“Of course.”
He untied Copper’s reins and swung into the saddle. “You ready, Mrs. Flanigan?”
“Absolutely.”
He kneed Copper forward. “Then let’s follow the creek.”
Before long, they passed out of territory familiar to Trudy, not that the surroundings changed much at first. But gradually, the land sloped upward toward the mountains. More and more trees dotted the shores of the stream, spreading outward into woods. Here, the evergreens provided a rich, verdant backdrop to the budding branches of the deciduous trees.
Trudy delighted in the view of the trees, the dappled shade, the rustle of the wind through the branches, the bountiful feel of seeing so many together. She wanted to look everywhere at once, from the beautiful blue sky to the shy wildflowers. She promised herself closer exploration of the flora and fauna when they stopped.
Even in the parks of St. Louis, she realized, nature was groomed into some sort of tame shadow of the wilderness, lacking the wildness and freedom of vast open spaces. Something in her soul expanded at Montana’s beauty.
Seth led her along a narrow trail, which became steeper after they entered the foothills. They rode for another hour. Trudy’s inner thighs started protesting the long journey. She shifted in the saddle, trying to get comfortable, and hoped they’d soon arrive at their destination.
Seth glanced back, a mischievous look on his face.
What’s he up to?
“Close your eyes for a moment, Trudy. Don’t peek until I say so. Trust Saint to follow Copper.”
She squeezed her eyes shut and almost immediately wanted to open them again, not liking the unsettled feeling caused by her lack of vision. Trust Seth. Trudy tried to distract herself by listening to the clop of the horses’ hooves, the squeak of saddle leather, feeling the rocking gait of the horse, the ache in her thighs.
A sound of rushing water almost made her peek, but Trudy disciplined herself to keep her eyes squeezed shut. The noise of the water grew into a roar, and she felt a misty breeze on her skin and could barely contain her impatience.
“You can look now,” Seth called.
Finally. She opened her eyes to the sight of a waterfall, several feet wide, rushing over a cliff, dropping about twenty feet into a large green pool, surrounded by a grassy clearing bright with sunshine. A steep hill on either side of the cliff led up to a forest of pine trees. Her heart ached with the beauty of the scene, and she breathed out a deep sigh of happiness. “Oh!” was the only word she could manage.
“This is still our land, Trudy. Flanigan land.”
She turned to find Seth closely watching her reaction. “We have our own waterfall?” She couldn’t believe such a treasure.
He nodded, his face full of pride.
“How marvelous! I could never have imagined such a wonder.”
He dismounted, pulled some hobbles from the saddlebag and tied them around Copper’s legs. Taking off the bridle, he hung in on a branch. The paint started to graze, ripping off hanks of grass from thick clumps.
Seth walked to her and grabbed her by the waist. His fingers strong on her sides, he lifted her down from Saint.
When Seth released her, Trudy tottered a few unsteady steps. Her legs protested the movement.
He took Saint’s reins from her hands, hobbled the gelding, and hung the bridle next to his.
Trudy ventured closer to the water toward a sandy patch between several small boulders. Careful to keep the hem of her divided skirt dry, she stooped and touched the water. The cold chilled her fingers.
“Snowmelt.” Her husband stood just behind her.
She stood and swept her hand in a big wave. “This is so beautiful, Seth.”
His grin teased her. “In the summer, I like to come here and go swimming. In the nude, of course.” He pointed to the falls, acting as if he hadn’t said anything provocative. “There’s a secret cave behind there. Well, more like a hollow. I’ll show you when it’s warm enough.” His eyes challenged her to respond.
The idea of swimming naked in a waterfall pool flushed heat through her body. Sounds like the perfect adventure. And the perfect opportunity to show my husband I want more intimacy. She lowered her eyelashes and fluttered Seth a flirtatious look. “I’ll look forward to hot summer days.”
He shouted with laughter and pulled her toward him for a hug that swung her off her feet. Setting her down, he said, “You’re a delight to me, Trudy.”
“I strive to be a good wife,” she said in the same mock demure tone.
“Well, then, good wife. That ride’s worked up quite an appetite in me.” He playfully leered to make sure she caught his double meaning.
