Sitting as straight as she knew how, she pulled in a deep breath. “I could do that.”
He relaxed, arms and shoulders loosening. Cougar looked at him and whined.
“Maybe your ma could spend the day with Mae Ann and Willy. Or half the day. At least half a day.”
Up. “We could go on a Sunday and kill the proverbial pair of birds with one stone.”
He became that stone—motionless, silent, hard.
Down. Another unanswered question, but she pushed it aside in exchange for a different one. “When do you expect Deacon and Cade?”
He thawed a little. “Could be any day. But I’ve only got two weeks. Mrs. Fairfax said she’d give me two weeks to make an offer.”
Farther down.
She was right. He was looking for his own place, and now she knew how long it’d be until he was gone.
The up-side was his invitation. She’d get to see where he’d be living and doctoring and branding, and, in all likelihood, training horses.
But what did it matter if she liked the house or not?
The see-saw slammed to the ground.
It wouldn’t be hers.
~
Sophie agreed to go with him.
Clay couldn’t sleep that night for playing their conversation over in his head. He lit the lamp on Deacon’s table, where he sat down with a copy of the Gazette. But his brain wouldn’t sit still, and three times he had to read a paragraph about a rancher who lost his horse to a snake bite.
If Sophie liked the Fairfax place, he’d make an offer.
If she didn’t, he’d keep looking.
Plain and simple. Uncomplicated.
He started in on a letter to the editor, but it muddled when the yellow dog went berserk outside, answered by the heeler. Parker and Deacon were home. It had to be close to midnight.
He pulled on his pants and boots, rolled up his bed, and tossed it on a bunk in the extra room.
The chuck wagon crawled up in front of the barn as he stepped outside.
Deacon moved at about the same speed, climbing down from the high seat.
Clay wondered if the creaking was the wagon or the old fella’s bones.
“I’ve got the team,” he said. “Get some shut-eye. It won’t be long till sunup.”
“Obliged.” Deacon was showing his years, and it tugged on Clay.
Parker rode up, laid reins to the rail, and unsaddled his horse.
“Welcome home,” Clay said.
“It’s good to be home.”
“Just so you know, you’ve got a little filly bunkin’ in your room with the missus.”
Parker stared at him, fighting fatigue, trail dust, and miles to figure out what Clay was talking about.
“Born the day you left.”
That nearly bugged the man’s eyes out. He hooked it for the house, then stopped and looked back. “Would you un—”
“I’ll take care of it. Go see your family. ’Course they might not appreciate your timing, but give it a try.”
Parker nearly tripped over his feet getting across the yard to the house and must have made a racket inside, for a light appeared in the upstairs window. Clay knew it wasn’t Sophie’s room, for she had the one on the north end of the house.
Seeing to three horses, fetching water and feed, and putting them up was exactly what he needed to warm his muscles and weary his mind. Afterward, he fell onto his bedroll and slept until the first crow of the rooster.
A comforting sound somehow, that danged bird cracking off before dawn every morning. He probably had rooster in his blood.
In light of the homecoming, he shaved outside without benefit of a mirror and hoped he caught all the strays. Afterward, he donned a clean shirt and went to the house for the milk bucket, easing the front door open.
A yellow glow spread around the end of the kitchen wall. Sophie was running parallel with him again, up early getting things ready. He imagined her in their own kitchen at daybreak, frying steaks and making coffee.
With a shake of his head, he doused those thoughts and plastered his damp hair back.
“Good morning.” She’d heard him come in after all.
The kitchen was warmer than the main room. He’d always thought it was the cook stove, but now he wasn’t so sure. “Mornin’. You’re up early.”
“So are you.” She filled a tin mug with hot coffee and handed it to him. The sight of her all fresh and awake fired through his skin nearly as much as the hot cup. He set it on the table.
“I’m always up early.” Doggone it, no reason to say that.
Her profile revealed a smile, but he didn’t know if it was a real smile or the tuck in her cheek. Without seeing her eyes, he couldn’t be sure.
