by Tanya Hanson
“Yep, the one who taught you to ride as well as a man.”
“I just don't want you to burst your stitches. You should take truly a day of rest.” Her smile was shy.
“That sure was nice of Jake's ma to treat us all to Sunday fixins,” he said, ignoring her. A day of rest was no such thing. Minda smiled bigger yet. He knew she'd enjoyed a meal she hadn't had to cook. It was Miz Lila Jean's way of saying thank you for getting the outlaws out of town.
“I enjoyed it so. I'm planning something light for supper. But Brixton, I'm worried about Ned. He is still frightened, and he's been having nightmares.”
“I expect that's natural, for a time. He saw those outlaws close up, then heard the gunfire in his own yard. And me taking a bullet...”
“Well, last night was better.” Her eyes accused now because he hadn't been inside. “But the Bible story today was the Good Samaritan. And all he talks about is someone nearly dead lying by the road.”
Brix sighed. “Guess we could talk to Doc Viessman, but I'm thinking Ned'll outgrow it soon enough.”
“Just how soon is soon enough, Brixton?”
The smile was gone. She looked serious.
“What do you mean, Minda?”
“I think you already know.”
He did. He knew what was coming. She was paying him back with her reward money and leaving them all. “That reward money...”
“Exactly. It makes no sense for you to leave now. That money will get us through for quite a while.”
“That reward money is yours, Miz Haynes. Money I earn is ours.”
“Nonsense. I earned it protecting this family.” There was pain in her eyes. He'd seen it often lately, when he unrolled his bed outside, whenever he talked about going. “Brixton, I have things to sort out myself. I'm not running out on the children just because I have a windfall. But you have an obligation to them, too. Much more than I do. They're your kin.”
He turned away roughly. “I'm supporting them the only way I know.”
For a long, painful moment, they turned away from each other. Finally, she spoke. “Brixton, I actually came out here for another reason.”
He looked at her.
“Could you teach me how to milk Mabel? Katie said it's almost that time of day.”
“She's doing good at it.”
“I know, but I'd rather her have a good night's sleep than wake up early to do it. School's starting soon. She can do the second round with her other afternoon chores.”
“I milked cows myself before I went to school,” Brix said. “Besides, you're all dressed up.”
“I can change quickly. Just let me know if you can find the time.”
“Go change then, and we'll get it done now.”
“All right. I'll be back in five minutes.”
Muttering curses nobody could hear, he got grain for Mabel and a T-shaped stool. But at least he'd have a good reason to touch Minda and sit close behind her, his thighs wrapped around her backside. The thought stirred him.
She came back in the purple dress he liked, not that ugly old brown thing. Come to think of it, he'd bled all over that one. Hopefully she'd burnt it up.
“Mercy, Mabel's so big, close up.” Minda looked downright skittish, something he hadn't seen even when she'd sewn him up.
Without thinking it through first, he laid his hands on her shoulders to relax her, kneading her flesh and liking it more than he should. “You'll do fine.” The words stuck funny, back of his tongue. “She's gentle as a lamb. You like cows?”
“What? I like animals fine.”
“Well, Mabel's going to know if you don't like her. You can't get nervous, neither. She'll know. Now, start brushing her. Rub her back. Get her to feel comfortable with you.”
With a nod, Minda followed his directions, fast and sure, like she had with the Peacemaker. He couldn't help thinking of those hands in his hair on that magic night, or hell, that morning she'd bathed him.
Changing his thoughts was a must. An erection started to come to life.
“Now, you sit here and rest your head on the flank,” he said, wanting her head to lie no place else but his side.
He balanced her on the stool at a right angle to Mabel, and squatted on his haunch right behind Minda to catch her if she stumbled. The stool had only one leg. “Now, rub your right knee there, too.” He propped her knee against Mabel's stomach and brought the wash pail close. Touching her brought a whole new battle between his legs, making the painful strain upon his stitches nothing at all.
