Under Starry Skies (22 page)

“Now I see why you and Brett are friends.” She watched while he reached for a ribbon from the vanity and tied the end of the braid. “You are both laid-back and self-assured. You don’t place much faith in the theory there are jobs meant only for men or for women?”

“Not much, I reckon—not after growing up with Betsy who had to learn everything we did. She can rope, ride, and shoot as good as my brothers. And once she started working at the General Store when she was sixteen, each of us had to take turns cooking for the family.” He smiled. “Now if you go around town telling everyone I fix women’s hair, I will be forced to deny it and tell everyone you’re having strange visions brought on by the exceptionally warm weather.” He winked and pulled the braid. “Come, I want to show you the ranch.”

Together they walked outside, and she could see he was proud of the well-maintained sprawling ranch house and its three barns for horses and domestic animals, carriages, and storage. The air smelled of hay, dust, moist earth, and cattle as they walked to the corral. The horses trotted over to the rail begging for some affection or a treat. Tye was silent as he stood beside her and watched her rub the forehead of his favorite mare. Maria suspected the earlier antics of the day had taken its toll on both their energies. She, too, was weary and had to stifle a yawn.

With daylight fading, they walked to the ranch house. Tye started a small fire in the fireplace while she lit candles and lanterns and unpacked the picnic baskets. Over a dinner of roast beef, mashed potatoes, and the inn’s best dessert of apple crisp with whipped cream, they tried to put the earlier incident of the day behind them. Later, after they finished storing the remains of the food, Maria went to the fireplace in the living area and stood staring at the dancing flames of yellow, orange, and red.

Moments later, Tye approached her from behind, and spoke in a low voice, “It’s much too lovely an evening to occupy ourselves with thoughts of what happened earlier today.” He pushed aside her braid and kissed her tenderly on the nape of her neck.

“Tye.” She turned to look at him. “This is the second time someone has tried to frighten us. If they had wanted to kill us, don’t you think they could have?”

“Do we have to talk about this now?”

“Yes.” She was not going to be distracted.

“What are you getting at?”

She pulled away and stepped back, staring at him. “The only time you’ve been shot at is when you’re with me. Maybe it’s me someone is trying to scare.”

“Why on earth would someone want to frighten you?”

She shrugged, and he stepped closer again. She wondered whether she should tell him about the warning on her blackboard but decided against it. She was certain it had to be the prank of a student. “Maybe someone is disgruntled with Abby running the inn, and if I decide to go back to Utah or head east, they know she’ll leave, too. Maybe it’s somehow connected with the death of my uncle.”

“Like I said, it’s much too complicated to sort out now.” He drew in a breath and let out a long sigh. “If it’s worth anything, Frank Norwell had the sheriff checking out a former hired hand of Lang Redford’s who was using a wallet like your uncle owned. He goes by the name of Jebb Masters.”

“What did he find out?”

“Masters said he bought it from a peddler who came through town a few weeks ago.”

“So the sheriff really hasn’t found anything new surrounding my uncle’s death?”

“No, and it’s much too beautiful an evening to speculate about death, Maria.”

She frowned and nodded. “You’re right.”

Gently, his hand cupped her chin and tipped her head back. He looked into her eyes. “The night is beautiful, but nothing is as beautiful as you are,” he whispered as his lips found hers.

When the kiss ended, she pulled away and leaned her forehead on his chest. “Were you ever homesick when your father first brought you here?”

“Are you?” he whispered in her hair.

“A little,” she said, her voice muffled by his shirt. “I worry I won’t be a good enough teacher. I worry the inn won’t be successful. I worry I won’t be able to adjust to this harsher kind of living. I really worry I might find this was one big mistake Abby and I made.”

“Ah, Maria, it’s no mistake.” He pushed her gently away, his hands on her shoulders. “Let me show you the most spectacular spot on this earth, and you decide whether there’s anything to match the Colorado Territory.” He went to the bedroom and returned with a quilt over his arm, then led her out to the stable where he tossed only a saddle blanket over his horse, and pulled her up behind him to ride bareback.

