Bound for Sin

by Tess LeSue

  He took pity on her. “Get or giddyup is for go; whoa is for stop; back means back up; gee means turn right; and haw means turn left. Got it?”

  She nodded. She’d keep Wendell’s “cross-patched ballbags” up her sleeve, should these not work.

  “What are you smiling at?”

  “Nothing.” She pressed her lips together. She had an urge to yell, Giddyup, you useless grunters! just to see the look on Matt’s face. But of course she didn’t. Ladies didn’t do such things.

  “Off you go, then,” he said, as the bugle sounded and the chuck wagon rolled out. The scouts galloped off in advance.

  Georgiana tapped the rod on the oxen’s backs. “Get!” she called.

  “Lady, you have to be louder than that or they won’t hear you over the sound of the flies.”

  Georgiana wasn’t about to be embarrassed by a bunch of useless grunters. She flicked the rod and yelled, “Get!”

  Susannah jumped a mile.

  The oxen didn’t even move.

  “Hit them harder,” Matt suggested. “They cain’t feel a little flick like that. Don’t worry, it won’t hurt them.” He held her wrist and flicked it for her. Just a little bit sharper. She saw the ox hide twitch under it.

  “Get!” she called, flicking with the same strength he’d used. This time they moved. Georgiana had driven a phaeton before, and this wasn’t too different; it was just clumsier and slower, and the animals weren’t terribly responsive. She didn’t need to do much except hold the reins while they plodded along.

  “Nice work, old hoss.” Matt sprawled back in the seat and stretched his legs out as far as he could. Georgiana had never seen him quite as relaxed as this before. The farther they traveled from Independence, the calmer he seemed. He was less terse and more playful. Lighter of spirit.

  Sitting in the warm afternoon sun, with him half dozing beside her, the children busy or sleepy and the reins supple in her hands, the afternoon was almost peaceful. Georgiana was surprised to find she was enjoying herself.

  Susannah foss rummaged around in back, looking for more treats for the horse.

  “You’ll make him fat,” Matt teased the little girl.

  “Don’t waste all our apples,” Georgiana warned.

  “They’re only old ones.” Susannah held up the wizened last season’s fruit.

  “We only have old ones,” Georgiana complained. “It’s that time of year.”

  “Just one more?”

  “Pablo will love you,” Matt said, as the horse devoured the apple with one whiskery nibble against Susannah’s open palm.

  “He’s lovely,” Susannah said, rubbing his nose as he plodded alongside the wagon.

  “He ain’t too pretty and he ain’t too bright, but he’s a hard worker.”

  “That’s what Mother said she wanted in a husband,” Susannah said with a giggle.

  Georgiana blushed and gave her daughter a warning look.

  “I thought the advertisement said frontiersman,” Matt said.

  “Well, she could hardly say she didn’t want a handsome man in an advert, could she?” Susannah told him primly.

  “No,” Georgiana said through gritted teeth, “some things are private.” Children. How did they manage to find the worst possible times to say the most embarrassing things?

  “What else did your mother want in a husband?” Matt asked curiously. He sounded amused.

  “I really don’t see that this is an appropriate conversation,” Georgiana said tightly.

  “Don’t listen to her,” Matt told Susannah, leaning around Georgiana to get a better look at the girl’s face. “I am marrying her, after all. It would be helpful to know what she expects from me.”

  Susannah nodded as though that made perfect sense. And Georgiana could hardly protest that he wasn’t going to marry her, could she? How would she explain that to an eight-year-old?

  She contented herself with scooting forward on the seat, to block his view of her daughter. He just leaned the other way and looked behind her back.

  “We helped write the advertisement too,” Susannah said proudly.

  “Oh? What did you and your mother want?”

  “Well,” Susannah said thoughtfully, “the boys thought being able to wrestle a bear would be helpful. And owning a gun, of course. Do you have a gun?”

