by Tanya Hanson
“Oh, there he is. There's Uncle Brix,” Neddie pointed out the window. “He's been out using the privy.”
Minda warmed at the thought, and she didn't know why. She had a lot to get used to, living with a man. For a breathless minute, she watched him from behind, the bare muscles of his back bronzed and sculpted. Then he hunkered over a tinny mirror on a fence post to shave. At his feet, Priscilla's washtub foamed with suds.
At least Brixton hadn't left her. Yet.
After he wiped his face with a towel, she went out to him. Katie had found a loaf of bread sent home from the wedding, and a pot of some kind of jam. That would keep her and Ned busy while Minda had words with Brixton.
“Morning, Miz Haynes,” Brixton said without turning around. “Looks like little Silly cooled right down.”
Minda rolled her eyes at the triumph in his voice, but let her ire pass. Thankfully, his idea had worked. “Yes, thank God, but it's Priscilla, thank you.”
“I left some coffee and grits for you. I'll be off soon's I get my jacket.”
Be off? So he was leaving. She kept her face as immobile as possible. And why not? They'd both agreed the baby was fine.
“Well,” she said, unable to think of a proper good-bye.
He straightened up from the mirror and turned around to her, coming as close as when they'd kissed at the altar. Other than the white towel hanging around his neck, his sun-browned chest was bare, carved hard like his back, dark swirls of hair here and there tickling nipples as round and copper as coins. Minda knew her face flushed purple. She'd thought of that bare chest touching her own even at the altar, and that dream had come true last night, in those few breathless moments on his bedroll. His heat would stick in her memory for a lifetime.
For surely it wouldn't happen again. He was leaving. But in time, she reminded herself, so was she.
“Just taking care of business, Miz Haynes. All the kids seem right as rain. No infection.” His eyes, too, gleamed with triumph.
“You can't know that,” she said, unwilling to discard her initial suspicions, but thankful Priscilla was well, and the others hale and healthy. In fact, she owed him thanks as well. “I must thank you for last night.” Shyly she turned from that magnificent chest. Good heavens, what if he assumed she meant their bedroll kiss? “Your help with Priscilla, I mean.”
By the time she dared look at him, he'd buttoned up a shirt, not appearing ruffled at all. She felt a foolish dash of disappointment, but quickly knocked the thought from her head. He wasn't a real husband, and he was leaving anyway. Why shouldn't he have helped in the health concerns of his own niece? Why was it Minda's responsibility? Just because Norman Dale had paid for a travel ticket?
The reminder of the reasons for her predicament started hackles of anger. “You've no right to leave me alone with a sick child. The fever's down but that's no guarantee.”
“I admit that, Miz Haynes. But I think you'll be fine on your own for a few hours.”
Just a few hours? Relief tickled her skin. “Why, what do you mean?”
“Fever's down, but I'm still going after that willow bark and yarrow. You need some on hand. And I'll get into town for aconite, and some ice.”
“I thought you said that was a bad idea,” Minda said, feeling her own sense of triumph. “'Brings on conniptions.'”
His familiar glare was back. “I'm checking at the ice house. Your ice box's near out. I milked the cow. Don't want it to go bad.”
A flush warmed her cheeks. Milking the cow was likely a chore she'd need to learn. A glance at the wheat field showed her the hands he'd hired already at work. No doubt she was responsible for some kind of noon meal for them. And her husband had clearly implied just now that the ice box was hers, not theirs. So he wouldn't be staying or helping to work the land.
The thought shouldn't bother her as much as it did. He was annoying and rude and had played a mighty trick on her.
“And since you asked,” Brixton said, “yep, they harvest ice from the Loup. But if it don't last through July, Paradise hauls it from the Missouri. I'll go and get you a block.”
He picked up the washtub as easily as a drinking cup and dumped the water in the rose garden Norman Dale had planted for her.
“Silly's pukey clothes are all boiled clean, over there on the line,” he said, as he reached for his hat and gave her a long look from top to toe. “And don't you worry, Miz Haynes. When it's time for me to go, you'll know it. I won't leave without kissing you good-bye.”
