Barefoot Bride for Three Read online

  She was barely coherent when Simon helped Trace lift her off. She saw Jack leaning against the wall, panting hard, a jackal grin on his face.

  Simon held her as Trace gently bathed her. He patted her dry and settled her under the sheets. She didn’t move when Trace slid in behind her and pulled her close, spooning. She snuggled closer as he grasped her lower breast and sighed.

  “My wife,” he said, his voice grating on her ears, a sound she’d come to love.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Thanks for the pillow,” said Beth to Jack the next morning. While Trace had set a folded blanket on the hard seat of the wagon, the pillow eased her tender bottom all the more. She smiled to herself. Tender, but worth it.

  Acting the perfect wife, she sat beside Trace with her dress done up to her chin and her bonnet tied snug. Jack and Simon followed in the rented wagon, their horses tied behind. Less than one week from jail and she returned to town as a satisfied wife. She reveled in the crisp morning air, saying nothing. Simon and Jack nattered away.

  When they passed the stream where she and Trace had celebrated, Simon whistled. She didn’t turn around but he must have noticed her straightened back. He couldn’t have seen her red face from behind.

  “You’d better not be too sore to celebrate on the way home, Mrs. Elliott.” Trace lifted an eyebrow in mock fierceness.

  “Don’t start with me, Mr. Elliott,” she replied.

  “Which Mr. Elliott you mad at, Beth?” called a voice from behind. “This is Jack speaking and, if it’s Trace, I’d be mighty pleased to make you happy.”

  “I can make you even happier,” called Simon. “I could make you so happy—”

  “Keep that up if you want to sleep in the barn for the next few weeks,” warned Trace.

  “Yeah, yeah,” said Jack. “You’re just jealous ’cause she likes us best.”

  Beth’s hot face flamed even more.

  “I like you best,” she whispered to Trace. She snuck her arm around his and leaned sideways for a moment.

  “Hey!” yelled Jack in mock fierceness. “None of that flagrant displays of vulgar attention in town, you hear, Mrs. Elliott? We don’t want to get thrown out again for fighting.”

  “We don’t get thrown out for fighting, Jackass. We get thrown out for winning,” said Simon. “Those miners think they’re tough, but we always convince them otherwise.”

  The twins kept their voices down the rest of the way, allowing Beth to regain her equilibrium. But, when they approached the town, she began to tremble. She wrapped up the rifle in the blanket and placed the bundle on the pillow under the seat.

  “Don’t let those sniping biddies bother you,” said Trace. “Keep your chin up and stare down at them.” He turned and winked to her. “Should be easy as there’s not too many taller. But don’t leave the mercantile without one of us. I’ll make sure Big Joe’s not in town while you’re inside with Patsy.”

  She straightened her spine and stared ahead. The bully would not scare her. Trace had complimented her on her dress, a new one she’d made. It had pretty blue and pink flowers on it, the pink matching her bonnet. She had clean stockings and boots on her feet and money in her reticule. And, for once, underclothes.

  She waved as the twins headed to the livery stable. Trace stopped at Tanner’s Mercantile. He held her waist and easily lifted her, setting her on the boardwalk. He lifted his hat to the few women on the street. Some blanched and hustled away, others nodded politely. Those ones looked at her with curiosity rather than scorn. Through the front window she could see a gaggle of women inside the store. She nodded politely to the old men enjoying the sunshine. The dog didn’t lift his head, barely opening an eye as she passed.

  Trace opened the door and ushered her inside. A few whispers, then silence. She ignored it, smiling up at her husband in thanks. She rested her hand on the arm he offered. They sashayed over to Patsy Tanner and the gossiping group of women they’d interrupted.

  “Morning, ladies,” said Trace.

  Beth loved her husband’s unmistakable growl but these women gaped at him as if he was part of a circus side show.

  “Mrs. Elliott says there’re a few things missing at the Rocking E,” said Trace to Patsy. “Did you order that copper bathtub I asked for? My wife needs pampering, and it’s first on the list.”

  He leaned over and kissed her, something not done in town. A quick peck wouldn’t have been unusual in a just-married man, but he brushed his lips over her forehead before nibbling on her ear. He made it obvious that he’d much rather kiss her soundly, but had restrained himself.

