Page 4 of That Fateful Ride

S he stepped up to the door, took a breath and ran her hands down the front of her pants before reaching out to knock on the door. What am I doing? I wouldn’t ever knock on this before, why do I feel like I should now?

The ground had lost the water from the most recent storm and the colder weather was on it’s way. Rebecca was far more nervous than she should be. Pretty much more nervous than she’d been this entire time. Get it together, Rebecca.

Pushing open the door, she stepped into the darkened interior, grateful to be out of the sun and wind. She scanned the interior and found Cy in the kitchen. Her breath caught at the sight.

Even inside, not out working with the horses, building something, the man was beyond impressive. Broad shoulders, narrow hips and an ass she enjoyed watching.

He bent at the waist and pushed more wood in the stove. She gulped and hoped like hell her face was blank when he angled his head to look in her direction.

“You came.”

“Didn’t give me much choice.”

He stood up, gaze raking over her in a manner that made her wonder if she wore clothing or if she were as undressed as she was the day he had inadvertently discovered her secret. Arms crossed he lifted an eyebrow.

“You always had a choice.”

She flattened her lips and shook her head. “No I didn’t. If I didn’t come here and help you, per your own threat, you would out my secret and I would lose the money this brings my family.”

“Never said it was a good choice,” he muttered. “Just that it was a choice.”

She shrugged out of her coat grateful the oversized shirt hid the bindings. Not that she had to hide it from him as he knew, but still. Again, she paused and took another look over her person given how he was watching her. I am dressed right?

Yes, yes she was. Although to be fair, at the moment, her skin tingled and felt about two sizes to tight. Her breathing was getting rapid and she had to swallow a few times to gather some moisture in her mouth. This man and his effect on her was overpowering.

“Right. What are you needing help cooking?”

“Do you make biscuits? You’ve had the ones I make and they are no better than hardtack.”

“Well that’s true.” She brushed by him and stepped into the smaller space, doing her best to ignore how his scent filled her nose and made her insides flip a few times.

He gave a sharp bark of laughter and she smiled shyly at him, pleased he hadn’t been offended by her comment that slipped free without thought.

“I never claimed to be a good cook. I had one of those in the army.”

She reached for a bowl and froze when he pressed up against her and snatched it down from the high shelf. Why did he make her want to rub all over him?

“I’ve never had a cook. I mean, I guess when I was little, Mama was. But I learned at a young age.”

Cy set the stoneware bowl down in front of her and held himself behind her for a moment. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. It took everything inside her not to lean back into his chest and simply feel . Experience what it would be like to have a man hold her.

I don’t think I’m wrong about him liking me in that manner.

Then again, it could simply be because he is a man and she was a woman. Perhaps, as with the whores in the saloon there didn’t have to be an emotional attachment. She wasn’t sure.

“Thank you.” She gripped the bowl and gazed around to locate the flour. Her mother had pottery ones.

“Sacks.” He pointed in front of her face directing her to the left. “Measuring cups are over in the drawer.”

“Not necessary, I’ve been doing this since I started cooking.” She slid away from his welcoming warmth.

With deft fingers she opened the sack and scooped out the amount of flour she figured she would need. She knew how much her brother could eat and when her father had been home, how many her mom made so with the five guys and her, she figured she would double it.

Bowl on the counter, she tied the bag off once more then swiped up the bowl and moved to a larger section. Grabbing a towel, she tucked it in her waistband and went to the larder to get the rest of what she needed.

When she returned he stood there chopping potatoes. A lot of the meals were stews or meat pies. Looked like today was going to be stew.

His hair hung forward over his forehead, hiding one eye from her for a few moments. Then he tossed his head as he blew some air toward the curl she fought her need to move for him.

“Do you have any other siblings?”

She stopped mixing and regripped her hold on the smooth wooden spoon. “No, only Robert and me.” She added a bit more liquid and stirred once more. “What about you?”

“No. I don’t have any siblings.”

Rebecca cut her gaze to him. He didn’t watch her but continued cutting up potatoes.

“Always figured if I found the right woman, we could have a lot of kids. So they wouldn’t be alone growing up and would have someone to play with.”

“A big family is expensive. Food, clothing and all of that.”

He scraped the cubes into the dutch oven at his left then reached for some carrots and began working on them.

