Dorothy Garlock - [Tucker Family]

by Keep a Little Secret

  “I want you to love me,” she said breathlessly, the words a surprise even to herself.

  “Charlotte,” he moaned into her open mouth. “You have to know what you’re saying… what that means…”

  “I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it. I love you…”

  “… and I care more for you than any woman I’ve ever known…”

  Without another word, Owen pulled a blanket from a cot, effortlessly lifted Charlotte, and carried her into the shadowy depths of the horse barn, the lantern left behind. He pushed open the gate of an empty horse stall and spread the blanket to lay her down into a thick bed of fresh hay. Impatiently, he tugged his shirt open and off, tossing it aside, before joining her. He pressed down on her, his flesh electric under her hands, his mouth again finding hers.

  Tenderly, Charlotte ran her hands over his skin, starting at his hips, rising up over his ribs, and stopping as he hissed through clenched teeth.

  “Does it hurt when I do that?” she asked, worried.

  “Not at all,” he lied.

  “I’ll be careful.”

  “If it means being here with you, I don’t give a damn how rough you are.” Even in the scant light, she could see him smile.

  Drawing her blouse from her skirt, he ran his warm fingers across her bare skin. That touch, such a simple thing compared to all of the physical connections they had already shared, dissolved whatever restraint Charlotte still felt. It was gone in an instant. Her hands found his belt and tugged hard, trying to get it undone as fast as she could, and began to explore his body as Owen’s hands caressed her breasts. The roughness of his fingers against the tender skin of the underside of her breasts sent flashes racing before her eyes. When he first touched her nipple, her breath caught in her chest and she flinched.

  “Did that hurt you?” he asked, and she loved him for asking.

  “Not one bit,” she gasped.

  The next few minutes passed as a blur as each helped the other shed clothes; blouse, jeans, shoes, skirt, and undergarments were tossed aside.

  Charlotte lay naked on the blanket, her blond curls fanned out behind her, watching Owen’s face as he lay down beside her. She could see that even though his passion threatened to consume him, he remained reluctant to act.

  “There’s something I want to ask you, but before I do, I want you to listen to me for a moment, all right?” he said.

  “Yes, Owen.”

  “I want you to be sure that what we are about to do is what you want,” he explained. “I don’t want there to be any doubts, because the thought that you might regret making love to me is more than I could bear. I want this to be the beginning of our life together, not a night you would hope to forget.”

  “Then both of us want the same thing.”

  Tenderly, Charlotte lifted her lips to Owen’s, softly kissing him. But as the seconds passed and their passion grew, his kisses became more frantic.

  Urgently, Owen now slid his hand down Charlotte’s hip, dallied on her thigh, and finally, gently as he could, ventured between her legs. To help him, she spread her knees. Immediately, his fingers found the centers of her pleasure, already moist and aroused by all that had come before, sending shivers racing throughout her body.

  When Owen rose up on his arms, muscles tight from supporting his weight, and positioned himself above Charlotte, she lifted her body to his.

  “I’m yours, Owen.” She sighed into his ear. “I’ll always be yours and you will be mine.”

  “Together,” he answered breathlessly. “We’ll always be together… you and I, so tell me. I want to hear you say it.”

  She did, over and over.

  Gently, Owen moved forward, starting to push himself inside her. Charlotte gasped; it was a pain that she expected and one that she resolved to get past.

  “Charlotte…” he began in worry.

  “It’s fine,” she answered. “Trust me… when I say that it’s fine…”

  Once he was completely inside her, Owen waited for a moment allowing her to adjust to the feel of him, as he softly kissed her parted lips. When he felt certain she was ready, he began to move, slowly at first, but then almost imperceptibly faster. Soon, the pleasure rose and the discomfort subsided and Charlotte began to let herself ride with the moment, relishing what they were sharing.

