River Song (51 page)

Glancing through the sheriff's dusty window, Cole spotted the Yuma Hotel across the street. Looking back at Sunny, his grin spread his mustache almost to his earlobes. "Come on, Mrs. Fremont. Once we get this marriage consummated, you'll play hell getting out of it."

She found her voice. "Consummated? What does this mean?"

Taking her by the hand, he winked as they strolled out of the room. "Well, it means ... why
don't you
let me show you what it means."

Laughing as they stepped out into the sunshine, he glanced at her with a wicked gleam in his eye. "What was it you were saying awhile back about that damnable corset and bustle?"

 
CHAPTER
NINETEEN

Cole captured a dusky rose nipple in his mouth and teased the crown with a languid tongue. Submersed in pleasure, awash with contentment, he murmured, "I love you, Sunny. I'll always love you."

"I know," she whispered against the top of his blond head. "And I shall always love you, my husband."

"I will always
be
your husband."

"And I shall always be your wife."

"I'm glad we finally got that little problem solved," he laughed. "But now we've another."

Reading the mirth in his expression, Sunny's dark eyes widened and sparkled as she playfully said, "If the problem has anything to do with more consummating, I do not believe I can help you for awhile." Dramatically flinging her arms on the pillow above her head, Sunny sighed. "I am
very
tired, my vigorous husband."

With a lusty chuckle, Cole planted a kiss between her damp breasts, then rolled onto his back and closed his eyes. "Thank God for small favors. You haven't been out of this bed for damn near twenty-four hours. How can you expect to get anything out of this marriage
but
consummation, if every time I leave and come back to this room you're lying there with your hair spread all over that pillow just asking for trouble?"

Through a chuckle, she asked, "And this bothers you so?"

"No," he admitted as he leaned up on one elbow and gazed down at her. "I feel like you've been robbed of what should have been a very special day. I want to make it up to you, so I'm offering to marry you all over again. Here or in Phoenix, or both if you wish."

"But we are married already, are we not?"

Cole shrugged. "Legally, yes, but don't you want more? Don't you want a real wedding dress, and lots of guests at a big party after, and most of all—" he laughed at the memory, "your own choice of attendants?"

The suggestion and memories gave her a good laugh before she replied. "It means a lot to know that you would do that for me, but I believe the most important thing to me
is knowing
we had a truly memorable wedding. And believe me, my
husband,
I shall never,
ever
forget the day we wed."

"It's a day I'm not likely to forget either, but
are
you sure it's enough? Won't you always feel a little robbed?"

"I am sure. And I only feel robbed when you are not with me." Reaching behind Cole's neck, she drew him to her and fit his mouth to the contours of hers. The kiss was meant as a bond, a gentle token of their love and dedication to one another, but it quickly flared to passion, left Sunny breathless with its intensity.

With the last of her strength, she pushed him away and gasped, "I thought you wanted me out of this bed."

"I thought I did, too, my wicked little flower."

Breaking into a grin, Sunny purred, "Do we not have to go to the railroad station?"

"We do, but not for another hour."

"An hour, my love?
Whatever shall we do to help the time pass?"

His mustache crooked, twitching in anticipation, Cole slid his hand beneath the
bedsheet
. Finding the sleek expanse of satiny skin he sought, he murmured, "I'll think of something."

To make sure that he did, Sunny tossed the sheets aside, and said, "See? No bustles, no corset."

Sunny slipped her gloved hand in the crook of Cole's arm as the pair rounded the corner and headed up the dusty street toward the railroad depot. In spite of the fact that she wore
two
bustles lashed to her behind, she held her head high, secure in the knowledge her appearance was as fashionable as any woman she'd passed in town. As comfortable as it was practical, her gray serge travelling suit was of the newest style, decorated with rows of black silk braiding across the bodice, and set off at the throat with a bit of primrose lace to soften the look.

The bustles, entirely Sunny's idea and decision, finished the ensemble with a silhouette of feminine elegance. But at the end of the train ride to Maricopa, she thought with a delicious smile, these hideous "fanny pillows" would be prized only by buzzards and roadrunners as nesting materials. This time Sunny meant it—she had donned them for the last time.

Pleased as she imagined herself tossing the bustles over a cliff, Sunny increased the tempo as she walked, and wore a smile bright enough to challenge the Arizona sun.

"Top o' the
mornin
' to ye there," Patrick called as he shuffled across the dusty street. "Hold up a bit. I've received word from Sean."

He limped up beside them, dragging a leg left dangling on a bar stool for too long the night before, and paused to catch his breath. He waved a yellow paper in his hand and explained, "Me boy's been released. He is well."

"Oh, thank God for that," Sunny breathed, pressing her hand to her breast. "When will he return home?"

