Home Before Sundown

by Tinnean

“I didn’t see that.”

  “Most likely because you and Frank were digging Albert’s grave. Steve looked heartbroken.”

  “You don’t reckon it was because he jumped to the wrong conclusion? I’ve seen the way Steve looks at Sharps when he thinks no one was watching.”

  George stared at him. He knew he must look silly with his jaw hanging open, but that thought hadn’t occurred to him, not after Steve started giving Sharps the cold shoulder.

  Bart rubbed George’s arm. “They’ll have to sort this out between them.”

  “Yeah.” George just hoped that, if Steve did love Sharps, he did it before they arrived at Hummingbird Valley and Sharps left. “The heart chooses where it loves.”

  “And your heart chose mine.” Bart tilted his head and looked down into George’s eyes, and for a minute George couldn’t catch his breath.

  Then he smiled and said, “Yes. Always.”

  Chapter 51

  Things remained tense between Steve and Sharps until suddenly they weren’t.

  “How did that happen?” George asked as he watched them sitting side by side before the fire, cradling cups of coffee and talking quietly. Steve smiled into Sharps’s eyes, and Sharps ducked his head and smiled himself.

  “You know how Steve makes one final check of the area before he turns in for the night,” Frank said.

  “Yeah.”

  “Last night Sharps asked me to take his watch, and he rode after Steve. Couple of hours later when they came back, they were riding double. Steve said something about Twilight throwing a shoe, so the least he could do was give Sharps a ride.”

  “That makes sense.” George remembered the time when Sunrise lost her shoe and George took her to the man who ran the livery stable in Woody Draw. That led him to think about Grandpapa. Should he write to the old man? Although from what Papa had told him, Grandpapa had married again and had sons who were younger than George. Grandpapa probably didn’t care about him anymore, which was a relief.

  Frank poked him.

  “What?”

  “You’re not paying attention.”

  “What more do you have to tell? Twilight threw a shoe, Sharps rode double with Steve—”

  “He was sitting on Steve’s lap.”

  “Oh.” Usually, when the girls rode double, they would straddle Socks’s back. Even Thomas, who’d turned four on their journey to the valley, would ride that way in front of Bart or Frank.

  Although since George had taken to wearing dresses, when he rode with Bart, he did tend to sit crosswise on Aramis…on Bart’s lap one might say.

  “Yeah, oh. In addition, Twilight wasn’t limping. After Steve and Sharps bedded down—next to each other, I might add—I took the time to examine Twilight’s feet. He had all his shoes. And now those two are in each other’s pockets.”

  “Well, that’s nice.”

  George was surprised when Frank grinned and said, “It is, isn’t it?”

  “And it doesn’t bother you, two men together?”

  “Georgie, you and Bart being together doesn’t bother me. Why should Steve and Sharps? As long as they’re happy. And you know what? I think they are.”

  “I think you’re right.”

  “Damn right I’m right. Now why don’t you go keep your husband company before he comes after me?”

  George grinned at him, poked his chest, and got to his feet, nearly tripping over his skirts. “Jesus, I’ll be glad when I can get out of this getup.”

  Frank laughed and went to saddle up Athos—he’d be taking the first watch tonight.

  George could feel Bart watching him. He shook out his skirt, went to the wagon and smiled at his sisters and brother who were sleeping in it. George picked up something, then hopped out of the wagon and crossed the camp to join his husband, his lover, his heart and soul and life.

  “Not too much longer now before we’re home, hummingbird.”

  “No. Just a few more weeks.”

  “Come walk with me?”

  “I was hoping you’d suggest that.” George wrapped his arm around Bart’s waist, and they wandered toward the woods.

  “How much time do we have?”

  George leaned his head against Bart’s shoulder and grinned up at him. “More than enough. Noelle, Charlie, and Thomas are already asleep.”

  “Good. Is Mrs. Fox still mad at us?”

  “She is. There’s plenty of land available outside the valley, but she’s not interested in farming. It sounds like that was more Albert’s dream than hers.”

