Cowboys and Highlanders (99 page)

She laughed. “Or you can take me just like that as often as you like.”

Train tucked himself back into his jeans and adjusted her dress. “Let’s go home.” He stood and held his hand to her. She clasped his fingers then he helped her back onto the horse.

A few minutes later, Train tied Clive to the front porch. “Should I close my eyes before I enter the house?” He couldn’t begin to imagine his home as a small replica of the Dusty Rose.

“Don’t complain. You were the one who said you didn’t have much time to build furniture. Now you don’t have to.” She slid her hands up his chest. “I thought you were supposed to carry your bride over the threshold when taking her home for the first time.”

Train grabbed Marion around the waist and tossed her over his shoulder. He turned the handle and stepped into the dark room smelling of fresh cut timber. “I’ll get a fire started.” He set her down next to the table that once graced the kitchen of the brothel.

“This feels like home, doesn’t it?” she said, lighting the lantern.

Train sat on his haunches in front of the fireplace and stacked a few pieces of kindling. “It ought to feel like home.” The flame flickered to life. “I don’t suppose in all the… stuff--” he said, preferring another word to describe her belongings, “--you brought a kettle for coffee.”

She put her hands on her hips. “Actually, I did. Just one problem, I don’t know where it is. TJ probably kept everything together.”

He tossed a few logs into the fire. “I’ve been away from the ranch for a while.” He stood and wrapped his hands around the nape of her neck to feel the silkiness of her hair. “Unless you want to wait until I’m done working for the day, I won’t be much help to you in here.”

“I guess that answers the question of what I’ll be doing with myself.” She ran her fingers over the buttons of his shirt. “Allison said something to me tonight.” She looked in his eyes. “In a few months they’ve fallen into a routine. He works during the day, Allison takes care of the house, and so at night when the children go to bed, they finally find enough time to be together. Promise that won’t happen to us because I wouldn’t be happy.”

He momentarily forgot what he was going to say because of the intensity of her eyes. Train took her hand and put it on his chest, over his heart. “Feel this. When you touch my shirt, my heart races. Imagine what happens when you actually touch me. I used to walk around biting the inside of my cheek so I wouldn’t embarrass myself when I thought about you. I know you want more than perfunctory sex before bed.” He kissed her forehead. “As long as you’re honest, I promise I’ll never fail to give you what you need.” He tilted her chin to look into her eyes. “That means sometimes you’re going to have to tell me what you want. You won’t hurt my feelings.”

“I never want us to be ordinary together.” Marion covered her mouth with her hand when she yawned. “Let’s go to bed.” She reached behind her head and unhooked her dress. “It was nice of TJ to bring out the bed, and Allison to put on the sheets.”

Train put another log on the fire and Marion climb beneath the blankets naked.

“I don’t want to get the sheets dirty,” she said to his quizzical stare.

Train blew out the lamp and joined her.

Chapter Twelve

Marion woke when she heard Clive whinny outside. She glanced out the window in time to see Train ride off toward the ranch. She climbed back into bed and instantly fell back to sleep. It seemed only a moment passed, and he returned.

“Good morning,” he said, waking her with a kiss. “I can’t stay but I brought you breakfast.” He stood and headed out the door.

“Train, wait!” she called. She grabbed the blanket and wrapped it around her body.

He paused long enough to turn in her direction. “TJ’s waiting.” He mounted Clive.

“What am I going to do all day? The crates are in the stables and I don’t have a horse. Wait for me.” She hurried into the house, stepped into her dress, and returned buttoning the front. Her full breasts swayed beneath the thin material. She hadn’t taken the time to put on a shift. Train’s stare locked onto her fingers. The muscle in his jaw tightened. “I’ll have breakfast with Allison and bring one of the horses home.”

“TJ can wait. Finish getting dressed.”

She smiled and took a deep inhale pushing her chest forward. “Don’t you think I look respectable?” She held out her hand for him to help her onto the horse. “It’s ridiculous to keep TJ waiting when Allison is the only one who’ll see and she’s seen me naked.”

Sitting behind him, her breasts bounce with the horse’s gait.

“I’ll saddle a horse for you before I head out. And tonight I’ll bring the crates with the wagon.”

He dropped Marion off in front of the homestead. She watched his tall frame, sitting proud on the saddle. His horse galloped off toward the stable to join the other men clustered there.

She knocked.

“Come in.” Allison lay on the couch with a glass of water on the low table and a cool cloth over her eyes. “I’ll be fine in a minute. There’s coffee on the stove and biscuits under the towel.”

“Are you sick?”

Allison removed the cloth and watched Marion approach. “Not sick, I’m going to have a baby.” She tried to sit up, then immediately lay back down. “And before you extend your sympathies, you should know I am very happy and will not take kindly to cynicism.”

Marion didn’t detect any humor in the way she sounded. “You’re already behind schedule. So if you were feeling good, what would you be doing right now?”

