Becoming Miss Becky

by Shannon Stacey

  The urge to plunge into her, to claim the release his body had been demanding since she stepped down off the stage, roared through his mind like a steam engine. His muscles trembled and he felt the prickle of sweat across his shoulders as he resisted.

  Gritting his teeth, Adam tried to think of anything but what he was doing. While he prided himself on never leaving a woman unsatisfied, he’d never wanted so badly to take it slowly—to give her the pleasure those damn chickens had warned her not to expect.

  He tried to think of unpleasantness to take the edge off. His first bite of Eliza Jane’s pie. Lucy whacking him with her Bible and knocking his hat into the dirt. His ma boxing his ears.

  Then Rebecca lifted her hips and nothing existed for Adam but her.

  With slow, careful strokes he moved within her, pressing just a little deeper each time. He watched her face and whenever he saw a twinge—a wrinkling of her nose or tightening of her lips—he forced himself to pause until she relaxed again.

  Finally her hips began to move, tentatively at first, as she caught his rhythm. It took more willpower than he knew he had to keep the pace slow and leisurely, but watching the emotions play over Rebecca’s face made it all worthwhile.

  Her breathing quickened a little and so did her hips, and Adam felt his own body tighten in response. He was just about out of will power. “Don’t rush it, little mouse. We have all night.”

  Instead of slowing down, Rebecca reached up and curled her fingers in his hair, dragging his face down to hers. She kissed him hungrily, her body lifting to meet his with each stroke. Adam curled his hands into the pillow on either side of her head, clenching his fists as he tried to hold back a little on each thrust, to not drive too deeply.

  She gasped, trembling as her hands moved from his hair to his back. “Adam, I…”

  Her back arched and he groaned as she took him fully, her body tightening around his shaft as she gasped his name over and over. With a shudder Adam let himself go, spilling into her for what seemed like forever.

  When the tremors ceased and he could breathe again, Adam rolled to his back, taking Rebecca with him. He wrapped one arm around her and used his free hand to stroke her hair as she rested her head on his chest.

  “You all right, little mouse?”

  She blew out a pretty contented sounding sigh. “Now I know why people are willing to part with hard-earned money for intimate relations.”

  Adam chuckled, but then he wondered if she’d be satisfied now that she’d answered the question of what being with a man felt like. While he was about as satisfied as he’d ever been at that moment, now that he’d gotten a taste of Rebecca Hamilton, he knew he hadn’t had his fill of her yet.

  Becky was late getting down to the Coop’s kitchen the next morning, and Eliza Jane already had the tea brewed and waiting. And, Lord bless her, she’d brought more of Marguerite’s muffins. She was starving.

  “Good morning,” she sang, taking two of the warm muffins out of the basket and pulling her teacup close.

  “Oh my,” Eliza Jane said. “Dare I hazard a guess the sheriff is in as good a mood this morning?”

  Becky didn’t even try to deny it. Eliza Jane was her best friend and, not only did she already have an idea of why Becky was asking questions about female cycles, but Becky knew she wasn’t a good enough liar to deny it.

  “If he’s even out of bed yet,” she said and they both giggled like schoolgirls. “It was…wonderful.”

  “It is when you love a good man who has a care for you.”

  A little of Becky’s happy glow seeped away. “This isn’t about love, Eliza Jane. I’m not going to allow myself to fall in love with a man who’ll only accept me if I suit his idea of a good wife.”

  “Don’t you think it’s too late?”

  “Why must I love him? Because I made love with him? I also live in a whorehouse, paint my face and flaunt my figure, but I’m not a prostitute.” Eliza Jane looked into her face until she gave up and looked down at the mangled muffin on the table. “Adam and I don’t have a future together. I’m going to take what I can get and live in the moment.”

  She was relieved when Eliza Jane decided to let it go. “Well, in this moment let’s walk down to the Mercantile and see if the dresses we ordered for Sadie are in yet.”

