The Outlaw Takes a Bride (19 page)

He shrugged. “We’ll see how it goes. I’m sure you and Mark would like to get settled as soon as possible.”

She wasn’t sure what he meant by that and decided not to ask. Sometimes Cam said things that hinted at the unseemly. She hung up her bonnet and took her apron from its hook.

“Mark said he could stuff the mattress as soon as you’re done stitching it up.”

“I’ll settle that with Mark,” she said brusquely and opened the cupboard to get some cornmeal. It was nearly noon, and she didn’t have dinner ready.

She hoped Cam would go out and leave her alone in her kitchen, but he hovered, removing items from the crates. He carried the laundry soap to one of the shelves and stowed it then went back to the table and took out a sack of rice.

“I’ll take care of those things,” Sally said.

“No trouble.”

She forced a smile. “A woman likes to arrange her kitchen to her own liking.”

He eyed her uncertainly for a moment and then let the sack fall gently back into the crate. “All right, then.”

The door opened, and Mark came in. Sally turned back to her task, relieved.

“There’s some pretty fresh hay in the loft,” Mark said. “We can cut new if you’d rather, but it would take two or three days to dry out.”

“What’s in the barn will be fine, so long as it smells fresh,” she said.

Mark nodded. “Then I reckon I can throw some down for you, and then Cam and I will work on the door until dinnertime.”

Sally refused to let Cam steal the joy she took in preparing dinner for her own husband. She wasn’t even sure what it was about Cam that bothered her, short of his very presence. A newlywed couple ought to be alone. She was sure Mark would open up more if it was just the two of them.

She put together a hasty noontime meal, made easier by some of the canned goods they had purchased. Once the men had gone back to work, she laid out the mattress ticking and pinned the edges for the seams. This would be a long, boring task, but she didn’t mind. It was for her own home, her own husband. She hummed as she worked, against a counterpoint of hammering and sawing from the barn.

She was halfway around the edge, making small, tight stitches, when Mark came to the front door.

“Cam and I are ready to bring the door in. I forked down plenty of hay for you.”

“Thanks.” She smiled at him, and Mark smiled back.

A few seconds later, he and Cam walked through, balancing the new door between them. They tipped it to get it through the front doorway then watched the edges, trying not to bump anything. Mark was walking backward, and Cam kept calling directions to him.

“A little to your left. No, your right. Sorry. Look out for the—”

Thud
.

Mark looked sheepishly down at the pan that had fallen from her worktable.

“No harm,” Sally said. “I meant to put that away earlier.”

The door was soon hung, and the men spent the next half hour fussing over the latch. Cam crossed the room with a hammer in one hand and a can of small hardware in the other.

“May I see the finished room?” Sally asked.

“Oh, well, Mark and me are going to do some finish work in there. Whyn’t you wait a bit?”

“All right.” Sally kept stitching. Mark and Cam went out and in, and she feigned disinterest, but she noticed that on several trips, they carried boards and other pieces of wood from outside into the new room. At last they seemed to have everything they wanted. More pounding ensued and clattering and muffled exclamations.

“It doesn’t fit right,” Mark said once, to which Cam replied, “Yes, it does. I tested it in the barn.”

More pounding followed. As Sally placed the last few stitches, she distinctly heard Cam swear and decided it was time for her to go out and stuff the mattress. She smoothed out the ticking, turned it, and folded it. With the unwieldy bundle in her arms, she went out into the harsh sun.

In the barn, she found a pile of sweet-smelling hay, as Mark had promised. She set to work filling the tick and prodding the hay into the proper shape and firmness. Perspiration dripped from her brow and trickled down her cheeks and her back. She took one break and went to the well for a drink of water. Even the well water wasn’t very cold, but it was far cooler than the air. She made a trip to the outhouse. When she came out, she could still hear the men hammering away, so she went back to her task.

After what seemed an eternity, she had all the hay she could fit in the tick, and she went back to the house for her sewing basket. Her arms ached, and her bodice was saturated with perspiration. She was sure dust had caked on her face, but she didn’t mind. She was nearly done, and it felt good.

