by Kit Morgan
By the time Libby opened her eyes, Nate was gone. “I'll try not to,” she whispered as she reached up and touched her lips with a finger. She stared at the door as a chill went up her spine. She licked her lips, wondering if she could taste his on them. When he’d kissed her the day before at their wedding, she was too shocked to notice the pleasure of it, but not this time. This time, Nate’s kiss lingered and warmed her like she'd never been warmed before.
Libby stepped to the nearest chair and sat. Maybe her husband didn't think she was so bad after all. And if he didn't think so, then why should she? But before she had time to ponder the possibilities, Bonnie was knocking on her door. It was time to bake the bread.
The rest of the afternoon was spent baking bread and learning how to make stew. Libby found it hard to concentrate, and twice Bonnie scolded her for not paying attention. But all she could think of was Nate's kiss, one she’d had no idea was coming, and that somehow made it special. She didn't know why, but wished she did. Perhaps because he kissed her out of his own free will, not because she whined or manipulated him into it, or resorted to batting her eyes at him. No, he’d kissed her because he’d wanted to, and the thought made her feel pretty.
“Libby, are you all right?” Gwen asked. “You’re all red!”
Bonnie studied her and smiled. “She's fine. Let's finish this stew then divide it between the three of us.”
Soon it was time for Libby and Bonnie to leave and, with wrapped bread loaves in one hand, and of pot of stew held between them, they left Gwen and Walt’s cabin to go home. When they got to Libby's, Bonnie took the pot of stew and put half of it into the frying pan still on the stove. Thankfully, it was getting dark, and Bonnie hadn’t noticed that something had already been cooked in said frying pan. Libby wondered how the stew would taste mixed with sausage fat, and supposed in a short while she'd find out.
“There, now you have dinner for Nate. I'd better get back to the cabin and be ready with Bart’s when he gets home.”
“What’s Bart like?” Libby asked, curious.
Bonnie stood stock still. After a moment, she finally said, “Agreeable.” With that, she left.
Libby stared after her as she walked toward her own cabin at a quick pace. “Agreeable?” Libby echoed. “What does that mean?” She didn't have time to think on it further as Nate rode up. He dismounted his horse, a big bay, then smiled at her in the low light of dusk. “Evening, darlin’,” he said with a grin.
“Hello,” she said, a shy smile on her face.
“Do I smell something?” he asked.
Libby nodded. “Bonnie taught us how to make stew. There's some on the stove. Bread, too.”
“You don't say,” he said with a grin. “I'd best put Jack up, and then come in and try some.”
“He's a nice horse,” Libby commented as she admired his mount, and gave the horse a pat on the neck.
“Yeah, he is,” Nate agreed and stroked the animal’s muzzle. “Me and Jack, here, have been through a lot together, haven't we boy? He looked at her. “Can you ride?”
Libby paled and shook her head. “No, I never learned.”
“Best we remedy that, eh?”
“What?!”
“You heard me. If you're going to be a rancher's wife, you'll have to learn how to ride.”
“But… but…”
“No buts. First riding lesson will be Sunday, after church.”
“Church!” she croaked.
“Of course, church. Ain’t you a God-fearing woman?”
“Well… I… yes… But where do we go to church?”
“In Wiggieville, about an hour from here.”
Libby hadn’t thought of this sort of thing yet. Her mind had been too full of their disastrous wedding night, and of today’s lunch. Though, that hadn’t been so disastrous.
“Riding lessons,” she muttered as she turned to the door.
“Yep. But don't worry, I'm a good teacher.”
She turned to him and tried not to grimace. “I hope I’ll be as good a student.”
He laughed, took Jack by the reins, and headed for the barn. Libby went inside and closed the door behind her. When she’d agreed to this marriage, no one told her horses would be involved! It was enough to learn how to bake bread that day, not to mention stew. Would Gwen and Bonnie have to learn how to ride? Libby swallowed hard. “Oh dear, how am I going to tell him that I’m terrified of horses? At least, the riding part.”
