Wild Wisteria

by Maddie Taylor

  Soon had long since passed and she needed to make some decisions about the future. After putting Micah down for bed after supper, she went in search of Luke and found him with Aaron on the front porch. As she stepped outside, the marshal got up and excused himself, leaving them alone.

  Luke didn’t say a word, watching her closely from the swing. She took a step closer, while wringing her hands.

  “Um,” she began. “Micah is much better. I should get out of Janelle’s hair.” Still he said nothing. “Tomorrow, I’ll pack and go home.”

  “And where do you think home is, Wisteria? Certainly not that clapboard house two blocks from South Town and barely three from the seediest establishments in town.”

  “We didn’t have any problems staying with Slim. It’s small, but—”

  “No place for you to raise my son. Disease runs rampant amidst the unclean conditions of South Town.”

  “Are you implying that’s why he got sick?” She bristled at the direction this was heading. Was he accusing her of being a bad mother? Is that why he hadn’t spoken further of marriage? Had he changed his mind, seeing her as unfit?

  “Traveling one hundred miles on horseback and camping out in the damp, chill night air likely didn’t help.”

  “I don’t like what you’re insinuating. He didn’t get chilled on our trip and Slim and Virginia’s home was warm and very clean. I saw to that myself. I’m a good mother. Children get sick, Luke.”

  “They do, although most children spend the night safe and warm in their beds, or at least my child will. We won’t talk about the risks of a woman traveling alone with a small child, or the unsavory characters that reside in South Town, or frequent the area around Sixth Street. That goes without saying.” He stood and walked toward her. “The risk taking where Micah is concerned, and you for that matter, has come to an end, Wisteria. I’ve arranged for us to be married in the morning. After that, you’re coming home with me, the both of you.”

  She exhaled a heavy sigh of relief. “I thought you’d changed your mind. As long as I can be with Micah, I’ll do anything you ask.”

  He caught her chin in his hand, lifting it until their eyes met, his burning hot with determination. “I’m glad you said that. The circumstances and unsettled issues between us notwithstanding, I intend for this to be a real marriage. You’ll honor your vows and curtail these wild, impulsive ways or feel the flat of my palm on your bare butt like the last time. Is that clear?”

  Although she didn’t like all of the implications or the threat, she had little choice. She nodded.

  “Good. I’ll bring the wagon into town in the morning and pick up your belongings from your brother’s house.”

  Her things! Great heavenly day. How could she have forgotten? The thought of him packing her things and finding Jarrett’s stash sent her into a near panic. She’d only half told Slim. What she planned to tell her soon-to-be husband, if anything, wasn’t fully evolved in her mind yet. She thought she’d have time—and that would come after the vows had been spoken, much after. “I’d like to go with you,” she blurted out without the least bit of subtlety.

  He cast her a curious look. “No. I don’t want you back there. It’s not safe.”

  “You’d keep me from my brother?”

  He turned on her, fully suspicious now. “As I recall, there was no love lost between you. In fact, shiftless and an idiot were some of the nicer things you called him. Why the sudden change of heart? Is there something else you’re hiding, Wisteria?”

  “Of course not. All of that was a long time ago. Water under the bridge as they say. He’s changed, you’ll see for yourself when you see him. He’s married and has a good job.”

  “Mm,” he hummed, unconvinced, adding, “He and his wife can visit you at the ranch. I’ll extend an invitation, but you are not to go there, under any circumstances. Are we clear on that, Wisteria?”

  She nodded woodenly, hoping against all hope that Luke didn’t do more than pack up her things, and that the cache of stolen goods was still tucked away securely where she’d left it in her carpet bag.

  “A verbal response is required, please, so I know we’re of the same mind.”

  “Yes, Luke. We’re of the same mind.”

  He caught her chin on the edge of his crooked finger and brought her face up to his, weighing her response with a critical squint. “I wonder if this placid change in you was brought about by motherhood, or if it’s an act to get your way.”

