by Carol Arens
“Right as beans.”
“Right as rain,” Colt corrected. “You two are up to something, I can smell it. You made it here all the way from the Broken Brand without a complaint. An overnight trip shouldn’t tucker you, especially with some new duds at the end of the trail.”
Grannie Rose and Aunt Tillie glanced at each other.
Colt was right; they were up to something.
“That did tucker us out,” Grannie Rose said. “We were just too proud to say so.”
“There’s a lovely dress shop right here in Friendship Springs,” Holly Jane pointed out.
“I’m sure it’s charming,” Aunt Tillie replied. “But we have our hearts set on something from where the horses came from.”
“Yes, a memento of the beginning of Colt’s dream.”
“Tell me what you want and I’ll pick it up,” Colt said.
“That’s sweet, dear, but you haven’t the fashion sense of a flea.” Aunt Tillie set her fork on her plate and wiped her mouth with a cloth napkin. “You might accidentally bring something pink for me and blue for your grannie.”
“We would like Holly Jane to go along and pick something out for us...and for her. You could use a new frock, couldn’t you, Holly Jane?”
“I’d love to help, truly.” The very last thing she was going to do is go someplace overnight with Colt Wesson. “But I have The Sweet Treat to run.”
“I’d take it as a favor if you’d let me run it for a couple of days,” Aunt Tillie said. “I always yearned for a candy shop of my own, but being shut away at the Broken Brand, well, life just passed on by.”
“Never heard you mention that particular dream, Aunt Tillie,” Colt said.
He might as well have not spoken for all the attention the ladies paid him.
“Won’t you please do us old women a favor, Holly Jane? When you come back, we’ll all go to church of a Sunday in our new gowns.” Grannie Rose looked as pleased with the prospect as if she and her sister hadn’t just thought of it.
“We’re roped and tied, Sugar Plum,” Colt said. “See you at four, sharp.”
Chapter Six
Holly Jane listened to the patter of raindrops on the oilcloth that covered her, head to toe, as she sat beside Colt on the buckboard.
It was still two hours before daylight, and she shivered in the predawn chill.
“Just so we’re clear,” Colt said to Aunt Tillie and Grannie Rose who stood on the front porch of The Sweet Treat with Lulu. “You’ll spend the night at the hotel and I’ll pick you up tomorrow afternoon.”
“Yes, dear, we’re clear.” Aunt Tillie lifted a lantern. It cast a golden circle around the pair of them standing in the doorway.
“Don’t worry about a thing, Holly Jane,” Grannie Rose called to her. “We’ll earn scads of money while you’re gone.”
“If you see a Folsom or a Broadhower, lock the door,” Colt warned.
Aunt Tillie rapped her cane on the wood porch. The sound echoed around Town Square, silent this early, except for the drip of rain from the eaves and gurgle of the spring.
“I asked the marshal to keep an eye out,” Colt said. “Don’t give him too much trouble.”
“They’ll be better off with Aunt Tillie’s cane,” Holly Jane mumbled.
“So that’s a blue dress for you, Grannie, and pink for Aunt Tillie?” Colt asked with a wink.
“Go on with you now, boy. You know what we want.” Grannie Rose winked back.
“I do, and it ain’t going to happen.”
Not in a million years, Holly Jane mentally agreed. Clearly, the old ladies were matchmaking. Granddaddy didn’t have a thing on them.
“Let’s bring home the horses, Cupcake.”
Colt clicked his tongue and jiggled the reins. The buckboard team plodded around Town Square then pulled the wagon north, out of town.
“You think they’ll be all right?” she asked, glancing back at the hushed street. The only noise was the plop of hooves in the mud and a baby’s cry coming from one of the homes nearby.
“Wouldn’t leave if I didn’t think so.” The baby’s cry quit as suddenly as it had started. No doubt the sweet little thing was warm and cozy at its mother’s breast. “They lived most of their lives with outlaws. If it came to trouble, I’d put my money on the old ladies.”
“Where are we headed?” she asked. In spite of the damp chill and the fact that she had been hoodwinked into coming along, this was an adventure. She hadn’t spent much time away from Friendship Springs.
“Thunderson Ranch. We ought to get there late afternoon if the road doesn’t get too muddy. If everything goes well, the herd will be in home pastures by late tomorrow.”
That was a lot of time she would spend sitting on the wagon bench beside Colt. There were some things she’d like to know about him.
“Colt, why do you call folks names all the time?”
“More sociable than ‘hey you,’ I reckon.”
“I’m not a cupcake.”
“I’ll keep that in mind, Sunshine.”
She frowned hard at him but he kept his gaze focused on the muddy road. From profile, she watched him smile. Whenever he did that his dimples winked. Curse the man for being so handsome. Curse him double for being the image of the one she had always dreamed of, but curse herself even more for telling Granddaddy so.
A criminal...or a former one, was not a man to build a dream upon.
“I don’t know how I let them finagle me into making this trip with you,” she grumbled.
Colt laughed; a deep rumble shook his chest.
“Well, they’re tricky, those old ladies. I’ve been finagled all my life.”
