Amon (Prairie Grooms, Book Seven)

by Kit Morgan

  Or was he indeed suffering some strange sickness? Yet over the last several days he’d felt fine. He’d taken Doc Drake’s suggestion and rested (for a day), then busied himself with his work. He finished the cradle for Colin and Belle and brought it to town with him to let Mrs. Dunnigan adorn it with ribbons before he gave it to them. On a whim – okay, more than a whim – he’d passed by the hotel after dropping it off to see if by chance Miss Whitman was there.

  It seemed luck was with him.

  “Good afternoon,” he said as he reached the table. Miss Whitman sucked in her breath and looked ready to faint. “Are you all right?”

  Her brother quickly turned and looked her over. “Nettie? Is something wrong?”

  She shook her head, but still appeared to be having trouble breathing. “I’m fine. Nothing wrong here.” She began to fan herself with one hand.

  Amon cocked his head this way and that as he studied her. “You’re sure?” he asked skeptically.

  “Do you want to go back to your room?” Newton asked her.

  “No!” she cried and shot a hand out, hitting Newton in the chest. Hard.

  He winced, then very gently removed it. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “Yes … yes, I’m fine, really.” She looked up at Amon. “Won’t you join us?”

  He took a chair from a nearby table, sat with them and Constance poured him some tea. He took the cup and saucer from her and smiled. “I’m sorry I haven’t come to town until now.”

  “Are you …” Nettie began, swallowed, then opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. She made a face and tried again. “Are you quite yourself again?” came out a nervous squeak.

  Amon looked her over and began to breathe a little harder. He nodded, also unable to speak.

  Everyone looked at Nettie, then Amon and back again. “Well, ain’t that somethin’,” Ryder mused. “I think they done got that ‘love at first sight’ thing ‘tween ‘em.”

  “What?!” Nettie blurted, breaking the spell.

  Amon, his eyes still locked on hers, tried to take a sip of tea … and missed. “Oh, for heaven’s sake!” August casually handed him a napkin. Everyone watched as he wiped up the mess in his lap, his eyes still locked on Nettie’s. “That was a clumsy thing to do.”

  August and Ryder tried not to laugh as Penelope sighed and stared at the ceiling for lack of a better idea. Constance, on the other hand, snorted.

  “What’s so funny?” Amon asked. He’d heard Ryder’s previous comment, but didn’t know how to respond to it.

  “They do say absence makes the heart grow fonder, do they not?” Newton asked as he smiled at his sister.

  Nettie blushed, then sighed in exasperation. “So I hear.”

  Amon, finally able to tear his gaze from Nettie, glanced around the table. “I’d like to extend another invitation to see the building site,” he told no one in particular.

  Nettie let out the breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. “Oh, Mr. Cotter, that would be most agreeable.”

  “It would?” he asked with a smile and popped his neck.

  “I say, is there something wrong?” Newton asked.

  Amon rubbed the back of his neck. “Maybe I slept wrong last night …” He rolled his shoulders a few times and flexed his arms, popping his neck again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t even realize I was doing that.”

  “Maybe you ought to go see Doc Waller or Doc Drake after this,” August suggested. “They might have some liniment you could use.”

  “Good idea – I’ll do that,” he agreed as he turned his head this way and that, testing his neck’s flexibility.

  “When would you like to show us your land, sir?” Newton inquired.

  “Is tomorrow too soon?”

  “No!” Nettie blurted. Her eyes quickly darted around the table. “I mean … that would be lovely.”

  Newton forced a smile as he leaned toward her. “What is with you?” he hissed through clenched teeth. She shook her head, her eyes locked with Amon’s again. Newton eyed him suspiciously. “Tomorrow would be fine.” He glanced at Nettie. “Perhaps the sooner the better.”

  “I’ll fetch you in the morning, then?”

  “Splendid,” Newton said as he leaned back in his chair, tea cup in hand. “Now what say we enjoy the rest of our afternoon?”

  Amon slowly nodded and retrieved his cup. He took a small sip, then a long swallow. “I look forward to it.”

