To Capture the Sky (Choices of the Heart, book 2)
Page 9
Telling him how to run the place? All she wanted was a little say in who they’d have under their roof. Beth clenched her fists and infused her voice with as much acid as she could. “Fine. Forgive me, a mere woman, for expecting to be considered. We are just troublemakers, after all. I’ll stay out of your way until it’s time to get supper for you and your friend. Birds of a feather.”
Before Trey could respond, she marched out. She saddled Chance, tied her painting gear to the saddle, and headed for the river.
* * *
Trey stared open-mouthed at Beth’s retreating back. “Of all the flighty, unpredictable…” Of course, he hadn’t consulted her about hiring Gabe. They needed help now, and what would Beth know about hiring a ranch hand? The man looked capable enough, and if he didn’t work out they could pay him and send him on his way.
Through the open door, he watched Beth ride off, her blouse a flash of yellow on Chance’s back, her bright braid flying behind her. She hadn’t taken his spare rifle, as he’d insisted she do when riding alone. She hadn’t even taken a coat. It was only April, for Christ’s sake.
Moving cautiously, Trey got back into bed. Being up had tired him, or perhaps Beth’s tirade had done that. For a sharp tongue, he’d never seen her equal. Then, as he lay there in the stillness, doubts started to creep in. Gabe would be in their home every day, eating at their table. Only Trey had forgotten it was their home now.
* * *
By the time Beth got to the river, she’d ridden off some of her anger. She took off Chance’s tack, put hobbles on the mare and left her to graze. She’d been intending to paint a river scene since her first picnic here with Trey, and today the light was perfect, with just enough cloud to soften it. A fresh, warm breeze played over the water, creating ripples to add interest.
Beth set up her easel, arranged her paints and brushes and filled a jar with river water. About to put brush to paper, she glanced westward. Thunderheads hung above the horizon in ominous shades of purple and gray. Uncommon for April, but what a wonderful subject to paint. It looked like she’d have a couple of hours before the storm got close, if it didn’t miss her completely.
Now that she’d cooled off, she knew Trey had simply acted without thinking. She’d been right to call him on it, but she could have been less of a shrew. Truth be told, she was angrier with him for putting Mr. Tanner on the barn chores than for anything else. Was there any way to make Trey understand that she didn’t want to be sheltered, that she wanted to be his working partner the way Maddy was a partner to Logan?
Beth started her painting with a pale orange wash and dabbed the clouds on top of it, wet on wet, letting the colors flow into each other. The outline of the distant hills and the grassland in the foreground were minor parts of the composition. The sky was the painting.
She lost herself in her work until a clap of thunder jolted her back to reality. The sky had darkened and a cold wind had come up. The storm was approaching a lot faster than she’d expected.
Beth scolded herself for not bringing a jacket. Chance whinnied, the sound surprisingly distant. Even hobbled, she’d managed to drift a hundred yards away.
Idiot, you should have tied her. Too bad the mare wouldn’t come at a whistle like Cloud. The foreground of the painting would have to wait. Beth packed up her things, slipped the damp painting on its board into a saddlebag, picked up her saddle and started after Chance. By the time she reached the mare, the first raindrops were falling and the wind had turned bitter.
Growing nervous, the mare gave Beth a hard time tacking up. The rain came harder. Shivering, Beth climbed into the saddle. Halfway home, the storm broke in earnest. Blinded by rain, Beth hung on and gave up guiding Chance, trusting the mare to find her way home.
* * *
Trey swore at the first rumble of thunder. He’d stopped reading half an hour ago, when he’d noticed it getting darker. He’d been watching the storm since then. If Beth didn’t get back soon, it would catch her, but she had better sense than that.
Unless Chance had thrown her, or broken a leg, or…
He worried about Beth riding alone at the best of times. She didn’t know the country well yet. With a storm coming, she wouldn’t risk staying out, so where the hell was she?
When the skies opened, Trey got to his feet. “Bloody stubborn fool woman!” He made his way unsteadily across the room and pulled on his jacket. If he took his time, he could–
There she was now. His relief completely swamped his anger. Physically and emotionally exhausted, Trey dropped onto a chair at the table and waited for Beth to come in from the barn.
