by Holly Bush
Her face bloomed red from her hairline to her chin. “Whatever you think is best, Mr. Gentry. Beau.”
He would bet his last penny and all of Uncle Chester’s property that Eleanor McManus was not only a virgin but also ignorant of the particulars. He sent a silent prayer aloft that he could make her first experience good enough that she’d want a second, a third, and an always.
“What do you mean you don’t think you can marry us?” Beau asked the minister. He’d made his way back to the church that Eleanor had gone to when they first arrived in Winchester after he’d escorted her to her room and waited until he heard the lock on her door drop into place.
“Are you both quite sure this is what you want to do? After all Miss McManus has gone through, her parents’ death and her own kidnapping? She may not be able to make a sound judgment in regards to something as permanent as marriage. She may not even be in her right mind.”
“Miss McManus is sane and is sure about her wishes. I have said the same things to her and she has not been moved.”
Reverend Buckland offered him a seat in the first pew in the empty church and sat down beside him. “Young ladies can be so easily distracted from good sense by the events Miss McManus has experienced. And she may be still reeling from a broken heart,” he said and stared at the altar.
“A broken heart? Over a man who would not help her give her family a Christian burial?” Beau shook his head. “Miss McManus has no veil over her eyes. She saw clearly what type of man her intended was.”
“William was to be the assistant to Reverend McManus when they arrived in Charleston. It was only natural that the eldest daughter become his bride. She would have been planning this marriage from the time the reverend made his family aware of his plans for their new home and church. I’m still hoping that things can be resolved between them.”
“She was fortunate to find out what a son-of-a-bitch her intended was before she became his wife.”
Buckland turned sharply. “I cannot countenance that sort of language. We are in a house of worship! You are not the sort of man fit to marry a young woman from a good family such as Miss McManus. I feel an obligation to guide her in her father’s absence, and I will do so!”
“But you were content to turn her away into the streets after her entire family was murdered,” he said and rose. “There is no need for you to feel any obligation to Miss McManus. I will see to her welfare as you have not.”
Beau walked out of the church as Buckland shouted at his back. He’d heard enough and made the long solitary walk to the hotel wondering what he would tell her.
“Miss Eleanor,” he whispered as he rapped softly on her door. “I need to speak to you.”
“What is it?” she asked as she opened the door a crack. “Is everything alright?”
“I just spoke to the minister at your church.” He stopped as a pair of cowboys went past him in the hallway, and two women stepped onto the landing.
Eleanor pulled him inside and closed the door. She was wearing a white nightgown, embroidered and fussed up with ribbons at the collar, underneath a long blue robe that she’d tied at the waist with a sash. Her hair hung over her shoulder and down as low as her belly in a plait. Beau’s mouth went dry.
“I shouldn’t be in here,” he said.
“We are to be married shortly, and I’d prefer not to discuss our private business in the hallway. What is it?”
“I visited with Reverend Buckland a few minutes ago.”
“And what did the good reverend have to say?”
Beau twirled his hat in his hands. “I thought you’d like to be married in a church, so I went to talk to him this evening. He’s . . . he’s not inclined to marry us.”
“Did he say why?”
“Well, in manner of speaking he did. He’s concerned that you are still feeling the effects of recent events.”
“I will tell him, if necessary, just as I’ve told you. I am not denying I’m feeling deep grief and loss over my family, and I was frightened beyond anything I could dream of when I was kidnapped. Young woman and men often marry quickly though, as life does not allow for lengthy engagements, and often marriages are arranged by parents, with little choice for either the bride or groom. But that is not the case for me. You are kind and steady in your defense of me and are planning to do great things with your life and the opportunities presented to you. Why wouldn’t I wish to marry you?”
“Reverend Buckland thought you might be nursing a broken heart.”
“I am. But it has nothing to do with William Dodgekins.”
“So you will be satisfied going to the justice of the peace or the sheriff to be married?”
She looked up at him then, her eyes focused on his. “I wish to marry you. If I knew of another church in town, I would prefer that, but I don’t, so we will be married by whoever can legally wed us.”
“Then tomorrow it is.” He leaned down to kiss her cheek, as she had done the day before, but she turned her head at the last moment, touching her lips to his. They both held still, barely meeting. He could feel the heat of her breath as it shortened and see her lashes lower. He pressed his lips to hers then and put a hand under her chin. “You are perfect,” he whispered.
Eleanor held still, even though her heart was pounding in her chest. This was what she’d dreamt of as girl coming to womanhood. What she’d imagined in the dark of her bed, with the moonlight streaming in her room through the window back home after coming upon a couple in an embrace behind the schoolhouse one day. She’d stood there, near the lilac bush, intending to cut some blooms for the altar and smelling its heavenly fragrance, when she’d heard a low moan. At first she thought someone was hurt, but there wasn’t pain in the sound. There was pleasure. She pulled a branch down and saw them. A young woman she knew and a handsome drifter who had been spending silver in the local saloon. His hat was tipped back and he held her arms and turned his head to cover the girl’s mouth with his.