He fetched the bucket from the pantry and, on his way out, saw her fold biscuit dough over, pat it with her hands, and cut circles in it. An odd quiver slid down his back, like he’d watched someone else do the same exact thing, but that wasn’t possible.
By the time he returned, the entire Parker family had come down for breakfast, Mae Ann happy as a lark that her husband was home.
Clay set the milk at the end of the counter, covered it with a cloth, and washed up.
Deacon joined them late, but no one ribbed him. He’d earned his extra winks.
Ready this time for a prayer, Clay took a seat and refrained from reaching for the steak platter. Parker held his hands out, one to Mae Ann on his left, the other to Deacon on his right. Sophie followed suit, so Clay did the same, clamping on to Willy’s little hand and reaching across for Sophie’s.
Without looking up she placed her warm hand in his.
He held on for everything he was worth.
“Thank You, Lord, for Your protection, for this food, and for bringing us all together. Amen.”
“Amen” rounded the table and vibrated through Sophie’s fingers, but Clay kept his to himself, though he did place a high value on the three things Parker mentioned.
Everyone tucked in, focused on the fare before them. Clay slid a glance Sophie’s way, surprised to catch her eye. She blushed to match her ma’s strawberry preserves, and his imagination stampeded with reasons. Could she really be interested in him?
“Update me.”
Parker broke into Clay’s daydreaming, and he shot back through recent events. “Xavier’s healing up real nice and has settled some.”
Parker flicked him a look.
“Had a storm two days ago. Heavy rain, lightning. I brought the stallion in the barn—that big box stall on this end.” He might as well just plow right into the facts. “Brought in Blanca too, as she was pretty worked up and I didn’t want either of them tearing through fences and boards.”
Parker nodded while he chewed, watching his wife and newborn daughter. He probably hadn’t heard a word Clay said.
Sophie held her napkin at her mouth longer than necessary but didn’t look at him.
“We had a lot of lightning and lost one horse.”
Parker stopped short, as did Deacon.
“Sophie’s mare. She was standing next to the fence when it hit. May have been trying to jump.” The crumpled body he’d found confirmed it, but he wasn’t going to paint that picture in Sophie’s mind.
Every head but Willy’s turned to Sophie, yet she held up, eyes on her plate. Clay admired her mettle.
“We’ll get you another one,” Parker told her before he took the next bite.
Clay’s intentions reared in opposition. He’d get her one. Already had one in mind, but he’d speak to Parker about that out of Sophie’s hearing.
The boss cleared his throat and cut a look at Deacon. “I’ll be leaving again day after tomorrow.”
Mae Ann made no comment. Apparently, they’d already talked it over.
“I’ll be gone a week at best, meeting with a cattle buyer in Denver and a fella I heard about who’s interested in good saddle horses. Deacon’s staying here. Clay, I’ll need you to drive me to the train station Tuesday morning.”<
br />
Lightning wasn’t the only thing that struck hard and fast. “Will do.”
Sophie got up and came around the table, stopping behind Willy and Mae Ann.
“Let me take Madeline so you can have a chance to eat.” She held her arms out and Mae Ann handed her the baby. Sophie cradled the infant against her chest, tucking its head in the curve of her neck, then went to the other room.
Clay’s brain went to figuring his next move. He’d ask Deacon to fetch Travine Price for Tuesday while Sophie rode along with him and Parker to the train. That’d give them the rest of the day to see the Fairfax place and take a leisurely ride home.
Alone.
His collar got tight just thinking about it.
Chapter 16
Sophie had seen the train station several times. She’d ridden to town in a wagon. She’d known Cade Parker all her life. But she was beside herself about spending most of the day alone with Clay Ferguson. How would she do her hair? What should she wear?
That last question was an easy fix, and she laid the nicest of her two dresses across the bed. Springtime yellow with lace-cuffed mid-length sleeves and a scooped neckline. Mama had always said it brought out the gold highlights in Sophie’s hair.
