Chapter Ten
The storm eventually passed, and life outside the cozy cabin beckoned them. Dean made plans to travel with Lydia by horseback to town.
As they each packed a saddlebag with provisions, Dean said, “When we get to town, I plan to go straight to the bank to acquire a loan to pay my employees. Then, assuming they give it to me, I’ll visit each of them and distribute the bonuses they’re owed.”
Lydia added her wallet and hairbrush to her bag. “That’s good of you, Dean, but what if someone reported you as the bandit? What if you’re arrested while we’re in town?”
“I don’t think anyone will recognize me.”
“I did,” she said, pausing her packing chore to look at him. “You should cut the fringe off your boots before we leave.”
He nodded. “Yes, I’ll do it now.” He removed a folded knife from his pocket, opened it with a flick of his thumb, and set to work sawing off each extraneous, decorative strip of leather. Once he was done, he opened an empty sack and proceeded to place all of Mary and Matthew Dunlap’s belongings in it, along with an extra hundred dollars. “Do you have the note you wrote?” he asked Lydia.
She took a piece of paper from her pocket and handed it to him. “Not sure you should add that money. I didn’t mention it in the letter, and they might be curious where it came from.”
“Ugh, you’re right,” Dean said. “I hadn’t thought of that.” He removed the hundred-dollar bill. “I’ll send this anonymously another time, so they won’t connect it with this shipment.”
She sighed. “That’s good of you.” A few moments later, she said, “I thought of something else. What if Barnaby gave such a good description of the bandit to the marshal that he knows it’s you?”
“That’s impossible. Half my face was covered.”
“Or what if the miner who lent you clothes put two and two together and reported what he did for you? What if there’s a reward for your capture and it was too tempting for the miner to ignore?”
Dean hadn’t considered this. The man who’d lent him clothes was a longtime friend who had easily accepted the excuse Dean gave, that he wanted to look nice for his mail-order bride. “I doubt that would happen, darlin’. He thinks I wanted fresh clothes because I needed to look attractive to you.”
“So many things could go wrong because of that cockamamie plan to rob the coach,” she grumbled. “What if your partner sells you out?”
“He won’t, Lydia. I trust him. He’s been nothing but good to me. He has helped me with the legal system, protecting my rights since I first invented the girder. And he wants to get that money back for our employees as much as I do.”
“I sure hope you’re right, Dean. I would hate for you to go to prison.”
“Well, yeah, that would ruin everything.” He waved a hand around the cabin. “I have great plans for expanding this place, changing it however you like. I want to give you the world. I want to buy you all the dresses you can stuff into that dresser. Hell, I’ll buy a new dresser. I’ll build a room just for your beautiful dresses. I want to travel with you to France and sip expensive wine on cobblestone roads without a care in the world.”
She smiled. “I don’t need all that, Dean.”
“But do you want it?”
“I want you and me to be together. The rest is only a bonus.”
Dean smiled. “You’re a gem, you know that?” He put on his boots and stood. “What do you think? Would you be able to tell these were the boots worn by the bandit?”
She examined at them, then shook her head. “No, they look like anyone else’s boots.”
“Good, then at least I’ve ridded you of one of your worries.” He pulled her into his arms, inhaling her scent of jasmine. She closed her eyes when he kissed her, and he could feel her body relax in his arms. He wanted her to feel that safe and relaxed forever. He was determined to fix everything and give her the life she deserved.
???
Lydia was happy to be in the saddle again when they finally set out for Elkio. Although it was good to be out of the house, she couldn’t shake the fear she felt over Dean’s identity as the stagecoach bandit being discovered, no matter how much he tried to reassure her. There were too many things that could go wrong, and though she believed that Dean had told her the truth about the robbery and the motive behind it, it still seemed outlandishly bizarre and dangerous.
The path widened, and Dean reined his horse to walk next to hers. “When we get to town,” he said, “will you do me the honor of making this official? Of marrying me? Assuming we don’t have to rush home on account of a snowstorm, of course.”
“Yes,” she said without hesitation. “And assuming you aren’t arrested.”
“I reckon that’s the most unenthusiastic ‘yes’ a man’s ever received,” he said, his voice teasing.
She smiled. “I’m sorry, I’m just worried is all.”
