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

by Jennie Marsland

  She stopped and glanced up at him. “A friend? I’m not sure I know what the word means.”

  “I’m not sure I do, either, Lena.”

  CHAPTER 14

  Trey stared over Cloud’s back at the street while John pulled the nails from one of the stallion’s front shoes. When the horse shifted his weight and leaned on him, John dug him in the ribs and glanced up in exasperation. “Trey, if you expect me to hold him in my lap as well as shoe him, it’s going to cost you double. No, make that triple.”

  Trey came back to earth and made Cloud straighten up.

  John pulled off the shoe, put the hoof down, and turned to see what had caught his friend’s attention.

  Nathan was walking toward them. John felt the tension in the air as soon as the man entered the forge yard.

  “Morning, John.”

  “Hey, Nate. Trey, have you met our new sheriff?”

  “We’ve met.” Trey’s curtness surprised John. Then again, he’d been surprised at his friend’s complete lack of interest in the news of Nathan’s appointment. Getting a sheriff was a positive step for the town, and John had expected Trey to be pleased.

  Nathan addressed himself to John. “I’m looking to buy a horse. Do you know anyone who’s got something decent for sale?”

  John’s pulse quickened a little. He liked nothing better than haggling over a horse, and the ones he rented out were always for sale. “Depends on what you call decent.”

  Nathan nodded at Cloud. “I’m not expecting to find anything like him. He looks as good as he did ten years ago.”

  Trey didn’t comment. John looked from him to Nathan, wondering at the animosity he sensed between them. Ten years ago? They would have been boys. He couldn’t see Trey holding a grudge that long unless it went pretty deep.

  Nathan went on as if nothing was amiss. “You haven’t got anything for sale, have you, Trey?”

  “No, I only have my brood mares and a suckling foal – nothing old enough.”

  Nathan turned to rest a hand on Cloud’s withers. “So, you’re raising horses out here?”

  “Raising giraffes, you mean,” John scoffed. “He works cattle with this bean-pole. I don’t know how. Must be like turning a freight train.”

  Trey ignored the jibe. “I’m starting to raise horses, after feeding them for four years. Just had the first foal.”

  Nathan ran his hand over the stallion’s back. “I was out north of town the other day and came across your wife going like a bat out of hell on one of your mares. Figures. So, John, where should I look?”

  John nodded toward the stable across the yard. “I’ve got three.”

  “Thanks, but they’re too good for what I can pay right now.”

  “All right, have you met Dale Turner? He might have something for sale.”

  Nathan gave Cloud a final pat and turned to leave. “I’ve met Dale. I’ll talk to him. See you around.”

  John picked up Cloud’s other front hoof as Trey watched Nathan walk out of the yard. “Where did you two meet?”

  Trey shrugged and took his place by Cloud’s head again. “We were neighbors growing up. We never got along.”

  His expression told John that was all the answer he was going to get. “I thought it might be something like that. Let’s get this done. And keep him from leaning, will you?”

  * * *

  After leaving the forge, Nathan headed to Mrs. Grant’s for lunch. When he’d finished eating, he took a piece of warm corn bread over to Lena. He found her sitting on the bench in front of the saloon. She shifted away when he sat beside her.

  “You look nervous. Are you afraid of me, Lena?”

  “Why would I be afraid of you?”

  For all the same reasons Nathan found himself a little bit nervous around her. He wasn’t any more used to having friends than Lena. He handed her the cornbread in a napkin. “Here, I brought you this from Mrs. Grant’s. Eat it while it’s still warm.”

  Lena put the napkin down beside her on the bench and looked him in the eye. “Why are you doing this?”

  Nathan leaned back and made himself comfortable. “Because I like your company better than I like sitting alone in my office. Is that so surprising?”

  A middle-aged woman passing the saloon gave them a scathing look.

  Nathan beamed at her. “Lovely afternoon, isn’t it, Mrs. Montrose?”

  Mrs. Montrose snorted and quickened her pace.

  Lena’s lips curled in a sardonic smile. “If she knew how much time and money her son spends here, she’d bust a corset string.”

