Damn it to hell. Not big brown eyes. No. He was a sucker for big brown eyes and hers were like dinner plates.
Standing, he strolled over to the ticket window where a line was forming behind the brown-eyed girl. The folks in line shifted on their feet and he could feel impatience building all around the platform.
He tipped his hat to the young lady and then held out his hand. “May I see that bracelet?”
She eyed him up and down and then placed it in his waiting palm. “It’s real gold. And those are real sapphires too. It belonged to Miss Elizabeth and she gave it to me. Now I have got to get to Juniper Junction right away. Would you please tell this man,” she waved her hand in the direction of the ticket agent, “that he ought to give me a ticket and some change too since that bracelet is worth a lot of money.”
He thought for a moment. He’d stopped by the police precinct that morning to say his good-byes to a couple of the fellows there and had overheard something about a missing woman and her jewelry. The name Elizabeth seemed familiar, though it was a common enough name.
“What is this Miss Elizabeth’s last name and how do you know her?” he queried.
“Her name is Elizabeth Corwin Pendleton and this bracelet belonged to her mother and she inherited it when her mother died and before she left town, Miss Elizabeth gave it to me because I was her maid and we were friends.”
His eyebrows rose. “You were her maid and she gave you this item of jewelry?”
She snatched it back out of his palm and placed her hands on her hips. “Yes. I was. And she did. Now you can either help or get out of the way because I’ve got to get to Wyoming Territory.”
Walk away. Turn and walk away. This will only lead to trouble.
“I’ll tell you what miss—”
“Minnie. You can just call me Minnie like everyone else does.”
“Fine. Miss Minnie, against my better judgment, I would like to help you. I will make a deal with you. I am also going to Juniper Junction.”
“You are? Do you know Matt Foreman? Because he’s the man Miss Elizabeth is supposed to marry. He works at Windy River Ranch and his boss is a man named...oh drat, I can’t remember, but his boss sounds like a nice man. Maybe you can get a job at the ranch and maybe Matt could help you.”
She could certainly talk. He waited to see if she was finished and then continued. “I will pay for your ticket and I will take possession of this bracelet until we get to Juniper Junction. Once we get everything sorted out, you can repay me for the ticket. Does that seem fair?”
She thought for a moment, looked him up and down. “How do I know you won’t take off with my bracelet yourself?”
Impudent little— He sighed.
“For one thing, you were willing to part with it to the ticket agent in exchange for a ticket, so if I am willing to buy you a ticket and also give you the chance to repay me instead of losing this bracelet, doesn’t that seem more than fair to you?”
She paused. “Oh,” she said, smiling up at him. “I suppose you’re right about that. Fine, you’ve got a deal.” She stuck her hand out and pumped his up and down several times.
“Could we please get on with things.” The ticket agent stuck his head out of the booth.
“Hold your horses. We’ve got it all figured out. This fella is going to pay for my ticket. What’s your name by the way? Oh never mind, we’ll have plenty of time to get to know each other on the ride to Wyoming. I hear it takes three days.”
Oh what have I done?
Chapter 9
I’ve cracked the code.
Lizzie gazed at the pot of venison stew with pride and a bit of wonder. For someone who’d barely even stepped foot in the kitchen of the home she’s lived in for eighteen years, she’d learned fast.
What choice did she have?
She’d asked Posey for some tips on cooking. Posey’d given her an odd look. “I thought you were a maid.”
Fortunately, that was easily and truthfully explained away. Minnie, upon whom she was basing her knowledge of maids, was a lady’s maid, not a kitchen maid. All her meals were prepared by the kitchen staff too. Just not the same quality.
Lizzie winced. Not that she hadn’t been fully aware, she’d just chosen not to bother giving it much thought.
If she ever saw Minnie again, she’d apologize profusely.
At least she’d given her a bracelet. If she ever got in a pinch, the money from the bracelet would go a long way. She just hoped her friend, or the closest thing she’d had to one, never had to do that.
