Mail Order Regrets

by Julianna Blake

  Surprised, he quelled the feelings and pushed the thoughts from his mind. Well, it’s natural for a man to feel certain urges when an attractive lady is around. No helping that, no matter how unpleasant she is. It’s a completely normal reaction, he told himself, and all it means is that I need to get rid of this woman as fast as possible.

  “Clay.”

  He was startled from his reverie.

  Madeline was looking up at him expectantly.

  “Yeah?”

  “I…I just wanted to say that I’m sorry. I…we said a lot of things last night, and I let myself get worked up, and I…I shouldn’t have said what I said about your wife.”

  His jaw clenched, and he said nothing.

  “About her…you know…saying I don’t know why she’d have—”

  “Yeah, I get your meaning. Let it go.”

  “I just wanted to apologize.”

  “Apology accepted.” He stared straight ahead, not sparing her a glance.

  They drove on in silence a minute.

  “You don’t like anyone to speak of her.”

  “You don’t have the right to speak of her.”

  “But you don’t let anyone speak of her. Cara told me.”

  He had to force himself to keep a loose hold on the reins. “Did she, now?”

  “Maybe if you talked about it…if you didn’t hold it all in…”

  “What? It would make it all better?” he snapped. “It would undo my wife’s death? What do you know about it?”

  The sound of the snow sliding under the sleigh runners was deafening in the ensuing silence.

  “Of course it wouldn’t,” she admitted, after a time. “But…maybe if you didn’t hold on to it…”

  “Who said I held onto it? I let that go long ago. My wife died. I cursed God, I cursed myself, I grieved. And then I moved on. Just because I choose not to do so with another woman doesn’t mean I haven’t. It just means I’m not interested.” He shot her a pointed glare.

  Which she ignored. “How did she die?”

  He turned his head slowly, staring her down. She blanched under his fiery gaze, but held firm, meeting his eyes with an expectant expression.

  The nerve of this woman! What was it with people? Couldn’t they see he was just fine and dandy alone? He nearly replied with a nasty comment, but instead decided to satisfy her curiosity, hoping she’d leave him be after that.

  “She was kicked in the head by a horse,” he snapped. “Killed her instantly. The end.”

  “That’s…I can’t imagine, Clay.”

  He could feel her watching him, and he bit his lip to hold back the stream of angry words that begged to be released.

  “How long were you married?”

  He sighed, exasperated. “Two years.”

  “No children?”

  Don’t they teach manners where she comes from? “No. Just…never happened.”

  “Oh.”

  Maybe that will shut her up.

  “Was it one of these horses?”

  His head snapped toward her. “What?”

  “The horse. The one that…was it one of these horses?”

  He clenched his jaw and looked back at the road, with nary a word.

  “It’s just that…you take such good care of them. Almost like they are part of the family.”

  “No.” He cleared his throat. “It was a greenbroke horse. She…Tabitha…she told me to get rid of it. Scared her. It was pretty wild, but I…I was gonna make a lot of money off that horse. Invested our savings into it. He came out of a real quality broodmare, and with the right training, I could hire him out for stud service, and later on breed him to a mare of my own. Everyone knew I’d just bought him, because I’d bragged so much about it. If I sold him so quick after buying him, people would think he was flawed. I could have lost a lot of—”

  He cleared his throat again, feeling like it was blocked by a thick lump. He would not cry. Why the heck am I telling her this? He wanted to just clam up, but he found himself spilling out the rest of the story.

  “Anyway, I should have listened to her. She came out to fetch me for dinner one night. I was just putting the stallion away in the barn after a training session. When she came in calling for me, the horse spooked, and kicked out. She just…she lay there in the straw, so still. So still. I had to—the horse was out of control. I had to calm him down and drag him into the stall and secure him. I kept calling her name, but she never moved. She was dead before she hit the ground.”

  “Oh, Clay. I’m so sorry.”

  “I gave him away. That stupid horse that meant so much to me, that I couldn’t sell it when my wife asked me to. I ended up giving him away.” He blinked back the tears that stung his eyes.

  Madeline laid her hand on his arm. “It’s not your fault. You know that, don’t you? It was an accident.”

  “I know. But if I hadn’t been so stubborn…”

  “And if dinner hadn’t been ready for another five minutes…or if it had rained that day and you couldn’t train him…or if Tabitha had been more careful coming into the barn—”

  “It wasn’t her fault!” he growled.

  “Of course not!” She patted his arm. “That’s exactly my point. Many things led to the accident, but that’s all it was. A tragic accident. No one was to blame.”

  He knew it, but that didn’t make him feel any better. The grief had passed, and the ache of missing her had lessened, but the guilt was always there. He looked down at Madeline’s hand, and she took it back quickly, blushing and looking away.

  “I’m sorry I brought it up. It was dreadfully rude. I just…I guess I just couldn’t help myself.”

  “I’m not a broken man. It’s been four years since she died. I still miss her—always will—but that’s not why I’m alone.”

  “I wasn’t asking—”

  “No, but that’s what everyone thinks. That I’m broken, and that’s why I don’t want to marry, because I can’t look at another woman. But that’s not it. I just…I don’t see the need. I’m fine on my own.”

