Cait had lifted her eyes and looked right into his as she made her plea for forgiveness and Gabe’s heart melted at the anguish he saw there. She really cared what he thought of her, he realized with wonder. And she really cared about her horse, for she was willing to give him up if it was better for Sky, no matter how painful it was for her.
He turned to set the pitchfork down and heard her little gasp of pain. She thought he was turning away from her in anger, ignoring her apology, he realized and without thinking, he turned back and reached out to her. “No, no, it is all right, Miss Cait,” he whispered soothingly as he pulled her into his arms. Or maybe she just walked right into them. He didn’t know, but he held her tenderly as she sobbed against his chest.
“I’m so sorry.”
“I know….”
“I don’t know if you can ever forgive me?”
Without thinking, he dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “Of course, I forgive you.”
“I promise I’ll stay away from him, if you think that’s right….”
Gabe gently released her and stepped back a little. Sweet Jesus, he had better watch himself, he realized. He wanted to kiss her tears away, to touch his lips to that sweet mouth to stop her crying.
“I don’t think that’s necessary, darlin’,” he said without thinking. “Though I doubt he’ll let you do too much with him for a while anyway.”
“Then you think he will eventually?” she asked, her eyes full of such hope and hurt that Gabe wanted to pull her into his arms again.
He hooked his thumbs into his belt to keep from reaching out to her. “He let me take the halter off. He even let me rub some salve onto his cheeks. He wouldn’t let me go near his back, though,” Gabe admitted. “It will take a little time before he is back to where he was.”
He could see that she was about to give him another agonized apology. “Now, Miss Cait, what’s done is done. No use crying or tormenting yourself. Everyone misjudges a horse at one time or another. I know I have rushed one or two in my time.”
“I just wish I could explain it better, even to myself,” she said with a watery little smile.
“There’s some things you just can’t put to rest with words.” Gabe paused. “I guess I know that because I’m not real good with words myself. Not like my ma or my sister Sarah Ellen. Now they would go on talking forever trying to make sense of something,” he added with a grin.
“Sometimes words are the only way to make sense of things, don’t you think?”
“Maybe. And those are the times I’d rather be working a horse. I just can’t explain myself in words, the way women can,” he said with a little tinge of bitterness.
His tone made Cait wonder if he was speaking of a woman other than his mother or sister. She thought probably he was and was surprised at the stab of jealousy she felt for a moment.
“I’m glad of that, if it means you can’t say what a little fool I acted or how angry you are with me.”
“Was. I was angry this morning. But I was worried too,” he added.
“I know, Sky could really have hurt himself because I tied him.”
It was probably just as well she didn’t realize what he’d meant. She didn’t imagine he was worried about her safety. That he’d been terrified that he’d lost her. Which was ridiculous, when she wasn’t his to lose.
“Thank you, Mr. Hart,” she said shyly, putting out her hand.
He took it and squeezed it gently. “Your ma and pa call me Gabe, Miss Cait.”
“Thank you, Gabe.” She withdrew her hand slowly and then said nervously, “I’d better get back to the house. I’m sure supper is almost ready and Ma’s cooked a special one.”
“That’s right, it is Mr. Beecham’s last night, isn’t it?” Gabe observed coolly.
“Yes, he leaves early in the morning with Jake. But he’ll be back in a month’s time….” Cait stopped.
“To take you back east with him.”
“Yes,” she said with a quick smile. “Good evening, Gabe. And thank you again.”
“Good evening, Miss Cait.”
* * * *
Jake and Henry left right after breakfast the next morning. After a tearful good-bye, Cait set herself to do some of the mending that had piled up in her mother’s basket.
“Are ye sure ye don’t want to ride with us, Cait?” Michael asked.
“No, Da, you and Ma go ahead. You two haven’t had any time alone for a while,” she added with a teasing smile.
“She’s right, ye know, Elizabeth,” said Michael as they rode down the road. “Since Cait got home, the only time I have ye to myself is in bed. And while that is always lovely, a ghra, I miss you during the day.”
