Her Wyoming Man (5 page)

She hadn’t moved from the doorway. She turned and looked at him. “I’d like that very much.”

He cleared a space on a table and positioned the phonograph. “I saw these at the exposition last summer and thought about getting one. Did you find this in Illinois?”

“I ordered it from a catalog.” Ella located the cardboard tubes that held her Edison wax cylinders, placed one of them on the mandrel and wound the machine.

A tinny waltz emanated from the sound machine.

Nathan watched his beautiful new wife as she listened to the music and let her gaze drift back to the green landscape. She stood at the screen door, her slender form in the pale yellow blouse silhouetted by the afternoon sun turning the grass and trees to vivid shades of green. She was an exquisite vision of perfection and femininity, her clear blue eyes alight with the pleasure and vitality of life. He thought of asking her to dance, but thought better of the idea.

Her exotic cinnamon and musk scent teased his senses. And when he looked at her mouth…he wanted to kiss her…kiss her until they were both puddles of hopeless need and blistering desire. But he knew better. The last thing he wanted was to see the sparkle fade from her eyes and the light of discovery and expectation leave her expression. Reality did that to a woman.

The music wound to a halt, the drone of an insect on a screen the only remaining sound. She turned and met his gaze. His heart surged up into his throat and threatened to stop for good.

Chapter Six

H
e’d only known her for a week, and already she created havoc with his common sense. She reminded him of a butterfly newly emerged from its cocoon, testing her wings on the breeze.

She smiled and his breath hitched in his chest. He was a fool. “Let’s walk down by the stream,” he suggested, knowing the idea would appeal to her.

She agreed, as he’d known she would and he led her out of doors, where he took her hand and they strolled across the grass. Her fingers were slim and delicate. He turned over her palm to study the soft pink skin. She was unaccustomed to work.

She gazed up at him, those blue eyes innocent and trusting. She had placed all her hopes and dreams in his care. Her happiness was a weighty responsibility…one he feared…one he treasured…but a duty he coveted.

They neared the bank of the stream, and she cast her attention to the gently moving water. “Look,” she said, releasing his hand to inch closer. “It’s so clear you can see the stones beneath the surface.”

“This is why the town was named Sweetwater,” he told her.

“Oh, my!” she said excitedly. “See the little fish darting here and there?”

He nodded, but cared only to observe her delighted expression. She reminded him of his children on Christmas morning, their eyes aglow with wonder and excitement. All he’d done was walk her across his lawn, but she behaved as though he’d taken her on a grand adventure.

“Have you never seen fish before?” he asked.

“Only on a plate with lemon sauce,” she replied. “A much larger variety, for certain.”

He chuckled and she shot her gaze to his. “Where have you been, Ella, that you’ve never seen a fish?”

She turned away without reply, her gaze once again on the shimmering water. “I’ve been in a place much different from this.”

“I meant no insult.”

“None taken.”

A few minutes passed, the sound of the gurgling water a pleasant backdrop to his thoughts. “You can take off your shoes and walk in the water, if it pleases you.”

Taken by surprise at his suggestion, Ella glanced up at him. “Wouldn’t that be unladylike?”

“Even if it was, there’s no one here but the two of us.”

“I don’t know,” she hedged.

“I’ll join you.”

“You?” She had trouble picturing it.

He sat and removed his boots, then tugged off his socks and rolled up his trouser legs, revealing long feet and corded ankles sprinkled with dark hair. He stood and waded out into the water. “The stones are smooth underfoot. It’s safe.”

Ella watched him, intrigued by the sparkle of the sun on the water and his feet rippling under the surface. She sat and removed her shoes, then hiked up her skirt and petticoat to roll down her stocking.

He stood planted in the stream, his dark gaze taking in her every move.

Ella tossed the stocking aside and reached to roll down the other, more slowly this time. He was definitely interested. She smiled to herself. Feet bare, she recognized the fascinatingly cool tickle of the grass under her soles. She stood, gathered the hem of her skirt above her knees and made her way to the edge of the water.

She walked in, the same as he had, shocked by the frigid temperature of the water. Chills ran up both legs and she sucked in a surprised breath. “It’s
cold!”

He laughed. “Did I forget to mention that?”

“You most certainly forgot to mention that.” The stones were smooth, a little bit slippery, and the water was a brisk, yet gently lapping current against her calves. She loved the sensation, as well as the warm sun on her face…and the expression of the man watching her.

Something tickled her ankle, and she glanced down to discover a swarm of miniature fish.

