Free Wild Texas Rose by Martha Hix Page A

you haven’t eaten in two days, and you’re extra sweet on pecan pie. You get a big piece of it, all fresh from the oven and smelling like heaven. Rather than gobble it down yourself, you’d give it to the one you love.”
    â€œI’ve had those feelings.”
    She didn’t qualify that statement, Whit noted. Without a doubt, her feelings had been for that other man, not for Joe. But she had loved and lost, that was certain, and in the aftermath was bound by the strictures of society to make an honest woman of herself.
    Whit suffered under no illusions; it was different for men. He had gotten over Jenny by hellin’ and whorin’, but respectable women weren’t allowed those freedoms.
    If he were a woman, he’d damned sure hate having marriage pushed on him. Nonetheless, Mariah was bound by society if she wanted a home and a respectable sex life, which his instincts told him appealed to her for sure.
    And thinking of sex, Whit stared at the doe-eyed beauty. He imagined what her shapely body must look like in the flesh, yet he couldn’t picture her and the sawed-off farmer in a carnal act. For Pete’s sake, she was a good two inches taller than Joe, and probably had ten pounds on him. But then again what the hell did that have to do with anything? What he couldn’t see was her hair in wild disarray and flowing over Joe’s chest as she rode him hard and fast, her face flushed with excitement, her husky voice moaning his name.
    Whit had no trouble putting himself in the picture.
    What the hell’s the matter with you, Reagor? he asked himself. Snap out of it. Mariah Rose McGuire was Joe’s woman. Period. And at this point, she needed something different from Whit’s sexual musings.
    â€œLook, you’ve got a case of bridal jitters, that’s all. You shouldn’t be alone. Come on, Mariah, let’s go to the wedding hoedown.” He offered an arm. “If you need a shoulder to cry on, mine’s available for you. Okay?”
    After a moment she agreed. She slipped her arm through the crook of his and started back toward the churchyard.
    She wanted to confide in Whit but wouldn’t dare. She couldn’t open a vein to this man, who was Joseph’s confidant and . . . the object of her fascination.
    Furthermore, it wouldn’t be right and proper not to explain her decision to Joseph in person. The broken engagement would injure his pride and, with those problems Gail had spoken of involving the barbed wire, Mariah was determined to cushion the blow as best she could. She had to finish her journey.
    In the meantime, she’d wrestle with her conscience and prepare for the confrontation. But tonight she simply wanted to blank out thoughts of the heartbreak she would cause in Trick’em. She prayed Whit wouldn’t bring up the subject of Joseph again, and her prayers were answered. Wordlessly they rode to the Atherton residence, this time in a sky-blue covered wagon with red spoke wheels.
    Buggies and wagons littered the grounds surrounding the Atherton property. Horses were tethered to hitching posts and trees. The barn was freshly mucked out, clean-smelling, and streamers hung from the loft and eaves. A half dozen pot-bellied stoves toasted the air. The sun had set, leaving the barn bathed in the glow of a wealth of hurricane lamps.
    Scores of people gathered around the blushing bride and proud groom. A troupe of ladies set food, plus a white, iced cake, on long tables. Cups of pink-tinted rum punch were passed around. Two fiddlers resined their bows, Whit explained to Mariah, and music, helped along by a paunchy dance caller, filled the tall building.
    Lois pulled Whit aside, and while he was gone, Mariah’s toe tapped to the music. She missed his attention. Her thoughts turned to something he had said outside the church. Joseph reminded him of himself when he was young. “So much in love that it overpowers everything and