Chapter Fifty-Seven
By late March, nature had thrust out tender leaves in the forest while flinging wildflowers among trees and around creek beds. Reagan’s horse devoured a patch of new grass as he and Danny inspected rollways lining riverbanks. Recent rains brought the river to the right pitch and before long Reagan would give orders for key logs to be pulled. Then, with a deafening roar, logs would spill into water while riverhogs, having switched from shoepacs to corked boots, would stand with pike poles and peaveys at the ready.
“This year, you’ll be in charge of booming the logs,” Reagan said. He had once again allowed his beard to grow, and looked more the lumberman than ever.
“Sure, boss,” he replied.
“How’re the wanigans coming along?”
“All three will be done before week’s end.” With their raised decks and crude shacks, the wanigan was kitchen, dining room and sometimes sleeping quarters for the men. Chained together, they floated behind the boom while the drive was on.
“Good. I’ll inform the boys that you’re running the river drive since I’m taking Amanda home.”
Danny nodded. He knew a wanigan was no place for a woman among female-starved riverhogs. Many changes had occurred since Amanda’s flight into the forest. No longer were the stables left unattended during work hours. Reagan once again dined in the cook’s shanty and most surprising of all, he had taken up residence in one of the bunkhouses.
As they headed back to camp, Reagan’s thoughts drifted over the last few weeks. After Amanda banished him from her bed, he had angrily withdrawn himself entirely. Now it was Theodore who saw that her water barrel was kept full and a fire burned in the stove. Reagan had foolishly believed that by removing himself he could dismiss her from his mind. But instead, his self-imposed exile only served to punish him. He tossed nightly on his bed despite it being no softer than the one Amanda inhabited. Just knowing she lay alone in his cabin caused him to display a surly temper and foul mood.
When the two reached camp, Reagan turned his horse towards the cabin and knocked briefly before stepping inside. Startled, Amanda clutched a washcloth over her bosom, sopping her chemise. Her surprise turned to displeasure when she saw it was Reagan. For many days she had dwelt on his pitiful explanation of his foul deed. Yet, with no way to vent her feelings, her outrage had continued to simmer.
“Now look what you’ve done,” she said, reaching for a towel. “I’m all wet!”
The view of her breasts, visible through the wet material, caused him to have a sudden and fervent burst of desire. She was unaware of his heated gaze as she wiped droplets from her legs. When she bent lower, the edge of her shortened chemise rose, nearly exposing her bottom. Reagan felt as if a knife suddenly twisted his insides. Stirred to take her in his arms, he stepped forward, hoping her anger had cooled enough to approach her in a husbandly way.
“I came to tell you when we’d be leaving,” he said in a suddenly thick voice.
“Don’t come near me,” she said, wrapping the towel about her. “Stay right there.”
His gaze raked her form. “So, this is how you want it to be? Always pricking with your thorny barbs?”
“Yes!”
In truth, Amanda ached to hear him speak words of contrition or at the very least, ask for her forgiveness. It wasn’t her nature to treat others with malice. But Reagan remained silent, and so she steeled her heart.
Under his watchful regard, she threw off her towel and put on her pants, stuffing her chemise inside. Donning a shirt, her fingers then flew over buttons.
“Perhaps you should also put on your boots,” Reagan snorted. “So it’d be more difficult to remove those little-boy britches.”
Amanda ignored his comments as she picked up her brush. “When will we be leaving?” she asked, facing the mirror.
Reagan finally clamped down his amorous thoughts and straddled the nearest chair. “In a day or two, once I’m satisfied everything’s ready.”
Watching Amanda, he was reminded how much he missed her companionship. He felt with time her ire would soften, for despite her frosty manner Reagan didn’t believe her a shrew. Indeed, until she discovered his secret, she had displayed a sweetness of spirit that soothed like a balm. Being deprived of it had brought him no small amount of discontent.
“Will I…” she said as she stopped brushing, “…be going back to your house…?” Amanda held her breath. With so many unanswered questions, she didn’t know if Reagan felt compelled to allow her to live with him. The few situations she’d heard of came to mind, of a marriage grown cold and a husband and wife occupying different homes.
