Tomorrow's Shining Dream

by Naomi Rawlings

  Daniel shook his head. “I didn’t say I got them back, I said I would.”

  “Oh. How do you plan to do that?” The thin, white-haired deputy had a voice that could almost sound like a woman’s when he got excited.

  Daniel plopped into the chair opposite the deputy’s desk. The cattle tracks had entered a stream on the other side of the border, but neither he nor any of the men riding with him had been able to find where the cattle had walked out of the stream on the opposite side. “You got any ideas?”

  Abe had worked for the Twin Rivers County Sheriff’s Office since before Daniel had been born and had seen just about everything a West Texas lawman could see. He might have some insight.

  But Abe only shook his head. “If I thought I could offer help, I’d have gone with you.”

  Daniel slumped forward, sinking his head into his hands. Dear God, what am I doing wrong?

  First, he couldn’t rid himself of his feelings for Charlotte, and now, he couldn’t find a clue about the rustlers, let alone the cattle they’d stolen from Mattherson last night. How much more needed to go wrong before God finally decided to hear his prayers?

  The back door to his office opened with enough force it banged against the wall.

  “Oh good, you’re here!”

  Daniel brought his head up just in time to see Anna Mae rush toward him in a flurry of petticoats and flounces.

  “Hurry up. We need you.”

  His heart thudded against his chest. Had something happened to Pa?

  No sooner had he stood then Anna Mae wrapped her hands around his upper arm and tugged. “Faster.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “You’ll see in a minute.”

  He’d see in a minute? His heartrate slowed. Maybe this was just a drama of Anna Mae’s making. His sister was quite good at blowing things out of proportion.

  “You best go with her before she pulls your arm outta your socket, Sheriff.” Abe took a swig of coffee. “I’ll come get you if there’s any trouble.”

  Daniel let Anna Mae drag him out the back door and across the narrow alley to the house where they both lived with their parents. Shoving open the kitchen door, she pulled him inside.

  Ma stood at the table punching down some dough that she would probably bake after supper. Her long, black braid trailed over her shoulder as she hummed along to her work. If something was truly wrong, surely Ma wouldn’t be working so contentedly in the kitchen.

  His sister allowed him just enough time to say hello before she tugged him into the hall that led to their bedrooms and the small parlor at the front of the house.

  “Why, exactly, do you need me?”

  “You’ll see soon enough.” She stopped at the parlor’s closed door. “Just don’t go acting all stern and serious around Charlotte. It scares her.”

  Charlotte? Perspiration gathered at his temples. Anna Mae had said she needed his help, not Charlotte. Or maybe she’d said we. But he’d assumed that meant her and Ma. What could a wealthy rancher’s daughter possibly need from him?

  Other than to make his hands sweat and his tongue grow thick and cumbersome.

  Anna Mae pushed open the door and tromped inside, her fingers digging even harder into his forearm than before.

  Charlotte sat on the sofa with her back straight and chin up, a remnant of the finishing school training she’d had when she was a few years younger. She wore one of her familiar split skirts that was the same serviceable tan color as a ranch hand’s trousers, and only a shade lighter than her golden-brown hair. At first glance, no one would know how wealthy her family was, but a closer inspection would reveal her skirt and its matching vest were made of butter-soft leather that was probably so costly her single outfit could pay for a year’s worth of Anna Mae’s clothes.

  “Daniel?” She looked at him with those expressive blue eyes that danced with joy whenever she worked with the horses she kept at the A Bar W.

  “Aren’t you going to sit down?” Anna Mae shoved a hand toward the sofa.

  Sit. Right. He moved to the armchair beside the sofa. “Afternoon, Charlotte.”

  “You can’t sit there.” Anna Mae stomped her foot on the stone-tiled floor and glared. “Sit next to Charlotte.”

  He scratched the back of his head. When it came to Anna Mae, sometimes he was just better off not asking questions. He pushed himself out of the armchair and settled himself onto the couch beside the woman he’d first met as a squalling infant over twenty years ago.

