by Joyce Armor
She chafed a little at that direction. She was an experienced rider and a good shot. When she thought about it, though, she realized he was right. She was completely unfamiliar with the area and knew how a rider could get into trouble from unknown gopher holes, a quick change in the weather or predators. Surely once she acclimated herself to the area, though, he would relent, not that she felt compelled to follow his dictates anyway. Although he was her husband, they barely knew each other. She thought he would have to earn the right to order her about. She almost smiled. It was another way she had grown since undertaking this venture. She was standing her ground. Just not out loud.
It didn’t escape Cal that his young wife had not agreed to his order. He supposed he could have couched it in a little more palatable form. It was not his way, though, and he could not see twisting himself into a pretzel just to please her, especially where her safety was concerned.
* * *
As they drove up to the ranch house, Lindy smiled. It was two stories, painted white, with a veranda all the way across the front and two posts, standing almost like pillars. The house had glass windows that could use a cleaning. It was not huge, but it was somehow majestic. It suited her dauntless husband. She also spied a large, weathered barn, another big building that was probably the bunkhouse and a couple of smaller structures beyond it. Looking back at the house, she decided it needed some flowers or plants around the front.
Cal was a bit surprised when he introduced Lindy to his foreman, Crane, and two of his cowpokes. She was friendly enough but subdued, almost shy. The boys were sweaty and none too clean, though he doubted that was a problem. She wasn’t all that spiffed up herself after her long trip. He thought about her response to the men. He already knew she was intelligent, attractive, inquisitive and not afraid to speak her mind. And she had kind of a quirky outlook, if her descriptions of her two suitors in Pennsylvania were any indication. Now he knew she wasn’t as confident as she came across. Perhaps she was more comfortable one-on-one rather than in groups. He could understand that.
The men at the ranch took turns preparing the midday and evening meals, which ranged from decent to barely palatable. Everyone was on their own for breakfast, although oftentimes the men in the bunkhouse rotated that duty as well, so typically it was only Cal fixing his own breakfast. The noon meal was long over. After Cal gave Lindy a tour of the house and put her trunk in his bedroom—no doubt about where you’re sleeping tonight, she noted with apprehension and excitement—he went off to confer with Crane, but not before asking her if she would be able and willing to prepare supper for 10 to be ready at 6:00.
“If you have the fixin’s,” she had smiled, “I’m you’re woman.”
Yes, he’d thought, you are. It was a reflection that pleased him yet still brought him some trepidation.
Lindy walked down to the kitchen, marveling at how homey the two-story ranch house felt. She ran her hand down the polished oak banister and gazed to the left. The room below might have been called a sitting room back east, with its comfortable-looking blue sofa and matching chair, a dark, oval table between them. She had glanced over the large selection of books on the room’s pine bookshelf earlier.
Once downstairs, she passed the dining room, which held a long, heavy, caramel-colored table—she wasn’t sure what kind of wood it was made of—with benches on the sides and two armchairs on either end to seat 14 or 16 people. A tall sideboard cabinet in the same light wood looked to hold a mish-mash of dishes. She directed her attention back to the table. In the middle was a carved wooden bear standing on its hind legs. While she liked the carving, she pictured a nice, colorful bouquet of wildflowers on the table and the bear on the bookshelf. The house definitely had that bachelor atmosphere in just about every room. She knew she could improve on the decoration to make the place feel more welcoming. She would have to be careful, though, not to make it too feminine. She needed to strike a balance and not ruffle her Texas Ranger’s feathers. She giggled at that image.
One place Lindy O’Hara Bronson felt comfortable was in the kitchen. And it would be no different cooking for 10 than cooking for 9, except these working men were bound to have bigger appetites than her younger siblings. Cal’s kitchen was surprisingly well stocked, with a massive wood-burning stove, overflowing larder and filled icebox. Before she decided what to prepare and how much time she would need, she realized she had no idea what time it was. The stage was due in to San Angelo at 10:45, and it seemed to be on schedule. The meal with Cal had probably not even taken an hour, which meant they left the restaurant at about 11:40. The wedding could not have taken more than 15 minutes. Then they had to pick up the trunk and the wagon at the station. Then there was the ride to the ranch, which she estimated at no more than an hour and a half, and the tour of the house. So it must be about 1:45 now.
