by Maggie Ryan
"Wyatt!" She could feel her face flush at the same time as she felt a rush of moisture between her legs as his dimples appeared. "Um, I'd hate to catch a cold," she said, climbing out of the bed and reaching for her bloomers again.
"Nope." He knelt and then gathered the fabric in his hand. "Step in, sweetheart."
He looked up when she put one hand on his shoulder and lifted her skirts with the other. He gave her a smile and bent forward to kiss her bare thigh.
"Wyatt! That's not proper!"
"Oh, darlin', I just love hearing you call out my name. You're going to learn that anything we do together is proper." He kissed her other thigh before pulling her drawers up. He tied the ribbon and then patted her bottom. They walked back into the other room and he gave her a quick kiss, then grabbed his coat and hat. "Is there anything you need before I go?"
She wondered what he'd say if she told him she needed him to take her back to bed and make love to her again. Not quite brave enough to make that suggestion, and knowing they both had chores long left undone, she shook her head. "I don't think so."
He kissed her once again. "As much as I'd love to go back to bed, I've got to work." He patted her bottom before lifting his rifle from its pegs above the door. "Be good. I'll be back before dark."
"I'll be waiting," she said, and knew that no matter when he returned, she'd always be there waiting for him to hold her again.
Once the door closed, she stood for a moment and smiled. Yes, he'd be back, and when he returned, it would be to a clean house and a hot meal. She returned to the bedroom, blushing a bit as she straightened the bed, tucking in the quilt neatly before picking up his discarded shirt.
She set the shirt to soak after pouring water into the basin she used for washing. The sound of the water had her dancing a bit, and once she was sure the shirt was totally immersed, she went to the door and pulled her cloak off the hook. Another smile lit her face when she saw the pillow Anna had given her lying on the bench by the door. She had been surprised to discover that she was a little disappointed that the spanking Wyatt had given her had been nowhere near severe enough for her to need the comfort of the fat cushion. Shaking her head at such a strange thought, she opened the door and immediately shivered. No wonder the interior of the house felt colder. The wind was blowing and the sky was overcast. Winter was definitely on its way. Pulling her cloak tighter, she braced against the wind and went around the back of the house to head for the privy.
On her way back inside, she noticed that the wind had evidently been strong enough to allow a dead branch to crack and fall to the ground. Deciding that Wyatt could chop it for firewood, she went towards it and was bending to grasp it when she smiled. In a fork of the branch, she saw a small bird's nest. Looking around, she found what she wanted at the base of the large tree. Forgetting about firewood, she carried her treasures back into the house.
After making sure the nest was free of bugs and feathers, she laid the piece of green moss inside. They'd used a great deal of the moss to fill in the holes where the logs didn't quite make a seal. It was very effective in keeping the wind out. It was also very soft and pretty. With extreme caution, she picked up the broken egg halves and arranged them in a circle on the bed of moss before lifting the whole egg. Before setting it in place, she smiled, remembering how she had thought her husband was kissing the egg. Placing her lips on the narrow end, she gently blew into the hole he'd made and could feel the air escaping through the other end. Kissing the white sphere, she set it upright in the circle of eggs and then carried the centerpiece to the mantle above their fireplace. Every time she looked at it, she'd remember his words.
She set a large pot of water on the tripod in the fireplace to heat for dish water. Not one to waste time, she went back outside to the root cellar to gather ingredients for the stew she'd make for dinner. The small room felt even colder than the air outside. She chose a roast, potatoes, carrots and onions. Shivering, she hurried back into the house. How the men could work outside she didn't know. As she began to peel the potatoes, she giggled. Maybe she truly needed to follow Wyatt's example. The union suit he had pulled on was much thicker than the muslin fabric of her bloomers. What would he think if he lifted her skirts only to discover it would be far more difficult to bare her backside to deliver the swats he'd teased about? Heat infused her as she remembered that the red one-piece garment had a drop seat. She supposed all he'd have to do was to lower it and then he could spank her, or perhaps even turn her around and…
"Agatha Mae Wilcox! Good girls do not think of such things!" Despite her chastisement of herself, she smiled. As her husband kept telling her, nothing was improper between a man and his wife. Of course, he probably hadn't considered that her mind kept drifting back to being over his lap, his fingers playing… "Oh, good lord! At this rate, you won't have the house clean, much less have dinner ready." Forcing herself to concentrate on her chores, she washed the dishes from that morning and scrubbed a bar of lye soap onto the stains of Wyatt's shirt. Satisfied and strangely a little sad that the stains had disappeared, she wrung it out and pulled a chair close to the fire, draping the wet garment over the chair to dry.
She finished preparing the ingredients for the stew and hung the pot over the fire, as well. It would cook slowly while she made bread. By the time she placed a cloth over the bowl to allow the bread to rise, she was humming, and realized that for the very first time, this house felt like home.
Chapter Eight
"Well, look who's here. Glad you could join us, Mr. Wilcox," Roger said as Wyatt grinned and dismounted.
"Taking up banker's hours?" Matthew added from where he was standing, holding one end of a log.
