The Marriage Agreement Read online

  “My garden is doin’ real good,” the wife told them. “Fresh string beans and beets are comin’ along. Picked the first batch of corn today.” The golden ears had small kernels and were tender. The supply of butter was abundant, and Lily slathered it on her second ear of corn.

  “This is wonderful,” she said, biting into the tender kernels without delay, aware of the trickle of butter that trailed along the edge of her finger, and ignoring it with ease. “Do you make your own butter?” And then she blushed. “Well, of course you do,” she amended. “And your own bread, too, don’t you?”

  A plate piled high with thick slices sat in the middle of the table and Morgan reached for a piece. “Do you know how to bake bread?” he asked Lily, and then grinned at their hostess. “We’ve only been married a short while. I have a lot to learn about my bride. I suspect I’ll be in for a few surprises.”

  “Well, I don’t mind telling you a few things,” the woman said, directing her smile in Lily’s direction. “We all have to learn sometime.”

  The hour after supper was spent with Lily obtaining all the knowledge she could gather, and the woman who shared it with her was obviously glad of someone to listen while she talked. “We don’t get much company, here off the beaten path,” she confided. “Had a couple of fellas stop by the other day, but they skedaddled when my Henry waved his shotgun at them.”

  “What did they want?” Lily asked, her ears perking up at the woman’s words.

  “Said they were with the United States government and they had permission to take our land for a right-of-way for the railroad. Henry told them to make tracks, and when he reached for the gun, they left in a dad-blasted hurry.”

  Lily frowned. “Did they threaten y’all?”

  “No, but I sure didn’t like the looks of them. They said they’d be back.” She sniffed in indignation. “Henry’ll show them the road should they ride up to the porch again. The government’s got no business tryin’ to take our land. We got a deed that says it’s ours.”

  “Did they offer to pay you for it?” Lily asked, wishing that Morgan were listening to the conversation.

  “Yeah, about enough to get us a couple of days in a hotel and a few hot meals while we looked for another place to settle. Henry let them know we weren’t interested. Not one little bit.”

  Lily held her peace until bedtime, and then earned a surprised grin from Morgan as she hustled him across the yard toward the barn. “I didn’t know you were in such a hurry to spend the night with me, sweetheart,” he teased. Arms filled with a sheet, a quilt and a pair of pillows, items Lily suspected had been pilfered from the children’s beds, he followed in her wake as she opened the big door at the front of the barn and stepped inside the yawning interior.

  “I need to talk to you,” she whispered, looking back toward the house. She gripped his arm and tugged him inside the barn behind her, then shut the door, leaving them in a twilight cocoon. From the windows, sufficient light shone to illuminate the ladder to the loft and Lily clambered up quickly, holding her dress high. She reached down to grasp the pillows as he handed them, and then the bedclothes, up to her.

  Morgan made short work of the ladder and stepped onto the floor of the hayloft. “Looks like Henry cut hay not too long ago,” he surmised, eyeing the stacks of fragrant dried grasses that surrounded them. “It oughta make a decent bed.”

  The window of the loft was open, and in the dim light, he tossed the quilt across a heavy pile of hay and aimed the pillows toward the center of their makeshift bed. “Listen to me, Morgan,” Lily said in a low voice. “I think the men you’re in search of were here a few days ago.”

  Morgan’s hands halted in midair as he was about to snap the sheet and allow it to drift over their quilt. It hung before him and as she watched, his brows lowered and he bent closer to her. “Are you sure?”

  “No, of course not, but Henry’s wife, Anna, told me that two men came calling and offered them a pittance for their land. Said the government was claiming it for the right-of-way for a railroad. Henry shook his shotgun at them and they left, but they threatened to return.”

  Morgan nodded, and then seemed to withdraw. “Did you hear me?” Lily asked. “What do you think?”

  “Let me consider this for a few minutes,” he told her. “I hadn’t heard that the scam was being worked this far north, but if what Henry’s wife told you is fact, then we need to get out the word.”

  “To who?” Lily asked. “Who do you report to?”

