Ryder (Prairie Grooms, Book Two)

by Kit Morgan

  Four

  Constance tried to eat but couldn’t. The sudden realization she was married to this man for the rest of her life sucked the breath out of her. She stood and leaned against the kitchen table for support. “Oh, when did I become so selfish?” she muttered as she realized it wasn’t her husband that upset her, but his lack of comfortable assets. In this case, a simple parlor chair would do. The man didn’t even have a tablecloth.

  She studied the crude room and tried to think of ways to brighten it up, but the cold wind coming through the open window forced her to huddle by the stove. Ryder suddenly appeared in the nearest frame, and without so much as looking at her, began to nail a burlap sack over the opening, shutting out the rain and wind, but also the light. Constance panicked, she hated the dark, and sought the comfort of a lamp but couldn’t find one anywhere. Did the man not even own a candle?

  Constance moaned and sat heavily in the nearby chair. She was chilled to the bone, and couldn’t get warm no matter how long she sat by their meager source of heat. The stove was small, and she belatedly wondered how she would bake anything in it. There was only enough room on the stove top for a coffee pot and frying pan. Exasperated by her own thoughts, she threw her hands in the air and laughed. “What does it matter? I don’t know how to bake any way!”

  She listened to Ryder as he hammered a sack over another window, blocking out what little light was left. There was a third window, and once that was covered, she’d be sitting in total darkness. “I can do this, I am not going to cry again,” she told herself. “I can make this into a home!”

  The hammering stopped, and she sat, swallowed in darkness, and froze. Why she was afraid of the dark she didn’t know, she just was. Perhaps because their older brother Charles used to tell her and her sisters horrible stories when they were young, all of which took place in the deepest darkest of settings. All horrifying, and all ending in tragedy.

  She jumped out of her chair when Ryder burst through the door. “All done! Now the rain and wind can’t get in!” he said happily.

  Constance shook from his sudden entrance, and held a hand over her chest to still her racing heart. She looked at him, or what she thought was him. He’d already closed the door, plunging the room into blackness. She listened as he shuffled around, heard the strike of a match, then sighed in relief when he lit a lantern. “Where did you get that?” she asked.

  “What, this?” he asked pointing to the lantern.

  She nodded, her brow furrowed, and shivered.

  “It was on the front porch. I forgot I left it outside.” He glanced around. “Done run out of candles. I guess we’ll be needin’ to go to town for a few supplies.” He sighed, set the lantern on the table, and then closed the distance between them. He looked down into her eyes, and she fought to keep from crying again. She was cold, and could feel the heat coming off his body despite the fact his coat was soaked. He took it off and tossed it over the chair. “I’m sorry.”

  She swallowed hard. “For what?”

  “For not being the husband you expected. I can see you’re disappointed in me.”

  She shook her head. “No, no never. It’s just that … I thought …”

  “I’d have more?” His eyes darted around the cabin. “I will, I promise. But when you’re first startin’ out, this is all a lot of men have. In fact I have more than most. Heck, ol Cutty lives in a cave. I at least have a cabin.”

  “He lives in a cave?”

  Ryder nodded. “Way up in the hills behind us. Don’t know how long he’s been livin’ up there, never thought to ask, but from the looks of him, it’s been a long time.” He changed their positions, sat in the chair, and pulled her onto his lap. She was too tired from the cold to protest, and let him wrap his arms around her. “Tell ya what, Sugar. Tomorrow, as soon as it stops rainin’, I’ll go to town and get us a few things, the first of which is a wagon. Can’t do much without one at this point.”

  “You don’t own a wagon?”

  “I did, but I gave it away.”

  “Why in Heaven’s name would you do such a thing?”

  He reached up and brushed some loose hair from her face. “Because the family I gave it to needed it more than I did. Wagon trains pass through south of Clear Creek and sometime back, a family had to stay behind on account their wagon got all busted up. They tried to fix it, but couldn’t. They didn’t have much money and couldn’t afford to buy one in town. I happened by and well, I gave them my wagon. I figure one day down the road someone nice will have the chance to return the favor.”