“Of course,” Reagan said, frowning. “Where else would you go? Until we make a home for ourselves, we’ll stay with my parents. Where, in fact, you should’ve stayed in the first place.”
“Where I would’ve been a good little wife, never knowing how you defrauded my parents?” she needled. “Where your lies would’ve continued until you had no more use for me?” She clutched the brush tightly. “Where would I have gone after that?”
Reagan stared at Amanda, his lips tightening in anger. “You think I would discard you? Perhaps I’d also throw our children into the streets no better than orphans. Suddenly, I’m a fiendish ogre that destroyed your otherwise fairy-tale life. An existence so promising that had we not wed, you’d have every male still vying for your hand.” Reagan rose and advanced until he towered over Amanda. “I can tell you madam, after what happened, no one was asking for your hand in marriage.”
Amanda turned with blazing eyes. “How dare you! Do you think I preferred a loveless marriage to the possibility of finding happiness elsewhere? Don’t think yourself so noble, sir, that you did me any favors! We are wed, simply and true, because I knew no other way to protect Aunt Ella from being arrested and charged with breaking the law by that snake, Jebediah. Under those circumstances, I accepted your proposal, as my parents advised me. But had they waited just a short time longer, they would’ve discovered that not everyone believed the rumors. I could’ve married another.”
“You’d have married another after we were caught together? I’m afraid that would’ve caused another scandal all by itself.” Reagan crossed his arms and lifted a brow. “Your Mister Banning, if that’s who you’re alluding to, was seeking the same prize as I. In actuality, I believe the man was after more than the purse strings to your dowry. He seemed intent on burrowing into your father’s firm like a tick on a mongrel. I say the man was up to no good, and you are well rid of him.”
“And you’re so pure, you can judge another? You sir, have the audacity to tell me one kind of blackguard is better than another? I think not!” She faced the mirror and vigorously stroked her hair. “If I live a hundred years, I’ll never know a man more calculating or dishonorable!”
Reagan released a pent-up sigh. “I’ll not argue the depth of my worth since you judge it so poorly. However, I’ve no wish to burden others with our problems and as a matter of respect, we should keep this to ourselves.”
Putting on his hat, he headed for the door. “Whatever you’re taking home should be packed by tomorrow morning. If you have need of anything, I’ll send Theo over.”
Giving Amanda a few moments to air any requests and receiving none, Reagan shut the door behind him.
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Reagan planned for the trip home, beginning with having Amanda’s horse exercised for a week prior to their leaving. He mapped a route suitable for staying in a hotel each night and packed minimal food and clothing. Once they reached Jamestown, he would see if the stagecoaches were running. If so, they would take the stagecoach the rest of the way home.
The sun was just beginning to lighten the sky when Amanda emerged from the cabin with her tightly packed saddlebag. Though Reagan had saddled her horse, she checked the cinch before mounting. She had plaited her hair in a single braid and looked very much like the lad Reagan thought her to be when she first entered camp.
After a few hours of travel, the sun warmed enough for Amanda to remove her coat. If she had gotten herself with child, it wasn’t apparent to Reagan’s probing eyes as she tied her coat to the back of her saddle. If anything, he thought, Amanda looked more slender than the day of her ball.
They reached the Stockton hotel shortly before sunset. Reagan carried their saddlebags into the lobby, placing them on the counter. “I’d like these to be taken to our room,” he informed the clerk while signing the ledger. “I also want a hot bath drawn for the lady.”
“Will you be dining with us tonight?” the clerk asked. “They’re serving a fine pot roast with potatoes and gravy. There’s also mincemeat pie that should be cooling by the time dinner is served.”
“Not at the moment,” Reagan said as he pocketed the key handed him. “We’ve other things to take care of.”
“Why not?” Amanda said. “We’ve been riding all day. I-I’m…” she looked sheepishly at the clerk, “…ready to eat,” she finished lamely. Amanda had forgotten she’d earlier unbuttoned her collar and the clerk’s gaze now fell to that opening. He drew up his frame to its uppermost height, hoping to impress her.
