Surrendered (Intrique Under Western Skies Book 2)

by Elaine Manders

  “I don’t know how far I’ll get, but I’m going to test it out.” On the grass, Carianne worked to remove her riding boots.

  Colt’s shadow fell across her. “Can I help you?” He kneeled at her feet. She lifted one boot and then the other for him to pull off. He stood, and she grabbed his outstretched hand.

  His gaze swept over her, setting off a wave of heat in her cheeks. Never had she appeared before a man in such skimpy clothing, and when she got wet, it would mold to her body. She should have worn a corset. But it was too late now, and she needed to cool off. She pivoted and strode toward the beach.

  With some trepidation, she walked over the cool sand and stepped into the lapping water. Shock sent a shiver through her. “Oooh, that’s cold.” She jumped back out. Becky’s giggle blended with Colt’s low chuckle.

  “Becky, how can you stay out there?”

  Rachel joined them at the water’s edge. “She’ll stay in until she turns blue.”

  “You’ll get used to it.” Colt was closer than Carianne realized. “I can’t teach you to swim if you don’t get wet.”

  She reached down and scooped up two handfuls of water. “Why don’t you get wet?” She slung it on him, wetting his shirt.

  “Think I will.” He stepped back to drop down on the sand so he could take his boots off.

  Sputtering, Becky sloshed up. “Look, Miss Carianne. I caught a minnow.” She held up the shiny little fish flipping back and forth. “My brother, Danny, caught a big fish in his hands once. He trapped it by that rock over there.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yes, and we ate him.” Becky giggled. “The fish, not my brother.”

  Carianne couldn’t help smiling. She brushed a sprig of dripping, auburn hair from Becky’s face. She was such an endearing little girl. “Why didn’t your brothers come today?”

  “They have to work in the fields, but Ma told them they could come with some other boys later.” Becky tossed the minnow in the air and leaned in to whisper, “When they go swimming, they don’t even wear clothes. Boys are funny like that.”

  Carianne glanced behind to find Colt rolling up his jeans.

  Becky came up beside her. “Don’t worry. Mr. Holliman will keep his clothes on.”

  Unable to contain herself, Carianne laughed, the first real laugh since—

  “What’s funny?” Colt asked.

  Wind caressed her face, cooling some of the heat in her cheeks. “Nothing…nothing at all.” She looked around him and shouted. “Don’t you want to join us, Rachel?”

  “Not me,” Rachel called from her spot on the grass. I might cool off my feet after awhile. Right now I’m going to sit over here and rest a spell.”

  Colt walked right in. “Come on. You’ll get used to the water.” He grabbed Becky under the arms and flung her into the deeper water. The little girl let out ear-splitting squeals of delight.

  Thoroughly drenched, Carianne decided she might as well go in. The water grew murkier the further she advanced, and abruptly, the ground gave way. Plunged up to her shoulders, she gasped.

  Colt clamped her arm to steady her. “I should have warned you. This is a spring and it gets deep in the middle, all the way to the rocks. That’s why it’s so cold.”

  “Dunk her, dunk her,” Becky chimed. What a meanie that sweet little girl had turned into.

  “I’m not going to dunk you.” Colt’s voice held a touch of mischief, making her hesitate.

  “Can Rhyan swim?” she asked.

  “Like a fish. He learned to swim in the ocean, so I think the river was too tame and shallow for him. He taught me to swim the first summer he spent here.” Colt pointed to the lazy river. “We were about ten, I think, and he lured me out to the middle and let me go.” He laughed beneath his breath. “I don’t think he’d’ve let me drown, but I had to fight my way back to the bank.”

  “Sounds like something he’d do.” She rubbed the goosebumps on her arms while a picture flashed in her mind of Rhyan emerging from the ocean, not as a small boy but as the man he now was. His wet, raven hair drawn into tight curls. White sand sprinkled on sun-bronzed skin. Dark, sultry eyes narrowed against a blaring sun.

