Mail-Order Bride Ink: Dear Mr. Comfort

by Kit Morgan

  “Of course I can stand. I didn’t break my leg, you know.”

  He chuckled. “Pride cometh before a fall,” he quoted dryly. “Let me help you up.” He stood, went behind her and put a hand under each arm, gently lifting her to her feet and making sure she stayed there. A good thing too, as she began to teeter. Major quickly pulled her close. “Easy now, you’re not quite there yet.”

  “I’ll be all right.”

  The remark was almost laughable. “No, I’m afraid you won’t.” He gave a low whistle. His horse stopped munching the dry prairie grass, raised its head and nickered, then made its way to them. “I’m going to take you home.”

  “No! I can make it home by myself.”

  He heard the panic in her voice but also noted it was still weak and strained. Was she having trouble breathing? Maybe he should take her back to town. “Do you need a doctor?”

  “No, I do not need a doctor!” she snapped, and her body went tense against his.

  “There’s no need to get angry, Miss Cooke. I’m simply looking out for your welfare.”

  “I’ve been looking out for my own welfare for a long time, Mr. Comfort. I don’t need you to.”

  “Really?” he said, trying to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. “Well then, since you don’t need my help …” He set her firmly on her derrière in the dust, stepped away and went to mount his horse.

  She stared at him in shock. “What are you doing?”

  “Heading home, of course. Seeing as how you don’t need my help, I see no reason to stay.”

  A flicker of panic lit her eyes. “You’re just going to leave me here?”

  “As you said, you’ve been looking out for your own welfare for a long time.” He hopped into the saddle, gave his horse a little kick and began to trot away, smiling. He doubted she was really as used to taking care of herself as she claimed, and at this point was willing to let her pride get her into the trouble she so avidly sought.

  “All right, fine!” she groaned.

  He slowed his horse to a walk and turned him around. He didn’t like the sound of her voice, as if it was an effort for her to speak louder. If she hadn’t broken any ribs, she’d at least bruised some.

  She was trying to stand, but clearly couldn’t, not unassisted. “Please, I … I can’t do this,” she said, her voice cracking.

  That did it. He cantered back to her.

  “Back so soon?” she croaked and swallowed hard.

  He could see the pain in her eyes and knew she was more hurt than she let on. But he also knew she wasn’t ready to go easy on herself – or him. “I find myself in a bit of a dilemma.” He dismounted. “Perhaps you can help me out.”

  “What dilemma is that?” she said with a grimace.

  “Whether to turn you over my knee and give you the spanking you deserve, take you back to town to see Doc Drake, or take you home and let your father have at you.”

  She gulped at the mention of her father. “Yes – that is a dilemma, isn’t it?”

  “What do you think?” he asked, hands on hips.

  She shrugged, then winced. Definitely bruised ribs. “I haven’t the foggiest.”

  He glanced at the sun to judge the time. “Well, we have only a few more hours of daylight. I vote for the doctor – we’re closest to him.” He gently pulled her to her feet, scooped her up in his arms and carried her to his horse.

  “What are you doing?” she asked in protest.

  “Putting you on my horse. I’d thought it would be obvious.”

  “I’m perfectly capable of getting on a horse by myself.”

  “Like you’re perfectly capable of standing?” He reached the animal and stood beside it. “Put your foot in the stirrup and reach for the saddle horn. I’ll help you mount.”

  “From this position?” she asked, aghast.

  “My dear woman, it will be easier from this position than from the ground. I’ll help.”

  She smiled ruefully, rolled her eyes and did as he instructed. With a little pushing on his part, he got her into the saddle. He retrieved her horse and handed her the reins, then mounted up behind her and traded the reins in her hands for the ones belonging to his horse.

  “Now what?” she asked as he put an arm around her waist and gently pulled her against him.

  Unable to help himself, he leaned down and spoke into her ear. “Now, Miss Cooke, we go back to Clear Creek. I want Doc Drake to take a look at those ribs. You must’ve landed on a stone. I noticed a few of them around.”