Allison smiled. “Cleaning up Michael, but TJ took the children to Betty this morning.”

“Shame on you. You‘re lying because you don’t think I can do housework. It might not be to your standards, but I’ll do my best.”

Marion went to the kitchen to start with a cup of coffee and a biscuit. She was going to need energy to fuel her day. “I’ll start in here,” she hollered from the kitchen. Dishes from TJ’s breakfast piled up on the counter. As she walked between the table and the sink, her shoes tracked a sticky spill across the floor. She poured a cup of coffee and filled a pail with water from the pump.

Marion enjoyed pretending she didn’t know how to clean. The truth was as a little girl her mother made her work from sunup until bedtime. But that was many years ago. The only cleaning she did now was that of necessity. One of the girls at the brothel was usually willing to do her chores for a small fee.

Once she’d washed the dishes, she refilled a bucket and started on the floor. On her hands and knees, she scrubbed the kitchen and down the hallway.

She checked on Allison periodically, who slept on the couch. It wasn’t until lunchtime that she realized just how long she had been cleaning. She straightened the beds, pulling the quilts to the pillows, the commode was scrubbed, and the children’s wooden toys were put back in the storage crates in their rooms.

“Allison.” Marion gently touched her shoulder.

Allison opened her eyes and squinted against the bright light filtering through the windows. Marion had pulled back the curtains and wiped down the windowsill. “What time is it?”

“Twelve thirty. I can clean when necessary. However, I cannot learn to cook in a single morning. Unless TJ wants a salad, you’re going to have to help.”

Allison put her feet on the floor and carefully stood, letting her wobbly legs adjust.

“Are you still queasy? Some of the girls at the brothel had to eat in bed to keep from getting sick.”

Allison glanced around the sparkling clean room. “Thank you,” she said, giving Marion a hug. Tears sprang to her eyes. “I’m sorry. I can’t seem to stop crying either.” They walked into the kitchen and a fresh wave of tears washed over her.

Allison started lunch just as TJ came into the kitchen through the back door. He went to her side and put his hand on her forehead. “Sugar, you’re pale. You can’t stand over a hot stove,” he said, alarm discernable in his voice. He helped her to a chair. “Train rode out to your place,” he said to Marion. “Take my horse and you might be able to catch up with him.”

Marion wiped her hands on the apron tied around her waist before taking it off. “I’ll be back after lunch.”

Marion rode TJ’s horse as if she were racing for a blue ribbon. Even before she reached the house, she saw his silhouette along the bank of the lake. Once she was a few yards from Train, she brought the horse to a stop, and slid from the saddle with absolutely no grace. What did she care? Train was the horseman. She ran into his arms. “I was still at the house,” she said, breathless. “Allison is going to have a baby and isn’t feeling good. I stayed to help her.”

“My wife doing house chores?”

Caught off guard by the sudden vibrancy in his voice, she said with pleasure, “I did.” She wrinkled her nose. “That doesn’t mean I’m in the mood to clean our home.”

Train wrapped his arm around her shoulder. They went into their little cabin. “Perhaps you could ask Allison to help you make curtains for the windows.”

Marion stopped unbuttoning her dress. “I guess you’re right.” The dress dropped to the floor. “I didn’t rush home for lunch, Train. I’m not hungry,” she said, looking at the food on the table. “I want you to make love to me.”

* *
*
* *

TJ walked to the shack when Marion hadn’t returned with his horse. He expected to find Train, only to be told Train hadn’t returned either.

Jack sucked his long, thin, cigar and blew a smoke ring into the air. “I’m sure our good friend Train is having a very tasty lunch that has nothing to do with Cake’s fine vittles.” His comment met with laughter. “No disrespect intended, boss. We made the same comments about your beautiful, young wife. When I find a good woman, you can be assured I’ll be taking my chuck at home as well.”

TJ took Jack at his word and walked back out of the building to check the horses in the stable.

Once TJ was out the door, Jack whispered in a conspiratorial tone, “And a few of us know just how good Train is eating.” His boisterous laugh echoed off the walls. Jack continued, expressing his knowledge of Marion’s anatomy.

Cake interrupted, slamming a large pot of potatoes onto the table. “In my kitchen you’ll show your manners! Disrespecting Train is like disrespecting the boss. Not one of your jobs is secure enough to talk about that girl the way you are. Whatever she was is none of our business. Now, get out of here. You’re bothering me,” he bellowed. “Get back to work.”

The group quickly dispersed.

Outside Jack leaned into Charlie. “I don’t care beans what that old man says. Marion isn’t a one-man woman. In fact, she’s known for it.”

Charlie laughed. “I guess you’ve never had the privilege of a cattle drive with Train. You learn a lot about a man when you don’t have any privacy. If you ask me, he’s the only chap for a whore like Marion.”

“Here they come,” Jack said quickly. “Don’t say anything.”

