Love Inspired Historical February 2016 Box Set

by Karen Kirst

  “You ready?” Myles asked as he stood and offered her his hand.

  With a nod, she placed her hand in his. He pulled her gently to her feet, which brought her nearly toe-to-toe with him. Delsie peered up at his shadowed face. His gaze had lost its guard, if only for a moment. She’d thought him quite handsome before, even with his scowl, but his nearness and the glimpse at this gentler side of his had her middle erupting into flutters.

  He broke contact first, releasing her hand and stepping back. “Shall we get you to that sister of yours, Miss Radford?”

  She took a deep breath to steady her emotions. Clearly the horse escapade had played with her head. She wouldn’t follow in Lillie’s footsteps by choosing a man her father would never approve of. Not only would it break his heart, but it would be going against her promise to look after her papa.

  “Yes, Mr. Patton.” She smiled and fell into step beside him. Only when they reached Amos and the waiting horses did she realize he hadn’t asked for his jacket back.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  When they arrived in Nebraska that evening, at the home station known as Liberty Farm, Myles discovered Delsie had fallen asleep in the saddle. And no wonder. For someone unaccustomed to riding more than a hundred miles in a single day, she had to be exhausted. She didn’t even stir when her mare—Amos had traded her horses after her other one had gotten spooked—came to a stop outside the stable.

  Amos glanced over at her and chuckled. “You want me to wake her?”

  An unfamiliar twinge of protectiveness rippled through Myles, then faded. “No, I will.” He released Elijah into the sky to hunt.

  “I’ll go explain our situation to the owners,” Amos said, dismounting. “See how much they’ll charge for room and board for the night.”

  Myles nodded and climbed off his horse. Taking the reins of both his and Amos’s animals in hand, he approached Delsie. “Miss Radford,” he called quietly so as not to startle her. “We’re here, at Liberty Farm. You can get down now.”

  When she remained still, he crossed to her side and gave her arm a gentle shake. “Miss Radford?”

  At his touch, her chin rose and her eyelids blinked open. She stared in confusion at the yard around them and the still-bright sky of the summer evening, then down at Myles. Her blue eyes lit with recognition and a smile angled one side of her lips. “Did I fall asleep?”

  That smile, combined with the soft expression on her face and the way her hair had come loose in places beneath her hat, sent a jolt of feeling through him. Watch it, Myles, he warned himself. Money and a pretty face only lead to trouble.

  “We need to get the horses in the stable,” he replied in a slightly gruff tone. “I’ll help you down.”

  She complied, swinging her skirt over the side of the mare and allowing Myles to help her to the ground. Once her feet struck the dirt, she peered up at him, her lips parted as if to speak, but instead she remained silent. The open, earnest look on her face matched the one she’d worn earlier on the prairie after he’d rescued her. Awareness of her, both then and now, along with their close proximity, quickened his pulse and dulled the warning still ringing in his mind.

  A strange terror had seized him as he’d watched Delsie and her horse burst from the trees and go charging at reckless speed over the plains. He kept imagining her being thrown and injured. His heart had beaten with as much fear as adrenaline when he’d jumped on his own steed and gone after her. Thankfully, he’d reached her in time, especially after hearing how close she’d come to leaping off.

  Why should he care that much for a complete stranger, though? He mentally shook his head. Maybe stranger wasn’t the right word anymore—not after spending two full days together. He’d told himself he’d saved her today out of human decency and the money she’d promised to give him at their journey’s end. And yet, his logical reasoning didn’t explain the bizarre need growing inside him to look after her. Though truth be told, there were moments when he wondered if she needed his protection at all.

  A smile curved his mouth at the thought. This tiny woman, regarding him solemnly, had the courage of a hundred trained soldiers. She hadn’t let out a single scream as her mare had spirited her away or fallen into uncontrollable sobs afterward. Myles couldn’t help but think if it had been Cynthia in that situation things would have gone much differently.

  “What are you smiling about?”