Seven
The next several days for Libby and Gwen were spent trying to learn to be a good wife.
If they weren’t at Gwen's cabin cooking, cleaning, mending, and—shudder—doing the laundry, they were at Libby's. Never did they do their lessons at Bonnie's house, until today.
Bonnie opened the door when Gwen knocked, and smiled at her sisters. “Good morning! Are you ready to get started?”
“As ready as we’ll ever be,” said Gwen as she pushed her way inside. Libby had the good sense to wait a moment, though she was just as curious to see Bart and Bonnie's place. Before she had a chance to look, Gwen stopped up short and gasped. Libby hurried inside at the sound, ran into her, and nearly knocked both of them over.
Bonnie shut the door a little harder than she should, causing her sisters to jump. “I know it's not much,” she said evenly. “Bart doesn't like a lot of clutter.”
“Clutter?” Gwen huffed. “What clutter?”
“Exactly,” said Bonnie.
Libby glanced at the sparse furnishings—crude at best—and the lack of feminine touches. Of course, without the proper supplies to make things such as curtains or tablecloths, how could there be? There was a single chair, a small table, and a crate. A far cry from Libby’s cabin, or even Gwen’s. “I had no idea…” Libby whispered.
“Neither did I,” Bonnie muttered under her breath as she walked past her sisters and headed for the cook stove. “I thought we’d try our hand at baking cakes today. Men love cake.”
Gwen was still gawking at the bare walls, floor, and, well… everything. “How can you stand it?”
“I've grown accustomed.”
Libby felt a pang of guilt. Her cabin was lovely, incredible, and that was compared to Gwen's, which was much more… practical. As far as Walton was concerned, he saw no reason to change it. Gwen, of course, had already done a few things to make it more her own, whereas Libby didn't have to do a thing. To her, Nate had done a beautiful job furnishing and decorating his little place. But this… was downright dismal. No wonder Bonnie hadn’t had them over until now.
“Bonnie, I won't stand for it,” Gwen said, her voice stern.
“Stand for what?”
“This!” she said as she waved her arms to indicate the room. “It's awful!”
“Gwen! Don't tell her that!” Libby scolded.
“It's all right, Libby,” said Bonnie. “Besides, you know Gwenny’s not one to keep her opinion to herself. And she's right, it is awful. But I can live with it.”
“You shouldn't have to,” Libby told her. “After all you've done to help us, maybe we can help you.”
“Yes!” Gwen chimed in. “If you teach us how to sew, we could make a tablecloth, curtains, all kinds of things for you!”
Bonnie's mouth dropped half-open as she stared at her sisters in shock. “Really?”
“Of course,” said Libby. “Gwen’s right; after all you've done for us, we should do something for you. Of course, she's also right about the fact that you'll have to teach us how to sew to enable us to do so.”
Bonnie’s eyes darted between the two of them a few times, before she burst out laughing. Gwen and Libby exchanged a quick look, and joined her. It took a few moments for the three women to calm down before one of them got enough air in their lungs to speak. “Let's get started on these cakes, ladies,” Bonnie sputtered. “And then we’ll see about a sewing lesson.”
“How are we going to sew anything?” asked Gwen. “Do you have a needle and thread? Walton had a little, but no
t much. Does Bart?”
Bonnie quickly calmed and glanced around the cabin. “You know, you're right. I’ve used up what thread I could find to mend some of Bart’s things. We’re going to need supplies if we’re to make anything for this place. I'll see about a trip to town. In the meantime, let's bake.”
They made several cakes that afternoon. The first was a disaster, even with Bonnie telling Gwen and Libby what to do. The next two fared better, and Bonnie told them that by next week they would be making their own. Libby prayed she wouldn't destroy hers. Gwen bypassed any prayers and announced, “Mine’s going to die. I already know I'll never be able to do this!” But, after a few reassuring words from Bonnie, Gwen’s attitude toward her baking skills improved. Soon it was time to go home and prepare supper for their husbands.
“What are you going to try not to burn tonight?” Libby asked Gwen as they strolled back the their cabins, each carrying a cake.
