Read Online Mail Order Prairie Bride: (A Western Historical Romance) (Dodge City Brides Book 1) by Julianne MacLean - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Julianne MacLean
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fire.
“I appreciate the drink, but it wasn’t necessary.”
Sarah wet her parched lips. “I thought you might be thirsty. And why do you have to make me feel irresponsible for trying to do you a favor?”
“I’m not trying to make you feel anything at all, Sarah. If you feel irresponsible, don’t blame me.” He flicked the cup, tossing the last shimmering diamonds of water into the wind.
“I don’t feel irresponsible! I…” She stopped herself, realizing with stunning presence of mind that she was reacting just as he wanted her to. He wanted to frustrate her, to punish her for the secret she’d kept from him last night, and for allegedly loving another man. Well, she wasn’t going to break. She wasn’t.
“In all honesty, I would like nothing more than to get to work, but you left me behind with little idea as to how you like things done around here, so I had to come all the way out here to ask what you use for firewood. Now, whose fault is that?”
A sly, subtle grin crossed his lips. He wiped his forearm across his mouth while Sarah resisted the thrill of staring into eyes that twinkled like emeralds.
He set the cup on the wagon seat behind him. “You don’t know much about prairie living, do you?”
Sarah clenched her jaw. “Of course not, but remember, you advertised for a wife in a city paper. What did you expect? So don’t go blaming me. And aside from that, why do I get the impression you’re happy about it? Happy that I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing?”
“Happy? Me? I’ll be happy when I get this hay in. As for your domestic difficulties, I haven’t given them much thought.”
She found that hard to believe.
He walked to the horses to tug at a harness buckle. “Ask me anything and I’ll tell you. I’m not trying to keep any secrets.”
Ah, I see. We’re back there again, are we?
Sarah looked down at the bucket at her feet. “I just want to know what you use for firewood.”
He came around to stand before her, only inches away. Her gaze fell to his hard rippled stomach, and heat pooled low in her belly. Her heart began to race from fascination and desire.
“Oh, yes. Firewood. You won’t find much of that out here.”
Sarah managed to make eye contact. “What do you burn, then?”
“We burn cow chips.”
She frowned slightly, trying to interpret his meaning. “Cow chips? Do you mean…?”
“Yep.”
She wondered for a moment if this was a cruel joke, but decided her husband couldn’t possibly be that inventive. She could feel her insides beginning to whirl at the thought of collecting this so-called fuel and stoking the stove all day long. “Isn’t there anything else you can—”
“Nope.”
She swallowed uncomfortably. “Do you have a store of these chips in your barn?”
Briggs shook his head. “No, but you should start one. Take the wheelbarrow and head out that way.” He stretched his long arm and pointed. “Herds drive by regularly. The chips will be scattered everywhere, nice and dry.”
Sarah gazed despondently at the horizon.
“Careful not to get lost,” Briggs added, removing his hat and bending forward. He lifted the bucket and dumped the remaining water over his head. It cascaded down over his hair and onto his shoulders, then he shook his head like a wet dog and splattered Sarah’s dress.
She raised both hands and jumped back. “Do you mind? I’ve already had my bath today.”
“Thought it might cool you off.”
With the hot sun burning her face, Sarah stared for a stifling moment at the rivulets of water blazing silver trails down his chest, then she dutifully tore her gaze away and flicked her hand over the front of her bodice.
Trying to recapture some of her dignity, she brushed a tendril of hair away from her perspiring forehead. “I’ll see you at dusk,” she announced curtly, pivoting on her heel and stomping away.
She’d gone at least twenty paces before he called after her. “You forgot your
“I appreciate the drink, but it wasn’t necessary.”
Sarah wet her parched lips. “I thought you might be thirsty. And why do you have to make me feel irresponsible for trying to do you a favor?”
“I’m not trying to make you feel anything at all, Sarah. If you feel irresponsible, don’t blame me.” He flicked the cup, tossing the last shimmering diamonds of water into the wind.
“I don’t feel irresponsible! I…” She stopped herself, realizing with stunning presence of mind that she was reacting just as he wanted her to. He wanted to frustrate her, to punish her for the secret she’d kept from him last night, and for allegedly loving another man. Well, she wasn’t going to break. She wasn’t.
“In all honesty, I would like nothing more than to get to work, but you left me behind with little idea as to how you like things done around here, so I had to come all the way out here to ask what you use for firewood. Now, whose fault is that?”
A sly, subtle grin crossed his lips. He wiped his forearm across his mouth while Sarah resisted the thrill of staring into eyes that twinkled like emeralds.
He set the cup on the wagon seat behind him. “You don’t know much about prairie living, do you?”
Sarah clenched her jaw. “Of course not, but remember, you advertised for a wife in a city paper. What did you expect? So don’t go blaming me. And aside from that, why do I get the impression you’re happy about it? Happy that I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing?”
“Happy? Me? I’ll be happy when I get this hay in. As for your domestic difficulties, I haven’t given them much thought.”
She found that hard to believe.
He walked to the horses to tug at a harness buckle. “Ask me anything and I’ll tell you. I’m not trying to keep any secrets.”
Ah, I see. We’re back there again, are we?
Sarah looked down at the bucket at her feet. “I just want to know what you use for firewood.”
He came around to stand before her, only inches away. Her gaze fell to his hard rippled stomach, and heat pooled low in her belly. Her heart began to race from fascination and desire.
“Oh, yes. Firewood. You won’t find much of that out here.”
Sarah managed to make eye contact. “What do you burn, then?”
“We burn cow chips.”
She frowned slightly, trying to interpret his meaning. “Cow chips? Do you mean…?”
“Yep.”
She wondered for a moment if this was a cruel joke, but decided her husband couldn’t possibly be that inventive. She could feel her insides beginning to whirl at the thought of collecting this so-called fuel and stoking the stove all day long. “Isn’t there anything else you can—”
“Nope.”
She swallowed uncomfortably. “Do you have a store of these chips in your barn?”
Briggs shook his head. “No, but you should start one. Take the wheelbarrow and head out that way.” He stretched his long arm and pointed. “Herds drive by regularly. The chips will be scattered everywhere, nice and dry.”
Sarah gazed despondently at the horizon.
“Careful not to get lost,” Briggs added, removing his hat and bending forward. He lifted the bucket and dumped the remaining water over his head. It cascaded down over his hair and onto his shoulders, then he shook his head like a wet dog and splattered Sarah’s dress.
She raised both hands and jumped back. “Do you mind? I’ve already had my bath today.”
“Thought it might cool you off.”
With the hot sun burning her face, Sarah stared for a stifling moment at the rivulets of water blazing silver trails down his chest, then she dutifully tore her gaze away and flicked her hand over the front of her bodice.
Trying to recapture some of her dignity, she brushed a tendril of hair away from her perspiring forehead. “I’ll see you at dusk,” she announced curtly, pivoting on her heel and stomping away.
She’d gone at least twenty paces before he called after her. “You forgot your
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