  She sat on his lap in astonishment. “How long ago was that?”

  He shrugged. “Some time last year. Had everything I needed out here already, so it didn’t seem important to replace it until I had to. August brought me lumber and other things I couldn’t carry on horseback, so what was the point?”

  “I see,” she said softly. “That was very generous of you.”

  “I’ll get us one tomorrow, then you and I can go to town proper, just like other folks.”

  She felt the heat from his body and relaxed in his arms. “Thank you, that would make life easier.”

  He held her tighter. “I should have warned you that I didn’t have the kind of place August did. He built his place with a woman and family in mind. I built mine to raise horses.”

  “There’s a big difference between raising a family and raising horses. Did you … not want a family?”

  He reached up, and pulled her head down to rest on his. “I realized a man could get mighty lonely out here all by himself, and why shouldn’t I have some company other than when ol Cutty comes down out of the hills? So when I heard Sadie Cooke was gettin’ mail order brides for the men in town, I put in my order for one.”

  “Is that the only reason you sent for me, to keep from being lonely?”

  He cupped her face with one hand. “No Sugar, there’s lots of other reasons a man needs a woman around.” He swallowed and licked his lips. “For one, it can get mighty cold at night around here in the winter.”

  Heat shot through her as his other arm pulled her closer. He wound his fingers into her hair that had come loose, and pulled her face to his. “What … what are you doing?”

  He smiled. “I want to kiss you somethin’ awful, Sugar. But I don’t want to scare ya.”

  She realized her breathing had picked up, and that her stomach was on fire. “I … I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Well, there’s kissin’-- like what we done when Preacher Jo married us, and then there’s kissin’. And right now you’ve got me all tied up in knots wantin’ to kiss you senseless.”

  “Oh, dear me. That sounds rather … well … what do you mean by senseless?”

  He gave her the barest of smiles as he pulled her face to his, closing the final distance between them, and brushed his lips across hers. The kiss was gentle, and, she sensed, loving. She thought it odd it would feel that way, as he couldn’t possibly be in love with her yet, they barely knew each other. “That there was just a kiss,” he whispered.

  She swallowed hard. “It was?”

  “Was that your first kiss?” he asked, his breath hot against her face. “Other than the one at the church?”

  “Y … yes.”

  “Well then, I guess I’d better give you another one so you can say you’ve had two.”

  “Uh huh …” was all she managed as her body warmed beyond the stove’s heat. He pulled her close, and once again, his lips descended on hers. This time, he kissed her.

  He held her head by the hair, anchoring her in place as his mouth worked its magic on her own. Her head swam, her stomach leaped, and if she hadn’t already been sitting in his lap, she’d be flat on the floor. Never had she experienced such sensations, nor did she expect they existed. Oh sure, her mother had explained things to her and her sisters before leaving England, things a man and a woman did. None of which sounded pleasant, at least according to her mother. But what did her mother know? Apparent
ly not enough to have told Constance how wondrous a kiss could be!

  Ryder deepened the kiss further, and she moaned, causing a tremor of embarrassment to run through her. He broke the kiss, pulling away ever so slightly, and chuckled. “What’s the matter, Sugar? I scare ya?”

  “No,” she breathed as her body became wracked with unfamiliar tremors. “I … I just didn’t expect it to be so …”

  Ryder grinned ear to ear. “Wonderful?”

  She nodded, unable to speak. Good Heavens! She couldn’t even manage to form words at this point. He really had kissed her senseless!

  He rubbed her back with one hand, and pulled her against him with the other. He then simply held her, and to her surprise, began to hum. His voice wasn’t deep and resonating, but light and happy. Somewhere in her kiss-induced fog, she concluded he was a tenor, and wondered how good his voice sounded when he sang.

  “Whatcha thinkin’ darlin’?” he whispered.

  She could only shake her head, words still beyond her.

  He chuckled again. “I’m thinkin’ I need to get you wrapped up in some blankets and put you to bed. You need to stay warm.”

  With great effort, she raised her head and looked at him. “I’m not cold.”

  “You will be, now c’mon, let’s get you tucked in.”