  Nathan chuckled. He’d met Jake Montrose in an official capacity a couple of times already. “Probably. If my mother knew how much time I spend here, and with whom, I know she would. I bet she’d be a lot more comfortable afterward, though.”

  Lena didn’t look as if the thought made her more comfortable. Had she guessed his background? Nathan knew there were still traces of it about him, though he rarely thought about it anymore.

  “Where are your parents, Nate?”

  Nathan pulled out his pipe, clamped it between his teeth, and filled it. There had never been any sentiment in his memories of home. “Father’s gone. After our place was sold for taxes, he had a stroke. Mother lives with her sister in Savannah.”

  “Do you have brothers or sisters?”

  “No.” Nathan knew now that once his father had a son he’d lost interest in having more children, and his mother had been quite content with that. They’d had a very civilized marriage.

  Lena took a bite of cornbread as Nathan lit his pipe. “I have a brother, four years older. His name’s Caleb. He left home three years before I did. I don’t know where he is now. What was your home like?”

  Two words came instantly to Nathan’s mind. “Big. Empty. But that was just the house. I never spent much time in it.” He’d much preferred raising hell with the slave children and roughhousing with his peers to anything he could find to do indoors.

  Lena fixed her gaze on two little boys playing near the well. “Mine was small and loud. I didn’t spend much time in it, either.”

  Nathan smoked in silence while she finished her cornbread. Trey rode by on his way out of town. The way Lena watched him gave Nathan a quick stab of jealousy. “You know him?”

  Her gaze held his for a moment, letting him know she’d read his reaction. “Only by sight. He came into the saloon one night almost five years ago now, when he’d just arrived here, and we talked. I’ve hardly spoken to the man since. He was just out of the army then, I think.”

  Well, I’ll be. I wonder which army. Had Trey fought for the Confederacy after all? Easy to picture him riding in a regiment like Jeb Stuart’s Black Horse, a company of gentlemen mounted on their own blooded horses… No. Flying Cloud had the pedigree for it, but Trey didn’t. His parents were a blacksmith’s son and a storekeeper’s daughter. Their farm was comfortable, but small enough that they ran it without slaves, leaving them no claim to any social status worth mentioning. Colin McShannon had been given respect because he was a scrappy little terrier of a man, who backed down from no one, and his wife’s easy warmth was impossible to dislike, but they weren’t in the same class as the Sinclairs and Munroes. Yet, Justin Sinclair had drawn Trey and his twin sister into the big planters’ social circle and they’d held their own there. Nathan had resented that at the time, but that sort of thing didn’t matter much to him anymore.

  He watched Trey until he disappeared around the corner of the saloon. The way a man rode was as unique as the way he walked. Trey held his reins in his right hand to keep his left free – Nathan had forgotten the man was left-handed – and something about his posture nagged at Nathan’s memory. He shrugged off the feeling. Too much time had gone by for it to matter.

  He would have been quite content to sit there with Lena for the rest of the afternoon, but she wouldn’t stay, and anyway, he had business to attend to. He got up with a sigh. “Lena, I’ve got to see about getting myself a horse. I�
�ll see you later.”

  Their gazes met and held again. “You know where I’ll be.”

  CHAPTER 15

  Beth stared in complete bewilderment at the pile of paper pattern pieces she and Holly had just finished cutting out. They had decided to make Holly’s dress first because it was the simpler of the two, but if it was simple Beth didn’t want to think about her own dress, with its elbow cuffs, three-tiered skirt, and fitted bodice.

  Maddy had just arrived at the McShannons’. She smiled at Beth’s expression. “I told you this would take time. It’s not as difficult as it looks.”

  With competent hands, Holly smoothed out the green fabric and began placing the pattern pieces on it. Beth started pinning them in place. “I think it’s a shame there are only two dances a year in town and nothing else, no music or anything. The place could use a little culture.”

  Maddy hooted. “Culture! What did you have in mind, a symphony concert?”

  Beth’s chin tilted. “Maybe a concert wouldn’t be a bad thing. The Sunday school had one just before I came here, didn’t they?”

  “Yes, but…”

  “But what?”