  “Will she go back East?”

  “I reckon we’ll have to wait and see, but she mentioned she’d been a schoolteacher before she married Albert. If Woody Draw has a schoolhouse, she might want to stay in town.”

  “What about Steve and Sharps?” Bart asked.

  “I was afraid Sharps would leave once we got to the valley, since Steve was being so bullheaded about everything, but maybe they’ll take those hundred and sixty acres that Mrs. Fox doesn’t want.”

  Bart kissed his temple. “It would be nice having neighbors.”

  “It would.”

  The moon was starting to rise, and its light shone down through the leaves of the trees surrounding the little grove they’d reached.

  Bart inhaled deeply. “It’s a beautiful night, isn’t it?” He buried his fingers in George’s hair. “I know you’re going to stop wearing dresses once we reach Hummingbird Valley, but I’ll miss all this gorgeous hair.” He loosened the curls from the pins that held them up, and they spilled down around George’s shoulders to the middle of his back.

  “I can always pretend to be a mountain man like Frank wanted to be.” George loved the feel of Bart’s fingers in his hair, and he sighed voluptuously, turned his back to Bart, and moved his hair out of the way so Bart could undo the buttons at the back of his dress.

  “There’s a damn lot of buttons to this dress,” Bart grumbled, and George ran his hand down Bart’s hip to the front of his pants.

  “I love that this is for me.” George cupped the bulge he found there.

  Bart pushed the dress off George’s shoulders, and it drifted down to the soft grass that covered the ground. He sucked in a breath, and George smiled, knowing he’d surprised Bart by leaving off his drawers.

  “There’s a small forest like this in the valley,” he murmured, as if he was unaware of how hard Bart’s prick had become, poking his rump.

  “I can’t wait,” Bart said hoarsely. He kissed the side of George’s throat and shivered. “And I can’t wait to have you in me.”

  “Then it’s a good thing that I brought this, isn’t it?” George held up the small bottle of olive oil that had traveled with them from New York.

  “God, I love you.”

  George felt his breath catch in his throat as Bart stripped off his clothes and started to drop to his hands and knees. He caught Bart’s arm, stopping him.

  “Not like that, querido.” He waited until Bart moved out of the way, then turned the voluminous skirts of his dress inside out and spread them on the grass. “I want to look into your eyes when you come.”

  Bart lay on the dress. In the moonlight, George could see how hard and flushed his prick was. He leaned forward and took the plump head between his lips.

  He dipped his tongue into the slit, then took in more of Bart’s prick and ran his tongue over it. So big…so thick…What would it feel like entering him? George’s hole twitched.

  “Bart?”

  “Something’s bothering you, hummingbird.” Bart stroked his cheek. “What is it?”

  “What does it feel like when I push into you?”

  “I’m not sure if I can describe it.”

  “Try?”

  “There’s a spot inside me—you’ve found it with your fingers—”

  The first time he had, Bart had started shaking, and George had been terrified he’d hurt him. He’d started to withdraw his finger, but Bart had grabbed his hand and begged him to do it again.
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br />   “When your prick brushes against it, there’s nothing better. I feel like I’m going to explode, and I just want you to fuck me and fuck me and fuck me.”

  While Bart was talking, George poured some oil into his palm and coated Bart’s prick with it.

  Bart sighed his pleasure. He let his legs drop open and raised his hips, giving George all the access he needed. George rolled Bart’s balls in his hand, then stroked a slicked finger over his hole, dipping in a little deeper each time he passed over it until finally he was in up to a knuckle.

  He closed his other hand around Bart’s prick and ran it up and down in a slicked caress.

  “George?” Bart was shaking now. George loved how he could make the man he loved fall to pieces by touching him.

  “Soon, querido.” George eased his finger out of Bart. He drizzled oil over his own prick, made sure he coated it well, and then placed it at Bart’s hole. He didn’t push in right away, though. He licked a path through the fine hairs that ran up from Bart’s belly button, paused to give some attention to his nipples, before going on to nip and suck Bart’s Adam’s apple. George swallowed a smile. In the morning, Bart would have to wear his bandanna around his throat to hide the mark George intended to leave there.

