My Heart Knew
Book #3 of the Dorado, Texas series
Linda Carroll-Bradd
About the story…
Tomboy Maisie Treadwell meets her match in cowboy Dylan MacInnes. From the moment they meet, the sparks and words fly. Of course, if she hadn’t knocked him down and caused an ankle sprain, their relationship might have gone more smoothly. To avoid damaging the reputation of the family’s boarding house, Maisie is ordered to be at the mercy of meeting Dylan’s demands. When they discover a shared interest in adventure stories, a bond is struck. Soon, Maisie can’t wait to spend time reading aloud to the virile man confined to a bed. Until the afternoon she overhears him explaining that his demands were meant to teach her a lesson. Can Dylan find a way to gain her trust again?
Table of Contents
MY HEART KNEW
About the story…
Previous books in the Dorado, Texas series
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Excerpt from FORGED BY FIRE
Titles Coming Soon in DORADO, TEXAS series
Copyright
Previous books in the Dorado, Texas series
Although each book can be read as a stand-alone story, the world is richer if you meet all the characters—and experience their love story—who might walk through the pages of the current story.
Wandering Home, Book #1
Widow Vevina Bernhard sees mysterious lights at night and believes her Texas ranch Shady Oaks is haunted. She needs protection for herself and her 4-year old son but the town’s sheriff offers no help. On hiatus from his Texas Ranger duties, Kell Hawksen hires on as a farrier at the ranch while keeping an eye out for clues to a stagecoach robber in hopes of collecting the bounty. On Samhain, fire erupts and Vevina and Kell battle both the danger and the depth of their feelings.
Storybook Hero, Book #2
Relocating to Texas has lessened Clari Rochester’s health problems, and she yearns for adventure. And she spots it outside her family’s mercantile when a quiet, but compelling, cowboy rescues a small child. Trevor Driscoll is the type of hero she’s come to admire through her love of books, and the type of man she secretly pens in her dime novels. But they’ve never had a real conversation. Trevor knows the logging accident that left him with only eight fingers limits his options, but he’s learned to manage. Until he rescues a fine lady from a runaway horse, spends the afternoon transporting her to safety, and gets a glimpse of what he’s always wanted. How will he respond to the unique present this special woman bestows?
Chapter One
February 1877
A chilly wind whistled past Maisie’s ears as she leaned lower over the galloping mare’s neck. Below the horses’ hooves flashed rocky soil and low-growing sage. Moving with the animal’s rhythm gave Maisie a sense of freedom and abandon. Out on the open Texas prairie where the land stretched as far as the eye could see, she allowed herself to let loose and pretend she had all sorts of choices. That she wasn’t stuck in a sleepy town where nothing much ever happened. That she didn’t perform boring housekeeping duties at the family-owned boarding house. That her family wasn’t struggling to keep their businesses viable. That her dream of training horses hadn’t died alongside her father in last summer’s stagecoach robbery.
“Easy, girl.” With a roll of her gloved hand toward the left, she guided the horse toward the tall cottonwood at the edge of a nearby creek. Its branches spread like a domed spider web against the pale wintry sky—black lines etched against an expanse of blue-grey.
After reaching the spindly shadows cast by the bare limbs, she dismounted from Buttercup and tucked the reins into the back pocket of her denim overalls. If Mother could see her now—clad in her brother Penn’s castoff clothes—she’d shudder and wag her head at her tomboyish middle daughter. Maisie was careful about using the tack room of Penn’s livery stable to change, and she always rode out and returned through the corral’s back gate. Probably she hadn’t fooled her mother one bit about her morning rides. But if Ellen Treadwell didn’t actually witness the hoyden acts, she might not feel compelled to lecture.
Tugging the knitted scarf tighter around her neck, she wandered toward the rushing creek and heard the crunch of frost-laden grass under her scuffed boots. Rides on the prairie proved a balm to her restless soul. Even when the morning air clung to winter’s chill. A welcome respite from sharing the boarding house common space with family members and monthly roomers. Everyone got along well enough with polite conversation at meals, Saturday night sing-alongs, and card playing or poetry sharing on other evenings. But not a single one of those living under the Treadwell roof knew the tumult that beat in Maisie’s chest.
