Dog Wood Bride

by Jillian Hart

  Did he feel like this, too?

  "I'll get you a cup of coffee. I've got a pot keeping hot in the barn office." He gestured toward the room at the center of the main aisle. Lamplight spilled out of the open door. "Then you can watch me work."

  "Work?" Why couldn't she concentrate? Her mind refused to focus. Likely it had everything to do with the man and his powerful chest and rippling muscles beneath the gray flannel shirt.

  I'm never going to forget being held by him. It had been a powerful experience, like touching lightning. But last night, in his arms, she'd felt safe. Comforted.

  For the first time in a long time, and never quite so much. Which wasn't smart at all. Not that it was likely to happen again.

  But still, it was nice to think he liked her.

  "I was hoping I could ask you a question." Brennan paused in the tack room doorway.

  Skye blinked. Sure enough, maybe he liked her, too. She pushed a lock of hair out of her eyes. "Sure, but I guess that would depend on the question. What did you want to ask me?"

  "I may need to help myself to your meadow."

  "My meadow?"

  "I don't like to waste time. I like to get straight to the point and get things done. I'd like to measure off and get started on a new fence line. It wouldn't hurt to hem in more of that meadow."

  "So, the question is about work, huh?" She felt a twist of disappointment. She blushed, realizing this was work for him. It wasn't personal.

  But when the warmth in his eyes met hers and he winked, as charming as could be, her heart gave another lurching swoop. A little painfully, and she did her best to hold it back.

  "How did you know I wanted a new fence line?" she asked. "Oh, wait. You would have talked with Claude in the bunkhouse."

  "Yep, we had plenty of time to shoot the breeze." He propped one strong shoulder against the doorframe. "You also mentioned it. Do you trust me?"

  "For what?" Her heart missed a beat. "You don't look entirely trustworthy to me, but then, the horses think so."

  "Good. Because I want to do a job well done for you, and I'd like to make the horses safer." His midnight-black eyes darkened with sincerity.

  Sincerity that was hard to doubt.

  "Just something to think about," he said, as if he already knew the answer. "You have land you haven't improved on. You need to help those wild horses out there eating at the feeder."

  "You put hay out there for them, too?"

  "And grain. I'll head to town and pick up more sacks. The mustangs are on the skinny side." His words were warm, and she felt a heated shiver quake through her.

  That was different and she remembered the coziness of his jacket across her shoulders and being tucked snugly against his side. If he remembered it too, then he was not showing it, which was a good thing, she told herself. She wasn't disappointed at all.

  She tilted her head just a smidgeon and looked up at him through her lashes. "Are you going to keep taking advantage of me in this employee relationship where the horses are the boss?"

  "Nope. I'm planning on earning their good opinion, no matter how much grain it takes. I'm bribing them outright."

  She hung her head, fighting any good opinion of him. It would do no good to like him too much. Her poor heart might not survive it. Besides, what did he know of her dreams?

  "Keep in mind, I may call the horses the bosses, but I'll also do work for you. It could be the best deal of your life." One last grin and he sauntered into the tack room, disappearing into the interior shadows.

  Orville, Minnie and the pinto mare watched him with full-of-adoring and melty-soft eyes.

  Skye bowed her head, letting her feelings settle. Best not to let them show, and at least he had no idea of her opinion of him, no idea at all.

  "We're going to town later this morning." She whirled around in the aisle, recognizing Claude's boot steps. "I've got things to do and promises to keep."

  "Taking your sister shopping again, are you?" The older man heaved the wheelbarrow full of fresh stall bedding to a halt mid-aisle. "A lady's got to have her amusements."

  He was kind, and she appreciated how hard he worked, although she had a problem keeping long term employees.

  Not many men wanted to work for a woman. It simply was an insult to their sense of manhood, and so Brennan Mosley stayed on her mind as she waltzed toward the back barn door. He'd found an interesting way to deal with the situation.

