Stacey Kayne Read online

  “It may not look like much,” Jed said as he rode past her, “but everything under the sun, from every corner of this earth has been bartered, bought or sold inside that shack.”

  He’s teasing me again. She doubted a body swapped much beyond lice and fleas in such a ramshackle cabin.

  “Stay close to me, sugar,” Jed said, dismounting a few yards from the so-called mercantile. “The locals around these parts aren’t known for being real hospitable.”

  “I hadn’t thought of doing otherwise,” she said, stepping beside him. “And stop calling me sugar,” she snapped, annoyed by the sensations he so easily evoked in her whenever he offhandedly called her by an endearment or surprised her with a brief caress, which had been far too frequent in the past few days. Jed’s silent detachment had been annoying, but his behavior since she’d fallen asleep in his arms was driving her mad.

  He continually caught her off guard with intimate gestures and light caresses. Yesterday, she had turned when she felt him rein in close beside her and was given a quick kiss on the mouth, so fast, she had to wonder if he’d kissed her at all. This morning she’d been sitting by the fire, brushing some of the dirt and dust from her hair when Jed had sat down behind her, taken the brush and diligently performed the chore, securing her hair in one thick braid which trailed down her back.

  She hadn’t protested, fully receptive to all the closeness he would allow. She wanted more. Knowing he wouldn’t let her have it had become damn irritating. When he had finished her braid, he jumped up, jerked her to her feet then smacked a hand on her backside as he told her to mount up.

  “My name is Rachell,” she curtly reminded him as she pushed back her warm hood.

  Jed wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close as they ascended the uneven steps. “I know,” he whispered against her ear. “But you taste like sugar.”

  His teeth lightly grazed the shell of her ear, sending a distracting jolt of sensations throughout her body. Her foot missed the top step. Jed’s arm around her was all that kept her from falling face-first onto the porch.

  “Watch your step, Imp,” he advised.

  She lifted her gaze from Jed’s black leather boots, past his buttoned-up range coat and the black stubble surrounding his smiling lips, to the laughing silver eyes beneath his dark hat.

  Her irritation fizzled into a spark of raw desire. Dear Lord, he was handsome. “I think I need protection from you, Jed Doulan.”

  “You and me both,” he quipped just before he eased open the door of the shack. “Hey, Gran, you decent?” he boomed.

  “Jed?” a raspy voice called out from inside. “Where the hell you been hidin’ for so long?”

  Jed swung the door wide. Warm air rushed out to greet them, along with the strong aroma of chili and fresh bread. Jed placed his hand on the small of Rachell’s back and ushered her inside what was indeed a mercantile, or a museum.

  Rachell came to a full stop just inside the doorway, causing Jed to nearly step on top of her. He hadn’t been teasing. Before her stood a full suit of body armor—the metallic shell of a royal knight standing right there in the center of the cabin. Her eyes continued an upward ascent toward a borage of baskets, bird cages, lanterns and dried herbs which hung from the rough wood beams running across the ceiling.

  To her right was the kind of concession counter one would expect to find in a mercantile. Behind it, large fans that looked to be of an Oriental nature were splayed above the shelves filled with an abundance of canned foods, boxes, and other items.

  Behind the suit of shining armor, however, were many other things she’d not expect to find inside such an isolated shack tucked deep in the mountains. A bicycle. A baby carriage covered in blue velvet. Other odd contraptions she’d never before seen were stacked around the ordinary barrels of shovels and stacks of clothing.

  Rachell felt as though she’d stepped into an overstuffed storage closet of the world.

  “Who’s the purty red?”

  Startled by the gritty voice, Rachell leapt backward, trampling Jed’s big booted feet as her eyes snapped to the far right corner of the cabin. There, in a tiny uncluttered cove was the local merchant, standing beside a small black stove, stirring a large pot of beans.

  Of all the images that ran through Rachell’s mind as to what the proprietor of such an establishment would look like, a wrinkle-faced old woman with a corn-cob pipe clamped between her brown teeth was not one of them. She stood no taller than Rachell but was four times as wide. The white hair pulled into a tight bun on the top of her head didn’t help to keep the loose skin of her face from sagging. Heavy wrinkles drooped forward from her brow, leaving only thin slanted slots for her sharp blue eyes to peer through.

