Cole’s answering grin said he’d heard the catch in her voice. Kate bravely met his gaze. “You look scared, Kate. You sure you want to do this?”
That was all she needed to hear. Her chin came up a notch. “I said I did. I have never let fear stop me before. And I’m not about to start now.” She held her hands out. “Give me the reins and show me what to do.”
He didn’t, though. Not right away. Instead he pivoted to look over his right shoulder. Kate did likewise, looking over her left to see the newly scrubbed Joey, Willy, and Lydia seated on the wagon bed … and holding on to each other for dear life. Sitting opposite the kids in the bed, and taking in all the sights, was Kitty, the skinny old hound dog Lydia had adopted. Of the four in the back, he was the only one who didn’t appear to be concerned. Kate had to grin … and didn’t blame the children one bit.
“I’m going to give the reins over to Kate now,” Cole warned them. “You kids stay put, you hear?”
“We hear ya, Uncle Cole,” Joey answered for them all. “I got Lydia real tight-like. And Willy’s holding on to the sides.”
Kate chuckled. “I’ll try my best not to send us all to our deaths. Especially on such a fine sunny day as this.”
Sober as a hanging judge, Joey nodded his thanks and told her, “We’d be purely thankful if you didn’t, Miss Chandler.”
Miss Chandler. Of the three, Joey was the only one not already calling her Miss Kate. Maybe one day, she mused, grinning at the dark-haired little boy and then turning around to face his more formidable uncle. “I’m ready,” she announced.
“All right, then.” He put the reins in her hands. There must have been a hundred of them. And they all felt thick and heavy to Kate, whose expression fell. Immediately her palms began sweating. Especially when she was jerked and pulled along with the mules with every thudding hoofbeat. One particularly nasty jounce nearly sent her over the wagon’s footboard and into the bracings.
Cole immediately encircled her middle, his strong, warm hands all but spanning her waist as he held her steady. “Whoa there, Kate. Relax, or your bones will get rattled loose. That’s better. Now breathe. Just take it easy. Let me show you what to do.”
“Please do. And I am … I’m breathing”—she gulped in some fine April air to prove it—“and it’s okay. I’m fine. Just don’t let go of me.”
“I won’t. You’re doing fine. Just relax. Move your arms with the rhythm of the reins. There. That’s better.” He then divided his time between watching the mules’ plodding progress and Kate’s blundering attempts to navigate them along the quagmire that was the road. When finally Cole did release her, it was to show her how to thread the leather leads through her fingers in such a way that she gained more control over the laboring team.
Kate marveled at how long and strong his fingers were … and how they felt holding hers. And how confident they were. Whereas she was all frustrating thumbs and clumsiness.
Cole seemed to divine her thoughts, too, as he met her still-panicky gaze. “Don’t worry. No one catches on right off. Just remember, most of the work is done by the team. They know what they’re doing. All you have to do is guide them.”
“The same as with children, right?” was Kate’s shaky observation, offered without looking at him.
“Right. Just steady as you go. Don’t saw back on the reins or jerk them suddenly. You don’t want to startle the team. Now, the one on the left—that’s Duke—he’s your lead mule. Boots, there on the right, he’ll do whatever Duke does.”
With her bottom lip held firmly between her teeth, Kate nodded that she understood. She was too terrified to take her gaze off the slow-going and dependable mules long enough even to glance over at Cole. She just knew if she did, Duke and Boots would sense it and suddenly bolt out of the string of wagons making their way into the city and send them all careening around the next bend in the worn and muddy path. And tip the wagon over and kill them all, just as Joey feared.
“You’re good at this, Kate,” Cole encouraged, letting go of her hands, thereby turning complete control of their welfare over to her. Again he pivoted to face the riders in the back. “How’re you kids doing?” They chorused that they were fine. Apparently satified with that, Cole again faced forward and asked Kate the same thing. “How’re you doing?”
Kate darted him the briefest of glances. “Good. Fine.”
Cole chuckled. “You’ll get used to it. After a while, you won’t even think about it. It’ll come as easy to you as getting yourself dressed.” Then he suddenly sat forward, tensing and pointing. Kate nearly jumped out of her green travel costume. “Watch that puddle there. It could be pretty deep. Go around it, like the others did. We don’t want to get stuck.” Again he put his hands atop hers, helping her, expertly tugging on the multiple reins. “Here. Like this.”
