by Merry Farmer
“Oh, I see.”
Why she wasn’t intimidated was a mystery to her. She had been shy and sheepish at the river, terrified of the snake, suspicious of Elton, and frustrated with the whole day, and now she was downright plucky. It didn’t make any sense. Married life was a bundle of tangled mysteries.
She mirrored his motions and slipped her hand under his shirt to touch his side. “Like this?”
His skin was warm and the muscles underneath firm. He’d grown stronger and leaner as the journey progressed.
“Like that.”
She knew he was smiling now. His hand traveled on to the middle of her back and rubbed circles over her weary muscles, doing a fair job of kneading them loose. Callie copied him, the movement forcing her to scoot still closer to him so that she could reach all the way around his back. Their bedroll was warming up fast.
“Tell me if any of this makes you uncomfortable,” he whispered.
“John,” she grinned, “I’ve been uncomfortable for the past five weeks.”
He laughed, low and sleepy. Callie felt that laugh as if it were his touch. It sent a fuzzy jolt through her. Decidedly uncomfortable, but irresistible, like she was doing something she could be caught and punished for.
“Would it be alright with you if I took off my shirt?” His voice was that squirrely, naughty feeling personified.
“Go right ahead,” she answered with a catch in her throat.
His hand retreated from her back and he sat up for a moment to pull his shirt off over his head. A rush of cool night air swirled between them, making Callie shiver. It was the air that was making her shiver. It must be.
He folded the shirt and laid it aside and settled back into the bedroll, arranging the blanket over them, then pulled her back into his arms. Now when she reached around to spread her hand across his back, as he resumed doing with hers, her whole bare arm was in contact with the skin of his torso. The shivering feeling grew stronger.
“I like this,” he was frank with her.
“It’s nice,” she agreed, unsure how else to explain it.
He shifted again to hold her closer, his arm inching her chemise farther up, her chest and stomach pressing against his, only one layer of fabric between them and none at all in some spots. “Would you mind if I kissed you?”
Again Callie’s eyebrows flew up. Other than a few pecks on the cheek, he hadn’t kissed her since their wedding. “Do you want to?”
“Of course I want to,” he chuckled.
He wanted to kiss her. Even though she wasn’t Shannon.
“All right then.” She spoke quickly to push Shannon out from between the two of them.
He leaned toward her, found her mouth in the dark. His lips were warm and very slightly textured from the sun and the wind. His breath was humid on her skin. It was a lovely kiss, all things considered.
Then he kissed her for real, a deep, serious kiss. She sucked in a breath as his mouth opened over hers, heat and pressure. She didn’t realize until she felt the tip of his tongue against her own that she’d opened her mouth as well. It was an entirely new feeling, this soft tasting. Somehow it was more than just two mouths meeting. It affected her more deeply than that.
He stopped kissing her long enough to ask, “Is that all right?”
She teetered just on the other side of overwhelmed and took a few seconds before answering. “It’s quite nice.”
“It is, isn’t it?” Again, she could hear the smile in his voice.
He kissed her again. With her one arm still around him, she could feel the muscles in his shoulders relax. His free hand rubbed her back, climbing up toward her shoulder and pulling her chemise with it. If she hadn’t been so focused on the way his mouth and tongue tasted, she might have been concerned that her breast was inches away from being exposed, that the hair on his abdomen was tickling her stomach. But she was far too absorbed in the discovery of how much she liked kissing, how much she liked kissing John.
He broke the kiss before she was ready for it to end. He drew in a breath, pulling his hand away from her back and brushing his fingertips across her cheek before combing them through her hair.
“We’d better leave it at that for tonight.”
“What? Why?” She blushed at the boldness of her protest.
He laughed. She could hear him thinking. He took his time before confessing, “It’s been a long time since I’ve been this intimate with anyone. If I indulge much longer I’m afraid I’ll go too far and embarrass myself or become too frustrated to sleep.”