She stitched closed the opening through which she had stuffed the mattress and put her needle away. She couldn’t resist stretching out full length on the ticking. She didn’t feel any bad lumps, and she let out a big sigh. She hadn’t felt so comfortable in days.

“All done,” Cam said at last.

“I’ll tell Sally.” Johnny went into the main room, but she wasn’t there. “She must be filling the tick,” he called to Cam. “I’ll go get her.”

He ambled out to the barn, surprised at how low the sun was. Sally would be starting supper soon. He liked knowing his wife would cook for him and make sure he had a good supper.

“Sally?” he called outside the barn. She didn’t answer, and he stepped into the shade under the roof. There was the new mattress, with Sally lying on it fast asleep. He stood over her, grinning. Just like Goldilocks. Her hair fanned out on the striped ticking. Her face was smudged with dust, and she looked like a child. An adorable child. He sank to his knees beside her and reached out to touch her shoulder.

“Sally.”

Her eyelashes fluttered, and she looked up at him then tried to push herself up, her face flushing.

“I must have dozed off.”

“It’s all right. Must be a comfy mattress.” He winked at her, and she gave him a timid smile.

“It surely is, Mark. I hope you’ll try it tonight.”

Johnny swallowed hard. “Well, I dunno.…”

Her smile disappeared. “What time is it?”

“Nigh on suppertime.”

“Oh no. I didn’t start the sweet potatoes.”

He helped her up. “I’ll carry this in for you. Are you ready to see your new room?”

“I’ve been waiting with bated breath.”

He laughed, knowing that wasn’t true.

“Well, figuratively,” she amended, brushing the hay and dust from her skirt. “Am I filthy? I feel as though I am.”

“Not too bad, but if you’d like a bath tonight, I’ll fetch extra water.”

She frowned. “You’ve been working all day. You’d better let Cam lug the water, and that mattress, too.”

Johnny tried to stand it on edge, but he couldn’t manage with one arm. “Guess I’d better ask him to help me.”

He laid the mattress down and dared to seize Sally’s hand. “Come on. I want to be there when you see it.”

They hurried across the yard to the cabin, and she didn’t pull her hand away. Johnny refused to think about how it made him feel to walk with her like this, her warm fingers curled around his.

They walked through the dim main room and stopped before the closed door. Sally surveyed the planed boards and the wrought-iron hinges and thumb latch.

“It looks nice.”

Johnny smiled and squeezed her hand. “Open it.”

Sally put her hand to the latch and squeezed it then slowly pushed the door inward. She took two steps into the room and stopped. Cam stood near the far window with a piece of sandpaper in his hand. Johnny dodged around her so he could see her expression. She was smiling.

He looked over at Cam and grinned.

Cam stepped forward. “We had some trouble putting the bedstead together, ma’am, but it’s fine now. And we’ll bring in the mattress for you whilst you’re cooking supper.”

“Thank you,” Sally said softly. She glanced at the row of hooks on the inside wall then walked to the near window and looked out through one of the four small panes. “I can see the garden.”

“That’s right,” Johnny said, “and from the other window, you can see the road toward town. That way, if you hear someone coming, you can look out and see who it is before they tie their rig up.”

She turned toward him, her face aglow. “You’ve done a wonderful job, boys.”

Johnny could hardly contain his pleasure at hearing her words of praise. “And we put baseboards all around,” he added. “It’ll keep out the drafts and some of the vermin. Don’t know if you want the walls painted.”

Sally looked around at the plain, pine-board walls.

“I thought maybe later on, if the money’s not too tight, you might want to plaster and wallpaper,” Johnny added. His mother had told him once that wallpaper was a sign of permanence. If a woman wallpapered her parlor, she was staying put.

“That might be nice,” Sally said, “but this is fine for now. Very fine. Thank you both.”

