by Eden Carson
“Not ‘til after your dinner,” Catherine shouted above the din. “Now get out there and help your father and Mister Jackson and earn your cake.”
“Now where was I?” Catherine spun around and continued her demand, as if no interruption had occurred. “Stop your cheating ways, that’s where I was. Miss Sue, I can tell from the gleam in your eye that you’re trying to sway the odds in your favor.”
“I can’t imagine what you’re talking about. We’ve just been sharing recipes like two old maiden aunts.” Sue winked at Ruth.
“Why, I just know you’ve been shining up Jackson’s image, and his alone, so you can win our little wager.” Catherine spun about so she could stare Ruth squarely in the eye. “Tell me truly, now. Have you been talking about recipes or men?”
“Well, I –.” Ruth couldn’t explain why, exactly, but she stammered her reply before breaking into a telling blush.
“I knew it,” Catherine squealed, spinning around to face Sue. “You shameless cheat! You’d have her married to Jackson without even considering her other options.” Catherine grabbed Ruth by the apron strings and quickly propelled her out the kitchen door to the front parlor.
“Why waste her time, when we both know he is the best catch by far,” Sue replied. “And don’t you forget – I like my laundry crisp.”
Ruth found herself half way up the stairs before she thought to ask where Catherine was taking her.
“Why to change your dress, of course,” Catherine answered. “You can’t catch the eye of every eligible bachelor in that old rag.”
“But I’m very grateful for the loan of this dress,” Ruth stammered. “Sue was most generous.”
“Sue’s nearly sixty. You can’t wear that thing to the only dance we’ll have all year long. I brought you something much more suitable, you’ll see.”
Catherine carefully set a package on the bed, where she began to un-wrap the plain brown paper. “Shut the door, quick, before someone sees,” Catherine said.
Ruth complied, mostly because her curiosity was piqued. The borrowed brown cotton dress Sue had loaned her was just about the nicest thing she had owned since before the War.
“Here it is. Have you ever seen anything so perfect?” Catherine asked in a hushed tone, as she pulled a full length dress from the paper wrapping and held it up for Ruth’s inspection.
The dress was pure cobalt blue velvet, nearly unadorned except for the emerald green underskirt and a row of matching buttons down the front. “Is that velvet?” Ruth whispered, afraid she had forgotten what quality looked like.
“The real thing – Go on, feel it.” Catherine coaxed. “Have you ever felt anything so fine in all your life?”
“Not since my mother’s wedding dress,” Ruth replied. “It was pure silk.”
Ruth recalled fondly her ailing mother asking Ruth to take that dress out each night and sharing her dying hopes for her daughter’s happiness. “I had to trade her dress for a train ticket to my aunt’s home after my mother passed.”
Catherine held up the creation for Ruth to see against her skin. “Well, then, this is perfect. My sister made this dress and never was able to wear it. She’d be tickled to know it’s going to help a friend of mine catch the eye of her future husband. She was a true romantic, my little sister.”
“Where’s your sister now?” Ruth asked and quickly regretted the sad look that entered Catherine’s eyes.
“She died some years back, when we made the trek out West. She drowned crossing a river when our wagon turned over.”
“I bet you miss her dearly,” Ruth commiserated. Death was so common in these times, some had grown hardened to the need to mourn, but Ruth reached out anyway for Catherine’s hands and held on tightly.
“Now stop that, or you’ll have us both in tears and looking a mess before the first jig. My sister loved dancing and always dreamed of designing fancy dresses for elegant ladies. She thought she could sell her clothes to the wives and daughters of merchants who’d grown rich during the gold rush.”
“Oh, I can’t wear this.” Ruth reluctantly started to hand back the beautiful creation. “You save it for yourself or sell it for your family.”
“Oh, I couldn’t have squeezed into this even before my first child, much less now. My last boy just about did my figure in.” Catherine shook her head fondly. “My sister would have wanted a kind person to appreciate her work and remember where it came from. She’d turn in her grave if I just sold it to a stranger, since it’s now her only surviving creation.”