The sharp keen of a hawk pulled her thoughts to the present. At the edge of the bank, she stooped to gather a handful of pebbles. An idle toss resulted in satisfying splashes and plunks. A pair of caracaras flapped away, their yellow beaks and feet bright spots of color over the brown landscape.
A plaintive mewl came from a few feet away.
Sucking in a breath, Maisie jerked. She glanced around, looking for wildlife close by among the flattened grasses and yarrow bushes. Penn warned her about riding when bobcats and coyotes were still rambling on their morning hunts. Now she wished she’d accepted the pistol he offered her last week. With a slow turn of her head, she scanned the creek bed but saw no movement.
The cry sounded again, rising in pitch until it shrieked.
Neighing, Buttercup shied and tossed her head.
The strange sound was a cry of pain. Although the piercing tone raised goose flesh on her arms, Maisie laid a hand on the mare’s neck, uttering soothing nonsense words. After tying the reins to a nearby scrub bush, she knelt and leaned over the edge of the creek bank, scanning the moist dirt and rocks below. The last snow storm had been several weeks ago at Christmas time, and only a few patches remained in the shady spots. A quick survey of the area a rod or so in each direction revealed no animal in plain sight.
Pebbles rolled from a cut in the bank a couple of feet below her and landed into the creek with distinct plinks. Whimpers and snuffling sounded.
In an instant, animal lover Maisie scrambled down the muddy bank, searching for the injured critter whose cries tore at her heart.
Tucked into a small cutout perched a baby bobcat, its speckled face turned outward. Wide greenish-yellow eyes stared, unblinking.
“All alone?” Again, Maisie tossed a glance around the immediate area, not wanting to tussle with an angry mother bobcat. Then she watched as the kitten licked at its right foreleg and emitted pitying cries. She edged closer, twisting her boot to make a flat place to stand. “Oh, you poor thing. You’re hurt, and your mama’s abandoned you.” Using slow moves, she unwound the woolen scarf from around her neck, grabbed a handful of the middle part, and reached for the kitten. “Don’t be scared. I just want to help.”
The feisty kitten snarled and shrank back against the dirt enclosure before giving a yip.
“I won’t hurt you.” Maisie wasn’t deterred. This helpless animal was in pain, and she could help. She tossed the scarf over the kitten’s head and wrapped one end over its back legs then cradled its body close to hers. “Oh, you’re so small. My brother owns a warm and cozy stable, and we’ll make up a nice bed for you. I’ll tend your leg, and you’ll be good as new in no time.” Tracking up the bank carrying the bundle challenged her climbing ability, but within only a few minutes, Maisie had mounted and covered half the distance to town. She kept Buttercup at a gentle canter to avoid scaring the animal any more than it alr
eady was. All the while, she sang lullabies from her childhood, figuring the kit needed to get used to human voices.
Once she’d reached the livery’s back corral, she leaned to the side to pull up the rope loop, eased open the wooden slat gate enough to allow Buttercup to walk inside, and then steered her around to face the opposite direction so she could refasten the loop. Penn had already released the horses into the corral for the day, and she guided her mare through the milling animals. Near the livery, she lifted the kit high against her chest, drew her leg over the horse’s neck, and slid off the horse until her feet hit the dirt floor. Then, she wrapped the reins around the saddle horn. Buttercup could wait ten minutes to be unsaddled.
All Maisie’s attention centered on the bobcat kitten and what needed to be done. She dashed inside into the darkened stable. “Penn, look what I found. Hey—” She bumped her shoulder into a solid mass in the middle of the livery’s aisle and staggered backward, barely staying upright. “Oof.”
A black stallion snorted and made a sideways hop, dumping the tall rider who had been dismounting to the dirt floor.
“What the hell?” A deep voice bellowed. “Oww.”
