Bride for Colton Page 4

  All the travel had done nothing to diminish Gemma’s beauty. Her dark hair perfectly complimented her ivory skin, and now cheery pink spots gave her cheeks a little color. As she looked around their new hometown, her eyes glittered with a satisfaction that warmed him all the way through.

  Brandon Scott, the commander of the unit Colton and his teammates were relieving, shook everyone’s hand in turn. “Before the sun goes down, we'd better get these ladies to their new homes.”

  The ladies all seemed quite happy about that. So was Colton, though he knew his day was far from over. He and the other Mounties still had to meet with the old crew before they left at first light, but he couldn’t wait to see the home he’d be sharing with Gemma.

  Their one-room cabin sat close to Malcolm and Annie’s, which would be nice for the women so they could visit without risking frostbite. The small kitchen boasted an ice box and a stove with an oven. The unexpected luxury of that made his mouth water, anticipating all the delicious breads and pies and cakes Gemma would make using her grandmother’s recipes.

  His only concern was the fact they’d have to use an outhouse. He was no stranger to using one, even in the coldest weather New Brunswick could throw at them, but Gemma had lived in the city for some time. No doubt she was used to a comfortable — and warm — water closet.

  As Gemma spun slowly, taking in the details of her new home, Colton noticed how dirty the place was. Mud was caked around the entry and dust bunnies snuggled in every corner. Light could barely break through the grime on the windows. But even though the bed had no linens on it, at least it looked reasonably clean, and a pile of wool blankets sat on it.

  “Well, what do you think?” he asked, nervous about the answer.

  Gemma turned to him and smiled, then flicked her gaze away again. “It’ll do just fine. Thank goodness Miss Hazel insisted on sending us with fresh linens. And I’ll be forever grateful to whoever lit the fire for us.”

  He’d never felt such a profound sense of relief. Gemma deserved only the best things, and though he couldn’t really afford them right now, he knew he would one day.

  “I wonder if they left any food,” he said, crossing to the icebox only to find it empty. “I wonder why they even have one of these. The entire town is a one big icebox.”

  Gemma snickered, and gave him an appreciative grin. He’d crack jokes all day, every day to see her smile like that, but he didn’t have much time before he’d have to leave for the meeting.

  “I’ll go check with Malcolm about food, then I’ll chop some extra wood so you can get this place really toasty before I come home.”

  He paused on his way out to grasp her hands. She gazed up at him and squeezed his fingers, a light shining in her lovely brown eyes.

  “I’m so happy you’re here with me, Gemma,” he murmured, his eyes flicking down to her soft, pink lips.

  “I am too, Colton,” she whispered, emotion thickening her voice. “I really am.”

  Recalling his vow to go slowly with her, he pressed a kiss to her forehead, even though he wanted to claim her mouth. With a deep shuddering breath, he tore himself away from his bride and hurried out into the soothing cold.

  A few hours later, eight Mounties stood around a cramped office. Brandon, the outgoing commander, was filling them in on the local customs and the most common issues they’d have to deal with, including a particularly elusive bootlegger.

  “We’ve been trying to hunt him down for a couple years now,” Brandon said as he perched himself on the corner of his old desk. “We know the Ojibwe are getting the moonshine, we just can’t find out who’s supplying it.”

  “No one will tell you?” Colton asked, shocked that such blatant criminality wouldn’t be brought to justice immediately.

  Brandon shrugged. “They’re not going to snitch on their own kind. They have their own ways of dispensing justice, and most of the time it works. But where booze is concerned…”

  “You haven’t found the still, I take it?” Robert asked.

  One of the other men shook his head. “No, and every time we’ve gone out for whatever reason, we’ve kept a sharp eye out, hoping to stumble across it. No such luck.”

  “Aside from that and the occasional tussle between trappers, or trappers and Indians who get in their way, Reindeer Rock is a pretty quiet post. It’s cold, but the people are warm, and that makes up for the rest.”

  “That’s good to hear,” Malcolm said. “Do you get many outside visitors?”

