To Have and to Hold (Cactus Creek Cowboys)

by Greenwood, Leigh

  “Blood!”

  Seven

  Without even thinking about it, Colby jumped into the Kessling wagon.

  “Blood!”

  The single word was filled with such horror Colby knew there had to be more than a simple dislike of blood. He didn’t know whether to wake Naomi or wait to see if the dream would subside. It was difficult to see her in the semi-dark inside the wagon, but he could tell she was truly terrified.

  “No!”

  Naomi thrashed about so wildly Colby was afraid she would hurt herself. Overcoming his reluctance to wake her, he reached for her hand. The moment he touched her, Naomi came awake and threw herself at him sobbing.

  “It was worse than ever this time.”

  She pulled him down until he was kneeling on the bed of the wagon next to her, wrapped her arms around him, and rested her head against his chest.

  “I saw Grandpapa lying on the floor,” she mumbled. “Why would he be covered with blood? And who was that other man?”

  Colby knew the proper thing to do was to wake Ben and send him to bring their father. But having Naomi’s arms around him felt too good.

  “But it can’t be Grandpa,” Naomi said. “He died in bed.”

  Colby patted her back and tried to soothe her. But once she fully came to her senses, he knew there’d be hell to pay. Naomi would never want to be caught so vulnerable.

  “Why do I keep having these dreams?”

  He couldn’t explain that, but it seemed odd she would dream of a violent death for a man who had died in his bed.

  “I want my mama,” she moaned.

  Those words drove an arrow straight to his core. It’s what he’d always wanted, a mother and father to love him, to comfort and protect him until he was old enough to comfort and protect them in return. He’d spent years trying not to think of that, yet a single sentence had shattered all the barriers and opened the pathway to the part of him that he had spent years trying to ignore.

  “Your mother is dead.”

  “I know. You’ve told me—” Her body stiffened. She released him and sat up. “What are you doing here?”

  “You were having a bad dream. You were starting to get hysterical. I was afraid you’d wake the whole camp if I didn’t do something.”

  “I never get hysterical.”

  “You were becoming very upset. You said something about seeing your grandfather and another man covered in blood. You didn’t understand that because your grandfather died in bed.”

  Naomi’s stiffness melted away. “This dream has haunted me for two years. It started after my grandfather died. In the beginning I didn’t see anybody, just blood smeared over the floor and the walls, even the windows. I would wake up shaking. It was like I was drowning in blood. I was sure I’d done something terrible no one knew about. But that’s impossible. You couldn’t do anything in Spencer’s Clearing without everybody knowing about it.”

  “Was anybody killed in Spencer’s Clearing?”

  “No.”

  “Do you have any idea why you’d dream something like that if nothing like it ever happened?”

  “No.”

  “What does your father say about it?”

  “He says it’s a reaction to two deaths in the family. My mother died from consumption. During the last year she often spit blood. My father was frequently away tending patients from neighboring towns, even troops on occasion, so I was left to take care of her. But I never dream about her that way, only the way she was before she got sick. I didn’t start seeing anybody until about a year ago. Papa said it was because my uncle had just died from a shotgun accident that left him covered in blood. I tried to tell him my dream was different, but he didn’t believe me. Now I know it was. My grandfather was one of the men. That’s got to mean something.”

  Colby agreed with her, but since he didn’t know anything about her grandfather or his death, there was no explanation he could offer. “You’ll have to ask your father.”

  “He’ll just say I’m imagining things.” Naomi seemed to pull herself together. “Thank you for waking me, but you can go now. I’m all right.”

  “What if you can’t go back to sleep?”

  “I always do.”

  “What if you have the dream again?”

  “How could you stop the dream?”

  “I couldn’t, but I could wake you before it got to be too awful.” He couldn’t see her expression, but he could sense she paused to consider.

  “Suppose I stay until you go to sleep,” he offered. “Then I’ll bed down underneath the wagon with Ben.”

  Naomi laughed. “You’ll wake up with bruises over half your body. That boy throws himself about like he’s in a wrestling match.”

  “I’ll take my chances. Now go back to sleep.”

  “I can’t go to sleep with you so close. It’s not you. It would be anybody.”

  “Okay. I’ll sit on the wagon seat, but I won’t go farther than that.”

  “You could hear me from under the wagon.”

  “Not if I went to sleep.”

  He could hear her sigh. “You’re not going to leave, are you?”

  “Nope.”

  “Did anybody ever tell you that you’re a stubborn, frustrating, and often annoying man?”

  He chuckled. “You’ll have to go a far piece before you get close to the things my parents said about me. Now stop trying to run me off and go to sleep. We’ll be climbing some hills tomorrow so it’ll be easier on the oxen and mules if everybody walks.”

  He didn’t want to go, but he needed his sleep as well.

