My Sassy Settler (Willamette Wives Book 2) (10 page)

"I forgot to tell you something," she said, turning her head up so she could look at him.

"What was that?"

"Remember how I said we'd make a pretty funny looking person?"

"Yes."

"Well, I was wrong. No matter if you were the top half or, um, the bottom half, you would still be the most beautiful half I've ever seen."

He chuckled and pulled her a bit closer. "While that's the best compliment I've ever received, I'd have to disagree. You, my darling Agatha, are definitely the better half. You will always be my better half."

They lay quietly in each other's arms until he sighed. "As much as I'd like to stay in bed holding my wife, I've got to get up. The animals won't feed themselves and the fence won't build itself." He patted her bottom and before she knew it, he'd thrown back the covers.

Squealing, she bolted upright and reached for them, pulling them up to her chin.

"Darlin', it's a little late for that. I've already had the immense pleasure of seeing you in all your glory."

"Wyatt, it's freezing in here!"

"Oh," he said with a chuckle, and looked down his body which instantly drew her eyes to his groin. His manhood was no longer protruding. Instead, it was semi-hard and seemed to want to curl in the nest of his pubic hair. "It is cold, isn't it?"

She looked up, saw him watching her, and blushed. He winked and she giggled and nodded. "Could you hand me my clothes please?"

"Hm, I don't know. I truly did love seeing your perky pink nipples all puckered…"

"Wyatt!"

He laughed and then gathered her clothing and handed it to her. She pulled the covers over her head and could hear him laughing as her contortions caused the blankets to heave and twist as she dressed. By the time she pushed the covers down, she was clothed but realized she was without bloomers.

"Um…"

"Looking for these?" he asked, her bloomers dangling from his fingertip.

"Yes." She held out her hand but he shook his head.

"If you want them, you're going to have to get out of that bed."

"Hmm, maybe I'll follow your example." She loved the fact that he looked puzzled and that his eyebrow quirked.

"What example?" he asked.

"You weren't wearing any undergarments, so perhaps I won't."

His laughter boomed and he shook his head as he reached for the buttons of his shirt and undid the top two. Instead of the bare skin she had seen the last time he had done so, she saw red fabric. "Like you said, it's cold. I think my days of going without my union suit are over, at least until spring." He grinned and continued. "However, if you wish to go without, I must warn you. As much as I want you to be comfortable, I'm not sure I could resist lifting your skirts every time I walk by, and once I saw that beautiful bare bottom, well I'd probably have to give it a few swats. Of course, if I saw those pretty little curls instead…"

"Wyatt!" She could feel her face flush at the same time as she felt a rush of moisture between her legs as his dimples appeared. "Um, I'd hate to catch a cold," she said, climbing out of the bed and reaching for her bloomers again.

"Nope." He knelt and then gathered the fabric in his hand. "Step in, sweetheart."

He looked up when she put one hand on his shoulder and lifted her skirts with the other. He gave her a smile and bent forward to kiss her bare thigh.

"Wyatt! That's not proper!"

"Oh, darlin', I just love hearing you call out my name. You're going to learn that anything we do together is proper." He kissed her other thigh before pulling her drawers up. He tied the ribbon and then patted her bottom. They walked back into the other room and he gave her a quick kiss, then grabbed his coat and hat. "Is there anything you need before I go?"

She wondered what he'd say if she told him she needed him to take her back to bed and make love to her again. Not quite brave enough to make that suggestion, and knowing they both had chores long left undone, she shook her head. "I don't think so."

He kissed her once again. "As much as I'd love to go back to bed, I've got to work." He patted her bottom before lifting his rifle from its pegs above the door. "Be good. I'll be back before dark."

"I'll be waiting," she said, and knew that no matter when he returned, she'd always be there waiting for him to hold her again.

Once the door closed, she stood for a moment and smiled. Yes, he'd be back, and when he returned, it would be to a clean house and a hot meal. She returned to the bedroom, blushing a bit as she straightened the bed, tucking in the quilt neatly before picking up his discarded shirt.

