by Reece Butler
* * * *
When Cole chose Byron as his best man, Marshall was miffed at being cut out of the wedding ceremony. But now he was happy to be leaning against the wall in the hotel dining room waiting for the brides, rather than standing at the front of chairs jammed with people.
There were more people here than had attended the ranchers’ meeting, and everyone was dressed up. He was in shirtsleeves, having lent Willy his coat. Cole had explained the arrangement, and Willy was all in favor. Having never been to a wedding, he was eager to be part of it, and would escort his sister down the aisle. Ben Elliott, as legal father to her grandchildren, would escort Emma Johnston.
While Judge Thatcher stood calm and cool in his robes at the front of the room, Cole and Walt fidgeted. They kept pulling on their collars and peering over their shoulders, as if it would speed up the primping women.
Marshall caught a flash of bronze just before the judge gestured that all were to stand and his view of the grooms was blocked. Willy walked forward with the most gorgeous woman on his arm. He held a sleeping puppy in the other. Casey said Zeus was her only family other than Willy and she wanted both with her. Since she knew nothing of weddings, no one had the heart to tell her different.
He strained to see. His jaw dropped. That was Casey? She wore a shiny bronze dress showing cleavage no one knew she had. Someone had trimmed her short brown hair and added a crown of white and purple flowers. Her face was pink as could be and the tips of her ears were red.
Hot damn!
Casey was a beautiful woman, and she’d soon be Cole’s wife. Their wife. But she’d sleep in the loft above their bed, alone except for Zeus! They’d hear her soft sounds all winter. He groaned. How was he going to keep his promise not to seduce her?
The audience turned around and a collective gasp erupted. Casey’s step faltered when everyone stared. Willy’s face was even redder than his sister’s.
“Dang it, Casey, you sure clean up good!” yelled Marshall. Casey’s eyes shot to his. He grinned and gave an exaggerated wink. She gave a tremulous smile, put her shoulders back, and stepped forward with more confidence.
“That was a damn fool thing to do,” said a cool voice beside him. A quick glance showed a silver badge and bushy moustache, a real soup strainer.
“Sheriff, this is the first time Casey’s worn a fancy dress,” said Marshall softly. He curled his fingers into fists as if that would help protect her. “She’s been ducking blows and insults all her life. All those people staring scare the hell out of her. She doesn’t know what it’s like to be treated with kindness.”
Barstow scratched his chin. “You boys gonna do something about that?”
Marshall met his eyes full on. As one who put on an act, Marshall recognized that of another. The sheriff was far smarter than he let on.
“It’s no secret Cole says this marriage is only on paper. He says they’ll get an annulment come spring. We’re gonna make sure she can look a man in the eye without flinching by then. If she does walk away from this marriage, she’ll do it as a much stronger woman.”
Sheriff Barstow puffed air through his moustache. “What if she don’t want to walk away?”
He met the sheriff’s cool gaze. “That sir, is her business. And ours.”
Willy whispered something to Cole when he moved his sister’s hand from his arm to that of her groom. Casey got even redder, but Cole answered quietly. Willy gave a sharp nod before taking his seat in the front now. He brought Zeus with him.
“Looks like her brother’s got views on that as well,” said Barstow.
An excited giggle had everyone swiveling in their seats again. Seven-year-old Emma Elliott’s gap-toothed grin was framed by a halo of reddish-gold hair. She held a posy of flowers which matched her violet eyes. She was followed by her brother Johnny, two years younger. While Emma almost danced, Johnny scuffed his patent leather shoes. He wore a store-bought suit and held a white satin cushion with gold tassels in front of him. Rings were pinned to the cushion. He shot a look at the two older boys, Billy O’Keefe and Daniel MacDougal, and scowled. Ranger Elliott, an even greater scowl on his face, cleared his throat loudly.
“Good job so far, Johnny,” said Patrick, going for positive encouragement rather than threats. “We’re counting on you.”
The combination of censure and approval, and lack of insults by the older boys, seemed to work. Johnny now held the cushion as if it contained wedding rings rather than rattlesnakes.