  Yet sleep wasn’t the only reason he needed to leave. Naomi was taking up too much of his thoughts. He knew this wasn’t a momentary interest fueled solely by lust. Lust was there. How could it not be with a woman as alluring as Naomi? Still, how could he have known that merely holding her in his arms would ignite a fire in his loins? It didn’t matter that he knew nothing more would happen. He couldn’t stop thinking of holding her, of kissing her, making love to her. He was sure her skin would be soft and warm. He could almost feel its silkiness beneath his fingertips as he explored every part of her body, seeking out the places that would fuel her need for him. He was certain her lips would be as soft and welcoming as her smile. He could imagine kissing her—had imagined kissing her—until they were swollen with desire.

  He tried not to think of what it would be like to make love to her, but he couldn’t stop himself.

  Yet there was something more than lust happening here, the kind of something that caused men to start thinking of building houses and sleeping in a comfortable bed every night, the kind of something that caused him to want to go home to the same woman every night, the kind of something that changed the thought of having a houseful of children from a man’s worst nightmare to a wistful dream.

  When that kind of something showed its face, it was time for a sensible man to saddle up and ride like the devil himself was after him.

  ***

  Naomi breathed a sigh of relief when Colby climbed down from the wagon seat. She had tried to sleep, but she could practically feel him watching her. It was unnerving…but exciting too.

  She hadn’t been concentrating so hard on learning to ride that she’d been unmindful of Colby’s presence. That would have been impossible even if he hadn’t lifted her into the saddle or placed her foot in the stirrups. She wasn’t used to being in a man’s embrace—any type of embrace—but having been in his arms twice before, she was no longer so shocked she couldn’t appreciate his strength or his sheer magnetism. It didn’t matter that she didn’t want to be attracted to Colby. Sensuality radiated from him like heat from the sun making her want to reach out and touch him. She had attracted the attention of several soldiers during the war, but none of them had caused her to give them more than a few moments’ thought. She
was still reeling for the shock of discovering Colby’s affect on her was entirely different. After seeing two cousins forced into marriages against their wills, she’d thought a lot about the kind of man she would marry. It shocked her to find that Colby came uncomfortably close to fulfilling all her requirements.

  ***

  “Wake up, sleepy head. The day has already begun. You’ll have to hurry to catch up.”

  Naomi came awake with a start. She struggled to sit up, but her body felt heavy and sluggish. “What time is it?” She rubbed her eyes vigorously before opening the flap at the end of the wagon. She found herself staring into Colby’s smiling face. “What are you doing here?”

  “Coming to wake you up. Your brothers will be shouting for their breakfast before you have time to get a fire started.”

  The stars were still out, but the first rays of light could be seen sliding their slender fingers into the far horizon. She wanted to fasten the flap and go back to bed, but she had to get up. It wasn’t her brothers’ fault that she’d lain awake for half the night thinking about Colby.

  “Did you sleep well?”

  “Okay.” She doubted she sounded convincing.

  “Did you get any sleep at all? I know you were pretending so I left.”

  It was unnerving the way he could see through her, and she didn’t like it. If her thoughts weren’t her own—okay, pretending to sleep wasn’t a thought, but it was close—what was?

  “I didn’t get as much sleep as I wanted, but I got enough. Now go away so I can get dressed.” No matter how hot it got during the day, it was cold on the prairie at night. She slept in a nightgown under a quilt.

  “You weren’t so shy last night.”

  “That doesn’t count. I thought you were Papa.”

  Colby’s chuckle as he walked away was just what she needed to set her nerves on edge. And just when she had started to think there might be a warm, thoughtful, maybe loving person hidden under that hard-glazed exterior. She muttered several uncomplimentary observations as she slipped out of her nightgown and put on her chemise and a heavy cotton dress of dark blue. He had no right to treat her like a little sister. Just because he was older and had traveled over half the world didn’t mean he knew more than she. It just meant they knew different things. As far as she could tell, most of what he knew wasn’t worth much unless you intended to live as far from other humans as possible. She pulled on her socks and shoes. She didn’t have time to waste on Colby Blaine. He could do whatever he wanted. She didn’t care.

  She hurried to open the flap and climb down from the wagon only to find Colby had already started the fire…and was frying bacon.

  “I thought you’d never get up,” Ben said when he saw her. “I got the wood for the fire hours ago. Colby said it was my job. I have to eat in a hurry if I’m to help with the harnessing.”

  Naomi would have said something rude if her father hadn’t come bustling up in a cheerful mood.

  “I’m hungry as a bear,” he announced. “Wilma Hill didn’t have any labor pains last night. I thought I would hate sleeping on the ground, but I slept better than I have in years.” He glanced at his sons. “Why didn’t you tell me it was so relaxing? I’ll have to try it more often.”

  “You can have my bed,” Ben offered. “I’ll be happy to sleep in the wagon with Naomi.”

  Naomi was measuring out cornmeal, but she turned to her brother. “You can’t sleep in a bed, a wagon, or any other confined space with another human being until you learn to stop kicking like a colicky calf.”

  She reached for the milk someone had ready for her use. Probably Colby. He’d done everything else. No reason he shouldn’t have milked the cow, too.

  “I could tie his feet together,” Colby offered.

  “Don’t forget his hands,” Ethan added.

  “Nobody’s tying me up.” Ben took the precaution of edging closer to his father.

