Spring loved her so much.
“Besides, you need that money to buy hogs so I can have my bacon.”
Amused, Spring hung her head.
Regan added, “And, I’m still upset with you for not letting me help you financially.”
“I know.”
“Sisters help each other, Spring. You can’t eat pride.”
Regan was right, but accepting help in any form was difficult, even when necessary as it had been earlier in the year when she offered the means to buy the piglets and feed Spring needed.
Regan said sincerely, “I don’t like knowing you’re going without, Spring. Neither does Colt.”
Spring’s tight nod conveyed she understood. As she’d noted before, only a small handful of people cared whether she lived or died, and Regan Carmichael Lee was at the top of the list. She had to learn to do better and accept that care in the spirit it was given because it was so rare in her life.
They talked for a while longer about Ben’s gift and the things she might do with the money, the reward claimed by Perry, and speculated on where Matt Ketchum might be.
Regan said, “Colt was part of a posse that went out with Whit last evening. Somebody thought they spotted Matt up by Eagle Point. Whit said some of the summer cabins near there had been broken into. He thinks Matt may be the culprit.”
“The posse find anything?”
“No, but Whit was going back up there this morning.”
Eagle Point was not far from Spring’s battered old cabin. The land around it was owned by her grandfather and named for the many eagles nesting there due to its proximity to the Paradise River. The area was densely wooded, but many spots offered great hunting and spectacular views of the mountains. The rich from back East were beginning to build summer cabins there.
The loud cries of the now-awake Colton Fontaine signaled an end to the sisters-in-law’s visit, so they both stood. They’d discussed Garrett’s departure, and as they shared a parting hug, Regan said, “Give Garrett my goodbyes, and prayers that he and the family have a safe journey.”
“I will.”
“And, Spring, try not to hurt the man tonight, you hear?”
Chuckling, she replied, “I’ll do my best is all I can promise.”
Spring spent the rest of the day seeing to her horses and the newly emerging shoots in her garden, then made bread for dinner. With no idea what time Garrett would be arriving she wasn’t sure if she should cook dinner for just herself or for him, too. In the end, she pulled two steaks from the last of the ice in her outbuilding and took a bath while they thawed. After the bath she went through her wardrobe in search of something special to wear. The only fancy items inside were the gown she’d worn to the Cale dinner, and the burgundy off-shoulder beauty she’d worn to Regan and Colt’s wedding. She wanted the evening to be special. The burgundy was jaw-dropping gorgeous, so she chose it.
The clock in the kitchen showed the time to be just past six when a knock sounded on the door. Letting her excitement have its head, she went to answer, and there stood Garrett. As if the evening was special to him, as well, he’d worn his brown suit. He ran his eyes over her in the gown and said, “Trying to kill me before I even step inside, are you?”
“I can take it off, if you want.”
Eyes locked on hers, he replied, “That’ll be my job.”
She stepped back to let him enter, and as he did, he eased her close and greeted her with a kiss that turned her legs to sand. The kiss was a masterful combination of heat and rising desire. Leaving her lips, he kissed his way down her throat to the bared scented skin above the low-cut top of the gown. Hands filled with the rustling burgundy silk covering her hips, he fit her possessively against his hardness. “Feel what you do to me.”
She ran an equally possessive hand over his length, savoring the power her body had over his and the growl he uttered in response to her caresses. “Dinner’s ready. Do you want to eat first?”
“Yes.” He pushed the top of the gown aside and took a bare nipple in his mouth. Her grin slid into a high-pitched croon that ruffled the silence. He feasted and lust sparked in her blood like tiny lightning bolts. Exposing the other breast, he helped himself. Her head dropped back and the world went hazy.
Moving his lips to her ear, he whispered, “Go over to your fancy couch, raise this fancy dress, and spread your gorgeous legs—wide. You owe me for saying you love me and then driving away.”
Heat, hot as the desert sun, rushed through her. Undaunted, she ran her hand over his hardness and boldly undid the buttons on the placard of his trousers. Freeing him from his inner clothing, she wrapped her fingers around his strong, warm girth, asking teasingly, “Am I being punished?”
Eyes closed, and rising to her wicked ministrations, he replied, “In the best way, but only if I don’t die first.”
Smiling, she walked to the sofa, turned to face him, and slowly raised the yards of burgundy silk to her waist. Gaze locked with his, she paused to let him see she was wearing nothing beneath but her stockings and rhinestone-studded garters. He stroked himself in reaction, whispering, “Scandalous woman.”
She made herself comfortable and spread her legs. “Wide enough?”
“Wider.”
The lust in the room and in his voice was thick. She complied, then slid a finger between her damp folds. “You’ve made me very wet, Garrett McCray. Come look and see.”
“I prefer to come lick and see.”
Spring shivered with the promise he exuded. “You’re way too good at this.”
“Part of the art.”
“One day you’ll have to tell me where you learned this.”
He knelt in front of her, gently fit her hips in his hands, and eased her closer to the sofa’s edge. “A gentleman never tells.” After gifting her with a long kiss, he ran his hands languidly up and down her firm thighs before placing his lips gently against each sparkling garter. “You ready to take your punishment?” He slipped a finger into her core and then a second. She tightened and moaned. “Yes.”