“Oh!” She gasped in surprise and jumped to put all her weight on one foot and raise the other out of the water. While she teetered on a single foot, the fish promptly gathered around the remaining ankle. She leaped to the other foot, dropping her hem in the process and then grabbing it up, dripping wet, and raising it even higher than before. “The fish are biting me!”

Laughing, Nathan waded toward her, and she lunged for him, attempting to leap right up into his arms out of the water and away from the mysterious creatures.

He lost his balance and staggered to one side, grabbing her behind the knees and lifting her against his chest, while laboring to regain his footing.

He almost stabilized himself, but lost his balance, and a foot shot out from under him, plummeting them both into the stream.

The water here wasn’t deep, but it was cold, and immediately soaked through Ella’s clothing to her skin and turned her backside to ice. Nathan’s sharp intake of breath revealed his shock, as well, but he sputtered and laughed.

Ella floundered to lunge her weight forward and stand, but her foot caught on the hem of her skirt and she plopped back into the water, this time splashing her face and hair and soaking a good portion of her blouse.

Now that she was caught in her wet skirts, Nathan laughed all the harder, helpless to do anything to aid her or himself. The hair plastered to his forehead dripped water, and his wet shirt molded to his chest. His teeth were white and even, and the corners of his eyes crinkled in merriment.

Ella had a fleeting image of him dressed formally the night they’d met and wondered what all those people at the party would think of their city attorney at this moment. His hearty laughter was contagious.

An unfamiliar pleasure rose up inside her and spilled over in a burst. She heard the sound, but couldn’t reconcile it as coming from her. A full thirty seconds passed…a minute…yes, she was laughing. Laughing for all she was worth.

Almost frightened at the oddity, she caught herself and clapped a hand over her mouth.

Nathan’s laughter faded, and his smile waned, his gaze dropping to her hand over her mouth, then her wet clothing.

She let her hand drop to her side and stared at him breathing hard, his eyes growing darker and his expression changing. A quick glance showed that her thin wet blouse had become transparent, and the icy water had done more than give her shivers.

Without thinking about the consequences, she sprang forward and took his face between her hands. She had only a second to register his startled expression before she covered his lips with hers and kissed him without restraint.

Chapter Seven

E
verything about her new life was awkward and unfamiliar. She felt decidedly lost and inept. She couldn’t cry. But she could find a recognizable foothold and cling to it for her security.

His mouth was warm and his arms radiated heat when they wrapped around her, the temperature a welcome contrast to the icy water and the icy cold seeping through her clothing. The enchanting pressure of his eager lips took her by surprise.

Against her fingertips his damp jaw was smoothly shaven, slick and warm. A startling flutter took up a beat in her stomach and spread to her chest, making it difficult to breathe.

She wanted to press closer, become a part of him and never lose this incredible new sense of security and feeble hope.

Nathan eased his lips from hers. He studied her eyes for a fleeting moment. “You’re shivering.”

She’d thought the trembling was inside.

He picked her up in his arms, securely this time, and carried her to the bank, where he climbed out of the water and set her down. “You might want to wring out your skirts.”

She took a step away and sat on the grass to do as he’d suggested. He ineffectually squeezed water from the cuffs of his trousers. He picked up his shoes. “We’d better go back to the house and change into dry clothing.”

Ella gathered her stockings and shoes and joined him.

That evening, Nathan called the family to join him in his study. The warmth of the day had waned, and he’d lit a fire. The room, filled with comfortable leather chairs and burgeoning cases of books, was pleasant and welcoming.

Christopher opened a box of miniature figures and set them up in some sort of formation on the stone slab that comprised the hearth. His accompanying noises alerted Ella that the figures were soldiers.

Grace settled two rag dolls on the footstool and fed them imaginary food from a tiny set of china dishes.

Robby dumped a bag of wooden blocks on the floor and stacked them into a tower, humming to himself.

“Grace hasn’t spoken to me yet,” Ella whispered to Nathan.

“She doesn’t speak to me, either,” he replied. “Sometimes I hear her talking to her dolls when she’s alone in her room, though.”

“Has she always been so silent?”

He nodded. “She was still a baby when Robby was born and her mother died. She cries when she’s hurt or frightened, but she never asks for anything.”

Ella studied the little girl. She was well cared for and had advantages many children didn’t. Losing her mother had undoubtedly been traumatic, but it didn’t explain her silence.

Ella settled on the floor near the footstool. “Do you suppose I could have tea, too?”

Grace looked her over skeptically before picking up a miniature cup and saucer and handing them to her. The child understood and responded, so there was nothing wrong with her hearing.

“Thank you. I don’t suppose you have any cookies?”

Grace nodded and picked something invisible from the upholstered footstool and extended her fingers toward Ella as though she held a treat.

