The Trail Master's Bride (12 page)

Turning her back, knowing he would keep her safe, she lowered her drawers beneath the water and bathed her intimate flesh. She was tender as well as swollen, a lingering reminder of his possession of her last night. As she washed the sensitive area, a tingling started, spreading quickly until, despite the coolness of the creek, it heated her body, such that she relived his touch that had teased her, making her fly apart into nigh on a million pieces. As her fingers ran over the hard little point in front, her insides clenched. While her body hummed with renewed arousal, she stifled the groan that welled up in her throat. She wanted to experience again how his lips, hands, and body had made her feel, whether by suckling at her breasts, or with his fingers circling that nub that seemed the very source of her pleasure, or with his hard length driving inside her.

“Hurry, Mina.”

Startled, she jumped, pulling her hands from between her thighs. Though no longer touching herself, it was as if his taking of her had flipped a lever inside her, or opened a spout, and years of pent-up desire and carnality had come pouring out. He said he wanted an uninhibited wife; well, maybe not in so many words, but he’d enjoyed her whimpers and sounds of passion.

Great heavenly day. Much to her mortification, she believed his wish had come true.

Trying to ignore the sensations that felt like a hunger that needed assuaging, or a thirst that desperately wanted quenching, she finished washing and made her way back to the bank. Wondering if he could see the heat blazing in her cheeks in the semi-darkness, she glanced at him. He didn’t seem to notice, welcoming her with an outstretched towel that he wrapped around her.

“I brought a clean pair of drawers. Change quickly so we can get back.”

Fumbling with the towel as she stripped off her wet things, she couldn’t fathom how she’d get through the day in her heightened state.

As she predicted, it wasn’t easy.

After a hastily put together breakfast, with Weston preparing the coffee and Mina unpacking leftovers from their wedding supper, they ate. He didn’t seem to mind in the least when she hogged almost all of the apple dumplings, smiling as she moaned while noting what a yummy morning dish they made. Before long, they broke camp and were on their way as the sun rose at their backs.

Weston drove his wagon, with their combined team of eight oxen. As they took the slight grade easily, she noticed he’d left off his chaps today and that his chestnut Morgan was unsaddled and tied in the back. She saw Jeremy, the hand who worked the train with him and was the usual drover for his team while he rode up front, was in his place, leading the train.

“Are you driving today because of me? I could ride with Jeremy.”

Right then, their wagon crested a rise, and up ahead she saw a pair of large bluffs rising hundreds of feet up from the earth. Stunned at the enormity of the massive rock, she gripped his forearm.

“How in heaven’s name are we going over that? Are we going around?”

“No. You can’t see it, but Mitchell’s Pass runs between the two ridges. Although the army came through and graded the road, it’s still hazardous at times and is the reason I’m driving this stretch.” His eyes slid her way as he smiled. “Precious cargo can’t be trusted to anyone else.”

He chuckled as her cheeks flamed. Mina looked away shyly. It would take time—months, years, maybe forever—to get used to his bold speech, often frank and outrageous, yet sometimes sweet, like just now. Thankfully, he didn’t dwell on the topic, or mention her easy blushes, the curse of being a redhead as much as it was for a new bride.

“Once we get a week or so out from Fort Laramie, there are several long stretches of flat trail. When we reach that, we’ll work on your drover skills.”

“But Mr. Carr, you heard Mr. Jacobs. I’m hopeless.”

“You called me Weston yesterday, Mina. I prefer that, or Wes. We are wed, after all.”

“Right,” she said, nodding hesitantly.

Her mother had always referred to her father formally as Mr. Franks, or called him husband, as did his other wives. It was all that she knew. Her new husband was as far removed from Burton Franks as black was from white, light was from dark, and hot was from cold. She hoped her marriage to Weston would be as different as her parents as well and how she addressed him was an excellent start.

“I think I like Wes.”

“I do too.” He gathered the reins in one hand, encircled her shoulders with his free arm, and curled her against him. “We’re going to be just fine, you and I, Mina. Oregon is a beautiful place and growing lickety-split. I had planned to build a house and start a horse ranch on a small spread my granddad left me. Still, eight hundred acres might be hard to pass up. We’ll survey both and see which suits us better.”

