by Pam Hillman
“I’m fine. Headed to Laramie for a few days.” He propped an arm on the stack of cloth, his stance blocking any hope of a graceful exit. The barest hint of a smile still played about his lips, never touching pitch-colored eyes that gauged her every move. “I stopped by the Lazy M on my way into town to tell you good-bye, and your grandmother said you were here. We had a nice long chat.”
“Oh?” She fingered a piece of red calico, her gaze drawn to his manicured fingers. An image of Slade’s work-scarred hands handling the reins of the team on the way into town tumbled into her thoughts, and she wondered if that was what bothered her about Frederick. He just seemed too perfect. Perfectly groomed, perfectly dressed. Perfectly boring, down to his perfectly styled mustache.
He leaned in, demanding her attention. “Mariah, darling, I heard a disturbing rumor yesterday.”
She wasn’t his darling, but she let the familiarity go unchallenged. Frederick had a habit of calling her “darling” and “dear.” She’d given up convincing him to stop. He also had a habit of asking her to marry him, but she’d managed to avoid giving him a direct answer up to now.
“A rumor? Frederick, you shouldn’t be spreading rumors.” She laughed off his somber mood, moved away, and pretended to be engrossed in a bolt of green-sprigged gingham. If he was in a hurry to make it to the train station, he wouldn’t take the time to ask her to marry him right in the middle of the mercantile.
“I heard you sold the Lazy M.”
Her gaze jerked to meet his. “Where did you hear that?”
“Is it true?”
“It’s true.” No need denying what the whole town would know before long.
“This Donovan.” His lips curled. “What do you know of him? Where’d he come from?”
“I don’t really know anything about him.” Mariah bit her lip. She wasn’t obligated to answer Frederick’s questions. “You’ll have to ask him yourself.”
Something flickered in his eyes but was quickly masked. “You should have asked my opinion. I’m sure I could have gotten a better price for the land.”
“I got the best price I could.” She lifted her chin.
“I think I’ve hurt your feelings. I’m sorry.” He flashed a disarming smile. “Actually, you’ve probably done both of us a favor by selling now. You’ll have the money, and we won’t have to worry about finding a buyer once we’re married.”
Mariah turned away. “Frederick, I have never said I’d marry you—”
“But it’s just a matter of time.”
“I don’t—”
He took her fingers and kissed the back of her hand. “Think it over while I’m gone, Mariah. Like I said—it’s only a matter of time before you say yes.”
She stood rooted to the spot as he left the store, calling out a cheerful good-bye to Mr. Thompkins. She sighed.
Other suitors had come to call after her father had died, but none had been as persistent as Frederick. Maybe he truly did care for her. She moved to the window and watched him stride away from the mercantile toward the train station. Could he be the answer to her prayers?
The Lazy M wagon, groaning under a load of lumber, rattled to a stop in front of the store. Slade set the brake and jumped down from the wagon, settled his hat more firmly on his head, and strode toward the door, full of purposeful intent. Mariah’s attention swung from the man who wanted her to stay to the man who wanted her to go.
Lord, it would be much easier if I just cared enough for Frederick to marry him. Then he would take care of everything.
Soon they were on their way back to the ranch. Mariah twisted the corded drawstring on her handbag. How should she broach the subject of money? Or rather, the lack of it. She peeked at Slade. “Uh . . .”
“Something on your mind?”
“Yes, actually there is. I couldn’t help but notice the lumber. I don’t think buying lumber on credit is a good idea. It takes every dime to pay the hands and keep Amanda in school.” Hastily she added, “I’m not trying to tell you how to run things. I just thought you needed to know. About the money, that is.”
He studied her for a moment before replying, “I’ve got a little savings. I can afford a few pieces of lumber.”
She nodded, relieved.
He lightly slapped the reins against the horses’ rumps, and they picked up the pace. “Do you mind if I ask a question?”
“No, of course not.”
“Why is your sister in Philadelphia at some fancy finishing school if the ranch has been doing so poorly lately? Seems a mite selfish to me.”
