Rocky Mountain Wife (9 page)

“You’re an independent sort,” she said gently, hiding from him the tug of pity she felt. That had to be a hard way to live—more lonely than anything she’d ever known.

“Yes. Independent, and I like it that way.” He glanced over at her. A small smile touched his mouth. “I think you and I are going to be all right. We’re going to get along just fine.”

“Yes, I think so, too.” Relief rushed through her, easing tension she hadn’t known was there. She relaxed against the seatback, content with the silence that fell between them as they rolled through the countryside. Before long, town came into sight and suddenly they were stopped in front of the church. Joshua hopped down and offered her his hand.

She hesitated taking it, because she’d started to tremble. How could she make it through the ceremony without crying? Finally, she laid her palm against his, feeling the leather of his glove between the fine lace of hers. She hated how hard she shook as she rose from the seat.

Instead of saying anything, his other hand came up to hold her steady. As he lifted her to the ground, tears burned in her eyes for a different reason. He was offering her comfort and empathy—silently, but it was there all the same. It was in his touch as his hand settled at her elbow, supporting her as they walked up to the church together. Together. It was only for a moment, but leaning on him felt good. It eased the grief and pain inside her.

“The vows are just words,” he told her quietly as he held the door for her. “You’ve made them before and meant them. This time, just think of them as a promise. This isn’t about love, not at all, but it will be about honor.”

Fighting a surprising warmth in her chest, she nodded and stepped into the church. She liked Joshua. She liked him very much.

Joshua saw how hard this was for her. She stood at his side in the front of the church, the melody of her voice small against the vast stillness of the church as she promised to honor and cherish him in sickness and in health.

He’d never seen anything more beautiful in his life. He could hardly let himself look at her. She’d done something with her hair, piling it up on top of her head in swirls. Curls tumbled down to frame her delicate face, and he had to fist his hands to keep from reaching out to brush them back. The ivory dress she wore was pure elegance, skimming her willowy body and enticing curves like a glove.

My wife, he thought disbelievingly. She seemed so small standing at his side, just a bit of a thing. A strange, powerful protective force rose up within him, strong as steel. No wonder Clay had doted on her and valued her so highly. She was gentleness and goodness, a vision as she held out a hand that trembled so hard, he couldn’t bring himself to slip the gold band he’d bought on her finger.

Mostly because she was still wearing Clay’s ring. She was too upset to even realize it until the minister cleared his throat and stared pointedly at the pearl gleaming in the lamplight.

“Oh.” She dipped her head in embarrassment and went to yank off the ring.

He grimaced at the tears in her eyes.

“Leave it,” he told her gruffly. Not because he was mad, but because it touched him. He cleared his throat. “I’m not here to replace Clay.”

Her eyes shone up at him, sparkling with gratitude.

“Let’s finish this up.” He pocketed his ring and stared pointedly at the minister, who nodded in agreement.

“Then I now pronounce you man and wife.” The minister closed his bible. “You may kiss the bride.”

Claire startled, turned bright red and stared hard at the floor. His heart went out to her. He’d watched her work herself to exhaustion in the fields by his side, never complaining and never wavering. She was strong, but she wasn’t strong enough to let another man kiss her.

Or maybe she just didn’t want him to kiss her, he thought. So he shook his head at the minister. “We’re not going to do that either.”

“Fine, then, come with me and we’ll sign the marriage certificate.” The minister turned his back, walking away, ready to take care of business.

“Thank you,” Claire whispered later, when they were done and heading toward the door. “What you did back there mattered to me.”

“It was the right thing, that’s all.” He shrugged and held the door for her.

When she breezed past him, he breathed in the scent of lilacs and lemons. His body reacted, hard and fast, his blood heating even as she waltzed away from him with a sway of her hips and a swish of her skirts. A hot breeze puffed against his face, trying to steal his hat as he followed his wife down the steps toward the horse and buckboard.

His wife. He shook his head. That was going to take some getting used to. He took her hand, helping her onto her seat and ignored the liquid fire his blood had become. It didn’t help that she looked so elegant. She was lace and sweetness and class, and he felt awed even as desire for her built in him with fierce, strident beats.

