“See what I mean?” Jacob Schrader’s shout was raucous, his eyes bulging from his head. “The man’s a lunatic. Is this the sort of fella you’re giving that girl to? This is against the law.”
Judge Henry banged his gavel again and stood erect, pointing a finger at Jacob Schrader. “You’ve just earned yourself three days in jail, Schrader. That’s called contempt of court and you’re about as guilty as hell. Take him away, Sheriff.”
John tugged Katie to the door and she was spared the sight of Jacob Schrader as he glared in her direction and spewed saliva as he swore.
Judge Henry’s voice was loud and clear as he faced the angry man. “That’s just earned you a solid week in a cell, Schrader. You want to push it to fourteen days? Just keep it up.”
The crowd outside had been treated to the full display within the sheriff’s office and they talked busily among themselves, repeating the judge’s words and speaking loudly of Katie’s plight. When the young couple came through the doorway, a cheer arose from the crowd gathered and loud calls from men and women alike cheered them and congratulated them on the decision that had been made.
Katie clutched John’s arm then and he steered her down the sidewalk toward the general store, where he opened the door and ushered her inside. He halted there, almost on the threshold, wrapping his arms around Katie for a long moment, bending his head to inhale her fragrance, thankful that the store was empty but for Shandy Peterson and his daughter. But had it been filled to the rafters with customers, John wouldn’t have cared. His only concern was the girl he cherished..
“Let’s get your oilcloth and then go find the preacher, sweetheart,” he said, fighting for control, aware that he would not rest easy until he’d heard the words spoken over them that would tie her to him legally. Jacob Schrader would no longer have any link to Katie, no reason to ever see her again.
And John Roper would be a married man once more. Perhaps not the happiest man in town, but willing for this moment to do as he’d been bidden. There was no choice, not only from a legal standpoint, but John’s own sense of fairness dictated that he should protect Katie by the bonds of matrimony, no matter his own qualms on the subject. He would no doubt spend many an hour in worry over the situation he’d managed to get into, but there was no help for it.
Katie looked up at him uncertainly. “There’s just one thing, John.” She bit at her lip and her hands twisted together, her fingers seeming bloodless to his discerning eye.
“What else do we need, Katie? What did I forget?”
“You said maybe we could buy enough material to make curtains for the kitchen, and I saw some pretty checkered stuff when we were here before and…”
“Show me,” he said, his smile gleaming, and followed her across the store until they reached the countertop where bolts of fabric lay. She slipped her fingers down one pile, and lifted a bolt of yellow and white gingham for his approval.
“This looks like sunshine, don’t it, John? And if we were to get a piece of oilcloth with some yellow in it, I think your kitchen would look right nice.”
John lifted the bolt of gingham and carried it to where Shandy Peterson stood, awaiting their decision. “We’ll take enough of this for curtains. Tell him how much you want, Katie. And then a piece of oilcloth for our table, whatever Katie wants.”
Shandy Peterson smiled broadly, apparently pleased at the prospect of a good sale. “Yes, sir, John. I’ll have my girl cut a length for you.” In moments he’d called Jessica from the back room and she carried the curtain material Katie had chosen to a table where she conferred with Katie for a moment and then measured out six yards of the checkered percale with a long yardstick. Her scissors sliced through the fabric in seconds and she folded it, then sought out thread to match for Katie’s use.
“I need needles and pins, too, John. I borrowed Berta’s last time when I did the bedroom curtains, but I’d ought to have some of my own, I suspect, if I’m going to do much sewing. And if it isn’t too much money, I could use a pair of scissors.”
He turned at her voice and nodded. “Just pick out what you want,” he said, and smiled as he noted the happiness that wreathed her face.
Katie tugged at Jessica’s arm. “I want a piece of oilcloth, too. What do you have with some yellow in it?”
