Land of Dreams

by Cheryl St. John

  Her platinum hair streaming in tangled disarray, Zoe clung to Booker's neck. "The bad man won't hurt us now," Zoe said.

  "No, darlin'," Booker replied, his voice choked with emotion. "He won't hurt any of us anymore."

  "I love you."

  The child's words brought glistening tears to Booker's eyes. He met Thea's gaze, and her vision blurred through her own haze of tears. "I love you, too, Zoe," he said softly.

  Behind them, the crowd had dispersed and moved toward town. A few people waited for Jim Coulson and the Hayeses, among them Red Horse, Lorraine Edwards, Ezra Hill and Marshal Hardy.

  The marshal wore an embarrassed expression. The blood on his mouth and chin had dried to dark, long-fingered stains. "Not much I can say to make it up to ya, Hayes."

  Booker graciously offered his hand. "You tried your best to protect me and get me a fair hearing."

  The marshal shook his hand.

  "You did your job, even if you don't have the best manners for accommodating overnight guests."

  "Come get your things from my office." They watched him walk away in his one-piece drawers, occasionally limping over a pebble.

  Lucas walked close beside Booker. Booker looked each of them over, and something akin to pride softened his features. He didn't say a word, and Thea knew he couldn't. Right now there was nothing to say. He was obviously as tired and emotionally drained as she.

  She thanked Lorraine with a hug, and Red Horse walked the woman to her door.

  Walking back to them, Red Horse stopped in front of Booker. "I've made a decision."

  Booker studied his friend.

  "I'm going to move on to Colorado."

  "No!" Thea stepped beside the Indian. "This is all settled now. You don't have to leave."

  Red Horse contemplated her words. "You're a kind woman. Booker is an honorable friend. But I should go on. Start a life of my own."

  Thea watched the two men shake hands and clasp each other's shoulders in a masculine embrace.

  "I understand," Booker said, honesty lacing his tone. "I wish you happiness."

  Thea embraced Red Horse. "You're welcome in our home anytime."

  "I know that," Red Horse replied.

  She took her father's hand and turned to Lucas and her husband, still holding Zoe. "Let's go home."

  * * *

  Thea heated water and filled a tub in the kitchen for Booker to bathe. No bath had ever felt as good. Booker scrubbed the filth from his hair and body, trying at the same time to wash away the hurt and disappointment that had seeped into his pores the past two days, and lodged in the marrow of his bones during the endless black nights.

  He stepped from the tub and briskly dried with the toweling she'd left on a chair. Wrapping the length around his waist, he climbed the stairs with effort. He was tired to his bones.

  In their bedroom, the lamp burned a welcome from its spot atop the washstand. He observed the familiar room as a weary traveler coming home after a long journey.

  "Booker."

  He turned to her.

  "Your head?"

  "It's a fair-size knot. It's sore, but I'll be all right." The lamplight cast a sensual glow across her features. Ronan Bard was in a cell. They'd seen Jim Coulson home. Red Horse had resumed his occupancy in the barn, and the exhausted children were sound asleep.

  "Booker, I—"

  "Let's not talk about it now." He hoped his voice hadn't sounded as pleading as he knew it must. "Not tonight."

  "There are things I need to say," she whispered.

  He stepped in front of her and appreciated her delicate features, the soft wisp of red-gold hair that fell from its mooring at her neck, and the fragrant woman scent that drove a shaft of desire through his belly. "Do you love me?" he asked, because he needed to hear it so badly.

  "Yes."

  Tiredness forgotten, he rubbed the silken skein of hair between thumb and forefinger. "Do you plan to be my wife forever?"

  "Yes."

  "Then that's all I want to hear now. We'll have time to talk about all those other things." He ran his finger across her cheekbone, outlined the arch of her brow and brought the fingertip to her lips. He traced the delicate bow of her upper lip, then curled his fingers in and dragged the pad of his thumb across her full bottom lip, watching the pliable softness flatten and resume its shape.

  He waited, torturing himself with the promise of covering her lips with his. Her expressive eyes grew soft and sultry, and her gaze fastened on his mouth.

  "I love you," she said, her breath feathering against his thumb.

  "Take down your hair."

