A Bargained-For Bride

by Marcia Lynn McClure

  “Nope,” Boone answered rather curtly. “I just remembered somethin’ I forgot to do out in the barn is all.” He grinned at her, but she fancied it seemed forced. “Thanks again, Jill. It feels much better.”

  Jilly smiled and nodded. “Glad I could do somethin’ for you,” she said.

  As Jilly turned, intending to return the scissors to the cupboard, a loud knock on the front door caused her to startle. “Someone’s here,” she said.

  Boone frowned. “I wonder who it could be. I ain’t expectin’ anybody. Are you?”

  Jilly shook her head and followed him as he strode toward the door.

  She stepped back, her breath catching in her throat as she saw the silver star badge pinned to the vest of the tall, dark-haired Ranger standing in the doorway.

  “Evenin’, Boone,” the man greeted.

  “Evenin’, Paul,” Boone said in response. “I’m guessin’ you’re gettin’ up a posse?”

  The Ranger nodded. “Yep. An outlaw named Pete Koon killed a sheriff up north. I figure if we ride all night we might catch up to him.”

  “All right. I’ll saddle up and meet you out front,” Boone said without hesitation.

  “I appreciate it, Boone. Thanks,” the man said.

  “Anytime, Paul. You know that,” Boone said, accepting the man’s offered hand and shaking it.

  Boone closed the door and turned to Jilly. “I might be gone a day or two on this,” he told her. “Why don’t you saddle up and ride into town to your folks’ place so you won’t be alone out here?”

  “But I want to stay home,” Jilly explained. And it was true. Boone and his house were her home now, not her grandpa and grandma’s place, and she did want to stay home—in the house she shared with Boone.

  Boone looked at her like she had crawfish crawling out of her ears. “Home?” he asked. “You mean here?”

  “Yes,” Jilly answered. “I don’t want to leave. I’ll be fine here by myself. Goodness knows I have plenty to keep me busy.”

  “Are you sure?” he asked, however—obviously unconvinced.

  Jilly smiled. “Absolutely,” she answered. “Now…what do you need to take with you? Can I gather some things for you?”

  But Boone just shook his head. “Nope. I’ll just grab some jerky and biscuits…water. Everything else is in my saddlebags.”

  “Okay, then. I guess all I can do is tell you to be careful, right?” Jilly asked as anxiety did begin to rise in her then.

  “I guess,” Boone agreed, smiling at her. “But promise me that if you get lonesome or somethin’, you’ll ride into town and stay with your folks. I’ll tell the hands to keep an eye out for you on my way too, all right?”

  “All right,” Jilly agreed. Then, all at once, she wanted to kiss him—reach out, throw her arms around his neck, and kiss him good-bye! But she didn’t. No, she figured that if Boone Ramsey ever wanted to kiss her again, he’d do it—and he hadn’t. So she just clasped her hands at her waist and said, “Well…be careful, Boone. Chasin’ after outlaws is probably more dangerous than haulin’ little girls out of wells, right?”

  Boone smiled. “Only if you catch up with them.”

  *

  Boone’s parting words had done nothing to reassure Jilly of his safety. Consequently, Jilly found that, even for the warmth of the summer night, she could not fall asleep. All she could manage was tossing and turning as she worried over her husband’s well-being. She even caught herself praying the outlaw the Ranger was chasing would elude the posse—that he’d just disappear into the night and the Ranger would give up and send every man home.

  But even as she tossed and turned with agitation and worry, her inability to fall asleep allotted her time to think over the events of the past two weeks—to ponder her feelings of those events—to ponder her feelings. Over and over, she thought of her wedding day—of the strange and forced circumstances surrounding it. Yet over and over, Jilly found that she thought of her wedding day with only fond memories—memories that evoked a sensation of joy, relief, and excitement. It seemed the anxiety and fear—the anger and frustration she’d felt that day—had somehow been obliterated from her mind, leaving only feelings of great happiness.

  Naturally, this unexpected realization led Jilly to dissecting why she felt only joy whenever she thought of Boone and being married to him. For a long time she lay in her bed thinking and even talking out loud to herself.