  “Beth, you don’t know Wallace Flats very well yet.”

  “So?”

  “So, let’s just say the town’s never had much time for that sort of thing.”

  Maddy’s tolerant tone only made Beth more stubborn. “Maybe it’s time that changed.”

  Maddy stared at her. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

  All at once, Beth was. “You know, I did some acting and helped organize some fundraising affairs back in Philadelphia. I think people here might enjoy a concert. We could raise money for the church relief fund, and it would be a good way for me to get to know the town better. There must be some people with talent. Who’s providing the music for the dance?”

  “Spencer Hall.”

  “He’s a good fiddler,” Holly put in. “He always plays for the dances. And there’s Mrs. Henderson – you know, she plays the piano in church. Some of the kids at school can recite, too. It might work.”

  Beth made a decisive stab with a pin. “I think I’ll talk to Reverend Baxter about it tomorrow. If he’ll help, maybe I’ll try to organize something. Holly, if I do, will you try to get your friends interested?”

  Holly nodded. “I don’t think I’ll have to try very hard. We haven’t had a school concert since Miss Jakeman came here. She doesn’t believe in them. I think it would be fun.”

  “Good. I suppose it makes sense to have it just before the dance, since people will be coming into town that night anyway.”

  Maddy shrugged and started basting a sleeve into her dress. “Good luck. I’m glad we have a sheriff now, anyway. There’s always a ruckus of some sort at the dance. Logan says he wouldn’t bother going otherwise. He hates dancing.”

  Holly grinned. “Remember the dance two years ago when Mr. and Mrs. Thompson got into a shouting match?”

  “Remember?” Maddy’s infectious laugh bubbled up again. “I can still hear her. ‘Hank Thompson, I know you’re a jackass and so does everyone here, but for heaven’s sake pretend you’re not for ten minutes!’”

  Beth giggled. “Sounds like a lovely pair.”

  “Oh, they are.” Maddy reached for her scissors. “They’ve been fighting for thirty years and loving it.”

  Frowning, Holly righted a pattern piece she’d placed upside down. “Then at last year’s dance, Allie Shaw got engaged. Allie was only sixteen. They won’t be able to marry for a couple of years, but still… If anyone proposes to me when I’m sixteen, I’ll laugh in his face.”

  Beth pricked a finger and winced. “Ouch! I had my first proposal at sixteen. He was fifty.”

  “Fifty!” Maddy and Holly laughed together, and Beth got the feeling that Holly didn’t laugh often.

  “In his defense, he was a little bit drunk at the time. It happened at a large dinner party at my uncle’s house. Mr. Ludlow was a widower, and somehow he’d gotten the impression that Uncle Robert and Aunt Abigail were anxious to get me off their hands. After dinner, he cornered me and asked what I would think if he spoke to Uncle Robert about a wedding on my birthday in the spring. I told him to ask if he wanted to, but the answer would be no. I didn’t exactly laugh in his face, but Uncle Robert did when Mr. Ludlow actually spoke to him.”

  Holly placed the last pattern piece on the fabric. “How many proposals have you had?”

  “There were three more before we left Philadelphia – two from proper young men who were interested in a social contract and a merger of bank accounts, and one from someone who I knew didn’t really mean it. If he had, I might have considered marrying him. He really was very nice. Then we moved to Denver and I met Daniel Hunter. I thought I was in love. I thought we both were, but he never proposed. His parents wouldn’t let him.”

  Beth’s dry irony wasn’t lost on Maddy. “And that one hurt.”

  “For a while,” Beth acknowledged.

  Maddy responded with a shrug. “They weren’t put here to make our lives easier. They were just put here.”

  “True enough. Holly, are we ready to start cutting?”

  “Yes, I guess so.”

  Holly glowed with repressed excitement for the rest of the afternoon. The concert idea seemed to really appeal to the girl.

  Maddy lingered for a few minutes after Holly left for home. “I haven’t seen Holly up close for over a year. She’s growing up. It’s sure hard to believe she’s Simon’s daughter. How did you meet her?”

