The Bride Series (Omnibus Edition)

by Bittner, Rosanne

  He loved the feel of her long hair brushing across his hand at her back. How many nights had he lain awake picturing that hair draped over bare shoulders and full breasts? “I suppose not.” Someone laughed, and he turned his head. “It’s good to hear laughter, isn’t it?”

  “Yes. More than that, it feels good to be the one laughing. There was a time when I wondered if I would ever want to laugh again. You make me so happy, Josh.”

  “Well, then we’re a good match. You do the same for me.

  “All I’ve done is get you hurt.”

  He frowned. “We both know whose fault that is. I want no guilt feelings on your part. Let’s not talk about that tonight. Let’s talk about Oregon. We’re half way there, you know. How big of a house do you want?”

  She laughed lightly. “I don’t care if we live in a cave.”

  “Fine. That will save me a little work and money.” They both laughed then, and the thought of sharing a home brought a surge of desire that made him draw her closer. “And how many children do you want,” he asked.

  Their eyes held. “As many as I can give you, many sons to help you with our vast ranch; daughters to bring gentleness and etiquette to the Rivers’ home. It will be a grand home, won’t it?”

  “Maybe not at first, but some day, Marybeth, some day.” He whirled her away from the others, out of the light of the fire and around behind a wagon, where he pulled her tight against him.

  “You’ll hurt your ribs,” she told him.

  “It’s not my ribs that ache right now.” He leaned closer, brushing her lips so lightly it was more of a tease than a kiss. She moved her arms around his neck and he kissed her again, gently, being careful of his own still-sore mouth. Burning desire helped him forget his healing injuries, and the kiss deepened. The thought of being his wife made Marybeth whimper with the want of him. She wondered how a man so strong and able and sometimes fierce could also be so gentle, so sweet. His mouth was warm and delicious and seemed to mold against her own lips in a perfect fit. She wondered if she was crazy to so quickly agree to marry this man; yet she knew if she didn’t, she risked falling into sin. There was a time when she could not have imagined wanting a man so badly that she would risk going against her own religious beliefs to have him.

  He left her mouth and kissed her eyes. “It’s done now, Marybeth,” he said, his voice husky with desire. “You’re going to be mine. I fought for you and I won. What’s more important, you would have left on your own strength, even if I had never come along. I know you would have because you’re so strong, and you love Danny enough to know what is best for him and you have the courage to act on that love. To find a woman strong and brave and beautiful all in one package is something I never expected.” She rested her head against his chest, being careful not to hug him too tightly. “I wish my sister and brother could meet you. I’ve thought about going back, but I need to start all over someplace new, Marybeth. We’ve come this far now, and I’ve heard so much about Oregon I feel compelled to keep going.”

  “I want to go wherever you go. This land is all new to me. I will be happy as long as I’m with you.” She leaned back. “Oh, Josh, I am getting excited now about seeing the mountains, after hearing Cap tell us about them. They sound so beautiful—dangerous and difficult, but beautiful. Already the land is changing, getting higher, hills and low mountains all around us. I thought at first that what I was seeing were the mountains people talked about. But Cap says they are much higher, so high the snow at the top never melts! Did they have mountains that high in Texas?”

  He grinned, enjoying her girlish excitement. In a way she had never had the chance to be a young girl, free and happy; had never been allowed to truly love and enjoy life, love and enjoy a man. He ached to show her how good and sweet it could be. “Not the part I came from,” he told her. “Oh, there were lots of canyons and buttes and rocky mesas. But not the really high mountains. Even I haven’t seen them.”

  “Buttes and mesas? What are those?”

  He kept an arm around her and ran a hand through her hair. “Oh, low-range, flat-topped hills. I guess you could maybe call some of them low mountains. Most of the part of Texas where I lived was pretty flat—hard and dry and flat, but it had its pretty, green places, too.” He sobered. “God, how I wish my Pa could meet you. My Ma, too. They were such good people, Marybeth. They struggled to keep their love together, just like you and I have had to do. Ma, she was a big Bible reader—named all of us after Bible characters, taught us we should live by the Good Book. She treasured her Bible.” He kept caressing her hair. “I meant to always keep it, but it got burned up when the comancheros set fire to the house.” She felt him tense at the words. “A traveling artist came by once, made a pencilled drawing of my parents. It was the only picture we had of them. That got burned up, too. I wish I had it to show to you. She was such a pretty woman. If you could see Rachael, you’d know. Rachael looks a lot like her.”

