Though returning to the West was always his dream, he’d known Pamela wouldn’t like his pa’s rough cabin, so he’d delayed while he’d had a nice ranch house built. Still, he’d put off returning to the West, knowing Pamela wouldn’t do well there. The Wyoming winds would have blown her away the first winter.
Then his father died and he grieved deeply that he’d gone so long without returning. With Pa’s death, his reason to hurry back was gone. He decided to forget the West and settle into New York City, though he’d never felt really at home there.
And then a runaway carriage had careened off the street and killed Pamela and five others, wiping away his single reason to stay in the East. He’d gone west with his boys, and for the last two years, he’d done well at the ranch, the boys dogging his footsteps and thriving in the sometimes harsh conditions.
And then he’d taken ill and come far too close to death. Little scared him, but he’d known real, solid fear of what would become of his sons. It brought him to Chicago where he’d gotten the doctor’s grim death sentence. Then he’d turned his attention to the boys and finding a caregiver for them.
And now here sat pretty Megan with her servant’s heart. He was a lucky man. Except for dying, of course.
“Are the boys asleep?” Dave dipped his spoon into the bowl of stew. The chunks of meat were few and far between, and what there was, tough and gristly. The only vegetable was potatoes and precious few of those. The gravy was gray and pasty. Whoever was cooking at the bunkhouse was doing a poor job of it. If he wasn’t starving, he wouldn’t eat it.
“Yes, we ate and they were asleep as soon as we’d walked upstairs, the poor lads. It’s been a long journey home for them.”
Filling his empty belly with the stew, David forced himself to keep eating after the worst edge of his hunger had passed.
“So, do you have trouble keeping cowhands?”
David looked up from the awful stew in surprise. Then he laughed. “We’ve got an old-timer named Tex who’s been here since before I came back west. He’s got achy joints and he’s not up to riding herd, but it shames him to not work, so years ago Roper made him the cook.” Dave kept eating, determined to fill his stomach. “But it’s clear he’s got no great gift for the job. And no, I don’t have trouble keeping cowpokes, but I pay really good wages.”
“I’m wondering, David, would you mind if I gave a few lessons to your cook?”
“So, you think you’re a good cook, huh?” Dave found he liked her company more than he thought possible.
“I’m a fair to middling cook. I can feed you much better than this.” She nodded at the bowl.
“You’ve my permission then to talk to him, and good luck to you.”
As his belly filled, his exhaustion began to get the better of him. Dave set the bowl aside. “I think that’s enough for now. I’ll get to sleep then. Have you gotten settled for the night? I had the men set linens in the bedroom across the hall and had your satchel put in there.”
It was all Dave wanted to say about sleeping arrangements.
“A wife’s place is beside her husband in bed.” Megan gathered up the dishes, then tucked the blankets around Dave’s chin in a way that made him feel like a child. As she worked in her efficient, quiet way, she talked. “I’ll be sleeping here with you. Besides, this chimney warms your room and the boys’, but not the other two rooms. I’ve no wish to lie in a cold bed, and I’d need to light the parlor fire to get any heat. I’ve no wish to waste the wood your men worked so hard to chop. Now, I’ll tend to these dishes. Get to sleep, and we’ll face the new day together come morning.”
She didn’t wait for him to give her leave. He knew it was best if she didn’t. He’d liked holding her close on the train ride. Liked it too much. Being close made maintaining a distance more difficult. And he had to maintain a distance. Megan could stubbornly refuse to accept his impending death, but Dave felt the pain in his chest. He could hear his heart pounding. He felt it struggle, felt it crush at his chest as it beat heavily.
Before he could insist, though, and start another difficult conversation about her being realistic, she’d turned the lantern off and swished out of the room.
Megan woke wound up tight in blankets. She tried to free her arms and realized she was cuddled up next to David. It was his arms that held her, not a blanket. Her eyes flickered open and it was full daylight. Her head rested on his shoulder as she wondered how long she’d slept. She listened a moment to see if the boys were busy tearing the house down. There was only silence.