  She glanced over her shoulder to find a smile of encouragement on Colt’s face. She relaxed. He really was a good-looking man. No dimple, but he had an intriguing clef in his chin. He’d rolled up his shirt sleeves to reveal well-developed biceps. Any woman would swoon to be in her position. Why couldn’t she appreciate eyes the color of the sky at high noon? Yet all she could think of was Rhyan’s dark eyes.

  “Well, I’m wet now, so you can show me how to swim.”

  “Stand here and I’ll show you what to do. Pay close attention.” He swam the length of the rock wall twice. “Now you shove off. Kick with your feet, and pull with your arms at the same time.”

  That should be easy enough to do. She dove into the water and promptly sank, coming up sputtering. She shook the water out of her eyes. Colt was at the other end, and Becky had climbed on a boulder, looking with interest.

  “Are you going to stand there and let me drown?” She yelled, her smile letting him know she was teasing.

  He swam to her. “I won’t let you drown, but you’ll have to get your head wet.”

  “You can do it, Miss Carianne. I went under lots of times before I learned.” This encouraging advice came from Becky.

  Carianne wasn’t used to letting anything defeat her, but after half an hour, she could do little more than tread water.

  Rachel called Becky to help put the food out, and they all sloshed out of the water. Carianne and Colt settled on blankets spread out in the sun. She lay back enjoying the warmth.

  “You can’t expect to learn in one day.” Colt propped up with his elbows behind him. “Get Rachel and Becky to come with you every week.” He shaded his eyes with his hand to look at her. “You’re too uncomfortable with me.”

  “No, I’m not.” Was she? She glanced down at her bosom straining against the wet bodice, and wished she’d taken the time to let it out, but she honestly didn’t feel any more uncomfortable with Colt than she would have been with a brother. Maybe that was the problem.

  Sitting up, she began to take the pins out of her wet hair, letting it fall down her back and shaking it out. She looked over to find Colt staring at her. For the first time there was a look of admiration in his eyes, the kind of admiration a man has for a woman. She quickly gathered her hair and tied it at the back.

  “You’re a beautiful woman, Carianne, inside, as well as out. I don’t know what happened between you and Rhyan, but he made the biggest mistake of his life.” The look he gave her made her shiver. “I’d be honored if you’d let me call on you from time to time.”

  Above all, he deserved honesty. She couldn’t lead him down a path she wasn’t willing to go. What if Rhyan came to his senses? She wouldn’t hurt Colt for the world. A lump rose in her throat and forced her to swallow. No, Rhyan had gone off with Abby, his first love. Maybe his only love.

  She twisted her mouth, then forced her lips into a mile-wide smile. “Of course I’d like to have you call on me. I don’t want to talk about Rhyan today…and he didn’t make a mistake about me. Since he can’t accept that God wants to save him, he’s right about us. I’m glad he was honest with me.” In spite of her bravado, she felt a tear roll down her cheek. She quickly turned away, hoping Colt would assume it was a drop of water from her wet hair.

  With an audible groan, he sat up and plucked a sprig of grass. He looked out at the gently flowing water. “Some things aren’t meant for us to control. Take the river. If it were dammed up, the land would be flooded.” He chewed on the grass sprig for a few moments. “The river flows slowly today, but it’s not always like that. I remember a time when it flooded, and the river was churning and running so swiftly it…well…I almost drowned out there when I was a boy.”

  She shifted around to face him. “You did? How?”

  “It was the summer I was thirteen. Rhyan a
nd I came up with the insane notion—as only thirteen-year-old boys can be insane—to build a raft and ride down the churning current.”

  “Oh, no.”

  “Yeah. It took that river about five seconds to pull us out to the middle and turn our raft into match sticks. It threw Rhyan toward the bank, and he was able to swim ashore, but I was tossed into the thick of it.”

  He crossed his legs Indian fashion, and she waited, imaging the scene. “There was one little oak sapling within reach, and I grabbed it. It bent. I ducked under. I came up, it bent over again and again, ducking me each time. Rhyan didn’t dawdle getting help. The men came after about ten minutes, I guess, but it was the longest ten minutes of my life.”

  “You must have been terrified. I would have been.”

