Rocky Mountain Bride (Rocky Mountain Bride Series Book 2) (12 page)

The smile died on her face when she saw the three men, bearded and dirty, waiting just off the porch.

“Please, ma’am,” one said, removing his ragged hat. “Could you spare some food tonight?”

She shrank back into the house, her gaze darting into the larder. A distant shout saved her.

“Miles,” she called out, relieved. Her husband rode Monty right up the hill, dismounting and leaping on the porch in one movement.

“Afternoon,” he said, deep voice radiating authority. He held out an arm and she ran to his side. “Go get my Henry and bring it to me,” he whispered to her.

She looked up at him in confusion.

“The rifle,” he said. “Go.”

“What brings you to these parts?” Miles was asking when Carrie returned with the long rifle.

The visiting trio took a step back.

“We’ve come to mine in Royal Gorge.” The older man pointed to the range behind them.

“You’re a long way from Royal Gorge,” Miles observed. He didn’t frown or sound angry but something in the set of his broad shoulders and stance indicated displeasure.

“Got lost.” One of the young men shrugged, keeping his eye on Miles’ rifle.

“You can sleep in the stable tonight. And we’ll bring dinner to you—you can eat your fill. All I ask is a half day’s labor mending fences.”

The two younger scowled, but the old man replaced his hat and touched it in respect. “Yes, sir, thank you, sir.”

Miles directed them down the hill towards the western field. He waited until they were beyond the copse before turning to Carrie. “When dinner’s ready, bring it to the far pasture. I’ll put them up in the shed there.”

“What about Lightning?”

“He and Monty can stay near the porch. If anyone approaches, we’ll hear.”

Carrie’s eyes widened.

“Don’t worry, little wife. The older man seems trustworthy. He’ll keep the other two in check.” He pushed her into the cabin. “Latch this door, and don’t open it for anyone but me. And make six extra helpings of stew.”

“Six? We don’t have enough for all that.”

He grinned. “Then make plenty of biscuits.”

*****

She brought the dinner out to them in the far pasture, grateful that she had a stew pot big enough for all.

The two young men didn’t look at her, but the older one shot her a smile. “Thank ye, Mrs. Donovan.”

“You’re welcome,” she said. Miles didn’t speak, but she scuttled to his side, grateful for his strong presence. He was sitting on the old stump and made room for her, and she sat down gingerly on her tender cheeks.

The older man’s eyes roved around as he chewed. “You own the claim round these parts?”

“I do.”

“It’s a nice spot. There’s gold in Royal Gorge, sure as shootin’. I’m surprised you’re not panning for it in your river.” The old man grinned.

“I have no interest in searching for gold.”

The man snorted, and his two companions exchanged glances.

“Ranching then?”

“And training horses.”

“Really?” One of the younger men perked up. “How much would you get for sellin’ that one?” The man pointed to Lightning, grazing in his pen.

“He’s not for sale.”

The young man reddened and started to rise, but the older man stopped him with an outstretched arm.

“Calm down, Benny. A man has a right to sell a horse to whoever he chooses.”

Grunting, the young man reached for another biscuit.

The men ate every drop of stew and used the biscuits to scrape the pot. Miles frowned at the tiny portion Carrie had reserved for herself, but she couldn’t bring herself to eat more, even after going hungry last night.

They rode home on Monty, leading Lightning behind.

“Well that was a good day. Fences all mended.”

“Where are you going?” she asked when he picked up a blanket and a chair and carried them to the front porch.

“Gonna sit on the porch for a while,” he said. “Make sure our friends have a good night’s sleep.”

*****

Carrie woke in the darkness with someone shaking her. She started to scream and then a hand went over her mouth.

“Carrie, it’s me.”

“Miles? What’s happening?”

“You were calling out in your sleep.” She felt the bed shift under his weight as he sat beside her. His hand came to stroke back her hair. “Do you remember your dream?”

“No,” she said, but she felt clammy and sick, still in the clutches of some night terror.

“Sleep then. It’s many hours to dawn.”

“What about the miners? Did they come to rob and kill us?”

