by Cheri Chaise
But now my mind and body prepared to open a new chapter. My stomach fluttered as I washed away the past with the grime from my skin and emerged from the cooling water like a butterfly from her cocoon. Fresh. Unmarred. The pages of my life stripped bare for someone new to write upon.
I hadn’t given thought to the time I’d taken bathing, until Mrs. Martin’s knock and muffled question signaled I must’ve taken longer than expected.
“Miss Davies?” Worry coated the muted words. “Are you alright? I have your cobbler and coffee here.”
My dressing gown securely in place, I cracked open the door. “Please come in.”
She breathed a heavy sigh of relief and entered carrying a silver service laden with delectable treats and set the tray on the tiny, round table.
“I was half afraid you’d fallen asleep and drowned in the washtub.”
“I didn’t realize how long I’d taken until the water cooled,” I said as I sat in the adjacent chair.
She set a well-endowed plate in front of me, rich red juices pooling from beneath a golden, flaky crust. “The bath was to your satisfaction then?”
“Very much so.” I bit into the cobbler that exploded with sweet, fruity flavor. The moan escaped before I even knew it was there. “It’s been so long since I had a proper bath. A proper…anything.”
The tears came out of nowhere and rushed anew.
“There, there.” Mrs. Martin patted my cheek and handed me a lovely square of embroidered cloth. “A hard journey it’s been then. It can’t have been easy leaving behind home and family to end up all the way out here in no-man’s land…or should I say, no-woman’s land.”
She ended the quip with a wink that dissolved my tears into a chuckle sprinkled with a hiccup. “No, it wasn’t easy…but I made it here in one piece,” I finished with a sigh.
“That you did.”
She took a moment to pour both of us a cup of the hot brew then plunked in two lumps of sugar and gave them each a hearty splash of cream. I didn’t have the heart to tell her I usually took mine with only a dollop of the cream. As I’d matured and generously filled in the hollow places on my body, Mother had cautioned me against cream and sugar while filling her coffee or tea with a generous abundance of both.
Mrs. Martin continued as she sat down opposite. “Pray tell, what brought a city gal like you all this way? Can’t be a man. Why, I’d imagine you’d have suitors running through the streets to offer for your hand.”
I sipped the overly sweetened coffee. The strong bite was probably the reason for the extra cube, but at that moment it was the most delicious and soothing thing I’d tasted since leaving Washington DC. Or perhaps it was bettered by the feminine company.
“I’m afraid that’s where you’d be wrong, Mrs. Martin.”
A tut for my benefit. “I can hardly believe that.”
I hesitated, debating how much to reveal to a woman I’d just met. “There are plenty of eligible young ladies back east. My appearance offered little to attract a husband, and the only suitor who sought my hand was of insufferable character.” I deemed it best to leave out the lover who was only interested in my body. “So now I find myself on the edge of the Montana Territory to meet the only other man who has sought my hand.”
Hazel eyes sparkled. “And who might that man be?”
I finished off my coffee and set the cup in the saucer before folding trembling hands in my lap. “A Mr. Cole Carston.”
Mrs. Martin stared over the rim of her cup. Several heartbeats passed before she lowered it with a furrowed brow. “Cole Carston, eh?”
Fear leapt into my throat. “Yes. Do you know him?”
She shook her head. “Not personally, no. But the Carston brothers are known about these parts. They have a pretty big spread southwest of here. Come around to trade and transport their goods to folks back east a couple times a year.”
“Goods? Like what?”
“Cattle and sheep mostly. Some wool and flax on occasion, I’ve heard told. That young’un is a mite fine carpenter too. Built some of the furniture you see in this room.”
I glanced around at the collection of simple pieces paired with an elaborately carved headboard, highboy, and dressing table. I could scarcely believe such fine furniture was made by one so young. “The youngest…that would be Drew, I believe.”
She nodded. “That’s the one.”
Perhaps the simple table and chairs were from his hand instead of the beauty awaiting my tired tresses.
Mrs. Martin prattled on. “The second oldest is a hunter and trapper and brings in hides like those from the reservation. Well…his brothers usually bring them in. He don’t associate much with civilization.”
At least she didn’t call the local Indians savages like everyone else around here thus far. “Evan?”
Another nod. “Then that other one does something with those horses that just isn’t natural.”
“Not natural?” I questioned. “I don’t understand.”
“He raises horses. Breeds them, if you’ll excuse me for being so crude. Keeps one or two studs to impregnate a whole crop of mares so they’ll keep spitting them foals out, one right after the other.”
She set her cup down and leaned closer across the table to continue. “They say the Indians taught him their secrets to guarantee a pregnancy every time. That he himself might actually be kin to some of them. I wouldn’t doubt it, the way he lets that dark hair of his grow. Makes him look even more like a savage than that ruddy complexion of his.”
Savages again. She couldn’t mean anyone other than Bret. The brother whose story intrigued me the most – and apparently the locals too. “Have you ever seen Cole?”
“Certainly. From a distance, of course.”
“What’s he like?”
Lips pursed. Then thinned into a painted line below a generous nose. “Like his brothers in many ways, I suppose.”
