by Lisa Bingham
The train began to pick up speed. Ruby’s voice faded, her features becoming indistinguishable. “Take care of those children. They’re such cute things. And don’t forget to tell me when you two have your first babyyy!”
The screech of the whistle drowned out any other words of advice Ruby might have given. Soon passenger cars, freight cars, and cattle cars sped past until Orrin and Ginny stood alone on the platform.
And don’t forget to tell me when you two have your first babyyy! Ginny could hear Ruby’s words echoing around them like some phantom chorus. A flooding tide of embarrassment swept into her cheeks, then a flooding tide of panic. She was married to this man. Married!
Marriage meant giving a piece of oneself to someone else. It meant becoming intimate with each other’s thoughts. Each other’s passions.
Each other’s bodies.
She chanced a quick look at her new husband, who had walked a few steps away to speak to the stationmaster. Her eyes slid from the square-toed boots planted firmly upon the boardwalk to the muddy length of his trousers. Judging from the way the fabric lay against his limbs, Orrin would have well-shaped calves and firm, muscular thighs.
Why did she allow herself to even think of such things?
Orrin pointed toward the cowpens. As Ginny watched, the tail of his shirt worked free from his waistband, and he reached back to tuck it in, affording her a glimpse of faded red wool clinging to a tight waistline.
“See to the loving the first night, Ginny.”
Unbidden, her mother’s advice came rushing into Ginny’s head, then lingered there like a worn-out tune.
“But I don’t know him, Mama.”
“The Ghants are kind people. No doubt Orrin Ghant is a kind man. He’ll treat you right.”
Orrin looked up and caught her observing him. The stationmaster walked away, and her new husband approached her in a deliberate masculine stride.
“Your men didn’t come to the wedding,” she blurted.
“No. They had deliveries to make.”
Orrin studied the woman beside him with a mix of incredulity and anticipation. When Ruby had sent a telegram informing him that she’d found him a proper wife, she hadn’t bothered to mention how beautiful the young woman would be. It was almost as if Ruby had known he’d been bound and determined not to touch her for a month or two. Not until they’d had a chance to become acquainted.
But after seeing her…
Orrin settled his hat over the top of his head and peered at her from beneath the brim. After seeing her, he mused, it might prove to be a little more difficult than he’d expected to adhere to such a schedule.
“I would greatly appreciate it if you would stop staring at me in that manner.”
“In what manner?”
“Like a … a little boy lusting after a stick of penny candy.”
He chuckled. “I can assure you I’m no little boy. And you, Ginny Ghant, are no stick of penny candy.”
Without giving her a chance to respond to that statement he brushed past her on his way to the unclaimed baggage that had been piled on the side platform. “Since we’re already at the station, we may as well gather your things. Which are your trunks?”
Ginny followed him, indicating a stack on the northernmost corner of the platform. “Those are mine.”
Orrin drew to a halt. “But which ones?”
Stopping next to him, Ginny pointed to the mound again, her gesture more emphatic. “Those are mine.”
He stared blankly at the mountain of baggage made by five steamer trunks, nine packing crates, and a half dozen heavy leather valises. “All of those are yours?”
“Well, yes.”
“All of them?”
From the tone of his voice, a body would have thought she was pointing to a live elephant and a half dozen giraffes.
“Yes.”
“Damn it, woman, what did you bring? A gambling tent with all the trappings?”
“I told you before. Those trunks hold my china and silver, my tea sets—”
“Tea sets!”
“My clothing, my toiletries, and a few of my personal belongings. The rest—”
“The rest!”
“The rest won’t arrive until the end of the month.”
“And just what kinds of things will be arriving then?”
“My winter clothing … a piano.”
“I see.”
She looked at him in confusion, wondering about the brittleness that settled on his face.
“Send them back.”
“Send them back! But why? What’s wrong?”
“Not a damn thing, if you’re planning on entertaining royalty. But … this is Utah!”
Ginny felt frustration coming to the surface. Of all the things she’d prepared herself to face, giving up her own belongings hadn’t been one of them.
“Surely you don’t expect me to live in a house devoid of the most basic necessities of a well-appointed home.”
Her words caused his whole body to stiffen. “My place is already … well appointed,” he retorted.
“Ruby told me—”
“Ruby,” Orrin muttered. “I might have known she was at the bottom of all this. Just what did Ruby tell you?”
“She said your home was beautiful but in need of a few … feminine touches.”
“Like what?”
“Curtains.”
“I’ve got curtains.”
“Linens.”
Orrin snorted. “And just what does she think we’ve been sleeping on? Feed sacks?”
“She meant well.”
“She meant to meddle.”
“She meant to help.”
“Hell, woman, I think I know my own aunt better than you do, and the blasted woman is meddling!” He waved in the direction of her trunks. “And you can just forget about all the folderol she told you to bring. I am not hauling all of that—that baggage up the mountain!”
“Then what do you suggest I do with it?”
“Send it back home.”
“This is my home now.”
He bent toward her, close enough that she could see the stubborn cast to his jaw.
“No.”
“No, what?”
“No, I will not haul all of those blasted crates up to Eden Creek.”
