by Anna Murray
At the creek the ranch hands cleaned up amid whoops and splashing and tall cowboy tales -- the kind of yarns that swell with each telling -- and now they waited in the yard to congratulate the boss and his new wife.
The minister arrived from town, and the little group assembled in the parlor. Cal and Sarah beamed openly at each other while they quietly repeated their vows. A ring was passed from Emily to Roy to Cal, who made a great ceremony of placing it on Sarah's finger. And at the end Cal gave Sarah a kiss that warmed everyone from head to toes.
The little wedding party moved outside where Roy, bursting with pride, presented Mr. and Mrs. Cal Easton. A cheer rose from the ranch hands, and each man made his way up the steps to congratulate the happy couple. George Newman poured whiskey, and they raised their glasses to Roy's toast honoring the newlyweds.
Earl Watkins had closed the store and was there with his wife and son Edward. Jake Farrel had shuttered his blacksmith shop, and he'd driven out with his wife, Mary, and Geneva Grayson. Abe Wright, wife Carlotta, and daughter Ella rolled up a fine carriage. Ella jumped out and promptly ran to the back to unload pies. Handsome Doctor Rutherford trailed on horseback.
Everyone congratulated and cajoled the new couple. Edward Watkins counseled Cal to avoid his wife's right hook. Doctor Rutherford, last in line, winked as he took Sarah's hand, and he deftly guided her away from the other guests.
"Cal's a fine man."
"Oh, yes." She blushed. "Everything worked out just like you said."
"Mrs. Easton, your courage is inspiring."
Rutherford bowed politely. "Before I leave I'll have a talk with your new husband about how to keep a wife healthy. Looks like I can leave out the part about how to keep her happy." He half-smiled. "Of course, I wouldn't know so much about that."
It was Sarah's turn to smile. Dr. Rutherford had a good heart.
Tables were lined up, and the smell of beef roasting on spits wafted across the yard. After dinner entertainment included foot races, a game of horse-shoe pitching, a roping contest run by Bailey, and a shooting competition, which was popular, because Roy had offered a twenty dollar prize to the winner.
* * *
Dullen growled as he kicked dirt from behind a hill a two hundred yards distant.
He'd noted the parade of guests as they'd left Wounded Colt just after noon. He'd casually inquired at the general store, and Watkins had smugly told him Cal Easton was marrying up.
Hitching himself to the hired help. Dullen silently raged.
It wasn't the first time Cal Easton had stolen a woman he'd set his eye on.
These days he'd seldom thought of Grace Farrel, but now the memories came rushing back. And he'd marked this one for himself too, only to be stymied by Roy Easton's antics, aided by the self-appointed do-gooder, Ned Kingman.
The gloating Eastons needed to be taught a lesson, and the sooner the better, he decided.
With no time to round up his usual posse, Jack Dullen had followed the Wrights and Doctor Rutherford at a discrete distance as they'd trekked out to the Easton spread, and then he'd taken up his position, biding his time. He was far outnumbered by all those ranch hands milling around so there was nothing he could do now, and that made him even angrier. He made a mental note to visit that saloon girl when he got back to town -- the one he could slap around because she needed his money.
But now he focused his spyglass on the group, and he reddened at the hum of cheerful voices drifting up to his ears. The Anders woman was lovely. How warmly the sunlight played upon the highlights in her hair as she politely greeted visitors. She charmed everyone.
He raised himself up cautiously to steal a better view of Cal Easton's young bride.
Dullen slid a bottle from his side pocket and tipped it to his mouth. The sweet whiskey warmed his gut, and he stared up at the sky, musing about how Miss Sarah would undoubtedly prefer his rough brand of mating to what he imagined to be Cal Easton's s no-account style.
The afternoon wasn't a complete waste. The hands had taken up an entertainment, a shooting competition. They were firing at wood blocks placed on stumps behind the barn. After each round a few men were eliminated, and the stumps were moved farther away to increase the difficulty for those who continued. Cal and Roy Easton, who Dullen was loath to admit were the best shooters in the territory, weren't among the contestants. The groom obviously had other things on his mind, and best man Roy appeared to be running the contest.