She was pleased with her powers of deduction. Then she glanced on the kitchen counter and noticed Cal had left his timepiece. She laughed. It was 1:14. That gave her almost five hours. She decided to make a hearty beef stew and biscuits. She imagined one couldn’t find any fresher beef than here on a cattle ranch. She also found potatoes, onions, carrots and celery as well as a jar labeled as beef stock, which she thickened with flour, and was delighted at the variety of herbs and spices. Once she had the stew simmering, she sat for a minute at the dining table to catch her breath. She wouldn’t need to start the biscuits for a few hours. She looked down at her dress and realized how rumpled and dusty it was. She desperately needed a bath. She felt fortunate that Cal had even accepted her in this condition.
Lindy smiled then. She remembered an alcove off the kitchen that held a big old zinc tub. The room was probably where the cowboys left their muddy boots and where Cal bathed. Excited at the prospect of getting clean, she started heating up water in a couple of kettles. While that was happening, she bounded upstairs to find her lavender soap. It was much gentler than lye soap, she knew, and her one indulgence with Cal’s traveling money. She had found it in a general store at a whistle stop in Tennessee.
She grimaced at the thought of lye soap. She had washed her hair once with it, when she couldn’t find the goat-milk soap. She was 17, and her mother was in Pittsburgh helping Lindy’s aunt with newborn twins. When her hair dried, it seemed the lye soap had sucked the life right out of it. It became dry and fly-away. Lindy was desolate when her mother returned. Thankfully, her brilliant mam knew a home remedy to fix the problem—egg yolks mixed in water. It took a few treatments, but they worked. Lindy smiled at the thought of her dear mother. She missed her.
Do not become melancholy. That’s an order.
She forced her mind back to the business at hand. She remembered a cedar trunk in Cal’s large bedroom—her bedroom—that he had told her held linens. She looked through it and pulled out a big blue towel. The tub was undoubtedly too heavy for her to carry up the stairs, so she would have to bathe in the alcove.
As she was coming back downstairs carrying the towel, a clean blue day dress, chemise, drawers and stockings, as well as the fragrant soap, she remembered Cal’s study and detoured there to find a piece of paper to make a sign. She didn’t want to go through his desk and was relieved to see a tablet right on top of a stack of papers. Lindy picked up the tablet and carefully tore off a sheet of paper. As she started to set the tablet down, her eye caught on the top paper. It was a diagram of some sort. She looked closer. It was a diagram of the inside of a bank, with the tellers’ windows, offices, lobby and vault. She didn’t think anything of it as she set the tablet down, except that Cal must have to gather all sorts of interesting information in his line of work. She debated on borrowing his quill pen to make her sign but decided to use a pencil instead. She didn’t want to take a chance of damaging the pen. Rather than taking the pencil with her, she dropped her clothes and the towel on a chair and wrote out the sign in big letters on his desk: WOMAN BATHING – DO NOT ENTER. Then she had a brief thought: I hope the cowboys can read.
Pleased w
ith her efforts nonetheless, she picked up her belongings and the sign and headed back to the kitchen. There, she opened the drawer she had noticed earlier that contained a variety of everything, it appeared—slips of paper with notes on them, a set of spurs, several acorns, lengths of string and even a kaleidoscope. And aha! Just as she remembered, a little container of drawing pins. She retrieved one and tacked her sign on the outside door that led to the little mudroom. She decided the kitchen side would be safe, as she could not imagine anyone but Cal coming in that way. Not that she wanted to put herself on display yet for her new husband before they had even…she couldn’t make herself think the thought, but her mind and her heart both knew what she meant.