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* * *
Chapter Five
Right away he found the herbs he needed along the river and headed for town. Of anybody around here, Jake Satterburg would know if Silly's sickness was something that had spread to other folks. Folks turned to the preacher first in times of trouble.
Damn, Brix wished he had time to cool down his heated body in the river. What the hell had he done, stealing a kiss from Minda like that at midnight? Now, with Silly recovered, he couldn't get the taste of her lips out of his mind, or the feel of her breasts underneath that nightgown. True, he was her husband, but he was a husband who didn't want a wife. Just a man who wanted a woman.
A woman he didn't dare take.
Being outdoors contented him, like it always did, even with Minda on his mind and the bugs tangling in his eyelashes. All around him, meadows and prairie grass and homesteads spread out, split here and there with creeks. It wasn't much like the miles of sagebrush and mesquite in Texas, but the sky was high and the horizon long. No roof or walls for Brixton Haynes.
And with the baby seeming all but well this morning, he could be on his way in two days, like he'd planned.
As he rode into Paradise, he looked longingly at Skinny Hank's saloon, but didn't stop until the church. There he found Jake, sweeping the aisles clean of the footprints from yesterday's wedding guests. It was a strange activity for the preacherman.
“Doing woman's work now, are you?” Brix grinned.
“How's the bridegroom?” Jake said with a cheeky smile that set Brix to scowling. It might be the house of God and Jake a man of the cloth, but they'd been chums since their boyhood. Anybody else would have his nose bloodied.
“One of the kids took sick,” Brix said, without answering Jake's question, and without saying Silly's name directly. Jake's face darkened anyway. “Recovered now. I'm just wondering if you heard of an ague or somesuch going around?”
“Which kid?”
“Don't matter. Just wondering.”
Jake shook his head. “So far, it seems like just another day in Paradise. But I'll let you know if I get wind of anything. And—” He leaned on the broom like he did his pulpit. “I'll wire Chester in David City if he's needed.”
“Figured you'd do that.”
“It's Silly, isn't it,” Jake said, never moving the broom.
“Yep. But like I say, things seem better now.” A rush of relief cooled Brix's body.
“I won't say a word to Gracey,” Jake said, but his eyes looked away.
“You better not. I admire Gracey, Jake, but Silly's my child. And Minda's now, too.” Just saying his wife's name made him peek around the church where their wedding had been. Her face outlined by that white fancy veil had been as beautiful as any man could imagine. And that kiss at the altar...
Despite his holy surroundings, Brix's trousers tightened around his swelling erection. But even with Minda inside his head, he cooled his thoughts and body by remembering the facts. Minda was greedy and had driven his brother to his death. Esperanza had been fickle, breaking his heart just as he'd been ready to give it to her forever.
“Brix...” Jake hesitated a bit. “Making Silly our own was never my idea. I had no part in Gracey cooking up such a scheme.”
“I figured that. But sometimes folks keep secrets. We did it to Minda. You, me, and Norman Dale agreeing I should wed up with her right off.”
“We did the right thing, Brix,” Jake said, drawing breath dee
p inside, then blowing it right out. “Your deathbed vow to Norman Dale is a sacred trust. You aren't regretting it, are you?”
Well, he didn't want a wife, but the memory of her sweet kiss and hot body sure made him imagine possible delights.
“Hell, no,” he said. “The kids need her, and I won't be around. Minda's got what she came for, a house and family. But she said you and I committed a sin of omission. I remember catechism class. That wasn't a good thing back then.”
“Since when did any kind of sin fret you?”
“Never. I'm bound for hellfire, to be sure.”
Jake's friendly snort interrupted Brix's dark thoughts. “You're a good man, Brixton Haynes.”
“Try telling my wife,” he said. “She's already yapping at me to call the baby Priscilla, not Silly. Don't approve of me at all, I can tell.”
“Minda's a good woman to take you on.”
“What?” Brix looked sideways at Jake, disbelieving. She hadn't done any such thing. It was him who'd done all the sacrificing. She had wanted to get married. He hadn't.
“Well, think about it. The noon's stage has come and gone. And she wasn't on it.”