  Giving herself to Owen wasn’t something she had entered into lightly, but now that it was happening, she knew that her choice had been right. Memories of their relationship drifted back to her: that first smile in the dining room on the night of her arrival, their kiss in the very horse barn in which they now lay, his visit outside the school and the surprise of the country pond, and their trip to the roller-skating rink only hours earlier. But what excited Charlotte now, as their bodies became one, was imagining what wonderful moments lay in their future. Whatever they were, she couldn’t wait to discover them.

  The pleasure mounted with every thrust, and both of them began to sweat and breathe harder.

  “I never… dreamed it would be this wonderful…” Owen whispered.

  “I love you, Owen Wallace,” Charlotte answered. “I love you.”

  When the moment arrived for the climax of their lovemaking, both of them had reached their limit, unable to restrain themselves a minute longer. Charlotte held Owen so tightly that her fingers dug into the hard flesh of his back, her face nuzzled into the sweaty crevice of his neck and shoulder. Her body spasmed uncontrollably as he shuddered, filling her with warmth and happiness. And then they were spent, collapsing together, bodies still joined and entwined. Never in her wildest imagination would Charlotte have thought it would have been so fulfilling, so wonderful. She didn’t want the night to end. She just wanted to lie together with Owen, in his arms, forever.

  Carter Herrick slumped in a chair before the fireplace of his ranch house’s great room. He was beside himself with frustration. No matter how many glasses of whiskey he downed, no matter how many cigars he smoked, nothing seemed to settle his dissatisfaction. When the grandfather clock struck midnight, he knew sleep would never catch him that night.

  Clyde had reported what had happened on Grant’s ranch, and while he was pleased to learn that there had been some damages and a few injuries, the stampede had fallen far short of his lofty expectations. He’d envisioned Grant ground to a bloody pulp under the pounding hooves of his own horses or, at the very least, that he would have to put down half of his animals and rebuild much of his ranch.

  But that wasn’t what had happened at all…

  Futilely, Herrick wished for it to be a different time. He had a burning desire to hold Caroline Wallace in his arms, to feel the press of her lips against his own. He desperately needed to speak with his son again, to ask him about his day as he had often failed to do during the boy’s short life. He would have traded anything to be a young man again, to feel strength coursing through his ravaged body, not to have to rely on the actions of others to accomplish what he wanted done. But he might as well have wished for the moon for all the chance he had for his desires to come true.

  Upstairs, the pistol still lay on his desk, waiting. In his darkest moments, Carter Herrick could swear that it was calling out to him. Either way, there wasn’t much time left before he would no longer be able to resist the pull to use it. With a simple pull of the trigger, he would go be with his beloved son and be forever rid of the specter of loss that hung around his neck. But he still clung to the thinning hopes that he would not go into the ground alone. In fact, that night Clyde had argued for a different plan, a more aggressive one, a plan he had not been able to reject outright.

  With another gulp of whiskey slowly burning its way down his throat, Carter Herrick managed to smile.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  AND… AND THEN the… boy clim… climbed the lad… der to the… top of the wall… and then ju… jumped down to the… ott… other side…’ ” Sarah struggled, holding the book in both hands and staring hard at the words. “ ‘Wh
at he… found there was… ma… ma…’ ”

  “ ‘Magical,’ ” Charlotte encouraged.

  “ ‘Magical,’ ” the girl repeated, rolling the word around, liking the sound of it, before adding, “That’s a hard one!”

  “It certainly is.”

  A gust of wind rattled the glass in the window, periodically tugging at the loose dirt on the ground and the branches of the few trees that dotted the landscape. Heavy clouds hung low in the sky, threatening. It was so dark outside that the middle of the afternoon seemed like early evening. In the distance, thunder rumbled.

  As Sarah worked at reading her book and Charlotte struggled to pay attention, her mind wandered to the night before, when she and Owen had made love. Words were unable to describe her emotions at that time. Afterwards, each had been content to lie in the straw beside the other, sweaty skin touching, breathing ragged. When they had dressed and parted, their long kiss was a seal and a promise. Back in her room, Charlotte had been unable to sleep, remembering.