  His voice was gentle, and she melted at the sound of it. Suddenly his ramshackle cabin, the cold, and lack of comforts were forgotten. Only the man in whose arms she found herself mattered. He looked into her eyes, stroked her cheek with one finger, and smiled. “Welcome home, Mrs. Jones.”

  * * *

  His new wife was the most delectable morsel of womanhood Ryder had ever seen. Too bad she coughed all night and he didn’t get a chance to taste her. But the kiss they’d shared was beyond what even he had imagined, and he couldn’t wait to kiss her again. As soon as she was over her cold that is, he couldn’t afford to get sick.

  He’d held her all night upon his rickety cot, and realizing there was barely room for the two of them, decided he’d better see about building a proper bed. He began to make a mental list of all the things that needed tending to. Obtain a wagon, build a bed, put in windows, finish the roof, and he supposed he’d better get his hands on some pots and pans. He only had a frying pan and a coffee pot. They’d served him well this last year, but would never do for Constance.

  There was just one problem. He didn’t have any money. None that he wanted to part with anyway. Othello needed to be kept in prime condition if he was going to use him as a stud horse. In fact, Mr. White might be coming by today to take a look at him. Good Lord! How could he have forgotten?

  He studied the horse as he munched hay in his stall. “You sure are causing me trouble. I hope my new wife understands.” He shook his head and tossed hay into Banjo’s stall. He’d gotten up early to tend to the morning chores, careful not to waken his wife, especially after the rough night she had. She’d slept in her clothes, which was fine. He wasn’t about to consummate their marriage while she was sick and hoped the incredible kiss they shared didn’t make him that way. But she’d caught a chill, and not anything contagious. He hoped.

  “Have a nice night?”

  Ryder jumped. He’d forgotten all about Cutty. “I slept if that’s what ya mean.”

  “That ain’t what I mean and you know it.”

  “A real man doesn’t discuss those things. That’s private.”

  “I meant no disrespect, boy. You’re married, you do what you want with your wife. But you ain’t exactly prepared to have babies.”

  Ryder turned to him. Cutty was leaning against a pitchfork with a sloppy grin on his face. “What do you mean by that?”

  “Look around you, boy. Ya ain’t got a decent house for a woman the likes of her let alone a passel of youngins’.”

  Ryder blew out a long breath. Cutty was right. If Constance were to become pregnant, how was he going to provide? It could take a year before he had enough money to build a house like August’s, and that’s what she wanted. A quaint, charming little farmhouse to raise their children in. He looked Cutty in the eye. “I will have. I’ll just have to … er …”

  “Be careful,” Cutty finished for him with a smirk. He set the pitchfork against a post. “What sort of work you need done?”

  “More than I can pay ya for my friend.”

  Cutty ran a hand through his hair then stroked his long beard. “Tell ya what, I’ll work for half price today.”

  “I have lots of work that needs to be done, but don’t have the materials to do it. I’ll have to go to town.”

  “Oh, I don’t fancy a ride into town. Why don’t I stay here and you can go?”

  Ryder’s gut twisted for some reason, and he glanced to the barn doors. “You do that, Constance and I will go to town.”

  “Now don’t make the lady ride into town when she’s feelin’ so poorly. Wouldn’t be right. I can look after her while you’re gone.”

  “No, best she go with me, I can have Doc Drake or Doc Waller take a look at her, maybe give her something.”

  “Pah, doctors. What do they know?”

  Ryder chuckled. “More than you or I. Now if ya want to work today, ya can clean up the barnyard, feed the chickens and gather the eggs. I’m gonna go fix some breakfast.”

  “Ain’t that your wife’s job?”

  “She’s not feelin’ well,” he said. Not to mention she couldn’t fry an egg if her life depended on it. At least he assumed as much from what he’d heard August say about Penelope. But if August could teach his wife how to cook, then Ryder could surely teach his. The only problem was, he couldn’t cook either, nothing fancy anyway. He did make a mean flapjack, and his biscuits and stews were pretty good. Hmmm, just in case he’d better add beans to his growing list of necessities. He could teach his bride how to cook those and they were filling to boot.

