Bushedwhacked Bride (14 page)
‘That’s not what your tight little nipple is telling me,” he whispered. “It’s telling me it wants my mouth, my
tongue. Wants
me
inside you.”
Her words shuddered forth. “Only if you force this,
Cole.”
He sighed. “Darlin’, I’m not forcing anything on you
that you don’t want.”
“Then you’ll go,” she stated quietly.
He hesitated for a long moment, then conceded her
point with a groan. “Give me one more kiss, then I’ll tuck
you and the kitten into bed.”
“I’ll do no such thing.”
“One more kiss,” he repeated obdurately.
Arguing with this stubborn man proved impossible.
Jessica pressed her lips to Cole’s even as his mouth captured hers again, so pleasurably. Then he set the rocker into slow motion, rolling Jessica’s bottom against the hardness of his aroused manhood and sending hot needles of desire shooting upward. His hand remained gen
tly cupped around her breast, and his mouth devoured
hers without restraint. It was torture beyond bearing,
pleasure beyond belief. Jessica moaned and clung to him.
She hardly noticed a moment later when Cole rose and
carried her and the kitten to the bed, laid them down and
covered her.
“Want some company, sugar?” he whispered.
“Cole, please, I can’t.”
His hard knee moved between hers. “If I stayed, you
wouldn’t fight me.”
“But you wouldn’t have my consent, either.”
He regarded her sadly. “You’re right. And I don’t just
want your consent, Jessie. I want your
surrender.
And
I’m going to get it.”
As he turned and left her struggling with frustrated de
sire, Jessica didn’t doubt him. She knew Cole Reklaw
was all wrong for her. But every time he wooed her,
charmed her, kissed her, she found herself closer to los
ing control.
***
Leaving the house and striding across the cool, moonlit
yard toward the bunkhouse, Cole struggled with mixed
emotions. He had gone to Jessie’s room tonight intent
on seducing her, yet instead a part of himself had been
exposed.
He had shared with her experiences, feelings from his
childhood. He had admitted his admiration and respect
for her. It wasn’t like him to bare his feelings that way to
a woman, to put himself at risk of being hurt or betrayed.
Yet Jessie was different. Increasingly it was not just her
tempting body he wanted, but her—her spirit, her intelligence, her wit. He realized in awe that he’d finally met a
woman who was his equal, a woman who stood her
ground and refused to be bullied by him. And he wanted
her coming to him in spirit, not just in body. It was not
just a physical coupling he craved but a more emotional
sharing.
Could he afford to risk his heart again? Every time he tried to penetrate Jessica’s defenses, he found more of his own barriers being stripped away.
Chapter Thirteen
“Will there be anything else, Mrs. Lively?” Mr. Allgood
asked.
“Reckon that’ll do,” Ma Reklaw replied.
At Allgood’s General Store late the next morning, Jes
sica stood with Ma at the counter, a heap of goods piled before them—everything from a slate and chalk to bundles of pencils and sheaves of papers.
Mr. Allgood, a rotund little man with thinning brown
hair, winked at Jessica. “Looks like someone’s fixin’ to
hold school.”
Before Jessica could reply, Ma countered, “What
makes you say that?”
“Well, the writing supplies, the slate.”
Ma harrumphed. “Cousin Jessie here just aims to help
me polish up my three R’s a bit.”
The merchant appeared mystified.
Jessica quickly stepped in. “Actually, Mrs. Lively hates
to brag, but she has five sons—my, er, cousins—and they’re the ones I’m planning to tutor.”
While Ma shot Jessica a withering look, a clearly surprised Allgood remarked, “You have sons, Mrs. Lively?
Why, I had no idea. Although you do seem to buy a lot of
supplies for just one person—so I assumed you must
have help out at your farm.”
“Yes, I have sons,” Ma shot back, hurling Jessica another blistering look.
“Why haven’t we seen them in town?”
“Because they’re too busy working the farm!” Ma re
torted. “They’re a sober, hardworking lot, I’ll have you
know.”
Allgood paled at her hostile tone. “Oh, I’m sure they
are, Mrs. Lively. I had no intention of hinting otherwise. And we here in the town would love to meet them.”
“Yes, wouldn’t that be wonderful?” Jessica agreed,
clapping her hands. “As a matter of fact, I was just telling
Ma—that is, Aunt Eula—that the whole family should come in to church.”
“Oh, you’d all be most welcome,” Allgood replied.
