by Cheri Chaise
Blocking out the scents was one of the reasons why I chose to spend as much of my travels in the small cabin Cole had secured on this vessel. It must’ve cost a fair fortune with so few rooms available for so many travelers.
The other reason I remained cloistered most days was to avoid contact as much as humanly possible with those littering the decks. Every one of which were male – and their gazes followed my every move. Even through the trials and travails of so long a journey, I was determined to arrive at the altar untainted and unscathed – a nearly impossible feat, I’d come to discover.
The farther west I’d traveled, the more I’d come to notice how few females were present. By the time the journey had turned northward along the river, there were none at all. From the ravenous stares I garnered when stepping onboard, I must’ve appeared as fresh meat cast to the wolves.
I’d left home thinking the trip would allow me to experience the sights and freedoms I hadn’t during the years of my father’s forced confinement. However, now I chose confinement out of necessity – to protect myself from being accosted.
Especially when the swarthy and watchful stranger from the train sought passage on my riverboat.
But working on Cole’s shirt and rereading his letters buttressed me when endless days of rolling floors and closing walls drove me to the sheer brink of madness. His words painted pictures of open spaces. Of lush fields filled with colorful wildflowers, fertile soil fed by sparkling rivers, and a sky full of stars that went on forever.
The pages grew worn and threatened to crumble to dust every time I cracked open an envelope for the umpteenth time. I knew them practically by heart before I’d even stepped on the boat. Now they were embedded upon my soul forever.
I could close my eyes and picture the man who wrote such passages while I swept my fingertips across fevered skin, imagining him tracing the peaked nipples of my breasts. Brushing his hand down my narrowed waist. Stroking my slickened nub until his name echoed from my lips with the passionate cry of release.
The only other escape I allowed of an evening was to attempt dinner in the salon before the after-dinner drinking grew into more than a few draughts of wine, and the card play commenced.
During that first week upriver, I chanced to make the acquaintance of a Mr. J. Patterson Stubbs when I had the misfortune of emptying my stomach at his feet.
Mr. Stubbs was an older gentleman engaged in railroad speculation with the notion of bridging a northern rail line across the Missouri in the Dakota Territory at Bismarck. Such a route would’ve saved me so much time and headache on this trip.
But the very idea of ferrying railcars across the river sounded like a fool’s errand, an undertaking made even more treacherous by his description of the severe icing in winters and the thawing overflow come spring.
When he’d discovered a female alone and unprotected among a den of wolves, Mr. Stubbs made it his personal duty to escort me to dinner promptly at six, after which we’d stroll the decks as the sunlight stretched its last rays over the earth. I’d come to enjoy this nightly reprieve and shuddered to consider the final leg of my journey once he disembarked at Bismarck.
The knock reverberated across the heavy door right as I secured the final button of the blush-colored silk dress. I was again grateful for the design of the corset, but I’d had to get creative with buttoning my dresses without a maid to assist.
“Coming,” I called as I affixed the matching hat into place and tied the ribbon beneath my chin.
I’d chosen to keep my attire as simple as possible without too much bustle and minus a formal train, but a lady never appeared anywhere in public without a proper head covering. Even after her passing, I never could get my mother’s admonitions out of my head. That was probably why my father never denied me the latest fashions either – even after my fall.
But I had no idea when – or even if – I’d be able to wear such attire again once we left Fort Union. Cole had said the Montana Territory was wild and untamed. Probably not the best place for the silks, satins, and lace I’d been accustomed to wearing all my life. If time allowed, I could always see about engaging a seamstress for more simple frocks once the steamboat reached Fort Union.
I opened the cabin door to Mr. Stubbs’s snowy-white beard layered over a smart cutaway jacket. The green and gold brocade vest and dashing trousers framed his portly figure. He reminded me of the Thomas Nast illustrations portraying the saintly character of Santa Claus.
But I considered him my savior.
“Miss Estella,” he said, offering his arm like a gentleman, “how radiant you appear tonight…as always.”
