Marrying Minda (21 page)

“Well then, so it is,” Elizabeth Viessman said. “I'll wear it to our new granddaughter's christening.”

Gracey's hat, with its bright blue satin tie and wide brim trimmed with silk cornflowers, stole every female heart in the congregation.

Brixton guffawed. “You'll have plenty of time to gab tomorrow at the race. The reverend's inside there chomping at the bit to start his oration.” He took Priscilla in his right arm and gave Minda his left.

She felt his pulse even through the thick wool.

With her husband next to her, Minda had a hard time relaxing. The elation she'd felt outside had vanished. This was the sanctuary in which they had been wed. She knew that he cared about the children, but did he still regret that day?

Next to her, sitting close as proper, Brixton started a hymn in his beautiful, low, soothing voice.

Why did the comfort of dumb beasts on a lonely trail mean more to him than the children?

Her heart burned with sadness. Why did it mean more to him than she did?

There was no sense going back to Gleesburg with a failed marriage at her feet. At least here in Paradise, she had a means to earn money and a town full of people who appreciated and accepted her. Her payback wouldn't last forever. In fact, she could likely reimburse Brixton with hat-making cash soon.

But what about the children?

She hardly paid any attention at all to Jake's sermon. While she knew in her heart she loved Brixton and cared for the children, she had doubts of her stamina to raise another family all by herself.

With some money of her own, she could start over.

“What bee's in that bonnet of yours?” Brixton said after the benediction, leading her outside. “Church's supposed to ease your spirits. You're pouting like Silly.”

Even if she recited him the epics in her heart, he wouldn't change his mind or the way he felt. But when he reached for her hand to rush her through the other worshippers, his touch shocked her like a lightning bolt.

She was saved from answering.

“How's that leg?” Gracey's brother, Nathan, who ran the livery, asked.

“Not bad at all.” Brixton grinned, nodding at her with a pride that almost eased those spirits he'd mentioned. “I had some mighty fine doctoring.”

Chester Viessman laughed loud and agreed. “Those stitches his missus laid on him could hold up a bridge.”

“Gonna race tomorrow?” Nathan asked.

“Wouldn't miss it for the world,” Caldwell Hackett said, pushing through the crowd. His arms were full of materials for the children's lesson he taught after church, but he wore riding clothes. “I made another practice run from Shell Creek at sunup this morning.”

Caldwell didn't say another word, but his face and mannerisms bespoke bragging rights.

“Go on, kids,” Brixton said, like he hadn't heard, “you get to your Bible story. We'll wait on you over coffee at Miss Lila Jean's.” He straightened taller than ever, even with Priscilla in his arms. “Oh, Hackett? Just so you know.
I
intend to win.”

He grabbed Minda's hand hard and started down the street. His soft grunts indicated he was straining his wound. In truth, his injury had prevented him from any heavy exertion all week. Certainly, he must believe Caldwell had the advantage.

Her heart and feet stumbled at the same time. Caldwell wouldn't win. He couldn't.

Before they reached the boardinghouse dining room, Sheriff Pelton and his young wife stopped them. Minda's trained eye instantly framed Lisa Pelton's face in a small flared brim of copper gossamer satin swept with an orange plume to match her red hair. The vision lightened her mood for a moment.

“'Morning, Brixton. And Miz Haynes, my apologies for transacting business on the Lord's day. This here—” He handed her one envelope. “—came by messenger from Columbus last night. Your reward money for the capture of Brentwood Peavy.”

Minda peeked inside. Fifty dollars. All her own.

* * * *

Later that afternoon, Brix put the horses out to pasture and mucked the stalls, bemoaning the waste of good manure. He considered hanging on for a few days to start up Ida Lou's old kitchen garden. His brother sure hadn't had the time.

Likely a Gleesburg hat-maker didn't know she could have fresh kale and cabbage through the winter. Now that she had that reward money to tide them over, he might not have to hurry.

He all but smacked his mouth at such an inkling. That money was hers and hers alone. He'd get out of here Tuesday, if his leg allowed, and head for the livelihood he knew how to make, the life he knew.

The life he missed.