  “Does it matter as long as I’m agreeable and you get your way?”

  With a humorless laugh, he let her go. “I suppose not. Be ready to leave by nine o’clock tomorrow morning. I’m anxious to get my son home.”

  Chapter Eleven

  As she closed the door on Micah’s new room at the end of a very long and busy day, she slumped against the wall in the upstairs hallway. Luke had shown up exactly at nine that morning and begun packing them into his wagon. He’d taken her immediately to town for their civil wedding ceremony. The justice of the peace being out of town due to a family illness, Judge Wilson—of all people—did the deed himself. Could her luck get any worse?

  “I’m glad you took my advice, young woman, and latched onto a good man.” The older man’s gravelly voice was full of approval as Luke entered his name on the legal document, then took Micah from her arms and passed her the pen. As she signed beneath her new husband’s bold script, he addressed Luke over her bent head. “I trust you’ll keep this little lady out of my courtroom. The next time I might not show such restraint and throw her in the calaboose for a month for contempt.”

  Wisteria popped upright, halfway through her signature, aghast at the idea.

  Luke settled a calming hand on her shoulder. “She’s not used to your dry wit, judge. He’s teasing, Wisteria.”

  The gruff man had frowned at her as he warned, “Don’t believe a word of it, gal. Test me at your peril.”

  He’d then winked at her and chucked Micah beneath the chin, confusing her further. Luke directed her to finish signing her name, which she had, clamping her other hand around the one holding the pen to keep it steady.

  “Good luck to you, son,” the judge had called out as Luke led her and their son away. “I feel strongly that you’re going to need it.”

  “Do people actually say calaboose anymore?” she’d whispered once out of earshot.

  He chuckled as he handed her into the buggy seat, then set Micah on her lap. The conveyance shifted as he climbed in, answering, “Sure, folks of the judge’s generation, like my pa and Methuselah.”

  Her lips had twitched at his rare good humor. “What an odd stick.”

  “True, but having the lone territorial judge as a friend of the family, no matter how peculiar, isn’t a bad thing.”

  They’d left town and gone directly to Luke’s spacious and quite beautiful home located on the east end of the vast acreage that made up Silverbend Ranch. It had taken her little time to unpack under Luke’s critical eye. Seeing their meager belongings, he’d declared it all ‘unacceptable’ and promptly bustled them back to town for a shopping excursion at Ivinson’s General Store.

  Loaded down with clothes for her and Micah, as well as a stack of thick white nappies, small baby boots, and a miniature Stetson, which Luke had picked out, though she cautioned that his son hated hats and wouldn’t leave it on, he had insisted. In fact, he’d taken much satisfaction in scooping Micah up in his arms as he plunked it on his head, adjusting the string that held it snug beneath his chin. Her traitorous child had then proven his mama dead wrong by laughing gleefully up at the big man who held him, gurgling happily as if his new hat was the best thing since the invention of his favorite toy, the spinning top. The toy fascinated Micah, who could sit for hours watching as it twisted and bounced off everything in sight, clapping and crying unless it was immediately set in motion for him again once it fell.

  Luke had turned the first real smile on her since their inauspicious reunion days ago. His
grin, so much like her son’s, had her heart turning over and a mist forming in her eyes. Rather than break down in sobs in the middle of Ivinson’s store, Wisteria had turned away, pretending vast interest in a Micah-sized winter coat, which she held up for inspection. When she glanced back, the moment had passed. Luke’s smile having faded into the contemplative mien he had worn most in the past few days, when he wasn’t glaring at her in anger, that is.

  After the shopping trip, it was back home for real unpacking, followed by a supper provided by Letty, who had arrived with Henry in tow, not long after they returned from town. Father and son had made multiple trips to and from the kitchen and the wagon, toting baskets full of baked goods and foodstuffs Letty had brought.