  She obeyed, reaching to deftly pluck pins. He opened his palm and she gave him the hairpins. He placed them on the washstand and turned back. "Now your dress."

  She turned for his assistance with the buttons, and let the fabric puddle at her ankles.

  She sat on the bed's edge, and he knelt in front of her to unbutton her soft leather high-top shoes. With long fingers, she brushed away beads of water that had dropped from his wet hair to his shoulders. Booker felt her touch all the way to his soul. How he needed this woman. How he loved her!

  Impatiently, she rolled her stockings down the unending length of her marvelous legs and kicked them off. Booker kissed her freckled knees and ran his callused fingers up her calves. He looked up and saw untamable desire transform her usually gentle expression into one of consuming hunger.

  She didn't need any prompting to unlace her chemise. She crossed her arms, elbows pointing at him, reached for the hem and raised the garment up over her head, wincing.

  "What is it?" he asked, seeing her pained expression.

  Placing one hand on her right shoulder, she rolled her arm in the socket and bit her lip. "My shoulder," she explained. "That skittish horse jerked it a good one."

  "Here, let me." He moved, letting the loosened towel drop from his waist to the floor. He knelt behind her on the bed and brushed her hair aside. "Here?"

  A responding groan of pleasure served as her reply. He massaged her arm and shoulder, kneading her supple flesh and working the tightness from the muscles. He skimmed her sides, spanned her ribs and moved his caresses around to the front. “I don’t have words for what I feel.” His throaty voice betrayed his deep emotion. “You hung onto that horse with all your might.”

  “It was a strength born of sheer terror, I can tell you.”

  “At the thought of losing me.” A thigh on either side of her hips, he pressed his body along her back, enjoying the contrast of her silky smooth skin against his hair-dusted body.

  Her head fell back against his shoulder and she turned her face into his neck. “I couldn’t bear to lose you.”

  Her breath sent shivers across his shoulders and down his spine. He loved how sensitive she was to his touch. She arched back against him in a manner that flashed yearning through his veins in a wild surge.

  Booker urged her to the center of the bed, where he finished undressing her. She met him eagerly, reaching for his shoulders, pulling him close, whispering a harsh, urgent demand against his mouth.

  Delicious heat spread through his body like the afterglow of good bourbon. At last he covered her impatient lips with his, molded his body against hers and fed her craving with a deep, soul-reaching kiss he filled with enough love and longing to prove his sincerity, his desire for her. Only her.

  She curled her fingers into the hair on his chest and tightened them painfully. Immediately, restlessly, moving on, she ran her palms eagerly down his rib cage. Booker returned the sweet, extravagant pleasure of her touches, giving himself much-needed time. Her breath sucked in through slackly parted lips and she emitted a sand-washed sigh.

  Booker caught it with a breath-stealing kiss and pulled her beneath him.

  "I love you," she whispered through a silken sigh. She reached for him, guided him.

  He pressed his face against her hair. "You know you're the only one," he said, the need to hear her say it overpowering everything
else.

  "I know," she whispered.

  "Say it," he insisted.

  Thea caught her breath on a small sob. "I know there's no one else," she said. "I'm sorry, Booker... Sorry I said it...." He let himself enjoy staggering sensations. "Sorry I thought it," she somehow managed to say.

  He bracketed her face in his hands and stared down at her. "How could you think it?"

  "It wasn't you." She gasped. "Never you. It was me. I didn't believe in me."

  "You will now," he stated.

  She smiled because of the effect she had on him. "I will now," she replied.

  Senses sharpened to singular intensity, Booker enjoyed the physical and emotional joy crossing her features. He'd promised himself when he'd married her that he wouldn't use her for his own pleasure, but he knew now that her pleasure was his. One in the same. Her fulfillment was his. His keen gratification was hers. She shared the exquisite delight and satisfaction that seized him.

  Booker studied her lovely features, held her head and soundly kissed her eyes, her nose, her chin and jaw.

  "Booker." His name fell from her lips on a ragged whisper. She touched the bump on his scalp, tenderly.

  He kissed her mouth and rolled to his side, pulling her with him. He closed his eyes and let bone-weary tiredness wash over him. It was good to be home. Home. With his family... his wife... his love....

