Ryder (Prairie Grooms, Book Two) (6 page)

He held her head by the hair, anchoring her in place as his mouth worked its magic on her own.  Her head swam, her stomach leaped, and if she hadn’t already been sitti
ng in his lap, she’d be flat on the floor. Never had she experienced such sensations, nor did she expect they existed. Oh sure, her mother had explained things to her and her sisters before leaving England, things a man and a woman did. None of which sounded pleasant, at least according to her mother. But what did her mother know? Apparently not enough to have told Constance how wondrous a kiss could be!

Ryder deepened the kiss further, and she moaned, causing a tremor of embarrassment to run through her. He broke the kiss, pulling away ever so slightly, and chuckled. “What’s the matter, Sugar? I scare ya?”

“No,” she breathed as her body became wracked with unfamiliar tremors. “I … I just didn’t expect it to be so …”

Ryder grinned ear to ear. “Wonderful?”

She nodded, unable to speak. Good Heavens! She couldn’t even manage to form words at this point. He really
had
kissed her senseless!

He rubbed her back with one hand, and pulled her against him with the other. He then simply held her, and to her surprise, began to hum. His voice wasn’t deep and resonating, but
light and happy.  Somewhere in her kiss-induced fog, she concluded he was a tenor, and wondered how good his voice sounded when he sang.

“
Whatcha thinkin’ darlin’?” he whispered.

She could only shake her head, words still beyond her.

He chuckled again. “I’m thinkin’ I need to get you wrapped up in some blankets and put you to bed. You need to stay warm.”

With great effort, she raised her head and looked at him. “I’m not cold.”

“You will be, now c’mon, let’s get you tucked in.”

His voice was gentle, and she melted at the sound of it. Suddenly his ramshackle cabin, the cold, and lack of comforts were forgotten.  Only the man in whose arms she found herself mattered. He looked into her eyes, stroked her cheek with one finger, and smiled. “Welcome home, Mrs. Jones.”

* * *

His new wife was the most delectable morsel of womanhood Ryder had ever seen. Too bad she coughed all night and he didn’t get a chance to taste her. But the kiss they’d shared was beyond what even he had imagined, and he couldn’t wait to kiss her again. As soon as she was over her cold that is, he couldn’t afford to get sick.

He’d held her all night
upon his rickety cot, and realizing there was barely room for the two of them, decided he’d better see about building a proper bed.  He began to make a mental list of all the things that needed tending to.  Obtain a wagon, build a bed, put in windows, finish the roof, and he supposed he’d better get his hands on some pots and pans.  He only had a frying pan and a coffee pot.  They’d served him well this last year, but would never do for Constance.

There was just one problem.  He didn’t have any money. None that he wanted to part with anyway. Othello needed to be kept in prime condition if he was going to use him as a stud horse.  In fact,
Mr. White might be coming by today to take a look at him. Good Lord! How could he have forgotten?

He studied the horse as he munched hay in his stall. “You sure are causing me trouble. I hope my new wife understands.”
He shook his head and tossed hay into Banjo’s stall. He’d gotten up early to tend to the morning chores, careful not to waken his wife, especially after the rough night she had.  She’d slept in her clothes, which was fine. He wasn’t about to consummate their marriage while she was sick and hoped the incredible kiss they shared didn’t make him that way. But she’d caught a chill, and not anything contagious. He hoped.

“Have a nice night?”

Ryder jumped. He’d forgotten all about Cutty. “I slept if that’s what ya mean.”

“That ain’t what I mean and you know it.”

“A real man doesn’t discuss those things. That’s private.”

“I meant no disrespect, boy. You’re
married, you do what you want with your wife.  But you ain’t exactly prepared to have babies.”

Ryder turned to him.
Cutty was leaning against a pitchfork with a sloppy grin on his face. “What do you mean by that?”

“Look around you, boy. Ya ain’t got a decent house for a woman the likes of her let alone a passel of youngins’.”

Ryder blew out a long breath. Cutty was right. If Constance were to become pregnant, how was he going to provide? It could take a year before he had enough money to build a house like August’s, and that’s what she wanted. A quaint, charming little farmhouse to raise their children in. He looked Cutty in the eye. “I will have. I’ll just have to … er …”

“Be careful,”
Cutty finished for him with a smirk. He set the pitchfork against a post. “What sort of work you need done?”

“More than I can pay ya
for my friend.”

Cutty ran a hand through his hair then stroked his long beard. “Tell ya what, I’ll work for half price today.”

“I have lots of work that needs to be done, but don’t have the materials to do it. I’ll have to go to town.”

“Oh, I don’t fancy a ride into town. Why don’t I stay here and you can go?”

Ryder’s gut twisted for some reason, and he glanced to the barn doors. “You do that, Constance and I will go to town.”

“Now don’t make the lady ride into town when she’s feelin’ so poorly. Wouldn’t be right. I can look after her while you’re gone.”

“No, best she go with me, I can have Doc Drake or Doc Waller take a look at her, maybe give her something.”

“Pah, doctors. What do they know?”

Ryder chuckled.
“More than you or I. Now if ya want to work today, ya can clean up the barnyard, feed the chickens and gather the eggs. I’m gonna go fix some breakfast.”

“Ain’t that your wife’s job?”

“She’s not feelin’ well,” he said. Not to mention she couldn’t fry an egg if her life depended on it.  At least he assumed as much from what he’d heard August say about Penelope. But if August could teach his wife how to cook, then Ryder could surely teach his. The only problem was, he couldn’t cook either, nothing fancy anyway. He did make a mean flapjack, and his biscuits and stews were pretty good. Hmmm, just in case he’d better add beans to his growing list of necessities. He could teach his bride how to cook those and they were filling to boot.