She set the shirt to soak after pouring water into the basin she used for washing. The sound of the water had her dancing a bit, and once she was sure the shirt was totally immersed, she went to the door and pulled her cloak off the hook. Another smile lit her face when she saw the pillow Anna had given her lying on the bench by the door. She had been surprised to discover that she was a little disappointed that the spanking Wyatt had given her had been nowhere near severe enough for her to need the comfort of the fat cushion. Shaking her head at such a strange thought, she opened the door and immediately shivered. No wonder the interior of the house felt colder. The wind was blowing and the sky was overcast. Winter was definitely on its way. Pulling her cloak tighter, she braced against the wind and went around the back of the house to head for the privy.

On her way back inside, she noticed that the wind had evidently been strong enough to allow a dead branch to crack and fall to the ground. Deciding that Wyatt could chop it for firewood, she went towards it and was bending to grasp it when she smiled. In a fork of the branch, she saw a small bird's nest. Looking around, she found what she wanted at the base of the large tree. Forgetting about firewood, she carried her treasures back into the house.

After making sure the nest was free of bugs and feathers, she laid the piece of green moss inside. They'd used a great deal of the moss to fill in the holes where the logs didn't quite make a seal. It was very effective in keeping the wind out. It was also very soft and pretty. With extreme caution, she picked up the broken egg halves and arranged them in a circle on the bed of moss before lifting the whole egg. Before setting it in place, she smiled, remembering how she had thought her husband was kissing the egg. Placing her lips on the narrow end, she gently blew into the hole he'd made and could feel the air escaping through the other end. Kissing the white sphere, she set it upright in the circle of eggs and then carried the centerpiece to the mantle above their fireplace. Every time she looked at it, she'd remember his words.

She set a large pot of water on the tripod in the fireplace to heat for dish water. Not one to waste time, she went back outside to the root cellar to gather ingredients for the stew she'd make for dinner. The small room felt even colder than the air outside. She chose a roast, potatoes, carrots and onions. Shivering, she hurried back into the house. How the men could work outside she didn't know. As she began to peel the potatoes, she giggled. Maybe she truly needed to follow Wyatt's example. The union suit he had pulled on was much thicker than the muslin fabric of her bloomers. What would he think if he lifted her skirts only to discover it would be far more difficult to bare her backside to deliver the swats he'd teased about? Heat infused her as she remembered that the red one-piece garment had a drop seat. She supposed all he'd have to do was to lower it and then he could spank her, or perhaps even turn her around and…

"Agatha Mae Wilcox! Good girls do not think of such things!" Despite her chastisement of herself, she smiled. As her husband kept telling her, nothing was improper between a man and his wife. Of course, he probably hadn't considered that her mind kept drifting back to being over his lap, his fingers playing… "Oh, good lord! At this rate, you won't have the house clean, much less have dinner ready." Forcing herself to concentrate on her chores, she washed the dishes from that morning and scrubbed a bar of lye soap onto the stains of Wyatt's shirt. Satisfied and strangely a little sad that the stains had disappeared, she wrung it out and pulled a chair close to the fire, draping the wet garment over the chair to dry.

She finished preparing the ingredients for the stew and hung the pot over the fire, as well. It would cook slowly while she made bread. By the time she placed a cloth over the bowl to allow the bread to rise, she was humming, and realized that for the very first time, this house felt like home.

Chapter Eight

"Well, look who's here. Glad you could join us, Mr. Wilcox," Roger said as Wyatt grinned and dismounted.

"Taking up banker's hours?" Matthew added from where he was standing, holding one end of a log.

"What's the matter, gentlemen?" Wyatt asked. "Can't figure out how to build a fence on your own?"

"We know all about fences, but what I can't figure out is why you are smiling like the cat who swallowed the canary," Roger retorted, before sticking a couple of nails between his lips as he lifted the other end of the log.

Wyatt chuckled and stepped forward to help hold the log in place. He couldn't fault them for teasing. They'd obviously been working for hours, as the finished sections of the fence had grown quite a bit. "You'll figure it out once you have a wife."

