by Kit Morgan
“I can fix you a sandwich,” she breathed, her lips still pink and swollen from his kiss.
His mouth opened as his head lowered and he stopped himself. Not now, Dalton! He
thought. You've not won her completely. “Sounds wonderful, darlin’.” He let her go and noted the look of disappointment on her face.
“I’ll… just go fix us something.”
“You do that, and I'll take care of Jack.”
She nodded, her eyes reluctant to leave his.
He smiled at her, tweaked her nose, and winked. “I'll see you in a little while, Mrs. Dalton.”
She blushed from head to toe, and he stifled a groan. His whole body tightened, and if he had any sense at all, he’d toss himself into the horse trough.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
He couldn’t answer right away, his jaw so tight his teeth were grinding.
“You look funny,” she commented as she studied him.
“It's nothing,” he said, his voice coming out a croak.
She eyed him and cocked her head to one side. “Are you sick?”
“Good Lord, she hit the nail on the head! He was sick. Love sick! How did this happen? He wanted her, desired her and, in that moment, it was all he could do to keep his hands off of her! Sure, he wanted her to desire him just as much and even more. Had he already gone past more? “I have to take care of Jack,” he pushed out through clenched teeth. He then spun on his heel and went to take care of his horse.
* * *
Libby watched as Nate hurried to the barn and sighed. Why was Nate acting so funny all of a sudden? She shook the thought off and went inside. The only thing she could think to make was bacon and eggs. She gathered what she needed and set to work. By the time she got the meal ready, Nate came back. It was then she realized he'd been gone quite a while, and turned to face him. “What happened to you?” she gasped.
“Dunked my head in the horse trough,” he said as he strode to the table, his head and shoulders dripping.
“The horse trough? Why would you do that?”
“I was… hot. It's hot outside, you know.”
Libby's eyes flicked to the window. “Not that hot …”
“Hot enough,” he said. “Is that bacon?”
Libby nodded, fixed his plate, and set it on the table. “I'll have you know, I didn't burn a thing.”
He looked at her as he absently brushed water off his face. “Really? This calls for a celebration!”
Libby smiled, and stood behind him and put her arm around his neck. Feeling bold, she rested her cheek atop his head. He stiffened at the action. Didn't he want her to be affectionate? Maybe his earlier kiss was just that, a simple kiss, and nothing more. Perhaps that's what the others were as well. Her heart sank with the thought. Nate still didn't feel a wit of anything for her. She backed away and returned to the stove. “I can make more if you like.”
She listened as he began to eat. “This is fine.”
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, so he wouldn't hear it, then fixed her own plate and sat. They ate in silence, and as soon as Nate was done he got up and snatched his hat off the peg near the door. “Where are you going?”
“To have a word with my brother.”
“Which one?”
“Bart. I'll be back soon.” He then left.
What was wrong with him? One minute he had her moaning in his arms, the next he acted as if he didn’t want anything to do with her! Libby rolled her eyes in frustration. “I have got to talk to Bonnie!”
Speaking of Bonnie, Libby needed to store the few sewing supplies she’d purchased, and wondered if Nate had a container or a box she could use. She glanced around the kitchen and living room, but didn’t see anything, so continued her search in the bedroom. In the week since their arrival, Libby had studied and nosed around every nook and cranny in the cabin, except one.
Nate's trunk.
She stared at it, and wondered if she dare open it. She didn’t ask Nate if she could, after all, and maybe he kept things tucked away in there for a reason. The reason being, he didn’t what anyone to see certain… things. After all, that's what Libby and her sisters used trunks for. They hid things in them all the time. Libby giggled at the thought as she knelt before the trunk. She undid the latch and opened it. He hadn’t told her not to open it, either.
“Hmm, nothing much exciting about more blankets.” She took them out and set them to the side. What lay underneath wasn't any more interesting. There was a bridle, a nice one too; black with silver buckles polished to a high sheen. “Let's see, what else…” A pair of spurs, a cigar box—naturally she peeked, but it just had some receipts and papers, so she immediately closed it up—a few books, a shirt, and… “What’s that?”
