Mail Order Bride

My mind was in turmoil, excited, but cautious, I didn't want to scare her, to hurt her, but my body was responding to her words and I could feel myself hardening. "Are you sure, Libby, lass?"

"Of that, I am, yes. I'm scared, Jim, but if I'm to be your wife I want to be a real wife."

I laughed, softly. "You're already that, lass. The Reverend said so."

"That is not what I meant and you know that full well, James Mackenzie!" she retorted.

I smiled in the darkness. "Aye, I do, lass. Go back and I'll be with you in a moment."

She stared at me for a long moment, a tic working at the corner of her mouth, and then nodded. "Don't be too long, Jim, or I might get too scared." She gave me a nervous smile and went out, silent on bare feet.

"I'll just be a wee moment, lass. I promise," I said to her departing back and she gave me a nervous smile over her shoulder. I was wearing a loose old shirt as a nightshirt and I stripped it off and stood naked, my erection well on its way to its full size. I frowned. Had Libby ever even seen a man erect, ready for love? She needed to see me, to know what to expect, to accept me, before I joined her in our bed, for I would not force her. I lit a candle, using a twig lit from the embers of the stove, wrapped a blanket around me, and followed Libby.

She was in bed, huddled under the blankets and the patchwork comforter. I managed to set the candle down safely and turned to Libby, who was watching me, eyes enormous in her face. Another nervous smile for me.

"Libby?"

"Yes?" A whisper.

"Would you get out of bed for a moment, please?"

"Get out?" I could hear the surprise in her voice.

"Please, lass."

She threw back the covers and got to her feet. Ankle-length nightdress, modest, lace down the front from throat to waist. Her best, I thought.

I smiled, but I was nervous. I had little experience of women, and none where the woman had less than I did myself. I swallowed the huge lump that seemed to have grown in my throat, to match the one that was poking at the blanket around me.

"Libby," I said, "my father brought me to America when I was but two years old, so Scotland is a place I do not remember, myself, but the Mackenzies are a Highland clan." I swallowed again. "There's something my Daddy told me, afore he died, when he told me of the ways of a man with a maid."

"What, Jim?"

I reached my hand out toward her, then dropped it, and took a deep breath. "He told me that there are two things a Highlander always takes naked. One is his whisky." I paused, uncertain.

Libby half-smiled. "And the other is his wife?" She stared at me for a long, long moment, but I could see no rejection in her eyes and I dared to hope. "You want to see your wife unclad, James Mackenzie? Is that it?"

"Aye, Libby, it is." My voice sounded hoarse and raw, even to me.

She gazed at me, her eyes all over my face, then gave a little nod, the half-smile still curving her mouth. She stooped, to take the hem in her hands, then straightened.

Holding my eyes with hers, her cheeks flushed, clear even in the candle-light, slowly, so very, very, slowly, she raised the nightdress up and over her head, discarding it so that it fell in a soundless crash at her feet. I gaped, for there is no other word, none, that suits the moment, at her beauty. Slim neck, her hair curling around her shoulders and over the upper slopes of her breasts. Her beautiful breasts. Not big, a scant handful each, little-finger-tip sized nipples erect on puffy areolas. Slender waist, flaring to a woman's hips, a curly tangle at her fork. Beautiful.

I was entranced, but she reached out a hand towards me and I managed to make my legs work, letting the blanket fall off me as I moved forward to take her in my arms. I saw her eyes drop to my erection, hot, hard, ready, like a stallion, and the flicker in her eyes. There was fear there, a little, but it was fear mixed with a growing desire. I held out my arms and she moved into my embrace, shuddering as she felt me press against her, her head against my chest, her arms tight around me.

I slid a finger under her chin and tipped her head up, ready for my kiss and her eyes closed as our lips met. A long kiss, a hot kiss, a kiss of desire, on both our parts, but I could feel the tremble in her, for her fear still lingered. I broke the kiss, gently, and scooped her up, kneeling to lay her on the mattress that made our bed, laying beside her, pulling the blanket over us. Her hand reached out, hesitant, to rest on my chest, and I lifted her hand to kiss her fingers.

"You are beautiful, wife," I said.

She shook her head. "No, I'm not."

"You are, believe me."

"I think not," she said, "but if I please you, Jim, I am content."

"Aye, lass, you please me," I said, my voice gruff, not wanting to scare her with my desire. I hesitated, then went on. "I would touch you?"