Finishing school? Was that what he thought? “Amanda doesn’t have a selfish bone in her body. She’s—”
“Just seems like the money could be better spent on the ranch.”
Mariah pressed her lips together. He hadn’t given her a chance to explain. He didn’t care about Amanda; he’d only asked because of the money. “Maybe I want her to have a better chance in life, just as you want for your family.”
Turning away, she stared at the familiar countryside, blinking back hot, frustrated tears. Slade didn’t know Amanda was the sweetest, most giving person in the world. It wasn’t her sister’s fault she couldn’t enjoy what most people took for granted or that she would probably never marry and have a family of her own.
And it wasn’t Amanda’s fault she would never see the light of day again. The fault lay entirely with Mariah—and she would never let herself forget it.
CHAPTER SIX
THE CREAK OF METAL SPRINGS and leather harness drifted over the still afternoon. Mariah wiped her hands and stepped to the edge of the porch, shading her eyes to get a better look at the rig headed down the lane toward the house.
A smile tugged at her lips. The buggy and gelding belonged to her best friend, Sally Winston. Mariah waved, and Sally slapped the reins against the gelding’s hindquarters. The horse trotted faster.
When Sally stepped down from the buggy, Mariah hugged her. “It’s so good to see you. What are you doing out here in the middle of the week?”
“I needed some fresh air.” A smile graced Sally’s round face. “George is working on his sermon for Sunday. He’s pacing back and forth and driving me crazy. He says he can’t think of anything profound to say.”
Mariah laughed. Sally could always be relied on to find humor in every situation. She linked arms with her friend and led her inside. “Won’t you stay for supper?”
“Thank you, but no. I can’t stay long.”
Sally took off her bonnet and smoothed her hair as they entered the kitchen. “How’s your grandmother?”
“She’s fine. Napping right now.” Mariah busied herself at the stove, making a fresh pot of coffee. “Her joints have been acting up lately, but today she’s doing much better. I’ll wake her. She’ll be so glad to see you.”
“No, don’t. Let her rest. I’ll step in and say hello before I leave.”
As soon as the coffee boiled, Mariah poured two cups and offered Sally a tea cake from the batch she’d made yesterday. Then she sat down and chose a cookie for herself.
Sally crumbled her cookie on the plate and fidgeted with her cup. “Mariah, I heard a rumor this morning in the mercantile and just had to come see for myself.”
Mariah’s heart skipped a beat. Had Mr. Thompkins overheard Frederick’s latest proposal? So far, she’d managed to keep his interest in her from becoming the talk of the town. “You did? About Frederick?” Sally was one of the few who knew he’d asked her to marry him, not once, but several times.
“No. It’s all over town that you’ve sold the Lazy M.”
Mariah lifted her coffee cup and took a sip of the steaming liquid, debating how much to reveal. “It’s true. When the new owner’s mother arrives, Grandma and I will go to Philadelphia to be with Amanda.”
“You’re leaving?” Sally reached across the table and clasped Mariah’s hand. Tears shimmered in her eyes. “What will I do without you?”
“We can’t stay. Amanda needs us.
She needs me.” Mariah blinked back her own tears and looked away. Leaving the friends she’d known her entire life would be harder than she’d ever dreamed. “If there was any other way, we would stay. But I can’t run the ranch and see to Grandma and Amanda as well. The last few months have proven that.”
“I know. It’s just that I’ll miss you so.”
“I’ll miss you too. But I don’t have much choice.” Mariah hated keeping things from Sally, the one friend she could count on to keep her confidence. Sally had never been one to gossip or carry tales. Now that she thought of it, Sally made the perfect preacher’s wife. Compassionate, concerned, loving, and discreet, she would never spread anyone’s private agonies around town.
But the very thought of telling her best friend what her father had done turned her stomach.
Sally wiped away her tears and smiled, her plump cheeks dimpling. “Well, look on the bright side. You’ll be able to take care of Amanda and live comfortably with the money from the sale of the ranch. And when she’s through with school, you can move back home. Home to Wisdom.”
And risk the community finding out about her father’s past? Mariah’s heart squeezed as the truth dawned.
She could never return to Wisdom.
