by Carol Rose
After all those summers spent chasing a gay social whirl in Wichita Falls, Stoneburg was apparently home to her, too. The house and Nora's meager trust fund enabled them to get by, but now her mother had to face the stigma of Nora's disgrace.
The situation was incredibly unfair. The voices at the ladies' table behind Nora seemed to grow louder. Reaching across the table, Nora covered her mother's fragile hand with her own.
"Everything will be all right. With nothing else to feed it, the talk will die down eventually."
"I certainly hope so, Nora," her mother replied, her voice trembling. "For both our sakes."
Drawing her hand slowly from Nora's clasp, she picked up her small handbag. "I have a hairdresser's appointment, honey. You stay and finish your lunch."
Nora sadly watched her mother preparing to leave. She knew that Sharon's moments of anger stemmed more from embarrassment than from a lack of concern for her daughter.
"If you really want to redeem yourself," Sharon said, lowering her voice again, "you'll find yourself a respectable husband as quickly as possible."
"I don't think that's the answer," Nora said steadily.
"Well, I guess you know best." Sharon picked up her cardigan and left the cafe.
Nora stared numbly at her chicken salad, swamped by a sudden urge to do someone bodily harm, preferably Richard, and then his boss. The old lech hadn't even had the excuse of being drunk when he pinned her against the counter in Richard's North Dallas home and proceeded to investigate the contents of her bra.
Still, violence wouldn't do her any good now. The engagement to Richard was over and strangely enough, as the shock was wearing off, Nora found herself relieved. They'd gone together most of high school. Over the years, she'd become accustomed to his presence in her life, never questioning whether that was what she really wanted. Now Richard had taken the matter out of her hands, and she found she didn't really miss him.
It was a joy to be back home in Stoneburg. At least, it was if she didn't glance around at the table behind her.
Hopefully, the town gossips were only a small portion of the population of Stoneburg. She'd just have to win over the rest of the people-the ones who'd grown up steeped in Western tradition, fiercely loyal to their style of horsemanship.
"Well, if it isn't my favorite riding teacher."
Nora jumped, startled by Bret Maddock's voice. "You don't mind if I join you?" he asked, as he seated himself across the table in the seat Sharon had just abandoned.
"No. No, of course not."
A murmur rose from the table in the corner. Nora resisted the urge to look around, knowing that Bret's arrival and his choice of seats had not gone unnoticed.
Tossing his hat on a chair, Bret smiled at her. He carried a lot of voltage in that smile. Nora took a deep breath, trying not to absorb its impact.
''I'm starved," he announced. "Why don't you pour out your deepest secrets to distract me while I wait for my burger."
Nora frowned. Her deepest secrets? What was he up to?
"Okay," he conceded easily when she didn't speak, "if it's too soon for secrets, how about telling me all about your riding stable plans."
She tried to resist his lure, but he looked so endearingly confident, sitting across from her, so dangerously charming with his arms braced on the tabletop and his eyes fixed on her face with complete attention.
"Has anyone ever told you you're a little too confident?" she asked ruefully.
"All the time." He smiled again. "Is that gonna be a problem?"
The noise in the cafe seemed suddenly distant, the hum receding to leave them alone across the table. There was an intentness in Bret's face, a look in his eyes that she'd never seen directed at her before.
Please, Lord. Don't let Bret Maddock set his sights on me. With his reckless charm and potent virility, he was the last man she needed at this point.
Some women could grab hold of a comet and enjoy the ride, but Nora wasn't one of them. Bruised from her run-in with one man's selfish dishonesty, she didn't plan on exposing herself to Bret's brand of unreliability.
"What’s the matter, Nora Elizabeth? Afraid I'm going to set myself up in competition? Maybe I'll start riding in those high boots and sissy pants."
Nora laughed, his teasing comment breaking some of the tension. "I don't think there's much possibility of that."
"Probably not," he agreed.