  The warm wind gusted, bringing with it the promise of a hot afternoon. She didn't dare trust her emotions to look back, even though she heard the deep timbre of Brennan's voice speaking to his horse, tucked in a comfortable stall.

  She concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, ignoring the pain in her heart and the disappointment that dogged her all the way to the back porch.

  The wind gusted, and the blooming dogwood tree shook, dropping a few blossoms at her feet. The cheerful budding petals felt oddly bright, a lost dream she could not begin to retrieve, gone forever.

  She hopped up the steps and pushed through the back door, where her sister looked up from the book she was reading at the table, sipping a steaming cup of coffee.

  She did not feel like talking about dreams, so she made sure to ask Samantha about what she was hoping to look for and buy in town.

  Their shopping trips (and her own shopping skills) were legendary. They might even swing by their cousin's on their way in and see if Amberley wanted to drive in with them.

  * * *

  Well, that corner post went in well, nice and straight. Sturdy as heck. Good thing, since his arm hurt with every movement he made. He did his best to ignore that.

  Brennan whipped his hat off and swiped sweat from his forehead with his shirt sleeve. He took a look around. The wild pinto mare watched him out of the half door of her stall as he reached for his water jug and upended it over his head.

  Coolish water sluiced over his face, neck and shoulders. It felt good, darn good, and he finished off the jug with a long drink. He swallowed the last drop. The mare was still watching him intently.

  "Do you want some too, girl, are you thirsty?"

  The mare didn't so much as blink an eyelid but merely watched him with curiosity.

  "I imagine it's getting warm in that barn." He set down the jug and plopped his hat back on his head.

  He meant to wander over to her when a shadowed blur of movement deep in the meadow snared his attention.

  Fear leaped into his bloodstream as he recalled the tracks in the field and the gunshot hitting his arm. Was it Judson? Adrenaline kicked through him. His hand flew to the walnut grip of his holstered revolver.

  But when he looked again, he saw a dark shadow emerge from the shade of the woods, far too large and shaped too different to be a man.

  The black stallion.

  The wild mustang froze when he spotted Brennan watching him. The horse peered over the distance of the meadow. Wary, intelligent eyes watched unblinkingly. Every muscle bunched, ready to dart away at the slightest sign of aggression.

  "Welcome, fella." Brennan didn't dare move. "You're safe with me. I'm not gonna hurt ya."

  The stallion stood frozen, as if debating the merits of that soft-sounding voice. Finally, the mustang nickered in the direction of the barn.

  The mare answered and bumped against the closed half-door. She shook her head up and down in frustration and whinnied, scenting the wind.

  "Easy, there, pretty girl." He pitched his voice into a deep, rumbling drawl. "You want to stay calm. You don't want to tear open your shoulder by jumping over that door."

  She whinnied again, calling to her stallion with a note of desperation. Hard not to care about that. The stallion nickered back, low and reassuring. He wouldn't be going far.

  Something told Brennan he never really did. He took a step toward the wild horse. Slow going, one boot step at a time, because he refused to scare off the stallion. He just wanted to establish communication.

  "Hey, there, handso
me fellow." He kept walking, hands out and non-threatening, letting the animal size him up. "Don't you worry. I'm taking good care of the mare. Right now she's lucky with no infection in her wound. She'll be okay. I'm not hurting her."

  The stallion walked back a few steps, torn between trust and experience.

  "I know you've been coming close to keep an eye on her." He took another slow step. "I know you and your herd come eat and drink at the feeder over there. You're welcome to stay in these meadows. I'll take good care of you."

  Although that was Skye's dream, he could see the beauty in it. Others might see the profit. He saw the heart's yearning and the value in doing it the right way.

  He took one more step and it was too much. The stallion reared back, trumpeting out a fierce neigh. His dark mane rippled in the wind as he ran, black coat gleaming from the sun's touch.

  What a magnificent sight. Amazing. Brennan held his breath, captivated by the art of the black stallion galloping full out, a silhouette skimming the grasses and graced overhead by the endless summer-blue sky.