She glared at him.
He glared right back.
“Why not?”
Orrin cursed and walked a few feet away.
“I take care of my own. If you need something, I’ll buy it for you.”
Pride. The man was refusing to let her have her things due to his own bull-headed pride. If he couldn’t provide something for her, he didn’t want her to have it.
“Even so,” he continued, “you’d best remember that you’ve married a simple man, and I like simple things. I’ve got no need for tea sets and china and all that lace and linen. So find a place to send them, because there’s no room for them in my home.”
“But these are my things. My things.”
“Send them back.”
Ginny felt a twist deep inside her. In the last few weeks she’d been asked to abandon so many things: her home, her dreams, her illusions. Now this man was asking her to give up the only things left to her—personal possessions that really didn’t mean a hill of beans when stacked next to the fact that she had freely given this man the rest of her life in exchange for his name.
Suddenly it was all too much. Too much indeed.
Without another word she walked toward a splintered bench beside the platform.
Orrin scowled. “What are you doing?”
Her knees trembled, but she sank upon her seat with utmost dignity. “If the trunks go, I go.”
His skin blanched. Then Orrin’s jaw clamped tightly shut. “Like hell.”
For once Ginny’s anger outweighed her caution. Fixing him with a fulminating stare, she stated, “These are my things. My things. I won’t go anywhere without them.”
“Enough!” He pointe
d a finger in her direction, opened his mouth as if to retaliate, then growled in frustration. “Damn it, you can keep your blasted things. Just wait here while I round up another wagon.”
He stormed into the stationhouse, never seeing the quick rush of relief that pushed from Ginny’s lungs.
Just as she never saw the way he paused in the doorway to rake a trembling hand through his hair before turning and staring at her with haunted eyes.
Ogden was a blurry spot in the distance before Ruby Ghant gathered the energy to nestle her bulk a little more firmly into the padded railway seat. Whew! That had been a close shave.
In truth, she hadn’t thought that her plans would fall together so easily. When she and Miriam Parker had discussed this wedding, Ruby had foreseen at least a dozen pitfalls along the way, among which was the stubborn and proud nature of her nephew. Being a widower hadn’t mellowed his disposition any. And Ginny…
Well, that girl had more spunk than sense. According to Miriam Parker, she knew as much about taking care of a husband as a chicken knew how to fly.
Even so, Ruby had managed to see the two of them married.
So why couldn’t she quiet the voice of conscience?
Ruby’s chins quivered, and she glanced at the flashing montage of scenery whisking past her window. She prayed those two found some happiness together. Ruby had been trying to find a helpmate for Orrin for some time—without success. It seemed no one would take him—not if the children were part of the bargain. And after Jesse had died Orrin had become more stubborn and pigheaded, scaring off what few females might have seen his children as a challenge.
Yet Ruby had been adamant about finding him a kind and loving partner. Someone who could help ease the pain she still saw within him—and perhaps teach him some manners to boot.
But she hadn’t planned on Ginny Parker. Hadn’t planned on her at all.
Ruby frowned at her own reflection. She could only hope Orrin would be kind to her. That he would treat her well, as Ruby knew he could.
Her eyes closing, she said a final prayer: “Please, please let it be a day or two before they realize how much I’ve lied to them both.”
Chapter 3
By the time Orrin rented another wagon and arranged for a driver to take Ginny’s things to Eden, darkness had begun to creep over the splintered walkway in front of the stationhouse. The heavy clouds had forced an early sunset, and Ogden was settling down for a night of chilling breezes and intermittent rain.
Orrin and Ginny watched the wagon piled with her belongings disappear down the rutted road and into the shadows. Thunder grumbled overhead, punctuating the silence and effectively reminding them that they had nothing to say to each other. No common interests. No common ground.
Nothing but their marriage.
“It’ll be a few days before Bud can make it to Eden, but I hope you’ll feel more comfortable there once you have a few of your things.” Orrin used his sleeve to wipe away the sweat still beading his forehead.
Choosing to ignore his mocking tone, Ginny flashed him a guileless smile. “I will be extremely comfortable when they arrive and are unpacked. Thank you.”
“I suppose I should apologize about the mix-up with the wedding and all. I should have been at the station to meet you.”
“Yes, you should have been.”
When she refused to back down even for a moment he remarked, “You’re a tough little lady, aren’t you?”
“When I have to be.”
“You remind me a lot of Lila Sue. All soft and cuddly on the outside, but hard as nails inside. Especially when riled.”
Ginny felt a pang of something akin to jealousy. “Your first wife?”
Orrin grinned and took great care in settling his hat over his brow before answering. “Nope. Lila Sue’s our goat.”
When she gasped in outrage, he chuckled.
Infuriated by his amusement at her expense, Ginny lifted her hand to shake her fist at him, but he caught her wrist and turned it toward the light.
“Remind me to get the ring for you. It’s in the wagon. You can slip it on once we head up to Eden.”
