To Capture the Sky (Choices of the Heart, book 2)

by Jennie Marsland

  A pink flush colored the eastern sky. The night had flown. When Trey returned to the barn after washing, the foal stood nursing on shaky legs.

  Beth turned toward him, a soft smile on her lips.

  He pulled on his shirt and moistened his dry mouth. “Beth, I’m sorry for running off like I did today, but I needed to think. I met someone in the saloon, someone from home. He brought back some memories I’d rather do without.”

  She turned to face him. “I know. I eavesdropped at the saloon window. I couldn’t help myself. I saw you punch Gabe, and I saw your face when that man came in. Is there any way I can help?”

  The uncertain look in her eyes started an ache in Trey’s chest. He reached out for her, then dropped his hand. “What’s past is past. I wasn’t thinking about him this afternoon. I was mostly thinking about you.”

  “What about me?”

  Trey realized his fists were clenched and released them. If he didn’t find the words now, he didn’t think he ever would. “About us. Beth, I know you deserve better than I’ve got here. You’ve got your art and I couldn’t blame you–”

  “I told you before, I can make up my own mind.” Beth took a step forward. “Trey, material things have never been that important to me. I’ve always had too many of them. As for my art, I’m doing better work here than I’ve done before.” Close enough to touch, she held his gaze. “I’m not anxious to be anywhere else.”

  The emotion Trey saw on her face dried up his voice.

  Beth’s lips parted, then she reached for his mouth and he met her halfway.

  This time Trey couldn’t keep his hunger back. He plunged into the kiss, spurred on by Beth’s sigh of pleasure, the boldness of her response. She explored his mouth as eagerly as he did hers, while her hands fisted in the back of his shirt, holding him to her.

  The small sounds she made shot through Trey like liquid fire. The reality of her was as sweet as his dreams had been… no, sweeter.

  Make her yours. Lips still clinging to hers, body overriding his mind, Trey backed Beth into an empty stall filled with hay. He lowered her onto the fragrant pile and buried his mouth against her neck, losing himself in the warm, welcoming taste of her, making himself dizzy with her scent. He fumbled with the top buttons of her blouse and reached inside, cupping her breast through the thin fabric underneath. Trey’s breath caught at the feel of her, soft but firm and subtly rounded, her nipple tight and hard.

  She breathed a sigh against his hair and arched against him, giving him more of her breast. Through a haze of need, Trey heard one of the horses blow softly.

  The sound brought him back to reality. He was losing control, and Beth deserved a damn sight better than to lose her virginity in a barn, and her power of choice with it. He stifled a curse and rolled away from her. “I’m sorry, Beth. I didn’t mean to go so far.”

  “I didn’t stop you.” Beth sat up and buttoned her blouse. Her morning-colored eyes were wide and dreamy, her lips wet and swollen from Trey’s kisses.

  Body still aching for her, he settled her in the crook of his arm, closed his eyes, and rested his forehead against her hair. This tender feeling was harder to fight than lust. “Where do witches like you come from?”

  With a quiet chuckle, Beth reached up to stroke his cheek. “You know where I’m from.” She sobered and lifted their joined hands to his knee. “Trey, who is that old acquaintance of yours who’s in town?”

  Naturally, she wouldn’t let it rest. Trey couldn’t keep his irritation from showing. “His name’s Nathan Munroe. It was his father who bought our place. The last time Nate and I met, I flattened his nose for him.”

  Beth squeezed his fingers, her gaze soft and calm on his. “Because of your farm?”

  “Partly. He needled me about it, and he’d been needling me for months because I wasn’t chomping at the bit for war. I’d had enough, so I shut his mouth.”

  Beth’s kiss-swollen lips pressed together in thought. “I don’t blame you, but that was a long time ago. People change.”

  Knowing he’d kiss her again if he didn’t move, Trey got to his feet. “Nate always was a bully and I’d bet he still is. You’re right, it was a long time ago. Forget it.”

  Needing to put some distance between them, Trey headed for the house. Wherever he and Beth ended up, it sure was turning into one hell of a journey.

  CHAPTER 11

  Nathan went down the steps of the boarding house smiling. He’d just eaten the best lunch he’d had in months – and he’d gotten wind of a solid gold opportunity to prove something to the town council and everyone else in Wallace Flats.