  Another of the men laughed bitterly. “Just traveling trappers, the fella from The Bay, and occasionally someone delivering mail. Don’t suppose you brought any with you?”

  “Oh, right!” Calvin said, pulling a stack of mail from the bag he’d brought with him. “Here you go.”

  Malcolm and Brandon sorted the mail, most of it going in a big pile to deliver to the town’s general store, where it would eventually be distributed to residents. Malcolm handed a stack of papers back to Colton.

  “Wanted posters. Sort through them and tack them to the wall first thing tomorrow.”

  Colton couldn’t hold his tongue any longer. “Aren’t we going to track down that bootlegger first thing tomorrow?” He slapped the posters on the corner of a desk for emphasis.

  The two commanders exchanged an amused look, but Malcolm was the one to speak.

  “Take a deep breath, Constable. Not sure if you noticed, but it’s winter out there, with more to come. No sense running around an area we don’t even know, searching for a man no one can identify. That’s a good way to wind up dead.”

  “I admire your dedication,” Brandon said, “but your commander is right. This place is tough, tougher than most. One of the Mounties we relieved four years ago lost three toes to frostbite after he got caught out in a blizzard. Take it slow, do your job, and eventually you’ll catch the guy.”

  Colton sniffed and flicked through the wanted posters, pretending to study them, but really he didn’t want the others to see his disappointment. He’d signed up as a Mountie to catch the bad guys. To maintain the right. And now he was being told to not go after the biggest criminal in town.

  “I know you’re frustrated, Colton,” Malcolm said. “You’re just going to have to trust that we know what we’re talking about. We’ll have time enough to catch the bootlegger.”

  He did trust Malcolm. He’d patiently taught him more than most of the instructors at the training facility. A deep cleansing breath helped clear his head, and he set the posters down.

  “And when we do catch him, he’s going to pay.”

  Chapter 4

  Colton had slept on a pallet in front of the fireplace for the last few nights despite Gemma’s insistence that he take the bed, and his joints scolded him for it every morning. He’d even taken the lead from Robert and set up a curtain around the bed so Gemma could have a little privacy. Stretching all the way down to his toes, cracks and pops echoed around the cabin.

  “Good morning,” Gemma called from the little kitchen.

  The sound of something frying caused his stomach to grumble, but his brain knew better by now. When they’d met in Ottawa, Colton had been certain she said she was a good cook, but the meals she’d served him so far had been basic, at best. From the smell of it, breakfast would be another plate of burnt eggs, burnt bacon and burnt toast. It was better than nothing, and he certainly wasn’t about to complain, but it had left him scratching his head.

  “Morning,” he groaned as he pulled himself upright.

  As had become their custom, Gemma kept her eyes averted as he dressed, which was taking longer and longer every day. The blizzard that had swept in the day after they arrived in Reindeer Rock had damaged some buildings in town, and Colton and Malcolm were out all day, every day helping folks effect repairs. He welcomed the physical activity, but sleeping in a warm, soft bed next to a warm, soft woman would have been much preferable to sleeping on the floor. But he’d made that bed by offering to wait until Gemma was ready to
consummate their marriage, and now he had to lie in it — as hard and uncomfortable as it was.

  “Eggs again, huh?” he asked as he sat at their little table.

  Gemma had just set the plate down in front of him, and her gasp drew his attention away from the blackened food. Her eyes grew wide and a blush reddened her cheeks.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, Gemma,” he said, trying to take her hand, but she turned away too quickly. “I’m just tired and a little grumpy.”

  “No, it’s fine,” she said, returning to the stove and staring into the skillet. “I know I’m not a good cook. I don’t really know how.”

  “It’s not that, I just…” Colton struggled to find the right words that wouldn’t insult her. “I just thought you’d said your grandmother had taught you.”

  She sniffed, then smoothed her apron and turned to face him, sadness in her eyes. “I said I wasn’t as good as my grandmother, but that I hoped to be. As Alexander Pope said, hope springs eternal.”

  Abandoning his meal, Colton went to her and stood as close as he dared. They’d done little more than give each other the smallest pecks on the cheek, and though he yearned to cradle her in his arms, he kept a small distance between them.

