Wildcat Bride

by Lauri Robinson

  “Let’s go to the parlor,” she instructed, resting a hand on his forearm.

  Believing in her, Bug took her arm and walked to the doorway. He waited with Eva as the Porters and Mrs. King made their way through the opening, and then, hand in hand, he and Eva followed.

  Randi carried in a tray and set it on the table in front of the sofa before everyone was seated, and Eva, as if she was offering royalty tea, served her guests. When everyone was settled, glass in hand—his was still on the table, where he’d set it down as soon as Eva had handed it to him—Eva sat down beside him.

  “Mrs. King,” she started. “Thank you for traveling out here. This is something we need to get cleared up as soon as possible.”

  “Yes, it is, Miss—”

  “Mrs. Quinter,” Bug interjected, wrapping an arm about Eva’s shoulders.

  “Mrs. Quinter,” Mrs. King corrected, and then continued, “What’s happened here could cause the Children’s Society to lose our license.”

  “We understand the repercussion,” Eva said seriously, “and we are willing to do whatever is necessary to rectify the situation.” She laid a hand on Bug’s knee. “But you should be warned, we will not lose our children.”

  “They are not your children to lose. That’s the problem.” Mrs. King set her glass down with a solid thud.

  Bug was at a loss. He trusted Eva, but at the same time, felt he should be doing more than just sitting here. If Mrs. King was a man, he’d know how to handle this fight, but how was a man suppose to defend his family against a woman from the Children’s Aid Society? An eerie sensation gripped his spine.

  He lifted his gaze from Mrs. King’s glass to her stern expression. “How’d you know where to find us, and the kids?”

  Mrs. King’s face fell, she caught it, and puckered up another grimace, but he’d seen her initial reaction.

  “Mrs. King? How’d you find us?”

  “You told me—”

  “No,” he interrupted. “I told you I lived west of Dodge. I never said exactly where.”

  “Well, I-we—”

  His stomach erupted, this time full of anger, and deceit. “Who? Who contacted you?”

  “I received a wire while in Denver,” Mrs. King admitted. She glanced to the Porters and then Eva.

  “We are opening a division of the Children’s Society out there.”

  “From who?”

  “That doesn’t really matter, Mr. Quinter, now does it?” She never looked his way.

  “Yes, it does,” he insisted.

  “No, it doesn’t.” This time she settled a solid glare on him. “I’ll be taking Tucker, Reed, and Heather back to Denver with me. Where they will be properly adopted by law abiding citizens.”

  Bug met her glare eyeball for eyeball. “You aren’t taking our kids anywhere.”

  “Yes, I am.” She stood up and slapped her hands on her hips.

  He was on his feet just as fast. “No, you aren’t!”

  The front door flew open. Elliott Hampton and Jack burst into the house. The lawyer, limping, made his way into the parlor. “Eva, Bug, I’m sorry.

  My horse threw a shoe halfway from Garden City. I had to walk the last ten miles.” He opened his saddle bag as he spoke. “I’m sorry to have missed the ceremony, but congratulations.” Elliott offered Bug his hand.

  Bug took it, and recalled that Eva had hired the man to see to the adoption. No wonder she was so confident. He grinned and pumped Elliott’s hand harder. “Thanks, Elliott.”

  Eva, standing next to him, leaned around his shoulder. “Hello, Elliott. I’m sorry to hear of your inconvenience.” She pointed to Mrs. King. “This is Mrs. King. She is from the Children’s Society.”

  “Yes, Jack filled me in. Thank goodness he heard me shouting as he turned onto the main road.”

  Elliott offered his hand to Mrs. King. “I’m Elliott Hampton, Attorney at Law. I’m representing Mr.

  and Mrs. Quinter in this case.” He nodded to the Porters who also had stood up. “Let’s all be seated, shall we?”

  Bug assisted his wife down beside him. Worry tugged on her face, but she offered him a smile. He laid his arm around her. For as confident as she appeared, he knew her insides where shaking like a frightened kitten. He rubbed her shoulder.

