Page 79 of I Do, I Do, I Do
“Mrs. Eddington is very shrewd. She brought pessaries to sell because she figured there would be trailside romances. She’s made a tidy sum already.”
Zoe and Juliette looked at her, fascinated. “Really?” Zoe asked. “Did she name the names of her clients?”
“Mrs. Eddington promises discretion. Let me see the pessary, will you? Uh-huh. Just as I thought. It’s a pink ribbon.” She started picking at the knot.
“What are you doing?” Juliette frowned. “You need the ribbon.” She looked dismayed that she would know such a thing.
“I know, but not this ribbon. If I’m going to have a ribbon hanging out of…well, you know…I don’t want it to be pink. I want a first-prize blue ribbon that says this is the best there is.”
They stared at her, and then all of them burst into wild laughter. When they caught their breath, they sat on the cots, wiping their eyes.
And it occurred to Clara that she would miss these women when their long journey ended. She would miss them badly.
Bear called for her the following evening. All Clara could see of him were his eyes peering at her between his hat brim and above a thick scarf that covered his mouth and nose. And that was all he could see of her. She was bundled against the cold like a bulky package.
He had equipped a dogsled for passenger use, padding the bed like a chaise longue. Once he had her settled and covered with wool blankets, he shouted at the tent flap that he would have her home before morning. Then he guided the sled through the camp, along the shore, and up an incline.
There was enough moonlight that Clara spotted his cabin the moment they rounded the last curve. The cabin appeared to float against a pine backdrop because the log structure sat on pilings that lifted the ground floor off the frozen ground. Light glowed at the windows, and chimney smoke curled gray against a black sky. He had shoveled a path to the steps and to the dog shelter.
“You go inside and get warm,” Bear said after helping her out of the sled. “I’ll see to the dogs and be there in a minute.”
The door opened into a vaulted living room. A billiard table occupied the center of the room, surrounded by leather chairs. Animal heads hung on the walls: two grizzly bears, several elk and moose, caribou, a pair of wolves, and a wildcat depicted in full snarl. Almost as an afterthought, two or three photographs had been hung above small tables. One showed Bear standing outside the Bare Bear saloon with several men. To Bear’s right was a snowdrift piled higher than his shoulders. Another showed him holding a rifle, his foot on the back of a bear. Presumably the fellow staring down from above the stone fireplace.
The place didn’t have much of a kitchen. When Clara popped her head inside, she spotted the essentials, but no woman would have designed a kitchen with so little elbow room. In contrast, the bedroom was a comfortable size. From the doorway, she noticed shaving implements laid out atop the bureau, saw a row of boots neatly arranged beneath the hooks holding an array of clothing.
She liked it that he was tidy. She couldn’t abide a slovenly man. Happily, she returned to the hall tree in the doorway just as Bear came inside.
“Allow me,” he said, pulling down his scarf and smiling. He took her hat and scarf and mittens. Helped her out of her coat and heavy boots. Peeled her down to Juliette’s black cape. Looking into her eyes, he drew a breath. “Shall I take your cape?”
Clara lifted her arms and fluffed the fountain of red curls exploding from the crown of her head. She wished he had a mirror near the hall tree so she could see how tousled she might be. Not that Bear would care. He stared at her as if she dazzled him.
She presented her back and let him lift the cape from her shoulders. Then she slowly turned.
“Oh, my Lord,” he said softly, his eyes widening on her burgeoning cleavage. “I didn’t dream you.” He stood as still as a large rock, staring at her while melting snow ran off his coat into a puddle at his feet. “I never saw anything like you, honey girl,” he said softly, gruffly. “You stop my heart.”
Despite the ash and grease she wore on the trail, her cheeks were chapped and red, though recently softened with a liberal application of lard, so he probably didn’t notice that she blushed with pleasure.
“And you smell like a beautiful woman ought to smell.”
She was wearing her German cologne. And her bodice scooped so low that little was left to the imagination. Plus she wore Juliette’s brilliants, Zoe’s best purse, and the prizewinning blue ribbon.
“Can I help you out of those heavy wet things?” she asked, reaching to unwind his scarf. Laughing, he allowed her to hang his coat and hat on the hall tree before he sat on a bench and changed out of his snowshoes into a pair of dress shoes.
When he stood, she saw that he’d chosen a dark wool suit and waistcoat for tonight. His shaggy gold hair had been trimmed and somewhat tamed. He smelled of bay rum and sweet cigars and the outdoors. He was one fine-looking man. So handsome that she couldn’t take her eyes off him and didn’t want to.
“Well,” Clara said, realizing they were standing near the draft leaking around the door. “Shall we—?”
“Where are my manners! Come in, come in. Welcome to my Lake Bennett place. It’s small, and I don’t imagine you think much of the decor,” he said, smiling. “I built it just for me. You’re the only woman who’s been inside.”
“Then I’m flattered,” she said, moving to the billiard table and running her palm across the green felt. “How in the world did you get this over the pass?”
“I had it brought in by the overland route. My Lord, you look beautiful! You make me think of peaches and honey. Good enough to eat with a spoon!”
Blushing again, she wandered toward the fire and tilted her face to examine the animal heads. “I imagine there’s a story behind each of these trophies.”
He followed, standing so close behind her that Clara felt his heat and massive size. “Not stories fit for the delicate ears of a lady.”
Ja, they would have to have a talk.