The water in both kettles started to boil and she took them off the stove, carrying them one at a time to carefully pour them into the tub. She stirred the stew and then refilled the kettles from the large water barrel in the kitchen and added that water until the tub was hot but not boiling. At that moment, she could not remember ever feeling happier. It was silly. It was just a bath. Perhaps it was symbolic of her beginning this new life, cleansing herself of her past frailties and facing endless possibilities with her handsome husband.
She half-filled a kettle and set it to warm up as she unpinned her hair and let it fall past her shoulders. It wasn’t as long as it used to be, and she was glad of it. Practical by nature, she could never understand the purpose of growing hair so long it was difficult to brush, clean and handle, especially when almost no one saw it down in all its supposed glory. She didn’t begrudge anybody who wanted to go to the trouble; it just wasn’t something she felt inclined to do. She hoped Cal didn’t mind. The water in the kettle was hot but not boiling when she carefully poured it into a pitcher and set it near the tub. Then she stripped, and with a last thought of how lucky she was, she grabbed the soap and stepped into the tub, sinking down into it with a groan of sheer joy.
Lindy washed her hair a couple of times first and then her body, luxuriating in the warmth and massage as her hands slid over her slippery form. She worked fast enough that the water was still warm when she was done washing, and she lay back in utter contentment, closing her eyes. Moments later, she was asleep.
* * *
Cal figured he had given his bride enough time to settle in and get her bearings. He wasn’t sure what to expect when he walked in the front door, but he was rather disappointed that she didn’t greet him. He didn’t want to shout her name, so he headed upstairs to see if she was resting. The room was just as he had left it. Then he realized what seemed different about the house. It was the aroma of some kind of food that smelled awfully good. Here in the bedroom he also detected a different odor, subtle and sweet. I could get used to having a wife.
He realized if he could smell the food, Lindy must be in the kitchen, so he trudged back downstairs and ambled toward the inviting odors. He didn’t see his wife, but he saw a big pot with a lid on it. He grabbed a little dish towel and lifted the lid. Stew! He loved stew, good stew, that is, which he hadn’t enjoyed in a long time. He picked up the large spoon resting on the counter and stirred it. God bless Lindy. Where was she? Just then he heard a little splash, so little he wasn’t even sure he hadn’t imagined it. Following the possible sound, he took a step toward the mud room opening and froze.
Lindy, incredibly naked, her wet auburn hair hanging over the back of the tub, was lying with her legs bent and open. Her nipples were just above water level. He had never seen anything more enticing and felt his erection go from nonexistent to full force in a matter of seconds. That had never happened before. The man who could make split-second decisions when necessary felt absolutely pole-axed. He couldn’t move a muscle. Should he quietly retreat and pretend his tongue hadn’t just been hanging out so far it might have hit the floor? Should he strip as fast as he could and mount her? What if one of the men came in the back door, as they did occasionally to get a good cup of coffee? She obviously was asleep. Maybe he should awaken her so the latter circumstance couldn’t happen.
Lord, he was frozen, as was his power of deduction. And then she jerked awake suddenly and he was caught. He didn’t move. Her head slowly turned, her eyes widened and then her jaw dropped open. “Cal” was all she said and then she put her legs together, scooted forward and plunged her head under water.
After a moment, he strode forward. He couldn’t let her drown herself in embarrassment, could he? He placed his hands under her shoulders and pulled her back to a sitting position. She sputtered. “I…I…didn’t you see my sign?”
He barely heard her. He was thinking about how soft her skin felt and how good she smelled. It had been months since he had availed himself of the fairer sex, and that good widow was not remotely as fair as Lindy, his wife. And then what she said registered.
“What sign?”
“The one on the door.” She pointed.
He looked over her shoulders at her breasts, which were now partially out of the water. They were stunning, not large but medium sized, if he was any judge, and perky, with dark pinkish-brown nipples he so wanted to feel and taste. “I came in the front door.”
She must have thought his brain was stunted. He could not seem to respond in a timely fashion. “Well, I just need to rinse off.” She reached for the pitcher.
They apparently weren’t going to acknowledge that she was naked in the bathtub and he was staring at her.