Behind Johnny strolled Emma Johnston, beaming like no one had ever seen her. Ben, wearing his fanciest lawyer suit, gravely brought her to Walt. The groom’s face was as red as Willy’s had been.
“Breathe, Papa,” said Kate drily above the murmurs. “She’ll be yours in a few minutes.”
“When you’re this old, missy, every minute counts,” complained Walt. Though his suit was as good as Ben’s, and his face and hair trimmed, he was more comfortable acting as an irascible mountain man.
“I’m worth waiting for, aren’t I, sweetheart,” cooed Emma. She blew him a kiss.
“That woman’ll keep her husband in line,” muttered the sheriff.
“Sheriff, damn near every woman in this town knows how to do that,” said Marshall.
Mary Barstow glanced over at them. She rested one hand on her swelling belly and smiled. She fluttered her eyelashes but said nothing.
“My wife needs me,” said the sheriff gruffly and was gone.
Marshall snickered, then listened with half an ear to the ceremony. Maybe he’d ask some of the wives how he could help Casey get over her fears. He didn’t want her to talk with them, especially alone. Who knew what she’d learn?
* * * *
A couple of hours later the band, including one of the brides and grooms, took a refreshment break.
Knowing what Casey thought about drunks, Cole let the jugs pass him by. The ramrods of the various ranches had been told to meet behind the hotel. The sheriff and judge waited for them to approach. A few eyebrows went up when Sophie McLeod joined them.
“You called this meeting, Judge. What’s it all about?” asked Trace.
“Everyone here?” asked the sheriff. He counted them off on his fingers. “Trace, Gillis, Ranger, Ace, Luke, Jed, Cole, and Zach? Good.” He nodded at Judge Thatcher to start.
“That Pinkerton agent, Gibson, thinks he’s got a lead on Frederick Smythe,” said the judge. “We know about the railway deal Rivers and Jennet tried to haul the Elliotts and MacDougals into. It failed, partly because Ben whispered in a few ears.”
“That’s just speculation, Judge,” said Trace mildly. “Could’ve been many things that spooked them.”
“It was many things, including the fact that Smythe didn’t have the gold he promised,” replied Thatcher. “Now that Rivers is gone, Smythe’s getting desperate. I want you all to be extra careful of strangers. Once the snow closes the pass to Bannack City, we can relax, but everyone must be alert until then.”
“The gather starts next week,” said Sheriff Barstow. I know most of you were looking for a trip into the city, but we need to keep enough men here.”
“I won’t be leaving my bride, nor will my partners.” Cole glanced around. “I’m taking her home in a moment. I’ll send Byron out to talk over details with you.”
Barstow caught his sleeve. “I’d appreciate it if you let Casey carry a rifle when she’s up in the hills. We can use everyone who can shoot, in skirts or pants. Don’t mean no disrespect by it.”
“None taken. She’ll be armed. I had a hard enough time getting her to hand over her knife for the wedding ceremony.” His mouth jerked in a parody of a grin at their chuckles. He took a step, then looked back. “Don’t ever back Casey in a corner, or threaten to hold her against her will. From what Byron said, she barely escaped something bad. I wouldn’t want to be the one who thinks he can hurt her.” He gave a warning glare. “Think of Ross, but with fewer knives.”
“Sounds like you got yourself a hell of a w
oman,” said Barstow.
“She won’t be so wild by the spring,” replied Cole.
He went back inside to corral his bride. He sent Byron to work out any details and then looked around for Casey. She was talking with Walt and Emma. Talking up a storm, in fact. Her whole face lit up and she laughed as Zeus tried to attack Walt’s beard. Since Walt was encouraging the dog by wiggling the tip of his beard at the puppy, Cole didn’t step in.
Why couldn’t she laugh like that with him? She managed to smile and talk with Marshall and even Byron after the wedding. She charmed Judge Thatcher, and even Nora Dawes had thawed toward the girl she’d called “a ragamuffin.” But Casey avoided him, keeping her head down or face carefully blank.
The other couple moved away as he approached. Casey’s face went still. She looked down. He felt like he’d been hit in the face with a cold fish.
“You can’t be shy, wife. I saw you laughing and talking with Walt and Emma. Why don’t you talk to me like that?”
