by Anthology
“My grandmother did, too. A smallpox epidemic all but wiped the entire town off the face of the earth.” She paused, remembering chaos-filled days. “Homes and businesses were burned trying to contain the disease and, well, in the end, Orville and I packed up a few remaining provisions and left with several others. Eventually Orville came across a newspaper article about the wagon trains traveling west and said Nebraska would be a good place to go. We married before joining the train, and along the route we chose Central City because it was right in the middle of the state.”
Another remembrance formed clearly, but Cora chose not to mention it—at this time anyway—for it was the first time she’d seen Morgan. She’d been in the wagon and Morgan had ridden up on a large roan, stopping to talk with Orville. It had been the only time in her marriage she’d regretted her impromptu wedding for at that moment something had flared inside her. She’d seen him countless times afterward, since Morgan had helped build their tiny cabin and larger barn, but by then she’d scolded herself out of overly admiring his fine physique and quiet demeanor. Though, now, she had to wonder if she’d ever truly buried the lust the sight of him instigated.
At some time, while she’d been talking, Morgan had reached over and laid a hand upon hers, a gesture of sympathy. No matter how sincere, pity had no place in their conversation. She rolled her hand, gently rubbed the calluses along the top of his palm. “Orville was good to me, Morgan, and I loved him for it. But that’s who he was. He was good and kind to everyone he met. You couldn’t have stopped him from going after your cattle any more than I could have. He was already ill before he went out. For some time after he died I wondered if he did it on purpose, so he could be with Roxanne and their children, but I soon realized that was just grief talking. Orville never put himself before anyone.”
“Cora—”
She pressed a finger to his lips. “Let me finish.”
Chapter Five
Cora waited until Morgan nodded before she removed her finger from his lips. The touch had lit a fire in the pit of her stomach. Even while she shared how much she cared about Orville, Morgan’s irresistible magnetism drew her and made her want him above all else. A deep sense told her what she’d experienced earlier was a mere snippet of the pleasure Morgan would provide. Yet, the weight of a heavy truth welled inside her, overrode the intensity of the love she held for him. Pride could break a person, she understood that, but also knew a person had to respect themselves.
“Before Orville died,” she started, “he asked me to get you when the event happened. He told me you were a good man and would take care of Nathan and me.” She bit on her bottom lip, hoping the next statement came out right. “He also said if you asked me to marry you, I should say yes.”
Morgan drew in air so quickly he wheezed. His gaze was on her, but she couldn’t read his expression or, unfortunately, his mind.
Her nerves were on the outside of her skin, and she drew a breath, trying to quell the trembles that threatened to overcome every limb. She wrapped both hands around one of Morgan’s and lifted it to hold near her breast. Of all she’d lived through, nothing compared to this moment. This baring of soul. “But, Morgan, that’s not why I said yes when you asked.”
He was quiet for so long the silence stung her ears. She wanted to go on, but had to know he wanted the information.
“Why did you say yes?” he finally asked.
She met his gaze eye for eye. “Because I love you.”
He looked away, as if unable or unwilling to admit he’d heard her. Determined, Cora reached up and caught his chin, turned him back to face her. “I married one man because he felt responsible for me. I was young and naive. Didn’t believe I could take care of myself. I’ve grown since then, Morgan, and things were different this time. I had money in the bank. Had the land Orville and I homesteaded. I could have sold out at any time, packed up and moved. But I didn’t want to.” Her emotions joined her nerves on the surface. A dangerous place, but surrendering her love was all she had left. “I wanted to marry you, Morgan. I wanted to live with you, as husband and wife. And I still do.”
Something tight and fierce clutched her heart as Morgan shook his head. “Cora,” he started, “Orville—”
“No, Morgan,” she interrupted. “This is no longer about Orville. It’s about you and me.”
A sudden blast of cold air filled the room, along with the crash of the door flying open. Morgan leaped to his feet as Russ Barber, the ranch foreman, entered the cabin.
