The Rancher and The Bad Girl Read online

  Melanie smiled with relief. "Oh, well, if you must be going anyway…."

  "I do. But I'll be back to check on you later. If you decide before that you do want something to eat, you know where to find me."

  "Thank you, Janie. That's very nice of you."

  Finally, she was able to close the door behind the young prostitute. Melanie leaned with her back against the door before tossing herself onto the bed, her skirt and underskirts rustling against the mattress. She rested for a few moments before pulling a blank, folded piece of paper from her travel bag. On the table near the window was set a plume, the tip tucked into an ink well. She would nap, but now that she had some time to herself, she quickly composed the letter she had been meaning to write.

  June 2, 1871

  My dear sister, Olivia,

  I wanted you to know I arrived here in Garner Falls safely. As promised, Mr. Larson met me at the train. For propriety's sake, I will be staying with a lady friend of his for the next two days. We will be wed this Saturday.

  "We will be wed this Saturday," she said that statement out loud.

  Wed. She would be married. A bride. A wife. Her husband-to-be believed she was twenty-three. In actuality, she was twenty-six. Something else to hide, though it was minor in comparison to other things. Three silly, stupid years. Twenty-three just seemed to her, at least at the time, to make her more desirable and less problematic than an unmarried woman closer to thirty. So on Saturday, she would be taken as a wife by a man to whom she was lying to about her age.

  And something that was nowhere near as trivial as that. On the other hand, why was she concerned about it? He wouldn't find out. There was no possible way he would find out. She was very, very sure of that.

  Still, it was a lie. For those moments, she dwelled on the fact that Reeve was marrying a woman that she was portraying, like an actress, rather than the person she truly was. Her stomach tightened uncomfortably.

  Melanie dipped the plume's tip into the well and, taking a deep breath, resolutely continued composing her letter.

  So, my sweet sister, please don't worry about me anymore. You have enough to worry about right now. I don't know when I'll see you again, but I hope it will be sometime in this lifetime. Please know that I am excited and I am really looking forward to starting my new life with this man who is going to be my husband. He's much more handsome than I thought he would be. Already, I've been told he's a good man. Something in my heart tells me he is, too. He's trying to guard my reputation by not having me stay with him until we are married. There's something sweet and gentle in his eyes that I haven't seen in any man in a long time.

  And he doesn't know about my life back there in Baltimore, the sort of woman that I was. If I can help it, he will never know. He doesn't love me right now—I would be silly to think that he does—but if Reeve does come to love me, it will be the Melanie Cranford that I want him to see.

  I hope to write again after the wedding. Be patient with me, because I may be very busy with my wifely duties, and I can only imagine the challenges waiting for me on a ranch! Please send me a letter when you can.

  All my love and devotion,

  Melanie

  She didn't know when, or if, she would ever see her older sister, Olivia, again. Melanie found an envelope in the desk, blinked back tears as she folded and inserted the letter, and then wrote her sister's address on the front. She lit the candle on the desk to seal the envelope shut with the melting wax.

  After her nap, she would return to the saloon and ask Mae if she would see to it that the letter reached the mail carriers. Back in Baltimore, there were mail collection boxes. She had no idea how things worked there in Garner Falls. For now, so tired from the train ride that her body ached, she eased herself back onto the mattress.

  He's much more handsome than I thought he would be. Already, I've been told he's a good man. Something in my heart tells me he is, too.

  Melanie smiled. Truth be told, her blood quickened when she thought about seeing Reeve again that evening. Seven o'clock couldn't come soon enough for her. Even with her blood quickening from the excitement, she fell into a deep and luxurious sleep as soon as her head hit that soft pillow.

  Chapter Two

  Some things were solid fact, as in the case of Eli Sherwood, who was a better ranch hand than he would ever be a cook. Yet in a pinch, he was better than any of the other men in the kitchen. That included Reeve himself.

  Dinner didn't have to be fancy, either. Just decent and filling, something to nourish a hungry, little bride who'd been on a train for days. Reeve tried to convey that to the older man, who stood looking dismayed and irritated in the ranch home's ample kitchen.