And he began with touches and licks and a magic display of art that soon had her hips rising. He feasted; she gasped passionately. He told her all the wicked things he had in store for later, and she was certain she’d die from the pleasuring. It didn’t take long for her orgasm to build and rise inside like a sensual mountain. He made her mindless, whimper, grab his head, twist and turn, and when he gave her a tiny but fiery little bite on the nub at the apex of her thighs, the mountain shattered and she screamed his name loud enough to be heard by the stars in the night sky.
Driven by their rising passion, they made love all over the cabin; on her dining table, in the tub where they’d gone to clean up, and then in his bed. And for each encounter Spring used her sponges. As they lay together by the light of the turned-down lamp in the aftermath of yet another round, he said softly, “If I was a wealthy man, I’d give you rubies to thread in your hair. Put diamonds on each fingertip and garnets on your toes.” Swirling his finger lightly over her navel, he murmured, “And here, I’d put a sapphire.”
Spring’s heart soared in response to his tender words.
“I’d drape you in jewels, because you are my jewel, Spring Rain.”
She whispered, “You don’t have to say those kinds of things to me, Garrett.”
“They’re not to you. They’re for me. It’s how I feel. It’s a declaration, a statement, a truth.”
His eyes met hers in the glow of the lamp. “You are diamond-hard in mind and spirit. You glow inside with the fire of rubies. And you’re as vibrant as a sapphire when we make love.”
He eased her closer so that her back was against his chest, then draped an arm over her waist as he placed a kiss against the edge of her shoulder. “I want you with me always, Spring. I want to wake up each morning and see your smile. I want to hunt with you and fish with you. I want to have babies with you that are freeborn instead of slavery-born like I was. Little Springs who ride horses—”<
br />
Spring eased away from his arms and sat up. She glanced over her shoulder at him then away.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
Her heart aching, she knew they had to discuss this, so she said, “I don’t want children, Garrett.”
He sat up. She looked back and saw the confusion filling his features.
“What do you mean?” he asked. “Are you saying you can’t?”
She shook her head. “I don’t want children. I never have.”
“But—”
“I love you very much, but I’m not going to give you those freeborn babies, and I won’t apologize for being who I am, or change my mind.”
He searched her face for a long moment then fell back onto the mattress like a sail losing its wind.
In the thick silence that followed, she sat there for a few moments, waiting to see if he had anything else to say, but he didn’t speak. Resigned, she stood, left the room, and closed the door behind her.
Garrett awakened in the dark early hours before dawn to the sound of heavy rain pelting the roof and windows. Not happy at the prospect of having to ride to town in a downpour, he nevertheless got up. He had a train to catch.
He wanted to speak with Spring first though. He’d lain awake most of the night thinking about her revelation. He’d felt gutted, still did, but didn’t want to leave with them at odds. Tired and bleary from too little sleep, he took care of his morning needs, got dressed, and went to her room. The door was closed so he knocked softly. When no response came he knocked again, this time more firmly. Nothing. Concerned, he eased the door open just wide enough to peek inside and was met by the perfectly made up bed but no Spring. He listened for her moving around in the front room. Getting a bad feeling he went to the kitchen and found it just as empty and silent. Frantic, he called her name, then grabbed his slicker from the peg and ran through the cold rain to the barn. Paint, Lady, and Sunrise were in their stalls but the stallion wasn’t. She was gone. Where to, he didn’t know, but sensed it had to do with last night. Disheartened, he returned to the cabin. Only then did he see the folded piece of paper on the dining table. His name was printed on the front side. Picking it up, he read:
I didn’t want say goodbye. Thank you for loving me and showing me that I can love in return. Have a safe trip home. Spring.
Filled with emotion, he debated whether or not to stay and wait for her to return but he didn’t know how long that might be or if she’d be happy to find him there when she did come home. He kicked himself for not talking to her last night before she slipped out of the room, but he didn’t know what to say. Still didn’t. So he packed up his belongings. Before leaving, he tore a sheet of paper from his journal and wrote her a note in reply. He placed it solemnly in the spot on the table where his had been. With that done, he took one last look around the place that had come to be home, filled himself up with the memories he’d made, and stepped out into the rain for the cold, wet ride back to town.
Up on the ridge, protected from the weather by her slicker and flat-crowned hat, Spring watched the watery dawn try and pinken the slate-gray sky. She supposed Garrett was gone by now and she could return home. She’d had too many conflicting emotions to pretend things were okay while wishing him a cheery goodbye, so she’d left. She hoped he found her note though. It said all she needed to say. They’d had a good time as partners, and she’d remember him fondly, but she didn’t think he’d be coming back to Paradise.
When she returned home, she checked the table where she’d left the note and was surprised to see a different one in its place. Taking a deep breath, she picked it up, unfolded it, and read: Until the mountains are no more I will love you. G.
Spring prided herself on being someone who never cried but his words made her drop into the nearest chair and weep.
On the train ride East, Garrett did his best to hide his misery. It didn’t help that they were forced to ride Jim Crow out of Cheyenne. Vernon, who apparently had never traveled far from the District, was outraged when the conductor directed them to the gambling car.