It was disturbing . . . and enticing. She’d run home that evening and raced through her chores and her lessons and gone to bed early, leaving her mother to think her head was aching. In bed, she curled on her side and closed her eyes to envision the man kissing the girl, to more closely examine where his hands were, where hers were, and what he was doing with his mouth. She wondered if her husband would kiss her like that, and when she met William, she dreamt about his embraces.
But this man, her husband to be, was kissing her and it felt nothing like what she’d imagined. There were no sweet songs playing off in the starry distance, no gauzy vision of a life ever after with happy smiles, and innocence. There was instead an eruption of emotion, of urges, of wants and needs, with no rational thoughts or even a girl’s daydream to soften it. She was clinging to him, with her hands braced on his upper arms, where all that power resided. Where the strength to knock a man down with one punch and the steadiness to wield two deadly weapons was stored, yet his hand, his fingers on her chin and cheek, was exquisitely tender. She arched up on her toes to be closer.
Eleanor breathed in the scent of him. Of shaving soap, mint, and some faint note of male sweat, of masculinity, if there was such a thing. She let her fingertips travel up his arms to his shoulders, until she met with the bare skin of his neck and the tickle of his hair on her wrist. She held his head in her trembling hands, pushing her fingers through his hair and touching his ears with her thumbs. He moaned against her mouth; the feel of his breath against hers opened her lips to his. His hands circled her waist, holding her closer to him and letting the tips of her breasts sway against the hard planes of his chest, sending a shiver of nerves down her back and legs. Ahhh!
His tongue touched her bottom lip and trailed up to the corner, just grazing the inside of her mouth. Her eyes closed and she let herself feel all the sensations his touch caused without the bother or distraction of vision. He pulled away at that moment, breathing hard, and braced his forehead on hers.
“You will be my wife tomo
rrow,” he whispered. “I can think of nothing but that and this.”
She nodded. “And you will be my husband.”
“I’m sorry you’re disappointed about the church. The damned reverend made me mad. Maybe I could have convinced him if I hadn’t lost my temper.”
Eleanor looked up at him, determined to have her say, even if she was dim-witted and short-breathed from kissing him. “My father never used curse words.”
Beau smiled. “Have I just been scolded by my bride to be?”
“Scolded?” She looked up at him. “Perhaps you do not want to take a bride who speaks her mind.”
He held her face in his hands. “You would not be alive if you did not have a backbone, if you weren’t courageous. I am in awe of you. Say what is on your mind, as I will. We will argue and disagree sometimes, but isn’t that the nature of marriage?”
“My mother and father did not argue often, and when they did it was always behind closed doors. But they kissed each other’s cheeks and held hands and hugged and told each they loved each other in front of us. I never doubted, even on the rare occasion when I did hear angry voices, that they were truly in love and respected each other.”
“A fine example for us to live up to.”
Chapter 4
“I have had a lovely day, husband,” Eleanor said at the door of her room the following evening. “Our meal at the hotel dining room was very grand, and I’ll remember it forever.”
“We’ve got our deed and our wedding license, signed and sealed,” he said, and patted his breast pocket.
“Will we visit the property tomorrow?”
“I would like to, Eleanor.” He smiled at her and held her hands in his.
“I want to thank you, Beauregard,” she said softly. “I am honored to be your wife and will do my best to make a home, and raise children you will be proud of. I cannot tell you how much it meant to me that you escorted me to church and waited while I said my prayers and spoke to Reverend Buckland.”
He shook his head. “You don’t have to thank me for such small matters. You are my wife. If you need escorted, I hold that privilege.”
“You remind me so very much of my father. He was always so kind to Mother. And thank you for taking me to their graves today. It may have seemed morbid for a wedding day but for . . .”
Beau wrapped her in his arms as she began to sob. “They are still very alive to you. It is only a short time ago that you spoke to them and touched them.”
She nodded against his chest. “I felt as if I had to tell them, especially my father, that I was married and that you were a good man and that he could be sure that I would be taken care of and protected. It sounds very silly as I say it.”
“It is not silly. It is not silly at all.” He leaned her back in the circle of his arms. “I’m no religious man. I just don’t take to it and don’t know that I ever will. But I made my peace with your daddy, too, today. He deserved to hear my promises to keep you safe.”
Eleanor opened the door to her room. “I look forward to tomorrow, Beauregard.”
He kissed her forehead and waited in the hall until she locked the door to her room. She undressed in the dim light of the kerosene lamp then curled under the covers and shivered. Soon, she thought, she wouldn’t shiver in the night from the cold sheets and damp air. Soon she would climb in bed with Beauregard. Her husband. How happy she was! How strange life could be. Emptiness and fear and desolation could be overcome by joy and bittersweet memories . . . and longing. She was hungry for him, she admitted to herself, and worried she was no longer in control of her nineteen-year-old body. How could it be a “duty,” as her mother reluctantly described, if she wanted it, whatever “it” was, so badly. Although her mother had smiled when she said it and told her that joining with her husband was so much more than that, so much more than a duty, and that she would tell her about the mysteries in good time.
