by Kit Morgan
Granted, he’d had no idea she was at Nate and Libby’s – Abel had mentioned that she’d gone into town right after breakfast and wouldn’t be back until late afternoon. But still …
Wait. Why had they come back early, anyway?
Justin shook his head as he steered his horse around a puddle. “What does it matter why?” he mused aloud. “She was there and ya couldn’t stay away from her like you were told. Ya must not be too attached to your job, Weaver.”
His horse picked his way through the wet, rutted ground. The rain had slowed considerably and would cease soon, he hoped. Then again, maybe a cold shower would do him some good. Nothing else had. He had to find a way to keep himself from Millie or he was going to be in a heap of trouble.
He stopped and leaned on the saddle horn. “Who am I foolin’?” he asked aloud as he stared out across the rain-soaked prairie. “I already am in a heap of trouble.” How did such a thing happen? How could a man fall in love so easily? And what was it going to take to get this woman out of his head? “Two or three days, that’s all ya gotta do, just get through the next few days.”
His horse snorted as if in agreement, and he chuckled. “Easy for you to say …” Then it hit him. “Of course – why didn’t I think of that before? I can just stay out here with the herd for the rest of the week! Then by the time I come back …” His face fell and he had to fight the sudden sadness that hit. “… she’ll be gone.”
* * *
Three days later …
“Millie!” Maggie cried as she came running into Nate and Libby’s house. “We got one!”
“Maggie never was one for knocking,” Libby commented dryly as she set down her mending. She’d been trying to teach Millie a few simple stitches, but without success. At least she’d picked up baking quickly.
“Got one what?” Millie asked, noticing a piece of paper in Maggie’s hand.
Maggie leaned against a chair to catch her breath. Good grief, had the woman run all the way from the main ranch house? “A husband … we got you a husband!”
Millie stood, the shirt she’d been working on falling to the floor. “What?” she breathed.
“It’s true, he’s coming from San Francisco,” she said, pointing to the paper. “It says right here. You can thank Jack and Dell Dalton for this. Their friend who runs The Nuptial News for them found him.”
“I can’t believe it,” Millie said as she took the paper from her. “I thought I’d have to wait a lot longer than this.”
“He’s already on his way,” Maggie told her with a smile. “His train will get into Weatherford at the end of the week. I must say, he’s quite anxious – he wants to meet you in Weatherford, get married, then leave on the next train out to San Francisco.”
“Why is that?” Libby asked as she scooped up the shirt Millie dropped.
Millie fell back in her chair, speechless. She thought she was ready for the news – she’d even rehearsed being told in her head, if only to get Justin Weaver out of it. Thankfully she hadn’t seen him over the last few days, which seemed to help … a little.
“Well, isn’t that exciting news?” Maggie asked.
Libby studied Millie. “Very. If only Millie thought so too.”
Millie cleared her throat. “Oh yes, it is. I’m just surprised it happened so quickly.”
“Jack’s friend Aidan is very efficient,” Maggie said with pride.
“He certainly is,” Millie agreed, her voice weak. The same feelings she had days ago assaulted her again – and so did the urge to run. Why was she reacting like this? Getting married was the only thing that could guarantee she wouldn’t have to become the Toilet Tissue Queen, the latest unloved acquisition of the boorish, demanding, overbearing Hubert Unpronounceable. And who knows, maybe this groom-to-be might stay alive long enough for her to meet him …
“I knew we should’ve started on your dress,” Maggie lamented. “Lilly wanted to as well, but Gwen thought you’d enjoy sewing it yourself.”
Millie stared at her a moment, trying to figure out what she was talking about. “Oh yes. The fabric I brought home the other day.” She glanced at the mending then gave Maggie a half-hearted smile. “I hope my intended isn’t hard on his clothes. I’m not very good at mending yet.”
“I doubt you have to worry too much about it. I just thought you’d like another dress to wear.”
“Why wouldn’t I have to worry about it?” Millie asked.
