by Lynda Bailey
She focused on dismounting while searching for an answer. Her shoulder rolled up, saying the first thing that popped into her head. “Thought it’d be neighborly if I stopped by to see Elisabeth.”
“Mighty nice of you. I’m sure she’ll be grateful for the woman company.” He nudged his head to the main house. “She’s inside. With George. I swear that brother of mine is nuthin’ but a mother hen these days.”
Sam returned to the harnesses and Matt walked the short distance to the house. The door opened to reveal George Applegate.
If Sam was a barrel of a man, his taller, broader brother was the side of a barn. George occupied the entire doorframe, seeming to have to squeeze his shoulders together to step through it. “Matt, what you doing here?”
She shoved her hands into her pockets. “I met up with your brother in town and he mentioned that Elizabeth doesn’t get out much. Thought I’d pay her a visit.”
“That’s real nice of you. Elisabeth, you’ve got company,” he said over his shoulder.
“I’ve got what?” a woman’s voice asked from inside the house.
He glanced back at Matt. “Go on in. She’s been baking something fierce today. If you can get her to sit for a spell, I’d be obliged.” He touched her arm as she slipped past. “We were real sad to hear about your pappy.”
“Thank you.”
“George Applegate,” Elisabeth scowled. “Who in the Sam Hill are you—Matilda!”
The brown-haired, hazel-eyed woman engulfed Matt in as tight a hug as her bulging belly would allow like they were long-lost friends. Though she liked the woman well enough, Matt never thought of Elisabeth as a friend. She didn’t see any real need for female friends. They weren’t any good at ranching. In fact, they weren’t much good for anything except sewing and giggling. Upton’s ninny daughter came to mind. After giving Elisabeth several awkward pats, she eased away.
“What in the world are you doing here?” Elisabeth demanded, her hands on ample hips. “Not that I’m not very glad to see you.” Her features sobered. “I’m so sorry about your father, Matilda. I feel dreadful that I couldn’t attend his funeral.”
Matt fought not to gape at the woman’s hugely distended stomach. She’d seen cows ready to calve that weren’t as large. “Please don’t feel bad. I know your circumstances don’t allow for you to socialize.”
Elisabeth caressed her stomach. “Yes. Thank you for understanding.” Her hand fluttered toward the table. “Where are my manners? Please sit. Would you like a cup of tea?”
“Don’t bother yourself on my account.”
“It’s no bother.” She waddled to the shelf and grabbed the tea canister.
While Elisabeth moved about filling the kettle and measuring tea leaves Matt perched her butt on a chair and looked around the single room.
Bright, matching yellow curtains adorned the three windows and a brown rug covered most of the wood floor. Dough was laid out on the worktable and the aroma of fresh bread infused her nose. Everything about the room was warm and welcoming. The smell. The colors. The woman pouring steaming water into two mugs. Elisabeth handed one to her. She smiled in thanks.
Elisabeth sat with a heavy sigh. “What brings you here today, Matilda?” She spooned sugar into her mug and stirred.
Matt blew on the liquid in her cup. “I’ve never paid you a visit. Figure it was about time.”
Elisabeth gave her a gracious smile. “Past time in my opinion.”
Matt concentrated on sipping her tea. Why the hell was she here? Not to visit, that was for sure. But why? She looked again at the furnishing in the simple room. Nothing fancy, but knickknacks sat on the fireplace mantle and window sills. Two rocking chairs sat in front of the hearth, a sewing basket on the floor in between piled with garments in need of mending.
This was a home, not just a place for a person to lay her head. Not like where she’d grown up. The Standing T might be a bigger spread, but it definitely wasn’t better.
A knot of sadness grew in her stomach. This is what she wanted. To have a home, not just a house. Would she find it when she went to Kansas City? Would she ever find it at all?
The door burst open, making them both jump. Sam walked in with a sack of dry goods over each shoulder. He plopped the sacks by the worktable in the corner then turned to leave.
“Have you told Elisabeth your news?” he asked Matt.
Elisabeth spooned a bit more sugar into her tea. “What news is that?”
