The Bride Wore Spurs (The Inconvenient Bride Series, Book 1) (19 page)

So distasteful or not, Hawke laid it all out for her. "I've already told you what folks around here think of my kind. Any white woman who'd marry someone like me, a half-breed Arapaho Indian, is considered even lower. I can't ask you to live that way. You'd never be able to hold your head up in Laramie, or anywhere you might go."

"How terrible." Lacey was truly appalled, but undaunted. "'Tis true, we do not have Indians in Ireland, but the Irish are not without their prejudices." She paused briefly, thinking of how she'd have been regarded in her homeland had she stayed in County Tipperary after the hospital released her. Just by virtue of the fact that she'd lived there most of her life, she'd be considered a madwoman, even though she'd never actually been declared as such by the county. Seeing a small irony in their situations, she gave in to a fragile smile as she said, "The fact that you're an Indian means absolutely nothing to me, Mr. Winterhawke. As for the fine folks in town who have a problem with you, or with the wife of a half-breed, they mean even less to me."

Hawke studied her for a long moment, hardly daring to believe what his eyes and ears were telling him, but damned, if she didn't mean it. There wasn't so much as a hint of hesitation or exaggeration in her voice, and the dogged outrage and determination he saw firing the coals of her pupils could not have been feigned. Was it really possible that this woman honestly had no prejudices or tolerance for those who did?

Feeling humbled, Hawke could do no less than be completely honest with her. "If the thought of being snubbed by the good ladies in Laramie doesn't bother you, then maybe this will; all I have to offer a wife is the ranch and the horses I breed. Frankly, the business takes up most all of my time and energy. I don't see how any woman could be happy stuck up on this mountain with no one for company but me and my horses. I'd think you'd be better off in town with someone your own kind. As I said before, a woman with your looks would have your pick of men."

Lacey didn't want that—not another man or life in a civilized American town. She'd grown to love the Medicine Bow Mountains, the animals that lived in them, Winterhawke Ranch, and in some ways, even the man. Most of all, she knew her lack of social polish and the little eccentricities that went along with that lack, would go unnoticed here in the wild. In town, she would be judged—and found inferior.

Squaring her shoulders, she turned and looked Hawke in the eye. "This is where I want to be, a place I know I can come to love as much as the homeland. As for being lonely, Kate won't be that far away if I feel the need for a visit." Losing a bit of that confidence, she put the final decision in Hawke's hands. "I know that you do not feel so convinced this marriage will work. If you've found something lacking in me, if you feel I will make you unhappy as a wife, tell me what I can do to make myself a better bargain. Perhaps I can change or learn how to—"

"No... no." Hawke flung his hat to the ground. "There's nothing wrong with you—nothing I know about anyway," he added, his voice heavy with meaning. "I'm just trying to warn you about life around here, and me, too, I suppose. I haven't been around many folks, especially white women, and..." How was he explain the fact that he didn't need or want anyone in his life, that he was an outcast and rather enjoyed the role? "I don't have a lot of social graces—and don't want to learn them, either."

Lacey muffled her laughter. "I—I don't exactly have many social graces myself. I was somewhat...
sheltered
as a child."

Which strengthened Hawke's suspicions that Lacey was from royalty or something like it, and yet oddly enough, here she was still offering herself to him in marriage as if they were on equal footing. Surely she was running a bluff of some kind.

Testing her, Hawke solemnly said, "If you're still set on going through with this wedding, then I guess we'd best go inside and get it over with."

"Oh, and I thank you kindly, I do." She fairly beamed with excitement. "I promise to be the best wife I know how, and that I'll learn to bake the pies you love so before our first year is done."

Had he just proposed marriage and had Lacey accepted? Hawke wondered, his hand—his entire body—feeling numb as he reached down and collected his hat. Surely by the time they stood before the preacher, common sense would catch up with her, and she'd have a change of mind. Surely that would come to pass.

Fumbling around for a few words that wouldn't get him into any more trouble, Hawke said, "I, ah, guess we'd better get back inside then."

She smiled, her radiant expression alive with a maidenly glow. "Aye, and I imagine they're more than ready to be starting the ceremony."

An unusually healthy blush turning his own cheeks redder than his paternal forbearers, Hawke got up from the log, pulled Lacey along with him, then started back for the house—and the man in black.

* * *

Once Lacey shared the good news, Three Elk Ranch became a flurry of activity. A stunned, unprotesting Hawke was swept into the fray, and even helped figure out the agenda for all involved. Due to the lateness of the hour and the wedding feast scheduled to begin after the ceremony, there was no choice but for Hawke, Lacey, and the Reverend Bob to plan on staying the night right where they were. The road between Winterhawke and Three Elk Ranches could be difficult enough to navigate during daylight hours, but at night, especially after the recent rain, it could have been downright dangerous. Not that staying over was a problem; Crowfoot was more than capable of taking care of the horses during Hawke's absence, at least for a couple of days, and since Queenie had foaled shortly before they left Winterhawke, nothing of any urgency was pressuring them to return that night.

As the women primped in the back bedroom, Hawke called Caleb aside and said, "By the way, old friend, do me a little favor before the ceremony starts."

"Want me to give you a haircut? You are getting a touch shaggy."

As much as he wished he was a little more presentable for such an auspicious occasion, Hawke wasn't about to go calling attention to himself by doing something so obvious as cutting his hair. The whole affair was embarrassing enough as it was—including the assumptions on Kate's part.