“Then I guess I’ll have to feed you.” Trudy looked at him from under lowered eyelashes. “The food’s in the saddlebags. I suggest you get it out.” She waved to Copper, using an imperious flick of her wrist, but the upward turn of her lips spoiled the dramatic effect.
They both laughed and went to prepare their picnic.
* * *
Seth and Trudy lounged on a blanket in the clearing, far enough from the waterfall that they could avoid the mist and talk without the noise of the falls drowning them out. They’d eaten every bite of the delicious food Trudy had brought, washed down with clear cold water from the pool.
After weeks of unrelenting labor, Seth found himself feeling lazy and enjoying the sight of his wife drinking in the beauty of their setting. She made him see things with new eyes. Most of the time, he was too caught up with work to stop and appreciate the surroundings he took for granted. In fact, he hadn’t even ridden out to the waterfall for the last several years—not since his stepfather died and the farm become his.
But when he followed Trudy’s wide-eyed gaze, or watched the curve of her throat as she gazed up at a hawk floating in the air, he too could absorb nature’s grandeur, filled with gratitude that this beauty was part of his spread.
Not that he really could lay claim to this land. The waterfall and pool, the mountains and forest really belonged to God, no matter what name was written on a piece of paper.
Seth glanced at the sun, heading for a downward arc. Reluctantly, he sat up, not wanting to leave. He vowed to make time more often to return. “Come, Mrs. Flanigan. The hour’s getting late.” And I have some trees to dig up. He held out his hand to help Trudy to her feet. Something about the way she looked up at him—an innocent seductress, the sunlight glistening on her head, burnishing her reddish-blond hair to the finest gold; the color of her eyes as blue as the sky; the pink of her lips, slightly pursed, caught him off guard.
She placed her hand in his, a touch that should be familiar to him by now. But the brush of contact, her fingers curling around his, sent a jolt of awareness sizzling all the way to his groin.
Seth drew her toward him, released her hand, and slid his arms around her, pulling her close. Feeling intoxicated, he kissed her, and when her lips parted, he deepened their contact.
As they kissed for a while, he could feel her body melt against him. He brushed his lips over her cheek, pressed them against the soft skin of her neck, inhaling the scent of her.
A gust of wind sent mist their way, the dampness on his skin a reminder to cool his ardor. Reluctantly, he pulled back.
Trudy looked up at him with dazzled blue eyes.
It took everything Seth had to stop, to not keep going and make love to his wife in the grass near the waterfall. But he wanted her to be sure… He wanted to be sure. Later, he promised. When she’s told me she’s ready.
* * *
When Seth eased back, Trudy couldn’t breathe, and she felt dizzy as if she’d been spinning in circles. She stared into her husband’s compelling eyes. They looked dark with passion, leaving her feeling weak-kneed. Good thing his arms were around her, still holding her up. She tried to inhale, to find her balance.
“You all right?” Seth inquired, his voice sounding ragged.
Perhaps he’s as shaken by our kisses as I am.
>
“Of course.” Trudy tried to make her voice firm, to not betray how he impacted her senses. Although why she felt the need to dissemble with her husband.…
“It’s time for your surprise.” Seth pointed to the top of the cliff and squared his shoulders. “There, Mrs. Flanigan. Pick out some saplings while there’s still time for me to get home and plant them before dark.”
Trudy clapped her hands. “Trees!”
He laughed and held up a silencing hand. “Only four saplings. Years will pass before they turn into the kind of trees you want.”
“But it’s a start. Thank you, Seth.” Trudy threw her arms around him and gave him a smacking kiss on the lips. Then she released him and whirled away, grabbing up her divided skirt so she could climb up the hill to the trees. She dug her toes into the steep hillside, felt the pull in her leg muscles, and the need to breathe, but she didn’t stop, eager to flee from Seth’s close proximity. At least until she could regain some semblance of calm.
“Choose four that are about waist-high,” Seth called after her.
