by Cheri Chaise
I sucked in a shocked breath. “A claw? From what kind of animal?”
“Nah…a hammer claw,” he clarified. “Had a bit of a misunderstanding between me and a bedframe a few years ago.”
“I’m sorry…a misunderstanding with a bedframe?”
He nodded. “When I took a hammer to the thing to show it who was boss, I lost my grip when it bounced back and bit me good.”
“The bedframe?” I gripped the seat this time when we lumbered over another, shallower hole.
“The hammer. Claw got me all the way to the bone right here.” He switched the team’s leads to one hand as he indicated the center point of the scar. “Broke the bone clean through.”
I cringed. The aches and pains I felt were nothing to that kind of bodily trauma. Yet Drew still smiled throughout the whole story.
“My brother Bret set the bone and stitched me right up. Now I’m good as new.”
My grin matched his. “That’s right. I was certain Cole had mentioned another brother. He’s the one that wanted to be a…what was it…veterary…”
“Veterinarian.”
“Yes, that’s it.”
“Bret’s a few years older’n me. Breeds and raises horses. Takes care of all our animals in some way.”
I tapped fingers against his forearm. “And takes care of you too, it appears.”
There went that infectious laugh again. “Yeah.” His green eyes brightened. “And now you get to take care of us too.”
The reminder of my sorely lacking skills tempered my response. “I certainly hope I can live up to your expectations, Drew.”
His gaze dipped to my décolletage again. And lingered before his eyes rose to meet mine. Except this time they were filled with undisguised heat that threatened to challenge the sun’s rays.
“Me too, Estella. Me too.”
Yes, perhaps I should’ve married this youngest of the Carston brothers instead. His meaning certainly rang through even in my sun-muddled state.
And it had nothing to do with my skills in the kitchen.
Chapter Eighteen
Cole
I had to grudgingly admit – Stella had proven more capable than I’d thought possible on the trail to the ranch. She’d sat high on that wagon seat, day after long day, decked out in that ridiculous dress, and hadn’t complained.
Mostly.
A few times during my nightly watch, I’d heard her mumble through chattering teeth as she rummaged around in a trunk, searching by the dying firelight for something else to help keep her warm during the chill nights – instead of me. Or fussing over another tear in her lace. Or a faint groan in a weak moment when she didn’t think anyone noticed.
I almost laughed out loud at the occasional muttered curse. Yes, my Stella was definitely the right one for us.
I couldn’t help but admire the resolute way she conducted herself day after day on the hard trail. But the occasional watery-eyed gaze nearly did me in, though I avoided the urge by looking somewhere other than her face – at least when she was awake.
Drew’s shoulder at times became her pillow when she could no longer keep her eyes open during each day’s long and laborious trek. Only then did her pinched and exhausted face appear peaceful. Serene. That is until she woke up with the jolt from the next rock or washout in the trail.
I also had to keep an eye on my little brother. Even though he knew about the plan to ease Stella into our family, he sometimes forgot his place in the lineup until I pulled him aside at night to remind him. I considered moving her to Evan’s wagon, but he convinced me the connection to Drew might work in our favor if things didn’t move along soon enough with Bret. But if progress didn’t start out with Bret…?
No. She would accept my brother. Accept us all. Without that, we’d never truly be a fully-functioning family. And not becoming a fully integrated family again was not in the cards. Especially not when I’d sacrificed first rights to my bride.
Drew had to understand his place. I wasn’t about to let anyone but Bret have her before me.
Including whoever had followed us.
Though they’d never revealed themselves, Evan and I could still feel them out there. Watching. Waiting. Seeking a moment when we let our collective guard down. It served only to make us more vigilant.
But the homestead finally neared. If I didn’t know it by the familiar sights, I knew from the pull as the horses increased their pace when they sensed the comfort of food and shelter just around the bend and up the hill.