  “Mrs. King,” Elliott said as he glanced through the papers he’d tugged out of his saddle bag. “I believe you made the trip from Denver for no reason.

  I have adoption papers for all three children, and they’ve been duly signed and notarized.”

  Bug’s heart took flight like a rooster pheasant—cackling with glee. He squeezed Eva’s shoulder.

  “The children are no longer eligible for adoption, Mr. Hampton,” Mrs. King stated.

  Bug jolted. “Since when?”

  Mrs. King didn’t answer him. Instead, she kept her eyes on Elliott. “The children will be returning to Denver with me.”

  Elliott looked as calm as a cat sleeping in the sun, but his words were harsh. “Mrs. King,” he started. “If you so much as attempt to remove these children, I will charge you with contempt and for accepting a bribe.”

  The woman gasped.

  Eva squeezed Bug’s knee. He patted her hand reassuringly, though his insides were shuddering.

  “You wouldn’t,” Mrs. King challenged.

  “Oh, I would,” Elliott assured. “I don’t know how much Miss Staples offered you, but I’ll find out. And so will Judge Holden.”

  Mrs. King’s eyes bugged out of their sockets.

  Bug knew it. From the get go this escapade had reminded him too much of his arrest for it to be anyone else but Jenny.

  “I see you’ve heard of the Honorable Judge Holden,” Elliott said. “He’s one of New York City’s finest judges. And he has a soft spot when it comes to children.” Elliott glanced to Eva and Bug. “Did you know, Mrs. King, that Mrs. Quinter is the judge’s favorite artist, and that he and Mr. Quinter have a very tight friendship?” Elliott grinned. “He and Bug have worked together before.”

  Mrs. King wrung her hands together in her lap.

  Her demeanor grew sheepish.

  “Your silence makes me believe you understand and accept the fact that Tucker, Reed, and Heather, are no longer your concern.” Elliott straightened the stack of papers he’d set on the table. “They have been legally adopted by Mr. and Mrs. Quinter.”

  “Yes, Mr. Hampton, I understand.” Mrs. King rose from her chair. “I believe I will be going now.”

  A tinge of regret tugged on Bug’s heart. The woman had been kind on the train. He stood. “Mrs.

  King. Thank you for checking on the children. I’m glad you were concerned about their welfare, but I told you from the beginning there would be nothing to worry about.”

  She bowed her head. “Yes, you did, Mr. Quinter, and I’m sorry to have disturbed you.” Mrs. King looked at Elliott then. “For the record, Mr. Hampton, I didn’t accept Miss Staples’s offer of money.”

  “You may not have,” Elliott said. “But someone at the society did. You may want to check on that.”

  “I will, sir. As soon as I return to Denver.” She nodded towards everyone else in the room. When her eyes landed on Bug, she said. “I have to admit, I’m glad it turned out this way. I knew those children had found someone who’d love them in you, Mr.

  Quinter. I sincerely hope you do understand that I was just doing my job.”

  “I do,” he said, and glancing at Eva’s smiling face, he added, “We do.”

  “Well, good day, then,” Mrs. King said.

  Jack walked her to the door, and Bug caught sight of his family—most of them anyway, peering into the room. He turned back to Elliott.

  “I don’t know what to say other than thank you, Elliott.”

  “Don’t thank me, thank your wife.” Elliott smiled at Eva. “She’s the one that figured something was going to happen and had me check into every possible angle while I
completed the adoption process.”

  Bug peered down at his wife. Eva was nibbling on her bottom lip.

  “You are amazing, Eva girl,” Bug said, running a knuckle over her cheek.

  A grin appeared on her face. “I think we need to go talk to the children. They were very worried when they saw Mrs. King.”

  “So was I,” Bug admitted. He kissed her, quickly, before agreeing, “Yes, let’s go talk to them.”

  It was another hour or so before everyone else left, including Tucker, Reed, and Heather. Bug wasn’t sure if it was Ma or September who insisted the children stay at their house for a couple of days instead of staying with the Porters. Part of him wanted to protest, but the other part of him strongly wanted the time alone with Eva. He did remain silent, the grins on the kids’ face said they were looking forward to getting to know their new cousins.

