Wyoming Bride (35 page)

“Where did you hear that?” Flint asked warily.

“Emaline told me. She heard it from Wilhelmina Beaumont and Bessie MacDougall. I’d like to go.”

Flint took a sip of coffee to give himself time to formulate a response to her request. The two women Hannah had mentioned were the wives of Hoot Beaumont and Warren MacDougal, ranchers with large spreads south of John Holloway’s Triple Fork, just north of Cheyenne. It was the end of the second week of December, and Hannah was a short month away from her due date. “I’m not sure you should be traveling this close—”

“I might be the size of a walrus,” she interrupted, “but I’m feeling perfectly fine.”

The weather had been cold but dry, so he couldn’t use that as an excuse to leave Hannah at home. If it turned bitter cold or a blizzard struck, they could always take refuge at one of the ranches along the way, and finish their journey to Hoot Beaumont’s place, where the holiday meeting of the Association was being held, when the weather improved.

However, the meeting itself might become dangerous, since Flint and Ransom intended to accuse Patton to his face of rustling and giving rifles to the Sioux. “Wives don’t actually attend the meetings,” he pointed out. “They gather in one room, while the men gather in another.”

“I have a pretty good idea what’s going to happen at that meeting,” Hannah said, eyeing him over her shoulder as she washed up the last of the dishes. “I want to go.”

Flint grimaced. Of course she did. “You’re eight months pregnant, Hannah.”

“I’m pregnant, I’m not an invalid,” Hannah replied, turning away from the sink and drying her hands on her apron. “I’m perfectly capable of riding in a buckboard.”

“Ransom and I can travel faster on horseback.”

“Emaline’s coming, too.”

“Since when?” Flint asked.

Emaline appeared in the kitchen doorway with Ransom on her heels. “Since I talked Ransom into it,” she said with a smile. “We never did get to Cheyenne. I thought we could combine the trip to Hoot and Wilhelmina’s ranch with a trip to Cheyenne to do some Christmas shopping. We can all have supper and spend the night at a hotel in town.”

Flint glanced at his brother and said, “You went along with this harebrained idea?”

“Didn’t seem too crazy to me,” Ransom said. “We have no way of knowing how long this good weather will last. Might as well take advantage of it to get some shopping done.”

“And I want to send off a letter to Miranda,” Hannah said. She sat her ungainly bulk down on the chair next to Flint, put her hand on his, looked into his eyes, and said, “Please, Flint?”

Maybe he could have said no if she’d made it a demand. But there was no way he could deny her when she was asking him so prettily. Besides, he needed some paint to dress up the cradle he’d made as a Christmas gift for her, which he could pick up in Cheyenne.

“All right, fine. You can go.”

“Yes!” She rose immediately, kissed him on the cheek, and then waddled like a duck toward the stairs.

Emaline followed after her and turned to call back, “We’ll be ready to go in the shake of a lamb’s tail.”

“You realize this is a bad idea,” Flint said to his brother.

Ransom shrugged. “They’ll be with everyone else’s wives. I don’t expect they’ll be in any danger.”

“Not at the meeting. What about after? We’ll still have to get from Hoot’s ranch to Cheyenne. Then we’ll be in town overnight. If Patton gets mad enough, it could mean a lot of trouble for us.”

“Better to face that trouble in town, where we’ll have witnesses, than out here at the ranch,” Ransom said.

Flint knew his brother was right. If they were going to be ambushed, it wasn’t going to happen in town. It was the trip home that was worrying him. “You don’t think it’s crazy to take two pregnant women on a two- or three-day trip each way in the middle of December?”

Ransom grinned. “Crazy as a loon, but I wasn’t going to tell my wife no, and it looks like you couldn’t say no to yours, either.”

Flint smiled. “No, I couldn’t.”

“We’re ready,” Hannah announced as she came waddling back into the kitchen with Emaline right behind her.

“That was fast,” Flint said.

The two women exchanged a conspiratorial look that told Flint they’d been planning to make the trip all along. He should have felt resentful at being manipulated. But the delighted smile on Hannah’s face, and the appearance of her dimples, kept him from regretting his decision. It felt good to make her happy. He wasn’t going to examine his feelings for his wife any more closely than that.