For someone who claimed to not personally know the Carston brothers, she seemed to understand an awful lot about them. Her coyness when I needed more information though grated across my already raw nerves.
“That doesn’t tell me much.”
She must’ve sensed my frustration. “Oh, don’t get me wrong. The four of them are quite handsome. Rugged outdoorsmen. Tall in their saddles. They’ll all be able to care for you right tolerable.” A frown. “If you’ll pardon my saying so.”
My mind relaxed again after handsome and tall. I’d never really doubted Cole’s ability to care for material needs from his description of the ranch. More the ability to care about me – and I him, if I were to be completely honest.
“Then you think Cole will make a fine husband?” I ventured.
Mrs. Martin rose to gather up the dirty dishes. “Miss, it’s a well-known fact around these parts that when you marry one Carston, you’re gonna end up taking care of them all…and they you.”
Cole had already apprised me that he and his brothers all lived together, so I was well-prepared to care for the entire family. In my naivety, I expected that to entail cooking, cleaning, and washing for four men.
Never had my estimations been proven more wrong.
And Mrs. Martin’s more right.
Chapter Ten
Cole
With all the business to take care of that morning, I didn’t linger long in the soft tangle of arms and legs. I took my money’s worth and left to take care of other needs in order to prepare for Estella’s hopeful arrival.
Which did little for the constant ache in my groin. A desperate man had no business complaining, but the latest crop of the brothel’s whores that had made it this far north appeared well-used. Overused.
Guilt crept upon me as I considered that this might turn out to be my wedding day and here I was, waking in the arms of another female. A whore nonetheless. If Estella found out, what would she say? What did it say about me that I lost all power of will when my cock made urgent demands at the sight of a woman? Any woman as it turned out.
/> I hadn’t looked too close when I’d crawled out of bed and made my way to the bathhouse next door. A quick soak, shave, and a needed haircut had me looking – more importantly smelling – better in order to potentially meet my bride.
My stomach clenched with the very real possibility that Estella had changed her mind and not gotten on that train. And even if she’d made the train, the sight of a steamboat may have sent her heading right back east. Or she’d lost all nerve and gotten off at another port along the Missouri.
Soon enough we’d know. When we’d made the fort early yesterday evening, her boat hadn’t yet arrived. No surprise, considering we’d come a few days ahead of schedule. You just never knew exactly with a steamboat traveling upriver.
With all the snow over the last winter, it was highly unlikely the boat had gotten snagged up on the bottom somewhere. More possibly, the rapidly flowing current had proved a challenge to making good headway.
All I knew is that I couldn’t wait to set eyes on Estella. To hold her in my arms. Touch our lips together. Feel her silken skin slide beneath my fingers. Her moist wetness as I buried myself inside her.
My cock twitched, and I hardened with the thought. Dammit. The reason I’d chosen to hire a willing whore last night was to try and tame the beast raging in my trousers and to also stem the unexpected ache of disappointment to know Estella hadn’t yet arrived.
Yet another reason why it was best for Bret to take my place with her initially.
After so long an absence in my bed, I didn’t want to frighten her by a wild fuck on our first meeting. It’d take time to get to know one another. A gentlewoman wouldn’t willingly come to a perfect stranger’s bed.
Obviously I didn’t have a problem with such considerations. Couldn’t even remember if the whore last night had even told me her name. Or if Drew and Evan had succeeded in making their choices before I whisked the first one I saw up the stairs and into a dark room.
But when I came out of the bathhouse to Drew’s enormous grin, I knew he’d found himself a little slice of heaven last night too.
Or so I thought until he opened his mouth. “She’s here.”
I stopped in the process of wiping my chin. “She’s…?”
“Here,” Drew emphasized.
“Estella?” My chest tightened. I could barely choke out the next question that formed in my mind. “Fort Union?”
My brother was gonna shake his brain loose if he didn’t slow down with the nodding. “She arrived last night right around dark.”
I stared off to the roofline of the main house above the fort’s whitewashed walls. I couldn’t – almost didn’t want to – believe she’d actually followed through and made that long, arduous journey. All by herself.
Was she in one piece? Safe and unharmed?
My hands clenched into fists. I should never have allowed her to travel so far all alone. What had I been thinking? If anyone had touched her, I’d kill ‘em. If anyone had hurt her in any way, I’d never forgive myself.
“And you’re sure it’s her and not some other woman?” I asked my still grinning and nodding brother.
“The docks have been buzzing with news that a real lady stepped off one of the steamboats, all decked out in silk and lace that everyone was almost begging to touch.”
My blood boiled at the thought of someone so much as thinking of touching a single thread of Estella’s garments.
“So I took it upon myself…” Drew’s chin lifted as he threw his shoulders back and puffed out his chest. “…and verified at the fort that a Miss Estella Davies arrived and has a room up at the main house.”
My mind spun and I could barely breathe. Should I go up and demand to see her? Here and now? She’d have to be exhausted after so long a trip. Would she still be in bed? Would she allow me to join her in it?
“Did you leave a message for her?”
The grin dissipated. “I…I didn’t think to do that. Soon as I found out, I ran here to tell you.”