  Eva stood beside him, waving at the final departing wagon. He tightened the arm looped around her shoulders, tugging her closer. Her head settled on his shoulder, and she let out a long sigh.

  “Are you tired?” he asked. A hint of fear tickled his spine. It hadn’t been that long since her surgery, and the day had been busy—exhausting even.

  “No,” she said. “Just content.” She spun about, circling his waist with her arms. “How about you?”

  “I’m content,” he agreed.

  “You’re content, are you?” The glint of mischief in her eyes made his heart—and other significant body parts—jolt.

  He leaned down until their noses bumped. “Yes.

  I’m content.” He hooked her behind the knees, sweeping her off her feet, and spun about. “And so gall-darn excited I’m about to burst.”

  She giggled and wrapped her arms around his neck. Nuzzling his neck, she said, “Me, too.”

  He was up the steps and inside the house faster than if he’d been blasted with nitro. After kicking the door shut, he set her down and spun about.

  “Where are you going?” she asked.

  Snatching the key from the bowl on top of the desk, he stuck it in the front door lock. “I’m not taking any chances,” he said. “We’ve waited too long.”

  “I’ll lock the back door,” she shouted, already running for the kitchen.

  Laughing, he tossed the key back in the bowl, and followed her.

  “What about the windows?” she asked, spinning around to toss the key she’d used on the kitchen counter.

  He laughed harder and caught her by the waist.

  “I don’t think we need to go that far.”

  Her face glowed with happiness. She tilted it up, looking him straight in the eyes. “Do me a favor?”

  “Anything,” he vowed.

  “Call me Mrs. Quinter.”

  His hands slid up her back, trembling as they explored every curve beneath her dress. “Hello, Mrs.

  Quinter.”

  Giggling, she closed her eyes and leaned her head back as if she was accepting a gift from above.

  “I’ve waited a lifetime to hear that.”

  “Really?” He kissed her neck, and slid the tip of his tongue along the delicate line of her chin. “Mrs.

  Quinter?”

  “Hmmm, yes, Mr. Quinter.” She tipped her face forward, and her hands went to the buttons of his shirt. Plucking them through the material, she asked, “Would you like to know what else I’ve waited a lifetime for?”

  He started working on the line of buttons trailing down her back. “Well, Mrs. Quinter, I believe it’s the same thing I’ve been waiting for.”

  She tugged his shirt out of his waistband and flayed her hands over his bare chest. The gentle, soft caress had him sucking in air.

  “I do believe you’re right, Mr. Quinter. I do believe you’re right.”

  He took her hands, knowing he had to stop her before his control burst, and walking backwards, drew her from the room. She followed, eyes locked on his, and smiling so serenely his heart threatened to beat its way right out of his chest.

  Bug led her up the stairs and down the hall. All the while, Eva’s heart swelled until taking a breath of air seemed impossible. As they entered their bedroom, she glanced over his shoulder, and stumbled. The bed covers had been folded back, exposing crisp sheets covered with pink rose petals.

  A bottle of wine and two glasses sat on the table beside the bed, and an array of lit candles made the ceiling twinkle as if stars shone overhead.

  “Oh, Bug,” she gasped. “How romantic.”

  His cheeks grew red. “I had a little help from Lila,” he admitted.

  She ran the tip of one finger down his chest, making a winding, twisting trail all the way over his hard, flat abdomen to his britches. “You’ll remind me to thank her, won’t you? For right now, my mind is so busy with other beautiful things I may forget how lovely the room looks.”

  Bug started to pull the pins from her hair. “I’ll try, but you might have to remind me.” His fingers paused, and he held one of the daisies from her hair before her eyes. One by one he plucked the white petals from the yellow center. “She loves me, she loves me not,” he said, dropping the pieces one at a time.

  Eva held her breath, hoping and praying the childhood game would hold true. It was silly, yet so significant at this moment in time she couldn’t release the air in her lungs.

  “Aw,” he groaned, plucking the final petal. “She loves me.”