She laughed, soft, low, still nervous. "I'm your wife, James Mackenzie, my husband. It is your right." She paused, looking into my eyes. "And I would welcome your touch, Jim," she whispered.

My hand moved, almost of its own volition, to touch her belly, her skin incredibly soft to my calloused blacksmith's hand, soft, smooth, warm to my touch. I let my hand move up her belly, her ribs, to cup her breast, and she sucked in her breath as she felt my hand, a hiss echoed by me as I felt her nipple thrust against my palm.

"Is that for me, lass?"

"For both of us, Jim." She reached out and pulled my head down into a kiss, a long, hot kiss and I thought she was trying to tell me she wanted me, without words, because she didn't know the words yet. My hand was moving over her, her neck, her throat, her side, her hip, then up again to cup her breast anew. I broke the kiss and bent to suck at her nipple. Her fingers were in my hair, and I lifted my head to kiss her again, my hand moving down, resting for a moment on the soft fleece between her legs. Her legs moved, separating, giving me access, and she sucked her breath in with a hiss as she felt my fingers moving through her wetness.

Concerned, I lifted my head. "I didn't hurt you, did I, lass?"

She laughed softly. "No, 'tis just I've never felt another person touch me there before."

I laughed, too. "Only right and proper, lass. This is only your second night as a wife."

"My first proper night as a wife, Jim." Her gaze on me was solemn.

I nodded, with a smile for her. "Are you ready, lass? You have me truly excited."

She took a deep breath. "As ready as I ever will be, I think."

I moved, to kneel between her spread legs and she smiled up at me, still nervous, but ready. "I'll try not to hurt you," I said.

"I know, Jim, I know. Love me, husband, make me fully and truly your wife."

I bent, my hardness in one hand, weight braced on my extended arm, trying to enter her, but I saw a flicker of mischief on her face and her hand moved down to guide me to the right spot, and I felt myself at her core and moved to enter her. She gasped as I did so, her fingers tight on my shoulders. She was wet, ready for me and I could feel her trembling as I pushed gently into her, and she cried out at the same time as I felt the obstruction of her maidenhead, a new experience for me. I paused. "Libby?"

"Push, Jim," she cried, and I pushed into her, but my hardness wasn't wet enough yet and I pulled back to spread her juices, then pushed forward again, hearing her sharp cry in my ear even as I felt her hymen give way to my thrust, her fingers like claws on my shoulders. I paused. "All well, lass?" I said, anxious for her.

There were unspilled tears on her lashes but she smiled up at me, her fingers relaxing their grip. "Aye, husband, you can truly call me wife now. A moment, please, 'til I get used to the feel of you, then give me your seed, Jim." I was leaning on my elbows so as not to crush her and she smiled up at me again. "Go, husband, love me!"

I began to move, taking it slow, easing into her, pulling back, repeating the motion, trying not to hurt her, trying to make the moment last, to give her pleasure, too, but I was excited and too soon I felt the incredible almost-ache that goes before climax and my hips surged, my hardness driving into the soft, wet heat of her, a wordless cry of pleasure on my lips as my seed filled her.

Slowly our breathing eased, and Libby stretched up to kiss me, lying back against the pillow. She giggled suddenly.

I smiled, looking down at her. "Was my lovemaking so amusing, then?"

She shook her head, stretching up to kiss me again. "No, I was remembering something my Mama told me when I was fifteen. She told me, Libby, you will have to suffer the marriage bed in order to have children. Be brave, it will be over quickly."

I made a face, knowing I had been too quick to give her her own pleasure. "Was this just duty for you, my little Libby?"

She shook her head, smiling up at me. "No, no, not just duty, pleasure, too. Next time, husband, can we go just a little slower, to make it last? So that I can enjoy it more?"

I laughed. "Aye, that we can, I promise. It was well with you?"

"Very well, Jim, very well. So much so that I wonder what I was afraid of, but I suspect a husband as gentle as you may be rare."

"Perhaps, but there's only one wife I'm aiming to please, and as long as she's content, it is good for me."

"I am, Jim, very. Oh! You've slipped out!"

"Aye, once I reach climax, my pride diminishes."

"I must find out how to slow that," she said thoughtfully.

Yes, I thought, you should. Aloud I said, "We should sleep now, my pet."

"Together?"

"Of course, as long as it is your desire."

"From now, until our time together is done, which I pray will not be for many years yet. Goodnight, my husband."

"Goodnight, wife."