  “There’s only one answer to all of it,” she whispered to the evening summer breeze wafting in through her window. “I’m in love with him. I’ve actually fallen in love with Boone Ramsey. And I fell in love with him that very day, I think.”

  It was an emotional revelation to herself, and Jilly felt her eyes fill with tears—felt her tears spill out over her temples and cheeks as she lay in her bed.

  “You’ve always liked him. Admit it to yourself, Jilly,” she spoke. “Even when you were a little girl, you favored him…always watched him.” She paused, rolling her eyes with self-exasperation. “Marched out to his house on Christmas day to give him a silly orange.” She wiped tears from her cheeks. “You only tried to convince yourself you didn’t like him because you knew there was no hope of ever winning him. And then, one day, out of the blue…he walks into your grandma’s parlor and asks your grandpa if he can marry you.” She frowned. “It makes no sense at all, in truth. Why would he do such a thing? Obviously it wasn’t for finding you attractive in any way. He hasn’t touched you since you married him!”

  Jilly exhaled a heavy sigh. She was so tired—so tired of thinking. And yet her mind wouldn’t settle down enough to allow sleep to catch her. For a moment, she considered going out to the barn and saddling Romeo. Maybe she should ride to her grandma and grandpa’s house—stay there until Boone returned. Maybe in the familiar surroundings of her old room, she’d find she would be able to sleep.

  “No. I don’t want to leave home,” she mumbled to herself, however. And then an idea began to form in her mind. She couldn’t sleep for the sake of worrying about Boone—for missing him. And she wondered, if she changed rooms—if she went to lie in Boone’s bed instead of hers, where she could perhaps feel closer to him even though he wasn’t there—would sleep come to her?

  Before she could reconsider her rash actions, Jilly hopped up out of her own bed and padded across the hall to Boone’s room. Opening his bedroom window, she smiled as the fragrance of the fields and pastures floated in—as the sound of the crickets’ song began to soothe her.

  Pulling down the quilt and top sheet on Boone’s bed, Jilly snuggled down into their cozy comfort. Nestling her head on Boone’s pillow and savoring the scent of fresh green grass, leather, bacon, and lye soap, Jilly sighed. Though she suspected—rather she knew—that sleeping where Boone usually slept wasn’t nearly as wonderful as sleeping in his arms would be, she did feel soothed. There was still the matter of the fact she loved him—that it seemed ridiculous that she could after so short a time as they had been married—but as her mind and body began to relax, Jilly figured it was a puzzle that could wait until morning to be solved.

  Boone’s down-filled pillow was soft—infused with the lingering essence of him—and Jilly soon found herself bathed in a comfortable reprieve from the worries and wondering. As the summer crickets made their music and the fragrant breeze caressed everything it touched, Jilly did drift off to sleep—imagining that she slept not just in Boone’s warm, comfortable bed but in the strength and safety of his arms.

  Chapter Ten

  One day without Boone was bad enough. But when one day stretched to two, and then two days stretched to three, Jilly’s worry and anxiety over Boone’s safety had her as nervous as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs! She found that nothing distracted her from her fears for Boone’s sake. And she likewise found that she missed his company so very much that it made her heart ache for him.

  Jilly’s emotions leapt between anger that Boone had left her to go running off in search of some outlaw and
despair in wondering if he were well. One moment she was determined that when he returned, she would demand he never leave her alone to go off with some posse ever again. Then the next she would find herself kneeling beside his bed, praying that he would simply be watched over and returned safely to her.

  And yet when at last—after three long days and nights—she heard the gallop of a horse approaching and looked out the kitchen window to see Boone ride up, silhouetted against the sunset, Jilly found that all her anger at having been abandoned vanished, leaving nothing but pure relief and resplendent joy in its wake.

  Still, even as she watched him slowly saunter out of the barn, stop in front of the rain barrel, strip off his shirt, and begin washing the dust and dirt from his face, hair, and torso, her excitement grew. Boone was home, at last! He had come back and would be with her that night! Jilly was glad that, in hoping for Boone’s return, she’d prepared a nice supper of fried chicken, potatoes, and freshly baked bread. No doubt her husband would be tired from his travels—whether or not the outlaw had been captured.