“Because from the sounds of it, your future husband is some sort of businessman. I think he has a bit of money.”
Millie took a deep breath. With her luck he’d be no better than Hubert, but with a better surname. “How can you be sure?”
“I heard Walton talking with Jack,” Maggie said with a smile. “Oh Millie, you’re going to be so happy! I almost wish you could stay a little longer, so you’d meet my sister Mary and her family. They’re always running off visiting folks.”
“Yes, you’ve mentioned them before,” she said absently. “When did you say he was coming?”
Maggie blinked a few times. “Oh yes,” she said and looked at the missive in her hand. “End of the week. That gives you about four days, then you’ll be married!”
“Four days …” Millie echoed, her stomach knotting with the thought. Why couldn’t she get excited about this? Isn’t this what she came out here to do? It was bad enough she’d panicked so badly over Mr. Brown, and all for naught given what happened to him. Good grief, what if something equally terrible happened to … “What did you say his name was?”
“I didn’t.” Maggie looked at the paper again. “But you’ll be happy to know that by the end of the week you’ll be Mrs. Marcus Whitbey.”
Millie sighed. “Lovely.”
* * *
Justin slid out of the saddle and groaned. He’d slept on hard ground before – he was no stranger to it. But sleeping on cold, wet ground was another matter. He stretched, his back stiff, and proceeded to unsaddle his horse. Once he had that taken care of, he’d have Abel help him get a hot bath ready. That, a clean shave, some food and he’d be set.
Even better, what hurt him the most was gone. No more Millie Porter – by now she was Mrs. Millie Brown and at least two days out of Texas. A pang of … something struck his heart, but he batted it down, ignoring it as he’d been doing the last three days he’d spent on the prairie. He’d kept to himself, minding the furthest herds from the ranch itself, doing a job no one else wanted. In fact, he wondered why no one asked his reason for volunteering in the first place.
“’Bout time you got back,” Abel scolded as Justin dragged himself up the porch steps of the bunkhouse and plopped himself down on a bench next to him. “Hungry?”
“Starvin’. But I’d really like to soak in a tub of hot water first.”
Abel continued to whittle a piece of wood. “Know how ya feel – that’s why I done got one started behind the bunkhouse. Needs a couple more buckets is all – they’re heatin’ on the stove.”
Justin leaned against the wall of the bunkhouse and closed his eyes. “You’re the best, Abel. Ya must’ve seen me ride in.”
“I did. Now get back there and get out of them stinkin’ clothes. Woo-ee, yer ripe!”
Justin opened his eyes and sniffed the air. “Is that what I smell?”
“Stop messin’ ‘round and get out back!” Abel ordered, waving his knife at him for good measure.
Justin pushed himself up from the bench and forced one foot in front of the other to the porch steps. He went around to the back of the bunkhouse to the bathing area behind half a wood wall. It housed a tub big enough for two grown men which, just as Abel had said, was already half-filled with water. Justin put a hand into it. Lukewarm, but a couple more buckets of hot water would fix that. He’d have to figure out a way to repay Abel for this kindness.
He pulled off his boots, stripped out of his clothes and carefully got into the tub. No sooner had he done so, than Abel came around the corner of the bunkhou
se and went behind the half-wall. “Here, this’ll help,” he said and dumped a bucket in.
“Whoa, that’s hot!”
“Quitcher bellyachin’ ‘n enjoy a good soak.” He poured in the second bucket. Justin took a few deep breaths until the temperature of the hot water mixed with what was already in the tub. He lay back, closed his eyes and sighed. “I owe you one, Abel.”
“Horse feathers. I’ll come fetch ya before ya get all wrinkled and funny-lookin’.”
“Thanks,” Justin replied and sunk a little lower. The warm water, the setting sun, the slight chill in the air all made for a perfect way to relax. So much so that Justin fell asleep. When he woke, it was to a gasp of surprise from a gawking Millie Porter.
