An Unexpected Bride (The Colorado Brides Series Book 2)

by Carré White

  “Defensive.” A hint of a smile lingered around his mouth.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Indignant now.”

  “Mr. Tucker!”

  “Angry.”

  “Why…you shouldn’t goad me into an argument.”

  “Why not? Seems like the thing to do tonight.”

  “They’ll fight, if you don’t stop them,” said Mary.

  “I’m aware of that.” His eyes roamed over my face.

  I’d enjoyed our quarrel, but I would never admit it. “Then what are you waiting for?”

  “It’s still a discussion at the moment. I’m waiting for the first punch, then I’ll step in.”

  The arguing continued, their angry voices drifting over. A crowd had gathered, although they kept a distance, merely wanting to overhear the drama, as this had been one of the more exciting events to occur. Clara’s indiscretion was now well-known, her reputation in ruins, but that didn’t stop her from flinging insults at her husband, which was shocking.

  “Do you think she means to leave him?” asked Mary. “Mr. Carter might’ve made her a better offer.”

  Samuel’s laughter filled the air. “If she thinks to marry him, she’s got another thing coming. I have it under pretty good authority that he already has a wife…and a son, all safely tucked away in Philadelphia.”

  “He does?” I stared at him, stunned.

  “Yes, ma’am. You weren’t entertaining the notion that he was going to ask for your hand in marriage, were you?”

  “Certainly not.”

  “You got mighty friendly with the man.”

  “Hardly.”

  “All those evenin’ strolls around the enclosure. The long talks and things.”

  “I’ve spoken to him almost as often as I’ve spoken to you. I’ve spoken to Abner even more. What are you implying?”

  “Oh, defensive again. I’m kinda liking this side of you. It shows spunk. There’s more than just a pretty face.”

  He thought I was pretty, but his way of offering a compliment had been delivered as an insult. “I’m…ouf! You’re ornery after a nap. You should go back to bed.”

  “You think, eh? You should see me first thing in the morning.”

  The air suddenly crackled with something akin to static electricity. I could almost feel the force of it. My anger had been stoked, but it was the strangest feeling. Instead of wanting to slap him, I longed to wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him. As a result of these scandalous feelings, my focus shifted to his lips, which looked bee-stung and inviting. Samuel’s gaze darkened, his body shifting towards me a fraction.

  “Why you slimy bastard!”

  This utterance shattered the moment, as he glanced in the direction of the disturbance. The men pummeled one another, fists flying, while Clara screamed. “That’s my cue. Excuse me ladies, but I’m gonna have to break that up. It’s been nice talking to you, Paulina. We really should continue this discussion another time.” He strolled casually towards the men, who rolled on the ground, the filth of wet mud coating their clothing.

  “You’re fond of him, aren’t you?”

  I glanced at Mary. “I’m…no.” That sounded weak.

  “Oh, honey, I can feel it for both of you. He’s got a gleam in his eye when he looks at you.”

  A fingernail went into my mouth, as I chewed it nervously. “What a pickle.”

  “Well, we’ve got weeks worth of traveling left. You’ve plenty of time to rope him in, good and proper.”

  “He’s going to California.”

  “It’s work. He’s got to bring these folks there. Then he’s coming back.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “If a man wants a woman bad enough, he’ll do whatever it takes to make her his. Trust me.” She pointed at Samuel, who now held John by the throat, as William Baker grasped Quincy Carter; the fighting had ceased for the moment. “That man’s smitten, I tell you. He’s good as cooked.”

  I laughed, “Oh, gracious. I don’t know. Time will tell.”

  “Yes, indeed.”

  Early the next morning, I found myself smiling in bed, staring at the tarp over my head, listening to the sounds of someone’s flatulence. It was so pronounced; I couldn't help giggling. I assumed it was Abner; the poor man had been suffering with constipation since the onset of our journey.