“I beg your pardon, sir, but the young lady seems to be in some distress. Surely your business could wait until after you’ve dined?” He eyed Amanda brazenly, as it crossed his mind the girl would be so thankful, she might agree to a rendezvous behind the barn.
“That lady you are staring at is my wife!” Reagan’s lips curled as he recognized hunger in the clerk’s eyes. “If you don’t take your eyes off her, you’ll find that bony head of yours ground into the carpet!”
Choking, the clerk’s eyes widened and his Adam’s apple bobbed. Judging by their clothes, he had taken them to be poor relatives traveling together.
“Now, are you going to get that bath ready, or not?”
“Y-yes sir!” he stammered, scooping up the saddlebags and hurrying toward the stairs.
Grasping Amanda’s arm, Reagan headed toward the door. “Come on,” he growled.
“Where are we going?”
“To get you some decent clothes!”
An hour later, the proprietor of Clancy’s Dry Good’s handed several packages into Reagan’s hands before locking up for the night. He couldn’t wait to get home and tell his wife about the plainly dressed man who had purchased a man’s suit as well as the most expensive woman’s riding outfit he carried. Not only the outfit, but also fine leather boots and several accoutrements necessary for a lady. He cackled to think how he had convinced the man that two hats, not one, would be advantageous for a traveling woman. If by chance her hat became ruined in a sudden rain, she wouldn’t be forced to wear the spoiled headgear.
Amanda hadn’t expected generosity from Reagan and found it difficult to remain aloof when he provided for her needs so well. Though she felt he had played her false, her thoughts remained conflicted as they approached the boardwalk near the hotel. Eagerly, she crossed the threshold as the smell of food assailed her nostrils. Because he stood there with all those packages and because she couldn’t keep silent forever, Amanda spoke up. “If it’s acceptable, I’d very much like to eat.”
Reagan looked at Amanda’s clothing, recalling the clerk’s impertinence. “I wish you would’ve used Clancy’s changing rooms like I suggested. Those boy clothes need to be thrown out.”
“I told you,” Amanda said firmly. “I need to bathe first.”
“I’ll have our meal sent to our room so you won’t have to wait,” he said, turning toward the lobby. The clerk from before was nowhere to be seen, so Reagan spoke to the woman behind the counter.
“Of course, Mr. Burnsfield, I’ll have a tray sent up with a full selection from our menu. And madam,” she said to Amanda, “your bath’s waiting. I took the liberty of putting your bags in the suite reserved for our special guests.”
“I don’t believe I reserved a suite,” Reagan said. “We simply had a room.”
“That’s true,” the woman said. “But, I have to make atonement for my former employee’s boorish behavior. I was in the kitchen when I heard angry voices. By the time I walked through the dining room, I heard the last of your conversation and witnessed your departure. I can assure you, we may be a small establishment, but we don’t treat our guests that way.”
Reagan smiled. “In that case, we’d be delighted to take your offer.”
“If you’d give me the key you now have, I’ll exchange it for the new one,” she said, laying down a key. “I’m sure you’ll find it to your liking.”
Reagan and Amanda followed the owner up two flights of stairs and down the hall. The matron opened the door and stepped inside. “The suite has two bedchambers, with a bathing room in between,” she said opening a side door. “Here, we have a bath prepared as well as items for the gentleman.”
Steam rose from a porcelain tub flanked by a commode holding a washbasin, shaving mug, razor and strop. A full-length mirror filled the space in the opposite corner while a dresser with the first drawer pulled open, showed towels and washcloths. On top was a basket filled with perfumed soaps, awaiting use.
Bustling through the narrow space between the tub and washstand, the owner opened the far door. “This room is usually used for guests who have children. It’s every bit as spacious as the other, but ‘twill be up to you whether or not you have use for it,” she said, smiling. “Your meal will be up shortly. If you have need of anything, please don’t hesitate to ring.” She reentered the first bedroom and indicated a cord hanging near the bed. “That’s attached to a bell in the kitchen. When you pull the cord, a maid will answer your call.”