Ella pretended to take it and try a bite. “It’s delicious. What kind of cookie is it?”

Grace merely tilted her head to the side as though she didn’t know and went back to feeding her dolls.

“Definitely oatmeal with raisins,” Ella said. “They’re my favorites. How did you know that?”

Grace said nothing, but handed her another imaginary cookie.

Later, Ella accompanied Nathan when he tucked the children into their beds in the nursery. She studied the room, noting their books and toys and Grace’s row of dolls. Ella had never had a doll. She’d had daytime lessons and voice lessons and practiced French in the evenings. She couldn’t recall idle moments until her studies had ended at age sixteen and she’d been alone mornings while the household slept.

On a low round table sat some sort of boat with a roof, made of wood and painted to appear as though it had dozens of windows in the cabin area. On its deck and around the outside stood a couple dozen pairs of animals. She recognized the sheep and giraffe Robby had played with in church.

Nathan spoke softly to each of his offspring, reaching for a stuffed bear that Robby requested. By what stroke of fortune had these children been born to a man who took an active role in their care? She supposed she’d comprehended that other children had fathers. It was a natural fact that everyone had been sired by someone, but how many people knew a father like this? She never really considered it. As Nathan kissed his children, she wondered if Ansel Murdock had tucked in his children when they’d been young. During the past few years, where had he told his wife and sons he was going on Monday and Friday evenings?

The Lantrys were a lifetime away from everything she’d known. Living among them was like being dropped into a fairy tale.

Nathan turned down the wicks in the lamps and reached for her hand to lead her from the room.

What would she do if Nathan routinely left for evenings out?

A startling question loomed in her mind. Were there parlor houses and dinner clubs in Sweetwater?

“Would you like to keep me company for the rest of the evening?” he asked as they stood in the upstairs hall.

She nodded. “Yes.”

“Perhaps you’d like to bring along a book or your needlework?”

She could sew enough to do a quick mend, but had never tried her hand at stitchery. “I’ll read,” she replied, quickly heading for her room to find a book.

Once they were again in his study, he said, “You may spend your evenings however you like, Ella.”

“I like it in here,” she replied. “As long as I’m not disturbing you.”

“Of course you’re not disturbing me.” He settled on a leather armchair and glanced at her book. “What are you reading?”

“It’s an account of an explorer named Champlain. He lived among the Huron Indians to study them. He adopted their language and customs, and became familiar with the landscape and water routes. His study of geography and Indian life inspired many men after him.”

“Yes, I’ve heard of him.” Nathan gestured for her to show him the book, and she handed it over. He glanced at the cover and then opened it. He raised his eyebrows. “It’s printed in French.”

She nodded. “Yes, Samuel de Champlain was a Frenchman.”

“Yes, I know he was a Frenchman. My surprise was in the fact that you’re reading the book in French.”

She shrugged. “Many of my books are in French.”

“You became fluent in French at Miss Haversham’s?”

She took the book from him and settled on a nearby divan.

“That’s a Roman divan,” he told her, getting up and moving to show her how to lift the upholstered arm. “Raise either arm until the ratchet disconnects and then you can lower it to a position so you can recline.”

“How ingenious,” she replied.

He left the arm lowered.

“You could sit beside me,” she suggested.

Nathan studied her uplifted face, the delicate curve of her cheek and the question in her eyes. Looking at her increased his pulse rate and created havoc with his common sense. That afternoon had proven his supreme lack of resistance where she was concerned. He’d given his word and resolved to give their developing relation ship six months.

Now, thinking about the unbearable length of time he’d carved made the wait seem like an eternity. But he couldn’t sit across the room avoiding her for the next six months. Part of developing a relationship was earning her trust.

He eased onto the divan only inches from her. “Would you like to bring down your books and keep them on a shelf in here? That way they’d be nearby in the evening.”

“I’d like that. And you are welcome to read any that catch your eye.”

“I don’t read French.”

“They’re not all in French.”

“You’re welcome to mine, as well.”

Her gaze lifted and she scanned the spines on the wall of bookcases. “Any?”

“Of course.”

She got up and crossed to scan titles, pausing with her finger on one.
“Ravenshoe.”
Sliding out the volume, she opened it to the first page.

“It’s a character’s name,” he supplied.

She replaced it.
“Lady Audley’s Secret,”
she read from another.

“It’s a sensation novel. I’m afraid my reading tastes aren’t as refined as yours,” he apologized. “There are classics if you look.”

“What is a sensation novel?”

“Plots with subjects shocking to some. If you choose to read it, don’t let on to the good ladies of Sweetwater.”

“What are the shocking subjects?”