"What's the matter, gentlemen?" Wyatt asked. "Can't figure out how to build a fence on your own?"
"We know all about fences, but what I can't figure out is why you are smiling like the cat who swallowed the canary," Roger retorted, before sticking a couple of nails between his lips as he lifted the other end of the log.
Wyatt chuckled and stepped forward to help hold the log in place. He couldn't fault them for teasing. They'd obviously been working for hours, as the finished sections of the fence had grown quite a bit. "You'll figure it out once you have a wife."
"Hell, you won't see me standing before any preacher," Matthew said, hammering his end of the log into place. "It's hard enough bunkin' with Roger and listening to him complain. Not to mention he snores. Nope, I don't see any reason to get hitched."
The log secured, Wyatt moved to pick up another to set it into the braces already prepared. "I can assure you, the right woman will have you changing your tune."
Roger put his hands on his lower back and bent from side to side to stretch out the kinks in his muscles. Tipping his hat back, he gave Wyatt a long look. "Well, well, it seems that someone's little woman just might be coming out of her shell. How'd you manage that?"
Wyatt wasn't about to share the details of his morning with his friends, especially his unmarried friends. The three had become close working together as they drove the cattle Richard had brought west. They'd all been astonished when Richard had presented his plan to combine all the land they'd received with the Free Land Act. Instead of merely working alone or for another, they'd banded together. That might make them partners, but it certainly didn't mean they needed to be privy to every detail of his life. Still, he kept the conversation light.
"Christ, Roger, do I have to teach you everything as well as how to nail a log?"
Roger grinned. "Speaking of nailing…"
"I suggest you stick some more nails in your mouth. I'm pretty sure the taste of iron is preferable to the taste of Wyatt's fist."
All three men turned to see that Richard had walked up.
Roger sighed as he pulled more nails from his pocket. "I just meant that I haven't seen a smile on Wyatt's face in a long time." He smiled. "I'm just happy for him." Sticking the nails between his lips, the men chuckled as he made a sound that was probably me
ant to convey he rather enjoyed the taste of iron.
The work went twice as fast with all four working. They needed to get the fence built before the snows came. While it was fine for the herd to range free for the time being, once winter set in and food became scarce, the animals would be susceptible to attack by mountain lions or the bobcats that roamed the forests and mountains that abutted their land. They'd not have enough time this year to completely enclose the twenty-five hundred acres they shared, but it was a start.
Dusk was falling by the time they finished for the day. Leaning against the last section they'd nailed into place, they talked about the upcoming work.
"I figure we have another few weeks before the snows start," Richard said, looking up at the sky. "That's cutting it close, but James should be able to help soon." He chuckled. "In fact, Charity told me that if I didn't get him out of her hair, she was going to lock him out of the house."
Charity had given birth a few weeks earlier. It hadn't been the easy birth the couple had expected. Their daughter, Hope, had slid into the world without a lot of fuss according to her mother, but Grace, their newest addition, had been a bit shy about entering the world. It had taken both Harriett, who served as a midwife, and her husband, Dr. Williams, to turn the baby—who was in the breech position—and then deliver her. It had been touch and go, and not a soul relaxed until Grace gave her first cry.
It had taken Charity longer to recover, especially with an active toddler running about the cabin. The men had assured James that they had no ill-feelings about pitching in and urged him to stay close and attend to his family's needs.
"Just goes to prove my point," Matthew said, chewing on a piece of straw. "Getting hitched to one woman is bad enough. The thought of being surrounded by a whole passel of females makes me shiver."
Wyatt slapped him on his back. "Good to know. Since you can't stand the very thought of seeing a woman who might tempt you into taking the path you fear, you can stay with the herd tomorrow when the rest of us head into town." He turned to look at Roger. "Of course, if you feel the same way—"
"Hell no," Roger said. "Seeing how happy your women make you, I'm definitely not staying with a bunch of cows. Nope, I'm going with you. With more and more settlers choosing this valley, there's bound to be some pretty little fillies just waiting to meet a handsome rancher like me."
"Must I really teach you everything? Fillies are horses, women are, well, women are the best creatures God put onto this earth," Wyatt said.
Roger and Matthew mounted their horses to head back towards the bunkhouse they'd share until one or both found that perfect woman. The others would then pitch in and help build the newlyweds a cabin, just as the group had all pitched in to build the homes of the three married couples who lived on the Double R.
When Richard called out to tell Roger that women preferred the smell of soap to sweat, Wyatt grinned. His wife was rather fastidious about her hygiene, and an idea was forming in his head.
"I'm guessing everything worked out?"
"Huh?"
Richard's chuckle had Wyatt shaking his head to clear it of the vision he'd been contemplating enjoying. "Well, you aren't limping, so I'm guessing your ankle is good. I was just asking if everything else is as well."
Though he wouldn't share intimate details about his marriage with the two men who had just ridden off, Wyatt appreciated the companionship and advice gleaned from those who obviously lived a happy married life. "I think everything will be great," he said. "It will take a while because of Wallace, but I think we finally took our first step to get out from under his hatefulness."