“We’ll get that mattress in,” Johnny said, “and you can put your new linens on it. Come on, Cam.”

When they carried the straw tick through a couple of minutes later, Sally was bustling about the kitchen. She had stirred up the cook fire, and it already felt hotter in the house. Johnny wished there was a way to cool things off for her. He’d have to think about that outdoor oven soon.

They situated the mattress on the bed frame.

“There.” Cam patted his side as smooth as could be expected. “You and the missus will have a fancy place to sleep tonight.”

Johnny felt his cheeks fire up, as they always did when Cam mentioned his private life with Sally.

“Maybe I can filch the tick off the bunk bed,” Cam said.

Johnny considered that. “All right, but we’d better ask her first, not just do it.” He had had some vague idea that he might sleep out there on the narrow bed, now that Sally had this fine room, and not tell Cam he was still, for all practical purposes, a bachelor. “I reckon we should build a bunkhouse by fall.”

Cam grinned. “Thinking you’ll prosper come fall roundup? Maybe you’ll need to hire some more hands.”

“I doubt that.”

In the kitchen, Sally was stirring some kind of batter in an earthenware bowl.

“Ma’am, do you mind if I take the mattress off that there little bed?” Cam asked.

“Oh, help yourself, Cam.” Sally leaned over the worktable, frowning at a sheet of paper. “Two eggs.”

“I’ll help you,” Johnny said.

“Naw, I can get it,” Cam said. He folded the bedding from the bunk. When he’d gone out with his prize, Johnny sat down on a stool on the opposite side of Sally’s worktable.

“Need anything?”

She glanced up at him and smiled. “Not right now, thanks. But I would take you boys up on the offer of bathwater later.”

“Sure. We’ll fill the boiler for you.”

Sally went to the cupboard and came back with two eggs, which she cracked into her mixing bowl. Johnny looked over his shoulder to make sure Cam wasn’t coming back inside yet.

“Listen, Sally…”

She stopped stirring and gazed into his eyes. “What is it?”

“I’ve been thinking about what you said. I’ve decided not to tell Cam how much money we have.”

She smiled a little when he said
we
.

“He asked me, when we were working today, why I charged so much at the mercantile, when he knew I was about broke. So I told him that…that a payment came in for the cattle. But I didn’t say how much.”

She nodded. “That’s probably wise, Mark. Now he’ll know you can pay him for his work, but he won’t know all your business. Even though he’s a friend, I think it’s good for an employer to keep a little distance between himself and his workers.”

Johnny nodded slowly. He and Cam had lived closer than most brothers for the last few weeks, but still, he knew they were as different as a peach and a cactus. For a while their future had depended on each other. He wouldn’t have made it out of Colorado alive without Cam’s warning and urging to make haste. And Cam wouldn’t be surviving now without him. At least not comfortably.

But if none of that business at the Lone Pine had happened, Mark would still be dead, and someone would probably have contacted him, and he supposed he would have inherited his brother’s property. They hadn’t found any papers in the house indicating otherwise.

That put him in mind of something else. He ought to write a will, bequeathing all of this to Sally. That was what Mark would have wanted, and Johnny knew at once that he wanted it on paper. If anything happened to him, there should be no question about who owned the ranch. The way things stood now, Cam could open a can of worms if he died.

But would a will he signed with Mark’s name be legal? Johnny clenched his teeth together. It would be as legal as this marriage.

“You look powerful somber,” Sally said.

“Just thinking.”

“Care to share your thoughts, Mr. Paynter?”

The subtle reminder of their bond only made Johnny more uncomfortable. He should be telling her everything. A man shouldn’t keep secrets from his wife. Though Sally’s tone had been light, her face was dead serious.

“I…I need to write a will.”

She blinked. “That’s an odd thing to say. You don’t expect to leave this earth soon, do you?”

Johnny rubbed the back of his neck and wished it wasn’t so hot in here. “No, but you never can tell, can you? I just meant I want to make sure that if something should happen, you would get the house. The ranch. Everything.”