  The mustang pulled away, tail flying behind him, disappearing into the shadows at the edge of the woods. The Shadow, that's what he would name that stallion, was one last glimpse against the glory of green meadow and daisy-white buds.

  Brennan knuckled back his hat to grab a better view, and kept his heart still as he waited and watched the crest of the rise. And, sure enough, the stallion reappeared, running ahead of the mares and foals. Beauty and freedom in motion.

  The crack of a rifle echoed across the grasslands, and Brennan jumped, heart racing, time attempting to reel him back to the rifles firing, soldiers getting hit and falling hard.

  As he dragged in a mouthful of fresh air to keep him front and center, in the present and not drawn back into that old nightmare of a moment, the wild mustangs raced on. Another shot fired, reverberated like thunder across the prairie.

  A rider on a big white horse skidded to a stop on the ridge and lowered his gun.

  15

  Judson. On Skye's land. Again.

  The roar of blinding, fierce protective anger crashed through him. The man should be investigated, not free to trespass and slip out on bail because, as he'd learned from Claude, he was related to the sheriff.

  Before Brennan could take a step or unholster his revolver, Judson wheeled his horse around and galloped down a draw, out of sight.

  Not a good sign, and a warning. He shivered despite the heat of the sun, feeling it bone marrow deep. He'd learned that Judson was one of those do-nothing type men used to getting what they wanted.

  And when they didn't get it, they took it. At any cost.

  At least the stallion and her band were safe. For now. Brennan paced up onto the rise, ignoring the bite of pain and the weakness still dogging him. He had a good view. The small mustang herd was a faint blur in the endless meadows.

  This place didn't have enough fencing, he thought, feeling in his bones that this restless, beautiful and wild land was worth owning. It seemed to go on forever without sign of another neighbor.

  So much land. How was Skye going to defend it without him?

  That's how much she needed him. He hiked back to the fence posts he'd finished setting. He hazarded a glance at the barn where the pinto mare squealed in agitation. She must not want to stay in that stall.

  "Sorry, there's no other real good answer for you, gorgeous girl." He grabbed the shovel by the wooden handle and searched for the next mark in the dirt he'd measured off. He'd wait for Skye and her little sister to drive back from town before he acted on the Judson situation.

  He dug the shovel tip into the earth, using his boot to give it momentum. The mare nickered, lonely once again, now that her herd had moved on without her. Her lonesomeness carried on the wind and wrapped around his heart.

  "I know just how you feel, girl," he said quietly, knowing that hard, solitary, soul-deep ache, a hollowness that would never fade.

  He kept working, in spite of his injury, needing no reminder of what could happen to beautiful, innocent ladies on these rough, ruthless western territories.

  * * *

  Lunch in town had been fun with her little sister and cousin keeping her company and had resulted in several more hours of shopping.

  Skye couldn't explain her anxiousness, a feeling that she'd have been better off staying at home to check on her new employee. Not that he saw himself that way or even bothered to actually work for her.

  She feared he was working for himself, or the horses. What was she going to do about this problem, she didn't know, but when she spotted the road home, Orville's pace picked up and he lunged forward in his leather horse collar eagerly. Well, she didn't want to admit why, but she knew it had to do with a certain man.

  Her pulse picked up, too, as they rolled along at a much faster clip. She was still dedicated to building a small life here in this beautiful territory. Surrounding herself with horses sounded like a good second place finish. Since her first place wish and dream would have been marriage and a family. To love and be loved like that would have been quite a way to spend a life.

  Her heart ached with that secret dream broken, never to be. Once, she'd been newly engaged, but a rumor had destroyed all chances of that. Cyrano came from a very wealthy family, and what a wonderful thing it had been to be part of his world for a bit.

  But unsubstantiated rumors had begun to grow, based on nothing but dishonesty and his sister's dislike of her. The sister's friend had been the one to wed Cyrano, such a kind man, and Skye's reputation was truly destroyed.

  It had happened so long ago now, it felt like a shadow that had once fallen across her life and changed it. The betrayal and the hurt from it had faded, but the wound had always hurt.

