Prairie Wife (12 page)

Sam had impressed that fact upon Jesse from the first time Jesse
had shown an interest in his daughter, and again when Jesse and Amy married. A
few years back, news had traveled that a homesteader's wife over by Wolf Creek
gave birth to her seventh child, got up and baked a blueberry pie, then went
out to the barn and hung herself from the rafters. Sam and Jesse put their
heads together on the spot and hired more help. Sam's wife had died too young,
though.

"I don't want a hard life for Amy," he'd told his
son-in-law.

Both of them had done their best to give Amy the skills she needed
to survive while shielding her from the harshest elements. But Eden was
definitely not cut out for life on the Overland Trail.

There was no reason Sam shouldn't enjoy the fresh picture Eden
painted on his otherwise monotonous days, though. Last time he checked, he
wasn't dead.

On Saturday night he asked Eden if she would like to attend church
with them on Sunday, and she accepted. The next morning Sam carried her to a
buggy he'd rigged for the occasion. He pointedly ignored his curious family and
the gawking hands as he and his female companion left together.

Jesse stood beside his own buggy, watching them go, then sensed
company at his side. Looking fine in her blue dress with the lace neck and
sleeves, a hat shading her eyes, Amy had joined him. She was so pretty he felt
all soft inside. He turned his attention to Sam's buggy in the distance.

"What do you make of that?" he asked.

She smoothed her white gloves over her fingers. "I guess he
has a right to his folly if he chooses it. Or, could be she's looking for a man
and a home."

Jesse wasn't so sure about the home part. He assisted his wife up
to the seat and climbed to take the reins and utter a command to the horses.

"Do you think Cay would want to ride with us?" Amy
asked.

Her question surprised him, but pleasure overrode any hesitation
about her intentions. "Whoa there. Whoa." He tied the reins to the
brake handle. "I'll see. Is he in the house?"

"No, he left a little while ago."

Jesse got down and loped to the barn, returning moments later with
Cay. Dressed in his good shirt and trousers, the boy scrambled into the small
seat at the rear. Jesse resumed his place beside Amy.

As they participated in the service that morning, Jesse rolled
Amy's words from earlier in the week around in his mind. She sat on his right,
as always, Cay to his left. She had said she was afraid he would get too
attached to his nephew and then Cay would leave. Was she thinking of Jesse
being hurt? Or was she protecting herself—because she'd been hurt by loss and
couldn't bear it again?

A Sunday morning never passed that Jesse didn't think of the
squirming fair-haired toddler who used to sit between them, sometimes falling
asleep on Jesse's lap with his thumb in his mouth. Did Amy think of Tim on
these mornings, too? Or had she completely erased every memory because of the
pain they caused? He knew Amy, the real Amy, knew her caring nature and her
tender heart. She wasn't locking out Cay because she didn't trust him or
because she resented the intrusion. Intentionally or unintentionally, she was
trying to protect them both.

But today she'd suggested that Cay ride with them. Jesse wanted to
reach over and take her hand, thank her without words.
Is the Amy I remember
still I there? Is the girl I fell in love with and gave my heart to a ghost?
Come back to me, my love. My heart. Don't leave me here all alone.

Jesse prayed for strength. And for forgiveness.

And for strength to forgive.

Sam had forgotten what it was like to be around a female other
than his daughter or Mrs. Barnes. Another week around Eden proved she was a
woman to catch a man's fancy and tickle it good.

The following Sunday they'd attended church again. Afterward she
sat beside him on the buggy seat as he headed the horses toward home. Wearing a
bright pink dress with a square-necked bodice that showed a man enough cleavage
to thoroughly addle his thoughts, she was a new spring flower on a late-fall
day.

She tucked her arm through his. "I don't even know where you
live, Sam."

"It's on past the station just a mile. Not far."

"A house?"

"A small one. Serves me well."

"I'd like to see it."

Sam glanced down at her uptilted face. Her beguiling smile was
irresistible. "Now?"

"Unless you prefer not. But I surely would enjoy the scenery
in that direction."

"The scenery looks just the same either way, but I don't mind
takin' you there."

She gave his arm a delighted little squeeze that unwittingly
pressed her breast against his arm. A tremor shot through his body.

A short while later his homestead came into view— the orchards to
the east and south of the house, a well in the yard and a red barn. "This
is it." He pulled the buggy up in front of the house. "I could fix us
some lunch if you want. I don't have much, but I can put together
somethin'."

"That would be most kind of you. I am quite hungry after a
whole morning of singing and praying."

She leaned on her crutch as Sam unhitched the horse and tethered
it where it could find dry grass.

He ushered Eden inside. The house was only two rooms—a wide
kitchen open to a sitting area, and a bedroom. The last years of their life
together. He and Vanessa had shared this little house, taking most of their
meals at the station but spending evenings and nights here.

Since Vanessa's death, Adele came over and cleaned for him and Amy
made sure he had supplies laid by. It wasn't much of a home anymore. He looked
at the rooms through a city woman's eyes and they came up sorely lacking.

"It's not much," he said with an apology in his tone.
"I don't spend much time here."

"It's rather quaintly charming, actually," she said,
touching the edge of the table and the rungs of a ladder-back chair. She had a
way of touching people and things, as though she experienced them through her
fingertips. "It has possibilities."

Sam couldn't imagine what possibilities, but he took her wrap and
hat and hung them beside the door. He blinked at the unaccustomed sight of the
feminine garments, a knot in his chest. Catching himself, he turned to his
task, raised the stove lid and stirred the fire to life with the poker. Sparks
floated toward the ceiling. From the stack beside the stove, he took a chunk of
wood and added it, then set about slicing ham and opening a can of beans. A
whoosh flew up the stovepipe as the fire caught, and he heated their meal.