“Then save it for your daughters.” Ruth insisted, not sure how she could accept such kindness from a woman she’d barely known two weeks.
“No, my mind was made up before I came over,” Catherine insisted. “You’re going to wear this dress and forge a new life here in the West. It’ll be a tribute to the life my sister almost had. You do this for me, Ruth. It’d make my sister happy to know something of her spirit made it out west.”
Ruth couldn’t think of another good reason to refuse so she hugged Catherine tightly. “Thank you then. I’ll be honored to wear something so beautiful. Your sister was lucky to have someone like you in her family.”
Ruth quickly undressed and Catherine helped her fasten the dress in place, before turning to face her transformed reflection in the tiny mirror the room afforded.
Catherine smiled beautifully. “Oh, I am definitely going to win this bet. Maybe I should talk Sue into another one – maybe over the timing of your first born.”
Ruth couldn’t stop a burst of laughter. “Catherine!” she admonished, trying to her best to sound shocked, but secretly imagining the look in Jackson’s eyes when he first saw her in this dress.
“Nine months. That’s my wager. Don’t let my sister down, now.” Catherine gave Ruth a quick hug from behind before dashing back down the stairs, in search of Sue and new odds.
Chapter 57
The sound of a fiddler warming up lured Ruth away from the mirror and over to the bedroom window. Her gaze immediately found Jackson, leaning carelessly against the split rail fence surrounding the kitchen garden. She could hear the men’s muffled voices and smell the earthiness of their cigars through the open window.
When Jackson looked up in her direction, Ruth’s fingers unconsciously touched her lips, recalling the feel of him waking her that very morning with a stolen kiss. She’d tried to muster a token protest that he had snuck into her room so early in the morning, but never got the words passed her swollen lips and the small bribe of hot coffee.
As Jackson continued to hold her gaze from the grass below, Ruth wondered if he could read her thoughts, as a satisfied smile broke slowly across his face.
Emmett watched his brother lock eyes with Ruth the minute she caught sight of him from the bedroom window. He turned and gave Charlie a friendly jab in the ribs. “Crenshaw, you’d best wrangle a dance from Miss Ruth tonight, ‘cause my money says the next chance you’ll get is at her wedding.”
“What do you mean?” The disappointment at being too late was clear in his voice. “Who’s she marrying?”
“She’s going to marry me,” Jackson quietly replied, never taking his eyes off Ruth.
“But Miss Sue didn’t say anything about an engagement to me this afternoon,” Crenshaw countered, doubt evident in his voice.
“She hasn’t accepted yet,” Jackson admitted, smiling up at the watching Ruth as he tipped his hat to her. “But she will,” he added cockily.
“Well that doesn’t count. She’s still fair game,” Crenshaw insisted, pulling himself up to his full height as he turned to face Jackson squarely.
Jackson lazily moved off the fence, stepping into Crenshaw’s path as he tossed his cigar aside. “Have a care how you speak about the future mother of my children.”
“I didn’t mean anything by it,” Crenshaw dissembled, as he looked anywhere but into Jackson’s eyes. “I have the utmost respect for any female who has gone head-to-head with armed train robbers. I’m
just talking about fair competition. I could become the marrying type, for the right woman.”
The absurdity of that truth relaxed Jackson so much that he slapped his young friend on the back. “I can stand the competition, Crenshaw. Dance with Ruth, if you’d like. It won’t matter.”
Jackson had been contemplating taking his seduction further, but hadn’t quite made up his mind. Once Charlie stated his intentions, the decision was made. Tonight was definitely the night he would take Ruth and make her his.
As Old Mike started a jig on the homemade fiddle he had inherited from his father, Jackson, Emmett, and Charlie joined the other men gathering in the barn. Jackson was always impressed with the effort Sue and the other women took to spruce up the barn. It was a great deal of work for the men to relocate all the livestock for the night as well. Although they grumbled at the aches and pains, it was always worth it when they saw the joy on the faces of the women.