At the unfamiliar and irritated tone, Maisie flinched, her heart beating double time at the accident she’d caused. “Pardon me, sir.” She stepped back and stared. The stranger was obviously a potential customer. This incident was bad. The family budget needed every stall fee and room rental possible.
From nearby where he’d been waiting, Penn rushed forward and caught hold of the dangling reins, smoothing a hand over the stallion’s neck. “Sorry, Mister MacInnes. I’ve got the horse. Such a fine specimen.”
Maisie shot her older brother a sideways glance and caught the scowl lowering his reddish brown eyebrows.
Penn pinched his lips tight before he turned to the man. “How are you, sir?”
Low mutterings erupted from the lean body sprawled on the hard-packed floor, a left foot upright and tangled with the stirrup. His hat had tumbled several feet away, exposing straight black hair. Levering himself onto his elbows, he braced his torso upright on his elbows. “How do you think? My ankle’s throbbing, and this injury is all that lad’s fault.” He whipped his head around and flashed a green-eyed stare.
Lad? Oh, the clothes. Maisie flitted her gaze between the stranger, undoubtedly a customer who would need to be pacified, and the wriggly bundle in her arms. Both were in need of medical attention. What will Mother say about what I’ve done? She sidled up behind Penn, letting his broad body be a barricade between her and the irritated stranger. “I need a box or a crate.” Although Maisie knew the baby bobcat needed her help, she couldn’t stop herself from pausing and gazing at the long-limbed man. Even with a scowl tightening his features, he appeared to be the most interesting visitor to Dorado for quite a spell.
“What?” Penn peered over his shoulder, and then down at the animal who now mewled from the depths of the scarf. His gaze narrowed. “What have you got there?”
“The poor thing’s hurt.” She eased back the scarf and watched her brother’s eyes widen at the sight within. Sure, she’d have to endure another lecture about bringing home feral animals. But she had an ally—Penn’s empathy for animals ran just as deep as hers. She stroked a finger over the soft fur on top of the kit’s head, feeling it stiffen for a second then relax.
“Let me see to the customer first.” After his whisper, he faced forward. “Mister MacInnes, I possess experience with animal injuries and can tend to your ankle, if you like.”
Mister MacInnes sat upright after freeing his foot from the stirrup. He stretched to grab his hat, settled it on his head, and held out a hand. “The blasted thing is throbbing like a son of a gun. Help me up.”
Maisie averted her face and scurried across the hard-packed center aisle to the farthest empty stall. On the way, she grabbed an armful of hay from the wooden trough against the back wall. Her attention was focused on the conversation between the men. Although the traveler wasn’t truly handsome, something about his face intrigued her. Could be the deep set eyes under a broad forehead or his nose with a small bump on the bridge or his strong jaw shadowed with whiskers. Like a warrior from olden times she’d seen in a fairy tale book. Now, that thought was a flight of fancy. Unable to resist, she peeked around the corner of the stall for another look.
Penn hauled the big man to his feet and stood poised as Mister MacInnes regained his balance. “I’m betting you were headed to the boarding house here in Dorado.”
“That is my destination.” He stepped forward then hopped on one foot, holding his left boot off the ground, and let out a hiss between clenched teeth.
The sight made Maisie wince, too. She hated how her haste has caused injury to this man, even if he possessed a tongue quick to criticize. Another lecture about her wild behavior would be forthcoming from Mother. The dreary thought caused her to slump against the stall’s side wall.
“Just so happens, my mother owns the establishment.” Switching the reins to his other hand, Penn stepped next to the man, aligning his body. “Lean on my shoulder. The boarding house kitchen will be adequate to examine your ankle. If needed, we can grab a pot of water for soaking your foot.”
“But my horse—”
“The stable lad will see it’s unsaddled and brushed down.” Frowning, Penn met her gaze, held out the reins, and jerked his chin at the stallion. “All part of the service at Treadwell’s Livery. Do you prefer a stall or the corral for now?”