She caught his eye at the rose garden, trimming dead heads as well as she could with Silly toddling about. Damn, she was good with the kids. Truth was, if he'd ever wanted a wife on his own, she might be the one. She'd spoiled him for other women from here on.

Silly—
Priscilla
—prated something and Minda bent down, picking her up and resting her on a hip just like Brix had seen Gracey do with Jake's babies. Ned came over to yank at her skirts, and Katie, hands tugging her braids, gave Minda some kind of childish request. Damn, Minda wasn't just patient and beautiful, she was a natural. He remembered Katie calling her Mama, and how right it sounded.

As his little family walked back to the house, he wished he had a daguerreotype machine to capture the moment. Then he could look at it all he wanted on the trail.

A new inkling struck him, and it was powerful and true. Minda had that money now. She could pay back what she owed in a heartbeat and leave them all. His heart stopped. Back inside the barn, he struck the hay bale with a vengeance as he strewed it about Strawberry's stall. Hell and damnation both.

Even with the healthy barn odors, he caught the smell of roses. She was smiling behind him, still in the green thing she'd worn to church.

“Brixton, I can help you do that. Remember, I used to work in the mayor's stables.”

“Yep, the one who taught you to ride as well as a man.”

“I just don't want you to burst your stitches. You should take truly a day of rest.” Her smile was shy.

“That sure was nice of Jake's ma to treat us all to Sunday fixins,” he said, ignoring her. A day of rest was no such thing. Minda smiled bigger yet. He knew she'd enjoyed a meal she hadn't had to cook. It was Miz Lila Jean's way of saying thank you for getting the outlaws out of town.

“I enjoyed it so. I'm planning something light for supper. But Brixton, I'm worried about Ned. He is still frightened, and he's been having nightmares.”

“I expect that's natural, for a time. He saw those outlaws close up, then heard the gunfire in his own yard. And me taking a bullet...”

“Well, last night was better.” Her eyes accused now because he hadn't been inside. “But the Bible story today was the Good Samaritan. And all he talks about is someone nearly dead lying by the road.”

Brix sighed. “Guess we could talk to Doc Viessman, but I'm thinking Ned'll outgrow it soon enough.”

“Just how soon is soon enough, Brixton?”

The smile was gone. She looked serious.

“What do you mean, Minda?”

“I think you already know.”

He did. He knew what was coming. She was paying him back with her reward money and leaving them all. “That reward money...”

“Exactly. It makes no sense for you to leave now. That money will get us through for quite a while.”

“That reward money is yours, Miz Haynes. Money I earn is ours.”

“Nonsense. I earned it protecting this family.” There was pain in her eyes. He'd seen it often lately, when he unrolled his bed outside, whenever he talked about going. “Brixton, I have things to sort out myself. I'm not running out on the children just because I have a windfall. But you have an obligation to them, too. Much more than I do. They're your kin.”

He turned away roughly. “I'm supporting them the only way I know.”

For a long, painful moment, they turned away from each other. Finally, she spoke. “Brixton, I actually came out here for another reason.”

He looked at her.

“Could you teach me how to milk Mabel? Katie said it's almost that time of day.”

“She's doing good at it.”

“I know, but I'd rather her have a good night's sleep than wake up early to do it. School's starting soon. She can do the second round with her other afternoon chores.”

“I milked cows myself before I went to school,” Brix said. “Besides, you're all dressed up.”

“I can change quickly. Just let me know if you can find the time.”

“Go change then, and we'll get it done now.”

“All right. I'll be back in five minutes.”

Muttering curses nobody could hear, he got grain for Mabel and a T-shaped stool. But at least he'd have a good reason to touch Minda and sit close behind her, his thighs wrapped around her backside. The thought stirred him.

She came back in the purple dress he liked, not that ugly old brown thing. Come to think of it, he'd bled all over that one. Hopefully she'd burnt it up.

“Mercy, Mabel's so big, close up.” Minda looked downright skittish, something he hadn't seen even when she'd sewn him up.

Without thinking it through first, he laid his hands on her shoulders to relax her, kneading her flesh and liking it more than he should. “You'll do fine.” The words stuck funny, back of his tongue. “She's gentle as a lamb. You like cows?”

“What? I like animals fine.”