  “I can tell by looking at you. And your father must have been a handsome man.”

  He grinned. “You should have heard the way my Ma’s voice would go all soft when she talked about him. River Joe. Her River Joe. You would have thought no stronger, braver, more handsome man ever walked on two feet.”

  She reached up and touched his bruised face. “I can understand how she felt. I feel the same way about his son.”

  He sobered. “I miss them so much sometimes, Marybeth, like it was only yesterday I was a kid running in and out of that house, Ma inside cooking, Pa outside yelling at us to get out chores done, my brother Matt still alive…” His voice trailed off and she ran her hand over his back.

  “We all have things we miss that we can never get back again, Josh. I miss my own mother and father, and I miss Ireland terribly. I suppose we are more alike than we realize. All we can do now is start a life of our own, and try to be the kind of people our own parents were. Surely they are with us in spirit. I think they know about us. Josh, and they are smiling.”

  He smiled through tears she could not see in the darkness. “I expect they are.” He breathed deeply and cleared his throat. “I didn’t intend for the conversation to get so deep. I brought you out here for more pleasurable things.” He moved his hands up her ribs, pressing them to the sides of her breasts. She grasped his wrists.

  “I think perhaps we should go back and join the others.” She could feel him trembling, and her own resistence was weakening. “Please, Josh. I want to keep it honorable and right.”

  He sighed deeply. “My respect for honor is getting weaker every day. I sent Devon on ahead to see if there are any missionaries or preachers or whatever at the fort: If there are, he’ll make sure they stay there and wait for us.” He drew her close again. “In two or three days, if we are lucky, Marybeth MacKinder, your name will become Marybeth Rivers, and I won’t have to worry about honor and sin and all those things that keep coming between us. And if dreams count, I’ve already sinned with you and thrown honor out the window.”

  She closed her eyes, desire pulling painfully at her insides. “You have a way with words, Joshua Rivers, that makes it very difficult for me to stick to my convictions. I demand that you take me back this very minute.”

  He laughed lightly. “One more kiss first.”

  “No!”

  His mouth met hers almost savagely, and she gave no more argument.

  At the MacKinder campfire, John slowly climbed out of Bill Stone’s wagon. For the past several days he had got up only to relieve himself, unable to do anything more. Tonight he felt a little stronger. He limped over to the family campfire, his swollen and purple arm in a sling. He wore a light shirt, leaving it unbuttoned so that it hung loose and did not rub against his badly scabbed back, which would forever carry ugly scars. Wincing with pain, he sat down on a barrel, and his mother handed him a plate of beans.

  “Beans again,” he muttered. He glanced over at the bonfire, where most of the other travelers danced and sang and laughed. “I suppose she�
��s over there with him?”

  “What do you think,” Mac grumbled. “Bill says he heard folks saying they plan to marry soon as they can find a preacher to do it. He’s over there right now seeing what he can find out.”

  “If they are not married by a priest, it won’t count.”

  “Depends how bad they want to be married. I have a feeling Marybeth will compromise, as long as Rivers isn’t Catholic himself. They aren’t going to want to wait.”

  John swallowed a spoonful of beans. “He’s got no right! No right!”

  “Let it go, John,” Ella spoke up, surprising them both. “You had your fight and you lost. She has chosen and it’s over.”

  He rose, tossing his plate into the fire. “It’s not over,” he hissed. “Are you turning against your own son?”

  She met his eyes. “I am tired of the fighting, that’s all!”

  “Well, you will have to put up with it!” John turned and glared at the gathering in the distance. “Let them dance all night! The day is coming when Joshua Rivers will never dance again! And the woman in his arms will be in my arms!” He walked off into the darkness, and Ella met her husband’s eyes. She saw the dark anger there.

  “Don’t you ever talk in that woman’s favor again. Sometimes I think she made you start thinking you’re not a MacKinder either!”

