Lassoing A Mail-Order Bride Page 3

  “Must have?”

  “Never mind. I probably shouldn’t ask—most men do—”

  “Do what? You’re talking in riddles, Gabby.”

  She huffed a breath out sharply, not looking at him. “A mistress.” She turned a direct gaze on him. “Do you have one?”

  He gave her a slow smile. “Would you care if I did?”

  “Well, of course!”

  “But why? If ‘most men do’—why would you care?’

  “I-I—Johnny—”

  He pulled her to him gently, and lowered his head. Gabby shivered as his mouth met hers, his lips claiming hers gently at first. But as she stood there, letting him kiss her in broad daylight, her heart twisted and turned and knocked against her chest. As he started to lift his head, Gabby reached out and put her arms around his neck.

  She couldn’t bear for the kiss to be over—not yet.

  Johnny groaned and pulled her even closer, plundering her mouth. Even so, she could feel something tightly leashed within him, ready to spring free. After what might have been seconds—or hours—he lifted his head from hers. It was then she realized his hat lay discarded on the first porch step, and her fingers were threaded through the clean, inky blackness of his hair, still luxuriating in the feel of it.

  It was all she could do to manage to gently loosen her fingers, and as she did so, he took one hand and kissed her palm.

  “That’s a resounding ‘no’, Mrs. Rainbolt. A mistress is one thing you’ll never have to worry about with me. I’m definitely a one-woman man—and that marriage certificate says you’re my one woman.”

  ****

  As Johnny unloaded the supplies, Gabby looked around the cabin. She delighted in her small discoveries; a real feather bed being one of the first. She sat on the edge, wondering what the evening would bring. The feeling of hopeful eagerness was a pleasant surprise—and again, she shuddered to think of how close she’d come to marrying someone who wouldn’t have suited at all.

  But Johnny was…perfect. In every way, so far. She couldn’t have predicted how safe she felt in his arms; how reassured she felt in her new future; and how the very sight of him pitched a flock of butterflies into her stomach. And the way he’d kissed her—

  Could they truly have fallen so hard for each other in this short amount of time? Or was it merely a marriage of convenience for them both?

  For her part, she knew she had gotten a much better husband than the one she’d thought she would be marrying. And for Johnny—she was a solution to a problem, for certain—the children—but the pledge he’d made to her and her own unborn child counted for more than he could ever know.

  She stood up quickly as she heard him come back through the front door with more supplies. She’d discovered a small, neat pantry for canned and packaged goods in the kitchen, and he’d told her there was a root cellar out back of the house, for fruits and vegetables.

  The front room boasted a large fireplace that would be welcome in the cold winter months, and though it was sparse in furnishings, the braided rugs scattered throughout the room made it feel homey.

  There was a small loft room that overlooked the front room and dining area, and an extra bedroom across the hall from Johnny’s.

  Gabby wandered into the smaller spare room, noticing he’d tried to do what he could to make it ready for the children.

  “Looks like I’m gonna need to build us another room or two,” he said from behind her.

  She turned to him with a smile. “Do you imagine we can do it before winter?”

  “When’s our baby due?”

  Her breath caught at his simple question; at the casual way he’d included himself so completely in her very being, and that of her unborn child.

  “Right about Christmas time.”

  He grinned, as if the timing pleased him. “I bet we can do it. A Christmas baby, huh?”

  She nodded.

  “I’d thought this would be Rema’s room. Put the boys upstairs.”

  “They’re young to be climbing up and down the ladder so much…” Gabby’s thoughts trailed off. “I just worry.”

  He reached to enfold her in a one-armed embrace. “You’re a natural-born mother hen, you know it? Worryin’ already, and they haven’t stepped off the stage.”

  “I want everything to be perfect for them, Johnny. I want them to know how much they’re loved. I want them to have fond memories from here on out.”

  “I’m hoping that’ll be the case for all of us.”

  She nodded in agreement.

  “Thought I’d start making that happen for you right now with a bath to wash away the travel grime.”

