Marrying Minda (7 page)

“Then listen to me! A newcomer changes everything.”

Damn right, he said to himself, holding his tongue tight so he didn't speak the words out loud.

“After Papa died at Gettysburg, my mama sewed and mended for a living,” Minda said in a drained voice. “A troupe of traveling players came to Gleesburg and hired her to stitch up some damaged costumes. Mama came down with the diphtheria right after those intruders left. I know they brought the illness into our house. I know of what I'm speaking, Mr. Haynes.”

He swallowed hard himself, figuring she had a right to feel some dread. For a strange reason, he sought to disavow her notion.

“Well, I come just as far as you,” he said. “If what you say is true, I'm guilty myself. Now, I'll get you some tea.”

He headed for the stove, mostly to lose sight of those wide, hurt eyes. He'd rather make some Arbuckle's but knew that would keep them awake for whatever was left of the night. The tea was weak, so he added some color with a dash from his brother's whiskey bottle. That'd sure get her to sleep. But when he got back to the ugly stuffed chair, he found her fast asleep already. The real thing, too—her mouth hung open a bit. For an unwise second, he longed to kiss it, stroke her tongue with his. Then he remembered his vow to her that she'd have Norman Dale's room all to herself.

Well, hell, this wasn't any bedroom. He leaned over and closed her mouth with his. Took him about a minute to calm his raging cock, but giving into that second of temptation had been worth it.

She was lighter than a bag of dried beans. Gently, he carried her to the bedroom. Norman Dale had gotten the new bed-tick filled with feathers for his bridal night. Across the pillow, her hair splayed around her head like a gold and silver wagon wheel touched with gentle rust, and Brix couldn't resist touching it. Like he'd watched her do with Silly, he drew the cover gently up to her neck and took one last guilty peek at her bosom while he did so.

Then he looked out the lone window. It wasn't long until morning, and for a beguiling second, he wished he could climb in beside her until the sun rose. She was his wife.

And it was his wedding night.

But he remembered the vow again.

Instead, he sighed and pulled the X-shaped chair next to Silly's bed, to keep watch.

* * * *

Minda woke to a blare of sun shining in her eyes. Her heart pounded. Where in God's heaven was she?

Then she remembered. She was
married
. She had a husband. The bed was soft and smelled clean but had Brixton kept his word?

Of course. He had promised not to take advantage. And truth to tell, she knew she'd remember if he had ... If they had ... No woman would forget her first time, not with a man like Brixton Haynes in charge. Relief mixed with regret flooded her body and mind, until she remembered Priscilla's violent illness. How had she come to be in this bed?

Her husband, of course. Had he touched or seen something he shouldn't? Embarrassment flared.

Rising quickly, she grimaced at yesterday's calico dress. It was the gown she'd worn before washing up from Priscilla's sickness. But to her relief, she saw the valises her husband had brought in from the wagon. She scrambled through her meager collection of clothes and pulled out her most serviceable, well-worn frock. After all, if she were a nursemaid, she might as well look the part.

The scent of coffee hit her nose when she left the small sleeping chamber, and her stomach growled. Yesterday had been so tumultuous that she hadn't eaten much at her wedding dinner.

Her wedding dinner. Her jaws clenched tight around her teeth. What in the world was going to happen next? Her anger, for one thing. Where on earth was her husband? Had he left Priscilla all alone? She found Katie at the rough-hewn dining table, stirring some kind of mush for Neddie-boy, who looked glumly at the pasty mess in the bowl.

In her little trundle, Priscilla at least appeared to be sleeping soundly. Minda breathed deep in relief.

Or had she died in the night
? Minda's skin danced with dread, and her bile rose. Where was Brixton? And how in heaven had she allowed herself to fall asleep? She ran to the child's bed and barely heard Katie's good morning.

Thank God. Priscilla's body gave off normal heat, and her little chest rose and fell naturally. Brixton's washtub remedy had worked. Then it hit her. He'd gone like he said he would.

Of course. If the baby was well, he had no reason to stay. He had that trail boss to meet up with in Kansas somewhere. Yesterday, he had explained leaving his horse in Ellsworth and would catch a train to get there. Now that he'd made her his wife and the children's mother, he could go on with his life. Like he'd said right off, what did it matter? She'd come to Paradise to become Mrs. Haynes, and she had.

