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  Tame A Honeymoon Heart

  Cynthia Woolf

  Tame A Honeymoon Heart

  Copyright © 2014 Cynthia Woolf

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN-13: 978-1-938887-59-8

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Tame A Honeymoon Heart is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Published by Firehouse Publishing

  Books written by Cynthia Woolf can be obtained either through the author’s official website:

  www.cynthiawoolf.com

  or through select, online book retailers.

  CHAPTER 1

  May 1, 1893

  Creede, Colorado

  It arrived without any fanfare. A simple white envelope addressed to Duncan McKenzie, Creede, Colorado.

  Duncan tore it open. By the time he was finished reading the message, he was both excited and angry. Mostly he wondered what he was going to do about the news and how he would tell Cat.

  He put the letter back in the envelope, shoved the envelope in his pocket and picked up The Evening Post newspaper from Denver. It was a week old but the news was still new to him.

  A big headline, splashed across the front of the paper said, World’s Fair Hits Chicago. Under it in smaller letters was the announcement that Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show would also be in Chicago at the same time.

  He folded the newspaper, put it under his arm and walked the short distance to the telegraph office. His mind made up in a fraction of an instant, he sent three telegrams.

  The first was to the sender of the letter. Will arrive Chicago 6/20 for further conversation ~ Duncan McKenzie

  The second one was to the Palmer House Hotel in Chicago reserving a room for June fifteenth through June thirtieth.

  The third was to William F. Cody, Buffalo Bill, requesting to see his old friend while he was in Chicago.

  He and Cat wanted to show their horses to potential buyers and this would be as good a time as any. Lots of buyers, lots of potential for future contacts. He touched his pocket and the letter crinkled under his hand, the sound reminding him of its contents. The man who’d signed the letter indicated there was a stud in Kentucky that Duncan had inherited. He would meet the man in Chicago to discuss the particulars.

  The venue at the World’s Fair would be the biggest this side of the Mississippi River, and the perfect reason to justify going to show their horses. Plus with Bill Cody there, Duncan could reacquaint himself with him and perhaps sell him a horse or two. They wouldn’t be used for breeding, but would be the best horses in the Wild West show.

  Suddenly he was in a hurry to get home and tell Cat. What he would tell her he wasn’t sure.

  The next morning, at the breakfast table, he put his plan in motion.

  Catherine poured him a cup of coffee, set it in front of him and then returned to the stove. She had skillets of bacon, sausage and ham all frying. She wore a white apron with ruffles around the hem and the arm holes. Alice, her stepmother, had made it for Catherine to protect her buckskin shirt and pants from the spattering grease while cooking.

  Catherine had put her long red hair in a single plait down her back so it would stay out of the way. After breakfast she had her regular chores to do, which included mucking stalls, and Cat wasn’t about to do that in a dress. Besides, she was used to her pants and Duncan didn’t mind. No one did. It was as normal to see her in pants as it was to see Duncan in all black clothes. They were comfortable and comfort and function was all they cared about.

  The ranch stove in front of her was a huge one with six burners and, by the time breakfast was finished cooking, there would be something on every one. Between the four of them in his family, Bridget, the housekeeper plus ten wranglers, Catherine cooked for fifteen at every meal. It was a daunting task for someone who had just learned to cook five years ago. She had made remarkable progress since then, and Duncan thanked his mother-in-law everyday for making the effort to teach Catherine after she and Duncan married.

  “Get ready to pack our bags,” said Duncan.

  “Where are we going?”

  “To the Chicago World’s Fair. We’re taking Royal and King George to show to a buyer and I thought we’d combine that with a honeymoon.”

  She swung around to face him, spatula in hand, “You can’t do that.”

  “Do what?”

  “Sell King George.”

  He saw her turmoil, and hated putting her through this, but it was necessary, for now.

  “He’s our bread and butter! He’s, he’s, you just can’t.”

  Duncan put his coffee down and tried to keep his voice level, knowing how hard this would be for her. “He’s past his prime, Cat. If we can sell him, we need to. We raise the finest cutting horses in the country. They’re half Arabian, half Thoroughbred and there are none better. We can use the money that he brings to buy some new colts. Keep our bloodlines clean and fresh.”

  “Then we can’t be going on a honeymoon,” she snapped. “We can’t afford it.”

  “We can. The money from the stallions is not required for our operations. That’s why we’ll be able to buy the extra horseflesh. Besides, I promised you a honeymoon. We’re going to have one. I’ve wired the Palmer House and we have reservations for June fifteenth through the thirtieth.”

  She worried her lip, and started wielding a spatula like a sword. “It’s too far away and for too long. What about the kids? We can’t just leave them.”

  He’d been prepared for this argument. “The kids will be fine with James and Alice. Lizzie’s weaned and almost two. She eats everything everyone else does and only wears a diaper at night. Ian is old enough to mind as well as be helpful to his grandparents. You know he loves being over there. The worst thing for us will be coming home to find the kids have been spoiled rotten by their grandparents.”

