Badlands Bride

by Cheryl St. John

  Hallie tried to compose herself, but every time another gale burst from him, she joined in. His eyes watered and his cheek muscles ached.

  Gradually their laughter subsided. Hallie sighed aloud. Tears sparkled on her black lashes and winked from the outer corners of her eyes.

  He hadn't planned to do it. He raised his arm and her eyes closed as, with his thumb, he brushed the glistening drops from the lashes of one eye and then the other. His thumb looked huge against her fragile cheekbone, his hand dark and coarse in comparison to her delicate ivory skin. Beside her face, he rubbed his wet thumb against his fore­finger.

  Her dark-lashed eyes fluttered open and she stared at him, her expression a little curious, a little expectant. Her smile had waned and her rosy lips parted in a manner that was innocent yet tempting.

  Thunder rolled overhead and rattled the windowpane.

  He couldn't let himself think of why he didn't just leave her alone in the first place, why he hadn't given her the choice of sleeping with Chumani, or why he found reasons to keep her in his sight and under his care.

  Right now he wasn't thinking of anything but the evoc­ative sight of her dewy lips, the clean womanly scent that drifted from her clothing and her skin, and the driving pulse that chugged in the back of his brain.

  Her breath caught and an answering heat spread through his loins. Without thought to the consequences, he leaned forward and touched his lips to hers. They were every bit as soft and warm as he'd imagined. He inched away. Her eyes had darkened and she watched him through lowered lashes. Her lids closed completely and she stayed where she was—waiting.

  Cooper kissed her again, tentatively gauging her reaction, his own reaction and the shocking first awareness of their joined lips.

  Raising his hands, he held her uptilted face between his palms. With as much gentleness as he could muster, he drew the kiss out, knowing she wasn't breathing, encouraging her to relax and share the splendid sensations.

  He eased away for mere seconds at a time, making the kisses shorter, less intense. She breathed then, the warm air rushing against his cheek.

  He wanted to pull her against him, wanted to taste her fully and delve his fingers into her fragrant hair. But he didn't.

  He kissed each corner of her full mouth, and she returned the velvet kisses. Her palm, warm but trembling, touched his upper arm through his shirt.

  Cooper pulled away, tenderly holding her face near his. He read the new question in her eyes—they no longer asked what was he going to do, but why had he done it? Drawing a shaky breath, she said, "Mr. Lincoln is going to be highly upset with you when I tell him about this development."

  He grinned self-consciously. With the tension defused, Cooper released her and got to his feet. The room had grown dim and rain beat in earnest against the roof. "Maybe you'd better not tell him."

  She accepted his assistance and stood, brushing her skirts. "It'll cost you."

  "Oh?" Kissing her had been reckless. Dangerous. He had better instincts than that. The whole episode was going to cost him. Dearly. He lit the lantern on the desk. "What's your price?"

  Composed, she sat and drew the ledgers from the drawer. "Oh. How about a stage ticket to the ferry? I know you have connections."

  Her ready words reminded him of how badly she wanted away from here. He'd already given considerable thought to paying her way back to Boston. He could put her on the stage—hell, he could take a few days to see her as far as the steamer, and then be done with her. Her father would even pay him back. Part of him kept holding out. Some crazy, self-destructive part.

  Yellow Eagle needed the skills she could teach him. The People needed the service she was providing for the freight company. More planning, more profit; more profit, more food and supplies.

  Lightning briefly illuminated one side of her face and clothing. Thunder echoed. "Sorry," he said. "I guess you'll just have to tell him."

  Her guarded expression didn't reveal her disappointment. Cooper wouldn't let himself feel guilty. In a few more days the stage would come through for the mail. Her family would get her letter and know she was safe. She admitted they didn't need her back there. What would a few more weeks hurt?

  The rain hadn't let up by the time they'd finished for the day. Cooper held a tarp above their heads and they ran to the soddy for supper, and later to the house for the night.