We made love again in the half-light of dawn, wordless, clinging together, and again it was good. This time I managed to bring Libby to climax, to last until she too found pleasure in release, her cries in my ears as I came, her core clutching at me as my seed filled her.

"You have loved women before, I think," said Libby, nibbling my ear as we cooled, our breathing slowly easing.

"Only one," I said.

"Who? Tell me!" she demanded, softening the order with a kiss and a smile.

"Her name was Helen. She was a widow, very discreet, but she liked to feel a man between her legs, and she taught me what little I know about pleasing a woman. She insisted on being naked for lovemaking, too. She said she found a nightdress far too restricting."

"She's right. I shall wear one only on cold winter nights, but it must lift up easily to let you in. The rest of the time I shall sleep naked."

"Right and proper, as a Highlander's wife!"

She kissed me. "We must rise, Jim. You will want breakfast before you go to help Tom." She paused. "What happened to Helen?"

I hesitated for a moment, sad, remembering, but I had resolved always to be truthful with Libby. "She died, in the same epidemic that killed my mother."

"I'm sorry."

I nodded. "Me, too, lass. She was a fine woman." I laughed. "She'd approve of you! She had no time for women who didn't welcome their husband's touch."

"I wish I'd known her, there's so much she might have taught me." She chuckled. "At least I told Emma true about welcoming your touch, Jim, except I didn't know it was so when I told her. Will you start the stove, while I start on breakfast?"

"Of course."

We dressed together, and there was no coy shyness in either of us. I loved looking at my wife's nakedness, and she enjoyed looking at me. Aye, and have me look at her, too.

Breakfast finished, I took from my knapsack my father's old Colt's revolver, and showed it to Libby. "Have you ever used one?" I asked her.

She shook her head. "No, never." The Colt was unloaded, and I took from my knapsack powder, ball and percussion caps and showed Libby how to load it. She was a quick study, and I took her out behind the cabin, got her to use both hands, and let her empty the gun at a tree stump twenty feet away. Two shots out of five actually hit it, which I thought was good enough, especially as the others had been close. I got her to reload the pistol, and we put it next to the door, on a shelf.

"I have no reason to think you're in any danger, but I'll feel safer if you have it," I told her.

"What about you?"

"I have my bowie knife, and I'm a fast runner," I said with a smile. "Once we're settled, I'll ask around, see if I can get hold of a shotgun. Useful for game, and you don't need to be a good shot to use it, just point it in the direction of your target." I pulled her to me, kissing her soundly. "I'll be back before dark, lass. Look after yourself."

I kept looking back as I set off towards Tom Harrison's place, and she was looking after me until a bend in the trail took me out of sight. Tom was ready when I reached his place, and Emma greeted me shyly, with her ready smile. When she kissed Tom goodbye as we went to harness the teams I could see she meant it.

"How's Elizabeth?" said Tom as we led the four horses to the meadow where he wanted the tree stumps removed. "I thought she might have come with you?"

"She thought about it, but she found Joe Helson's seeds and she's working out where she wants her vegetable garden. I said I could build her a wooden plough, and we can get it dug over before the week's out."

"If you can make or mend an iron plough, there's many a homesteader around here who will be grateful."

"I reckon I can, Tom, but I reckon too I could put an iron reinforcement on a wooden plough. I guess that would do in the short term."

"Reckon you're right, Jim. Okay, this is it. How we gonna do it?"

It took us nearly all day, but my idea of using the blocks worked, because we could get more than double the pull of a single team. The horses had a pretty easy day of it, but Tom and I were tired. Emma brought us sandwiches and coffee for our midday meal and we were finished well before dark. I waved goodbye to Tom and Emma and led the team back down the trail. Libby had seen me coming and by the time I had turned the horses into the corral, dinner was almost ready.

"How'd it go?" Libby asked, hugging me, raising her lips for a kiss. A long kiss, a kiss of promise, of hunger.

"Done," I said. "Our time's our own. I told Tom we'd go to church with them, Sunday. He says the church is just a tent at the moment, the one we were married in."

There was a wonderful smell in the cabin, and I realized that it was Libby's cooking, and in no time at all she was putting a huge bowl of stew in front of me, taking a daintier portion for herself. I glanced around, wondering for a moment, but I realized she'd moved the furniture a little, making the layout more convenient for herself. Too, there was the pleasant touch of a posy of wild flowers in a tin mug by the window, another on the table, adding color and scent to the room.

How'd your day go?" I asked her.