  Regardless of her own emotional state, it was hard for Charlotte not to notice the change in Sarah. When she and John had arrived, the cabin was as clean as she had ever seen it and Alan had been outside chopping wood, his scrawny body drenched in sweat. Sarah was well rested and cheerful. The most pleasant surprise was that there weren’t any empty liquor bottles lying around. Clearly, Alan had taken Charlotte’s tongue-lashing to heart and had begun to change his ways. A transformation had occurred.

  Sarah finished the book and looked expectantly at Charlotte.

  “That was much better, Sarah.”

  “I’ve been tryin’ to read when you ain’t here,” she said, and beamed. “What you said ’bout sounding out the words, it really helps when I get stuck. I just keep at it until I get it, no matter how long it takes. My pa’s been sittin’ with me when I read at night, and even though he can’t understand a lick of it, he’s been noddin’ and ’couragin’ me some.”

  “It looks like he’s been helping more around the cabin.”

  “He even helped me do the cookin’ last night,” Sarah said, her voice lowering a bit as she added, “Don’t tell him I told you, but he’s no good at it! He thinks he should use salt the way you would flour. I couldn’t eat a bite, though it was awful nice of him to try.”

  “Once the baby comes,” Charlotte said, “it’ll get harder for the both of you.”

  “My pa’s been sayin’ the same thing.”

  “He’s right.”

  Sarah’s eyes drifted toward the windows as a burst of needling rain lashed against the glass, followed by another rumble of thunder. “I hope I’ll know how to take care of it.” She frowned, looking much older than her age.

  “I know he’s grown-up and can take care of himself. But a baby can’t do that. He’ll be needin’ me to do everything for him and I worry I ain’t gonna be up to the task. What if I do somethin’ wrong? What if I ain’t as good a mother as I wanna be, as my mother was to me? At least she had Pa to help. He wasn’t drinkin’ then… I ain’t got nobody but him.”

  “I told you this the first day that we sat down and worked on your lessons,” Charlotte reassured. “You’re not alone.”

  “Sometimes it seems I am. It’s gonna be so hard.”

  “Times will be tougher than you imagine they will be, but you will not have to go through them all by yourself. Besides, your father has already been through it. You said it yourself: he helped to raise you. Surely he can’t have forgotten what to do.”

  “I don’t know,” Sarah murmured.

  “I don’t think people ever forget.” Charlotte smiled. “Your baby will be his grandchild.”

  “Grandson,” she corrected.

  “Are you still so sure that you’re having a boy?”

  “Maybe not as much as I used to be,” she admitted, “but even if I’m wrong and I have a girl, I’ll love her just as much, that’s for sure.”

  Charlotte knew that Sarah’s heart was in the right place, but she would be a child raising a child. She had no idea what she was in for. Once the baby arrived, Sarah would grow up fast, but the whole experience would be much harder for her than if she were older, if she were married and had the child’s father by her side. She and her father were living off John Grant’s charity, and there was no assurance how long that would last. If only her life were more stable… But it was too late for such thinking. The baby would be coming soon.

  “Do you know how far along you are with the baby?” Charlotte asked.

  “Can’t say for certain. It would have been last fall when I got pregnant, but I ain’t too sure which month.”

  From the size of Sarah’s belly, Charlotte knew that the time of the baby’s birth was approaching. It wasn’t really possible to say for certain where Sarah was in her pregnancy, since some women showed more than others, some had smaller babies than others, but Charlotte thought that there still might be a month, maybe a month and a half, to go. All the time she had spent with Rachel and her grandmother, both experienced in the birthing of babies, had given her enough insight to make an educated guess. Decisions would have to be made soon. A doctor or midwife needed to be called. If Sarah were to give birth in this cabin, still dirty, though cleaner than it had been, and something were to go wrong…

  Charlotte was living proof of what could go wrong during childbirth. Her own mother’s delivery had been difficult, though not impossible, but all it took for disaster to strike was Alice Tucker’s unwillingness to live. Sarah showed no signs of abandoning her child in its first hours of life, but she also had no idea how difficult bringing another person into the world could be. What would happen if her labor were to last for hours? Would she have the fortitude to fight through it or would she surrender, allowing herself or her child to die?