Ma made a sound of contempt. “Well, you know how
these highfalutin’ cousins from back East are, always try
ing to give the whole family religion, and educate the lot, to boot.”
Allgood smiled at Jessica. “There are plenty of chil
dren here in town that could use some learning.” He
snapped his fingers. “And you know, Mayor Polk has
spoken of needing an educated person to write our town’s
history for the Founders’ Day celebration next month.”
“Why, that sounds fascinating,” Jessica commented.
“If you want to volunteer, you could speak with Mayor
Polk about it at church this Sunday.”
Before Jessica could reply, Ma snorted loudly. “Can
we settle up with you now? The day ain’t gettin’ no
younger, and we’d best be on our way.”
The merchant’s expression sagged. “Yes, ma’am.”
Once the two women were in the buckboard driving
away, Ma lit into Jessica again. “How come you were
spoutin’ off at the mouth ‘bout my boys to Merchant All-
good? Last time you was spillin’ your beans to Granger, and today was worse!”
“Didn’t we agree that your sons need more exposure to
the town?” Jessica countered.
“Well, maybe
you
agreed.”
“Come on now, Mrs. Reklaw. You said you would sup
port me.”
“I said I would support you
learnin’
‘em. I think you
really want me ‘supporting’ ‘em all the way to the hang
ing tree. You had no call telling that man about my boys.”
“But why not, if we’re careful? I’ve thought this
through. I have a plan for introducing your sons to the
town, a plan that will ensure no one will guess their true
identities.”
Ma shook a finger. “Your plans are gonna land us all in
deep trouble.”
“I disagree. In fact, I think your performance with Mr. Allgood was inspired.”
Ma was perplexed. “Huh?”
“It was very
smart,
what you said to him.”
“How so?”
“Well, you mentioned that I’m trying to get your boys educated and attending church. When you think about it, my arrival here is the perfect excuse for introducing your
sons to the community. I’m your niece from back East, and I’m insisting the entire family socialize more.” She patted Ma’s arm. “It makes perfect sense. Thanks again
for your brilliant ploy.”
“If you say so,” Eula mumbled. But a grudging smile
proved she was charmed by Jessica’s praise.
Jessica fell silent as they passed Mariposa’s weather-
beaten, small gray schoolhouse on the outskirts of town. A
couple of young girls were jumping rope on the sagging
front porch. “You know, these people really do need a
schoolteacher.”
Ma’s look was virulent. “Now, don’t you go getting no more fancy ideas, missy. You’ve already got this family
headin’ straight down a blind trail into a box canyon.”
Jessica didn’t press her point further. She knew she’d
have to be satisfied with making only small steps toward
progress with this stubborn, willful family.
***
At home, Jessica sat on her bed with the various school
supplies arranged around her. She wondered how she
could effectively teach the four younger Reklaw brothers.
Talk about fighting an uphill battle!
And it seemed everyone was thwarting her efforts, including Ma and Cole. But her more immediate problem
was, how could she teach the four younger boys to read
and write, when they were determined not to learn from
a “baby” primer?
Maybe she needed to develop her own teaching mate
rials. After all, if she was capable of writing a dissertation, surely she could draft an adult-level basic primer.
But how? She had no computer here, not even a typewriter, much less a Xerox machine.
She’d just have to make do with the supplies she had,
and find some way to make the materials hold the inter
est of four grown men—who were bad boys, to boot.
That was a tall order, unless . . . Jessica smiled as a
devilishly clever idea struck her. She picked up the slate,
put it in her lap, stacked papers on it, grabbed a pencil,
and began to write . . .
***
“Good morning, gentlemen. Please, come right in and
take your places.”
The next morning, as the four younger brothers filed
into the kitchen to join Jessica, she was prepared, sitting
with her primer—a collection of folded papers tied to
gether with twine—in her lap. She’d stayed up past mid
night writing and illustrating her own text for today’s
lesson. Behind her, her slate was displayed against the pie
safe, the wooden knobs holding it upright. Cole wasn’t
present this morning, but Ma was sitting in a far comer, rocking and sewing a seam in some purple gingham for
one of Jessica’s new frocks.
Wesley scowled at the pages in Jessica’s lap. “You aimin’ to teach us with another baby book?”
“No, not at all,” she responded pleasantly. “I think
you’ll find today’s lesson most intriguing.”
The boys appeared confused, muttering to one another.
“What ya mean by that?” Billy asked.
“Sit down and find out.”
