Southern Seduction [Bride Train 8] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (36 page)

“That’s the last of them,” said Cole from the far corner. He carried the hammer and nails to the kitchen area. The nails went in a tin can for straightening and re-use. He set the hammer on the table. “I’ll stir while you take a look in that treasure box of yours.”

He took the spoon out of her hand, nudged her away with his hip, and took over. She washed her hands and dried them well, not knowing what she would find next. She lifted out a tube of something light. She unrolled it, discovering a wealth of color. She ran her fingers lightly over it.
Elizabeth Fenton
was stitched in the top right corner with the date, 12 March 1844, at the left.

“What’s that?”

“A cross-stitched flower alphabet,” she replied. “Mama must have done this when she was about sixteen.”

“She sure had a fine hand with a needle,” said Marshall, glancing over. He gave a devilish snicker. “Too bad she didn’t pass it on to you. My leg would’ve looked a lot neater.”

Byron swatted him in the head, so Casey didn’t bother replying. She set aside the precious hanging and dug into the crate again. She pushed aside straw packing. A set of eight boxes, each the length, width, and height of her hand, appeared. Byron and Marshall helped her carry them to the table.

“They look breakable,” said Cole from his position by the stove.

Ten minutes later she had eight fragile teacups and saucers lined up in front of her. Some had delicate flowers painted on them while others were a solid color with a gold or silver detail. None were the same shape or color but each was beautiful.

“Looks like we’ve got a trip to the sawmill coming up,” said Cole. He looked at his partners. “Casey needs a china cabinet built for her parlor.”

“My parlor?” She looked up from examining the tiny violets that decorated a cup with a wide bowl.

“That front room is yours to do with as you like,” said Cole. “A lady needs a place where she can put her special things without worrying about a big lout like Marshall flinging his arm out and breaking something precious.”

“Why do you always blame me?” demanded Marshall.

“Of the three of us, you’re the youngest, loudest, and most trouble.”

Marshall thought for a moment. “And the best looking.”

She ignored the men’s complaints, thinking instead of what she’d seen on the other ranches. Some cabins had a small space for the wife, even with a bed and a door they could close. There was no bed, or any other furniture, in the Sweetwater’s front room. Yet it was the size of Pappy’s whole cabin. And they would give her the use of it, to do as she wanted?

“You want it built into a corner, Casey, or have it standing?”

“We’ll make it free standing,” said Byron before she could answer. “A corner cabinet is too small. You want a bigger one that stands alone so it can be moved.”

“I don’t need anything,” she said. All three frowned at her. She attempted a smile. “I can pack everything back up again. You’ve got enough to do with—”

“It’ll be a wedding gift, so don’t you be putting the kibosh on it.” Cole grumbled like John Tanner complaining about his old dog.

“From all three of us,” added Marshall. “Even Zeus will help.”

She looked at the growing ball of black and tan fur. By the way his belly curved he’d eaten well. He lay on his side by the stove, fast asleep by Cole’s feet. Cole was stirring the supper she should have made. Byron was already sketching out designs for a cabinet. She looked at Marshall, who gave her a big wink and smile of promise.

Mama was dead, but she still had Willy, money in the bank, and a grandmother who cared for her. She had three men who cared for her and proved it every day. And she loved every one of them.

“We love you, Casey,” said Byron. “We want to make you happy.”

A few evenings later Cole watched Casey darn socks by the fire. What she did was so womanly and peaceful, and it meant so much to him. She cared enough to make sure that their feet wouldn’t get any more raw blisters. Their shirts no longer had missing buttons, and she found and repaired every rip. She fed them, sewed them up, and loved them.

But she was also a battle-scarred warrior. She’d cared for and protected her mother and younger brother as best she could. If there was a God, her father and the man he planned to sell her to would be burning in hell, arms chained above their heads, roasting over a fire while devils jabbed them with poison-filled pitchforks. Yet she was an enthusiastic lover who wanted tender loving one moment and wild abandon the next. She wanted deep kisses, as well as spankings.

