by Kit Morgan
“Morning Samijo,” Benjamin said, his voice low. He sounded as if he wasn’t sure he should be addressing her at all. She looked at him to see if his eyes would confirm it, but they held no such hesitancy in them, and instead seemed to be pleading with her to say something, anything. So she looked at Arlan when she said, “Good morning, Calvin. Did you sleep well?”
Calvin looked between Samijo and his brother, as their eyes locked on each other. “Uh, fine, and you?”
“Never slept better,” she said.
Arlan’s eyes narrowed at the remark and he sat heavily onto a chair. “I didn’t hardly sleep at all,” he added. Benjamin and Daniel also sat, and did their best not to say a word. Arlan gave them a brief glance before returning his attention to his wife. “It was cold last night.”
“Was it?” she asked. “I didn’t notice.”
“I did, as I didn’t have any company.”
His voice was terse, and Samijo stiffened in her chair. Thankfully, Ma set a huge plate of pancakes on the table then turned back to the stove. The twins both stabbed at the stack at the same time, as Daniel reached for the pitcher of milk, his eyes darting from one face to the other. Arlan didn’t lift a finger, but continued to stare at her. “Please pass the butter,” she told him.
He looked at the small crock, and shoved it across the table to her.
She straightened. “Thank you.” She reached for it, but his hand shot out and grabbed hers.
“Don’t you need a pancake first?” he asked.
“I was getting to that,” she countered.
“Allow me,” he said.
Something in his voice made her wary, and she looked at the twins who both sat, a fork halfway to their mouths, as they waited to see what their big brother would do next. Samijo’s back stiffened another notch, and she tried not to gulp as he dished her up a pancake and set it before her. He buttered it then went a step further and poured syrup onto it, making a show of letting it drip onto the surface of the pancake in slow circles, before he set the syrup down, and looked into her eyes.
Now she did gulp.
Arlan smiled at the sound as he leaned across the table, cut a bite of pancake off with a fork, and lifted it to her mouth. What else was she supposed to do but take it? Arlan’s eyes grew dark as his brother’s watched in fascination. “Hungry, darlin’?” he asked in a low voice.
“Er … ah … well it is breakfast,” she said.
“Yes, and it would have been nice if my wife had been home to cook mine.”
Try as she might, her temper flared anyway. “And it would have been nicer if my husband had come home to bed with me the night before.”
The eyes of the three brothers got bigger.
Arlan ignored them. “Maybe if someone would have taken the time to listen to me instead of running out the door yesterday, we both could have had what we wanted.”
Samijo stood. “I wanted you home in bed with me, not out all night with that Bridger woman!”
Benjamin grabbed his plate and pushed his chair back, Daniel did the same. Calvin on the other hand, started to dig into his pancakes, never once taking his eyes from the two combatants.
“I was not out all night … okay, so maybe I was, but nothing happened!”
“Why were out all night to begin with? It can’t take that long to find a couple of horses that wandered off!”
“It’s a long story, and …” his voice faded, as his eyes narrowed to slits. Benjamin and Daniel headed for the dining room to take refuge while Calvin stabbed a couple more pancakes and buttered them, his eyes still glued to his brother and Samijo.
Ma, meanwhile, had disappeared from the kitchen, but no one seemed to notice.
“You let her kiss you!” Samijo threw at him.
“I didn’t see it coming! The woman’s a viper, and if you think I purposely let her kiss me then you don’t know me at all.”
“You’re right,” she agreed. “I don’t know you at all!” She came around the table and made to rush past him to the door.
He grabbed her arm as his mother came back into the kitchen, a basket in her hand. “Don’t run away from me, Samijo. We need to talk this out.”
“What’s there to talk about? You … you …” she turned her face away so he couldn’t see the tears forming in her eyes.
Ma tapped Arlan on the shoulder and handed him the basket, she then pointed to the door. He looked her up and down a moment before comprehension dawned, then pulled on Samijo’s arm to get her moving. “C’mon,” he said in a gruff voice. “You’re coming with me.”
“I am not coming with you!” she shot back.
Araln turned to look down at her, bent at the waist, and in one swift move, hefted her onto his shoulder and stood.
“What are you doing?” Samijo screeched. “Put me down this instant!”
“If I’d a known what a temper you had woman, I might never have married you,” he groused. He turned to his mother, winked, and watched as she hurried to the door to open it for him. He then readjusted his load, namely Samijo, and headed out of the kitchen with a squirming wife over his shoulder and a picnic basket.
Ma closed the door behind him and smiled. Calvin could only stare in awe. “What was in the basket?” he asked.
“Fresh bread, some jam, hard boiled eggs. There wasn’t time to do much else.”
“Where’s he taking her?”
“Calvin, your brother is newly married, and hasn’t so much as kissed his wife yet. Where do you think he’s taking her?”
Calvin thought a moment and of all things, blushed. “Oh, right … ah … well …”
“And I want the rest of you boys to leave them be! Now finish your breakfast, and get out there and see to the chores.”