They took a path beside the house leading to Cherry Creek. The evening was filled with the night sounds of insects and somewhere far off, the hoot of an owl and the cry of a coyote. Minutes later, they arrived at a huge willow beside the gurgling creek and he slid off, helping her down. He tied the horse farther up the bank, parted some low-hanging abundant branches, and laid a quilt on the soft grass, then tugged her down beside him, leaning his back against the massive tree trunk and pulling her back against him. Between the leafy undergrowth, they could see the sky above with it mass of twinkling stars starting to appear in the night sky and out in front of them, fireflies emerged to dance and dart through the ferns and reeds along the riverbank.

“When I first moved here, after my mother died just months before back east, I found this spot. It was the perfect place to sneak away, to think, to mourn, to be homesick, to forget my worries, or just to be by myself, away from the noise and hectic life of a ranch. This is where I fell in love with the Colorado Territory. Have you ever seen such a spectacular light display put on by God and nature?”

“No,” she whispered and watched in awe as the night grew inky black and the world lit up before her eyes. Millions and millions of more stars sparkled overhead and hundreds more fireflies frolicked around them. “It’s magnificent. Simply stunning.”

“No, you’re stunning.” He turned her and tilted her face up to touch his lips gently on hers. The kiss became more insistent, and Maria found herself pulling him closer as fiery sensations flooded her body. Just before she felt as if there was no more air in her lungs, he pulled away and pressed fevered kisses over her face and forehead. “Maria,” he whispered, “let me make love to you under the stars. Stay with me tonight.”

“I can’t stay, Tye. You know why.”

“Please let me make love to you and hold you all through the night.” His voice was tender, but insistent. His eyes never leaving her face, he reached around and untied the ribbon from her braid and worked his fingers through her hair letting it spill onto her shoulders and back. “I promise to make this night special, more special than all those stars in the sky.”

She shook her head. “I’ll make love with you, but you must promise you’ll take me home. I don’t
want
to leave you, but I can’t stay. I can’t risk ruining my reputation.” Her hands traveled to his chest. She could feel the heat of his body. He smelled of sweet dried hay, sunshine, and a hint of bay rum.

“Are you sure?” His gaze searched her face. He covered her hands with his.

She looked into his eyes, dark and earnest and remarkably serene. She pulled away, reached up and tunneled her fingers through his hair and kissed him, then dropped her hands to start unbuttoning his shirt. She realized she loved him with a passion that frightened her with its intensity.

“Am I sure I love you? Or sure I want to make love with you? Yes, to both.” She smiled.

He kissed her long and deep and hard, and when it ended, he quickly removed his clothes, then slowly disrobed her, his dark eyes full of burning passion and tenderness. He started with her face and slid his hands gently down her cheeks, the sides of her neck, then down her shoulders to her ribcage, caressing her. His hands explored the plane of her back, her small waist, and her narrow hips. His mouth dipped to close over her breast. As his tongue explored each one, he moved his hand to gently stroke her inner thighs and find her most erotic spot, his fingers exploring and tormenting her until she was soft and damp.

Maria gasped in sweet agony and felt an unfulfilled yearning spiral down to the core of her body as his hands and mouth worked magic on her body. A feeling began to overwhelm her, a feeling so intense she could hardly stand it. It was the age-old desire of woman needing man and man needing woman. She grabbed him by the sides of his face and pulled him to her, kissing him and clawing at his back, needing him to come to closer and satisfy her hunger.

He broke away and looked down on her with a knowing smile. When, at last, he stretched above her and buried himself deep inside, he waited for her to become comfortable with the fullness. He kissed her gently on her the side of her throat and whispered, “I love you.”

The moment of pain lasted only a few seconds before the unfulfilled longing consumed her again. Slowly they moved in perfect rhythm together, each trying to reach that unknown pinnacle. When she felt waves of euphoria wash over her and fling her up and up and up into a blinding brightness, she was certain a million more stars exploded around her as she felt herself falling over the cliff of contentment and sublime relief, carrying Tye along. He spilled his seed within her, calling out her name as his hard body went slack and satisfied against her.

He rolled off her, gathered her close to him, and positioned her head on his shoulder. Gently, he kissed the top of her brow as he flipped part of the quilt to cover her body from the night air. “You have me bewitched, Maria,” he whispered in her ear.

“And you have taught me how perfect love can be,” she said.