“We wouldn’t suit, you know that,” she said, and snuggled deeper into the oilcloth. They might suit...unless he wasn’t as wonderful as he seemed. For all she knew, after he dried her neighbors’ land, he might move his family to Friendship Springs.
“You aren’t my type,” he answered.
“Good, then. Now that we have an understanding, we can enjoy the ride. I think I’m half as excited to see those horses as you are.”
“These ponies are livestock, not pets.”
“I wouldn’t call them pets so much as friends. I missed the horses after Granddaddy sold them.”
“I reckon it was tough for him after the sickness took its toll... Tough for you, too.”
What could she say? It had made her weep inside every day watching him grow weaker.
“He sold everything except the chickens. We needed the money to live on until—” Until he died, and she found that the ranch had been sold and she inherited the money from the sale.
That’s when she had bought The Sweet Treat. With everything that she had loved gone, except the carousel and the quarter acre of land it sat upon, she needed something to do, a reason to get up every day.
Since she had always loved sweets, both baking and eating them, having her own shop was the balm she needed.
“I’m sorry about your grandfather, Holly Jane. He was a fine man.”
Because he wasn’t smiling his disarming smile, and because he’d called her by her name, she didn’t shove him away when he crossed one arm over her shoulder and drew her in with a comforting squeeze.
* * *
When they reached Homerville, the town south of the ranch where he was to pick up the herd, Colt tried to drop Holly Jane off in the bustling town so that she could get the shopping done.
He soon discovered that there was a stubborn little lady under that sunshine disposition. She refused to be left behind because, as much as she wanted to visit the shops, she was even more eager to see the horses.
There had been no help for it but to go shopping with her. Even though the dresses had been a last-minute though
t in Grannie Rose and Aunt Tillie’s plan, he knew they would be looking forward to them.
He did manage to fit in a meal of steak and eggs into the bargain, though. A man needed his strength when navigating the foreign world of feminine gewgaws.
In the end, he did have to admit that toting Holly Jane’s purchases hadn’t been the chore he had feared.
Watching her enthusiasm at pleasing the old ladies touched him. For the space of a fly buzzing past his ear, he wondered what life would be like if Holly Jane were his type of woman...and he were her type of man.
But he wasn’t and she wasn’t.
There was a rough edge to his soul, put there by years of living on the Broken Brand. Even if he wanted Holly Jane, she would never accept him.
At the Thunderson Ranch, in the here and now, the rancher’s daughter was his kind of woman. She leaned over the porch rail of the big white house, watching him while he thanked Mr. Thunderson for the horses.
He felt the daughter’s interest, nearly tasted it, while her gaze assessed him. Her eyes said that she knew what she wanted, how to get it and had the figure to make a man do her bidding.
She stepped off the front porch with a provocative sway to her hips. He doubted that many men refused her call.
“This is a fine string of horseflesh, Mr. Travers,” the rancher said while his daughter came to stand beside him. “I wish you the best with them.”
They shook hands.
“Papa, can I show Mr. Travers the new colt in the barn?”
“Certainly, Madeline,” her papa said. He waved goodbye, then went to have a word with Holly Jane, who stood across the paddock with the string of horses waiting to go home.
It was sadly clear that Mr. Thunderson didn’t know what his sweet girl was all about.
Madeline snaked her arm through Colt’s. He’d bet his new ponies that her breast hadn’t pressed against him by accident.
“It’s dark inside the barn. We’ll have to be quiet...so as not to scare the mama. You’ll be glad you took the time to get acquainted with the plump, pretty thing,” she murmured, drawing him toward the barn. “I guarantee you won’t be sorry, Mr. Travers.”
He glanced at Holly Jane. She had just finished chatting with the rancher and turned her attention back to the horses.
Sunshine glinted off her hair while she stroked the nose of the very mare that he meant to give her. She was smiling while she spoke to it, probably making friends and giving it a name.
Another horse nudged her in the ribs, and she turned to stroke its long nose. Her laugh tinkled across the paddock.
She glanced up at him with eyes as warm looking as polished amber held to the glow of a lamp. She waved, innocently unaware of what awaited him in the barn.
Flushed with pleasure at meeting the horses, she resembled a fresh spring buttercup. A breeze kicked up and caught her yellow skirt, tugging and twisting it about her knees. It caught a lock of hair and blew it across her fair, pleasure-blushed face.
Holly Jane must be partial to the wind because she lifted her face to it. It caught her hair and streamed it out behind her, glinting like a passel of shooting stars.
Suddenly, and he couldn’t say why, the woman clinging to him looked like a weed in comparison to Holly Jane.
“Not today, Tumbleweed.” He plucked her arm off his shirtsleeve, then stepped away from her. “Got to be on my way.”
* * *
Smooth as a polished knife blade was the way that Colt would describe the trip home.
The late afternoon was sunny with a crisp, but easy breeze. Birds twittered in the trees and the future of the ranch looked promising.
The horses trailing on a lead behind the wagon were strong beautiful animals, who would be the parents of generations of strong beautiful animals.