"Every journey starts with that first step," Richard said, slapping him on the back. As the men mounted their horses, he chuckled. "A word of warning, if I may?"
Wyatt nodded.
"Just this: no matter how many steps you and Agatha take, know that the journey never truly ends." He grinned and turned his horse around. "Of course, that's the beauty of it all. If there is no end, there are plenty of opportunities to both redden a pretty bottom and then comfort that bottom's owner."
Wyatt couldn't prevent the vision of Agatha lying beneath him, or the joy her cries of pleasure had brought him. He grinned as his idea returned and nodded. "I'll keep that in mind."
They rode together for a little while before Richard peeled off towards his cabin. As Wyatt drew closer to his house, he could see smoke drifting from the chimney. Urging his horse to go a bit faster, he realized that, for the first time, he truly considered himself as going home.
He pulled up and, instead of dismounting, he sat in the saddle and grinned. His little wife was standing outside, one hand on her hip, the other hand holding a shallow pan and, if he wasn't mistaken, she was holding a conversation with the chickens. Leaning forward, he corrected himself. Nope, she was lecturing the rooster.
"Listen to me, buster. You may think you are the most important bird in the coop, but I've got news for you." She used her free hand to motion towards the hens pecking at the feed she'd just scattered. "You are not, I repeat, not needed to provide the eggs these ladies so thoughtfully provide for my husband's breakfast, or the bread and cakes I bake for his enjoyment." Wyatt had a hard time not chuckling as she shook her finger in the rooster's direction.
"The only job you have is to make baby chicks, but let me warn you. If you chase me again, if you peck at my ankles or make me be naughty, I won't be happy. I might get my bottom smacked, but you, sir, will find your head separated from your cocky body, which will be roasting in my pot. Do you understand?"
He could swear the rooster was actually listening, and when it raised its head and crowed, Wyatt expected her to turn and high tail it out of the coop. Instead she surprised him again.
"Good, now that we have an understanding, here's your dinner." She flung some feed onto the ground. The rooster began to peck at the tasty morsels but when several of its flock ran over, it stepped back, allowing them to feed. "Well, that's more like it," Agatha said. "Every female appreciates a gentleman."
Wyatt dismounted as she scattered more feed. She squealed when he slipped his arms around her waist as she backed out of the coop.
"Think you straightened him out?"
"Wyatt, you scared me," she said, turning in his arms.
"Sorry, darlin'. Let me make up for scaring you." He bent his head and kissed her. She kissed him back, her arm going around his neck. Though he'd left her only a few hours earlier, and though he'd poured himself into her body, his cock was rapidly rising. He pressed her closer and pushed his pelvis into hers before he lifted his lips. Before he could speak, she did.
"Seems there is more than one cock in this yard."
He was shocked but then he grinned. "Yes, but I'm the one you need to truly worry about. That cock," he paused to nod towards the rooster who was enjoying its dinner, "might get you into trouble, but, young lady, I'm the cock who will have the pleasure of roasting your little ass." He loved the flush that appeared on her face. "Get back inside before we give a physical demonstration on proper fertilization."
"Wyatt!"
He chuckled. "Go on, it's cold out here. I'll be in as soon as I see to the horses."
She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. She headed towards the house and he returned to his horse. Once in the barn, he removed the saddle and gave him a rub down, and then a quick brush. He'd retrieve his own horse, Chester, tomorrow, but in the meantime he made damned sure he took care of Richard's. Filling feed buckets and making sure water pails were full, he forked a few pitchforks of hay into the stalls before picking up his rifle and stepping out of the door. The overcast had cleared, and he could see the beginning glow of millions of stars across the deepening violet of the sky. The only sounds were the wind, the shuffling of the animals in the barn, and his sigh of contentment. Remembering his plan, he propped his rifle against the wall of the house and picked up both buckets by the barrel. The creek was only a short distance from the back of their cabin and it did
n't take long and only three trips before he'd not only completely refilled the barrel, but the two buckets were also full. Leaving them on the porch, he picked up his rifle and entered the house.
The aroma from the venison stew greeted him the moment he opened the door. Agatha was at the table, slicing a loaf of bread. She looked up and smiled when the sound of his stomach growling filled the cabin.
"Or maybe that was a bear in the yard instead of a cock."
He had no idea where her teasing was coming from, but God, he loved her sassiness. He could give her tit for tat. Drawing her close again, he bent down to kiss the sensitive spot behind her ear before whispering. "The only bare thing in this room is going to be you." He could feel her shiver and didn't think she was cold.
He gave her bottom a swat and after putting his rifle on its hooks, he told her he'd be right back. Bringing the buckets into the house, he set them on hooks over the fire. By the time dinner was done, they'd be ready. As Agatha dished up the stew and put their bowls on the table, Wyatt shrugged out of his coat, hanging both it and his hat on their hooks.
"This smells delicious," he said after pulling out her chair and kissing the top of her head as she sat. The stew tasted as good as it smelled, and he gladly accepted a second bowl. Freshly baked bread slathered with butter and honey completed the meal. He insisted she join him for coffee and then helped clear the table. He carefully transferred some of the hot water to the dishpan.