  He patted her bottom possessively before turning and sauntering to the back, whistling a cheerful tune. She stared, not having realized he could make such a lovely sound with his throat injury.

  “That is one happily married man,” said Patsy. She smiled and shook her head as she watched Trace.

  “Well, I never!” huffed Mrs. Jennet. As usual, the banker’s wife wore black bombazine and a scowl.

  “You should try it sometime,” said Beth, smiling as if he’d just pleasured her. “It makes all the hard work of caring for a husband worthwhile.”

  The other women stared at her as Mrs. Jennet clutched her bosom and gasped like a fish.

  “I’ll need six dozen canning bottles by the end of the month, Mrs. Tanner. Three men eat a lot. I don’t know where they got the food in the pantry.”

  “Rowena Jones,” said Patsy. “She and her late husband, God rest his soul, have the spread west from yours. She’ll sorely miss the money she got from all the food those boys bought from her each fall. She’s trying to get enough money to go back East to her daughter, but no one wants her place. Making preserves for single men is her only source of cash money.”

  “The garden I just started won’t provide enough to get us through the winter. I expect Mr. Elliott will speak with her about provisions once again. My husband and his brothers are partial to her jams and pickles.”

  “I’m not surprised,” said a pretty woman Beth hadn’t seen before. Wearing peach silk, she was the best dressed. Delicate white lace dripped from her bodice and wrists. “Most men like a bit of sweetness and spice. Don’t you agree, Mrs. Jennet?” The younger woman coughed into a scrunched handkerchief she held in her palm. “I hear you won blue ribbons for your spiced pears back East.”

  “I did, indeed. Perhaps someday you will aspire to such duties for your husband, Mrs. MacDougal. It must be difficult for him with you so unwell.”

  Her tone of voice and the way she sniffed made it obvious the banker’s wife did not say it in concern but in condemnation.

  “My husband is quite satisfied with the duties I perform,” replied Mrs. MacDougal. She turned her back when a stronger cough hit her.

  Mrs. Jennet pointed her eagle-beaked nose at the young woman’s back. She glared as if Mrs. MacDougal had insulted her, but she wasn’t sure about what.

  “If it ain’t Prudence MacDougal.” A few ladies squeaked in surprise as Jack’s honey-toned deep voice emerged from the back of the store. He looked Mrs. MacDougal up and down with his usual insolent grin. “The very woman who got the sheriff to keep us Elliotts from town.”

  A touch of color crept up the woman’s cheeks. She dropped her eyes and brought her handkerchief to her lips.

  “Jack Elliott, that is not how you speak to a young lady,” said Mrs. Tanner. “Gillis’s bride rarely gets to town. I won’t have you ruin her day.”

  Jack swaggered over to the flustered group. He lifted his hat to the older women and winked at the younger. Before she knew what he was up to, he gave Prudence a peck on her cheek. Her pale cheeks flushed bright pink.

  “Sorry, ma’am,” said Jack. “I know it ain’t your fault. But Gillis is no fun since he brought you home. I kinda miss those rip-roaring fights.” He winked at Beth.

  “No matter.” Heads swiveled as Simon sauntered from the back room to stand beside Jack. He nodded politely to Prudence and tipped his hat to the ladies.
“Since Trace got hitched, we can come to town whenever we like.”

  “I hear the sheriff might put the same rule on the other bachelor ranchers if they get rowdy,” said Jack. He turned to Mrs. Jennet. “Get that banker husband of yours to toss a gold nugget into the pot. Maybe it’ll encourage a few gals to ride the next Bride Train right to Tanner’s Ford.”

  Simon swatted Jack on the back of the head. “Trace said to help load the wagon.” He spoke to Beth while he selected a handful of penny candy sticks. “Got a letter from Ranger, the next brother down. He and Patrick are thinking of bringing a load of cattle north next year. Ben’s almost finished his law training and he’ll head home, too.” He put a nickel on the counter and nodded to Patsy. “I remember that boy eating more than both of us together.”

  “Man’s got a right to an appetite,” replied Jack, winking at the women.

