Wild Western Women Boxed Set

by Kirsten Osbourne

“I’m going for a walk before bed,” Amelia said, backing toward the doorway.

  Rachel nodded in the direction of the plate Rusty brought. “Is that for me?”

  “Sure is. Mac and Amelia made chicken and dumplings. It was pretty good, too.” He drew out a chair and straddled it.

  “Better than mine?”

  Was she flirting with him? He still hadn’t recovered from waking up with his arms wrapped around her warm, soft body, nestled against his. His hand had ached with the desire to cup her full breast and mold its softness. Her rounded bottom had sat on top of his erection. If Will hadn’t burst into the room, they might have done something that he would be feeling regret for right now. Or maybe not.

  “No one’s chicken and dumplings is better than yours.” He reached out and tucked a curl behind her ear. “Are you sure you don’t want to go to the sheriff?”

  She shook her head. “Nothing will come of it, except to upset Will. Just let it go.”

  Rusty stood and shoved his hands into his pockets. “Every time I think of their filthy hands on you, I want to track them down and finish what I started.”

  “No.” She rubbed her hands up and down her arms. “I want to forget it ever happened. Please? Let’s just forget . . .” Her voice faded, her eyes filling with tears.

  He knelt at her feet and took her hands in his. “You are the most remarkable woman I have ever known.”

  “No, not at all. I’m just a woman who wants to put this behind her, and raise my son.” She swiped at the moisture on her cheeks and gave him a smile. “Now I would like to eat my supper.”

  He climbed to his feet and kissed her forehead. “While you’re eating, I’ll run over to my place and get more of the pain powder. It will also help you to sleep better.”

  What he would like to do to help her sleep would get him a slap in the face if he suggested it. Even with the bruised eye and split lip, she still caused his blood to boil and gather in the wrong spot.

  Chapter Seven

  Rusty stepped out his front door with the packet of pain powder in his hand. Full darkness had arrived, with a bright new moon casting the area in an eerie glow. His attention was drawn to giggling behind his house. Then the sound of a male voice. More giggling, more male voice.

  Shoving the packet into his pants, he rounded the corner of the house. Not more than ten feet away stood his daughter in the arms of a cowboy. The man was just bending his head to her lips when Rusty strode up to the couple and yanked the cowboy back by his shirt collar, and tossed him on the ground. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  He stood over the surprised young man, his hands fisted at his side. “Answer me, boy. What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  The cowboy glanced back and forth between Amelia and Rusty. “Ah, we were just . . .”

  “Just what?” Rusty moved closer, causing the cowboy to skitter backward like a crab.

  “No!” Amelia grabbed Rusty’s arm and pulled. “Stop. Don’t hit him.” Her eyes were round, her face pale in the moonlight. She chewed her lower lip and her breaths came in shot spurts.

  Rusty rounded on her. “You, young lady go into the house right now, while I deal with this.” He turned his attention to the young man still sitting on the ground. “Who are you? I don’t remember seeing you on the ranch.”

  “No, sir. I don’t work here. My name is Thomas Richardson. I’m from Kansas. I’m visiting my Aunt Mabel and Uncle Bob.”

  Damnation, the boy was Richardson’s nephew. As much as he’d like to pound the kid into the dirt, it wouldn’t do to beat up the boss’s relatives. “Stand up, boy.” He reached out to take the kid’s hand. “How old are you?”

  “Sixteen, sir.”

  He turned to Amelia. “Go into the house. I will deal with you in a minute.”

  Amelia glowered at him, but hurried to Rachel’s house, slamming the door. Rusty turned back to Thomas. “Are you aware that my daughter is only fourteen years old?”

  Thomas blanched and shook his head. “No, sir. She told me she was sixteen.”

  “Did she, now? Well, she’s only fourteen, and I suggest you find other ways to occupy your time while you’re visiting.”

  The boy wiped his brow. “Yes, sir.”

  “Go on, get out of here.”

  Thomas hurried away. A grin started forming on Rusty’s face, then quickly faded. She told the boy she was sixteen?