“I know.” Cy held her gaze. “It’d be worth it with the right woman.”

She swallowed hard and tipped the bowl to dump her mixture on the surface to roll it out and cut the biscuits out. “I see. So does that mean you’re looking for a wife now?”

Rebecca lifted her gaze when he didn’t respond right away and found him watching her, expression seeking.

“Applying for the position?” His lips quirked as her eyes widened.

“We’ve discussed this. I’m not your type.”

“That’s the second time you’ve felt the need to tell me my type, Rebecca Freeman. Care to tell me how and why you feel it’s something you know more than I do?”

Her heart seized and she stepped close to him. “You can’t call me that. What if someone overhears?”

“I’m not spending time in a room with you calling you by your brother’s name.” A deep breath. “We’re alone. They won’t be in until I call them to eat.”

“It’s not smart to get in the habit of calling me that. What if you slip up?”

His gaze seared her and her belly clenched with longing.

“What if, what if, what if.” He put a carrot piece in his mouth and chewed. “What if I kissed you?”

She dug her fingers into the dough and tried to slow her breathing. It wasn’t working. Especially not with the way he watched her.

“That’s not what this arrangement is about.”

He nodded as he went back to chopping. “True, this is about me proving you don’t know as much about my wants and desires as you think you do.” His gaze returned to her as he dumped the carrots into the black cast iron pot.

“No,” she argued. “It’s not.”

His firm lips twitched and she realized he was goading her. “What’s it about then?”

“Me upholding my end of the bargain so you uphold yours.” She bit her lower lip, noticing the flare of heat in his gaze as he tracked her motion.

Cy chuckled. “Is that what you think?”

Honestly, she wasn’t so sure anymore. Regardless, she nodded. “Yes. Because you’re a man of your word.”

He reached for a thing of liquid beside him and she shook her head and moved toward him. Snatching it from him, she pushed him out of the way.

If she could help it, she didn’t want to eat lumpy stew. Without a word, she pointed to a smaller bowl and wriggled her fingers. Silent, he retrieved it for her.

Nothing was said between them as she mixed up the gravy to put in the soup. Taking another saucepan she began browning some butter and adding flour to make a roux.

“You’re pushy in the kitchen.”

He stood behind her, again, surrounding her with his heat.

“I like things done a certain way.”

“Me too.” Cyrus had dipped his head so his words blew along the shell of her ear.

There was suggestion in his tone and she was far out of her depths. She didn’t know how to flirt. Whatever was between her and Anson…well, it wasn’t this. That man made her be on alert, this one, made her want to surrender and let him take the lead, showing her all the things she didn’t know but desperately wanted to learn. With Cy.

“I believe we are talking about different things.”

Cy slid an arm along her side and her breathing hitched. Long fingers nudged the bowl she had with a spice mixture in for the stew.

“If we are, it’s only because you’re ignoring the heat between us, Rebecca . And trying to keep this like we’re both men.”

Her body trembled as he didn’t give her space. And she didn’t want any.

“There’s not heat between us. You need to think of me as a man.”

Outrage. Shouldn’t she be outraged he was putting her in danger by acting in such a manner? Yet, all she wanted to do was for him to think of her as a woman.

“Never going to happen.”

She swallowed back her whimper when he moved away and put a good distance between them. Moments later her roux was as she wanted it and she slowly added it to the stew and the rest of the gravy but now it would thicken and be a bit heartier. She stepped back to the biscuit dough and said, “Cover that please.”

He did before inching back into her space.

“I can be agreeable.”

“Everyone can if they are getting what they want.” Wiping her hands off on the towel at her waist, she reached for the biscuit dough.

“Trust me, baby. This isn’t what I want from you. Not even close.”

She attacked the dough with the rolling pin, wondering how she was going to survive this.

“Get your men to that hill, First Lieutenant! That’s an order!”

Cyrus glanced up at the colonel who sat on his big roan stallion, glaring down over him and his nearby men with disdain. The man hadn’t done much other than venture out of his tent and snap orders. Like he’d actually been in the thick of battle.

Different leading skills.

Personally he wouldn’t send his men anywhere he wouldn’t go whereas this colonel had no problems losing men that were sent out ahead to scout or be the first to engage the enemy.

