Mittman, Stephanie (49 page)

Silver Pass, Wyoming Territory: March
1890

"So?"
Ash asked, putting his arm around Charlotte. "Was it as wonderful as you'd
been anticipating?"

"Oh,
it exceeded even my highest expectations," she said with the grin that
always melted his heart.

"It
was that good?"

"Better!"

"So
then it was worth waiting for?"

"Well,
I'd have liked it a long time ago, and I still don't see why I had to
wait," she admitted.

"Was
it worth coming to Wyoming for?"

She
nodded happily. "How did you like it?" she asked, batting those long
eyelashes at him.

"Well,
it was hardly my first time, Charlie Russe," he said. "But, of course,
having you there made it special."

"You
did vote for me, didn't you?" she asked as they left Town Hall, waving to
several neighbors as they made their way down the sidewalk together.

"Oh,
being a justice of the peace hasn't been exciting enough for you? Being woken
up in the middle of the night to set bail for Olaf Williamson? Being woken up
in the middle of the night to see Raymond Rochman do his duty by Leila Singer?
Being woken up in the middle of the night to—"

"I
only like it when you wake me up in the middle of the night to—" she
started, her cheeks turning a bright shade of pink as they walked along Main
Street toward Whittier Dry Goods. "Oh, Ash! I voted! I stepped behind that
curtain and cast a ballot!"

"And
if you win that judgeship by only one vote..."

She
slapped him gently on his arm. "It's going to be a veritable landslide.
Don't you read the newspaper you sell?"

"Speaking
of reading..." he said, fishing around in his pocket for Cabot's latest
letter and waving it beneath her nose. "This one's from Paris,
France."

She
grabbed for it, but he held it out of her reach and opened the door to the
store.

"Let's
go on upstairs and get settled before I read it to you. How's that?"

"Fair,
I suppose," she said, with her bottom lip pouting. "I did get to read
you Kathryn's letter last week."

Ash
couldn't help smiling. His mother's words had sounded so joyful as they poured
from his wife's lips. Maybe it was the way Charlotte sang Eli's name each time
his mother mentioned it. Or maybe it was how excited she got when she read that
Kathryn was thinking about coming out to Wyoming for a visit in September
before Cabot and Davis returned from the grand tour. "You can close your
eyes and rest while I read."

She
seemed to think that was a good idea, and she lazily let her cape fall from her
shoulders as she headed for the stairs. He caught the wrap as it hit the floor
and reminded her that he was not Maria.

"No,
but you'll do," she said. Her voice was light, but it didn't escape him
that she was nearly pulling herself up the stairs by the railing. Wyoming
wasn't an easy life. The winters were harsh. For that matter, so were the
summers. For his part he enjoyed the challenge, but of late it seemed to be
taking its toll on his wife.

At
the top of the stairs they could hear Liberty talking to himself in the back
room. "Come on, Liberty," the bird was saying. "Stupid bird! Say
it! Say it! Come on, say it!" It was all he'd said for a week now. They'd
tired of hearing it, but the bird didn't care. "Come on, Liberty! Please!
You stupid bird!"

"Shut
up!" Ash yelled to the bird while he bent to tend the fire, and Charlotte
put up the kettle.

"Say
it!" Liberty shouted again as Charlotte, her feet dragging, set two places
at the little table between the wing chairs that faced the hearth. "Ash?
You're not sorry we're here in the middle of nowhere?"

"No,"
he said honestly, a little worried that Charlotte might miss the mild weather
and the faster pace of Oakland. "Are you?"

She
shook her head. "You don't miss your family?"

"Cabot
and Mother were always more your family than mine," he said, coming to sit
beside her and placing one finger beneath her chin. "Silver Pass has just
what I searched all over the world to find."

She
dipped her head shyly. He could compliment her all day, every day, for the rest
of their lives, just to watch the color rush to her cheeks, and never tire of
it.

"And
being a shopkeeper after all the excitement you used to have? You don't mind
that?" she asked, stretching and settling back into the soft chair
sleepily as he placed a cup of tea beside her. She fingered the rim of the
treasured cup contentedly.

"Mrs.
Fagan came in today," he said, trying to explain what Silver Pass meant to
him. "Her little one had the croup last week. She paid me with a dozen eggs.
Glen Shumacher came in about noon. They're looking to start a collection for
the Grange Hall and he thought I'd want to know." The town amazed him with
their warmth and their inclusiveness. "For the first time in my life,
Charlie, I feel like I'm part of a community. Like I'm part of a family."

"A
family," she said, and her smile grew to be a yawn as she closed her eyes
and motioned for him to read her the letter from Cabot.

Ash
cleared his throat.
"Dear Ash and Charlotte,"
he began, after
he'd settled back himself and gotten comfortable in the chair beside her.
"I
hope this letter finds you both well. Davis and I are soggy, at best. Paris
in the spring is not as beautiful as the guidebooks promise. It has rained
nearly every day since we arrived."

She
tsked
at his brother's penchant for always pointing out the worst first.