  “I was terrified, mainly because I knew I wasn’t ready to die.” He drew back his arm and flung a pebble into the water, then pointed to where it plopped. “I got right with God out there in the middle of the river.”

  That would be enough to put things into perspective. She honestly couldn’t remember a time when the Spirit didn’t abide with her, but conversion experiences always touched her with awe.

  They sat in silence for a moment before he continued, “As soon as I got to church the next day, I insisted they let me profess my commitment to Christ before the first song was sung.”

  “But not Rhyan?”

  “No, not Rhyan.” He looked back at her. “But we won’t give up on him. Remember, he wasn’t out there in the river, struggling for his life. Sometimes, you have to hit rock bottom to come up.”

  “I don’t understand it. He was brought up right.”

  “He was, and I guess we have to claim the promise that a child brought up right, even if he becomes a prodigal, will return to his roots.”

  “But what I don’t understand is, I thought—I felt it in my heart—that God was dealing with Rhyan. That he has some important purpose, but he’s kicking against the pricks. We’ll just have to pray harder.”

  “We’ll have to keep praying, as you say.” A cloud passed over the sun and he shifted positions, tilting his gaze to the sky. “That’s exactly what he’s doing, kicking against the pricks, but there comes a time when you have to let go and let God.”

  That was true. Only God could get his attention. It was up to God now. No—it was up to Rhyan too. Jesus only knocked at the door. One had to open it.

  But Rhyan had gone back to Washington. With Abby. If he returned to that type of life, it’d be hard to hear Jesus knocking.

  The sun popped back out, and the glare forced them to move to the dappled shade under an old elm. Rachel was slicing watermelon and Becky setting the picnic table.

  Carianne sent Colt a squinted look. “Why did you bring me here?”

  “Why did you come?”

  “I just wanted to be with you. Maybe because Rhyan awoke a longing in me for a man’s attention and then threw me aside. I…I wanted to be assured it wasn’t just me.” A little chuckle broke through.

  She shook her head and let it fall back. “Maybe that sounds like I’m using you, but there’s another reason. You remind me of someone from the distant past, someone I knew as a child. I’ve been racking my brain, but I can’t remember who, yet this man was there when I needed someone. He was a comfort…made me feel safe.” She met his blue gaze.

  Sympathy showed in his eyes. “I’ve always considered you a friend.”

  She pulled off a blossom from the elder bush. “I value your friendship, but Rhyan is your friend too. I hope I haven’t put you in a difficult position.”

  “I’m not in the difficult position, Carianne. You are.”

  “Come on, you two,” Rachel yelled.

  They ambled to the table and sat on the bench across from Rachel and Becky. Carianne’s gaze fixed on the plate of fried chicken. Her mind flashed to that other picnic in the tower. High in the air. With fried chicken. She couldn’t concentrate on the blessing.

  “Carianne, fill your plate, honey. There’s plenty.” Rachel handed her a tin plate.

  “You know, I had a really big breakfast. I think I’ll just have a little…bread…and some watermelon.” What a combination. They think she’d lost more than her appetite.

  “I’d of thought that swimming would have built up your appetite.” Colt laid a slice of watermelon on her plate.

  The smell of food knotted her stomach, while her mind refused to leave those memories of her last picnic with Rhyan. She only half listened to Rachel and Colt talking, blended with the drone of insects and Becky’s giggles. She nibbled while they discussed the farm, and Becky ran off to pick flowers.

  After awhile, Rachel began to stack the dishes. “Guess we’d better be going.” She got up and shouted, “Becky.”

  Her high pitched yell broke through Carianne’s fog. “Here, let me help you pack up.”

  “I’ve already done that, Carianne.”

  So she had, and Colt had gone off to fetch Becky. Carianne scrambled into her overskirt before he came from the trees, carrying Becky on his shoulders while she plucked petals to rain on his head.

  Colt ought to get married. He’d make such a good father.

  He set Becky down and brushed the petals out of his hair. The little girl took on her whiny voice. “Do we have to go now? I wanted to go back in the water.”

  “Yes, young’un, we have to pick over the beans and get supper started.” Rachel shooed her off and turned to Colt. “I’m going to head back home this way, it’s shorter. You can see Carianne home?”

