by Lynda J. Cox
When he pressed his lips to hers, they were light as a downy feather, and Amelia stilled. He tightened his arm around her waist and lifted her closer, while his lips coaxed her mouth open. She shivered as his teeth grazed her lower lip. She parted her lips to the demanding pressure and his opened mouth claimed hers.
It wasn’t butterflies in her stomach now. They were huge, soaring hawks.
His hand crept up her back and his palm pressed between her shoulder blades.
Oh, heavens, this wasn’t anything like the cool, fast kiss Donnie Morris had claimed from her.
Her breasts were crushed to his hard chest, and she tingled everywhere his body made contact with hers. That new ache jolted through her, warming her and coiling in her innermost region.
His mouth left hers and burned a path down her throat. She arched back against the arm holding her captive. Her skin felt branded where his mouth had been and a delicious shudder passed over her when his tongue flicked at the pulse throbbing in the hollow of her throat.
Without any warning, Colt released her and stepped back.
Caught off balance, she staggered a step forward. Breathing in short gasps, Amelia stared at him. A satisfied smile twisted up the corners of his mouth.
“I told you that you needed to be kissed, and kissed by a man who knows what he’s doing. I also told you I was just the man to do it.”
Infuriated and embarrassed, Amelia lifted her hand to slap him. Lightning-quick, he caught her wrist. A mirthless smile crossed his face as he slowly uncurled his fingers and released her wrist. “Never try to outdraw me, Amy. Even with my arm in a sling, I’m still a hell of a lot faster than you.”
Shocked, Amelia lowered her hand and stepped back from him. She had barely seen him raise his hand to block hers.
He dipped his head to her. “I think it’s time we both went to bed.”
He walked into the bedroom, and shut the door with a quiet click behind him.
****
Colt eased his arm from the sling. He crossed to the window and let the cool night breeze wash over him. Stars glittered in the velvety expanse. Somewhere in the darkness, a coyote lifted his voice in a yapping song. Colt was trembling and he wasn’t sure whether it was a physical reaction to Amelia’s charms or a more honed reaction to her upraised hand.
It was both, and he knew it. She was sweeter than hell. Holding her against him, claiming her mouth and feeling her trembling against him had just about driven him mad. He leaned his head against the window jamb and concentrated on the cool glass against his forehead. Jesus…he envied the man who would marry her.
He shook his head. She’d marry some dandified twit like Donnie Morris and the damn fool would never know what he had. And then, like an even bigger fool, he’d taunted her. No wonder she tried to slap him.
Colt straightened and walked to the bed. He struggled to unbutton his shirt. With one hand, it was damn near impossible, but thanks to Donnie Morris, his other shoulder hurt too much to risk moving it anymore than he had already done—not if he wanted to keep his stomach where it belonged.
At last he had the buttons parted and he shrugged out of the black fabric. He tossed it across the foot of the bed and sat down to work his boots off. He fell back on the bed, boots still on. Hell with it. Wouldn’t be the first time he’d slept with his boots on, and probably wouldn’t be the last either.
A timid knock on the door interrupted his self-disgust. “Yeah?”
Amelia pushed the door open. “Do you need some help getting out of your boots?”
He sat up. In the dim glow of the single lamp on the nightstand, her loosened hair shimmered like a halo around her face. “Yeah, I do.”
He held a foot up to her. She straddled his leg and presented her bottom to him. The calico pulled tight over the soft curves of her behind while she struggled to pull his boot off. As she tugged on the boot, her bottom wiggled in a most suggestive manner. Colt knew this wasn’t a deliberate attempt at seduction on her part, but it didn’t change the fact the tenuous hold he had on his desire was strained to the breaking point.
The first boot dropped to the floor.
“Damn, Amelia…turn around.”
Startled, she dropped his foot and whirled. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her onto the bed with him. Before she could scramble away, he pinned her under him. Her face was flushed and only inches from him.