  Delsie’s innocent question broke whatever trance he’d been under. Myles stepped away from her and added her horse’s reins to the others in his grip.

  “Nothin’,” he said over his shoulder as he walked toward the stable. “Amos is inside the house. You can join him in there.”

  He didn’t wait to see if she’d listen or not. Instead he entered the structure through the open doors. The smell of hay and horses greeted him with all the familiarity and comfort of a friend. Memories of working with his stepfather at the livery stable rushed over him, clearing his mind of a certain dark-haired beauty.

  As a young child, he’d trailed Charles everywhere around the spacious barn, doing the small jobs he was given. Myles had loved looking at the horses, feeding them, riding them when he could, even mucking their stalls. His stepfather had taught him to respect the power inherent in such creatures but also their fear and stubbornness.

  There were other lessons Charles had imparted to him, ones he’d largely ignored since his stepfather’s death. Things like looking for God’s hand in his life or keeping his heart open and receptive to God’s will. His jaw hardened at the turn of his thoughts. God didn’t care any more for him than Cynthia had.

  “Howdy, stranger,” a young man called out to him from the other end of the stable. He held a pitchfork in one hand.

  “Evening.” Myles stopped the horses and quickly explained they were passing through and would pay to have the horses cared for tonight.

  The boy, for he couldn’t be more than fourteen or fifteen, agreed to feed and groom the animals, if it was all right with the station owners. “For now, put them in those empty stalls.”

  Myles did so as Amos appeared. “Everything’s taken care of,” the older man said. “For us and the horses.”

  “Where’s Delsie?” Myles kept his voice devoid of interest.

  “Inside, starting on supper. You coming?”

  He wasn’t ready to be near her again, not until he had a stronghold on this growing attraction for her. Eying the three horses, Myles shook his head. “No, go ahead. I’ll help settle them in.”

  Amos studied him for a moment, while Myles fought to keep his expression impassive. Finally his friend shrugged. “We’ll try to save you some.” With that he left the barn.

  The young stable hand offered to help, but Myles encouraged him to join the others inside. He wanted the comfortable solace of a quiet barn, with no one else around except the beasts in the stalls.

  Once the boy showed him where the tack and feed were located, he started in on grooming Amos’s horse. He ran the brush down its chestnut-colored sides, talking soothingly as he did so. When it gleamed as fresh and new as a colt, he brought the beast some hay, then started in on his horse next.

  Soon his thoughts moved back to Delsie. That was the trouble with doing something so familiar—his hands stayed busy but his mind didn’t.

  He had to remind himself, hourly if needed, that this journey to California was nothing more than a business arrangement. Acting on any possible attraction he felt for Delsie would be entirely futile. Her father, like Cynthia’s, wasn’t likely to approve of any interest in someone as poor and unconnected as Myles. Besides, a life out here in the West, with him or any other horseman or farmer, would likely drain her of whatever vitality and beauty she currently possessed. His life was about survival and weathering hardship, not choosing whom to invite for tea or which social engagement to attend on the weekend.

  “Business,” he muttered to himself, causing the steed’s ears to flick backward. Myles reached out and ran a hand down its nose.
“That’s all it’ll ever be.” A measure of relief filled him now that he’d gotten his head in the right place. But the tiniest sliver of disappointment cut through him all the same.

  *

  Delsie slipped inside the stable. Though she was growing more accustomed to the smell, the trapped heat and scent of manure still had the power to make her wrinkle her nose in protest. Down the line of occupied stalls, she caught sight of Myles standing next to his horse.

  “You missed supper,” she said as she walked toward him.

  He flinched as though struck, but he didn’t glance at her. “I thought I’d see to the animals first.”

  Guilt trickled through her at his explanation. She’d been half-asleep when they’d arrived and had momentarily forgotten about the horses.

  Delsie came to a stop beside the stall where he stood. Tentatively she lifted her hand to the steed and let it smell her.

  “Where’d you learn to do that?” Myles asked, his voice bordering on sharpness.

  She pulled her hand back. “Is that wrong?”

