Duncan and I went through so many obstacles to marry. When it finally happened on that layover in Chicago, I had only one fear. I wanted, needed, to know that he would be gentle with me. My only other brush with sexual union had come at the hands of a terrible, brutal man, who had been stopped in the very act by this man who loved me and wanted to be my husband.

Duncan knew what had happened to me. His remorse that he and Poker Joe trusted the wrangler has never entirely gone away. I have done all I can to assure him that I have put the matter as far as possible from my heart and it’s true. What happened to me was an act of rage and war. There was nothing about it of love. It is easy to separate the two, because they are miles apart.

We completely splurged on a private Pullman berth. I doubt you have seen two more shy persons than Mr. and Mrs. Stuart, as the train pulled out of the depot and we accustomed ourselves to that sensual, rocking motion. That was when I told him that all I ever required from him was gentleness.

That was his gift to me, after the usual awkwardness, which strikes both of us now as amusing. How many weeks had I shared a shelter with a man naked except for a loincloth? After the terror that began my headlong flight with the Nez Perce – thanks to Methuselah, that awful bag of bones – I came to appreciate the sight of well-toned men in loincloths. My goodness, ladies, my goodness.

When he was down to his white man’s smallclothes, the humor of the matter made him chuckle. “Smiley, I used to tell you to look away.”

“You did.” I was down to my chemise by then and had started on the buttons, my hands steady. I knew I wanted this man, my husband now, after so many obstacles.

“Did you ever peek?”

“I never needed to,” I said and took off my chemise to expose that magnificent bosom. “What about you?”

He stared and then grinned. “Smiley, let me tell you right now while I can form sentences, that these improved breasts of yours are not for the faint of heart.”

I think that was the last thing either of us said that made any sense for many, many minutes. He was gentle. When that moment of truth came, so was I.

This is all you’re getting from me on the subject, except let me add this: When you make rhythmic love with a delectable man on a gently rocking train, well, what a nice introduction to marriage. Remember, I still have that lifetime pass on the Union Pacific Railroad, and I know how to use it.

End of insert (we haven’t decided yea or nay on it)