“Wash with this soap and rag. Get your fingers rubbing in a circle, way at the top.” He took her hand to guide the massaging of the teat, and folding her soft hand around waiting flesh made him swallow a groan. He pictured that morning bath with her fingers on his nipples.
By now, his arousal raged, and he figured she could feel it against her back. Hoped she did, truth to tell.
“Dry her now.” His voice was harsher than he intended. “And you ought to sing to her, something gentle. Or talk in a low tone.”
“You're the one who knows cow songs.” Minda chuckled, soft and low, like that night on his bedroll, the night he dreamed about every time he stretched out on the filthy thing.
“All right.” Anything to keep his mind off her closeness. “I'll sing, and you learn along. Now, I like to treat her like she's the most important lady I know. Take it in your palm...”
He gently showed her how to squeeze the top of the teat. “Thumb. Pointer finger here. Then squeeze each finger one at a time until all your fingers are wrapped around.”
Her hand closing around long, pink flesh caused an image to burst into his mind that he'd die to repeat, and his cock flamed. Never before had the everyday motions of milking a cow reminded him he was a man.
And she was a woman.
The milk streamed into the bucket.
“Now release. And do it again ‘til it's empty and soft.”
Barely breathing, he started to sing the lullaby that Neddie-boy liked so much. The sweet melody reminded him of stars going blue on the night she'd spent in his arms, with him deep inside her.
Just then, she lost her balance and teetered back into his arms. Irked, Mabel kicked over her bucket.
“Oh, land sakes, Brixton,” she said, but his arms closed about her to keep her from the white puddle.
With a quick maneuver, he turned her to face him, and brought her soft body down upon him in the clean straw.
He held his lids open as long as he dared while his lips claimed hers, for he wanted to see her own eyes widen before those butterfly-wing lashes closed on her cheek.
For a perfect, sweet moment, she drank from him, and he reached gently for the beautiful buds inside her bodice, but she climbed to her feet quick as a cat.
“Oh, Brixton, I ... I've made a righteous mess here. And the children need fresh milk for supper. Will Mabel let down some more?” The flower petal eyes didn't look at him at all now.
“Yep, but she'll wait a while. She's got grain to keep her happy.”
Then her eyes met his, wide and bold.
* * * *
Still trembling from his touch, Minda rejoiced. She didn't see regret in his eyes and refused to show him any in return. True, it wasn't the life she had come for. But maybe it was the life she was called to live.
Her heart thundered as hard as it ever had. She'd made bold decisions before. She'd left family and friends for an unknown man and undiscovered territory. She'd stood up to outlaws, and stitched up a gruesome wound with only a vague notion of what to do.
And she'd watched her husband take a bullet. She could have lost him at that moment. She'd been given another chance, and it was a chance she had to take.
Smiling shyly, she unbuttoned her dress and started on the ribbons of her chemise. The barn was dark, but it was still daylight, and a blush warmed her cheeks.
“What are you doing?” Brixton asked, eyes half-lidded, but letting her know he was aware of her intent. He'
d raised himself up on his elbows, his shirt half-open, calling attention to his sun-bronzed chest and black hair.
“Getting ready.”
“Ready for what?” His hot dark eyes told her he knew. The words came through his mouth, tip of his tongue peeking between his lips, and she kept from kissing him for another coy second.
“For you.”
“The next time should be in a bed.”
“You had plenty of chances.”
“Minda ... the kids...”
“Priscilla's asleep. Katie and Ned are playing with the ball I made for the baby. I just checked.”
“Still. At least let's get to Strawberry's stall. Plenty of fresh hay.” He got up to bar the door.
But when he came back with a saddle blanket, she read hesitation in his eyes despite the physical proof of his need burgeoning beneath his denims.
“Minda, this isn't a good idea.”
“It's a wonderful idea, Brixton.” She resolutely spread the blanket. “I'm your wife. You've said it yourself.”
“Won't change a thing,” he said, although his hands further untied her ribbons. “I'm still leaving.”
“Then we can make the best of the time we've got left.”
Dropping his fingers, he shook his head. “No. I'm not up to it.”