They cantered across the sage-covered plain and then climbed one of the small ridges that bordered the valley, stopping at one of their favorite spots, which was shaded by an old twisted juniper.
They dismounted and Elizabeth sat with her back against Michael’s chest and looked over the valley. “So, what do you think of our daughter’s choice, Michael?” she asked after a few minutes of comfortable silence.
“He seems a fine young man, but…” Michael sighed.
Elizabeth laughed. “But what?”
“But I hate the thought of her leaving us, and to go so far away. I know she must, because she loves him. And us maybe not even gettin’ to the wedding if it is at Christmastime.”
“You are right about Henry, Michael. He is a fine young man. I just don’t think he is the man for Cait, however, and I only hope she finds out before she marries him.”
“You are serious, Elizabeth, aren’t you?” said Michael with concern in his voice.
“I am. I may be wrong, but I think that although she has a lot of affection and admiration for Henry, it does not add up to love, the kind of love I would have her base her marriage on.”
“And what of Henry?”
“Oh, I am sure he loves her. But from some things she has said, I think she is a little disappointed in his physical demonstration of his affection. I talked to her a little about my marriage to Thomas. It may be that I am wrong, Michael, for Henry might just be more reserved, especially at her parents’ house.”
“I hope you are wrong, a ghra. And I hope you are right,” he said, laughing, “because then she won’t want to be leavin’ us.”
* * * *
Cait had finished mending the hem of her mother’s petticoat and replaced the buttons on two of Elizabeth’s shirtwaists when she pulled an unfamiliar shirt out of the basket. It was an old blue denim, worn so soft that one of the cuffs was pulling away from the sleeve. As she turned it inside out, she realized that it was twin to the torn shirt Gabe Hart had used with Sky. It would be just like her mother to notice it and offer to mend it for him.
The shirt had been laundered, but the faint smell of healthy male clung to it and without thinking, Cait buried her face in the soft cotton and drank it in. It brought her back instantly to the moment yesterday when she was held in Gabe Hart’s arms. She hadn’t been conscious of anything then, except her shame and remorse. But her body must have taken in the way he smelled and the way he felt, for she could once again feel his hard chest under the soft cotton shirt and smell his distinctive scent: a combination of plain soap and healthy sweat. Henry didn’t smell like that; he smelted of cologne and hair oil.
Her cheeks became hot as she realized what she was thinking, and she thrust the shirt back under the other clothes. Whatever was she doing, clutching Mr. Hart’s shirt and daydreaming of a moment that was nothing more than a gesture of comfort. And why did she keep comparing the two men? There could be no comparison. Henry Beecham was a well-educated, brilliant man whom she could talk to about anything. (If anything meant books and ideas and politics, a little voice in her head reminded her.) Gabe Hart was an inarticulate horse breaker. He himself had said it: he wasn’t very good with words, or, he’d hinted, with women. He couldn’t be compared to Henry. And yet…when he had waltzed her away from Juan
Chavez, when he had lifted her down from the fence, and when he had pulled her into his arms, something stirred in her. She tried to summon up a picture of Henry at his most handsome: in black evening dress, with a starched white shirt and elegant pumps. She’d so admired him at Susan’s birthday dance. But his picture kept fading and in its place was a tall, lean, blond-haired cowboy in a well-worn blue shirt and denims and dusty boots. His silver hair shone in the sunlight. His blue eyes blazed out of his tanned face.
According to her mother, it was all right to find another man attractive, she reassured herself. It meant very little as long as you were happy with the man you loved. She hadn’t met that many handsome men in her life, after all. It was only natural that she’d notice Mr. Hart, even feel a little stir of interest. There was certainly nothing to worry about, for he had no feeling for her. He hadn’t even liked her very much in the beginning, she was sure. And when she went back east, she’d never see him again.