  He’d removed his hat, giving her a full view of his face and beard. “No, that’s exactly what you’re supposed to do, but most people don’t know that, especially…” He let the words trail off.

  “Rich people,” she supplied.

  He frowned before picking up a brush and exiting the stall. Delsie stepped back to allow him room.

  “I think it was Lillie’s beau, Clay, who taught us that. He was a farmer.”

  “Your sister had a beau?”

  “Still does. That’s who she followed to California and who she’s marrying on the twenty-second.” And the next day, Lillie and Clay would head to Oregon. Never to see or contact the family again, according to Lillie’s last letter, if she didn’t receive some word by then that Delsie still cared.

  Myles entered the stall where Delsie’s mare stood. “Let me guess—your father didn’t approve of him.” His voice sounded flat, bitter. His manner was so different from when he’d woken her up in the saddle earlier.

  Heat layered her face. “Papa had hoped she’d marry…” It was her turn to swallow back the rest of her words. She found she suddenly couldn’t say someone rich or of the same social circle as her family. Someone like Flynn.

  “I get it,” Myles said, his tone no longer harsh but full of resignation. Silence descended between them as he began brushing the mare. Delsie watched him, mesmerized by the movement of his hands and the gentle murmurs falling from his mouth. Here he was in his element, like a duke in his castle.

  “May I try?”

  He jerked his head in her direction as if he’d forgotten her presence. “What? Brushing?”

  She nodded. “I own them now, which means I ought to know how to care for them.”

  Myles looked from her to the brush in his hand as if making a weightier decision than whether to teach her horse grooming or not. “All right.”

  Smiling, Delsie entered the stall. “What do I do?”

  “Stand beside the horse,” he said, moving behind her and pressing the brush into her hand, though he kept both in his grip. “Start up here on the animal’s neck…” He lifted his arm, bringing her hand and the brush along with it, then he placed both against the mare. “Now you brush from front to back.”

  Together they moved the brush along the horse’s side. “Then you repeat the motion,” Myles said near her ear.

  Gooseflesh rose along her arms, which thankfully, her long sleeves hid from view, at the low murmur of his voice and the warmth radiating from his solid chest behind her. When he leaned forward to help her again, his breath grazed the skin at the back of her neck. Delsie shivered, despite the temperate air inside the stable.

  Myles stopped their motion, though their joined hands still held the brush to the horse’s coat. Even the mare itself stood perfectly still. Delsie held her breath, anticipating something, though she didn’t know what.

  A soft touch skated her hair above her ear. Her heart drummed faster against her rib cage as she realized Myles was breathing in the scent of her hair.

  “It smells like…” His nose skimmed her hair again.

  “Lavender?” she whispered. After another full day of riding, she was surprised to learn she still smelled like her favorite soap and not just sweat and horse.

  “Yes, lavender.” His voice held a smile. “Smells better than gardenias.”

  Gardenias? Was that what his girl had worn, the one who’d bludgeoned his heart? Intent on asking him just that, Delsie lowered her arm and twisted slowly. Myles still held her hand over the brush and stood so close she could see where the sun had lightened some of the hairs of his beard. What would those dark bristles feel like beneath her fingertips? She lifted her free hand to find out.

  A throat cleared behind them, as loud as a gunshot in the quiet barn. Myles jerked his hand from hers so fast that she dropped the brush into the hay at their feet.

  “Came to see if you needed help,” Amos announced.

  Delsie bent to retrieve the brush and hide her flushed face. Myles practically bolted from the stall. “I think you got the hang of it,” he said when she straightened. He wouldn’t look at her. “Amos can show you how to feed them. I’m gonna get me some supper.”

  Moving to the other side of her mare, she tried to ignore the sound of Myles’s retreating steps and the searching glances Amos kept throwing her way. She ran the brush over and over across the horse’s coat, fighting a sudden desire to cry.

