Boot Hill Bride (9 page)

show him, but wondering if his actions would somehow hurt

Randi made bile blister the back of his throat. This

overwhelming need to protect someone was new to him, and

no matter how he tried, it wouldn't dissolve.

He'd protected his sisters-in-law before. There was that

time he and Snake helped Jessie capture the cattle rustlers

while Kid was in jail. And he'd watched over Lila while she

was morning sick and Skeeter was out searching for the

madman who was set on killing her. But those times were

different. Neither Jessie nor Lila was his wife.

The word held a lot of weight. What was it about a

preacher saying a few words that made a man's life turn

upside down and inside out? Hell, he hadn't even known her a

full day, and yet, she was all he thought about.

The sun mocked him as it shone glory and joy down upon

the earth. He pulled the hat from his head, pushed the sweat-

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filled hair off his forehead, and resettled the rim above his

ears. "Hell, it's only noon. I've only known her half a day."

The building site grew before him, and he heeled Ted into a

faster canter.

A wondrous aroma filled the air as he brought the horse to

a halt beside his tent. The rumbling in his stomach

encouraged him to speed up the time it took to care for the

animal before moving toward the smell.

A grunt rumbled out his mouth when he noticed Thurston

Fulton and Belinda had returned. The woman had cornered

Randi near the well he'd dug at the back of the property, and

she was waving one finger beneath his wife's nose. Randi's

head was bent so low, her dainty chin almost touched her

chest.

His feet dug into the ground and ire made his muscles

ripple. Throwing the saddle over a large stump without care,

he stomped past the tents and toward the well.

"It's disgraceful I tell you. Absolutely disgusting!" Belinda's

screeching voice floated to his ears.

"Randi?" he said while still several feet away.

Her face snapped up and relief reflected in her doe eyes as

they settled on him. They seemed even larger surrounded by

her now ashen skin.

"Howard," she barely squeaked.

The way she said his name made his heart somersault. He

reached her side in mere seconds.

"One of the boys can fetch water for you," he said, lifting

the wooden bucket out of the weeds surrounding her feet.

The action gave him something to do, hitting Belinda wouldn't

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be polite. He'd never even thought about hitting a woman

before, but seeing how pale Randi looked, he really wanted to

knock Belinda into next week.

"Oh, it's no trouble," Randi whispered. "I've always hauled

water."

Her voice was shaky, troubled. He crooked a finger

beneath her chin, forced her face up to make sure no marks

marred the skin. If someone had struck her he would have to

retaliate. There were no tell tale signs, and a soft pink blush

formed on her cheeks as he stared at the perfection of her

face.

He couldn't bring himself to look at the other woman,

knew his tongue would slip. He wrapped his fingers around

Randi's elbow and steered her away from her stepmother.

When they were separated from Belinda by a few yards of

spring grass, he asked, "What's going on?"

"N-nothing." She glanced over her shoulder.

He made her keep walking, putting more distance between

them and Belinda. "I see your father and Belinda are back." It

was a stupid comment, but his mind, full of rage, and his

heart, full of something he had yet to define, made

comprehensible thoughts impossible.

She nodded. "Yes, they arrived a bit ago." Her footsteps

faltered. "Your brother said you went to town. Did you get

what you needed?"

"Yes, yes I did." He let go of her elbow and wrapped the

arm around her shoulder, looking down at her. "I'm sorry. I

should have asked if there was anything you needed before I

left."

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Her mouth dropped open. "Oh." A smile formed as her lips

drew together. Her cheeks grew a healthy, pinkish color.

"There's nothing I need, but thank you for asking."

The blood in his head swirled until he grew light headed.

Damn, if she wasn't the prettiest thing. Just looking at her

had the ability to take his breath away. He coughed, tried to

think of something to say.

"I should have asked before I went to town." His feet

stalled. Aw, shit, he hadn't meant to say it aloud.

She stopped beside him, giggled. "That's okay. It's the

thought that counts."

What happened next was more of a surprise to him than

finding her in his bed had been. Of their own accord, his lips

lowered to brush over hers. The first touch made his whole

body quiver. Her taste was intoxicating, sweeter than honey.

He moved his lips over her delicate mouth, searching for a

deeper taste. His arm tightened, drew her closer. She didn't

resist but did tilt her head a touch higher, giving him more

access to her mouth, which he immediately took advantage

of.

Someone cleared their throat in a very annoying way and

broke the spell surrounding him. He lifted his face to peer

over the top of Randi's head.

Belinda glared at them. If her eyes had been a pistol, he'd

have been shot dead center. Her hands were braced on her

hips, and one toe tapped at the ground. He glared back, until

she flipped her head and twisted about to stomp toward the

tents.

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Randi's cheeks were as rosy as a sunrise when his gaze

settled back on her. Her eyes, big and brown, held a sparkle

he hadn't seen before. He leaned down, kissed a brow above

one of them. "Come on. Let's get this water to Ma before she

has a fit."

She didn't move. "Ma—I mean y-your mother invited my

father and Belinda to lunch." Her eyes had grown dim again.

He used the arm around her to tug until she started

walking. "Yeah, I figured she would." His fingers on her

shoulder plucked at the wide strap of the apron she had on

over her dress. "I see Ma put you to work, too." He wanted to

change the subject, didn't like the sadness floating about her.