  "Just do the best you can. That's all I'm asking," he told Eli.

  The older man arched an eyebrow at him. He would be turning over the role as the household's cook to Reeve's bride as soon as he and Melanie were married. In the past few days, he hadn't seemed as keen on that development. Not that the man had relished his role from the start, either. It had only been in the last year or so that he'd come to relish his duties as cook, which albeit were less physically taxing after a recent leg injury. He had come to think of that kitchen as his domain.

  "All we got is potatoes, some meat, carrots, and flour to make bread," he lamented.

  "Well, there you go, partner. Sounds like dinner to me."

  "Don't you want something—I don't know—more impressive for a lady?"

  Reeve sighed. Eli meant well. In all his meaning well, however, he was driving Reeve crazy. "Please use what you have," he instructed in a calm voice. "And do it quickly. You don't have time to make bread, so make biscuits. I'm leaving for Mae's right now to get her and bring her back."

  Eli cussed under his breath. "That leaves me only enough time to throw the meal together."

  "Then that is exactly what you'll do." Reeve turned to leave, stopping to admonish over his shoulder, "And I expect you won't be using that kind of language around the lady of the house."

  "I won't, boss," he heard Eli say.

  Everything would go smoothly that night. Reeve assured himself of that on his way out the door to the wagon.

  Not only smoothly, everything would be completely heavenly. From what he saw that day, his men were nearly as excited as he was about his bride coming to join them. Arnie, the youngest of his hands, who was also a bit of a dreamer, had helped to straighten up the place to make it look more presentable. Quentin had seen to it that the new stallion, a beautiful painted horse and Reeve's gift to Melanie, was groomed properly and ready for her. He could hardly wait for his bride to lay eyes on that exquisite animal. She had told him she loved horses and had a passion for riding.

  On the way into town, he mentally replayed those moments with her earlier. Reeve sensed that she hadn't wanted him to leave. Maybe it was nothing more than fear. After all, they were still strangers.

  But there'd been something in the way she had looked at him. It had come across to him that the woman didn't want him to leave so soon. He had gotten the feeling that there was something between them, a physical attraction, something strong, with heat smoldering beneath the surface.

  Just thinking about the girl now was getting him aroused. He shook his head, clicking his teeth and yanking on the reins to slow the horse down.

  Entering the saloon, he saw the place has quieted down since earlier that afternoon. In Mae's place behind the bar was the barkeep she'd hired, Jack Bell. One of Mae's girls—not the one Arnie had mentioned, the one he seemed to be sweet on—eased off the barstool. As she did, her ample breasts jiggled.

  "I'll go fetch her for you, Mr. Larson," she offered.

  "I appreciate that..." he trailed off. Maggie? Beth? What was her name again? He had always been better at remembering faces than names. Then again, Mae's girls weren't always the same. Every so often, one left, got kidnapped, died, or ran away. It was never a good idea for a woman to run away, with the dangers faced by a woman out there in the wi
lderness. Even a woman in town, if left to her own devices, wasn't always safe. And a whore's life was usually short-lived and hard.

  Every now and then, a man did fall in love with one of the girls. It wasn't often, but it did happen. He suspected it might between Arnie and that skinny little girl, the one he'd always buy candy and gifts for, Janie.

  "Here she is, Mr. Larson."

  Turning, he froze immediately, his lower jaw dropping open slightly.

  At the top of the stairs, smiling and looking refreshed, stood his future bride. She had changed into another dress, a different hat, her hair brushed and framing her pretty face. That arousal he'd experienced earlier was tearing a wildfire through him now.

  Two more days. Two more days for the wedding. Then she'd be his. "You—you're ready to go?" Secretly, he cursed himself for stammering.

  "I've been ready." Smiling, Melanie added, "I've been looking forward to seeing you again."

  He opened his mouth to reply, then nodded and thanked Mae's girl with a grin. "Come this way," he told Melanie, waving in the direction of the swinging doors.

