CantrellsBride

by Suzanne Ferrell

  He was letting her decide? No one ever trusted her enough to make the decision when they wanted something from her. She knew she really only had one choice now. She’d never live with herself if choosing her own needs put him in any kind of dilemma.

  “I meant what I said. I won’t put you to shame.” She pulled the covers up to her chin. “But you’re not talking me into anything more physical again.”

  He didn’t argue with her. “Fair enough.”

  “I mean it, Nathan. That was a mistake.”

  He turned out the light. The soft rustle of his clothes hitting the floor made her look in his direction to see the moon shining on all the hard, strong contours of his body. Swallowing hard, she closed her eyes. After a moment, she felt the bed sink to his side as he climbed in beside her, then turned to her.

  “I disagree with you on that.”

  When she opened her mouth to protest, he silenced her with a finger to her lips.

  “Hear me out. I promise not to force you to give in to me again. If at some time you decide to repeat the magic that happened between us, and I know for a fact what we did was magical, then we’ll do it again.”

  Before she could say anything else, he leaned over and kissed her—a long, slow kiss that set her heart to racing and reminded her body of everything he’d just said. Then he released her and curled on to his side. “Good night, darlin’.”

  Laura lay very still, her heart beating wildly.

  Oh, he was tricky. He’d promised not to try to convince her to submit to him again. He hadn’t said anything about not kissing her. How was she supposed to fight that?

  She willed her heart to slow, then carefully listened to see if he was asleep or just lying there trying to find some new way to torment her. His breathing sounded even. Then she heard the soft sounds of snoring coming from him. How could he just turn over and go to sleep as if it were a natural thing for them to share this bed?

  Somehow she needed to find a way to keep him from kissing her at will, otherwise she’d lose this battle long before her time here ended.

  * * * * *

  Nigel Blackwood studied himself in the mirror. The day he boarded the train out of Washington he’d stopped shaving and now had a full dark beard covering the thin scar along his cheek he’d gotten in a duel years before. His hair almost touched his collar. With the buckskin shirt he’d purchased from one of the mountain men trading on the outskirts of Saint Louis and the dungarees most of the men in this barbaric town wore, he little resembled the fashionably dressed attaché to the British ambassador.

  Now that Otis had been disposed of, he needed information. The best place to do that was in the trading taverns and bars near the river. The men who frequented those places—drovers for the riverboats and baggage handlers for the railroad—should have a clue to put him on the right track of his prey.

  He shook his head as he finished putting his belongings into a set of leather saddlebags.

  Who would’ve thought one librarian would prove to be so elusive? The night he’d entered the library, he’d known there was a possibility the woman was still there. He’d been so fixed on reaching his objective, assassinating the senator, he’d planned to kill her as soon as he’d finished. In hindsight, he should’ve taken care of her first. Now he had to fix the problem his error in judgment had caused.

  His time was running out. The next step in the plan was crucial and his employers expected his prey silenced long before the president’s scheduled assassination.

  He picked up the train map from Saint Louis, folded it and slipped it into his pocket. All he needed was a whiff of her scent so he’d know which trail to follow. Like an English foxhound, he’d sniff out the damned fox and chase her to ground.

  It was only a matter of time. She couldn’t stay hidden for long. He’d find her no matter what. His last meeting with the general had made it quite clear how his employers felt about the situation. In their minds it had come down to this—her life or his.

  * * * * *

  The freshly planted row in her first kitchen garden filled Laura with satisfaction. Dusting the dirt from her hands, she studied her handiwork.

  Three hills of potatoes stretched the length of the field Nathan had taken the time from sowing his wheat crop to plow for her. The beans, onions and greens she’d planted had started to sprout. Rows of corn, turnips, carrots and pumpkin filled the remaining garden area. Come harvest time, barring any drought, they’d have plenty of vegetables to see them through the winter.