  “Got any coffee?” her father asked.

  Before Naomi could formulate an excuse, Colby reached for a pot nestled in a bed of coals.

  “I expect it’s ready now. I know it’s hot.”

  She was going to kill that man. She hadn’t decided when or how, but she was definitely going to do it.

  “Save a little of that milk,” Naomi’s father said to her. “The cream off the top would be even better.”

  Naomi had learned long ago how to pour fresh milk without losing the cream. Everyone knew of her father’s fondness for it. At least that was one thing Colby hadn’t done.

  “Good coffee,” her father murmured appreciatively. “Naomi always did know how to make it better than anyone else.”

  Ben started to speak—undoubtedly to tell his father Naomi hadn’t made the coffee—but Colby clamped his hand over the boy’s mouth.

  “Ethan needs help filling the water casks,” he said to Ben. “Why don’t you help him?”

  “Wait a minute and I’ll help,” their father said. “I want a few more swallows of coffee.”

  “Don’t take long,” Colby said to Ben. “Naomi has breakfast nearly ready.”

  The boy glared at Colby before stomping off. Her father saluted with a smile and a wave of his coffee cup. “Don’t drink it all before I get back.”

  Naomi managed to hold her temper in check until her father was out of hearing range. She whirled around to face Colby. “Why didn’t you tell my father you made that coffee? He’ll figure it out tomorrow if Ben hasn’t told him by the time they get back. And that doesn’t include starting the fire, milking the cow, and putting the bacon on. You should have woken me up earlier.”

  “You had a rough night. I figured you needed to sleep a little longer. Besides, Ben gathered the wood and Laurie milked your cow. She was up before I was. Come to think of it, that’s not the first time it’s happened.”

  Naomi decided not to tell Colby about the situation between Laurie and her husband. Some things were better kept within the family.

  “Don’t let me sleep late again, not even if I have a nightmare. I don’t want anybody to think I’m shirking my responsibilities.”

  Colby studied her a moment, which made her so nervous she nearly forgot to take the corn cakes out of the pan before they burned.

  “Everybody falls a little short now and then,” Colby said. “Someone will take up the slack for you. You’ll do the same for them later.”

  “Who takes up the slack for you?” she snapped. “Nobody, because you’re perfect. You never fall short. You know the answer to every question. You can cook. You even make better coffee than I do.” She knew she sounded ungrateful, but too much perfection was irritating.

  “I’ve been on my own since I was fifteen. I’ve had to learn to do everything for myself. Besides, this is my part of the country. If I were back in Spencer’s Clearing, you’d be the one telling me how to do everything.”

  Naomi doubted that was true. He probably could darn socks, repair a tear, and sew on a button faster than she could. She doubted he could crochet, knit, or spin cotton into thread, but she wasn’t very good at those herself.

  “You must have other duties,” she said. “I can take care of everything now.”

  “Are you trying to run me off?”

  “I don’t want to monopolize all your time,” she said from between teeth that were perilously close to being clenched, “but there are twelve other families.”

  “Nobody’s doing anything besides filling the water containers and getting ready to eat. Besides, your father promised me you’d feed me breakfast.”

  Naomi swallowed her pique. “I’m sorry I’m in such a bad mood. I’m never my best in the morning, but it’s particularly bad when I’ve had a nightmare and didn’t get much sleep.”

  “Does it happen often?” The caring in his voice made her feel even more like a selfish ingrate.

  “More and more
recently. Seeing my grandfather was a shock. If he weren’t already dead, I’d be afraid it meant something awful.” She couldn’t bring herself to tell Colby about the man in a Union Army uniform who was also part of her dream. If he thought she’d killed a soldier, wouldn’t he be honor bound to tell somebody in the army, a sheriff, a marshal, anybody who could bring her to justice? No man of character could overlook a murder.

  “I know this doesn’t sound very helpful, but try not to think about it. If there is any meaning behind the dream, you’ll figure it out. Maybe something happened that was so terrible you repressed it. That happened to some of the men during the war, especially the ones who’d led a conventional life and had no way to cope with the carnage they witnessed. Maybe it’s just one of the weird dreams we all have sometimes.”

  “What are you, some kind of head doctor?”

  “No, but during the war I saw men do things I would never have believed if I hadn’t seen them. Maybe it’s a manifestation of your fear of coming west.”

  “I’m not afraid of coming west. I just didn’t want to. There’s no desirable place to live and bring up a family.”

  “So you hope to marry?”

  That was a strange question. Every woman hoped to marry. Life as a single woman meant you were a widow or a maiden aunt, both of whom ended up being a burden on her family.

  “Of course, but I won’t marry just anybody. He’ll have to be a man of character and honesty, kind and thoughtful yet strong enough to support his family. Brave enough to face hardship, trustworthy enough to be a man other men respect.”

  “Rather high standards, aren’t they?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Do you know anyone other than your father who possesses all those qualities?”

  She came very close to saying you, but she managed to withhold the word at the last moment. Instead she avoided the question. “I’m sure there are such men, even in this godforsaken part of the world.”