Ten
“Tarnation, woman!” Justin cried as he sat up with a start, then just as quickly sunk into the tub with a slosh. “What are you doin’ back here? This ain’t no place for a lady!”
“I … I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I was out for a walk and thought I’d explore the premises.”
He sat, his heart in his throat, when he suddenly realized that Millie being right in front of him meant that Millie was not currently on a train to California. “Why ain’t ya married?”
She straightened, her eyes flashing with anger. “Well, I would think it obvious!”
He stared at her. Whenever he was this close to the woman his brains went to mush and his heart took over. He shouldn’t be talking to her. For that matter, she shouldn’t be talking to him, dressed – well, undressed – as he was. But she made no move to leave. Could she be attracted to him, or was she just too shocked to move?
Wait a minute, what did she say? “Obvious?”
She blushed, probably because like him, she’d just realized the impropriety of the situation. She turned her back. “Yes, obvious. It’s a little hard for a dead man to say ‘I do’.”
Justin sat up, more carefully this time. “Dead man?”
“You heard me. Don’t you know anything?”
He bristled at her tone. “Not when I’ve been out guardin’ cattle for the last few days, no, ma’am.”
She turned slightly in his direction, but kept her gaze averted. “Oh … that explains it …”
“What?”
“Hattie is quite upset with you.”
“And what about you?” He didn’t know why he asked. Maybe it was to keep her talking, keep her close.
“Why would I be upset with you? Other than you speaking to me in less than appropriate attire.”
He chuckled. “Well, I wasn’t exactly expectin’ a visitor.”
“That’s true, I suppose,” she said contritely, and turned fully away again.
He sunk back into the tub, enjoying that she wasn’t leaving. “If I may ask … what happened?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“What happened to your intended?”
“Oh yes, poor Mr. Brown. The dear man went and got himself shot.”
“What?!”
“Yes, in a saloon in El Paso.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am. That must’ve come as quite a shock.”
“You have no idea,” she said and moved toward the wall. She ducked behind it, and for a moment he wondered if she’d left. Then he heard her speak again: “I’ll let Hattie know you’ve returned.”
“Thank ya kindly. After I get myself cleaned up and rested, I plan on payin’ her a visit.”
“She’ll be glad her playmate is back.”
Are you? he wanted to ask, but didn’t dare. Besides, if Mr. Brown was no longer in the picture, it was only a matter of time before someone else was. But … an idea was forming in his head, though he didn’t quite know how to make it a reality. “Ya … plannin’ on stayin’ long?”
“Staying?” came her voice from the other side of the wall.
He cleared his throat, lest his voice crack. “Stayin’ on here at the ranch. I … I, for one, wouldn’t mind.”
Silence.
“Ma’am? Er … Miss Porter?”
“I’ll be here for a few more days …”
He froze. If she was only here a few more days, that could only mean one thing. He closed his eyes as his heart sank. “They done found ya a husband already.”
“Yes. He’s to arrive in Weatherford by the end of the week.”
He noted a hint of sadness in her voice. “Ya don’t sound too excited.”
There was a pause before she replied, “Of course I’m excited. It’s why I’m here.”
“To get married.”
“Of course to get married,” she snapped. “Really, why else would I be here?”
He could stand it no longer. “I’m kinda wonderin’ the same thing.”
“I beg your pardon?”
He smiled. “Why’re ya standin’ there talkin’ with me, ‘specially seein’ as how I ain’t exactly … properly attired?”
He heard her suck in a breath. “You’re absolutely right. I should be mortified!”
“But ya ain’t. And that’s okay. But why’re ya so scared of marryin’?”
“Scared? Who said anything about me being scared? I’m not scared!” She sounded more like she was trying to convince herself than him.
Justin let her catch her breath before he continued. “Ya know, my mama used to always tell me how good I was with animals and babies. They seem drawn to me like flies to sugar. Ya wanna know why she said that?”
He heard her giggle. “Why?”