  She put her hands on her hips teasingly. “Are you saying I’m grimy, Mr. Rainbolt?”

  “No, ma’am. Not at all. You’re fresh as a flower on a morning in May. But, I thought you’d welcome a nice soak, all the same.”

  “Johnny, you’re making my dreams come true already.”

  He gave her a wink. “I hope so.”

  ****

  Johnny had gone out to see to the livestock while Gabby soaked in the metal tub. Oh, heaven! How she’d longed for the pleasure of being completely clean again—not having been able to afford the most meager of luxuries as she travelled. She’d had little time or opportunity for a long, luxurious wash such as this, and had had to make choices along the way between such extravagances as cleanliness and necessities such as eating.

  She held her breath and submerged her head, then lathered it with the fragrant soap she knew Johnny had added to the supplies just for her, along with a set of tortoise shell combs for her hair, and a brush.

  Johnny had matter-of-factly told her he knew she probably had such things—even finer than what he’d bought—but didn’t want her to have to unpack tonight, since she was so tired from her journey.

  His thoughtfulness in the small matters touched her as nothing else could have. Her father had never been thoughtful of his wife and children. A hard, cold man, he’d raised her brothers in his image. Her mother had retreated into a shell of perfection and façade, leaving her daughters to try and fend for themselves as best they could—which, in the Mason household, meant landing a husband as quickly as possible.

  As Gabby reluctantly stepped from the now-tepid water and began to dry her hair with a towel, she thought of the purchases again. Johnny didn’t know how special they were, but she would tell him. She wanted him to know just how special he’d made her feel. And that even though her father might have afforded those tortoise-shell combs a hundred times over, he’d never bought her one of them in her entire life.

  She heard the front door open and reached for her nightgown hurriedly. She’d found that in one of the small trunks and laid it out, but it was far too warm for this hot June night.

  No matter. She probably wouldn’t be wearing it for long, anyway. Her face burned, but her heart thundered at her thoughts.

  “Can I come in?”

  “Of course.” She smiled to herself. This would probably be the last time he’d ever ask permission to come into this room—now their room.

  When he entered, his eyes met hers from across the room, her smile welcoming.

  “I hope I gave you enough time—I took a bath in the creek—” His shirt hung open, his belt unbuckled at his waist, as if he hadn’t thought he needed to dress since…

  “Oh, that’s too cold,” she said quickly. “You should’ve—” She broke off, her words hanging.

  He grinned. “Come shared your bath? Plenty of time for that later. I wanted you to be able to relax.”

  “Oh—yes.”

  Johnny stood beside where she sat on the edge of the bed. “Gabby—if you don’t want to do this tonight—”

  “No—um, I mean, yes. Oh—Johnny, it’s not as if I’m a virgin, but I’ve only—well you know… the one time.” She lifted her gaze to his. “I’m afraid I don’t know what I should do…to please you.”

  He gave a soft chuckle, shrugging out of his shirt
, then reaching to turn the bed back as she stood up nervously.

  “Be easy, Gabby,” he murmured. “I’ll never hurt you. And I’ll never do anything you don’t want me to do.”

  She nodded, looking down.

  He began to unbutton his denims and dropped them to the floor, kicking them over beside his shirt.

  “C’mon. Let’s go to bed. I know you’re tired.”

  “But—don’t you want me to take off my nightgown?’

  He shrugged. “Only if you want to.”

  Disappointment tugged at her. What had she expected? That he’d insist on having his way with her because she was so beautiful he just couldn’t help himself? She knew better. But didn’t he want her?

  She crawled into bed, sneaking a quick glance at his sculpted, hard-chiseled body. Her heart jumped and fluttered.

  A smile tugged at his lips. “It’s gonna be pretty hot tonight for that nightgown. I won’t touch you, if you want to take it off to be cooler.”

  “N-No. I’ll just wear it awhile.”

  “Okay.” He laid down beside her and turned the wick down in the lamp on the bedside table.

