Mail Order Prairie Bride: (A Western Historical Romance) (Dodge City Brides Book 1) (17 page)

“My God, you are so beautiful,” he whispered, wondering how he could ever have wished Sarah to be plain. She was perfect just the way she was—her black hair splayed out on the pillow, her full lips moist and parted, her sweet cheeks flushed. He sauntered toward her, grinning, a ripple of anticipation moving through him. He would undress her again, piece by piece, and enjoy every minute of it.

He would enjoy every minute of the rest of their lives.

Good God, did he care for her that much?

He stopped and paused, pulse thrumming in his head. He wasn’t ready to feel so much, so fast.

“Is something wrong?” Sarah asked, leaning up on one elbow.

Startled, he smothered his fears and walked to the bed. “No, nothing at all. I just wanted to look at you. Why don’t I remove your boots?” He sat at the foot of the bed and untied the laces, then pulled each one off and set them lightly on the floor. “And your stockings….”

In a few seconds, he was rubbing her calves and massaging her small, delicate feet.

“That feels nice,” she said, leaning up on her elbows again. “But why are you being so good to me?”

He grinned. “What makes you think I’m not enjoying this?” Pressing his thumbs into the silky arch of her foot, he massaged in tiny circles. “Pleasure for you is pleasure for me.”

She tilted her pretty head to the side, considering his answer. “I didn’t think it was like that for a man.”

“Well, maybe you learned from the wrong man.”

Sarah paled, and he went still, realizing he’d once again said the wrong thing. Several seconds of uncomfortable silence filtered between them.

“I suppose I did,” Sarah finally said, lying back. “But I believe the
right
man is going to teach me everything I didn’t know, and then I will know what I’ve been missing.”

Her words reassured him, and he felt a strange, soft comfort. They’d come a long way since their first day on the prairie. There was forgiveness between them now. He set his hands back to work, massaging her lovely feet.

Later that night as they were making love, their bodies moving together in exquisite harmony, Briggs felt a tension mount as his body arched in a burning release. He was wanting her so much more than he’d ever intended. He felt a sudden urge to resist it, to fight it, because he feared the inevitable loss of her, as he’d lost so many others he cared about. How long would it be before he surrendered to it and let go of his fears?

Exhausted and confused, he collapsed on top of Sarah. She squeezed him tightly, nibbling at his earlobe. “Was that good?” she asked innocently.

“Yes, my angel.”

He told himself to enjoy her, to let himself fall in love with her. She was his wife, after all.

He buried his face into her thick, black hair. “But satisfied only for a short time, I think. Then I might like to do that again.”

“I was thinking exactly the same thing,” she answered breathlessly, and he held her closer than he’d ever held anyone.

Chapter Sixteen

A week later, pale gray clouds settled over the prairie, their cottony textures seeming near enough to touch. The air was heavy and uncommonly still, the distant horizon shrouded in mist.

Sarah walked back from the barn carrying a bucket of fresh milk, and feeling the prickly rope-handle dig into her palm. Breathing fast, she struggled not to spill any of her precious cargo. She would set the bucket out over night to let the cream rise to the top, then wear herself out making yet another batch of butter to trade for wool blankets.

“Come, Shadow!” she called over her shoulder as she reached the door to the dugout. “It looks like rain.”

The dog trotted out of the chicken coop, creating a flurry of feathery commotion and clucking, and his cheerful wagging tail swept Sarah’s skirt as he passed by.

Inside and down the steps, the house seemed darker than usual for this time of day, the clouds stealing what light could normally sneak into the tiny dwelling. Sarah set down her bucket and rubbed her reddened palm. She looked around the empty house and decided to light the lantern to avoid straining her eyes. Shadow yawned and stretched out next to the unlit stove.

As she struck the match and touched the flame to the lantern wick, she reminded herself to purchase matches before winter came. And more lamp oil.

