Her father signaled for the nurse to pull his invalid chair from the table. “Birdie is going to take you into town so you can purchase a new wardrobe. I’m sure you’ll be needing some clothes. You may want to pick up one or two dresses and other garments at the general store for everyday right now, and then Birdie will take you to see the dressmaker. I‘ve already sent word to the woman that you may order as many as you please.”
The tight knot inside of her stomach began to slowly unravel. Maybe this man did care about her. Maybe life with him would not be so bad. She nodded and stood. “Thank you very much. . .Father.”
“Papa, you always called me Papa.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And,” he put down his fork. “I have a surprise coming for you at the end of the week.”
***
Addie’s fingers touched the cloth tied round her eyes. She felt ridiculous, like a child at a birthday party playing that silly donkey game. The small hands on her arm, leading her out the door, possessed strong fingers.
“It’s all right. Just a few more steps and we’ll stop,” Birdie’s voice told her.
The stone porch was hard beneath the fashionable slippers on her feet, but so evenly set that she had no worry of tripping. Where were those stairs that led to the ground? Her heart began to race ahead of her thoughts. She could trust Birdie. Couldn’t she? And why was her father forcing her to do such a childish thing? If he had a present for her, why not just tell her?
“Here we are, Addie,” the housekeeper told her.
The casual use of her name by the household staff was still strange for her to hear. But after spending over a week at the ranch, she was getting used to it. The sound of her father’s wheeled chair greeted her ears as his nurse rolled him across the porch. She listened until his nurse brought his chair up beside her, stopping and pulling the gears on the chair to keep it from rolling.
“All right, Birdie, take the blindfold off.”
Bright sunlight greeted her eyes and she blinked, allowing a moment for her vision to adjust.
“There she is! What do you think of her?” Her father’s voice was full of excitement.
Addie stared. Foley, the ranch hand was standing at the bottom of the steps. His hat pushed back on his head, he was grinning at her, his hands holding the reins of a horse. A dark horse. In the bright sunlight, it was hard to determine if it was brown or black.
Addie turned to her father. “She’s . . .well, she’s pretty.” For a horse. What else was she supposed to say, and why would he make such a big production of showing the creature to her?
“She is, isn’t she? From the Bolton Double B Ranch down south of us. Finest horses in the area. I knew you’d like her.”
Addie nodded. He. . .couldn’t mean . . .
Her words came out in a gasp. “I. . .you mean the horse is. . .is mine?”
“Well of course she is. I sent the foreman over there on a special trip to pick her out. Only the best for my girl. Now get on down there and say hello to her. I‘ve got a special saddle coming for you. It should be finished and delivered in another day or two.”
Addie hesitated. “But. . .Fath. . .Papa, I. . .don’t know anything about horses.
His eyes opened wide as he stared at her face. “Are you telling me that you’ve never ridden? Ever?”
She shook her head and tried to swallow, but her throat was dry as the dirt the horse stood upon. “My grandfather was very old-fashioned. He felt it was un-ladylike for a woman to ride a horse.” She watched surprise cross his face before anger took its place.
He spoke in a roar. “Un-ladylike? And what else did the old fool keep you from?”
Addie clamped her jaw. How dare he speak of Grandfather in that manner. He had been a good man. At least he had always treated her with respect.
“I don’t think you understand–”
Samson leaned forward, almost toppling from his chair. The nurse grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back. He shrugged away from her grasp and leaned toward Addie again. “You don‘t think I understand? Let me tell you, daughter, I understand much more than you think. Your mother took you away from me and kept you in that. . .that mausoleum of a house with her controlling parents. They thought they were better than me because they were English. Better because they never had to work for anything they had. . .better because they were some sort of pure-bred people. . .better–”
She stepped away from him and put her hands over her ears. She wouldn’t listen to another word of the fury he was spewing into the air. Her mother and grandparents loved her, took care of her. Which was more than he had ever done.
“You take your hands away and listen to me?”
She choked on the sob in her throat. There was no way to block his words unless she left. He was still talking when she gathered her skirt in her hands and turned to the still open front door. Once inside, she slammed it behind her, at last stopping the sound of his voice from reaching her ears.
Chapter 17
Addie stared out her bedroom window. She could see Mark standing below, near the porch. His hands held the reins of her horse, as well as those of the white mount he had ridden to the ranch.
Papa had talked him in to teaching her to ride. Like she was his small child in need of instruction, with no thought to whether she even wanted to learn. At least he had been civil to her the past few days. Maybe he regretted his outburst against her mother and grandparents. Perhaps the continual pain in his legs put him in a bad mood. Or maybe he was just an angry old man, bent on making her life as miserable as his own seemed to be. That seemed the most likely answer.
She moved to the long mirror and picked up the ivory brush from the nearby dresser, smoothing its bristles across her hair, swept back and held with a burgundy ribbon. The dark blue riding skirt and white waist she wore would surely show any dirt the horse kicked up, but it seemed, according to Birdie, that it was the thing she ought to wear. She cringed as she looked down to the boots, made visible by the shorter length of the skirt. Surely no lady should be seen in such a garment. But, so far, these Texas women were no ladies, at least not by English standards.
