Marrying Minda (26 page)

Peavy groaned, breathless, at both impacts and slumped into the straw.

Heart thundering like hoof beats, Brix took deep breaths to calm down as he climbed the ladder. In the few seconds it took him to reach the loft, Minda had taken Peavy's knife to cut strips from her dress.

Smart woman, that wife of his. His pride whirled inside him like a storm. She tied up the scoundrel first, before stopping his bleeding nose with the last strip. Brix pulled his knife roughly from between Peavy's collarbone and shoulder and wiped it on the outlaw's grimy clothes.

Del Peavy moaned, groveling cross-eyed in the hay, and tied firm as any calf before branding.

Although he was too much a gentleman to kick any man when he was down, Brix propped the toe of his boot just at the point of entry. Peavy winced. It was little compensation for what the outlaw had just put Minda through.

Brix knelt next to his wife and held her close, somewhat surprised at her trembling. She'd been so strong and resolute. Relief at her safety and pride in her grit pumped through him, laced with more than a tinge of passion.

“Thought you aimed to kill, Mr. Haynes,” she muttered against his bare chest.

“Not with you in the way. Just wanted to disable his arm.” He breathed in the scent of her, then teased, “Some left hook, Miz Haynes.”

“Oh, I had a good teacher.” She grinned along with him, likely remembering Hackett, and waved her bruised knuckles. “I can't say I'll be doing much needlework.” Her shivers stopped against his warmth.

“Damn good knots there,” he said, looking at the prisoner and feeling not a qualm of pity. “He won't go anywhere ‘til we get Sheriff Pelton out here.”

“Good knots? Well, Mr. Haynes, how do you think my stitches hold together?” she murmured, so close to a nipple that he tingled. “Should I make him some of that willow bark tea to ease his discomfort?”

He didn't dare scold her. A nurturing woman was who she was, and why he cared. Peavy's right arm wouldn't be much use to him for a long while, but he was in no danger of dying. The bleeding had already stopped. Just in case, though, Brix got some baling wire and hooked Del Peavy up to some bolts supporting the roof beams.

“We're done here, Minda. He's sleeping it off. Stinks like the whole of Hank's alehouse. There's plenty of last night's whiskey running in his veins. Let's get you down.” He came to her, where she still knelt in the hay, holding the pup, her gun on one knee.

“Just scratches, thankfully, on my neck and his belly,” she said, “but this poor little pup is sleeping in the house tonight for sure.”

“None of your stitches for
him
then?” Brix grinned, helping her up.

“Brixton.” Her feistiness had left her beautiful eyes. “I remembered to wear my gun. But I couldn't ... I didn't ... He tossed it into the straw. I just now found it.”

Pulling her close against him, he kissed away the sudden dampness on her cheeks. For a flash her mouth parted underneath his. Once again, her taste sparked the new feelings he never thought he wanted. “It makes no mind,” he murmured. “You're safe. He's caught. Now, let's get back to the house. And later, I promise you cloth for a new purple dress.”

“The children will probably be up by now.” She sounded disappointed as she clung to him.

“No doubt about it,” he whispered, not keen to let her go. “Truth is, I left them asleep and came to the barn to, well...”

“Teach me something else?” She smiled shy, but the look in her eyes was not demure one single bit.

“Later. There'll always be later.” He laid a kiss on her ear. “Now, I'll get the dog and go first, then hold the ladder for you.”

He waited at the bottom for her, but when she started down the rungs, her backside at eye level, Brix had no thought at all of the kids. His hands traveled under her skirts, one upon each leg, sliding up and down from thigh to calf, her skin soft as silk, smooth as butter. Memories a man could treasure on the trail.

“Oh, Brixton.” She paused at his touch and leaned back against his chest as one hand went higher, the other held her tight.

“No drawers today, Miz Haynes?” he drawled, delighted at her daring. His arousal battled against his tight denims.

She peeked over her shoulder, flirting. “Maybe I wanted another lesson in the barn, too.”

But then she stumbled and caught her heel in a downward rung. He moved his searching hands quick so he could break her fall, but her foot stuck awkward as she pitched against him. “Minda?”

“I'm fine,” she said, but when she tried to stand, she tottered into his arms.

He bent to knead the swelling flesh. “Not broken.”

