by HELEN HARDT
“For corn’s sake,” Garth said, shaking his head. “I always knew you all were just a bunch of quacks.”
“Mr. Mackenzie!” Ruth stepped toward him. “Doc came all the way out here to treat your child. He interrupted our”—she warmed, and then cleared her throat—“outing. You might show him a bit more respect.”
“Calm down, Ruth,” Doc said. “I’m used to skeptics. It’s part of my business.”
Garth’s handsome face reddened. Had she actually shamed him?
“Beg pardon, Doc,” he said. “I haven’t had the best…experience with so-called doctors.”
Before Doc responded, a pounding echoed from the front door. “What on earth?” Ruth turned and looked over her shoulder. “I’ll see what this is about. You two stay with Mary Alice.”
She crossed the front room, opened the door, and looked into the frightened face of Oliver Hobbs.
“Miss Blackburn—” His voice shook. “Is Doc here?”
“Why, yes, he is, Mr. Hobbs.”
“Thank God. Jon Sanderson said he saw him headin’ out this way. I need him. The baby’s comin’.”
“Gracious! Come in, and I’ll get the doc.”
Ruth hurried back to Mary Alice’s room. “Doc, Mr. Hobbs is here. Louise has gone into labor.”
Doc stood. “All right. I’ve done all I can do here for now. Bed rest for a few days. I’ll be back to check on her tomorrow or the next day.”
“Let me get your payment,” Garth said.
Doc held up a hand. “Later, Mr. Mackenzie. I have to go to Mrs. Hobbs. These things sometimes progress quickly. You just never know.” He turned to Ruth. “I’m sorry. You’ll have to come with me. I can’t take the time to see you home.”
“I’ll see her home,” Garth said.
“I’d be much obliged, Mr. Mackenzie,” Doc said, “but you shouldn’t leave your daughter alone.”
“You’re right,” Garth said, shaking his head. “Not sure what I was thinkin’.”
“Doc, don’t worry about me,” Ruth said. “I’m happy to stay here and sit with Mary Alice. I’ll make sure she gets a good supper. Once things are under control at the Hobbs place, if you could send Oliver to tell my parents where I am, I’d appreciate it. I don’t want them to worry.”
“Will do. Keep the child hydrated. She should be fine. But you know where I am if you need me.”
Ruth nodded. She sat down on the edge of the bed, took the cloth from Mary Alice’s forehead, and wiped her clammy face. “Are you feeling better, dear?”
“Yes, ma’am. Just a little weak, is all.”
“Well, that’s nothing to take lightly. You’re to stay in bed. In fact”—she gestured toward Garth—“it wouldn’t be a bad idea for your father to rest, either.”
“Nonsense,” Garth said. “I don’t rest during the day. Work to be done.” As if on cue, he opened his mouth into a giant yawn.
Ruth couldn’t help but let out a laugh. “Yes, I see you’ve been working yourself as hard as you’ve been working your daughter, sir.” She stood and faced him at the foot of the bed. “Off to bed with you, too. If you want to take care of Mary Alice, you need to take care of yourself. She needs your strength, Mr. Mackenzie.”
“For corn’s sake.”
He shook his head, and his blond locks tumbled into his eyes. Ruth resisted the urge to sift her fingers through them and push them back.
“For corn’s sake nothing,” she said, trying to ignore the tingles racing over her flesh as she touched his arm and nudged him out of the room. “I will be here, and I’m perfectly capable of looking after Mary Alice. I’ll see that you both have a hearty meal for supper. So you see, there’s nothing to worry about.”
“You don’t need to cook for us.”
“I am your neighbor, sir, and the neighborly thing to do is to help where I’m needed.”
He shuffled across the front room and yawned again. “I got things to do, Ruth.”
Land sakes, he was a stubborn man. And so handsome he made her skin heat. The image of his lips pressing against hers flashed through her mind. She’d been so concerned with Mary Alice, she hadn’t let the kiss they’d shared enter her thoughts. But now, knowing the child was not in danger, and in the presence of his pure maleness, her stomach twisted and her nipples beaded against her bodice. She exhaled and tried to shrug the sensation off. “It’s the Lord’s day, Mr. Mackenzie. He rested on this day and so can you. Now go.”