  She let the air escape, crumpling against his solid, strong, and divinely muscled chest. “Yes, she loves you.”

  ****

  A month in one’s life span doesn’t seem like a lot, but to Eva, cherishing each and every minute, it held more fascinating and treasured moments than all of the previous months of her twenty-three years combined. Being a wife and mother was more than she’d dreamed of. So much more. Every day, Bug, or Tucker, or Reed, or Heather did or said something that had her eyes misting with joy and her heart bulging with love.

  She leaned back and dipped the end of her paint brush in the dab of black paint on her palette. With a quick flick of her wrist, she dotted the I of her signature.

  Eva Quinter.

  She frowned. It wasn’t quite prominent enough.

  Touching the brush to the canvas, she made an elegant swirl beneath the full name. Eloisa Reynolds no longer existed. Never had really. It had just been a name she’d used until she obtained the one she was destined to have forevermore.

  Satisfied, she dropped the brush in the small bottle of turpentine, and set the palette aside.

  “That’s gorgeous.”

  She spun about. Bug stared at the painting. The sight of him made her smile. “You’ve seen it before.”

  “I know,” he said, still sounding awestruck.

  “But, wow, completed, it’s really…” His hands settled on her shoulders, and his thumbs gently caressed her neck. “Gorgeous.”

  “Thank you.” She pressed a cheek to his knuckles. The painting was the one of the oil derrick she’d started months ago. But in the finished product, oil blasted out of the top and rained down to the ground. In the forefront, there was she and Bug.

  She’d painted the moment he’d lifted her off the ground and twirled her in the air. Near their feet, seated on the ground, smiling and clapping with delight, were Tucker, Reed, and Heather.

  Eva sighed. “It is gorgeous, isn’t it?”

  Bug kissed the side of her face. “Yes, it is.”

  Cheek to cheek, his gaze went back to the painting.

  “That’s the one we need to hang above the fireplace.”

  “Oh, yes, let’s,” she agreed as she scooted off her stool. Turning around, she wrapped her arms around him. “I didn’t even hear you come in.” After fully delivering a welcome home kiss, and receiving one just as devoted, she asked, “How was your trip to town?”

  “Good,” Bug answered.

  “Was there a letter from Ma? Is she enjoying her time out at Skeeter and Lila’s?” The rea
l question was, was Ma enjoying her time with Chief Red Elk, but Eva, along with her sisters-in-law, didn’t think their husbands were too keen on the idea of their mother marrying again. Therefore, she along with the other girls, kept their knowledge of Ma’s courtship quiet. Eva did wonder how Lila was managing with Skeeter though. She’d have to write to her tonight.

  “No, no letter from Ma.” Bug held up an envelope. “But I got one here from Rockefeller.”

  Her heart leaped. “You do? What’s it say?”

  “That they want every ounce of crude we can ship them.”

  She squealed and grabbed his neck.

  He spun her around, and kissed her again.

  “With the five wells we already have pumping, and the other three we’re drilling, that’s a lot of crude, Eva girl, a lot of crude.”

  “Oh, I knew it! I just knew it!” She planted kisses all across his face.

  He caught her lips for a quick peck. “Yes, and it’s all thanks to my wildcat bride.”

  She giggled, loving when he called her that.

  “What else does the letter say?”

  “Well, that he plans on making a trip out here this fall.” He handed her the envelope. “Within the next month or so.”

  “Oh, Bug, that’s so wonderful.”

  He pulled several other letters out of his pocket.

  “I got another letter from Chester. He still wants to build a refinery out here. I’m thinking about it, Eva.

  The area could use the jobs, and it would cut our shipping costs down to nil.”

  “Well, then, perhaps that’s what we need to do.”

  He shrugged. “I just had my mind set on working with Rockefeller.” Handing her the stack of envelopes he continued, “There’s one from Judge Holden, too. He received your painting, and loves it, of course.” His grin depicted his teasing tone.

  She poked him in the ribs. “I’m glad.”

  “Me, too.” He planted a kiss on her forehead.

  “He, too, is making another trip west, and wants to stop by.”

  “Oh, goodness, that settles that.”