  Boone smiled at Jilly as he stepped into the house through the back porch door. “Mmmm. It smells good in here,” he said.

  “I’m glad,” she said. Jilly found her heart was all aflutter at seeing him again—that her stomach seemed to be turning somersaults with excitement. “Supper’s all ready…if you’re hungry enough.”

  “Hungry enough?” Boone chuckled. “I’ve been eating jerky and hardtack for three days! I’m so hungry I could eat you up right now!”

  Jilly giggled nervously. The three days apart from him, coupled with all the deep soul-searching she’d done, had her feeling like a giddy schoolgirl.

  “Well, sit down, and I’ll feed you a nice supper,” Jilly said. “Then you can go right to bed if you want. You must be tired.” As she prepared a plate for Boone, she added, “Did you catch him? The outlaw?”

  “Yep,” Boone answered with a tired sigh. “The Ranger and a few other posse members are takin’ him out to Yuma prison. But I decided to come on back. I didn’t want you out here all alone any longer.”

  Jilly smiled. “Well, I’m glad you didn’t go to Yuma with them,” she admitted, setting the plate heaping with chicken and potatoes on the table in front of Boone.

  Boone sighed again, and Jilly noted the way his shoulders slumped forward. “I hope I ain’t too tired to eat,” he mumbled. “All of a sudden I’m plum worn out.”

  “You probably didn’t sleep well, I’m guessin’,” Jilly offered, taking her seat across from him. She was so delighted to have him home! All she could seem to do was stare at him.

  “Didn’t sleep at all till we had him tied up last night,” Boone explained. “And even then I only caught a couple of hours. I swear, I can hardly see straight.”

  Jilly frowned. “Well, I don’t like that you’re that tired,” she said.

  Boone looked up with very sleepy green eyes and grinned. “Oh, I’ll have a good long sleep tonight and be right as rain in the mornin’.”

  “Are you sure?” Jilly asked, suddenly feeling fearful. She found that she was worried all over again. Fatigue was a terrible thing. What if Boone still weren’t out of danger? What if the posse ride and lack of sleep caused him to come down with some illness or something?

  Boone chuckled. “I’m sure,” he answered. “And it’s kind of you to be concerned.”

  “Of course I’m concerned! You’re my husband!” Jilly exclaimed, far too emotionally.

  Boone’s eyes widened with astonishment, but he didn’t say anything.

  Jilly felt silly for allowing herself to tip her hand too much, letting Boone know how much she cared for his well-being. So in an attempt to distract him from any suspicions he might have that she’d realized she’d fallen in love with him, she said, “Why don’t you finish your supper, and I’ll see that your bed is ready and comfortable for you, all right? Then you can turn right in and get to sleep.”

  “Okay,” Boone answered.

  Jilly could feel his suspicious gaze following her as she hurried down the hall. The fact was she couldn’t remember how she’d left his bed after sleeping in it for the past nights. And when she entered his room—sure enough—she’d left his bed unmade.

  Quickly she straightened Boone’s bed, fluffing his pillows and making sure the window was open so the cool evening breeze would freshen the room.

  “I find that I’m just too tired to finish my supper, Jill,” Boone said from the doorway, startling Jilly.

  Whirling around, she said, “Oh, that’s fine. You can eat when you’re rested up.”

  “Thank you,” Boone said, striding toward her. Jilly held her breath as he stopped right in front of her. Gazing down at her through fatigued but brilliantly alluring eyes, he said, “I missed you, Jill.”

  Jilly’s heart leapt in her chest with delight. And yet she managed to remain outwardly calm and simply said, “I missed you too, Boone.”

  Boone sighed and grinned a little. “Well, sorry to leave you up alone another night, but I really am wrung out.”

  Jilly nodded and stepped aside. Boone strode to his bed, sat down, and began struggling to pull off one boot.

  “Well, sleep tight…and let me know if you need anything, okay?” she said.

  “Okay,” Boone yawned.

  Then as his boots hit the floor and he stood to begin unbuckling his belt, Jilly blushed, said, “Good night then,” and took her leave.