  As a joint wedding gift, Becky and Eliza Jane had ordered one of almost every ready-made dress, blouse and skirt in the catalogue for after the baby was born. While they would never be able to buy her respectability in the eyes of some Gardiner residents, the future Mrs. O’Brien would look every bit the prosperous hotelier’s wife.

  A much-needed rain shower had pounded through the town in the early morning hours, turning the street into shallow mud and coating the plank sidewalks with a slippery layer of wet grit. Becky picked her way carefully, trying to keep up with Eliza Jane, who wore more sensible shoes.

  “Oh no,” Eliza Jane whispered, and Becky looked up from the rough planks to see Lucy Barnes coming their way. “And it was such a nice day, too.”

  “Pay her no mind. She’ll pass right by.”

  She did, but not without taking the opportunity to hiss, “Temptress!”

  Becky stopped, her mind temporarily blank. Then she turned and said, “Termagant!”

  “Did you know she threatened to have Adam fired if he didn’t run you out of town?” Eliza Jane asked after they’d continued on out of earshot.

  “Yes, and she’s also threatened several establishments if they continue to do business with me. I think her lack of success is making her even more miserable.”

  “I think she was born miserable.”

  “Maybe so. All I know is that I may be scandalous, but I’m enjoying my life. I’d rather be whispered about than go through life as unhappy as Lucy Barnes.”

  It turned out the shipment of dresses and such wouldn’t arrive until the following week, so Becky poked around the store while Eliza Jane discussed the weather with Tom Dunbarton. The Mercantile carried almost everything under the sun, from flour to boots to teapots and horse tack.

  She was staring at a display of pocket watches, trying desperately not to think of Lucas Kilraine, who had callously worn her father’s watch to the funeral, when a tall shadow fell across the cabinet.

  “Good morning, Miss Hamilton,” Adam said in a low voice, far too close to her ear to be proper.

  “Good morning, Sheriff Caldwell.” Her body fairly hummed in remembrance of the previous night.

  When his arms circled her waist and hauled her backwards against his body, she panicked, but then she realized the display cabinet—and they themselves—were effectively hidden by a tall rack of men’s ready-made clothes.

  He nuzzled past her hair until his breath warmed the back of her neck. “I already want you again and I haven’t even had my breakfast yet.”

  Becky leaned back against him, tilting her head so he could nibble his way to her ear. “You should be more discreet.”

  “You’re the last person I’m going to take advice on being discreet from, little mouse.”

  “Nobody’s threatening to take my job.”

  Adam sighed and picked his head up. “Bringing Lucy Barnes into intimate conversations is like showing up in bed with a bucket of cold water.”

  Becky turned around in his arms so she could look up at him. “Even I’m not indiscreet enough to be indelicate in the Mercantile.”

  “How about my office in two minutes?”

  His obvious impatience made her smile.

  “Stop that.”

  “Stop what?”

  “Smiling.”

  She tried, but he looked so much like a petulant boy being denied his favorite toy she couldn’t help it. “Why can’t I smile, Adam? I’m rather cheerful this morning.”

  “Because,” he growled, “every time I see those goddamn dimples of yours my cock gets so hard I can barely walk, never mind sit a horse.”

  She couldn’t hold back her grin at the picture his words p
ut into her head and Adam groaned and looked at the ceiling, muttering words that made her blush.

  “Becky?” The sound of Eliza Jane calling for her made Becky step out of Adam’s embrace, his hand trailing down her arm until his fingers caught hers.

  “Same time?” she whispered.

  He pulled her fingers to his mouth and kissed the tip of each, before nipping at the end of her index finger. “Same place.”

  The fact Will waited around to have breakfast with Adam despite the late hour told him the doctor had his suspicions about the previous night’s happenings. As a rule, if one of them didn’t show at the usual time, the other went ahead and ate, then went on with his day.

  “Doc,” Adam said as he took his regular seat.

  “Sheriff.” Will put his hands up in a questioning gesture. “Anything you want to tell me?”

  “Other than your wife having a big mouth, I reckon you already know all you need to know.”

