Tame a Wild Bride, a Western Romance (15 page)

He’d take her shopping at Sadie’s, for things for herself, not for the kids.
 
Maybe take her on another picnic up in the hills above town.
 
Far enough away from civilization that they could make love out in the open.
 
He’d look his fill at her beautiful, perfect body, then he’d cover her with his and love her all the ways he knew how.

Do for her all the things he should have done when she first came.
 
She deserved so much more than he had given her.

CHAPTER 8

 
Carolyn Vandenberg stepped off the train platform at Creede.
 
As expected, no one waited for her.
 
She made her way directly to the little house two blocks off Main Street and let herself in.
 
Her brother never kept it locked.
 
She guessed he didn’t have anything worth stealing.

She’d lived in this backwards town for nine years.
 
Nine years she’ll never get back.
 
But no one would recognize her now.
 
Her new red hair color hidden beneath the plain bonnet she wore and new figure ensured that.
 
She’d always been a skinny little thing with mousy brown hair but no more.
 
Now she had generous curves in all the right places.
 
That’s what happens when you aren’t working your finger to the bone every day.
 
She wore cosmetics, too.
 
Carefully applied powder, cheek and lip rouge, and coal black around her eyes made her unrecognizable as the clean faced woman who’d left.

Now she’d wait for her brother to get home and explain his letter to her.
 
But in the meantime she’d have a drink or two.
 
She found his whiskey in the kitchen cupboard.
 
Pouring herself two fingers of the amber liquid, she swirled it in the glass.
 
So pretty.
 
Even the worst rot gut whiskey had the same beautiful amber color as the smoothest single malt.
 
She preferred the single malt, but would settle for the rot gut her brother drank.
 
Any port in a storm as they said in San Francisco.
 
Or in her case, any drink was better than no drink at all.
 
She took the bottle and filled her flask.
 
She’d emptied it ages ago on the train.

If little brother would get home from his job at the bank, they’d make their plans.

*****

She’d had the best dream.
 
Tom had massaged her all over with her rose cream until her muscles were totally relaxed and limp.
 
He’d brushed her hair before climbing in bed and telling her all the most luscious things he wanted to do to her body.
 
Ahhh.
 
Only this time he made love to her.
 
She felt all warm and cozy, inside and out.
 
She didn’t want to get up even though the sun hit her in the eyes.
 
The sun!!!

“Tom!”
 
She turned over to find his side of the bed cold.
 
He’d been gone for a while.
 
Why didn’t he get her up?
 
He always got her up with a swat on the butt.
 
This morning he was gone.
 
She threw off the covers and realized she was naked.
 
Where was her night gown?
 
Her dream.
 
Was it real?
 
How much of it was real?
 
She didn’t feel sore between her legs and there was no blood on the sheets.
 
Wasn’t there supposed to be blood on the sheets after her first time?

Raising her wrist to her nose, she sniffed.
 
Roses.
 
So it was true.
 
At least part of it.
 
Tom really had taken care of her last night.
 
She’d been so tired.
 
Even with Agatha here, she was still always tired.
 
She put her hands to her cheeks, her face burning at the memory.

She grabbed her chemise, shoved her arms through the sleeves and yanked it into place.
 
She followed that with her stockings, garters, shoes, corset, skirt and shirtwaist blouse.
 
Reaching for her hair she realized Tom had braided it for her again.
 
How many men knew how to braid hair?
 
She laughed.
 
Her man did.
 
Probably any man who was the father of a little girl.
 
She unbraided her hair, brushed it till it shone and then twisted, forming it into a bun atop her head.

Checking the clock on the bureau she was amazed.
 
It was already seven thirty.
 
She’d slept right though breakfast and all of her morning chores.
 
What about the men?
 
Who cooked for them?
 
They had to eat.
 
Had Tom gotten Agatha to cook?
 
Oh, those poor men.

She rushed downstairs to the kitchen.
 
Tom sat at the table with a cup of coffee.

“There you are, Mrs. Harris.
 
I was beginning to wonder when you were going to wake up.”

“Why didn’t you wake me?”
 
She poured a cup of coffee from the big pot on the stove.
 
It always had coffee in it.
 
The long standing policy of the kitchen was that the person who took the last cup had to make the new.
 

“You needed the rest.
 
You’ve been working too hard, Rosie.
 
It’s time you had a break.”

“What about the men?
 
Breakfast?”

“Agatha fixed breakfast, yours is on a plate on the warming shelf.
 
I did your morning chores along with mine.
 
What I want from you is for you to eat breakfast, you’re going to need your strength,” he waggled his eyebrows at her.
 
Was he teasing her?