“A horse ranch… I do love horses. They’re so graceful and beautiful. But I don’t know a thing about ranching.”

“Do you know how to ride?”

“No. We didn’t keep a stable in Boston. Papa hired a cab or used a livery service. If we went out, it was by carriage or we walked.” She looked down at her hands. “I’m afraid you made a bad deal, Wes. I’ll probably be the worst helpmate and horse rancher’s wife in history.”

“Nonsense, you’re not lacking intelligence, Mina. What you don’t know, you can learn. I’m good at lessons, last night proved that.” When she inhaled sharply, he grinned. Before she had recovered from her shock, he wrapped his hand around the bun that sat low at the back of her head. Giving it a steady tug, he tipped his chin down as her mouth came up and planted his lips on hers in a warm, immensely passionate kiss, right there in the middle of the day for anyone to see. Once he released her, having made her mind muddled and her lungs short of breath, he went right on talking of his plans as if that sort of thing happened every day.

By mid-morning, as they neared the bluffs, the pass became visible. To her, it didn’t look like much of a road, full of ruts, rocks, and narrow passages. It amazed her that Wes had claimed this was an improved road. She’d hate to have seen it before the work had been done.

“Are we at risk for flash flooding?” she asked, eyeing the mud and the channels that still contained standing water.

“That’s always a possibility.” He looked skyward. “The sky is clear, but we’ll set a fast pace to get through quickly just in case a storm blows up. Another reason I’m drover today.” He then stood, removed his hat and waved it while calling ‘whoa’ to the team. As his was the lead wagon, all slowed to a stop behind him in turn.

“Gather up, drovers,” he hollered before setting the brake and stepping down. “Get a bucket, darlin’, and water the team while I talk to the men about what lies ahead.” He held up his hands and swung her down to the ground. Then, before going to speak with the gathering men nearby, he leaned in and said, “It’s a good time to stretch your legs and take care of necessities. And, grab a pillow or cushion from the back. I can tell by your squirming you’re uncomfortable. You can walk if you’d rather, once we get through the pass.”

Fire blazed in her face, licking up her neck to her ears as his comment about the pillow sank in. She had shifted her weight subtly or so she thought.

“Those blushes of yours could spark a wildfire.” His thumbs brushed across her heated skin as he grinned down at her. “Your cheeks burn like crimson fire every time I mention last night. It’s charming and makes my mind turn to the evening ahead.” He then dipped his head and caught her lips in a hard, fierce, tongue-searing kiss before heading off to meet with the men and Bessie.

“Water.” The one word an auditory reminder to her befuddled self that she had a task she had best see to. Warmed by his kisses on an already hot day, she fanned her face with her hand while she teetered to the back of the wagon. As she filled the bucket with the dipper, she splashed some on her face. “Maybe I should pour a full bucket over my head, instead.”

She didn’t, however, offering the oxen the water as he bade. Once they were done, she stowed the bucket and decided to walk a few wagons back to speak to one of the women who had an ailing child and see how they fared. Before she moved out of the shadow of their wagon, Avery Hill stepped into her path.

“Harlot,” he hissed at her out of the blue.

Shocked, she fell back several steps. “I beg your pardon!”

“I don’t give you pardon. Elliott was a good man. He’s barely cold in the ground and you’re cavorting with another man, spreading your legs like a filthy whore.”

Taken aback, she still managed to defend herself. “I wasn’t given much choice in the matter. Not that it’s any of your concern who and when I marry.”

“Elliott was a dear friend of mine, which makes it my concern when his widow is dishonoring his name and memory.”

“Mina.”

Weston’s deep voice calling her was a welcome intrusion. Filled with relief, she whirled, seeking him out. In a moment, she saw him round the end of the wagon behind them. Her breath came out in a whoosh, grateful she wouldn’t have to put up with another minute of Mr. Hill’s foul mouth and accusations. She spun to tell the vile man exactly that, but he was gone. Frowning, she stared down the long line of wagons. He’d virtually vanished.

“It’s time to head out. Where were you heading off to?”

“I thought to check with Mrs. Bishop and see how little Jonathan is faring.”

“He was running about with his brother while we were meeting, so I suspect he’s on the mend.”