  The trouble was, she no longer looked anything like an angry, red-faced babe. And he couldn’t stop the image of her all trussed up in her emerald green gown from rising into his head any more than he could stop his heart from beating.

  “Anna Mae?” Charlotte shifted on the sofa and cast a quick glance at the sheriff. Of all the people for Anna Mae to go and track down, why did it have to be Daniel?

  He only occupied a portion of the couch, yet he seemed to fill the entire room, bringing the familiar scents of sunshine and desert and leather into the parlor with him, just like he had at the ball.

  “What?” Anna Mae asked.

  Charlotte blinked. Oh, yes. She was about to say something—or at least she had been until she’d started thinking about Daniel. “Why is the sheriff here?”

  “He’s going to help solve your problem.” Her best friend clasped her hands together beneath her chin, her eyes sparkling.

  “You have a problem?” Daniel’s voice turned sharp, and he looked at her with that strong gaze he had, the one that probably convinced hardened criminals to confess their activities without him even saying a word. “Did rustler’s take more cattle? Have you found sign of where they might be camping?”

  Charlotte shrank into the couch. The man was awful formidable when he turned all sheriff-like.

  Or maybe she just thought that because he knew the truth about her.

  Heat rushed into her face, and she reached for the lemonade on the table in front of her.

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” Anna Mae waved her hand in the air as though the gesture alone had the power to shoo off Daniel’s quest to find the outlaws. “This has nothing to do with the rustlers. Charlotte needs to marry Andrew Mortimer.”

  Dread climbed into Charlotte’s chest. “Anna Mae, that’s not what I—”

  “The man Wes introduced me to at the ball?” Daniel turned to her, his booming voice echoing through the small parlor. “What happened? Did he take liberties with you? Do you need me to find him and drag him into the courthouse? Force him to have a meeting with your pa and brother?”

  She looked down. Of course that’s the first thing he would think. He must believe her to be the biggest trollop this side of the Rio Grande after what he’d caught her and Robbie doing.

  “Truly? That’s the first thing you say when I tell you Charlotte needs to get married?” Anna Mae folded her arms over her chest and glowered at her brother. “Stop being so rude. Andrew is a Mortimer—as in, part owner of the Southern Pacific Railroad kind of Mortimer. His father owns a ranch outside of San Antonio, too, but I suspect the railroad is the main reason Charlotte’s pa wants them to marry.”

  Charlotte bit back a groan. She’d told Anna Mae about her troubles with Andrew hoping that Anne Mae could give her some pointers about getting and keeping a man’s attention. She could only guess what kind of wild plan Anna Mae had concocted. “This has nothing to do with Daniel. He should probably get back to the sheriff’s office.”

  “You heard the lady.” Daniel jolted to his feet. “This has nothing to do with me.”

  “This has everything to do with you.” Anna Mae took a step closer to Daniel, which would have brought them nose-to-nose had Anna Mae not been a full foot shorter than her brother. “Andrew Mortimer doesn’t even know Charlotte exists.”

  “Oh, he knows I exist. He just…” Thinks I’m a homely klutz compared to the beautiful socialites at the ball. But she clamped her mouth shut before she embarrassed herself further. Daniel alrea
dy knew far too much about her troubles finding a husband. “I don’t think Andrew looks at me as a potential wife.”

  “But he’s coming back to Twin Rivers in another six weeks.” Anna Mae jabbed a finger into Daniel’s chest. “Which is where you come in.”

  “I don’t understand,” he rumbled.

  “You’re going to practice with Charlotte.”

  Practice what?

  “Just what are we supposed to practice?” Daniel voiced the thought echoing through her head.

  Anna Mae gave his chest another jab. “Flirting.”

  “What?” Charlotte sprang off the sofa.

  “Excuse me?” Daniel’s eyebrows had risen so high they nearly disappeared into his hairline.

  “No, wait. I said that wrong.” Anna Mae raised one of her hands, as though doing so would somehow stop her brother from barging out the door and escaping her sudden bout of insanity. “Charlotte’s going to be the one practicing flirting. You’re just going to be the person she practices on.”