“She and Logan Cartwright got hitched,” Sam said as he left, closing the door behind him.
The spoon clattered against the saucer. “You what?”
Scorching heat flamed Matt’s face. She looked away from Elisabeth’s accusing stare. “Logan and me got married.”
“When did this happen?”
“Just a few days ago. It was pretty sudden.”
“I should say so,” Elisabeth chastised. “I didn’t even know he was courting you.”
Matt opened her mouth to say that she hadn’t been courted. That Logan only married her to get the ranch, but the words gummed up her throat like Chuck’s overcooked oatmeal.
The disgrace of her father having to bribe Logan into marrying her was an icy hand squeezing her heart. She hadn’t been pretty enough for Logan to marry her. Were things going to be any different in Kansas City or any other city? She still wore denims. She still wasn’t pretty.
“Matilda, are you listening to me?”
Elisabeth’s voice snapped her attention back. “I’m sorry?”
“I asked if your husband’s taking you on a wedding tour.”
“Uh, wedding tour?”
“Yes. It’s when newly wedded couples go on a trip. Spend time together before settling into married life.”
“We, uh, need to drive the cattle to Abilene first.” So I can have the money to leave Indian Territory. Matt’s chest hurt at the thought.
Elisabeth absently stirred her tea. “George promised to take me to Fort Smith after the baby comes and before next winter. Not exactly a wedding tour, but it’ll still be nice.” She sighed. “I always wanted to go on a long tour, but being a mail ordered bride, that wasn’t possible. But to stay in a fancy hotel with a restaurant and wear your best dresses…” Her voice drifted off as she took a sip of tea.
Matt remembered the green material in Upton’s. It had looked so shimmering, like it would be air around her body. In a dress made from that fabric, she’d be pretty. Guaranteed. Pretty for Logan.
Not that she wanted to be pretty for him, she told herself. She was leaving after all. But if she was pretty in Logan’s eyes, then maybe she’d find someone in Kansas City who thought she was pretty too. Or maybe, just maybe, she’d be pretty enough that Logan would want her to stay…
She scoffed a laugh. Who was she foolin’? She was barking at a knot to think she would ever own such a dress, let alone wear it.
“What’s so funny, Matilda?”
She shrugged, not meeting her friend’s gaze. “I don’t figure to ever have a wedding tour.”
“You never know. Your husband might surprise you. Where would you like to go?”
“Kansas City,” she replied without hesitation. To travel with Logan, to be his wife—in every sense…
Matt gave herself a mental slap. “This is silly talk. I won’t have any such thing.”
Elisabeth’s forehead puckered. “How can you be so sure?”
She couldn’t admit her dishonor that Logan only married her to get the ranch. “For one I don’t own a dress.”
Elisabeth laughed. A pleasant sound, not like that insistent twittering of Daisy Upton and her friends. “What do you mean you don’t own a dress? Every woman owes at least one.” Her face scrunched up when Matt stayed silent. “I always assumed you wore pants because…” She shook her head. “Guess I never truly thought about why you didn’t wear a dress.” She paused. “You really don’t have a single one?”
“I really don’t.”
“We
need to do something about that, don’t you think?” Elisabeth paused again. “Do you know how to sew?”
“Does mending saddle tack count?”
“Hardly.” Elisabeth sat taller. “Stand up. Hmmm.” She gave Matt a critical head-to-toe look. “We’re about the same height, but I’ve altered all my clothes to fit my condition. I could make you a dress easy enough, though.”
“You could?”
“Of course. Oh, but I don’t have any extra dress material.”
“I saw a bolt of a real pretty green material at Upton’s today.”
“Green? I bet that would look wonderful with your eye color. Now we just need to make a pattern.”
“Mrs. Upton said they got in the newest edition of Harper’s Bazaar last week.”
“Perfect!” Elisabeth clapped her hands, her eyes bright. “We’ll make a list of the other notions we’re going to need and I can measure you for the dress. How soon do you want to get started?”
Matt returned her friend’s smile. “How does tomorrow sound?”