  Outside, the rain began to fall harder and the clouds darkened further, as if the weather meant to mirror the ominous trend of Charlotte’s thoughts.

  “Do you wanna be a mother someday?” Sarah asked.

  Charlotte took a good long look at her young student, the question momentarily taking her by surprise. No one had ever asked her before, but there was only one answer that could possibly be given. “I do,” she said simply, smiling.

  “Do you have a fella?”

  “You’re asking an awful lot of questions.”

  “I just want to know.” Sarah shrugged. “What could it hurt to say?”

  “I didn’t when I first arrived in Oklahoma, but then I met someone,” Charlotte admitted.

  “Would you wanna have a baby with him?”

  The bluntness of Sarah’s questions was becoming difficult for Charlotte to deal with. Her relationship with Owen was something she hadn’t shared with anyone; she hadn’t told Hannah much or written about it in great detail to Christina. Discretion held her tongue and she changed the subject, asking, “Have you picked out a name yet?”

  “Oh, yeah.” Sarah smiled. “But I ain’t tellin’ no one till after the baby’s here.”

  “Not even your teacher?”

  “Nope,” she said.

  “Not even if I traded you the name of my fella,” she kept on, teasing. “Would that be enough to get it out of you?”

  Sarah seemed to think about, but blurted, “Still not enough!” and they both laughed, covering the sounds of the growing storm.

  Occasional flashes of lightning pierced the gloom of the afternoon storm, punctuated by the deep bass of thunder, as Charlotte and John drove back to the ranch after Sarah’s lesson. Oppressively dark clouds pressed down. Insistent gusts of wind pushed at the vehicle’s frame, forcing John to keep both his hands on the wheel to hold the truck on the road. The rain came down in huge, sporadic drops that struck the truck’s metal body with the hard sound of hail.

  “This weather don’t look good,” John remarked, his forehead wrinkled, as he peered out the window.

  “What do you mean?” Charlotte asked.

  “Sometimes the weather here in Oklahoma gets a bit wil
der than what you might be used to back in Minnesota,” he explained. “Storms come rollin’ in off the plains with intentions meaner than a horse that’s set on not bein’ broke. Difference is there ain’t any way to tame a storm. Wind comes howlin’ hard ’nough to pull all the tin off a roof, nails and all. Rain fallin’ so hard and fast that there ain’t no time for it to sink down into the dry ground, so it goes a floodin’ every which way and you got to just hope it ain’t in the direction you’re standin’.”

  “Is this serious?” Charlotte asked, staring out the window and suddenly concerned about their predicament. There were storms back in Carlson that felled trees, overran rivers and creeks, and blizzards that buried them under enormous piles of snow, but something about the way John spoke unsettled her, the unknown potential of the storm making her feel vulnerable.

  “Could be,” he said simply. “But at least we can be home before the brunt of it gets here. I feared it’d come while you was givin’ Sarah her lesson. We can be thankful it waited.”

  The mention of Sarah brought Charlotte’s thoughts back to the moment when John and Alan arrived back in the cabin. John’s gaze had wandered again and again toward the pregnant girl. His concern for Sarah’s well-being was obvious, but Charlotte couldn’t help but question his motive. Nor could she stop wondering about what was to come next…

  “What will happen once Sarah has her baby?” she asked after another peal of thunder rattled the truck.

  “She’ll be a mother, of course.” John smiled, glancing over at her as he pushed the wiper lever back and forth in an effort to clear the windshield so he could see. “There’ll be plenty of feedin’s, lots of diaper changin’, and probably not a lot of sleep.”