There would be no good time now. How strange to wish to feel a man she did not know, had not heard of, less than a month ago. She wished she could run her hands over his shoulders and touch the hair on his chest. She wanted to feel his hand touching her, touching her everywhere, especially her breasts, heavy now with the thought of him undressing. Would he touch her there? In her most private, intimate area that she had no name for? He would have to, she imagined, if what she thought was necessary to complete the act happened. Would his hand touch her there with feather traces like when he stroked her cheek with his long fingers? The bed was suddenly cozy and warm as she replayed their kisses in her head, and she fell asleep as she twirled the gold wedding band on her finger.
Beau knocked on his wife’s door, his wife!, he thought in some wonder, and waited.
“Good morning, Beauregard,” Eleanor said, smiling and rosy cheeked, when she opened her door.
“Good morning. I want to have the men at the stable check the wheels on the wagon. I thought we’d take it out this morning to find our property. It may take some time at the stables. Would you like to wait here?”
She pulled on a straw poke bonnet and tied the wide blue ribbon under one ear. “I’ll go to the mercantile while you are at the stable. You can bring the wagon there when you’re done, if that is agreeable to you.”
“By yourself?” he said and twirled his hat in his hand.
She turned to him. “I imagine I will be by myself as you’ll be at the stables. We did not bring many of the things I’ll need in a household from Allentown, as my mother intended to purchase items when we arrived. I don’t mean to purchase much, but I’ll need soap and salt, at the very least. Could you see if there are any burlap sacks to be had at the mill?”
“Could you wait until I’m finished at the stable?”
Eleanor tilted her head and stared at him. “I went to the mercantile by myself when we stayed here. Reverend Buckland told my father it was perfectly fine for me to go alone during the day. I went several times and took my sisters on some occasions, too.”
Beau had seen women of all ages walking alone out in the town over the last few days, but they had not been his wife. She was staring at him now with raised brows. “Just be careful. There are always drifters coming though towns like this.”
She smiled up at him, and he realized he would most likely grant her anything to see her smile and her eyes crinkle up at the corners. He escorted her down the street with a hand under her elbow, past horses, buggies, and troughs ’til she was at the door of the mercantile.
“Be about an hour, I think, and I’ll come by for you.”
“Thank you. That will be fine,” she said as she pulled a paper from her bag and whisked herself past pickle barrels and into the store.
“Which fabric would you recommend for making a tick for my bed, or do you sell ready-made ones?” Eleanor asked the woman behind the counter as she ran a hand over the canvas. She looked up when the woman didn’t answer.
“Aren’t you the daughter of that preacher who got himself killed?”
“My father and mother and sisters were murdered by outlaws, just outside of your town, yes.”
“Not that it’s any of my business, but what do you need a tick for?”
“I was married yesterday. I’ll be setting up housekeeping soon.”
The woman’s eyes widened. “William took you back?”
Eleanor kept her face expressionless as she realized other shoppers had inched closer to hear her reply. “I have not married Mr. Dodgekins, if that is to whom you refer. Do you carry ready-made ticks?”
She refused to be drawn into this conversation, and realized that her family’s story, and its outcome, was most likely repeated at every opportunity. She would muster all the dignity necessary to quell such talk. And then the door of the mercantile opened behind her.
“Eleanor, my dear!”
She turned in time to be pulled into Reverend Buckland’s wife’s arms and patted on the back as if she were a small child.
“I am so terribly sorry I was not here in y
our time of need, Eleanor. I’ve been attending my niece who has just presented her husband with a son. What a horrible event for your family! I am so sorry for you! Please come back with me to the church. We will discuss your future, and you may unburden yourself of whatever upsetting memories you have.”
Eleanor pulled herself out of the woman’s arms. “Mrs. Buckland, thank you very kindly for your sympathies. I have set a course for myself, however, and my future is well planned.”
“Well planned? I heard that our William was less than sympathetic when he heard about the event, poor man, and undoubtedly said some things that he shouldn’t have. But he is heartbroken now. You must come back with me to the rectory. I will make tea and we will see how to make this right. It is only what your poor sainted mother would have expected.”
“Not today, Mrs. Buckland. I will call on you soon, though.”
“Said she was already married, Mariam,” the woman behind the counter said.
“Already married? Whatever do you mean?”
Mrs. Buckland’s grip on her upper arms tightened, and Eleanor forced herself to stand straight and not be intimidated. What hold did this woman have over her, anyway?
“I am married, Mrs. Buckland. Yesterday, to be precise. I am now Mrs. Beauregard Gentry. He has been willed property in this county and we—”
“Not that man!” she shouted. “Not that man who hit William!”
“Mrs. Buckland, please, calm yourself,” Eleanor said and looked around at the others in the store, all now in a hurry to look away. “There is no need for shouting.”
Miriam Buckland dabbed at her eyes and shook her head. “With your mother gone and myself away, you’ve been set adrift alone. The reverend and I were talking shortly after that night that we would take you in to our home. Yet with me being out of town, I had no idea what had happened. Something must be done!”
“There is nothing to be done. I am married and glad of it.”
The older woman grabbed her hands and squeezed. “Please come with me to the rectory. Please allow me to talk to you. I feel so terribly guilty having not been here in your time of need. And certainly, between the reverend and I we can solve this problem.”