  She walked back up the row to where Rachel sat on a quilt, rocking her doll. Sitting next to her, Laura poured a glass of water from the pitcher she’d brought out earlier in the day. She held the glass while Rachel drank, then poured herself another. The cool water felt wonderful sliding down her parched throat. The days were growing warmer and the amount of energy she used in gardening amazed her.

  Smiling, she remembered how surprised Nathan had been when she’d asked about starting a garden.

  “Let’s start you out with a medium-sized garden for your first attempt,” he’d said as he set the horse to plowing the field.

  Once the area set aside for her garden consisted of evenly tilled rows, he’d shown her how to sow seeds. Working beside her, he’d patiently instructed her on watering and weeding once the plants began to sprout so the land would yield the best crop.

  “You’ve done well, darlin’,” he’d said at the end of that day.

  She’d beamed with pleasure at his praise.

  “Next spring you can try a larger garden.”

  A noise from behind the house caught her attention. Nathan exited the woods carrying a burlap bag with sticks pointing out the top. He’d taken to rolling his sleeves up above his elbows while working out of doors and he’d wrapped his darkly tanned arms around the ball of the burlap bag as if he carried gold. His cambric shirt stretched tight across his shoulders and upper arms.

  Laura sighed. Would she ever get tired of seeing his powerful body? She still remembered how carefully he cradled her in his arms when loving her that night. He’d been true to his word not to press the issue, but he seemed to take every opportunity to touch her. And she still hadn’t found a way to keep him from kissing her at will.

  She rose and picked up Rachel, then walked to meet him halfway. “What do you have in there?”

  “Remember when you asked if you could plant a flower garden by the house?”

  “Yes. And I believe you told me a vegetable garden would be more practical.”

  He had the audacity to laugh at her teasing. “At the time I had no idea you’d take so well to gardening.”

  “That still doesn’t tell me what you have inside that bag.” She tried to peek at it, but he walked past her to the back porch. Her curiosity piqued, she trailed after him like a child.

  “What I have here, darlin’, is roots of some wild roses that grow along the bank a little ways up the creek. If you’re still wanting a flower garden here, we might try planting these.”

  “How many of them are there?”

  “About six. Why don’t you point out where you’d like them to go.”

  She quickly pointed to three spots about a foot apart on each side of the porch.

  Just then a wagon came rumbling up the road and turned onto their drive. Laura turned to see Sarah’s eldest son Tom driving the team.

  Nathan set his bundle on the ground then watched the boy bring the team to a halt by the porch. “What are you doing way out here, Tom?”

  “Ma sent me to fetch Miz Laura for the sewing bee today.”

  “Oh goodness. With trying to get the last of the potatoes in the garden this morning, I completely forgot the sewing circle met today.” Laura looked at Tom, then over at the bundle of rose roots Nathan had brought her.

  Nathan came to her rescue by taking Rachel from her arms. “How about I get these in the ground while you go enjoy yourself with the ladies at the sewing bee?”

  “I couldn’t ask you
to do that. The flower garden was my idea.”

  “Woman, get yourself cleaned up and off to your bee. Rachel and I’ll be happy to get your roses in the ground.” He winked and grinned at her in that way she found harder and harder to resist.

  “If you’re sure.”

  “Go, before I change my mind.”

  She hurried into the house, quickly washed her hands and face, then put on a clean calico dress. When she came outside, Rachel sat on her quilt again, this time with Tom sitting beside her while they watched Nathan digging a hole for the first of the roses.

  He’d removed his shirt and sweat dripped down between his shoulder blades as he stomped the shovel blade into the dirt with his foot, then hauled out a chunk of soil. She paused on the steps to admire his muscles gleaming in the spring sunshine. He truly was a magnificent specimen of a man.

  “You ready, Miz Laura?” Tom asked, jolting her out of her reverie and jumping up onto the buckboard seat.