  He rose from the chair and walked over to the stove, took the spatula from her and turned the breakfast meats over so they wouldn’t burn. Then he set the spatula down, wrapped his arms around her waist and brought her back, flush against his chest. He kissed her behind the ear and down her neck.

  “Don’t. Stay away,” she said, grabbing the spatula and going back to tending to breakfast.

  He couldn’t resist a chuckle when she sighed and bent her neck to give him better access despite her words.

  “Imagine,” he said between kisses, “just the two of us for two weeks in a hotel. Only you and me—”

  “Yuck,” piped up Ian from behind them. The exact replica of his father, right down to the cobalt blue eyes and black hair, Duncan knew he had a pout on his face right now, just from the sound of his little voice.

  “—alone,” finished Duncan, resting his forehead on her shoulder, defeated for the moment by his son.

  “Do you have to kiss all the time? It’s icky,” observed Ian.

  Duncan unwrapped himself from Catherine and went to the table where his son sat on one of the benches, swinging his legs. Clad in brown wool pants and boots that matched Duncan’s own, he smiled, his two front teeth missing, when Duncan came to the table

  Catherine brought a bowl of cornmeal mush to the table for Ian. “We don’t kiss all the
time,” she said with a soft smile and a kiss on top of his head.

  “It sure seems that way,” said Ian.

  “Don’t I wish,” muttered Duncan under his breath. He ruffled his five-year-old son’s hair and then sat back with his coffee cup looking up at his wife. “Just think about it, Cat. Nearly a whole month. Twenty-five days including travel time. Just us.”

  Before she could respond, Lizzie’s cry from her bedroom upstairs pierced the air.

  “Cooking or baby duty?” asked Cat.

  “I’ll get her,” said Duncan. “We can have some daughter and daddy time.”

  Catherine watched her husband of six years go tend to their daughter. He was even more handsome today than the first time she’d laid eyes on him twenty-eight years ago when he was only thirteen and she was three. It sounded silly, but she’d fallen in love with him then.

  He’d only gotten better. Taller, of course, more filled out, broad chested. Now his hair had several streaks of silver on the sides, which she found very attractive. He said it was what happened when you had kids and a wife that drove you crazy.

  She watched him dress every morning in his black pants and shirt. He always wore black, even in the dead of summer when it was so hot you could fry an egg in the sunshine. It didn’t matter. Black suited him. His skin was tan, his body covered in strong, lean muscles. He still carried her across the threshold of their bedroom when he was in a hurry to make love and the kids were in bed.

  Alone. For nearly a month. No kids. Could she do it? Duncan and the kids were her life.

  She enjoyed working with the horses, especially King George. He was her favorite. The big, midnight black stallion was their first. How could he do it? How could he even contemplate selling him? She fumed at the idea.

  Twenty-five days. She’d have at least some of those to try and convince Duncan he was wrong, to save King George.

  The King was still good breeding stock. She just needed Duncan to realize it. And mad as she was at Duncan, maybe she could use the time to convince him to keep the horse

  Alone. For twenty-five days. Maybe they could get a sleeper car on the train. If not, they’d need a day in bed when they reached the hotel to recover from the train ride. The staying in bed part didn’t sound half bad.

  Alone. Able to make love to her husband anytime, for as long as they wanted. Without having small fists knocking at their door, or, on the occasions when they forgot to lock it, coming in and joining them in bed. That’ll put a damper on your ardor.

  Maybe it was time. Time for her and Duncan to be alone, just the two of them, for a while. Time for themselves. She would not worry about her children. Her parents were perfectly capable of taking care of two small children for a month. They’d love it. Of course, they’d need a vacation of their own after they were done.

  She’d tell him tonight, after the kids had their baths and were in bed…asleep. After the requests for drinks of water that invariably came when they were already in bed and trying hard not to go to sleep. However, she’d wait to tell him her big news. She’d decided she wanted to go on this trip, and if she told him she was pregnant, he wouldn’t let her. He’d make some excuse about the trip being too hard for her and how he could show the horses himself. No, she’d wait until they arrived. Then she’d tell him. Long after it was too late for him to protest.

  Grinning, she finished the breakfast meats and started the two skillets of two dozen scrambled eggs each. Bridget had baked four pies yesterday, and there were still two left that Catherine would serve with this morning’s breakfast. It would save her time; she didn’t have to make pancakes that way.

  She went outside to the back porch and the large triangle hanging from the roof. A metal rod hung from the bottom of the triangle on a two foot piece of string. She took the rod and ran it around and around inside of the triangle, signaling to anyone on the property that breakfast was served.

  It didn’t take long before the men started showing up. She had basins and buckets of warm water on a long table next to the kitchen door so they could wash up before coming in to eat.