“How do you know?” Her cheeks paled but she tried to smile.

“Don't doubt me, now, do you?” With a swoop, he picked her up and carried her across the yard into the house.

“No, Brixton. I don't doubt you at all,” she murmured against his shoulder.

* * * *

“Time for your bath, Miz Haynes,” her husband said, using her married name these days with pure affection as he brought a washtub into the bedroom.

“Now, Brixton, it's been almost a week. I am perfectly capable...”

He leaned down close to her ear. “It's my favorite part of doctoring my wife.”

His eyes narrowed with desire, and the furious heat that just a look from him could ignite consumed her. Her sprained ankle had not prevented nights of magic and passion, and she feared her shouts of delight would wake the children.

He set the washtub down, eyes bright. She was still naked under the sheets, and he knew it. “Silly's napping along with the pup. And I got Ned and Katie enrolled today without punching Schoolmaster Hackett one single time.” He rubbed a washcloth with soap. “So we are alone.”

She giggled in anticipation at his wicked grin. “Brixton, surely it's time for me to be up and about.” But she lost her thought as the warm soapy cloth tugged gently across her chest. She shut her eyes for a second, glorying as Brixton's fingers slid up the slippery slopes of her breasts.

“Doc Viessman himself said a week.” Brixton breathed out, eyes half-lidded, fingertips tickling her nipples into rosy peaks.

“But I have a ton of things to do.” She gasped as one hand slid the cloth down one thigh and the other caressed the opposite.

“No buts. I am keeping house just fine.”

He was. How could he look so magnificent and masculine doing women's work?

Even the soles of her feet and her ten toes turned to fire underneath his touch. She moaned out loud.

“Well, this is day seven.” Her breath caught when he flipped her over and kneaded her backside with hands as gentle as the sunbeams coming through the window.

“Good counting.” His fingers stroked the muscles of her back firmly but sensuously. “I set a plank on two saw horses, over by the front window. Good light and enough room for those hat makings the mercantile sent over. You can sit up there today.” He paused his motions, and said almost shyly. “Might use some of my reward money to get you one of those Singer machines.”

Despite her delight at such a possibility, she couldn't allow it. In her heart, she hoped the fifty dollar reward for Delaware Peavy would buy them more time together and keep him away from Texas longer.

“Oh, no, Brixton, no.” Her languor at his delicious ministrations halted and she scrambled up to sit on the bed. “The money is for necessary things, like bringing your horse home from Kansas.”

“Lay back down,” he said, stroking her arm with soap and fervor. “Fara's staying at a real good farm I know well. It isn't the money. I don't want...” He raised the inside of her wrist to his mouth, his tongue taking a quick taste. Her pulse jumped. For a long, sweet moment, his eyes held her gaze, dark and firm. “Don't want to waste any of my days and nights here going off somewhere else.”

Disliking the sudden jolt that his time here was temporary, she held out her arms to him. He bent down and slipped his tongue between her lips, then moved to cherish one breast, then the other, enticing her nipples to new enchantment. As she wriggled with delight, his hand reached under the bed sheet again and her lower core parted at his fingertips. Almost overwhelmed with sensation, she dragged her fingers through the lengths of his hair. For a second, he sparked her center bud to a glimpse of those colors only she could see.

“You're a tease, Mr. Haynes.” She breathed against his ear, forcing away her sadness.

He pulled back, his face creased in disappointment. “Damn. Somebody's driving up.”

Bereft herself, she didn't chide the curse. He tried hard these days, but now she almost wished she had courage to mouth the word herself. Her emptiness was almost pain.

“I'll go check things. You get dressed.” His eyes still held the glaze of desire. “We have plenty of time to finish this up later. I'll come back to carry you out.”

Plenty of time. Those words encouraged her in spite of the disruption of their passion. “I'll hobble slow.”

Sighing and grimacing both, she managed to climb into a gray dress that had seen better days, but when she heard Gracey's voice at the door, she relaxed, kept her hair down and her feet bare. She found her friend in the big upholstered chair, face aglow with impending motherhood.

“Gracey! You're most welcome, but is everything all right?”

“Oh, I know it's early in the day, but I've gotten the boys to school and couldn't resist some fresh air. I woke up queasy this morning.” She patted her belly, then waved an envelope. “So I'm delivering a down payment for Lisa Pelton's new orange hat, and a letter to Brix. He's outside with it. Most of all—” She smiled demurely. “I wanted a chance to wear my new hat. I'm too proud of it to save it just for Sundays.”

