Happily Ever After in the West Read online

  “Sure. We can have succotash.”

  Teddy stared up at him. “What’s sucker-dash?”

  Matt feigned astonishment. “Your momma never made you succotash?”

  “I ain’t got a momma.”

  “Haven’t,” came Miss Blue’s gentle voice.

  Matt froze. Poor kid. He curled his arm around the boy’s narrow shoulders. “You want to learn how to cut out biscuits?”

  At Teddy’s nod, Matt laid one flat rock out and dumped the dough on it. “Now, we need an empty—”

  Before he could finish, Miss Blue handed him an empty bean can. Matt shot her a look of thanks. “Then, you sprinkle some more flour over your rolling pin—this can, here—and squash out the dough with it.” He handed the can to Teddy, who dipped his fingers into the bag of leftover flour and coated the can until it looked snow-dusted. Matt laid his hands over the boy’s and demonstrated how to roll the dough.

  Teddy pushed the can back and forth across the sticky ball, pressing it all the way to the edges of the rock. Then Matt showed him how to use the upside-down can to cut out the biscuits. He stepped back from the fire to let the boy do it by himself.

  He could feel Miss Blue’s eyes on him, and his neck began to burn. Why was she staring at him like that? Instinctively he pulled his hat lower and turned toward the twins.

  “Girls, how’d you like to make an oven?” He showed them how to position one flat, smooth stone close to the coals and prop the other against it at right angles. Teddy plopped down the biscuit rounds, and when they were all laid out like white polka dots on the dark stone, he dusted off his hands and looked up at Matt, his brown eyes shining.

  Matt turned away. He couldn’t look at the boy too long—reminded him too much of Luke. He busied himself dumping cans of beans, corn and tomatoes into his cast-iron frying pan and settling it among the coals. Next, he stalked down to the river and knelt to wash the flour and grease from his hands.

  He kept his back to Miss Blue. When she spoke near his ear, he damn near fell in.

  “Thank you,” she said softly. “You are good with the children. They like you.”

  Matt inhaled a whiff of that lavendery scent she wore. “How about you, Miss Stevenson?”

  A long, long silence fell. Matt focused on the sound of the breeze in the treetops, the children’s voices around the fire, his own heartbeat hammering against his ribs. At last she spoke.

  “I have been watching you.”

  “Yeah, I noticed. Makes me nervous. Look, Miss Stevenson, I had no business asking you that.”

  “And I have no idea why I am answering.” Her voice was soft but controlled. “Yes, I do like you. Even if you are—”

  “A man-hunting marshal?” he supplied.

  She laughed. “I was going to say, even if you are rather, well, raggedy, and your eyes are unfriendly.”

  “I try to keep my eyes hidden.”

  She smiled. “So I have noticed. That makes me nervous. What is it you wish to hide?”

  Matt opened his mouth, then shut it with a snap. He wasn’t about to admit he’d been covertly admiring her lithe, graceful body. Her hair. He hadn’t admired a woman this much as far back as he could recall, and he feared his hunger showed in his eyes.

  “Mr. Johnson?”

  “Matt,” he corrected.

  “Mr. Johnson—”

  “Supper’s ready!” Teddy banged his mixing spoon against the rolling-pin can. “Come and get it!”

  Matt rose. He towered over Miss Blue but she didn’t cower, and she didn’t step back. All of a sudden he wanted to kiss her.

  Dammit, what was he thinking? She wasn’t the kind of woman a man played loose with; Miss Blue was the “other” kind. The marrying kind. But he sure wasn’t. Yeah, he was lonely. Most of the time he felt so hungry for something—he couldn’t say exactly what—he hit the red-eye too often. But admiring a woman and catching Royce sure didn’t match up. He’d sworn to catch his brother’s killer, and that was that.

  Ellie felt better after she donned her dry chemise and bloomers, not only cooler after her brief dip in the river but…safer. Something about the way Mr. Johnson looked at her made breathing difficult. It wasn’t dislike she saw in his gaze; more like a gleam of—could she even say it?—desire. Or what she had always imagined desire looked like in a man’s eyes. No man had ever looked at her that way. It made her feel, well, valued. Wanted. Or at the very least, noticed. She didn’t dare wonder what he read in her eyes.