"Yes, I'm afraid that's what made Belinda so mad," she

said, gazing down at the apron skirt.

"That you're hauling water? I'm sorry—"

"No," she interrupted. "It wasn't the work part. It was the

apron. She doesn't approve of them."

"She doesn't approve of aprons?" His impression was right,

Belinda Fulton was a dimwit.

"Actually, it's the cooking she doesn't approve of."

"She doesn't approve of cooking?" He'd never heard of

such a thing.

Randi shrugged and nodded at the same time, her face

twisted into the cutest little grimace he'd ever seen. His heart

jumped, skipped around in his chest like a rock over water.

He'd never known someone who could make him feel so

many things all at the same time.

All together it made him smile, and he let out a laugh. He

pulled her a little tighter to his side. "I knew there was a

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reason I didn't like her, besides the fact she's about as

appealing as a rattler in a cave."

Randi didn't have time to suppress the giggle before it

leaped out of her mouth. She had no control over it. Had no

control over the way his kiss had left her body so giddy she'd

probably be floating right now if his hand wasn't on her

shoulder, forcing her feet to stay on the ground. She couldn't

fathom what it was about him, but the minute she'd heard his

voice, the sky around her had brightened. Even the dark

cloud from Belinda's badgering had disappeared. There was

something about the way he looked at her. It made her feel

like...like she was a person. An odd thing, she knew, since

she'd always been a person, but this was different—extremely

hard to explain—even to herself.

They were still chuckling when they walked around the

corner of the tent. The icy stare Belinda sent their way was

hard to ignore, but Randi did her best and ultimately refused

so much as a glance her stepmother's way. The sun shining

upon her and the light carefree feelings dancing inside her

body like a jar of fireflies were too enjoyable. She didn't want

any of it to end.

"Whatever Ma is cooking sure smells good," Howard said

with a touch of bewilderment.

Randi glanced up, took in his somewhat apprehensive look.

"You sound surprised."

He set the bucket on a small bench near the tent.

"I am." His lips brushed against her hair as he whispered

in her ear, "Ma isn't known for her cooking."

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"Oh?" She turned. His face was very close to hers. Less

than an inch, and if she stretched just a mite, their lips could

meet again. Her heart began to beat unevenly.

"Nope," he said, then as light as a butterfly's wings, his

lips brushed over hers before he turned to walk toward the

table.

Randi took a moment to catch her breath. Knew if she

tried walking she'd look like a one-legged goose. This was

certainly a day of firsts. Her first kiss, her second kiss, her

wedding...

When her knees no longer threatened to collapse, she let

out the air in her lungs and moved to the tripod. Maybe there

was hope. Maybe their marriage could work—if only she had

something to offer up in the bargain.

The Dutch oven had cooked the meat to perfection. It fell

apart in long succulent strips as she stirred, mixing the thick

chunks of beef into the gravy surrounding it. Ma's supply

wagon was full of spices, some Randi had never even heard

of, and every cooking utensil imaginable. The last hour,

before her father and Belinda returned, had been marvelous.

She'd missed cooking almost as much as she missed Mama

these past few months.

Her brows tugged together. Howard had said his mother

wasn't known for her cooking. Then why would she have all

these supplies? Randi shook off the question. She didn't really

have time to contemplate it right now and turned to the other

pot to poke the potatoes. They, too, were done. Completely

involved in the meal, she scurried about to complete the

feast. When the potatoes were whipped to perfection with a

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touch of sweet cream and butter, she carried the pan to the

table and went back to retrieve the meat.

Carrying the other kettle, full of sliced carrots, she found

herself wishing she had Mama's china serving dishes instead

of the cast iron pots. The gold-rimmed hand-painted china

had disappeared a few years ago, and she still wondered what

had become of the lovely dishes. The precious china along

with the meal would certainly give Howard a reason to think

about keeping her as a wife, wouldn't it? That was it. She

could offer her cooking skills in exchange for staying here.

Randi bit her lip and glanced across the table to where he

stood. A soft ripple of emotions tickled her insides, and she

looked away. A moment later, a washing of understanding

happened, flowing over her like the warm sun. It said Howard

would provide her a safe haven like she'd had with Mama.

One that promised she'd never have to live with the fear and

uncertainty she'd experienced living with her father.

The side of her face began to tingle, and she turned back

to Howard, meeting his thoughtful gaze. He smiled at her.

The action made a flush of warmth rise into her face. She

gave him a quick grin before lowering her lashes. At that

moment her inner-self made a quick vow—no matter what it

took, she was staying.

Ma had everything else set out, so Randi laid the cloth

she'd used to carry the hot dishes to the table on the end of

the bench seat and glanced about, somewhat unsure as to

where to sit.

Howard reached for her hand and tugged her forward to sit

beside him on the long bench. Belinda's puckered lips and

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glare sent a shiver rippling over her shoulders. Between

Howard's kisses and nearness, and all the cooking, she'd

forgotten about Belinda's displeasure. Besides belittling her

about cooking, Belinda had made it extremely clear what she

thought of Randi's other behavior. She'd claimed if word got

out she and Howard had been caught in bed together—before

the wedding—her father's chances of becoming governor

would be seriously affected. It was all her fault. Randi bowed

her head, settled her trembling fingers in her lap.

"Well, it's gonna get cold if you don't dig in," Ma said,

breaking the silence around the table.