by Martha Hix
“You are?” She stared at him, loving the way he looked, with the Texas landscape surrounding him. Had she ever mentioned how she loved his strong jaw? He was solid and strong, like this big, wild state that wasn’t native to either of them. It was a locale he had no wish to leave. A place she wanted to stay. With him.
“I am in love with you.” He locked gazes with hers. “What are the odds my affection might be returned?”
“I—”
“Hold up. Don’t answer that just yet. I know you want more than anything to find your father here. Tomorrow.”
“I do want to find him. I have other wants.”
“I want you to know, dear Patience, that I…um…that I…”
“Dadgumit, Grant Kincaid, why don’t you just shut up and ask me to marry you?”
He didn’t say a word. Not one word. His head at half tilt, he squinted up at her. Then he raked his hand down his mouth, swallowed hard, and exhaled. “Will you?”
“Will I what?”
“Marry me?”
“Tonight?”
“We can’t get married tonight,” he answered. “We don’t have a license.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Things don’t work that quickly in Texas.”
“How about Mexico?”
He grinned. “There’s a beautiful church over there. Our Lady of Guadalupe. But I’m not a Catholic. Are you?”
She shook her head.
He flashed those marvelous teeth. “I’m pretty sure I could get a judge over there to do the honors. On the church’s steps, even.”
“Tonight?”
“Tomorrow.”
“What will we do tonight?”
“I’m going to make you ready to become a wife.”
She smiled, a very big smile. “I hope you have that book at the hotel.”
“We’re not going to need the book.”
They made for the hotel. While he’d paid for two rooms, they made a beeline for his. They both chuckled upon realizing someone had moved her baggage to his quarters, as if they knew her room would stay vacant.
Using baking soda, they brushed their teeth. While he lit the boiler to heat water for the shower, she found his supply of peppermints and was very glad for them after the chili and all the exotic food and drinks of their day, the wonderful food of the Harvey House being the exception.
She brushed out her hair and wondered what she should do next.
“Darling…”
She loved it when he called her that. Smiling, she turned toward the bathroom door, where he stood. Shirtless. He had such broad shoulders. For a professional man, he had remarkably taut muscles. She loved the way his veins stood out on his arms, and the way little black hairs sprinkled his arms. While she hadn’t seen a lot of bare-chested men—in fact, none—her man didn’t look almost thirty. He had the chest and arms of what she imagined would be a young man.
She liked what she saw.
Forever the gallant, he said, “If you’re ready for a shower, the hotel left us French soap, along with lanolin for afterward. I bet you’ll want privacy. Would you be interested in a snifter of port and a plate of cookies? I could run downstairs for them.”
“Grant…I, well…darn it! I don’t want privacy. I want to take a shower with you. One of the pictures in your naughty book… They were bathing together. I want to take a shower with you. I want to see your body, and if you want to marry me, you might as well have a look at what you’re marrying.”
He grinned and rolled his eyes. “Why do I get the feeling you are never, ever going to cease to amaze me?”
“I certainly hope not.”
“Well, Miss Sweet, don’t say you didn’t ask for it.” With that he was across the room and swept her into his arms. He carried her into the bathroom, where he set her to her feet, then tugged the peasant blouse over her head. Next came her camisole to expose her breasts.
Leaning his butt against the sink he hoisted her up to blow on one nipple, then the other, bring both peachy nubs to attention. “Just look at the two of you,” he teased, then nipped them with his teeth just a tiny bit.
She arched against him.
“It’s the shower for us,” he said, removing her skirt and petticoat, then her drawers. Taking her butt cheeks in his hands, he said in a low growl, “Such a lovely little thing you are.”
“So I’ll do?”
“Oh, yes, ma’am.”
“Do I get to take your britches off of you?”
“Absolutely.”
She tugged down his pants. And went very still. “Oh my. You don’t look at all like those gentlemen in the naughty book.”
“Is that good or bad?”
“I don’t think you and I are going to fit.”
“We’ll fit. It’s my job to make us fit.”
“How?”
“This is show, not tell. But I will say this. You and I are going to get in that shower. We are going to soap each other. And I am going to touch you, my darling Patience. Touch you like I’ve wanted to touch you since that morning in my bed at home. I’m not going to put my pecker in your pretty little place. Count on that. Not until you are Mrs. Kincaid. But when we leave this hotel, you will have a very good idea of what your future holds. This I promise you.”
“I like promises for the future. If there’s a chance they’ll be kept.”
“Darling, your future is safe with me.”
With that, he began to make good on his promises.
* * * *
As promised, Grant did explore every inch of her body in that shower, and she touched all the interesting places of his. And there were many. Each quite amazing. They dried each other’s bodies, then went to the bed, where he set to messaging her spine, then the backs of her calves and thighs. He’d afterward turned her over and kissed her lips and praised her beauty.
It must have been all that beer—she fell to sleep. But she awoke a little while later. He, too, was sleeping, but when she nibbled his earlobe, he played with her breasts until she got into such a tizzy that her woman place got all melty again, like it had that night in his bed. He played with it this time with his finger. Oh my goodness, that finger. He had a magical finger!