She should have known better than to let his honesty take her by surprise. Besides, his admission drove home just how energized she was suddenly feeling, how a part of her was now hungry for more. She wasn’t sure if that was right or if it made sense. If she was being honest with herself, she still didn’t think that she was in love with John. But she did like him quite a bit, trust him, and it was downright intoxicating to be so… familiar with him.
“All right.” It was the best thing she could come up with to say.
He leaned forward one last time to kiss her forehead—missing a bit in the dark and kissing part of her eyebrow—then helped her to twist around so that her back nestled against his bare chest, his arm draped protectively over her. She blinked and thought about the way kissing him made her feel. She wondered how long it would take for them to reach their goal as they built intimacy.
Chapter Fourteen
Patience was a virtue, John knew. It was one thing to be patient with Callie as they spent their nights inching their way toward intimacy, but if he was being honest with himself, he needed to be patient for his own sake. This new life was fresh and his former life was in his thoughts. Shannon was in his thoughts, but not as she once had been. She rested peacefully in his memory now. His way was forward, and that was the way he would go, one step at a time.
“I can practically feel the Rockies,” Callie told him with a happy sigh. She sat by his side on the wagon seat while he drove. “They’re calling to me.”
“What are they saying?” he smirked.
“They’re saying ‘Hurry up. I’m waiting.’”
John chuckled and tapped the long whip on the back of one of the oxen, which had started pulling the wagon to the side. The weather had been mild and sunny for a few days now and they were making good time. They were still on the prairie, but Callie was right, a hint of mountains was in the air.
“Patience.” He grinned as he repeated his mantra to her. They needed patience to make it to Denver City and he needed it to put the man he had been to rest.
The silence between them lingered a little too long. John peeked at Callie to find her staring at him with a thoughtful look. His grin faltered and he sat a little straighter. He would have paid more than a penny for her thoughts.
“We’ll get there soon enough,” he said instead. He switched the ox whip to his other side and reached to pat her hand as it gripped the edge of the seat. Touching her had become second nature to him. That thought brought his smile back.
“I can’t imagine how you can be so patient after being on the trail for so long,” Callie went on, casual once again.
He shrugged. “I learned how to be patient a long, long time ago,” he explained. “Nothing I wanted ever came to me right when I’ve wanted it. But things do come eventually.”
Callie laughed. “So are you saying you always get what you want?”
A flash of mischief streaked through him. He stole another glance at her, remembering what the smooth skin of her torso felt like under his hands, what her kisses tasted like. “Yes.”
Callie blushed. It gave John a thrill to know she had understood his one-word answer for what it was. He hadn’t been the only one learning what another person’s skin and kisses felt and tasted like. Since that first night, she had been an eager student. He would have taken things much further than he had already, but the suddenness of all his changes held him back.
“How interesting.” She
scooted closer to him, hooking her arm around his elbow and resting her weight against him. “I always get what I want too.”
He tilted toward her, turning his attention from the steadily plodding oxen for a moment to look straight into her eyes. His gaze dipped down to her lips. He could kiss her right then and there, seated on the wagon in broad daylight. Their neighbors wouldn’t bat an eyelash. He was certain Mrs. Weingarten would hum and smile in approval. All he had to do was inch closer, brush his lips against hers, slide his tongue along—
“Hey, either of you seen that rat Kyle?” The craggy voice of Barney the miner cut any chance of a private moment. “Oops,” he followed when he saw what he’d interrupted.
“No, Mr. Pogue,” John answered on an exasperated sigh, “I have not seen Mr. Sullivan, and I’m quite happy about it.”
Barney’s laughter lasted as long as it took him to remember his purpose. His expression darkened and he ground his teeth.
“That thief’s got my deed,” he railed. “Stole it right out from under me.”
“I thought you just misplaced your deed,” Callie said with a kindness John was far from feeling. If it was up to him, he would have turned his ox whip on the grizzled miner.
“You don’t misplace the deed to a gold mine, ma’am,” Barney said.
