The Trail Master's Bride (16 page)

“No, Wes, I—” She stopped abruptly and repeated, “You love me.”

Chuckling, he swirled her around in the water. “Don’t act so shocked. I would have thought my feelings more discernable through action, not words.”

“You think a spanking is an act of love?”

He frowned at her. “Those weren’t the actions I was referring to, but yes, I spanked you out of care and concern, so it can be a loving act.”

Leaning forward, she pressed her lips against his ear. “I find that logic rather convoluted, but I love you anyway, husband.”

“Mina,” he groaned, pulling her more snugly against his chest.

“That doesn’t mean I approve of the spank master side of your personality. But…” Her voice trailed off, not sure she should admit what she was thinking.

“Spank master,” Wes repeated, grinning. “You’re a nut.” Planting a smiling kiss on her lips, she thought he’d let it go. “Finish what you were saying, but what?”

She scowled; the man really was relentless, always pushing for more. It would have surprised her if he’d allowed her fragmented thought to remain incomplete. “But… Since it’s done with love and with my safety at heart, I guess I understand your reasoning behind it. Don’t expect to find reason again in the future, Weston.”

“Does that mean I’m safe from flying animal excrement?”

Her face heated faster than a cast-iron skillet on a red-hot fire. She had a feeling she’d never hear the end of that. “Yes, that means you’re free from anymore dung hurling. And, I think I promised that several times already.”

He laughed at her grudging admission, swooping down to take her lips in an amorous kiss. He only stopped when a throat cleared behind them.

“I know you are newlyweds, Mr. Carr, but this is a family swimming hole and I’ll have to ask you to remember that.”

His head came up and met Mina’s gaze. They both grinned as he spun them around to face Bessie Tisdale and her five giggling children.

“Sorry, ma’am,” Weston said, suppressing a laugh, his low rumbling voice creating a vibration in his chest, which transferred to Mina. It tickled, and for some reason finding their situation laugh-out-loud funny, rather than embarrassing as she normally would, she giggled right along with the children. Her husband had more control and said with tongue in cheek seriousness, “We’ll keep it family appropriate from here on out.”

“See that you do.” Bessie then surprised Mina with a sly wink, before corralling her reluctant and complaining brood, and steering them to the bank to dry off. Mina wanted to believe Bessie was remembering what it was like to be young and in love.

Resting her head on his broad shoulder, she lamented the end of their respite. “I suppose our little interlude has to come to an end, huh?”

“Yep. We need to move on if we’re to make it to our planned campsite by dark.” He carried her back to the bank, then announced to the group still frolicking in the water, “We leave in an hour, folks. The water’s fresh, the grasses are plentiful, do what you need to do, but in sixty minutes we’re pulling out.”

His announcement was met with mostly groans from the children, although the adults nodded and started toward shore. After wringing out her sodden skirts as best she could, Mina seated herself in the thick grass to put on her stockings and shoes. A prickling sensation on the back of her neck made her still. She looked around, knowing for certain she was being watched.

Weston, though dripping wet, was set to rights by then and pulled her up beside him as her eyes kept scanning the area. Something was amiss.

“You’re frowning. What’s wrong?” His gaze rose to the horizon and began scanning too.

“Nothing. Just a funny feeling.”

“Too much fizzy bathing, maybe?” he suggested, hooking his arm around her neck and drawing her near for a quick, chaste kiss. “Or is it the five pairs of eyes on your back?” He tipped his head to the side and sure enough, there stood Bessie’s five children, all girls except one, and every one of them, even the boy, was giggling and gaping at them until their mother called them to hurry along.

“Four girls.” Weston shuddered as he walked her back toward the train. “Can you imagine?”

“Yes, I had four sisters, remember?” She frowned, a shadow of life with her father cast over her heart. “You wouldn’t mind having girls, would you?”

“Certainly not. I have a younger sister, myself. But I demand at least two of each. If the girls look anything like their mother, I’ll need the two boys as reinforcements.”

Relief swept over her and she laughed outright. “Thank you for the compliment, honey, but you know you can’t just order them up like a bauble from Tiffany’s Blue Book. You take what you get.”