  She liked the way he dealt with the children, especially the easy way he included Teddy MacAllister in his activities. The man would make a wonderful father.

  Oh, no, he would not! This man was a lone wolf, set on his vengeful mission. However, by delaying her entry into Gillette Springs, he was sacrificing his chance to corner the killer in town. He could just as easily have left them here and ridden off to capture the man.

  But he had not. She stepped into the fire circle, watching him patiently show Teddy how to keep the biscuits from scorching. The man was unusual. Possibly even worthy of respect. But he certainly did not look like most men.

  She did wish he would trim his hair and shave off the bristly shadow that covered his cheeks and chin.

  On the other hand, remembering how she herself had felt being teased and ignored because of her unusual height, maybe what the man looked like was neither here nor there.

  After supper the children rinsed out the tin cans and Matt showed them how to scrub the flat “oven” rock and his frying pan with a handful of sand. Dusk faded into darkness except for a sliver of rising moon, and the children rolled themselves up in their blankets, forming a semicircle around the glowing coals. One by one they nodded off to sleep.

  Mr. Johnson, Matt, spread his bedroll between the smoldering fire and the river, and Teddy immediately settled himself next to him. Ellie positioned herself on the opposite side of the fire, as far away from Mr. Johnson as she could get. He made her uneasy. Almost angry. He made her feel odd inside when she was near him.

  An hour passed. She breathed in the pungent smell of the pine branches he’d cut to lay under their bedrolls and looked up at the stars winking through the trees. An owl tu-whooed somewhere above her head. Finally her eyelids drifted closed, and then she felt someone—a large someone—settle quietly beside her.

  Ellie jerked to a sitting position. “What do you think you are doing?” she whispered.

  “Getting comfortable,” he said quietly. “Teddy snores.”

  She bit back a laugh. “I didn’t know that. It doesn’t seem to bother his ‘intended,’ Noralee,” she joked.

  “If a girl’s smart, she pretends to be deaf and blind at times. That boy needs a friend.”

  “He lost his mother a year ago, when Indians attacked the train she was on. Ever since then his father has been distant and withdrawn. I think Teddy is feeling lost.”

  “Bet you never saw an Indian till you came out west. Do they scare you?”

  “Some scare me, yes. But I think most are just people like us, trying to feed their families and raise their children.”

  “Yeah,” he grunted into the quiet. “I guess.”

  “What are you afraid of, Mr. Johnson?”

  He gave her a long look. “Shirking my duty,” he said in a monotone. “Turning out to be a man who doesn’t do what he says he will.”

  “Oh?”

  “And maybe,” he said even more quietly, “spilling my guts to a stranger.”

  “I have never understood the code that men out here seem to live by.”

  “What about you, Miss Stevenson? You afraid of anything besides Indians?”

  She settled back onto the ground and wrapped herself in the pink quilt that had been left over after the children had selected their blankets. “Sometimes I am afraid that my mother was right. That I really am inadequate.” There was a subtle wobble in her voice.

  “Your mother thought you were inadequate? Inadequate how?”

  “Oh,
my. Mama had a long list. Inadequate as a person, I guess. As a teacher.” She hesitated. “As a woman.”

  Matt lapsed into silence. He wanted to reach out and touch her shoulder. In his book, this woman was just fine. More than fine.

  “Miss Stevenson, why—”

  “Oh, call me Ellie, why don’t you?”

  “Ellie, why did you come out west? What do you want from life out here?”

  “Honestly?”

  “Yes. Honestly.”

  “Well, it’s hard to explain.” Again, her voice was unsteady. “I want to—to feel connected to people. I want to feel that I matter.”

  “You mean connected to a man?”

  “I feel quite silly saying this, especially to a man, but I—I want to love someone. I’d like to have a child. Have a family of my own.”

  She sat up straight, as if something startled her. “I want you to know, Mr. Johnson, that I have never spoken such words to a living soul.”

