The Trail Master's Bride (9 page)

“Nonsense,” he barked. “She had as much clothing between her skin and my hand as if I’d touched her waist to lift her up to the wagon. I don’t see you carrying on when I do that.”

“It was her posterior you were touching, Mr. Carr,” Mrs. Gillespie protested in outrage. “And you were… spanking her. A husbandly right at best, sir.”

“And there was kissing on the mouth,” the same red-faced woman restated.

“You’re all overreacting. Let’s move out.”

“I’ll do right by her.”

As a group, a silent one for once, the women turned to Ben Jacobs. He ignored them, his eyes locked intently on Weston.

“That is a most honorable offer, Mr. Jacobs,” the good reverend replied, breathing a heavy sigh of relief. “I think it’s best if we take care of it as soon as possible. I’ll get my bible from the wagon.”

“Excuse me,” Weston growled. “Don’t you think the widow Hobart needs to have a say before you start the vows?”

“I’ll talk to her now.” Jacobs said this, though he didn’t move to do so, still watching him as if waiting for something.

None of this sat right with him and he felt anger flare up in his gut. It wasn’t the only emotion churning there, either. Jacobs was fifty-four, over three decades her senior, old enough to be her father, her grandfather at that. A young woman like Mina Hobart didn’t deserve to be married off to an old man—although Jacobs seemed healthy enough. How many good years did he have left? She needed a young man, someone strong who could curb her impulsive ways and settle her down a bit. She needed babies, a home, and a good life with someone she could grow old with.

The idea of her making those babies with a man thirty-four years her senior made his stomach turn a bit. Those notions were quickly overtaken by images of Mina in the throes of passion, with someone who could stir her body, her womanly, curvaceous body. As he had so often since they’d met, he imagined her stripped bare beneath him as he kissed every naked inch of her, the fullness of her mouth, her silken skin, the round breasts that he knew instinctively would be tipped with berry pink nipples to match her tempting lips. He pictured himself teaching her the ways of a man’s touch as he kissed and licked his way down her flat belly to the treasure that lay between her thighs.

A throat cleared. His head came up. Unsure if it was Jacobs or Jamison who had interrupted his lurid daydream, in either case, he was grateful. Any further thoughts that ended between Mina’s naked thighs would have had him bursting the buttons of his breeches and embarrassing himself. Feeling a bit warm, he pulled off his hat and finger-combed his damp hair back off his forehead.

Jacobs moved toward him. Softly, he spoke for Weston’s ears only. “I’ll do it, man, unless someone else steps up and claims her. A younger man who’s had his eyes full of her since she joined the train in Independence would be best.”

He scowled at the older man. Ben was right, and the fact that he’d noticed, burned his dignity more than anything. Setting pride aside, he pondered his future plans at the end of the trail: building on his land, living in a house, not from a wagon or in a saddle, and finding a wife to start a family. There was no reason Mina couldn’t be that wife and help him achieve his goals. It would take considerable work on his part, and patience. As the image of her pink nipples hard and eager for his mouth came to mind, he figured that alone might be reward enough for his efforts.

“Dad-burned wily old man,” he grumbled, slamming his Stetson back into place. “I’ll go fetch her.” As he pushed by the reverend, he added. “We’ve got fifteen minutes, Jamison. So don’t think about getting long-winded. We’ve had enough delays on this train as it is.”

* * *

Having washed and stowed the lunch dishes, Mina was busily doing as Weston had instructed, tying down anything loose inside the wagon in preparation for their ride through Mitchell’s Pass. Not an easy task since they had combined two wagons into one and most everything of hers was hanging from hooks inside. She was outside bundling supplies in a blanket that she was tying with rope, when he approached.

Used to the sound of his boots with his long-legged stride, she glanced up, her lips tilting into a hesitant smile of greeting. Seeing the glower on his face, she froze. Leaning back on her heels, she waited, steeling herself for more bad news. There had been nothing else on this miserable journey.

“Finish up quick, Mina. We need to meet with the preacher before we get going.”

Puzzled, her mouth fell open, then shut just as quickly. She couldn’t imagine why they needed to meet with Reverend Jamison.

“Whatever for?” she asked.

“We’re getting married.” He threw the answer over his shoulder as he climbed up in the wagon and began rifling through one of his storage trunks.