He’d slid his little finger in it, rubbing gently, then sticking in his bigger finger. That kind of hurt but it was odd. It was like it was meant to hurt a little.
She had come unglued when he did that.
Evidently he did, too, because he excused himself and went to the bathroom for a minute.
When he came out, he snuggled up to her backside, cupping her breasts. “Have you ever seen a stallion mate with a mare?”
“No.”
“He bites the hell out of her neck so she won’t feel the pain when he goes in.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yes.”
“Is that what you’re going to do to me?”
“If I have to.”
She had to think about that for a moment. “We better not buy any more of those peasant blouses if I’m going to have a bunch of bites on my neck.”
He laughed. “No, my innocent Patience. It’s just the first time when it’s bad. That’s why I’m trying to stretch you. So you won’t be in too much pain.”
“The pain was kind of…interesting.”
“Oh, hell.”
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing. Go to sleep. We have a full day tomorrow.” He gave her a kiss and tucked the covers under her chin. “I love you. Sleep tight. Don’t let the bedbugs bite.”
She smiled and nuzzled the pillow, sleeping in the safety of Grant’s arms, knowing that tomorrow would be a big day. Tomorrow, she would become Mrs. Kincaid.
Tomorrow, she stood a chance of learning her father’s fate.
Sweet dreams. They wer
e hers. Her tomorrows had never seemed brighter.
* * * *
Grant headed for Western Union. While yesterday had been a warm morning, this one was typical for autumn in the high desert—it dawned chilly. Wearing a buckskin jacket, Grant left his Sweetness sleeping. He didn’t dare wake her. If he had, he wouldn’t have had the strength of will to leave her. Leave her without giving in to his burning desire to consummate what had begun in his own bedroom back in Lubbock. I can’t wait to get you to the church today, my darling, and back to the hotel!
Yet…
He had the oddest feeling. He didn’t want to call it a doubt. When he’d touched her intimately, he had expected more resistance. He wasn’t a master at cherry picking. Always, even as a lad, he’d been attracted to bawds. He did find Patience tight. Surely, he was wrong, even to question her innocence.
If not for that nasty Chet Merkel business and that fact that she’d had to weather the storm of abandonment by her mother and all those nights as the ultimate prize in those card games, Grant might not have had this nasty doubt. No matter how well she could handle a situation, some men overpowered women. Stop it, man.
So he did.
He reached the street leading to Western Union. Relief washed over him. He found the bureau chief, Sanderson Priddy, on duty and the telegraph lines operational. Grant quickly got down to business, laying out all the particulars.
“All contacts were instructed to leave messages here at your Will Call.”
Priddy, a round man of average height, nodded. “Actually, I am familiar with Mr. Sweet.”
Grant had not expected this at all. “You must be joking.”
“Not in the least. We have enjoyed a few evenings when he first reached El Paso, in early aught-nine. My wife and his lady got on quite well, with both ladies hailing from Las Cruces.”
“You don’t say.” Obviously, Sweet had been stepping out on his missus, while his wife and daughter were left to worry and starve. The horse’s ass.
Priddy reached into his safe and set an envelope on the counter. He also set a pouch beside it. It looked like it contained currency. “He was by here not more than a week ago.”
The envelope was marked: To Miss P. E. Sweet.
“Did he say where he’s been?”
“He did. Down in Mexico. Camped near the city of Chihuahua. I didn’t ask for more details. It was a hectic day. I do believe there’s going to be a revolution for our neighbors across the river. And we will feel it, too. For instance yesterday, when the lines were sliced between here and Fabens. The rebels are out to make their point.”
Grant nodded, thinking it might not be a safe to escort his bride-to-be across the border for a wedding. He hated the idea of postponing the wedding, but he would hate it more should anything happen to her. Besides, a Texas marriage would be better in the long run.
Priddy went on. “I did regret not having the liberty to chat with Sweet. I trust you’ll deliver his letter and gift to his daughter?”
“Absolutely.” Grant picked both up, meaning to tuck them into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and be gone, when he froze. Holy sheet music!
Before him was a notice that sent shock waves through his extremities. He and Patience didn’t need this complication. Didn’t need it at all. How did this happen? How the hell did it get there?
What difference did it make at this point? He knew in all certainty that the Pullman needed to be pulled to the roundhouse, turned, and connected to the next eastbound train. Immediately.
“Mr. Priddy,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I need you to send a message to Sheriff Alington in Lubbock County. Posthaste.”
Pull yourself together. So he did. But he knew it, and he knew it well: Marriage definitely had to wait.
Chapter 6
Just when she thought she could count on her tomorrows, Patty came to understand that she couldn’t count on the here and now. She woke up thinking, This is my wedding day, the very day I may even find my father. A beautiful day of possibilities. Oh, all the beauties of the world, this is the day I marry the man I love!
And then it all fell apart.
The mystery of Papa—it was solved before noon.
The wedding, postponed, over a legal emergency that necessitated Grant’s immediate return to Lubbock.