  I’m not, she wanted to shout at him. I am Ella McGuire. Have you ever thought of me as a person, Murray MacKinder? “I just want some peace, Mac,” she said aloud.

  “Then keep your mouth shut and tend to your chores.” He handed out his plate. “Give me a little more.”

  She dipped some beans onto the plate.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Devon rode up to the cook wagon, where Marybeth watched Ben Stramm take buffalo tongue meat from a pot of boiling water. Devon had shot the buffalo three days earlier, and as he scraped the hide for drying, he had explained to Marybeth the many uses the Indians had for the buffalo. After divying up the meat, Ben had cut some into small strips to dry, and he spent his nights smoking more of it. Marybeth wanted to learn to cook foods uniquely American, and was curious about buffalo meat, which Hank insisted tasted much better than beef or pork, especially the tongue.

  “The secret is to kill a young buffalo, like this one Devon got. The meat of an old buffalo is tough and stringy,” he was telling her as Devon dismounted. “Plenty of salt and onion—bay leaves if you can find them. I always stock up on spices before I set out on one of these trips.” He carried the meat to a board set on the tailgate of the cook wagon and began slicing it thinly.

  Devon walked up to the campfire and sat down across from Josh. “Many soldiers and Indians at Laramie,” he said.

  Marybeth turned to listen. She had learned not to be afraid of the wild looking half-breed, who seldom spoke unless it was to give information. After all, he was a friend of Josh and his brother-in-law.

  “Trouble,” Josh asked.

  Devon shook his head. “Your president plans a great treaty. Only Indians there now are Sioux, but more will come—hundreds, maybe thousands, the soldiers say. Not for two moons yet, but already missionaries gather to try to bring their religion to the Indians.” He looked up at Marybeth. “I saw two black-robed men like the ones you describe. Are they the kind you say must marry you?”

  Marybeth brightened. Surely God did mean for her to be with Josh. “Yes.” She looked at Josh, who bounced Danny on his leg. He smiled and winked at her.

  “I don’t know why it’s so important to you to be married by one of them,” he said, “but if it makes you happy, it’s all right with me. Far as I’m concerned, any old minister will do.”

  She folded her arms. “Not for an Irish Catholic.”

  His eyebrows arched as his eyes moved over her. “I’d like to see how long that Irish Catholic stubbornness would hold up if we couldn’t find a priest at Laramie. I reckon I’d have to spend a lot of time hunting.”

  All the men laughed, even Devon. Marybeth only reddened, turning to watch Ben slice the buffalo tongue. In the next moment Josh had handed Danny to Cap and was standing behind Marybeth. He put a hand to her waist. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I just like to tease.”

  She looked up at him and broke into a smile, shaking her head. “I know. That is part of what I love about you.” Their eyes held. “Josh, a priest! I prayed so hard we would find one. I hope Devon told him not to leave.”

  Josh looked over at the Indian, who was checking his rifle. “You told the black-robes to hang around, didn’t you,” he said louder.

  Marybeth was unable to look at the rest of them as they chuckled again.

  “I told them. I said a lady who prays with strange beads wishes to be married by a priest when she comes. And I talked to the soldier who leads the men at the fort. He tells me one officer’s cabin is empty right now. He said the man and woman who wish to be married can use it. He even sent men to clean it up. I think the soldiers look forward to celebrating the wedding. They are bored.”

  Marybeth felt Josh’s arm come around her. “Now are you satisfied we’re supposed to do this?” he asked her. “Not only do we have a priest, but we have a place to spend our wedding night.”

  She felt suddenly warm and breathless at the thought of it. She looked up at him and they embraced lightly. “Josh, do you think you’re well enough?”

  She heard Ben chuckle and suddenly realized how the question sounded. Josh kept his arm around her, realizing she had to be even more embarrassed, and he grinned. “I have a feeling I’ll be able to overcome the pain,” he teased, making Ben laugh even harder.

  “Oh, Josh,” she said quietly, pulling away and folding her arms.

  “It’s all in good fun,” Ben told her. “Here, Marybeth, taste this here tongue meat. I know you think it’s going to be awful, but believe me, this here is a delicacy. You remember how I cooked it.”