"Lonely," she said, softening her short retort with a smile.

I nodded. "I'm working 'round here for at least the next few days, so what do we need to do first?"

"Jim," she said, her face thoughtful. "I like to be clean. I went up to the stream, to where that hot spring joins the main stream, to wash some clothes." She paused, thoughtful.

"And?" I prompted.

She smiled. "Sorry. I was looking at the lay of the land. If we built a wall, chink it with clay, maybe fifteen feet long, and dam the stream, we'd have us a heated bath. Almost big enough to swim, too." She grinned. A broad smile, frank, almost lewd. "You'd get to see me naked." She laughed. "Perhaps even in daylight."

I laughed too. "Aye! You can swim?"

She shrugged. "Sort of. I don't sink, anyway."

"I was thinking the same, as it happens, not about sinking, about a pool. The ground's too rough for the wagon, but if we were to make a travois, we could use the horses to move the rocks we need."

After we'd finished dinner, there was still enough light, and I began making the travois. We had two horses, so I made two, and, next morning, after another night of shared delight in each other, after breakfast, while I was unloading one, Libby was loading the other. She was wearing a pair of old overalls we'd found discarded in a corner. She'd washed them, and rolled back the cuffs. With those, and an old shirt, she made a slightly ludicrous figure, but I was careful not to laugh. It took us two days of hard work, but when we'd finished, and I closed the sluice to start our pool filling, we had not only our bathing pool, but I'd built the start of a diversion from Joe Helson's dam that would eventually bring water to the cabin. We stood, my arm around Libby's shoulders, watching as the pool started to fill.

"It will take a little while to clear," I said.

She nodded. "I know. Come, husband, it's time for dinner. We'll heat some water, too, and we can get ourselves clean. It's Sunday tomorrow, church. Are we collecting Tom and Emma, are they stopping by, or are we going separately?"

"They'll stop by. This time, we'll go with them. Next week, we'll let our team do the work. Joe knew his horses, they're fine animals."

Our lovemaking that night was slow and gentle. Libby was well over any fear she'd had and delighted in my touch, quick to tell me what was good, what was less so, eager to experiment, so that she rode me for the first time, rising and falling on my erection, a smile on her face, as I caressed her breasts, and later, on her hands and knees, let me take her from behind, crying her fulfillment to the night as we came together.

Any such shenanigans could never apply to the very model of propriety that rode to church next day in Tom's wagon. Reverend Cornwell preached a simple sermon, and a short one, and the small congregation, maybe thirty people, sang the old, familiar hymns to the sound of a fiddle.

After the service, everyone milled around outside. Libby went off with Emma and a couple of the other new wives, and Tom and I chatted briefly to the Reverend, and a couple of other homesteaders, who lived on the other side of the settlement from us. I became aware of someone hovering and glanced up into the bright blue eyes of the young man who had been on the train. He signaled that he'd like to talk to me, so I excused myself from the others and moved across to him, slightly startled to see the star pinned to his shirt. He caught the direction of my eye, glanced down, and grinned at me.

"I didn't duck fast enough. The folks made me marshal." He held out his hand.

"I'm Matt Carson. I never did get your name?"

"Mackenzie. Alistair James Mackenzie, but call me Jim," I said, shaking his hand.

He nodded. "Jim. I notice you rode in with the girl from the train?"

I nodded. "She's my wife now, name's Elizabeth."

His smile was spontaneous, warm. "That's good to hear! I wish the two of you well, but that kinda brings me to what I wanted to talk to you about. Remember, on the train, Calloway?"

I nodded. "I remember." Not exactly easy to forget, Matt. Remember? You were there.

"I've only been marshal here for two days, but there was some paperwork from the previous marshal. There's a reward for Calloway, two hundred dollars, dead or alive, for robbery, rape, and murder." Carson shrugged. "My jurisdiction ends at town limits, so I won't be going looking for him, at least not outside my territory, but someone told me he came in on yesterday's train. There's no sign of him around town, so unless he shows his face I can't arrest him, but he may well be after you."

"Me? Why?" I said, but I had a good idea.

Carson smiled, but it was a grim smile. "You made him look like a fool in front of a whole train of people. He won't forget that. You won't be hard to find, what with that red hair of yours, so take care, Jim, and keep your eyes open. Remember, he's wanted for rape and murder, as well as armed robbery, so take real, good care. And tell Elizabeth to watch out for him, too. He's the kind to take it out on her if he can't get to you."