Since the weather stayed clear, they ended up camping their first night on the road. They rose early the next morning to finish their journey, and the rest of the trip to Hoot Beaumont’s ranch was filled with lively chatter from the women.

Flint’s mind was only half on what Hannah and Emaline were saying. The other half was focused on how and when he should accuse Ashley Patton of being a cattle thief as well as selling guns to the Indians.

The other ranchers hadn’t yet seen the evidence Flint possessed. He had a letter from Colonel Simmons documenting how many cows with doctored brands had been butchered at the fort. He also had the colonel’s written response from the New Haven Arms Company regarding Patton’s order for a dozen Winchester ’73s.

“Flint, we have a problem,” Ransom said.

Flint was surprised to discover how far ahead of the buckboard he’d ridden. He stopped Buck and asked, “Are the women all right?”

“Hannah’s having labor pains.”

“Damn! I was a fool to let her come.” He reacted with anger because that kept him from revealing to his brother how terrified he felt. “Are we sure it’s the real thing?” he said as he turned his horse back toward the wagon.

Ransom shrugged. “I don’t know any more about this than you do. Em’s scared.”

“How’s Hannah?”

“I’m fine,” Hannah answered. She placed a hand on her belly and said, “I’m not sure it’s labor pains, Flint. I just mentioned to Em that I had some twinges.”

Flint felt sick to his stomach. If this was labor, it was bad news. Babies who weren’t fully formed didn’t often survive. “You sure about the date you got pregnant?” he asked bluntly.

Hannah glared at him. “I know what day I got married. I guess I know when I got pregnant!”

Flint stared at her. He couldn’t believe what she seemed to be saying. She’d gotten pregnant on her wedding night? How could she know she hadn’t gotten pregnant after that? Unless she hadn’t had sex after that. It hardly seemed possible, but it wasn’t something he could—or would—ever ask her about. Instead he said, “How hard are the contractions?”

“Not very,” Hannah replied.

“So maybe it isn’t labor,” he said. But if it was, they were going to need help. “Let’s get where we’re going. Maybe one of the ladies at the meeting can tell us more.”

And deliver the baby if that became necessary.

“False labor,” Wilhelmina Beaumont announced.

Flint had never heard two more comforting words. “Thank God. Is Hannah all right?”

“Your wife’s fine, Flint. She’s resting in my bedroom,” Wilhelmina said. “We’ll do our quilting upstairs today and keep Hannah company. Don’t worry. She’ll be fine.”

“Is it safe for her to travel on to Cheyenne after the meeting?” Flint asked. “We were planning to spend the night there.”

“What twinges she had have stopped,” Wilhelmina said. “So I don’t see why not. That’s a strong girl you have there.”

“May I talk to her?”

“Sure. We’ll all finish up our coffee and tea cakes down here and give you a little privacy before we head upstairs.”

Flint took the stairs to Hoot Beaumont’s bedroom two at a time. When he got to the door, he was strangely nervous. He knocked softly, and Hannah called, “Come in.”

He opened the door and found her sitting up in an enormous bed with a fancy canopy set on four carved posts. She was wearing one of Wilhelmina’s voluminous nightgowns and was sitting upright with several pillows stacked behind her. A cheery fire crackled in a river rock fireplace.

“I’m sorry to be so much trouble,” she said, her eyelids dropping so her lashes sat on her freckled cheeks. She looked bashful and vulnerable. “I really thought it was labor.”

“I’m glad it wasn’t,” Flint said. “Wilhelmina says you’ll be well enough to travel to Cheyenne after the meeting is done.”

She lifted her gaze to his timidly, and Flint felt his heart take an unexpected leap. “I wanted to be downstairs to hear how things went,” she said.

“I’ll tell you everything later,” he replied.

“Why are you standing so far away?”

Flint realized he was still poised right inside the door. He closed the distance to the bed and sat down beside Hannah. She reached out her hand, and he took it. His heart began to romp in his chest. “I was worried about you,” he admitted.