  With a deep breath, Rusty headed to Rachel’s house. This was not a conversation he wanted to have.

  ***

  Amelia barreled through the front door and raced down the hall to her bedroom, slamming the door. Just preparing for bed, Rachel jumped at the sound, wincing at the pain in her shoulder. After changing into her nightgown, she left her bedroom, and reached for Amelia’s bedroom doorknob just as Rusty gave a brief knock, then entered the house.

  He stood, legs spread apart, his hands on his hips. “Where is she?”

  “Amelia?”

  “Yep. Tell her to come on out here.”

  His expression reminded her of how he looked right after he’d beaten the men who attacked her. Rachel moved away from the girl’s door and flipping her long braid over her shoulder, walked up to him. “What happened?”

  He pointed to Amelia’s door. “I need to talk to that girl right now.”

  She crossed her arms and shook her head. “No. Not until you tell me what happened.”

  Rusty took his hat off and flung it on the sofa, running his fingers through his hair. “I caught her outside, behind the house, in the dark, with a boy.”

  “And?”

  “What do you mean ‘and?’”

  “What were they doing? Talking, kissing, laughing, playing jump rope, what?”

  He leaned in toward her. “Now Rachel, you might be a sweet, God-fearing woman, but you know right well they weren’t playing jump rope.”

  She grasped his arm and dragged him to the kitchen and pointed to a chair. “Sit down.” Once they were both settled, she said, “Tell me what happened. Exactly.”

  When he finished telling her the whole tale, she studied him for a moment, then burst out laughing. The look on his face after she laughed was more amusing than his righteous indignation at the young couple sneaking a kiss behind the house.

  “What the hell is so funny?”

  “Rusty, even I, as a ‘sweet, God-fearing woman,’ have probably snuck a kiss with a young man when I was a girl.”

  “She’s fourteen years old!”

  “Yes. Fourteen. In some cultures she would already be married with a babe or two. It’s what young people do. They want to understand the new feelings they have, the changes in their bodies.”

  He put his hand up. “Don’t start talking about changes in bodies. I’m not prepared to hear any more about that.” He jumped to his feet and paced. “I’m responsible for that girl. If she gets herself in a family way, I’ll have to take a shotgun to some boy.” He turned and pointed his finger at Rachel’s face. “And I won’t be too happy if it’s my boss’s nephew, you can bet on that.”

  “Rusty, for heaven’s sake, calm down.” Rachel stood and walked to the stove. “How about a cup of tea?”

  “Tea? Don’t you have any whiskey?”

  “No. I don’t have whiskey. Why would I? I’m making myself a cup of tea, and that’s all I have to offer.” She teased him with a smile as she filled a pot with water. “I have some apple pie.”

  “You talked me into it.”

  Rachel cut two slices of pie, and added tea to the blue and white teapot she received as a wedding gift.

  She placed it carefully in the center of the table. “This teapot is special to me. My sister, Ellie, saved money from her part-time job to buy this for me as a wedding gift.”

  “Tell me about your husband.”

  Startled for a minute, she paused to consider his question. Most days it was hard to even remember she’d been married. If it wasn’t for Will, she would probably forget about it
completely.

  “Billy was a nice man.” She stopped, amazed that she could think of nothing else to say. How awful that she couldn’t say more about the man she’d wed and shared a child with. It had been so long ago.

  Perhaps sensing her confusion, Rusty placed his warm hand on her cold one. “How long were you married?”

  “Only two years. He died of pneumonia when Will was a baby.”

  “Will told me his ‘real’ name is Zander.”

  Rachel smiled, remembering that discussion. “Yes. Zander was the name of Billy’s favorite uncle. He insisted on naming our son that. It was quite an argument. I demanded William as his middle name, and never called him anything but Will. Billy called him Zander.”

  “Did you love him?”

  ***

  Why the hell did he ask that foolish question? What did it matter to him if Rachel loved her husband who died when Will was a baby? What bothered him the most was that it did matter. The fact that Rachel hesitated told him enough.