I placed my hand in the crook of his arm after securing my door. “So good to see you this evening, Mr. Stubbs.”
“I trust you’ve had a pleasant day?”
“Indeed, sir. I accomplished some needed rest and reading.” I refrained from offering the full scope of what that reading had led me to. But the fantasies of Cole and the needed release were the only things keeping my nerves from fraying fully. “And you?”
“A good day. Good day. I understand from the porter that we’ve succeeded in making excellent time these last few days with the increased runoff widening the channel. Very welcomed after that narrow stretch south of Fort Pierre. Ghastly frightening there for awhile, I dare say.”
I shuddered to remember the narrow channel before reaching the confluence. The ringing bell and cries all the night long as crew scouted the river for impediments certain to take us down to the muddy depths at any moment.
“Truly ghastly, Mr. Stubbs.”
As he opened the door to the outside deck, I dabbed a square of perfumed lace beneath my nose to stem the putrid scents swirling in the breeze. If I wanted to arrive in Fort Union appearing little more than an emaciated waif, I had to keep at least one daily meal on my stomach.
The twin stacks chuffed above us, releasing steam into the sky. Surprisingly the air had freshened with northerly gusts as we rounded the corner. Less a putrid stench and more of a crisp aroma. I hesitantly pulled the square away from my nose and took the first deep breath of the voyage.
Pine. And something else I couldn’t quite discern.
Mr. Stubbs glanced at my titter. “I believe that is the first hint of joy I’ve heard from you, Miss Estella.” We continued strolling across the deck instead of heading straight for the salon, much to my delight. “What is it that so amuses you this fine evening?”
I took the opportunity to draw in several additional inhalations of sweet, clean air and noted the sturdy trees along the shoreline as they stretched toward a wide-open sky. If Montana was half as grand as this view, it might be worth all the pain and suffering of the trip.
“You will forgive me, sir,” I finally said in response to Mr. Stubbs’s inquiry. “But I was struck earlier by how much you reminded me of depictions of Saint Nicholas. And now, to be surrounded by the fair scent of pine trees…” Warmth rose in my cheeks at my audacity.
He patted my hand, his own chuckle jiggling his belly like a bowl full of jelly from that lovely Clement Clarke Moore poem. “One thing I’ve never been accused of being, my dear, is a saint.”
When we finished making the rounds of the deck and stopped before the salon doors, I leaned over to kiss his cheek. “Well Mr. Stubbs, in my eyes you are the epitome of a saint.”
The double doors opened and every eye honed in on us as we were directed to a table for the evening meal. Gentlemen travelers stood as we walked by, doffing their hats with a respectful “ma’am” while others hovered around the edges and simply watched with a keen eye as we passed. For the first time since the journey had begun, I wasn’t bothered by the ravenous stares.
Especially since the stranger’s wasn’t presently among them.
For the first time in weeks, I actually had a ravenous appetite. In truth, I was famished and downed each course as daintily – but swiftly – as decorum dictated. Waiters fluttered about to care for our every need.
/> “It’s good to see some color in your cheeks, Miss Estella,” one mentioned, as he placed a linen napkin across my lap – and lingered.
“Care for a dram more than wine tonight, Miss Estella?” the bartender asked.
“Miss Estella, care if I play something tonight to get your toes tapping?” the banjo player inquired.
With each bite of dinner that stayed down with ease, my energy lifted. More than a few sips of wine, and my spirits soared. With Mr. Stubbs by my side to protect me, I said yes to all offers.
Soon tables were scooted to the side and a line formed to dance. I was spun, tripped, and dipped through an assortment of stomping feet, whooping cries, and hands that gripped my waist and clutched me tight against firm maleness. It didn’t have any of the formalities of my last ball, but it certainly left me with the headiness of it.
Until chaos broke out.
Angry voices raised. Fists pummeled flesh. When a chair flew through the air, Mr. Stubbs took the moment of distraction to whisk me out from between two rough-looking characters who didn’t appear to belong on our deck.
