To Wed a Wanton Woman (22 page)

Charlie took a piece. “How come you
cancelled the wedding party? We were all looking forward to getting to know
your wife.”

“Why do you think I did?”

“I’m your friend, Train. You aren’t going to
want to hear this, but you look like a fool to a lot of people.”

“Charlie, you’ve known me a long time. When
have I given a shit what anyone thinks? Marion’s my girl.”

“Jack has a thing for your girl,” Charlie
blurted. “I don’t want to be the one to tell you, but they’ve been seeing each
other every day. The way Jack talks it’s gotten pretty heavy, but hell, what
did you expect when you married a whore?”

Trains hands balled into fists. “Jack is
full of shit.” He spit the jerky from his mouth before he threw up.

“You could ask anyone, but they’re all
afraid to say anything. Even TJ’s seen her down at the shack.” Charlie took a hefty
swallow from the canteen. “You can punch me if you want, won’t change the
truth. She’s making a fool out of you.”

A crackle sounded near the river. Charlie
picked up his rifle and took careful aim. The shot rang out and the three-point
buck dropped to the ground. “We’ll need to move farther up stream, unless you
want to head back.”

Train shook his head. “I need to shoot
something and if we go back now, it’ll either be Jack or Marion.” Picking up
his rifle, he headed back toward the horses while Charlie retrieved his kill.

* * *

Marion
came through the back door without knocking. Allison’s kitchen felt more like
home than her own little house. “Have you or TJ said something to Train? He’s
getting suspicious. He watches me like a hawk. This morning I had to pretend to
go back to bed in order to convince him I wasn’t eager for him to leave.” She
went to the stove and poured a cup of coffee.

“I know I haven’t said a thing. I doubt TJ
did either. He knows Train would be livid if he knew how much time you were
spending in the shack.” She had a large pot simmering on the stove. Marion went to stick her nose in when Allison gave her a warning glance. “I’m making soap.
The fumes will burn your eyes, not to mention it stinks until I add a little
oil.”

Marion
took the pad of paper TJ had given her and turned to the next blank page. “All right,”
she said with pencil poised to write. “Step one.” Marion began to transcribe
the instructions Allison dictated for the process. She struggled spelling some
of the words, but as long as she could read what she wrote, it didn’t matter.

Marion
tapped the pencil against the table. “Any other lessons for today, teacher?”

“No, but tomorrow I’m going to show you how
to organize a pantry.”

Marion
kissed Allison on the cheek. “Don’t do too much.” She put her hand on Allison’s
belly. “I’ll stop by before I go home. Train said he’d be late, so I’m going
over to the shack.”

“Don’t get caught,” Allison hollered. Marion went out the door.

Marion
shuddered stepping out into the chilled air. She rubbed her arms as she jogged
down the path to the shack. She burst through the door and was greeted by the
delicious smell of apple pie.

“Hello, Sunshine.” Cake’s wide, genuine
smile held the same warmth as the cast iron stove in the corner. “Are you
hungry?”

“Do you have to ask?” Marion stepped next to
him and took the oven mitt he held out to her. Carefully and slowly, she opened
the oven door.

“Just a crack,” he warned. “You don’t want
to let the heat out.”

“You’ll make a chef out of her yet,” Betty
said when she came over. “Got your writing tablet?” Marion held it up. “Good
because today you are going to learn about the animal your husband is hunting.”

Marion
sat down at the nearest table and licked the tip of her pencil. “Ready.”

Jack walked into the shack. “Smells delicious.”
Then he caught a glance of Marion. “On no, did you do the cooking?” he asked.
“Keep her away from the food. Your cookies made me sick.” He pointed his finger
at her.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t try one first. I mixed
up the baking soda for the baking powder.”

Betty laughed. “Actually, you mixed up the
soda and the flour.”

“A cup of soda is bound to clean anything,
including the body.” Cake’s deep chuckle bounced his belly.