  “You’re afraid to risk going through it again,” she murmured.

  His hands froze, gripping the reins too tight. Tansy whinnied, slowing down and shaking her head, confused. Sunny, trailing behind, gave a sympathetic snort. Clay forced his hands to ease up on the reins. “I think that’s enough talk on the subject.”

  The next hour on the road was spent in uneasy silence. Clay eyed the gathering clouds overhead. He was glad to see the clouds cutting the glare of the sun off the snow, but he was concerned about how fast they were coming in.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Huh?” He looked down to see Madeline’s wide eyes staring up in concern. “Nothing.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “You look worried.”

  What, was she a mind-reader? “No. Well…a little. The clouds are gathering fast.” He looked over his shoulder at the wall of clouds coming in from the southwest, just barely visible over the trees and steep, rocky hills that rose on either side of the trail.

  “Does that mean more snow?”

  “It could, yes. Probably.” He saw that she looked worried, too. “But it likely won’t be bad. Nothing to be concerned about, I’m sure.”

  Another hour passed, and Clay knew there was reason to be concerned.

  “Madeline, I hate to say this, but we’re going to have to find a place to hole up. We’re almost out of the mountains now, and if bad weather hits out on the plains, we could get lost.”

  “But couldn’t we just follow the signs? Surely there are road signs once we get out of the mountains.”

  Clay looked at her in shock, then burst out laughing.

  “What?”

  That just made him laugh harder. He had to pull the sleigh to a stop. “Spoken like a true city girl.” He got hold of himself finally, and wiped tears from his eyes. “There are no signs out here, haven’t you noticed? If you’re lucky, you’ll get a sign pointing the right way to a town when y
ou hit a crossroads, assuming the wind hasn’t knocked it down. And signs would do no good anyway. If this turns out to be a blizzard, it could be a white-out, and we wouldn’t see beyond Tansy’s rear end.”

  “But…where will we stop?” She wheeled around in her seat, looking at the sparsely-wooded hills. “Is there a cabin nearby?”

  Clay grimaced. This wouldn’t be easy. “Madeline, there are no cabins nearby. No caves, no shelters. We’ll probably have to hunker down in the trees.”

  “Hunker? Down?” Madeline blinked as if she didn’t understand what language he spoke.

  “Yes. We’ll be fine. I’ll take care of things. I’ve hunted in this area before with Ben once, a couple of years back. I can find us a place.”

  “No—we can’t—Clay!” She gripped his arm. “What if there are animals? Rats? Or—or—”

  “Madeline,” he spoke calmly, the way he would to a spooked horse, “it will be alright. I’ve lived through much worse storms than I think this one will be, and I didn’t even have the benefit of a sleigh and two horses.”

  “I—I don’t know…”

  “I do.” He took her face in his gloved hands. “You’re a strong woman, Madeline Barstow. This is a new experience for you, but you’ll weather it like you’ve weathered every other storm. With class, dignity, and an obnoxiously pushy attitude.”

  She looked up at him, shocked, then irritated…then broke into a laugh. “Alright. I’ll trust you on this.”

  He gazed down at her for a moment, lost in her eyes, then realized he’d been holding her cheeks in his hand a moment longer than he should. “Well then,” he said, taking up the reins again, “let’s look for the perfect spot.”

  It took about twenty minutes to find a spot with a large enough cluster of trees with low-hanging branches to protect them. The snow was already coming down heavy, and the world was disappearing behind an ever-thickening curtain of white.

  He told Madeline to hunker down with her head under the blankets to stay warm and keep snow off of her as he untied Sunny from the back of the sleigh and tied her to a tree a few yards away. Then he walked around and grabbed Tansy’s bridle, guiding her to back the sleigh between two trees. Snow rained down as a few of the lower branches brushed the sleigh, scattering clumps of snow across the seat and over the furs that covered Madeline.

  He brushed the snow off so Madeline could poke her head back out, then he swept the rest out of the sleigh as much as he could.

  Madeline looked up at tree and the branches that hung down to shelter the sleigh. “How will we keep the snow off of the sleigh?”

  “I’ve got a canvas tarpaulin that will cover most of the sleigh and keep the snow off of us. I’ll tie the horses to the tree over here to our right,” he pointed, “and they’ll huddle together for warmth. If they stay close enough to the sleigh, we might get a bit of their body heat, and they’ll help block the wind if it changes direction.”

  “And how will we stay warm?” She eyed him dubiously.

  “Thankfully, Ben gave us extra coal—he’s always over-prepared—so that will help us stay a little warmer.”

  “A little warmer?”

  He walked over and leaned on the side of the sleigh. “Madeline, we can’t burn all the coal at once. We could be here all day, all night. Possibly longer.”

  “Longer?” she gasped. “How much longer?”

  “I couldn’t say.” He wouldn’t say. They could be stranded for days, if it got bad—but he’d never tell her that.

  “If we can’t burn much coal, what will we do?”

  She bit her lower lip, and he found himself almost lifting a hand to stroke her cheek. It was going to be a long day.