  “I’m the doctor. I know things about Gardiner that would curl your hair. What I don’t know is why Becky Hamilton was sneaking around behind buildings in the middle of the night.”

  Adam gratefully accepted a steaming mug of coffee from Marguerite and nodded when she asked if he wanted his regular. After she walked away, he took a sip of the potent brew before giving his attention back to the conversation.

  “I did happen to notice that.”

  “I reckon you did, since you were a few paces back, making sure she got back to the Coop all right.”

  “Guess it speaks well to the health of the town that you got nothing better to do all night than peek out your window like an old woman.”

  Will laughed and shrugged his shoulders. “After I finally got Eliza Jane tuckered out, I needed a drink. Happened to look out the window while quenching my thirst.”

  Adam sighed and shrugged his shoulders. Will was about the only friend he had, and he had to admit to a certain amount of worry this might come between them. “You know I won’t treat her bad, Doc. But I can’t do right by her because she won’t let me.”

  “Maybe you should have left well enough alone.”

  “She didn’t leave me much of a choice.”

  “I heard about that auction,” Will said. “You know as well as I do that was a bluff.”

  “Is there anything you don’t know?”

  He pretended to give it some thought. “Nope. People have a tendency to tell me anything and everything. Of course, that might be ‘cause I listen instead of stomping around scowling at them.”

  “I haven’t scowled at anybody yet this morning.”

  “It’s not even eight o’clock yet. And you’re scowling at me right now.”

  He was, and he didn’t intend to quit. “That’s ‘cause you’re minding my business.”

  “No, I’m minding Becky’s business, just like I promised Miss Adele I would.” Will leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. “You know there’s no other man I’d rather have for Becky than you, Adam, but not if it means her bending to your will. It just irks me to know the ramblings of an old Gypsy woman are keeping you two from getting married.”

  “I should never have told you about that. And Rebecca refusing my proposal is what’s keeping us from getting married.”

  “You can’t offer a marriage proposal with conditions unless it’s one of those arranged marriages. Marrying for love doesn’t allow for strings attached.”

  The idea of love made the coffee sit kind of sour in the pit of Adam’s stomach. The word had never meant anything to him outside of blood, and he didn’t know what it meant exactly when it came to a woman.

  Love was the feel of his ma’s hand against his fevered forehead. It was Pa spending hours painstakingly teaching him how to put a fine edge on his very first pocket knife. It was shedding tears of joy and being unashamed when the last Caldwell boy made it home, whole and unbroken, from war.

  He was pretty certain what he and Rebecca had wasn’t love. Eliza Jane had given up her life as a traveling women’s libber to marry Will, and Will had given up the hope of having children of his own. Rebecca wasn’t willing to give up the whole Miss Becky thing, and he wasn’t willing to accept it.

  So what they had must not be love. It was just a powerful attraction was all.

  “Eat your breakfast,” Will told him, and he realized Marguerite had set a plate in front of him without his knowing it.

  Knowing Will would want to continue the conversation where it had left off, Adam shoved a forkful of eggs into his mouth. The idea of him being in love with Rebecca Hamilton was crazy.

  Just plum crazy.

  Chapter Nine

  Three weeks later, Becky woke to a Coop in chaos. She’d made her way home from Adam’s a little later than usual and the chickens were already up and squawking.

  It was Sadie and Dan’s wedding day, and the air of excitement was almost palpable. The event required, of course, an impossible amount of primping and polishing and hunting for stray bits of jewelry.

  “Miss Becky!” Betty called as Becky tried to sneak unseen into the kitchen for her tea. “Have you seen my best white stockings?”

  “They were laid out in the kitchen last night. Fiona knew you’d forget to wash them.”

  Betty ran down the stairs, retrieved the stockings and was on her way back up the stairs before Becky reached the kitchen. Eliza Jane was still there, though there was only one muffin left in the basket.

  “You’d best eat that now. I’ve been slapping hands for a half hour trying to save it for you.”

  Becky sank into her chair, yawning, and pulled the basket toward her. “Whose idea was it to have an early wedding?”