She scoffed. Her hair had as many gold highlights as Deacon Jewett’s, and he had none.
He’d ridden to the farm yesterday afternoon to ask Mama if she’d come stay with Mae Ann and the children—and himself, no doubt—and hadn’t returned until late. That meant Mama said yes.
This morning, he’d left in the buckboard before dawn. Sophie, Clay, and Cade would leave as soon as he returned.
For as much traveling as went on with this bunch, they needed a buggy like Maggie Snowfield’s. A niggling in the back of Sophie’s mind said it was Cade who suppressed the notion. His parents had died in a buggy accident.
She tried her hair several different ways, but without hairpins or combs, she was limited. A knock on the bedroom door startled her. Surely Clay wasn’t leaving already?
When Mae Ann peaked around the door, Sophie breathed easier. “Please, come in.”
“Madeline is sleeping, the angel, and Cade has Willy, so I’m free for a visit.” She sat on the bed and stretched out her legs, leaning against the headboard. “I hope you don’t mind. I’m more comfortable with my feet up.”
“And you should be. Can I get you another pillow?”
“No, this is just right. It’s nice to do something other than lie in bed, smelling of wet flannels and McKesson’s baby powder, though I love Madeline more than I thought it possible to love a second child.”
She watched Sophie, who saw every innuendo of her facial expression reflected in the dressing-table mirror. And the one she saw at the moment said Mae Ann read Sophie like a copy of Peterson’s women’s magazine.
“That color is quite becoming on you.”
If Mae Ann said it brought out the gold in Sophie’s hair, she was going to take it off.
“What are you doing with your hair?”
“I have no idea. I’m not very good with pins and combs, and I don’t have any with me anyway.”
“I have several you may borrow if you’d like, but may I make a suggestion?”
Sophie locked on Mae Ann’s reflection in the mirror. “Please do.”
“Wear it the way you are most comfortable so you’re not fussing with it and distracted from more important things during your outing.”
“We’re just taking Cade to the train. It’s not exactly an outing.”
Mae Ann cocked an eyebrow that could have shot an arrow.
“All right,” Sophie conceded. “You have a point.”
“How are you most comfortable with your hair?”
“It’s not very fashionable but I usually wear it twisted in a knot at my neck because I know it won’t come loose and get in the way. But I’d rather pull it back with a ribbon, though that’s a childish way to wear it, I suppose, and I’m certainly no child.”
“Do you ever wear it in a braid?”
Sophie shook her head. “Not since I wore two of them in grade school.”
Mae Ann swung her feet to the floor. “I’ll be right back.”
When she returned, she held a long white ribbon, a curling iron, and several hair pins. “May I help you?”
Sophie felt the blush crawl her neck. She was here to help Mae Ann, not the other way around.
“For all you’ve done for me, let me do your hair.”
It was the warm smile that made her decision.
By the time Madeline fussed for her mother, Sophie’s hair was coiled in a loose braid and pinned low on her head with ribbon running through the braid. Soft tendrils framed her face, helped along by the curling iron heated in the lamp chimney.
She actually felt pretty. “Watching you makes me think I can do it myself.” She picked up her straw hat, which sat nicely without disturbing her hair.
Mae Ann gave her a quick hug. “You can. And we’re finished just in time. I think I hear dogs barking, in addition to Madeline squeaking.”
At the top of the landing, Mae Ann touched her arm. “Wait. I’ve one other thing.”
She returned from her bedroom with a soft white shawl. “It’s early enough to be chilly or for a spring wind to stir up rainclouds. Though in these high parks, as you know, it’s best to be prepared for anything. One of the strongest storms I’ve seen was in the summer.”
“How kind of you.” Sophie was well aware of extreme weather changes and appreciated Mae Ann’s thoughtfulness. “It’s much nicer than my heavy cloak.”
Watching the stairs, she didn’t realize Clay stood at the door until she was halfway down. When she glanced up, he was staring, hat in hand, and eyes full of something on which she dare not speculate.
