Lucky Penny

by Catherine Anderson

  David was about to leap to his feet when a shuffling sound reached him. He had needle-sharp night vision. Gaze routing through the silvery darkness, he picked out a shape moving toward him, a little over five feet tall and bulky, as wide at the bottom as at the top. As the figure came closer, he was able to see more clearly. It was a woman in skirts, carrying a child over one shoulder and two large bags in each hand. David relaxed against the barn. She shouldn’t be carrying that kind of weight. It was what his ma called a lazy man’s load.

  Brianna stumbled, tripped on her skirts, and almost fell. Then, straightening from a weaving, bent-over stance, she regained her balance and plodded forward. David remained in the shadows, relief mingling with annoyance. At least the woman had sense enough not to set out afoot. Once again he had to admire her grit, although he deplored her actions. Here she was, planting one foot in front of the other even as her strength failed her. Damn her stubborn pride.

  She staggered past him, never noticing him in the shadows, and entered the livery, stumbling to a stop just inside the doors. The child was double wrapped in both her own new cloak and what looked like her mother’s cape, which left Brianna with no protection from the cold except for her threadbare dress. Where was her shawl?

  “Hello?” she called as she stepped from David’s sight. “Wake up, my good fellow! I need to hire a horse!”

  Did she even know how to ride? David settled back, prepared to be entertained. He doubted the bloke who manned the nightshift would rent out the gentlest, or soundest, steed in the stable to a greenhorn. Why offer good horseflesh to someone who wouldn’t recognize it?

  David heard plaintive grumbling and then a man’s footsteps. The voice that rang out was not the livery owner’s but that of a younger fellow. “How do, Mrs. Paxton. What brings you here at this hour?”

  Brianna replied, “I need to hire a horse, sir.”

  “For what?”

  “For transportation. Why else does one hire a horse?”

  “Where you heading,” the man asked, “and when will you be back?”

  “I have no plans to return,” Brianna replied. “I will be dropping the horse off at a livery in some nearby town.”

  The fellow laughed. The tone had a decidedly nasty edge. “We only hire out horses for round-trips. We can’t have one of our mounts dumped off somewhere. We’ve got no way to get it back.”

  “Oh, well.” David could almost hear Brianna’s mental wheels spinning. “Then how much to buy a horse, sir?”

  The stable hand took his time answering. “Well, now, a hundred and fifty dollars ought to do it. Unless you’re feelin’ accommodatin’ and want to make a trade with me to lower the price. I just freshened the hay in our one empty stall. It’s ready for use.”

  “I beg your pardon?” David had heard that note in Brianna’s voice earlier and knew it didn’t bode well for the guy on the receiving end. “Are you suggesting something inappropriate, sir? I will remind you that you are speaking to a lady.”

  David could see where this was heading and pushed to his feet to intervene. Before he came fully erect, he heard the stable hand say, “A lady, you say? The word is out now. Everyone in town knows your girl is the by-blow of some cowpoke who just rode into town and married you six years too late. From where I’m standing, I don’t see no lady, just a gal with way too high an opinion of herself and up for the taking by any man who can pay her price. Hell, even that dress is indecent, so tight across your bosoms I can see your nipples plain as day.”

  As he stepped through the doors, David heard Brianna gasp at the insult. At a glance, he saw that she’d deposited the snoozing Daphne on a hay bale. Now she stood with the filled bags, old pillowcases judging by the looks of them, lying at her feet. Her slender body braced with outrage, she faced the livery worker with her chin held so high she was in danger of getting a crick in her neck. David stepped abreast of her, taking the other man’s measure. Flicking back his duster to expose his Colts, he met the fellow’s gaze, which went from hostile to cautious in a blink. The distinct smell of whiskey met David’s nostrils.

  “This lady is my wife,” David said, keeping his voice level. “She needs to buy a horse and tack for a fair price. A hundred and fifty dollars is outrageous, and you know it. I could buy three fair to middling mounts, possibly four, for that amount.”

  The skinny, shabbily dressed employee paled visibly.