  Bart wasn’t lying there doing nothing but shiver and moan. He ran his fingertips up George’s sides.

  “Bart, no!”

  Bart knew how ticklish George was, and he knew how George would react to even the lightest touch to his sides. George jerked forward, and his prick drove into the warm, velvety heat of Bart’s body.

  Bart cradled George’s cheeks in his hands. “Now kiss me.”

  It was George’s turn to moan, and he blindly sought Bart’s mouth while he rocked his hips back and forth.

  “So good,” he murmured against Bart’s lips. “I love you too, querido. Dear God, how I love you!”

  This time when Bart reached down, he teased George’s hole, and George had to bury his face against the side of Bart’s neck, because otherwise he’d howl and wake all the creatures of this wood.

  “Harder, Georgie,” Bart ordered.

  “Bart…”

  “Harder.”

  Two strokes, three, four, five, and then Bart clamped his inner muscles and gasped, and thick, hot streams of come spurted from his prick, covering his torso. It covered George’s torso also after he drove in one final time and collapsed onto Bart. He quivered, then held still and murmured Spanish love words while he poured himself into the man he’d die for, although he’d much rather live for him.

  Eventually they roused from the light doze they’d fallen into, and George used his petticoats to clean them both off.

  “I love the sounds you make when we make love,” Bart murmured as he rose and pulled George to his feet.

  “Do you?” George felt heat rise in his cheeks as he stepped into his dress and shimmied it up over his hips. “I’m not too loud, am I?”

  “Never. Hearing you just makes me want to spread myself open and take you deep inside me.”

  “You shouldn’t do that. Button me, please?”

  “Do what?” Bart’s nimble fingers danced up the back of George’s dress, then placed a kiss on the side of George’s neck.

  “Say things like that, especially since it will be a while before I can make love to you again.”

  Bart was looking around for his clothes, but he stopped at that. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  “How long did you say before we get to the valley?”

  “About three weeks.”

  Bart sighed and went back to looking for his clothes. Fortunately, he didn’t have to search too hard to find them. He pulled on his drawers and his pants, then upended his boots and gave them a shake to make sure there were no unwelcome visitors in them.

  George hummed in contentment. “I’m so lucky I found you.”

  “You are, aren’t you?” Bart scooped George up into his arms and whirled them around in circles until they were both dizzy.

  George burst into laughter, wrapped his arms around Bart’s neck, and pulled his head down for a final kiss before Bart set him on his feet. George petted Bart’s chest, helped him into his shirt, and buttoned it up. He smiled into Bart’s eyes, stunned to see them shiny with tears.

  “Querido?”

  “If you hadn’t come back…if I thought those bastards had taken you away from me for good, I’d have let them hang me and be glad.”

  “Bart—”

  “I hate to think what my life would have been like without you. Don’t ever leave me.”

  “I won’t, I promise.” He stood on tiptoe and kissed the tears from Bart’s eyes. “But if I’d come back to find they had hung you, I wouldn’t have left a single one of them alive.”

  Bart drew in a shaky breath. “All right, then.”

  They started the walk back to camp, arms wrapped around each other.

  Epilogue

  Three weeks after they left Willow Crick, they rolled into Woody Draw. It had become a pretty little town with maturing oak and chestnut trees along the main street, which now boasted two churches, a post office, a school that held more than one room, and a sawmill at the far end of town. There were still ladies living above the Diamond Garter, although George didn’t recognize any of them, and now there was competition from another saloon, the Silver Slipper.

  As for the expected railway depot, it was just a year or so in the future.

  It didn’t surprise George when Mrs. Fox announced she and her children were going to remain behind in town. She sold off her mules for a tidy sum, and when the town council learned she’d been a schoolteacher, they offered her a position in spite of the fact she’d be having a baby in about six months’ time.