“Worried he’d knock the tar out of you?” Charlie mounted, pulling the reins of his horse and digging in his heels. “You look guilty, Jack. Better keep your eyes on the ground if you can’t keep them off Train’s wife.”

Train and Marion stopped their horses in front of the stable. Marion slid from her horse. “Thanks, TJ,” she said, handing him the reins. She turned to Train. “I’ll see you later.” The cool breeze whipped her hair around her face when she smiled. “Have a good day.”

Train let her walk away without saying anything. He wanted to profess his love in front of everyone, but Marion still hadn’t returned the sentiment. He still wasn’t sure if she did love him. So for now, until he was certain, it was better to leave certain words unsaid. Let Jack and the others make their own assumptions.

“Congratulations,” Jack said, looking down at Train from his saddle. “Are you going to let us throw you and your new wife a party?”

“Already in the works.” TJ mounted his horse. “Hadn’t had a chance to tell you,” he said to Train.

Train furrowed his brows.

“Cake’s making a mess of ribs.”

“Great,” Train said dejectedly, pulling his horse next to TJ’s. “I’m sure Marion will be thrilled.”

* *
*
* *

Marion decided Allison looked much better after lunch. The color had returned to her cheeks and evidently, the smell of food was appetizing. She had bread in the oven, and was putting together a concoction of meat and vegetables into a large cast iron pot.

Marion sat at the table and sipped a cup of coffee. “Train wants curtains for the windows. Seems my lack of modesty causes him concern.”

Allison wiped her hands on her apron. “TJ’s first wife loved to catalog shop. I found packages that had never been opened when I started cleaning out closets.” She looked over her shoulder at Marion as they climbed the stairs. “I found the sheets and blankets for your bed. I doubt you took the time to look last night,” she said amused. “But I left supplies for a linen closet, bath towels, and hand towels. You probably won’t appreciate it, but I also gave you cleaning rags.” She entered the spare bedroom that no longer had a bed and opened the top dresser drawer. She pulled out yards of heavy fabric.

“It’s red.” Marion worried. Train’s reaction to the furniture didn’t bode well for the curtains. “Train hates red.”

“It’s not red. It’s maroon.”

Marion gave her a look that asked, what’s the difference?

“This is dark red.” Allison held the fabric out for her to take. “I think it will make beautiful curtains. And it’s heavy enough to turn the room dark during the day.” She put the fabric in Marion’s hands. “Take it, please.” She smiled.

“I’m telling Train it was your idea.” Marion grabbed the fabric from Allison’s outstretched arms.

Allison showed Marion how to do a simple straight stitch. Marion examined the curtains Allison made and decided she could accomplish a similar look for her windows. “I’m going home.” She gathered up the supplies. “It sounds strange to my own ears. I have a home and a husband.” She dropped her hands into her lap. “Look at me. I’m really happy.”

Allison kissed her cheek. “It shows. Now go home and sew curtains for your husband. Prove you can do more with your hands than, well, he knows more about what you do with your hands than I do.”

Feeling confident in her newfound skills, Marion went to the shack. If Train were spending the next few days, possibly weeks, working all day, she had another idea to impress her husband.

* *
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* *

Train was bone tired when he returned home well after dark. A delicious smell filled the room. He couldn’t help the look of pleasure sure to be on his face finding his woman sitting at the table with a needle and thread. The makings of a fine dinner suspended on a hook over the fire. “I’m more tired than I thought. This is clearly a dream or perhaps a nightmare,” he said while he hung his hat on a peg next to the front door. “What are you doing?”

“Exactly what it looks like I’m doing. Give me a couple more hours and there will be curtains covering those windows. Now you won’t have to worry when I spend my day half-dressed.” She held up the first completed curtain. She walked to the window so Train could see how it would look.

“I don’t like the color.” He went to the fireplace and stirred the pot. “You cooked?”

“Cake made up a pot of stew for me. All I had to do was hang it over a low fire for the afternoon.” She smiled proudly. “As for the fabric, Allison had it on hand. I figured maroon--” she stated, defiantly. “--would be better than nothing at all. I told her you wouldn’t like the color, but she insisted I take it. Do you really hate it or could you live with it?”

“I’m tolerating Sandy’s furniture. I’ll get over red curtains, too.”

“They match a dress of mine. I haven’t worn it because I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about it.” She picked up her needle and thread to start on the next curtain.

“Wear what you want here in the house.” He ladled two bowls of stew. “When did you see Cake?” He tried to sound uninterested, failing miserably.

Marion tossed the curtain onto the table and stabbed the needle into a pincushion. “Show a little appreciation.”

“I love the curtains. I hate you in the shack.”

“We’ve been over this. I’m not sitting in this house every day for the rest of my life.” She stood and walked around the table in the opposite direction of Train. “And it’s not Allison’s responsibility to entertain me. I’ve been on my own for a long time. I’m not about to play the submissive wife.”