  *

  An hour passed before the sun had completely set. Another passed before Jilly decided she might as well go to bed. How dull the evenings without Boone had seemed. And the current evening was nothing less than frustrating, for she was desperate for his company—for the conversation and laughter they usually shared.

  Nevertheless, with night coming on, Jilly changed from her day dress into her nightgown, brushed her hair, and prepared for bed. Yet as she lay in her bed, she began to worry once more over Boone. He’d appeared so very tired—it disturbed her. Jilly began to wonder if he really were all right. Was he comfortable? Warm enough? Was he breathing, or had the taxing task of riding with the posse robbed him of it?

  A strange sense of insecurity began to consume Jilly, and she knew that until she was certain Boone was resting comfortably and well—that he was indeed still breathing—she would never rest herself.

  Very quietly, she crept from her bed, across the hallway, and into Boone’s room. The moon was full in the night sky, sending bright silver moonbeams through the window to illuminate the room. Jilly was glad, for she could see Boone quite clearly.

  Carefully, so as not to wake him, she leaned over him and listened. Yes! She could hear the slow, rhythmic breathing of a man deep in slumber. Relief flooded her, for Boone was well. He looked comfortable enough as well. Though he was not covered by a blanket or even a sheet, he slept on his back, one hand tucked beneath his pillow and the other outstretched at his side. He was wearing only his underdrawers, covering him from the waist to his ankles, and Jilly felt a smile spread across her face as she studied him for a long time.

  Boone’s hair was tousled, and had it not been for his incredibly large, muscular body, chiseled square chin, and other manly features, he might have been mistaken for a boy who’d been out playing all day. There was an expression of pure peace on his face—an expression Jilly had never seen there before—and it drew her in.

  In fact, gazing at his face led her attention to lingering on his lips—to thinking, again, on the kiss he’d given her on their wedding day. Jilly frowned, wondering why Boone had seemed to not mind kissing her the day they were married but never again tried to kiss her since. She thought of the long moments she’d spent sparking with Jack Taylor—the regret and self-disgust that the memory always brought to her. And suddenly she was tired of waiting for the moment that Boone might decide to kiss her again. She wanted to feel his lips pressed to her own—to assure herself that his kiss on their wedding day truly had been as supreme as she remembered.


  Knowing he was tired—worn out and unconscious from several nights’ lack of sleep—Jilly figured that there was no way a simple kiss would rouse him to wakefulness. He’d been too tired to even eat a good supper, too tired to talk with her, see straight, maybe even too tired to stand. Certainly one tender, soft kiss wouldn’t disturb him.

  And it didn’t. As Jilly leaned over, gently touching her lips to Boone’s, he did not even stir in the slightest. This, however, bolstered Jilly’s confidence, and instantly knowing that one light kiss would never satisfy her desire to kiss him, she bent and carefully pressed her lips to Boone’s once more.

  Every inch of her body was alive with bliss at the feel of his lips to hers! She found that kissing him, even when he was unaware she was doing so, was purely exhilarating—caused her heart to beat with a wild rhythm in her chest.

  A third time she kissed him, unable to deny herself the pleasure—unable to give him up. Yet this time, even for the deep slumber that owned him, she felt his lips respond to hers—felt him gently kiss her in return. And if she thought the bliss of kissing was overwhelming before, his unconscious response sent her senses whirling.

  Boone’s eyes didn’t open, and he made no sudden moves. Yet Jilly held her breath when she felt his hands suddenly cradling her face when she kissed him a fourth time. This time, she was certain there must be some consciousness about him, for not only was he holding her face between his warm, powerful, yet careful hands—he was kissing her! Really kissing her! And in much the same way he had at their wedding.

  “What are you doin’, Jill?” he mumbled after a time.

  “I-I…I-I’m just so glad you’re home…and I wanted to…I wanted to…” Jilly stammered.

  Boone’s eyes opened then—though narrowly—and he stared at her a moment before grinning and saying, “You wanted to see if I’m still a better kisser than Jack Taylor,” he finished for her.

  “I just…I just…” Jilly stammered, blushing with humiliation.