Dorothy Garlock - [Wyoming Frontier] (37 page)

Mara watched his jaw tighten and realized how useless it was to pit her will against his. Nevertheless, her stubborn Irish pride forced her to try. She waited in silence long enough for him to drain his coffee cup.

“This conversation is strangely familiar. Isn’t it the same one we had a day or so ago?”

“It is not the same at all. I should not have left you here. This time you will spend the day with Emily. That’s my final word.” He spoke in a tone that brooked no argument. His jawline tight, his eyes hard and oddly evasive of her face, he got to his feet.

“That’s very generous of you.” Mara stood, picked up the dishes, and carried them to the dishpan. She flipped back the lid on the reservoir and ladled warm water over them.

“Can you be ready in a half an hour?”

Mara threw the bar of yellow soap into the dishwater so hard that water splashed out onto the hot stovetop, sizzled, and burned off. She turned, her face frozen with anger. She brushed her hair back with a wet hand, yanked off her apron and threw it on the table.

“I’m ready now.” Her slim shoulders were still, two bright spots of color burned in her cheeks, and her eyes looked defiantly into his.

Pack lifted black brows. “Then get your bonnet.” He moved away from the table, his throat working as he struggled to control some indefinable emotion.

Mara went past him to the pegs beside the door and took down the dirty felt hat she used when she worked outside. She pulled it down over her head to her eyebrows. The brim was floppy and hung over her ears. She kicked opened the screen door and slammed it behind her after she stomped out.

“Mara Shannon!” Pack roared. “You’re acting like a spoiled little snip. I’ll not tolerate it.”

“You’ll not tolerate it? Ha!” She stepped off the porch and looked up at him. “What are you going to do about it? Send me to bed without my supper?”

“A swat on the butt is what you need!”

“A wife beater too! It’s no more than I expected of you.”

“I’m asking you to be reasonable. I’ll not leave you here and I can’t take you with me. The only thing to do is to take you over to Charlie’s.”

“You decided without as much as a by-your-leave to me. Let me tell you something, Mr. Pack Takeover Gallagher, I’m just as capable of making a decision as you are, and although I may have to do as you say—this time—I don’t have to
like
it!”

“I don’t give a damn if you like it or not, Mara
Stubborn
McCall Gallagher! You’re my wife, by God, and if I think it’s best that you go to Charlie’s, you’ll go!”

“Your wish is my command,
master.
Rule number one: Obey your husband. Rule number two: Put your husband’s comfort and peace of mind before your own. Rule number three: Never question your husband’s commands—his intellect, in his opinion, is far superior to that of the female.” Mara had worked up a full head of steam. She spoke faster and louder as her speech progressed. “Furthermore, Miss Fillamore’s Book of Rules states: A wife is the sole and exclusive property of her husband. He may beat her and fornicate with whores if he chooses. He may go and come as he pleases, but his wife goes only when it is convenient for him. In return a husband must be thoughtful and considerate of his wife’s wishes—”

“I like the part about the beating and the fornicating best.” Pack bit back a smile. “What rule did you say that was?”

She was holding her chin high, though a touch of vulnerability shadowed her eyes as she met his gaze squarely. She was so brittle inside that she was sure she would crumble and break apart if she didn’t get away from him. The amused glint in his eyes made her anger escalate out of control.

“I’ll obey this time, but I don’t like it one
damn
bit!” she shouted. She was beyond caring—for the moment—that the men standing on the bunkhouse porch could hear every word she said.

“And I don’t care one
damn
bit if you like it or not. You will do as I say!” he bellowed.

“I have only one humble request, sir. May I please use the privy before I go?” She turned, and with her back very stiff walked down the path to the privy.

“To hell with that sour old maid’s rule book!” Pack shouted. He looked toward the bunkhouse and saw Willy standing with his hands on his hips. He could tell by his stance that he was shaking with laughter. “If that old fool says one word,” he muttered, “I’ll break every bone in his body.”

*  *  *

When Mara returned to the house, the wagon was waiting. A stranger was on the seat. Sam and Steamboat were mounted, and Pack stood waiting to help her climb up over the wheel to the seat. She accepted his hand but refused to look at him, nor did she look at the man sitting on the seat next to her, although she was aware that he stared at her curiously.

“Howdy.” They were on the road when the man spoke.