He seemed to relent then, and Ruth gazed into his brilliant bronze eyes and saw fatigue. The poor man looked like he hadn’t slept well in days.
“Mary Alice,” he whispered.
“I’ll take care of her,” she said quietly. “Please, you need rest.”
He nodded and ambled toward the bedroom on the other side of the front room.
Ruth returned to Mary Alice and fed her a dipper of cool water. Satisfied the child was resting comfortably, she went to work straightening the front room. How could one man and one child make such a mess? Really, how much effort was it to take a used tin cup to the kitchen and rinse it?
Once the room was in order, Ruth sat down in a wooden rocking chair. What to make for supper? She doubted there was another plucked chicken waiting outside the lean-to.
She sighed and readied herself to check the contents of the pantry when her ears prickled.
A low growl—agonizing, guttural, human—spilled from Garth Mackenzie’s bedroom.
Chapter Six
“Don’t say a fuckin’ word. I swear to God I’ll slit your throat.”
“I-It hurts. I—”
“I said not a word!” Garth pressed his blade against the pale skin of his friend’s throat. The Rebel’s bullet had lodged in Matthew’s stomach. Garth held his friend on his lap like an infant, his dull knife poised at Matthew’s Adam’s apple. If Matthew screamed in pain, he’d give away their position to the Rebs.
Above them, Rebel boots crunched against the ground.
“Where are you, you Yankee rubbish?”
The icy voice slithered over Garth like a snake.
“We know you’re hurtin’. Y’all can’t hold out forever.”
Garth trembled, his skin a mass of chills. His fingers shook against Matthew’s throat. He wasn’t ready to die. Had to get back. Back to marry Lizzie. He looked at his friend struggling to hold on, to not bellow out in agony. Matthew had a woman at home. He’d already married her. He had a child, too. A baby girl he’d never met.
Would never meet.
Blood poured from Matthew’s stomach, soaking his blues with sticky vermillion. Garth didn’t try to staunch the flow. He couldn’t risk removing the blade from his friend’s neck. If Matthew yelled, they’d both be dead.
“Garth, please.” Matthew’s voice slurred into a nearly unrecognizable gurgle.
“Quiet!”
“Just…kill me. Kill me now, and save yourself.”
“I said be quiet, damn it!” Garth’s whisper left his mouth in a breathy fog. “Not another peep outta you, you hear me?”
Soothing hands slid across the back of his neck. Warm, enticing. He fought the desire to turn into their welcoming embrace.
“Wake up, Garth, it’s only a nightmare.”
No. No. Can’t leave Matthew. Can’t—
“Mr. Mackenzie, for goodness’ sake. Wake up. You’re having a nightmare.”
Caressing hands. Angelic voice. Not Lizzie, though. Different. But good. Oh so good.
Without opening his eyes, he reached toward that voice, gripped delicate shoulders, and pulled the soft feminine body atop him.
He inhaled—a touch of lemon and sweet soft woman. Not Lizzie. Lizzie was dead. This was Ruth. Beautiful, incredible, alive Ruth. Ruth whose midnight eyes held him captive.
He opened his own eyes then, and hers were wide as dinner plates. Her full pink lips parted and her throat bobbed. She was going to speak. To tell him to stop, no doubt. Before she could, he pulled her mouth to his.
His tongue slid easily between her parted lips. She tasted of new summer, of lemon shortbread, of home and hearth. He sighed and deepened the kiss. She’d kiss him back, wouldn’t she? She had before. She’d kissed like a temptress, and her image, her fragrance, her softness, had haunted him since.
Ah, yes. Her silken tongue met his. Perfect. The perfect kiss. For an unmarried lady, she had amazing instinct. She knew how to kiss him just the way he liked—lots of little sucks along his lips and just the right amount of tongue. Nope, he wouldn’t need to teach her how to kiss him. Goddamn, he didn’t want to stop. He could easily kiss her all night long. So beautiful, and so responsive. Such kisses were made for chasing away his demons.
When she began to pull away, he trailed moist kisses along her cheek to her ear. “Hold me. Please, Ruthie.”
“Oh…” The soft sigh from her lips drifted over his cheek in a feathery caress.