  “I really am sorry for what I said. It was rude and thoughtless. And you shouldn’t worry about it. I grew up mostly eating fish for breakfast, so eggs — even well-done eggs — are better than that.”

  Gemma snorted softly, then turned to face him. He moved to step back, to give her space, but she grabbed his hands and held him in place. Her gaze searched his face, and there was a desperation in it he couldn’t recall seeing before.

  “You deserve so much better, Colton. You’ve been working until you drop since the moment we arrived, and then you come home to be fed…well, most people probably wouldn’t feed what I make to their hogs, much less their husbands. You would have been so much better off with one of the other girls.”

  Colton boldly wound his arms around her waist, praying she wouldn’t push him away. Instead, she surprised him by snaking her arms around his neck. It was the closest they’d been since their wedding day when he'd kissed her on the lips.

  “Gemma, don’t ever think such a thing. I’m so grateful to have you as my wife. No other woman in the world could hold a candle to you.”

  “Really?” she whispered, staring deep into his eyes.

  His heart hammered in his chest and he tried to remember how to speak. Finally, he managed, though his voice was coarse with emotion.

  “Really. You’re sweet and funny. You love to read all the same books I do, and I like that sometimes we don’t agree on them. It makes me think. On top of that, you love adventure. Not many women would be willing to marry a stranger and move to an icy wilderness. So what if you’re not a perfect cook yet? It’s actually a bit of a relief because now maybe you’ll forgive my own faults.”

  Gemma blinked several times, and Colton couldn’t tell if that was a good thing or a bad thing. He didn’t want her to break out into tears — unless they were happy tears. The tears did come, but she smiled through them and he breathed a sigh of relief.

  “I haven’t found a single flaw in you, Colton Leeds. Except perhaps for your taste in women.”

  “Hey, I happen to think I have excellent taste in women!”

  His silly grin faltered when she didn’t return it. Instead, her gaze dropped to his mouth and her arms tightened around his neck. Something was happening, and he had a feeling he was going to like it.

  “Would you like a taste of this woman?” she whispered, her lips parting slightly.

  Colton didn’t have to be asked twice. Warmth wrapped around him as his lips pressed against hers, tasting her sweetness. Gemma sighed and leaned into him, her fingers burying deep in his hair and sending shivers throughout his body. The world spun around and around until he had to hold on to her just to stay upright. Finally, he broke away, pressed his forehead against hers, and stared into her half-lidded eyes.

  “That was…nice,” he said quietly.

  She laughed and tucked her face into his shoulder, holding on to him so tightly, it was almost as if she was afraid to let go. A sudden pounding on their door startled them both, and Gemma jerked away from him. Colton thought he might have to hang whoever interrupted them.

  The pounding repeated as he stomped toward the door. “Hold onto your britches, I’ll be right there,” he shouted.

  A fellow he’d never seen before stood on the doorstep, hopping from one foot to the other. Colton’s father would have said the man looked “rode hard and put away wet,” but out here, most folks did, at least a little. But most folks didn’t have bits of what appeared to be pine needles in their beards, nor did they run around with black soot smeared on their faces.

  “There’s a fire, Mountie! Indian house is going up. Better get out there!”

  Colton grabbed his wide-brimmed hat and threw a wink to Gemma before rushing out to follow the tall, lanky man. The snow was still deep so he rode with the man on his dog sled. On their way, the man introduced himself as Shamus Davidson, a fur trapper — just as Colton had suspected.

  Before he could see flames, Colton saw the black smoke billowing up from the village where most of the Ojibwe lived. Thankfully, their homes were far enough apart that the rest weren’t threatened by the fire. Sadly, by the time he arrived, the house was fully engulfed, and its residents — a woman and two small children — were standing in thin clothes and bare feet, watching their home burn.

  “That’s Lizzy Thunderbear,” Shamus informed Colton. “Her husband died a few years ago. She and the little ‘uns live there alone.”