What a sight. Her blouse clung to her, soaked and dripping. Rivulets ran down her face from her sopping hair. Teeth chattering, shivering from head to toe, she hugged herself and moved close to the stove. “Why do you have your coat on?”
If he hadn’t known he’d fall over, Trey would have grabbed her and given her a good shake. “I was about to come looking for you. I figured you would have beaten the storm here if you’d been able to. I was picturing you lying out there somewhere after a fall, or being lost or running up against some stranger.”
Brushing water from her eyes, Beth turned to face him. “Trey, I got caught in the rain, that’s all. I was painting, and Chance drifted further away than I thought she would. It took me a few minutes to catch her. Neil said you could do permanent damage if you push yourself too soon.”
“I know. That’s why I hired Gabe.”
“I know.” She took a step toward him. “I’m sorry I lost my temper, but I still wish you’d talked to me before offering him the job.”
“So do I.” Damn, he couldn’t talk to her when she looked like this – wet, disheveled, and utterly desirable. He could only think of the hole that would be left in his life when Beth went her way, which she would. He didn’t dare doubt it. “Go get into some dry clothes, Beth. We’ll talk when you come down.”
Beth came down from the loft wearing her blue print. She’d undone her braid, toweled her hair and left it loose. Her face still pink from being dried, she joined Trey at the table.
He wanted to do the smart thing for them both and tell her it wasn’t working. Trey needed a wife he could live with comfortably, not one who turned him inside out like Beth did, who reached into corners of his heart that had been walled off for years and deserved to stay that way.
But the words wouldn’t come. He could only feel his way. “Beth, I haven’t lived with a woman in the house since I left home. I don’t mean to be thoughtless. I’m just used to deciding things on my own. Do you really object to Gabe?”
“Not really. I think he’s a little arrogant, but I was upset because you shut me out.”
The wind hurled sheets of rain against the window, curtaining the land that had become Trey’s home. Beth had worked so hard, pushed herself to her limits and beyond, trying to fit in here. Would she hate him for that when she finally gave up?
“I’m sorry. It’s just… it’s who you are, I guess. I can’t get used to the sight of you working in the barn, knowing you could easily marry someone who could give you the life you’re used to. The life you deserve.”
The color in Beth’s cheeks deepened. Her eyes were big and blue enough for a man to drown in. “Trey, you sound exactly like Daniel Hunter, the man I thought I was in love with in Denver. He said he loved me, but he didn’t propose because his parents told him they’d cut him off if he did. With Uncle Robert’s money gone, I was no longer a suitable match. Then, when Aunt Abigail died, one of my cousin’s acquaintances – who happened to be crooked as a snake’s back – said he’d marry me, since he had no family to object and my looks suited him. He never troubled himself to speak to me before speaking to my cousin. That’s the kind of marriage I came out here to avoid. I wrote to you because you sounded honest, and I thought you’d give me a fair chance – a chance to matter.”
“Matter? Beth, believe me, you matter. When you leave here, I won’t forget you.”
The warmth of her touch, the scent of her damp hair, and the vulnerability in her eyes left Trey tongue-tied. So, she’d cared for someone, a man with her own background, and the spineless fool had hurt her. Trey couldn’t bring himself to do the same, even if it was the best thing for Beth in the long run. He’d have to wait for her to decide that she couldn’t live his life. “I don’t have the answers, Beth. I’m doing the best I can.”
A tentative smile as her fingers closed around his. “So am I.”
* * *
Gabe stood in the barn aisle, watching Beth as she gave Calico his morning grain and water. “I guess you weren’t bragging. You know your way around a horse.”
Trey had agreed that Beth should continue looking after the mustang, since a strange man would be sure to upset him. Though Gabe had said nothing when Trey told him to leave Calico to her, Beth sensed that he didn’t like giving way to a woman. He hadn’t said a word amiss since returning to the homestead yesterday after the storm, but she couldn’t shake her dislike of the man.