  Wicked thoughts ran through Hallie's head as she lay in bed listening to the storm that night. If she set her mind to it, she could probably find where Cooper kept his cash. With enough determination she could pry open a strongbox. She could pay him back when she reached home. It wouldn't really be stealing; it would only be borrowing.

  If he were any kind of a gentleman he'd simply loan her the money and see to it she got home. If he were a gentle­man, he wouldn't have kissed her the way he had…. No, that was wrong. She couldn't delude herself. He hadn't forced himself on her. He hadn't been coarse or rude or pushy. He'd been tender. Uncertain.

  He'd been a gentleman.

  And she'd wanted it.

  Her heart fluttered into her throat at the remembrance. She'd been perfunctorily kissed at her doorstep a few times. Once she'd been kissed in a carriage, and had practically had to leap out onto the brick pavement to get away.

  But Cooper DeWitt's kiss had been something entirely different. Something entirely warm and disturbing that turned her insides to warm honey yet exhilarated her at the same time. His kiss revealed an undiscovered part of Hallie Wainwright that she wasn't prepared to look at. His kiss made her afraid of herself.

  A light knock sounded on the door and she jumped be­neath the covers. "Yes?"

  "Were you asleep?" His voice came through the door, caressing her like provocative dark fingers.

  She perched on the side of the bed, her senses tuned to the darkness and the man on the other side of the door. "No."

  "I wonder…if I could talk to you for a few minutes."

  Her heart pounded like a silly schoolgirl's. "Just a min­ute."

  She pulled her wrapper over her nightdress and tied it snugly at her waist. He waited, fully clothed, at the table in the other room, the lantern light gilding his hair and firm jaw. Hallie slid out a chair and sat across from him.

  He glanced up. "Want tea?"

  She shook her head. "No, thanks."

  Several minutes passed while the only sound was the pat­ter on the roof. "I couldn't sleep," he said finally. "We have to figure this thing out before the stage comes."

  Was he going to mention the kiss? Had that been keeping him awake, too? It was a cool evening, but warmth flooded her cheeks.

  "I've been using you," he said.

  Uncomprehending, she could only wait.

  "It's not fair of me to try to keep you here against your will." He studied his long-fingered hands, flattened on the table. "I can afford to send you home."

  Listening, she felt hope rise in her chest.

  "I could even take a few days and see you safely to the steamer." At last he looked up. "I wouldn't let you go alone."

  His concern for her safety touched her. "You would help me get home?"

  He nodded. "I will. Understand, I will." He looked at his hands again. "But I want to ask you something."

  "What?"

  It took him several seconds to form the words. "It's im­portant for Yellow Eagle to learn to read and write. You haven't had much time with him and I know he's being difficult, but he's learning."

  "He's a bright boy."

  "I've changed my mind about…about a wife. It wasn't a good idea. This is no place to expect a woman to live unless she's been here her whole life and doesn't know any­thing else."

  Hallie knew Tess Cordell's rejection had bothered him, but he could send for someone else. Sure, she'd thought Tess was out of her mind to consider marrying a frontier man sight unseen, but that had been before she'd met him. Before she'd seen for herself. Any of those girls at Miss Abernathy's would swoon at the sight of Cooper
DeWitt. Any of them would leap at the chance to live with him, work with him…sleep with him.

  A crazy pattering in her chest matched the staccato beat of rain against the roof.

  "But I need somebody for the boy," he went on, "and I don't know how I'll find a teacher."

  His meaning sank in. "You…you want me to stay and teach him?"

  "Teach him," he agreed. "And keep the books."

  Bewildered, Hallie sat thinking.

  "I need you to work for me," he said. "But I'll get you home if you want to go."

  Hallie was used to men telling her what to do, used to them ignoring her wishes and thinking they knew what was best for her. She was used to being patronized and cajoled and scoffed at.

  She wasn't used to anyone giving her a choice.

  She studied his enormous hands spread on the table. Her gaze took in the mane of hair loosened and flowing across one shoulder and down his back. She appreciated his strong, straight nose, his wide jaw and determined chin. She re­sponded to his words in a vulnerable way he couldn't have been aware of, a way he couldn't have planned.