Split rail fences we’d spent years cutting and building now lined the dusty road. Fluffy white sheep, heavy with fleece and more than ready for shearing, dotted the verdant landscape, trotting off with frightened bleats as we clattered and clanked by. The low of milk cows in the fenced pasture farther on up carried on the cooling breeze.
Above the tree line the weathervane on the barn roof came into view first. Then the whitewashed stables. But none of it was as satisfying as that first view of the two-story house in the midst of it all when we rounded the protective trees. I felt like racing Buck along the final stretch and scattering the chickens out in the yard just so I could see Stella’s face when she first caught sight of her new home.
But she’d fallen asleep on Drew’s shoulder awhile back. Hard. Nothing had disturbed her. Not a washout or the nicker and snort of horses raised her lolling head this time. I didn’t bother chastising my brother for the tight grip on her waist and risk having her topple over.
Bret came out of the house, the wind blowing and tossing his still long, dark hair. He hadn’t even tied it back. Dammit. Couldn’t he for once do what I’d asked and cut his hair? Why’d he have to be so stubborn?
Oh yeah, he was my brother.
Bret’s smile dissipated when his gaze cut toward the wagon loaded down with trunks, his welcoming wave faltering when he settled on Stella. She was dusty and had a week’s worth of grit on her face and dress, but that did little to cover her beauty.
So why was Bret frowning?
He leapt off the porch and came flying toward as we pulled up near the stables. “Is she sick?”
“Just tired,” I assured.
Bret climbed up beside her and pressed a hand to her forehead then lightly tapped her cheeks. No response. Not even a moan that usually sent blood straight to my cock. Something was wrong.
Very wrong.
I quickly dismounted and tossed Buck’s reins off to one of the approaching hands to settle him in the stables. “Is she breathing?”
“Yeah,” Bret responded as he laid her back in his arms. “But labored. She’s burning up…and probably dehydrated.” An accusing glare shot my way.
Drew worried his hat in his hands. “I just thought she was extra tired today.”
“It’s okay, Drew,” Evan said, walking up alongside him. “No one’s blaming you. She’ll be fine.”
But Evan’s true concern mirrored my own when his stare connected with mine over the harnesses. Bret handed Stella off to me then jumped down.
“Get her into the house,” he instructed. “Drew, grab two buckets and bring me some cold water straight from the stream…not the well.”
“Stream…got it.”
The youngest rushed off as I carried Stella to the front door. It felt like the dress weighed more than the fragile woman I held in my arms.
“Evan, go in the barn and bring me the salve I use on the sheep after shearing,” Bret called from behind before following me into the house. “Her room’s all ready. Just put her on the bed and then go get some clean cloths while I strip her.”
This wasn’t how I’d pictured this moment of carrying our bride across the threshold of her new home. In my frustration over a few trunks, I’d gone and neglected my wife’s most basic needs. Instead of truly protecting her, I’d focused on bandits that had never materialized. I could almost hear Sky scolding me for such mistreatment.
I snatched an armload of cloths from below the kitchen washbasin then clomped back
into Stella’s room to find Bret had cut off the remains of her tattered dress and was struggling to unlace some restrictive contraption from Stella’s torso. I’d only ever seen such things on whores sometimes.
Fuck this. I whipped out a knife. “Move.”
In one slash, I severed the cords holding the thing together. They sprang apart with such force, the suddenly loose strands lashed our arms like in the days when Pa had taken his belt to our asses.
Stella immediately took a deep breath as if she’d held it in for a week, her chest expanding up then slowly down with a moan as if she was in pain. But she still didn’t wake up when Bret tugged the thing out from underneath her and tossed it to me.
Beneath the thin and dirty cotton next to her pale skin, what looked like angry bruises covered nearly every inch of her torso, a visible rebuke of my treatment of her on the trail.
I held up the monstrous garment and scowled at the stained oddity. “What the hell is this thing?”
“It’s called a corset,” Bret explained. “Though I’ve never seen one laced up the front before.”