Once she’d understood, Posey had been happy to help. Posey seemed happy to do just about anything. Lizzie had even taken to checking the mail on the days when she knew Posey would be working at the post office. It gave her a chance to get out and Posey always introduced her to new people.
On one visit, when the post office was quiet, Posey had told Lizzie about seeing her letters to Mr. Foreman and assuming they were for her husband, Jake, who was the foreman at Windy River Ranch. She could feel Posey’s sadness and hurt as she told the story of being sure Jake loved another but they’d both laughed hard in the end. She also explained about the two girls who had been getting on the train, including the one who’d flung her bag into Lizzie’s side, and why they were being sent away.
Who knew that her letters to Matt would cause such an uproar in town?
They’d certainly changed her life.
And now, she had made her very first venison stew.
To her, the bubbling pot represented one of her finest accomplishments. Certainly she could dance and play the piano and stitch an elaborate embroidery pattern but none of that could feed and nourish her man.
The small house was tidy after an afternoon spent cleaning. Somehow having a clean house was much more satisfying when she’d done the work herself. She’d spent her life in a spotlessly clean house and she’d never appreciated the work of the many people who made that possible. As she’d been scrubbing the floor earlier, she thought about Suzie, the youngest maid who had the job of cleaning the grates in the fireplaces. Lizzie couldn’t even say for sure how many there were in the massive home, but after cleaning the hearth and stove of her home in Juniper Junction, she considered what life must be like for little Suzie and she shuddered. Shame and guilt washed over her.
She’d simply pulled the bell cord and someone showed up to respond to her every whim.
And none of it meant as much to her as the pot of venison stew.
When she heard the front door open, she hurried to greet her husband and welcome him home. Arriving at the door before he did, she opened it and waited for him on the porch. She paused for a moment as she watched him dismount Zelda, his horse. She waved at the neighbors across the street and enjoyed the feel of the warm afternoon sun on her face.
What was that sensation permeating her body?
Contentment. Satisfaction. Happiness.
She joined Matt and walked with him to the back of their house where there was a small barn and corral which housed Zelda.
“How’s my girl?” he asked, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her in for a kiss that took her breath away.
When she was able, she responded. “I’m wonderful. How are you? How was your day at Windy River? Anything new out there?”
Though she hadn’t met any of the employees out there other than Jake, she was starting to feel like she knew them since Matt often regaled her with stories over dinner. Being new to the west and anything related to a ranch, she found it all fascinating. But mostly, she just liked to see the way his face lit up when he talked about the horses and the ranch. He had found his calling, that was evident.
Once Zelda was situated for the night, they were free to enjoy their evening.
“Mm. Something smells good. Did Posey bring dinner over again?” His eyes crinkled up as he smiled and gave her a swat on the backside that made her squeal and giggle.
“Matt!” She swatted at him, indignant. “I cooked dinne
r all by myself. Well, it is Posey’s recipe, but I made it.”
“I know you did, darlin’. You know I’m just teasing you.” He went to the sink and pumped some water to splash on his face before scrubbing his hands. Drying off with a towel, he turned to her, his eyes full of love. “I’m very proud of you, Lizzie. I hadn’t realized that a maid wouldn’t know how to cook. I guess in a fancy house like the one where you worked, there were people to do everything. I’ve heard tell that in some of those mansions, there’s even one person whose whole job is to light all the lamps and by the time they finish, it’s time to start turning them out. Is that true?”
The way he described it, it did sound foolish. Though they didn’t have anyone like that at the home of the Pendletons, she suspected Nevie Pettit likely had that sort of ostentatious show of wealth. “Well, that might be an exaggeration, but not by much.”
Matt sobered, taking hold of her by the upper arms and peering deep into her eyes. “Do you miss it? Living in a big house and having someone else do the cooking? Not to mention all the sights of a big city like St. Louis.”
“No, Matt,” she said with total honesty, “I don’t miss it one bit.”