“Thank you,” Reagan said. “You’ve been very kind. If we travel this way again, we’ll be sure to reserve this suite.”
The proprietress’s eyes twinkled. “Perhaps, you’d also like to recommend our establishment to others, Mr. Burnsfield.” It hadn’t escaped her notice that the name written in her ledger happened to be the same person who had purchased a large tract of land along the Cattaraugus River. Having gained sole proprietorship since the death of Mr. Bonham, Kate Bonham had a nose for information that pertained to her business.
“Indeed, I will,” he vowed. After escorting her to the door, Reagan placed their packages on the bed.
The lure of a bath proved too much a temptation and Amanda removed her boots. After finding a small dish of hairpins, she forgot about shutting the bath chamber door as she pinned her hair. She then removed her clothes with all the haste of one in need of a hot soak.
Reagan found it impossible to ignore Amanda as he hung new clothes in the wardrobe. He took a great deal of time placing them on hangers, for it afforded him a clear view of his wife’s naked back as she sank into the tub.
Wanting a better view, he entered the bath chamber and pretending to ignore her, splashed water in the mug before applying the brush to his face.
“Must you do that now?” she asked.
“My dear, I need cleanliness as much as you,” he said, meeting her gaze in the mirror. “Though I too, long for a hot bath, I’m content to wait until after you’ve finished.”
“Then at least turn so you can’t watch,” she compromised.
Seeming not to care, Reagan turned til his view of her was blocked. When Amanda could no longer see his reflection, she assumed he couldn’t view her while she bathed. She didn’t realize that he had turned just enough so that he could now see her in the full-length mirror.
Unaware of his hungry gaze, she reached for a washcloth from the dresser, pressing her breast against the tub until it nearly spilled over the rim. The alluring sight caused Reagan’s hand to suddenly tremble and he accidentally nicked himself with the razor. Suppressing a curse, he dragged his eyes from her to survey the damage while she tore open a soap wrapper. Inhaling its scent, Amanda wasted little time lathering the cloth, washing her face and neck until bubbles dripped from her arMs. Bending to rinse, she didn’t see him wipe blood from his razor and when she daube
d her eyes with a towel, he appeared to be concentrating on shaving. She barely noted his presence as Reagan’s hand made a steady journey from jaw to washbowl and she remained blissfully unaware she was being watched as she sudsed her leg while extending it above the tub. The lamplight cast her skin in a dewy glow when she got on her knees, soaping her belly as well as other areas concealed by water. With his eyes constantly viewing her nakedness, Reagan suffered additional cuts with the razor, and if Amanda had been listening, she would’ve heard his muted grunts.
A few tendrils escaped their pins and as she lifted her arms to fix her hair, her breasts played an enticing game of peek-a-boo with the suds. Reagan’s mind filled with other, erotic images of their sharing a bath when a knock at the door interrupted his reverie. Splashing water on his face, he viewed his wounds before exiting the bathroom and shutting the door.
He crossed the bedchamber and opened the door to the hallway. A young woman wearing a cap and apron held a tray. “Evening, sir,” she said. As Reagan stepped back, she entered and set the tray on a table near the window, pulling a wine bottle from her pocket. “Compliments from Mrs. Bonham,” she said, arranging two place settings.
After she left, Reagan returned to the bathing chamber to see Amanda wrapping herself in a towel. She stared at his many, small mutilations. “Good heavens, what did you do?”
“The blade was dull!” he said as he began to disrobe.
Dismissing his surly tone, Amanda went into the bedroom. She heard him splashing in the tub while she donned a new nightgown. Then finding her comb, she returned to the bath chamber and stood where Reagan had earlier shaved. She turned her back and after removing her hairpins, began combing her hair. It wasn’t until she heard the sound of Reagan hoisting himself from the water that she saw his reflection in the full-length mirror. To her horror, she saw every inch of him as he reached for a towel and her lowered gaze found the reason for his sour mood. After draping the towel about his middle, Reagan looked to see Amanda gaping. He grinned, knowing she had discovered his secret voyeurism.
Threads of Betrayal Page 29