Casey worried her lip before answering. She spoke to the floor. “Walt don’t mind the way I talk, but your face gets all tight and angry. I figgered it’s best I don’t say nothin’.” She looked up, meeting him full on. “I may be ignorant but I ain’t stupid, and Walt knows it. He kin talk jest like me, or put on fancy airs. Mrs. Chamberlain, she says she don’t care what he does as long as he cares for her. Says he’s the same man in buckskin or a fancy black suit.”
Cole got the point. Casey thought he was unreasonable, even insulting. But Walt could speak intelligently, using logic and even a sense of oratory. Casey, as far as he was aware, could not. But he had to be fair in his judgment. Obviously she did not have the advantages provided by his grandparents.
“Who raised you, Casey?”
She straightened her shoulders. Her white neck rose from the bronze dress like a swan.
“I did, mostly. Mama took care of me ‘til I was four, then I took care of Willy.”
“Didn’t your father do anything for you?”
“Pappy?” She rocked back, snorting a laugh in a most unladylike manner. “He were the one doin’ things to us.” She sobered. “He kept the men from touchin’ me, mostly.”
Cold dread tingled in Cole’s veins. “Mostly?”
“I put my skinning knife between the ribs of one what thought he could get at me. Pappy were drunk on the floor. Nobody tried that again.”
She patted her hip, startled when she realized no knife waited there, then swallowed hard. He’d give it back tomorrow morning with the understanding she was not to wear it in the cabin. As her husband, it was his job to protect her. He understood she didn’t trust him. He doubted she trusted anyone, and with good reason. He intended to change that.
“You killed him?”
She shrugged as if it was no matter. “Don’t rightly know. He was gone in the morning and I never seen him again. Served him right if he died.”
Cole was the one to look down. He’d married a woman who’d killed a man with one shot and knifed another. There was no way in Sam Hill he could teach her to be a lady. Maybe Florence Elliott could do it, if Casey lived there for months. But why would he go without his cook, hunter, and chore boy for that long when there was no guarantee it would do any good?
Give the girl a chance, you fool! The words came into his head in Grandpa’s voice. Yeah, that was what he would say if he was here. Grandma gave Grandpa a chance and look how happy they ended up. Two of their three daughters were no good, but they’d made up for it by raising their grandsons right.
“You look pretty tired, Casey. Would you like to go home?”
Finally, a positive reaction. Her shoulders eased, and she gave a shy smile. Who’d have thought under that dirt and all she was pretty? Too bad her hair was all gone. He’d always wanted his wife to keep her hair neat all day, letting it down only for him.
“Yes, sir.”
He’d wait to tell her that Byron and Marshall would stay to entertain for the rest of the evening. Byron on the gutbucket and Marshall on the banjo, and others sharing his fiddle, there’d be lots of music. Casey might get skittish to think they’d be alone in the cabin. He swallowed hard. Maybe he should be skittish as well. She looked so good, and he hadn’t even properly kissed her yet.
He went to hook up the wagon, walking carefully so he didn’t give himself an injury.
Chapter 11
Casey held on to the seat with one hand and rested the other on her puppy. Zeus curled between her legs, secure in the swoop of her skirt. That was one advantage of a dress. You could spread your knees and keep things from sliding between them to the floor. Zeus warmed that part of her, but she was chilled, even wearing her new coat, hat, and boots. Yet she sat about as far as possible from Cole Taylor.
Her husband. A husband who swore he’d never touch her as a husband did a wife. But she had two more husbands. Would she ever get the nerve to seduce one of them? Only after she climbed in the wagon did she realize Byron and Marshall would be staying. Though she had a knot in her stomach from the thought of being alone with Cole, how could she say no? By then parcels had been put in the back, with hugs exchanged and well wishes given. Sophie handed her a special package to open before bed. She whispered it was a nightgown and, even though Cole said he wouldn’t be a real husband, she could still feel pretty in bed.
She’d felt pretty since she put on the bronze satin dress. She lifted her hand from Zeus and ran it over the smooth fabric. She’d never felt anything like it before. It might even be as nice as the dresses Mama told her about, that she’d seen and worn before marrying Pappy.
“All right, Casey?”