Libby moved the shirt aside and stared at the oddity. She picked it up and studied it. “Oh, I know what this is!” Libby giggled. Nate Dalton was the proud owner of a boy’s slingshot. Benedict, Hank and Percy had all had one when they were boys, and she could remember hitting Percy in the ankle with a rock when she was seven. Her aim was a shock to her brothers, and just as amusing, at least to Bert and Hank. Percy, on the other hand, did not share in their amusement, nor did he to this day. He still had the scar.
Libby stood and studied the toy, even though, according to her brothers and father, a slingshot was no mere toy. In her hands, at the time, Percy had announced it a lethal weapon! She laughed out loud at the memory, and recalled the look on Percy’s face when her antics had sent him hopping into a nearby horse trough! Only, Percy didn't get just his head and shoulders wet as Nate had earlier. He fell in, went under, and came up spitting mad. Libby had dropped the slingshot and taken off at a run for the mercantile. She thought if she hid from him long enough, he'd calm down. She’d hoped so, anyway.
Libby giggled, put the slingshot and other things back in the trunk, closed the lid, and covered it up with the shirt. “What am I to put my sewing supplies in?”
Perhaps Gwen would have something she could use. She looked at the trunk again. If she had been thinking, she’d have kept out the cigar box. She could use it as a small sewing box until she got one in Wiggieville. Of course, she'd ask Nate first if she could use it.
Speaking of her husband, he should be back any time. How long did it take to walk over to Bart and Bonnie's and talk a few moments? Unless they were talking about something serious. Her guess was he went to go see what the earlier shooting was about. But what if it was more than that? What if he went to his brother's house to complain about her? To tell him he didn't want to be married to a nothing of a girl?
“But I'm not a girl,” she whispered to herself. “I'm as much a woman as my sisters… I think.” She had to talk to Bonnie! She had so many questions now about love, life, and men. Who else was she going to ask? If this had anything to do with dresses or the latest hair fashion, she could ask Gwen. Bonnie wasn't much use in that category. But Libby could no more ask Gwen about love than she could Bonnie about fashion. “I'll have to wait and speak with her tomorrow,” she mused aloud. “Maybe then I'll find out what I should do.” Libby sidestepped around the trunk and sat on the bed. ‘What am I going to do? What if Nate doesn't… love me?”
Libby sat, eyes wide, as she realized that she might be falling in love.
“But what happens if he doesn't love me back?” For now, that question would go un- answered. In the meantime, she’d occupy her thoughts with what to make her husband for supper later, and hoped she didn’t fall in love with him any more than she already had.
* * *
Over an hour had passed since Nate left Libby to speak to his brother. When he reached Bart's cabin and he smelled meat cooking, he decided to give Bart and Bonnie a chance to have their supper in private. He knew how he'd feel if someone interrupted his meal, and so took a stroll onto the prairie to clear his head. “I have to be gentle,” he mused aloud as he walked. “Gentle, yet firm.” That was how to handle his little Libby. But how was h
e going to handle himself? The moment she snuggled against him when they went to bed, he might go mad! How was he going to hold out? Dunking his head in a horse trough worked once, but he didn't want to make it a habit.
But wait… what if he was so tuckered out at the end of the day that he was too tired to even think about… Yes! That's what he'd do. He'd make sure he was so worn out there was no chance he'd have the energy or wherewithal to be tempted by his wife!
The thought settled in his mind. He’d already tried to pretend to be tired, just so she wouldn’t worry about him making any untoward advances. Now he really would be. Nate smiled and whistled as he strolled across the prairie.