  She could smell the clean man-scent of him, the woods, the creek and the evening wind that had finally cooled some. It seemed all these things were a part of his essence, as if he were as wild as the nature of this rugged land she would forever call home, now.

  His skin was warm as his arm touched hers in the quiet of the room.

  He turned on his side, toward her, and put his arm across her waist, his big hand splaying across the small bulge of her stomach, as if to protect her baby. Their baby, he’d said earlier.

  She squirmed, the nightgown suddenly feeling itchy and over-warm. He lifted his arm, waiting for her to get comfortable, then put his hand back where it had been.

  “Kids’ll be here tomorrow,” he observed.

  “Yes. I’m looking forward to it.”

  “I imagine there won’t be very many calm nights like this, once they come.”

  Gabby smiled in the darkness. “No. The house will be full of love and laughter.”

  “It already is, Gabby.” He was quiet a moment before he continued. “You’re more than I ever hoped for. Not just for the kids, but for me. For us.”

  “Johnny…please mean it, if you say it. I can’t bear any more heartache. I have to know what you say…is true.” Her voice shook, but she managed to get it out.

  And she was met with silence. She took a breath as if to continue, but in the next instant, Johnny’s lips closed tenderly over hers.

  “Gabby,” he whispered, between kisses. “I know that guy hurt you—” he smoothed her hair back, as if memorizing every arc and plane of her face in the darkness, “—giving you a baby and promising marriage to get what he wanted. But, I swear to you, if I saw him on the street, I’d beat the hell out of him, just from what I know—which isn’t a whole lot—yet. I’ll never let him or anyone else hurt you again.”

  Warmth flooded through her at the honest reassurance of his words. This shouldn’t be a time for the past to interfere with their future, for old memories to bind her heart to the ground and keep it from soaring in her newfound happiness and love.

  Suddenly, she felt small. Her fears and insecurity were blocking her way to happiness. She had so much she wanted to give; so much she wanted to learn and experience. She couldn’t do it without moving past what had already happened. And it wasn’t fair to her or Johnny if she didn’t push the past away and move on with this new life.

  He touched her cheek, as lightly as a raven’s wing, and brushed a kiss to her forehead.

  She moved to sit up and he leaned back.

  “What’re you doing?”

  “Getting rid of this damn nightgown.”

  She couldn’t see him, but she felt his surprise at her words. She pulled the gown off and threw it in the general direction of his clothing pile on the floor.

  “Gabby?”

  She laughed as he moved to take her in his arms. “I’m ready to become Mrs. Johnny Rainbolt. Now, and forever.”

  ****

  Johnny and Gabby stood together on the station platform as the stage rounded the corner of Brush Creek’s Main Street. Nothing had changed, Gabby thought, glancing around the streets. Yet everything had, with the passage of only twenty-four hours.

  She was a married woman. A happily married woman, she corrected, thinking of the hours of lovemaking she and Johnny had spent last night. And now, the children were here. She expected to hear happy chatter as the stage came around the corner and down the dusty street.

  But, even though Gabby caught a glimpse of two dark heads through the open stage window, there was no laughter. Maybe they’d fallen asleep, she thought. But as the driver pulled to a stop and swung down to open the door, Gabby’s eyes locked with the somber coal-dark gaze of the older boy, James. He carefully looked away when she gave him a sunny, welcoming smile.

  Johnny had stepped forward and reached to take the hand of a rail-thin sour-faced woman who emerged.

  She barely spared him a cool nod before turning to look back into the coach. “Come along, children!” She threw Johnny a most exasperated glance. “You must be Mr. Rainbolt.”

  Before he could respond, she went on, lifting her nose in the air. “I am Miss Tarndale. I can’t describe to you how relieved I am to reach our destination here in Brush Creek. I shall book a room in the local inn and be on the return stage the day after tomorrow, back to Colorado.”

  Miss Tarndale was a tight-lipped, unsmiling woman who Gabby disliked on sight. Dour and unpleasant as she was, Gabby imagined every mile that rolled by had been welcome for the children—because they knew the trip was coming to an end.