“Probably his reward money. Mine didn't take long to reach me,” Minda said, then teased, “So is postmaster part of the duties of a preacher's wife?”

“No. But when I mailed a letter for my Auntie Faye in Hastings first thing today, Horace at the post office mentioned a post for Brix. I told him I'd deliver it.”

“Then let me make you some tea.”

“You will do no such thing. You're limping like a granny. I'll get us each a cup.”

While Gracey puttered at the stove, Minda leaned on a spindleback chair and walked it over like a crutch to her new worktable. The fabrics, laces and ribbons glimmered like jewels in a treasure chest. She had too many blessings to count.

So sweet, Brixton not wanting to waste their time together. An idea came then. She'd use Lisa's down payment for a higher purpose, as there were many orders ahead of hers.

“Gracey? Do you think your father could handle the livery and smithy all by himself for a while?”

“I suppose. But why?”

“I need to hire your brother.” She explained her plan to send the young horseman to Ellsworth to retrieve Fara as a surprise. “Brixton hasn't complained, but I'm sure he'd like his own horse back. Do you think Nathan would accept?”

Gracey laughed out loud. “Indeed. He's at that age where Paradise seems a worse place than Perdition, if you pardon my expression.” She blushed in wild apology. “He'll need to wait a bit though, ‘til he and Pa finish putting up their new shed.”

Since Gracey had been one of her first visitors after Peavy's attack, they found areas of fresh gossip today, Brixton and Caldwell's altercation being news no longer. Indeed, life in Paradise had become somewhat languid with the fair over for another summer, the Perkins gang harassing another state, and the corn not quite ready for harvest. Finally, Gracey rose and stretched. “I'd better get along home and discuss your proposition with Nathan.”

“You're absolutely alight with joy,” Minda said.

“Yes.” Gracey's face stayed soft and bright. “No babe will ever replace our Ruthie, so I don't care a whit if this next one's a boy as well.”

“Your sons are all precious,” Minda said fondly. “I spent my life raising girls. Not until Ned did I have a chance to hold a little boy close to my heart.” Or Brixton either, she reminded herself. Her rough and rowdy husband was every bit the father he claimed he wasn't. Somewhere deep down, her womb reeled with emptiness.

After helping Gracey into her buggy, Brixton came in the back door to stand in front of her at her worktable, tall, tender, and so serious that she knew finishing her bath was the farthest thing from his mind. Even still, her heart lurched with joy at the sight of him.

She swallowed with a loud gulp. “That letter wasn't your reward.”

“Nope. Letter was from Buck Hannon, trail boss of my outfit. Wonders where I am.”

Minda could hardly hear the words. She'd long known the dream would end. She just hadn't expected it to end today.

As he put his hands on her arms, she felt his pulse run with a sudden chill. “Truth is, Minda, Buck says I got to be back for fall round up. Or he'll hire someone else to ride point. Give somebody else my job.”

Clearing her throat kept the melancholy from her voice. She remembered that point riding was what he did. That a point rider was who he was. “Brixton, I do understand, I do. Sit with me.”

He hunkered on the big upholstered chair, and she reached to take his hands in hers. “Brixton, you must understand, too. Remember that day you told me things you'd never told anyone?”

“Yep.” He nodded.

Her hands tightened. “Well, I have to confess something now. I do not think I have the stamina to raise another family all by myself.”

She looked at him, hoping he understood she had none of the anger and threats from those first days left in her. “That night Silly got sick, the load bearing down on me was cut in half when you walked through the door.”

He managed a tight smile. “You just called her ‘Silly.'”

Her mouth twitched for a second but it wasn't a smile. “Don't sidetrack me. And Ned getting lost, why, without you...” She slowed down with a quiet shiver and a headshake. “And as for our little firefly. Well, it isn't all that far off when boys will be knocking on the door.”

“Won't be finding any of them good enough,” he grumbled.

“But you won't be here.” Minda pulled her hands away.

“Minda.” His voice was gentle, but he looked away. “I promised my brother I'd care for the kids. Never promised him I'd stay.” He met her eyes then. “Never promised you either.”