“Sir, yes sir!” He snapped out a salute before turning to head back to where his men were trying to get some rest, the sun had almost retired below the horizon. They’d just been out on the field of battle for five days and this new company were supposed to help give some reprieve.

A reprieve that lasted maybe six hours. If that.

His men had been given one larger tent to crash in. Another way for them to feel expendable.

He pushed into the gloomy interior and stood there for a moment. Snoring filled the air, his men were exhausted and had crashed after getting more than a field ration.

Damn it. I don’t want to do this.

Orders were orders and orders were to be followed.

“Everything okay, sir?”

First Sergeant Wilson stood beside him, his beard sat there scraggly and rough. Uniform hanging off his frame, a testament how this was affecting everyone.

“No, we have to get going.”

“Really sir? We’d been told we were getting twenty-four hours.”

“Colonel Sanderson has decided differently.” He cleared his throat, took another five seconds and called out to the men. “Wake up! We have new orders.”

His men jumped to with swiftness, even bleary eyed they stood straight as if expecting an inspection.

“Get dressed, take a shit all the things. We’re moving out.” He cracked his neck. “Colonel Sanderson wants that hill. And we’re gonna give it to him.”

The hill wasn’t really a hill but more of a cliff. At least on one side. It wasn’t easy to get up or down. The Indians weren’t playing nice but to be fair, they were trying to push them out of their own homes so he got it.

“Yes sir!”

He rubbed the nape of his neck and sighed. A terrible feeling lingered and he did his best to shake it off. He owed it to his men to make sure he was operating at the best possible. Hurrying out, he waved for his horse to be readied.

Not a lot of cover for him or his men to be found. The night was a clear one and the moon, nearly full.

This is not going to go well.

His gut hadn’t let him down yet. Not during the years of avoiding his old man’s fists. When he first enlisted in the army it had saved his life numerous times. And right now, it blatantly informed him whatever he was heading into now, wasn’t going to be easy or end in a good way.

“Your horse sir.”

He didn’t speak, just nodded his thanks before swinging up on the back of his mount. A coal black gelding, the one nice thing from his father. Big, strong, and easy to ride, the horse didn’t have an issue with his size, the horse didn’t tire and also didn’t let but about three people touch him.

His men lined up and in the waning light, their exhaustion obvious, he picked up on their determination and commitment to him. He was proud of them.

“Let’s go, men.”

It went as expected. The hostiles waited for them and the seemingly quiet night soon filled with screams of pain, shots, and shouting through the ranks. Charging up the side on his ride, he slowed at an extremely steep part, his horse blowing hard but ready to carry on if that’s what was asked of him.

It was.

Clucking his tongue, he regripped the reins in his left hand and held the pistol in his right. Tossing his head, the horse surged forward up the most dangerous part of their climb. He didn’t try to guide him, allowing the animal to pick the best way up.

Nearly to the top he fired a shot when someone jumped out at them, spooking his horse. With a yell, the man thrust a spear at the horse’s exposed chest. He pulled the trigger as his mount fell back.

Cyrus had no clue if he even hit the man who’d shoved a spear in his horse’s chest.

He hit first, the heavy weight of his horse slamming onto his leg before they began sliding down. The first bump brought tears, the second, removed him from the pain reverberating through his body as he fell into unconsciousness.

He bolted up in bed, sweat dripping down his body. Even now, his hip and leg still ached. Cy ran a hand over his face and swung his legs around to the floor, needing to get up and move.

Years. It had been years since he had the dream.

He poured himself a drink of water and gulped it down before topping it off and having another. His limbs shook and his heart continued to pound out of control.

Thirst quenched, at least for the moment, he took a deep breath and reached down to the scar on his leg. He’d not only lost his army career that day but the one decent thing from his father, that stallion. He’d had to be put down to end his suffering.

The doctor had been a drunk and a fool, not setting his leg right. Even his hip hurt at times now but mostly his leg when he had to ride a long distance or on the occasion he made a wrong step.

Either way, refusing to head home with his tail tucked to face his bastard of a father, he had tried for the Pony Express once more and jumped at the chance to head this station when the chance came.