  Georgiana would have protested, but the oxen chose that moment to veer off course, and she had to practice yelling “Haw!” and flicking the rod. The stubborn animals didn’t listen, and before long, the flicking had become a bit of whipping. Just lightly. But still. She didn’t feel good about it.

  “I have two guns, since you ask,” Matt said, leaning back on his elbows and watching Georgiana struggle to control the team. He didn’t lift a finger to help. “A hunting rifle and a pistol.” He paused. “I cain’t say I’ve ever wrestled a bear though. Although I have seen lots of them.”

  “You have? Were they friendly bears? Is that why you didn’t wrestle them?”

  Georgiana eavesdropped madly, even as she struggled with the team.

  “I just didn’t see much point in wrestling them, I guess,” he said with a shrug. “They were just going on about their business.”

  “What business?”

  “Well, the last one I saw was a mama bear with two cubs, and she was teaching them to fish.”

  Susannah was captivated as he described the scene. So was Georgiana.

  “And the first rule of wrestling bears,” he said in mock seriousness, “is never mess with a mama bear. Ain’t no one getting between a mama bear and her cubs.”

  Susannah nodded as though this was sage advice. Which Georgiana supposed it was. Not that she’d be going near any bear, ever, mama bear or not.

  “Watch where you’re going,” he warned, reaching out to tug on Georgiana’s hand. His skin was warm on hers. “Or you’ll hit the brush there.”

  “What else did she want in a husband?” Matt asked, letting go of her hand as the oxen fell back into line. “A not-too-pretty, not-too-bright, hardworking gun owner who wrestles bears . . . and what else?”

  “Are we still doing this?” Georgiana exclaimed. “I mean, really!”

  “Really, what? I think this is important.”

  Was he teasing? She darted a look at him. He was! He was making fun of her!

  “Don’t you think it’s important, Susannah?” He winked at the girl. “A man ought to be able to please his bride.”

  His bride. Georgiana shivered at that. Like a fool. As though he meant it. Which, of course, he didn’t; he was just entertaining himself at her expense.

  “She doesn’t want a charming man,” Susannah confided.

  “Susannah!”

  “Hush and drive,” Matt scolded. “Or you’ll run us into a tree.”

  “There aren’t any trees out here.”

  “I’m sure you’ll find one, the way you’re driving.”

  “I’m doing well, thank you very much!”

  “You’d do better if you’d stop talking and concentrate.” He waved her quiet and gave Susannah his full attention. “Why no charming men? I thought ladies liked charm.”

  “Apparently, my father was charming.”

  “Apparently? You don’t know? Or you didn’t find him charming?”

  “I don’t really remember him,” Susannah said wistfully. “I only saw him twice, and the last time I was only five.”

  Georgiana kept her eyes fixed on the oxen’s behinds. She swallowed hard, well aware she was turning as red as a tomato. She felt terribly exposed.

  “But everyone said he was charming,” Susannah continued. “My grandmother used to say he could charm the birds from the trees. And then make a pie of them.”

  “Oh.” Matt didn’t seem to know what to do with that. “Charm isn’t always bad,” he said q
uietly. “My brother is charming, and he’s a decent man. Don’t tell him I ever said that, mind. He has a big enough head as it is, and we’ve got no call making it any bigger.”

  “My father was decent,” Susannah said stubbornly.

  “Of course. I didn’t mean to imply otherwise.” Matt cleared his throat. “I was just saying my brother could charm the birds from the trees too. Only he don’t bake ’em into pies.”

  “Is Tom an older brother or a younger brother?” Susannah asked.

  Georgiana held her breath. She was dying of curiosity about Matt. All she knew about him was that he was from Oregon, ran wagon trains, had a scary-looking brother and magic eyes, and kissed like an angel . . . or a devil . . .

  “Both my brothers are older.” He paused. “But I’m talking about Luke, my oldest brother. Tom is . . . something else again.”

  “Older brothers are hard,” Susannah commiserated.