  * * *

  Something rough scraped her cheek. The sensation came again. Thea opened her eyes and stared at the gray cat lying on her chest.

  Zoe giggled.

  Thea shooed the cat away and sat up. Sun beamed through the open window, indicating most of the morning was gone. Zoe sat cross-legged on the other side of the bed.

  "Where's Booker?" Thea asked, still half-groggy and not expecting an answer.

  "He got a message. He said get you up 'cause he's bringin' a surprise."

  Thea stared at the child, still not believing her ears. "Zoe, I'm so happy you can talk!"

  Zoe smiled, and a contagious giggle escaped her pink lips. "Yup."

  Thea laughed with her and hugged the child to her breast. "Oh, Zoe. You make me so happy. Do you know that? And you made your Uncle Booker awfully happy last night, too."

  "Yes. And he makes me happy, too. And you make me happy, too. And Lucas makes me happy, too."

  Thea studied her, fascinated with the childish voice. She wondered if she'd ever get tired of hearing Zoe speak.

  "Get up, get up, get up," Zoe directed with a series of playful bounces on the mattress.

  "Okay." Thea tugged the sheet from its final mooring and wrapped it around herself. "Is there hot water on the stove?"

  Zoe leapt from the bed and opened the door. She pointed to a bucket in the hallway. "Nope. Lucas brung it up here."

  Thea rolled her eyes at Zoe's grammar and carried the pail to the basin on the washstand. "You scoot and let me get ready. I'll be down in a minute."

  "Is that a regular minute, or a just-a-minute?" Zoe asked, tilting her head coquettishly.

  "That's a Thea-minute, and not a second sooner. Scat." She closed the door with a smile and went about her toilette. Her sore shoulder didn't want to cooperate when she fastened the buttons down the back of her dress. Thea remembered Booker's considerate massage and his passionate lovemaking. Love warmed her insides like a crackling fire on a crisp winter day.

  An hour later, she was kneading a double batch of bread dough when Lucas and Zoe clambered across the back porch and flung open the screen door.

  "He's back!" Lucas shouted.

  "Come on, come on, come on!" Zoe said, in a singsong voice, jumping up and down.

  Thea wiped her hands on her apron and removed it, laying it on the kitchen table. She followed the children down the stairs, and they shot ahead of her.

  The springboard pulled up to the dooryard. Immediately, Thea recognized the woman sitting next to Booker on the high seat. She waved and smiled. "Mrs. Vaughn!"

  Booker assisted the petite woman to the ground, and Thea couldn't help but remember the dread with which she'd watched him perform that same courtesy the day he'd come to the Coulson farm to take away Zoe.

  Mrs. Vaughn adjusted her prim little feathered hat on her head, gathered her skirts and approached Thea.

  "How nice to see you," Thea said, and took her gloved hand.

  "Your husband has offered me the use of your spare room for a few nights while I check on the children I placed here. He assured me you wouldn't mind."

  "Of course I don't mind. It will be lovely having you."

  "Good," Mrs. Vaughn said with a smile. "We have some business to take care of while I'm here, too."

  Thea studied her face attentively. Mrs. Vaughn turned her gaze on Lucas. "We have final adoption papers to review."

  Thea's heart soared. Lucas gave her a bashful smile.

  "And of course, another matter to work out."

  Thea turned back to Mrs. Vaughn. Whatever could that be? "There's no problem, is there? The court approved us as Lucas's parents?"

  "Yes, yes. No problem."

  "Thea." Booker's voice broke into her concentration. "There's someone I'd like you to meet."

  Thea turned and realized Booker had been helping someone else from the back of the wagon. Her gaze slid across her husband's enthusiastic expression, and encountered the girl at his side.

  She couldn't have been any older than thirteen, although her lack of weight may have made her appear younger. Straight, lackluster brown hair had been sheared across her wide forehead and beneath her ears in a clumsy, almost boyish fashion. Straight brows winged above enormous wide brown eyes, eyes that gave her face a haunting, older-than-time wisdom.

  Her rumpled calico dress hung on a lanky frame, disguising budding breasts. Beneath a downhill hem, slender legs barely held up a pair of dark stockings. Scuffed brown shoes completed the pitiful ensemble.