“Oh, I think you are.” She smiled, laying her hand on the lump beneath his trousers. Her boldness shocked her, but the woman who had shot a man to protect a husband and home she hadn't had a week wasn't a fainthearted ninny after all.
A low, guttural moan rumbled from her husband's perfectly-sculpted chest. She helped him slide out of his shirt, and they lay down. Minda leaned toward him, placing her fingertips lightly across his copper-coin nipples. She'd noticed during his bath that he liked her touching him there. It had surprised her somewhat. But remembering her newfound bravery, and how much his lips on her breasts tantalized her, she placed her mouth and tongue on his nipple.
“Oh God.” Brixton's whole body tensed. “Oh, Minda.” Sounds seethed between his teeth. “I think I died and am now in heaven.”
She moved to his mouth, silencing him with her lips and tongue in ways he had taught her. He tasted only of manly health in spite of his pain and injury, and she wanted more, all of him.
She sat up and slipped off the rest of her clothes, feeling the power of her nakedness.
“Ah, heaven indeed.” Brixton breathed, taking one breast gently but firmly into his hand, his warm fingers sculpting her flesh to new pleasures. She raised her face, her hair streaming down her back. “Now, you know...” He looked away, almost blushing. “You know, don't you, you'll need to get on top of me? My leg's sore down to my knee.”
Heat covered her. She had never considered such a position.
“I'll get you started. You'll figure it out.” His laugh came with gentle amusement. “Now, lie here beside me for a time. Then when you're ready...”
She knew what that meant. He touched that special place of hers she'd never heard mentioned in real words, just blushing mumbles after her sisters’ honeymoons. That special place that had a life all its own, and music only she could hear, colors only she could see. It wouldn't feel like this with any other man. She knew it in her soul.
For moments that lasted forever, his hands blessed her, his lips feasting on her breasts as if they gave him life. She moaned, her mouth searching the hard, muscled span of his neck, and she nibbled him.
His strong firm hands guided her to her knees, and she straddled him. A smile of ecstasy lurked under his moustache, and she leaned down to cover his mouth with hers.
As her hand searched for the manhood raging and reaching for her through his open trousers, she lowered to him. His tip nudged her core and as she settled, he slipped inside, deeper than before. Her knees went weak as her thighs tightened around him, and placing her hands firmly over his nipples, she rose and fell upon him. His eyes praised her, his hands fervently cupped the mounds of her breasts. Then he gasped, and her world turned bold colors.
Triumphant music sang in her ears. They shuddered at the same moment, and she collapsed on his chest.
When she could manage words, she spoke.
“Brixton, will you at least miss me a little when you're gone?”
“Minda, I'd miss you even if we'd never met at all.”
[Back to Table of Contents]
* * *
Chapter Fourteen
Brixton slept in the barn again that night, but with Minda's full permission.
She'd tingled in her bed alone, arms wrapped around her body as she recalled every delicious detail of their magical lovemaking in that most unlikely place.
Determined to keep his heifer comfortable before the fair, Ned had insisted that he and his uncle spend the night in the barn, singing lullabies to her. Minda had given her prompt consent, thinking it a chance for the boy to conquer his demons.
Her husband had behaved tenderly at supper, sitting close like Katie always arranged their settings, and giving her a real good-night kiss in front of the children.
It appeared Minda had taken her chance and won.
Although the mottled looking glass in the bedroom was all she had to go by on Monday morning, Minda considered her new bonnet a masterpiece. It thrilled her even more than her wedding veil.
She'd envisioned a variation on the high-crowned Regency hats of years gone by. Her scissors had seemed to know where to cut the purple wool brilliantine without measurement. She hadn't had to rip out one single stitch.
The spray of velvet violets drooped perfectly over her left ear instead of the old-style feather, and for drama, a ruche of lavender taffeta tickled the back of her neck.
As the final inspiration, the right amount of silver netting left over from Katie's new Sunday hat draped with perfection into a whimsical veil.
She smiled to herself. Yesterday at church had been nothing but triumph with a half-dozen down payments.