“I just kissed you in the kitchen and made an interesting discovery. I like kissing you. I don’t know if you know it, but you are one fine-looking swatch of calico. Take my other boot off, but not the way you pulled the first one off or I am not going to be responsible for my actions.”
Her eyes widened and her mouth formed a perfect O. He rolled off her, wincing with the motion. Amelia scrambled from the bed and backed to the door. He lifted his still-booted foot. “My other boot?”
Wordless, she crossed the room to him. She gripped the toe and heel and pulled, dropped the boot to the floor, and then bolted to the door. To his amazement, she paused in the doorway. “Can I tell you something?”
He nodded. “Amy, you can tell me anything you want.”
She fidgeted with the front of her skirt, balling the fabric between her hands, not saying anything.
“Amy?” he prompted.
“I don’t think I liked being kissed like that,” she said from the doorway, and then fled.
Colt laughed. “The hell you didn’t like it, Amelia McCollister,” he murmured after a moment. “We both liked it too damn much.”
****
Amelia undressed slowly in the darkened room. She tingled all over with the remembered contact of his firm, muscular body. Deep inside her, that ache she realized had never been present until Colt’s arrival in her life, throbbed. Her hands trembled as she unbuttoned her chemise.
She pulled her nightdress over her head and slipped into bed with Jenny. Jenny thrashed her arms as if to push Amelia away, and then stilled.
Amelia stared up at the ceiling. She tried to recall anything her mother had ever told her about what happened between a man and a woman, but she couldn’t recall any conversations like that with her mother. Somehow the topic just never came up. She had never doubted her parents loved one another. She couldn’t count the times she had seen them kiss, but those kisses hadn’t been anything close to the kiss Colt Evans had given her. The kisses she had seen her parents share fit more into the category of a “peck on the cheek.”
Her brow knit. Had her parents kissed differently at night, behind the privacy of their door? Had her father made her mother feel like she did now? That thought was even more disquieting.
Troubled, Amelia flopped onto her side and curled an arm under her head. She wished her mother were there, so she could have asked. Tears burned her eyes. Momma wasn’t there and never would be again.
Jenny rolled over and slipped her slender arm around Amelia’s waist. Her warm breath stirred the hair across Amelia’s cheek.
What was it like to share a bed, every night, with a man? Not just any man, but Colt?
Amelia gritted her teeth. This was foolishness. Someone like Colt would never think to stay in a place like this. That was like wishing for the moon. She could hear Daddy telling her to get her head out of the clouds.
Forcing her musings away, Amelia began to recite the chores needing to be done at first light. Gather the eggs, feed the chickens, milk the cows, feed them, fix breakfast for Saul and Jenny and Colt…
Colt. There he was again, large as life, invading her thoughts.
Chapter Eight
The stifling heat of the last few days finally broke during the night. A gray, cold, drizzling mist accompanied by a fierce northwesterly wind heralded the new day.
At least Saul would be happy, Amelia thought, as she tossed a seasoned log onto the banked coals of the stove. He wouldn’t have to water the garden today. Amelia wrapped her shawl tightly around her shoulders, shivering with the mournful sound of the wind seeping through the chi
nking in the house. Another job to be done before winter set in.
She opened the door, gasped with the cold, and raced from the house to the barn. Angel whickered, as if scolding her for being so late with his breakfast. Captain roosted on Buttercup’s back and the two cows lowed in impatience.
“I’m hurrying,” she said. “You don’t even need milking, Dolly.”
“Did you check the kitchen, Amy?”
Startled, she whirled to the doorway. Mist beaded Colt’s hair and shirt, shimmering like so many glittering, twinkling diamonds.
“Milk’s already there. You overslept, and I could hear them hollering.” He walked into the barn, a few chickens following in his wake. “The other cow’s gone dry. That one there,” he said, nodding toward Buttercup, “is going dry. Even if you introduce them to a bull, you’re going to need a milk cow or two until they calve.”
“You milked the cows? With one hand?”