“Boss, you gotta come. That big old cottonwood lost its top. It crashed through the barn roof.” Russ paused then, as if just recalling his manners and shut the door while looking at her. “Sorry for the intrusion, ma’am.”
Cora rose as she nodded toward the man. Morgan’s hand still held hers and his fingers tightened as he glanced between her and his hired man. Their conversation wasn’t over; she knew that as well as he did, but she’d said her piece, had no more to add. The next move was his.
He opened his mouth, but closed it just as quickly. The frustration that overcame his face touched her heart. Offering a consoling smile, she gestured toward the door where Russ stood with bright red cheeks and snow-covered clothes.
“I don’t know if it was the wind or the weight of snow on its branches,” Russ said in the silence that had fallen upon the room. “The top half of the tree broke right off. I can’t believe you folks didn’t hear it. It damn near rattled the roof right off the bunkhouse.” He nodded to her again. “Excuse me, ma’am,” he apologized, quickly rewording his statement. “It pert near rattled the roof off the bunkhouse.”
“Mama?” Nathan said, drawing her attention as he sat up in his bed.
“I’ll be right out,” Morgan told Russ, barely taking his eyes off Cora. To hell with the barn, he wanted to shout. To hell with the world. It would all be there tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after that. Right now all he wanted to do was pull Cora into his arms and comfort her for all she’d been through.
Morgan would have gathered her into an embrace, right then and there, but with a gentle squeeze on his hand, she was gone, crossing the room to gather Nathan from his bed. Morgan glanced to the door, where Russ stood staring at him, and then back to Cora. The room seemed to swirl as fast as the thoughts in his head. Had she said she loved him? That she’d wanted to marry him. Be his wife.
Nathan spoke in his garbled language, and Cora said something reassuring as she carried the child toward the screen. Passing by, she smiled and gave another nod toward the door. Only then did the air in Morgan’s lungs release—with a gush. He turned and asked Barber, “How bad is it?”
“We got a mess, that’s for sure,” Barber said.
“Morgan, don’t forget your gloves. It’s cold out there,” Cora said from behind the screen where Nathan was most likely using the small chamber pot.
Barber grinned, but was smart enough to hold his tongue. Morgan couldn’t help but grin himself and moved toward the door. He grabbed his hat, coat and gloves. “Cora, you stay inside.”
“We will,” she responded.
Barber pulled the door open and, still buttoning his coat, Morgan followed the man out into the elements to assess the damage, though his mind was still in the house. She’d had choices, just like she’d said. Could’ve packed up and left, sold her acreage. He’d pointed most of those out to her, and as long as he was being honest—maybe the cold wind stealing his breath away was also clearing his mind—there’d always been a part of him that hoped she wouldn’t take his advice.
The wind hadn’t let up, was still acting like a tornado’s first cousin, and the ice-cold bits of snow finding a way to sweep inside his upturned coat collar and bite his neck made him think of the little cabin Cora and Nathan would still be in if he hadn’t married her. It was sturdy, he and his men had helped Orville build it, as well as the barn, and she’d have gotten along just fine. That’s the type of person she was. Capable and strong-willed. Resourceful, too. S
everal of the cows in his barn were hers. The ones she’d milked, and sold butter and cream to the wagon trains as they passed. Truth was, she hadn’t had to marry him.
Barber, shouting to be heard above the whistling wind, tapped his shoulder. “See what I was talking about?” The man pointed to the barn roof where half a tree stuck up like a cross on a church steeple. Morgan had no choice but to push all other thoughts aside and start issuing orders. The sooner he dealt with the tree, the sooner he could deal with Cora.
Morgan wasn’t sure how long it took, four or maybe five hours, before he found himself standing inside the barn, alone, gently rocking the little wooden horse he’d made Nathan for Christmas. Tomorrow night, after the child was asleep, he’d sneak out here to retrieve it and place it under the pine—along with the locket he’d purchased for Cora. He was dually glad now he’d bought her something besides the house plans. His heart rate increased, and he took a moment to contemplate exactly what that meant.
