The Wrong Cowboy

“Is it time to leave?” Beatrice asked.

“It’s time to get up,” Marie answered, glancing toward the child sitting in the middle of the bed. Peeking back into the hall, though she knew it was empty, Marie frowned. The voice had made her skin shiver, and she’d thought it was Mr. Burleson, yet it must not have been. At least, the man turning the corner hadn’t been him—far too well groomed. Which was just as well, she’d see enough of Mr. Burleson for the next day or two, and not telling him he needed a shave and haircut was going to be difficult.

He’d occupied her thoughts since meeting him yesterday. For the first time since embracing her plan, an unnerving dread had settled in her stomach and remained there. She’d imagined Mick Wagner would be like his cousin. Refined, with a kind and gentle nature. Someone who would see the children’s welfare as the priority. That’s how Emma Lou and her husband, John, had been. If Mr. Wagner was anything like his partner, he wouldn’t have any of those qualities. Mr. Burleson surely didn’t. The only time he’d looked remotely pleasant was when he’d winked at Weston. Thank goodness there would be others traveling with them today. Being alone with Mr. Burleson...

She gulped and slammed two doors shut, the one to the room and the one allowing crazy thoughts into her mind.

Beatrice and Charlotte chatted excitedly about the adventure of riding in a covered wagon, and Marie feigned enthusiasm, to keep them from worrying. That was part of her job. Children should never worry about being safe, or going hungry, or any of the frightening things she’d encountered growing up.

In no time, the girls and all four boys, who’d been staying in the adjoining room, were dressed and ready for breakfast. After checking under the beds one final time to ensure nothing would be left behind, Marie led her charges out the door.

In the dining room she settled everyone upon the chairs at their customary table and caught her breath before taking her own seat. That’s when she noticed the man watching her. Her cheeks grew warm from his stare, and she quickly averted her eyes. A good nursemaid never noticed men, no matter how handsome, and she was the best.

His ongoing stare gave her the jitters, and Marie did her best to ignore the stare and her fluttering stomach. Meals were ordered for the children, along with toast and tea for herself, which she would once again pay for separately. She’d never be indebted to anyone ever again, including Mr. Wagner. Her meager savings were dwindling quickly, but hopefully Mr. Wagner would see her worth and hire her. She’d be able to replenish her monies then. Right now, the children’s future was her priority and worth every cent she spent. They were also what gave her the courage to stand up to the men at the bank, the railroad, even the hotel and everyone else they’d encountered during this journey.

With appetites that were never ending, the children cleaned their plates, even Charlotte, who was a finicky eater. Marie was savoring her last sip of tea when a shadow fell upon the table. It was the man. She knew that without looking up, and fought the urge to do so, hoping he’d move away. He was a stranger, not one of the locals they’d come to know the past week.

“You should have eaten more than that,” he said. “It’ll be a long time until we eat again.”

The voice sent a tremor down her spine, and Marie couldn’t stop her head from snapping up. It couldn’t possibly be Mr. Burleson, yet the vest, the hat, the gun belt...

One brow was raised when her eyes finally found their way all the way up to his face, which was clean shaven. His features were crisp now, defined, including an indent in the center of his chin, and his eyes seemed no longer gray but faded blue and almost twinkling. That’s when Marie saw his smile. It slanted across his face in a cocky, self-assured way that was extremely vexing. Not exactly sure she could, or should, speak at this moment—for something deep in her stomach said he wouldn’t be as easy to deal with as the other men she’d encountered—she pinched her lips together.

“You said it was bath night,” Stafford Burleson stated, as he practically pulled the chair out from beneath her.

Chapter Two (#ulink_7b4b48f5-93de-51db-93ce-a2c71d519cf9)

The tension inside her was not a good sign, especially when Marie knew it had very little to do with the children or the wagon or even the bumpy ride. It was him. Stafford Burleson was the reason. Not just his good looks. Her efforts to ignore him weren’t working. Who would ever have known that under all that hair...

She shook her head, tried again not to think about his looks. If only her friend Sarah were here now, she’d have some thoughts on what to do about that. And other things.

Sarah was the Hawkins family’s nursemaid. They’d lived down the road from the Meekers and the two of them often took the children to the park together. Sarah had said the Hawkinses had made inquires about eventually adopting the twins—Charles and Weston—having only girls themselves. Knowing how Marie felt, Sarah had helped formulate this mission—taking the children to meet the guardian named in their mother’s will.

Sarah had known a woman who’d gone west as a mail-order bride, said the man who’d ordered her promised the railroad he’d pay for her fare at the other end, and insisted Marie could do the same thing. Uncomfortable expecting Mick Wagner to pay for her fare, Marie had sold the jewelry the Meekers had given her for Christmas—it wasn’t like she’d ever have the occasion to wear such things, anyway. The children’s fares were a different issue. Therefore, she’d used the mail-order bride ruse, and was thankful it had worked as well as it had.