His thumb deliberately rubbed across the ridge of her knuckles. At his touch Ginny felt a delicious effervescence easing through her veins like wine. The bawl of cattle seemed to fade away. Even the rumble of thunder became muffled as the world shrank to hold just the two of them. Then, as quickly as the sensation had come, it dissipated.
Yet Orrin had felt it too. She knew he had. His grip had gentled ever so slightly.
“Are you hungry?” he asked, his voice low and husky.
Ginny tried to ignore the excitement that spread within her. He was studying her again. She could feel the weight of his gaze passing over her neck, pausing at her breasts, her waist, her hips, then dipping to where the tips of her shoes peeked from beneath her hem.
“Why do you keep staring at me like that?” Ginny demanded, then she nearly bit her tongue when she realized she’d spoken aloud.
“You’re not what I expected Ruby to find me for a wife.”
“What did you expect?”
“Something … different.”
“Different?”
“Older.”
“Older?”
Once again he smiled. “Actually, I expected a middle-aged farmer’s widow with hands like plowshares and a face like the back end of a mule.”
“Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you!” Ginny yanked free.
“You’ll do. Yep. I’d say you’ll do just fine.”
She flushed. Although her clothes were travel-stained and bulky and her hair waved wantonly from beneath her bonnet, Orrin appeared almost smug about the fact that she was younger and prettier than he’d expected.
Around them huge drops of rain began to splat onto the walkway like silvery nickels.
Orrin took her chin between his thumb and forefinger. Suddenly there was a hard cast to his features that she couldn’t fathom. “Marriage is for life, Ginny Ghant,” he stated. “Just remember that. I won’t have you running to the railway station every time you want to settle an argument.”
The brooding expression vanished as quickly as it had come. “Would you like some supper?”
“Thank you. I would love some supper.”
Orrin led Ginny across the muddy street and down the block to the Bluebonnet Hotel.
The Bluebonnet wasn’t known for its grandeur, but it had a reputation for being clean and comfortable, catering to the travelers who passed through Ogden and needed someplace warm, cheap, and respectable to stay until their next train departed. For a small fee a person could arrange for a bed, a bath, and a meal—for the whole night or for a quick rest between connections.
“Wait here and I’ll get a key,” Orrin said once they’d stepped inside.
She tugged on his hand. “Why? I thought we were just going to eat.”
Orrin read the barely disguised panic in Ginny’s voice, but she didn’t back away—and he wasn’t terribly surprised. His aunt had always warned him that someday she’d find a female to bring him down a peg or two.
“I’m going to see if there’s someplace we can dry out first.”
Orrin forced himself to look at a point beyond her shoulder. Ginny had already commented on the way he kept staring at her, and he knew he shouldn’t be so taken with her appearance. He hadn’t married for love this time—he hadn’t even married for lust. He’d married for necessity.
But damn, she was pretty. Prettier than Jesse had ever been. Even those first few years.
Impatient with the persistent direction of his thoughts, Orrin twisted free of Ginny’s grip and headed over to the front desk. While the clerk arranged for a key, Orrin ignored the way she waited in the corner like a shivering swallow wrapped in a sodden layer of wool.
After a quick word with the desk clerk, Orrin returned and together they headed up a narrow set of stairs to the second floor. Glancing at the number on the key, he walked to the end of the hall
and unlocked the door.
Preceding him, Ginny cautiously peeked into the room. She didn’t know what she’d expected, although from the way he’d been watching her with obvious attraction, she wouldn’t have been surprised to find red-flocked paper and a huge brass bed. Instead she discovered that he’d rented a simple parlor with a settee, wing-backed chairs, and fern-covered tables. Another door, discreetly situated in the corner, presumably led to an adjoining room.
Ginny felt the rigid muscles of her shoulders and spine relax ever so slightly. Automatically she moved through the doorway.
“Why don’t you wash up first while I make arrangements with the livery to watch my team a little longer? When I get back I’ll take you downstairs for a bite to eat.”
Ginny jumped when she found Orrin standing directly behind her. He’d come up so silently, she hadn’t been conscious of his movements. Now he stood so close she could feel the slight exhalation of his breath.
He took his hat from his head and shook the rain from his hair. Some of the droplets flicked onto Ginny’s nape, feeling cool against her heated flesh. Apparently unaware of his action, Orrin reached out, wiped the drops away, then crossed toward the opposite side of the room, waving his hat toward the dry sink, which held a porcelain wash set.
“They told me the room had everything you’d need to freshen up. Water’s in the pitcher. Towels and cloths are in the top drawer of the highboy. And there’s”—he pulled open a small cabinet to reveal a squat chamber pot, opened his mouth, cleared his throat, then slammed the door again—“you know.” Patting his pockets, he withdrew a small metal comb from his vest. “You can use this if you want. It’s mine. And it’s clean.”
She took it from him. “Thank you.”
He did not immediately release the comb. When he did, a strange curiosity crossed his face.
“You’re a pretty woman, Virginia Parker Ghant.” He reached out to trace gently the line of her jaw. “What possessed you to come to Eden and marry a man like me?”
The low tone of his voice was no less disturbing than the rasping texture of his skin against her face. He knew why she’d come, but it was true that she could have gone someplace other than Eden.