  Two men just in from the mining country had taken rooms at Mrs. Grant’s before supper yesterday, planning to blow off a little steam before heading for Denver. They’d spent the afternoon in Neil’s place, and spread the word that they had a few hundred dollars to stake on a poker game tonight if anyone was interested. In a small town like Wallace Flats, that kind of money usually attracted trouble. Just what Nathan needed right now.

  He headed down the street to the forge. John came out of the yard to meet him. “Morning, Nathan. I wanted to let you know we’re going to get started on the jail this week. The council hasn’t made it official yet, but you’re the only person in the running for the sheriff’s job and I don’t see the point in waiting any longer.”

  Good news, but Nathan wasn’t going to count his chickens just yet. “Thanks. John, have you heard about the card game that’ll likely be happening at Neil’s tonight?”

  “No. Big one?”

  Nathan shrugged. “Sounds big enough to attract some attention. The men who are talking it up are staying at Mrs. Grant’s. I’d bet they did some talking before they got here. Seems like they made a little money in silver country and they can’t wait to get to Denver to spend it. I’d like to borrow a horse and take a look around outside of town, on the chance they might have been followed or have friends waiting to join the party.”

  “Could be. Fools and their money.” John nodded toward the three stalls at the side of the forge yard. “Take your pick.”

  Nathan chose a stocky sorrel gelding and did a slow circle around town. He saw no one until he rode along the wagon track leading north. Not far from the road, a thin belt of woods offered some shelter. A couple of horses were tied in there. That didn’t make much sense at this time of day, unless the riders didn’t want to be seen in town. Nathan would oblige them for now. He’d know the horses if he saw them again.

  He kept riding north, passing the occasional homestead, until he came to the top of a hill and saw a horse coming toward him at a full gallop, with its rider crouched low over its neck. The man must be in one hell of a hurry.

  Nathan reined his horse off the trail and waited.

  Not a man. An auburn-haired young woman, wearing pants and riding astride on a long-legged chestnut mare that looked no more than warmed up by the run.

  Who was she? Easy to make a good guess. The only person hereabouts likely to own a horse like that was Trey McShannon, and Nate had heard Neil ask Trey how married life was treating him. Looked like it was treating him pretty well.

  The woman brought her mare to a neat stop. When she reached up to tuck some loose hair back into her long, thick braid, Nathan recalled Cathy Sinclair, Justin’s sister. Trey had fancied Cathy at one time. Apparently his taste in women hadn’t changed any more than his taste in horses. He’d found himself a very attractive wife.

  Mrs. McShannon looked Nathan over coolly. Her way of holding her head reminded him of his mother, who’d made a religion out of being a lady. Trey’s wife showed as much breeding as the horse she rode. A big step up for a farmer’s son.

  “Hello, Mr. Munroe.” If she knew his name, Trey must have mentioned their meeting the other day in the saloon. From her expression, Nathan guessed Trey had also told her about their history, but she seemed to be reserving judgment.

  “Hello. It’s Mrs. McShannon, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, it i
s. How did you know?”

  “I knew your husband years ago. He liked thoroughbred horses and thoroughbred women back then. It seems he still does.”

  When the mare sidestepped and tugged at the bit, Beth controlled her with deft hands. Yes, Trey had done well for himself.

  “Thank you.”

  She obviously didn’t know what to think of him. That made Nathan smile. “I see you’ve got your hands full. It’s a fine day for a ride. I won’t keep you. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you in town.”

  Beth gave Nathan a polite nod, but didn’t return his smile. “I’m sure. Goodbye, Mr. Munroe.”

  Nathan watched her ride off. Ten years since he and Trey had come to blows, ten years with a lot of water under the bridge. Had Trey spent the war years out here while Nathan and the other boys from home were fighting?

  Charlie Bascomb and John Hughes and Justin, so many of the others killed. Such a damned waste, and for what? Maybe Trey had been the smart one after all. Now here he was, healthy and whole, with a pretty wife to share the home he’d built.

