Tame My Wild Touch – American West Read Online Donna Fletcher

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Historical Fiction, Romance Tags Authors: Donna Fletcher Advertisement1

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"She forgot to give me a good-bye kiss," he called to Mrs. Hampton, who had turned to see where Prudence had gone.

The older woman smiled, nodded, and walked ahead, respecting the young couple's privacy.

"A kiss isn't the only thing you forgot, Pru," he said, giving her a light peck on the cheek.

She was flustered. "What did I forget besides the kiss?"

"You forgot to tell me what you really thought of my buckskins."

"But I did," she insisted. "You look nice, very nice."

His face still rested next to hers and she felt him shake his head. "No, Pru. I want to know what your first thought was. The one that made you catch your breath and stop speaking."

"I don't know—"

"Oh, yes you do," he contended strongly. "And I'll hear it, or here you'll stay in my arms until I do."

Mrs. Hampton had stopped and glanced back.

"She's waiting," Prudence said, squirming against him.

"That she is. Now tell me."

There was no dissuading him. He'd have his answer or else embarrass the daylights out of her. "Appetizing," she mumbled, and wiggled more strenuously to free herself.

"What?" Zac asked, hearing what she had said but wanting her to repeat it.

"Appetizing," she said with strength but not with pitch.

Zac grabbed her hand and spun her around. "You can taste me any time, honey."

Prudence blushed. Zac kissed her. And she was sent off to join Mrs. Hampton with a gentle pat to her backside.

Zac Stewart was not the ordinary, proper husband she had envisioned she would marry. The thought brought a mighty wide grin to her face as she walked toward the trading post with the talkative Mrs. Hampton.

Prudence found Old Bill, the man who ran the trading post, chock-full of information. He knew everything, from the best recipes for rattlesnake meat to the surefire cure for a sore tooth.

"Pull that sucker right out the mouth," Old Bill told her.

"Never bother you again. 'Course, you gotta pour the rotgut on it and that burns like hell, but you can't let the pus set in. Pus sets in and you know you'll be kissin' heaven's gate in no time."

Prudence was fascinated by his fountain of facts. She stood listening intently. Mrs. Hampton had warned her that once you got the old geezer going, there was no shutting him up. But Prudence had already seen to her purchases and had conversed with the other woman about fashions and such. Now she wanted more information on the West, and Old Bill certainly was a professor when it came to that.

"Now take the injuns," Bill said, pausing a moment to spit a wad of tobacco directly into the brass spittoon not far from his foot. "They're an altogether different breed of folk."

"Yeah, savages," commented a man on the way out the door.

Bill ignored him and continued as though uninterrupted. "They know things we don't, 'else they wouldn't have survived out here in this wilderness so long on their own. They're a special people. Much can be learned from them, but as usual, the government sticks its two cents in and messes everything up.

"Got a good recipe for rabbit stew," Old Bill said, changing the subject, which he did often.

Prudence took it all in, making a point of remembering that it was the wild onions that give the stew its special flavor.

"Granny Hayes once told me—"

"You know Granny Hayes?" Prudence asked, startling those around her, since usually no one could or would interrupt Old Bill when he was talking.

"Sure do. Do you?" he asked, not a bit put out by her interruption and not bothering to wait for her answer.

"Me and Granny go way back. We used to hunt beaver together, even tried mining for gold once or twice. She's a mighty good woman."

Prudence found it hard to contain her excitement. If he knew Granny, then perhaps he knew of her mother. Since he had paused, she jumped in with her question. "Did you know of a woman called Lee? Long, dark hair, not as tall as me, big eyes—"

"Sure enough," Bill said, a wide toothless grin brightening his aging face. "One nice woman. Good cook. Taught me a thing or two. She was—"

"Here?" Prudence asked anxiously. "Is she still here? Where can I find her?"

Old Bill shook his head and scratched his short gray beard. "Wish I could help you there. Was sad myself when she just up and disappeared one day. She'd listen to my stories for hours and never complained. Never shared any of her own. Thought she might, but she kept her business to herself. Some people like that, and there ain't no sense pestering them. They talk in their own good time. Yes sir, sure do miss her. Baked the best rum cake around."

Old Bill went on talking, but Prudence only half listened. She remembered her mother's special rum cake. She'd bake it at Christmas and for special occasions. Prudence was only allowed a small piece, since it was soaked in rum. Her father, however, would fill himself with it, as would holiday and party guests.


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