Wildflower

by Lynda Bailey

  Matt shook her head. “Maybe you shouldn’t have come.”

  “Nonsense. Thank you, dear,” she said to George when he handed her a rather large package from under the seat. She looped her arm through Matt’s. “Let’s you and I have a cup of tea while the men folk do their talking, shall we?”

  Logan touched Matt’s shoulder before Elisabeth could pull her away. “What about discussing your idea for the cattle drive with George and Sam?”

  She smiled one of her heart-stopping smiles and shook her head. “You do it. I need to keep Elisabeth company.”

  With that, the two ladies turned and walked across the yard.

  ~ ~ ~

  Matt couldn’t stop staring at the package Elisabeth carried. Was it her dress? The thought made her giddy. She’d never been giddy her whole life. She opened the door to the house. “That’s my dress, isn’t it?”

  Elisabeth returned her smile. “It is indeed. And a few other items.” She placed the bundle on the table and took off her bonnet and cape. “How about fixing that tea then we’ll see what alterations are needed.”

  Lickety-split, the kettle was on and tea leaves were measured into cups. Elisabeth sat in Gene’s rocking chair and gentle creaking filling the room. Matt fingered the string holding the paper together then ever so slowly loosened the knot. The paper fell away. Air caught in her chest.

  She remembered the material being pretty, but what she saw wasn’t pretty. It was exquisite. She gently stroked the back of her hand against the fabric. It was softer than Turk’s muzzle. And delicate. So very delicate. She felt for sure if she rubbed it wrong, it would tear.

  The creaking paused. “It’s all right to touch it, Matilda. It won’t bite.”

  Ducking her head at the tease, Matt wiped her palms on her denims before lifting the dress out of the paper. It was impossibly long, seeming to go on forever. Pearl buttons adorned the front with matching lace at the cuffs and neckline. She held it in front of her body and turned to Elisabeth.

  “Oh, Matilda. That green is perfect with your hair and eye color.” She pushed from the rocker. “I brought some of my undergarments for you as well. I can’t fit into them now.” Two off-white, flimsy-looking things remained nestled in the brown wrapping.

  “What in the world are those?” Matt eyed them suspiciously.

  “A chemise and petticoat, silly. You need to get out of the clothes you’re wearing and into these. Then I can help you with your dress.”

  Matt reluctantly picked up the “undergarments.” She held on in each hand. “Um. How do these work?”

  Elisabeth laughed, pointing to one item. “That’s the chemise. Put it on first.” She pointed to the other one. “And that’s the petticoat. It goes over the camisole.”

  “But—”

  Elisabeth waved her toward the bedroom. “You’ll figure it out. I promise.”

  Inside her room, Matt stripped off her boots, clothes and long johns. The chemise was a thin, frilly dress while the petticoat looked like short, ruffled drawers. She pulled the chemise over her head and it coasted down her body. It felt a lot nicer against her skin than her coarse long johns. The smooth material peaked her nipples, sending a twinge to her womb. She rubbed a hand across her belly with a stuttering sigh. Next, she stepped into the petticoat then, barefooted and with her body warm from embarrassment, she padded into the other room.

  Elisabeth looked up from pouring steaming water into mugs. Her smile sent a shaft of confidence through Matt. “All right. Let’s get that dress on you.”

  It took a bit of finagling, but with Elisabeth’s help, Matt wormed into the dress without anything tearing.

  The bodice hugged her torso and waist then flared to a wide skirt. The neckline plunged down between her breasts where the lace tickled her bare skin. She swished from side to side, enjoying the sleek fabric brushing her legs.

  Elisabeth pulled and tucked at Matt’s shoulders and waist. “It fits quite nicely, if I do say so myself. I won’t have to do anything except hem it.” She stepped back. “All right. Up onto this chair with you so I can see what I’m dealing with.”

  Matt got onto the chair, not at all certain what was going to happen next. Elisabeth slowly knelt, using the table for stability. A small round cushion stuffed with pins sat on the floor beside her.

  She stuffed a few pins into her mouth. “What did your husband say when you told him about the dress?” she mumbled around the prickly mouthful.