* * *
“Oh my. That was a delicious dinner, Lizzie.” Matt reached for her hand as she stood up after their meal and pulled her to sit on his lap. “But now I need some dessert.”
Lizzie flushed. “I didn’t get a lesson in baking yet. I’m sorry. I guess we don’t really have anything for dessert tonight.”
His eyes smoldered as they scanned her, lingering in certain locations and causing tingles to erupt all over her body. His hand delved beneath her skirt and skimmed along her thighs until it reached the aching area between her thighs. “I know something that’s sweet to eat.” He slid his fingers along the slit of her pussy before slipping between her wet folds and probing her core, plunging his fingers in and out until she gasped and gripped his shoulders for support.
“M-matt,” she said haltingly. “I-I need to do the dishes.”
“The dishes can wait. I can’t.”
His hand on her back slid up her spine and deep into her hair, cupping the back of her head and pulling her face down to his for a passionate kiss. His lips were insistent and as she melted into the kiss, the dishes moved far from her thoughts. Her shoulders relaxed and she clung to his firm biceps as the kiss went on. Finally he released her lips and she blinked, panting to catch her breath,
The whole time his finger had continued teasing and probing the hot core of her sex, circling the outer lips then plunging deep to pump in and out before resting on her clitty and rubbing back and forth until she gasped. "Matt!"
He chuckled and she felt the rumble of it against her body, which only heightened her eagerness for him. Her breath sped up and she wiggled her feet to alleviate the energy pulsing through her.
Just as she got to the edge of her orgasm, he stopped. She snapped her head up and looked at him in astonishment. "Matt?" Had she done something wrong? Why was he stopping? Was this a trick?
Her body was on fire with need and it was his fault. He needed to take care of it, take care of her. The words were on the tip of her tongue when he stood, with her in his arms, pushed the dishes aside and set her on the table.
"Matt! Wh-what are you doing?" Had he gone mad? This was insanity.
He braced himself with his hands on the table on either side of her, his amber eyes boring deeply into hers. "I am having my dessert, wife. Now you just relax and enjoy it." He kissed her again with such passion black spots danced beneath her eyelids.
Her lips tingled, as did her pussy. Her nipples felt like pebbles inside her corset and she found it hard to breathe. Matt knelt down in front of her and pushed her skirts up around her waist.
"Wh-what are you doing?"
His reply was a devilish grin. "It's a treat for you. And me."
To her horror he pressed his lips to the soft flesh of her inner thigh. "Matt!" With her hands on the table she tried to scoot away. "No. That's disgus—"
When he used his tongue to trace the perimeter of her pussy, she moaned and sank her hands into his hair, holding him in place. It was the most shameful thing she'd ever experienced and she couldn’t get enough.
Once his tongue completed another pass around her pussy, he stopped at her clitty. Matt put his mouth over that hot button of nerves and sucked. "M-Ma-Matt!" she shrieked, her hips bucking against the table. "Oh, oh. Oh lord!"
He paused for a moment, tipping his head back to smile up at her, his beard glistening with her arousal. Oh lord it was humiliating to see the evidence of her wantonness. The things he made her feel, right there on his face.
She reached for a napkin to wipe it away, but he took her hand and made her touch herself with it instead. She tried to resist but couldn't. He brushed her fingers over the hard nub of her clitty. "This is what I feel when I touch you down here," he said, his voice raspy. His gaze held hers. "I know you think this is shameful or wrong, but it's not. It's my duty to give you pleasure. And you do find it pleasurable, don't you, Lizzie?"
She looked into his eyes while he continued to rub her fingers over her clitty. In her head, all she could hear were the many lectures she'd heard about womanly virtue and the sin of wantonness. But everywhere else, her body hummed with longing. Ached with need.
"Yes," she whispered. "B-but, I like it better when you use your m-mouth."