“I’ve ridden since I was very young.” She came out of Calico’s stall and glanced in at Cloud and the mares in turn. Gabe had handled them with competence and done a decent job of cleaning out their stalls. Impatience flashed in his pale eyes as she checked his work.
“Don’t worry, Mrs. McShannon. I do a day’s work for a day’s pay. You’ve got a man inside who needs your attention. You’d best pay heed to him and leave the chores to me.”
Beth held his gaze and smiled, a smile with a touch of steel. “I appreciate your concern, but Trey doesn’t like to be fussed over, and these horses mean as much to me as they do to him. They’re our future. You’ll have to humor me.”
Gabe grinned, the next best thing to a smirk in Beth’s opinion. “How long have you been married?”
No hired help Beth had ever dealt with would have dared to look at her that way, or to ask such a personal question, but this wasn’t Philadelphia. Likely, Gabe was just making conversation, and for Trey’s sake Beth didn’t want any friction. She settled for a cool answer and hoped Gabe would take the hint. “We’re newlyweds, actually.”
“Congratulations.” Gabe sauntered down the aisle, lifted Midnight’s harness from the wall, and walked into the big black’s stall. “Tell Mr. McShannon I’ll have the bottom field plowed by the end of the day.”
“I’ll go tell him now, and make some sandwiches for you to take with you.” Beth returned to the house, glad to get out of Gabe’s sight.
Trey sat at the table, writing a letter. He glanced up and grumbled at her exasperated look. “I know, I know. Save your breath to cool your coffee. I’ll go back to bed as soon as I’m finished with this.”
Beth wrinkled her nose at him. “Getting a bit testy, are we? You’re as bad a patient as I am.”
Trey sighed, put down his pen, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I hate sitting around like this when there’s work to be done. I’m used to being out and doing.”
His frustration hit Beth in waves. Before his injury, she’d rarely seen Trey sit still for more than a few minutes at a time, except at meals. This confinement must be driving him crazy. She stood behind him and looked over his shoulder at the letter. Was it only a few short weeks since she’d seen his handwriting for the first time? “I know. If it’s any comfort, Gabe seems to know what he’s doing. He said to tell you he’d have the bottom field plowed by tonight.”
“Good.”
Trey’s body heat seeped through Beth’s clothes, drawing her closer. Neither of them had spoken of their first kiss since it happened. The memory still made her tingle, but after the talk they’d had when she came in out of the storm, Beth intended to let Trey make the next move. She moved to the counter to make Gabe’s lunch. “Who are you writing to?”
“Dad.”
Had Trey told his family he’d written to the Matheson agency, or did he plan to wait and see if the marriage worked out? They likely wouldn’t welcome the news that he’d ordered a wife by mail. Would Beth ever get the chance to meet them and win them over?
She gave Gabe his sandwiches and saw him off with the team, then came in and set up her easel by the table. Trey had finished his letter and gone back to bed with a book. Beth had the rest of the morning ahead of her without much to do, and she wanted to finish the foreground of her storm cloud painting. If she got at it, she could have it done by lunchtime.
* * *
“You’re it!”
Trey spun around and chased the crowd of puffing, shouting boys across the grassy churchyard. When they reached the two lines of hitched horses waiting patiently by the long, low white church, the group scattered. Trey paused for breath and eased a finger inside his wilting white collar, its starch softened by the hot July sun.
“Hey, are you Cathy Sinclair’s brother?”
The familiar voice, edged with contempt, came from behind the Sinclairs’ buggy. Trey ran around the parked conveyances. Nate Munroe, along with half of the other boys in the neighborhood, stood surrounding a kid Trey had never seen before. The stranger was taller than Nate, but without the sturdiness of a boy used to running around outdoors.
Everyone knew Cathy Sinclair had a brother who’d had rheumatic fever as a baby, and hardly ever went out in public for fear that he’d catch something from the other children. Trey took a few steps closer. The new boy stood facing Nate with his fists clenched, but he didn’t speak.
Nate stuck his hands in his pockets and laughed. “Can’t you talk? Maybe we should see if we can make you.”
“S-sure I c-can talk.”
The other boys tittered. Trey stepped up, got a dirty look from Nate, and glared at him in return. They’d never liked each other. Nate would bully anyone who’d let him.