  After dressing and donning boots, I left the tent searching for Mary, who wasn't far from the cooking fire. Breakfast was cornmeal mush with dried currents, which I ate with milk and molasses; the taste was something I had gotten used to now. Abner tossed our tents into the wagon, after securing them into neat bundles. We were crossing a river today, and it was imperative that things were as tied down as possible. Due to the rains, we had been warned that it might be dangerous.

  “Here, have the rest, girl,” said Mary. “You’re getting far too skinny.” She dropped another dollop of food into my bowl.

  “Thank you.”

  “Think nothing of it.”

  I had no idea what had happened to the Goldmans, but, after the fight, things had settled down. My opinion of Quincy was now quite unfavorable, and I was grateful I had never entertained notions of marrying him. I would be beside myself with embarrassment, if I had.

  Once we were on our way, the road was a disaster, as wheels jammed in several feet worth of muck. Men had to use shovels to dig them out, while oxen labored to pull the conveyances free. Ours fell victim as well, and Mary and I were forced to walk, while Abner and several men battled to free the wheels. When we were finally mobile, someone else encountered an identical problem, and the rescue began all over again.

  Reaching the river, we came to a standstill. Due to the downhill nature of the descent, we were forced to lock one of the wheels with a chain, to keep the wagon from barreling into the water uncontrolled. The rocky shoreline bordered a swiftly flowing river, bloated from the abundance of rain. It banked sharply to the left, disappearing between rocky ravines. The wagons that had gone before us continued on, the oxen stoically pulling their burden to the other side without hesitation. One wagon became stuck, the wheels encountering an obstacle beneath the surface. This forced its occupants to flee, as the rapid, eddying current shifted the wagon nearly sideways, the force of the water pushing it at an odd angle.

  “Oh, goodness,” said Mary, her face wrinkled in concern. “How awful.”

  “It’s gonna topple over,” said Abner. We waited in a long cue for our turn. “They forgot to take the chain off the wheel, I bet. That has to be the trouble.”

  “Jump!” someone shouted.

  The occupants of the wagon fell into the water, as bundles of provisions suddenly burst from beneath the canvas, floating and bobbing in the current. The conveyance was nearly on its side, the oxen struggling to free themselves of the yoke upon their horns. Several men jumped in to help the family of four. Two children screamed; one had grasped his parent, while the other was carried downstream.

  “No!” cried Mary, her hand over her mouth. “Oh, dear Lord, no.”

  I stood on the seat to get a better view, horrified by what was happening. Men rushed to the other side, and one held a long stick. “They’ll get him, Mary. I know they will. He’ll find something to cling to.”

  Everyone had stopped to watch. The wagon was on its side, the rapid water spiriting away crates and tents. I spied Samuel, who was on a horse, his legs and torso soaked through. He’d gone from one embankment to the other, trying to capture what provisions he could.

  A shout rang out, “We got him!”

  I glanced at Mary. “See, I told you. It’s going to be fine.”

  “No, it’s not, my dear. We’ll have to cross soon enough.”

  A chill went through me, as I experienced a moment of terror unlike anything I had ever perceived before.

  Chapter Seven

  There were four wagons before us and a fifth crossing, but they seemed to fare better than the one before. The water came to the top of th
e first wheel, flooding the bed of the wagon and making things wet, but at least they remained upright, the oxen pulling them safely to the other bank. This was followed by another wagon, although there was only one driver, the other passenger was on a horse. They too reached the other side with success.

  Abner had locked one of the wheels to keep the wagon from plunging into the river, as the trail was steep here. We slowly began to descend, the oxen seemingly oblivious to the water that rushed before them. The rains had bloated the river; the current was swift. While we waited for the team before us to go over, Abner unlocked the chain, pulling it free of the wheel.

  “Here we go, folks.” He hoisted himself to the seat, snatching the reins that Mary held for him. “Hang on.”

  Samuel and William Baker were on their horses assisting people across, while Tom Meek had gone further ahead. He’d been fishing crates and tents out of the water, and I assumed he was doing the same for the poor family that had lost all of their things. Our conveyance jerked then, the animals pressing onwards, straight into the water. The wagons before us had a fair amount of momentum in the crossing, yet we seemed to be almost stuck in place.