  Charlotte opened her mouth to object.

  “No.” Once again Daniel spoke first, and the force of his single word lingered in the room long after he’d clamped his mouth shut.

  Charlotte couldn’t say why his response stung, especially when she’d been about to say the same thing. Anna Mae’s idea was beyond ridiculous. And even if she did agree to practice flirting with someone so she could make herself more appealing to Andrew—which she wasn’t about to do—she certainly wasn’t going to flirt with Daniel Harding.

  But Daniel hadn’t waited for a moment’s hesitation or consideration, just issued his rejection, bald and sharp.

  She wrapped her arms around herself and added a step between her and Daniel, then another and another until she found herself standing at the parlor window.

  Daniel and Anna Mae continued arguing behind her, their voices going round and round in a pattern that had long become familiar to those who knew the Harding family. Anna Mae might be dainty and feminine, but the woman could raise her chin and argue in a way that put most lawyers to shame.

  The arguing wouldn’t do any good this time. Charlotte stared out the window at the houses across the street.

  Oh, why couldn’t her father see it? Her sister, Mariah, may have been able to marry well, but that was because she didn’t turn into a hot ball of nerves whenever she was around a man who saw her as a potential wife instead of an honorary ranch hand.

  “Charlotte?”

  She blinked and found herself staring up into somber blue eyes.

  “It’s not that I don’t want to dance with you or don’t think you’d be nice to flirt with. It’s just that… ah…” A faint flush stole up Daniel’s neck. “I really think you should try writing Andrew. Things can be awkward when you’re first getting to know someone, but I’m sure with time…”

  Heat burned her own cheeks. “I understand.”

  “Confound it.” He rubbed the back of his neck, then reached out and threaded her hand through his arm. “Come on. Anna Mae’s right. A dance or two won’t hurt.”

  A dance? Since when were she and Daniel supposed to dance? Anna Mae had said they were supposed to flirt.

  She looked past Daniel to see Anna Mae had moved two of the parlor’s chairs and the rug aside, clearing a space on the floor.

  “That’s all right.” She disentangled her hand from his arm. “You can get back to your sheriff duties. I’m sure you have a lot of them.”

  Daniel grimaced. “With the way my day has gone, I have time for a few dances.”

  “See,” Anna Mae called from the piano. “You two are talking just fine. All you need is a little practice being around men, Charlotte, and you’ll sweep Andrew off his feet when he comes back to town.”

  Charlotte looked from Anna Mae’s shining face to Daniel’s serious and determined one. If only Anna Mae was right. If only suffering through a dance or two with Daniel would truly solve her problems.

  3

  Charlotte dug her heels into Athena’s side and leaned close to the horse’s neck, letting her race over the desert. Yucca, candelilla, and desert grasses flew past in a blur of brownish green. Closing her eyes, Charlotte tilted her head to the side, just enough for the sun to brush her face despite the wide-brimmed hat she wore.

  The wind rushed past her, hot and refreshing, and the familiar clomp of Athena’s gait thundered in her ears. Who needed husbands and dances and fancy suppers? Hadn’t people learned that a race over the desert on the back of a good horse could make all their problems vanish?

  At least until the horse stopped.

  Something shifted in Athena’s stride, and Charlotte opened her eyes as the beast galloped through the gates of the A Bar W and up the steep slope to where her family’s barns and hacienda sat halfway up the mountain. The mare knew the exact moment to slow before trotting into the yard and coming to a stop.

  Swinging off her horse, Charlotte led Athena to the watering trough, then into the barn. The familiar scents of straw and feed surrounded her, and she dragged in a breath, long and deep. Oh yes, she had all a person needed to be happy right here on her father’s ranch. She headed toward the back of the barn, past the stalls with the ranch’s quarter horses and toward the four special stalls at the very back.

  Ares, her brother’s Arabian, whinnied then nudged at his stall door.

  “I know, boy.” She leaned over and patted his muzzle. “If Wes doesn’t take you out for a long ride tomorrow, I will.”