He’d thought of her the entire time he’d been working, removing the top half of the cottonwood that had snapped off like a twig and planted itself in the roof of the barn, but now he was pondering things deeper. Like how he’d taken extra precautions when he’d climbed through the ice-crusted branches to get a rope around the top of the tree. It hadn’t been fear for himself, but fear for her. He didn’t want her to become a widow—again. That now held more weight than before and the implications of that had clung to him all the while he worked.
The job was done now. They’d needed the help of a plow horse to get the tree out of the roof and safely to the ground without doing much more damage, and as soon as the storm broke they’d begun the repairs. He was thankful how minor the destruction had been. No stud walls or support beams had been damaged, so once the roof foundation and new shingles were nailed in place, the barn would be as good as new. It really had been nothing more than a minor accident.
His fingers stalled on the rope mane of the toy. A minor accident, his mind repeated. Some things in life were just that, mishaps or even disasters that were no one’s fault. He twisted slightly and leaned a hand against the top of a stall, staring at the barn door as if he could see through it and the one on the cabin. Guilt was an odd thing, the longer you carried it, the heavier and larger it became.
If the storm hadn’t spooked his cattle that night, if Orville had just come down sick and died, would things be different? A chill, not induced by the weather, shot through him, hit Morgan’s bones. He certainly wouldn’t have allowed Cora to take the blame, to feel she somehow had caused such a calamity.
His sigh caused a swirl of steam in the air. So where had this burden come from? Why had it set root in his core? He’d known other men who’d died and left widows. Was it because he didn’t believe he deserved a woman as pure and beautiful as Cora?
Morgan pondered the thought for a moment, but it didn’t take root. He was a God-fearing, hardworking man who believed everybody gets what they deserve, good, bad or indifferent. His gaze went back to the rocking horse. He’d had one similar as a child. Pa had made it. His stomach churned as if the simple thought had the ability to open the old, festering wound he’d believed had long-ago healed.
It had been over ten years since he’d learned of his mother’s death in a saloon down in Kansas. He’d visited her resting spot, even laid a few flowers near the wooden cross marking her grave. His older brother, Vince, had been there, too. The memories flowed before his eyes as clearly as the day they’d stood in the cemetery.
The hot summer sun had beat on their heads to the point his temples had pounded. After they’d set down the flowers, Vince had laid a hand on Morgan’s shoulder, and said, “The old man always said, ‘you can’t change the past, only the future.’ So that’s what we gotta do, Morgan, change our futures.”
They’d ridden out then, their quest of finding their mother over. Vince had gone to Colorado, found himself a good gold vein, and Morgan had gone to Nebraska. Tad and Telly, his two younger brothers, had stayed in Missouri, on the family farm. They wrote once in a while, and from what the letters said, they were all doing well. A frown pulled on his brows as if he had just comprehended something. They’d all—every one of them, Vince, Tad and Telly—married. He had a passel of nieces and nephews. And from what Tad and Telly said, Pa was happier than a pig in a poke with all the young ones back in Missouri.
The cold got to him then, made him shiver from the inside out. He blew into cupped hands and rubbed them together before picking the lantern off the shelf. Absently he checked the animals that long-ago had been fed and watered, and made his way to the door. When the wintry air attempted to steal his breath, his heart jumped. Cora had told him what she wanted—without mincing a word. She wanted to be here. Wanted to be his wife. That’s what he’d wanted, too. He’d just been too stubborn to admit it.
Turning, his gaze landed on the rocking horse again. Had his childhood left a belief any woman he loved would leave him for another man? Cora already had a chance to marry practically every single man in the territory. Yet, she’d held out for him. Married him because she loved him, which was exactly why he’d married her. He pushed the door closed—on the barn and his past.
He’d been a damn fool, that’s what he’d been. Blaming Orville, blaming himself, blaming his past, when all along life had given him exactly what he wanted. All he’d had to do was open his eyes and see it. Afraid was what he’d been. Terrified that if he admitted the truth, told Cora how he felt, she’d run for the hills, or Ohio.