  She didn’t speak for a moment, and he worried something was wrong. “Very well. But my family won’t be happy if I don’t get home soon.”

  “I’ll speak to them myself when we get there.”

  “What? We?!”

  “It’ll be growing dark by the time we leave the doctor’s. I can’t allow you to ride home by yourself, especially not in your condition.”

  “I’ve done it before.”

  “Good for you. But not today.”

  She gasped, which caused his entire body to tighten. He hadn’t been this close to a woman in a very long time, and hoped it didn’t grow evident in the next few moments. How embarrassing would that be? He wanted to put his other arm around her, but didn’t dare. “Let’s go,” he said quietly. He gave his horse a little kick and they were off – in the wrong direction. “For Heaven’s sake, woman, you have the reins. Turn this horse toward town.”

  “Oh. Yes. Sorry.”

  All the bravado seemed to have gone out of her, and he found he missed it. Maybe she was distracted by the pain. “If you like, I can handle both pairs of reins, or …”

  She didn’t reply, only turned the horse around.

  “It’s gratifying to know there’s a part of you that sees reason,” he said playfully.

  Thankfully, she caught his tone rather than taking offense. “And the other parts?”

  “I hesitate to think…”

  She tried to speak, took a breath and remained silent.

  “Are you having trouble breathing, Miss Cooke?” he asked, his voice gentler.

  “Yes,” she finally said.

  He held her closer. “Don’t worry, we’re not far from town. Doc Drake will fix you right up.” She nodded and let her head fall limply against his shoulder. She was obviously in more pain than she was letting on. “I’ll see you’re well taken care of, Miss Cooke,” he promised. “You can count on that.”

  She took a shuddering breath. “I know,” she groaned.

  Chapter 5

  Honoria tried to keep her breathing under control. For one, it hurt; for another, she didn’t want to look like more of an idiot than she already did. But more of an idiot is what she’d become if Major Comfort – who at the moment was living up to his name – held her any closer. Having his strong arm around her was overwhelming, and when that deep Southern drawl caressed her ear, it was all she could do to stay in the saddle! Her heart raced, her breathing quickened (painfully so), and she wanted desperately for him to put his other arm around her.

  But as he held Rowley’s reins in his free hand, that wasn’t going to happen. Too bad it was such a short ride back to Clear Creek. She wouldn’t mind being like this for an hour or two longer.

  All too soon, they’d reached Doc Drake’s. Major slid off the back of his horse, then stepped around his horse and helped her down – or rather, he gently let her slide into his arms. “Are you planning to carry me into Doc Drake’s?” she asked, trying to hide her hopefulness.

  “Yes, I am.” He headed for the porch steps.

  “I’m perfectly capable of walking …” No, she wasn’t – and why was she arguing with the man? Hadn’t her pride gotten her into this predicament in the first place?

  From the look on his face, he knew she wasn’t either. “Let’s not take any chances, shall we?” He reached the porch, tapped on the door with his boot a few times then waited.

  Grandma Waller swung the door open and gasped. “Land sakes, what happened to you?
”

  “A fox spooked my horse,” Honoria answered quickly. Who knew what Major would say?

  She soon found out. “Her horse came to a sudden stop because of it. Unfortunately for Miss Cooke, she didn’t.”

  Well, that could’ve been worse – at least he didn’t mention the racing, or embellished with some sarcastic remark. But she was beginning to see he wasn’t that kind of man. He’d tease her, yes, but he wasn’t cruel.

  Grandma shook her head and narrowed her eyes. “Honoria Cooke, how many times has your father told you about racing that horse of yours across the prairie?”

  Honoria groaned. So much for worry about Major mentioning it. “Thank you, Grandma.”

  Major’s eyebrows slowly rose in amusement. “I see. Well, I think your father and I will have a very interesting conversation later.”

  She groaned again. “You wouldn’t.”

  “Of course I would. And I’ll enjoy every minute of it.”

  He was teasing again, she knew. “You’re horrid, you know that?”

  “I have my moments.”