Chapter Sixteen
Three days later, Gabe knocked on the Burkes’ door. “I’m leaving for town now, Mr. Burke. Is there anything I can pick up for you besides the mail?”
“We could use a packet of tea, Gabe. Just don’t leave your sister behind,” teased Michael.
“You look very handsome, Gabe,” said Elizabeth.
“Thank you, ma’am.”
He did, thought Cait, who was sitting with her parents at the kitchen table. He was obviously wearing his best clothes, a white shirt and a pair of gray wool pants. Except for the dance, she never saw him out of jeans and chaps. His hat was brushed clean and his boots polished.
“Will she recognize you, Gabe?” asked Elizabeth. “You haven’t seen each other in such a long time.”
“Well, I’ve grown a few inches and put on a few pounds and I’m a bit wrinkled, but I reckon I look enough like I did at eighteen for her to know me. I’ll know her, for I’m sure she’s grown into the image of our ma.”
When Gabe reached town, he tied the wagon in front of the telegraph office where the stage would come in and went in to get the mail. In his eagerness, he’d left early and had time to go into the store and shop around. He picked up the packet of tea, and felt his own coins jingling in his pocket. He’d been paid only two days ago and he’d brought a little with him so he could get a thank-you present for Mrs. Burke.
White sugar was always a luxury, so he had the storekeeper wrap up a packet of that. Then he saw the ribbon: it was a deep green velvet and he immediately imagined it tying back Caitlin Burke’s dark brown hair. He ran his finger over the soft nap and in his mind, his fingers were tying it around her curls. But he couldn’t bring her such a personal present. He had no right to give her a present at all. But then he realized that there were lengths of dark blue and burgundy right next to the green. He could get some ribbons for each of the women: blue for Elizabeth, burgundy for Sadie, and the green for Cait. That wouldn’t look strange at all.
By the time the clerk had wrapped his ribbon, he heard the rattle of the stagecoach and hurried outside. He had a moment of panic as Elizabeth’s teasing words came back to him. What if he didn’t recognize her? What if Sadie didn’t know him?
Sadie was the first passenger down and as she stepped out all his doubts fled. She was not as tall or rangy as their ma, but her hair was the same reddish-blond and her eyes the same blue. And she had more freckles now than she had when she was fifteen.
The sun was in her eyes and she stood there, looking around when he stepped in front of her.
“Sadie?”
“Oh, Gabe!” She flung her arms around him and he could feel her shoulders begin to shake.
“Now, Sarah Ellen Hart, don’t you start crying or you’ll have me bawling on the street like a baby,” he warned in a choked-up voice. She stepped out of his arms and started fumbling with her reticule.
“Here, Sadie,” he said, pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiping her cheeks dry. He ran his hand over his own quickly to erase the evidence of his own emotion.
“It has been such a long time, Gabe,” she said softly. “I can’t tell you how much I have missed you.”
“And I’ve missed y’all, too, Sadie.”
“Well, if you did,” she said sharply, “why didn’t you just come home, damn it! Especially when May ran off.”
“I don’t know, Sadie,” Gabe confessed. “I guess she made home a place where I was ashamed to be. And once I got to wandering, it just became harder and harder to think of it, I always wrote, you know,” he added in his own defense.
“Because I threatened to send the Rangers after you if you didn’t! And what if Ma hadn’t been a schoolteacher and made you do all that reading and writing?”
“Wal, I guess I would have had to send you the occasional telegram then, Sadie,” he drawled. “Is this all you have?” he asked, looking down at her worn carpetbag.
“Just that, though it’s a heavy one.”
“It sure is. Do you want a lemonade or something before we start off?”
“That would be very nice, Gabe,” she said, tucking her arm in his. “Did you find me a place to stay here in town?”
“The Burkes insisted you take their spare room. That way we’ll see each other a lot more while you’re here.”
Sadie frowned. “Are you sure that will be all right, Gabe?”
“You’ll like them real well, Sadie. I feel…well, as close to feeling at home there as I ever have since I left Texas.”