  “Yes, they are.” They exchanged sympathetic looks. “So, no charm? What else do I need to know? What does your mother’s husband need to be?”

  “He needs to be tough. So he can help us get Leo.”

  “Enough!” Georgiana couldn’t let this go any further. She had no desire for Matt Slater to know all her secret business, and there was no telling what Susannah would say. “This has gone far enough,” she said firmly. “If you want to know what I want in a husband, you can ask me. In private.”

  He was watching her closely. “Fair enough.”

  “Don’t worry, Mr. Slater,” Susannah confided, leaning over Georgiana to speak to him, “I think you’re going to make a perfect husband. We all like you very much.”

  Now the shoe was on the other foot and he flushed. Good. She felt no pity for him at all after that performance.

  “Your ma seems to have got the hang of driving a team,” Matt said, trying to break the embarrassed silence. “You like to ride, Susannah?”

  “What?” Georgiana’s head snapped around. “What are you talking about?”

  “Watch where you’re going,” he said patiently. “I thought Susannah might like to come for a ride, like Wilby did this morning?”

  “Oh yes!” Susannah cried.

  “But what about me?” Georgiana felt panicked at the thought of being left alone in the wagon. What if something happened? What if she couldn’t control the oxen? Wilby was in the back! He might get hurt.

  “Oh.” Susannah completely misunderstood her. “I’m sure Mr. Slater can take you for a ride as well?” she suggested innocently. “When Wendell comes back?”

  “No,” Georgiana blurted. “I can’t do this without help!”

  “Of course you can,” Matt said blithely. “If all those people can do it, you can do it.” He waved a hand at the snaking line of wagons behind them.

  She didn’t know how to argue with that.

  “We won’t go far,” Matt promised. And then he jumped off the wagon, mounted Pablo and took her daughter, leaving her all alone on the high seat of the wagon, reins and rod in hand.

  All sense of peace and contentment fled now that everyone was out riding except for her. Well, her and Wilby. But he was happily cocooned in his quilt, and she was out here on this spine-jarring seat, sweating in the sun, her skin prickling in fear that she would lose control of the situation.

  Although, she thought helplessly, as she watched Matt and Susannah galloping off into the dust cloud, it was possible that she’d already lost control of the situation.

  20

  “WHAT IS THAT?” Georgiana could barely speak for the shock. She hadn’t slept well. Again. She’d wriggled out of the tent before dawn, planning to wash her face in the river and have a quiet moment or two alone before the children exploded out of the tent for the day. She’d been expecting to find the camp still sleeping. She hadn’t been expecting this.

  Standing in front of her tent was Matt Slater. And he wasn’t alone.

  “What are those?” Georgiana sputtered.

  “Horses.”

  “I can see that.”

  Standing behind him was a veritable herd of paint horses. Their speckled white hides glowed in the wash of predawn light. One of them nudged Matt’s arm impatiently.

  She’d spent a sleepless night stewing over where he was. With his whore, she suspected, way down the back of the line. He’d disappeared yesterday and not come back for supper. Her mood had blackened by the minute, as she pictured him dining with Seline, and then following her into her tent. Georgiana had been prepared to freeze him with icy disdain when he returned.

  But now here he was with a pack of horses.

  “Why are they outside my tent?” Georgiana pushed her hair out of her face and pulled her shawl tighter. It was hard to maintain an icy disdain when she was a disheveled mess. But she tried.

  He flushed. He looked both embarrassed and mighty pleased with himself. “They’re for you.” He held out the reins. “They were supposed to be a surprise.”

  The combination of lack of sleep, lack of coffee and shock made it hard to understand what was happening.

  Horses.

  “You bought me horses?” she said dumbly.

  He nodded, still looking immensely pleased with himself. Behind him, the Indian ponies shifted restlessly. They were fine paints, speckled brown and white, with bright, curious eyes.

  “You can’t buy me horses!” Georgiana protested.