  Fried chicken and biscuits were unpacked for a cold supper, as well as a deep dish apple pie, which Luke and Henry raved over in advance. She’d brought fresh bread, jars of preserves and other canned goods, including vegetables from her garden that would last for days, a ham from their smokehouse, and freshly laid eggs from their chickens.

  They all sat down to eat, Micah included, who was happily sucking on a dried piece of gingerbread that Letty had thoughtfully supplied.

  “I didn’t figure you had many staples, so I brought a bit of everything,” she explained as she watched her grandson perched on his grandfather’s lap. “You’re set for a few days. I didn’t bring milk because one of the hands is on his way over with a dairy cow. Micah is a growing boy and will need fresh milk.” Letty turned a questioning look on Wisteria that dipped briefly to her chest. “I’m sorry,” she began, chagrined. “I assumed you’d want to wean him soon, dear. He’s almost a year old, correct?”

  “Yes, his birthday is in a few weeks. I hadn’t thought…” Her face flushed at the intimate topic being discussed so frankly in front of both Luke and Henry. “Cow’s milk has been a luxury we couldn’t afford,” she explained awkwardly.

  “Up until now,” Luke cut in, rescuing her. “Your thoughtfulness is appreciated, ma. As is the cow.”

  “Yes, um, of course it is,” she stammered in agreement. “I didn’t mean to sound anything except grateful, Mrs. Jackson.”

  “Think nothing of it, Wisteria, I don’t want to overstep. Feel free to come to me if you have need of anything at all. And please, call me Letty.”

  She returned the older woman’s kind smile. “Thank you, Letty.”

  Henry, who had been happily holding Micah, interrupted with a wrinkled-up nose. “This little fella ain’t smelling too sweet. I think he’s in need of changing.”

  “I’ll take him, sir.” Wisteria said, anxious for a reason to escape for a few minutes and collect her thoughts. “It’s bath time and will soon be time for bed as well. If you’ll excuse me.” At the bottom of the steps, she paused and turned back. “I know this was all unexpected, but I thank you for being so very kind.” Without waiting for a reply, she dashed up the stairs, blinking back tears.

  After bath time, which Micah always enjoyed immensely, she nursed him while rocking him in the cushioned oak rocker in the corner of his new room. She hadn’t expected to have baby furniture set up already, but while they’d been in town, two of the hands had brought it from storage at the main house and set it up. Letty had told her at dinner that the matching crib, dresser, and rocker had all been Luke’s as a child. As she walked and bounced her son, she took in their new surroundings, feeling oddly at home amongst his father’s things. She hoped the feeling would last when she and Luke had their long-awaited talk.

  Unusually fussy tonight, Micah distracted her. Maybe he felt her distress. He usually didn’t fight sleep as he was doing now. She bounced and sang to him as she paced back and forth with him across the soft blue rug on the floor. If she could get him down for the night, he usually slept straight through.

  “I’ll take him. You get ready for bed.”

  She turned suddenly at the deep, soft voice sounding in the quiet of the room. He didn’t wait for an answer, scooping his son into his arms and propping him up on his broad shoulder as if he’d done it for years. Micah wiggled and squirmed for only a moment, then settled, relaxing into the safety of the strong arms that held him. His thumb sought his mouth as his droopy eyelids gradually gave up the fight and closed. Seeing he was in good hands, Wisteria bit her lip. Realizing she was no longer the sole source of comfort in his life made her heart lurch a bit, but she left them alone.

  Slumped in uncertainty against the wall in the hallway, she stared sightlessly ahead until a steady thumping drew her attention. She looked over and saw Lady staring at her with curiosity. As she stared into the friendly panting face, she wished the dog could talk and give her some pointers on how to win over her master. A wagging tail she couldn’t pull off, although licking his face might earn her a few points. Her lips twitched slightly with amusement as that image popped in her head.

  “Our room is at the end of the hall.” Although said in a hushed tone so as not to wake the baby, Luke’s deep rumble resonated. She jumped at the sound, turning her head to see he had stuck his head out the door. His eyes drilled into her in the low light. “Don’t even think about arguing the point. I’ll be along directly.”