  She had a choice.

  She could go home.

  She had a choice.

  He needed her.

  For once she had a choice.

  "I will work for you." It was more a question than a statement.

  "Yes."

  "And you will pay me."

  "Yes. And I will see that you travel free on my stage line."

  "I'd rather you put the money in my hand each week and when I have enough I'll buy my own ticket."

  "If that's what you want."

  "That's what I want."

  "All right."

  "Did I tell you about the Lowell Mills in Massachu­setts?"

  He cast her a patient glance. "No."

  "The women go on strike from time to time for better wages and working conditions."

  "What does strike mean?"

  "They quit working until their demands are met."

  "Hallie, what does that have to do with us?"

  She shrugged one shoulder, already feeling a little foolish for bringing it up. "I want you to know women are gaining respect as employees. I deserve the same wages as a man."

  He didn't mention these weren't factory conditions. He didn't point out all she had to do was get on the stage and go home if she didn't like it. All he did was say tolerantly, "I don't think you'll have to strike."

  Of course she wouldn't. He'd already been more than fair. "I'll stay."

  His expression flattened in surprise. "Like that? Just like that, you'll stay?"

  "I'll stay."

  "Well." He straightened in his chair and threaded his fingers through the hair at one temple. "When you're ready, I'll see that you get home safe."

  She nodded and stood. "All right, then."

  "Hallie."

  She looked back at him.

  "Thank you."

  She gave a nod and moved toward her room. "You're welcome."

  A pounding on the door startled Hallie. She emitted a little squeak and stared wide-eyed at Cooper.

  He grabbed a rifle from beside his bedroll and gestured for her to go into the other room. She did so, holding her wrapper closed at her throat, and leaving the door open so she could stand just inside and listen.

  "Who's there?"

  A muffled shout met her ears.

  "Ferlie!" Wood scraped as the bar lifted. "What's wrong?"

  "It's those dad-blamed, menacin' outlaws again!" he growled. "Ain't doin' a lick o' good to try to get people or mail b'tween here and nowhere 'cuz them sonsabitches come outa nowhere and pick us clean."

  Hallie rushed back out into the other room. "Mr. Tubbs! Are you all right?"

  The gray-bearded man's eyes widened and he doffed his dripping, battered hat. "Yes'm. I'm jest fine." He cackled. "Shoulda had you with me. Whoo-ee! Maybe we coulda saved the mail."

  "Sit down over there," she invited, pointing to the hearth. "Mr. DeWitt, why don't you start a fire so he can dry out? I'll make you some nice hot coffee."

  "Well, that would be right nice," he replied, and ex­changed a look with Cooper. Cooper nodded, taking Ferlie's slicker and hanging it on the antler rack by the door.

  "You're early," Cooper said, crouching to build a fire.

  "Woulda been here this mornin'. Made good time outa Dog Flats. Then those sonsabitches ran me down. Pulled me off the hard-packed trail and the wheels sunk over the hubs. It's gonna take a day to dig that rig out."

  "At least you're okay."

  "Romney busted a leg and I had to shoot him."

  "Damn!" Cooper's jaw hardened and he pounded a fist on his knee.

  "Who did you shoot?" Hallie asked in mortification.

  "One of the horses," Cooper explained tersely.

  "Oh." She sighed, feeling relieved but foolish.

  "I rode Theo and led the others back. Roused ol' Jack and he's seein' to 'em."

  The men talked and Hallie waited for the water to boil. Finally she carried them each a steaming cup.

  "You bed down here," Cooper said. "First light, we'll take the team and go dig the coach out."

  "What if it's still raining?" Hallie asked.

  They both looked at her as if she'd asked if the sky was still blue.

  "Hadn't you better wait until it clears?"

  "That could be another day," Cooper responded. "I can't leave the stage unguarded that long. Something worse could happen to it."

  "That's a fine-sprung Concord, miss," Ferlie said. "Coop has himself a heap o' money sunk into that beauty."