Mara turned to look at him. Her neck was stiff, her eyes frosty. It was impossible to tell his age. His face was weathered, whiskered, and he had the brightest blue eyes she had ever seen.

“Howdy,” she answered and turned to look intently at the backs of the horses.

“Ya ain’t a’tall what I thought ya’d be.”

“What was that?” Her eyes, still frosty, stared at him. “You expected me to be some
strumpet
from a saloon or a
lady
from a tonsorial parlor?” she asked haughtily, but her mind was wondering how things between her and Pack could have gone so wrong so fast.

“Ya know ’bout that?” the old man chuckled. “Lot of ’em tried ta catch him.”

“Well, they didn’t have two thousand acres of land free and clear. I did.”

“Haw! Haw! Haw!” The old man laughed and slapped his palm against his thigh. He held the reins in one hand and turned sideways on the seat so he could get a better look at her. “Name’s Willy Farragut.”

“How do you do?”

“Fine. Jist fine. Ya be givin’ ole Pack the what for, ain’t ya?”

“I don’t exactly know what you mean, but regardless, it’s none of your business.” Mara’s pride held her rigid on the low-backed wagon seat.

Willy cackled loud and long. “Give ’em hell, sister.”

“That’s exactly what I intend to do.” She looked at him with new interest. “Who are you and what are you doing here?”

“Said my name’s Willy. I go where Pack does. I been keepin’ him on the straight ’n narrow since he was ass-high to a duck. Don’t figure he can do without me now.” Willy leaned over the side of the wagon and spit a yellow stream of tobacco juice in the dust.

“Well! All I can say to that is you’ve done a mighty poor job.” Her tone was cool, her eyes cooler.

“That so? I was thinkin’ I’d not done so bad. He could a been a robber, a horse thief or a rustler.”

“If you had done your job
right,
he would’ve been an honest, straightforward, hard-working settling kind of man. He’d have built something permanent instead of consorting with whores and traipsing all over the mountains selling cats to miners.”

“Ya know ’bout that, do ye? It was the smartest damn thing he ever done. Why, I remember the time we was in Cripple Creek. This here whore—beggin’ your pardon, dance hall woman—real nice lady she was. Well, she—”

“Real nice lady? Ha!” Mara spat. “I’m not interested in hearing the sordid details of Mr. Gallagher’s life. You were hired to drive, so drive.” She waved her hand toward the horses and turned her back on him.

This was her first trip away from the ranch since she arrived and she was perfectly miserable. Her pride was in tatters, her face was bruised, her hair dirty. She wore the dirty old hat she had carried water in the day she found Pack along the trail out of pure spite, but she had only spited herself. Hope that Pack would come to love her lay like a rock in her tired heart.

Her eyes burned with unshed tears. She loved him! The admission was so painful that she thought she’d scream. How could she love a man who had so little consideration for her feelings? Was this the pattern of her future? Would he order her around without bothering to give her any explanation, expecting her to blindly obey those orders? Of course, he couldn’t explain that the reason he didn’t want her with him was because he wanted to visit Miss Candy Camp, the whore at the Diamond Saloon, or the other whore. Ace had said there were two.

Mara looked at the old man sitting beside her and opened her mouth to ask him about them but closed it and looked away.
She didn’t want to know!

It was a shorter distance to Charlie and Emily’s place than she had thought. Or, she asked herself, had she been so miserable that the time had gone fast? Sam had ridden on ahead of the wagon; Pack and Steamboat were behind. Mara had glanced into the back of the wagon one time and had seen the canvas-wrapped bundle that had to be Ace January’s body. It gave her a strange feeling to know that he had come to the ranch and met his death out of his misguided desire for her.

*  *  *

“Emily Rose!” Sam called out as soon as he came out of the trees and saw Emily at the clothesline.

“Sam!” Her voice was eager. She followed the clothesline toward the sound of his voice.

“Hello, Emily Rose.” He dismounted quickly and went to her. Just looking at her warmed his heart.

“Hello, Sam. Somehow I thought you’d come today.”

He pulled her behind the sheets she had spread on the line. “Pack ’n Mara are comin’. I want to kiss ya, got to kiss ya before they get here.”

The wind blew the wet sheets against her. She laughed. “Then what are you waiting for?”

“I just wanted ta look at ya. I love ya, Emily Rose. I got a whole heart full of love for ya.”