Oh, how would her meager butter collection pay for everything if something happened to the fall wheat? There was no chance she’d be able to churn enough to save her from selling her mother’s pearls. But she would if she had to.

She glanced curiously at the bed made of narrow tree stumps, wondering if the box beneath it contained any money besides what Briggs had given to Howard. Strange, that her husband had not mentioned the box before, but she supposed he had never mentioned much of anything at all.

Until very recently, that is.

Thanks to a swarm of locusts.

She sat on the chair, still staring at the bed, trying to decide if she could move it herself. But would that be snooping? Would that be a breach of trust? Not that there was much trust to breach in the first place, but there was something growing, no matter how small or fragile.

Shadow whimpered and Sarah jumped. She turned to see him staring at her, his dark eyes wide, his head tilting.

“What are you looking at?” she asked, feeling guilty over something she hadn’t even done.

Thunder rumbled outside and Sarah rose from her chair, absent-mindedly smoothing the creases on her skirt. Thinking not a moment longer about trust and guilt, she moved toward the bed and closed her palms around the rough tree bark that covered her bedframe. Her back strained when she lifted it, inching it out from the sod wall. She felt Shadow’s judgmental glare, and reminded herself that he was just a dog.

When she pulled the bed out far enough, she saw the tin box sitting unobtrusively in the square hole. Odd, that she had not known of its existence a week ago, having slept above it all this time.

Her stomach did a quick flip and she found herself glancing nervously at the door. If it had begun to rain, Briggs may decide to return early from plowing the field.

Not that it mattered, she told herself. She wasn’t doing anything wrong. She only wanted to know how much money they had so she could plan their trip to town and prepare a list of supplies.

Forcing herself to ignore the nervous tightening in her belly, she crouched down on her knees between the bed and the wall, lifted the cold tin box, and set it on the mattress. She stared briefly at the tarnished tin, back at the door, then back at the box again. Slowly, tentatively, she raised the lid.

The small, rusty hinges squeaked, and Shadow trotted over to sniff what was inside. Sarah looked down at a few buttons sitting on top of some papers. Reaching in and unfolding them, she discovered the deed to the property and a few old grocery bills marked paid.

Feeling a little foolish for having been so curious about nothing, she moved to replace the papers. It was then that she noticed a small blue velvet bag with a drawstring tucked into the corner of the box.

Shadow dropped his furry chin to rest on her outstretched arm, watching closely as she withdrew the bag and inserted two fingers to open it and feel what was inside. She touched something cold and hard, and pulled it out.

Eyes wide with disbelief, she stared at the sparkling discovery—a jewel necklace—undoubtedly worth far more than her mother’s pearls. A large oval gemstone surrounded by tiny diamond sapphires was set into a teardrop-shaped setting of gold, suspended on a shiny gold chain.

Sarah held the exquisite object between her fingers, feeling her pulse soar at the sheer beauty of it, as it reflected the golden flame from the lantern.

Shadow whimpered again and she patted the soft fur on his head. “What’s the matter, boy?” she asked, knowing he sensed her uneasiness and wanting to convince him everything was all right.

But in all honesty, it wasn’t. What was this necklace doing here and why hadn’t Briggs mentioned it? They were literally sleeping on a fortune—a fortune that could see them through the winter and probably the following winter, too.

She squeezed her eyes shut, wanting to believe there was a good reason he hadn’t mentioned it or offered to sell it instead of her pearls. Perhaps it was made of paste and worth nothing. No. Most likely it was a treasured family heirloom.

She opened her eyes and looked down at it, deciding immediately that it had to be genuine. Only true gemstones could sparkle so beautifully, so brilliantly.

Then something clicked in her mind.

With a growing sense of dread, she slid her fingers back into the velevet bag and withdrew a small card.
To Isabelle. Love forever, Briggs
.

Briggs had told Martha and Howard that he’d sold the necklace, but in truth, he had kept it. Why? To hold onto the memory of his first love? Or perhaps he thought she’d come back to him one day.