  Startled by the sound of David’s voice, Brianna whirled to face him, her expression incredulous. He noted with a glance that the stable hand was right. The cold night air had her nipples standing at attention like well-trained cadets. “You!” Words seemed to fail her for a moment. “What are you—? You’re supposed to be at the hotel asleep!”

  “Or so you thought.” David winked at her, which he figured was wiser than scowling. He didn’t like it when people said they would do one thing and did another. “Never underestimate your opponent. You set yourself up for nasty surprises.”

  The stable hand’s eyes flicked from David’s implacable face to the guns he wore, and he appeared to shrink into his clothes. Gesturing weakly toward the nearest stall, he wet his lips and managed, “This one’s an okay mount.”

  With one look, David noted that the gelding had a swayback and unsound knees. He rejected it out of hand. Aware that Brianna had retreated to curl an arm protectively over the sleeping child, he felt his temper flare. She acted as if he were an insane, murderous child abductor. The thought maddened him. He lived by his honor, and he expected others to do the same. On top of her failure to stand behind her word, she’d been about to embark on a fool’s journey. It was one thing to endanger herself, quite another when it involved his daughter. Possibly she didn’t realize how perilous her actions could have been, but he wasn’t in any mood to consider both sides right now.

  Two stalls down, David selected a nice-looking bay with far better conformation. He quickly negotiated a price, bearing in mind that the owner of the livery was a decent fellow and would be the one to take the financial hit if David bid too low.

  Once the haggling was over, David began saddling the horses and his mule. At that point, Brianna finally found her voice to protest.

  “Now that you’ve foiled my plans, Mr. Paxton,” she said crisply, “I see no point in leaving in the middle of the night. We can postpone this madness until morning and travel by daylight like normal people.”

  Standing at the opposite side of Blue, David flipped a stirrup strap up over the saddle and shot his reluctant bride a burning look. “Your decision to take off tonight suits me just fine.”

  “Earlier, a journey on horseback was my only recourse, sir, not my chosen mode of transportation. If you’re bent on taking us out of here, a stage would be far less taxing on both me and the child.”

  The lantern light cast dark hollows beneath her delicate cheekbones. Under her green eyes, the smudges of exhaustion had become so pronounced that they had the dark, purplish hue of bruises. David could see how played out she was, and he had no intention of pushing her too hard. However, he wasn’t willing to return to the hotel and trust her to stay put until morning. She’d made that impossible, and she’d have to suffer the consequences. High time this feisty female learned that David Paxton said what he meant and meant what he said.

  Kneeing Blue’s belly and jerking on the cinch, David replied, “I’ll make accommodations along the trail as comfortable as possible for you and the child.”

  “How magnanimous of you!”

  Lowering the stirrup and patting Blue’s neck, David tossed her a forced smile. “I’m not about to give you a second chance to sneak away. You’d drop out of sight, and I’d play hell trying to find you.”

  Two bright spots of guilty color touched her pale cheeks.

  “We’ll ride out tonight,” David said with finality. “And we’ll travel by horseback until you come to accept this marriage. If that means riding all the way to No Name, so be it. I’m not taking you into some strange town wher
e you can start screaming that I’ve kidnapped you and plead your case before another judge. Custody of my daughter hangs in the balance.”

  “She is not your daughter!”

  David bit down hard on his back teeth. When he’d gotten a firm grip on his ire, he looked her dead in the eye and said, “I’ve got an order signed by a judge that says different. I’m not a man who riles easily, but if you say that one more time, I’m likely to get mad. I mean really mad. Needle me any other way, but no more about Daphne not being mine.”

  “And if I refuse to leave with you?” she challenged.

  He shrugged. “Then I’ll take my child and be on my way. I never said you have to come. Stay here if you like. You can keep in touch with Daphne by writing letters, and anytime you change your mind, I’ll pay your way to Denver.”

  Sparkling tears beaded on her dark lashes, forming them into spikes that outlined her beautiful eyes with shimmering black. “You can’t just take my daughter,” she cried.