Dust mites danced on the sunlight streaming through the wide opening into the cool interior of the barn. Slade dismounted and led his horse inside. Cookie sat on a milking stool, a scowl on his face, one gnarled hand rubbing the back of his neck. Buck worked at the far end of the barn shoveling out a stall.
“Afternoon, Cookie. What’s the matter?”
Cookie rubbed harder. “Got a crick in my neck.”
“I’ve got some liniment that would help,” Buck volunteered from the recesses of the stall, the laughter in his voice evident.
Cookie snorted. “Don’t want no horse liniment, you young whippersnapper. That stuff stinks worse than a polecat.”
Slade grinned. “But does it make you feel better?”
“Don’t know. And I ain’t aiming to find out neither.”
“Who’s that over at the house?”
“The preacher’s wife. She’s a nice little thing, good friends with Miss Mariah. She was raised right down the road. Riker was her maiden name.”
“Her pa is John Riker? I met him in town the other day.” Slade unsaddled his horse and started rubbing the animal down. “Seemed friendly enough.”
“Yeah, that’s him. Funny, but I never pictured Miss Sally as a preacher’s wife. But I guess there’s somebody for everybody.”
“What about you, Cookie? You ever been married?”
“Nah.”
“But you just said there was someone for everybody.”
Cookie scowled.
They all turned at the sound of horses coming into the barnyard. Duncan and Rio rode double on Rio’s horse, trailing Duncan’s bay mare on a lead rope.
The mare limped up to the barn, her right front leg wrapped in bloody strips of cloth.
“What happened?” Slade reached for the lead rope.
“Easy, girl.” Buck soothed the trembling mare, his voice gentle.
Duncan slid off the back of Rio’s mount. “We were over in the south pasture checking fence like you told us. My horse got tangled up in some barbed wire. She spooked, and before I could cut her loose, she’d managed to get all cut up.”
Slade squinted at Duncan. “You hurt?”
Duncan shook his head. “Nah, I’m fine. About scared the daylights out of me, though. I thought for sure we were both gonna get wrapped up in that stuff.”
Slade turned his attention back to the mare. “We’ll need to clean up that wire tomorrow. I don’t want anybody else to get hurt.”
Buck moved his hands down the horse’s cannon, gently unwinding the makeshift bandages.
Slade winced at the deep lacerations on the mare’s mangled leg. “How bad is it?”
“I don’t know yet. Let’s get her in the barn, and I’ll clean her up.”
Cookie heaved himself to his feet. “Well, iffen you’re gonna drag out that awful-smelling salve of yours, I’m gonna go check on my stew.”
Slade put his hands on his hips. “Are you sure you don’t want some, Cookie? It’ll make you feel better.”
“Not me,” the old man muttered as he left the barn. “I can’t abide the smell of that stuff.”
Cookie shuffled out of the barn as the men focused on the injured mare.
“What do you think, Buck? Is she gonna be all right?” Duncan asked, a worried frown on his face.
Buck pointed to a ragged gash about three inches above the hoof. “I think she needs stitches here. If not, it might not heal right. And we’ll have to doctor her morning and night and keep a close watch.” He shrugged. “We’ll just have to wait and see.”
“We might have to put her down.” Slade glanced at Duncan, gauging the older man’s reaction. Like most men he knew, Duncan put a lot of store in his string of horses.
Duncan pushed his hat back. “Not if Buck can fix her up. She’s a good ol’ gal, the best cutting horse I’ve got.”
“All right. We’ll see how it goes.”
Buck stitched the gash, then cleaned the rest of the mare’s cuts before applying the salve. The pungent smell of the liniment filled the barn, but Buck didn’t seem to notice. He just kept talking to the horse, ignoring the rest of them. Gradually, the mare stopped trembling. Slade nodded in satisfaction. If anybody could get that horse well, Buck could.
“Rio, go see if Cookie’s got some clean rags we can use.”
Rio hurried off and returned shortly with a ragged sheet. Slade tore it into strips and handed the pieces to Buck.