Brix opened his mouth then shut it quick, afraid he might let a cuss slip. Of course Minda wasn't on the stage. But she wasn't staying because of any goodness in her dark heart. She owed him. He couldn't confess their unholy alliance to Jake. Not in the house of God at least.
Both men turned toward a commotion at the tall entry doors. From the gun belt and star, Brixton knew the newcomer was a lawman.
“Brixton Haynes, here's the new county sheriff, Robert Pelton,” Jake said.
The sheriff tipped his hat. “Call me Bob. Sorry to miss your nuptials, Brixton. Had a ruckus over in Monroe yesterday.” He stared Brixton up and down like he was a new mutt in town who needed to be sniffed up, then tipped his hat again. “I just got word the Perkins Gang's been sighted in Norfolk. Preacher, me and you can pass the news along in town. Brixton, maybe you can let the out-of-towners know on your way home.”
“The Perkins Gang? Whew.” Brix exhaled. He knew of the real-life troublemakers who'd become heroes in dime store novels. He hated folks thinking such antics were nothing but boyish larks. These were grown men who took what wasn't theirs. “Thought they worked Missouri and Kansas.”
Sheriff Pelton grunted. “Must have run out of horses to steal down there. Thanks, fellas.” He gave a short wave and left.
For a second, the sheriff's words stayed on Brixton's mind. Was the family he'd taken on in any kind of danger? So far, the men in the Perkins gang weren't killers, but Norman Dale had two fine geldings and a good draft horse. And no money left behind to buy more.
Then there was Minda, a citified female who likely didn't have the faintest idea how to protect herself.
He sighed aloud, thinking of the kids, too. He grabbed Jake's broom. He needed a few minutes to settle his thoughts, maybe to hear some Gospel to save his sorry soul. Besides, the Perkins gang didn't have gumption enough to strike during daylight. “Go on, go practice your preaching. I'll get this finished up.”
“What? Brix Haynes doing women's work?”
Brixton gave a snort. Already today he'd milked a cow, scoured a pot, cooked up grits and coffee, and washed a batch of reeking laundry. He'd done every womanly thing but change the baby's sopping britches.
And, of course, do one's spousal duty.
“If you only knew,” he said dryly. “Anyways, I'm leaving before sun-up on Sunday, and I'll miss your oration. Might as well let me hear it now.”
Jake held tight to the broom handle. “You sure?”
“About what? Hearing your sermon? Not so much. About leaving? I'm sure as hell. That was the bargain. Remember?”
Jake's mouth opened, but Brixton tipped an uncouth salute and left. Suddenly he wasn't in the mood for any kind of Gospel about Jake's second thoughts. Brixton sure as hell wasn't having any. No matter that Minda was beautiful and his lawful wife. When he mounted Norman Dale's horse, his manhood swelled at his thoughts of her. Truth to tell, the pressure of the saddle made him wish he was riding his bride.
Yep. His thoughts were crude. Add another sin to his list. That icehouse better have a nice big block to cool him down. Smacking at a mosquito, he cussed a streak, but at himself, not the bug.
Before he left this town, he had to warn his neighbors and teach his wife to use a gun.
Storm clouds collected overhead but passed by on a high wind. There'd be more, though. Weather in Nebraska changed every five minutes. And he hoped Ahab Perkins and his renegades passed by just as soon.
Brixton Haynes had a train to catch.
* * * *
“Can you shoot? You keep a knife in your boot?” Brixton stomped through the backdoor and stored the ice. All the warnings he'd passed out along the way home had made him nervous. After all, thugs changing their territory might be changing their tactics.
Brixton had half-expected an empty corral and a battered family and felt a stab of relief. But even though things seemed peaceful enough today, he had to do what he could before he left to make sure Minda could keep the kids and herself from trouble.
“What are you on about, Mr. Haynes? And please keep your voice down. You'll wake the baby.” She got up from shelling peas to frown like a regular wife. Looked like she wore a prettier gown than he'd seen that morning. Her hair hung loose, almost to her waist, and like yesterday, he wanted to gather it in his hands like a thirsty man chugged water to his dying mouth.