She smiled. “I was worried about the baby. I’m glad to know she’s going to be staying put for a while longer.”

“It made me realize I should probably send you somewhere to stay this last month where there’s a doctor to deliver the baby, either to town or the fort.”

She shook her head. “Our daughter is going to be born at home. You’re going to deliver her.”

Flint felt sweat break out on his forehead. It wasn’t heat from the fire, because where he sat, the air was chilly. “I don’t know squat about delivering babies, Hannah.”

“I’ll find out everything we need to know before I leave here today. I’m sure the ladies can tell me all the important things. Emaline can help, too.”

Flint wondered how much help Emaline would be, considering her fear of childbirth. He hadn’t minded nursing Hannah when she was a stranger. Now that he was falling in love with her—or maybe already had fallen in love with her—he was terrified of doing the wrong thing and causing harm.

“What if something goes wrong?” he asked.

“Then a doctor wouldn’t be much use, would he?”

“Hannah, I don’t want to lose you.”

She closed her eyes, leaned back against the pillows, and sighed. “I know. That would be difficult for you, I’m sure.”

He knew what she was thinking, that if she died, he would no longer have a wife as a buffer between himself and Emaline. He felt his heart squeeze. He wanted to tell her that that wasn’t why he would miss her, but he didn’t think she would believe him. So he remained silent. How could he prove his feelings had changed?

Only by loving her.

He leaned over and kissed her softly on the mouth. If only he could convince her he loved her. If only she could learn to love him in return. Life would be so … He wasn’t sure what word would properly fill in that blank. Wonderful? Happy? Satisfying? Special? All of the above.

“Get some rest, Hannah. If you’re not feeling well later, we can always stay here for the night.”

She opened her eyes, sat up straight, and smiled at him. “I’m already feeling better. The only reason I’m in bed is because Wilhelmina insisted on it.”

The smile, which showed no signs of the twin dimples that appeared when she was truly happy, made his gut wrench because he knew it was meant only to soothe his worries. She didn’t want to be a bother. He wanted her to know she was no bother at all. That for her, he would carry the world on his shoulders. All she had to do was ask.

But Hannah wasn’t asking for anything from him. Especially not his love.

“Wilhelmina is worth listening to, Hannah. She’s borne and raised a bunch of healthy kids.”

Hannah pursed her lips. “All right. I’ll stay here and rest. Promise me you’ll come get me when you’re done, and that we’ll go to Cheyenne tonight, so I can mail my letter to Miranda.”

“Only if you’re feeling—”

“I’m fine!” she snapped. She huffed out a breath and said, “Really, I am. I hate all this fuss. I want to be downstairs with the other ladies.”

She wasn’t fine, or she wouldn’t be so irritable. She must be more tired than she was letting on. Thank goodness she would be able to rest this afternoon. “They’re all going to be up here in a minute,” he said, “so you’ll have plenty of company. I’ve got to go, Hannah.”

He rose and glanced down at her. She looked flushed and beautiful and very desirable lying in that big bed. He felt himself becoming aroused and turned away so she wouldn’t see.

“Flint,” she called after him.

He turned to look at her over his shoulder. “What?”

“Don’t get yourself killed.”

He chuckled. “I’ll do my best to stay alive. See you later, Hannah.”

He supposed it was a good thing that she didn’t want to have to find another husband. It meant she wasn’t going anywhere before he had a chance to woo her properly.

Flint hurried down the stairs and joined the ranchers who’d congregated in the parlor. The women were bidding their husbands good-bye and heading toward the stairs. He perched on the arm of the chair where Ransom was sitting, waiting for all the ladies to vacate the room. When they were gone, twelve men remained, including Ashley Patton.

Because Sam Tucker wasn’t a member, he wasn’t allowed to attend Association meetings. But Flint had seen Tucker’s horse tied up near Hoot Beaumont’s bunkhouse, which meant the gunslinger was close by. Flint figured there wasn’t much risk of physical harm from Patton or his gunman at Hoot’s house. The danger would come after they left, somewhere between here and Cheyenne.