  Marybeth took the thin slice of meat and tasted it, her face still flushed. Her eyes widened at the wonderful, sweet flavor. “It’s delicious,” she said.

  Ben grinned. “I told you.” He studied her pretty face. “I’m glad about the priest, Marybeth. Josh here is getting the prettiest woman west of the Mississippi. We’re all happy for both of you.”

  “Thank you, Ben; and thank you for helping me learn the way you cook. The last buffalo meat I made with Ella tasted awful.”

  “Well, there is a knack to it. You can help me dish up some of this for the others.”

  Marybeth helped him while Josh went back to the campfire. “How soon will we make Laramie,” he asked Devon.

  “I would say tomorrow—maybe early afternoon. Depends how long it takes to get across the river in the morning. River’s down. Shouldn’t be too difficult.”

  Marybeth’s heart pounded harder at the words. By tomorrow night she could be lying in Josh Rivers’ arms, sharing his bed.

  “Unless some idiot like MacKinder decides to take a different route again,” Cap joked. They all laughed, but the mention of the name gave Marybeth the shivers. She could not forget John’s bitter hatred, his talk of killing Josh.

  “I hope he does,” Josh spoke up. “I’d like to see him off this train completely.”

  “Wouldn’t take much to do it,” Cap answered. “One more wrong move and they’re gone.”

  “Hell, Josh, you can handle that big ape,” Ben put in. “I’ll tell you one thing—ain’t none of us sittin’ here that’s gonna let any MacKinder spoil you and Marybeth’s big day. That’s a promise.” He put a hand on Marybeth’s shoulder. “If we have to tie and gag that loud-mouthed bully, we’ll do it. It might take six of us to get him down, but we’ll handle it.”

  “I don’t think he’s in any shape yet to cause much trouble,” Cap said. They all chuckled, and Marybeth had never felt so much love. Years with the MacKinders had almost made her forget how it felt to love and laugh and share. Her only link to such feelings had been Danny. She carried a plate to Devon.

  “Thank you,” she
told him. She turned to Cap. “Thank all of you. When we get to Oregon, I hope you all know that if you should stay, you would always be welcome in our home.” She looked at Josh. Home. What a nice sound it had.

  The wagon train passed by a circle of tipis outside the grounds of the fort, and Marybeth stared at dark-skinned women, some in doeskin tunics, others wearing cloth skirts and shirts, an array of beads draped around their necks. The Indian women stared back, and it struck Marybeth how many different kind of people there were in the world and within this country called America. It was full of immigrants like herself; rugged whites born to it, like Josh; black slaves from Africa; and these natives who watched her now. She could see Devon in the half-naked men who walked among the camps or sat smoking beside tipis. A few rode by on painted horses that carried no conventional saddle.

  “Cap says these Indians are friendly. I have heard some frightening stories about what they can do when they are unfriendly,” Delores said as she walked beside Marybeth.

  Devon rode by and dismounted, greeting two of the Indian men in their own strange tongue, and Marybeth tried to imagine what Josh’s brother-in-law might be like. Josh had told her he was familiar with some Pawnee and Cheyenne. Devon had said these were Cheyenne—his people. He was half white, yet he seemed to recognize only his Indian side.

  “Devon says some day there will be big trouble between whites and Indians,” she told Delores.

  “I just hope it waits until we get to more civilized places in Oregon.”

  “So do I.”

  They followed the wagons across the parade grounds of the sprawling fort, which covered several acres and was not surrounded by the conventional log walls Marybeth had seen pictures of in books. It was much more open than she had anticipated. Soldiers milled about in every direction, some being drilled, others relaxing. The sight of their blue coats made her feel more secure, and she was glad the train was here now and not a month from now, which was when Devon said thousands of Indians would gather here for a great treaty signing. She prayed the treaty would alleviate any problems with the Indians, and she also prayed that the Indian trouble they had experienced earlier was not a sign that there was more trouble ahead. What other reason could there be for planning a treaty than the Indians must be restless and angry? She wished she knew how to explain to them that she and the others who came through their land meant them no harm. Maybe that was what Devon was telling them now.