"But,
he
continues," Ash said, rallying,
"it has provided ample excuse to
drag poor Davis through the Louvre twice and even get him to services on Sunday
at Notre Dame. To tell the truth, in Latin and French it was more palatable
than I remembered, and I do believe we'll continue the habit at home—for the
boy's sake."

Charlotte's
mouth drooped open enough for him to realize that Cabot's letter had put her to
sleep. He put it down on the table between them and gently slipped his arms
beneath her body to lift her and carry her to their bed.

***

She
felt his familiar hands wriggling between her tired body and the chair and
offered
no resistance. What a day she'd had—casting her first vote, and
her name among
those
on the ballot! She put her arm around Ash's neck as
he picked her up and carried her to their bedroom, setting her
gently
on
the lacy spread that topped their bed.

"In
the top drawer," she said with her eyes still closed, as she listened to
the sounds of him rummaging for her buttonhook.

"We'll
have you out of these in a jiffy," he said, working at her boots with a
good deal of huffing and puffing. "Why do women insist on buying their
shoes a size too small? Don't they hurt?"

She
opened one eye to look down at her swollen ankles and wished Kathryn wouldn't
wait until autumn to come for a visit.

"You
seem awfully tired," he said as he worked at her shirtwaist buttons.
"You feel all right?"

"Better
than all right," she said, reaching out for him and pulling him to her.
"How do
you
think
I feel?"

After
her buttons were undone, he worked the blouse out from her waistband and spread
it to expose her chemise. Trailing the ends of the ribbon against her
collarbone, he toyed with the bow, then ran his hands over the exposed skin
above her corset cover. "Soft," he said almost reverently.
"Softer than soft."

They'd
been married nearly two years, and still every time he touched her, warmth
rushed to her belly and spread through her like a prairie wildfire. And if she
was. the meadow aflame, he was the fire itself—white hot, raging, and out of
control.

Like
now, as he bent down to rain kisses over her neck, her collarbone, her chest,
to trail his lips across her breasts and down her ribs. And all the while he
kissed her, his hands were pulling at what was left of her clothes, and then at
his own—as if they didn't have all the time in the world to lie naked in each
other's arms.

She
loved his hurry and his need for her. Loved lying there naked with him as he
stoked her fires and brought her back from the edge of sleep with the warmth of
his touch. Brought her back to hold him close.

He
traced the mark the seam of her chemise had left down her side, ran the tips of
his fingers in the myriad lines that crossed her waist from skirts and
petticoats and drawers. "But how do you think the good people of Silver
Pass would feel if they knew their justice of the peace was going about without
her corset again today?" he asked as he began to kiss the marks her clothing
had left upon her body.

He
was driving her crazy, mumbling against her skin about what seeing her,
touching her, did to him. The heat of his breath, the roughness of the stubble
on his chin— his need was fueling her own and she pressed herself up against
him until he simply gave up on her underthings and just raised the last of her
petticoats to circle her waist.

"How
do you think they'd feel about their justice of the peace in such a rush she
can't even get properly undressed?" What did she care? Who mattered but
him, as his kisses fell everywhere—her eyelids, her neck, lower and lower
still? There wasn't a place he neglected, a spot that didn't burn at his touch.

And
she did for him what he was doing for her, until there was no distinction to
where each one's pleasure began and ended.

And
when the fire was over and only the glowing of the embers remained, she cried
in his arms, shaking against his chest while he held her.

"Not
to mention how they'd feel about their justice of the peace crying every time
it was good for her," he said, tucking the covers around her and pulling
her against him once again.

"Judge,"
she
corrected him, struggling to turn on her side and press her bottom against him,
"... with any luck," she added before starting to drift off to sleep.

"Hey!"
he complained, shaking her gently. "Aren't you hungry? What about supper?
How do you think they'd feel about their new judge letting her husband
starve?"

She
yawned, rousing herself just enough to turn over within the circle of his arms
and open one eye.

"How
do you think they'd feel about their new judge having a baby?" she asked.

Oh,
what a smile that man had! What pure delight was written all over his face,
mirroring her own. "I think," he said after giving it a moment's
thought, "they'll be almost as happy as we are."

"Awk!
Happy!" Liberty squawked, strolling in from the other room and climbing up
the footboard of the bed to look down on them. "I love you, Charlotte!
Come on, you stupid bird! Say it! I love you, Charlotte! Oh! Oh! Don't stop
now."

Charlotte's
giggle turned into a yawn. "You're a little late," she told the bird.
"We already did that part."

Liberty
paced back and forth on the footboard, rocking his head to and fro. "Shut
up, you stupid bird! S-S-see you s-s-soon!" He worked his way, beak over
claw, down the bed and waddled toward the kitchen. "I want some of
that!" he shouted as he passed the new cat with the sore ear who was
lapping up milk from a saucer by the sink.

"I
do love you, Charlie Russe," Ash said as he brushed the short chestnut
locks off her cheek. "And I'm a very happy man right now."

"Do
you think Silver Pass will really be as happy as we are?" she asked
nervously as a big yawn escaped her lips.

"Nah,"
he said softly, easing her down by his side and letting his hand drift to her
belly, where, deep inside her, their future was growing. "They'll be
happy, but not half so happy as we."