The two young women stepped to the rolls of oilcloth that hung against a wall and Jessica displayed several patterns for Katie’s approval. Their heads together, they made a production out of finding the right color and pattern to grace John’s kitchen table. Yellow daisies on a white background won, hands down, and Katie watched with eager eyes as Jessica cut a length Katie thought would fit the table with enough to hang on either side.
As if she’d discovered a gold mine, Katie gathered up her purchases and placed them on the counter, waiting for Shandy to figure out how much John owed him. “I’d like to bake a pie, John, and we’re almost out of sugar. Can we get a small bag?”
“Ten pounds, Shandy,” John said quickly. And then turned back to Katie. “Do you need lard or flour or anything else?”
She shook her head. “No, there’s plenty there to last a good long time.”
Jessica approached from John’s far side and held out her hand, displaying a small wrapped object in her hand, smiling as he nodded quickly and took it from her.
“What’s that, John?” Katie’s curiosity was piqued and she stood on tiptoe to peer past him at the object he held.
“A couple of things for you. A bar of soap, for one, sweetheart. Jessica thought you might like it.”
“You’ve got soap enough, John. You don’t need any more.”
He shook his head. “It’s not for me, honey. Here, smell it.”
She sniffed at the paper-wrapped bar in his hand and her eyes widened as the scent of flowers met her nostrils. “I can’t imagine using that on my skin, John. I’ll smell like a garden patch of lavender.”
“Yeah.” His grin teased her as he made his purchase, including the soap in the bundle Shandy wrapped, noting with interest the small package he slid into his trouser’s pocket.
Flustered at John’s extravagance, she walked by his side as they left the store, then waited as Bill Stanley brought his wagon to the entrance of the general store. “I put your gelding on behind,” he told John, and then waved at the wagon bed. “Set your bride on there and climb on, John. We’re going to see the minister and then we’ll head for home.”
Shandy followed them out with their bundles, and in moments they were rolling down the street, Katie blissfully contemplating the making of curtains for her kitchen.
THE MAN WHO PASTORED the church answered John’s knock and welcomed them into his parlor, shaking John’s hand, then that of Bill Stanley, nodding nicely to Berta as she looked on.
“This man and woman want to get married, Parson,” Bill said politely. “What do we need to do to make that happen?”
“The young lady must give me her consent, agreeing that she has in no way been coerced into this union, and then we’ll go ahead with the ceremony.”
He looked at Katie kindly. “Are you old enough to be married, girl?”
“Yes, sir,” she replied firmly. “I’m almost eighteen and John Roper here wants to marry me.”
“Do you want to marry him?” the parson asked softly, searching her face.
“Yes, sir, I do.”
“And you, John Roper, are you willing to take this woman as your wife?”
John looked down at Katie and his lips formed a smile, one he could barely generate. But his answer was firm. “I want to marry Katie, sir.”
And give up my freedom, take on a woman and try to put my faith in her. Trust her to be honest and aboveboard with me.
“Katie, repeat these words after me,” the minister said quietly, and the girl before him trembled as she promised to love, honor and obey the man she’d vowed to wed. Her eyes flew to John’s, meshed for a moment with the dark beauty of his, and then her eyelids fluttered and she ca
ught her breath, stunned by the gravity of the vows they took. She’d vowed to give herself into John’s keeping, and for a moment she felt a quick stab of fear, knowing that from this moment on she would answer to him, would be dependent upon him for her happiness.
John heard the words of the ceremony as if through a mist, answered at the appropriate times, and at the preacher’s bidding he bent to touch Katie’s lips with his own. She caught her breath as he did and he touched her shoulder, a gesture that seemed to give her assurance that all was well. They left the small parsonage, John leading the way with his arm across Katie’s shoulders, Bill and Berta behind them.
THEY REACHED THE RANCH in the late afternoon and the sun was nearing the horizon before Katie had put together a meal. She stepped out onto the back porch, her eyes peeled for a glimpse of John. She’d kept her new shoes and stockings on, careful not to stain her dress with food as she cooked.