Wishing to let David sleep, she eased one arm free.
“Good morning, wife.” His sleep-graveled voice tickled her ear.
Megan smiled and lifted her head to enjoy being near him. They’d slept side by side on the train too, in a smaller bed. But they’d never snuggled up like this.
“Good morning, David. I’ve lazed the morning away, it seems. Time to be up and about.”
He seemed to focus on her smile with undue interest. Then slowly, smoothly, he lowered his head and kissed her.
Her first kiss. It was warm and gentle and she found a surprising pleasure in it. How could a kiss be felt all through a woman’s body? It made no sense, yet at the same time it was undeniable.
David raised himself up on his left arm—the one wrapped behind her neck. Without loosening his grip, he was over her, the kiss deeper, his head slanted as if he wanted to be closer, which didn’t seem possible.
Just as David shifted his weight to press down on her more fully, the bedroom door flew open.
“Pa, it’s morning! Get up! We’re hungry, Ma!”
David moved away from her fast, but his arm was wrapped around her and he dragged her on top of him. Their eyes met. She saw dismay dawning in his gaze. She wasn’t sure why he was dismayed, but she found herself annoyed at it. Hadn’t he enjoyed their kiss?
Before she could ask what he was thinking, the boys pounced, Zack on top of Megan’s back. Ben on his knees, bouncing on the bed beside them.
“Time to get up.” Megan decided talking about what had just happened was probably not a good idea with the boys here. She rolled over, careful not to dump Zack on the floor, then she left the bed. Fetching her only dress besides the one she’d worn on the train, she said, “I’ll dress in the other room, then we’ll see about breakfast.”
Snapping the door shut a bit too hard, she was dressed and had pancake batter mixed up before the boys could finish pestering their father.
“YOU’VE GOT TO SAVE THE MEN IN THE BUNKHOUSE. YOU can start Tex’s cooking lessons right away.” Dave tried his best not to just bolt down the whole plate of fried potatoes, steaming fried eggs, and crisp bacon. He’d already done that with his first serving, and the boys were eating so fast they didn’t have time to squabble. He hadn’t had food like this since . . . well, never. He could barely remember his ma’s cooking, but it seemed she’d been a decent hand at it. But after she died, he and his pa had lived off the land even after they got the ranch up and running. Venison and raccoon, trout and pheasant. They’d managed a few potatoes, but gardening wasn’t a skill they worked at. Mostly they ate whatever they could hunt.
Megan laughed and began clearing plates nearly licked clean. Even the boys had been unusually silent, eating every bit. She set small bowls of her steaming peach cobbler in front of each of them. “I’ll try and think of a way to give him some advice without bruising his manly feelings.”
“You can stomp on his feelings with hobnail boots if you want to. Reckon Tex’ll put up with anything from a woman who can cook like this.”
Dave finished the meal with gusto and rose from the table. “I need to go out and talk with the men, but before I do, I want you to see what I bought for you. There’s fabric and I found some ready-made clothes that I think will fit you. There is material for the boys too. Take a few hours to settle in, then we’ll talk ranching.”
Dave caught her wrist as she reached to scoop water out of the steaming wells on t
he side of the stove. “Leave that.”
She giggled as he dragged her behind him and he tried to remember ever insisting Pamela do what he wanted. It had never happened. He’d spent his life pampering her.
“Where are we going?” Zack asked.
Dave looked at the boy over his shoulder. “You’ll see.”
He found the crates right where he’d told Roper to leave them, the tops already pried loose. Plunging his hand deep into the biggest crate, he pulled out a fistful of wool and calico. “You can make clothes for yourself and the boys with this.”
“David, I only need fabric for a dress or two and wool for a coat. You’ve bought enough for me to dress the whole state of Wyoming.”
“Since there aren’t many women in Wyoming, that might well be the truth.” Dave flashed her a smile, digging for the coat he’d packed. She met his smile with one of her own, the first full smile since the boys had interrupted them that morning. What had come over him? What was he thinking to let himself turn to his wife in that way? He’d assured her he wouldn’t. Then when he had a weak moment, she’d just kissed him right back.