  After lifting their hats to the women, both men left for the back lot, arguing about who got the peppermint stick. Beth fought to keep back embarrassment and laughter. The room stayed silent for a minute.

  “Those Elliott boys have always been rude!” Mrs. Jennet sniffed, her head high. “Only a slattern would marry one of them!”

  “Better an Elliott than Joe Sheldrake,” said Patsy.

  “My husband and his brothers are gentlemen,” said Beth, ignoring the insult to herself. “They are kind and considerate, and take good care of me.” She now knew Trace was not the poor man she thought she’d married. The Rocking E owed nothing to the bank. Therefore, she didn’t have to bow down to the petty dictates of Mrs. Jennet and her cronies.

  “If Trace Elliott is anything like my dear Gillis, you are a lucky woman,” said Prudence to Beth.

  “I am indeed.” Beth turned to Patsy and held out her list. “Would you be able to fill my list, please? I believe these ladies have finished their business. Isn’t that correct, Mrs. Jennet?”

  Each woman sniffed at Beth as they swept out of the store after the banker’s wife like flotsam caught in the wake of a pirate ship full of plunder. Prudence waited for the procession to pass. When the door closed with a snap, she turned to Beth. “I like your style with the old besom. Please, call me Prudence.”

  “And I’m Beth.” They nodded pleasantly at each other.

  “Unfortunately, I’m not able to come to travel much, but I would enjoy a visit,” said Prudence. “My brother-in-law Nevin will be pleased that Ben is returning to Tanner’s Ford. He’s the same age as Ben and his twin, Ranger.”

  “Two sets of twins?” Beth gasped and pressed a hand to her belly. Having been married only a few hectic days, she hadn’t thought about children.

  “Perhaps you will be the same,” said Prudence, mistaking Beth’s shock for one of want. “My husband is also one of seven.” She attempted a smile. “Gillis and I hope we will soon be blessed.”

  The door to the street opened and a huge man stood in the door. His head and face blazed as the sun lit his red hair and beard. In two strides he was at Prudence’s side.

  “There ye are, lovey. Time for a wee rest.” She lifted her beaming face and received a chaste kiss on the cheek.

  “You can do better than that, Gillis,” she chastised him.

  “I wouldn’t want to embarrass you in front of the lady.”

  “Mrs. Elliott, I’d like you to meet my Scottish mountain of a husband, Gillis MacDougal. Gil, this is Beth, Trace’s wife,” said Prudence.

  The huge man tilted his head and openly looked her up and down. He was as bad as her husband and his brothers. It wasn’t surprising if they’d been friends all their lives.

  “Heard the auld man was forced to marry a hoyden Frank locked up. Choice of Trace or that blowhard Sheldrake.” Bright blue eyes laughed into hers. “Trace must have two wives. I can’t see this gorgeous creature putting her foot in a jail.”

  “Only one wife, thank you. It’s true, I spent three horrid days in a cell,” said Beth.

  “If you’re living with those Elliotts, ye won’t mind seeing this.”

  Gillis gently brought Prudence close to him. She turned her flushed face up to him. He leaned down and proceeded to kiss her soundly. Beth, pleased someone else had a husband like hers, turned her back on the oblivious pair. She looked over the candy display until she heard the door close on the couple.

  “Gillis looks at her as if she were candy,” said Patsy, sighing after the two lovers. “Like Simon, he always had a sweet tooth.”

  “Thanks for the reminder,” said Beth. “I’ll need a few baskets of peaches when they’re ripe.” Patsy noted the request in her account book. “Mr. MacDougal seems to have a passion for life,” said Beth quietly.

  Patsy’s lips quirked up. She looked over Beth’s head toward the back room for a moment, then turned back. “I expect passion is something Elliotts have as well.”

  “Yep.” A strong arm circled Beth’s waist and pulled her back against a hard, tall body. A wave of heat rose from her lower belly at Trace’s growled comment. Her nipples rose, unbidden, at his masculine smell of leather, horses, and ale. Trace rested his chin on her head and grasped her breasts.

  Instead of being horrified, the older woman laughed. “You two newlyweds are worse than the MacDougals!” She fanned her face with her hand. “You’d better keep your hands off each other until you get out of town. You’ll make everyone jealous. And if you see that husband of mine, tell him he’d better not tire himself out today!”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Ben coming home?” Simon handed Trace a hundred-pound bag of flour.