“I haven't decided yet. You?”
“A couple of nights ago I murdered some eggs for Nate. I think I'll try another stab at it.”
“You're going to stab your eggs to murder them this time?” teased Gwen.
Libby rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean. I thought maybe I could fry some eggs and put them on bread for sandwiches.”
That's a good idea. Walt liked it when I made him some. Maybe I’ll make him egg sandwiches again tonight.”
“You’ve already made them that way?”
“Yes. You mean I’ve done something you haven’t?”
Libby sighed. “You’ve probably done a lot that I haven’t.”
Gwen studied her. “Don’t worry, you’ll catch up.”
Libby looked at her and smiled. “I hope so.”
When they got to Libby’s, they hugged each other as best they could (no mean feat when each of them held a cake in her hands), and agreed to let the other know how the eggs went the next day. Unfortunately, the next day was Sunday. Libby's heart pounded in her chest as Gwen walked away. How was she going to get out of the riding lesson Nate wanted to give her? She still hadn't gotten up the courage to tell him about her fear of horses. Well, not the horses themselves, but the riding part. And then it hit her. “Of course! That's what I’ll do!” She smiled as she sighed in relief, and went inside to fix her husband his supper.
* * *
Nate and his brothers parted ways at their usual spot and headed to their individual cabins. He wondered if Walton or Bart noticed he’d been out of sorts the past couple of days, and were just being quiet about it. Yesterday, Walt, a huge smile on his face, boldly asked him how Libby was in bed. The question took Nate by surprise at first, but then he took in his brother’s bright eyes and wide smile, and knew what his own situation must be. Nate returned his smile and simply said, “warm.” Which, of course, she was. When he got the chance to hold her, that is.
They shared the bed at night, but not each other. He didn't know how much longer he could hold out. Even in a nightdress, her body completely covered, he could not only see her curves, but swore he could feel them, and without laying a hand on her to boot! He didn't know how such a thing could happen, but it did. He knew what she would feel like before he touched her. When he did have the chance—as twice she snuggled against him in the middle of the night—he reveled in the feel of her as she tucked her body up to his. For some reason, it brought out every protective instinct he had, and it was all he could do to release her in the morning before she woke.
By the third night, he vowed to make her love him. So what if she was ill-fitted for ranch life; that was now. He’d teach her, by the grace of God he would! He’d teach her to ride, shoot, hunt, and work the land! Or, in this case, a vegetable garden. But, he'd still teach her how to herd cows, just in case.
When he got home, he took care of Jack, finished up a few more chores in the barn, and then went inside. When he entered the cabin, Libby was slicing bread. “Hello, darlin’,” he greeted with a smile. “What did your sister teach you today?”
She pointed to a pile of… something… on a plate sitting atop the sideboard. “Dessert!” she said proudly.
Nate stared at it from where he stood, took off his coat and hat, and hung them on a peg near the door. “What is that?”
“A cake, of course. Or supposed to be. At least I didn't burn it.” She said it with such innocence, it almost hurt. But then, that's what he loved about her. She was pure, and of course, naïve. But she could be taught things, and when she learned how to survive, he'd have himself a wife.
Of course, if she were able to cook someday, that would help. “Does it taste good?”
“The one we tested did… sort of,” she said with a grin.
He returned her smile. Her confidence was growing, and made her very attractive, not that she wasn't pretty to begin with, but a woman who believed in herself was someone a man could count on. If his guess was right, his little Libby didn't know who she was yet. Bart's wife, Bonnie, knew her own mettle which, in Nate's opinion, made Bart the luckiest of the three. He wouldn't have to help his wife along and teach her to live as a rancher's wife. Walt, too, was lucky, in the fact that his wife, though as unskilled in her domestic abilities as Libby, was obviously not opposed to learning a thing or two in the bedroom. Nate's wife, on the other hand, was under-skilled in both areas. For now.
Nate smiled at the thought and went to sit at the kitchen table. “What's for supper?”
“Er… well,” she began, her tone sheepish. “As we spent so much time baking this afternoon, I thought we could just have fried egg sandwiches.”