Above all, Casey wanted respect, loyalty, and love. Cole had no problems giving her the first two. It was the last one that filled his heart with terror. She was his wife, and would remain so.

Marshall’s mother had loved him, and his cousin found it easy to love Casey. Byron had known the love of his baby sister. He took his time to make a decision, but once made it was forever, like his love for Casey.

But Grandma Marshall said
Cole’
s mother had loved him the best she could. She beat and insulted him on a whim. When she was angry he had “accidents” which could have killed him. He knew Grandma cared, but she rarely showed her affection. Grandpa’s rough hugs were the closest he’d come to feeling wanted and accepted. He thought he’d wanted a wife like Grandma, one who would keep him satisfied. There’d be no wild passion but also no despair.

And then Casey burst into his life. She’d brought both passion and despair. Passion was easy to accept, but it came at a price.

When Casey disappeared and he thought he’d lost her forever, it was like the worst of his parents rejecting him along with his grandparents’ deaths. He was furious at her putting him through such pain, but he had caused it by loving her.

Then he found her, alive and well, and a dam had burst in him. Fear of losing her and relief that she was safe had combined to make him act like an ass.

He loved Casey’s body, her quick mind, and every other part. He finally realized he’d found an abundance of love, far deeper than he could have imagined. He was no longer jealous of the looks, kisses, and caresses the other ranchers shared with their wives.

Or the times they played lovers’ games. The men didn’t speak as plainly as Casey said their wives did, but he’d heard rumors that the other wives enjoyed a spanking or two.

Casey was frowning as she darned, muttering about men wearing out socks. Should he mention that he’d heard her swear? There was a punishment for swearing. They got a mark for each word, and when it reached ten, he and his cousins had to do extra work. It was always nasty chores, such as shoveling out the henhouse.

When Casey reached ten, she had to obey them for a night. Anything and everything they wanted. Rubbing their sore feet, baking a favorite dessert, or stripping naked and—

She cursed again, not quite under her breath. He stood up, stretched, and walked over to the shelf where they kept her swear jar. He took a token from the waiting line and dropped it into the jar. The clink and rattle was closely followed by her gasp.

“Cole Taylor, I did not swear!”

He picked up another token. The last. Grinning, he tossed it in his hand. She narrowed her eyes at him, but he caught her rising color. He held up the token and, ever so slowly, let it drop into the jar.

“That’s ten, sweetheart. Put away your mending.”

She pushed out her lips in a pout as she narrowed her eyes at him. He smirked in return and motioned for her to stand. She jammed the darning needle into the sock and stood up. Her hands were fisted at her side. He braced himself. She was up to something, but he didn’t know what. That was one of the best things about his wife. He never knew for sure what she’d do. He gave Marshall and Byron a silent signal.

She quivered in place. Some might think she was furious, but they knew better. They hadn’t had a hot loving session for too long. She dashed toward the parlor. Once she closed the door, they wouldn’t disturb her. Byron caught her around her waist. She shrieked and pummeled his chest. He set her down to get a better grip, and she escaped. Right into Marshall’s arms.

“Howdy, ma’am,” he said as she struggled. “Y’all got plans for the evening?”

“Yes!” she growled, still fighting. “I’m going to sleep. Alone!”

Cole unbuttoned his shirt as he watched her fight his cousins. Only once had she shown that she didn’t want to play, and that was by standing still and quietly saying no. Turned out she had a belly ache. The next few nights she’d slept alone, mourning that she wasn’t already with child. That was a couple of months ago. She’d slept in their bed every night since. She hadn’t gone out and told them, but he had a good idea that the fifth member of their family was already well on the way.

“You won’t be doing much sleeping tonight, wife,” he said in a deep growl.

Cole tossed his shirt aside and strolled over. Byron held one of her arms and Marshall the other. He brushed his knuckles over the buttons of her dress. He hadn’t noticed that she’d put on one of her oldest, worn, and frayed. He held back a smirk. She’d planned this. The minx knew how many tokens were left and made sure she used them up tonight.

She glowered up at him, playing the reluctant captive. He chuckled, took a handful of fabric in each fist and ripped. Buttons flew as her breasts spilled out.