His hand stilled, then cupped her cheek. “No, dear Carrie, and I’m sorry if I put that notion into your head.”

“It seems everything out here is dangerous,” she murmured sleepily.

He lay down and his strong arms closed around her. “I’ll protect you.”

*****

She woke again and made a huge pile of biscuits for Miles to take to their guests. After a kiss, he left, and the rest of the day had her jumping at shadows. Just after noon she heard a heavy step on the porch and rushed to the bed to grab the gun.

Miles walked into the cabin and stopped short when he saw the barrel of his own gun leveled at him.

“Carrie? What are you doing?”

“Sorry,” she said, lowering the shotgun.

Glowering, he strode to her side and lifted the weapon out of her hands. “This is not a toy.”

“I know that,” she snapped. “I wanted to protect myself.”

Her husband’s scowl dropped away. “By shooting me with my own shotgun?”

“How do I know who is at the door? You or some vagabonds come to harm me?” She crossed the room in a huff, sitting at her sewing stool facing the wall. “You were gone, and I was left all alone. Those men came and they could’ve…”

Miles followed and put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

She huffed. “It’s all right for you. You’re in the fields all day, on a horse. You could escape. I’m here all day.” She waved at the cabin.

He turned her to face him. “You don’t feel safe here.”

“Not without you.”

“Have you ever fired a gun before?”

“What?”

“The rifle. Do you know how to use one?”

She shook her head.

“It won’t be easy for you,” he said thoughtfully. “But perhaps I can teach you.”

*****

A few hours and one sore shoulder later, Carrie could fire the gun.

“It’ll take a while to learn to aim. And firing both barrels might be too much for you. But keep to one trigger, and you’ll be able to get off a warning shot,” Miles said.

She brought the gun up as he’d taught her to do, sighted down the barrel and squeezed the trigger.

Miles waved his hat to clear the smoke, then drawled. “Well done, ma’am. That is one dead stump.” He tipped his hat to her. “You’re real frontier woman now. Prettiest shooter in Colorado Territory.”

With a wicked grin, she leveled the gun at him.

Miles didn’t hesitate. In one move, he’d disarmed her and twisted her around, his arm around her. “This is not a game,” he growled. He let her go and she staggered forward without his arm to hold her. Whirling around, she paled as he loomed over her with a furious expression.

“This is not a toy.” He shook the rifle at her, before checking the barrel.

“It wasn’t loaded.”

“You didn’t know that for sure. With a weapon you never act in jest.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Not as sorry as you’re gonna be.” He set the rifle down and started towards her.

“Miles, please, not here,” she said, backing away. “The men might come back and see.”

He stopped, considering. “Carrie, come here.”

She did, trembling. She waited for the punishment to come, but instead, he caught her chin and raised it. “You truly are frightened of the strangers.”

“I keep thinking that they might come for me.”

“Can you trust me?” His tawny eyes held her gaze.

In answer, she slipped her arms around his broad chest. Even in the face of discipline, his body gave her comfort.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” he whispered. “You’re too precious.”

She nodded against his shirt, breathing in his wild scent.

“I won’t punish you now. But never jest with a gun again.”

“I won’t, Miles. I promise.”

*****

She was on the porch shucking corn when Miles rode back from the far pasture just before dusk. After the shooting lesson, he’d taken a side of salt beef and some potatoes to their guests.

“Are they still here?” Carrie had a pile of corn ready, but her stores were too low to feed four hungry men.

“They’re gone.” Miles dismounted. “Here.” He handed up a smooth piece of wood carved into a rectangle as long as her arm and a handbreadth wide.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“A gift from the miner. To us.”

“What’s it for?” She lifted the long, carved wood, thick and sturdy, with one side whittled down into a handle.

“It’s a paddle, for punishing wayward wives.”

She almost dropped it. “Why would he give us such a thing?”

Miles’ tawny eyes twinkled. “He saw you were sitting lightly at dinner, and told me it was an easy way to make you mind without wearing out my hand.”

She flushed straight to the roots of her hair.

Grinning, her husband bent and kissed the top of her head before taking Monty to his pen.