  Grandma stepped aside to let them in. “Take her into the back, Mr. Comfort. You know the way.”

  “After all we’ve been through, please, call me Major.” He carried Honoria over the threshold. An image of being in a wedding dress flashed in her mind’s eye, and she shivered. “Are you all right?” he asked, concerned.

  “Yes,” she said, but her voice betrayed the truth. She needed to get a hold of herself! That was no easier when he set her on the bed in the patient room. A chill went up her spine at the sudden loss of contact, and she caught herself looking longingly at him. She frowned and glanced away. The next thing she knew, she’d be looking at him all moony-eyed! What would Grandma think?

  Actually, knowing Grandma, she’d encourage it.

  “Bowen’s outback with Ellie in the barn, Major,” Grandma said. “Best go fetch him. I’ll put on some coffee – you both look like you could use some.”

  “Thank you,” Major studied Honoria for a moment, concern in his eyes, then quickly left.

  “Well, that’s that, then,” she whispered to herself. Now she was Doc Drake’s problem, no longer Major’s. The thought made her feel empty except for all the aches.

  “You all right?” Grandma asked from the doorway. “A tumble can do strange things to a body.”

  “I … well, I’m not fine, but I don’t think anything’s broken.” She paused before adding, “Though it hurts to breathe.”

  “Foolish child,” Grandma scolded. “You’re lucky you didn’t land on your head!”

  “It wasn’t my fault, Grandma.”

  “It never is.”

  That stung. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “You were showing off for him, weren’t you?”

  Honoria gulped. “No, I was… well… I … oh, all right, maybe a little.”

  Grandma put her hands on her hips. “Honoria Cooke, why can’t you flirt like other girls? You don’t have to pull a death-defying feat to get a man’s attention, you know!”

  “A race is hardly death-defying, Grandma.”

  “In this case it almost was.” Grandma came back into the room, pulled some bandages from a cupboard and set them on the table by the bed. “Bowen’s probably gonna want to wrap those ribs of yours.” She pointed at her. “Don’t move. I’m gonna go make that coffee.” She left.

  Honoria was now alone with her thoughts, none of them pretty. She was angry, mostly at herself. Grandma was right – she had been showing off challenging Major to a race. And what did she get for her trouble? Bruised ribs and bruised pride. At the moment, she didn’t know which hurt worse. And what a storm this would cause when her overprotective father found out! She just hoped Major wasn’t there to witness it – what would he think of her then?

  She laid her head against the pillows and groaned. By tomorrow, Miss Lynch would be looking much more a lady in Major Comfort’s eyes. And she much more a fool.

  “Does this hurt?” Doc Drake asked as he poked and prodded at Miss Cooke’s ribs, while Major leaned against a nearby hutch.

  “Ouch,” she yelped as he got to a particularly tender spot.

  The doctor leaned back in his chair and gave her a look that said, well, you’ve done it again.

  “Bruised ribs?” she asked sheepishly.

  “You’re lucky that’s all. At least you didn’t give yourself a concussion like the last time.”

  Ah, just as he thought. Major stood up straight. “The last time? So this is not Miss Cooke’s first visit here?”

  “Hardly,” said the doctor, turning to Major. “It’s a good thing you were there when it happened.”

  Major arched a single eyebrow and smiled at Miss Cooke. “Yes, wasn’t it though?”

  “You’ve healed nicely,” the doctor commented to him.

  “Thanks to you and Doc Waller, yes.”

  Doc Drake offered Major his hand. “Call me Bowen. You and your brothers have been here long enough – you’re part of the community.”

  Major shook his hand. “Call me Major then.”

  Miss Cooke rolled her eyes. “And one of you can call me a hansom cab to take me home.”

  The men laughed. “I’m afraid you’re not in London, Honoria,” Bowen said. “But when your father gets a hold of you, you’ll wish you were.”

  “Funny, Grandma said something similar when she served coffee earlier,” Major quipped.

  “Will you stop bringing him up?” Honoria groused. “I don’t want to think about my father.”

  “Yes, I suspect we won’t be seeing you around town for a while,” Bowen commented dryly.