He pushed through the doorway and hustled me toward the hallway that led to my cabin. Darkness had long fallen, but it wasn’t until I was safely ensconced before my door that I realized the extent of injury to both our persons.
Mr. Stubbs appeared to have lost several buttons. The seam on the shoulder of his lovely coat had torn asunder, and his stovepipe hat was missing, leaving his snowy-white hair a messy mop.
Meanwhile, my dress was absent much of the lace I’d started the evening with. The ruffled hem had become a ragged train trailing behind. And my carefully pinned hat hung precariously by a cockeyed ribbon.
I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. Mr. Stubbs chose for me.
A deep chuckle jiggled his belly just before he emitted a gasping honk from his mouth. I couldn’t help but follow his example as I dabbed at my eyes.
“One thing I can say about you, Miss Estella,” he said between heaving breaths, “you certainly know how to show a man…or two…a good time.”
I dabbed at my eyes with whatever piece of fabric I found at my disposal. “I just hope they don’t throw me off at the next port, after the mess I’ve caused.”
“They’ll have to overcome the objections of every man aboard first.”
Laughter erupted again until the rustle of movement and voices sounded outside the hall door.
“You’d better get inside and lock your doors tight tonight, Miss Estella,” he instructed. “If you can manage, slide a heavy piece of furniture behind it as well.”
I pecked a round cheek. “Thank you for helping me escape the ruckus, Mr. Stubbs. I shall miss you when you get off at Bismarck.”
The thud of a body slammed against the closed hall door. I half expected to hear the following splash of someone going over the side railing.
“On second thought, it wouldn’t kill me to delay a few weeks,” he mused with a wink. “I’ve heard Fort Union is lovely this time of year.”
I bid him goodnight with another titter then leaned against the closed door, safe in the confines of my darkened room once again. Or so I hoped as I eyed the dresser along the wall as another thump in the hallway thudded closer.
With shaking hands, I quickly lit the candle stub – and nearly set my room ablaze when the match dropped from my fingertips at the nearby scraping noise. My strangled cry didn’t come from the ongoing activities outside, however.
A warm hand pressed hard over my mouth as I was pushed up against the door. A boot snuffed the still smoldering match. As he lifted his gaze to mine, I couldn’t help but cry out, futile as it was.
The man from the train. The one who had followed in my wake. No wonder he was absent from the dining salon. He’d been waiting here for me the entire time.
His dark eyes narrowed before I ceased my struggle and hot breath poured against my cheek. He smelled of wine and a spice I could not place. “I will not accost or harm you in any way, Miss Estella.”
His actions said otherwise. The heat of his body against mine brought forth what I’d feared most on this voyage. My entire body trembled in abject terror just waiting for the sounds of shredding, tearing, and ripping fabric as he sought to separate me from my garments.
But it never came.
“I will remove my hand if you agree not to scream,” he murmured as his lips moved in closer to my ear. “But if you dare make a sound, I cannot promise to stop myself from doing everything currently spinning through your mind…and more.”
My eyes widened of their own accord in astonishment. Blood rushed through my veins and thundered in my ears. My heart threatened to leap from its confines. If not for his hands supporting me, my legs would’ve given out before his first words.
“I merely have a proposition I wish to discuss with you…in private, of course.”
My heartrate slowed as his hand loosened. I sucked in a deep breath through my nostrils before he carefully removed the hand completely and stepped aside.
“Better now?”
The taste of copper touched my tongue as I bit my lips to keep them closed as I warily nodded.
“Good.” The stranger stood nearer the edge of the bed as if to offer space, though nothing he did helped my sense of invasion. “You appeared to enjoy yourself this evening.”
My brow furrowed. I couldn’t remember ever seeing him enter the dining salon, though he may have observed while I was so thoroughly occupied with a plethora of dancing partners.