“Well, you’re safe,” Marion said. “I didn’t
make the pies.”

* * *

Train let Clive lumber along at a slow pace
because of the extra weight on the back of his saddle. He was eager to see if
the others who had been up on the mountain had fared as well as he and Charlie did.
A three-point buck hung on the back of Charlie’s saddle, but he’d managed to
snag a huge six-point devil along with a younger male who had yet to establish
a large set of antlers.

It was well past dinner when Train and
Charlie entered the shack booming with boisterous laughs and stories of who was
king of the mountain. Charlie put his fingers in his mouth and let an ear-piercing
whistle screech through the room. “I wouldn’t want any premature celebrations,
but we have ourselves a new king of the mountain.” He bowed to Train. “If you
would care to step outside and see for yourselves.” He opened the door. Their gutted
kills lay on the ground waiting to be hung and skinned before the meat spoiled.

Cake rubbed his hands together. “I’d say
that head would look right pretty hanging on the wall above your fireplace.”

“Wouldn’t be any room left in the house,”
someone said and everyone laughed. “The walls of that little house would cave
in under the weight.” He lifted the buck by the antlers. “Christ, Train, you
brought him down on your horse?”

“Maybe you could invite us out to dinner.
Your wife can make up some well-done venison burgers.” A few men laughed, but
the joke was lost on Train.

“Jack, shut up,” Cake said. He grabbed hold
of the smaller deer. “Let’s get them hung.”

Train walked back to the stables instead of
helping with the deer. He wanted to check on his horses before riding the new
stallion home. Clive was tired from the hunt. He’d stumbled a few times. His
muscles strained under the additional weight. “Good job today,” he said while
he gave him more hay. Clive’s ears perked up and he whinnied.

Train moved farther down the aisle until he
reached the stall with the dark brown stallion. The horse stomped the ground in
anticipation of being rode. His
Legacy
, the stallion that would sire his
future stock. Foregoing the saddle, still using a bridle, he led the horse into
the cool, night air and headed for home.

The sky was a watercolor of charcoal gray,
ivory, and muted blue. The silhouette of his home looked like a place of
solitude against the horizon of still blue waters and steep rocky cliffs. It
called to him unlike anything ever had. He felt the same way about the woman
behind the maroon curtains lying naked in a bed of clean sheets.

Only a sliver of a flame, still burning in
the fireplace, lit the room. Marion’s black hair fanned out across her pillow
while her even breathing strummed his heartstrings.

The changes were not subtle around the
house. The care she took with sewing the curtains was clearly visible. The hems
were straight and pleated in just the right spot to reflect a faint pattern in
the fabric.

Obviously, his wife was very observant. The
kindling box was full of splintered wood from the crates she’d emptied. She
wielded his axe just as he had done many times while building the house and
chopped firewood. He had to admit, for a woman to profess having only one skill,
she was becoming adept at household chores.

Aromas in the house hinted at apple pie
confirming what Charlie had said. In addition to finding time to mislead him
into believing that she was taking care of Allison, she was entertaining the
likes of Jack. Suddenly she didn’t look as appealing lying in bed. He grabbed
his bedroll and went to sleep under the stars.

Marion
woke, surprised to find herself alone in bed. The house was dark with the heavy
curtains blocking the morning sun. Allison had been right. It was nice to wake
up rested rather than rudely rousted by the blinding sun.

She quickly got the fire going again before
she went to the outhouse. “Train?” She came across his bedroll near the side of
the house. “What in the hell are you sleeping out here for?” The combination of
cold and the need to use the outhouse made her dance from one foot to the
other. “Go inside,” she demanded as she hurried away.

Marion
returned to find Train sitting at the kitchen table. He had put the coffeepot
on the stone slab close to the fire to heat. “Do you want apple pie for
breakfast?” She pulled back the cloth covering the dessert. “What is it now?”
she asked.

