Free The Officer and the Bostoner (Historical Western Romance) (Fort Gibson Officers Series, Book 1) by Rose Gordon

way back to their room.
    The simple gesture along with seeing the sores on her hands gave him a new respect for her. She had no idea what she was doing but had pride and determination to keep up the charade. She might not end up with a suitable dress, but she would certainly have his respect. He tore his gaze from her raw hands and focused on the boardwalk in front of them. “Well, if an expert like you says it takes time, then I shall just have to wait a little longer.” He opened the door to their room for her. “Will you be wearing it tomorrow when I come to get you, then?”
    “No.”
    Ignoring her strained answer as best he could, Wes walked over to the crude fireplace and gathered a few twigs together in the middle. “Oh?” he queried casually as he lit a match and threw it on top of the kindling.
    “I already told you, these things take time. I don’t want to rush and make a mistake.” She went over to the pitcher of fresh well water he’d brought up before going to get her and poured it into the small metal pot he’d bought to heat their water.
    Didn’t want to make a mistake? He nearly snorted. More likely she was hoping that either a dress would magically appear or she could stall so long that her suitor would be back to collect her before she actually finished her ill attempt at one. “I see.” He grabbed two logs and placed one on either side of the little fire he’d created. “Allison, is there anything you’d like to tell me?”
    “Actually, there is.”
    He bit back a smile. “Yes?”
    “You’re building that fire all wrong.”
    Wes craned his neck around to see this peculiar woman. “I beg your pardon?”
    “That log—” she pointed to the short log on the right side of the fire— “needs to be closer to the fire.”
    Wes frowned. “No. I don’t think it does.”
    “It does if you want your tea to be warm.”
    Standing, he grinned at her. “Well, m’dear, if that’s the case, then I can honestly tell you that I find absolutely no fault with the fire. I like my tea cold.”
    “Cold?”
    He nodded and pulled out his daily ration of coffee beans and placed them on the table. “That’s the way we South Carolina folk like it, I’m afraid. But if you’re of the mind to make me a hot beverage, coffee will do nicely.”
    She wrinkled her nose up, presumably at the memory of the coffee she’d sipped this morning. She bit her lip and stared at the small pouch he’d put on the table.
    “ Of course, I like mine a certain way. I’ll show you.” He walked over to her and untied the bag of beans.
    Wes picked up a small handful and smashed them with the butt of his revolver. “When the water boils, put this, just like this, in there to brew the same way you’d brew tea.”
    Allison frowned at him, but heaven help him if he knew why.
    Shrugging, he resumed his seat on the edge of the bed and removed his shako, boots, and then his coatee.
    Without so much as a glance in his direction, Allison bent down to attend to the fire. He grinned at the way she moved things around, creating a larger flame.
    He shook his head and mindlessly undid the cuffs on his sleeves. “Did you enjoy your time with Mrs. Lewis and Mrs. Ridgely?”
    “Yes, they’re both very nice.” She placed the pot onto the fire. “Thank you for introducing me to them. I have no idea what I might have done without their company today.”
    “ Perished of tedium, perhaps.”
    A small sputter of laughter passed her lips at his suggestion, just as he’d hoped it would. “Probably. There isn’t much to do around here, is there?”
    “No.” He moved up the bed to lean against the flattened pillows. “It’s fairly quiet and simple here.”
    “ Yes, I’d noticed.”
    “ I’m sure you have.” He closed his eyes. He didn’t know about her, but he hadn’t slept well last night and being out in the hot sun this morning had made him even more tired. Dinner wouldn’t be served for another hour, which provided the