~ ~ ~
“What do you mean she’s not here?” Logan thundered.
Both Bart’s horse and Sergeant shied from the roaring voice. It’s a wonder his shout didn’t start a stampede. Each cowboy quickly brought his mount under control.
“Sorry, boss,” Bart said. “I haven’t seen Matt since this breakfast.”
“Holy hell!” Could things get worse? “Get the men up. Have them start searching for her. I’ll head back to the ranch to see if she’s there.”
“You mean to leave the herd unguarded?”
That’s exactly what he meant to do, which was one helluva stupid idea. Logan rubbed his aching forehead. “No, but get them up anyway. You and Josh can look for her while the others stay posted on guard. Fire three rifle shots in the air if you find her.”
“It’s a big prairie, boss. Where you mean for us to look?”
“Everywhere you can,” he snapped back. He turned Sergeant’s head back the way he’d just come and spurred the gelding into a full gallop.
Though Matt was capable of handling most situations, it just wasn’t safe for her to be traipsing out of the prairie alone. Not with rustlers lurking about. His stomach coiled at the thought of something happening to her. He leaned lower over Sergeant’s neck and, good pony that he was, the gelding responded to the silent plea to go faster. In record time, he crested a small hill and the Standing T came into view.
A quick glance at the corral showed Turk wasn’t among the other horses. He was going straight to Hell with all the cussing he was doing today. She could have stabled the animal, he told himself, however unlikely. He slowed his horse to a brisk trot to cool him after the strenuous run. Dave walked out of the barn, pitchfork in hand, as he reined Sergeant to a halt. “Is Matt here?”
The small man frowned. “Thought she went to the herd.”
Logan jumped to the ground. “She wasn’t there. Saddle me a fresh horse and one for yourself.”
Dave took Sergeant’s reins. “What for?”
“To go look for her.”
“Look for her where? It’s a big prairie.”
Battling back the urge to rip Dave’s head off—he knew how goddamn big the fucking prairie was—he tramped to the cookhouse. If they were going to hunt for Matt, they were going to need some hardtack to eat while in the saddle.
Less than ten minutes later, he rode out east as Dave took off to the south. Logan planned to backtrack to the herd then to Williamsville to see if he could pick up any sign of her.
His insides turned acerbic, like his gut was feeding off itself. Where the hell was his wife?
~ ~ ~
For the rest of the day, he searched. And found nothing.
While a blanket of snow still covered most of the prairie, the well-traveled trails were muddy, but clear. He scanned the terrain near and far until his eyes watered. No indication of a struggle of any kind could be seen. No rifle shots had sounded either.
Every time his belly relaxed a bit at the undisturbed landscape, it quickly knotted up again because that didn’t mean squat. Though Matt wasn’t the type to let anyone get the drop on her, didn’t mean that didn’t happen.
Hell’s fire! Where the devil could she be?
It wasn’t until the sun had set and darkness encroached that he finally made his way back to the Standing T. Worry had become his reality. It encompassed him. Like a second skin.
He dismounted in the barn, loosened the saddle cinch strap, but didn’t bed the horse. First he had to know if any of the other men had news about Matt. He hustled toward the cookhouse and shoved open the door.
His whole body stilled.
At the table, an empty plate in front of her, a smile on her lips and talking with Dave, sat his wife. Josh and Bart waited as Chuck heaped their plates with food. Every set of eyes in the room landed on him.
Relief and anger shook Logan so hard, his hand on the handle rattled the door hinges. He very carefully released his hold. “What are you doing here, Matt?” he growled low.
Her smile dithered. “I live here.”
In precise moves, he hung up his coat. “When’d you get back?”
“She showed up just as I was startin’ supper,” Chuck volunteered.
Logan faced the room. “And nobody here thought to fire three shots in the air to let me know you’d found her? Not a one of you.” He pointed his gaze in turn at each cowboy. They all had the good sense to look shamefaced. He crossed his arms, his legs akimbo, his gaze drilling into Matt. “Everybody out.”