“Yes ma’am,” he said, his face still red, and looked to the kitchen door with a longing that about tore his mother’s heart out. She knew then that her twin boys would be ready for wives of their own soon.
* * *
“Put me down!”
Arlan ignored his wife’s pleas and continued his trek through the orchard. “I’ll put you down when you’re ready to listen to reason.”
“You can’t carry me around all day.”
“Watch me.”
Samijo laughed. “What about when you need to use the privy?”
Arlan stopped, and she could feel his body tense. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said then started walking again, his pace quicker than before.
“I’m not … being ridiculous,” she stammered, trying to catch her breath. Talking while slung over a man’s shoulder wasn’t the easiest thing to do. “I think you’re acting like a child!”
“I’m acting like a child?” You’re the one that ran off and wouldn’t speak to me all day.”
“Well, what if you saw me kissing that woman’s brother? What would you do?”
He stopped again and stood in silence for a few moments, then bent over and let her slid off his shoulder until her feet touched the ground. He looked down at her with a look of steel, and she backed up a step from the sheer power of it. “I’d have punched him hard enough to send him across the room.”
She straightened her dress. “There, you see. That’s how I felt when I saw you kissing that Bridger woman.”
“I did not kiss her. She kissed me.”
“You could have stopped her.”
“I did, but you were so angry you didn’t notice me pulling her off me.”
Samijo shook with a chill, or was it her rising emotions? It wasn’t anger this time, but something else. Something she could not identify. “You didn’t come after me.”
“Would it have done any good?”
She looked at him and hugged herself. “I don’t know.”
He dropped the basket to the ground and pulled her into his arms. “Are you cold?”
“I don’t know what I am any more …” she said in soft voice. The fight in her from earlier had vanished, and all she wanted was to be in his arms. His embrac
e chased away her anger and hurt, and she found she didn’t want it to end.
He tightened his hold, and rested his chin on the top of her head. “Can’t we start over? Forget it happened? I swear to you nothing happened, it wasn’t her I was trying to find the animals for, but her family. They’re out here with one wagon and that silly buggy, and not prepared for a long stay. I don’t know what Mr. Bridger was thinking hauling his family out here with only enough supplies to last a few days.”
Samijo lifted her head from his chest. “A few days? Oh Arlan, you don’t think they came only to look at the property do you?”
“Could be, if they bought it from my aunt, then it would make sense for them to come inspect it before they build. Which means they’ll be leaving soon.”
“But then they’ll be back,” she said and let her head fall back to his chest. “And they’ll build a place behind us, and that woman will …”
“Hush, we can’t be sure of anything yet. Besides, I doubt my Aunt Betsy would have sold them anything.” He tucked a finger under her chin and brought her face up to look at him. “Let’s not talk about it anymore, let’s concentrate on other things.”
“Like what?”
Arlan stepped away from her, then handed her the basket. “Hold onto this, will you?”
She took it from him. “What are you going to do?”
He gave her a devilish grin. “This,” he said and swept her up into his arms.
She giggled. How did she stay mad at him so long? It seemed all he had to do was touch her and everything disappeared. “What are you going to do? Carry me all the way back to the cabin?”
“Uh-huh. I’m not letting you have another chance to run away from me this time.”
She held the basket with one hand as she put her other arm around his neck. “I’m sorry, Arlan. Really I am.”
He gazed into her eyes as he walked. “Me too. I don’t want us to fight like this. Forgive me?”
Her face softened as she looked at him. “Yes. Me?”
He stopped, his eyes intent on her own as he lowered his face to hers. “Yes.”
Samijo’s heart fluttered in her chest. They had crossed through the orchard and were now in the middle of the field. The sun was shining down on them, and she reveled in its bright warmth as she stared into her husband’s eyes. She caught a whiff of something sweet, a flower she was unfamiliar with perhaps, when his lips touched hers. It was a soft kiss, no more than a gentle touch of his lips on her own, but it set her whole world on fire.
And Samijo kissed him back.
Eleven
Arlan’s arms tightened as Samijo pulled his face closer, and to his utter delight, kissed him. He’d given her a chaste kiss, something to say I’m sorry and I care about you. Her kiss on the other hand, said so much more. He felt his heart soar at her kiss’s declaration, and started walking again before they’d finished it. If he didn’t start moving now, they’d never make it to the cabin. If he continued kissing her in the middle of the field, who knew what could happen?
She rested her head against his shoulder the rest of the way and didn’t say a word, and remained just as silent when he set her on her feet just inside the door. He closed it, turned to her, and took the basket out of her hand. She stood staring up at him, and he felt his heart swell with emotion. Love? Yes. What else could it be? Arlan was falling in love with his wife.
“Samijo,” he said as he fingered the chignon at the back of her head. He pulled a few pins out of it, and let part of it spill. She reached behind her, and freed the rest as she continued to look up at him. He smiled down at her. “I like it when your hair is down.” He ran his fingers through it, enjoying the silky softness, before he cupped her face with his other hand, and lowered his face to her own. He kissed her then, gently at first, but then with more passion as his emotions soared.