“Egg sandwiches?” he repeated thoughtfully. “As hungry as I am, I could eat three, if you can manage it.”
She stared at him a moment before she smoothed the skirt of her dress. He noticed she did it when she was nervous. “I have a goal tonight,” she announced. “Since I didn't burn the cake, and only had a little trouble getting it out of the pan, I'll try to do the same with the eggs.”
He tried not to laugh, but a chuckle escaped, nonetheless. “All right; can I watch?”
“Oh, must you?”
“Would it make things harder if I do?”
“A little,” she said as she blushed.
Nate smiled again, his eyes darting to her mouth. She was so adorable, he almost couldn't stand it. He wanted to take her in his arms, kiss her senseless, then carry her to the bedroom.
Patience, Nate old boy, patience … his good sense warned. He took a deep breath and glanced at the hearth. “It's a little chilly in here,” he remarked. “I think I'll build us a fire.”
Her eyes lit up. “Oh, would you? I'd love to have a fire.”
Nate hadn’t use the fireplace for a while. The stove was enough to keep the cabin warm at this time of year. “Very well; while you make supper, I'll take care of keeping you… uh… cozy.”
She blushed again. The sight of her pink cheeks made him stop and stare. Time to take a chance and see how ready she was.
He went around the table to stand in front of her, reached up, and brushed a stray lock of hair out of her face. “Did you know you’re mighty pretty when you're cooking?”
Her blush deepened. “You mean, when I'm trying to?”
“Trying or succeeding, darlin’, it doesn't matter. You're still pretty when you're doing it.” He bent to her and gave her a gentle kiss on the cheek, straightened, and winked. He then went to the hearth to get a fire going.
He sensed her watching him. He hadn’t kissed her since the day they’d had their little “talk”. And though it had been a few days, she'd been too quiet for his taste. Like a frightened filly, she would take some extra time and effort, but he knew once she started to trust him, and understood he wasn't going to hurt her, she'd start to open up and let her walls down. Maybe then, he could do the same. Lord knew he’d had them up for far too long. He couldn't afford to fall in love these past years, as he didn't know where he’d end up. Nate always sensed that somehow, someway, he'd settle nea
r his brothers. He just didn't know when. He'd forgotten the notion until he received Walt’s letter, asking him to come to Texas and start ranching. Reading that letter the same day he got a good knock on the head with a piece of firewood, brought it to mind. Now here he was, settled near his brothers, with what promised to be one of the biggest ranches in this part of Texas. He even had a wife, thanks to Walton's ingenuity. Now all he had to do was break her in. But this wasn't some horse he was going to train, but a woman. She just didn't know how to be one yet.
Nate smiled. One thing was for certain. He was going to enjoy teaching her.
* * *
Libby watched Nate eat his sandwiches from across the table. How could the sight of a man eating warm her so? Maybe it was the fact he enjoyed the meal, or that she hadn't
ruined supper for once. Whatever it was, she hoped the warm flutter in her belly and the delicious chills that went up her spine lasted the rest of the evening. They made her want to snuggle against him on the settee and gaze at the fire. Of course, her disaster of a cake might ruin the mood. That is, if it didn't taste good. With luck, it only looked awful.
Nate sat back in his chair and patted his stomach. “That was some mighty fine eatin’, darlin’. Thank you.”
Libby blushed at his praise. “You're welcome.”
“Need some help with the dishes?”
Libby started in her chair. He'd never offered to help her with the dishes before. “If you like.”
“Sure, why not?” he said as he stood. She watched him disappear for a moment as he went out back to fetch some water, brought it into the kitchen, and then put it on the stove to heat. He then put on a pot of coffee to have with their dessert.
“Did I do something wrong?” Libby asked. Why else would he be taking over what she’d come to learn were her chores?
“No, not at all.”
“Then why are you doing everything?”
He glanced around the kitchen before his eyes settled on her. “Can’t a man spend time with his wife? I'd rather be doing something with you than just sitting at the table, watching you.”