  She was looking forward to seeing him again. That made two of them, except he was looking forward to kissing her, as well. To holding her in his arms. To seeing her without all those clothes on.

  Saturday, he reminded himself. Nothing's happening until then.

  "I have a surprise for you at home," he told her as they started off.

  Melanie clapped her gloved hands. "Oh, a surprise! I love surprises."

  "I kind of thought you would." He chuckled.

  "What is it? Tell me!"

  "Now what kind of surprise would it be if I told you?"

  The sound of her joyful laughter, like that of a child, coaxed a smile from him.

  "You're right. Oh, but I don't have anything for you, Reeve."

  "That's all right. I was always taught you don't give something with the expectation of getting something in return."

  "So was I. But I would still love to be able to give you a wedding gift."

  You will. Don't worry about that. He turned in his seat so she wouldn't catch the roguish glint in his eye. "You're here, Melanie. That's present enough for me." Reeve changed the subject. "Do you have a dress for Saturday?"

  "A wedding gown? Yes. And it's… it's white."

  Was that blush in her cheeks? Seeing that, his heart warmed. "You'll look very lovely in it, I'm sure. How is your room over there at Mae's?"

  "Fine. It's comfortable." He caught her biting the corner of her mouth. "Do I really have to go back there tonight? Couldn't I stay out there on the ranch with you?"

  That again? He understood her shyness at being around people she didn't know. What irked him was having to repeat himself rather than have his orders obeyed. His men knew better than to do that. Shouldn't his bride have known better, too?

  "It's only one more day, Melanie. And then we'll be together for the rest of our lives." Patiently, he went on, "I'm doing this for your own good. So people don't talk."

  "Of course. It's just that…" she closed in the small space between them on that seat. Her hand cupped over bicep, bulging through his shirt. Her smile held just the right blend of sweetness and seduction. "I want us to get to know each other better."

  It had been a long time... a very long time since he'd last been intimate with a woman. Reeve felt the front of his pants tighten uncomfortably with the swell growing there through the fabric.

  That woman was driving him crazy with wanting her. How could she do that so easily? With that oh-so-womanly, earthy voice of hers, with a touch of her hand, a naughty smile.

  Speaking of naughty, he had to make sure he laid down some rules, the sooner the better. That would avoid misunderstandings. He was the man of the house, she was the lady of the house, but the lady was to submit to the man. Surely not the other way around.

  "Saturday, I will bring you home to the ranch for good. That'll be your home. For now, you'll be staying at Mae's." He continued without one trace of anger, "I won't have my wife's reputation tarnished. I expect people to respect you, Melanie, just as I expect you to respect me."

  "Oh. Oh, I will. That's not going to be a problem." Was she ever flustered. Either purposely or subconsciously, she opened up the space between them again. "I—I wasn't trying to argue."

  "That's all right, Melanie. I don't want us to argue before the wedding, either. Whoa!"

  He was stopping the wagon there. Out in the middle of nowhere. She grasped the edge of her seat. However, his gentle tone of voice relaxed her.

  "I've been looking forward to you coming," he told her, "ever since you agreed to come through your letter."

  "So have I. I couldn't wait to come."

  Melanie watched as he took her chin in his hand. Was he going to kiss her? The prospect of that happening took her breath away.

  He went on instead, "If I'm looking out for you, I don't expect an argument. Especially after we've already discussed this. Now I know you've never been married, and neither have I. But it's my job to take care of you as your husband. And it's your job to let me do that. Without pouting like you just did or putting up a fuss."

  I wasn't pouting. Or putting up a fuss. She stared back at him, too afraid to utter those words. "Are you going to send me back to Maryland?" She managed to keep her voice from trembling.

  "Send you back to—no, Melanie, no." The hand holding her chin traveled down to her shoulder. "I want you to stay here. But I want you to let me take care of you. And that means doing what's best for you. I don't want you far from me, either. But I don't want people getting the wrong idea about you. That means you need to trust me. I'm all you've got here. You need to know that you can trust me and I need to know I can trust you."