How in a single kiss did a man go from realizing he wanted to bed his wife, to wanting to die for her? To slay the largest dragon, climb the highest mountain, move it if he could, and all for her? He’d never in his life felt such a thing, and wouldn’t know how to describe it in a way to do it justice. But as he kissed her he wanted to, wanted to tell her how he felt, wanted her to share in it with him. Yet how could he say such things after what just happened? She thought he’d done something with Olivia, and he had been out all night with the woman. Probably the stupidest thing he’d ever done. Correction, make that the stupidest.
He broke the kiss, and looked down into her eyes. He didn’t want to think about anything else but the woman before him. “Hello, Mrs. Weaver. Welcome home.”
She smiled. “It’s good to be back,” she whispered.
He bent his face to hers, and kissed her again. A long, slow, leisurely kiss, and once again, she kissed him back. She was a passionate little thing, and he felt as if Heaven had opened up and sent her down solely for him and no other. He’d heard different things about mail order brides, and knew that often times folks married for simple survival. He wanted a companion, someone to work the land along side him. He had no idea the good Lord would bring him such a passionate beauty. “Mrs. Weaver,” he breathed as he came up for air. “I have a better idea …”
She looked up at him, her lips pink and swollen from their last kiss. “What’s that?” she asked, her voice no more than a tiny squeak.
He smiled as he held her closer. “Let me show you,” he said, then bent to her ear and whispered, “how I plan to make you mine.”
She looked at him, her eyes wide. “Make me yours?”
He nodded, his mouth in a half smile, before he scooped her up, and headed for the bedroom.
“But …” she protested.
“But what?”
“I mean … are you referring to… oh mercy! I don’t know a thing about …”
He smiled as he pushed the bedroom door open with his foot. “To tell you the truth, I don’t know much more than you do, but don’t worry none darlin’. We got the whole rest of the day to learn.”
* * *
Olivia Bridger wasn’t one to be trifled with, at least in her own mind, and she vowed to see her work on Arlan Weaver completed before her father figured out he’d come to look at land that wasn’t really for sale. And she’d better hurry, for as she watched Arlan kiss his wife in the morning sunlight from her hiding spot behind a tree at the edge of the field, she knew her time was short.
The sight set her to fuming, and she stomped a foot in anger as the handsome Araln picked his wife up into his arms and began to carry her the rest of the way to his cabin. Olivia turned away and leaned against the tree. “This isn’t going as I planned.” She again peeked around the trunk, Arlan was heading straight for his house. If she had been smart, she’d be waiting inside for him. Oh the look on his little wife’s face would have been priceless! But she got stuck making breakfast that morning for her family and had to listen to one of her father’s appalling speeches on how her spinsterhood was costing him a fortune. Did he not realize she was picky? That she wasn’t going to settle for just any man? Heavens no! But she was also getting tired of listening to her father complain, and so decided to set her sights on Arlan Weaver a month ago when she saw him at the Gunderson Stage stop with his family. She and her mother were heading east to visit her aunt, while the Weavers were heading home after attending a Valentine dance and double wedding in Nowhere. Olivia had taken one look at Arlan and decided she wanted him, then spent several hours gathering information from folks at the stage stop. Mrs. Gunderson was a tight-lipped thing, but Mr. Gunderson was more cooperative. He told her where they lived, how long they’d been there, that Mrs. Quinn who ran the mercantile in Nowhere was sister to Arlan’s mother, and that she owned the land adjacent to the Weavers. She’d even gone so far as to send word to her father in Oregon City to meet them in Nowhere, and travel out to the Weaver’s farm to “check out the land” and see if they might make an offer to Mrs. Quinn. Too bad she forgot to mention the land wasn’t actually for sale.
He choked, sputtered, and pulled the flask from his mouth. He looked around, his eyes finally settling on her, and jerked in shock. “I beg your pardon?” He glanced suspiciously around before giving her his attention. “Who are you?”
She walked half the distance between them and stopped. “Olivia Bridger, and you are?”
“It’s none of your business who I am. Is this the Weaver farm?”
She smiled. “Maybe.”
He got off his horse and led it to where she stood. “Don’t play with me girl, is this the Weaver farm or not?”
“Yes, but who wants to know?”
He looked her up and down a second time. “The name’s Burr, and I’ve come for my niece.”
Olivia’s eyes lit up. “Your niece you say? My, my, as Mrs. Weaver’s far too old to be a niece to you, I would have to assume you mean the new Mrs. Weaver.”
His jaw clenched. “I do. Now where is she?”
Olivia looked over her shoulder at Arlan’s cabin. “Hmmm, I could point her out, but what good would that do me?”
“What do you mean? Just tell me where she is and I’ll be on my way.”
“You’re certainly in a hurry. Don’t you realize she’s married now?”
His jaw tightened, and she could see the threat in his eyes. “It doesn’t matter. She’s going back to New Orleans with me.”
Olivia assessed him a second time, and noted his fine clothes, the new gun belt he wore, not to mention what looked like a newer gun. She wondered if he even knew how to use it. “New Orleans, you say? And what makes you think she’ll want to go back with you?”