"My hair's just fine," he said gruffly. "I want you to go have a little talk with your dear bride-to-be. There seems to be a really big misunderstanding about what I did or didn't do to Miss O'Carroll yesterday. I believe Kate thinks that I—" Hawke glanced around the room, noticing that Reverend Bob was within earshot, then leaned in close and whispered the rest of the sentence into Caleb's ear.

"Get out of here."

"That must be what she thinks—I didn't, of course. I just gave Lacey a little kiss out by the corral. Will you straighten your woman out so she doesn't dig a shotgun into my spine during the wedding?"

Caleb slapped his good leg and laughed. "Sure, son. She's as good as straight."

"Thanks—and while you're at it, see if you can't find out what's really wrong with Lacey." Then, figuring he might as well do what he could to protect the reputation of his bride-to-be for as long as he could, he approached the preacher, who was sitting on the couch thumbing through his bible. "Excuse me, Reverend. Might I borrow a moment of your time?"

"Of course." The man closed the well-worn book. "What is it?"

"Would you be traveling east or west when you leave tomorrow?"

"West is what I planned. Is there someone I should visit on my way out?"

"Not exactly." There was someone Hawke
didn't
want the man to visit—the entire town of Laramie. "I was wondering—what I mean, is that I would appreciate it if you wouldn't spread the news about me getting married, and all."

The preacher eyed him for a moment, reconciling himself to his own prejudices, Hawke assumed, then finally said, "I'm not the town crier, Mister. Just a man spreading the word of the Lord."

And that was just fine with Hawke. From then on, everything happened in a blur. After what he thought was an awfully fast ceremony with very few words leading up to the "I-do's," John Winterhawke, Jr. found himself a married man. He would have to remain this way in name only for at least this one night, due to the fact that rooms and privacy were in short supply at Three Elk Ranch. That, too, was just fine with Hawke, given the circumstances of the entire day. He figured he could use the next twenty-four hours to get used to the idea that from now on, he was responsible for a copper-haired beauty with eyes the color of a golden dawn.

As for Lacey, after she and Kate had served a wedding supper of roast calf's liver, boiled brisket, and potato pudding, then settled the men down with both mixed-berry
and
cherry pie, she was all too happy to retire to the back bedroom with Kate where she could completely relax. After Lacey slipped into her voluminous cotton nightgown, Kate tapped her on the shoulder.

"Sit a moment, will ye, lass? 'Tis time I spoke to ye of a few... things."

Her curiosity piqued, Lacey eased down on the edge of the bed and smoothed her gown. "Is something wrong? You look sort of worried."

"Sorry, lass, I dona mean to give that impression." She paced in front of Lacey, her hands clasped tightly together. "Caleb spoke to me of yer new husband and some confusion I had over the liberties he did or didna take with ye already."

"Oh," her cheeks bloomed bright, "that."

"Aye, and I apologize for presumin' the worst of the man. He seems a decent enough sort."

"Then what could be the trouble?"

Kate stopped pacing. "There is no trooble, lass, but since ye didna have a... normal upbringing, and no doubt, ye've not learned a thing about what goes on between men and women after they've wed." She paused to wipe her brow with the back of her hand, her bountiful freckles fading under increasingly reddened cheeks. "What I'm wonderin' is how much ye know of what's expected of ye once yer alone at Winterhawke with yer man."

Wondering why Kate was acting so strangely, Lacey shrugged. "'Tis for sure that I'll have to learn to cook better!"

Kate sighed heavily and wiped her brow again. "'Tis a difficult thing, what I've to explain. A very difficult thing, me thinks, for ye to understand, but there'd be a wee bit more to marriage then cookin'. A good lot more, in fact."

Not bloody likely.

—George Bernard Shaw

Chapter 10

"You can not be serious." Now it was Lacey who paced the floor, her eyes wide and round as the pie tins Hawke had licked clean earlier. "This can not be."

"Aye, but 'tis true, lass."

She stopped pacing and stamped her foot, sorely missing the jingle of her spurs. "But husband or no, I can not possibly consider doing such a loathsome thing with Hawke. I will not."

"Oh, lass... ye
must
." Kate, sitting on the edge of the bed, averted her gaze. "'Tis the way of nature."

"Nature? And why would nature demand such an 'unnatural' act of me?"

"Why, for the begetting of children. I thought I made that clear to ye."

She hadn't, but even though Lacey found the entire conversation distasteful, she had begun to suspect as much. So
this
vile act was the thing which brought about the creation of children. She'd picked up enough whispers and innuendos from the nurses and other patients over the years to know that the process involved something private, something she probably didn't want to talk or think about, but to find this mating business was to involve her own private self in such an unprivate way, was just too preposterous to be real. Too monstrous to even contemplate further. Surely not everyone indulged in such goings on.

Eyeing Kate curiously, Lacey ventured forward. "You're not suggesting that even sweet-natured Nurse Flaherty, mother of ten babes, has done this business with gentle Mr. Flaherty, and as many times as children were born, are you? Surely she's found another way."

If not for sudden memories of her own lost love and the painful, bittersweet memories of their forbidden nights together, Kate might have laughed at Lacey's suggestion. She didn't, but went ahead with her lesson on sex with a little more empathy. "There is no other way, lass, and aye, sweet Nurse Flaherty did indeed lie with her man in that manner. I would guess that she also allowed him to visit himself upon her a good many times more than the number of babes she can claim—and still does."