  “Um.” Thinking fast, nothing came to her other than the truth. “He doesn’t know about it.”

  Elisabeth smiled a conspiratorial smile up at her. “A surprise, eh? Men like surprises, I don’t care what they say. Turn, please.”

  Matt moved a quarter turn.

  “He’s gonna love this surprise, I guarantee.” Elisabeth chatted. “You look so pretty.”

  Joy twirled down Matt’s spine. She looked pretty? Truly? Would Logan think so? She couldn’t wait to show him.

  As though summoned, Logan walked into the house. He pulled to an immediate halt, his eyes almost popping from their sockets at her standing on the chair. In a dress. “Where’d that come from?”

  Elisabeth peeked around the dress. “It’s it wonderful? The material just came in. I know the pattern is a bit outdated, but doesn’t she look lovely?”

  His admiring gaze traveled Matt from head to toe. Her legs trembled at the intensity in his gray eyes.

  “She’ll be the bell of the ball in Kansas City, don’t you think?” Elisabeth twittered on.

  An instant later, anger distorted his features. He moved closer, his eyes narrowing with fury. “You never answered me. Where’d you get that dress?”

  The rage edging his voice killed the smile wanting to jump to Matt’s lips. She swallowed and angled her chin. “I bought it.”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “You bought it?” he whispered low. “With what money?”

  Shame cooked her face and her hands balled into fists at being humiliated in front of Elisabeth. “I’ll pay you back.”

  “Damn right you will.”

  “There,” Elisabeth said in a slightly strained voice. “All done. You can get down now, Matilda.” She stood and weaved a step, a hand pressed to her side. “Oh my.”

  “Are you all right?” Matt asked, getting off the chair.

  “Yes, I’m—Oh!” Elisabeth doubled over, both arms wrapped around her middle.

  “What’s wrong?” Logan asked.

  “I—I don’t know.” Elisabeth’s complexion had a pasty hue and her breathing was shallow.

  Matt guided her friend back to the rocker. “Here. Sit down.” Once Elisabeth was sitting, she resumed her seat and patted her friend’s shoulder, not at all certain what she should do. “You want us to fetch your husband?”

  Elisabeth shook her head. “No. It’s passing.” She inhaled a breath. “See? I’m fine—Oh!” She bent forward again, hugging her belly.

  Matt met Logan’s gaze. The fury in his eyes had dimmed, if only slightly. She didn’t care. Elisabeth was more important. “Get George.”

  Without a word, he took off out the door. She looked back at Elisabeth. “When’s the baby due?”

  “Not for another month.”

  “Has this happened before.”

  Elisabeth gave an unsteady nod. “But never this bad.” She forced a weak smile and sat up. She pulled in another breath and let it out slow. “Oh. That’s better.”

  “You’re all right now?” Matt stood.

  “Yes. Doc Bingham said this would happen more, the closer my time gets.”

  “Elisabeth!”

  George charged into the house, Logan and Sam at his heels. He hunkered down in front of his wife and took her hands in his. “What happened?” Worry shook the big man’s voice.

  “I’m fine, George.”

  “You sure? Does Sam need to fetch Doc Bingham?”

  “Gracious, no. It was just the baby kicking.”

  George shoved to his feet and waggled a
finger at his wife. “I’m taking you home where you’re staying put. No more visiting, I don’t care what you say.”

  She smiled wanly up at her husband. “Yes, dear.”

  With a harrumph, George turned to Logan. “I need to borrow a mattress so Elisabeth can lay down for the ride home.”

  “Of course.”

  “That’s silly,” Elisabeth protested. “I said I was fine.”

  George gave his wife a reproaching glare. “Sam, go take care of the wagon.”

  The brother and Logan left. Matt stood and George scooted the chair closer to his wife then and sat. He held her hand and placed his other on her rounded belly. Elisabeth covered his large hand with her smaller one and set the rocker in motion. He chuckled. “Lordy. It feels like two hound pups are wrestling in there.”

  Quietly, Matt slipped into her bedroom to give husband and wife some privacy.