"Hell, you won't see me standing before any preacher," Matthew said, hammering his end of the log into place. "It's hard enough bunkin' with Roger and listening to him complain. Not to mention he snores. Nope, I don't see any reason to get hitched."

The log secured, Wyatt moved to pick up another to set it into the braces already prepared. "I can assure you, the right woman will have you changing your tune."

Roger put his hands on his lower back and bent from side to side to stretch out the kinks in his muscles. Tipping his hat back, he gave Wyatt a long look. "Well, well, it seems that someone's little woman just might be coming out of her shell. How'd you manage that?"

Wyatt wasn't about to share the details of his morning with his friends, especially his unmarried friends. The three had become close working together as they drove the cattle Richard had brought west. They'd all been astonished when Richard had presented his plan to combine all the land they'd received with the Free Land Act. Instead of merely working alone or for another, they'd banded together. That might make them partners, but it certainly didn't mean they needed to be privy to every detail of his life. Still, he kept the conversation light.

"Christ, Roger, do I have to teach you everything as well as how to nail a log?"

Roger grinned. "Speaking of nailing…"

"I suggest you stick some more nails in your mouth. I'm pretty sure the taste of iron is preferable to the taste of Wyatt's fist."

All three men turned to see that Richard had walked up.

Roger sighed as he pulled more nails from his pocket. "I just meant that I haven't seen a smile on Wyatt's face in a long time." He smiled. "I'm just happy for him." Sticking the nails between his lips, the men chuckled as he made a sound that was probably meant to convey he rather enjoyed the taste of iron.

The work went twice as fast with all four working. They needed to get the fence built before the snows came. While it was fine for the herd to range free for the time being, once winter set in and food became scarce, the animals would be susceptible to attack by mountain lions or the bobcats that roamed the forests and mountains that abutted their land. They'd not have enough time this year to completely enclose the twenty-five hundred acres they shared, but it was a start.

Dusk was falling by the time they finished for the day. Leaning against the last section they'd nailed into place, they talked about the upcoming work.

"I figure we have another few weeks before the snows start," Richard said, looking up at the sky. "That's cutting it close, but James should be able to help soon." He chuckled. "In fact, Charity told me that if I didn't get him out of her hair, she was going to lock him out of the house."

Charity had given birth a few weeks earlier. It hadn't been the easy birth the couple had expected. Their daughter, Hope, had slid into the world without a lot of fuss according to her mother, but Grace, their newest addition, had been a bit shy about entering the world. It had taken both Harriett, who served as a midwife, and her husband, Dr. Williams, to turn the baby—who was in the breech position—and then deliver her. It had been touch and go, and not a soul relaxed until Grace gave her first cry.

It had taken Charity longer to recover, especially with an active toddler running about the cabin. The men had assured James that they had no ill-feelings about pitching in and urged him to stay close and attend to his family's needs.

"Just goes to prove my point," Matthew said, chewing on a piece of straw. "Getting hitched to one woman is bad enough. The thought of being surrounded by a whole passel of females makes me shiver."

Wyatt slapped him on his back. "Good to know. Since you can't stand the very thought of seeing a woman who might tempt you into taking the path you fear, you can stay with the herd tomorrow when the rest of us head into town." He turned to look at Roger. "Of course, if you feel the same way—"

"Hell no," Roger said. "Seeing how happy your women make you, I'm definitely not staying with a bunch of cows. Nope, I'm going with you. With more and more settlers choosing this valley, there's bound to be some pretty little fillies just waiting to meet a handsome rancher like me."

"Must I really teach you everything? Fillies are horses, women are, well, women are the best creatures God put onto this earth," Wyatt said.

Roger and Matthew mounted their horses to head back towards the bunkhouse they'd share until one or both found that perfect woman. The others would then pitch in and help build the newlyweds a cabin, just as the group had all pitched in to build the homes of the three married couples who lived on the Double R.

When Richard called out to tell Roger that women preferred the smell of soap to sweat, Wyatt grinned. His wife was rather fastidious about her hygiene, and an idea was forming in his head.