Although he couldn't see faces clearly from his position, Dullen recognized the runner-up because it was, of all things, a woman. Whoever would have figured the spinster Grayson to be a crack shot!
The winner was also easily identified owing to his lame gait. He'd never have taken Ned Kingman for a sharpshooter, but he remembered Aiken's report about the man zealously protecting the house when the other men were out on the range, and now his dead-eye shooting confirmed exactly why he'd landed the job.
The contest ended, he took another swig of whiskey. He decided when the time came he or his men would need to eliminate Kingman. The shooting match proved the man was trouble; deadly accurate with a rifle and so blindly loyal he'd go to the end of the trail for the Eastons.
Dullen shook the bottle and tipped it to his mouth to salute his clever scheme. He was confident -- his men would trample over Mineral Creek Ranch like a mile-wide twister. The bottle was empty. He cursed disgustedly, and half-walked, half-slithered to the brush where he'd hidden his horse.
He'd had enough of the Eastons for one afternoon.
* * *
Friends and neighbors made to get back to jobs and homesteads. They said their goodbyes, gave their best wishes to the new couple. Each reserved a special goodbye for Mama.
Cal sought out his wife and took Sarah's hands, drawing her to him. He leaned forward and impulsively kissed her cheek.
Sarah smiled back like a ray of sunshine. "I've never been to a better party. Thank you."
He grinned. "Honey, go pack clothes for tonight and tomorrow." Cal had been seriously distracted all afternoon. His coffee eyes had flickering to her constantly, even when he was talking with groups of guests.
"We're leaving?" She frowned.
"Sure, sweetheart. Don't you want a honeymoon?"
"Oh." His heat aroused her even when he was just standing near. She pushed her gaze up to his eyes. "Who'll tend Mama?"
"Roy." He squeezed her hand, thinking that younger brothers could indeed be useful now and again. "And tomorrow morning Nettie will come, and Emily said she'd help."
Sarah started to open her mouth but he cut off her objection.
"Mama already agreed to it. Truth to tell, it was her idea. She's downright anxious for grandchildren."
Sarah blushed deeply. They hadn't discussed children, but she was suddenly pleased he wanted them. "Well then. I'll go and get ready. Where?"
He grinned. "It's a surprise."
Sarah strode into the house, now her house. She went to her shared room, put clothes into her bag, and slung it merrily over one shoulder as she walked back out to the porch.
Roy brought Cal's horse around. Cal swung up into his saddle and Roy handed him his rifle in the scabbard, which he slung across his back. Then he leaned down, wrapped an arm around his new wife, and lifted her into position in front of him.
Sarah looked surprised.
"Saree, we aren't going far." Cal wrapped one arm around her waist and pulled her back firmly to rest against his chest.
Roy tied their bags and supplies to a mule he jokingly called a 'wedding gift', and mounted another horse to ride behind.
Ranch hands, Emily, and Ned waved wildly, calling out "goodbyes" and "good lucks" as Cal slapped the horse into motion. Instead of heading out to the main trail that ran past the ranch, as Sarah had expected, the men turned and rode north along the creek.
Cal turned and smiled when they came within sight of the Easton's old family cabin. "Surprised?" His golden eyes flickered.
"Yes! O
h, I love it!" Sarah smiled at the cozy-as-a-hug cabin.
They stopped in front of the little abode, and Cal swung off his mount. He held out his arms and Sarah moved easily into their warmth. Cal didn't take his hands from her waist when she touched the ground. Instead he wrapped them firmly around her in a promising embrace.
Roy glanced sideways and went about unloading and hauling.
Roy mentioned that he'd be getting back to the big house. When he got no response from the kissing couple he shrugged, mounted, and rode away.
Cal took Sarah's hands and gazed into verdant eyes. Then he lifted her into his arms and carried her through the doorway of that little cabin. Sarah Her head fit perfectly into the hollow between his shoulder and neck when she relaxed into his strength.