He stopped, his head tipping down.

“What?” she asked, looking down at her clothing to make sure she was wholly covered.

“You called me honey. You’ve never done that before. Mr. Carr, my given name, and big stupid oaf, but not honey.”

“I can go back to that last one if you’d prefer.”

He grinned, starting them back along the path they’d made by tramping through the tall grass on the way down. “Nope. I like ‘honey’ and since I can’t command the gender of my children, I demand you call me honey at least once a day.”

“Um, I don’t think honey can be ordered up that way either, husband. A honey can’t be commanded; the spirit needs to move me first.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, you wouldn’t want an insincere honey, now would you,” glancing up at him, she grinned impishly and added, “honey?”

“Beautiful. But I have to correct a misperception. It
will
work that way in our marriage. And, if you need some persuading to get your spirit moving, I’ll happily see to that too.”

Her hands went to her behind as her mouth fell open. “You wouldn’t? Would you? I was only teasing.”

“As was I.” He quickly pulled her behind a wide nearby tree. “I had something entirely different in mind.” He then demonstrated precisely how he would see to it. Well out of sight of the curious children’s eyes, and their overly nosy parents, he laid a hot, wet, and very thorough kiss on her lips. He earned himself another honey when his hands found her behind and squeezed. This one came out without hesitation, sounding more like a breathy moan.

“Oh, honey…” she repeated as he nudged his hips against hers.

“That’s it, darlin,” he murmured against her lips. “No sweeter music to my ears.”

Chapter Eleven

The next week went by without incident, which was a blessing, as the wagon train continued on its northwesterly course toward Fort Hall and a three-day stop for much needed rest and replenishing of supplies. While there, several of the pioneers received treatment for minor ailments from the army physician stationed there. Though Mina wasn’t sick, she met with the doctor for advice on replenishing Weston’s depleted medicine kit. In addition to the whiskey, peppermint oil, and tincture of camphor that he already carried, the doctor recommended adding hartshorn for snakebite, citric acid for scurvy, and quinine for malaria. The last made sense to Mina after suffering through their first night and being subjected to the thick swarms of mosquitos that inundated the area due to the boggy shores of the nearby river. They were so bad that they left the fort one full day early with Mina scratching at her welt-covered arms and legs and having gone back for a second bottle of camphor.

Not long after leaving the fort, they had to cross the swift and dangerous Snake River to its north side where the trail had more plentiful grazing grass and drinking water than the treacherous high-walled south side. Weston told tales of a previous trip when he and forty travelers had found themselves short on water as they stared down a one-hundred-foot cliff to the river below. They’d sweltered in the hot drought-like conditions for days on end, the whole time looking on the tempting life-sustaining waters that were hopelessly out of reach.

As for crossing the river, Mina had never been more terrified in her life. First, while crossing the swift waters, which rose over the wheels and at times was so deep that the wagon actually floated, and later while watching from shore while Weston and Jeremy made the trip again and again as they guided the other wagons across. The livestock were left for last, with the men returning to swim them across. Because of the many widows left after the smallpox tragedy, her husband and Jeremy made multiple trips back and forth across the river. By the time the last of the cattle were brought to the northern banks, Mina had bitten nearly all of her nails to the quick.

Seeing Wes wet and exhausted when he’d dragged himself out of the river for the final time, she ran to him and threw herself into his arms, uncaring what the others thought or said.

“Please tell me there are no more rivers to cross,” she whispered as she hugged him tight. “My heart couldn’t stand it.”

He bent over her, holding her close. “Can’t make that promise, darlin’, except to say this was the last of the worst.” She felt his lips pressed against the top of her head. “C’mon. I need grub, dry clothes, and a breather, but not necessarily in that order.”

As they traversed the Snake River valley, the days were long and hot, although nowhere near as the extreme heat of the prairie, and the nights were blessedly cool. Weston was often up late, doubling up and taking extra watches due to reports of Indian troubles from the Shoshone tribes. Those were restless nights for Mina and the others, who slept with loaded firearms within reach. In her case, she was thankful Weston had been so tenacious with her shooting lessons, having gotten fairly proficient with the ten-gauge shotgun she kept by their bedroll under the wagon.