  Why should she waste a single tear on that ornery Express rider? They came from two completely different worlds, as Myles himself seemed to enjoy pointing out. Even if her heart should stray from what her father wanted for her, she’d witnessed firsthand what Lillie’s choice had done to him. While Delsie didn’t agree with his decision to disown her sister for going after Clay, deep down, she recognized he’d only wanted the best for Lillie. His wrath had masked his fear. She wouldn’t follow the same path and tear apart what remained of their small family.

  “You all right, Miss Radford?” Amos held a pitchfork in his hand.

  “Of course.” She kept her head tilted high, but she sensed the older man saw through the bluff.

  Why did she have to feel this attraction toward Myles, one stronger than any she’d ever felt for Flynn, and after only two days? She needed to place all her energies and focus on reaching Lillie in time, and nothing more.

  “Will you show me how to feed the horses?” she asked, infusing as much cheerfulness as she could into her tone.

  Amos watched her, his blue-gray eyes keen. What did he see? Did he read the hurt on her face over Myles’s rude behavior just now, how he’d acted as if nothing had happened between them? Could Amos see how hard she was trying not to care? Finally, the older man nodded and motioned for her to exit the stall.

  The lesson proved to be the perfect distraction. Amos patiently taught her how to pitch the hay into the stall and how to feed some carrots to the mare. Perhaps she’d take more interest in the animals and in riding, when she returned home.

  By the time they left the stable, Delsie had almost forgotten Myles and his shifting moods—until they met up with him on the front porch. He sat on the bottom step, feeding Elijah pieces of meat from his supper. Amos took a seat beside Myles and removed his harmonica from his pocket.

  Delsie caught Myles glancing at her, but when she turned his way, he busied himself with his bird. A wave of exhaustion engulfed her, restoring her earlier sleepiness. “I think I’ll head inside.”

  “Good night, Miss Radford,” Amos said. “We’ll see you at breakfast.”

  “Please, call me Delsie.” She cut a look at Myles. “Both of you.”

  “’Night, then, Delsie.” Amos tipped his hat at her, a kind smile on his face.

  “Good night, Amos. Mr. Patton.” When the latter made no response, she blew out a sigh and entered the house. I’m doing this for Lillie, she told herself. Just remember that, Delsie.

  She entered the ro
om the station owners had told her to use and started to close the door behind her. Amos and Myles would bunk in one of the outbuildings.

  “Delsie?”

  Myles’s voice drew her back to the doorway. “Yes?” She couldn’t quell the sudden speeding of her pulse, no matter how much she wanted to.

  “I…um…” Those dark eyes observed her in a way that reminded her of their close moment in the barn earlier. But she wouldn’t let it go to her head—or her heart—this time.

  “Do you need something, Myles?” She kept her tone nonchalant and businesslike.

  A corner of his mouth lifted, ruining her attempt at being stoic. That lopsided smile made her insides flutter. “I’m not Mr. Patton anymore?”

  Belatedly she realized she’d called him by his first name. “Would you rather I still call you that?”

  He shook his head. “No, ma’am. Myles suits me fine. Just like Delsie…suits you.”

  “Very well,” she said, trying to discount the pleasure his veiled compliment gave her, “what do you need, Myles?”

  “Do you have a lock on your door?”

  “A…lock?” She stared in confusion at him.

  He motioned for her to move aside so he could examine the door. She saw that it did possess a latch. “Be sure to lock it tonight.”

  “Why?”

  “Because there aren’t any other women at this station.”

  “So?”

  Myles ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t…we don’t…know the character of these men at this station or any other station from here to California. You need to be careful.”

  Understanding dawned, bringing warmth to her cheeks. “Oh. I see. Yes, I’ll…lock it.”

  “Good.” He turned to go, but she had a request of her own.

  “Myles?”

  He faced her again, his expression holding its usual guarded quality. Would anyone ever be able to help him shed his pain?

  “I only wanted to thank you for rescuing me today…and for agreeing to come along.” She fiddled with the dirty cuff of her riding dress. “While I understand everything about this arrangement is wholly unconventional…I would very much like it if you and Amos and I…could be friends.”