  “My wife, Rachell,” Jed replied.

  Stunned by the unexpected title, Rachell gaped up at him. He flashed a charming smile. He eased his hands into the sides of Rachell’s heavy coat and slid it from her arms. “Rachell, this is Caroline O’Conner.”

  Caroline O’Conner cackled with laughter. She clanked the spoon in her hand on the side of her pot, set the utensil aside and shuffled toward them. “Don’t you listen to this smooth-talkin’ devil. My name’s Gran.” She stopped at the far edge of the long counter and planted hands on her meaty hips. “Honey, get on over here and have some corn bread and beans before you shrivel up to nothin’. Hell’s bells, Jed, don’t you feed yer woman?”

  “My woman eats like a horse,” Jed said as he again ushered Rachell forward.

  “I do not,” Rachell protested, appalled by his comparison.

  “You do too. I don’t know where it all goes, but she can eat damn near as much as I do.”

  Gran turned and waddled back toward the stove, her heavy boots scuffing the dusty wood floor with each step. “Have a seat, honey.” She motioned to three pieces of furniture spaced around her tiny cove, each fashioned from beautiful carved cherry wood and covered in a brocade tapestry.

  Jed hung their coats on some hooks behind the stove. He watched Rachell choose the double-wide chair furthest from the stove. She sat on the wide fancy seat with the grace of a duchess, her back straight, her shoulders squared, reminding Jed of the delicate lady beneath all the trail dust and buckskin.

  “Here you are, Mrs. Doulan,” Gran said, handing her a tin plate. “Watch out for the green peppers. They can set a tender mouth afire.”

  Although they had eaten breakfast only a couple hours ago, Rachell gratefully accepted the plate of beans and corn bread with the feminine politeness and genteel mannerisms that had intrigued Jed the night he’d met her.

  “I was raised on spicy food,” Rachell said with a bright smile. “Jed uses dried peppers to season his meat and stews. I’ve not eaten so well since I was at home in Louisiana.”

  “Ain’t a wonder,” said Gran. “Jed’s the one who got me hooked on these hot little buggers.”

  “You certainly have a wide variety of merchandise in your store,” Rachell commented, glancing over her shoulder.

  “Ain’t it the truth,” Gran replied, her scratchy voice full of pride. “When me and my Harvey built this cabin, we never intended it to be a mercantile, but when folks started flockin’ to these mountains in search of gold, we didn’t have much choice in the matter. Bein’ the only cabin for miles, folks just showed up at our door, lookin’ to trade whatever they had in their wagon for a pick ax.”

  “So you traded your own supplies?”

  “You betcha. Plenty of them folks had pressing needs, hard up for a bag of beans. Folks kept comin’, and we kept tradin’. Before long we was keepin’ this front room stocked up for customers.”

  “You’ve certainly acquired some rare items.”

  “Ain’t much I won’t take. I’ve sold plenty of them foreign contraptions. Never fails that some city-dwellin’ nandy-pandy will get himself lost in these woods and pay top dollar for some whatnot I took off the back of some Swede’s wagon. Course, I’ve also had folks in here so desperate for their chanc
e to pick a chunk of gold out of them hills that they’ve asked to barter their own grandmothers.”

  Jed smiled at the incredulous expression on Rachell’s face.

  “No foolin’, gal,” the old woman insisted.

  “What do you do in such a case?” asked Rachell.

  “First off, I ask if she’s able to work.”

  The light melodious notes of Rachell’s laughter danced across the room. The sound moved powerfully through Jed, nettling under his skin.

  It dawned on him, that in all the weeks they’d been together, he’d never heard Rachell laugh.

  “You’re as bad as Jed,” Rachell said, smiling at Gran who beamed with amusement as she filled another tin plate with beans.

  Realizing he was still standing by the stove, staring at Rachell, Jed moved to take his seat.

  “Glad to see you found a woman who’s got a sense of humor,” Gran said, handing him a plate as he sat beside Rachell. She met Jed’s gaze, approval shining in her eyes.