  “Watch me.” David patted one of the saddlebags. “The law is on my side. That document, signed and stamped by Judge Afton, says I’m your husband and the father of that child. I have every right to take her. You can come, or you can stay. I don’t give a damn which.”

  Brianna could barely contain her outrage. Not knowing which offense to address first, she blurted out, “A proper husband would have boxed that livery attendant’s ears for saying such scandalous things to his wife!”

  Paxton conceded the point with a nod. “A proper wife would never have put herself in a position to be on the receiving end of such a crack. What did you expect he’d think when you appeared in the middle of the night without your husband, wanting to hire a horse? He was out of line, but from the smell of him, he’s been drinking. Alcohol scrambles the brains. Plus, I’m sure the news of Daphne’s announcement tonight spread through town like a prairie fire.” Looking over the horse at her, Paxton treated her to a slow once-over, followed by a deliberately insolent grin. “Any woman in a dress that displays her assets so noticeably has to expect a certain amount of unwanted attention from the opposite sex.” He lifted one shoulder in another shrug. “If he’d taken it any further, I would have stepped in, but I’m not inclined to box a drunk man’s ears for only looking and angling for a sample.”

  Blistering heat surged to Brianna’s cheeks. She was well aware that she’d matured physically since her dresses had been made years ago. While in Ricker’s employ, she had let out the seams to accommodate her increasing bust, but that hadn’t helped much, and the side-seam inserts she’d added later while working for Abigail had only added puckers under the arms instead of solving the problem. She glanced at her cloak, which was wrapped around Daphne to protect her against the night air. One of their blankets would have served as well, but they’d already been stuffed in the pillowcases. Her shawl had been tucked into one of the totes at some point as well, and she’d been in too big a hurry to search for it.

  Striding over to one of the packs now on the mule, Paxton lifted the flap and withdrew a denim flannel-lined jacket, which he tossed to her without a word of explanation. Grateful for the warmth and concealment that it offered, Brianna stuffed her arms into the sleeves, shrugged it on, and struggled with fingers gone numb from the chill to button the front. Once covered, she watched Paxton add her bags to the packs the mule carried and then check the load for balance.

  Come or stay, Paxton had said. Taking stock of the situation, Brianna decided to postpone the battle for another time. She was up against a man who outweighed her by at least eighty pounds, every inch of him appearing to be overlaid with a steely layer of muscle. He also wore Colt revolvers and a hunting knife and had a rifle in his riding boot, plus a document in his saddlebag that branded her and her child as his property. The way she saw it, her options were few—if, indeed, she had any at all.

  For tonight, at least, she would acquiesce and go with him, ever watchful along the way for an opportunity to escape. She would not, under any circumstances, stay behind. She couldn’t be separated from Daphne.

  After six long years of infrequent exposure to horses, Brianna’s fear of the gigantic beasts had never diminished. Ignoring Paxton, who still fussed with the packs, she considered the daunting prospect of having to ride one of the horrible creatures. She had limped and favored her bitten shoulder for days after her only attempt to get in the saddle, and she didn’t relish the thought of trying it again. Especially in front of David Paxton. Heart in throat, she forced herself to walk to the already saddled bay gelding. The animal grunted and nudged her in a friendly way, dispelling some of her trepidation and leaving a damp smear across her jacket sleeve.

  Recalling the form of riders she’d watched, she assured herself that she could do this. It appeared that the stirrups hung too low for her, so she quickly readjusted them. By the time Paxton strode up behind her, she’d inched up both of her foot wells to what she felt was an appropriate height.

  “Daphne will ride with me,” he said. Then, piercing her with those sharp blue eyes, he asked, “You ever been on a horse? If not, speak up now. I don’t want you falling off and getting hurt.”

  Brianna had suffered this man’s superiority for too many hours to admit the truth. “I know what I’m about.” She turned, grabbed the saddle horn, and bounced uselessly about on the ball of one foot while she tried, without success, to lift her other foot high enough to get it into the stirrup. She’d witnessed countless men in Glory Ridge mount with what had looked like effortless ease. How they managed it, she didn’t know. It was like trying to scale Pikes Peak. “I have lived in Colorado for years, sir.”