She just couldn't see Bret doing anything as disciplined as riding English style. He'd been a hell-raiser since grade school.
"Equitation isn't risky enough for you," Nora said dryly.
"Why, whatever do you mean?" Bret leaned forward, elbows propped on the table, his face alive with teasing challenge.
"Nothing," she back-pedaled. "Nothing at all."
"Now, Nora," he chided. "Come clean."
"Well, you've been champion of the Montague Riding Club annual race ten years in a row," she said, grabbing at the first thing that entered her mind. "Rodeoing, bungee jumping, stunt flying. From what I've heard you do pretty much anything that involves risk to life and limb."
Bret smiled. "Now we're not going to listen to gossip about each other, are we?"
His question stopped her heart for a moment. Nora studied his face, unable to discern where he stood on the matter of her scarlet reputation. He'd clearly heard about the scandal.
"I hope not," she replied carefully. She didn't plan on signing up for his merry-go-round of feminine companionship, but she didn't plan to make an enemy of him, either.
"We'll make a friendly pact," Bret offered, raising his voice ever so slightly. "We'll tell each other our worst sins before the gossips do."
He glanced at the table of women behind her and back to Nora, winking. She couldn't help but laugh, although his antics left a queasy feeling in her stomach. It was like waving a red flag at an already irritated bull.
''I'm sure my sins aren't that interesting," she said quietly, "but the friendly part sounds good."
Other than Hoyt and Janie, Bret was the only person in town who treated her anything like a friend. The women whose eyes seemed to be boring into her back certainly didn't.
"I look forward to being friendly with you," he teased, "but let's don't forget to get back to the sins sometime soon."
Maxine approached with Bret's plate. "Here's your order, you rascal," she declared in a rough voice, worn by years of smoking. "Don't forget to pay for it.”
"Since when do I forget anything?" Bret called after her.
The older woman laughed and kept on walking.
"So tell me more about the riding school," Bret said again before taking a bite of his burger.
Nora shrugged. "I want to teach riding to youngsters. Right now, I'm trying to start a business and get a bank loan."
Bret nodded. "Sounds like a good plan. But I think it'll be uphill work to get folks here excited about English style riding."
"Not young girls," Nora said positively. "Pre-teen and early teen girls take to equitation like ducks to water. It helps teach them responsibility for their mount and themselves. I promise, once I get going, I'll never have to groom Chessie again--I'll have kids clamoring to do it."
He looked skeptical. "Most kids around here have horses. They're not like city kids who have never cleaned out stables."
Nora shook her head. "Equitation is different. It focuses on the relationship between rider and horse. Eventually, I'd like to have a stable and ring and a place to board horses."
"You ought to be able to find several good pieces of property to build on," Bret said, digging into his French fries.
"I won't be able to borrow enough to build," Nora said. "What I want is to find a place with the basic structures-stables for the horses and a working ring-already on it. Something I can fix up as I go along. I have a place in mind, but I'm not sure I can get a loan yet."
"You have a particular property in mind?" Bret asked before polishing off the last of his burger.
"Yes."
Nora said, trying to keep a grip on her excitement. She'd been thrilled to find the perfect spot to begin her new life. "It's been empty for ten years now, but the barn is still sound and there's even a small farmhouse I could live in. It's the Turner acreage that runs along your western boundary."
Bret's hand paused in mid French fry lift. Surely, he hadn't heard her right. Nora wanted the Turner farm? Here was a potential complication in his carnal pursuit of her.
She hesitated a moment. "Mother really doesn't have room for me. But I'm staying with her until I can find a place."
Bret could understand why Nora was eager to have her own place. Still, given his own plans for that piece of land, her news about the property wasn't good.
"Have you given that place a good look-over?" he said casually. "It's been empty more like fifteen years."
"I know," Nora assured him, "but the buildings seem sound."
"Be a good idea to have someone in construction check the place out before you get too far down the line." He swiped a carrot stick off her plate, deciding not to worry about something that might never come to pass.