“I’ll do it,” he said. He took the pitcher from her slightly shriveled hand and oh-so-slowly poured it over her head as she sighed in ecstasy.
How could he pour water so sensually? Suddenly she was less embarrassed and more…excited. She decided to stand. He helped her up, looking at her in all her naked glory. She looked back at him, and he couldn’t miss the desire, the hunger in her eyes. He snatched up the towel, wrapped it around her and lifted her in his arms.
“Lindy?” His voice was gruff.
“Yes.” Should I have been so agreeable? Yes! We’re married. I am agreeable. Incredibly agreeable.
He carried her back through the kitchen and up the stairs, taking them by two’s. If he could have taken them by four’s, he would have. She was light for a relatively tall woman, although it could have been the incredible sexual tension that gave him added strength. And perhaps he was in such a hurry because he didn’t want her sexual ardor to be dampened by any maidenly fears. He reached their bedroom and kicked the door open wider, then crossed to the bed and gently laid her down before going back and closing the door.
She watched him as he undressed, her eyes widening as he lowered his trousers and removed his smalls, revealing a large and very stiff appendage. Growing up on a farm, Lindy understood the basics of intercourse and found herself not distressed by his member but rather intrigued. Her expression encouraged him immensely, not that he needed much encouragement at this point, and he approached the bed, kneeling down. Oh-so-slowly, he unwound the towel from around her and tossed it behind him. Then he leaned over and gave her a kiss to end all kisses. It was soft and tender at first, then deeper and finally explosive. While unexpected, it seemed somehow natural to Lindy that his tongue should enter her mouth, and she tentatively and then more boldly let her tongue respond.
When Cal joined her on the bed and their bodies touched full length, Lindy nearly shouted with joy. It felt so damned good. And then, as he kissed her again, one hand drifted toward her right breast, a finger tweaking her nipple, and she recalibrated her definition of “feeling good.”
What followed was a worshipping of her body, her opportunity to feel his hard body all over—and at least one of his body parts was exceedingly hard—and a revelation to her. She could not make herself believe cows felt this way when they coupled. She experienced a twinge of pain when he finally entered her all the way, but it was there and gone so fast it didn’t hinder the growing sparkles within her that led to an explosion of pleasure. Her husband rather exploded in pleasure himself soon after.
Once they regained their sens
es, she felt a bit awkward. What does one say to a person one has been incredibly intimate with yet barely knows, even if he is one’s husband? He saved her the trouble of having to conjure up something by speaking first.
“Did I hurt you?”
She held onto the sheet as she sat up and looked at him. “That was…that was…”
She hesitated, searching for a word and he prayed it would be a positive one. He knew she had reached her pinnacle. What he didn’t know is if a virgin would feel embarrassed, confused or shy about it.
“That was simply magnificent,” she said, grinning. “I wouldn’t want to do it with anyone but you, of course, but I would be happy to do it again. And often. Although I don’t want to infringe on your work or anything. I’m babbling, aren’t I?”
He laughed and pulled her into his arms. “Any time you want to do this, feel free to infringe on my work.”
She smiled, truly content. Then she suddenly jumped up. “The stew!”
He watched in fascination as she reached the trunk in two steps, threw it open and searched through it for underthings and a gown. She proceeded to dress, including fastening the buttons on her back, and dashed out of the room within two minutes. Must be a record for a woman. Perhaps he should feel guilty that he hadn’t even waited for sunset to avail himself of his conjugal rights. What he felt instead was immense satisfaction. He had chosen the right woman and she had a passion within her that both surprised and delighted him. Yes, this would be a satisfying marriage.
Cal emptied the bathing tub, removed the sign from the back door and took Lindy’s old clothes and the ones she had intended to wear after her bath to their room. Unbelievably, he felt his trousers tighten as he held her thin chemise and drawers. Lord, he was like a kid in a candy store. He honestly hadn’t thought of sex when he wrote the ad for a wife, not that it wasn’t in the back of his mind. Now it was most definitely in the front of his mind. Way in front.