One hour later—and a discussion with his brother—Nate was on his way home. The conversation with Bart had put him in a less-than-congenial mood. Bart was determined to leave on another one of his safaris, and seemed to have no qualms about leaving his wife behind to fend for herself. If the idiot had any sense at all, he’d take Bonnie with him! Of course, if Nate had any sense at all, he'd have brought it up! He rolled his eyes at the thought as he entered the cabin.
Libby was nowhere in sight.
Nate glanced around again. She must be in the bedroom. He went to the bedroom door and gave it a soft knock. “Libby?”
“Yes?” came from the other side of the door.
Nate opened it and walked in. “Hey, darlin', what are you doing?”
“Nothing. I was bored, I guess.”
“Bored? I haven't been gone that long.”
“I did put on a pot of soup. I thought we could have it with some bread tonight. It should be done soon.”
“Sounds fine,” he said as he sat on the bed next to her. He stiffened as he met her gaze, and realized where they were. Perhaps sitting together on the bed wasn't such a good idea. “Would you like to go into the other room?”
“Okay.”
They stood, and she turned to him. “I was looking for something to put some sewing supplies in, but didn’t find anything. Except a cigar box in your trunk,” she told him and pointed at the foot of the bed.
“You can use it if you want. I'll get it for you. Why don't you get a sewing box the next time you're in town?”
“That was my plan,” she said as she watched him open the trunk and begin to dig through the contents.
“Nice slingshot you have there, by the way.”
He stood, the cigar box in his hand, and gave it to her. “Oh, yes… that.
She folded her arms across her chest and smiled. “My guess is that, that has a story behind it.”
Nate felt himself blush. How embarrassing… “Yes, it certainly does.”
“I would love to hear all about it,” she told him with a grin.
Though she smiled, he could tell something wasn't right. He also knew he needed to get them out of the bedroom. He grabbed the slingshot out of the trunk, closed it, then took her by the hand and led her to the settee in the living area. Once they were settled, he let out a heavy sigh. “Where to begin…”
“You could always tell it to me backwards and then I'd have to piece it together. You know, like a puzzle?”
“You are a silly woman,” he told her as he tweaked her nose. “My brothers and I each have one of these.”
“Really? When did you get them?”
“We must've been about ten or so when we lived in Oregon City. We got into more trouble with these slingshots than any other toy we’d been given. Caused a stagecoach to go off the road with this.”
Libby gasped. “Nate Dalton! You didn't!”
“Yep, though I think Walt was the one who did that; I can't remember. I was the one who knocked a man into a grave, though.”
“What?!” she said, eyes wide.
“With a rock. Finn Mullany was his name. He was an undertaker, and had just dug a grave. We all took a shot at the same time, but I'm the only one who hit him.”
“That’s terrible! Did he get hurt?”
“No, other than a bump on his head. But he was hopping mad. I thought I was going to die that day. Thankfully, I saw a woman walking across his pumpkin patch. The Mullany family grew them for extra money. Anyway, she tripped and fell down, so I started screaming at Finn that he had a woman in his pumpkin patch. He didn't believe me, though.”
“What did he do?”
“He threatened to tell my pa what my brothers and I had done. Thankfully, the gal popped up, and he saw her and let me go.”
“What happened then?”
He looked at her and smiled. “They got married.”
“No, not to him; to you and your brothers. What did your father do when he found out you’d hit the poor man in the head with a rock?”
“Oh, he was mad, and made us give up our slingshots to Mr. Mullany. But we got them back after a week or so. Good thing too. Some scoundrel came to town and caused trouble for the Mullany family. If it weren't for these slingshots, that poor woman from the pumpkin patch would be dead at the worst, scarred at best.”
Libby gasped. “Mercy! What happened?”
Nate started to toss the slingshot back and forth in his hands. “We hit the bad guy and knocked him flat. For once, our aim was good.”
Libby stared at him, enthralled. “Was this before, or after, they got married?”
“Before,” Nate chuckled. “They got married in that same pumpkin patch. It was really rather romantic, now that I think on it.”