  He shook his head. “Not now, Lily. Let me think.” He waved a hand toward the temporary bed. “Go on. Lie down and get to sleep.” Walking across the loft, he stood by the open window and gazed out, as if he could somehow divine the circumstances she’d described.

  “We didn’t bring our bags up here,” Lily said, thinking of her brush and the nightgown she’d planned to wear.

  “Sleep in your shift,” he told her. “We’ll be in a small town tomorrow night and I’ll get you a couple of dresses to wear. That one will do for another day, won’t it?”

  “All right,” she agreed, making an effort to reach over her shoulders to work at the buttons. Morgan glanced back at her and made his way to where she stood.

  “Let me help,” he offered, and she turned her back to him, accepting his assistance with an ease she couldn’t have imagined a week ago.

  Her life had changed immeasurably, she decided, once Morgan came on the scene. The prospect of marriage, after Stanley had dashed her hopes of a happy-ever-after, had not been given a second thought. Indeed, she’d vowed to herself to totally avoid the institution at all cost. Once burned, her mother had said, a woman would do well to stay clear of the hot stove.

  Now, she faced the foreseeable future with this man, a man who was her husband, yet was not. Though the owner of the warm hands touching her back with slow, methodical movements seemed to have more in mind than an offer to serve as a lady’s maid. Lily bent her head a bit, holding her hair to one side as Morgan reached the top button and slid it from its mooring.

  “There you go,” he said softly, and as she allowed the dress to fall forward from her shoulders, he placed his lips on the vulnerable nape she presented. As though he touched her with a thousand butterfly wings, her skin responded, a quick shiver running the length of her spine.

  And then he was gone, back to the window, while she slid completely from her dress and petticoat, then removed shoes and stockings before she lay on the quilt and drew the sheet up over herself. She watched him, noted the width of his shoulders, the narrow wedge of hips and thighs and the hand he placed on an upright piece of wood near his head. His hat was tilted low, a custom he observed frequently, she’d noted, as if he would screen the message his eyes might convey.

  Even as she watched, he removed the wide-brimmed hat and held it against his side. Then with a spin, he sent it sailing to where she lay. It landed at the foot of her makeshift bed and she sat up in surprise. “Morgan?”

  He turned his head and his face was shadowed in the gloom of night. “Yeah?”

  It was a simple reply, and she found she had no response to offer. “Nothing,” she said, after a moment.

  “Go to sleep, Lily,” he commanded her. The words were harsh, as if he harbored some grudge against her, and she watched him for a moment. But in vain, for he turned away, dismissing her, if not from his mind, then certainly from his sight.

  An owl swooped past him from the depths of the loft and he showed no sign that it had almost brushed his head in its escape from the barn. As though made of stone, he remained where he stood, and Lily held his image in her mind as she slept.

  Somehow, Morgan felt little surprise at the story Lily had told him, for this place was an ideal spot in which to gull a simple farmer. Isolated, with no close neighbors, Henry was at a disadvantage. Without a doubt, he’d been taken in by the visitor’s claim of government backing. How long he would hold up to the threats the men might offer was a question Morgan had no answer for.
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  They might burn his house or barn. Intimidation of a man’s family was a common ploy when such criminals attacked, and there were reports of men being shot and killed in front of wives and children. It was urgent that they be caught, and he decided to warn Henry in the morning just what he could expect. Keeping his gun handy was the best deterrent, but there were times when the man had fieldwork to do, leaving his family vulnerable.

  The only solution was to bait the trap in Sand Creek and hope for a quick resolution to the situation.

  The night air was warm, with no breeze to cool the loft, and he feared the night would hold little rest for either himself or Lily. But once she’d relaxed and fallen asleep, she seemed to find a degree of comfort on the resilient hay. He’d allowed his gaze to return to her, time and again, waiting until she should allow her weary body the rest it needed. If he went to her now, he feared the loss of the restraint he’d placed upon himself. A man who knew the meaning of abstinence, he nevertheless chafed at the thought of having a wife so close at hand, without seeking her out as was his legal right.