  Matt said nothing, just listened to the whoosh of the wind in the trees. “I want to catch Royce,” he said. “See him hang.”

  “Is that all?”

  “I—dammit, I don’t know anymore. I thought catching Royce would be it. Now I’m feeling…aw, hell, I don’t know what I’m feeling.”

  Except that it felt good to be honest, to say things he had not consciously thought out before. And it sure felt good—very, very good—to lie beside Ellie, so close he could touch her.

  “What,” he murmured after a long moment, “will you wish for on your birthday?”

  She sighed. “I will be twenty-seven in November.” Her voice was sounding drowsy. “On this birthday, I will wish to grow no older!”

  He chuckled. “Anything else?”

  She stifled a yawn, and her voice was muzzy. “Yes, there is one other thing. I would like to know what a man’s kiss feels like.”

  Matt lay rigid, not moving a single muscle. He’d like to know what kissing her would feel like.

  Nah. It was the wrong time. The wrong place. He glanced sideways at her. Anyway, she didn’t really want a kiss right now. It wasn’t her birthday, and besides that, she was sound asleep and snoring a bit herself.

  Chapter Seven

  Ellie opened her eyes the next morning to see Matt sitting cross-legged on the ground beside her.

  “Sit up,” he ordered.

  Instantly she was wary. Her glance around the campfire showed five quilt-wrapped lumps; the dapple-gray horse was already hitched up to the wagon and stood patiently next to a thick pine tree. What could be wrong?

  Reluctantly she rose up onto one elbow. He bent toward her and tipped her chin up with his thumb. Her heart stopped. Is he going to kiss me?

  She leaned toward him and closed her eyes. But instead of his lips, she felt his fingers smearing something sticky across her cheek. She snapped her lids open.

  Matt grinned at her and held up a tin can.

  “Oh, no,” she moaned. “Not more mud.”

  He dipped his first two fingers into the can and smoothed the dark contents over her forehead and down her nose, then sat back and surveyed his handiwork with a half smile.

  “You look kinda cute, all muddied up like that.”

  “And pigs flew over the moon last night,” she shot back.

  His smile faded, but that odd light was back in the depths of his eyes. “No, but something did happen last night.” He caught her gaze and held it. “Never met a woman I could really talk to before.”

  Ellie felt her throat close. She knew if she spoke, she would start to cry, so she remained silent while he smeared the last of the mud on her cheeks and the backs of her hands. She had said things to him last night that she had never shared with anyone before. And, she suspected, the same was true for Matt.

  It had changed her somehow. Made her feel close to a man she’d known only twenty-four hours. And if that wasn’t strange, even worrisome, she didn’t know what was.

  “Now,” he announced when he’d used up the last of the mud slurry. “Let me see the bottom of your petticoat.”

  “What? I most certainly will not!”

  “Rather broil under the sun, like yesterday?”

  “N-no, but—”

  Don’t argue. Pull your skirt up a few inches.”

  She peeled back the quilt and inched the blue muslin up to midcalf. He studied the petticoat flounces so intently she began to wonder if he’d never seen a proper lady’s undergarments. Most likely a man like Matt had seen dozens of scantily clad floozies who wore no underwear at all.

  She did wonder about this man. Had he been close to a woman before? Had he ever been in love? And why did he carry his U.S. Marshal’s badge in his pocket instead of wearing it on his shirt? So many things about him were a mystery, including the way he was looking at her petticoat.

  He poked a finger at the hem. “Tear off about two feet of that bottom ruffle.”

  She opened her mouth to protest, then caught sight of the determined look on his face. So she bit through a thread, unraveled a few stitches and tore off a length. The ripping sound made her wince.

  Matt produced a three-pronged willow branch, sharpened the ends to a point and poked them through the white muslin. In two minutes he had fashioned a parasol of sorts.

  “Isn’t fancy,” he said, handing it to her. “But it should shade your face.”

  Ellie experimentally twirled it over her head. “Very clever,” she quipped. “This should be all the rage back in Boston.” Then she looked straight into his eyes and smiled.

  “Thank you, Matt.”