He was indignant, following his comment with a snort and a spit. John scolded him with a scowl, which was ignored. As fast as Barney had gone from amused to angry he now flashed to anxious.
“Gotta have that deed with me to claim the property,” he explained, wringing his hands. “My bull-headed brother put the land in the care of the bank. They won’t let no one go out there but me, but they don’t know me from Jefferson Davis. I gotta show them the deed to prove I’m me in the first place.” Clearly he didn’t think much of the idea.
“Order must be maintained somehow, Mr. Pogue,” John told him. “Sounds like the bank is looking out for your best interest on your brother’s behalf.”
“The bank. Huh!” Barney spit again. “Just a bunch of slick city folk tryin’ to take what’s mine.”
“If you say so, Mr. Pogue,” John replied, dry as dust. He exchanged a guarded look with Callie. They both knew that they were slick city folk. It was probably best that Barney didn’t make that connection.
“Shoot, there’s the thief now.” The conversation was abandoned as Barney spotted Kyle walking ahead, being preached to by Reverend Joseph once again. Barney doubled his pace and ran to confront the man.
“Another fight,” Callie sighed. “Just what we need.”
“They can fight if they want” John said.
He watched the clump of men that stopped as soon as Barney reached them. Predictably, they all started shouting in an instant. Kyle raised his fists to fend Barney off, and Reverend Joseph jumped nervously between the two. A few others paused to either watch or stop the fight from breaking out, including Elton. Callie raised her eyebrows and glanced from the stalled fight to John.
“Let them fight,” he repeated. “If they fight, they stop. If they stop, they fall behind. If they fight enough, maybe they’ll fall all the way behind.”
Understanding brightened her eyes and she laughed. “Wouldn’t that be nice.” She sighed. “I would be quite content if nothing else interesting happened on this journey.”
“Nothing?” he tugged her arm, still hooked through his, heating all over again.
“Let me rephrase the statement.” She blushed. “I would be—”
“No, too late now,” he cut her off, making a show of sitting straighter and untangling his arm from hers. He inched away on the seat and cleared his throat, adjusting his glasses, and trying not to grin.
She swallowed a laugh before saying, “If you feel so strongly about it….” With feigned propriety, she scooted to the far side of the seat and folded her hands in her lap.
They were flirting. They were actually flirting. It had been so long since John had flirted that he had forgotten how satisfying it was. It was something that confident men did. Men like the new man he was becoming.
“Lovely weather we’re having today, Mrs. Rye.” He threw his whole soul into the game.
“Yes, lovely, Mr. Rye.” She played along, close to giggles.
“We’re making excellent progress.”
“We are.”
“We should reach our destination soon, don’t you think?” He rested his hand on the seat between them.
“Yes, the trail seems to have gotten smoother since we left the river.” She mirrored his gesture, their fingers only just brushing.
“I wasn’t talking about the trail, Mrs. Rye.”
“Neither was I, Mr. Rye.”
His lips quivered madly in an attempt not to laugh outright. Callie shifted in her seat and sat ramrod straight, cheeks pink. Yes, the afternoon was lovely indeed.
Callie enjoyed the delicious closeness she’d found with John while she could. By the time they stopped to make camp, the fight which had started brewing between Barney and Kyle was threatening to break out amongst all of the miners. Callie worked to fix supper with Mrs. Weingarten, keeping a wary eye on that side of the camp while John helped Mr. Weingarten rearrange the contents of his wagon.
The miners were beginning to take sides in the dispute. Most of them thought that Barney was an old coot, but accusations of theft and what amounted to claim-jumping were taken seriously with their lot. A handful came to Kyle’s aid, defending him from being falsely accused of such a heinous crime. As Callie and Mrs. Weingarten got down to the business of cooking, Mr. Evans strode across the circled wagons to intervene.
“I hope he gets to the bottom of this quickly,” Callie spoke to Mrs. Weingarten while watching the upset men. “I don’t like sleeping on a powder keg.”
“No one does,” Mrs. Weingarten shook her head. “Young men are the same everywhere, impetuous and eager to prove their manhood.”