  Nettie sucked in a breath. “As will I.”

  At this point, everyone else was openly gawking at the pair. It was all Constance could do not to wave a hand between them, seeing if she could break their concentration on each other. But a warning glare from Penelope stayed her. August and Ryder, meanwhile, were doing their best not to laugh.

  And Newton watched with interest. A lot of interest.

  Twelve

  The next morning Amon arrived after breakfast, gathered up the Whitmans and Cutty – who still wanted to come, despite Newton being able to serve as chaperone – and off they went.

  Several times Amon gripped the reins harder than he needed to and had to force himself to relax. That Nettie was sitting next to him, her brother and Cutty in the buckboard, didn’t help. Maybe he’d feel more comfortable if one of them was up front as well, but the two men were obviously giving him the chance to have Nettie to himself, even if it was on a wagon seat.

  “This is my second excursion,” Nettie told him.

  No one had spoken since they’d left the hotel ten minutes ago and Amon was beginning to wonder how quiet the trip would be. “Oh? What was the first one?”

  “We went to see the …” she turned and gave him a bemused smile. “… the tree,” she whispered, as if to hide some sort of scandalous piece of gossip.

  Amon took the cue. “No!” he said in shock. “You mean you got to see … His Majesty.” He was conscious that for Nettie, who grew up in a monarchy, the term would have an extra reference.

  Nettie giggled. “Yes,” she said and looked around conspiratorially. “I must say, it’s larger than I thought it would be. I’ve never seen such a magnificent oak.”

  “Most haven’t. He is quite something. I’m kind of glad he’s not mine – I’d be half tempted to make him into something.”

  “You wouldn’t dare!”

  “Oh, I don’t mean that I’d chop him down. That would be like committing murder in these parts. The Cookes would probably hang me higher than Haman.”

  “Then what do you mean?”

  “Yes, what do you mean by that?” Newton asked behind them.

  Amon glanced over his shoulder. “What I mean is I’d love to carve something in his bark, that’s all. Or hang things from the branches.”

  “Like what?” Nettie asked.

  Amon shrugged. “I don’t know exactly … I’d have to think about it. But something beautiful.” He looked right at her.

  Nettie blushed. “What does one hang from a tree?”

  “I can think of a few things!” Cutty tossed in. “But none of ‘em are pretty.”

  “Quiet, you!” Amon said with a smile, though he knew what Cutty meant. He wasn’t about to discuss dead men in front of Nettie. He looked into her eyes. “Lanterns.”

  “Lanterns?”

  Amon nodded. “Decorative lanterns. I’d put them all over him. What a sight that would be!”

  She faced forward. “Indeed.” She got a faraway look in her eye. It made Amon smile, that she could imagine it. “Yes, it would be very beautiful,” she finally agreed. “Like a fairy tale.”

  “All it’d do is attract bugs!” Cutty quipped from the back.

  Amon rolled his eyes. “Will you stop?”

  Cutty cackled.

  “I suppose that many lanterns would attract a few insects,” Nettie agreed. “When one thinks of what a single lantern does, think of what hundreds would do.”

  “I have,” Amon said. “But we wouldn’t be directly under the tree. I think the meadow woul
d be a grand place for a dance with His Majesty all lit up, the moon shining overhead …” He looked at her again. “ … the light reflecting off the water …”

  She blushed and cleared her throat. “You have quite the imagination, Mr. Cotter. I like that you think of beautiful things. Many men don’t.”

  “Sounds like a fine settin’ to get hitched in,” Cutty said, then cackled again.

  Much to Nettie’s surprise, Newton laughed along with him. “He does make a fine point, dear sister. Mr. Cotter, you may have just described your wedding.”

  “My wedding?!”

  “Don’t sound so surprised,” Nettie told him. “We are going to be married.” Her eyes darted between him and the surrounding prairie. “Aren’t we?”

  Amon didn’t like the sound of fear in her voice. Of course they were going to get married. Why else would they be together?