After the inevitable battles over arranging the chairs in
a semicircle, and who would get to sit by Jessica, the men
took their places. Jessica deliberately put Wes and Luke
on either side of her, since they seemed the more serious of the four brothers. Wearing frowns that bespoke their
displeasure, Billy and Gabe stood behind Jessica.
Wesley scowled at the “cover” of Jessica’s book,
which showed a cowboy smiling at a lady in a pretty
dress, with lettering scrawled beneath. “What you got
there, ma’am?”
“Why, this is a story I wrote for the four of you.”
Behind her, Gabe gasped. “You wrote us a sure ‘nuff
story, ma’am? Will you read it to us?”
“Of course I won’t read it,” came Jessica’s crisp response. “I wrote it so you boys can read it.”
“But, ma’am, we don’t know how to read!” protested
Billy.
“My point exactly—and the very reason I wrote the
story. You’re going to use it to
learn
to read—and I think
we’ll begin with Luke.”
“Me?” he asked, pressing a hand to his chest.
“Yes, you. Now, Luke, take a look at the writing below
the pictures and see if you recognize anything.”
He scowled at Jessica’s neat lettering. ‘T-h-e.’’
Abruptly he grinned. “Would that be ‘the,’ ma’am?”
“Precisely! See how easy this is?”
“Yeah, but look at the next word,” Wesley pointed out,
grimacing. “Longer than the devil’s tail.”
Fighting laughter, Jessica said, “Then I think you’re
the man to tackle it.”
“Me?”
“Come on. Courage.”
Wes scowled at the letters. “Well, ma’am, would that
first one be an ‘a’?”
“Right.”
“But I don’t know the next one.”
“It’s a ‘d’!” declared Gabe.
Jessica twisted about to smile up at Gabe. “Right you
are. Now who can guess the next letter?”
The men started to have fun, like children trying to
solve a puzzle. With a little help from her, they managed
to sound out the word “adventures.”
“ ‘The adventures,’“ pronounced Luke proudly. “But
the adventures of what, ma’am?”
Jessica clapped her hands. “Luke, that’s splendid! You
just guessed the next word! It’s ‘of.’“
“Well, hot damn,” he declared proudly.
“Yeah, but look at that next word,” put in Wes with a
troubled frown. “W-i-n
“Windbag!” guessed Billy.
“Naw, winding!” suggested Gabe.
“Hold it!” Jessica scolded.
“Look
at the letters and try
to sound out the word. Don’t just guess.”
There was a moment of dead silence, then Luke
mused, “Looks like a name to me.”
“Yeah—Wilfred,” suggested Gabe.
“Close—but not quite,” Jessica said.
Wes snapped his fingers. “Winfield.”
“Closer yet, but still no cigar.”
All at once Billy hooted. “I know! It’s Whinny-furd.”
Jessica struggled not to laugh.
“Winifred.”
“Right,”
Billy
said.
“Just what I said, teacher. ‘Whinny-furd.’ Them there’s ‘The Adventures of Whinny-furd and C-L-Y . . .”
“
Clyde
!” exclaimed Gabe. “ ‘The Adventures of Whinny-furd and
Clyde
’!”
“Yes. Exactly right.”
“Are we sure ‘nuff reading, ma’am?” Wesley inquired
raptly.
“Sure enough,” Jessica pronounced.
The boys were grinning and congratulating one an
other when abruptly all were distracted by the sounds of loud sobbing. All watched as Ma got up from her rocker,
wiping tears on her sleeve.
She crossed over, giving Jessica a bear hug. Straighten
ing, she clasped her hands to her bosom, her expression
ecstatic. “My boys is sure ‘nuff readin’. Not just words,
but bunches of ‘em. And here I was thinkin’ they was all lost souls and plumb ignorant. Thank you, ma’am. For as
long as I live, I won’t forget this. It’s more joy than I can
abide.”
“You’re welcome, Mrs. Reklaw,” Jessica said sincerely.
Sniffing tears, Eula lumbered out of the kitchen.
‘Teach us more!” ordered Billy.
“Of course,” Jessica said brightly. “But before we go
further, I want to tell you that I intend this primer to be
a text not only for your education but also for your so
cial enlightenment.”
“Huh?” Gabe asked.
“Social
what?”
asked Billy.
“I intend for it to teach you how to act while out in po
lite society. You’ll learn some—er—manners, through
reading about the adventures of Winifred and
Clyde
.”
