Eyes Of Silver, Eyes Of Gold Part 6

"Yes." Of course she was all right. It had hurt, but she didn't feel particularly torn apart. Goodness, she could stand this without any trouble at all.

He was facing her again now. "More?"

Asking her - he was asking her. Weren't his animal appet.i.tes supposed to turn him into a ravening beast?

This time he slid easily into the depths of her that were already drenched with his seed, and there was only the shadow of the first pain. Anne lay quietly beside him until she was sure he was asleep, then gently pillowed her head on his shoulder and cupped her hand around his upper arm. Surely this much was her marital right.

Rachel's description of this act had been accurate, she reflected, except for the position, which she supposed was a concession to his ribs. But where was the unbearable pain, where was the humiliation? It was inexpressibly intimate, and she didn't mind a bit.

Why did she want to laugh out loud with relief? If this was her marital burden it was certainly going to be easy to bear.

Cord woke first. Eyes shut, he could feel her against him, cheek against his shoulder, b.r.e.a.s.t.s pushing against his arm, one hand across his treacherous rib cage. At least she hadn't thrown on clothes and run off into the night. G.o.d, he'd forgotten how good it felt, blood no longer boiling through his veins like hot acid but slipping along sweetly like warm honey, all the tense misery gone, replaced by an ease that reached to his bone marrow.

Would she realize now what she had done to herself and leave? Would he look into the wide gray eyes this morning and finally see fear? He wasn't sure he wanted to know the answers. As the world began to turn rose colored with the sunrise, he pulled carefully away from her, dressed, and went to start coffee.

Listening hard for any stirring in the bedroom, he heard her bare feet on the floor, then sounds of a sharply indrawn breath - maybe even a very soft wail - and cloth rustling.

He didn't want to know but couldn't help going to see. She was leaning over the bed in his shirt, hurriedly pulling off the bedclothes. The sight of the long bare legs and rounded bottom fully captured his attention.

Suddenly aware of his presence, Anne straightened quickly, tugging at the hem of the shirt.

The bloodstain on the exposed bed sheet made Cord forget everything else, including his worry about whether she was afraid. "Why the h.e.l.l didn't you tell me you were a G.o.dd.a.m.n virgin?"

Her embarra.s.sment changed to indignation in a flash. She snapped at him, "Tell you?

Why on earth would I tell you such a thing? You know I've never been married before."

"What the h.e.l.l has married got to do with it? You were engaged for years to that man in Chicago."

Her voice started to rise. "The operative word there is 'engaged.' What kind of trash do you think I am?"

"I think you're human is all. What was the matter with him?"

She tried haughtiness. "There was nothing wrong with him. He was a gentleman."

"Gentleman my a.s.s. He must have had ice water for blood."

It never, of course, occurred to him to blame anyone except Richard for such an extraordinary state of affairs.

Her voice dropped, low and furious. "Well, it's just too bad if you had your heart set on a used, well broken in wife, because you're stuck with me."

The unfairness of this made Cord growl right back, "I didn't want a used wife. If I'd known, I wouldn't have slammed into you like that is all."

He turned and stomped back to the kitchen, starting to bang the coffee pot down on the stove and then placing it instead slowly and with care. Not only was there no fear in her eyes this morning, the disturbing wary look was gone.

Anne watched his disappearing back open mouthed. Slammed into her? For the first time it occurred to her that Rachel's highly respected, much admired, and widely envied husband might just be severely lacking in some regards.

CHAPTER 10.

SOMETIMES ANNE HAD TROUBLE BELIEVING so much pain and misery had in the end brought her so much freedom. Cord really didn't boss her around. He left what she did and when she did it entirely up to her. If she didn't know how to do something, he showed her. If she made a mistake, he shrugged and helped her fix it.

So every morning she followed him to the barn, the two of them doing ch.o.r.es in half the time it took one alone. After breakfast, Anne did household tasks, amazed that he helped. He didn't seem to divide the world into men's work and women's work. Of course, she realized, he was used to doing it all himself.

He began to work horses again, starting with young stock that would benefit from quiet handling, since he still was not ready to start riding. Anne spent most afternoons outside with him, trying not to get in the way, imitating the way he did things and petting and brushing the young horses herself. Sometimes hours would pa.s.s with only a few words spoken to the horses, but she delighted in every minute of it.

When Cord suggested she should learn how to handle his guns, Anne hesitated at first, then remembered Charlie Meeks' leering face and agreed. Mastering how to clean, oil, and load the weapons came easy. Hitting what she aimed at was a different story, but she could see herself slowly improving as the days pa.s.sed, and after all, she didn't need to be a sharp shooter, just competent.