  Matt felt his face grow warm. He got to his feet and stalked off to load up his saddlebag and tie his bedroll on his horse. He couldn’t look at her any more. Noticing that hair of hers, the tangled dark waves touching her shoulders, a yearning such as he’d never felt before tugged inside. He guessed somehow she was carving a little hollow in his heart.

  But, hell, he was going to leave her today, get on his horse and pick up Royce’s trail where he’d left off. If he was lucky. Royce could be heading to Montana or the Yukon territory. But wherever it was, Matt knew he wouldn’t be here, anywhere near Ellie.

  “Wake up the younguns, Ellie,” he said over his shoulder. “Got to get moving before it gets too hot.”

  He heard the sleepy noises the children made as Ellie moved among them. Nice, peaceful noises that somehow made his heart ache.

  He wasn’t getting any younger. How many more years was chasing Royce going to take out of his life? Why are you asking this? You got something else to do?

  The truth was he’d never thought beyond catching his brother’s killer. Until now.

  But he couldn’t walk away in the middle of a job he’d sworn to do. Besides, he told himself, there would be other women.

  But it sure was hard to leave this one.

  From a mile away, Gillette Springs looked peaceful enough, but Matt didn’t want to risk it. Putting Ellie and her students within fifty miles of Royce would be a big mistake. The man had a reputation for assaulting women, especially pretty ones.

  An even bigger mistake might be letting his feelings about her and the kids make his decision for him. Still, he should ride in first and check the saloons, the sheriff’s office, the hotel registry to make sure his quarry had cleared out of town.

  He signaled Ellie to pull up and stepped Devil close to the wagon.

  “Why are we stopping?” she asked. “We’re almost there.”

  Matt sighed. Ellie was logical to a fault. Trouble was, she had no idea what Royce was capable of. Matt did. He’d learned a lot about the man just following in his shadowy footsteps for so many years. Royce liked whiskey, easy money and women. Matt suspected Royce had robbed a dozen banks between Texas and Oregon. Funny he’d never run into an angry sheriff or a posse; from the look of it, Royce could strike and disappear like the rattlesnake he was.

  “I’m going on into town alone, Ellie.”

  Her face changed.

  �
��Don’t worry, I’ll be back for you.”

  “That isn’t what I am worried about,” she said quietly.

  He leaned in toward her. “What is it, then? You’ve got a frown across your forehead big as my hand.”

  Ellie swallowed and stared down at her own mud-covered hands. “I am afraid for you. From what you say, this Royce sounds more like an animal than a man.”

  “He’s a man, but he’s mean. I don’t want you in town just yet—let me check it out first.”

  “That is thoughtful of you, Matt. Thank you.”

  “Not thoughtful so much as sensible. Now, climb down from that bench, Ellie. I’ve got something to say to you.”

  He dismounted to hand her down, and when she stood before him, her dark hair loose about her shoulders, her sky-blue eyes wide, her mud-smeared face expectantly looking up at him, his mouth went dry.

  “Stay there and keep quiet,” he growled to the children. Then he walked Ellie around the back of the wagon behind a thick clump of vine maples.

  “Here will do,” he said.

  “Do for what?”

  He ignored her question. Slowly he brought his hands up to her shoulders and pulled her toward him. He hadn’t planned this. He’d wanted to warn her to be careful, but suddenly something else was more important. He bent his head and pressed his mouth over hers.

  Kissing her was like flying on a magic carpet, with swoops and dips that flooded him with hunger. He folded her tight, tighter against his body, and she slid her arms about his neck.

  A jolt of scorching heat ran up Ellie’s spine and settled below her belly. His mouth moved gently, purposefully over hers, and with each passing second the pleasure of their lips touching grew more exquisite. He tasted of something smoky and rich, and she couldn’t get enough.

  When he lifted his mouth from hers she was breathing hard and she could feel his body trembling.

  “Damnation,” he muttered. He kissed her again. This time when he released her she couldn’t breathe at all. His eyes looked both puzzled and hungry and they held hers for a long, long minute. Ellie’s insides felt as if they were bursting into flower.