  “I know you won’t like it, but we’ll have to sit close together for warmth and stay under the blankets and furs. The tarpaulin will hold in the heat a little too, and keep most of the wind off us.”

  “We can’t—I couldn’t possibly…”

  “I don’t think you understand, and we don’t have time to debate.” He clasped a hand firmly on her shoulder. “You’re in a different world here, Madeline. This isn’t Boston. This isn’t a matter of propriety. It’s a matter of life and death. You could die out here. Easy as pie, you could freeze to death. Now you’ll do what I say, when I say it, because you’re my responsibility, and I’m not letting you die on me, you hear?”

  She nodded stiffly, her eyes wide with fear.

  “I’m sorry,” he let her go. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. But you need to know.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “You just sit tight while I take care of the horses.”

  She pulled the furs close around her face and watched him as he unhitched Tansy and tied both horses to the closest tree. Fortunately he had a large can of water among the supplies, knowing that out on the prairie there wouldn’t be much water—a trip searching for water with an impending storm would have been risky at best. But the can held barely a day’s worth, if they used it sparingly. Once he’d given them a little, and poured out a cup for himself and Madeline to share, he stowed it away in the sleigh, hoping it would last…and that their body heat would keep it from freezing.

  The clouds came together in a steely grey mass overhead, and the wind picked up. By the time Clay was safely ensconced in the sleigh with the tarp fastened down over the two of them, snow was swirling down out of the sky.

  “Does it snow much here?” Madeline asked, forcing nonchalance into her voice as he slid across the seat to sit against her.

  “It can. It’s fairly dry here. Most of the rain and snow falls on the western side of the Continental Divide, but one never knows. I’m sure it won’t be too bad. We just don’t want to get trapped on the prairie during the worst of it.”

  “Maybe it will stop soon, then, and we can make it to the ranch before dark.”

  “Maybe.” Clay didn’t tell her that it was unlikely. The way the snow was coming down, he thought they’d be there a few hours at least, and that would put them too late in the day to head out.

  He was chilled to the bone and wanted to press nearer to her warmth, but didn’t want to scare her right away, or to steal away her body heat. Best to ease her into it, he thought. No need to scare her off. By nightfall, her concern over his proximity would be forgotten in a bid to stay warm.

  The closer he moved toward her, the more aware he became of her body, her skin, and the sound of her breathing. Then he could smell her—a hint of lavender and vanilla—and he forced himself not to inhale her scent deeply.

  Yes, it would be a long day. And a very, very long night.

  Chapter 11

  The wind whistled around the sleigh, flapping the edges of the tarpaulin. The oiled canvas weighed heavy on top of them, and Madeline removed her woolen bonnet and set it aside to prevent the brim from crushing down.

  “You’ll need all the warmth you can get,” Clay said. “You should leave it on. Or at least put the shawl up over your head.”

  She pulled the shawl up over her head. No need to ruin a perfectly good hat—her only decent winter hat. The snowflakes were falling faster now, tap-tap-tapping down onto the tarpaulin and skittering off the sides of it. Beside them, she could hear the horses snort and move about a bit.

  “They’ll be fine out in the weather?”

  “Yes,” his voice was close, so close to her in the semi-darkness. “They’ll be fine, as long as the temperatures don’t drop too bad.”

  “And if they did?”

  Clay hesitated. “I’m sure the temperatures won’t get too bad.”

  Madeline didn’t need to be an experienced horsewoman to figure out what would happen if it got too cold for the horses. They’d be stranded. If they even survived long enough to be stranded.

  “Can anyone see us from the road?”

  “No. Not unless they were specifically looking at these trees, which is unlikely. The tracks in the snow will disappear within the hour.”

  She stewed on that one. She wasn’t s
ure if it was a good thing or bad. She’d heard stories of robbers on western trails, so perhaps being hidden was a good thing. But if the horses froze to death…

  “Are you too cold? You’re shivering.”

  She was. Her teeth were chattering, but she didn’t think it was entirely from the cold. “What kind of animals are out here?”

  “Please, don’t drive yourself crazy—”

  “What kind?” she insisted.

  Clay sighed. “Wolves. Bear. Mountain lion. But the bears should be hibernating, so—”

  “Mountain lions? How dangerous are they?”

  “They’re less common than you’d think, but…yes, they are dangerous,” he admitted.

  “I see.” She felt a little faint, and it felt hard to breathe. “I think I need to get out of here…” she began to throw off the covers and try to lift herself up, pushing against the canvas.

  “No, Madeline, no,” he took her by the arms, pulled her back down as she struggled against him.

  “I can’t breathe. Please, let me go—”

  “Going out there won’t make you any safer. You’re safe here. You’re fine. I have you. I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise.”

  She let herself fall back into the seat. He put his arm around her, drawing her close, and rubbing her arm.

  “I promise nothing will happen to you.”

  “How can you promise that?”

  “Listen, I’ve hunted these woods before. I know what’s out here. It’s nothing I haven’t faced before. I know how to survive. As long as you’re with me, as long as you do what I say, we’ll both be just fine. I know this is new and strange, and it feels scary. But people survive much worse situations than this out here, all the time. Montanans are tough.”