  By the time all the men were seated and the food passed around the table, Duncan returned with Lizzie, her hair bright red like her mother’s had been at that age, was sticking up everywhere. He put her in her highchair next to Cat. Ian finished his mush and, still hungry, was having a small amount of scrambled eggs and bacon. Her little man was growing faster than she could imagine he would. He wasn’t a picky eater, and his appetite was getting more like his father’s all the time.

  Catherine looked around the table at her family. All of them, Bridget and the wranglers included. They’d all been with her and Duncan since the beginning. They were as much family as her father and Alice. Each of them was there for the birth of her children, and the birth of their first foals. But they could do without her for a while. It’s not like they were never coming back. But twenty days away, did sound like heaven. She couldn’t help but smile.

  “Penny for your thoughts,” grinned Duncan from the other end of the table.

  “Maybe tonight. If you’re lucky.”

  The people around the table didn’t even acknowledge the flirtatious banter between her and Duncan any longer. It was just a part of meals, though she still saw smiles on their faces, and some of the men shook their heads at some of the more outrageous statements.

  All that aside, the more she thought about Duncan’s plan, the more she liked it. Tonight she’d show him just how much.

  Duncan had Cat convinced to go. She was mad at him right now because she believed he was going to sell King George, but that was alright. She’d forgive him once she understood why.

  The letter burned a hole in his coat pocket. Should he tell Cat the real reason for going to Chicago? He had promised her a honeymoon, that was true enough, but getting the letter, discovering he might have family he never knew about, was the real reason. That he might have an inheritance, which they could definitely use, was also a consideration.

  The depression last year and the resulting increase in the prices of everything had put a definite dent in their funds, though they still had plenty of money. Cat kept saying they could borrow from her father, James. But Duncan didn’t need it, and even if he had, he felt like he already owed James so much. He owed the old man his life. Literally.

  That’s where his anger came from at the contents of the letter. Where were these people when his mother died thirty years ago? Where were they before that when his mother was sick and there was no money for medicine?

  According to the letter, the man was a horse breeder in Kentucky. Was that where Duncan’s love of horses came from? So many questions. He’d know more when they met in Chicago on June twentieth.

  He had time to tell Cat that his inheritance might require they move to Kentucky.

  Lots of time.

  CHAPTER 2

  June 15, 1893

  Chicago World’s Fair

  They arrived in Chicago five days after they left Creede. Duncan’s planning was impeccable. The trip from Creede to Denver was the worst part of the trip. The seats on the train were hard and not more comfortable than a plain wooden bench. She’d forgotten how horrible that particular train could be. But that leg of the trip was only about a day, and she could handle anything for a day.

  Duncan pulled out all the stops and got them a Pullman sleeping car from Denver to Chicago. They’d missed a couple of meals in the dining car while enjoying the movement of the train in the sleeper. Thoughts of what they did made her smile and her cheeks heat at the same time.

  “I’d give you a penny for your thoughts, but I’m sure they’re the same as mine. That was a great trip.” Duncan placed his hand at her waist to guide her through the double glass entry doors of the nine-story Palmer House. If the lobby was any indication of the rooms, Catherine might decide never to leave.

  There was a huge chandelier hanging in the center of the Grand Rotunda, which was what they called the lobby. Two story pi
llars, topped with intricate carvings, graced the room. The ceiling was covered in fresco paintings. She could have stood there forever and just gazed up admiring the ceiling.

  There were lots of couches and chairs scattered across the lobby in configurations of two or three pieces of furniture. People gathered while waiting to check-in or for their reservations in the dining room. Or perhaps to just read the paper in quiet comfort. The floor was black and white marble tile and the square pattern quite appealed to Catherine.

  After they checked in, the bellhop showed them to their room. It was on the third floor and quite spacious. They had a brass double bed with two lovely dark wood end tables on either side. The sitting area consisted of two Queen Anne chairs, a small, low coffee table in front of them, and a tall table about two feet square between them, with an oil lamp on it.

  Catherine was delighted. She could picture resting there with Duncan before dinner after a long day of sightseeing.

  The room had electric lights overhead, and a private bathroom, with a large, claw-footed tub big enough for two. It definitely gave her some ideas. “Oh, Duncan, this is lovely.”

  “I’m glad you like it. This is our home away from home for the next two weeks.”

  “Here is the rest of your baggage, sir,” said the bellboy as the trunk arrived on a trolley cart.

  Duncan tipped each of the bellhops a dollar. “Tell me, is there some place to get coffee and bring it back to our room in the mornings?”

  “I’m sure the dining room can accommodate you, Mr. McKenzie,” said the bellman that had showed them to their room.

  “Thank you. I appreciate your help.”

  “Anytime, Mr. McKenzie. The staff of the Palmer House is here to assist you. Are you here for the World’s Fair?”