  Helen and her new foal lay in the stall beside Ares’s. Helen was a quarter horse who’d been bred on the ranch. She came from good stock, but she didn’t compare to the sleekness and power of Ares or the three Arabian mares.

  She’d given all of the Arabians Greek mythology names, and some of the quarter horses too. She didn’t know what scholarly ancestor had decided to name her great, great, great, grandfather Agamemnon, but the tradition of naming the oldest male after the ancient king had been handed down for six generations. Not that Wes would ever admit to being named Agamemnon Westin VI.

  Helen rested on the hay while the wobbly foal—Hestia—nestled against her side. Though scrawny, Hestia also looked sleek and strong, a combination of Ares’s distinct Arabian features mixed with Helen’s average ones.

  Charlotte wasn’t sure if she’d sell Hestia or keep her to breed, perhaps with a standardbred or Morgan. Her father had been breeding quarter horses for years, but he’d never been one to crossbreed. By using purebred horses for the A Bar W, she might be able to develop superior quarter horses right along with her line of Arabians.

  She peeked in the next stall, where Calypso stood, her belly heavy and round with the foal she carried—the first purebred Arabian due to be born on the ranch.

  “You’re such a good girl.” Charlotte reached into her pocket and held out a sugar cube, which Calypso inhaled. “You’ll make a right fine mama, too.”

  Athena nudged her shoulder and snorted, probably because she’d noticed the sugar cubes.

  Charlotte held out another cube for Athena, then patted her neck. “After Calypso and Persephone give birth, it will be your turn.”

  Calypso was due to give birth in about three weeks, and Persephone had about five months before she foaled. She’d be a fool not to breed Athena when she’d sent all the way to Arabia for the three mares solely for the purpose of breeding them with Ares. But the eleven-month gestation period for an expectant mare seemed like an awful long time to restrict Athena’s activity. Athena would still need exercise, of course, but moderate and regulated. No more racing over the desert in the heat of summer.

  The first foal would be only the beginning, though. Athena would bear several more, along with Persephone and Calypso. Between the three mares and Ares, she should be able to establish an Arabian line in the Southwest.

  Provided whomever she married wasn’t opposed to his wife being a hobbyist horse breeder.

  And provided she could convince Wes and her father to either giv
e her Ares or order another stallion from Arabia as a wedding present.

  “Soon.” She led Athena into her stall. “I’ll breed you soon.”

  Charlotte bent and unbuckled the cinch from around Athena’s belly, then lifted the saddle from the beast’s back. A whiff of leather filled her lungs, not all that different from the smells that had emanated from Daniel as they’d danced earlier. Leather mixed with the desert at dawn.

  Did Daniel realize how good he’d smelled as he’d led her around his parlor? Probably not. She’d not told him, and she’d been stiff as a board in his arms, tromping on his feet not once but twice, just like at the ball.

  Yet she could still feel his large hand clasped around hers, his strong arm braced against her back as they’d waltzed to the tune Anna Mae played on the piano. Still see the hint of tenderness that had crept into his eyes.

  Or had she only imagined that last bit?

  After the waltzes, Anna Mae had insisted she come back tomorrow so she and Daniel could work on something else, though she didn’t remember what. Maybe eating without spilling food all over her suitor?

  “I should have known you’d be here.” Wes’s voice sounded from behind her.

  She turned to see her brother striding down the center of the barn. He wasn’t as big as Daniel, and his brown eyes gleamed as dark as Daniel’s blue eyes shone light. He wore his tension and other emotions in his tightly coiled muscles and clipped gait, whereas nothing seemed to ever unsettle Daniel.

  “I told Pa I was riding into town to visit with Anna Mae. I didn’t realize you were looking for me.”

  “One of the maids found this when she was cleaning the guest rooms.” He handed her a letter.

  She stared at her name on the front of the envelope, written in a masculine hand that seemed painfully proper. “Whose room did she find it in?”

  “I’ll give you one guess.”

  “Why would Andrew write to me?” She pulled out the letter and skipped down several paragraphs of equally neat handwriting until she spotted the name at the bottom. Yep, it had come from Andrew.