  How she wished she had a husband who cared for her like George did for Elisabeth. She caressed her hands down the silky sides of her dress before unbuttoning the bodice. How she wished that husband would be Logan.

  Carefully she pulled the dress over her head and laid it on the bed, followed by the undergarments.

  She had hoped Logan would like it. That he might think her pretty. Instead he’d been angry at the money she’d spent. She should have known better than to want something she could never have, at least not here. Here, she would never be Matilda. She would always be Matt. Just Matt.

  She put on her old clothes for her old way of life. She then gently wrapped up her new clothes for her new life.

  Away from here and away from Logan.

  Chapter Ten

  Walking across the yard, Logan felt mule-kicked then gut shot.

  Matt in a dress. Holy hell.

  She looked so damn beautiful, pride almost busted his shirt seams at the fact she was his wife. Lust damn near did the same thing to his pants. Right before resentment took hold. She hadn’t gone to the trouble for him. She’d done it for when she left for Kansas City.

  For when she left him. Elisabeth had said so. Bitterness coated his mouth.

  It was obvious he needed to clarify a few things to his wife. From now on, he wasn’t going to touch her unless it was to bed her. He was done torturing himself thinking that maybe she’d stay. She planned nothing of the kind. He’d keep his distance from her and concentrate on getting the herd to Abilene. Once Matt had her money, she’d be gone.

  Then he’d concentrate of mending his broken heart.

  He helped Sam place a tick mattress in the wagon with a few extra blankets to make sure Elisabeth was comfortable. When all was ready, George helped his wife into the bed then climbed in next to her, his beefy arms wrapped around her dainty shoulders.

  Logan’s heart twisted at the serene picture. He stepped back and raised a hand in farewell. The buckboard, with Sam’s horse tied behind, rumbled from the yard then he headed to the house. And Matt.

  But she wasn’t there. He backtracked to the barn to discover her cinching the saddle on Turk. “Going somewhere?”

  She flipped the stirrup down. “To the herd.”

  “You’re not on guard duty tonight.”

  “I told Dave I’d take his shift.” She swung onto her horse. “I’d rather ride saddle all night than be here.”

  “We’re not done discussing this dress business.”

  “I’m done discussing anything with you.”

  Logan reached for the reins, but she gave Turk’s head a swift turn away and urged the gelding into quick trot. He watched her go, for about the span of a single heartbeat. Then he was throwing his saddle onto Sergeant. If she thought she was getting the last word on this, or him, she was wrong. Dead wrong. Not to mention she’d promised not to ride out alone. Damn it all to hell.

  After giving hasty instructions to Chuck and Dave, he tracked behind his wife. In no time, he saw her ahead of him, riding easy. He pushed Sergeant to a faster gait and soon he was abreast of her. She shot him a sour look before prompting Turk into a hard run. With a disgusted shake of his head, he did the same. As a result, they made excellent time getting to the herd, but without the chance for conversation. Instead of going in the opposite direction of her around the herd, he followed her. Catching up, he grabbed Turk’s reins.

  “Let go of my horse,” she hissed in a quiet voice so as not to startle the beeves.

  “No. We’re gonna talk.”

  “I don’t have anything to say to you.”

  “Fine. You’ll listen then. I realize that until the cattle drive, we’re stuck here together. But understand one thing, Mrs. Cartwright. I won’t touch you again unless it’s to bed you. And that won’t happen unless you ask.”

  Her barking laugh caused a few nearby longhorns to shy away. “Well that won’t ever happen then.”

  She pulled at the reins, but he held fast. Green eyes tapered to lethal slits. He scowled back.

  “Why would you want to bed me anyway?” she demanded. “You only married me to get the ranch.”

  Astonishment dropped his jaw. “That’s not true.”

  “Of course it’s true. My father had to pay you to marry me. I wasn’t pretty enough for you to want me for myself. No man with a half a brain would ever want me.”

  Hurt brimmed in her voice, dissolving his fury. He dropped Turk’s reins and reached for her. He’d show her how pretty she was. Right then and there. On the ground or on his saddle, he’d make love to her so completely, so thoroughly, she’d never again have cause to question just how beautiful he knew she was.