Trudy reached the stand and paused, panting, grateful she’d tied her corset strings so loosely. While she caught her breath, she eyed one sapling about the right size. It looked healthy. “This one,” she patted one of the branches, and then glanced over her shoulder to look for her husband.
Seth had straightened the collapsible shovel and strode up the hill with it over his shoulder, whistling. He made the climb look effortless.
Her heart jumped and fluttered. Uncomfortable with the sensation, Trudy turned away and blindly chose a second tree about the right size. She heard Seth’s footsteps crunch on the pine needles. “Here’s another one.” She ducked under some branches of the bigger trees and pressed further into the grove, breathing in the scent of resin.
Her hair tangled in a branch. With an exclamation of annoyance, Trudy yanked her head free, but a section tore away from her bun. Deftly, she pulled out the pins, held them in her mouth, and smoothed the loose fall. She started to twist the mass back into a roll.
Seth’s hand on hers stopped the motion. He gently pressed until she lowered her arm. He brushed a tendril from her face, fingering the strand. “Your hair gleams like gold in the sunshine. I like it loose like this.” He ran his hand over her head and down her back.
Trudy’s breath hitched. She pulled the pins from her mouth and held them in her hand.
“I’ve never seen a woman with her hair spilling free. Well, besides my ma, course.”
Seth didn’t talk about his mother much. Curious, Trudy asked, “What color hair did she have? Brown like yours?”
“Darker. When she brushed her hair at night, I always thought it looked like black silk.” He smiled at Trudy, although his eyes looked sad. “One of her admirers had given her a black silk shawl, so I knew what the material looked like.”
“She sounds beautiful.”
“We had the same eyes. Flanigan eyes, she called them. The eyes of her father and her brothers.”
“You talk about your stepfather, but never mention your father.”
He set his chin. “I didn’t have one. That’s why I have my ma’s name. Then George stepped into that place and made me his son.” Seth waited for her reaction
Seth’s illegitimate! The knowledge made Trudy reel in shock. But then she looked into Seth’s beautiful Flanigan eyes, familiar and dear, and realized the circumstances of his birth didn’t matter to her. “I wish I could have met your mother.”
“I miss her still.” The look in his eyes grew distant. He pressed a kiss on Trudy’s cheek, then stepped back and resumed digging.
Her hands shaking, Trudy placed the pins in her mouth and twisted her hair back into a knot. Then she stabbed in the pins one at a time. By the time she’d finished, Seth had loosened the soil all around the pine. He set the shovel aside, crouched, and dug his hands into the dirt.
Trudy picked up the burlap sack and held the top open.
Seth lifted the tree into the bag. He took the bundle from her and set it aside, then began to dig up the next one.
All the time they worked, Trudy thought about what had just happened. Again, she sensed Seth had retreated, but now she realized why. He’s mourning his mother. Trudy could understand mourning. Even five years later, sometimes she ached with grief from missing her mother. And the pain could stab at the most unexpected times. The smallest incident might trigger a memory, spilling sadness into an ordinary day.
With a burst of love, Trudy looked at her husband scooping out the dirt with the shovel. She saw the muscles of his back and arms outlined through his shirt and remembered how hard they felt under her hands.
I’ll have to get him to talk about his mother. We’ll share our grief. Mourn our mothers together. Once we do, our hearts will be open to each other. Tingles of excitement raced through her body at the thought. And then we can start a real marriage.
I just need to get him to talk.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Seth cursed himself for being ten times a fool. Any other man would be tossing thoughts of a saloon girl out the window and focusing on the beautiful wife God had given him.
Why today of all days did I have to think of Lucy Belle?
The time with Trudy couldn’t have gone more perfectly. He’d taken such satisfaction in her joy. Felt they’d moved closer to complete physical intimacy. Yet the power of his attraction to his wife had shaken and confused him. He’d never expected to have such a strong connection with a woman, especially coming on the heels of his feelings for Lucy Belle.
Being with Trudy at the waterfall, showing her his secret place, one he’d never even shared with his mother or stepfather, had felt right. He’d never even questioned his decision to take her there. With Trudy, the place had seemed to shimmer with magic, conjured up by his wife’s love of nature. He tried to imagine visiting the waterfall with Lucy Belle and no longer could imagine the two of them there.