When he returned, the first thing he did was pick up the paddle where she left it on the porch. He threaded a thong through the little hole on the handle, and hung it on a nail beside the door. Turning, he saw her watching, and winked at her.

Frowning, she turned back to the fire before she mouthed off and gave him an excuse to use his new toy. It certainly seemed to amuse him.

His grin left when he saw what they had for dinner. She piled high roast corn on his plate. “No meat?”

“You gave it away,” she told him.

He sighed and started on the pile. “I thought you would tell me when our stores were low.”

“I can’t when you’re gone all day with your precious horses,” she snapped. “And then invite strangers to eat us out of house and home.”

Miles regarded her silently and she flushed, knowing her temper was getting away from her. She couldn’t help it though; her anger was growing and she clung to it like a weapon.

“Well then, wife,” Miles said. “What are the things you feel we need to fill our larder?”

“Beef, obviously. Unless this is to your liking.” Picking up her plate, she dumped the contents over his. Corn on the cob rolled over the table, one even falling on the floor.

Miles rose to his feet, but she was already stomping outside to the garden to get more vegetables.

“Carrie.” Her husband called to her from the porch, but she kept going.

Who did he think he was? He said he’d care for her, and then he let men come around and frighten her and gave away their food.

“Stop,” Miles ordered, voice cracking like a whip.

She halted and he walked to her side.

“Now tell me. Why are you so angry?”

“You let them come here and eat our food. We’re all alone out here, already in danger, and you—” She stopped her tirade to scrub away tears. “I feel so afraid out here. All the time.”

“What are you afraid of?”

That he’ll come for me,
she wanted to say.
He told me he would find me and take me away.
But she could only stare at her husband with sorrow-filled eyes.

Miles sighed and clasped her to him. “Sweet wife, when will you learn to trust me? I would never put you in danger, never, never.”

“I know that. I know that, but I’m still afraid.”

“Come back inside.” His hand slipped down and enveloped hers; she felt the thrill at following his strong, confident steps.

Back in the homestead, she saw the disaster on the table, and remembered her surliness. Before she could speak, Miles swung around to face her.

“Don’t ever run from me. If we have a problem, we talk it out.”

She huffed at that.

He nodded. “I should’ve punished you earlier. I’m regretting it now.”

“What?”

“Dress off. Over my lap.”

“Why?” she cried, then clamped her lips shut at his warning look.

Sniffling at the unfairness of it all, she pulled off her dress. He helped her with it and her shift until she stood in her corset and drawers. His large hands pulled her over his knees, then began to knead her bottom.

“You needed this earlier, when I chastised you about the gun. I thought it didn’t warrant a full spanking, and I see my error now. Next time I’ll give you the proper correction so you know you’re forgiven.”

Frowning at the floor, Carrie tensed as her husband’s hands started smacking her bottom lightly.

She grew restless under the warming taps, wondering when the harder strikes would fall.

“This should settle you.” His hand slapped down, hard. “You will respect me, at all times. Even when you are upset, you will bring the matter to me so we can talk. You will not run from me. And you will always treat me with respect.” He punctuated his words with a hard spanking that went on and on.

Yowling, Carrie kicked her legs. Tears welled up and she forced them down. She would not cry. She would not give him the satisfaction.

But she couldn’t help her harsh gasps, loud enough to be heard over the rhythmic smacks.

Many minutes later, he stopped and helped her up. She glared at him. Her right hand snuck down to rub her aching rump and he tsked her.

“Have you learned your lesson?”

“Yes,” she said in a sulky tone, and leaned down to pick up her dress.

“Wait. Go get the paddle.”

Her mouth dropped open. “What? Why?”

“Are you disobeying me?” Miles’ stern look should’ve had her scurrying for the paddle, but Carrie was too upset.

“It’s not fair!”

“Your attitude is mine to correct. And right now, it’s not to my liking.”

She stamped her foot. “What about when you’re in the wrong? Why am I the only one who’s disciplined?”

Miles lowered his voice instead of raising it. “Because I’m the leader of the house, and you’re acting like a spoiled child. And if I’m ever in the wrong, you can bring the situation to me, and I’ll think it over and apologize. I’m not a tyrant.”