  He didn’t get the chance. She whirled Turk around and dug her heels into his flanks. The animal jumped into a gallop as a crack of thunder split the air. A second thunder boom quickly followed. Turk reared up, tossing her from the saddle. Another clap of thunder resounded. Then another. When had the weather turned stormy?

  Wild-eyed, the cattle jostled each other. In a matter of seconds the herd would become a frightening frenzy of deadly hooves. He spurred Sergeant into a full sprint around the peripheral of the beeves toward Matt. More booms resounded in the air.

  Fear knotted his stomach. Squeezed the air from his lungs. If those animals started to stampede…

  Then, like brown water pouring from a pump, the longhorns raced in a single column toward the east and, thankfully, away from where his wife lay on the ground.

  Not moving.

  Matt!

  He jumped from Sergeant’s back and scrambled to her side. He lifted her into his arms. Blood smeared her face. Terror seized his chest. His heart.

  She wasn’t…Couldn’t be…From a fall off her horse?

  She moaned—the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard—and he clasped her to his body, rocking her, tears of gratitude in his eyes. Never mind he’d been angry enough to whale on her just minutes before.

  She struggled against his tight embrace and he reluctantly eased his hold. He brushed dirt and hair from her face. Blood ran from an angry red scrape just above her temple. “Are you all right, sweetheart?” Emotion shook his voice.

  She gave a wobbly nod. “What happened?”

  He then heard gunshots and the shouts of the other drovers. He looked up to see two hundred head of powerful longhorns bearing down on them. Very quickly.

  The men were turning the herd on itself, hoping the animals would stop running. If it worked, they’d still have a herd to drive north. If not, they’d have a bunch of dead beeves.

  With him and Matt in the middle. Also dead.

  An outcropping of boulders stood some thirty feet to the left. The ground was a muddy mess of dirt and melted snow. By himself, Logan would have had a fifty-fifty chance of making the safety of the boulders before the stampede was upon him. But having to carry Matt as well...

  He didn’t finish the thought, but hauled her into his arms and took off on a flat run. The thundering approach of hooves goaded him into running faster than he believed possible. She clung to him. He hoped she wasn’t aware of th
eir tenuous predicament. One of them knowing how slim their chances were was enough.

  The protection of the rocks disappeared in a fog of flying grime and muck. He stumbled, his feet sticking in the mud. His knees gave out. By sheer force of will, he remained upright until the very last moment where he heaved himself and Matt behind the outcropping.

  He gathered her beneath his body, his legs tucked up to his chest just as the first of the stampede reached them. The earth trembled with cataclysmic power. The deafening roar of hooves split his eardrums. Soil choked his lungs.

  Forever passed before the ground stopped its violent shaking and the clamoring sound faded to a din. He lifted his head.

  Nothing was visible through the dense curtain of debris. Shouts and gunshots of the men could be heard as they battled to bring the herd under control. He looked down at Matt.

  Her eyes were closed, her face covered by mud and blood.

  “Matt?”

  No response.

  He lightly slapped her cheek and her head lolled to one side. Panic stole what little breath he had. “Matt? Sweetheart?”

  Her eyelids fluttered before slowly opening. He wanted to weep when two meadow green eyes focused on him.

  “What happened?” she repeated in a raw voice.

  He tenderly cupped the back of her head. “Stampede.”

  She gave a weak nod and sat up.

  “Easy,” he cautioned. “You’ve got quite a bump on your head from being thrown off your horse.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “I wasn’t thrown.” She touched a tentative hand to her temple. “I was shot.”

  A brawny fist landed in his middle. “What?”

  Another small nod. “That first shot, or maybe it was the second one, hit me.”

  Anger boiled his blood. He’d been so concerned with keeping Matt and himself alive, he hadn’t considered how the stampede started. Now he did.

  Not a cloud graced the sky so it hadn’t been thunder he’d first heard. He studied her wound. It was indeed a bullet graze. Someone had intentionally shot his wife. Had intentionally stampeded their herd. Rage blackened his vision. He helped Matt to her feet only to have her crumble. He swept her into his arms.