After evening ch.o.r.es and dinner, Anne prepared for the next day's baking or sewed loose b.u.t.tons or little rents or worn places in her few clothes that were wearing out so rapidly. Cord cleaned and oiled harness, saddles, and bridles or made minor repairs to other equipment.

At night Anne slept curled against Cord's shoulder, utterly content with a new life that was better than anything she had ever imagined or dared hope for.

For Cord there was no ease. Most nights he lay awake long after Anne was asleep, wondering how long she would stay, wondering what price he would pay for stealing this time with her.

Because he believed the first time Anne was back in Mason, she might just decide to run home or to Rachel Ross, he put off any mention of a trip to town as long as possible.

He also was not sure she really understood how much of a pariah she would be now with most of the townspeople or how she would react to the loss of lifetime friends and maybe even her family.

The fact was, though, by early December they were almost out of everything, from grain for the livestock, to flour, sugar, and coffee. Mentioning going to town as if he expected her to stay home got him nowhere.

"I figure to take the wagon into town for supplies first thing in the morning," he said.

"If you feed the stock, I'll do the rest of the ch.o.r.es when I get back."

She tipped her head and looked at him as if she knew what he was up to. "What if I want to come with you?"

He suppressed a sigh. "We'll leave a little later."

"Good," Anne said. "We need to make sure we're really married, even if it does mean seeing Reverend Yellow-Belly Pratt again."

A pistol was not Cord's favorite weapon, but the next morning he strapped on the gunbelt before going to hitch up the wagon.

Pulling up in front of Pratt's house, Cord asked, "You sure you don't want to stay here?"

Every line of Anne's face and body said she did, but she shook her head and climbed down. It was Sarah Pratt who answered the door and stood in the doorway wooden with fear. Charles Pratt walked up behind his wife to see who had come calling and turned sickly pale and began to back up.

Cord spoke very politely, "Like to see you a minute privately, Reverend."

With a shaking hand, Pratt gestured to a door off the hall. Anne had to about push Mrs. Pratt to get by her, but the woman leapt out of the way as soon as Cord took a step.

In his study, Pratt tried to ignore Cord. "Anne, what is the meaning of this? What are you doing here with that man?"

Hoa.r.s.e with fury, she said, "I'm here with my husband to get the marriage certificate you seem to have forgotten the day you married us."

Pratt seemed to get even paler and began to stutter. "T-that w-wasn't... you c-can't...."

Cord leaned back against a wall, opened his coat to be sure the gunbelt showed, and let her vent her anger.

Anne was almost spitting. "You craven, yellow, useless, sad excuse for a Christian, you did the marrying, you can just find enough spine to write the certificate."

"Anne, y-your f-father...."

"d.a.m.n my father, and d.a.m.n you. For once in your cowardly life you can just do what's right."

Pratt was beginning to look distinctly ill, so Cord decided to take a hand.

"Actually, Reverend, we sort of figured you'd be happy to make things right. You know, earn redemption through a good deed."

Charles Pratt was a whispy man, and Cord thought of him as gray all over. Gray hair, gray skin, indeterminate colored eyes behind spectacles - now as Pratt finally looked at him, Cord wondered if he was right about the preacher's blood slowly turning from red to a thin, gray gruel.

"R-redemption?"

"Yeah, you know, forgiveness." Cord didn't intend the threat of the word to be subtle, and it wasn't.

Pratt crumbled. "It needs witnesses."

"Benton and White were both there. Maybe they'd be interested in a little redemption too."

The preacher was holding onto his desk as if he knew he would fall without the support. "All right," he whispered, "I'll get them."

"That's real considerate of you, Reverend. Suppose we meet you back here at noon."

Pratt didn't raise his head again, but nodded.

Giving Pratt that much time worried Anne. Back at the wagon, she said, "You've given him two hours to round up help and make trouble."

"He hasn't got that much sand."

Anne climbed back on the wagon seat, hoping he was right. Cord stopped next in front of a small shop off of Main Street. It was Armand LeClerc's goldsmith shop, she knew, but she didn't understand right away. When the bell sounded as they walked in, Mr. LeClerc bounced to his feet from the armchair behind the counter. He was a small, round, white-haired man, and he smiled widely at them. "What can I do for you two today?"

"We need a wedding ring," Cord said.

Anne made no attempt to hide her delight, as LeClerc pulled a tray with various sized gold bands out of a drawer. She examined them with uncritical pleasure.