  After stopping at the general store to stock up on enough supplies to last them long enough to either repair or replace the soddy that Papa had built all those years ago, they began the final leg of their journey. They’d need to be settled in before winter arrived in a few months.

  Frank planned to stay with them until the house was built, but once it was done, he said, he’d take a room in town, hang out a shingle, and set up his law practice.

  Bart sat beside George as he drove out of town, heading the mules toward Hummingbird Valley. Thomas sat on Bart’s lap, sucking on a piece of rock candy Bart had bought for them.

  It’s a shame Bart won’t have any children of his own, George thought. He’d make such a wonderful papa.

  Still, they had Noelle, Charlie, and Thomas, and one day—hopefully—their children.

  He smiled as he watched his sisters.

  Charlie raced Sorrowful toward Steve and Sharps, who were scouting on ahead. She’d circle around them, then turn the pinto to speed back to the wagon. Sorrowful had proved to be a sweet-tempered horse, and Charlie was thrilled to be allowed to ride him.

  “I reckon he may as well, Mrs. Hall,” Sharps had said. “I don’t have much call for another horse.”

  “You gave me Salida back, and now you’re giving my s-brother Sorrowful. How can I repay you?”

  “Give me a place to stay when I come back in the spring.”

  “What do you mean, when you come back?” Steve had demanded. “You’re not going anywhere.”

  Sharps had ducked his head and smiled, and there was no more talk of him going away

  Noelle, on the other hand, kept a more decorous pace beside Frank. She always had been the little lady.

  Steve and Sharps were following the route Papa had sketched after they’d had to leave Woody Draw. Without those directions and the compass coordinates, it would have been difficult to find the entrance to the valley.

  “Papa always wanted us to have a herd of beef cattle,” George said. “Come next spring, we’ll ride down to Kansas and buy a hundred or so head to start. Maybe we’ll get a milk cow too, and some pigs.”

  “I love hearing you plan for our future.” Bart tugged free a curl and wound it around his finger.

 
; “What will we call the ranch?”

  “Something with hummingbird in it, I think.”

  “That’s a good idea.” George bumped his shoulder against Bart’s.

  “Once we have the soddy done, I’ll get started chopping down the trees we’ll use for lumber for the house. It will take a lot—I want you to have a house with a bedroom for everyone.”

  “Me too?” Thomas piped up.

  “You too, little bit. Two stories, fireplaces in every room, and a kitchen with a pump and an ice closet like your ma used to have, Georgie.”

  “And indoor plumbing?” One of the things Noelle had talked about was the water closet in her grandfather’s house.

  “Indoor plumbing,” he agreed, and George could have kissed him. “Not only a toilet, but a tub and shower with the water heated from the laundry room.”

  “How?” George was dazzled by the image of this splendid house Bart wanted to build for them.

  “We’ll have cisterns up in the attic—I’ll make sure to reinforce the flooring up there. Pipes will pump the water down to the bathroom.” Bart blushed when he saw how George was looking at him. “Mr. Wagner showed me the plans of a house he was going to build with indoor plumbing, and I’m pretty sure I can duplicate it.”

  “I love you, Bart Hall.”

  “I love you too, Georgie.”

  “And maybe in a few years you can build a house for your mama and younger sisters. Do you reckon Sam Pickett will come with them?”

  “I’m pretty sure. The last letter I had from Ma was filled with more of his doings than Mary Katharine, Mary Margaret, and the twins. It’ll be nice having them out here.”

  “It will.” George knew how much Bart missed his family.

  “Georgie.”

  “Yes, Thomas?”

  “Can I drive?”

  “Sure.”

  Thomas squirmed onto George’s lap and put his sticky little hands on the reins.

  Bart took the opportunity to slip an arm around George’s shoulders.

  “Know something, Bart?”

  “What, hummingbird?”

  “I’m about as happy as I’ve ever been.”

  “Me, too.”

  “I’m happy too, Georgie.” Thomas tilted his head back and grinned at him. “We’re going home, aren’t we?”