  Handing him her basket of sewing supplies, she braced one foot on the wheel to pull herself up. Suddenly two large hands grasped her by the waist and steadied her as she climbed onto the wagon seat. Her cheeks heated as she turned to thank Nathan. He grinned at her again before stepping back as Tom snapped the horse’s reins and the wagon lurched forward.

  * * * * *

  “You mean to tell me there’s another saloon to be built on the outskirts of town, but no one has any plans to see to the children’s education?” Laura was appalled at the lack of interest the townspeople had in their children’s schooling.

  “Bobby Bailey, the owner of the Golden Slipper, and Mr. Burnside, the owner of the Circle B Ranch on that side of the valley are paying for the new saloon. The town really doesn’t have anything to do with building it,” explained Mrs. Trainer, the blacksmith’s wife.

  “I understand the town council doesn’t have any control over a private endeavor, but it should be considering the future of this town,” Laura said.

  “The town council is run by several ranching men, Mr. Burnside and Mr. Tate, neither of whom wanted farmers and their families in the valley to begin with,” said Mrs. Hillman, the banker’s wife. “So building a school that would bring more families to the area wouldn’t be in their best interest.”

  Sarah nodded as she added another piece of material to the quilt block she’d begun. “Besides, both Tate and Burnside are old skinflints. Ain’t no way ya could milk a nickel out of either one to build a school or hire a teacher.”

  “Well there should be something we could do. When does the town council meet next?” Laura asked, an idea forming in her head.

  “First Tuesday of the month,” replied Mrs. Trainer.

  “That’s in two weeks,” Laura said absently.

  “That’s right.” Mrs. Hillman stopped sewing to study her.

  “Laura, honey, why do ya have that look in yer eyes?” Sarah eyed her suspiciously.

  “If enough of the town’s people wanted a school, wouldn’t the council have to provide one?”

  “I suppose they’d at least have to consider it.” Sarah agreed. “We could get together one of those things people sign. What’re they called?”

  “Petitions,” answered Laura, seeing her own enthusiasm mirrored in her friend’s face.

  “Yes. We could get one of them petitions signed by all the people in town with children. Then we could ask them to consider hiring a teacher.”

  “Exactly. But we don’t just need the families with children. The more people that sign the petition, the better the chances are that we’ll get the council to agree to build a school.”

  For the remainder of that day’s sewing bee they made plans for the school and how to go about getting the town to agree. The women chose Laura to present the final petition at the council meeting. Despite her protests, they agreed she was the best speaker of them all.

  That night, while lying in bed waiting for Nathan to climb in beside her, Laura decided to tell him of the women’s plans. She was quite sure he’d want a school for Rachel when she was old enough to attend. She’d also need his assistance in getting to the outlying farms to get signatures for the petition.

  “Damn it, Laura, you can’t take on those two old buzzards. Burnside is as mean as a snake. Tate isn’t as mean, but his wife controls his purse strings, and she is. Besides, I don’t want you riding around the valley sticking your nose into other people’s private business.”

  “Nathan, I won’t be sticking my nose into people’s private business,” she said, rising up on one elbow to stare at her husband. His reaction surprised her. “I’m simply going to ask them about helping us to get a school started. Those families with children will be my first stop.”

  He climbed in beside her. “Finding out about people’s children is sticking your nose into their business. I hated it when people tried to interfere with how I was taking care of Rachel. I can tell you right now, you’ll be stirring up a hornets’ nest. Besides, you can’t just go traipsing around the county. This isn’t safe Washington. This is the West. We still have problems with Indians and outlaws. Even if you could get all those names, the council isn’t going to listen to a woman.”

  Washington wasn’t safe. Her presence here was evidence of that, but she couldn’t tell him. Besides, he was being stubborn for no real reason. “Why ever not? I’m as much a citizen of this town as any man.”

  “Not really, darlin’. Only men are considered voting citizens of the town. I’d have to support you in this in order for them to listen to you.”