  Then it hit him, and he stole a quick glance at her, then looked away. She knew they were courting to see if they’d suit. Perhaps she feared they wouldn’t. But after yesterday, when their eyes had met so many times … well, as unexplainable as it was, he knew deep in his heart that he was already hers, and she his. He just needed to give her time to get used to the idea.

  Then again, maybe he was giving himself time to do the same. The feeling of belonging to her, that she needed him was so strong, so deep the day before that he had no logical explanation for it. Ryder had said something about ‘love at first sight’ – was that what this was? How could such a thing happen? Did the Lord predestine two people to be together? Or was his reaction to her some freak of nature, the way they were … how could he describe it? … bonding together whether they wanted to or not?

  Amon had no way to explain it. The sensation had begun the moment he’d offered her his arm the first time and she’d taken it. It was as if at that moment, he knew they belonged to each other.

  Sadie and Belle Cooke really were good matchmakers!

  “How big of a house are you planning to build?” Newton asked from the back of the wagon.

  Amon pulled himself out of his musings, suddenly aware of the heat coming from Nettie’s body next to him. “It depends.”

  “On what?” she asked.

  He glanced at her and smiled. “On how many children.”

  She quickly looked away, her cheeks red. “Ah … I see.”

  “Better build one with at least four bedrooms, then!” Cutty chuckled.

  Amon was about to tell him to shut up, thought better of it and laughed instead.

  “What’s so funny?” Nettie asked.

  He glanced over his shoulder at Cutty. “Maybe five?”

  “Make it six!” Cutty said and slapped his leg in amusement.

  “Six!” Nettie gasped.

  “Two younguns to a room!” Cutty chortled.

  Nettie turned on the wagon seat and looked at her brother, who had a gleam in his eye, but said nothing. “Newton, tell them to stop!”

  “Why?” he asked. “Don’t you want children?”

  “Well … yes, but the way these two are talking, I’ll not have time for anything else!”

  “Let’s … look at the site first, then we’ll decide,” Amon said, his voice softer now. “You do have a say, you know.”

  “I should hope!” She set both hands in her lap. “A few little ones, perhaps. I must admit I’ve not thought about children much. Probably because I never thought I’d marry.”

  He smiled at her. “I think that’s about to change.”

  The rest of the ride was spent in pleasant conversation, and before they knew it Amon brought the team to a halt.

  Nettie leaned forward and gasped. They were in a field of wildflowers bordered by a couple stands of trees. “It’s beautiful!” She turned on the wagon seat, trying to get a better view. “What are they?” She spun back to Amon. “The flowers?”

  Amon gazed at the colorful expense before them. “What are they?” He looked into her eyes. “They’re yours.” He hopped down from the wagon and extended his hands up to help her down. Her cheeks had gone pink again, and he discovered he liked making her blush.

  Neither one of them seemed to notice Newton and Cutty climbing out the back. Their eyes had locked again, as on the day before, and in that moment time stood still. They were frozen in place, his hands still extended, her staring down at him.

  Gathering his wits, Amon swallowed hard. “Are you going to get down?” he whispered.

  She tried to pull herself together, blinking a few times. “Of course. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s all right,” he said gently. His hands stretched further toward her. She leaned down and let herself fall into them. He pulled her from the wagon and set her on her feet but did not relinquish his hold. Instead he wanted – no, needed – to hold her. It was a sudden unquenchable fire that blazed within him. He took a step back, pulling her with him as he did.

  “Hey there!” Cutty said as he came around the wagon. “Ya sick or somethin’?”

  Amon straightened, swallowed hard and let go of Nettie’s waist. “Of course not.”

  Nettie took a step back. “We’re fine!” she snapped. He wondered if the broken contact had affected her the same as it had him. It was like a knife had sliced them in two after they’d already become one. What was that about?

  Newton came around the wagon, his eyes still on the landscape. “I must say, Mr. Cotter, but you have very good taste in building sites. This is incredible. However did you find this place?”

  “The second week I was here, I was out riding after church and found it. It looked just like it does now, with everything in bloom.”

  “Kinda strange, ain’t it?” Cutty asked. “Mighty late in the year for this many flowers.”