  “Hurry, Abner!” cried Mary. “We gotta just go. Make them go!”

  “I’m trying!”

  The wagon shuddered; as water hit it from the side, the force of the impact jostled us to such a degree. I clung to the seat, holding on for stability.

  “There now!” shouted Abner. “Yah! Go, go, go!”

  The oxen snorted their displeasure, but continued, although it seemed far too slow, almost as if the wheels had caught on something. Samuel’s horse was knee deep in the water, his hat obscuring his face, but his attention was on us. I glanced at Mary, whose eyes were wide, shifting from side to side.

  “Abner!”

  “We got it! Go on, boys! Yah! Get ‘em up there. Get ‘em!”

  The relentless pounding from the water left us tilting precariously. Something wooden popped, the sound echoing within the ravine. An unexpected jolt sent Mary from the seat and into the river.

  “Mary!”

  I reached for her, losing my balance, and joined her, the coldness engulfing me all the way to the top of my bonnet. I screamed, trying to swim, although the weight of the dress wanted to pull me down. William Baker’s horse neared, snatching Mary, who screamed hysterically. While Abner managed to save the wagon, the wheels turning towards the other side of the embankment, I struggled to keep my head above water, swallowing far too much of it in the process. It smelled distinctly of fish.

  Something grabbed the back of my dress, lifting me out of the current, and I found myself seated sideways upon Samuel’s horse. “You’re a hundred pounds soaking wet.” He grinned.

  “Oh, goodness!”

  I grasped him, as the horse shifted beneath us, and I didn't want to slide off. My arm went around his neck, while he drew me near, spurring the mare from the water. We were up the embankment within seconds, as Abner and the team of oxen continued along the path, clearing a space for the next wagon. Mary, her bonnet flattened upon her head, rushed towards him.

  “Oh, for heaven’s sakes! What a calamity. Did we lose anything?”

  “No, we didn’t,” laughed Abner.

  “This isn’t funny!”

  “That was one wild ride. Can’t beat that for excitement.”

  “I just about had a heart attack. I don’t find this amusing at all.” Her hands were on her hips.

  Abner grinned. “It’s a good day to be out on the trail. Yes sirree.”

  I didn’t want to leave Samuel, enjoying the feel of his arm around me. Our eyes met, as attraction pinged, the feeling leaving me buzzing. He’d rescued me from near disaster, and I was entirely in his debt.

  “Thank you.”

  “Don’t mention it.”

  “I would’ve drowned.”

  “I doubt it. Somebody would’a fished you out.” He patted my bottom. “Now hop on down. I’ve got fifty more wagons to assist.”

  “Oh, of course. I’m sorry.” I slid from the saddle, landing on my feet. There was water trapped in my boots.

  He grinned, turning towards the river, as another wagon began to amble over. Hopefully, they would have better luck. I followed the path, seeing people up ahead, as they waited for the rest of the travelers to cross.

  “There you are,” said Mary. “Aren’t we a sight?” She dabbed at her face with a cloth.

  “I’ve never been wetter.” I grasped my shirts, wringing out the material. “My shoes are ruined.”

  “That was one wild ride.”

  “Oh, stop that now,” chided Mary. “That’s all he can say. You’d think it was the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to that man, besides marrying me, of course.”

  “It’s good we can laugh about this.”

  “Well, we better get used to it,” said Abner. “There are more river crossings ahead.”

  Mary looked less than amused. “God help us all.”

  Once the wagons were safely on our side, with only the loss of one, we continued, the line ambling slowly down a slight incline, while the heat of the afternoon sun beat down upon us. My dress was damp, but it felt wonderful when the wind blew, keeping me cooler than I would have been otherwise. Helen and Jason had crossed without incident, and there had been no fatalities, which was a miracle. By evening, we gathered in a large circle, settling in for the night.