Jackson accepted the proffered glass of Scotch whiskey his brother brought from the barrel they had tapped for the occasion. “Much obliged.”
Emmett nodded in the direction of Charlie and the Jones brothers. All three were surreptitiously trying to hide the flowers they had brought for Ruth. “You sure you don’t want to join the crowd?” His brother teased.
“I’m certain she’ll appreciate my gift more,” Jackson said, patting his coat pocket. He’d filed the papers for Ruth’s own homestead – on prime farmland adjacent to his – with the nearest surveyor’s office the week Ruth and Sue had visited Fort Lyon.
“Hell, that choice piece of land should be enough to convince anyone to wake up to your ugly face every morning,” Emmett ribbed.
“It’s hers regardless,” Jackson explained. “I put it in her name alone.”
Emmett whistled at the surprise gesture. “Be a mite touchy if she falls for Crenshaw and they live happily ever after as your new neighbors.”
Jackson punched his brother on the shoulder for that comment before downing the last of his whiskey.
Their banter was interrupted by a slow whistle from one of the men standing to their left, as all gazes turned to the barn door.
As Ruth walked through, every pair of male eyes turned to her. A surprised hush fell over the crowd, interrupted only by the sound of Old Mike’s fiddle as he dished out the final chords of a lively jig.
Ruth knew she looked pretty in her borrowed dress, but searched for Jackson’s reaction just the same. When she locked eyes with him, she knew instinctively that he found her more than pretty. His heated gaze took in every inch of her, encased in the cobalt blue of her velvet dress.
She smoothed her palms down the sides of the soft fabric, secretly thrilled at his reaction.
Her unconsciously seductive gesture was meant for Jackson, but affected all the men just the same.
Charles Xavier Crenshaw awoke from his daze first, and quickly got the jump on his competitors as he ran up to Ruth and asked for the first dance.
All eyes turned to Jackson, to gauge his reaction, as Ruth let herself be pulled into the first waltz.
Jackson kept his expression carefully neutral, until his little brother chided. “You might want to reconsider those flowers.”
Jackson had to fight the urge to punch his brother in the face for the first time in thirty years. He was forced to watch his woman smile flirtatiously at Charlie, as the young man effortlessly twirled her around in a waltz.
When their dance ended, Old Mike began another slow tune that allowed Jebediah Jones to clutch both of Ruth’s delicate hands in his as they performed the steps of the dance. Jackson glared at Mike, wondering if the old man was consorting with his brother to goad Jackson into losing his temper.
He quietly circled the dance floor, ostensibly to refill his empty glass, but never once taking his eyes off of Ruth. He’d promised himself the day before to allow Ruth her day of flirtation. He wanted her to dance with every available man there – and at the end of the night, choose him. He had reasoned in the clear light of day that convincing Ruth to break an engagement with her family’s choice of a husband would be a good deal more challenging than overlooking the local men. And being young still, and having no doubt missed the dances a girl would normally experience outside of war time, Jackson had somewhat arrogantly decided to allow her this night of fun.
That was before tonight – and before that dress. And definitely a decision made before he had to watch Ruth in the arms of other men, holding her too close in her perfectly fitted blue velvet gown.
When Charlie made his way toward Ruth for a second dance, Jackson had had enough. He cut Charlie off mid-sentence as he pulled Ruth into a waltz. “This dance is mine.”
Ruth started to protest, but swallowed her voice the minute she felt Jackson’s familiar arms circle her waist and pull her in tight. As he twirled her among the other dancers, his fingers spread wide to settle just inches below her quickly swelling breasts.
“Jackson, the others –” Ruth whispered, as she cautiously looked around to see who might be watching them.
“It’s too dark in here,” Jackson reassured her. “No one can see my touch or your reaction to it.”
Ruth’s imagination took flight, as she secretly wondered what he might touch next, under the cover of darkness.
“You look beautiful tonight,” Jackson said.