  Her cheeks grew red as she studied the spoon next to her saucer. “I’m not sure.” She looked up, giving him a wistful smile. “I was more in love with the idea of love, I believe. My Aunt Tori and Uncle Jesse took over our care when my parents died. They wanted all of us to go to college. Uncle Jesse is a lawyer and Tori was a schoolteacher. My brother, Michael, went to Pharmacy school, and when it came my turn to go to college, I refused.

  “We argued for weeks over that, but Billy and I were courting, and all I could see was marriage, a home and a family. Tori tried to convince me I could do both, but with stars in my eyes, all I wanted was marriage.”

  She stirred her tea and shrugged. “Once Billy died and I had no way to earn a living, it hit me how right they had been. It was pure luck that Big Bob needed a cook and was willing to take me on with my limited experience.”

  “And you’re satisfied with your life now? Happy with cooking three meals a day for hungry cowboys?”

  She stiffened. “Yes. I am happy.” Then she grinned. “At least that’s what I tell myself every day.”

  They sat together in silence, each with their own thoughts. Rusty glanced at Rachel, taking in her weary expression and the slump to her body. Her black eye was stark against her pale skin, and her other eye sported a dark circle underneath.

  “It’s time you went to bed, Mrs. Stevens.” He carried their plates to the sink and dumped them in. He leaned against the sink, crossing his ankles. “I still haven’t talked to Amelia.”

  Rachel stood and stifled a yawn. “Good. By tomorrow you’ll be calmed down.”

  “But I still need to speak to her about this.”

  “I agree. It wouldn’t hurt. But you were too mad before.”

  They strolled together to the front door. Rusty turned and placed his hands on her shoulders. “Take tomorrow off, too.”

  When she started to shake her head, he pulled her closer. “I insist. I’m the boss, and I want you to take tomorrow off.”

  “All right.” The words came out breathless.

  His heart sped up, and he wrapped his arms around her waist until their bodies were touching. “Thanks for the tea and pie.”

  “You’re welcome,” she whispered.

  Slowly, he bent his head and brushed her lips gently, barely a kiss. She sucked in her breath, and he moved his arm up to her shoulders. Tugging her closer, he took her mouth in a searing kiss. Rachel eased her hands up his chest to encircle his neck, playing with the hairs at the back of his head.

  Her supple breasts, hidden behind the soft cotton nightgown, pressed against his chest, causing all his blood to race to his cock. His hands slid down, cupping her plump bottom, tugging her against him. He rotated his hips, teasing the spot between her legs that he longed to uncover and touch, feel her silky skin, moist from her passion.

  How he wanted this woman. Her scent, her touch, her whimpers. He tormented her lips with his tongue, demanding entrance. She gasped and he swept in, the heat and sweetness pushing him further, wanting more. Much more.

  He pulled away, his chest heaving as he attempted to draw in air. He rested his wrists on her shoulders and touched his forehead to hers. “Darlin’ if we don’t stop now, I won’t be able to stop at all. And when I take you to bed it won’t be with two kids in the next room, or with you sore from a beating.” He backed up and kissed her lightly on her nose. “Good night.”

  ***

  Rachel stood stupefied, as the front door closed with Rusty on the other side. What had just happened? What did she do, and what had he said? Dear God, either one of the kids could have come upon them just now. She’d behaved like a wanton, allowing him to touch her in ways only a husband should touch a wife. She turned from the door and entered the kitchen on shaky legs. With muddled thoughts, she carefully rinsed out the teapot and put it on the shelf over the sink.

  She blew out the lamps and headed to her bedroom. Once inside, she sat on the bed and thought about Rusty.

  . . . when I take you to bed it won’t be with two kids in the next room . . .

  That was what he had said. As if it was a definite thing. She shivered and ran her hands up and down her arms. She lay back on the mattress and closed her eyes, remembering. Then she sat up with a jolt, and groaned as she dropped her head in her hands. The entire time Rusty had been here, she’d been wearing only her nightgown!

  Three days later, Rachel returned to work. The black eye had turned a reddish-yellow color, and her sore muscles had healed. Everyone accepted Rusty’s story about her falling out of the wagon and striking her face on the wheel.

