”
“No.” The flash of hurt in her eyes as she turned away was like a knife in his heart. “I’m just tired.”
“I heated water so you could take a bath after supper,” she said.
“Thanks.”
“I can cut your hair for you later, too.”
Garrick knew he’d never be able to handle such intimate contact. “No need. I’ll go to the barber tomorrow.”
The small sounds that Becky made as she set the table and dished up supper were loud in the almost oppressive silence that fell between them. She felt like crying as she thought of the warm kiss they’d shared hours before. What had happened?
“You’re not using your new pans.”
“N-no. I thought I’d wait until the new stove is set up. They get so black in the fireplace.”
“I can get everything but the chimney hole done tonight.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“I want to,” Garrick said, reaching across the table for a biscuit.
“Garrick, what happened to your hand?” Becky was staring at his fingers in horror.
He glanced down at the bloodied knuckles guiltily. “I scraped them on a board.”
“They must hurt terribly.”
“It was my own fault.”
“What difference does that make?” Becky scooted back her chair and went to get the tincture of iodine and a clean rag. “This won’t make them feel any better, but it will help your hand heal.”
Garrick sucked his breath in between clenched teeth as she dabbed the medicine on his cuts. At least the stinging pain kept him from thinking too much about how good she smelled.
“Are you going to tell me where you went?” she asked quietly.
“Omaha.”
She momentarily stopped her tender ministrations and looked up at him. “What on earth for?”
“I couldn’t get everything I needed in Rock Springs, so I took the train to Omaha. It only takes about three and a half days.”
“Wh
en are you going to tell me what you’re up to?”
He smiled up at her. “I should be ready in a day or two.”
“Can’t you tell me now?”
“And spoil my surprise?”
Becky turned her attention back to his hand. “I think I already know,” she said quietly. “Angel showed me the building you bought from Philip Harsh.”
He chuckled. “I told Ox you’d figure it out. You’re the one who gave me the idea, after all.”
“Are you sure this is what you want to do?”
“It doesn’t really matter. I’m committed now.” He smiled softly. “At least you won’t have to worry about me blowing myself up any more.”
“I’m glad.”
“You don’t sound like it.”
She ducked her head even farther to keep her tears at bay. “I didn’t have any business demanding you quit something you were obviously good at.”
“I’m glad you did. Otherwise, I’d have never thought of doing this.”
“You weren’t happy with my interference at the time. You swore at me.”
“I what?”
“Don’t you remember? You said yay elker something.”
He grinned suddenly. “Jeg elsker deg.”
“Yes, that’s it. And you wouldn’t tell me what it meant.”
“It’s what Norwegian husbands say to their wives when they get out of hand.”
“Is that so?” Becky gave his knuckles one last swipe with the rag and stuck the cork back in the bottle. “And what do Norwegian wives say to their husbands when they feel like coshing them over the head?”
“I don’t know. My mother’s Irish. Anyway, Norwegian husbands are never wrong.”
“Huh.” She flounced over to the cupboard and put the iodine away. “Well, don’t be surprised if this wife uses your own Norwegian curse on you.”
“All right,” he said, the twinkle in his eye belying the meekness in his voice. “If it will make you feel better.”
“Yay elker Day!”
“No, no, you have the wrong accent. It’s Jeg elsker deg.”
Becky put her hands on her hips in pretended indignation. “Oh, ya, yooo make fun of me ven my accent is not so gooood, but I never say anyting about yooors.”
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