  “Where’re your grandsons?” Jed asked, anxious to change the subject.

  “Gabe and Abel headed back out at daybreak to check their traps, mumbling somethin’ about the migration of vermin.” A twinkle in Gran’s eye told him she knew exactly the kind of vermin they were tracking, and that they’d received his telegram.

  “Any luck?”

  “Not yet, but my boys’ don’t need luck, they survive on sheer persistence. Little something they learned from you.”

  Jed smiled and took a bite of beans.

  “They’ll be lookin’ for you when they hear you’ve arrived.”

  “I look forward to seeing them. They still workin’ their claims?”

  Excluded from the conversation, Rachell ate her beans and corn bread as Jed and the old woman fell into steady conversation about the miners in the area, different mines and abandoned cabins.

  “Guess you do have a healthy appetite,” Gran said a short while later, smiling as she glanced toward Rachell’s empty plate.

  “Told you she eats like a horse—ouch!” Jed yipped, rubbing the spot on his head where Rachell had tapped him rather firmly with her spoon.

  “I will thank you not to compare my eating habits to that of a horse, Jed Doulan.” She glared into his humor-filled eyes.

  “Sugar, you know I’m—”

  “You better give me that plate, Mrs. Doulan,” Gran said as she shuffled toward her, “before your husband gives you a reason to slap it alongside his head.” Gran collected their plates and disappeared through a door just past the stove, which Rachell assumed led to her living quarters.

  Jed stood and took a mug from a peg on the wall near the stove. Rachell watched the strong, sure movements of his body as he lifted a coffeepot and filled his mug, thinking how lucky a woman would be to have such a man for a husband. How lucky she would be.

  Never before had she conjured such thoughts, a man being last on her list of wants. But in the past few weeks, Rachell had discovered many new things about herself. She had just discovered she liked being referred to as Jed’s wife.

  “Are you seriously mad at me?”

  Rachell blinked and realized Jed was holding a cup of coffee out to her. “No,” she said, keeping her gaze low as she thanked him and accepted the cup. They’d run out of coffee four days back. The delicious aroma sent a shiver of pleasure through her body, which increased as Jed’s hand glided down her back as he sat beside her.

  “I know you’re bone weary after being dragged back and forth across the countryside.” His low voice rumbled near her ear as his palm slid up to her shoulder. “I haven’t said so, but you’ve held up far better than I had a right to expect of you.” His hand rubbed at her tight muscles. “I know men who couldn’t endure the pace we’ve kept and still have their wits about them.”

  “You’ve done all the work,” she said, keeping her eyes on the steaming cup of coffee she held in her trembling hands, feeling far too vulnerable to look up into the warmth she knew she’d find in his eyes. A warm softness that could flee on the spur of a moment.

  His arm stretched around her, embracing her against his side. Oddly enough, Rachell was comforted. Even as he stirred emotions deep inside her heart, her quivering muscles relaxed, absorbing his warmth and strength.

  “You know that’s not true,” he said, his lips brushing the top of her head. “I’m hoping you’ll have a chance to rest for a day or two before we start over the Sierras. I guarantee you’ll be having tea with Elizabeth by next week.”

  And be out of your hair for good.

  Rachell glanced up and saw Gran watching them from the doorway she had previously disappeared through. She puffed on her pipe, her gaze lingering over Rachell for a moment. She shifted her gaze toward Jed. “You needin’ supplies?”

  “Yeah, and a few items from your cellar. I can pay you—”

  “You lookin’ to stoke my temper, Jed Doulan?” Gran interrupted, her wrinkled face fixed in a scowl.

  “No, ma’am,” Jed quickly countered as he rose to his feet.

  “I wouldn’t have a pot to pee in if it weren’t for you, and you damn well know it! Not to mention no kin left to speak of. Gabe and Abel would be buried out back beside their folks if you hadn’t gotten them out of that damn canyon after them butchers rode in. You’re welcome to anything I got.” She moved from the doorway, toward the front of the store.

  Rachell stood as Jed strode toward her.