He needed her help. They both needed to be vigilant so no more children would come along. The ache in his chest might have eased after a long night’s sleep, a relaxed morning, and a good, hearty meal, but he was dying and he couldn’t leave more of a burden behind for Megan in the form of a new baby. Though he’d relish the sight of Megan fat with his baby. He’d love to watch his sons grow up and have children of their own someday. These thoughts caught in his throat until he feared there were shameful tears in his eyes, so he turned briskly to the next crate.
“Boys, there are plenty of things in here for you too. Ready-made clothes for all of us.”
With a shout of excitement they helped dig through the box.
“Here’s a warm coat for you. I’m sorry I didn’t have it out for the ride home yesterday. I didn’t think of it when they were crating things up back in Chicago.”
With a gasp, Megan reached for it. The coat was long and thick, made of black wool with soft black mink around the neck and cuffs. Shiny, oversized jet-black buttons lined the front. “I’ve never had such as this. It’s too beautiful to wear.” Even the boys seemed in awe of it.
“You get cold enough, you’ll wear it. But for around the ranch there’s a buckskin jacket hanging by the kitchen door; it’s sturdier than this. There should be boots for all of you in here somewhere too, and gloves. I bought you a couple of riding skirts and some warm blouses. I’ll leave you to sorting it.”
Before he could go, Megan wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him right in front of the boys. “Thank you so much, David. Sure and it’s a fine thing to have such a kind and generous husband. It’s far too much, and I’d make you take every bit of it back if we hadn’t left Chicago far behind.”
With a smile, Dave said, “Why do you think I didn’t show it to you until now?”
Laughing, Megan kissed him again. The boys put up a cry of protest at the kissing. Zack shoved between them. Ben fell over on a soft pile of fabric, holding his throat, pretending to gag.
Megan plunked her hands on her slender hips and turned to the boys in mock severity, her eyes sparkling with humor. “You both need to be thanking your da for all this bounty. Now go ahead.”
“We don’t have to kiss him on the lips, do we?” Ben asked with dread echoing in his voice.
Dave chuckled. “Nope, but I’d take a hug.”
Both boys hurled themselves at him. It hurt his chest, but Dave kept his face clear of that. Then he looked up at Megan and knew he hadn’t done a good enough job at masking his pain.
The boys let go and went back to digging in the crates.
Dave headed outside, glad his boys were distracted enough that they didn’t notice him start to cough.
“Megan, can you and the boys come out?”
The tearing pain in Dave’s chest should have forced him back into the house and into bed. Instead, it made him almost desperate to teach her ranching. She needed to know horseflesh and when the cattle were ready for market. He had to get the books out to show her the ranch’s accounts and how to manage his investments back east. She should be taught to saddle her own horse. She also needed to— Dave quit adding to the list before he started banging his head on the barn wall.
First things first. They were going for a ride.
The boys came dashing out, still pulling their coats on, shouting as always. Dave looked at Roper. “I think the horses and cattle are actually calmer because they’ve had to get used to the noise. My rowdy boys are training them to overlook a ruckus.”
Roper smiled.
Dave knew he’d run wild on the ranch as a kid when his pa settled here when he was eight. Of course his wild ways had nearly led to his own death, but that was because he was so fast with a gun. In fact, he’d been told he was as fast and accurate as anyone heard tell of. He wasn’t sure why he could handle a gun like he did, but it might’ve been because deep inside he still felt the rage from finding his mother murdered.
Ma’s death had turned them aside from their journey to Oregon and left them in a wilderness. Then Dave’s rage had led to trouble, and that trouble had driven him back east away from his pa and the Wyoming land he loved.
He still thought of those days and the hard way his ma had died, and he wondered how he could have done anything different.