  “Three o’clock is not early. I swear, you’re getting as bad as the chickens.”

  And she was, but it wasn’t her fault. At least several times a week Becky would leave Adam’s bed in the middle of the night, get dressed, then walk in the chilly night air back to the Coop. By that time she was wide awake again and had been having some difficulty falling asleep once in her own bed.

  Not that she was really complaining. The sheriff was definitely a man who knew what he was doing.

  But the arrangement was beginning to chafe, and she’d heard people were starting to talk. While she was comfortable shrugging off the judgment of others, she did worry about Adam’s reputation.

  Sometimes, in those sleepless hours, Becky admitted to herself they couldn’t go on as they were much longer.

  “Mrs. Martinson!” This time it was Fiona bellowing down the stairs. “Sadie’s awful anxious about that justice of the peace! Doc’s gonna make sure he’s close to sober, right?”

  “You tell Sadie both Will and Sheriff Caldwell have made it their personal missions to see Mr. Ritter isn’t falling down drunk.”

  Becky gulped her first cup of tea in a most unladylike manner and poured a second. Finding an official willing to preside over the marriage of a visibly pregnant soiled dove was no easy feat, and Becky suspected Will had substantially raised the man’s fee. Unfortunately the man liked to imbibe on too regular a basis and Sadie was terrified he’d pass out before they got through the vows.

  The back door opened and Adam and Will walked in, both of them looking tired and frustrated. And they were alone.

  “Where is Mr. Ritter?” Eliza Jane demanded, the slight edge of panic in her voice echoing what Becky felt. If they’d lost the justice of the peace…

  “Locked him up,” Adam said, helping himself to the coffee the chickens must have brewed. None of them had developed a liking for the tea.

  Becky glared at him. “Are you saying the man who’s going to preside over the wedding is in jail?”

  Unfortunately, Holly just happened to be walking into the kitchen as she said it, and her screeching warned the others of this dire turn of events. Calming them down tried even Will’s patience and Becky was surprised Adam didn’t simply shoot them all. A person didn’t have to be intimately acquainted with his expressi
ons to see it was a struggle not to.

  “He wanted to nap before the ceremony,” Will explained once the hysteria had died down. “And since neither of us wanted to play nanny while he slept on the cot in my office, we locked him in one of Adam’s cells. He was snoring away when we left him.”

  As everybody wandered back to whatever they’d been doing before Mr. Ritter’s incarceration threatened to ruin the day, Becky caught Adam staring at her, his gaze hot and intense. Suddenly self-conscious, she pushed back a few stray strands of hair and wished she’d taken the time to do up her face before venturing out of her room. The only pretty thing about her right then was her sapphire blue robe.

  She excused herself, intent on getting dressed, but Adam followed her into the parlor. Knowing his goal would be to keep her from putting clothes on, she turned and folded her arms across her chest, shaking her head.

  “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever set eyes on, Rebecca Hamilton.”

  “And you’re one of the sweetest-talking men I’ve ever met, Adam Caldwell.”

  His brows knit into a frown of confusion. “Sweet-talkin’? Hell, I couldn’t talk sweet with a mouth full of sugar. Ain’t never been one for talkin’, period.”

  “I think you manage just fine.”

  He opened his mouth to say something else, but a wail erupted upstairs.

  “Goddammit, Betty, I told you that iron was too hot. You singed her hair!”

  Becky dropped her forehead against Adam’s chest. “There are hours until the wedding.”

  “Go for a walk with me. You should meet my horse.”

  She laughed. “I’ve already met your horse, Adam, and once was probably enough. You shoot people who insult him and I’m a bad liar.”

  “You callin’ my horse ugly, little mouse?”

  “Of course not. You wouldn’t have named him Guapo if he was ugly, now would you?”

  He swatted her rear. “I’ll help you get dressed.”

  “No, you won’t. You’ll help me get undressed, and I have no intention of making love to you with Will and Eliza Jane in the kitchen.”