He shook his head. “I hate that I’ve caused you this consternation. If the worst happens and I’m caught, I’ll make sure you’re the beneficiary of my patent’s royalties. You won’t have to worry about money ever again.”
“That’s good of you, Dean, but let’s make sure you’re not caught. I don’t want to live without you. I’ve grown fond of you.”
“I’m fond of you too. I thought I knew you when we were writing letters back and forth, but you’re different in person. Better, smarter, more beautiful.”
“I feel the same. You’re even better in person.” She reached over to take his hand. He squeezed it gently.
When they arrived in town, Dean led them straight to the bank. As they dismounted, Lydia looked around, surveying people for signs that he was under suspicion. Besides a couple of waves from friendly passersby, no one acknowledged them. Lydia allowed herself to feel a small amount of relief.
Dean opened the wooden front door of the bank and stood aside to allow her first entrance. She walked into the room. It smelled of cedar and ink. Metal bars stood between them and a man wearing a black tie and green hat.
“Mr. Hunter, so nice to see you,” the man behind the bars said. After some jingling of keys, he emerged from behind the bars and walked to meet them with an outstretched arm.
“Howdy, Mr. Stein,” Dean said, shaking his hand. “How did you fare in that terrible storm?”
Lydia listened silently as they exchanged pleasantries, complaining about the weather and other normal occurrences. She felt hope continue to spring inside of her. If the banker hadn’t been warned by the marshal to be on the lookout for Dean, she doubted anyone had.
“Let me introduce you to Miss Lydia Shaw,” Dean said. “She’s my wife to be. Traveled all the way from New York to meet me.”
“How do you do?” Lydia said politely, and gave the banker a nod and small smile.
“So nice to meet you,” he said. “Someday I hope you’ll tell me of your traveling adventures. I heard your coach was held up. That must have been mighty frightening.”
Lydia kept the same expression on her face. “Yes, ‘twas. Have they caught the bandit yet?”
“Afraid not,” Mr. Stein said. “Though I know the stagecoach driver gave a description of him to Ned so he could make a crack at drawing him. Too bad you had to leave town in an all-fire hurry, Mr. Hunter. You’re a much better artist.”
“Yes, too bad,” Dean said.
“Doesn’t matter, though. I reckon the bandit is halfway to Tulsa by now,” the banker said. “Anyway, come sit over here. What can I do for you today?” He led them to one side of a long table with papers stacked on it. Unlike Dean’s desk, the banker’s looked well organized. The banker sat across from them.
“I’m worried about my miners,” Dean began. “The gold they discovered this year was stolen, as everyone knows, so my partner and I couldn’t pay them their well-earned bonuses.”
“Yes, yes, that’s most unfortunate.”
“I would pay them from my own money if I could, but I don’t have enough. I won’t receive the royalties from my patent until next year. So Lydia here had the idea that I might get a loan from the bank.”
“I’ve heard of your great success with the patent, but do you have written proof that you will receive royalties?”
Dean reached into his pocket and withdrew a small piece of paper folded into a disproportionate square. He unfolded it and laid it on the table facing Mr. Stein, then flattened it with his palms. “I reckon this is proof that the money is coming.”
Mr. Stein picked up the paper and read it. Lydia watched as his eyes grew larger the more he read. He stared at the paper for a long time, then at Dean, then back at the paper. Finally, he cleared his throat. “Yes, Mr. Hunter, with this promissory note, I can certainly give you a loan to pay the miners. I only need to verify its authenticity. Will you meet me back here same time tomorrow? I need to send a wire to Bells and wait for their response.”
“Yes! I’m chuffed this will be possible.” Dean exclaimed. He looked at Lydia. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of this.”
Lydia nodded and smiled, silently agreeing with him. And why hadn’t his partner made this suggestion? But she was pleased for Dean, and pleased that she had thought of something to help the miners.
They boarded their horses at the livery, then made their way by foot to the hotel.
Dean’s gait was jaunty. “Thank you, thank you, Lydia,” he said, stopping to grab her and whirl her around. “This is the best news. The miners will have the money they need before the worst of winter hits. They can stock up on food and supplies. Everything is going to be perfect.”
She laughed and held on until he set her on the ground. She was only able to enjoy his excitement briefly. She tried to share in it longer, but a sense of dread filled her. She couldn’t put her finger on why, but she was certain something would go wrong.