Josh had just wormed his legs under the table while Bart had poured a cup of coffee. Both men hesitated, a wishful eye to their suppers. But they knew better than to argue. Dave, too, didn’t waste time in following Logan’s directive. Only Chuck showed the balls, or maybe stupidity, to confront him.
“It was an oversight, none of us firing any shots. No harm done.”
Saying nothing, Logan glowered the old cook down. With a cautionary glance to Matt, Chuck left as well.
She remained sitting at the table, her expression a swarming mix of defiance and unease. He piled beefsteak and fried potatoes onto a plate. He wasn’t hungry, but needed to do something with his hands otherwise he might throttle her. Or strip her naked.
“What’s got a bee under your saddle blanket?” she asked, her tone a bit too sassy to please him.
He sat across from her, not trusting himself to sit any closer. “In town, you said you were going to the herd. But you didn’t. Where did you go?”
“Brush-popped along the north border.”
He paused in cutting his meat. “I consider myself a patient man, but I don’t cotton to being lied to.”
“How you know I’m lying?”
“Because we haven’t had the herd anywhere near the north border in a year.”
Her gaze lowered to her plate as her shoulders lifted with a sigh. “I met up with Sam Applegate at the livery. He said Elisabeth wasn’t able to get out much because she’s in the family way. He said I should stop by to visit sometime.” She looked at him and the earnest innocence in her eyes plowed a fist into his chest. “So I did.”
“Why didn’t you just say that? Why lie to me?”
Another shrug. “Maybe I figured it was silly. Me wanting to visit with Elisabeth.”
He pushed the plate aside, any semblance of his appetite gone. “Why would it be silly for you to want a woman friend?”
She didn’t answer, though her woeful expression delivered another punch to his ribcage. He leaned his folded arms on the table. “All right. I now know where you went, but not why you left in such a blazing hurry from town. Want to explain that to me?”
Only silence met his question. Matt tucked her hair behind her ear, not lifting her gaze from her plate.
The quiet stretched out longer than the Mississippi River.
“Do I shame you, Matt?”
That yanked her head up. “Of course not. Why would you say tha
t?”
“Because you seemed pretty riled that I told a few folks we were married. In fact, you seemed downright pissed.”
“Oh.” She squirmed on the bench. “I wasn’t upset about that. I, uh, had a run-in at Upton’s.”
He snapped to attention. “What happened? Did someone disrespect you?” His eyes narrowed. “Did Dobson follow into Upton’s?”
“No, no. Nothing like that.”
“Then what?”
“It was stupid, really. I feel like a ninny for acting so childish.”
He gnawed on the inside of his cheek. “Did talking with Elisabeth help?”
“Yes, it did.”
The instant delight on her face made him grin and the last of his ire dissolved. “Then it’s a good thing you visited with her.”
Her smile faded a bit. “So you’re not angry with me anymore?”
“I was more worried than angry. But you have to promise not to run off like that again. It’s not safe for you to be out alone.”
“I can take care of myself,” she sniffed.
“Yes, you can. And I still want your promise.”
“But I need to go back to town tomorrow.”
“What for?”
“Um, Mrs. Upton said they got in some new books.” Her gaze returned to her plate. “I’d like to see if I could borrow one.”
“That new Mark Twain book?” He stood and put his plate in the wash bucket. “I can’t go, but I’ll send Dave with you.”
“I don’t need a dang babysitter,” she continued to protest, standing and putting her plate in the wash bucket as well.
“But I need to know you’re safe. Now promise you’ll let Dave ride to town with you.”
“I promise,” she muttered.
“Good.” He stood in front of her and the scent of wildflowers filtered through the air. His body tightened. “Remember the promise I made in the bank?”
A slight furrow appeared between her shimmering green eyes. “Your promise?”
“Yep.” He slipped an arm around her waist. “My promise to kiss you all over. You didn’t forget, did you?”
Her lips parted as her eyelids drooped. His cock fattened with desire. All the pent-up anxiety he’d harbored that day became churning lust for his wife. He drew her closer. “And I always keep my promises, don’t I?”