With his help, the mules smoothly responded, skirting around to the left of the puddle … and Kate finally exhaled. Looking at his hands covering hers, she was no longer able to deny how safe she felt in his presence. Nor could she help feeling guilty for all his patient help, knowing as she did that she had her own selfish reasons for learning how to drive a wagon today. Kate glanced over at him. His face, in profile, was amazingly handsome. Her belly knotted. And she quickly said, “You’re a most patient teacher, Cole. I do thank you.”
He shrugged, his dark eyes warming. “You’re a quick learner.” Then he tipped his hat’s brim to her. After that he fell silent, leaning back with his boots up on the footboard and his hands braced atop his knees.
For her part, Kate concentrated on the team and the wagons ahead of her and on the looming buildings of Arkansas City. In only minutes, she reminded herself, she’d be standing in front of a justice of the peace. Marrying a man she barely knew. A man who might be looking for her, if he knew the truth of her identity. But to kill her. Not to marry her.
Just then, as if he’d picked up on at least one of her thoughts, Cole said, “You look nice, Kate.”
Surprised by his kind observation, she glanced over at him, a tentative smile at the ready. But then her gaze locked with his as she noted his truly admiring expression. He really meant it. He did think she looked nice. Kate’s smile bled from her face. She didn’t know what to say, couldn’t even get her mouth to say a decent thank-you.
Then, out of the blue, Cole said, “I expect that this isn’t exactly how a young girl pictures her wedding day, is it? Three kids, a hound dog, a town full of strangers. No ring or flowers or family.”
Suddenly shy, even despite this being no more than a marriage of convenience, and moved that he’d think of her feelings, Kate found her smile again and sent one his way. “I didn’t expect such as that. Besides, I don’t have any family, anyway.”
Cole’s brow furrowed. “What about your aunt and uncle?”
Kate couldn’t think who he meant. “My aunt and uncle?”
“Yeah. The ones you told me about. In Kentucky. Where you come from.”
With her heart pounding, Kate’s mouth dried, her spine stiffened. She’d just learned a lesson about letting her guard down around this man. “Oh. Them. Of course. I forgot about them. We’re just not very close.”
Cole nodded … and silently watched her. Kate immediately faced forward and denied to herself that her face was heating up guiltily. And pronounced herself thankful that driving the team demanded her full concentration, even if the jouncing around was beginning to upset her stomach. Feeling suddenly lost and vulnerable, Kate wondered what else could go wrong.
“What’re your aunt and uncle’s names?”
Kate’s insides churned. She felt hot. “Their names?”
“Yep. Their names. You do know them, don’t you? Even if you weren’t that close?”
Kate tried to laugh, as if that were funny—but her mouth just wouldn’t cooperate. “Of course I know their names. Don’t be silly. They’re, um, Ephraim and Ruth … Cobb.” Instantly she felt better. And embellished her lie. “They’re on my mother’s
side. She’s her sister … Ruth is.”
Cole Youngblood just nodded. “Tell me about Kentucky. What’s it like there?”
Kate’s stomach flopped over as she darted a guilty glance Cole’s way. “Oh, there’s not that much to tell.” Because she didn’t know the first thing about it. All she’d seen were the blurred images of towns and forests and farmland through the train’s windows. “It’s a pretty state.”
He nodded soberly. “Yes, it is. I’ve been there a time or two myself.”
He knows. “You have?” He knows, and he’s just stringing me along. “It’s a wonder I didn’t run into you, then.” Kate’s breath came too fast. She began having trouble getting air into her lungs. Her lips and her fingertips began tingling. She felt hot all over.
“I feel sick,” she blurted out, shoving the reins into Cole’s hands about one second before she leaned over the side of the wagon, held on for dear life … and retched out her entire breakfast. The children were shrieking and hollering, and Kate realized from the wagon’s movement that Cole was taking them off the path and leading them out into the grass.