Rumbling along the Texas & Pacific line, eastbound and past the El Paso city limits, in the private car that brought Patty and Grant west, she sat quietly in a tufted chair that was bolted to the floor, her father’s letter in her lap.
They had done scant talking since he’d returned from the Western Union office.
Grant leaned a shoulder against the wall, his arms folded over his chest, one booted ankle crossed over the other. The brim of his western hat rode low, hiding his eyes. What a wonder, how he could keep his balance. Whereas the trip in had seemed smooth, the one out rattled her bones. Then again, maybe the day simply rattled her bones.
Her disappointment, her grief were deep.
While it was a letdown about the wedding, it was best to wait. They could be married in Lubbock by a man of God with witnesses they knew and respected. Mrs. Jewel Craig as her matron of honor would be nice.
As for the news from her father…
“I’m greatly relieved he’s alive,” she said to Grant, who clicked his tongue and looked off, as if to stare at nothing. “Why don’t you sit down?”
He eased into a tufted chair opposite Patty and removed his cowman’s hat. “I’m sorry. So sorry.”
She leaned over to fix where the band had grooved a line of flattened hair. “Essentially, he meant to buy me and my mother off. Cheaply, even. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.”
“What did he say?”
She set the envelope aside. “He’s found a new woman, someone from the town of Las Cruces in the Territory of New Mexico. He seeks a Mexican divorce from my mother. An Old Mexico divorce.”
“With his knowledge of the law, I’m surprised he doesn’t know those divorces aren’t considered legal.”
“That is not my problem. My problem is, he said nothing along the line of, ‘Here is my address, Patty Cake. That’s what he used to call me. He didn’t…didn’t ask me…” Her chin quivered before she took a restorative breath and straightened her shoulders. “You know, I’m glad Mama found someone else for herself. It would be sad, were she still waiting for Papa. She did wait for well over a year.” Bravado wilting, Patty closed her eyes, leaning the back of her head against the tufts. “Why, oh why, did it take him so long to let us know?”
“Did he not mention anything along that line?”
“Just that he was in Mexico, in a remote region, and didn’t want anyone to know his whereabouts. He’s been in Chihuahua, working on his own, not for a company. He’s been on a treasure hunt of sorts, searching for crystals!”
“Crystals?”
“That’s what he wrote. He said he feared someone moving in on his claim.”
“It’s must be a cutthroat world, like the gold rush days.”
“True,” she said. “The irony is absurd. He’s found a motherlode of crystals, an entire cave in fact. That flushed him out. He had to buy the entire mountain. He ran completely out of money. Which meant he had to advertise for investors. Four responded. Thus, he entrusted half the proceeds to Mr. Priddy of Western Union, an ‘honest man.’”
“For that, you can be glad.”
She picked up the pouch, waved it at her fiancé. “Papa has bought me and my mother off. He, of course, doesn’t know Lafayette Merkel has stolen Mildred Sweet away.”
“Dare I say, ‘serves him right’?”
“You might as well.” Patty grimaced. “I can’t help but wonder if Papa’s crystal mine isn’t the one Chet Merkel invested in.”
Grant didn’t say a word for the longest moment, then replied, “Don’t yo
u think that would be too much of a stretch of the imagination?”
“You’re right. It would be.” She hadn’t counted the money yet, but the stack appeared to be more than the two thousand dollars Chet sent to Chihuahua.” She folded the letter, replaced it in the envelope. A tear fell, then more. “I thought he loved us.”
Grant pushed up from the chair, only to crouch at her feet. He took both of her hands between his and brought them to his lips to kiss her thumbs and to lean his brow against those thumbs, as if to transfer positive energy. “Don’t hold on to your pain,” he whispered. “Keep your faith in me, kitten. I’m here to protect and keep you. Now and forever.”
“What would I do without you?”
“That, you don’t have to worry about. I want you at my side. As my wife. The mother of my children. As my partner in the law practice. If you wish your own license to practice law, I will send you to law school. If you’re content to serve without license, as my right hand, that’s your decision. All the decisions are yours. You drive the engine, my darling. And it will start with a Brownie camera. I’ll order one just as soon as we reach home.”
Never had she dreamed anyone would ever promise so much. To become a full-fledged lawyer? She’d never heard of such a thing, a woman practicing law. He probably exaggerated—law schools didn’t admit women. That he thought it possible thrilled her, made her great disappointment over her father easier to accept. “Thank you, Grant…my precious love!”
She slid into his arms, there on the floor of the Pullman, where she had a good, hard cry for the loss of her father, the death of her childhood. The end of her silly dreams. Her man held her closely, his arms comforting and strong. When her tears were dry, she possessed a newborn strength.
They were rocking about on the floor, the train swaying along. She laid her hand on Grant’s hard knee. “It seems to me, we have nowhere to go, sir, but up. Let’s do stand up. Stand up and lay out our plans for our future.”
He was already helping her to her feet.
* * *
The Texas & Pacific left the Pullman on a sideline, but the wait for the northbound Santa Fe proved blessedly short. With the private car being hooked to the caboose for the final leg of their return to Lubbock and despite the creak and scream of metal during the hitching, Grant and Patience were setting the course for their future, committing ink to paper.