“Don’t worry about it, Drew. You did good.” I patted him on the shoulder as I passed and wrinkled my nose. “Probably better I take care of it myself anyway while you go get a wash and shave. Appearances, you know.”
“Yeah. Okay.”
“Go find Evan while I head inside and make sure he’s shorn.” I instructed. “I’ll leave her a message, and then we’ll meet at the offices on the docks and get business taken care of, okay?”
“Um…sure.” Shoulders slumped, Drew slunk away to find our brother. I only hoped Evan was in the process of getting cleaned up too.
My focus remained on the roofline where my bride slept. Waited for me to gradually awaken her to the joys that awaited us.
The closer the walls rose, the more my palms sweated. Rivulets trickled down my spine as I bypassed the gates and entered the noisy compound.
What would she think of me? How would I compare to the men she’d known?
Piss poor for sure. Estella was used to dealing with well-dressed, well-spoken, educated men from back east. I was none of those things.
I wiped my palms along my trousers, tucked and re-tucked my shirttail, then pushed aside the duster and checked my belt and the two pistols I kept slung across my hips as I mounted the stairs of the main house.
Then stopped.
Did men back east wear their weapons in view? The duster did a shit job of hiding mine. Would it bother her to see them so readily displayed? I’d heard some women were uncomfortable around a firearm. Well, she’d just have to get used to it out here. If a man didn’t know how to shoot, he’d be the one in the pine box.
Come to think of it, if a woman didn’t know how to shoot out here on the Montana Territory, she was as good as fucked by any man who happened upon her – and no one but a Carston was gonna fuck Estella from now on. I’d just have to sit her down and explain things the hard and straight-forward way. Then take her out and teach her a thing or two about guns and self-defense.
And show her all manner of other pleasures.
But I couldn’t think about that now. Right now I had to meet and lay eyes on my bride for the first time. I tugged my hat off and swept a hand through my freshly shorn hair, then wrenched open the door.
The foyer housed several area businessmen and a small group of Indians heading off into a side room with two representatives from the fur trader company. Evan usually dealt with them in his negotiations.
A couple of men with high top hats stood out across the way. Not from around here. Railroaders perhaps?
There’d been talk for a time about some wealthy group looking to establish a northern rail line through the area – here or through Miles City. From the looks of things, the talk had produced a bit of interest. A rail line sure would help get our cattle to the stockyards faster. But faster didn’t always mean more money in the rancher’s pockets.
With the obvious growing interest, I’d need to find out more information on any plans being hatched – and how it’d potentially affect the area ranchers. Someone had to protect our interests.
But thoughts of cattle, railroads, and market pricing faded into the background when a skirt swished along the stairwell treads. Blue silk and black lace, like the variations of the Montana sky, drew mine – and every other eye – toward the vision descending from the second floor, dainty hand tucked into the crook of an elderly gentleman’s arm.
I didn’t even have to guess who she was. My heart – and cock – knew right away.
Estella.
Apparently her father hadn’t abandoned her to a lonely journey after all. Perhaps the loss of his daughter to the Montana prairie had been the catalyst to mend the family rift. But how long did the father mean to stay? My brothers and I hadn’t planned on seeking rooms in the main house. Or considered a long stay here at the fort. We had work to do back at the ranch.
But if Estella’s father judged any of us inadequate, we were gonna be up shit creek. Until the vows were read and ink dry on the marriage certificate, we’d a
ll have to be on our best behavior.
Especially with the way my cock responded to being in the same room with my intended. It pressed hard against my trousers as I took in the feminine form before me. The tiny waist bloomed to generous hips that reminded me of the flower bulbs my mother used to plant beneath the kitchen window. She’d always said full hips were one of the signs of a fertile woman.
Rounded breasts that could feed a dozen children sat beneath the porcelain column of her neck. Raven black curls streamed out from beneath the frilly bonnet.
But the eyes stopped me as her gaze came to rest questioningly on mine. They arrested my breath. Stilled my heartbeat. Her eyes were blue like the deepest spring the cattle drank from on our property. Blue like the twilight. Wide as the sky.
Sky. I felt like the past had snuck up and slapped me down. Like it laughed at some cruel joke it played at my expense.
Because Estella’s eyes were just like my dead wife’s.
Chapter Eleven
Estella
The moment our gazes locked, I knew it was Cole. I read the myriad thoughts played out on his chiseled, sun-kissed face in that split second. Only one stood out with distinct clarity.
I repulsed him.
My step on the tread faltered. If it were not for Mr. Stubbs, I’d have tumbled to the ground floor at Cole’s feet. From the shock and disappointment on my intended’s face, it’d probably been for the best if I’d have let go and allowed the stairs to do what I wished in that moment and broken my neck. Anything to carry me away from the misery of yet more disappointment.
Not that I was disappointed in what I beheld. Cole was handsome. Strikingly so. Tall and quite broad-shouldered. Light brown tresses that appeared recently cut. Strong chin – not weak like Alan’s. Clear, green eyes that sparkled like Mother’s emerald necklace Father had given to Abby on her wedding day.