Thankfully, they neared Fort Boise without incident, having spotted only a few small groups of Indians hunting and fishing. Once, when a few rode much too close for Weston’s liking, he’d ridden out to speak with them, which had nearly sent Mina into apoplexy. They were merely interested in a trade for medicine, it turned out, which he quickly transacted, a bottle of hartshorn and peppermint oil in exchange for buffalo hides and a pair of moccasins.

All in all, they considered themselves fortunate with the Snake River country crossing, and they were even pleased with the weather, which held clear until late one afternoon.

Hunkered down beneath the wagon, she watched as Weston hung cloth flaps, waterproofed with linseed oil like the bonnet, from hooks she’d never noticed before on the underside of the wagon. He then staked them into the ground to keep them in place against the wind and driving rain that whipped ferociously through the valley. When he was finished, he spread another flap out on the ground that was already saturated and held his arms out to Mina.

“Come here, darlin’. Sitting on this will be better than the wet ground.”

“Why not weather the storm inside the wagon, instead?” she asked as she crawled over to him.

“We’re better protected here against lightning and hailstones, which often accompany a gully washer of this sort.”

“And here I expected the Indians would be the dangerous part of Snake Country.”

Thunder clapped directly above them, making her jump. Already on hands and knees, for once, she didn’t crack her head open. Moving faster, when she had crawled close enough, he pulled her against him and wrapped them both up in the newly acquired buffalo hide that would serve as a blanket and protect against the dampness in the air.

“Get cozy. This could last a while. If you get hungry, I brought in a basket of cold staples and the canteen is full. “

A huge gust of wind shook the wagon above them and tore at the flaps. Mina held her breath, expecting both to be torn asunder, but they held true. She sighed with relief, pressing closer to Weston.

“I’m starting to think I prefer sweltering heat and drought to this.”

“Agreed, but this will fill our rain barrels and keep the dust down a bit, let’s hope.”

“I feel bad for the livestock. What if it hails?”

“They’ll huddle together and be just fine. Their hide is suited for harsh conditions. Another reason we use oxen, not skittish, high-maintenance horses.”

“The wagon master is always so practical,” she murmured, huddling closer as another crack of thunder boomed overhead.

He gathered her more tightly in his arms. “This is true. He’s also a practical husband and not one to waste an opportunity with complete privacy when it presents itself.”

She felt a warm hand on her breast as he began to explore under the cover. Tilting her head back, she saw in the dim light that his eyes were dark and gleaming with what she had quickly come to know as desire. While the storm raged around them, a tempest also began to build inside Mina. Willing him to kiss her, her attention locked onto his full lips. Then she realized that as his wife, she didn’t need to wait; she lifted her face and tentatively touched her lips to his. He certainly didn’t object, but didn’t take over the kiss either. Taking that as approval, she began to explore. Her tongue slipped out to taste him. As he so often did to her, Mina licked along his bottom lip. On the next pass, the tip boldly pressed between his lips and entered tentatively, exploring the warm depths of his mouth, which tasted of mint. Further emboldened, she began teasingly touching the tip of her tongue to his, at which point he growled and flipped her over on her back.

Coming over her, he nudged her thighs apart and settled between them. When he spoke, his voice had become a rough husky bass. “While I thoroughly enjoy your kisses, Mina, I’m afraid you’ve stirred the beast in me and I can’t wait. This is too new. I’ll let you explore another time. Maybe a year from now, or five, maybe ten, when I have some control.”

His mouth opened over hers as he took control of the kiss, his tongue plunging inside and sweeping her up in his urgency. Lost in the moment, she didn’t feel his fingers make quick work of her buttons until he spread her blouse wide, pushed up her camisole, and the humid air wafted over her bare breasts. Weston’s mouth left her then, moving lower to capture a nipple. While he sucked voraciously, his other hand found the hem of her skirts and swept them up to her waist. Eagerly, and quite shamelessly, she had to admit, she spread her legs as he sought the damp seam at the center of her drawers.