  As uncertain as their lives were, they could only hope for better things once they reached their uncle’s home. Miss Tarndale had made it no easier on them.

  The children all stood uncertainly behind her. Gabby bent low to look into Rema’s dark eyes. She held out her hand, and slowly, the little girl stepped forward.

  “As their new governess, there are some things you should know,” Miss Tarndale went on, piercing Gabby with a dark look. Gabby purposely gave all her attention to Rema. Miss Tarndale huffed at Gabby’s rude cut.

  “Miss Tarndale, Gabrielle is my wife—not a governess.” There was steel in Johnny’s tone, and Gabby knew he’d had enough of Miss Tarndale and her tedious ways, just as she had.

  “Oh…but…you’re white…” the crone gasped, horrified. Her wide-eyed look swung back to Gabby once more.

  Gabby glanced up quickly, meeting her condemning gray gaze. She straightened to her full height.

  “And you are unspeakably rude. Tell me, are these the manners you hope to teach your charges?”

  Miss Tarndale recovered herself with a sputter. “Thankfully, my job is done with these little savages.” Her lips tightened to a thin, hard line. “They now belong to you.” She turned her gaze to Johnny. “Good day, Mr. Rainbolt.” With that, she turned on her heel, selected her bag from the stage platform, and headed for the Brush Creek Hotel without a backward glance.

  Gabby’s heart beat double time. It had been a long time since she’d been so angry. It had been…since she’d left home; maybe not even then, when she thought of it—then, she’d been more hurt and afraid of what the future held for her. She had been like a lost child, buffeted by whichever way the currents of her life took her.

  But now…she was in control. And she’d be damned if she’d allow Miss Tarndale or anyone else to insult these children or her husband…or herself. Her family…already precious to her. Dear enough to her heart to fight for.

  Johnny watched Miss Tarndale’s progress toward the hotel, then he turned toward Gabby, laughter lighting his near-black eyes. “I expect Miss Tarndale never had such a proper set down in her life, Mrs. Rainbolt.”

  “Well.” She huffed a breath out. “She needed it.”

  Johnny laughed. “Yeah. She did. But I never figured you
for the one to give it to her.”

  The admiration in his eyes was all Gabby needed to know she’d done the right thing—for all of them.

  ****

  Dinner, in spite of Gabby’s attempts to lighten moods, was a somber, quiet affair.

  The children all sat stiffly in their chairs, their faces blank and emotionless. More than once, Gabby and Johnny exchanged perplexed glances. There was no happy chatter. The only consolation Gabby took was that the children ate heartily of the simple fare.

  After they’d all finished, Johnny pulled three sticks of peppermint from the top shelf of the pantry, eliciting the first smiles of the day from the youngsters as he handed them out.

  Over the tops of their heads, Gabby mouthed, “Where’s mine?”

  He gave her a slow smile. “Later,” he murmured, his arm going around her. “I promise.”

  ****

  The sound of a child’s scream tore through the night, instantly alarming Gabby and Johnny to sudden wakefulness. They both jumped out of bed quickly, grabbing for clothing.

  Gabby hurried across the hall and Johnny followed close behind, calling to the boys who peered over the edge of the loft at him with wide eyes.

  Gabby pulled Rema into her arms as the child sobbed against her.

  “Bad…he was bad…” Her sobs were breathless and uncontrollable.

  “Who, sweetheart?”

  She pointed toward the small window where the curtains fluttered in the summer night.

  Johnny looked thoughtful, then wordlessly headed for the front door. He stopped just long enough to snatch the shotgun from the gunrack, then threw the door open.

  Gabby followed close behind, Rema in her arms.

  “You stay here,” he said softly. Then, he vanished into the darkness. Hastily, Gabby closed the door behind him.

  She refused to allow herself to think of what could happen. What if there really had been someone out there? What if it hadn’t been a little girl’s bad dream, but a real-life nightmare?

  A sound startled her from the loft, and she glanced up, but could see nothing in the pitch black of night—and she dared not light a lamp.