Sarah shuddered. He had loved this other woman. She would have been his first choice—if he’d had one.

Sarah sat back on her heels. Shadow lay down beside her, resting his chin on his paws and staring up at her. She ran her fingertip over the jewels. How had Briggs given this to Isabelle? Had he knelt down on one knee and proposed at that moment, or had he held her in his arms and kissed her and felt like he would never love anyone else that way again?

She stared blankly across the room and thought of the day her mother gave her the pearls. It was Sarah’s thirteenth birthday. She had felt like a woman that day. For the first time.

She gazed once more at the inscription.
Love forever…

Did Briggs think his memories were worth more than hers?

The pettiness in her wanted to throw the necklace straight at him as soon as he walked through the door. But no, that would not do, she decided. She was not a hysterical person and neither was he. He had not thrown anything at her on their wedding night when he’d made a similar discovery about her past experience. He’d simply walked out. Maybe there was a reasonable explanation for this, and for why he hadn’t told her about it when she’d offered her pearls to keep him from leaving her to work in Nebraska.

Carefully, she dropped the necklace back into the tiny velvet bag, pulled the drawstring closed, and returned everything to its proper hiding place. As she pushed the bed back up against the wall, she knew she must let this foolish jealousy settle a bit, and like a sensible adult, she would simply ask Briggs about it when he returned.

* * *

Sarah leaned over the butter churn and forcefully—too forcefully perhaps—pumped the smooth wooden handle in and out. Her back was going to pay for this tomorrow, but she couldn’t help it. She needed to work off some tension somehow.

Her arms soon felt like they were going to fall off. Straightening to rest for a second or two, she glanced down at Shadow, stretched out on the floor at her feet. She remembered the hectic days in her old life back in the restaurant in Boston, when the other server would quit or walk out. Most of them had after a short while—leaving Sarah to tend all the tables by herself.

At least here, Garrison couldn’t wander in any time he pleased, sit at her kitchen table, and expect her to wait on him.

She tightened her clammy grip on the churn handle and pumped it again. If she could handle Garrison and get herself out of that mess, she could confront a husband about a necklace.

Shadow raised his head and perked his ears, drawing Sarah’s attention away from that prospect. Hearing a wagon, she glanced out the dust-covered window and saw Howard, Martha, and their children. Though she was happy to see them, a part of her wished they had chosen a different day.

Shadow barked and darted out the door. Sarah pushed fallen tendrils of hair away from her forehead and wiped the perspiration from her nose and cheeks. She would try to forget her problems for now.

She gathered her skirts and walked up the steps and outside into the sunny afternoon. “Martha. Howard. How wonderful to see you.”

Howard helped his wife down from the wagon seat, and as soon as her feet touched ground, she strode to Sarah and clasped both her hands. “I’ve been after Howard to let me come calling. It’s dreadful what happened to our farms, but we will survive. You’ll see.”

Sarah nodded politely, hoping it was true.

“Shadow!” Mollie shouted.

Tail wagging, the dog paced back and forth in front of the wagon. Howard lifted Mollie out while Frank hopped down on his own. Sarah smiled as she watched them stroke Shadow’s golden fur and nearly crush him with hugs.

“Please, come in. I’ll put on a pot of coffee. And I hope you’ll all stay for supper.”

Martha smiled and followed, but Howard stayed behind. “That sounds mighty neighborly,” he replied. “If you ladies will excuse me, though, I think I’ll head out to the field to see how Briggy’s doing.” He climbed back into the wagon and drove away. The children took off with Shadow, laughing and chasing him around the yard in circles.

“They’ll tire out soon enough,” Martha mentioned, her arm looped through Sarah’s. “But until then, let’s enjoy the silence indoors.”

They went into the dark little house. “Oh, my,” Martha commented. “You’ve made quite a difference here. I knew you would, but I see you’ve given up on your window.”