  "You can."

  "Can I? That means your word has to be gold. You don't lie to me."

  Now she was nervous. She fought off the urge to fess up about everything. He won't find out, she insisted to herself. He's never, ever going to find out!

  "I don't have any use for lying." She tossed her head indignantly.

  "Well, good, because neither do I. I consider lying a disrespect to the person being lied to. You lie, you damage my trust in you. Likewise, if someone disobeys my orders, that damages my trust, too. And I'm a patient man, but I'll deal with both those things—lying and willful disobedience—pretty swiftly."

  Melanie didn't dare move in her seat. He was taking up the reins again, shook them, and the horse began to trot.

  "How do you deal with those things?" She asked the question, uncertain as to whether she really wanted to hear the answer.

  Reeve looked straight out at the road. "If it's one of my men, he's welcomed to find himself another job. If it's my wife, she'll find her bottom on the business end of a hairbrush. I won't send you home but I will spank a wife who needs spanking."

  Blinking, Melanie sat very still. That wagon's seat suddenly felt a lot harder under a tingling backside. Maybe it was nothing more than a threat? Sure. He'd only said that to get her to behave. To get her to stop wheedling about staying with him on the ranch instead of in that room over the saloon.

  He wouldn't really do that. He wouldn't spank her. She was too old to be spanked. Even older than he suspected!

  After a few minutes of awkward silence between them, Reeve announced, "That's it up ahead, Melanie. That's your new home."

  Leaning forward with anticipation, she forgot about his warning. For a short while, she put it out of her mind. There was still plenty of light for her to see the land sprawled out, with the house in the distance and the corral with the horses. Mountains were within walking distance, towering behind the house, with its porch on which sat two rockers. Her heart skipped as her eyes drank in the rustic scene.

  "That's so beautiful!" Her voice didn't rise above a breathless whisper.

  "Sure is. And it's ours." Reeve was smiling again. "It'll belong to our children someday. And that big dream starts with just you and me."

&n
bsp; Excitement rang in those words. He seemed to have forgotten his stern lecture and his threat to spank her if she lied to or disobeyed his royal, cowboy highness. Likewise, she forgot her impatience and all the lies she was desperate to keep from him.

  Reeve was including her. Our children. And that big dream starts with just you and me. They had stopped again, this time to admire all that belonged to him, all that he would be sharing with her.

  In the emotion of the moment, he turned and kissed her. Her mouth parted for his, his tongue probing hers. That aptly answered her unasked question: Reeve Larson certainly did kiss as good as he looked. She had been wondering about that since they'd met earlier that day.

  It was Melanie who ended the kiss, and then only for the sake of catching her breath. Reeve slowly pulled away with the reluctance of a man out in a desert who hadn't fully sated his thirst.

  He sat up. "We'd best get to supper. And then I'll give you your wedding present."

  "Mm." Satisfied, her lips still pleasantly throbbing from his luscious kiss, she sat back and relaxed the rest of the way.

  * * * * *

  Mae had repeated the offer made earlier in the day by Janie to have food brought up to the room, an offer that Melanie had apologetically declined. Her need for sleep had overwhelmed the hunger gnawing at her, having gone without a meal since the evening before her arrival. Unfortunately, hunger was something she'd grown accustomed to, even more so in the past couple of years. So she had dozed through most of the afternoon, not minding the hard mattress, which was obviously intentioned for purposes other than sleeping.

  However, by the time she sat down to supper, she found that she was famished. Even more when she saw the dinner put together by one of Reeve's men, introduced to her simply as Eli. Supper was a hearty stew of tender beef, carrots, and potatoes, with biscuits topped with peach preserves that had been given to Reeve by a nearby rancher's wife. She ate more sparingly than she wanted to, only because it wouldn't have been ladylike for her to load up her plate the way the men at the table had done. Even then, she permitted herself an extra biscuit, still rather warm from the oven, topped with those sweet preserves.