  She gave Thea the same all-over scrutiny. Her gaze fell to Zoe and then landed on Lucas. Recognition flitted across her lifeless expression.

  Thea's chest ached, and she wasn't sure why. Something about the girl made her so sad... filled her with sympathetic loneliness.

  "Thea, I'd like you to meet Claudia. Claudia, this is my wife, Mrs. Hayes." Booker watched them both with an expression of anticipation.

  The girl looked like she wanted to move closer to Booker, but on second thought she remained rooted where she stood. She seemed to find her voice. "How do you do, Mrs. Hayes."

  "Thea," she said, stepping closer. "Call me Thea. I'm happy to meet you."

  Booker must have decided an explanation was due. "Lucas, could you take our guests in and get them something to drink?"

  Lucas led Mrs. Vaughn toward the house.

  "Go on, Claudia," Booker said gently. "We'll be right in."

  Thea watched the girl hesitate, then follow the agent. Zoe skipped along behind them, humming.

  Booker took Thea's hand and looked into her eyes. "I met Claudia last spring while I was in New York looking for Zoe. When I asked about her, Mrs. Vaughn found out she'd been returned from a foster home just a few weeks ago. I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to be disappointed if it didn't work out."

  "This is why you were in Lincoln. You went to meet Mrs. Vaughn."

  He nodded.

  "Booker, your life depended on her testifying that she was with you! Why didn't you wire her?"

  "I tried. She said she's been visiting homes where she placed children. She never got my message."

  "Did you tell the marshal about her?"

  He nodded. "Maybe that helped him stick up for me. He was almost convinced to wait for her."

  Thea lowered her lashes. "But you didn't tell me."

  "You immediately thought the worst of me."

  "I didn't," she denied. But she had. He'd been making arrangements to bring home a child, and she'd jumped to the conclusion that he'd spent time with another woman. She should have been ashamed rather than astonished. She should have
looked at him like he was out of his mind. But she wasn't. She didn't. She took stock of the sincere love and caring flowing from his entire being.

  "I want us to adopt her, Thea." His obsidian gaze pleaded for her understanding. "I know it'll be hard taking in a girl her age, and she has a lot of problems that we'll have to deal with, but if you could see where she came from... how she lived. Thea," he whispered. "No matter what the weather, they're herded like cattle into a little courtyard where they stand packed together inside an iron fence.

  "None of them receive or even expect love or affection or tender care. Their parents either died or didn't want them, and the orphanage workers consider them part of the job—here today, gone tomorrow. They're just a bunch of hard, untrusting, fearful kids fighting for survival and—"

  "Stop." Thea placed her fingers over his mouth. "I don't want to hear any more." She dropped her hand to his chest and measured the steady beat of his heart beneath her palm. A heart as big as the Nebraska sky. "I want her."

  The supplicating expression vanished, replaced by a smile of pure elation. He ran to the springboard and pulled a papa-wrapped bundle from beneath the seat. He handed it to her. "Material for you to make her some clothes. Enough for you and Zoe, too, of course."

  Of course. "Don't tell me. Black sateen and German linen, right?"

  He tilted his head. "Right."

  Thea laughed aloud.

  Booker swept her up in a ferocious bear hug and twirled her around in a circle until her head spun.

  "Ah, Thea!" He held her head and planted a sound kiss on her mouth. "We're going to fill this house with children."

  A smug smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "Yes, we are, my dream lover. Yes, we are."

  bookmark:Epilogue

  Epilogue

  image:flourish.png

  Thea spread a colorful cloth on the makeshift outdoor table and glanced up at the towering branches of the oak tree overhead. The screen door slammed and she turned to Zoe carrying another bowl across the backyard. Her beautiful Zoe.

  A lump formed in Thea's throat as it always did when she saw the beautiful woman her Zoe had blossomed into. Her platinum hair still reflected the sunlight like spun silver, though she wore it in an elegant, upswept love knot. Her figure was curved in all the right places. All those years ago Booker had taken her to a special doctor in St. Louis. With exercises and corrective shoes, her limp had all but disappeared. A person who didn't know would never guess she'd once had a problem walking.