Thinking back over the weeks since their idyllic day together, culminating at the rock—which they had later found out was a popular site the locals had dubbed Lover’s Vista—Dwight found that he actually was enjoying being married…well, as far as their marriage had progressed.
One problem, however, was they had gotten so good at pretending to be a loving couple in front of others, he continually wondered if Mary was still acting when they were alone. She always spoke to him sweetly and he’d caught her looking at him longingly on more than one occasion—which never failed to ignite an echo of yearning in his own heart.
The kiss they had shared, high up on that rock that day, had been astounding. Unforgettable. Soul-stirring. But although they had shared chaste kisses since then, in front of an audience, they had not indulged in any serious lip meshing since. One reason for this was that Dwight didn’t want to pressure Mary into anything she didn’t truly wish to do.
When he thought about how his sweet wife had been so hurt and mistreated, especially by that good-for-nothing swine, Washington Hobbs, a protectiveness rose up so quickly inside Dwight, it made his heart pound and his hands curl into fists. If he ever came face to face with that man, well—heaven help the louse.
Thinking of Hobbs always brought his mind around to the continuing mystery regarding Mr. Swigert—and whether or not Hobbs was the perpetrator.
It turned out that Hobbs had, indeed, escaped custody by overpowering a guard in Platte City as he was being taken to court on a separate charge. The constable and his men had scoured the countryside, but he had simply disappeared. Brownville’s sheriff, Dave Plasters, along with his deputies, had searched for clues regarding Mr. Swigert’s unknown assailant up in the barn loft that fateful morning, but to no avail. Even their best tracker had lost the trail about a mile away. It all remained a frustrating mystery.
Jay Swigert had awakened the next morning with his wife at his bedside, disoriented and in horrible pain. His memory was sketchy at best, possibly due to the concussion. All he remembered was a quick, vague image of dark hair and dark blue eyes—which fit Hobbs—but every time Swigert tried to remember more, his head would ache terribly.
Dwight smiled as he thought about how the farmer had been worried about the work at his farm that he still needed to do to be ready for winter, and how his neighbors had rallied together and gotten him shipshape in no time. With Swigert’s broken ribs, fractured legs arm and shoulder, and various other smaller injuries—not the least of which was the rather bad concussion—Doc had insisted he remain in the Reeves home until he would be less of a burden to his family.
That meant that the Swigert family had become somewhat of a fixture at the house—and to Dwight’s delight, it also meant that he could continue to share a bed with Mary…well, in a manner of speaking. The Great Wall of China had still been between them.
Then, once the family had taken Mr. Swigert home, Dwight had reluctantly taken up residence again on the settee. Although he had hinted and hoped that Mary would invite him to stay in her room…and she had seemed somewhat amenable to the idea…no invitation had been forthcoming. For his part, he had been disinclined to insist, knowing her background and what she had gone through at the hands of that reprobate, Hobbs, so he had remained silent and not pushed the issue.
Now however, after having spent many nights sleeping only eighteen inches from her, his imagination as he lay on his lonely settee was even more vivid and torturous. The only good to come of that, he mused, was that he was burning through his required stack of legal texts in record time.
“Where’s your mind, son? I’ve asked you the same question twice,” the voice of his employer, David, startled Dwight out of his deep reverie. At his bewildered look, his boss laughed.
Guilty at being caught woolgathering when he should have been searching the legal volume in front of him for the case Mr. Mincer had instructed him to find, Dwight looked toward his superior and felt his face heat.
He opened his mouth to apologize, knowing full well that by the look on Mincer’s face, he could guess where his mind had been, but the man held up a hand to stop him.
“Don’t worry about it. I think I understand. After all…I was young once, with a pretty little wife to think about.”
Yes, but I bet you never had to contend with the frustrations that I do…
Before he was forced to admit the problem, they were interrupted by the outer door to the vestibule opening and, seconds later, a lovely face appeared in the office doorway as if his musings had conjured her up. Mary!
“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” her pleasant voice greeted. “I hope I’m not interrupting your work…but I saw Charlie at the mercantile and he asked if I could possibly bring your mail to you, Mr. Mincer,” she explained as she came fully into the room, crossed to his desk, and handed him several envelopes.
Then, she turned toward Dwight with a smile as fresh as a spring day, removed her outer cloak, and posed rather demurely for him. He realized that she was wearing something new he’d never seen before.
“What do you think of my new outfit, DJ?” she asked, turning this way and that to allow the skirt to swish. His heart did a funny little flip to hear his nickname on her lips. Much to his pleasure, she had suddenly begun calling him by it the week before. “Thank you for allowing me to get it,” she