“I want to speak to whomever is in charge!” he’d demanded.
“I’m in charge,” the man responded. “So, take yourself to the gambling car with the rest of your kind. Or get off the train.”
That left the light-skinned lawyer red faced and sputtering. Melody finally hooked her arm in his and led him away. “Come on. We’ll be fine.”
Now, a day and a half out of Cheyenne, Garrett sat in one of the booths by the window watching the train take him farther and farther away from Spring, while cigar-smoking gamblers suckered rubes out of their meager funds, and rouged up good-time girls promised quick delights on the small platform outside the car—for a price.
His mother had asked after him when he’d met them at the boardinghouse on the morning they’d left Paradise, but he told her he was fine. He knew she hadn’t believed him, but she hadn’t pressed for the truth.
Now, as she came to sit opposite him, she eyed him with concern. “What’s going on with you, Garrett?”
“I’m fine.”
“Don’t lie to your mother,” she said with gentle humor. “The Good Lord doesn’t like it.”
He smiled and sighed. “Just need to figure some things out.”
“Such as?”
He didn’t respond.
She did, saying, “A mother’s job is to be nosy, so tell me what’s wrong or I’ll have your father be nosy on my behalf.”
“Lord, help me.”
She folded her hands. “I’m waiting.”
“I love Spring very much, but she doesn’t want children.”
“And?”
He was confused. “But I do.”
“Then let Spring go, and find a woman who wants what you want. Simple solution.”
“But—”
“Is she willing to change her mind?”
“She said no.” And he searched for the words to convey his thoughts. “I’ve never met a woman who didn’t want children.”
“There are plenty, believe me. Some of whom have given birth only because of the expectations of society and husbands.”
“But think of how wonderful it will be to hold the family’s first freeborn child.”
“That will be a joyful occasion, but that child will apparently not come from you and Spring, Garrett.”
He gazed unseeing out at the passing landscape.
His mother asked, “Suppose she was unable to have children. Would you be so at sixes and sevens over that?”
He thought about it and admitted, “Probably not.” And had a small clarifying moment. “I never thought about it in those terms.”
“You may want to. Ask yourself, do you want Spring because you love her or because of her potential to breed?”
“Because I love her.”
“Then you have your answer.”
And he did.
The next day when the train pulled into the station in Omaha, Nebraska, Garrett gathered his belongings and prepared to tell his family goodbye. He’d return East before the trees turned in autumn but now he had to return to Spring and set things straight with her. His father wanted to contest the decision but his mother gave him her blessings. Garrett hugged Melody and while doing so whispered that she find someone she actually loved and invited her to come to Wyoming when she had the chance. As for Vernon, Garrett thanked him for footing the bill for the train tickets and vowed to help Hiram reimburse him as soon as possible.
And with that, Garrett left the train. Luckily for him, a train heading west was leaving within the hour. According to the conductor, they’d pull into Cheyenne in three maybe four days, depending on variables like weather and track conditions. He sent a hasty wire to Odell to meet him in Cheyenne but to not let Spring know. He feared she’d take off again and it would be winter before they had a chance to speak.
As the train with his parents continued its journey east, Garrett’s westbound train left the station at the same time�
��and he didn’t have to ride Jim Crow. On the empty seat beside him was a day-old Chicago newspaper someone had left behind. Leafing through it, some familiar faces caught his attention and he smiled reading the caption beneath: Dastardly embezzlement gang jailed for attempted robbery. “I hope they lock you up and lose the key, Mr. Avery Jarvis, or whatever your real name turns out to be.” He placed the newspaper in his bag to show to Paradise sheriff Whit Lambert in case he hadn’t been informed.
Chapter Seventeen
Spring spent the first two days after Garrett’s departure feeling sad and miserable. The nonstop rain only added more gloom to her mood. Being able to leave the house might have helped her not think about him so much, but because she was stuck inside, his presence came to mind relentlessly. She thought about him at breakfast, when she had her coffee, changing the bedding in his room, and of course every time her eyes settled on her sofa.
On day three, she woke up to sunshine and shouted for joy. Deciding she’d go up to the ridge and maybe do some fishing, she hitched Lady to the wagon and swung by Colt’s place first to speak with Regan. She was hoping her sister-in-law had advice on how to stop thinking about Garrett McCray.
Regan greeted her arrival with a smile.
Not seeing her nephew, Spring asked, “Is Colt Fontaine asleep?”
“No. He’s in the baby jail.”
Spring stared then laughed. “The what?”
“Baby jail. Come see.”
In the parlor on the floor was a fairly large polished wooden box with slats on the sides. It looked like a fancy crate. Strung across the open top was a length of ribbon. Dangling from it were colorful tops, little wooden horses, and other small toys. Inside, lying on his back atop a thick pallet was the smiling giggling baby. “My sister, Portia, sent it. It’s really called a playpen but she calls it a baby jail. Keeps them in one spot while you get things done. Best gift she ever sent.” She turned from the jail to ask, “So how did your night with Garrett go? Did you hurt him so bad that he’s still in bed?”
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