  He and Micah, who was sleeping blissfully with his chubby cheek pillowed upon his father’s shoulder, disappeared back inside the nursery. She heard the scuff of his boots on the floor and the sound of his low, gentle crooning before she turned and walked slowly to the double doors that led to the master suite.

  Before entering, she glanced back at Lady and grumbled, “You’re not helping me one bit. I thought we girls stick together.” As she spoke, the dog got up and trotted the length of the long hallway before disappearing down the stairs. “Well,” she huffed, “it’s plain where your loyalties lie. Owner before female unity, I get it.”

  Resigned, she made her way to the room she would share with her new husband. Hurriedly, she put one of the new cotton nightgowns purchased earlier that day and sat at the vanity to brush out her hair. She was still working the braid loose when he entered and closed the door, leaving it cracked the slightest bit so they could hear if Micah cried during the night. He moved to the bed and lit one of the lamps on the twin nightstands, then sat heavily on the side of the bed.

  He tossed his Stetson onto a nearby chair before tunneling his fingers through his thick sable hair as he heaved a tired sigh. After stretching briefly, he cocked one foot on his opposite knee and tugged off a boot. Doing the same with the other, he stood and unbuttoned his shirt, shrugging it from his broad shoulders. His skin was golden in the low light, the muscles rippling and bunching as he moved. When he turned slightly, his eyes met hers in the vanity mirror and she realized she’d been caught staring. Jerking them away from the sight of his muscular chest, she untwisted her plait and began to drag the brush through her hair, uncaring that it snagged and crackled as strands broke.

  The brush was removed from her hands before she noticed he’d moved an inch.

  “Allow me.” Strong capable hands began to brush out her hair with much greater care than she’d taken. “You’re very tense, Wisteria. We’ll have to find a way to be at ease with one another if we’re going to get along as man and wife.”

  “It’s difficult when I know how livid you are with me.”

  “No. Livid faded after the first day.”

  “You don’t trust me.”

  “Would you, if you were in my place and I’d kept your son from you for over a year?”

  “No, although in my defense, I thought you had played me for a fool and were to wed. If you heard them going on and on about it, saw the cake and that note, all while standing naked in the home of the man who you’d only just handed your innocence too, you would have felt the same way.”

  “I understand how you came to the conclusion, Wisteria. I did the minute I saw the evidence stacked against me in my kitchen that day. What I can’t understand is keeping a boy from his father, a man from his child.”

  “I thought you were wed,
Luke.”

  “So you married Jarrett Skeens, the last man in the world I’d want to raise my son.”

  “I didn’t think I had much choice. Things were hard when I left Laramie.”

  He didn’t respond to that, steadily drawing the brush through her hair.

  “How do we get past this, Luke? Is it possible?”

  “Yes. For Micah, it is not merely possible, it is the only solution.”

  “I’ve admitted my mistake, what do you need to forgive me?”

  “Honesty, for one. From this day forward, Wisteria, I’ll accept nothing less.”

  “I can do that.”

  “And I think a little retribution may go a long way to appease my anger.” He stopped brushing and caught her wrist. The next thing she knew she was on her feet, he had taken her seat, and was angling her face down over his lap.

  “You can’t be serious?”

  “I am completely serious. In fact, I’m feeling better already. Promises and vows to do better and be honest only go so far. An open palm or a paddle, on the other hand, seem to have a greater impact, no pun intended.”

  “I don’t find this at all amusing.” What she did find was the cool air of the room brushing over her skin as he raked up the tail of her gown.

  “A spanking isn’t usually intended to amuse. It’s a tool to teach a much-needed lesson when words and reason aren’t enough.”

  She felt the string at the back of her drawers pulled free and the material tugged downward. He didn’t stop until the cotton was a bunched-up wad of fabric around her lower thighs, and no barrier at all to either his gaze or the brush of his large hand. Her hand flew back to cover herself.