  He’d told her that they would consummate this marriage in a decent bed, at the right time. Long years ago he’d learned not to allow his masculine urges to control his life. But, there were times when keeping his word was damn inconvenient, he decided.

  Lily would no doubt allow him the use of her body, but that wasn’t what he wanted. He ached for her as he’d rarely yearned for a woman before. But then, he’d never owned a wife, never spoken the vows of marriage before, having grown comfortable with years of bachelorhood. He was almost forty years old, thirty-seven to be exact, and for the first time in his life, he’d committed himself to marriage.

  He could no longer fool himself into thinking that it was a matter of convenience, this marriage he’d undertaken, that Lily was expendable, that he could deliver her to Louisiana and wave farewell. He’d told her he’d do that very thing.

  But he’d lied.

  She curled beneath the sheet and then pushed it aside in her sleep, apparently too warm beneath the low, overhanging eaves. Her legs were exposed beneath the hem of her shift, and he examined them from his vantage point. Slender but well formed, with narrow ankles and slim feet, she was built along aristocratic lines. Her body was shapely, her arms and hands graceful, and he was struck with the dark beauty of his bride.

  The owl was returning to the barn, a bit of prey in its claws, and Morgan stood aside, lest the bird’s flight be on a collision course with the man who watched. It was time to lie down, if not to sleep, then certainly to rest. Tomorrow would come soon enough, he decided. Worrying about it tonight wasn’t going to do a bit of good.

  Wearing his drawers, he slid between the quilt and sheet and rolled over to where Lily was curled. One leg was bent, the other straight beneath it and the need to fit himself to that perfect angle she offered was urgent. With a bit of persuasion on his part, he could take his pleasure and provide her with a measure of her own. He gritted his teeth against the temptation, inhaling the sweet scent of woman that rose from her warmth and lured him near.

  He formed himself to her back, holding her loosely, lest she be frightened by his presence there. But it seemed he offered her no threat, for she sighed, then murmured his name, as if she dreamed of him, and the fantasy woven in her sleep was to her liking.

  There would be no ease for him tonight. Only the pleasure he could snatch from her warmth, the soft weight of her breast in his palm and the knowledge that she slept unafraid.

  Chapter Seven

  Henry lifted a hand in farewell, his face set in stoic lines. Forewarned, he was apparently already making his own plans to foil the men who would take his land if they could. Behind him, his wife and four children watched the buggy leave the yard, the woman holding a hand over her lips, as though they quivered and she must hide the evidence of her distress.

  “I don’t feel good about leaving them this way,” Lily said, turning back to face Morgan, once the farmhouse was behind them. Although more a cabin than a house, it nevertheless held a family that worked hard to make a life here. A family that deserved the protection of the law, and seemed unlikely to receive it, and instead would probably be forced to do battle to keep what was theirs.

  “I don’t, either,” Morgan said, exasperation in his tone. “But we don’t have a choice. I’ve told Henry about the scam this gang of crooks is running. It’s up to him to keep an eye out and his gun handy.”

  Lily was left to fret in silence for the next hour, for it seemed that Morgan’s mind was busy with thoughts he was not willing to share with her. The day was perfection itself, Lily thought, the sky blue with puffy clouds sailing toward the east, birds singing and butterflies drifting over the wildflowers by the side of the wagon tracks they followed.

  “Morgan?” At his distracted glance in her direction, she pressed her lips together. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I just was wishing this were a real adventure, a wedding trip, and there was no danger attached for us or the people who live here.” She lifted her hand, moving it to indicate the area before them. “Everything looks so peaceful, and yet we’re heading into danger. Why do you suppose evil seems to surround us? Life would be so much simpler if everyone followed the rules of society and did what was right and proper.”

  “I didn’t know I’d married such a dreamer,” Morgan said dryly. He tilted his hat back a bit and leaned his elbows on his thighs, the reins loose in his hands. “Life is real, Lily. Things are tough all over, and if you want a decent life you have to fight for it sometimes. Henry’s battle to hold his land will take all his strength, but if he wins the fight, his victory will be all the sweeter. He’ll have beaten the odds.”