“If you don’t mind, we should stop by the bank and talk to Mr. Markum.” He swung up beside her and released the brake.

“Yes,” she agreed in a sensible tone, staring straight ahead as he turned the horse toward Aspen Creek’s main street. “It’s best to get business taken care of first thing.”

He heard the tremor in her voice and wondered if she was thinking of Clay. This had to be hard for her. He felt sorry for her. He really did. And he was going to take care of her and see that she was all right, because Clay would have wanted that. But also because it was the right thing to do. He didn’t understand much about love, but he respected those who could love deeply.

He didn’t have it in him, but he respected it all the same.

He pulled up to the bank, helped Claire down and accompanied her up the steps. The second he opened the door, he felt folks turning to look him up and down. He didn’t suppose word had gotten out yet about their marriage, but seeing a simple, small-time farmer next to a beauty like Claire had to have a few eyebrows lifting.

“Why don’t you have a seat?” He kept his voice low, leaning in so only she could hear. Fine strands of her hair caught on his chin. “You still look unsteady, and judging by that long line, it’ll be a wait.”

“That’s a good idea.” She slipped into one of the velvet-backed chairs by the window. Gratitude passed across her delicate face. She didn’t need to say anything for him to understand.

Chest tight with emotions he wasn’t comfortable with, he strode away. Folks were still staring at him as he took his place at the end of the queue and plunged his hands in his trouser pockets. Ahead of him in line, elderly Mr. Meeks from the mercantile gave him a smile.

“Awfully neighborly of you to bring Mrs. Callahan to town for her errands,” he said pleasantly. “I feel better knowing she’s got a neighbor like you to watch out for her.”

“Thanks.” The truth that they were now more than neighbors sat on his tongue like lead and refused to budge. He didn’t know why he couldn’t share his news with the nice old man. Maybe it was because he was used to being alone. He was still alone. Marriage to Claire hadn’t changed that.

Finally his turn came. He gave the teller permission to withdraw enough money from his savings account to cover the Callahan mortgage, which was now the Reed mortgage. He handed over his marriage certificate.

“I’ll be right back.” The teller frowned and disappeared into the president’s office.

Joshua glanced over his shoulder and grimaced. Claire wasn’t alone. A man towered over her with his bowler hat in hand, his red suspenders colorful against his white, sweat-stained shirt. Oliver Sanders. Joshua’s teeth ground as he launched away from the counter, protective fury rising up in him as he watched Claire stiffen. Dismay passed across her face. Whatever Sanders was saying to her didn’t make her happy.

“What’s going on here?” Joshua ground to a halt, forcing his hands to his side so he wouldn’t be tempted to physically haul Sanders away from her.

“None of your business, Reed.” Sanders dismissed him with a superior look. “Get back in line.”

“This is my business.” Joshua kept his voice low, but he could feel the interest of the other customers and employees in the bank watching curiously. “I told you the other day. Stay away from Claire. She doesn’t want you around.”

“Don’t make me remind you what I said.” Sanders’ eyes went hard. “Don’t get in my way, Reed. I told you that if you do, I’ll make you sorry.”

“There’s one thing you should know about me.” Joshua’s jaw snapped tight. He drew himself up to his full six feet, glaring down at the shorter man. “I’m no coward.”

“You’re just a two-bit landowner.” Sanders smirked dismissively. He lifted his lip as if he smelled something foul. “What do you have? Thirty, forty acres? You’re little more than a dirt farmer scraping out a living. You’d be smart to back away real nice before I take that patch of land away from you. What will the pretty lady think of you then?”

“A good deal more than I think of you, Mr. Sanders.” Claire spoke up, chin high, anger turning her eyes a vivid aquamarine blue. “Good day.”

“The lady wants you to move along.” Joshua moved beside her, protectively towering over her. “Looks like she isn’t the only one.”

He nodded toward the bank manager who was striding across the lobby. His oblong face was compressed into a businesslike frown. He looked like a man who wasn’t afraid of trouble either.

“Mr. Sanders.” Nels Markum met the man’s gaze directly. “The president is waiting for you in his office. We aren’t going to have any problems here, are we?”