"I will," promised Nora, stabbing a bite of salad. "Hoyt Daniels says Mrs. Turner has a CPA that handles her business-a man named Jim Carlyle. I can't really approach him about the property until I have some paying students, but I'm determined to buy that land and set up my own stable as soon as possible."
"Sounds like a plan," Bret said. She certainly looked determined, but the woman had a long road ahead of her.
A companionable silence fell between them as they ate.
"Can you believe her gall?" The brittle, high pitched voice floated from the table in the corner.
Cissy Burton went on, "She sits right here among respectable people, just like she hadn't tried to ruin a man's life."
Nora's hand clenched the paper napkin, her fork settling on to the salad plate with a faint clatter.
"Some women are born tramps," another woman spoke.
"She ought to be run out of town before she gets some other poor boy in trouble."
Bret recognized the last voice as Wilma Worthington's. Naturally, she'd never think her perfect son had done anything wrong, so Nora must be to blame.
Glancing back at the woman across the table, Bret saw her transformed. Nora sat with a closed expression on her face. Only the firm line of her mouth gave a hint of her distress at hearing women she'd known all her life turn against her.
"Well, I wouldn't think she was pretty enough to cause this much trouble," Cissy declared in a clear voice.
Bret heard Nora's swiftly indrawn breath. Something about the way she sat there silently drew his compassion-and made him fighting mad.
He leaned forward. "Cissy Burton needs a swift kick in the fanny ... or a poke in the eye. Why don't you go over there and show her how it feels to be ground into the dirt?"
Nora looked up suddenly, her eyes dark with suppressed anger. "Reacting to people like that just gives them more ammunition. Eventually, it'll die down."
She glanced at her watch and grabbed for her purse. "I have to go now, I'm late."
He watched her exit with a bad taste in his mouth. Between the scandal about Richard's boss and Cissy's witchy attitude, Nora needed a friend. Bret figured he was well qualified, having survived a few scandals in his time. And if his bonus was getting a lot closer to Nora, well, sometimes life was good.
******
Chapter Two
Bret slung his saddle over the fence rail and tried not to look as if he were staring at Nora.
The mid-morning sun gleamed off Chessie's coat with a rich, polished glow. Nora moved around the riding ring as if she were part of the chestnut mare.
Smiling and sweet-talking her mare, she'd put the animal through its paces, riding around the ring in the peculiar bouncy English style.
He'd thought she'd looked good in jeans, but Nora in skin-tight riding breeches was a sight to behold. His mouth had gone dry when she walked past. Bret had never thought he'd get so turned on by a woman that fully clothed.
He dipped a rag in the can of neat's-foot oil and made himself concentrate on the saddle he was oiling.
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the dark helmet perched on her red-brown hair, leaving only the twitchy end of a braid visible. She trotted the horse around the riding ring in a steady, precise manner, her voice low as she talked to the mare.
Something about her movements kept Bret staring. Nora held herself poised in the saddle, using her legs as well as her hands to guide Chessie around the ring.
Bret watched her effortless communication with the horse, the tautness of her thighs and her straight posture that never seemed stiff. He couldn't help being impressed.
A change came over Nora when she was on horseback-she seemed supremely confident and comfortable. Every step, every turn was accomplished with a minimum of fuss, as if getting a nine-hundred-pound horse to do exactly what she wanted was as effortless as walking.
The slam of a car door drew Bret's attention away from the woman in the corral. A flurry of small footsteps echoed in the barn before Jessica McGarver shot through the open door and cast herself exultantly against the fence next to Bret.
"Gosh, isn't Chessie the greatest!" The ten-year-old gir1looked at the mare in blatant adoration. "Nora's gonna let me ride her today!"
"Why don't you get excited about it?" Bret said dryly.
"Jessica, you left your coat in the car." A slender blond woman stepped out of the barn.
"Oh, Mom." The girl made a face. "It's warm."