“Keep the bad dreams away.” He took her mouth again. The kiss wasn’t soft this time. Wasn’t gentle. He plundered her mouth with a possessive hunger, as though she were his woman. God, he wanted her. Wanted to sink inside her. Lose himself in that luscious body and stay there until all the pain had been driven away. His cock strained against his canvas britches, and he pushed upward, rubbing it against her.
Ruth ripped her mouth from his as he thrust. “Oh, my!”
“That’s me. Me wanting you. Tell me. Do you want me?”
“Mr. Mackenzie, please—”
“I can take you to heaven. God, I want to go to heaven with you.” He maneuvered her to her side and fumbled with the buttons of her bodice. One by one, they fell open and revealed the creamy skin of her neck and chest. Sweet Jesus. She wasn’t wearing a corset. He smiled and cupped one breast, thumbing her beaded nipple through the thin fabric of her chemise.
Ruth sucked in a breath, but a sweet sigh escaped. She liked what he was doing. His heart bloomed. She liked it a lot.
Such a long time since he’d had a woman. Such a long time since he’d wanted one. But God, he wanted Ruth Blackburn. Wanted her with a fierceness he’d never known.
He slid down the bed until his mouth was level with her nipple, and he tongued it through the thin material.
“Garth!” Her whisper was urgent.
He met her midnight eyes. “You didn’t like that?”
“I…gracious me. This is…wrong.”
“Nothing that feels good is wrong, Ruthie. Please. Let me.”
Before she answered, he pulled the silky chemise downward and one perfectly rounded breast fell into his hand. The nipple was reddish brown—earthy and gorgeous—and had he had a gun to his head at that very moment, he wasn’t sure he could have stopped his lips from claiming it.
She was as delicious as he’d imagined, and again, so responsive. She writhed against him, and husky little moans drifted through the small room. He sucked her slowly at first, tiny licks and kisses, and then, when she pushed toward him and ground her thigh against his arousal, he clamped his lips on the sweet nipple and sucked hard.
“Heavens!” she whispered.
“Mmm,” he said against her warm flesh.
“Garth…”
He let the nipple go and kissed the creamy swell of her breast. He looked up into her nearly black eyes.
“I…I can’t…”
“I want you so much.” His tone was imploring. God, when had he become so needy and pathetic? “Let me love you. Please.”
“I…I…” Her husky voice thrummed into him.
“What, honey? What?”
“I…we’re not properly wed, Mr. Mackenzie. It’s…it’s wrong.”
Wed? Hell and damnation, he’d wed her this instant if it meant he could make love to her. He wanted her that much. But despite the fact that he was no gentleman—could never be a gentleman, given his past—he wouldn’t take anything from a woman that wasn’t given willingly. He opened his mouth to say as much, but Mary Alice’s voice cut through the tension in the air.
“Pa!”
He jerked away, his mind and body still full of Ruth. He inhaled. Burning grass. Smoke. Damn it, smoke.
“Ruth, did you leave a fire in the fireplace?”
Ruth, her cheeks a delectable pink, hastily worked on her buttons. “In this heat? Of course not.”
“What in tarnation…” He stood and ran to Mary Alice’s bedroom. She was sitting up in bed.
“Child, are you all right?”
“Y-Yes, Pa. But I smell smoke.”
“I do too. Stay here.
Garth ran through the kitchen and out the lean-to. A billowing black cloud dusted the horizon. A prairie fire. And his place was farthest on the outskirts of Dugan. It was headed straight for his home. For his livelihood. For his child. For Ruth.
Goddamned Dakota heat. Hadn’t had any rain in weeks, and the winter had been mild. Little snow. Dry prairie plus heat plus afternoon heat lightning—well, he didn’t need the schoolteacher in his bedroom to figure this out.
The schoolteacher in his bedroom.
He rushed back into the house. Ruth was walking into the kitchen, her cute nose wrinkled.
She nodded to him. “Fire?”
He closed his eyes, and then opened them. “On the prairie. Comin’ this way. I need you to take Mary Alice out of here.”
“But Doc said she’s to stay in bed.”
“Damnation, woman! I said there’s fire comin’! Take my child and keep her safe!”