  As for Nathan, he’d always been the type that had to learn the hard way. He turned back toward town, surprised at the restless ache inside him. He recognized it as loneliness, but he’d thought he’d gotten too used to it to notice it any more.

  Before the war, he’d been expected to marry a lady like Trey’s wife, all cool self-possession. Nathan smiled to himself. He’d bet there was plenty of fire beneath the poise, but he’d never found her type particularly appealing.

  A little hellion like Lena, now – that was another story.

  * * *

  Maddy looked up from her butter molds at the sound of a horse in the yard. When Chance trotted by the window, Maddy set the butter in the pantry cupboard and wiped her hands on a rag. She was expecting Beth for a sewing lesson.

  The girl looked very different than she had the day of her bread-making lesson almost a month ago. She had a tan now, and her hair had taken on bronze highlights from the sun. She usually wore it in a braid or a loose knot, instead of a careful bun. She’d gained a little weight and it suited her, but the biggest difference was in the way she carried herself, with a new confidence. It seemed Beth had found her feet.

  She unwrapped a parcel and laid a length of red muslin on the table. “I can’t get used to not having curtains at my windows, even though there’s no one around for miles. This will brighten the place up, won’t it?”

  “I think so.” Maddy fetched her sewing basket and pulled out her scissors. “Let’s get them cut out.”

  After they measured and cut the fabric, Beth practiced pressing the remnants. She scorched one scrap and burned a finger slightly before she got the feel of Maddy’s iron, but she got the curtains pressed and ready to sew. They each took a panel and stitched in silence for a few minutes, until Beth noticed Maddy watching her. “Am I doing something wrong? Aunt Abigail thought needlework was vital to a lady’s education, but she never taught me to sew a plain seam. I think this looks fairly even.”

  Maddy smiled. “No, you aren’t doing anything wrong. It’s just good to see you looking happy.”

  Beth kept her gaze on her sewing. “Maybe hopeful’s a better word. You know, Maddy, when I came here I knew how to set a table for a formal dinner, but I couldn’t cook. I could tell you what kind of a dish to serve vegetables in, but I couldn’t grow them. I could make a point lace handkerchief, but I couldn’t sew. I’d been riding for years, but I’d never saddled a horse. Now I can do all those things.” She adjusted the fabric in her lap and ran her needle into it again, pursing her lips in concentration. “Trey would have lost Shiloh’s foal last week and perhaps Shiloh, too, if I hadn’t been there to help. If he’d had to go for someone else, it would have been too late. It feels good to do something that really matters.”

  “I’m glad.” Maddy decided to do a little harmless probing. She pulled a box from under the pantry cupboard and took out a length of royal blue cotton. “I’m going to make this up for the spring dance next month. What do you think?” Beth must know about the dance. There were posters all over town, but knowing her, she wouldn’t mention it to Trey, and being a man, he might not have thought to mention it to her. Did he have any idea what it might mean to her if he did think of it?

  Beth fingered the material. “It’s beautiful, just the color for you. I’ve seen the posters for the dance, and Trey actually brought it up the other day. I’m going to wear something I already have… no, I’m not.” She dropped her sewing in her lap. “None of the dresses Grant sent would be right for this dance. They’re too fussy, and most of them are too tight now, anyway. I’ll make something. There’s some lovely muslin at the store.”

  Maddy hid a smile. Beth wouldn’t be looking this pleased about the dance unless things were going well at home. “We’d better get working on these curtains, then. Making a dress will take some time. The Bakers have some good patterns to choose from. What do you have in mind? Something special?”

  Beth blushed. “Maybe a little. I’ll get a pattern the next time I’m in town.”

  Maddy put the blue fabric away and changed the subject. She didn’t need to ask any more questions. The changes in Beth, coupled with some comments Logan had made lately about Trey – “I’ll be glad when those two get things settled so he’ll be good for something again” was the gist of it – told her all she needed to know.

  You’re a meddler, Maddy Kinsley, and you always will be. Just keep your nose out of it and see what happens.

  * * *

  Beth got home at twilight and found Trey in the corral with Ben Reeves and Calico, in the middle of a training session. She dismounted and leaned on the corral fence to watch. Since his fight with Gabe, Trey had insisted on going back to work. Beth wondered how he did it. His headaches were gone, but his ribs must still be painful, though he wouldn’t say so.