When he got to the h
ouse Constance was standing over the kitchen table washing her face. She’d found his pitcher and washbowl under the cot, and he wondered if she spied the gift he prepared for her. He’d forgotten about giving it to her last night, the storm had kept him too occupied, but now was as good a time as any. “Mornin’ Sugar. Ya feelin’ better?”

She looked at him and gave him a weak smile. “A little. My ribs hurt. I’ve never coughed and sneezed so much before.”

“A chill will do that to ya. Today should be different.” He went to the cot, bent down on one knee, and reached underneath. “I got somethin’ for ya.”

She turned as he stood, and went to him. “You do?”

“Yeah, I meant to give it to ya yesterday when we got home, but plumb forgot. I’m sorry.”

“Apologies are not necessary, I didn’t know you had anything for me.”

He held up a small leather pouch. “It ain’t much, but it’s very special to me.”

“What is it?”

He opened the pouch. “Hold out your hand.” She did, and he turned the pouch over to release the contents.  A necklace and ear rings spilled into her palm, and she gasped in delight at the pretty things.

“Ryder, they’re beautiful! Where did you get them?”

“They were my mother’s. I’ve been savin’ em for when I got me a wife one day.  He took her left hand in his. “I know the ring I gave you yesterday ain’t much. Heck, these are a lot fancier. As soon as I have money, I’ll get ya a nice one.”

She shyly reached up and touched his chest. “And for you too. You should have a ring.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t a gotten married so soon, but …” He pulled her into his arms. “I’m sure glad we did.” He held her then, her body soft and warm against his. “I’ll take us into town today, and we’ll get a wagon,” he whispered against her hair. “How does that sound?”

She nodded against his chest, and slowly put her arms around his waist. He smiled at the action and closed his eyes. “Ya sure feel nice in my arms, Sugar. I could stand here
holdin’ ya all day.”

“You held me all night,” she whispered.

He kissed the top of her head, unable to help it. “I sure did. Had to keep ya warm so ya wouldn’t get any sicker. The cold can take a person right quick if’n they ain’t strong.”

“Take them?” she mumbled against his chest.

“Uh-huh. Kill em right quick.”

She pushed herself away and looked up at him. “
Kill
them?”

He shrugged. “It can be a hard life out h
ere on the prairie,” he said and ran a hand through her loose hair. “But I’m gonna see to it ya stay strong. Do ya understand what I’m sayin’?”

“I think so.” She turned her face away and looked at the stove. “Are you hungry?”

“I’m near to starvin’. Here, let me show ya how I like my eggs.” He took her by the hand and led her to the stove.  “This here is easy to learn. I only like em one way.”

Ryder
kissed her on the cheek, and then proceeded to teach his wife how to properly fry an egg.

Five

Thackary Cuthbert Holmes hated to work, but when push came to shove -- and wanting to live another day was definitely a shove – the despicable dandy could be spurred to do things he normally wouldn’t do.  Like change his plans to outright murder the Sayer sisters one by one, to having someone else do the job.  He’d failed at his first attempt, and would be a laughing stock within the ranks of villainy should anyone find what happened when he tried to vanquish Penelope Sayer. Now that she was Mrs. August Bennett, the woman was well protected, and by not just her husband. The wounds on his head were still healing, inflicted by …
oh the humiliation of it all
… a chicken.

Still, Thackary was no quitter, and could always take a stab (no pun intended) at Constance Sayer, now Mrs. Jones. If it weren’t for one small problem: Thackary
liked
Ryder Jones. In fact he always had, and if it weren’t for Ryder helping him out over the last year or so, he’d be dead.  He fed him, patched him up the first time he came tumbling down the hills (quite literally) from the caves, and allowed him to stay on his place until he healed. He’d broken two ribs and almost a leg, and if not for Ryder’s kindness and medicinal expertise, Thackary never would have made it.  He felt he owed Ryder something, so taking his wife from him made him feel guilty. Who would have ever thought?

This of course
made things more difficult. Perhaps if he could get the girl alone long enough, he’d have a chance to do the deed and make it look like an accident. He’d certainly set the stage for it already with the chat he’d had with Ryder the day before. But getting her alone wasn’t going to be easy, making it look like an accident even harder. Then having to put up with Ryder’s broken heart might do him in. Besides, he couldn’t very well be around when it happened. Folks might start putting two and two together and that could land him in jail.  Worse, someone might recognize him and figure out that ol’ Cutty was really Thackary Holmes. Then he’d really be in trouble! No, best leave this to the experts in the field of elimination. Which, of course, posed yet another problem. Who?

Thackary continued to gather eggs for Ryder. Perhaps he could accompany them t
o town, hang around the saloon, and catch some snippets of gossip as to who was coming and going through town. Hmmm, there
was
talk of cattle rustlers in the area. Maybe they’d be willing to help. But once a deal was struck, how was he going to pay them? He might have to part with … no! No it was too precious! He’d found it in the caves and knew it had to be real gold. He’d need it if he ever got the chance to return to England. But his gut told him to stay in America for a time, let things settle down.  England would be the first place the law would look for him and expected him to return to his homeland. They’d charge him with kidnapping, attempted murder, and who knows what else! 

Thackary straightened, his back popping with the effort, and put the eggs he’d gathered into a small sack.  He’d give them to Ryder, and the kind fellow would cook them up just the way he liked them.  He’d have coffee ready by now as well. Thackary’s stomach growled at the thought, and he turned to leave the barn. A structure he himself helped put the finishing touches on.  He’d never used his hands for such a task before, and it made him feel as though he’d accomplished something.

That settled it then. He’d not do so a vile a thing to Ryder as
murder his wife.  He’d  have someone else do it! Just as he did with the Cooke brothers several years before …