“Look at that!” Dean exclaimed with a laugh. He pointed at a Wanted poster tacked to the window of the marshal’s office. They walked closer. “It looks nothing like me,” he said in a victorious whisper.
“Shh,” she admonished. “Someone might hear you.” But she agreed. The rudimentary sketch captured nothing of Dean’s likeness. She read the words below the drawing.
Wanted for stagecoach robbery 11 September 1882.
Tall man, black kerchief, black boots.
Reward for information that leads to capture.
$100
“A hundred dollars? That’s all?” Dean scoffed. “I’ve never seen such a small reward.”
“Probably because you hardly stole anything,” Lydia whispered. “I wouldn’t assume that fact is lost on them. They’re probably wondering why the bandit didn’t require Barnaby to open the safe or all the passengers to relinquish their luggage. Maybe they’re still trying to figure it out.”
“Yes, perhaps,” Dean said, though the joyful lilt of his voice remained firmly in place.
“Let’s go to our hotel room. I don’t want to be out in the open.”
“Sure, darlin’,” he said.
Lydia noticed that he was kind enough not to mention that if he was discovered to be the bandit, nothing so simple as a locked hotel door would be enough to protect him. Or perhaps he wasn’t even thinking along those lines as she was.
Dean registered their names with the clerk, then asked for two baths to be drawn. When they were alone in the bathing room, Lydia looked at the two steaming claw-foot tubs with longing. They each undressed and slowly dipped into the luxurious water.
“Oh, my, that feels good,” Lydia said, as she sank her entire body minus her head in the water.
“Yes, I want you to relax, darlin’. I can see the fear in your eyes. All will be taken care of in the end, I assure you.”
“You’re probably right,” Lydia said, desperately wanted to believe him. But she knew her fiancé was more of a dreamer than a realist. She closed her eyes and rested in the warmth, feeling every ache and pain drain from her muscles. Just as Dean had hoped, her mind relaxed along with her body, and soon she felt mostly at peace.
She heard splashing water coming from beside her and opened her eyes to discover Dean stepping out of the bath. His sculpted body glistened, and water droplets clung to his eyelashes and beard. She watched with appreciation as he toweled himself, starting with his hair and face and working his way down.
“You’re done already?” she asked.
He tied his towel around his waist and sat on a stool next to her bath. “Yes, I wanted to help you bathe. May I?” He picked up a white cloth and gray-colored soap from the porcelain perch.
“Sure,” she said lazily, holding out her arm. “Start here?”
“It will be my immense pleasure.” He lathered the soap into the cloth and massaged it into each of her fingers, then made his way up her arm. He scrubbed her shoulder and beneath her arm, then gentled his touch when he washed her breasts.
“These are very dirty,” he said with a teasing voice. “I’d better spend lots of time cleaning them.”
She giggled, “Yes, you’d better.”
After he’d massaged, pinched, and stroked her breasts thoroughly, he stood and moved to the edge of the tub where he pulled one of her legs out of the water. “Let’s get these adorable toes of yours clean.” He washed each one.
“I don’t know how you do that without tickling me. It feels good.”
He didn’t respond. When she looked at him, she noticed that his expression was sober, which surprised her, as he had been so jolly a moment earlier.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, as he carefully set her leg back in the water and lifted the other.
He swirled the cloth around her foot. “I just had a memory of you after you came in from the snowstorm. When I rolled down your stockings, I was praying your toes wouldn’t be black.”
“I’m sorry I worried you so,” she said.
His lips quirked up. “I know you are. And you’ve paid for it with my belt, so you shouldn’t be apologizing again.”
He plunged his hand into the water and lightly touched her knee. He stroked upward languorously, along her inner thigh. When his hand reached the apex of her legs, he touched her pussy and found the little nub of pleasure he was fond of manipulating in his fingers.
She gasped as the sudden spurt of pleasure shot through her. He continued to fondle her, building her up to the brink before removing his hand from between her legs. “I know what you need,” he said. “Let’s finish up here and get to our room.”
She was more than happy to oblige. The water was cool by then, and she rushed through the rest of her bath. After she toweled off, they donned robes and walked up the stairs together to their room.