Mina could only stare after him. Surely she’d misheard.

“What?” she squeaked.

“Now where did I—?” came his muffled response from inside the wagon. Not thinking it was aimed toward her, she was silent, waiting for him to come out and explain. “Ah, ha! Here it is.” He was jumping down the next instant while tucking something in his pocket. Seeing her in the same position, he frowned. “C’mon, darlin’. We’re burning daylight.”

She looked on without moving a muscle as he finished tying the bundle and tossed it easily into the wagon bed. He clasped her upper arm firmly and drew her to her feet, immediately guiding her toward the Jamisons’ wagon. Only then did she regain the ability to move, which she did decisively by digging in her heels.

“Wait!” she protested. “What did you say?”

His neck twisted and he looked down at her, his brows drawn together, his fingers not giving an inch. “Which part?”

“The part where you said we’re getting married. Surely I heard you wrong.”

“Nope, your hearing is dead on. Let’s go.”

But she didn’t go, pulling her arm free and backing up a few steps. “I don’t understand.”

He turned to face her, hands on his hips, his head tipped way back as he gazed skyward for a moment and drew in a breath. For patience, she surmised, having seen him do this before. She watched as his lips moved, appreciably counting to ten. Ever since the spanking, that would have gotten her moving. Not this time. Too bad if he became annoyed with her. He was talking about a major change in her life and she wanted to know what the heck was going on.

As she waited, arms crossed over her chest, his chin dipped down and his blue eyes homed in on her. “It seems you were right. Folks won’t quit talking about you and me. A few have asked for you to be removed from the train.”

Her hand flew to her mouth. “But why? I’ve been quiet since—” She stopped, swallowing the word, not willing to say it out loud. “Haven’t I been trying? I felt sure I was doing better?”

His expression softened and he took a step forward. When she backed away, his eyes flickered. Was that anger? Disappointment? She didn’t have time to puzzle it out because he took another, longer stride and came right up against her. She had nowhere to go with the wagon now against her back. “You have been doing better, Mina. Although it seems you’ve done so by asking for help.”

“I did,” she agreed with a nod. “I asked Mr. Gillespie what to use to tie down the wagon flaps so they wouldn’t keep flying open and getting dust all over everything. And Mr. Cooper, I asked him if he could show me how to set the churn so it would work from the motion of the wagon, like the other women do. And Mr. Frost, I asked him about building a fire. He recommended buffalo dung like you did, so he was of no help, but I thanked him anyway.”

“That’s it, Mina. The women didn’t cotton to you approaching their menfolk for advice. And after what they saw—”

“That’s ridiculous! I simply needed help. I wasn’t making overtures.”

“Why didn’t you ask the ladies, or come to me?”

She looked away, blinking fast as the wind kicked up. She hoped he would think the tears in her eyes were related to dust in her eyes, not this newest blow to her esteem.

“I know it doesn’t seem fair, ‘cause it doesn’t sit right with me either, but a beautiful young widow within spitting distance of their men got their feathers ruffled, Mina.”

Distracted by him calling her beautiful, she didn’t take time to savor the moment or the warmth that filled her inside, focusing on the dilemma at hand that had taken priority. He’d asked a question, not a romantic proposal as she’d dreamed of as a girl, but why hadn’t she gone to the ladies of the train for help? “I couldn’t ask the other women. They think so little of me already.”

“What about asking me?”

She shook her head. “You’re so busy.” It was a half-truth at best. She didn’t want to admit she was still embarrassed over the buffalo dung-throwing incident. She was also being cautious, not wanting him to get frustrated like Elliott had when she’d asked questions or risk more criticism over her failures. So, she asked the other men, who she thought were being nice by helping her out.

“We can discuss this later. The point is they came to me, insisting something be done about you, the temptress in our midst.” Sarcasm and anger were mixed in his tone. “One option was to put you off the train at the next trading post, which is Fort Laramie. They have patrols and troops moving between Salt Lake, Santa Fe, and Independence. You’d have to make your way beyond that on your own, which is something I won’t allow. Only one of the other two options was suitable. Me. So we are to be married.”

“Thank the good lord.” Mina exhaled the words softly, her relief immeasurable. Seeing his quirked brow, she realized how that sounded. “I mean, I’m thankful I won’t be abandoned in a crude army fort, with a bunch of strangers, hundreds of miles from civilization.”