He had yet to look at her. Still his lips
formed a thin, angry, line.

“If you now prefer the company of your horse
during the night rather than your wife in a warm bed, I’ve done something to
upset you.”

Train stood and grabbed his hat off the
hook. “Figure out whose bed you prefer before making assumptions about where I
want to be.” He swung open the door, causing it to crash into the wall.

Marion
followed and grabbed hold of him by the arm. “Hold on just a minute,” she said,
seething. “If you have something to say, be a man and come right out with it.” Marion could feel her temper rising. She had never backed down from a fight, and didn’t
plan to start now.

“Where have you been whiling away your
afternoons? Don’t bother lying.”

Sucking in sharply, she said, “Are you
insinuating that I’ve been keeping company in someone else’s bed? Or perhaps
I’ve set up shop right here in the backwoods?” She sniffed the air. “Something
smells unsavory, but it isn’t sex.” She let go of his arm. “Because I’m not
having any!” She went back in the house as Train mounted Legacy.

Train pushed the horse into a full gallop.
The force of the hooves hitting the ground traveled up powerful legs and
pounded into Train’s body. He closed the distance to the ranch house in record
speed. Sliding from Legacy, he entered the shack to see familiar faces sitting
at tables eating breakfast and drinking coffee, the hum of their chatter
familiar to Train. His eyes scanned the line of men looking for one face in
particular.

Train spotted Charlie first. Fierce anger
gripped him, threatening to take him to the edge of reason. He was more than
ready to take on anyone who interfered with his need to get to Jack.

“Get some breakfast,” Charlie said, standing
in front of Train to block his visual search of the room.

His gaze refocused on Charlie. “I’m not
hungry.”

“Then go for a walk. Don’t come in here
looking for trouble.” He pushed Train toward the door.

“I’m not looking for trouble. I came for
Jack. He’s a damn liar and I’m going to prove it.” He easily shoved Charlie to
the side. Twenty years Charlie’s junior, the smaller man was no match for Train.

“Train!” Cake’s commanding tone stopped him
again.

“Don’t get involved in this.” He pointed to
the old cook who had been his friend since childhood. “She’s my wife!”

“And she hasn’t done nothing,” he bellowed.
“Jack hangs around with his tongue waggin’, and she couldn’t care less.”

Train blinked several times trying to soothe
the burning sensation in his eyes.

“You’re so sure she hasn’t changed, you
haven’t noticed a damn thing she’s done for you.” He put his chubby finger in
Train’s face. “Men look down their noses at whores, husbands put their wives on
pedestals. Ask yourself how you see Marion.” Cake put a scoop of scrambled eggs
on a plate and shoved it at Train.

Train declined the eggs, deciding he needed
Allison. He need to talk to someone he trusted.

“Morning,” he said, stomping through the
kitchen door. Sissy jumped from her chair and ran into his outstretched arms.

Train stood behind Allison and looked over
her shoulder as she fried steak and eggs in an enormous frying pan. “Smells
good, mama.” He touched her distended belly when she thrust it forward. “How’s
the one in the oven?”

She laughed. “He’s been quiet. Funny how my
belly seemed to pop out over night.”

“He? You’ve decided you’re having a boy.”

“Wishful thinking,” she said then smiled.

He sat at the table while she fixed him a
plate. “You know why I’m here.”

She nodded. “You’re hoping I’ll talk about Marion.” She set a cup of coffee in front of Train, then sat across from him. “Joseph, you
either trust her or you don’t. I don’t follow her around during the day. Nor do
I inquire about her love life. I assume you’re the only one with those
details.”

Train took a sip of coffee. “I know Marion. She likes to talk. If she were getting on with Jack, she’d tell you.”

Allison’s smile gentled. “Then I guess you
don’t have anything to worry about. She’s only bragging about you.” Her cheeks
turned pink. “I have to admit, at first I thought she was exaggerating, but Marion isn’t easily impressed.”