Not to mention her reward.
Katie grabbed Minda's hand. “Oh, you look beautiful, Mama. You would win a prize for the best hat.”
Minda glanced coquettishly at her reflection through the veil. “Well, that's not the purpose of the Bonnet Race.”
“I sure hope Uncle Brix wins the money. Then maybe he'll stay.
Maybe he would. He'd certainly been attentive enough since, well, that moment in the barn.
She touched Katie's cheek. “Firefly, let's think only happy thoughts today.” She forced the nightmare of Caldwell Hackett winning the race from her mind. Ned's babbling and Brixton's brisk voice, though normally delightful, prickled her skin. Why were they back? They should be long gone, getting the heifer to town.
Around here, she didn't expect a change of plan to mean anything good.
Brixton smiled sheepish from the doorway, looking at her in a way that made her heart thunder. More than ever she was glad for the gorgeous hat and the purple dress she sensed he liked. For a change of pace, she'd design a different gown in a similar color soon as she could. But right now her everyday gown smelled of sunshine, starched thick as a plank.
“Now, Clem didn't want me to wear myself out before the race,” Brixton said. “So Ned's heifer's already on the road to town with him. I hitched Buttermilk to the wagon. You get the kids to town. I'll be taking Strawberry directly to Shell Creek.”
“But...” She wanted to ask if he'd have time to get a practice run in, but he rushed, looking at her square on.
“I'm going to win that race, Minda.”
Ned burst into the house, leading something black and white and furry close behind him on a twine. “Clem and Monty gave us a puppy! Uncle Brix told them to. But Mama...” His guileless eyes turned a brighter blue as he looked at Minda. “I will always love my toy dog best of all.”
With a hangdog grin, her husband shrugged. In his denim riveted trousers and gray shirt laced at the neck with a leather strand, he looked every inch the cowboy he was. He held his Stetson in his hand, but tipped i
t at her anyway.
“Farm bitch whelped three months ago,” he said. “Last one left. She'll be a herder.” The grin left for a second, flashing instead a bleak stare.
Was this a good-bye gift for the children?
Had yesterday had been nothing but his good-bye kiss, and something more? She had started it, to be sure, but he hadn't complained.
A glimpse in the glass revealed a sickly pallor under her lovely hat. She pinched her cheeks. She'd already told Katie not to think unhappy thoughts today. Right now, Neddie's joyful face meant his nightmares might be chased away.
So she smiled. Katie shrieked with excitement and knelt to grapple the dog close.
“Now, the pup's housebroke, Minda. The kids've been yammering for one, and I...”
Minda was strangely touched. “It's a lovely thought, Brixton.” At least they'd started to use their christened names. “You have every right to give your niece and nephew a dog.”
She wanted to hug him in assurance, but he turned away. “I should have asked you first. I don't want to cause you more bother, with Mabel now twice a day. But you sure learned that milking quick.” His schoolboy smile was back, but the glaze in his eyes was a man's. “I bet you start a dairy of your own outside of a week.”
Her face must have colored to match her hat. Her lips parted in remembrance.
His hot, dark eyes lowered to the children. “Now kids, your little girl cow needs a name before the judging.”
Ned's good nature returned. “We named her Dicey, Uncle Brix, for Paradise. You always say G.T.T., but we reckon Paradise is better.”
Minda almost couldn't bear it, so she checked Priscilla, who was prattling on the big bed with her cloth ball to her mouth. From the corner of her eye, she saw Brixton swallow hard behind his leather tie.
“It's a grand name,” was all Brixton said. Ned and Katie tore out of the house with the puppy, and Brixton leaned down to Priscilla who hung on to his neck with a steady steam of da-da and ma-ma.
Minda's heart twisted when he kissed the baby's hair.
“I'm almost ready,” she said.
He stood up and looked at her. “Like I say, I'm going to win that race. No man's going to kiss you but me, Minda.” For a long time, his gaze never left her, as though he were memorizing her face. “It might not be the marriage you came for, but I'm the husband you got.”
