Chapter Ten
Mitch checked his pocket watch for the tenth time that evening. Nine o’clock. He was jumpy as a whore in church. Ian had retired to bed an hour ago, his reading light still glowing from underneath his bedroom door.
Nothing held his interest long enough to keep Priscilla out of his mind. And that was how the woman had him feeling. Out of his mind. He still didn’t understand why she’d refused to marry him. Marriage certainly wasn’t something he was hankering to do, yet he was willing to make the sacrifice.
Maybe Priscilla wanted more than a sacrifice.
In retrospect, he could have asked her in a nicer way. Women liked flowery words, courting, little gifts of candy and trinkets. Things like that. And what had he done? He’d ordered her to the altar and then acted even more the bully when she’d refused.
His mind made up, he opened Ian’s door. His son was fast asleep, propped up on pillows, his book lying in his lap. A rush of love came over him as he studied the little boy who was no longer little, who stood on the cusp of manhood. He removed the book and closed it, making sure he tucked the bookmark in the proper place. Giving him a light kiss on his forehead, he eased him down and pulled the covers up to his neck. Dousing the oil lamp, he left the room.
He grabbed his coat from the coat tree by the door. He buttoned it up against the cold, pulled on a hat and gloves, then wrapped a woolen scarf around his neck. After checking his coat pocket to make sure his gun was handy, he pulled the front door closed.
Even though it would be a good twenty minute walk to Priscilla’s house, he preferred the hike to saddling up his horse again. And the time spent getting there would give him time to go over what he needed to say.
The more he thought about marriage to Priscilla, the more he liked the idea. They could even have children. If her father was good enough to become a U.S. senator after his questionable beginning in life, there wasn’t any reason for him to feel Priscilla was above him. So far she’d shown herself to be smart, strong, resilient, and even—he had to admit to himself—unlikely to run back home.
This time when he proposed, he had to make it sound like a request, not an order. A thought flitted through his mind that brought him up short.
Love.
Women liked to hear words of love. Did he love Priscilla?
He sure as hell desired her. Just the thought of all those cold Colorado nights cuddled up under the covers, finding new places on her body that made her burn, warmed him up considerably. Enough to have him loosening his scarf.
Even if he didn’t love her, his feelings were strong enough that they could easily turn into love. A life with a woman in it was something he’d never thought he’d have again. He and Polly had been so young, they could very well have been merely infatuated with each other. With her dying so young, he would never know.
What he did know was his feelings for Priscilla were those of a man for a woman, not a boy for a girl. He hurried his steps as he grew closer to the schoolhouse. Now that he’d decided how to go about this, he was anxious to see her. Ask for her hand in marriage in a proper way.
He rounded the corner just as a woman screamed.
Priscilla!
Not knowing what to expect, he drew his gun and released the safety. The scant moonlight showed Priscilla backed up against the shed door. Standing between her and the back door of her house, a large mountain lion, blood dripping from his mouth, stood stock still and stared at her. A freshly killed animal lay at its feet. It appeared to be a possum. Mitch could hear the mountain lion’s panting in the night air.
Priscilla’s whimpers and the scene before him scared the hell out of him. “Priscilla, don’t move,” he whispered. She nodded and remained where she was, her eyes never leaving the animal. Mitch raised his gun and taking aim, shot the mountain lion in the back of its head. It immediately dropped to the ground.
Mitch lowered the gun, and Priscilla raced toward him, throwing herself into his arms. He wrapped one arm around her body, her head tucked into his shoulder. Keeping his gun ready and his eye on the animal, he said, “Let’s go inside.” Backing away from the scene, he led her up the stairs to the rear door. “Go on inside. I just want to check to make sure it’s dead. I’ll be right there.”
After determining the mountain lion was dead, Mitch replaced the safety on his gun and dropped it into his pocket. Priscilla was pacing in the kitchen, rubbing her arms.
He closed the door and removed his coat. “Honey, come here.” He reached his hand out.
She turned to him, her face pale. “That was close.”
He tugged her to him and held her close. She was shivering so badly, he could barely hold her. “My brave girl.”
“Not so brave. I just stood there, like a statute.”
“Sweetheart, there wasn’t much you could do. Most women would be wailing and carrying on by now.”
And packing their clothes to head back to civilization. Not my Priscilla.
“I just thank God I was here.”
She leaned back. “Yes. What are you doing here?”
“Let me get the wood you were going after so I can warm the place up a bit. Go grab a blanket to cover yourself with until I get a fire going. Then we’ll talk.”