  “I was raised to be a dreamer, I suppose,” she said. “Life was wonderfully easy when I was a child. I was pampered and petted, and everyone I lived with seemed secure. And then war came and things changed overnight.”

  “And you with them,” he agreed.

  “Not because I wanted to,” she told him. “I’d have stayed at home until I found a husband. I’d have moved on, probably not far from home, and raised a family, just as my folks planned for me.”

  “Then why did you leave with your colonel, Lily?” he asked.

  “I don’t think I want to talk about it right now,” she answered. “It might be better done another time.”

  “All right,” he agreed amiably. “We’re coming up on a town anyway, I think. See that dark line against the horizon? Looks like it might be buildings.”

  Lily bent forward, shading her eyes with one hand. “I think you’re right,” she said. “In fact, there’s a house over there to the left, closer to where the river runs.” Excitement rose within her and she sat on the edge of the seat. “Can we see if there’s a hotel or somewhere to eat?”

  “Didn’t your biscuits and gravy stick to your ribs?” he asked with a grin. “You ate enough for both of us.”

  “I did not,” she said sharply, glaring in his direction. “I was hungry, and Anna, bless her heart, kept passing the biscuits my way.”

  “I’m teasing you, sweetheart,” Morgan told her. “And yes, we’ll find some food. It may be at a general store, or in someone’s kitchen, but we’ll eat.”

  The general store sat in a prominent position in the center of the small town, a place named Middleburg, according to a sign someone had placed on the edge of the community. It boasted a bank, three saloons and a barber shop, but the emporium was by far the largest establishment there.

  This afternoon it held an assortment of townsfolk and a smattering of farmers. One lady came in with a basket of eggs, another with rounds of butter wrapped in waxed paper, both of them trading for staples. Again, Lily watched as the proprietor cut a chunk of cheese from a large wheel and wrapped it in brown paper. He covered the cheese with a netting of some sort when he’d finished and turned back to Lily.

  “What else would you like, ma’am? I got pickled bologna here in a brine keg.” He point
ed to a large crock on the counter, a plate covering it. “Want to taste it?”

  She couldn’t resist, and nodded her assent. The man fished in the brine and brought out a length of sausage, placing it on the plate and cutting a small portion. He held it on the end of his fork and offered it to her.

  Tangy, meaty and worth a second bite, she decided promptly and told the man as much, then watched as he wrapped her purchase in waxed paper before he included it with the cheese. A basket of small bread loaves sat on the counter and Lily bought two of the brown, crusty specimens, her mouth watering as she faced the prospect of a meal.

  “You find enough for a meal yet?” Morgan asked from behind her. “How about a can of peaches?” he asked the proprietor. “And maybe you can tell me how far we are from Sand Creek?”

  “Hmm…” the man said, narrowing his eyes as he considered the query. “Probably about forty miles downriver, shouldn’t take you longer than tomorrow, late, to get there, providing you stop for the night someplace.”

  “Anything available here in town?” Morgan asked.

  “Not much,” the man said. “A boardinghouse where you might get a decent meal, but the beds aren’t much, and you’d probably be sharing a room with other folks. Mostly cowhands on the lookout for work or down on their luck stay there.”

  “I think we’ll go on, then,” Morgan said decisively. “I’m going to need a box or maybe a valise, too. I’ve found a pair of boots that fit pretty well, over there on the counter, and my wife could use a dress or two.”

  “You folks been on the road long?” the man asked, turning to where glass bins held assorted items of clothing. “Haven’t seen you hereabouts before, have I?”

  “No, we’re on our way to Sand Creek to visit with my wife’s relatives,” Morgan said easily, the lie tumbling from his lips, sounding like the gospel truth to Lily’s ears.

  “Well, let’s see what we’ve got that’ll fit your lady,” the storekeeper said, lifting a gingham dress from the bin he’d placed on the counter.