Squire's Quest (26 page)

"How long will you be? Do I have time to make bread?" She started to push the covers
back and hesitated. "Um, can you turn around?"

"I can do better than that." He pulled the curtain halfway across. "It'll probably take me
an hour or better to clear ice out of all four troughs. I sure hope they're not froze solid."

"It was probably cold enough. Brrr. Listen to the wind."

She came out from behind the curtain just as he was putting on his coat. "I wish you
didn't have to go out." She'd put her ugly dress back on, and had her threadbare shawl wrapped
around her. Her hair was pulled back, tied with a strip of cloth.

He shivered when he stepped outside, for all he was well bundled up. Drifted snow
blocked the path to the barn. Instead of making sure the mules had water, Merlin spent the next
hour digging his way to them. By the time he reached the barn door, he was ready for breakfast.
The mules could wait, would have to.

He ate quickly, telling her the situation in short bursts of speech between bites of fried
potatoes, scrambled eggs and thick, crisp slices of bacon.

She poured him a second cup of coffee, and he allowed himself the luxury of leaning
back and relaxing while he drank it.

He wasn't paying much attention to her as he sipped, just thinking of how he'd water a
hundred-odd mules with melted snow. "Wish I'd ordered that coal. If this lasts more than a
couple of days, we'll be out.
"

"I'm ready whenever you are."

He looked up, startled. Cal stood before him, dressed in her britches, the red plaid shirt.
She had her new coat in one hand, gloves and a wool cap in the other.

"Ready? For what?"

"Two of us will make the work go faster. I can bring in the mules while you tend to
water."

"The hell you say." As soon as the words burst from his lips, be wished he'd bit them
back. A man who'd cuss in front of a lady needed his arse kicked.

"I haven't forgot how to tend mules," she said. "You taught me yourself."

So he had. "You never worked in cold like this," he said, knowing it was a last ditch
argument.

"Thirty below, one winter in Virginia City. Everybody who could carried water and
firewood for the folks who couldn't."

Grateful for her offer of help, but wishing he didn't have to accept, Merlin gave in.
"Wrap a scarf over your hat. You don't want to lose an ear."

They both clung to the rope as she followed him to the barn. New snow had all but
blocked the path he'd cut no more than an hour earlier.

Wonder how bad the path to the woodpile is. The bin's close to empty.

Cal milked while he got the forge going. One look at the corral told him he had more
shovel work ahead, for most of the feed troughs were drifted over. Once more he silently cursed
the idiot who'd forgot which way the wind blew. Or hadn't cared. "Sure you can manage the
mules?" he said, once he had the first tub of water ready and a second one of snow melting.

"'Course I can. And if you've got a spare shovel, I can fill the tub when it's empty."

He'd seen a short spade among the tools in the forge and he dug it out for her. "Let me
know when you're ready for me to lift it onto the forge."

Her hands fisted on her hips. "Merlin, I'm no weakling. I just won't fill the tubs fuller
than I can lift. You go on about your business and let me tend to mine."

Mostly he did, but he still checked on her whenever he came inside to warm his hands.
Today he'd give anything for a pair of the boiled wool mittens Ma used to make every fall. The
elkhide gloves he'd found so handy when he was on the trail drives were the next thing to useless
once they'd gotten damp.

Caring for the mules took them all day, with a short break for dinner. They ate leftover
stew, warmed-over tea, and were back at work in less than an hour. Just before dark, when they
led the last four mules back into the corral, he knew they'd done all they could. The snow looked
to have slacked off some, and the drifts along his makeshift snow fence had built up so the wind
didn't sweep as cruelly into the corral. "Come spring, I'm going to see to building a new corral
downwind. This setup is plumb stupid," he muttered as they put their tools away.

Cal's answering smile was a mere flicker. He knew she must be twice as tired as him,
and he felt worn clear to the bone.

The cabin was cold. Only a few sullen embers remained of the banked fire. While Cal
broke the thin film of ice in the bucket and filled the kettle, Merlin fetched more wood to restock
the bin built against the cabin wall. For some reason, the drifts hadn't built up as high between
the cabin and the woodpile as they had toward the barn. But he still needed the shovel to open
the path.