“I milked seven when I was a kid every morning and every night. Believe me, I got real good at it.” A grin creased his face. “It took a little longer than if I’d used two hands, but I got the job done. Milk is in the kitchen,” he repeated, “covered with a clean towel. Didn’t know what you wanted to do with it.”
“Thank you.” She picked up the hay-fork and speared a flake for the cows. She wished she didn’t instantly respond to his nearness. He made it impossible to think, made her heart pound as if she had run forever, and left her feeling like a giddy, giggling school girl. She was a grown woman of nearly nineteen, for heaven’s sake. Most girls her age were already married, and several of them already had children.
Colt stepped closer to her and took the hay-fork from her. “You aren’t paying too much attention this morning. I’ve already fed them all too.”
She scanned the mangers, feeling foolish. Was she this scatterbrained because of him? Amelia shut her eyes. Yes, she was this way because of him and the way he had kissed her. She had tossed and turned most of the night, unable to find a way to soothe the ache deep in her core. She glanced at Colt over her shoulder and murmured, “Thank you.”
“I just didn’t know if you wanted the cows put out or not.” He paused, sparing a black glare for Captain. “If that damned rooster attacks me again though, I’m going to put a bullet into his head and we can have him for supper, stuffed with dressing and served with gravy.”
Her heart leaped into her throat. “You wouldn’t dare shoot Captain.”
“The hell I won’t. He’s got spurs he knows how to use damn well, and he about broke my legs beating me with his wings.” Colt paused. His brows lowered, then rose, and he cocked his head at her. “You named a chicken?”
“I raised him from a chick.” Amelia scooped Captain into her arms, and cradled him protectively. In all his life, Captain had never raked her with his spurs and he had never once beaten on her with his powerful wings. “Daddy found him out in a snow bank three winters ago. He was almost frozen solid.”
“You named a chicken?” he repeated. Amused disbelief shaded his voice. A smile toyed with one corner of his mouth.
“Yes. Unlike you, I give the animals names.”
His smile died and the amused glint vanished from the depths of his eyes. “You’d stop getting attached to them and giving them names if you had to shoot your own dog.” Colt spun on his heel and left the barn.
Amelia dropped Captain, ignoring his angry cackle, and raced after Colt. She caught him at the door of the cabin. “Why did you have to shoot your own dog?”
He glanced at her, his face frozen into an angry mask. “She had been out hunting rabbits during the night and the coyotes got a hold of her. She crawled in and my stepfather made me shoot her and put her out of her misery. I was ten at the time. He wouldn’t do it, said I had to. I was crying so much I couldn’t see to do it and it took three bullets. He then told me that a man doesn’t cry and if I really cared about that dog, I would have been able to kill her with one clean shot.”
“Colt, I’m so sorry.” She stroked his arm. “I can’t imagine what your childhood was like.”
“You don’t want to imagine it.” He pulled away from her and thrust his hand into the pocket of his trousers. “I’m going to send Saul into town for some supplies. I have got to have some coffee, or I’m going to consider brewing up the roots of those chicory plants you’ve got growing in the garden. And you need something to reinforce the chinking in places. I could hear the wind whistling through the cracks.”
Amelia shook her head. “I haven’t had any additional butter I can take into town to trade with Thom Burlington at the mercantile. I don’t have any money either.”
“I’ve got money, Amy. There’s a small leather pouch in my saddlebags with about two hundred dollars in it.”
“Colt, I can’t accept your money. How will I ever repay you?”
“Repay me? Who nursed me? Who’s been feeding me and keeping a roof over my head? Way I see it, I owe you.” Colt dragged his hand through his hair, and stared off into the misting rain. “May as well put some of that money to some sort of good use. I think I’ll go with Saul into town. He can drive a wagon for something other than to take Jenny to church, can’t he?”
Amelia stood on the porch for a long time after Colt and Saul drove away, twisting around the enigma of Colt Evans.
****
Colt followed Saul into Burlington’s General Store and Mercantile. He was acutely aware of the sudden silence inside the warm, fragrant building. The rich aroma of leather, liniment, and spices overwhelmed him. It had been ages since he had been in a general store.