  "Oh," she said. "Of course." She met Cooper's fair gaze, reassured over her decision to stay a while longer. She certainly didn't want to take any chances on running into those stage robbers again. It was a miracle Ferlie had sur­vived each time. "How many times have you been robbed?"

  "I lost a couple of freight wagons earlier this year," Coo­per explained. "And each of my two coaches has been held up half a dozen times."

  "I can see why the freight wagons, but is robbing stages profitable?" she asked, trying to understand.

  "Well, they get a little jewelry, some cash each time."

  "Scattered the mail to hell and back in the mud this time," Ferlie said in disgust. "Beggin' your pardon, ma'am," he added, and blew on his coffee.

  "Why would they care about the mail?" Hallie asked.

  Cooper shook his head in frustration.

  "Are there any gold or cash shipments?" she asked.

  "No. Hasn't been anything valuable for months."

  "Then they're just malicious," she continued. "There's no gain in that."

  "They're mean, all right," Ferlie agreed.

  "It sounds like they're deliberately out to get you, Mr. DeWitt," Hallie said.

  Cooper frowned. "What do you mean?"

  "Has anyone been killed?"

  "Not yet."

  "Everyone is frightened. The mail is lost. Somebody wants to stop you or hurt your business."

  "You read too much."

  "Think about it!" She reached across and placed her hand on his arm.

  "I'm thinkin', I'm thinkin'." He glanced at her fingers. She pulled them away quickly.

  "Who would want to do me harm?" he asked thought­fully.

  Who indeed? she wondered. Whoever it was, if that's what this was really all about, had targeted Cooper or his stage line. They'd come close to doing personal harm to her and the brides. One of Cooper's horses was dead and his valuable stage was stuck in the mud somewhere in this wasteland. Somebody was out to cause trouble, and she was stuck right in the middle of the situation.

  Even if she hadn't given her word to stay and work for him, it wouldn't be safe to leave now. She was stuck in the badlands, unless a miracle happened.

  Chapter Seven

  "Let me go with you." Her tone forceful, she steeled herself for the following argument.

  "Everyone will go." His matter-of-fact statement sur­prised her. "It's not goi
ng to be easy digging that stage out. The more hands the better. You and Yellow Eagle can keep watch."

  Gratified, Hallie agreed.

  "We need to rest now," he said.

  She wished them good-night and hurried to the other room.

  It wasn't even light yet when a rap on the door awakened her. "Time to head out," Cooper called from the other side.

  Feeling as if she'd barely slept, Hallie groaned and rolled out of bed, washing and dressing quickly.

  She entered the outer room, blinking against the lantern light. Wearing a wet slicker, Cooper jammed supplies into saddlebags. Two rifles lay across the table. "Chumani's got breakfast on."

  She marveled at his energy. "It's too early to eat."

  "Have to. Might be late before we get back, and all we'll have with us is some jerky. Don't you have a pair of boots?" He raised a doubtful brow at her soft kid footwear.

  "These are my boots."

  He took several extra minutes to locate a pair of knee-high moccasins. "Put 'em on right over the top of your shoes. They'll keep your feet dry."

  He turned away politely. The moccasins fit easily over her boots, the laces tying above her knees. He handed her a slicker and picked up the bags. "Come."

  Used to his curt command, Hallie followed him to the soddy, careful of the precarious footing in the slippery mud. Golden light filled the little house, the rich smells of bacon and coffee more appealing than she'd have imagined. The warmth of the tiny room, the common goal they shared and life going on despite the elements outside gave Hallie a sense of belonging she was unaccustomed to.

  After eating, they gathered in the barn. "Open your slicker," Cooper ordered.

  Hallie glanced dubiously at the gun and holster in his hands, but obeyed.

  He hesitated. "You'll never be able to hold this up."

  "Too skinny, right?" she asked wryly.

  "Here. Take the slicker off for a minute and let's cross it from one shoulder over your chest. Won't be very com­fortable, but you'll be able to reach it and it won't get wet."