Free His Errant Educator (Willamette Wives Book 3) by Maggie Ryan

meddling when I see it." He bent lower to speak directly into her ear. "And, young lady, I promise your little bottom won't be happy if you continue to pry into business that doesn't concern you."
    "I am not meddling," she said again, then swallowed hard at the look in his eyes. "I-I need to start supper."
    "Now that will make us all happy," Wyatt said with a chuckle, giving her a quick kiss. "We are starving, and anxious to taste our first elk steaks!"
     

Chapter Seven
     
    "Good grief, is all this really necessary?" Richard shook his head as he and his partners watched their wives from the relatively clear area in front of the fireplace. The three women were scuttling between the bedroom and the open living area. The table, already piled high with items, was still having more added to its surface. "They do know we are only going for two nights, right?"
    James chuckled as he shifted his infant daughter on his shoulder, patting her back gently. "The days when you could simply stuff a clean shirt and some hardtack in your saddlebag and declare yourself ready to ride are long gone, I'm afraid. We've been up since well before dawn and still aren't ready. Wives seem to require a great deal more baggage to travel, I suppose."
    Charity, who had deposited a stack of folded diapers on the table, plucked one from the top and waved it in the air. "For men who constantly feel the need to remind their wives that their actions have consequences, perhaps you should have considered them yourselves. The children you sired require a lot of necessities."
    "Did I hear our precious babies being referred to as baggage?" Anna asked, stepping from the bedroom. Lifting her son high in the air, she twirled around in a circle. Johnny chortled his glee, his chubby legs kicking and his arms flailing at the impromptu dance. "These children are little angels."
    "Careful," Richard warned. "Your angel might decide to decorate your dress with his breakfast."
    Anna instantly stilled but then smiled. "Hmm, you're right. Here."
    Before he could blink, Richard found Johnny in his arms as his wife disappeared yet again into the bedroom. "Where are you going?"
    "To get another dress, of course," Anna replied.
    Wyatt's chuckle had Richard turning to him. "Ha, ha. Just keep laughing and the fates might decide to give you several of these little angels all at once. Didn't Agatha state that twins run in her family?"
    Agatha, with Hope's hand in hers, entered the room in time to hear the question. Wyatt stepped forward and took her into his arms after lifting Hope off her feet, tossing the child into the air and catching her as she squealed with laughter.
    "We won't care if God blesses us with a whole passel at a time. Children keep a man young." He tousled Hope's blonde curls before setting her down and continuing. "At least a certain young lady will be too busy to meddle if she has a dozen or so little ones running about, right, honey?"
    If Richard and James wondered why Agatha blushed, they didn't ask. However, the women were far more curious when they heard their friend give a softly uttered, "I wasn't meddling!"
    "We'll have a Tick-Tock meeting during the ride to town," Anna declared, opening a carpetbag to place another dress inside.
    It was another ten minutes before the women declared that the packing was done, and the men began to take the items outside to put in the wagon. Donning cloaks and mittens, Charity said, "And, my friend, you will be the subject of our meeting."
    Agatha looked up from where she was trying to guide Hope's little thumbs into her mittens. "It's nothing, really. Wyatt just has a way with words."
    "Yes, and that way has you glowing," Anna said.
    "Oh, are you keeping secrets?" Charity asked, her eyes dropping to Agatha's waist.
    "Of course not," Agatha assured her, pulling her hood up over her head. "I keep praying, but we've yet to be blessed."
    "Not from lack of trying?" Charity asked, evidently not the least bit concerned about the