“Brute. Ogre. Beast.”

Her words were said with a pout rather than a yell. Her nostrils flared and her chest heaved.

“Oh, Casey, how I love you.”

Her pout turned into a sly smile. She looked at each of them and held out her arms.

“Prove it.”

THE END

WWW.REECEBUTLER.NET

The fictional town of Tanner’s Ford is located in a valley running from northwest downhill to southeast, with the town to the east. The setting is based on Montana’s Big Hole Valley.

Tanner’s Ford Valley, north of the river, west to east:

The Bitterroot Ranch (using the RB brand) is run by Ranger Elliott, his twin, Ben, and their younger brother, Patrick. Florence is Ben’s wife since
A Convenient Husband
, Bride Train #4.

The Rocking E is one of the two original ranches, established in the late 1840s. Trace Elliott married Beth and shares the ranch with his younger twin brothers, Simon and Jack, in
Barefoot Bride for Three
, Bride Train #1.

The Circle C ranch is owned by a trio of battered veterans, Luke Frost, Gabe Downey, and Oscar (Oz) Cutler. Luke marries Sarah in
Beauty and the Beasts
, Bride Train #6.

The last ranch on the north with the Flying X brand, known as the Sweetwater Ranch, is owned by Cole Taylor, Byron Ashcroft, and Marshall Stevens, three bachelors from the South. In
Southern Seduction
, Bride Train #8, they get more than they expected when they hire a cook.

South of the river, west to east:

The MD Connected was the second original ranch, also established in the late 1840s. Gillis MacDougal is the ramrod and shares the ranch with his two half brothers, Ross and Nevin. Amelia married Ross in
A Contract Bride’s Triple Surprise
, Bride Train #2.

Kenrick (Ace) Langford, Charles (Sin) Statham, and Henry Bennett are English aristocrats who won the Double D ranch from fellow Englishman Frederick Smythe in a card game. Jessie Elliott married Ace in
Compromised Cowgirl
, Bride Train #3.

Cousins Jed Adams, Riley Jansen, and Clint Fortune own the J Bar C (J–C). Jed married Victoria twice in
1 Bed, 2 Weddings, 3 Husbands
, Bride Train #5.

Walt Chamberlain owned the Running W ranch, but in
The Badger City Gang
, Bride Train #7, he gifts it to Zach, Dusty, and Roy McInnes after Zach insists on marrying Kate Mason, the woman he took from the bride train. The McInnes men then discover she is Walt’s daughter.

To the east of town, on the road to Bannack City, is a ranch which was owned by Mayor Orville Rivers, shot by the twelve-year-old boy Casey Wright in
The Badger City Gang
.

Maps of the town of Tanner’s Ford, and of the valley ranches, can be viewed at www.ReeceButler.net. Photos of the land, cabins, and other research material provided by the author can be found at www.facebook.com/Reece.Butler.568 on Reece Butler’s Facebook page.

I’m told I read my first adult book,
Anne of Green Gables
, when I was six. Over the next forty years I read everything but horror and romance. When I discovered the right antidepressant medication and realized life
could
have a happy ending, I began reading, then writing, romance. I still don’t read horror, perhaps because I have such an active imagination.

That imagination helps me write about hot cowboys and strong heroines. I temper my imagination with research so that my loyal readers won’t throw their e-reader or paperbacks across the room in frustration (though I’m sure I’ve made factual errors along the way).

Conducting research is part of my reward for writing. It gives me a chance to enjoy myself thoroughly without guilt. Research includes learning the Texas two-step at the Cowboys Dancehall in Dallas. I also spent a month west of Billings, Montana, working on three different cattle ranches (Yes, ladies and gentlemen, there really are hot cowboys in Montana. And oh, my, can they swing dance!).

What is really wonderful is attending conferences where I am privileged to meet readers. Spending most of my life in front of a monitor while my fingers skip across a keyboard is worthwhile when I get to meet people who enjoy what I’ve created. I would love to hear your comments, complaints, criticisms, kudos, and suggestions for future novels.