"Aye, of that I'm not too sure."

Cole slapped his father-in-law on the back. "Walk along with us to the depot and fill us in on the way."

Falling in alongside, Patrick shrugged as he trudged down Madison Avenue with them. "
Tis
precious little I've to report. Me boy has taken up his cause
agin
'." He elbowed Cole in the ribs and winked. "Takes after his sister, I believe he
do
."

Waiting until the train's shrill whistle completed its declaration, Sunny exclaimed, "You mean he's with Eileen again?"

The squeal of engine brakes filled the air as the train slowed for its approach, and Patrick had to shout. "He's bound to help the lass he says, but would not put in
writin
' the direction they'll be
aheadin
'. He'll wire again when they stop at another town."

They'd reached the depot and Cole helped Sunny onto the platform, then turned and offered her father his arm.

"Thank ye, lad," Patrick muttered, accepting the aid. "I fear a Gila monster may have crawled in me mouth as I took me rest last night. Poisoned me something powerful, it did."

Sunny rested a fist on her hip. "The only way that bit of malarkey could be true is if that Gila monster crawled into your pocket while you were taking your rest at The Bucket."

"Ye see what I mean, lad. Ye kin never get ahead of 'em, nor gather enough advice to live in peace." Patrick's bushy brows arched and he became animated, but the rest of his complaints were lost as the Southern Pacific roared up beside them.

Coughing and belching out thick dark columns of smoke, the engine slowly screeched to a halt.
Occasionally interrupted by the rhythmic billows of steam hissing from the train's boilers, Sunny turned to Cole.

"I am so excited. When can I see these birds?"

"
Birrds
?"
Patrick bellowed. "What
birrds
?"

Cole gestured for them to follow as he made his way down the wooden planks toward the box cars. "I'm going to start raising ostriches," he shouted over a whoosh of steam.

"Ostriches, lad?
Glory
be
."

They walked past several passenger and livestock cars before Cole finally spotted his unusual cargo. "There they are."

The trio rushed up alongside the wooden car and peered through the slats. The enormous birds were a sight none were prepared for.

Sunny's mouth dropped open, but no sound issued forth.

Patrick squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed them, but when he lifted his lids, the scene was unchanged.
"Faith and
begorra
."

Stunned, Cole took a backward step. "They must be seven feet tall."

"Eight, mister," a voice from above supplied.

Stunned, Cole looked toward the back of the car and observed a man sliding down off the ladder. His right leg was bracketed between two slats of wood bound together with strips of cloth.

Leaning heavily on a cane fashioned from a mesquite branch, the man limped to the front of the boxcar and inquired, "You Fremont?"

"Yes." Cole reached out to greet him, but the man merely nodded and wiped the back of his free hand under his nose.

"Brought you twenty-nine of the thirty-two birds you ordered.
Lost three once we hit the
Californey
desert.
Now if you'll excuse me, I gotta go find out if this town has a sawbones."

"Wait." Cole stepped in front of the man, apologizing. "I see you've got some trouble there with your leg, but couldn't you give me just a little advice on what to do with these birds before you go?"

"Yeah."
The man turned his head to the side and spit a thick stream of tobacco juice onto the railroad tie. "Stay the hell away from 'em. I didn't get this busted leg playing poker in the caboose."

"An ostrich did that?"

"Oh, yes, and that's an almighty fact. You have bought yourself twenty-nine of the dumbest critters ever dropped on God's green earth. And if dumb ain't enough, they kick like a cow and got three times the strength. Good luck, mister—you're going to need it."

Frantic for more information, Cole glanced at the birds and noticed their odd headgear. "Those hoods—what are they for?"

The man laughed and spit another stream of tobacco. "Cute ain't they? But I strongly suggest you keep your new little friends wearing their bonnets. If you don't, and they get a look around and see they ain't at home, well, they're just likely to take off on you. Believe
me,
stopping a runaway ostrich isn't no easy trick. 'Sides," he laughed, "even if they stick around, without them bonnets, their little heads will get sunburned and they'll keel over, deader than a rock but still twice as dumb." He pushed off with his cane and began to hobble away. "Good luck, and make sure you hire a doc for your ranch. I got a feeling he's going to be a hell of a lot more important than a cook."

Knowing the man wouldn't be delayed any
further,
Cole waved and called, "Thanks. Sorry for your trouble."

Sunny moved up along side him, her eyes filled with wonder. "I cannot believe this. These birds are so big. I
thought they would be much smaller."
She bent over and gestured a few feet off the ground.

Behind her, Patrick muttered, "Faith and
begorra
."

Then a stranger approached. "Excuse me,
these your
birds?"