“And I love you.” Her palms caressed his cheeks. “It seems like a year since—”

“For me too.”

His hands moved up to cup her face, then his fingers slid into her thick hair. He lowered his lips to hers and kissed her softly and reverently, and then his hands moved down, his arms wrapped around her and he held her tightly to him. His mouth was both hard and soft as she remembered it, hungry as her own was hungry. He kissed her with slow, hot precision, his tongue on her parted lips, the roughness of his face scraping her softer skin. At last he muttered a frustrated curse and lifted his head.

“It’s hard to wait, sweet love.”

“Dear, darling Sam. I want you to be very sure—”

He put his fingers on her lips. “Don’t ya say anythin’ like that anymore. If ya’ll have me, I’ll spend my life takin’ care a ya, lovin’ ya.”

“I never dreamed I’d meet a man like you. You’re everything that’s good.”

Sam grinned. “Ya don’t know me a’tall, honey. I can be meaner than a cornered polecat at times.”

She nuzzled his cheek with her nose. “You’ll never make me believe that!”

“Pack’s bringin’ Mara to stay with you while we go to town. When we get back, I’ll tell Charlie I’m takin’ ya to be my wife.”

“Oh, Sam, it’s a big step. Think about what it would mean to be married to a woman who can barely see her hand in front of her.”

“Shh . . . don’t ya mention it again.” His arms fell away from her and he reached into his pocket. “I brought ya somethin’. I don’t want ya to be disappointed if it don’t do much good.” He unwrapped the eyeglasses and held them by the thin piece of wire between the two lenses.

“A surprise! Oh, what is it?”

Sam wiped each thick oval lens with the end of his neckerchief. His heart was pumping like a steam engine as he spread out the ear pieces. Why in the hell had he done such a stupid thing? he asked himself. She would think he wanted her only if she could see.

“Shut yore eyes, sweetheart,” he ordered gently. “I want ya to know that this is only a shot in the dark. It ain’t worth a second thought if it don’t work.”

“You’ve brought me eyeglasses,” she said when she felt the scrape of the wire earpieces on her temples.

“Keep yore eyes shut till I get them set.” He curled the thin wire around her ears and settled the nosepiece on the bridge of her nose. “Too tight?” he asked in a breathless whisper. His heart was racing as if he had run five miles.

“No.” Her lower lip was caught firmly between her teeth in an effort to stop its trembling.

“Now, honey, open your eyes.”

Emily gripped his arms tightly and opened her eyes. Sam’s face was close and large and . . . distorted. Startled, she drew back and his features came into focus.

“Oh my gosh,” she whispered. She stepped back away from him until she could extend her arm full-length and touch him. He was an arm’s length away and she could still see his dear face clearly! “Oh, my love. I can see you from here.” She put the back of her hand to her mouth to still her trembling lips.

Behind the thick lenses her eyes filled with tears. Sam reached for her arm and pulled her from behind the clothes on the line and out into the middle of the yard.

“Can you see my horse?” he asked urgently.

“Yes . . . and I can see the trees! Oh, there’s the washpot and the well. And . . . I can see all of you at once. I’m going to cry and I don’t want to.”

Sam’s heart jumped like a wild thing. Relief made him weak. He took her by the shoulders and turned her toward the house. It was a good fifty feet from where they stood.

“I can see it. It’s not clear, but I can see it.” She took a few steps toward it and stumbled. Sam grabbed her arm. “Oh, the ground comes up so . . . quick.”

“You’ll have to be careful at first.”

She turned and put her arms around his neck. The wire frames of the glasses scraped his chin. She drew back and laughed.

“I see what you mean. I thank you for them. Oh, I do thank you! Where did you get them?”

“A friend was comin’ out from Saint Louis. I wired him ’n asked him to go by a place I’d heard of ’n bring a pair of glasses for someone who was very nearsighted.”

“I’d like to meet your friend and thank him.”

“I want him to meet you too, sweetheart. Is Charlie here?”

“He’s somewhere near. I suspect he saw you coming and gave us some time to be alone.”

“Then he isn’t dead set against me as a brother-in-law?”

Emily smiled up at him. “No. He likes you, but he also knows it wouldn’t do him any good if he was dead set against you. Did you say Pack was bringing Mara for a visit?”