“This is something the whores wear. Why the hell was she wearing it?”
Evan came through the open doorway and handed the jar of salve over to our brother. “Women in the cities wear them too, Cole.”
“What the fuck for?”
Evan shrugged while Bret prepared to expose Stella to us all with a slice down the front of the thin cotton.
But he stopped. “If she wakes up, it probably won’t help her feel any better to have all of us standing over her when she’s naked….at least, not yet.”
I had to agree. “And if Drew sees her like this, he’ll obsess over her more than he probably already is.”
Evan nodded. “I’ll stay out here with him.”
“Just set the buckets by the door and knock when he arrives with them,” I said. Before closing the door, I shoved the corset into his hands. “Then take this outside and burn the damn thing.”
It wasn’t even a minute later the knock sounded, and Bret and I got to work with the cool, clear water. I barely noticed her nudity, the rosebuds of her nipples, as the wet cloth came away with something more than just dust and sweat.
“Aw, shit. Blood?”
Bret rinsed and wrung out his cloth before examining the evidence with a critical eye then sniffed. “That’s blood alright. Probably infection’s trying to set in too.” His forehead creased with unspoken accusations. “Was she in that corset the entire way here?”
“I guess so.”
“You guess?” He gawped at me then shook his head in disgust. “Why didn’t you help her out of it?”
“I didn’t know about it, okay?” I ground my teeth in frustration. “She never said anything.”
“Knowing how you can get on the trail, you probably drove hard every day.” His voice remained quiet but anger seethed between his words. “I imagine she was too afraid to say anything.”
“She certainly wasn’t afraid to barter for all her trunks though,” I muttered, remembering the flash and fire she’d exhibited.
“And I’m sure that’s what set you off from the get go, didn’t it? She got the best of you, and you wanted to make her pay by making that trip as fast and uncomfortable as possible.”
I kept my mouth shut, grinding away my teeth as the bucket water grew cloudier and cloudier with each rinse of the cloth.
“Damn you to hell, Cole. You can be a real fucking bastard without even trying most days.” Deep, dark eyes glinted like two pistols pointed my way, ready to shoot or smash against either side of my head. “She’s a refined city woman, not one of those brothel whores who are used to riding hard. I swear, sometimes you get your head so far up your ass, you either can’t see or refuse to acknowledge what’s right in front of you.”
No one but Bret ever got away with calling me on my shit – and this time, I deserved an extra dose heaped upon me like burning coals. “Yup, I was a fucking bastard.”
No longer able to stomach the bits of dried blood coating the cloth, I moved to wash her long, shapely legs, avoiding the feminine patch at the apex. But even a glance out of the corner of my eye sent my imagination wild with thoughts of those legs willingly opening to us. Of my tongue dipping in for the first taste.
If she survived my mistreatment, that is. Someday I’d more than make it up to her. I swore under my breath and made a vow right then and there to be the best lover a man could be.
Bret continued to stew in silence while my cock hardened. I had to be one sick fucker, fantasizing over sex while my wife clung fragilely to life. “Will she be okay?”
He switched out the dirty bucket for the clean one, then placed a dampened cloth on her forehead. “With rest and nourishment, I think she’ll come around.”
I laid the rest of the news on him to hopefully cool both of us down too. “One reason I drove us so hard is because we were followed.”
Ministrations halted as he stiffened. “Estella?”
I nodded. “She was attacked by some sick fuckers at Fort Union that tried to rape her.” I quickly continued when Bret’s hand clenched, matching the feeling in my gut as the memory churned. “They didn’t succeed.”
“You shot ‘em?”
“Evan did.”
“Good.” His throaty growl nearly matched mine.
“On the ride back, they stayed far enough away that we never saw them outright, but we knew they were still there.”
“You got a plan for that too I take it?”
“Stay vigilant,” I said. “And when Stella’s up and around and settled, we teach her how to defend herself…the Montana way.”