  “Well, I did. I rode to Fort Leavenworth yesterday and got these. They ain’t the fanciest, but they’ll do. I picked up some tack as well. Just old stuff, but it’ll do.”

  “I can’t afford horses,” Georgiana protested.

  He frowned, confused. “They’re already bought.”

  “I can’t accept horses as a gift!”

  “Why in hell not?” Now he was frowning in earnest. It clearly wasn’t the reaction he’d been expecting.

  “What will people think?” Georgiana said, turning red. She tried to calculate what the animals must have cost.

  “They’ll think you were my fiancée and I bought you horses.”

  “You don’t understand,” she said, trying to breathe calmly. “It just isn’t done to give a lady such an expensive gift. It puts me in your debt.”

  “You’re already in my debt. You got me to pretend to be engaged to you, remember?”

  She blinked. She didn’t really have a response to that one.

  “You wanted to ride,” he reminded her, thrusting the reins into her hands. He had a sulky face on now, like a chastened child.

  “Wait!” she called, dashing after him as he left; he was clearly upset at her lack of pleasure. The ponies came along with her. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to offend you. I was just . . . surprised.” This meant he hadn’t been with his whore, she realized suddenly. In fact . . . quite the opposite . . . this meant he’d been thinking about Georgiana the entire time he’d been gone . . . “Please stop!”

  He stopped. He could barely meet her eye.

  She bit her lip. He looked very vulnerable, standing there in the predawn light. Oh my. He must have ridden all night to surprise her, and she’d been such a churl.

  “You got me horses,” she said numbly, not knowing what else to say.

  He shrugged, still not meeting her eye. “You wanted to ride. And I thought the children would be happier riding too. You don’t have to keep them.” He scratched at his stubbled jaw. “I ain’t had much to do with ladies. I didn’t mean nothing improper by it.”

  “No, of course not,” she said quickly.

  “If it makes things less awkward, you can just have a loan of them. You don’t have to keep them. That way you won’t be . . . what was it? In my debt?”

  “As you said, I’m already in your debt,” Georgiana said, “but yes, borrowing them might be better. It would be a terribly generous gift.”

 
; One of the horses whickered, as if in agreement.

  Georgiana sighed. “We’re always at such cross-purposes, aren’t we, you and I? All I want is for us to be friends.”

  “We are,” Matt said, giving her an exasperated look. “I just rode for miles to get you horses. I don’t do that for people I don’t call friends.”

  “You gave me horses!” It was just sinking in, what he’d done for her. “You went to Fort Leavenworth to get us horses.” Her eyes filled with tears.

  “Don’t do that!” He looked horrified. “It was supposed to make you happy.”

  “It does!” It was the most thoughtful thing anyone had ever done for her. How she’d envied the children their rides with him . . . How she’d longed to be free of the wagon . . . How she’d looked at the wide-open spaces and the broad sky and imagined tearing along on a horse of her own. And he’d known.

  Not only had he known, but he’d ridden miles out of his way to buy her a horse of her own.

  “I went to get you one, but when I was there, I suddenly thought the children might be upset if you got to ride and they didn’t . . .” he admitted. “And that little girl of yours has the making of a real horsewoman.”

  “She really does,” Georgiana agreed, still trying to control her tears. “She loved riding, before we had to sell her pony.”

  “So I got you one each.” He paused. “Except Wilby.” He was looking guilty again. He cleared his throat. “And then I got worried that Wilby would get upset . . .”

  “He probably will.” Georgiana pulled a face. “But he gets upset about everything. He’s just at that age.”

  “Well . . .” He was looking painfully guilty again.

  “Well?”

  “I might have got him something else. I just thought I’d best ask you about it before I gave it to him. Horses is one thing, but . . .”

  “But what?”

  “Wait here.”

  What on earth had he brought for Wilby? Georgiana watched as he jogged back to the chuck wagon, where his own horse was tethered. It was still too dark and the breaking light too watery for Georgiana to make out what he was doing.

  When he came back, he had something cradled in his arms.