“I don’t care to spoil the story for you.”

“You are more likely to entice me.”

He’d married a champagne drinker who didn’t faint at the thought of impropriety. “No French explorers in the lot. A seemingly perfect domestic lady attempts to commit murder. The character has also committed bigamy and abandoned her child.”

“I believe I’ll read this one first then,” she said with a grin.

He tilted his head. “I warned you.”

She sat down beside him, the book unopened. “Warning taken.”

“Tell me about your family,” he suggested. “We have a lot to talk about, don’t we?”

“There’s not much to say about them.” She adjusted her skirts.

“What did your father do?”

Celeste had been right about this. During their journey to Wyoming, Celeste had brought up the subject of planning what to tell the people they met.
“People don’t just fall out of the sky,”
she’d said.
“We have to have background stories ready.”

And so whenever they’d had time alone, the women had compared their ideas for what they would say when questions were asked.

What
did
fathers do? “He was a banker. A stock holder, actually. He belonged to a gentleman’s club and attended St. Mark’s Episcopal Church.”

“And your mother?”

More lies. Would it always be lies she was telling to this man? “I didn’t know my mother well.” And that was as close to the truth as possible. But he waited for more. “She died when I was very young. That’s why I went to Miss Haversham’s.”

“Any brothers or sisters?”

That would depend on who her father had been, but she would never know. “None. What about you? Do you have brothers and sisters?”

“I have an older sister and two younger brothers,” he answered.

“You all lived together when you were young?”

He nodded. “Oh, yes. Our bickering drove my poor mother to distraction, but she’s a saint.”

“She’s still alive?”

“And still living in the family home in Philadelphia. We will visit before the end of the year. She’d enjoy seeing the children, and I’d like for her to meet you.”

She nodded, unable to imagine meeting his mother.

“My father’s only been gone a few years,” he continued. “He was a judge. That’s how I came to go to law school; but then the war came along, so I never practiced.”

“You fought during the war?”

“Fought in Missouri early on. Later I was with Sheridan when we trapped Jubal Early’s army on our way to Waynesboro. We were the regiment that blocked Lee’s escape at Appomattox, forcing the Northern Virginia army’s surrender. After the war, the General wanted me to accompany him to Prussia, where he was sent to advise during that war in 70, but I’d seen enough destruction.” All that seemed a lifetime ago. “I was intent on building something, and I’d never forgotten this place. So I finished my law degree, purchased a railcar full of lumber and asked a young woman to marry me.

“Sweetwater was a tent town then. Only a few buildings existed. But the town was right along the path of the Union Pacific as the rails expanded westward. I discovered I could sell my lumber for far more than I’d purchased it, so I did. Sold it and had more sent from Colorado. I posted notices in the major newspapers, and a few merchants and even a dentist threw in on the new venture. There’s nothing like settling the land and watching something grow. Wasn’t long before Sweetwater was a respectable town.”

More comfortable now that she’d turned the focus back on him, Ella listened to his story with interest. Nathan was impressively enterprising and ambitious. She was surprised to learn he owned a lumberyard.

“Is that where you work during the day?”

“No, I have people who run it for me. I work in an office at the municipal building.”

She pictured everything about his stories, everything except one thing. “What was your wife’s name?”

He paused a moment before replying. “Deborah.”

“Do your children look like her?”

“Robby looks the most like her. Christopher reminds me of my father, and Grace looks like my sister, Vanessa.”

“Christopher looks like you,” she told him.

He nodded. “Many said I looked like my father.”

She didn’t want to pry into a hurtful subject, but she was curious. “Is it painful to talk about your wife?”

“I have a lot of regrets,” he answered, which didn’t address her question.

She didn’t pry.

“Deborah was unprepared for a life far away from everything she’d known in Philadelphia,” he went on, surprising her and holding her interest. “I built her a beautiful home, started a planning council and brought in a doctor and a teacher. Soon there were churches and schools.” He shrugged. “But this isn’t the big city, and the social activities can’t compare. She missed her family.” He glanced at Ella.

Nathan had a respectable background and a commendable war record. His ambition and vision had sparked accomplishments for which he could be proud. But beneath the handsome exterior and the successful businessman, she sensed a vulnerability that spoke to her untried heart. Now his first words to her made sense. “When we met, you asked why I’d traveled West and warned me this place wasn’t what I was accustomed to.”

“Deborah didn’t complain, but she was never happy here. I took her away from her family and her home.”

“I have no family or home, and Sweetwater is far better than where I came from,” she assured him. Whatever he imagined about her, she didn’t want him thinking she was unsatisfied with his home or the way he had welcomed her.