“She probably won’t like it,” Bret muttered. “Most women don’t really care for guns.”
“Doesn’t matter or not if she likes it.”
The bark of laughter didn’t even stir Stella. “If she’s willing to fight you over a bunch of trunks, do you really think she won’t have the spirit and spunk to fight you on this too?”
“You know, I kinda hope she does.” I chuckled as I remembered hefting her over my shoulder and chucking her in the wagon. “You shoulda seen her…all that spit and fire. Makes me hard just thinking about it.” I shook my head to clear away those thoughts for now. “But learning to defend herself is one fight she won’t win.”
A hiked brow shot my way. “You sure about that?”
Bret opened the jar of the foul-smelling salve shit and gently caressed it over the wounds along her ribs. His long fingers slid sensually over her skin. Soothing. Calming. Arousing.
As he continued to stroke and massage in the salve, Stella took another deep breath. Her face relaxed as she seemed to melt into the bed at my brother’s touch.
Yeah, I was right to make sure Bret went first. He’d have our skittish filly roused again in no time, primed and ready to embrace us all.
“Defending what’s ours is what we do,” I reminded him. “Besides, she’s a Carston now.”
And I couldn’t wait to make her truly one of us – in every way.
Chapter Nineteen
Estella
Hot. Cold. Hot. Cold. So cold.
First I burned through the long, sun-scorched days of travel. The nights had held a chill, but of late I couldn’t get warm no matter how many layers I wore. And the layers had grown heavy. So achingly heavy.
I tossed and turned through the long night, picking at the skirts that weighed me down and tangled my legs in their silk-spun webs.
Spider webs.
Why did the oppressors have to be those pesky eight-legged creatures that skittered across floors and ceilings and haunted my dreams?
I grabbed a broom and swatted at them as they came closer. Surrounded me. Latched onto my skirts.
“Shhh.”
A strange voice filled my head. I tried to bat away the spiders that trailed across my forehead and trickled down my cheeks, but my arms too were restrained by the frozen webbing. I fought to free myself from their enta
nglements until the voice calmed and chased away my tormentors.
“I’ve got you. You’re safe now on the ranch. No one can harm you here.”
Smooth. Masculine. The ranch? A memory tried to break through but exhaustion tugged me toward the darkness.
“Here, drink this.”
Parched lips parted to eagerly partake of the fountain that washed away the dirt and grit that coated my mouth. Rejuvenated my shrunken and shriveled tongue. Offered life to that which wasted away.
Refreshment ended all too soon. “That’s enough. Now you need to rest.”
Soothing warmth pressed to my forehead then stroked down my cheek before flooding my body with its blessed presence. I breathed deep for the first time in a week then snuggled deeper into the cocoon. Safe. Secure in my lover’s arms.
Then slept deeper than I had in days. Months. Maybe even in a lifetime.
~~~
Awareness crept over me as consciousness slowly dragged me from the groggy depths. I luxuriated in the feel of the sun’s warm rays through the pane of glass. Of the softness of the feather pillow beneath my head. Smooth sheets against bare skin.
Sheets? I was in a bed – a real bed – for the first time in far too long. I’d almost forgotten what it felt like to luxuriate in cushioned comfort.
But bare skin? I jerked wide awake – then groaned and flopped back against the pillow as awareness thrust fully on my stiff and aching body.
“You’re awake.”
My eyes flew open as I searched the unfamiliar room for the source of the deep, male voice. When my blurry vision settled on the man at my bedside, I shrunk into the thick feather ticking in fear when he reached out a hand to touch my cheek.
Black as night hair hung over his broad shoulders. A tanned face with prominent cheekbones. Dark, yet kind, eyes rimmed in red. He smelled of sweet hay and – horse?
I searched my addled memory but couldn’t place him. Then it all rushed over me like soot and cinders belched from the train engine. The steamship. The fort. The Indians.