Maisie whirled, dumped the armful of hay in the empty stall corner, kicked more on top, and settled the kitten in the middle. She held up her hand, palm out, and focused on the little animal who stared back with unblinking yellow-green eyes. “Stay, and I’ll be right back.” She set the wooden peg into the latch in the stall gate and hurried over to her brother, glancing sideways at the man who was taller by several inches. The stranger was a formidable man, and she didn’t choose to be anywhere near him.
“A stall seems safer.” Mister MacInnes cast a dark look over his shoulder, his mouth pressed into a tight line. “You sure the lad can handle the stallion?”
Her shoulders tensed, but she held back her stare. The skepticism in his tone made her want to confront him and let the doubting man know just how long she’d been taking care of horses. Although she might have to stand on a bench to enable her to reach their heads, Maisie Treadwell knew how to groom horses.
Without another look at the slow-moving men, she led the horse toward the tack room and tied off the reins to the iron ring attached to the plank wall. Moments later, the easy rhythm of brushing the horse’s shiny black coat soothed away her irritation. “I wish I knew your name. You’re a lovely animal, so well-muscled. How can you be attached to that unpleasant man? I have to admit…me bumping into your owner did startle you, and your little sideways hop caught him off-guard. Surprising, though, that he fell, because he’s so big and hard—” With a gasp, she stopped, realizing what she’d just said. Only now had she registered that the body she’d bumped into had been lean and muscled—probably made so by hours of active work.
Why in the world was she thinking about the stranger’s body and its fitness? An inappropriate subject if there ever was one. Banishing those thoughts, she ran a hand down the length of the horse’s leg, lifted a foot to clean out the packed mud, checked the hooves for stones, and brushed around the iron shoes. She led the horse into a stall and left it with a big scoop of oats in the feed trough. Although anxious to check on the kitten, she didn’t want to disturb it if it had finally settled. She used the adjacent boards of the stall like a ladder and climbed until she could peek into the last enclosure.
The kitten was curled into a small speckled ball with the uninjured paw curved over its nose. Hay surrounded its little body. For a few moments, she watched this small creature in its adorable pose.
What was taking Penn so long? Satisfied the baby bobcat was all right for a while, she hopped down and dashed out of the livery
, headed for home. She only gone twenty feet or so when she realized her strides were long and unfettered. Drat! She still wore men’s clothes. Pivoting, she stomped back toward the stable, hands clenched at her sides. If only she was permitted to wear these overalls all the time.
Chapter Two
Dylan MacInnes had suffered injuries before but never one that came at the worst possible moment. And when he had no reinforcement. Seated in a straight-back chair, he huffed out a frustrated breath. He couldn’t disappoint his uncle. On a mission to make contact with ranchers in the region, Dylan needed the ability to ride a dozen miles a day. He gave his throbbing ankle a baleful look. Even submerged in icy water laced with Epsom salts, the joint was so swollen a boot would never fit over it—let alone allow him to climb into Cynbal’s saddle and ride for hours. All because of an undisciplined stable boy who didn’t know enough to enter a livery stable at a reasonable pace.
“Mister MacInnes, can I pour you more tea? Is the pain lessening any?” Widow Treadwell stood five feet away, holding a porcelain teapot decorated with summer flowers. A frown marred her brow, and her lips pinched into a straight line.
A few shots of whiskey were what he needed…not willow bark tea. But he’d take just about anything to dull the pulsing ache. He forced a polite smile and lifted his matching teacup. “Appreciate it, ma’am.”
Penn walked into the room and unloaded several items from his arms onto the end of the wooden table centered in the long rectangular kitchen. “I’ve got what’s needed to wrap that ankle.” He cast a glance at the pendulum clock on the wall over the sink. “About five more minutes of soaking.” After pulling out a chair, he sank into it. “I believe this is your first visit to our town. What business brings you to town, Mister MacInnes?”
“Cattle. I’m here to visit with the area ranchers.” Might as well use this time to establish the groundwork. “Being the livery owner, you probably know many of them, Mister Treadwell.” He glanced around the base of the chair but didn’t see the saddlebag containing his notebook. Must still be on the back of his saddle.
My Heart Knew (Dorado, Texas Book 3) Page 1