  When he got to the house Constance was standing over the kitchen table washing her face. She’d found his pitcher and washbowl under the cot, and he wondered if she spied the gift he prepared for her. He’d forgotten about giving it to her last night, the storm had kept him too occupied, but now was as good a time as any. “Mornin’ Sugar. Ya feelin’ better?”

  She looked at him and gave him a weak smile. “A little. My ribs hurt. I’ve never coughed and sneezed so much before.”

  “A chill will do that to ya. Today should be different.” He went to the cot, bent down on one knee, and reached underneath. “I got somethin’ for ya.”

  She turned as he stood, and went to him. “You do?”

  “Yeah, I meant to give it to ya yesterday when we got home, but plumb forgot. I’m sorry.”

  “Apologies are not necessary, I didn’t know you had anything for me.”

  He held up a small leather pouch. “It ain’t much, but it’s very special to me.”

  “What is it?”

  He opened the pouch. “Hold out your hand.” She did, and he turned the pouch over to release the contents. A necklace and ear rings spilled into her palm, and she gasped in delight at the pretty things.

  “Ryder, they’re beautiful! Where did you get them?”

  “They were my mother’s. I’ve been savin’ em for when I got me a wife one day. He took her left hand in his. “I know the ring I gave you yesterday ain’t much. Heck, these are a lot fancier. As soon as I have money, I’ll get ya a nice one.”

  She shyly reached up and touched his chest. “And for you too. You should have a ring.”

  “Maybe we shouldn’t a gotten married so soon, but …” He pulled her into his arms. “I’m sure glad we did.” He held her then, her body soft and warm against his. “I’ll take us into town today, and we’ll get a wagon,” he whispered against her hair. “How does that sound?”

  She nodded against his chest, and slowly put her arms around his waist. He smiled at the action and closed his eyes. “Ya sure feel nice in my arms, Sugar. I could stand here holdin’ ya all day.”

  “You held me all ni
ght,” she whispered.

  He kissed the top of her head, unable to help it. “I sure did. Had to keep ya warm so ya wouldn’t get any sicker. The cold can take a person right quick if’n they ain’t strong.”

  “Take them?” she mumbled against his chest.

  “Uh-huh. Kill em right quick.”

  She pushed herself away and looked up at him. “Kill them?”

  He shrugged. “It can be a hard life out here on the prairie,” he said and ran a hand through her loose hair. “But I’m gonna see to it ya stay strong. Do ya understand what I’m sayin’?”

  “I think so.” She turned her face away and looked at the stove. “Are you hungry?”

  “I’m near to starvin’. Here, let me show ya how I like my eggs.” He took her by the hand and led her to the stove. “This here is easy to learn. I only like em one way.”

  Ryder kissed her on the cheek, and then proceeded to teach his wife how to properly fry an egg.

  Five

  Thackary Cuthbert Holmes hated to work, but when push came to shove -- and wanting to live another day was definitely a shove – the despicable dandy could be spurred to do things he normally wouldn’t do. Like change his plans to outright murder the Sayer sisters one by one, to having someone else do the job. He’d failed at his first attempt, and would be a laughing stock within the ranks of villainy should anyone find what happened when he tried to vanquish Penelope Sayer. Now that she was Mrs. August Bennett, the woman was well protected, and by not just her husband. The wounds on his head were still healing, inflicted by … oh the humiliation of it all … a chicken.

  Still, Thackary was no quitter, and could always take a stab (no pun intended) at Constance Sayer, now Mrs. Jones. If it weren’t for one small problem: Thackary liked Ryder Jones. In fact he always had, and if it weren’t for Ryder helping him out over the last year or so, he’d be dead. He fed him, patched him up the first time he came tumbling down the hills (quite literally) from the caves, and allowed him to stay on his place until he healed. He’d broken two ribs and almost a leg, and if not for Ryder’s kindness and medicinal expertise, Thackary never would have made it. He felt he owed Ryder something, so taking his wife from him made him feel guilty. Who would have ever thought?