“On account I got somethin’ about me that makes ‘em calm. Don’t know what it is, and neither did Mama or Pa. It’s just there. Animals and younguns are drawn to it, ya see. Some womenfolk too, I guess.”
“What does that have to do with me?” she asked, her voice even.
“Well, ya ain’t run off like ya should, and ya ain’t as scandalized like most folks’d be. So I figger something’s keepin’ ya here talkin’ to me. My guess is it ain’t my pretty face,” he said with a chuckle.
“I’m not afraid …,” she said, her voice trailing off.
“I know. But ya gotta admit this is kinda unusual. Why are ya standing there talkin’ to me when we both know it ain’t right?”
“Why are you?”
“I ain’t in a position to walk away right now, am I?” He splashed his hand in the bath water. “Not that I really wanna, mind ya …”
Silence.
“Miss Porter?”
“I apologize. You’re quite right. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’ll leave you be.”
Justin sat a moment, listening for the rustling of skirts, footsteps, anything to indicate she had indeed left. But he heard nothing. No, wait … something. A sharp intake of breath, the stifling of a sob. And then the sound of Millie Porter running away.
“Millie,” he whispered. “Ya ain’t afraid of me, but what are ya so afraid of?”
* * *
Millie ran – but not back to Libby and Nate’s. Instead, she went down a trail behind the various cabins and outbuildings, the same trail she’d been following when she happened upon a nude Justin in the bath. Sure, it was hidden behind a L-shaped wall, and no, he wasn’t entirely exposed to her view, but once she got to a certain point all she had to do was turn her head and there he was.
And my, had it turned her head!
The man was so beautiful, she couldn’t look away. He still wore his eye patch, but the sight of his wet hair, muscular chest and arms, and three days’ growth of whiskers made him look ruggedly handsome. She stood there, mesmerized by him, unable to move even if she’d wanted to – and she hadn’t. The bunkhouse could’ve caught fire and she still wouldn’t have been able to shift, except to save the man in the tub.
Out of breath, she finally stopped in a wide space between two buildings. She had no idea where she was or who lived in the cabins on either side of her, and at the moment she didn’t care. Even if someone saw her, they wouldn’t know where she’d just been – and she wasn’t about to tell them. She should be shocked a
t her behavior with the cowboy; scandalized, even.
But she wasn’t. Truth be told, she wanted to go back, talk with him some more, listen to more tales of himself. One thing was for sure – his story about animals, children and yes, women (her in particular) being attracted to his unusual calm was undeniable. She wanted to be near him, felt almost as if she needed to. He made her feel stronger, like she could take on the world.
Unfortunately in this case, what she needed to take on was this Marcus Whitbey.
Millie sighed heavily and continued down the trail. Now more than ever she wanted to run, but not to Beckham, and not to San Francisco with Mr. Whitbey. No – she felt like running straight into Justin’s arms.
But that wasn’t going to happen in her lifetime. He teased her, even flirted a little. But he was just a cowhand on a big ranch – he probably flirted with anything in skirts, and with his looks, anything and everything probably flirted back. Add to that his uncanny ability to make a woman feel safe, secure and … valuable? No, not the right word. Well, maybe she’d be able to think of it later.
Right now she had to think about what she was going to do. Of course, there was only one thing she could do: get married. If she didn’t marry Mr. Whitbey, what was she going to do, have the Daltons send for another groom? She couldn’t do that – the current one was already on the way. Besides, how could she back out? It’s not like she had anybody else willing to marry her. Except Hubert, of course – the reason she was in Texas in the first place …
“Millie?”
She turned. Bart’s wife Bonnie stood to one side of her cabin, a bucket in her hand. “Yes?”
“Are you all right?”
“Yes, I’m … well, maybe not.” Why lie? She had to talk to someone.
“What’s the matter?”
Millie rubbed the back of her neck. Her worry over getting married and being … go ahead, say it … miserable the rest of her life was taking its toll on her nerves. “I’m … I’m having second thoughts.” There, that wasn’t so bad.