  “Wait here, where it’s warm,” he instructed. He lifted his gun from his holster. He slid his long fingers into the front of her britches, and Rachell choked on her breath. He gave a tug then slid his revolver behind her waistband. “The first chamber’s empty,” he said, as he bent and brushed his lips across hers in a brief, feather-soft kiss. “I won’t be long.”

  “Are you expecting trouble?” she asked, looking down at the black grip sticking out of her britches.

  “Sugar, at the moment, I’m married to trouble. I’m also a firm believer that everyone should be well armed.”

  “Amen to that,” Gran put in. “Honey, let’s load you up with supplies. You need any sugar, flour or baking powder?”

  Jed laughed as he strode toward the door leading to Gran’s living quarters. “We have plenty of baking powder,” he said, looking back to wink at Rachell. “We could use flour, sugar and coffee.”

  “Pompous know-it-all,” Rachell grumbled as he disappeared through the doorway. She glanced at Gran. “Baking powder is used in biscuits, isn’t it?”

  Gran pulled her pipe from her mouth, regarded her for a long moment then threw her head back with a wild cackle of laughter. “Oh, honey,” she said, patting Rachell on the back as she led her behind the counter. “You’re perfect for Jed.”

  “No, I’m not,” she said in a heavy sigh. “I’m not really his wife,” she admitted as the woman began pulling items off her shelves and hoisted a large sack onto the counter.

  “Not what I heard,” Gran said flatly, retrieving a stack of small empty sacks. “I’s told some old goat married you right and proper.”

  Amazed that news could travel so fast, Rachell stood in stunned silence as she watched Gran begin to scoop coffee into a sack. “We’re getting an annulment,” she said a moment later.

  Gran snorted. “Think you’re too good for him, huh?”

  “No! I think he’s wonderful.”

  “It’s his hard looks then. Jed’s face may resemble the south end of a mule, but—”

  “It does not!”

  Gran’s hands never slowed, cinching one sack and retrieving another. “Then what’s the problem, gal? It can’t be for lack of fortune. The man’s as rich as these mountains.”

  “He…he is?”

  “Damn tootin’.”

  Rachell shook her head, the status of Jed’s wealth not having the slightest bearing on her dilemma. “His fortune or lack thereof doesn’t change the fact that he doesn’t want me,” she said in a low tone.

  Gran paused, her hands
falling idle in the large sack of flour as she met Rachell’s gaze. “Mrs. Doulan, either yer brain’s not adjusted to this high altitude or you must be needin’ spectacles. I’ve known Jed since he was knee-high to a… Well hell. Even at sixteen, that boy was the size of a grizzly.” She turned toward Rachell, her hands working again in a flutter of motion. “But in all them years, I ain’t never seen his eyes shine like they do when he’s lookin’ at you.”

  A smile crept across Rachell’s lips. Her cheeks warmed. “I know he’s attracted to me,” she said, hardly able to believe she was discussing such things, but at the same time, relieved to have someone willing to listen. “But he’s quite cautious about sticking to his side of the campfire.”

  “That don’t mean you have to keep to your side, now does it? Hell’s bells, gal! I’d have never bagged my Harvey had I left it to him to kindle the fire. No, sir. Men, the good ones, are skittish about such things. Jed’s one of the good ones, Mrs. Doulan, I guarantee it. He’s been single for too long. You’ve got a legal claim on him. He’s yours for the takin’.”

  Rachell was certain she’d never received better advice—advice she planned to heed.

  Hope swelled inside her, and for the first time since Titus’s death, she felt like singing.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Jed peeled a thick layer of cobwebs from the doorway. Rachell peered around him into the dilapidated old cabin that had been built into the side of the canyon wall. She cringed at the sight of fifteen square feet of dirt and neglect. Cobwebs stretched from the log ceiling to the floor, threading across the stove on the back wall, encasing a pantry of rough wooden shelves in the far left corner. If there was any actual wood flooring, it didn’t show beneath the dust and dirt.

  “I think I’d rather sleep outside. At least we won’t be boxed in with all the snakes and rodents.”

  “Sugar, it’s not all that bad. It has a stove to keep you warm and a roof to keep the dew off. This cabin just hasn’t been lived in for a few years is all.”