He pushed the door open onto warmth and light a good hour after they'd returned to the
cabin. The aroma of roasting meat and fresh bread filled the air and he came close to laughing
with relief. Coming home after a miserable day was what kept a man working.

Home? Yes, this cabin felt like home.

Cal was here.

She fed him hot bread and thick, meaty stew, with turnips and carrots and spuds fighting
the chunks of venison for abundance. Afterward there was a dish of clabbered cream and stale
bread laced with brandy--he'd forgot about that half-bottle--and sweetened with honey.

"I left the milk in the barn," he said, reminded.

"I know, and I forgot to pour any for the cats. They'll take care of it, and we've enough
for tonight and morning."

"They'll make a mess of it," he grumbled.

"Easier to clean up the spill frozen than wet. Stop fussing and have some more tea."

When she set a full cup before him, he scooted his chair back and stretched his still cold
feet towards the fire. His boots and hers were standing close enough to dry inside, where melting
snow had wicked down their pants' legs , but not so close they'd stiffen in the heart.

"How are your feet," he said, when he remembered hers were brand new.

"A little sore. I had a wrinkle in the right sock, and it rubbed." With a fond look at the
tall boots standing beside his, she said, "Those are the best boots I've ever had. They fit and they
don't leak. I'm obliged, Merlin."

"You're welcome." The corners of his mouth kicked up in a grin. "I remember those
shoes you had the first time we met. Where on earth did you get them?"

"They were my cousin Jim's. When I told Uncle Walter and Aunt Sadie I was going to
live with Pa, they insisted on outfitting me. My everyday shoes were old, and they were girl
shoes--thin-soled and flimsy. Uncle Walter wasn't rich, but he was bound to see me dressed
proper. He said nobody would notice a girl wearing boy's boots."

"He didn't know you were going to disguise yourself as a boy?"

"Heavens, no. He'd have had three kinds of conniptions if I'd told him. And maybe I
wouldn't have, if somebody hadn't stole my grip when I got off to buy food in Evanston."

Once again he marveled at how she'd managed to get so far on her own. Evanston was a
good ways west of Cheyenne, but still at least a hundred miles from Ogden. She'd ridden the
freights, and survived. Something he'd not have bet on, had she been twice as old and three times
as wise.

"I'll take a turn around before we settle for the night." He bent to reach his boots. Just as
he straightened, she reached past him for his cup.

His head landed on her breasts, and they felt like the world's best pillow.

She caught at his shoulders, as if she'd lost her footing.

Spice and yeast and woman. That's what he smelled. It galvanized him, made him feel
like he'd just awoke from a good night's sleep. When he caught her arm and pulled, she came
easily around to face him.

Even though the wool of her new shirt was scratchy, he burrowed into it, breathing
deeply. Again she clutched at his shoulders, but she wasn't pushing herself away from him. She
was more like...waiting.

Merlin pulled back just enough so she'd understand his words. "On second
thought..."

"Merlin?"

"I'm asking, Cal. I'm asking to share your bed."

"But you did... Oh!"

"There's sleeping together for warm," he said, speaking with his lips against the scratchy
wool, "and there's coming together for something else." He wasn't sure what to call what he
wanted from her. More than simple sex. Less than a lifetime, at least right now.

He might not be ready to choose the shape of the rest of his life, but he knew what he
wanted for today and tomorrow and a while after that.

"I'm asking you, Cal. Will you let me come to your bed?"

He felt her breath hitch in her chest, her fingers dig into his shoulders. "I... I don't
know... I--"

Releasing her, he stood and caught her fluttering hands in his. "Cal, I'm not sure what I
want to do with my life yet. So I promise I won't take what should rightfully be your
husband's"

She made a small sound. Distress? Disappointment.

He hurried to explain. "You'll make some man a loving, faithful wife. It might be me,
but... Consarn it all, Cal. I ain't ready to settle yet. But I want you. I want you so bad I forget how
tired I am. So bad it's an ache in me. Here..." He fisted his hand over his gut. "And here." He laid
his other hand fingers spread, over the center of his chest.