“It’s the dress,” she explained. “Catherine’s sister made it for her a long time ago, but it no longer fits. She loaned it to me and –” Ruth stopped her rambling, unable to look away from his eyes.
“It’s you, not the dress,” he insisted. “You could be dressed in rags, and no man in this room would take his eyes off you tonight.”
She blushed prettily, absurdly pleased to be courted for the first time in her life. As their dance came to an end, she curtsied to him, in deference to the chivalry of times past. “You’re too kind, sir.”
“I’m not being kind,” he insisted. “It’s the truth. Every available man here wants you to choose him. You’ll be able to fill my house with all the flowers everyone is waiting to give you.”
Ruth laughed good-naturedly. “I’m just the only new face.”
“She’s taken, Jeb,” Jackson curtly replied to the man’s quiet tap on his shoulder, denying the Jones brother another dance with Ruth.
Jackson led her back onto the makeshift dance floor, signaling Mike to play another song. He continued his conversation with Ruth, ignoring the angry glares from the other men gathered around the whiskey barrel.
“Do you honestly think these men routinely travel for hours, even days in some cases, just to attend every country dance held in these parts?” Jackson asked.
“I thought they came for the new baby,” she answered in all honesty.
“New babies are of no interest to a single man, Ruth. They came to see you – the woman who not only survived an armed train robbery, but helped me fight off the men responsible. It’s not every woman who could do that. Most would have turned around and headed back East. But not you – you fought them off, then set off alone into the wilderness to pursue your man.”
At her confused look, Jackson explained, “The sailor – your fiancé.”
Ruth immediately blushed at her lie, knowing from the look on Jackson’s face that he was starting to doubt the man’s existence. She quickly changed the subject, not wanting to ruin the night with the truth of her marriage. “Is that what they are saying about me?” She asked, in genuine astonishment.
“That’s what I’ve been saying about you,” he said. “Because that’s how I see you.”
Ruth’s pupils darkened and swelled in response to the pride that was clear in his voice.
Her reaction was not missed by Jackson, who quickly took advantage of the moment and swept her outside the barn and its pale lantern light.
“Prepare yourself,” he whispered, as he twirled her beyond hearing and sight of the others, coming to a stop under a towering oak. He pressed her back up against th
e ancient tree, as his powerful hands caressed slowly along her sides.
“I’m done waiting, and I’m done competing with other men. Tonight I have every intention of seducing you – fully and completely, with no more barriers between us.”
She glanced up at Jackson from beneath her lowered lashes, expecting him to kiss her. When he didn’t touch her further or retreat, Ruth looked up into his eyes. Her breath came rapidly in and out, whether from the exertion of the dance or anticipation of Jackson’s touch, even she didn’t know.
“Tonight, Ruth. No more waiting.” When she didn’t protest or look away from his insistent gaze, Jackson stroked both hands up her soft velvet sides, cupping her waiting breasts in his calloused hands.
She sucked in her breath, and let her eyes drift closed as she felt him take down her heavy hair and slowly stoke the rich length of it. She felt his touch in every part of her body when he pushed all ten of his fingers up into her silky hair, and dragged their rough surface slowly across her scalp.
She melted when Jackson turned her head to the side and gently stroked his heated tongue across the distended cord of her neck. He repeated the caress with his lips, coming slowly to the nape of her neck, massaging her hair and scalp. He gently traced the outer edge of her ear with his mouth and tongue, until he took the lobe in his lips and gently tugged, repeating the caress as Ruth moaned in response.
She sucked in her breath sharply when she felt Jackson’s wet tongue stroke her inner ear, penetrating and retreating, in a slow, seductive rhythm. She felt her insides grow damp and swell in response to his tongue, and she pulled him closer to rub her aching breasts against the rough surface of his coat.
He let Ruth stroke herself against his rock hard chest just once before he deliberately held her back – just inches from satisfaction. He brushed his impatient hands up and over the curve of one breast, holding her perfectly still with his other hand.