  Trace set it down with a thump, shaking the wagon. Beth, waiting on the seat, grabbed for a handhold. She didn’t know much about the youngest four siblings but didn’t want to ask questions as it seemed to bother Trace.

  “He finished law school and is heading here instead of Texas. Don’t know when but he’ll bring things from Ma’s estate.”

  “Tell him we don’t want it,” said Jack. “They threw Ma out without a penny.”

  Trace sighed. “I said the same thing until I got a wife.”

  She looked down, pretending to concentrate on smoothing her dress while listening intently to what Trace might say. How would she cope with yet another brother moving in?

  “There might be pretty things Beth would like. You know, teacups and the like.” Trace cleared his throat. “I won’t deny our children because some rich old man hated to lose his daughter to Pa.”

  Simon grunted and stomped back into the store. She shifted slightly in her seat, glad she hadn’t yet put on her bonnet. While still facing forward she watched Jack furiously pacing from the corner of her eye.

  “If Ben wants to visit, he can eat and sleep in the barn. Otherwise, he can find himself a place in town. Since we broke down that wall upstairs there’s no room for him,” groused Jack. “I’m not giving up my bed, even if he is my brother.”

  “He’s buying the widow Jones’s property. We’ll own the whole side of the valley.” Trace lowered his voice to a loud whisper. “Three Elliotts is enough for Beth to handle. Ben’s a lawyer now. He can take care of himself.”

  “You’ll still be able to whup him, Jackass, while I do the same to Ranger,” said Simon as he approached the wagon. “It’ll be just like old times, the two of us against the two of them.” He handed Trace the small, but heavy, cask of molasses he’d brought out. “I got something more important to know.”

  Trace placed the cask on the wagon and shoved it closer to the front. “What?”

  “You think we’ll have chicken and dumplings for Sunday dinner like Ma used to make?” Simon dropped his voice to a whisper. “Jack can clean up while I help Beth take a nap.”

  “If you’re there, she won’t sleep.”

  Beth turned around and glared at Jack, a finger held to her tightly closed lips.

  “Shush! You two head home and get the chores done,” ordered Trace.

  Jack and Simon looked at each other, then Beth. Heat ran up her face. The two men glared
at Trace.

  “No stopping except to water the horses, hear?” Simon lifted a warning finger. Trace glanced at the clouds moving in.

  “Nope. No time to dawdle today, boys.”

  He pulled out the oiled cloth. His brothers helped him roll it out and cover their goods. They went back in the store for a last load. Jack sauntered out with a pair of squawking chickens with their feet tied together. Beth understood why Simon asked about Sunday dinner.

  Simon and Trace followed, each carrying a wriggling flop-eared dog.

  “These are Old Walt’s wedding presents,” said Trace, frowning at the black and tan bundle in his arms. “Walt had Rosa keep them at Lily’s until we came to town.”

  “Walt said they’re Anthony and Cleopatra,” added Simon with a straight face.

  “Fool names for a couple of critters,” growled Trace. Beth noticed he used both hands to carry the animal and didn’t complain that it licked his chin. “This one’s Tony.” He made sure she had a secure grip before he released it.

  “Tony and Cleo,” said Beth, accepting the female from Simon. “I’ll make Walt something sweet as a thank you.” She held the puppies on her lap, but they were too excited to settle. While she was glad to have their company, there was a reason for the gift. A cat could catch mice and vermin, but dogs would bark to warn her when anyone approached. Old Walt was still watching out for her.

  Trace climbed up beside her. One growl from him and the puppies huddled together, quiet. She sighed and shook her head, smiling to herself. They might be her dogs to care for, but they knew who was the leader of the pack.

  Simon and Jack stayed near the wagon until they were well on their way home. Each man then took a sleeping dog on the saddle before him and set off toward the Rocking E. When they arrived in town, all three men strapped down their guns. She’d seen no one, not even Gillis MacDougal, doing the same. She waited to ask about it until the two of them were alone and Trace’s vigilance had relaxed somewhat.