He’d lost most of his men that day and the colonel who had sent them never came to talk to him to see how he or the survivors were doing. However, Cy had heard him after he’d been allowed to get up and move around, talking about how the losses that day were worth it because it was another accomplishment in his hat for his superiors to know about.

One of his men had held him back or he would have physically attacked the man. Cy hadn’t seen him since and didn’t want to.

He stepped outside after pulling on some pants, the suspenders hanging low, and boots were untied on his feet but he walked out from beneath the low awning of the station he now called home. Staring out over the grounds he closed his eyes as cool air blew around him, chilling his heated skin.

Nothing sounded out of the ordinary and he scanned around, something having set up as off in his mind. Again, it was his gut and he wasn’t about to ignore that.

Bunkhouse was dark so he cut his gaze to the stable. All dark as well. Wait, was that a flicker of light? Silently, he stepped back inside and swiped up the rifle he had by the door. He knew how many steps it took to get to the stable, he’d run it so many times by now.

He went up to the door and paused before entering. Slinking around to the paddock he climbed through the split rails and edged up to the space there that was open to allow him to bring horses in and out. The doors stayed open unless the weather was bad, then they would close them.

Winter hadn’t hit yet.

Rifle ready to fire, he crept inside, ears and eyes attuned to anything that was out of place. After a full check of the entire building, he exited out the front, frustrated that he hadn’t been able to find anything.

“I need some damn sleep.”

It was more than that. He needed the one thing he wasn’t allowed to even entertain having as his own.

Rebecca Freeman.

Knowing he wasn’t about to get anymore sleep, he started on breakfast. Staging it so it wouldn’t take as long to prepare for the men.

Later that morning, he was in the barn taking another look, while dealing with daily chores when a tingle ghosted over his skin and he glanced up to see that Rebecca was standing there watching him. The blue bandana wrapped around her head and the hat set low, obscuring what he knew now to be a woman’s face.

“Need something?” He hooked the rope keeping in the chestnut mare and moved on to the next stall.

“No. Heading in to town.”

His anger fell away and he found he wanted nothing more than to needle her and see if he couldn’t fluster her. Propping his hands on the top of the rake handle, he jutted his chin at her. “Spending a lot of time there, Robert. Got a woman that holds your fancy? Megan? Sharla? I’ve heard they like you.”

As expected, Rebecca shook her head and scuffed the toe of her boots in the dirt floor.

“Not really my scene there.”

“But you are going to the Right Hand, aren’t you?”

Polaris stuck his head out of his stall and whickered a hello. She moved to his side and hugged him before stroking his neck.

I’ve never been jealous of a horse before now.

He wanted that touch on him not the hide of a horse. Hell, she could stroke him all over if she wished. Cy was more than willing to strip naked for her touch. Through his clothing would be acceptable if that was the only way she would do it.

“Yes.”

“Making sure to keep up appearances? How does that work in their rooms?” He crossed the aisle to stand near her, unable to keep away. Needing to see her eyes, he pushed her hat back.

His heart and ego swelled when she ran her gaze over him and he didn’t miss the hunger there. Yeah, his woman wanted him too, she was scared though.

She smirked at him. Smirked.

You’re definitely not scared of me, Rebecca. Your feelings for me yes, but not me. She never would have teased him when she first arrived.

“Well?”

Nothing was said while Polaris was saddled in the stall but when she walked out, hat again tugged low.

“Perhaps you need a trip into town, Cy, if you’re not recalling what happens in those rooms upstairs.” Rebecca swung into the saddle and touched her heels to the dun side moving him out.

Pivoting he swallowed back his retort as he watched Bill standing there, saddle in hand. His lips twitched.

“Kid’s got a point. You need to head into town and get your dick into some quim. More than one perhaps.”

“Between you and Robert, you’d think I still needed help taking a piss and wiping my ass.”

Bill grinned. “Ask them, they may help with that also.” He went to his horse’s stall. “I’m following the kid and getting some pussy. Been to long.”

He waved at him but didn’t say anything else because what floated on the tip of his tongue wasn’t something he should be sharing. It wasn’t his place to ask another man to keep an eye on a woman pretending to be a man to help her family.

Fuck!

If he were smart, he would ride off after her and do what he’s wanted since the first time he realized Robert was really Rebecca.

Claim her.

Mark her.

Possess her.