Matt's eyes went wide with that admission and his smile was filled with love and longing that matched her own. "I like that better too." He released her hand and put his mouth where it had been, again sucking her clitty between his lips, tapping it with his tongue until she shrieked and gripped the edge of the table, her hips bouncing up and down with pent up energy as a climax wound its way through her body, finally exploding as she threw her head back and called out his name.
When it finished, she blinked her eyes, dazed.
Matt stood up and kissed her tenderly, the taste of her arousal on his lips. "Thank you, sweetheart. That was the best dessert I've ever had."
Chapter 10
Two days later, Lizzie stared at the kitchen table but instead of feeling the heat of remembering Matt's tongue upon her pussy, all she could see was the stack of dirty dishes demanding her attention. And a gravy stain on the tablecloth. But before she could wash the dishes or the tablecloth, she needed to pump some water and put it on the stove to heat while pumping more water for washing the floor and the tabletop.
She sat on one of the kitchen chairs and let out a sigh of fatigue. Reaching up with her left arm, she massaged her right bicep, shuddering at the feel of a most unladylike muscle forming there. Her sleeves had gotten tight, no doubt due to the brutish growth of her upper arms. Not to mention, they hurt. In fact, all of her hurt. Sure, there was the lingering ache in her nether region from the rough way Matt had taken her that morning. She had no complaints about that. And the bruise she’d sustained on their wedding day had disappeared thanks to the liniment from the doctor. Matt had been quite adamant about rubbing that all over her on a daily basis until it was gone.
But as far as the rest of her body was concerned, there was no area that did not feel abused and fatigued.
Her ears. Maybe her ears were uninjured. She reached up and touched each of the delicate lobes and got a bit of satisfaction in knowing they were intact. Of course, the beautiful earrings she often wore were hidden away. She sighed. She'd made her choice, she loved Matt. She simply needed to adjust.
Looking at her hands, however, she nearly wept. Dry and cracked. Her nails brittle. She'd devoted herself to keeping her hands soft and supple, ladylike and genteel. Oh, what she wouldn’t give for one of Minnie's lotions that kept her hands the envy of so many.
But not anymore. The best she could hope for was a bit of lotion from the general store but that never seemed to get enough time to really work since her hands were always busy with something, be it the cooking or cleaning, laundry or tending the garden.
She reached up to push her hair off her forehead and noticed that it now felt coarse and rough. She no longer had the leisure to add conditioners and herbs and then wait for them to penetrate her hair and do their magic.
Glancing at the sink, she considered giving her hair a good washing but then the thought of pumping yet more water... oh, it was just too much.
A slow tear trickled down her cheek and she thought with longing of her old life where all she needed to do was ring a bell and someone would appear in a fresh clean uniform to do her bidding. "I'd like a cup of tea with milk. And be sure to warm the milk, otherwise it cools the tea too quickly." How she had taken all those advantages for granted? She also cringed to think of how she'd expected others to do so much for her maintenance. Yes, she did take some pride in the things she'd learned and the way she'd been able to care for her husband, but... every day? Every single day?
She'd had no idea. And it had only been a week. There was no break in sight. No end to the daily grind of dishes and cooking and sweeping and laundry. Over and over ad infinitum.
Oh mercy.
Glancing out the window she saw it was a beautiful day. Perfect for a ride in the carriage for some fresh air or a stroll in the park. Maybe even a picnic.
But those days were behind her. That was Elizabeth’s life. She was Lizzie now.
Forcing herself to stand and get back to work, she retrieved the kettle of hot water from the stove and poured it into the dish pan, then she added soap and gathered up the dirty dishes. She scraped the remnants of breakfast into the scrap bucket and then paused to look at the plates in her hands.
They weren't even pretty. Or delicate. They were sturdy and functional and did the job they were intended for.
And she hated them.
There she said it.
Every time she touched or ate from them a pit formed in her stomach. They were just so — ordinary.
Her feelings shamed her. They were only dishes after all, but they represented so much. The dramatic change in her circumstances and also just the drudgery of her daily life.
Cowboy’s Rules: Brides of Juniper Junction, Book Three Page 7