  Paxton leaned around her to study the left stirrup. “Did you do that?” he asked.

  “Did I do what?”

  “Adjust the stirrups so high? I sure as hell didn’t.”

  “They were too low for me.”

  “Christ on crutches, with them that high, you could set a supper plate on your knee.”

  “Can you please expend some effort to mind your tongue, sir?”

  She heard him huff. He nudged her out of the way to readjust the stirrup straps. As he stepped around to the other side of the horse, he sent her a knifelike regard from under the shadowy brim of his hat. Even with the light of only one lantern, she saw his jaw muscle ripple and felt the sting of criticism in his gaze. Everything about the man unnerved her. It was difficult for her to think straight.

  “Okay, here’s how it goes. When you get on the damned horse, all I want you to do is to hold on to the horn and concentrate on keeping your seat. I don’t give a shit what happens. Just keep your seat and let the bay do the rest. Horses are herd animals. He’ll follow Blue Boy and Lucy. No worries.”

  “Are you suggesting I don’t know how to ride this animal?”

  His firm mouth quirked. In that moment, Brianna could no longer ignore the fact that he might be devastatingly handsome with a bit of cleaning up. In her mind’s eye, she pictured him in a tailored serge suit with a fashionable felt fedora hat perched properly on his head. And with a haircut, of course. That long hair made him look like a scoundrel of the first order.

  “I’m not suggesting anything. After getting to know me, you’ll come to realize I never beat around the bush. I say what I think, and right now, I’m thinking you have absolutely no experience in the saddle.” He circled the bay, came to stand front side of the readjusted stirrup, and bent at the knees to interlace his hands to form a cup. “Step up.”

  She stuck up her right foot. He released an audible breath. “Shit. With your left foot, Shamrock. You can’t mount that way. It’s physically impossible unless you go ass first onto the saddle and risk pitching over backward.”

  Brianna had never felt so humiliated in her life. She knew to use her left foot. It was just that he rattled her so badly she was making silly mistakes. “You, sir, have the filthiest mouth I have ever had the misfortune to come across.”

  “Because I said shit?”

  Bri
anna winced. Had he no idea how crass a word that was? He’d also said ass. She stuck her left foot into the cradle of his joined hands. With a push of his shoulders and arms, he lifted her with alarming ease, then caught her elbow to steady her as she jerked at her clumped skirts, trying to hide her knees. Sheer fright took precedence over modesty when she realized she was astride the horse. From where she perched on the saddle, it looked like at least a mile to the ground, and beneath her trembling body, she could feel the limitless strength of the gelding, which kept glancing nervously back at her.

  “I can’t believe the word shit puts you in a snit,” he muttered. “Where I come from, we walk in it, we shovel it, and we use it to fertilize the garden. In fact, when I get up in the morning, I even take one. What fancy word do you use for it?”

  She struggled to gather her wits. The very thought of traveling away from the safe environs of Glory Ridge with this uncouth, vile-tongued man unnerved her even more than being on the huge animal. “Excrement,” she blurted.

  “What?”

  “In polite society, it is called excrement, or feces. And when the morning urge strikes people, they refer to it as ‘a call of nature’ or ‘one’s morning duty.’” Brianna shuddered and gave her head a slight shake. “I cannot fathom that we are engaging in such scandalous discourse.”

  “I take that to mean you don’t like this conversation. Well, that’s too damned bad. Where I come from, even ladies don’t cringe at the word shit.”

  “Well, sir, such females are not truly ladies.”

  “By your definition, not mine.”

  Brianna jerked and almost fell off the horse as he led it three steps forward. Following his advice, she grabbed hold of the saddle horn to keep her seat.

  He stopped, nudged back his hat, and sent her an incredulous look. “The only positive thing about this trip is that at least you don’t seem to be afraid of horses.”

  “Is being afraid of them a bad thing?” she asked in a thin voice.

  “Sure as hell is. Horses can sense fear, and it spooks the daylights out of them.”