"Will you lie with me, Cal, just for tonight? I promise you'll rise in the morning still a
virgin."

And if that hadn't been the hardest promise he'd ever made, he couldn't think of one
harder.

"You promise?"

"That I won't..." He wasn't sure how to say it so it wouldn't sound like he was a rutting
bullock. "I won't take your virginity," he repeated. "There are ways we can pleasure each other
without..."

Consarn it, Felice, you taught me how, but you didn't tell me what to call
it.

He owed the Cajun woman a debt of gratitude, for teaching him how to bring a woman
to ecstasy with mouth and hands. He still regretted that he'd had nothing to give her but his body,
for all she'd said that she wanted nothing more from him. Felice had first sold herself when she
was twelve. By the time he'd met her, she was a courtesan of the highest order, picking and
choosing her lovers. How he'd ever gotten into her bed was still a mystery to him.

This is no time to be thinking of Felice.

He drew a deep breath full of Callie's scent. "Come," he invited, pulling her toward the
bd.

She held back for a moment before yielding. "Sit there." He guided her to the edge of
the rough plank box holding the cornshuck mattress and pulled a fold of comfort over to soften
the narrow board. "Let me love you."

Her eyes, green as spring leaves, opened wide. "Tell me what to do." The whisper came
hesitantly, softly, but he heard.

"Tell me if I scare you. If I do anything you don't like."

Her nod was tentative, her eyes wide. With fear? Or was it curiosity, knowing
Callie?

"The first thing is to get rid of clothes," he told her, echoing what Felice had told him.
With fingers that trembled, he unbuttoned her shirt, opening it to reveal the faded pink of her
much-laundered union suit. "Your turn," he said, when he'd pulled the shirt loose from her
britches.

"M-m-my turn?"

"Uh-huh. Unbutton my shirt."

Her mouth opened, but no words emerged. Instead she took her bottom lip between her
teeth and gnawed.

"Don't." He touched her chin. "You'll make yourself sore. Like this."

He unbuttoned his own shirt and stripped it off. His union suit was nearly new, and its
bright red was a sorry contrast to hers. He should have made sure she had decent underwear
when he was paying for her clothes.

"Do I have to take off my shirt?"

"Nope. Not unless you want to. I admit I'd like to see what you look like without
it."

"Faded." To his surprise, her mouth turned up in a small grin. She plucked at her left
sleeve and he saw the hole at her elbow. "I was going to buy me new underwear as soon as I got
paid this week. Now, well, I guess I'd better save my money."

"I'll buy--"

"No you won't. Merlin, you've done so much for me. Leave me some pride."

It was like a slap in the face. Hadn't Pa once told him gratitude left a bitter taste when it
was one-sided?

"I won't then. But you haven't seen faded until you've seen what I had on when I got to
Dodge a couple of months back. No knees, no elbows, and the trap door was half gone."

The hint of a smile became a reality. "Half gone? How'd that happen?"

"I got bucked off. We were breaking new stock before we started the drive. One of 'em
took offense at having a man on his back and threw me before I was all the way on. I landed in a
tangle of mesquite and got hung up on a branch. Before I got loose, I was downright
immodest."

"You tore your britches?"

"I lost 'em. And half my trapdoor. I mostly wore the other set but by the time we got to
Dodge, it was so filthy it could stand alone. After my bath--the first one in three months--I threw
everything in the fire and put on my spares."

"You burned your clothes?"

"Every stitch, except for my boots. Oh, my, look what I found."

While he'd been talking, he'd kept his fingers busy. Her union suit was unbuttoned to the
waist and the valley between her breasts gleamed white in the firelight. One twitch of his fingers
and underwear and shirt slid off her shoulder. A second twitch and the other side went as
well.

"I swan, Callie, I've never seen such a sight in my whole life," he whispered as he gazed
at her high, rose-crowned breasts. His hands itched with the urge to close around them. But he
held himself still, waiting to see what she would do.

Her arms came up to cover her chest.

"Don't. Please, let me look. I won't touch unless you want me to. Word of honor."

"Its... I'm cold."

Sure enough, goosebumps pebbled her skin. "Of course you are. Here, get into
bed."