Sarah said Mick Wagner would probably be glad to hire her as the children’s nursemaid, which is exactly what Marie hoped. She couldn’t imagine being separated from the children. However, she wished she’d asked Sarah a few more questions. Her friend had a much broader understanding of men, and often spoke of the day she’d be married with her own children to raise. She’d declared that marrying Mick Wagner would be a good choice, if he was so inclined, because Marie would never have to worry about finding another job. She didn’t want another job, but every time she glanced at the man beside her, the idea of marriage made her insides tremble.

She closed her eyes and fought against another tremor. If Mick Wagner was anything like the brute sitting beside her, he could very well demand things. Things she couldn’t even fathom. Holding her breath, Marie pressed a hand to her stomach. Surely a man with six children to raise wouldn’t insist on embarking upon behavior that might produce another one? Miss Wentworth’s lesson on copulation had been extremely embarrassing to sit through, and the lesson on childbirth downright dreadful.

“Marie.”

The whisper in her ear had her turning around, purposely not glancing toward Stafford Burleson beside her on the front seat of the wagon. The bouncy ride made the train journey they’d experienced seem comfortable in comparison, and the hot sun blazing down on them was relentless.

“Yes, Weston,” she replied to the child standing behind the seat, protected from the sun by a billowing canvas. “What do you need, dear?”

The child whispered in her ear.

“Very well.” Still without glancing his way, she said, “Mr. Burleson, we need to stop.”

“Stop?”

“Yes.”

“What for?”

Marie played with the bow at her chin that kept her bonnet from fluttering off with the wind, willing herself to maintain the nursemaid calm she’d perfected. The man’s tone was laced with impatience—as it had been all morning—which grated on her nerves. Patience was the number one trait a person working with children needed to maintain, and he was souring hers. “Weston needs to take care of something,” she stated.

“What?” Stafford Burleson asked, as he flapped the reins over the horses’ backs, keeping them at a steady pace.

“I’m sure I don’t need to explain what he needs to take care of,” Marie said, nose forward. “At least, I shouldn’t have to.”

A low growl rumbled before he said, “Didn’t you tell them to do that before we left town?”

Biting her tongue would not help, even if she had a mind not to speak. “Of course I did,” she declared, “but small children have small bladders.”

“Not that small,” he exclaimed. “I can still see Huron behind us.”

She couldn’t help but glance around and gaze through the front and back openings of the canopy covering the wagon. The dark cluster on the horizon ignited yet another bout of tremors. She and the children were now completely at the mercy of this insufferable man, with nothing more than prayers for protection. Refusing to panic, she said, “In country this flat, I’m sure a person can see for ten miles or more.”

“We haven’t gone ten miles,” Mr. Burleson insisted. “We’ve barely gone two.”

“That, Mr. Burleson,” she said, “makes no difference. Weston needs to relieve himself and you will stop this wagon immediately.”

The snarl that formed on his face was frightening, but it also snapped her last nerve in two. He was the most insufferable man she’d ever encountered. If it had been just her, she might have cowered at his bullying, but she was the only protection the children had. She would not see them harmed, and that gave her the courage, or perhaps the determination, to return his stare with one just as formidable.

Marie was sure he cursed under his breath, but since he also pulled the horses to a stop and set the brake, she ignored it—this once—and turned around.

Climbing out of the high wagon was like climbing down a tree. Instead of branches there were steps and wagon spokes to navigate—an extremely difficult task with her skirt flapping in the wind. The alternative, having Mr. Burleson assist her as he’d tried to in town, was out of the question, so Marie managed just fine, apart from a stumble or two.

She kept her chin up, suspecting the foul man was now chuckling under his breath, and marched toward the back of the wagon where she lifted Weston to the ground.

“Go behind that bush,” she instructed, gesturing toward a scattering of shrubs a short distance away.

Weston scurried away and Marie glanced toward the wagon, prepared to ask if any of the other children needed to relieve themselves.

“If anyone else has to go, do it now,” a male voice demanded harshly.

Spinning about, she eyed him. “I was about to suggest that, Mr. Burleson.”

He folded his arms across his chest. “Were you?”

“Yes, I was.” Arguing in front of the children should be avoided at all measures, so she took a deep breath and turned, poking her head over the end gate. “Does anyone else need to join Weston?”

Five little heads, those she’d protect with her life, gestured negatively. The quivering of Charlie’s bottom lip had Marie’s ire flaming. Whirling round, she grabbed one solid arm and dragged Mr. Burleson a few feet away from the wagon. “I will not have you intimidating these children.”

“You will not—”

“That’s right,” she interrupted. “I will not permit you to speak to them so. There is no need for you to use that tone of voice around them. They are small children and—”