  She'd hoped, but no other man had ever come courting and when her father confessed it was why he'd been demoted to the job he struggled with, she could not bear staying back East any longer. It was a country life for her, and she moved here.

  "You love having me visit, don't you?" Samantha was about the most adorable person on earth, and yet didn't seem to know it as she gave a little jab of her elbow. "Come on, you can admit it."

  "I won't, and don't you go elbowing me. I won't hardly notice when you finally leave next month. Then Ma and Pa can have you and put up with you. I'll be in utter bliss in all that quiet."

  "Ah, you're lying. Admit it."

  "Not one word is a lie. I mean it." Laughter threatened. "Look at you, who would want to keep you?"

  "Oh, well, I know what you mean. You're right. I'm not all that fabulous, but then, again, I'm told you have poor judgement."

  Skye laughed at her sister's wink. She winked back. "It's true. I've always had terrible judgement when it comes to you. From day one when you were just an hour old, I took one look at you and said, I'm going to always be wrong to love this one."

  "I wish I could say the same about you, but I was too little to think much of anything. I don't know. Meeting you is a complete and utter blank. You must not have been important."

  "You said it, it's just the truth." Laughter felt good, especially with her heavy heart. Oh, how she loved and adored her little sister.

  How did she begin to explain that she'd fallen just a bit, well, maybe more than a little bit, attracted to a man who wasn't all that interested in her?

  She fell so easily, and why? The right kind of men, for some reason, never were all that interested in her. And Brennan was about as wrong for her as he could be. Still, perhaps it was just her lonely heart wishing. She blew out a sigh, holding tight to Orville's reins. "You know I'm glad you're here with me for a month. Are you sure you don't want to stay all summer long?"

  "It's tempting, believe me. But Ma needs me, of course, and now I'm afraid I'm just in your way. The men here in the west are dreamy. There's so many of the rugged, cowboy types. Take Mr. Mosley, for example."

  "Yes, he's quite fine. I have no argument there."

  "Not every man is as
gorgeous. I'm glad you have him."

  And there they were, discussing the man again. It was hard not to wonder about how Brennan was doing and worry over his health. Worry, that was the reason (or so she told herself) that she leaned forward on the seat, her eyes hungry to see the first glimpse of him.

  He did not disappoint. Her heart kicked back to life when she saw him through the swaying grasses, shirtless, his tanned skin polished by the mid-afternoon sun.

  Look away, she told herself, seeing a shirtless man was not appropriate! But did her gaze dart away? No, as her eyes refused to budge, as if she had lost all power over them.

  Or, perhaps, it was simply the mesmerizing power of the sight of him with muscles rippling, dark hair tousled by the wind.

  Brennan looked as solid as the ground beneath his boots, as steadfast as the mountains rimming the western horizon and as commanding as the blue span of sky stretching overhead. He clutched a shovel in both hands and worked it into the ground.

  He glanced up at the sound of the horse and buggy.

  "Look, he must have had fence posts delivered." Samantha hopped off the seat. "What are you planning? I can't believe it. Look at that fence he's putting up."

  "He's not wasting any time."

  "Well, you hoped he would work out, and look at that. He's done so much work already. I'd say he's working out in an amazing way. Think of all the derelicts you could have hired. All the men who were desperate."

  "Well, Mr. Mosley comes highly recommended. And that has made all the difference." She tugged back on the reins and brought Orville to a halt. "Oh, there you are. Did you hear that?"

  "Yes, and now I have to live up to the rumors about me." Brennan held out one hand to help her younger sister down. His mouth was downturned while his midnight black eyes were amused. "That might not go well for you."

  "Because they were exaggerated?" Skye wanted to know.

  "Because I'm going to make everyone else look bad." He saw Samantha safely to the ground and then reached up to offer his help once again.

  Skye took one look at that large hand callused from hard work and laid her hand on his, palm to palm. Male hot, and the heat sizzled up her arm. Brighter, more alive, she slipped off the buggy seat and landed on solid ground.