“Though perhaps I am mistaken.” He sat on the edge of the bed but still within an arm’s grab of my person.
Something within me refused to be cowed. My spine straightened as I stood firmly on my own two feet and lifted my chin.
“Please state your purpose for your presence in my room.”
“Of course.” An ebony brow rose just before a smile touched his lips. Full. Sensual. And menacing. “I wish to offer a fine lady such as yourself gainful employment.”
I had not expected such a reply. “What in heavens name make you think I am in need of employment…gainful or otherwise?”
“A young lady...journeying into the lawless frontier…alone.”
The implication was not lost on me. My chin notched a bit higher. “My purposes are none of your concern, sir.”
He reached out and rubbed a piece of my trampled garment between his fingers. “You are obviously a woman from means. Therefore you are not seeking a lowly position as a teacher.”
I jerked backward, causing the fabric to tear further. “It is not employment I seek at the end of my journey.”
“Ah. Then it is a man to whom you travel.” He stood again so suddenly, I couldn’t help but give up my ground. “But I cannot help but wonder what sort of man would allow such a lady to travel through wild and untamed lands without an escort to ensure her protection.” He glanced down and allowed his eyes to linger upon my breasts before rising to meet my stunned gaze again. “And her virtue.”
He must’ve seen something in my eyes, because he reached out and placed a finger firmly to my lips. Fear rendered me mute in an instant. I didn’t dare breathe.
“Unless,” he started in again, “her virtue is no longer at issue.”
The heat that bloomed in my cheeks raised the stranger’s grin to lecherous proportions – and gave away everything I refused to speak aloud.
“Life on the prairie is rough, Miss Estella. For all you know, your intended is an old man who never bathes, has lost all of his teeth, and will beat you senseless within a fortnight.”
The next thing I knew, he stood in my open doorway. “My offer stands...when you’re ready to discuss terms.”
I wasn’t interested in discussing terms or anything regarding employment from such a man. I never would be – even if Cole turned out to be everything this odious man said he might be. I could always return home.
But to what?
I quickly shut and bolted the door the moment the strang
er left. No matter how I strained, I eventually succeeded in sliding the dressing table halfway across the door.
Now I could only trust Mr. Stubbs was correct in his summation about the effectiveness of heavy furniture against late-night prowlers.
And prayed he was correct in his estimation about Fort Union too – and that the stranger was utterly wrong about my future husband.
Chapter Eight
Cole
Cattle and sheep lowed and bleated as we drove the small herd and flock across the prairie toward Fort Union. The skies had cleared after the lingering threat of a thunderstorm the last few days. The sunny day beat down on all of us, but I was hardly aware of the warmth – except from the heat my own body created.
I swiped the bandana across my sweaty brow then took a swig from the canteen from my saddlebag. Soon the walls of the fort would gleam from the horizon. I squinted and strained as if I could force it into view faster with the power of my will.
Anticipation made breathing a chore, but the erratic beat of my heart wasn’t from heat exhaustion. The long, agonizing wait was nearly over. In days – hours, if I was lucky – I’d finally rest my gaze on my new bride for the first time.
And finally find relief for this constant hard-on.
The days in the saddle hadn’t done my aching balls any good. Nor had solitude in order to stroke and pump myself dry every night. I needed relief in the only way that could ever fully satisfy a man – buried to the hilt in the slick warmth of a woman’s pussy.
I sighed. I could almost hear my mom berate me for thinking of Estella that way. If she was still alive, she’d whack me across the back of the head and say something to the effect of I won’t have no son of mine thinking only of a good woman as nothing more than a quick fuck!
I glanced back at my youngest brother. Drew had a ridiculous grin plastered on his face as he urged the team to pull the wagon laden with his latest deliveries. Yeah, I could bet what his train of thought was at the moment too – and it wasn’t about the carefully crafted tables and chairs he toted. Folks back east paid good money for his hand-crafted furniture, even knowing the wait for final delivery would take far longer than simply ordering from a local vendor.