Content to be together—if even for a few hours, they lay together in a warm embrace watching the heavens above and nature below put on a show that could only be meant for lovers.

Chapter Seventeen

The morning was a breezy one, perfect for hanging wash on the line. Abigail took another pillowcase from the laundry basket and snapped it viciously to dislodge the wrinkles before attaching it to the clothesline with equal vengeance. With two clothes pegs clamped between her lips, she hurried down between the filled lines with a dishtowel about to receive more of her anger.

From atop his horse at the side of the yard, Brett watched with curious concern. She wore a simple blue cotton dress, and her hair, a mass of luscious thick curls, were tied upon the top of her head with a simple piece of white rag. He dismounted, and carefully removed the basket behind his saddle, and set it near an alder tree where he tied his horse. He walked between two long rows of sheets coming to stand a few feet from where she was stabbing pegs onto a bed sheet. He picked up the basket of wet laundry lying near his feet.

“You trying to kill that sheet?”

She jumped at his voice, eyes wide. “The last thing I need is your humor, Captain Trumble. You scared me.”

“Brett. Remember? My name’s Brett. And dang, my timing must be off because you seem to be in a less than joyful mood every time I show up.” He held the laundry basket while she took out what looked like a curtain and proceeded to hang it beside the pillowcase.

“You can talk about it,” he urged. “It sometimes helps to blow off some steam, darlin’.”

“Darlin’? Don’t call me your darling! You want to talk about it?” she mumbled with a peg in her mouth. When she realized she was talking garble, she removed it. “You want to talk about it? The girl who was supposed to do the laundry for the inn’s bedrooms didn’t show. Aunt Emma has run up an enormous bill at the General Store on doodads, baubles, and useless nonsense. Maria and Tye were threatened with a gunnysack full of snakes last night on the way to the Ashmore ranch. Someone is stealing money from me. I paid off the loan at the bank only to find out Emma believes she’s entitled to even more of the Mule Shed’s proceeds.” She wagged a finger at him. “Less than joyful, I should think!”

“Whoa, looks like you’re riding a runaway bronc here. Let’s finish killing these last two pillowcases and take a break.” He watched her grab four clothespins, jam two between her lips, throw one pillowcase over her shoulder, and expertly hang one and then the other.

When she was finished, she glared at him.

“Come, let’s sit on the back stoop in the sunshine and get a glass of water,” he suggested and removed his hat.

While she fetched the water, he retrieved the basket from beside his mount and set it beside the first step. Abigail returned within minutes with a tray filled with two glasses and two sugar cookies on a plate.

“This is all the food I have at the moment to offer.” She slumped down beside him with the tray between them. “Unless you have something wonderful hidden under the lid of your basket.”

“Actually, I have a gift for you and Maria from Tye. He planned to deliver this to Maria tonight, but was called out by the army to interpret for a group of Indians passing through south of here, and didn’t know how long he’d be gone.” Brett opened the basket’s lid and took out a squirming little puppy with a black and white brindled body and with ears, eyes, and upper face so coal black he looked like he was wearing a mask. “This little boy is one of Swamp’s. Seems Swamp was kicking up his heels and doing a little more than just herding for Tydall. He made friends with Frank Norwell’s kelpie who had five of these lively little creatures three months ago.”

“Made friends or mated?”

Brett shrugged. “Oh, a little of both, I guess. I should add the kelpie was a purebred and Swamp is…well, let’s just say we’re using some creative guesswork with Swamp’s bloodlines.”

“Why, he’s adorable!” Abby set the tray aside and took the squirming puppy he handed her and laid him in her lap. “What’s his name?”

Brett shrugged and scratched his head. “Whatever Maria and you decide to name him.”

“Is he old enough to be weaned?’

Brett nodded. “Over twelve weeks or more.” He could see Abby had already begun the bonding process. The pup snuggled belly up in her lap, and she was alternately petting him behind his ears and rubbing his stomach while he gazed up at her with his big contented brown eyes. Oh, how Brett wished he were that puppy! He and Tye had spoken about getting the women a watchdog. Both of them were not pleased the sisters were living in a cottage at the edge of the forest where there might be more than simple wildlife underfoot. Neither were they happy with Lang Redford and his shoddy hired men.