“Not now we’re not. Go on, Markum, I can find my way.” Sanders rolled the plug of tobacco around to the other side of his mouth. His eyes turned black, narrowing as he pinned Claire with a warning glare. “One day you’re gonna come begging to me. It won’t be long now. This piss-poor excuse of a farmer can’t give you what I can. You’ll see.”

“You’re wrong, Mr. Sanders.” Claire’s voice rose through the silence the bank had become. Everyone was staring at Oliver Sanders as he snorted at her and confidently swaggered away.

Joshua stood protectively at her side, hands fisted, ready to defend her. She could feel his anger blazing like heat from a hot stove, radiating through the air. She was angry, too, and frankly a little scared. She didn’t like Sanders’ threats, but the man didn’t know about the wedding. There was nothing he could do, really. Joshua could make good on the back payments, and that’s all it would take to stop the foreclosure. But her stomach quivered anyway.

“Come with me, Mr. and Mrs. Reed,” Nels Markum said kindly. “The teller told me about your marriage. We’ll get the money transferred and the payments caught up. Then you two can be on your way. I’m real glad this worked out for you, ma’am.”

“Me, too.” Claire swallowed hard against the rise of tears. She was Mrs. Reed now. She no longer had Clay’s last name. It felt like a brutal loss. No matter how hard she clung to Clay and the love they’d shared, life and time took him away, bit-by-bit, piece-by-piece.

She managed to nod, blinking back tears she refused to let show, and followed Joshua and Mr. Markum to the desk in the corner.

Joshua saw Sanders glowering at them as he held the door for Claire. He gave the man a hard look, not bothering to veil the rage he felt at the pitiful excuse of a man. He despised bullies. He wasn’t looking for a fight, but he wasn’t the kind of man to walk away from one either.

As Claire waltzed through the doorway and onto the boardwalk, a vision in cream lace and grace, he caught the way Sanders looked at her. It was dark, it was lustful. It was ugly.

Fierce protective violence coursed through him, and he let the door slam shut behind him. He thudded down the steps to the dusty road and helped his wife into the buckboard.

Huh. His wife. He shook his head. He still couldn’t believe it. She barely looked at him as she settled onto the seat, blond and beautiful as she smoothed the skirt of her dress, holding it down against a gust of wind. She looked even paler than she had before the ceremony. Her skin was nearly gray. She looked tired and beaten, as if the events of the day had taken everything out of her.

A sudden, surprising squeeze of tenderness rose up, warm and syrupy in the middle of his chest. “Let’s get you home. It’s lunchtime. You need to eat and rest.”

“I need to get back to the field, helping you.” Her angelic mouth cinched downward with determination.

Such a pretty mouth, and damn him for wanting to kiss away the wince of unhappiness he saw there. He wanted to do a great deal more than kiss her. It didn’t matter that they were in the middle of town. He felt that hard punch of lust in his loins, and his cock jumped. He reached for the reins and sent the horses trotting down the street, strategically holding his hands clenched around the reins to block her view of his crotch. Just in case jumping turned to hardening. Claire wanted distance between them. He didn’t want to horrify her with a full-fledged erection.

“I’ve got half the acreage sown,” he bit out more gruffly than he intended. “That’s the break-even point. It means it’s enough crop yield to cover the coming year’s mortgage payment and taxes.”

“But what about making a profit?” She wrinkled her nose, confused. “Surely you’re going to plant more than half the fields—”

“Yes, but
I’m
going to plant it. Not you.” He tightened his grip on the reins, hearing the hard bite of his tone and knowing there was nothing he could do to stop it. The wind was blowing against her, plastering the soft lace of her dress against her slender stomach and breasts. Maybe it was his imagination, but he thought he could see the faint pebbles of her nipples through the fine, light fabric. That did not help his situation at all. He could feel his cock lengthening. He didn’t dare look down and hoped she didn’t either.

He swallowed hard, trying to pretend he didn’t want her. “You’ve worked hard enough, Claire. I can do the rest myself. I need to do it. It’s my land now. I won’t take advantage of you.”

“I’m the one afraid of taking advantage of you.” Sincerity warmed her voice, making the distance between them shrink. “You saved my home and my ranch. You protected me against Sanders.”