Callie was about to agree with her when a shot rang out in the field beside where the wagons had stopped. Callie gasped and twisted to see what the trouble was, only to find Lynne firing a gun at nothing while Cade stood and watched. The shots spooked a few oxen nearby, who ran into a cluster of grazing oxen, setting the whole lot stampeding.
“Oh, Lord,” Mr. Weingarten grumbled, jumping up and rushing toward the animals. John sprang up to follow, sending Callie a wary look as he went.
“I’ll sleep better once all of this commotion settles down,” Callie continued the conversation.
Mrs. Weingarten’s expression brightened to a knowing smile. “How are you sleeping these days?”
Callie flushed. “Well, I… I’ve been sleeping quite well, now that you mention it. Thank you.”
She focused hard on stirring the pot of stew, but she knew there was no way of hiding her thoughts when she was blushing that hard.
“You’ve been smiling more this week,” Mrs. Weingarten kept up her insinuations. “So has he.”
Callie glanced up in time to catch her significant look.
“I’m so happy for you. I told you that you made the right decision,” Mrs. Weingarten finished.
“Don’t let your imagination run too far away from you,” Callie grinned. “At least not yet.”
Her own conflicted thoughts on the subject, thoughts of Shannon and her own tangled emotions, pushed themselves to the front of her mind and she lost her smile.
“What is that look for, dear?” Mrs. Weingarten straightened from her work and wiped her hands on her apron. “You can talk to me about anything.”
Callie stirred the stew a few more times, weighing how much she wanted to say, if there was anything she really wanted to put into real words. Then she sighed and straightened, searching for John. He and Mr. Weingarten had their hands full with half the rest of the men, rounding up the spooked oxen. There were people close, tending to their own trail campfires, but they had all learned to more or less ignore each other while stuck in close proximity. Callie glanced back to Mrs. Weinga
rten, considering the two of them as alone as they were going to get.
“How do you know if you love someone?” She blurted out in as quiet a voice as she could manage and still be heard.
Mrs. Weingarten blinked, either surprised or amused or both. “Love isn’t something you know, dear,” she replied with just as much confidentiality, “it’s something you feel.”
As sweet as it was, Callie wasn’t satisfied with the vagueness of her answer.
“Yes, but I’m feeling quite a lot of things these days.” She lowered her voice even further. “And as pleasant as they are, I wouldn’t necessarily say that they’re love.”
She was relieved that Mrs. Weingarten caught her meaning and tilted her head to the side with a knowing flicker of her brow.
“I see,” she said. “Well, all things considered, if I were you I would count myself lucky.”
“Lucky? How?” Lucky was not what Callie would have used to describe herself. Not at all.
“Well dear, you are married to the man after all.”
“Yes, I know.” Every bit of the crawling sensation of discomfort was coming back. “But you have to admit, the circumstances under which we were married are… unique. I’m not sure if the same rules apply. Morally speaking, that is.”
Now Mrs. Weingarten’s expression was definitely that of an older, wiser woman humoring a foolish youngster. “Callysta. My dear. Are you asking me for permission to make love to your husband?”
A wave of dizzying embarrassment flushed through Callie, and she couldn’t meet the older woman’s eyes. She wasn’t that ridiculous, was she? There were some very real concerns at hand.
“I can’t say that I’m in love with him,” she sighed.
Mrs. Weingarten stepped closer still. “My dear, whether you’re in love with him or not, there are distinct advantages to being married to a man. It affords you certain luxuries that society does not allow you otherwise. Extremely enjoyable luxuries. Didn’t your mother ever speak to you about the duty a wife has toward her husband?”
Callie raised her eyes cautiously to meet Mrs. Weingarten’s. She couldn’t possibly imagine her own mother saying these things, approaching the situation from this angle. “She did.” Although Callie doubted her mother would have imagined any sort of situation that would have contained the set of emotions she found herself stuck with. She doubted her mother would have imagined Shannon.