“I’m sure they would have been honorable and seen to your safety, Mina, but it’s not something you need worry about because that’s not going to happen.”

“What, may I ask, was option number three?”

“Ben Jacobs offered his hand.”

She felt his eyes on her face and tried to hide her appalled reaction. She liked Mr. Jacobs. He’d been so kind and she considered him a dear friend; however, marrying a man having ten years at least on her own father was unthinkable. She was grateful for his kind offer. It couldn’t be what he wanted, not so soon after he’d lost nearly his entire family.

“He was bluffing, Mina. Calling my hand, if you will.” He must have read the confusion in her eyes, not knowing the term and went on to explain. “A poker term, which means he knew he could push me into marrying you if I thought he was willing.”

“Why would you? You don’t even like me. I’m a pain in your—” She snapped her mouth short of saying it.

“Ass, Mina?” he asked, amused. Although she didn’t find it funny, the sound of his low rumbling laughter set her heart aflutter. “I’ll agree, at times you can be a real pain in my hind parts, but you have many redeemable qualities. I’ve seen you with the kids on the wagon train. They are drawn to you. You read to them the other night by the fire and they hung on your every word. That was very kind of you and I have also seen shades of sweetness. Not often, since you mask it well with sass and the bite of your tongue, though I suspect you do that to protect yourself and out of uncertainty, not real nastiness or spite. You’re also very easy on the eye. I was planning to take a wife when we get to Oregon, this being my last trip, so marrying you will save me a lot of courting time.”

“How convenient for you.” The sarcasm dripped from her tone.

“See, protecting yourself,” he replied, his eyes meeting hers. “I apologize for that; it was insensitive, but it was truthful. I think we’ll get on fine and we’ll both benefit from this marriage. You need a strong man to safeguard you and I’m already filling those shoes. You also need a solid future; I can provide that too. I won’t be too hard to look at for the next thirty or forty years, will I?”

Mina felt the blood rush to her face. Weston Carr was anything but hard to look at. Ruggedly handsome was more like it. Tall, muscular, he was also very capable and confident, and made her feel protected. He was also quite strong, thrilling her in the way he lifted her like she was little more than a bag full of down. And he made the effort to see that she was safe and secure, which was something else uncommon to her for most, if not all, of her life. Moreover, he stirred something deep within her that no man ever had before.

“I think marrying me is the best of all three options.” His hand rose to her cheek, holding her gently as his thumb arced out to lightly brush her lower lip. He leaned down, and as he did, Mina closed her eyes, feeling the warmth of his breath on her face. She anticipated his kiss, a sense of disappointment sweeping over her when he stopped just shy of doing so. When he next spoke, she could feel his words on her lips. “What do you say, darlin’? Wanna get hitched?”

Her lashes swept up and their eyes met. His lips had tilted up in a teasing grin and his blue eyes sparkled with mischief, although she read concern for her in their depths. He didn’t have to do this. Other men, uncaring, indifferent men like her father and Elliott, would have packed her off at the first opportunity, no questions asked, washing their hands of her. Not this man.

She cleared her dry throat. “With such a gallant proposal, how could any girl say no?”

“Smart girl.” He smiled, his long arms curving around her shoulders and pulling her in for a hug before he got serious. “I’ll take care of you always, Mina, and try to give you a happy life. You mind me, as well as you have these past few days, and we’ll get along just fine.”

Mina stiffened. How could she have forgotten he was so dictatorial, and worse, a spanking kind of man? Sakes alive!

“Come on,” he said, after he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Let’s go find the preacher.”

Taking her hand in his, he pulled her along behind him. Overwhelmed by the notion of yet another hasty marriage, her thoughts whirled in her head. As she followed along, she took in his broad shoulders and his muscular back that tapered to a lean waist and narrow hips. Her gaze tracked lower, lingering on his rear end, which filled out the back of his trousers perfectly. The fact that she was ogling his derriere made her blush. That it was accentuated by the sturdy leather
chaparejos
—having no idea, she’d had to ask what they were, not of him, though; she wouldn’t have dared—covering his lower half from the waist down except for the middle portion, which was where she was currently gawping. The odd pants included a missing section in front, which she’d only been brave enough to glance at briefly before the sight sent heat coursing through her to her cheeks and other very intimate and inappropriate places.