This must be Cathy’s brother. He had his father’s hazel eyes and sandy hair. He looked and sounded scared, but he didn’t back down.
Trey shouldered his way to the front of the group to get a better look. It couldn’t be much fun, being stuck at home like that. “Hey. Your name’s Justin, isn’t it?”
“Y-yes, it is.”
“I’m Trey McShannon, and that’s Nate Munroe. He thinks he’s tough, but you’re bigger than he is.”
Justin stood a little straighter. “Y-you’re right.” He took a deep breath and faced Nate again. Trey saw Justin fighting his stutter. This time he spoke without a hitch. “You want me to talk? Fine, I’ll talk. If you want me to clean your clock for you, just come on.”
Nate took a step forward and smiled again, without the contempt. “Hell, I was only foolin’. You can play if you want to, but you’ll have to be it.”
Justin looked around at the group, then yelled, “I’m it!” With him at their heels, the boys raced back across the churchyard.
But it wasn’t the churchyard any more, and the boys were now men in uniform. Shouts mingled with screams and the staccato bark of rifles. Trey heard a bullet strike flesh. The man in front of him fell. Orrin Bates, one of his messmates. Trey jumped over the prone form and dodged another, stumbled, and swore.
* * *
Beth jumped at the sound of Trey’s voice, dropped her paintbrush and whirled around. His book lay on the floor beside the bunk, and he’d kicked the quilt off. She’d been too wrapped up in her painting to notice that he was dreaming.
At her touch, his eyes snapped open, full of his nightmare. He sat up and hid his face in his hands, shoulders heaving as he took deep breaths.
Beth sat on the edge of the bunk and tried to put her arms around him, but he knocked them away.
“Don’t.”
She refused to let it hurt. Just having her see him like this, shaken by a dream, would be difficult enough for Trey’s pride to handle. She couldn’t expect him to accept comfort from her so soon. “That must have been quite a dream.”
Trey faced her, his expression closed and remote. “Yeah. Thanks for pulling me out
of it.”
“You’re welcome. If you want to talk about it, I’ll listen.”
“It was just a dream. It’s over.” Moving stiffly, Trey got up and washed his face. He’d taken off his shirt when he went back to bed. The scar on his side showed white against the deep purple bruising across his middle.
Beth recalled Maddy’s description of the silent young man who’d arrived here almost five years ago. The wound in his side might have healed, but other, invisible wounds clearly hadn’t. “Trey, where were you wounded?”
He kept his back to her as he scrubbed his face with a towel. “Antietam.” He threw the towel over a chair, returned to bed, and picked up his book. “I could eat lunch any time, Beth.” His way of telling her he’d said all he was going to say.
Beth prepared the meal with her mind elsewhere. When she’d first met Trey, he’d looked like so much more man than she’d bargained for – not the surly brute she’d dreaded, but tall, lean, and tough, with nothing yielding about him. Now, Beth knew the gentleness he kept hidden deep inside. He didn’t like showing it, but it came out in the way he handled his horses. In the way he’d kissed her. In his protectiveness, when he wasn’t furious with her. This sodbuster, as Graham had called him, was as much a gentleman at heart as Daniel Hunter with all his breeding. And, underneath his hard shell, Trey was vulnerable.
It might have been easier for them both if his toughness had run a little deeper.
* * *
Gabe got back to the homestead at evening chore time, while Beth was brushing Calico. He put the team away and lingered outside the mustang’s stall. “Evening, ma’am.”
With her back to him, she didn’t know how close he was until he spoke. She started. Calico snorted and danced away. Beth curbed her annoyance and turned around. “Hello, Gabe. Next time, please give me some warning. He’s skittish, as you can see.”
“Sorry.” Gabe opened the door for Beth as she left the stall. He followed her to the back of the barn and hung up the team’s harness while she scooped oats into a bucket for Calico. “Last place I worked, the boss’s daughter tried to gentle a mustang. It didn’t work. He needed a firm hand. After a while, her father came to his senses and gave the horse to the crew to break. We made him useful, and the old man bought a safe horse for the girl. Better all around.”