A knock sounded at her door. It would be Birdie, telling her that Mark was ready for her lesson.
***
Mark kicked at the pebbles with his boot tip. Samson Fleming. The man acted as if he was a king, with everyone in the surrounding area anxious to obey his every command. The rancher had a lot of cheek, expecting him to dance to his every wish. Yet, here he was, waiting for the royal daughter to make her entrance so he could teach her to ride a horse. A skill his five year-old niece already possessed.
The front door opened, and Addie stepped outside. His disgust and anger melted at once. She was as beautiful as he remembered. Or tried not to remember. But she had been in his thoughts often.
He watched her every move as she came toward him, lightly running down the steps. The soft wind caught at the strands of her dark hair, sending a strand of purple ribbon floating around her perfect face. She stopped in front of him and offered a sweet smile.
He jerked the hat from his head, rustling his blond hair in the breeze.
“Morning, Addie.” His heart hammered in his ears, almost blocking out the sound of his own voice. Surely she couldn’t hear it.
She nodded. “Good morning to you, too. I see you’ve made it for an early lesson.”
Mark nodded and glanced at her clothing. “You look as if you’re ready to ride. Now that he was here, looking in her dark eyes, speaking to her, he had no objections to spending the next few hours in her company. And however many weeks it would take to make her an expert rider, made it seem like nothing but pleasure ahead.
She smiled and adjusted the straw hat she was wearing. “Of course. I’m quite ready to go, whenever. . .” her eyes were on the horse. “There must be some mistake. I thought my horse was already saddled and ready.”
Mark turned to the dark horse and glanced at the saddle. “She is. . .but
. . .” he glanced at Addie again “is there a problem?”
“I can’t ride on that saddle,” she gasped, her eyes meeting his. “Where is my side-saddle? Father said he ordered a special saddle just for me.”
Mark tried to hide the grin he felt working its way to his face. “This is the special saddle. Made by the best leather worker in the state. None of the women here ride side-saddle. In fact, you’d be hard pressed to find a woman that’s ever seen one.”
Scarlet streaks began to form across her cheeks. “Well, they’ll see one soon.” She turned and began to stomp back up the steps.
“Wait a minute, Addie,” Mark called. He slung the reins over a hitching post and sprinted after her. What was she so worked up about? Didn’t she know that side-saddles were dangerous?
“Addie! Come back here!” Surprise bolted through him when she actually stopped and turned to him. He hurried forward. A little sense talked into the girl could avoid a confrontation with Samson Fleming. That would be a big bonus to his own relationship with the crotchety man.
She put her hands on her hips and stood waiting. “What?”
Mark sucked in his breath. Her eyes were all but sparking with fury. She couldn’t possibly be that upset about the saddle. Mark swallowed hard and caught his breath. “There’s no shame in riding a western saddle, Addie.”
She folded her arms in front of her. “I will not ride astride! I am a lady!”
All she had to do was stomp her foot and she would complete his image of a spoiled child. He scratched his head and sighed. Reasoning with this woman might just prove to be an uphill battle. “Look, that’s the way all the women here ride. A side-saddle would only make you. . .conspicuous.”
A short laugh sounded from her throat. He was pretty sure it wasn’t because something he said was funny.
“Oh, really. You mean I wouldn’t blend in with all the backwoods, uneducated people around? Wouldn’t that be a shame?”
He would stand for a lot of foolish talk. But insulting his family, friends, and neighbors was crossing the line. As he spoke, he felt the heat rise to his cheeks. “Are you saying that you’re better than all the folks around here?”
The defiance on her face wavered and she dropped her arms to her side. “Well. . .no. . .no, of course that’s not what I mean. It’s just. . .it’s just. . .the area where I come from, the way I’ve been brought up, it would be an embarrassment for a woman to ride in western fashion.”
He nodded and put his hat back on his head and grinned. “Well you can put your embarrassment to rest. You‘re in Texas, now. You’ll get used to the idea, Addie.”
Chapter 18
“I think we’d better try this in a nice, grassy area,” Mark told her, offering her the reins of her horse. “You can walk her right here alongside me until we find a good place.”
She gave a slight tug and felt a jolt of pleasure when the horse actually started forward with her. She hurried ahead, lest the animal step on her.
“What did you name her?” Mark asked.
She glanced back at the animal. She‘d never had a pet or any other creature to name, before today. “I hadn’t really thought about it. What are some good horse names?”
Mark laughed and shook his head. “Just whatever you want to name her. She’s your horse, so you get to pick.”
“I see. What about your horse. What is her name?”
He chuckled. “My niece named this one, Sugar Pie. I kind of compromise and just call her Sugar.”
Addie laughed. “I guess it’s not a good idea to let a little girl name your horse.”
Mark smiled and shrugged. “I don’t mind. I let the kids name most of my horses. They think it’s fun. Of course, when you‘re downtown Chance, you don‘t want to have to go out on the street and whistle for Mud Ball to come.”
“Oh no!” She laughed. “What do you call him?”
He shrugged. “Muddy. I think most folks think I m saying Buddy.”