  Colton approached the woman, surprised that none of the other residents had brought her shoes or even a blanket. They all stood back from her and her children, watching the fire destroy this poor widow’s home.

  “Excuse me, Miss Thunderbear?”

  She turned to him, her face slack and stained with soot and tears. Her children clutched at her skirt and hid their faces from him.

  “I’m so sorry you’ve lost your home. Do you know how it started?”

  The woman simply stared at him mutely. She was probably in shock and unable to speak. Unless she didn’t speak English. He glanced over at Shamus, eyebrows raised in an unspoken question.

  He shrugged. “She speaks English just fine.”

  “Do you have anyone you can stay with?” Colton asked her.

  Lizzy shook her head, her long, black hair shifting against her shoulders.

  “Really?” Colton scanned the crowd for someone to step up. “Will none of you take in one of your own?”

  One man who looked half in the bag lurched forward, but two other men held him back and whispered furiously at him. He hung his head and shuffled to the back of the crowd. It all seemed so strange. Colton had always been so impressed that Indians took care of their own, but now that one — make that three — were in dire need of help, they refused.

  Sighing deeply, he stooped down and tried to get one of the little ones to look at him, but they kept their faces hidden. Looking up at Lizzy, he said, “You’ll come stay with my wife and me.”

  For the first time, Lizzy reacted. Her dark eyes grew so wide, he was afraid they might pop right out. Her eyes darted around and she started to shake her head, but he held up a hand.

  “I won’t take no for an answer. We have plenty of room, and since no one else seems willing to help you—“ he glared at the others, who at least had the grace to look ashamed “—I will. It’s my duty as a member of the Royal North West Mounted Police.”

  The little boy finally peeked out at him. Colton held out his hands and, after glancing up at his mother for permission, the boy allowed Colton to pick him up. Lizzy picked up her daughter, and they followed Colton to Shamus’s sled.

  On their way back to his and Gemma’s home, the most profound sense of satisfaction settled on Colton. He’d joined up to be a hero, and after just a few days on the job, he actually felt
like one.

  “Tonight, you should prepare a stew,” Annie told Gemma as she scribbled a recipe on a piece of paper. “They’re really easy. All you have to do is chop up the ingredients and dump them in a pot. After an hour or so, it’ll taste wonderful.”

  Gemma worried her lower lip, anxious to get better at cooking. It was the one thing she couldn’t fake, apparently, and that morning had been a close call. Thank goodness she hadn’t outright lied about her skills, or lack thereof, because that might have made Colton suspicious. The last thing she wanted was for the Mountie she lived with to start poking around her past.

  There was something more, though — something she didn’t want to admit. Colton’s opinion mattered to her. Most people in the world had meant little to Gemma, and nothing at all to her mother. Bronwen had taught her from an early age not to trust men, yet somehow she knew Colton was different, despite what her mother might say on the matter. He was genuinely kind and thoughtful, if a bit naive, plus they enjoyed each other’s company.

  “Here,” Annie said, thrusting the paper at Gemma and interrupting her thoughts.

  “What if I don’t have everything on the list?”

  Annie smiled, and Gemma was struck again by how lovely her friend was. Growing up with such a visible disfigurement as a cleft palate scar, the sweet, young woman had weathered her fair share of anguish, but she’d come out of it strong and smart and beautiful, even if she didn’t think so. Malcolm did, though — Gemma could see that every time he looked at his bride, and that made her heart swell. No one deserved to be happy more than Annie — unless it was Colton.

  “That’s the great thing about stews,” Annie explained. “You just throw in whatever you have, and it’s almost guaranteed to be edible, if not downright delicious. But just in case, I’ll send you off with a few things.”

  Carrying the parcel of vegetables tight against her chest across the short expanse between their two cabins, Gemma’s thoughts once again turned to her husband. How strange to call him that, but every day she grew more and more comfortable with the idea. She knew she was being foolish, and asking him to kiss her had been absolutely stupid, but she hadn’t been able to help herself. Her cheeks grew warm remembering how quickly he’d accepted, and then the kiss… She sighed again at the memory of the way it had made her toes curl in her shoes.