  “Why not?” Major asked.

  Bowen turned to him again. “Because Harrison will ground her on the ranch – or worse, take away her horse – to teach her a lesson.”

  “Doc Drake!” she whined. “Please, stop.”

  “Not that she’s likely to learn it, mind you.”

  “Well, well,” Major chuckled. “I’m discovering all sorts of things about you today, Miss Cooke.”

  She frowned and turned her head to stare at the opposite wall.

  “I’m still taking you home, you know,” he added for good measure.

  She still didn’t look at him. “Please don’t.”

  “You leave me no choice. I was there when you fell. I’m responsible.”

  “The fox is responsible.”

  “Nevertheless, I brought you to town to have you tended, so I should be the one to take you home. No arguments.”

  She sighed and finally turned her head back – to glare at him.

  “You don’t have to like it,” he offered.

  “Oh, I don’t.”

  It was all Major could do not to laugh – she was adorable when she was angry! “Any gentleman worth his salt would do the same.”

  That softened her expression, and her eyes met his. She almost looked guilty – almost. “Very well, then – you may accompany me home.”

  Bowen, through patching her up, sat back in his chair. “She’s all yours, Major. Though I don’t know how well she’ll be able to sit a horse.”

  “She’ll ride with me,” Major said. “That’s how I got her here.” Something flashed in her eyes but he wasn’t sure what it was. Was she still angry? If so, too bad.

  “Rather improper, don’t you think?” she asked.

  “I could hitch up the wagon,” Bowen offered. “Take you home myself.”

  “No,” Major said before Miss Cooke could agree. “I’ll take the lady home. I’d like to speak to her father.”

  She stared at him open-mouthed. “But … you have nothing to say to him.”

  “Oh, don’t I? On the contrary, Miss Cooke, I’ve quite a few things I’d like to say to him. And not just about your reckless riding habits.”

  Her eyes widened. Good – stewing a while would probably benefit her. If her English father had any idea how unladylike his daughter had acted today, he’d probably �
� hmmm. What would Harrison Cooke do? Major and his brothers had dealt with the Cookes on several occasions since their arrival, and found them good, honest, hard-working men. But how a man behaved in public with a hired laborer and in private with his offspring were often two different things.

  “What?” she asked.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “You seemed deep in thought. What about?”

  “None of your business,” he said.

  “Well, I’m done with mine,” Bowen said as he stood. “She’s all yours, Major.”

  “Thank you, Doctor.”

  “Bowen,” he said with a smile.

  “When you’re working I’ll call you Doctor Drake.”

  “Fine with me – a lot of folks do.” He turned to Miss Cooke. “As for you, Honoria, please be more careful from now on.”

  “I’m going fox-hunting next, just so you know.”

  Both men laughed. “I pity the fox,” Major said, then carefully helped her swing her legs over and place her feet on the floor. He was looking forward to their ride to the Triple-C. It meant having an arm around her again, the scent of her hair in his nostrils, the feel of her soft body against his as they rode …

  “You want some cookies to take with you?” Grandma asked as she poked her head in.

  Major jumped, startling Miss Cooke. She yelped accordingly.

  “Land sakes, what did you do, step on her foot?” Grandma entered, a small bag in her hand.

  “No, Grandma,” Miss Cooke said, giving Major the side-eye. “He just surprised me, that’s all.”

  “I’m sorry,” Grandma said. “My fault for barging in without knocking.” She handed the bag to Major. “Here, some molasses cookies for the road.”

  “Thank you kindly.” He took it and handed it to Honoria. “You hold it in case I have to carry you.”

  “Carry me?” she snapped, then looked down in embarrassment.

  Major chuckled. “No offense meant, Miss Cooke. I’m just trying to make sure you’re taken care of.”

  Grandma smiled. “Well now, Mr. Comfort, that’s very gentlemanly of you.” She glowered in Miss Cooke’s direction. “Ain’t that right, Honoria?”

  Miss Cooke’s jaw tightened. “Yes, Grandma.”