She also heard the calls of concern from those still on the buckboard-rutted path into Arkansas City. Was there anything they could do to help? Cole hollered back that they were fine. And Kate also realized something else. She was crying. And ready to give up. And about to fall off the wagon, which mercifully lurched to a stop.
In less time than she could have imagined, Cole loomed into sight, sprinting around the wagon by way of the mules’ heads, only to stand to one side of her. Reaching up, he held her hair back as Kate again heaved and cried and gagged. From a pocket somewhere, Cole produced a big red bandanna and wiped at her sweating brow and then her mouth. “Joey,” he called out. “Come here, boy, and go wet this in the creek. Willy, you and Lydia stay put.”
“Yes, sir,” Joey called out, already leaping out of the wagon. Kitty the hound dog scrambled out right after him, flying through the air to land on all fours on the grass. Kate watched helplessly as Joey snatched up the bandanna and took off at a run, the rawboned yellow dog hot on his heels and finally passing him.
Then Cole was reaching up to her, gripping her under the arms and gently tugging her from the wagon. When he swooped her to the ground, away from her sickness, and set her down, her legs wouldn’t hold her. She went to her knees and fell forward, her hands squishing in the mud, her beautiful moss-green skirt now ruined with mud. Defeated, weak as a newborn, Kate cried … while Cole held her hair back and patted her calmly between the shoulders. “I think the worst of it’s over. Easy now. Just a case of nerves. And all that bouncing.” Then he straightened up, yelling out, “Joey, hurry it up, boy.”
Kate looked up, saw the boy and the dog on their way back. Kitty was again outdistancing Joey’s pumping little legs. But in only a second or two, the racing duo skidded to a stop. Joey tossed his uncle the soggy bandanna and then bent over, his hands to his knees as he gasped in and out, trying to get air into his lungs. As Kitty trotted around them all, barking for all it was worth, as Willy and Lydia called out from the wagon, wanting to know if Miss Kate was dying like their mama had, as Cole yelled back that no she wasn’t … Kate slumped sideways to a sitting position, resting her weight on her hip, her knees bent, her legs out to one side, her palms flattened against the grassy ground.
Cole immediately squatted in front of her, brushing her hair back and wiping at her cheeks and brow. His fingers against her skin were damp and callused, but gentle. Then, calmly, as if this were an everyday occurrence in his life, he asked, “You okay?”
Kate almost laughed as she shook her head no. And then almost began crying again when she realized in how many ways she meant it. In more ways than he could ever imagine. But finally, she began feeling stronger. Instinctively clutching at him and using his rock-solid arm for leverage, she sat up straighter and pulled the bandanna from his grip. In a voice not surprisingly hoarse and croaky, she assured him, “I’m better now. Thank you.”
Then she refolded the wet cloth and, holding her heavy hair up off her neck, swiped it across her nape. Its cool dampness further revived her. Finally … she had to meet Cole Youngblood’s dark-eyed, steady gaze. To allay any questions he might have, and for about the tenth time today, Kate thanked him. “I appreciate your help. I think I’m okay now.”
She then heard Willy and Lydia crying about how Miss Kate was dying. “Why don’t you go see to the children? I just need to sit here a minute. And then I’m going to go rinse my mouth out. And wash my hands. And maybe try to get some of this mud off my skirt.”
His hand on her arm squeezed gently. “You sure you’re okay?”
Kate nodded, wiping at her mouth. “Yes. This happens all the time now.”
“‘All the time now’… What does that mean?”
Kate froze. Then she snapped her head up, her gaze locking with his. “Nerves. Like you said. Since I left … home. All the excitement.”
He nodded. But he didn’t believe her. It was there in his eyes, and in the lines that bracketed his mouth. “I see. Well”—hands atop his knees he levered himself up to a stand—“I’ll go calm Willy and Lydia. You take your time here, then wash up. We’ll go when you’re ready.” He started to turn away and then stopped, looking down at her again. “I’ll get you some peppermint out of the back of the wagon. I got the kids a stick of it in town yesterday. It’ll settle your stomach some. And give you a better taste in your mouth.”
With the wet bandanna over her mouth, Kate nodded silently, grateful for his care with her. She wondered if he knew what a good man he could be. But given his line of work, she somehow doubted that he did. Or would like being told he was.