With time to think along the slow ride home, he wondered what it was that had made him walk away from the rancher’s daughter. She had been beautiful and more than willing.
The answer came to him easily. He didn’t want to see the condemnation in Holly Jane’s eyes if she guessed what he had done. It surprised him how much he wanted her respect.
He watched her walking beside the mare he had given her. She talked quietly to the horse, stroking her long gray jaw and calling her Molly.
It was hard to recall when another person’s regard had meant a dunghill to him.
He was saved from having to consider what that meant when a pack of farm dogs, five fierce-looking ones, came tearing across a field, barking and snarling.
Dogs running in a pack could be dangerous.
The horses stomped and snorted. If they panicked they might be injured on their leads. If he let them loose they’d run scared and be hurt that way.
This was one time he wished he carried a gun. A shotgun blast would send the canines home in a hurry.
“Get up on the wagon,” he ordered.
“It will be all right.” The blamed female looked at him with a serene smile when she ought to be terrified.
Of all the lame, fool things to do, she walked toward the dogs.
She sat down on the meadow grass and opened her arms to them. The woman was a fifty-foot charge away from being mauled.
“Holly Jane!” he cried, leaping off the wagon. On a run he drew his blade.
“Stay back, Colt,” she called.
Like hell!
Halfway to her, he did stop. He stared in surprise when the first mutt halted his charge three feet from her and wagged its tail. The other four did the same. One by one they came forward to sniff her hands.
In another second, they were all over her, rolling and yipping in a frenzy of licking tongues. After a moment of speaking quietly and petting various textures and colors of fur, Holly Jane stood up and walked toward the nervous horses. The dogs followed docilely.
She went to Molly first.
“You see,” she told the mare. “They’re just barnyard friends. Like the ones you lived with at Thunderson Ranch... Just the same.”
Dog noses touched horse noses, and just like that, the entire herd calmed down.
“How the hell did you do that, Bo Peep?”
“Well, Jim Bowie, I nearly didn’t with you pulling out that dagger.”
He went still to his bones.
Jim Bowie? No one had ever turned the naming back on him. Little Miss Sunshine had spunk. He had to admire that.
“You just turned a pack of mad dogs into lap puppies.”
“They weren’t mad, just a bit overexcited.”
“What is it with you and critters, anyway? They follow you around like you’re their mother.”
“I can’t say what it is, but it’s always been that way. I talk to them and they like it.”
“Hell, I was going to hire a hand to help with the herd. Might not need to now.”
Everyone spent a few more minutes touching noses and getting acquainted.
“Go on home now.” She shooed her hands at the pack and they lit out, bounding across the field as though obeying Holly Jane was as good as being scratched between the ears.
Molly laid her head across Holly Jane’s shoulder. Holly Jane stroked the horse’s ear with slender, delicate fingers while the setting sun bathed them both in golden light.
He stared for a moment, knowing that this was an image he would think of for a long time. He’d carry it in his mind like some folks carried photographic pictures.
* * *
It was late, well past dark, when Colt finally allowed a stop for the night.
Wind blew across the open land, cold and piercing.
Holly Jane stood up and stretched the aches from her muscles. She looped her skirt over her arm then hopped down from the buckboard without waiting for Colt to assist her. She gave each of the
buckboard horses a pat on the neck then did the same to the new ones tied in two lines behind the wagon.
Colt unhitched the team and led them to a stream several feet from the area he had picked for them to camp for the night.
When he came back he took the others, two by two.
While he was busy with that, she removed the bedrolls from the wagon and placed them on the ground. It would be nice to lie down beside a bright, warm fire, but building a campfire in the wind could be dangerous.
Because there were no trees nearby, Colt tethered the horses in a circle to the wagon. He picked up her bedroll and tossed it back into the buckboard bed.
“You’ll freeze sleeping on the ground.”
He put his hands on her waist and lifted her onto the wagon.
“What about you?”
“I’ll manage.”
“Don’t be silly, Colt. There’s no need for you to spend the night on the ground.”
“There sure the hell is.” He untied his bedroll and knelt beside it. She noticed his fingers shaking with the chill even though he had gloves on. “I’m not your husband for one thing.”
“Don’t tell me you never bent a rule, Colt Wesson.”
“There are women you break rules with and women you don’t. You’re the kind to make a fellow stick to the letter of the law. Besides, if I come up there, we’ve played right in to Grannie and Aunt Tillie’s scheme.”
“Your lips are turning blue.”
“Damn it!” He stood up and chafed his hands together then stuck them under his armpits. He hopped from foot to foot for a moment before he bent down, picked up his bedding and hoisted it into the wagon.
“I like you, Holly Jane. But Grannie Rose and Aunt Tillie are wrong about the two of us.”
“Granddaddy missed the mark by a mile...and I like you, too.”
“I’m coming up.”
Colt clambered over the side. He set up the bedding, one blanket on the bottom and one on the top.
He must intend that they sleep together under the one bed. That is not what she had in mind.
“You look like you’re about to sleep with a serpent.”