The man fussed overmuch, she thought, her mind traveling back to the days when she’d been told more than once that shoes were a luxury, to be worn out of doors and only when the weather was too cold to go without. It was hard to break old habits, but for John’s sake she’d do her best, and if wearing shoes pleased him, then wear them she would.
John had told her he would be doing chores with the men and she’d just caught a glimpse of Shorty with a bucket of milk heading for the milk house. Surely John wouldn’t be far behind.
When he walked through the barn door, as she’d expected, his gaze dropped to her feet before seeking out her face. She watched him from the porch. As if he knew she would be there waiting for him, a grin lit his face and his stride lengthened as he made short work of the hundred yards between house and barn.
“Supper ready?” John asked, opening the door for Katie to enter the kitchen. He hung up his coat on the hook, put his hat over it and he sat on the chair and took off his boots. “Smells good,” he said, sniffing the air, his nose twitching as the aroma of potato soup reached him. The scent of bacon she’d used in the making of it tempted him and he went to the stove, lifting her spoon and dipping it in the kettle.
She laughed and took it from his hand. “Just get washed up and I’ll fix you a bowl,” she told him, her mood one of happiness such as he’d never seen.
Her eyes sparkled and her cheeks were flushed; whether it was the warm stove or some stray thought that had brought color to her face, he couldn’t guess. He only knew that his Katie was happy, that she exuded joy that spilled over on him and gave him the courage to speak to her about a subject dear to his heart.
After they ate, he decided, would be time enough to talk to her, and maybe he’d be better able to gauge her willingness to accept his thoughts by then. Perhaps she was ignorant of the marriage bed, but surely she had heard some hint of what went on between men and women. And if she feared what might happen in his bed, he’d do well to speak of it beforehand.
They ate, John consuming two bowls of the soup, spreading jam on his bread with a lavish hand and finishing with a generous piece of the apple pie Katie had spoken of in the general store. He pushed his chair back from the table and sighed. “You sure are a good cook, sweetheart. I’m awfully glad I married you.”
“Because I can cook?” she asked with a teasing smile as she rose to clear the table.
“That, too,” he admitted. “But mostly because I just like having you here in my house. And from now on, in my bed.”
“In your bed, John?” she asked carefully, dunking the bowls in warm dishwater. “I’ve been in your house for pretty near a month now, and you never mentioned me sleeping in your bed before.” She turned to him then, and her expression was troubled.
“We’ve never been married before today,” he said carefully. “You’re my wife now, Katie.” he said, recognizing that she was pondering something and wanted to speak her mind. “What is it you’re thinking of right now,” he asked, intent on knowing what was bothering her.
“I need the clothes you took out of the bedroom, John. The ones I wore when I came here. What did you do with them?”
“I told you they weren’t fit for anything but rags, honey. They’re out in the barn, and I’m going to use them to wipe down the tack when I oil the leather.”
“Well, I’m needing them right quick, John. Probably by tomorrow.”
“I know you have a clean dress to wear, Katie. I saw you doing the wash just yesterday.”
“I don’t want to wear those old things,” she said quickly and a flush rose to color her face, and she bit her lip as though mightily embarrassed. “I need them for rags.”
“To clean with?” He was puzzled by her insistence.
“No, just for me.” She turned away from him, as if she were unable to meet his gaze and her shoulders hunched a bit. “I just need them, John.”
“All right, if you say so.” He spoke slowly, unable to determine her meaning.
“John, I know you’re a man and you might not know about such things, but I’m about to have a problem and I need my old petticoat to tear up for rags. I thought to use a towel, but I don’t want to ruin your things, and…”
A glimmer of knowledge lit his mind and he smiled, suddenly understanding her need. A need that was purely a woman thing, the subject one he’d never discussed before, and actually only knew of from bits and pieces he’d heard through the years, and from the marriage he’d shared with Sadie.