  Since Rusty had already spoken with the young man who’d been snuggling with his daughter, he convinced Rachel to talk to Amelia about the importance of a girl’s reputation, and other female things. What started out as an awkward conversation soon became a gabfest, leaving Rachel feeling very good about Amelia. She was a smart girl, with a good head on her shoulders. They also talked about school, and Amelia admitted she could use some more education.

  “Mrs. Stevens, would you grant me the honor of your company at the Grange Hall social this Saturday evening?” Rusty leaned against the cookhouse doorframe watching Rachel as she finished washing the pots from supper.

  “My, so formal.” She laughed as she continued to scrub.

  He pushed away from the doorframe and moved to prop himself against the sink. “It’s been a long time since I asked a lady out on a date. I might be out of practice.”

  If anyone was out of practice, it was her. She’d rebuffed the few men who had shown an interest in her since Billy’s death. With no desire or intention to ever marry again, there seemed to be no point in encouraging them.

  Then why did she have this strong urge to say ‘yes’ to this man?

  Rachel used the back of her hand to push the damp curls off her forehead. “What about Will and Amelia?”

  He frowned. “What about them?”

  “I’ve never been to a Grange dance. Do they allow children?”

  “I’m not sure about that, but I’m in favor of Amelia staying here with Will and just you and I go. It’s a ‘date,’ remember.”

  A date. That inferred courting. She glanced up at Rusty, then quickly back down again to continue scrubbing. What was the purpose of this ‘date?’ She’d told him something of Billy and her marriage, but she knew very little about him, except for his broken engagement and the daughter he wasn’t sure he’d fathered.

  She’d lived in the Guthrie area since she was fifteen years old. Just about everyone she encountered every day, she’d known for years. It was even through Uncle Jesse that she got her job working for Big Bob, who was his client.

  “Why did you leave Kansas to work here in Oklahoma?”

  He regarded her with raised eyebrows and that lazy smile that set her heart to thumping. “Where did that come from? Does your acceptance to my invitation depend on the answer to that question?”

  “No. I only asked because I realize I don’t know very much
about you.”

  “Honey, I’m inviting you to a dance, not asking you to marry me.” He appeared as surprised by his statement as she was. They stared at each other, the word hanging between them like a harbinger.

  Rachel swallowed and attempted a smile. “Yes. Of course. How silly of me.” She forced a smile, hoping it hid her flaming cheeks. “I will go to the dance. It sounds very nice.”

  “I’ll pick you up at seven,” he mumbled, and fled the room.

  ***

  Damnation. What the hell made him say something so stupid? The last thing he wanted to do was put that word out there.

  Lefty Collins, one of the older cowboys on the ranch, walked up to him. “Hey, boss, Big Bob’s been looking for you. Last I seen him he was headed that-a-way.” He jerked his thumb toward the barn.

  “Thanks.” Rusty turned on his heel and headed in that direction.

  Big Bob’s frame filled the doorway of the barn as he leaned against it, watching one of the younger cowboys breaking in a new horse. Besides all the cattle they ran, Big Bob enjoyed buying horses that needed taming. He’d bought, trained, and sold a number of them over the years, adding to his already full coffers.

  Now with the years catching up with him, he told Rusty the time had come to allow the younger men to take on that task. “There’s no fool like an old fool,” he’d quoted at him when they had their first meeting in Kansas.

  Big Bob had visited the ranch of an old friend in Kansas where Rusty worked as foreman. Anxious to move to a bigger spread for more money, Rusty approached Big Bob about a job with him, never dreaming he’d snag the foreman’s spot. The prior foreman had been injured in an accident with an angry stallion, and decided to retire, after thirty years of breaking horses. The man Big Bob had in charge didn’t have what it took to gain the respect of the men.

  The two ranch owners had worked it out for Rusty to stay until his job in Kansas had been filled. It had been a good move for him. The added income was squirreled away for his future, putting him one step closer to the dream of his own spread.

  “Lefty said you wanted to see me?”

  Big Bob pushed away from the doorframe. “Yeah. Let’s take a walk.”