Disconsolate, she poured a cup of coffee. His leaving wasn't a surprise, yet she was staggered at how bereft she felt. But he'd surprised her last night, too. His worry for Priscilla had seemed genuine. So how could he leave his own kin? As she forced her mind to recall all his disagreeable qualities, she reminded herself that she didn't want him either.

“Where's your uncle? Why has he left you alone?” she asked dully, not sure what she felt or why.

Katie shrugged as she shoved a spoon in her brother's mouth. “I don't know. I found these grits hot on the stove. And a fresh pail of milk.”

“I can eat all by myself.” Ned wiped the gray goop from his mouth with his sleeve.

“Then do it.” Katie said.

Minda almost smiled. The children bantered in just the way she remembered her little sisters doing all those years ago. Even with Minda standing here for the first time, the children behaved like the morning was a normal one. Obviously, they had no idea their baby sister had taken desperately ill in the night. And she wouldn't tell them, not just now. Not ever, if Priscilla was on the mend. She couldn't worry their little hearts so soon so soon after they'd lost their father.

And their wayward uncle. If he had even a tiny bit of concern for them, why didn't he stay at least a little while?

Or at least say good-bye?

She picked up Priscilla, who cuddled for a moment, then seemed to writhe against Minda's body heat. Maybe she ought to try giving the baby something to eat, although memories of that little rebellious stomach last night didn't encourage her.

Still, it would give her something to do instead of thinking about Brixton's abandonment. She had a ton of fouled laundry to keep her occupied as well. But after a peek in the corner, she realized the pile was missing.

“Oh, there he is. There's Uncle Brix,” Neddie pointed out the window. “He's been out using the privy.”

Minda warmed at the thought, and she didn't know why. She had a lot to get used to, living with a man. For a breathless minute, she watched him from behind, the bare muscles of his back bronzed and sculpted. Then he hunkered over a tinny mirror on a fence post to shave. At his feet, Priscilla's washtub foamed with suds.

At least Brixton hadn't left her. Yet.

After he wiped his face with a towel, she went out to him. Katie had found a loaf of bread sent home from the wedding, and a pot of some kind of jam. That would keep her and Ned busy while Minda had words with Brixton.

“Morning, Miz Haynes,” Brixton said without turning around. “Looks like little Silly cooled right down.”

Minda rolled her eyes at the triumph in his voice, but let her ire pass. Thankfully, his idea had worked. “Yes, thank God, but it's
Priscilla
, thank you.”

“I left some coffee and grits for you. I'll be off soon's I get my jacket.”

Be off? So he was leaving. She kept her face as immobile as possible. And why not? They'd both agreed the baby was fine.

“Well,” she said, unable to think of a proper good-bye.

He straightened up from the mirror and turned around to her, coming as close as when they'd kissed at the altar. Other than the white towel hanging around his neck, his sun-browned chest was bare, carved hard like his back, dark swirls of hair here and there tickling nipples as round and copper as coins. Minda knew her face flushed purple. She'd thought of that bare chest touching her own even at the altar, and that dream had come true last night, in those few breathless moments on his bedroll. His heat would stick in her memory for a lifetime.

For surely it wouldn't happen again. He was leaving. But in time, she reminded herself, so was she.

“Just taking care of business, Miz Haynes. All the kids seem right as rain. No infection.” His eyes, too, gleamed with triumph.

“You can't know that,” she said, unwilling to discard her initial suspicions, but thankful Priscilla was well, and the others hale and healthy. In fact, she owed him thanks as well. “I must thank you for last night.” Shyly she turned from that magnificent chest. Good heavens, what if he assumed she meant their bedroll kiss? “Your help with Priscilla, I mean.”

By the time she dared look at him, he'd buttoned up a shirt, not appearing ruffled at all. She felt a foolish dash of disappointment, but quickly knocked the thought from her head. He wasn't a real husband, and he was leaving anyway. Why shouldn't he have helped in the health concerns of his own niece? Why was it Minda's responsibility? Just because Norman Dale had paid for a travel ticket?

The reminder of the reasons for her predicament started hackles of anger. “You've no right to leave me alone with a sick child. The fever's down but that's no guarantee.”