  “That won’t be necessary,” Carianne said. “It’ll be shorter that way for Colt too.”

  Colt’s gaze swung back to her. “No, I’ll see you home. I have a few other things left to say.”

  A cocked brow added to his grin warned her she might not like what he had to say.

  He fell into step with her as they made their way to the horses. “I didn’t see you at church Sunday.” Colt’s tone was gentle and coaxing, as it always was.

  She kept her head down. “No, I overslept. It’s a bad habit I picked up from the wealthy patrons my grandmother sent me to after my mother died. I discovered it wasn’t fashionable to awake before noon.”

  When he said nothing, she felt an unaccountable need to explain. “My mother and I lived on her war widow’s pension before that. It was such a change going from poverty to wealth overnight, I didn’t notice things changing, like sleeping habits. Until they did.”

  “That was a big change, all right. Do you miss your wealthy friends?”

  A derisive laugh escaped her throat. “No, I left Philadelphia because my life was becoming as meaningless as theirs.”

  They’d reached the horses, but neither one of them seemed inclined to saddle up. “You stopped here to establish a library, but Rachel told me you cancelled the library opening last week.”

  She adjusted her wet skirts and muttered, “I didn’t think it was ready.” Actually, it was she who wasn’t ready.

  “Tom Amerson said you’ve refused their invitation to supper over and over. The Amersons are worried about you.”

  No excuse for that. “I know. I did have supper at Rachel’s one evening. They have a pretty farm.” Maybe she could steer him in another direction.

  “Yeah, one of the best, but she said you’d refused her invitation to the women’s circle meeting.”

  With a sigh of resignation, she hoisted herself into the saddle. So much for getting him off the subject.

  Colt tilted his hat back and looked at her from under the brim. “You can’t shut yourself away from people, Carianne. It’s not good for anyone, and especially not someone like you.”

  As if she didn’t know that. “I haven’t been myself lately, but I’ll be all right. Honest.”

  “I know you will be.” Colt mounted his sorrel stallion. “I just don’t like that you’ve let Rhyan take your joy.” He bent over the horse’s head to adjust the harness. “The first thing I noticed about you was your
joy. It bubbled up and spilled out like a geyser I saw in Colorado once. You told me your mission was to reach out to people and help them when you could. You did that with everyone you met. Some who weren’t very nice to you.

  He straightened in the saddle. “I know you’ve been hurt, Carianne, but your mission is the same.”

  How long since she’d felt joy? Not since Rhyan left on his business trip a month ago. Too long.

  Joy was like water to the Spirit. No wonder she felt shriveled inside. “That’s why I asked to come out here today, and I’m going over to the Amerson’s tonight.”

  “That’s a start.” He laughed. “But I’m going to keep after you, you know.” He turned his horse around and added over his shoulder, “When we get to the river bridge, I’ll show you where people have carved messages in the pillars over the years.”

  She kicked the horse’s flanks to follow him and hoped those messages weren’t couples who’d recorded words of love.

  ***

  The train sat belching its excess steam as dirty, sweaty, smelly passengers stepped out onto the depot platform. Rhyan stood back from the exit door to allow a woman and her six children to pass him. The woman tossed him a grim look as she navigated the aisle, a year-old baby clutched to her bosom. After screaming all the way from Omaha, the child pinned Rhyan with a big blue stare, grinning like a cherub. Older children trooped after the woman, reminding him of ducklings following their mother.

  He scanned the train’s aisle, waiting for the woman’s husband to pass. Sure enough, here he came—a man of medium build with a harried expression, wearing a dusty black suit and carrying his hat and three bags. He passed Rhyan without a glance, then stuck his balding head out into the sunshine. Didn’t look old enough to be bald. Probably pulled out his hair.

  Following the family off the platform, Rhyan noticed them piling luggage onto a wagon. By the looks of it, this wasn’t a short visit for them. Must be the farmer who’d bought the Colvic place. Mrs. Colvic had refused to sell to Sollano. She blamed Rhyan for her husband’s death, though it was her husband who tried to kill Rhyan.