Free Riding West by Emma Wildes Page B

twinkled. “I‘m counting on grandchildren, so I wouldn‘t dream of keeping you. Try and get some rest, son. Tomorrow we need to repair the cut fences and get an idea of how much stock we lost. I think it would be prudent to hire more hands, to stock up on ammunition and make sure they are all well armed, and take charge of what is starting to be a real problem around here.”
    Parker agreed completely, but his attention was not particularly on missing cattle and damaged fences. With a nod, he went into the house. His mother sat by the fireplace in the living room, her sewing in her lap, and he bent and gave her a kiss on the cheek before heading toward his room. The bedrooms were at the back of the ranch house, down a long hallway, and his was the first on the left. The door was shut, and he paused for a moment, the concept of knocking on his own door novel and a symbol of the change in his life.
    He had married Celia Evans. She was his wife, and every single night she would sleep in his bed, in his arms. His heart tightened in pure joy and even as he lifted his hand to knock, he decided against it and simply opened the door.
    She was in bed already, her shining hair spread over the pillows, sleeping soundly. Stifling a small oath, he felt a small wellspring of amused chagrin as he began to undress in the unreliable moonlit illumination let in by the thin curtains at the window. It had been a trying afternoon, and he really couldn‘t blame her for being tired. She‘d even wept, and he had never seen that before from his gorgeous, but obstinate and willful, bride. He sensed her sudden trepidation over her new wifely role, especially since she had lived her entire life in the same house with her protective family constantly around her. Though his father and mother welcomed her without reservation, finding her place in a new household was going to be a drastic change.
    Slipping under the blankets, he moved closer, doing his best not to disturb her slumber. Inhaling her sweet scent, Parker closed his eyes.

Chapter Six
    The house looked dark except for one lone lamp burning in an upstairs window. John dismounted and quietly led his horse around to the back, where a small, weathered barn sat behind the house. The lone occupant was a raw-boned draft horse and it nickered softly in the shrouded gloom, the smell of hay and manure in the air. John put Mercury, his sorrel gelding, in one of the empty stalls, tossed in some hay, and made his way soundlessly toward the porch. He knocked, two very soft raps of his knuckles, and waited.
    The woman who opened the door wore her dressing gown, and she stepped back without a greeting. He slipped inside and closed the door, dropping the latch into place. The place smelled good as it always did, like cinnamon and fresh baked bread, and he said quietly, “We saw Parker and Celia safely home. I rode straight back.”
    “You haven‘t eaten, then. I‘ve got stew, pie and coffee.”
    He nodded, following her toward the kitchen. Alice Reed motioned him to the table, but didn‘t light a lamp, so he watched her in the semi-darkness as she moved to set the pan of stew back on the cookstove and pour the coffee. Dark hair, thick and curly, hung down her back, and her profile was clean and calm as she worked.
    As usual, they didn‘t talk, but sat companionably while he ate, the faint howl of the rising wind outside the only noise. When he finished his coffee and the last bite of pie, he nodded his thanks and she smiled slightly. He helped her clear the table, and when her hand slipped into his, followed her into the bedroom.
    With her three children sleeping in the next room, quiet was a necessity. The first time they‘d been together, he had been disconcerted by the situation, but he was used to it now.
    He undressed quickly, unbuckling his gun belt and making sure it was within reach. Alice took off her robe and prim nightdress and lay down on the narrow bed, her nude body gleaming in unspoken