Ruth shook her head and reached a shaky hand toward him. “I’m so sorry. Of course I’ll take her. I’m not sure what I was thinking.” She paused. “What will you do?”
“Do what I can to keep my place safe from the flames. I need to drive the fire away from the house, toward the creek. If I lose this farm—” He couldn’t finish. If he lost the farm, he’d lose everything. He’d have no means to support the only child he had left.
Ruth extended her arm and cupped his cheek. Her touch was scalding, and his whole body responded.
“Garth, do what you must. But please come back safely. Mary Alice needs you.”
He nodded. True enough. Mary Alice needed him. But did Ruth? Somehow he wanted her to need him. “Take my buckboard and team. Go to your pa’s.” He paused. “Better yet, take her to town. Get a room at the hotel. I’ll reimburse you. You’ll be safer there than at another farm. I’ll come for you when I can.”
“I’ll send anyone I meet along the way to help you,” Ruth said. Her midnight eyes glistened with tears about to fall.
Garth’s heart lurched. Funny, he’d felt more in the week since he’d met this woman than he’d felt in years.
“Don’t cry. I’ll…be fine. I’ve been through worse.”
If she only knew…
“Once I get to town, I’ll tell the menfolk, too. They’ll help, Garth. Dugan is a good town.”
Damn, he wanted to pull her to him for a wet kiss. But he only nodded and walked out through the lean-to.
* * *
Sitting on the wooden plank seat of Garth’s buckboard, her derriere bumping with each thud of hooves, Ruth hurried the horses along. Mary Alice sat silently next to her, her lips trembling. A shiny tear emerged from one bronze eye and trickled down her cheek.
“Don’t fret, Mary Alice,” Ruth said. "Once we get to town, we’ll send all the menfolk out to help your pa. He’ll get that fire away from your house. Don’t you worry.”
“I…I don’t care about the house. Or anything. I just need Pa. He’s…all I have left.”
“Gracious.” Ruth steadied her breath. “Your pa will be fine.” Resisting the urge to look behind her at the smoky clouds, she cleared her throat. “What are your horses’ names, dear?”
“The spotted brown one is Hector and the tan one is Josephine.”
“What lovely names.”
“Hector was Pa’s brother. He died in the war.”
“Oh, my.” How much loss was one man supposed to take? “And Josephine?”
“I named her aft
er Jo from Little Women.”
“Oh, so you have read that story.” Ruth smiled.
“Yes, ma’am. About a year ago. A lady at a boardinghouse we stayed at lent it to me. Pa was doing some work for her. The horse’s name was Gingersnap when we got her. I guess ’cause she’s kinda the color of gingerbread. Pa said we could change their names since horses don’t know the difference anyway.”
“No doubt he’s probably right. I think Hector and Josephine are perfect names.”
The child’s lips turned into a shy smile. Good, Ruth had succeeded in getting Mary Alice’s mind off the fire. For a few moments, anyway.
Ruth shivered under the sweltering sun as her nerves skittered. So far, she hadn’t passed a single person to send to help Garth. The hour was nearing suppertime, and it was Sunday. Of course no one was about. But surely someone would smell the stench of the smoke.
A half hour later they rode into town. Ruth stopped the team in front of the small hotel, tied them to the hitching post quickly, and hurried Mary Alice inside.
“Miss Blackburn, good evening,” Fred Blake, the clerk, said.
“I’m so glad you’re here. I need some help. Fire is headed toward the Mackenzie farm. Garth is out there alone. Is there anyone available to go help him?”
“I’m afraid I can’t leave the hotel, ma’am. But I think Manny’s over at the store. I’m not sure anyone else is around. The men don’t usually play checkers on Sundays. And Doc Potter’s gone.”
“He’s at the Hobbs place. Louise is having the baby. Where is everyone?”
“This is the dinner hour, ma’am.”
“For heaven’s sake, Mr. Mackenzie needs help! Where are all the men in this town? Can’t you sound an alarm or something?”
“You know we don’t have any such thing.”
“Well, we will by the next town meeting, if I have anything to say about it. I suppose I will go pounding on doors tonight. I need a room for the night, for the child and me. Supper, too.” She turned to Mary Alice. “You take the key Mr. Blake gives you and go up to the room. I’m going to try to find some men to help your pa.”