“She feeling better?” He noticed a pretty posy of wildflowers smack dab in the middle of the eating table. Damn, had she gone wandering about picking flowers instead of doing her duties?
“She's sleeping now, and I think much better. I took her for a little stroll along the road.” She gave him a glare as though daring him to disagree. “I don't hold with sick folk being cooped inside in dank, stale air. Whether or not Priscilla has caught an infection, the outdoors is sure to have some sort of healing effect on her.”
He tightened his teeth. Would she ever stop preaching? Sounded worse than Jake. Brixton was a man who spent most every living minute in the outdoors. He of all people knew of its powers. Fine then, that she'd taken a few moments to brighten her day with some of nature's floral bounty.
“And I don't care whether or not you agree,” she said, sniffing. “You'll no doubt carp at me whatever I do.”
“Not so, Miz Haynes,” he said. He hated feeling charitable, but he figured she had a right to be peevish, her life not turning out as she'd planned, and spending her sleeping hours tending a sick child.
“Thank you, Mr. Haynes. Now what's this nonsense about guns and knives?”
“No nonsense at all. I'm asking if you know how to use them.”
“Well, certainly not, Mr. Haynes. I make hats. I come from Gleesburg, a most civilized village outside Gettysburg.”
“Yes, ma'am. I know all about your civilized nature.” He glared back and felt his mouth slip into a triumphant little grin as he recalled her hot and willing lips for that split second last night. Wondered how he'd be feeling today if they had made their wedding night real. Would he feel regret? Satisfaction? Victory?
She blushed, and he felt a bit of a coup. Right now she was surely remembering her time on his bedroll just like he was. God in heaven, he enjoyed the look of her, blushing at the memory.
Then a powerful thought hit. The Perkins gang might well see fit to expand their ill-gotten rewards to include pretty women just like his wife.
“I ask a good question of you, Miz Haynes. There's been outlaws spotted not fifty miles from here.”
“Outlaws?” Her voice was a whisper, a whisper that ought to come from those sweet lips breathing his name in the dark.
“Yep. Ahab Perkins and his gang.”
Her eyes were bright and wide as full moons, her face just as white. “Why, I read about them. On my travels. They're outlaws, but gentlemen.”
“Those dime nov
els are miserable trash, Miz Haynes. No gentleman steals what isn't his to take. And...” He slowed down and pinned her gaze to his. “Around here, horse thieving's a hanging offense.”
“But these are farmers around here.”
Disgust tightened his lips. “Farmers have good horses, Miz Haynes. Like my brother's. Now, I guess that means you don't know how to keep yourself and the kids from harm?”
“How dare you, Mr. Haynes? I think I've shown that the welfare of these children means a great deal to me. Despite your payback.” Her pansy eyes turned hard and black, but her voice trembled. “Norman Dale thought I was perfectly qualified in that regard. He never mentioned that I had to be a gunslinger as well.”
It bothered him to hear his brother's name, especially from those lovely lips. He hadn't thought of Norman Dale much at all today, and neither of them seemed to be grieving for him. Maybe if he recalled that she'd come here to be nothing but his sister-in-law, he could squash his desire like a bug.
Sure would make leaving easier.
“So I guess that means you're a gunslinger,” she said, her tone accusing.
“I know how to use a piece, that's a fact. There's rustlers along the trail, Miz Haynes, and diamondbacks. And once in a while a prairie chicken to hunt. But I never kill for joy. Now come outside and I'll show you a trick or two.”
“But I...”
“Now, Miz Haynes. That's an order whether you like it or not.”
Her mouth opened, and he longed to kiss it closed. Couldn't help himself. It's just what she did to him. The bug squashing was harder to do than he thought. Just like yesterday at church, he took her hand to lead her off into something she'd never done before. He almost trembled. How the hell could he teach her how to aim, him prickling like a schoolgirl?
Out by the fence posts where he'd lined up a row of bottles and cans, he showed her his Peacemaker and how to cock it. Then he stepped back and sighted, drawing her against him. Her softness and that smell of roses with his fingers around a gun was a strange mix.