“Katie, you can use my towels if you want to, and the next time we go to town, we’ll buy you some white outing flannel to cut up for you to use when you need it. Will that be all right?”
Her face was fiery red when she turned to face him. “Yes, all right, John. I just can’t talk about this with you right now. But I don’t feel well, and I’m all out of sorts and I’m going to need…well, by tomorrow sometime, I’ll have to have that petticoat.”
He laughed, his amusement overriding his good sense, and she cast him a long look that told him he’d stepped on her toes. “I’m sorry, honey. I’m not laughing at you, only relieved that there isn’t anything wrong. You can talk to me about anything you want to. We’re married folks now and there shouldn’t be any secrets between us or anything we can’t talk about when we’re by ourselves. Anything that goes on in this house is private and no one else needs to know what we say or do.”
And it was his sincere hope that her “problem” would not come into being tonight, but that it would evidence itself tomorrow or perhaps the next day. A wedding night was a special occasion and he had a vision of his being postponed by an act of nature.
But Katie nodded at his words and he noted the look of relief she wore. “All right, John. I can agree with that.”
He went to her then, his hands on her waist, his lips speaking soft words just inches from her own. “I hope you’re as agreeable when we talk about something else, sweetheart.” She was soft against him, her pliant body forming to his, her smile welcoming him.
It was more than he could resist, and he bent to her, tasting freely of the sweetness that seemed such a part of her. Her lips blended with his and she moved them against his, imitating the kiss he’d begun. Her mouth opened at his silent urging, allowing him to delve into the warmth that lay just beyond her lips, and she stiffened for only a moment as his tongue explored the secrets of her mouth. Perhaps he was moving too rapidly for her, he thought, with the invasion of her mouth, but she seemed to be welcoming his touch and the advances he’d made thus far.
He lifted his head and looked down at her, her wide eyes and soft lips, the soft rise of her breasts beneath the dress she wore. And watched as she trembled at his touch.
Even though a shiver ran the length of her spine and she felt a weakness that was new and almost frightening as his hands left her waist and curled beneath the rounded lines of her bottom, she reveled in his touch, his wide palms holding her close. Then one hand left her backside and moved upward with gentle care, until it reached the curve of her breast. She froze, unmoving for just a moment as he
cupped the soft flesh in his palm and a murmur of satisfaction passed through his lips.
“John? What are you doing? Why are you touching me there?”
“Am I hurting you, sweet? I only want to know your body as well as I know my own. I want to touch your curves and find out what feels good to you. I won’t hurt you, Katie girl.”
She nodded, holding her breath as his long fingers moved against the taut flesh he held, flesh that had, up until moments ago, been soft and familiar to her. Now it ached, the crest of her breast growing tight and needing the attention of his fingertips. And wasn’t that a foolish thought, she wondered, then drew in a shuddering breath as he teased and plied the tender morsel he held.
“Will you come to bed with me, Katie?” he asked quietly. “I think you already know that husbands and wives sleep together, don’t you?”
At her nod, he took heart and continued on in that vein. “I want you to be in my bed with me tonight, sweetheart. I want you to sleep in my arms. Will you do that?”
CHAPTER NINE
“YOU WANT ME TO SLEEP in your bed with you? Instead of on the sofa?” She seemed perplexed and he would not have it.
“That’s the way such things are done, Katie. Men and women share the same bed after they’re married.”
“I don’t have to do anything? You won’t…” She hesitated and his heart dropped, the thud taking his breath as he recognized her fear.
“I won’t do anything you don’t want me to, Katie.” It was a promise, a binding vow, as firm as the words he’d spoken just hours ago before the minister in town. If Katie feared his touch, he would not lay a hand on her, but her presence in his bed was the only way to begin this marriage, to his way of thinking.
She seemed to consider his words, her mind working, her face a puzzle as if any number of thoughts were scurrying through her mind. “You’re gonna sleep under the sheet with me?” she asked finally.
Eden Page 10