"Put it on." Eve McGarver held out a jacket and waited until the child slipped it on.
"Anyone would think you never let this kid out of the house, the way she's so revved up about these lessons." Bret commented.
Eve sighed. "She's always revved up, Bret, but not usually this bad. She'll probably be a total zero in school tomorrow."
Bret smiled. Eve taught elementary school and everything about her looked the part. Her short hair was both stylish and practical and, from what he could tell, her wardrobe consisted of craft-decorated tops and skirts.
'”Jessica's teacher is at her wits' end," Eve murmured.
With her thin, leggy body draped against the fence, Jessica was so engrossed in watching the horse she didn't seem to hear them.
Bret and Eve both watched the activity in the riding ring.
"Nora's wonderful on horseback," said Eve, her face softening as she watched her friend.
"Amazing," Bret murmured, still captured by her skill.
"I've invited her to my classroom to talk about riding. I think the children will be very interested."
"Bound to be," he said. "Particularly if they get to skip an arithmetic lesson or something."
"Oh, you." Eve punched his arm playfully before returning her attention to the ring.
"Ouch." He made a show of rubbing his arm, but he'd lost Eve's attention.
"Nora gets on one of those huge animals and it's like she forgets everything else." Eve's eyes rested on her daughter before sending a meaningful glance Bret's way. "And there's so much to forget lately."
"Richard's an as-" he broke off when Eve frowned and looked quickly at her enraptured daughter. "He's an idiot," Bret amended.
"What I'd like," Eve said in a lowered tone, "is to give the old biddies in this town permanent detention for how they're treating her."
"What I'd like," Bret said, chuckling, "is to see Cissy Burton's face when you call her an old biddy."
An hour later, after Eve had taken Jessica home, Nora felt ready to fly. She'd taught her first lesson and knew she was making the right decision.
Jessica was a joy to teach. Nora was sure there were other girls in town who would want lessons, too.
The only flaw in the morning had been Nora's absurd awareness of Bret's presence. Why on earth couldn't he have been out wrestling cattle? Preferably out of her sight.
Nora took care of feeding and watering Chessie, givin
g her a final pat as she left the stall. "You did good today, girl. Pretty soon we'll be working every day. "
The day had warmed up, but the barn held a lingering shadowed coolness. Nora took her jacket from the nail where it hung and made her way into the sunlight.
Bret stood by his pickup, loading various things into the bed. “Jessica seemed to be enjoying her lesson," he commented.
"Yes, she has natural ability," Nora agreed. Compelled to escape Bret's heady influence, she edged forward. The man always managed to disable her brain while sending her heart racing. She didn't need the distraction. If even a straight arrow like Richard could betray her, how much more likely was Bret to do so? Bret had "fun" tattooed on his forehead. As sexy and disturbing as he was, she'd be an idiot to think he'd treat her heart any better than Richard had.
"Well, see you later," she said, turning toward her car.
"Hey," Bret called to her. "Do you have a few minutes to help me with something?"
Startled, she turned back. "I guess so. What do you need?"
He threw a pair of work gloves into the truck cab.
"I have a small windmill repair to do and all the ranch hands are busy doing other stuff."
"Windmill repair? I don't know anything-"
"Don't need to know anything. I just need another pair of hands. It won't take more than an hour." Bret smiled as if he knew the turmoil in her head.
There wasn't really a way she could refuse him. She obviously didn't have a lot to do until her lessons picked up, and she felt as if she owed him something for agreeing to board Chessie at a cut rate.
"Sure. I guess I have some time." Nora steeled herself against his smile as she threw her jacket in her car.
"Good." Bret grinned as he got into the truck. Nora climbed gingerly into the ranch vehicle after he swept several tools, a paper bag and a quantity of dust off the seat.
They drove away from the ranch buildings, taking a rough track into open pasture. Bret pointed out several landmarks, indicating the property line between his ranch and the Turner property. She scrutinized the land she hoped to buy.