Cole’s voice came out of the moonlit night. She startled, reassured herself with Zeus’s warmth, and turned to him, just a bit so as to be polite. Though she’d never had much chance to use her manners before, Mama had taught her how a woman should behave with a gentleman. At the time neither of them expected Casey to ever see a gentle man. She’d used her manners all night, watching others to see how they behaved. She’d tried to speak like Mama, but it was hard when she got nervous. And no one made her as nervous as Cole.
“Yes, sir.”
He grumbled something and they rode on for a bit. The clop of the horse’s hooves and rumble of the wagon were the only sounds.
“Now and then I’d like to hear something other than yes sir and no sir from you. Don’t worry about how you speak. I understand you fine. Can you do that?”
“No, sir. I mean, yes, sir.”
He shot her a look. She dropped her head to ruffle her fingers through Zeus’s fur.
“Pappy said those were about the only things a woman could say to her man. She’d best think more than twice afore saying something else or she’d get beaten.”
Cole made a growling noise. He moved his fists, and the leather traces he held, closer to his chest. The horse slowed, as did the wagon. She tensed, ready to leap away, then remembered he was her husband. The law said he could beat her if he wanted. But he was Cole Taylor, a man who did not use his fists on women. And if she kept telling herself that, she might even believe it, even though she could tell he was angry with her. She lifted Zeus to her chest for a moment before placing him behind her on a rug so he’d be safe.
Cole slowly turned to her. He dropped his head for a moment, heaved a sigh, and pushed up the brim of his hat with one stiff finger. There was enough moon and starlight that crisp evening to see his frown.
“Cassandra Wright Taylor, do I look like your pappy?”
He scolded her, but he sounded sad rather than mad. Pappy would pretend to be calm, but when she came near like he ordered, he’d lash out. She’d slam up against a wall, or trip over something and crash to the floor. She bit her lip and let her eyes seek Cole. His jaw stuck out as he stared forward. He inhaled deeply, and then let it out.
“No, sir.”
“I would never hit you. It hurts me that you still think I might.” His words were soft in the night. He looked away, ru
bbing the back of his neck. “Casey, for better or for worse, you’re my wife until spring. I don’t know all what your pappy did to you, but I’m getting a good idea. I’m going to say my piece right here and now. I want you to listen real hard.”
When a man’s body got all tight, she expected a hand or boot to lash out. But Cole had wrapped the leather traces through his fingers. He couldn’t raise his hands without yanking the horses, and no decent rancher would abuse a useful animal.
“As your husband, it’s my duty and privilege to protect you. That’s why I took your knife away. I couldn’t have you wearing it during our wedding ceremony. I vowed to love, honor, and cherish you. Part of how a man honors his wife is by protecting her.”
He leaned toward her. This time she didn’t pull back.
“When I saw you walking toward me in that dress, with flowers in your hair and all, my heart near stopped. I couldn’t believe such a pretty woman would marry me.”
He thought she was pretty? No, it must be the dress. Yet her body tingled where his eyes trailed over her. One corner of his mouth curled up. His nostrils flared like old Harry’s bull scenting a cow. She could tell he wanted the same thing from her as that bull, to mount her and place his seed deep inside. But he’d promised himself he wouldn’t do that. Her breasts and the place between her thighs tingled in hopes he’d change his mind.
“I made a vow to keep you safe until spring. And that means safe from me and my cousins just as much as any other folk.” He coughed, almost like a laugh. “There’s nothing I’d rather do right now than kiss my lovely wife on our wedding night under this here moon. But I know you’re scared. And unless you kiss me, my lips won’t be going anywhere near yours.”
She wasn’t scared. She was eager. She’d been nervous during the ceremony, shaking so hard she could barely get her words out. When the judge said the men could kiss their wives, Walt let out a whoop and hauled Emma into his arms. Cole had wrapped his fingers around hers and murmured something soothing. She couldn’t remember what. He’d bent at the waist and slowly lifted her hand to his mouth. By the time his lips touched her knuckles she was aware of nothing but Cole’s face. He had a welcoming smile and kind look in his eyes. When he barely brushed his lips against her skin, the jolt of disappointment made her face heat.