Just then, Cole turned on his boot heel and, as Kate watched him, stepped to the back of the wagon, reaching up to hold on to the wagon’s sideboards as he talked in a low voice to Willy and Lydia, no doubt assuring the children that she would live. Further evidence of his decency … his care with his sister’s children.
Kate closed her eyes, exhaled softly … thinking of her own baby, and wondering who in the world would ever love it and care for it if she died. Or was murdered. The thought snapped her eyes open. Joey wasn’t three feet away. His hands still to his knees, but with his head now cocked at a considering angle, he stared at her, curiosity alight in his brown eyes. He looked like a miniature of his uncle, even flanked as he was by Kitty, who ignored them both in favor of scratching his fleas.
“I’m all right, Joey,” Kate rushed to assure the boy. “Just a little … sickness, I suppose.”
Joey nodded. “I’ve seen this before. My ma did this when she was carrying Lydia. Maybe you’re just going to have a baby, Miss Chandler.”
* * *
“… I now pronounce you man and wife.”
Complete silence followed the justice of the peace’s final words of the civil ceremony. Inside the sparsely furnished, one-room-square, weathered-wood building that served as the land office, the short, rotund official—who only moments ago had introduced himself as Mr. Franklin Voorhies—now stared from Cole to his new wife and back to Cole. No one moved.
“You may kiss the bride,” the man said, his brown eyes owlishly round behind his spectacles. His balding head beaded with sweat as his nervous gaze flitted from the bridal couple to the others present for this momentous occasion, the crowd behind them and those outside around the open window of the land office.
Cole glanced down at his pale, mud-caked bride. Katherine Chandler. She clung to his chambray shirtsleeve as if afraid she’d fall through the planked floor if he let go of her. Her hand on him shook, her nails dug into his flesh, even through the shirt’s material. And she looked straight ahead. At the justice of the peace. Mr. Voorhies.
“Kate?” Cole suddenly said.
She gasped, as if she hadn’t known he was here. And then turned her face up to him. “Yes?” she whispered.
She looked like a china doll, all smooth skin, tautly stretched o
ver her high cheekbones. Green eyes the color of jade. Hair as black as midnight. It wouldn’t take much, Cole knew, for him to forget that this ceremony was only a little more binding than a handshake to seal a business deal. But what stopped him from acting on what his body urged him to do was the certainty that she deserved better. Better than this. Better than him. However, with business to conduct, Cole carried on with the moment. “I think,” he said softly, “that the justice wants us to kiss. And then get out of here so he can register these men’s stakes.”
“Oh.” Kate looked around, over her shoulder, to the men standing behind them. Cole watched the play of emotion over her face. Then she looked up at him and caught him doing so. She blinked, her face colored, finally tinting the pinched paleness that had remained after her bout of nervous illness. “I suppose we … ought to … do it, then,” she said gamely.
Cole grinned. He was now the only man in the world with the right to kiss Kate Chandler. No. Kate Youngblood. Cole was surprised by how that made him feel, her name being the same as his. Protective. Territorial. Proud. She was his. Legally. In the eyes of society. But not in her heart, where it counted. He knew that. So what the hell was he thinking about? Just kiss the girl and move on. Get to the next job.
Cole circled Kate’s waist with an arm, his hand against the small of her back as he pulled her to him. Then he tipped her chin up … and lowered his head until his mouth covered hers. She gave a start of surprise and stiffened, her hands clutching fistfuls of chambray shirtsleeves. But she didn’t pull away. Cole deepened the kiss, tasting her pepperminty breath.
Men shifted their weight, making the floorboards creak. Self-conscious sniffs and coughs filled the air. Childish gasps and giggles and shushing mingled with the rest.
Cole was aware of the sounds only as he would be of a waterfall dimly heard as it cascaded in the distance. Because his senses were filled instead with his first experience of his new wife. He found he couldn’t pull away. He only wanted the kiss to deepen, to go on … but her painfully obvious innocence, evidenced by her clenched teeth and stiff posture, had him breaking off their contact. Pulling back from her, he stared down at her … and saw the fear in her eyes. And saw that her cheeks were wet with tears. She was scared to death. Of him. Of a man.
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