  Beth gathered up the pieces of the green dress and put them away. “Ben Reeves told Trey and me about her, then I met her in the store last week. I could tell she wanted a new dress so badly she could taste it. I just hope helping me doesn’t get her into trouble with her father. Ben asked her to the dance. I think he’s quite taken with her.”

  Maddy gave Beth a significant look as she folded up her sewing. “Speaking of being taken with someone, Trey stopped at our place for a few minutes with Logan the other day. You’re good for him, Beth. He looks happy.”

  Beth turned away and glanced out the window, hiding a blush. Trey had ridden in about twenty minutes ago and gone straight to the barn to avoid the hen party in the house. She listened for him every evening now, and felt a silly little rush of gladness when he arrived. Maddy must have picked up on it. “I’m still waiting for him to figure that out.”

  Maddy put a hand on Beth’s shoulder. “Trey’s no fool. He knows, whether he can tell you yet or not.”

  * * *

  Kneeling in an empty stall, Trey spread feed sacks over a small pile of thin pine pieces, then covered the sacks with straw. Satisfied that nothing would attract Beth’s attention, he got to his feet. Before he could leave the stall, the barn door opened and Beth stepped in.

  Damn. She would have to catch him. He came out to meet her, trying to look innocent, but she wasn’t fooled.

  “What are you hiding in there?”

  Trey shut the stall door behind him. “A surprise. For your birthday.”

  Beth tried to peek into the stall, but Trey stepped in front of her. She laughed and slipped her arms around him. “My birthday’s not till next month. Do you expect me to stand the suspense that long?”

  Trey pulled her closer, enjoying the feel of her as he always did. “It’s something that takes time. Don’t spoil it.”

  Time. Ever since they’d delivered Shiloh’s foal, he’d been telling himself to keep things easy with Beth, keep things gentle. He’d never dreamed it would be so difficult, nor would he admit to himself that he needed time more than she did.

  The more he realized how much he needed her, the more it frightened him to think of losing her. And he could easily lose her, even if she stayed with him. Young women lost their lives every day. Trey dealt with death often in the course of a day’s work. Calves died of scours, cows and mares died giving birth, predators claimed the weak. That kind of hard truth applied to people out here as well. The only
protection was not to care too much, and that was becoming more difficult every day.

  He kissed Beth and felt her whole body respond, telling him she was his. If only he could be sure of that. Slowly, reluctantly, he let her go.

  He began feeding the horses, starting with Shiloh and her foal. They’d named the little filly Diamond because of the dainty white mark on her forehead. When Trey entered the stall, she was nursing. Shiloh stood patiently, braced against the rhythmic pull. Trey half-turned his back to the horses as he unfastened the water bucket, and didn’t pay attention when Diamond finished feeding. She took a tentative step toward him, then jumped forward and bit him on the backside.

  “Christ!” Trey dropped the water bucket, dousing his legs with cold well water. Diamond scooted behind her mother. Beth doubled over in the aisle, laughing.

  Trey rubbed a hand over the bruise starting on his behind and growled at her. “What are you crowing at? That hurt!”

  Beth sat on a straw bale, dashed her hand across her eyes, and caught her breath. “I couldn’t help it. The little devil!”

  Trey shook his head at the stubby switching tail just visible behind Shiloh. “She’s got to be broken of that real quick.”

  When Diamond reappeared, Beth walked into the stall, caught hold of the foal’s halter and looked her in the eye. “You cut that out. When you’re a little bigger it won’t be funny.”

  Diamond stood her ground and flashed the whites of her eyes, ready to assert her independence as soon as Beth let her go.

  She grinned at Trey over her shoulder. “You’ve got to appreciate a girl with a mind of her own. I think–”

  Before she could finish the sentence, Diamond knocked her off-balance with a head-butt. Beth sprawled on the stall floor. It couldn’t have been better if Trey had planned it.

  “You were saying?”

  “Never mind.” Beth took his hand, scrambled to her feet and brushed straw from her hair. “Trey, I’ve been thinking. Isobel, my friend in New York, said in her last letter that she was quite sure she had a buyer for one of the paintings I sent her. I’ve got two more at Graham’s place that I can send. If they sell, we could buy another yearling this fall.”