The snow let up just then, gave a clear picture of the house. Lights flickered in the windows and smoke twirled out of the chimney, giving it a welcoming, homey glow that seemed to brighten in the twilight. His footsteps picked up speed. He had a lot of making up to do.
Mere seconds later, warm air stung his cheeks and the smell of fresh baked cookies filled his nose as he pushed open the cabin door. Cora, a vision of pure loveliness that filled his heart with unadulterated joy—now that he let himself acknowledge exactly what she meant to him—rushed across the room. The sight alone warmed him twenty degrees.
“I was getting worried,” she said, closing the door behind him. Her hands went to his shoulders, brushing the snow off while he pulled the frozen gloves off his fingers. “I saw the men go to the bunkhouse a long time ago. How bad is the damage?”
He’d started to undo the buttons of his coat, but his stiff fingers weren’t cooperating. She swept his hands aside and deftly unfastened his coat. “How bad is it, Morgan?”
Worry touched her eyes, but they held something else. His heart slammed into his rib cage. Love. How had he not recognized it before now? He framed her face and used the tips of his fingers to smooth away the little worry lines crinkling her skin. “It’s not bad, Cora,” he managed to whisper. His lips were on top of hers as he added, “It’s not bad at all.”
Her hands slipped inside his coat. Warm and tender, they massaged his sides and then his back. “Good,” she whispered.
His hands slid down her arms, then around her back. He kissed her again, briefly. Her response told him she wasn’t thinking any more about the barn than he was. She caught his lower lip between her teeth, gave it a little nip. “You did have me worried,” she said.
“I’m sorry,” he answered, though remorse was the last thing he felt right now. “Forgive me?”
She let out a little giggle that was more than charming. Husky and low, it sent his blood zipping through his veins. “Of course,” she whispered.
His smile was so broad he could barely pull his lips together to brush over hers again. She came to him so willingly, so affectionately his heart swelled three times its normal size. He’d certainly been a fool. All the while he’d had this perfect, loving woman here at home, but his stupidity had had him out chasing cows and sleeping on the hard ground. Well, that was over starting today. He had men he paid to work the cows, and from now on, he’d make sure he was home every night.
They kisse
d several times, teasing nips that had them both grinning and his spirits soaring. When her lips parted, Morgan plunged fully into the kiss, savoring her sweet nectar. They could have been on top of the world for all he knew.
Heated now, well beyond normal, he accepted the arousal filling his britches as something that would happen every time he held his wife. He tugged her closer, luxuriating in how her breasts kissed his chest. The thought of caressing those mounds, of tasting the peaks, made him wish the conversation they had to have was already far behind them.
As insightful as she was beautiful, her fingers slid under his shirt, scorching his back with enchanting heat as she shifted a leg between his, and used it to tease him completely by running her knee along the inside of his thigh. He broke the kiss, grasped her shoulders. “We need to talk, Cora.”
“I know,” she said, without losing an ounce of glimmer in her eyes. “But this is more fun, isn’t it?”
He kissed the tip of her nose. “You know it is.”
“Yes, I do,” she answered, running a finger over the top button of his shirt. “I was just wondering if you do.”
“I know lots of things, Cora.” He winked and kissed her nose again.
She giggled and laid her head on his chest, sighing with what sounded like extreme satisfaction. He chuckled and then nuzzled the top of her head with his chin. As they stood like that, the elation simmering inside Morgan said it was right to love her. All his past doubts were gone now, completely, along with the fears, guilt and resentment he’d hoarded. Damn, it felt good to be on the right trail again.
He gave her a good, solid hug that lifted her off her feet.
She leaned her head back to look him in the eye. “So,” she asked, “how bad is not bad?”
Morgan wondered how she had the state of mind to remember their earlier conversation. His mind was still off in some foreign, wonderful land. He set her down, kissed her forehead. “Not bad,” he replied. “The boys will have the damage repaired in no time. Probably tomorrow. The storm feels like it’s running out of steam.”