Now he was back on his pa’s ranch, but once he’d gotten back east, he’d changed his name from Stewart to Laramie, the fort near his home. He brought his new name west with him, and to the world, it was believed he’d bought this ranch, not inherited it. No one was left from those days, not a single hand on the ranch knew him as anyone but David Laramie.
That, plus the peace of the West, plus the passage of time, should be enough to keep gunmen from coming, hunting a reputation. The West was getting purely civilized these days. Pamela might’ve even liked it.
Megan stepped outside wearing the buckskin jacket he’d told her about. She had on the black riding skirt he’d bought. The wind, which never seemed to stop blowing, buffeted her as she pulled on gloves.
She was even wearing her new boots and the black, flat-topped hat he’d gotten for her. Head to toe she wore items he’d provided. Seeing it gave him enough satisfaction to ignore the ache in his chest. Her tidy little skirt kept him going when he wanted to fold up and rest.
Roper had the horses saddled and the boys were already boosted up. His sons were decent riders, though Dave wasn’t close to trusting them to ride alone. But with the old cowhand to keep an eye out, Dave could attend to Megan.
“Let’s mount up.”
Megan stopped dead in her tracks, her eyes wide as she looked from Dave to the sleepy, sway-backed old mare at his side. The hardest part of riding Old Blue was keeping her awake. Second hardest, keeping her moving. This was the horse his boys had learned on. Megan was halfway done putting on her second glove; she didn’t give it another yank to finish putting it on.
“I thought you were going to—to show me around.” She turned her gaze from Dave and focused on the horse as if the beast had reared up on her back legs and was flashing her hooves in the air right at Megan’s head.
The blue roan stood, nose drooped nearly to the ground, her weight on three legs. Dave thought he might hear her snoring.
Dave went to Megan and gently but relentlessly towed her over to the mare. He looked to see if her boot heels left a line cut in the ground.
“Now, you put your left foot in the stirrup.” Dave pointed at it in case she had no idea what a stirrup was.
Megan didn’t move. Her glove was still only half on.
He finished dressing her—which was to say he pulled her glove the rest of the way on—then took both of her shoulders and forced her to face him and look away from Old Blue, who might be renamed Tornado if Megan got her way.
Finally, after only one small shake of her shoulders . . . or two . . . Megan look
ed away from the horse and into his eyes.
“Now, you put your left foot in the—”
“I’ve some baking to do, David.” Megan smiled, but it was as fake a smile as he’d ever seen. Her skin, where it wasn’t brown with freckles, was milk white. Her eyes were so wide open he could see white all the way around her blue irises.
Her gloves were on though.
“Wouldn’t you like a nice pie for supper?”
Bribery. It should’ve been beneath her. And yet, pie sounded really good. David resisted temptation. “Quit stalling. We can have a short ride and then you can bake for the rest of the day.”
She swallowed as if she had a lump of last night’s lousy stew meat still stuck in her throat. Then she squared her little shoulders and jerked her chin. “All right.” She turned to the horse, staring straight at the saddle, and reached for the saddle horn. Dave decided not to get his hopes up just yet. Learning the terms for mounting a horse, like stirrup and reins, could come later, as well as the details of swinging up.
“I’m going to give you a boost.” He thought it best to warn her, since she seemed apt to startle easily. He caught her by the waist and hoisted. She lay over the horse’s back on her belly, much as she’d mounted that horse back in Chicago. He plucked her very pretty right ankle and swung it over the horse’s rump to get her settled. The horse didn’t bother to lift her head.
Dave tried to put the reins in her hands and, since she had a death grip on the saddle horn, he had to slip them into her gloves and hope she held on.
He led Blue toward where his own horse waited. Megan gasped and hung on tighter, which wasn’t possible, but somehow she did it. She also clung with her legs, which might’ve had the effect of kicking Blue. Luckily, Blue either didn’t notice or had no intention of speeding up under any circumstances.
Dave mounted up. His chest ached as if the horse had kicked him. He hoped Megan was too terrified to notice. “Let’s ride.”
Margaret Brownley, Robin Lee Hatcher, Mary Connealy, Debra Clopton Page 24