The both quickly dispensed with their robes and fell into each other’s arms, kissing with the passion they felt for each other.
Dean lowered her into a sitting position on the bed. He knelt on his knees in front of her and spread her legs apart wide, leveling his face with her naked cunny.
“Oh, my God,” she breathed, holding his shoulders. “What are you doing?”
Dean took hold of her hips and dragged her forward until her bottom was perched at the edge of the bed and his mouth connected with her pussy.
She cried out, shocked by the onslaught of embarrassment and pleasure she experienced as his tongue swirled in and around her womanhood and his beard and mustache tickled her sensitized flesh. When she thought she couldn’t handle any more intensity, his tongue suddenly flicked against her nub. “Oh, Dean! I cannot bear it!” she cried.
Her words only seemed to spur him on, for he didn’t stop. He languorously applied his ministrations to every inch of her pussy. His hot breath against the most intimate place of her sent shivers up her spine. When he stroked inside of her with his tongue, she found herself simultaneously wanting to shove his face tighter to her to make it continue and arch away to save herself from further torture.
Dean did not give her any choice in the matter. His hands held tight to her hips, keeping her in place as he attended to her. “I want to make you feel good,” he said, his hot breath brushing her folds. “All will be well with us. Understand?”
“Yes,” she whimpered, grasping his shoulders as his lips and tongue worshiped her. Pleasure grew inside of her, gaining such intensity that she felt at any moment she might burst apart.
“Let go for me, Lydia, whenever you’re ready,” he ordered, in the sternest voice she’d heard from him. He swirled his tongue around her nub and flicked it, back and forth, up and down, with light, quick strokes.
She threaded her fingers through his hair, holding his head in place as she continued to accept his erotic tongue lashes against her clit. When she orgasmed, she screamed and gyrated her hips. Waves of pleasure crashed one after the other over her as his lips continued to fondle her pussy.
She lay back on the bed, totally spent and breathing hard. “What a wicked man you are, Dean,” she said.
He chuckled and lay down beside her, propping his head up with his elbow. “You have no idea how wicked I am, all the things I’m going to do to you. But mostly, I’m happy to see your face full of pleasure instead of fear.”
“What else could you possibly want to do to me? I believe you’ve done it all now.”
Dean traced his fingers down to her hip. “I can think of a few things.” He turned her body to the side so that she was facing away from him and squeezed her bottom cheek. “Every time I see you worried, I’d like to spank this lily white bottom of yours until it’s crimson.”
She scoffed. “I would be black and blue.”
He clapped his hand over her cheek, causing a mild but sudden sting.
“Ow!” she exclaimed.
“I think I’ll start spanking you for mouthing off to me too.”
She shifted her body around to face him. “How brutish you are, Dean.”
“Don’t act so surprised. You like it,” he said, taking hold of her chin and pulling her face forward. He kissed her gently, lovingly.
“You are a strange kind of man. There are many layers to you,” she murmured.
“Perhaps, but one thing has been true all along. I want to keep you safe and happy.”
She smiled. “You almost have me believing you can.”
“Soon you will believe it entirely. Now should we talk about tomorrow? We’re meeting the banker in the afternoon. Do you want to find the preacher and get hitched in the morning?”
“Sure, I’m glad you can work it into your schedule,” she said.
He shook his head and laughed. “Sorry if that didn’t sound very romantic. I want us to be official so you will be the automatic recipient of the royalties if anything happens to me.”
“Don’t say that. I can’t bear the thought of anything happening.”
“Nothing will. It’s just in case. I’m trying to be smart about it, not na?ve, as you once remarked was a trait of mine.”
Lydia stared into his eyes, seeing for the first time a hint of concern. “You’re more worried about getting caught than you’re letting on, aren’t you?”
He quirked one side of his lips up, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “You made me realize all the things that could still go wrong. That’s not a bad thing. I’m grateful to you. I wish you’d arrived before I robbed the coach. You would have talked me out of it. You would have suggested that I instead get a loan from the bank.” He sighed. “I can’t ever be without you from now on, Lydia. I need you to help me see things clearly.”
“I feel the same, Dean. You made me believe a good man could care for me. You made me trust again. And you made me feel desire like I’ve never felt before. I want us to be together forever.”
“That’s the plan, darlin’. That’s the plan.”