  Trey got a firm grip on Calico’s halter while fifteen-year-old Ben, a taller, much lankier version of John, lowered a saddle onto the trembling horse’s back. As soon as the mustang felt the weight, he bolted. Trey hung on and got dragged halfway across the corral before he managed to bring Calico to a halt.

  Ben swore as he lifted off the saddle. “I can’t believe he’s still this spooky. At this rate, I still won’t be riding him by Christmas. Sometimes I think we should just turn him loose.”

  Trey took the halter in his other hand and shook out his tired arm. “You know he wouldn’t survive, not without his herd. He’ll come around if you give him time, but if you rush things he’ll never really accept you and you’ll never be able to trust him.”

  Ben took a deep breath and hoisted the saddle again. “All right, Cal, one more time.”

  This time Calico stood still, shaking, when the saddle touched him. Ben broke into a wide grin. “That’s better. It’s not the end of the world, is it, Cal? Especially when it gets you carrots.”

  While Calico munched his reward, Trey tied a rope to the halter. “Here, Ben, lead him around a bit and let him get used to it.”

  After a couple of turns around the corral, they decided to end the lesson on a good note and headed for the barn. Beth followed with Chance. Cloud pinned back his ears and kicked the wall as Calico passed his stall.

  Ben shook his head. “I’ll bet you had a time breaking him.”

  Trey closed Calico’s stall door behind him and rolled his eyes. “Oh, yeah. I was just about your age when Cloud was a colt. Dad gave me advice and an extra pair of hands when I needed it, but he left the training to me. Cloud wasn’t like Calico, though. He wasn’t scared, just stubborn. He wanted things his own way. Then he figured out that being ridden meant that he got to go places and run.”

  Ben lifted the saddle to its peg and looked over his shoulder, grinning. “Come on, Trey. Do you really think he figured that out?”

  “Sure he did. A horse like Cloud won’t give in. You have to come to an agreement. We did, but that doesn’t stop him from trying to rewrite it once in a whi
le, even now.”

  Trey slipped an arm around Beth as she came out of Chance’s stall. She hid a smile when Ben joined them. John had passed along his son’s first impression of her after church on Sunday. “He asked me if I thought that matrimonial agency would still be around in ten years. You hit him between the eyes, Beth.”

  Ben treated Trey like an older brother, but he was painfully shy with Beth. His face reddened now as he looked down at her. “Miss Beth, I want – I need to ask you a favor.”

  “Of course, Ben. What is it?”

  “I need to learn how to dance. Ma will give me no peace if I ask her, so…”

  Ben’s voice died away in embarrassment.

  Trey quirked an eyebrow. “Who is she?”

  From the way his gaze slid away from Trey’s, Ben had a crush on someone other than Beth. “Her name’s Holly Grier. I asked her to the dance today, and she said she’d go with me if her father would let her. I figure I’d better practice.”

  “It’s not difficult, Ben. Come here, I’ll show you.” Beth stood beside him and showed him a waltz step. “Watch my feet. One-two-three, one-two-three, like this.”

  After Ben imitated her steps a few times, Beth placed his hand on her shoulder and took his other hand in hers. “Now you do the steps and I’ll follow you. Ready? One-two-three, one-two-three…”

  Ben took a few tentative steps, then missed a beat and brought his foot down on Beth’s toes. She caught a glimpse of the grin on Trey’s face before he ducked into Cheyenne’s stall. Ben’s blush deepened. “Sorry.”

  Beth put his hand on her shoulder again. She’d settle Mr. McShannon’s hash later. “Never mind, Ben, you’ll get it. One-two-three, one-two-three…”

  After two more tries, they managed to circle the aisle together without a mishap. Ben looked profoundly relieved when they stopped. “Thanks. Now I just hope Holly’s father lets her go to the dance. Trey, do you know him?”

  Trey came back to the aisle, frowning. “No, but Simon Grier’s not well thought of in town. I’m sure you’ve heard that. I’ve seen him a couple of times slumped over a table in the saloon. I’d guess he spends most of his time and money there. By the look of his homestead, he isn’t spending much of either on it.”