“I admit that, Miz Haynes. But I think you'll be fine on your own for a few hours.”

Just a few hours? Relief tickled her skin. “Why, what do you mean?”

“Fever's down, but I'm still going after that willow bark and yarrow. You need some on hand. And I'll get into town for aconite, and some ice.”

“I thought you said that was a bad idea,” Minda said, feeling her own sense of triumph. “'Brings on conniptions.'”

His familiar glare was back. “I'm checking at the ice house. Your ice box's near out. I milked the cow. Don't want it to go bad.”

A flush warmed her cheeks. Milking the cow was likely a chore she'd need to learn. A glance at the wheat field showed her the hands he'd hired already at work. No doubt she was responsible for some kind of noon meal for them. And her husband had clearly implied just now that the ice box was hers, not theirs. So he wouldn't be staying or helping to work the land.

The thought shouldn't bother her as much as it did. He was annoying and rude and had played a mighty trick on her.

“And since you asked,” Brixton said, “yep, they harvest ice from the Loup. But if it don't last through July, Paradise hauls it from the Missouri. I'll go and get you a block.”

He picked up the washtub as easily as a drinking cup and dumped the water in the rose garden Norman Dale had planted for her.

“Silly's pukey clothes are all boiled clean, over there on the line,” he said, as he reached for his hat and gave her a long look from top to toe. “And don't you worry, Miz Haynes. When it's time for me to go, you'll know it. I won't leave without kissing you good-bye.”

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Chapter Five

Right away he found the herbs he needed along the river and headed for town. Of anybody around here, Jake Satterburg would know if Silly's sickness was something that had spread to other folks. Folks turned to the preacher first in times of trouble.

Damn, Brix wished he had time to cool down his heated body in the river. What the hell had he done, stealing a kiss from Minda like that at midnight? Now, with Silly recovered, he couldn't get the taste of her lips out of his mind, or the feel of her breasts underneath that nightgown. True, he was her husband, but he was a husband who didn't want a wife. Just a man who wanted a woman.

A woman he didn't dare take.

Being outdoors contented him, like it always did, even with Minda on his mind and the bugs tangling in his eyelashes. All around him, meadows and prairie grass and homesteads spread out, split here and there with creeks. It wasn't much like the miles of sagebrush and mesquite in Texas, but the sky was high and the horizon long. No roof or walls for Brixton Haynes.

And with the baby seeming all but well this morning, he could be on his way in two days, like he'd planned.

As he rode into Paradise, he looked longingly at Skinny Hank's saloon, but didn't stop until the church. There he found Jake, sweeping the aisles clean of the footprints from yesterday's wedding guests. It was a strange activity for the preacherman.

“Doing woman's work now, are you?” Brix grinned.

“How's the bridegroom?” Jake said with a cheeky smile that set Brix to scowling. It might be the house of God and Jake a man of the cloth, but they'd been chums since their boyhood. Anybody else would have his nose bloodied.

“One of the kids took sick,” Brix said, without answering Jake's question, and without saying Silly's name directly. Jake's face darkened anyway. “Recovered now. I'm just wondering if you heard of an ague or somesuch going around?”

“Which kid?”

“Don't matter. Just wondering.”

Jake shook his head. “So far, it seems like just another day in Paradise. But I'll let you know if I get wind of anything. And—” He leaned on the broom like he did his pulpit. “I'll wire Chester in David City if he's needed.”

“Figured you'd do that.”

“It's Silly, isn't it,” Jake said, never moving the broom.

“Yep. But like I say, things seem better now.” A rush of relief cooled Brix's body.

“I won't say a word to Gracey,” Jake said, but his eyes looked away.

“You better not. I admire Gracey, Jake, but Silly's my child. And Minda's now, too.” Just saying his wife's name made him peek around the church where their wedding had been. Her face outlined by that white fancy veil had been as beautiful as any man could imagine. And that kiss at the altar...

Despite his holy surroundings, Brix's trousers tightened around his swelling erection. But even with Minda inside his head, he cooled his thoughts and body by remembering the facts. Minda was greedy and had driven his brother to his death. Esperanza had been fickle, breaking his heart just as he'd been ready to give it to her forever.