“Then,” he continued, “I want you to pack a bag for the two of us for a couple of nights away from here.
 
We’re going to town.”

“Town?
 
Why?
 
Now that you have Agatha you don’t need me anymore?”
 

He got up and came over to her.
 
Running a finger down her jaw, he told her “I’ll always need you, Rosie.
 
You can’t get rid of me that fast. And I said pack for the two of us.
 
Remember?”

“Then why town?”

“You need a break.
 
You’re working yourself to death and I’ve been letting you.
 
Well, I’m not going to let you anymore.”

Rosie eyed him suspiciously.
 
“What’s gotten into you?
 
First you rub cream all over my body, which I loved by the way.
 
Then you brush and braid my hair and you brought in Agatha and took me on a picnic, now this.
 
Why are you being nice to me?”

Her words cut him like a knife.
 
Had he really been that bad?
 
He’d basically ignored her, except when she was sleeping.
 
Then he allowed himself to touch her arm and run his fingers through the long end of her braid to the softest hair he’d ever felt

“I always should have been nice to you.
 
You’re not like Sarah, never have been, never will be.
 
I’m sorry treated you that way.”

She stood leaning against the counter.
 
“What are you saying?
 
Exactly?
 
I don’t want to get it wrong.
 
Are we going to have a real marriage?
 
One where we actually talk to each other and get to know each other?
 
Don’t say yes and get my hopes up if you don’t mean it.”

Tears filled her eyes.
 
He got up, went to her and took her in his arms.
 
“I don’t blame you for not believing me.
 
I want a real marriage too.
 
I won’t rush you.
 
There are still many things you don’t know about me and I about you.
 
We should really get acquainted, don’t you think?”

“I think I’m going to cry.”

“Oh Rosie,” he chuckled.
 
“This was supposed to make you happy.”

“I am happy, you big lout,” She buried her face in his shirt covered chest and balled.
 
Then she gave him little baby kisses all over his face while she cried some more.

Tom let her cry, knowing it was a step in the right direction.
 
She had to get it out before she could move forward.
 
He wasn’t sure what changed for him.
 
Her inate kindness, her determination, the love she gave to everyone including him, changed him.
 
He couldn’t remain the harsh ass he’d been.
 
She made him want to be good to her.
 
To treat her like she treated them all.

He’d always liked Rosie, especially liked looking at her.
 
Seeing her with the children, teaching them, not just how to read and write and cipher but how to be good people.
 
Even Suzie was learning to behave like a little lady, wasn’t throwing her tantrums nearly as often and never in front of Rosie because they didn’t work.
 
Rosie ignored her.
 
In the beginning that just made Suzie madder, but now, she was realizing she usually got her way if she asked nicely.
 
And if it was something Rosie couldn’t let her do, she always sat Suzie down and explained it to her.
 

It was the way the men looked at her.
 
With admiration.
 
She treated everyone of them like family.
 
She started baking special cakes and making their favorite meals on their birthdays.
 
These were men who never celebrated anything much less their birthdays and here was Rosie giving them each something special to look forward to.

It was everything about her.
 
It was just Rosie.
 
She didn’t pretend she was something she wasn’t.
 
With Rosie what you saw is what you got.
 
She admitted when she didn’t know something and was eager to learn.
 
And Tom had discovered he was eager to teach her.

Tonight they’d have their wedding night.
 
He’d ask Mary for a cold supper in their room.
 
Mary usually had the bridal suite available and he’d get it. The cost didn’t matter.
 
It was the only room with a bathroom and the tub was big enough for two!
 
He knew it because he’d helped get it there.
 
They’d had to take off the outside wall and lift it with pulleys to get it in and then rebuild the wall afterwards.
 

He intended on taking advantage of that tub to get Rosie all warm and pliable.
 
Relaxed and wanting when he took her.
 
He knew she was a virgin.
 
The way she’d exploded in his arms proved that to him.
 
She was untried and he was sure that had been her first orgasm.
 
The first of many.
 
Rosie wasn’t going to know what hit her.
 
The things he wanted to do to her and with her.
 
He wanted to make love every way he could think of.
 
By the time he was done, Rosie was going to be one satisfied woman and wouldn’t even think of leaving him.

She didn’t plan on it now.
 
He knew that.
 
But it was there in the back of his mind, he needed to mark her.
 
Make her his for everyone to see.
 
What kind of caveman mentality was that?
 

He needed her.
 
Wanted her.
 
By the time this night was over there’d be no doubt of either in her mind.

*****

Carolyn sat on the sofa sipping the last of her brother’s whiskey, trying to make it last, when he finally walked through the door.