He maneuvered around barrels of staple goods, gardening implements, and tables stacked with bolts of fabric. Large, clear glass jars filled with penny candy lined the shelves of a glass-fronted counter.
Several people stepped out of his way, backing away without meeting his gaze. Without his revolver on his hip, Colt felt undressed and vulnerable. He debated with himself now the intelligence of going into town without his revolver. However, he had promised Amy, and he intended to keep that promise to her. He didn’t want to give the wrong impression to Saul either.
Someone whispered, “That’s him. That’s Colt Evans.”
Another voice, this one feminine, asked eagerly, “Is that the man Amy has at her house? He’s good-looking, if you don’t mind his reputation.”
Colt slowly turned, and the whispers ceased. A tall, portly man wearing a heavy canvas apron, obviously the shopkeeper, eyed Colt and then wrapped up his conversation with a taller black-headed man. “I’ll get that stuff on out to the Rocking Bar M first thing in the morning, Drake.”
The other man said, “Thanks, Thom.” He caught sight of Colt and Saul. He nodded at Colt, and said, “Hello, Saul. You going to be out looking for a job this fall at roundup time?”
“You bet, Mr. Adams,” Saul said. “Amy said I could ride for your brand.”
“Good. I can always use an extra hand at roundup. I’ll see you out at the Rocking Bar M, then, in about a month.” Adams nodded again to Colt and walked out the door.
The shopkeeper approached Colt. “I’m Thom Burlington. How can I help you?”
Colt glanced around the mercantile, and noted that Saul had gravitated to the back wall and the display of gleaming rifles. “Need a few things, starting with a pound or two of coffee beans.”
Burlington whipped a pad of paper from the depths of the apron’s pockets and pulled the pencil from behind his ear. He licked the end of the pencil nub, and suggested, “Give me your list and we’ll get it filled.”
Several customers shot sullen glares in Colt’s direction. “Don’t you have other folks that were here before me, that need their orders filled first?”
“Yeah, but, I figured…”
“You figured wrong.” Colt searched for Saul. The boy was staring up at one of the rifles on the back wall, his expression full of longing. “I’ll just go keep Saul company and take a look at the rifles while you wait on the folks th
at were here before me. I’m not in any hurry. Unless you want me out of your store in a rush.”
Burlington shook his head. “No, not at all. Soon as I can, I’ll get to you and Saul there.”
Colt was all too aware of the buzzing whispers. He felt several pairs of eyes boring into his back. Setting his jaw, he joined Saul at the back wall of the general store to inspect the gleaming Winchester rifles lined up like so many tin soldiers.
****
Jenny raced from the door to Amelia, and tugged on her sister’s hand, pulling her across the kitchen.
“Wait a second, Jenny. I have to pull this cake from the oven or it’s going to burn.”
Jenny bounced impatiently. Amelia slid the cake onto the table to let it cool. It seemed to be done. A fork inserted into it came out clean. That was how Momma always checked them. “All right, let’s go see what’s got you all in a dither.”
She pulled the door open. Even in the gray, misting twilight, she could make out the wagon. The horse had already been unhitched and put in the barn where yellow lantern light spilled onto the muddy ground through the open door. The wagon’s bed was lumpy and covered with a heavy tarpaulin. Two milk cows were tied to the back. A yap from the barn brought Amelia’s head up. “What in the world…?”
She took Jenny’s hand and led her to the barn. Saul spun around, a red and white puppy cradled in his arms. Colt pushed his hat back. “Looks like we’ve been caught before we can break it to your sister, Saul.”
Jenny raced to Saul and caressed the puppy’s head. The puppy wiggled and lapped its bright pink tongue on Jenny’s chin and whimpered. A delighted smile wreathed Jenny’s face.
Amelia glanced from Saul, Jenny, and the puppy to Colt. He lifted his shoulders wincing with the motion. “Boy’s gotta have a dog to grow up with,” he said, as if that settled the matter.