“That’s good news.” She nodded as she issued that vague response, distracted by Avery Hill’s odd and very rude behavior. She considered whether it was worth mentioning it to Weston or not. The others had been upset with her as well and soon enough it had passed. She decided her husband had enough to worry about without her adding to the list and resolved to avoid the man instead.

“Is something wrong?”

Waving him off, she denied it. “No. I’ll check with Mrs. Bishop this evening, if that’s the case.”

Weston took Mina’s hand and led her up front to the high bench seat. He lifted her easily and settled in by her side. “Get up,” was his cry to the team.

Mina scowled as they obediently started off. “They’re a fickle lot! Why won’t they do that for me?”

“I put my team in front. Had ‘em for years so they recognize and respond to my voice. Furthermore, unlike you, I know what I’m doing. The team knows that as well. Your cattle clued in right fast that they had a greenhorn at the reins and saw fit to show you who was the boss.”

She harrumphed. “If I had a big, booming, brain-rattling bass voice like yours, they’d know who was boss.”

“If you had a booming bass voice like mine, darlin’, you wouldn’t be sitting up on this wagon married to me.” He chuckled as she snorted. “I’m rather partial to your sweet feminine tones. The cattle will get used to it and like it too. Trust me.”

After that they rode along in silence, the rutted road making conversation difficult; when they hit a rare smooth patch a few miles up ahead, she asked the question that was burning inside her.

“What do you think of Mr. Hill?”

“He’s an odd stick.”

She could have put it better with a few colorful and very unladylike adjectives, but she refrained. Weston was right in that he was odd. When she’d first met him, she too had thought his manner peculiar, as well as cool and standoffish, but there was something else that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Turning to Wes, she asked for clarification. “What do you mean by that?”

“Never had a single man make the trip by wagon before. Usually it’s reserved for families looking for a new start. Men alone travel light and on horseback because they can make the trip in less than half the time. They buy what they need at the posts along the way and when they settle in at their destination.” He glanced her way, his brows drawn in. “Why are you interested in Hill, all of a sudden?”

“It’s not sudden. He says he was a friend of Elliott’s and seems to be taking his death very hard. I didn’t realize they were that close. Elliott never mentioned him.”

“That might explain his outburst after the burial. If I were the magnanimous sort, I’d forgive his disrespectful jawin’, but I’m not, so I won’t. What he said to you was inexcusable.”

“If he was a close friend, it could have been his grief talking. Do you know where he’s from?”

“No. Back east is my guess by his speech and manner of dress. He joined the train late in Independence, the last one in fact. Is he bothering you? Do I need to have another talk with him?”

Mina reflected on that at length; his words were ugly, but he hadn’t actually threatened her. She wasn’t sure what he had hoped to accomplish by speaking to her in such a way. Maybe since he’d vented his spleen, he’d feel better and move on.

“He’s harmless, I suppose,” she told him.

“I’ll keep my eye on him. If he bothers you, I want to know it, Mina.”

“Yes, dear.”

“Don’t placate me, wife. I’m serious.”

Her hand slid across to his knee and she squeezed. “You’ll be the first to know if he doesn’t let it go, husband. I promise.”

Chapter Nine

The trip through Mitchell’s Pass was uneventful; beyond that were more weeks of endless prairie. As they followed the river some three hundred miles toward Fort Laramie, the low grasslands gave way to high plains and in the distance, they could see mountains. They spent three days camped at the fort, restocking at the trading post and resting the cattle. While there, Mina posted a letter to Ruth with Weston’s help. She could only imagine her sister’s reaction as she read the details of her journey thus far. Most likely she’d think it was pure fiction. Mina was hard pressed to believe it and had lived it.

After leaving the fort, they began skirting around the foothills of the Rocky Mountains. The land here was beautiful with hot days, but much cooler nights, a relief after the unremitting heat of the prairie. Unfortunately, it wouldn’t last, becoming more treacherous as they climbed in elevation. They had a ways to go before those headaches set in.

The first day of July was marked by a break in the heat. At midday, an odd land mass became visible in the distance. As they drew closer, it took shape, rising out of the earth and seeming to cast a shadow over a mile long. To Mina, it looked like a huge gray whale, like the ones she’d seen traveling northward in the summer along the ocean’s shore back home.