Inside was one room with a loft, where Sarah imagined little Cal and Roy must have slept when the family lived there. A large bed, covered with a pretty patch quilt, filled one corner. Yellow curtains covered the windows. A small table for meals was located near a cookstove, and a shelf was lined with pots and pans.
Cal lowered Sarah to her feet and pulled her into his heat. His eager kiss was pure pleasure. Her response floated to him, and their desire kindled in a slow upward spiral. He moved his hands to her buttocks, pulled her against him in a caress that escalated to an insistent command, while his lips moved down her throat. Abruptly he halted, and swung her to face away from him. He worked the buttons on the back of the lavender dress, one at a time.
"These buttons are a blessing and a curse," he whispered with a short laugh.
"Oh?"
Cal sighed at the memory. "Darlin', you took me to paradise the evening of the social. I'll never forget it." He pulled up closer, wrapped his arms around her hips, and grazed his lips across the back of her neck. "But now I'm an eager groom. I'd like nothing better than to rip them off." He stepped back. She shivered as she felt his fingers work their way down her back, brushing along her spine as they briskly moved from one button to the next.
Her lips turned up at the corners. "I'm so glad you still want me."
"Sweetheart, I'm gonna want you every day I'm this side of the sod." To make sure she understood he groaned and pulled her into him. She felt his hardness press into her backside.
Buttons finally unhooked, Cal tugged the smooth fabric from her shoulders, down her arms. Gently he turned her again to face him, pulled the dress below her hips, and it slowly slid to the floor, into a heaping lavender pool. Removing her camisole he openly admired her smooth white skin, bathed in the hues of the setting sun filtered through yellow curtains.
He took Sarah's hands and laid them on his chest in a silent request. He wanted his bride to undress him, and she understood. Her fingers shook with sweet anticipation as they worked the buttons on his starched white shirt. She opened it wide, inhaled deeply of his manly scent. Sarah pressed her cheek to his broad chest while gently stroking his sides. Then she slid her ear to the place over his heart and quietly thrilled to the beat of her love.
Cal stroked her throat, her shoulders, and her breasts, until she arched into him in pleading surrender. His fingers grazed lower, parting, caressing her hot, wet, swollen womanhood. Strong arms supported her when knees buckled, and she gripped his broad shoulders, her anchors in the growing storm of passion.
"Cal." She begged.
He groaned.
All control was lost. Suddenly they were at a full gallop, a frenzy of caressing and tasting, and then he carried her to the bed, where they laid naked together, her hands entwined in his dark hair, her lips ordering the sweet drink of his kiss. They mated swiftly, two bodies urgently and recklessly seeking and finding release from pounding need.
After the long minutes it took to recover Cal hauled her from the bed, and over her muted protests, he carried her outside, and down the bank to his favorite spot on the creek.
"Been thinking to do this for a week."
"Do what?"
He didn't need to answer her, because just then she saw the towels carefully laid along the creek bank. Still gripping her tightly to his chest, Cal splashed into the clear water. Sarah screamed and laughed at the cold awakening. The newlyweds clung to each other and slid body against smooth body, each taking a turn at gleefully exploring the other with hands that slid freely over water-slicked flesh.
Cal's amorous attentions aroused Sarah again. Mercifully, he took her in his arms and laid her on towels spread over the grassy bank. Firm lips grazed over her, stopping to nibble at the stiff peaks of her breasts, moving slowly down until they met the aching nub between her thighs. His suckle ignited a shattering explosion that ripped through her. She rode tidal waves of pleasure. Then he drew back, positioned himself between her thighs, and entered her with one hard thrust.
Their lovemaking was slower, and softer this time, like a long sweet ride together into a red sunset as it dipped below the horizon.
Throughout that first night Sarah boldly explored her groom and discovered her own deep wells of passion. He took her sweetly, lingering over her pleasure, and then with wild abandon when she woke and bucked urgently against his taut body.
Soft caresses and whispered love flowed as pure and unadulterated as the creek. They gave themselves over to each other completely, freely, guilelessly. Finally, in the early morning hours, the newlyweds collapsed in the honeymoon bed of that cozy cabin and slept, exhausted and content.