  “Well then, that’s settled,” she said, lying down next to him. “You’ll just have to help me get the petition signed.”

  “I have the spring planting to finish. I can’t be driving you all over the countryside. And since you don’t know how to ride a horse…”

  “Who says I don’t know how to ride?”

  This news seemed to startle him. “You know how to ride?”

  “Yes, I do.” She didn’t try to hide her smugness at his surprise. “It so happens that my parents taught me how to ride before they died. When I went to live with my aunt I had no opportunity to continue, but for the last few years I’ve been riding once a week at a club. So you won’t have to take time away from the farm to take me to visit the other families. You’ll just have to give me directions to their farms.”

  He turned to face her, his head braced on his arm. “You can’t just go by yourself. There are still all sorts of problems out there. And I don’t have a horse you can ride.”

  “I could ride Blaze.”

  He actually paled at the idea, as if it scared him. “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “That horse is nothing more than barely restrained energy. He’s hard enough for me to handle. I don’t want you even trying to ride him.” He thought about her enthusiasm for this project for a moment. Buying her a horse of her own might make her more appreciative of him. “I suppose I could look into buying a mare from old Burnside for you to ride. But I still don’t want you out riding by yourself.”

  “Nathan, don’t you think it’s important for the children to go to school?”

  “If there were a school in town, I’d think it was a fine idea for the children to be educated. But until there is one, their parents will just have to see to it for them.” He slowly stroked her back, amazed at how much freedom she was allowing him tonight. So caught up in their discussion, she didn’t even notice him touching her.

  “But some of the parents never went to school themselves, especially those families from the South. You know as well as anyone the devastation wrought on the southern states during the war. Why, even Sarah doesn’t know how to read. In fact, she asked if I would teach her children how to read and write. It’s such a shame that these children must be limited to a life with no understanding of the written word because two old men want to keep progress from coming to the area.”

  “This is that important to you?” He smoothed a stray lock of hair from her face
so he could see into her eyes.

  “Yes it is. Even when you’re bound by the silent chains of bondage, being able to read can open doors and windows to your soul. If I can provide that for these children, then I’ve shared something of myself with them.”

  He saw the deep jade color in her eyes and knew she spoke from her heart. Somewhere in her past, she’d suffered a sense of bondage herself. Now he understood some of her fierce independence. He sighed, realizing that he’d have to temper his own worry for her safety and allow her to try to get her school.

  “When I buy the horse this week, I’ll talk to Frank and Sarah about Tom or Billy riding out to the farms with you. If they agree, then you can go get your signatures. But you’ll have to take the wagon until I’m sure you’re as good a rider as you claim to be.”

  * * * * *

  The horse he brought home was a small brown and white pinto mare named Ribbons. Nathan watched as Laura acquainted herself with the animal. The joy on her face was worth every penny he’d used to purchase the animal. Laura rode around the farm and he had to admit that she made a fine horsewoman.

  Over the past week and a half, he’d also discovered she had the soul of a crafty politician. She’d stuck to her plan and visited the outlying families with children to gain support for her petition. Against his wishes, she’d also gone back to The Golden Slipper and gotten signatures of the bartender, Bobby Bailey and several of the saloon girls she’d gotten to know during the measles epidemic. Then she’d taken on the big problem. She visited Henrietta Tate first.

  The night before, she’d questioned him about the Tates’ feud with David Burnside.

  “So exactly why do the Tates and Mr. Burnside hate each other so much?” she’d asked as she sat sewing curtains for the kitchen.

  “It’s an old story.”

  She’d smiled up at him. “Good. I love stories.”

  He’d rolled his eyes and resigned himself to telling her the tale as he knew it. “As a young woman, Henrietta Tate’s father brought her West and established the Green Valley Ranch. Dave Burnside courted her and they’d planned to be married. Then one day Burnside came across a wagon train that had been ambushed in an Indian raid. He found among the wagons a young and very beautiful woman. She was the lone survivor.”