She should have worn the other dress. The neckline of this one revealed the flush at the base of her throat.
He stepped forward. “You’re ready.”
A bit disappointing.
“You look … different.”
She might be sick.
“In a good way.” He regarded his feet, then met her eyes again. “You look beautiful.”
Did that mean she’d not yet looked very good to him and this was a shock? The see-saw lifted her heart and dropped it as quickly. “Thank you.”
Though grateful for his notice and mention of it, she prayed the trip would not be an emotional up-and-down outing. It would not do to lose her breakfast on any leg of the journey.
Mama was not in the great room, nor the kitchen.
“She’s outside talking to Deacon.” Clay thumbed over his shoulder.
Of course she was. And of course he could read her thoughts. Not exactly a comforting realization.
Cade came in and dashed past them up the stairs, where he met Mae Ann at the landing with a kiss.
Sophie could not move fast enough through the front door.
Mama and Deacon stood near the buckboard, his hat pushed back, cheeks ripe as summer plums.
Everyone had someone. Sophie felt like a misplaced shoe.
“Oh, look at you.” Mama took her hands. “That dress is perfect. It brings out the—”
“Thank you, Mama, for helping today.” A quick kiss on the cheek stopped the chafing phrase, and Sophie lifted her skirt to climb to the seat.
Clay was beside her before the first step, and with his hands at her waist rather than her elbow, he assisted her the rest of the way. She took the second seat that Cade had built in for his growing family and saw disappointment in Clay’s eyes. “Thank you, but I will be just fine here. I’m sure you two have things to discuss on the way.”
Mama and Deacon each leaned slightly toward the other, though not touching. Sophie felt like the mother watching her child in the throes of young love, a completely disconcerting position in which to be. She didn’t need help feeling old.
Cade blew through the front door with a storm on his face and a satchel in hand. Neither did she envy Clay’s posit
ion beside him all the way to town.
Nervousness stretched the drive into eternal dimensions, yet the train had not left and was building up steam as they pulled in at the depot. She remained seated while the two men walked to the passenger car. Less than two weeks ago at this very depot, she’d watched Clay lead the injured stallion down a ramp and through a crowd as if it were the most casual of all events. It felt much longer than that.
Good heavens, but the memory stirred her all over again, nearly as much as the look in his eye from where he stood next to the buckboard indicating the front bench.
~
Clay had hoped Sophie would move up on her own and was disappointed to find her still sitting on the makeshift backseat. He offered his hand, and she took it while edging her way around the end of the bench.
The train’s whistle blew, and he turned out of the depot yard and back toward town.
Sophie looked down Saddle Blossom Lane as they crossed it but didn’t mention Snowfield’s and Betsy. He was selfishly pleased. He didn’t want to share her with anyone today, though he expected her to check on the Eisner woman. In fact, he hoped she would. It’d give him a chance to stop by Bozeman’s for a picnic.
Not that he was clever enough to think of it. A fellow student at the school had shared how he’d taken his girl on a picnic and proposed, and she said yes.
Clay ran a finger around the inside of his shirt collar. “Would you like to stop by the tailor’s to check on Mrs. Eisner?”
Sophie looked at him with a mix of surprise and gratitude. “Yes, I would. How did you—never mind.” A smile lifted her mouth and his hopes at the same time.
He stopped in front of the store, glad to see it was open, and handed Sophie down. “Take your time. I’ve a couple things to tend to.”
With a clear view through the front window, he waited until he saw Mrs. Eisner greet Sophie, then flicked the reins and pulled up again in the next block.
Bozeman’s was running at full throttle.
“Mornin’.” Hoss jerked a nod on his way by. “Sit anywhere.”
Clay stood his ground and caught the man on his way back. “Can you pack a picnic dinner?”
Hoss stopped and set his coffee pot on the counter. “How soon?”
“Now.”
An Impossible Price: Front Range Brides - Book 3 Page 14