“So if I can’t think of a name, I can just bring her to your house and your nieces and nephews will name her?”
“I’m sure they’d be willing,” Mark agreed.
“Well, since she’s so dark, I’m glad Mud Ball is already taken.”
“Lucky you,” he teased. “Everyone at home is anxious to meet you. Maybe after you’ve had a few lessons, we can ride over there one day. I‘ll show you the horse I‘m going to ride in the Independence Day race in town. He’s a fast one. I’m likely to win, this year.”
She nodded and smiled. “I’d like that.”
He stopped and looked around them. “How about right here? Looks like this might be a good spot.”
***
“First thing, you have your reins in your hand and you grab on to the saddle horn. Like so.”
Addie nodded and watched his every move. Whiling away the morning hours with him was not so bad. He was sweet, funny, and handsome, in a country sort of way. What more could a girl wish in a masculine companion? Except maybe money, if such a companion was a suitor for marriage, she sighed. She’d never thought of money as possessing such importance until she didn’t have any. Of course, Mr. Murphy probably didn’t have any either, else he wouldn’t be here working for Father. Papa. . .she was supposed to call him Papa.
“All right. Now what?” she asked.
“Put your left foot in the stirrup, like this, then pull with your hand and push with your foot to bring yourself up to the saddle. Throw your leg over and you’re on your horse.” He swung up easily and gave a gentle tug to the horse’s reins as she stomped a little.
It looked easy enough. Surely she could do something that so many people seemed to do with ease. She swallowed back the stab of fear in her side. If only the animal wasn’t so big. It made her nervous whenever it started moving very fast. What if it stepped on her? What if it. . .
The horse snorted as Mark came back down. “Whoa, girl!”
She watched him pull on the reins and quiet the steed. “I. . .don’t know. Why is she so. . .so nervous?”
Mark smiled and handed the reins to her. “She’s just getting to know us. She senses you’re a little nervous, too. Don’t worry, I’m right here to help you.”
Clutching the leather straps, she grabbed the saddle horn, as Mark had demonstrated. Foot in the stirrup, she pulled up with all her might.
“Get your leg over!” Mark shouted, as he grabbed her arm.
Fear raced down her spine as she clutched at the horses mane. How had she landed practically on her stomach without her leg over the saddle?
“OK. Let’s try that again,” he said. “Your foot is still in the stirrup and I’ll catch you as you come back down.”
His hands were warm around her waist as she felt the ground under her feet. For a moment she felt his warm breath on her neck, then he quickly stepped away. Still shaky, she pressed her face into the side of the saddle and breathed in the smell of leather and polish. Mark must think she was a complete dunce.
“Sorry. I guess that wasn’t exactly right,” she gave a slight laugh to cover her embarrassment.
He smiled. “You’ll get it. Ready to try again?”
She stood straight. Blowing out a breath, she nodded. “I think so.”
“I’ll stand right here. I won’t let you fall,” he promised.
A thrill of astonishment coursed through her as she landed perfectly on the saddle. “I did it!”
Mark laughed. “Yes. Now you need to practice it some more.”
“But I’m already on. Why not ride a little bit?” she reasoned.
He shook his head and took the reins from her hand. “Not yet. A few more times of getting on and we’ll talk about maybe me walking the horse while you ride.”
Chapter 19
Addie plopped down on the soft grass and watched the horses as they made their way to the small pond down the hill. Maybe riding lessons a few days a week wasn’t such a bad thing. She closed her eyes and allowed the sun to warm her face. She should put t
he hat on, save her skin, but there was something so freeing about being bare headed. And she had seen several women in town without hats. Perhaps Mark was right. Maybe a little less correctness was good for one who was stranded in such a place.
Mark removed his hat and sat beside her. He reached into his jacket pocket. “Here. Have an apple. My aunt thought we might enjoy them when we took a break from riding. These must be some of the last still stored in the cellar.”
She took it and stared. It was green. Like the one she had planned to feed to the horse pulling their buggy the day Mark brought her home. She blinked as the tears threatened.
“Something wrong?”
She sighed. “I was just thinking of the apple Mrs. Miller gave me. I was going to feed it to. . .that horse.”
He nodded. “It was a hard day. I’m sorry that turned out the way it did.”
She shook her head. No need to keep digging that terrible memory up. She took the fruit from his hand and sunk her teeth into the soft flesh. A stream of liquid flowed down her chine. She caught the sweet juice with her fingers before it dropped to her waist.
She glanced at Mark. He must think her a sloppy eater.
But there was no disapproval in his eyes. In fact, there was. . .something about his stare sent her heart pounding in her chest. She looked away from him and concentrated on the hills in the distance.
She cleared her throat. “How long have you lived here?”
Mark shrugged and swallowed his bite of apple. “About all my life. My family came here from Tennessee years ago.”
“So you’ve known my father for a long time?”
He nodded. “Not very well, until recently. I’ve done a few special carving orders for him.”
She smiled. “You did a very nice job on the fireplace mantel.” She took another bite and chewed.
Chance Creek Brides (Volumes 1-3 & the Stagecoach Bride) Page 27