When they had finished bandaging the mare, Slade went to wash up for supper. He threw his hat on a peg, rolled up his sleeves, and grabbed a bar of soap. Giff rode into the yard just as Buck exited the barn and headed toward the house. The ranch hand rode so close, Buck had to alter his steps to keep from being run down. Giff laughed and continued on to the barn. Slade leaned against a post, fist clenched. His brother wouldn’t appreciate him stepping in.
Buck stepped onto the porch, his gaze not quite meeting Slade’s.
Slade grabbed his hat and slapped it against his leg a couple of times, knocking the dust off. He squinted at his brother. “What was that all about?”
He’d heard the men talking about the incident with the eggs, but Buck hadn’t mentioned it at all.
“Nothing.” Buck shrugged. “Giff’s just feeling his oats. Give me a minute, will you?”
“Sure.” Slade threw him a surprised glance. He waited while his brother washed up, wondering what made him change his mind. Slade hadn’t pressured him, let him take one day at a time joining the living again, but he’d go along with anything that helped Buck come out of his shell.
He pondered the situation with Duncan’s horse. They’d only been here a few days and Buck had already started a good-natured banter with Cookie, and now he seemed to be more comfortable around Duncan and Rio. Already Duncan recognized Buck’s healing touch with animals. The seasoned cowpoke wouldn’t let just anybody doctor his horse. Maybe Buck would feel like he’d found a home here when the others recognized his skill and learned to focus on his uncanny way with animals instead of looking at his scars.
“You ready?” Buck asked.
“Yeah.” He straightened.
They entered the kitchen together. Mariah bustled about putting food on the table. Slade hung his hat on a hat-rack peg and inhaled the tantalizing aroma drifting through the kitchen. A big pot of chicken and brown gravy graced the center of the table, and his mouth watered in anticipation when Mariah pulled a skillet of steaming biscuits from the oven.
Mrs. Malone sat at her customary place at the table. “Evening, boys.”
“Evening, ma’am.” Slade nodded, then turned toward Mariah, his attention caught by the light glinting off her hair. “Mariah.”
She threw him a quick glance. “Evening.”
&nbs
p; Her cool tone reminded him of their conversation in the buckboard. He frowned. If her sister couldn’t see the ranch needed money more than she needed a fancy education, then she was selfish. There just wasn’t two ways about it. Mariah was too stubborn to admit it.
Maybe she loved her sister so much she ignored her faults, but when it came to letting the ranch run down, he would have put a stop to such nonsense long before now.
She turned her back on him and spoke to Buck. “I’m glad you decided to join us, Buck. Have you met my grandmother?”
“No, ma’am.” Buck hovered near the door, hat in his hand.
“Nice to meet you,” Mrs. Malone said. “Cookie’s been telling me how good you are with horses.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You’re not scared of them, not after what happened to you?”
Slade glanced at Buck. His brother didn’t like to talk about the accident.
“No, ma’am. It was my own fault for thinking I could handle that wild bronco. Broke horses are real gentle once they get used to you.” He dipped his head and smothered a cough. “It’s people that I have a hard time with.”
Mrs. Malone smiled at him, looking him square in the face without flinching. She didn’t appear shocked or horrified by his misshapen jaw or the scars. And for some reason, Buck didn’t seem to feel the need to shield his face from the wizened old woman.
“Just be yourself,” she said. “Eventually people will accept you for who you are, not what you look like. And if they don’t, they’re not worth the trouble anyway.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Buck nodded, a short, quick jerk of his head.
Mrs. Malone chose to see the man, not the scars. Buck must have sensed that, because he took to her right off. But, of course, the old woman’s stark honesty had earned Slade’s respect from the beginning, so he wasn’t surprised she’d won Buck over as well.
Mariah smiled. “Buck, would you like some coffee?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She handed him a cup, then turned toward Slade, her smile dimming. She quirked a brow. “Coffee?”
Slade snagged a cup from one of the hooks on the wall and held it out. Mariah steadied the mug as she poured, and the tips of her fingers brushed against his. He froze. Her nearness, the touch of her fingers, the scent of her hair, the shape of her lips, all hit him at once, and the only thing he could do was stare.