Gabe went back to the store and asked for two cups of lemonade. There was a bench outside and he and Sadie sat down and looked at each other and smiled.
“Do you remember when Pa would take us into town?” asked Sadie.
“How could I forget? You’d be begging and whining for molasses candy the whole ride.”
“It was good when Ma was alive, wasn’t it, Gabe?” she said softly.
“It was.”
They were both quiet for a moment and Sadie watched the townspeople go by. There was a good-looking bay tied across the street in front of the bank and she was just about to point it out when she felt Gabe stiffen as a man came out of the saloon next door. He was not a very big man, but he moved with a strength and grace that reminded her of animals in the wild. He was dressed Mexican-style and a sombrero hung down his back.
“Do you know him, Gabe?” Sadie asked.
“I know him,” her brother said shortly, his hand automatically brushing his leg where his holster usually hung.
“You clearly don’t like him,” she said, with a touch of humor. “Who is he? He’s dressed like a Mexican, but he doesn’t really look like one.”
“His name is Juan Chavez. He’s a hired gun for Nelson Mackie, the big landholder around here. Land-grabber is more like it.”
The Mexican crossed the street and approached them.
“Damn,” Gabe cursed under his breath. “Come on, Sadie, let’s go.”
“Señor Hart. Who is this charming señorita with you?”
The words were polite enough, but somehow the tone was insulting. Even Sadie could tell that. She was tall for a woman and she didn’t have to lift her face too much to give him one of her best schoolteacher looks. She almost gasped when she saw his eyes: they were the coldest and greenest she had ever seen.
“This is my sister, Señor Chavez.”
“Now that you tell me, I can see the resemblance. Encantado, señorita.”
Sadie just nodded her head and tried to look through him.
“I hope you enjoy your visit, señorita. I am sure your brother will keep you safe. Adios.”
“Come on, Sadie,” said Gabe, “the wagon is over here.”
Neither spoke until they were on the edge of town.
“Was he threatening you, Gabe?”
“That’s what he is paid for, Sadie. He’s so good at it, he’s managed to drive quite a few ranchers out of the valley.”
“I can imagine he’s good at it. Those eyes of his….”
“The
y call him El Lobo. It’s not a bad name for him,” said Gabe, “for he goes right for the weak.”
“So is his boss after the Burkes’ too?”
“Mackie’s made two offers already and sent Chavez out to the ranch.” Gabe hesitated. “A few sheep were poisoned, but no one can prove it wasn’t jimson weed. If I could have reached you in time, I would have told you not to come, Sadie, much as I missed you,” he added, his voice strained and worried.
“I’m glad you couldn’t, then,” Sadie said matter-of-factly. “I can take good care of myself, Gabe. You don’t need to be worrying.”
“Whatever happens, I sure am glad you’re here,” said Gabe, giving her a quick, hard hug.
By the time they reached the ranch, Gabe had told Sadie all about the Burke family, the size of their spread, and the history of their horses. “They are beautiful, Gabe,” said Sadie as she admired the horses in the far pasture.
“I’m working the yearlings and the two-year-olds. It’s all going well except for one.”
“A rogue, Gabe? I hope you have more sense than to think you can do anything with that kind of horse.”
“No, just a two-year-old who’s been terrified of anything coming near his back since he was attacked by a mountain lion.”
They had reached the near pasture and Gabe pulled up. “There he is, Sadie, over in the south corner.”
Sadie saw a black horse covered with silver-dollar-size spots look over his shoulder curiously. “He is beautiful, Gabe.”
“His name is Night Sky. He was coming along real well until this week,” Gabe said with an exasperated sigh.
“Did you push him too fast, Gabe? That’s not like you.” Sadie knew Gabe had the patience of a saint with horses. On the other hand, if this one was so special, he might well have been tempted to push a little, she thought.
“Not me, Sadie. Sky is Miss Burke’s horse. Her fiancé was here and she was a little too eager to show Sky off.”
Journey of the Heart Page 14