Maybe if I saw Lucy Belle again, I’d find she’s lost her hold on me. Not for the first time, he wondered where the saloon girl was, if she’d found happiness with her new husband like his mother had with George Grover. Had the couple returned to Sweetwater Springs? Maybe he and Trudy would run across the other newlyweds some Sunday at church. Neither he nor the saloon girl had been churchgoers, but now that they’d turned respectable... The idea of such an encounter made him uncomfortable.
Or maybe seeing Lucy Belle would make everything worse. Maybe he’d find he loved her just as much as always and that would make him dissatisfied in his marriage. He glanced over at Trudy, riding by his side and a foot or two back.
Her head was tilted at the sky.
Seth followed her gaze. Glancing up, he saw a puffy white cloud shaped like a bed, complete with two pillows stacked one on top of the other at the head—the perfect place for a denizen of the sky to sleep.
He had to smile and shake his head at the fanciful image, quite unlike his normal practical thoughts. Usually looking at the sky meant searching for signs of weather.
Without Trudy to open my eyes, I would never even notice odd-shaped clouds, and my life would be all the poorer.
* * *
Two days later, Trudy sat in the bentwood rocker on the front porch, balancing her lap desk on her legs. A few minutes remained before she needed to start dinner, and she finally had the time to write the letter to Evie that she’d been composing in her head since the day of the waterfall adventure. She had so much to say to her friend. After they’d eaten, Seth was going to drive her into town to shop at the mercantile, and she’d have a chance to mail the letter.
Now that he wasn’t in the fields as much, and with the hired man back and easing the workload, Seth had helped Trudy with the yard and the garden. He’d dug a trench from the creek to the garden to irrigate the plants. Some areas still needed watering by hand, but Trudy didn’t mind toting a bucket around in the morning. The chore gave her a chance to examine each plant, admiring the new
growth, snipping off the dried flowers and dead leaves.
They hadn’t had the “talk” about their mothers yet, but Trudy had a special supper planned. Then afterward, she intended to start the delicate conversation.
In front of her, a flagstone walkway bisected the square patch of sod Seth had cut from the pasture and laid down for her. The flowers she’d planted in beds around the porch and the edges of the lawn bloomed in late spring color. A wooden barrel, sawed in half, made perfect planters for each side of the walkway. She’d filled them with transplanted violets.
The generosity of the townsfolk in sharing plants and cuttings from their gardens still amazed her. She liked the idea of looking at each one and thinking about who’d given it to her. I’ve made a memory garden—one I’ve put my heart and body into. One Seth and I can enjoy as the years go by.
Trudy thought back to a talk she’d had with Mrs. Seymour on the subject of marital relations the day before leaving the agency. The widow had matter-of-factly gone over what to expect and stressed that the first time she and Seth came together, the intimacy could be awkward and uncomfortable. But subsequent times, with the proper preparation and attention from her husband, the experience could be quite enjoyable.
The matron’s talk had been far more positive than the facts imparted by her father’s dour housekeeper, and Trudy no longer dreaded the experience. Her cheeks heated and her body tingled just thinking about the images of her and Seth joining together in the way Mrs. Seymour had described. If Seth’s kisses were anything to go by, she’d find having marital relations quite enjoyable indeed. Tonight, after we talk, I’ll tell him he doesn’t need to sleep in the loft anymore. I’m sure he’ll know what I mean.
She pulled herself away from the dreams of the evening and resolutely set pen to paper. I can hardly wait!
My Dearest Evie,
My friend, I have fallen in love with my husband! When I set out to become a mail-order bride, I could never have dreamed such bliss lay in store for me. Seth has been patient with my attempts to adapt to my new environment, and we’ve discovered a mutual sense of humor. We are quite busy during the day, each with our separate activities. I have concentrated on planting my garden and beautifying the yard, which was just dirt when I came here. Now there are roses, a patch of grass, and I’ve set out annuals and perennials. In addition to the traditional flowers I’m used to, I’ve cultivated some of the natural wildflowers of Montana that I find so beautiful.
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