Cord wasn't as pleased. He said, "They sure look plain. Don't you make anything prettier?"

This time she felt dismay. Didn't he realize prettier meant more expensive? She knew exactly how much money they had. Perhaps she could pretend not to like any of the more expensive rings.

LeClerc left the first tray on the counter and pulled out a second. The problem with pretending was that she wasn't very good at it. Some of these rings were definitely too gaudy, some were designed so that they would not be practical for ranch life, but some were undeniably special.

"Pick one you like."

Did he seriously think he was going to borrow money from his wretched brother to get through the winter in order to buy her a fancy ring? She knew better than to argue with him in front of Mr. LeClerc. She began sorting through the rings. First she eliminated the gaudy, then the impractical. She was left with four rings and hesitated, sure she preferred the most expensive.

Armand LeClerc spoke as if he understood the problem. Perhaps he did. He had been selling jewelry for many years. "Very wise choices, my dear. Some of my own favorites, and I made them all. The price won't choose for you since those four are all the same."

Anne smiled at him gratefully and picked up her favorite. Three slim strands of gold entwined on the top, merging into one band underneath the finger.

The ring didn't fit, and Mr. LeClerc explained that he had plain bands in all sizes, but each of the unique rings had to be sized for the person who would wear it.

"But we're only in town today."

"If you can wait an hour or two, I can have it perfect."

She glanced at Cord to see what his reaction to all this was. "We have nothing to do till noon anyway. We can wait."

"In that case," said Mr. LeClerc, "why don't you come to my shop and keep me company while I do the work. If you don't mind indulging an old man and listening to him ramble on."

Anne was surprised when Cord agreed but realized his dual purpose when after a short time he excused himself and disappeared to the barber's for a much needed haircut.

He returned promptly enough and soon Mr. LeClerc was entertaining them with stories of his boyhood in France as he heated the ring in his small forge. Anne could never decide later which was the more fascinating, the work he did or the stories he told.

Before the ring was ready, Helene LeClerc, as small and round as her husband, was serving them coffee, joining them for a while and letting the shop keep itself. The ring would be even more precious because of the happy time that went with it.

Cooled and polished again, the ring fit perfectly. Back in the shop, Mr. LeClerc asked, "And do you want a man's ring too?" Anne knew she had not kept her face from showing what she thought of that.

She absolutely expected, however, to hear Cord say no, and was delighted all over again to hear him say instead, "How much?" After very little discussion, they left the shop with both rings in Cord's pocket - and with new friends.

Pulling up in front of Pratt's again just before noon, Cord fished the rings from his pocket and said, "I don't suppose you want to put this on in there?"

She grinned at him. "You don't suppose right."

She pulled off the awkward glove she had made for herself out of an old pair of his and held out her left hand. After he slipped the ring on her finger, she held out her hand for the other ring and did the same for him. She smiled at him, feeling light-hearted with happiness and saw the answering smile in his eyes. Suddenly she wanted very much to throw her arms around him and kiss him thoroughly but was sure he wouldn't like it a bit and didn't. They climbed down and headed for the house.

Mrs. Pratt was nowhere to be seen. Reverend Pratt answered the door himself and wordlessly led the way to his study again. Michael Benton and Thomas White sat on the edges of their chairs. Both men got quickly to their feet when Cord and Anne walked in the room, looking very much like they wanted to dive through the window.

Pratt, either emboldened by the presence of White and Benton or having found a modic.u.m of courage somewhere, started in, "Now, Anne, you must realize you don't have to stay with this man because of what's happened. I'm sure your father would be happy to have you home, or you could go to Sheriff Reynolds. You can't do this to yourself because of an unfortunate turn of events."

Anne had decided these men weren't worth her emotion. "It has nothing to do with have to, and as far as I'm concerned it was a fortunate turn of events. Now, if you don't mind, we've got other things to do today."

Pratt sat behind the desk with resignation and began to fill out the scrolled, engraved form. When he finished writing, he turned the certificate toward Anne and said, "You sign your maiden name."

She did and then handed the pen to Cord.

Pratt said, "If you make your mark, I'll print it in below."

Cord didn't even look up, just signed, "Cord Bennett" in a strong hand. White and Benton then signed.

Cord wasn't through with them yet. "I think we'd all like to see this written in the church records, Reverend." Pratt sputtered and delayed but ended up pulling out the marriage records and entering their names and the October date.

"You have a fee for this sort of thing, Reverend?"