“Well, Mabel's going to know if you don't like her. You can't get nervous, neither. She'll know. Now, start brushing her. Rub her back. Get her to feel comfortable with you.”

With a nod, Minda followed his directions, fast and sure, like she had with the Peacemaker. He couldn't help thinking of those hands in his hair on that magic night, or hell, that morning she'd bathed him.

Changing his thoughts was a must. An erection started to come to life.

“Now, you sit here and rest your head on the flank,” he said, wanting her head to lie no place else but his side.

He balanced her on the stool at a right angle to Mabel, and squatted on his haunch right behind Minda to catch her if she stumbled. The stool had only one leg. “Now, rub your right knee there, too.” He propped her knee against Mabel's stomach and brought the wash pail close. Touching her brought a whole new battle between his legs, making the painful strain upon his stitches nothing at all.

“Wash with this soap and rag. Get your fingers rubbing in a circle, way at the top.” He took her hand to guide the massaging of the teat, and folding her soft hand around waiting flesh made him swallow a groan. He pictured that morning bath with her fingers on his nipples.

By now, his arousal raged, and he figured she could feel it against her back. Hoped she did, truth to tell.

“Dry her now.” His voice was harsher than he intended. “And you ought to sing to her, something gentle. Or talk in a low tone.”

“You're the one who knows cow songs.” Minda chuckled, soft and low, like that night on his bedroll, the night he dreamed about every time he stretched out on the filthy thing.

“All right.” Anything to keep his mind off her closeness. “I'll sing, and you learn along. Now, I like to treat her like she's the most important lady I know. Take it in your palm...”

He gently showed her how to squeeze the top of the teat. “Thumb. Pointer finger here. Then squeeze each finger one at a time until all your fingers are wrapped around.”

Her hand closing around long, pink flesh caused an image to burst into his mind that he'd die to repeat, and his cock flamed. Never before had the everyday motions of milking a cow reminded him he was a man.

And she was a woman.

The milk streamed into the bucket.

“Now release. And do it again ‘til it's empty and soft.”

Barely breathing, he started to sing the lullaby that Neddie-boy liked so much. The sweet melody reminded him of stars going blue on the night she'd spent in his arms, with him deep inside her.

Just then, she lost her balance and teetered back into his arms. Irked, Mabel kicked over her bucket.

“Oh, land sakes, Brixton,” she said, but his arms closed about her to keep her from the white puddle.

With a quick maneuver, he turned her to face him, and brought her soft body down upon him in the clean straw.

He held his lids open as long as he dared while his lips claimed hers, for he wanted to see her own eyes widen before those butterfly-wing lashes closed on her cheek.

For a perfect, sweet moment, she drank from him, and he reached gently for the beautiful buds inside her bodice, but she climbed to her feet quick as a cat.

“Oh, Brixton, I ... I've made a righteous mess here. And the children need fresh milk for supper. Will Mabel let down some more?” The flower petal eyes didn't look at him at all now.

“Yep, but she'll wait a while. She's got grain to keep her happy.”

Then her eyes met his, wide and bold.

* * * *

Still trembling from his touch, Minda rejoiced. She didn't see regret in his eyes and refused to show him any in return. True, it wasn't the life she had come for. But maybe it was the life she was called to live.

Her heart thundered as hard as it ever had. She'd made bold decisions before. She'd left family and friends for an unknown man and undiscovered territory. She'd stood up to outlaws, and stitched up a gruesome wound with only a vague notion of what to do.

And she'd watched her husband take a bullet. She could have lost him at that moment. She'd been given another chance, and it was a chance she had to take.

Smiling shyly, she unbuttoned her dress and started on the ribbons of her chemise. The barn was dark, but it was still daylight, and a blush warmed her cheeks.

“What are you doing?” Brixton asked, eyes half-lidded, but letting her know he was aware of her intent. He'd raised himself up on his elbows, his shirt half-open, calling attention to his sun-bronzed chest and black hair.

“Getting ready.”

“Ready for what?” His hot dark eyes told her he knew. The words came through his mouth, tip of his tongue peeking between his lips, and she kept from kissing him for another coy second.

“For you.”

“The next time should be in a bed.”