Eden found plates and silverware and set the table. "I don't
suppose you have any tea?"

"'Fraid not."

"I'll drink water. I haven't developed a taste for your
western coffee."

He forked slices of ham onto the plates and set the hot beans on
the table in the pan. "Quite a bit about the West takes some gettin' used
to. I should have put those in a bowl."

He reached for the handle of the pan, but she caught his wrist.
"It's all right, Sam. You don't have to do anything fancy on my behalf."

He looked at her hand, small and pale and soft. Not the hand of
someone who scrubbed laundry on a washboard or made soap or milked cows. She
was like a traveler from another time and place set down in his kitchen, and he
couldn't quite grasp the marvel of her presence. That she even wanted to be
with him was a wonder.

"Are you exceedingly hungry?" Her dewy lips formed that
delicate pout.

Sam shook his head in a lie. He was always hungry at dinnertime.

"Neither am I." She released his hand and touched his
lips with her finger. Taking another step closer, she breathed, "But I do
have a craving for something sweet."

Heat rushed through Sam's veins and his body reacted immediately
and potently. No, he wasn't dead by a long shot. Unless he was missing the
mark, Eden was as eager for something to develop between them as he was. He
might miss the signal, but he wasn't going to miss the opportunity to see if he
was right.

Wrapping one arm around her waist, he drew her solidly up against
him. Her eyes darkened with sultry excitement as she held his gaze. There was
no mistaking his desire pressed between them. Her nostrils flared with
anticipation.

Lowering his head, Sam kissed her. She responded with a growl in
the back of her throat. He didn't know if he'd ever kissed a woman who threw
herself into the act like Eden. She used her teeth and her lips and her tongue
until both of them were breathing hard.

With pauses for breath, she leaned back and made quick work of
Sam's tie and shirt buttons, freeing the tail and pushing the garment off his
shoulders and down his arms.

She ran her hands over his chest and arms appreciatively.
"You're so bumpy in all the right places. Here—" She tested his
biceps. "Here—"That said with her tongue lapping his shoulder.

Sam gritted his teeth.

In a wash of rose perfume, she turned and presented her back.
"My buttons, Sam."

The tiny things taunted him, but he was persistent and laboriously
peeled each one away from its mooring. Her ivory skin was exposed an inch at a
time, until the dress fell away and she stepped out of it, turning back. She
stood before him in a lace-trimmed corset, her breasts spilling over the top
and stealing his breath.

"You're the prettiest thing I've ever seen," he told
her.

She gave him a provocative smile. "Is that the truth?"

"I wouldn't say so if it wasn't."

She leaned in to brush her softness against his chest. Large dusky
nipples peeked over the top of her corset.

With catlike grace, she moved around him, touching him where he
stood, stroking herself against his back, coming to face him again. With the
back of her hand she reached down and brushed against his erection.

Sam tensed his body and felt blood rush to the place she had
touched. He'd never dreamed such feverish goings-on in the middle of the day.
He'd been married twenty years and never done this in the kitchen in broad
daylight.

He definitely received the message that she was willing. No
pussyfooting around between them. He liked that.

Sam swept her up and carried her into the bedroom, where he tossed
her into the middle of the bed and followed. She laughed and scrambled to her
knees, then watched him with hooded eyes while he removed her corset and
plumped her breasts in his palms.

Her gaze constantly moved across his arms and chest, down to the
front of his trousers, as though she was eager to see more. What kind of heaven
on earth had he gone and found himself without even trying?

She shucked off her pantaloons and stood on her knees before him
in the middle of the bed, pale skin creased by her corset, her breasts full and
round with rosy nipples. Her eyes devoured him and her full pouty lips begged
for his kisses. He leaned toward her, but she stopped him with a hand on his
chest.

"Your turn, cowboy."

Sam stood beside the bed to remove his trousers.

Unembarrassed, she watched. Sam didn't know if his wife had ever
looked at him naked. If she had, she'd never let him see her looking.

"Touch me here, cowboy." She took his hand and guided it
where she wanted him to explore.

Uninhibited.
He'd never known the full implication of
the word before. He learned it now.

Two hours of pleasure with Eden had him more physically spent than
a week of mucking stalls and handling horses. She liked it fast, she liked it
slow; she liked it fierce, she liked it easy. Eden just plain liked it.

All that and her hair was barely even mussed. Later she sat across
from him at the table, dressed in his shirt with the sleeves rolled back over
her slender white arms, and she still looked as fresh and pretty as she had
that morning. Hellfire, but she was young.

"I don't know how I got so fortunate," he said,
finishing a bite of cold ham. "But I'm gonna take gifts to those Cheyenne
if ever I learn who they were."

Eden giggled.

"I kept thinkin' all along I was too old for you."

"You're not old, Sam." She pushed the beans around on
her plate and ate a bite of bread. "You're
seasoned.
Just
right."

He chuckled. Minutes later, pouring himself coffee, he sobered. He
had no idea what was going to come of this. And he was too proud to ask. Would
Eden think about staying now? They'd done things backward, but he would jump
for a chance to court her. She hadn't mentioned her plans.

"I don't suppose we should let on. About this."

"It would be prudent to keep our silence," she agreed.

When they returned that afternoon, he told the others they'd gone
for a ride. No one seemed to think strangely of it. And the afternoon wasn't
mentioned again.

He and Eden shared secret smiles... and Sam considered his
options.