Libby smiled again. “Do you… think about romance much?”
He looked at her and swallowed hard. “Not much.”
“Oh,” she said, her voice low, and turned away.
Nate, you idiot, he thought to himself. He was about to grab her, pull her against him, and kiss her senseless. But he knew what the end result would be, and didn't want her like that. She deserved better. Instead, he did the only thing he could think of. “Is the soup ready yet?”
Eleven
The next few days passed in a blur for Libby, and she was surprised she could recall as much of it as she did. Baking bread for the first time without burning it, Gwen did a little dance around her kitchen in front of her and Bonnie. It was a comical sight, and Libby couldn't help but smile and giggle as Gwen pirouetted at the end. She'd mastered the art of bread-baking and was ecstatic over her achievement. Libby mastered it, too, but had been so preoccupied wondering if Nate had any true feelings for her, that she’d almost missed sharing in Gwen’s happiness. She was cheating herself out of moments like Gwen’s, and decided she didn't want to miss anymore, such as the one they shared the next day; only it wasn't something to dance about.
Libby and Bonnie were at Gwen's house sewing, (Bonnie was sewing, Gwen and Libby were stabbing fabric with needles) trying to make curtains for Bonnie's cabin, when they heard a wagon outside. They looked at each other in apprehension at first. Who could it be? Nate and Walton were out on the prairie somewhere working, and Bart was on a business trip. Bonnie told them about it the day before, and so Gwen asked her to have supper with her and Walt. Libby was planning on inviting her to supper, too, so she wouldn’t have to eat alone. Maybe Bart was back already…
Gwen must have had the same thought, because she went to the door and answered it. The person on the other side, however, was most definitely not Bart.
Libby and Bonnie craned their necks to see past Gwen. They knew it was a woman, they could at least see part of her skirt. Leaning further for a better view, they could then see that she was a very pregnant woman.
Libby and Bonnie’s eyes became riveted on the doorway and the two women in it. Libby, for one, had never been so proud of Gwen as she was in that moment.
The woman introduced herself as one Lela Mason; an acquaintance, of sorts, of Walton's. Though, “of sorts” was a gross understatement. She told Gwen she was there to see Walton about… their baby!
Libby almost choked upon hearing the word! What sort of life had Walton Dalton led before he married her sister? A better question might be what kind of life had all
three brothers led before marrying?
No sooner had she thought it, than Gwen shut the door in the woman's face, returned to the table where they’d been working, and sat. “I'll be staying at your house tonight after I have a little talk with my husband, Bonnie.”
Libby and Bonnie exchanged another look. “Don't you think you should give him a chance to explain?” Bonnie asked.
Gwen looked about to bust a gut! “Absolutely not! Her swollen belly explained everything as far as I'm concerned! How he could be interested in that… that tart, I don't know.”
Libby's shock grew by the second, but not so much that she didn't scold Gwen for calling her husband something she shouldn’t. But who could blame her? What would she or Bonnie do if such a woman showed up on their doorstep? What were the chances that one wouldn't? If it happened to Gwen, it could happen to Libby or Bonnie easily enough. The Dalton Brothers had been single men for a very long time…
Libby's chest tightened with the thought. It was bad enough Gwen had to suffer such a fate. Hadn’t she been through enough scandal? But what if the same thing happened to her and Nate? Or worse, to Bonnie while Bart was away? She looked at her sister as she spoke with Gwen. If Bart always left on business, then how faithful was he being to her sister?
Not long after Miss Mason’s surprise visit, Bonnie and Libby left. Neither wanted to be there when Walt got home to suffer Gwen's wrath. In what shape or form it came in, they didn't know, but guaranteed it would come.
When they reached Libby's cabin, they gave each other a quick hug and glanced back at Gwen’s place. The men would be home soon, and both wondered about the upcoming exchange. “She'll be fine,” Bonnie assured. “Just fine. Don't worry, I'll take care of her.”