Chapter 28
After Cal and Sarah returned to the big ranch house their lives quickly settled into a busy and happy routine. Days raced by, begun with work and ending each night with passionate lovemaking, a wrapped tangle of limbs and bedclothes.
Cal ordered Roy to sleep in with Mama so the new Mrs. Easton could share a bed with her husband. From the looks of things -- Sarah's kiss-swollen lips, bursts of laughter heard from behind closed doors, and seductive looks traveling between the two lovers -- Roy figured Cal would never let his wife go back to her old nighttime job.
Every day Ned drove Emily to the town hall school, now completed with benches he'd helped to build. Emily, pleased with her new clothes and the brand new shoes Roy purchased for her at Watkins, was truly enjoying school for the first time. She didn't sit at the back of the classroom, and she had real girlfriends.
Emily dutifully reported school news to Sarah, including how Ned walked her straight to her assigned seat, where he lingered over saying goodbye, all the while looking at Miss Grayson.
The third Friday of September Sarah decided to go to town with Ned and Emily, intending to shop while Emily was in school.
Sarah put on a new skirt that had a special pocket to hide the two-shot derringer, her wedding gift from Cal. Her husband lifted her into the wagon and kissed her goodbye, touching her cheek briefly.
Ned hadn't driven the wagon but half the distance to town when they heard the sharp report of gunfire rolling toward them on the breeze. Ned jerked, Emily gasped, and Sarah was shaken from her rambling thoughts on how much flannel it would take to make shirts for the men.
It wasn't the single shot of a hunter but a barrage of shots, the prolonged cacophony of rifles and pistols. Startled, Ned halted the horses, and they all looked back toward the ranch. Sarah's stomach jumped to her throat.
"Oh my God. It sounds like a battle."
Ned's hands were shaking. "Tis."
"Cal," she squeaked. "And Mama."
Emily's eyes were huge and she moaned.
Ned hastily turned the horses. "I have to go back to help." His voice was strained. "We'll hide you ladies."
Emily's face was white and her blue eyes were wide as saucers. Sarah's shoulders shook on ragged breaths and her throat was so tight she couldn't speak so she nodded briskly, and she prayed the cracking of rifles meant that Cal and Roy were fighting back vigorously.
"Hang on," Ned called out.
White-knuckled hands gripped the side of the wagon as they flew over the rutted trail.
* * *
The terror came s
uddenly. Just minutes before Billy had left the corral with a string of remounts. Cal was working ranch accounts in the study. He heard the heavy rumbling of a running herd, followed by the sound of shooting from his range outfit. Stampede. Just as he was rising to go saddle up the strangers thundered down on the ranch.
Bullets peppered the house.
Cal ran across the room, and hoisted Mama from her chair. He frowned as he lowered her limp body to the floor and slid her under the heavy oak desk.
"Mama you'll be safe here."
He stood and ran to the hallway, and fetching his repeater from its high resting place he scampered back to the study. Crawling to a position at the open window he looked out and scanned for targets. Immediately he found one. Calmly Cal aimed at the invader riding directly toward his position, and he decisively squeezed the trigger.
The startled man shouted before pitching off his horse. Hands flew to his belly as he hit the dirt.
More enemy riders appeared, and Cal fired shots as each man hit the ground and ran to find cover.
"Boss dere's men in da house!" a frantic voice shouted from his hiding place behind a horse trough.
Shouts echoed from the side of the barn and corral area, where Cal saw two of his hands lying in prone positions. These are some bastards, he thought. One of his men was writhing in agony but the other was motionless. An outlaw was using the body for cover. More shouting. And more gunfire, directed toward the house and barn. Bullets, bits of wood, and broken glass whizzed past Cal. Roy's mules were kicking and braying up a storm.
"Boss dere's one in the barn!" He heard the man yell, and the invaders momentarily turned their attention away from the house.
Shots rang from the barn. Cal's men, some just back from night herding, must have been tending their horses, and now they found themselves trapped in the middle of a ranch battle. Cal could just make out one man shooting from a position high in the loft. The cowboy had knocked a board loose and was aiming to hit a target on the far side of the bunkhouse.