“Always fold when the other player asks for one card and then wets himself raising.”
“I don’t get that. What’s the other lesson?”
“Never try to talk a dove out of her price. She’ll take it as an insult and only pretend she likes it.”
Jayce scratched his head. “Gosh. I don’t get that one, either. Where did you learn these lessons?”
“I learned the one about folding in St. Louis. I stayed in and lost nearly every cent I had to a full house.”
“I don’t know what that is. And the bird?”
“The bird?” Fargo repeated, and snorted. “No, not that kind of dove. The doves I’m talking about don’t have feathers.”
“Naked birds? They have such a thing?”
“Did your pa ever have a special talk with you?”
“We had a lot of talks. About farming and hunting and fishing and the stars and how frogs are tadpoles before they’re frogs and why some caterpillars change into butterflies and how come people snore.”
“The talk I’m thinking of was about where babies come from. Or maybe it was calves and foals.”
Jayce brightened. “We had that talk, too. Pa sat me down one day and got all serious and said he was going to tell me how Nelly and me came into the world.”
“What did he say?”
“The stork brought us.”
“Go away.”
“What?”
“Go play with your sister.”
“Why? What did I do? Don’t you like storks?”
“I want to take a nap before we eat.” Fargo was feeling tired from the long ride. He wasn’t quite himself yet.
“Oh. Sure.” Jayce took a step, then stopped. “I miss my pa. I miss our talks. You remind me of him a little. And I thank you for the lessons, even if they didn’t make any kind of sense.”
“Your mother wouldn’t happen to have a whiskey bottle hidden around here somewhere, would she?”
“Not that I know of. Why do you ask?”
10
The children were asleep and their door was closed. Flames crackled in the stone hearth. Outside, the night wind shrieked down off the mountains and on across the valley. Wolves tried to compete and couldn’t.
Fargo sat in a chair facing the fireplace. His eyes were closed, his chin bobbed. He was tired and ready for bed. It had been a long day. He’d held up well, but it would be a few days yet before he recovered enough from his wounds to be his old self. A noise made him turn his head. It came from the bedroom he was using: Mary’s bedroom. She had excused herself a while ago and gone in. She didn’t say why. He figured she was getting ready for bed.
Supper had consisted of another chicken and fresh bread. Fargo had taken small portions and didn’t ask for seconds so there was enough for all of them. The kids had been too busy stuffing their faces to notice. If Mary did, she didn’t say anything.
Fargo stared into the dancing flames. He needed a good night’s sleep so he could get an early start. He had a plan—a crazy plan as Mary called it—but if it worked, she and the kids would be free to go wherever their hearts desired, and be free of the claws of Cud Sten, as well.
Another noise from the bedroom caused Fargo to turn, and for a few seconds he was breathless with desire. Then he caught himself and quietly asked, “You did all that for me?”
Mary Harper had changed into a nightgown. Where many gowns were loose-fitting and bulky, this was tight and scandalously sheer. It was bright red, matching the red of her cheeks. She had brushed her hair and done things with her face so that she appeared as fresh as a new-bloomed daisy. Nervously clasping her hands in front of her, she said demurely, “Frank got this for me so I could treat him now and then, as he put it.”
Fargo’s estimation of the man rose considerably.
“I know I don’t look like much but it’s the very best thing I own.”
“Come here,” Fargo huskily requested.
With a glance at the door to the kids’ bedroom, she crossed and stood timidly beside the chair, her eyes downcast.
“What’s wrong?”
“I told you. The only other man I’ve ever been with was Frank. I’m scared out of my wits. You’d think I wouldn’t be, given I’ve had two kids and all. But this is nothing like being married. This is”—Mary paused as if seeking the right word—“exciting.”
Fargo put his hand on her wrist.
“Wait. There are rules.”
“Rules?”
“I don’t want Nelly and Jayce to hear us. We have to be quiet. And we go in my bedroom and throw the bolt so one of them doesn’t walk in on us. And if they knock, we stop right away and I get dressed and get out of bed to see what they want.”
“Anything else?”
Her eyes were pools of uncertainty. “You won’t hurt me, will you? I mean, you’re not one of those? My Frank was always gentle. That’s how I like it. Nice and easy and gentle.”
“I’m not Frank,” Fargo said, and pulled her into his lap. She resisted for the briefest instant. Then her bottom was on his manhood and his mouth was molded to hers. She gasped and in doing so parted her lips, enabling him to slide his tongue into her mouth.
Mary was momentarily taken aback. She pressed against his shoulders, but not hard, and cooed deep in her throat. Slowly, she melted against him, until her mouth was molten with need.
They kissed and they kissed. It was Fargo who broke for air. Mary rested her cheek on his chest and shook from head to toe.
“Oh, my.”
“What?”
“Frank never kissed like that.”
“I’m not Frank,” Fargo repeated. He caressed her hair and ran his other hand down to the small of her back. She sat still, her hands in her lap, a frightened bird ready to take wing. “You can relax.”
“That’s easy for you to say. If my children caught us, I’d be embarrassed beyond tears. They mean everything to me, Skye. And I do mean everything.”
Mary gazed about the room. “We may not have much but we’ve always had love and respect. I wouldn’t want to lose that.”
Fargo could take a hint. Scooping her into his arms, he rose and moved toward her bedroom.
“There’s no need to carry me. I can walk.”
“I’ve known chipmunks that chattered less,” Fargo said by way of making her hush.
“I can’t help it. It’s all I can do to keep from trembling like a newlywed.” Mary touched a fingertip to his lips. “Be patient with me, please. I’ll try not to disappoint you.”
Fargo set her on her feet and she timidly craned her neck to kiss him. He slid his hands behind her, gripped her bottom, and ground against her.
“Goodness! Be gentle, remember?”
Fargo squeezed her harder, then hauled off and gave her bottom a slap. She arched her back and her eyes widened in surprise . . . and something else.
“You call that gentle?”
Roving a hand to her belly, Fargo rubbed in circles until his hand brushed a breast. He covered it with his palm. Her nipple was growing as hard as a tack. When he pinched it, her eyelids fluttered and she mewed in delight. “Liked that, did you?”
“You make me tingle.”
Fargo intended to do a lot more than that. He eased her onto the bed on her back and was about to spread out next to her.
“The bolt, remember?”
Grumbling, Fargo hurried to the door and back again. He removed his spurs. He’d torn apart more than a few quilts, blankets, and sheets in his time, and she didn’t have any to spare.
“Lord, I hope I’m not making the biggest mistake of my life. If words get around, I’ll have men crawling out of the woodwork, thinking I’m easy.”
“Who is there to tell?” Fargo unbuckled his gun belt and set it to one side. He was rock-hard under his pants, so hard it hurt, a delicious hurt he could never get enough of. He commenced kissing her; her throat, her cheeks, her brow. Her body grew hot. She squirmed in rising delight and sank her fingernails into his shoulders.