  There was a distinct lack of music around the campfire, and conversations were subdued. The stress of the day had exhausted every one; even Abner had grown quiet, staring into the fire thoughtfully. Once the dishes were washed, I set out to find Samuel, wanting to thank him again for saving me from drowning. It was just after sunset, the sky streaked with orange and purple, with a hint of light beneath a bank of clouds on the horizon. West lay in that direction. I found him at his campsite, several men sitting near him; one held meat over the fire, which dangled from the end of a metal rod.

  “Mr. Tucker.”

  He turned to gaze at me; an eyebrow had risen. “Yes?”

  “Might I have a word?”

  “Certainly.” He got to his feet; his grin was easy, yet I sensed his interest.

  I moved away, hoping he would follow me, because I wanted to speak with him in private, not wanting an audience. The men stared at us, while curiosity and amusement were evident in their expressions. We approached a set of wagons some distance off. There was no one here to disturb us, although the lights of campfires blazed nearby.

  “I just wanted to thank you for everything you did this afternoon.”

  His hands were in his pockets. “It’s my job to keep people safe. You don’t need to thank me for doing my job.”

  “Well, someone should. I could’ve drowned.”

  “Maybe, maybe not.”

  “You might find this trivial, sir, but death is a concern to me.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Why yes.” He neared, and I found myself against the framework of a wagon, the hoop-shaped slats at my back.

  “So you wanted to express your gratitude?”

  “I want to thank you for all you did.”

  “That’s mighty thoughtful.”

  It should have alarmed me, but he was even closer now; the intensity of his caramel-colored eyes seemed to burn right through me. It was the oddest sensation, this inappropriate nearness, yet there wasn’t a part of me that didn't want to scream with wicked pleasure. The thrill of being alone with him was far greater than any concern I had over my reputation, which was shocking. His focus had shifted to my mouth, his intensions were clear, and I had no desire to stop him, if he were to kiss me.

  “Just how grateful are you?”

  The timber of his voice sent a jolt of sensation down my backbone. “I do believe I might owe you my life.”

  “That’s far too much. How about…a kiss?”

  A burst of tingles erupted in my tummy. “That’s all you want?” His expression was considerate, hi
s look unguarded for a split second, revealing a wealth of information that he would never dare verbalize. A kiss was only the beginning…and I doubted it would be enough for either of us.

  “I have a feelin’ I’m going to regret this.” His breath fanned out over my face, the hint of whiskey lingering. “But it’s all your fault. You did seek me out. There I was…minding my own campfire, when a brown-haired beauty called me away.”

  “I did.” It pleased me endlessly to be called a beauty, especially by him.

  “I shouldn’t take advantage of you.”

  “Why not?”

  He closed his eyes. “You’re not going to stop me, are you?”

  “No.” I wrapped my arms around his neck, knowing that I had now crossed the point of no return. “I do so want to kiss you, Sam. I can’t seem to think of anything else—”

  His lips closed over mine; the softness of the approach was a surprise, the touch light. I tilted my chin upwards, while he held my face, his thumbs grazing my cheeks. I’d kissed a man before, my ex fiancé, but it had been sweetly romantic, a quick brush of lips, followed by awkward embarrassment. This was lingering, heady, and all-consuming. When his tongue begged entrance, I knew it would shatter my world.

  I moaned against his mouth, clinging to him desperately, while our tongues battled, meeting and separating, over and over. I surrendered to him, not wanting the embrace to end, letting my fingers thread through his hair. Soft, silky strands were held hostage now, as I refused to let go. His arms went around my back, pulling me to him; the solid length of his body vibrated with energy, the excess spilling over and flooding me.

  “Oh…my…goodness…”

  His lips were on my neck, kissing and biting gently, sending tingles down my backbone. “I could do this…indefinitely.”

  “Yes…oh…please…”

  He grunted low in his throat, his lips finding mine, but this time there was nothing gentle about the kiss. He devoured me, staking claim by violating me with his tongue. A vague thought drifted through my mind, I had now been thoroughly, irrevocably seduced. He suddenly pushed me away, separating us, while his hand was in the center of my chest, keeping me at arm’s length.