  Amon smiled. “That’s what makes it special.”

  “But what kind of flowers are they?” asked Nettie.

  “I haven’t the slightest idea,” he said. “All I know is that they’re pretty.”

  Nettie and Newton studied the colorful field and the trees beyond. Cutty went to stand beside them. “I ain’t been ‘round these parts long, so I couldn’t tell ya what they are neither.”

  Newton shook his head in wonder. “I’ve never seen anything like them, but then, I’m not familiar with your country.”

  “No one’s named them yet that I know of,” Amon said. “Maybe we ought to do the job.”

  “Name the flowers in this field?” Nettie asked amused. “How many different ones are there? And how do you know no one’s named them?”

  Amon glanced around. “I’ve counted seven different kinds I’ve never seen elsewhere.” He turned to the rest of them. “And believe me, I’ve checked. I even borrowed a book on botany from Mr. Van Cleet.”

  “Fascinating,” Nettie said and walked to a patch of purple blooms. The tiny petals had intricate designs at their base and the scent they emitted was heavenly. “I dub thee … now let me see …” She tapped her chin with a finger. “I know! Poneticus hibiscus!”

  “That ain’t no hibiscus!” Cutty groused.

  “And how would you know what hibiscus looks like?”

  “Oh, er … I thought you said biscuit.”

  “I said no such thing and … I apologize.”

  Cutty raised an eyebrow at her.

  “You’re not so unintelligent that you wouldn’t know what hibiscus is. I’m sure you’re old enough to have seen them at some point in your life.”

  Cutty gave her a sheepish grin. “True ‘nough.” He walked to a patch of yellow and blue blossoms. He bent down to pick one and the blue petals suddenly came to life. “Tarnation!” he yelped and jumped back as tiny blue butterflies took flight around him.

  Everyone laughed as several landed on his hat, and one on his nose. “Be still, Cutty,” Amon warned.

  “W-will they bite?” Cutty asked, staring cross-eyed at the insect on his nose.

  “I have no idea. I just think it’s fun to watch it sit there staring at you,” Amon chuckled.
>
  The others joined him in his amusement. “They look good on you!” Nettie said. “It’s too bad they won’t stay there.”

  Cutty glanced at her. “Good. I ain’t ‘bout to go ‘round the rest of the day with this thing on me!” At that, the butterfly fluttered its wings and flew away, to be quickly joined by its mates. “Whew!”

  Everyone laughed again at his obvious relief. “I always thought they were part of the flowers,” Amon said to no one in particular.

  “It seems your little piece of land is full of surprises, Mr. Cotter,” said Nettie.

  Amon took her hand and gazed into her eyes. “Let us dispense with the formalities, shall we? Call me Amon.”

  She glanced at Newton, who stood with a half-smile on a face. He gave her a single nod. She looked up at Amon. “All right. You may call me Nettie.”

  “I’m looking forward to it … Nettie,” he drawled, trying her name out for the first time. “Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer ‘Annette’?”

  “I’m sure. Thank you for asking … Amon.”

  He laughed and, her hand still in his, led her through the field of flowers.

  * * *

  It was all Nettie could do to keep from outright gaping at the wondrous sights around her. The air was full of the scent from the myriad of flowers and was utterly intoxicating. She wondered if there was a way to make a perfume from them, and could imagine the price it would bring in a place like Paris.

  She squelched the idea when she remembered where she was. This was not England, nor Europe. This was the American West. She was as far from her old life as she could be – a life, she reminded herself, that had had nothing to do with expensive perfume, fancy balls, soirees or an endless parade of suitors vying for her hand. No, she was fortunate to be far away from there, and fortunate to be with someone like Amon Cotter who treated her with gentleness and respect. A far cry from the Baron.

  He led her along beside him and pointed out different plants. Some of them she recognized, some she didn’t. It was almost a shame to build a house anywhere in the meadow – it would mean less flowers to look at. But wouldn’t a house in the midst of Amon’s small paradise only make it prettier? “How many rooms did you say?”