"You have a choice of spiced beef, chicken, block cheese, and apple or cherry tarts. What would you like to start with?"
He had sat down with his back against a tree trunk, watching her. He bent forward and looked into the bag. "Is there a chicken leg in there?"
"As it happens, there is." She handed him a redand-white-checked napkin along with the chicken leg he had asked for.
Abby took a chunk of cheese and nibbled on it while she watched the way the breeze danced through the high grass, all the while feeling the major's eyes on her.
At last he asked, "What do you do for fun?"
"Fun?"
"Yes, fun-interest, hobbies, pastimes."
She had to think a moment. "I like riding, of course. I try to draw when I have time. I used to spend a lot of time visiting Iona Montgomery-you met her husband yesterday."
"Used to?"
She frowned and glanced up at the sky. "Iona was a good friend." Abby looked at him. "She died a short while back."
"I'm sorry. I wouldn't have brought up a painful-"
She stood, feeling pain in her heart for the woman she had loved like a mother. "No. It's all right. Iona had been ill for some time before she... died."
"What is your impression of Mr. Montgomery?"
"He's my father's friend. The whole town of Diablo seems to think highly of him."
It did not escape Jonah's notice that her voice was cold when she spoke of the banker.
"Let me ask you a question," Abby said, wiping her fingers on a checked napkin. "You knew Quince before he met Glory-do you find him much changed?"
He paused for a moment. "I suppose he is more contented than he was when he scouted for me. Yes, I would say Quince is very contented."
"Yes, he is that, but it's more than just being content. He's happy, I mean, really happy. And so is my brother Brent." She met Jonah's gaze. "Is it the same for all men when they marry? Is that the way you feel about the woman you are going to marry?"
Jonah was taken aback by her bold questions. His lips twisted, and he arched an eyebrow. "My, aren't we being inquisitive?"
"I don't mean it that way-I'm not prying. I'm trying to understand why Quince, who never wanted to be tied down to anyone, has become so domesticated. I see a softness in him that was never there before. Glory can just come into a room, and Quince is all smiles."
"Yes, I have noticed their closeness. Perhaps he feels more responsible now that he's married."
"It's not that we all feel responsible and dedicated when it comes to the Half-Moon. It's simply that Quince cares more about Glory's happiness than his own."
Jonah's voice deepened as he stared at her. "Some would call it love, but I'm not sure I know what that word means."
Abby drew in a deep breath. "I'm glad someone else sees it the way I do. I would never allow any man to order my life, like Glory and Crystal do. I can't see me grinning and getting all soft over any man."
Jonah took a bite of chicken and chewed it for a moment, not trusting himself to speak. He looked at her guardedly. "There must be some man of your acquaintance you would be willing to settle down with."
"There isn't. I don't even like men, except for my brothers."
He frowned. "Someone has hurt you, haven't they?"
"Why would you say that?"
"You are always 'on guard, as if you are expecting people to be critical of you. I believe you dress and act the way you do out of defiance."
Abby glared at him. "You don't know me well enough to say that. And I don't need your opinion on the way I dress."
"I am sorry. I didn't mean it that way. But you see, I knew you a long time before we met. Quince talked a lot about you. He's proud of you, you know."
"Yes, I know he is."
"I haven't met your brother Matt, but between Quince and Brent, I would say you are more like Quince-at least in looks and actions."
"We both favor our mother in coloring."
Abby chewed on her bottom lip for a moment and then met Jonah's clear gaze. "So you don't love this woman you are supposed to marry?"
He was startled, because he had been trapped by his own words. Abby didn't miss a thing. "I respect and admire her."
She was profoundly puzzled. "Is that any reason to marry someone? I respect Charley Herbert, and I admire Mr. Spindle, who owns the general store, but I wouldn't want to marry either one of them."
"Is there more chicken?" Jonah asked, trying to change the subject, because her questions had caught him off guard. He was accustomed to women who were coy or flirtatious. If she would faint or have the vapors, he would know exactly what to do. But he had no defense against her candid outspokenness, and her total disregard for him as a man.
"Frances likes you," Abby said matter-of-factly. "Because of you she gave us enough food to feed ten hungry men."
He smiled. "It's always wise to please the cook."
Later, when they had both satisfied their hunger, and Abby had packed away what remained of their lunch, Jonah leaned back against a tree and closed his eyes, contented for the first time in so long he could not remember.
After a while, Abby wandered to the top of a hill and shaded her eyes against the sun as she glanced at the valley below. There was a restlessness in her that she couldn't understand. She looked back at Jonah, who appeared to be sleeping, then walked back down the hill, knowing she should wake him soon if they were going to see the mustangs while it was still light.
She dropped down on the grass; her gaze eventually turning to him. He had an aristocratic profile and a strong jawline, and he was so handsome she wondered if he were spoiled by the attentions of the ladies. She had an almost overwhelming urge to touch him, to lay her face against his, to feel his arms encircle her. He had removed his coat and unbuttoned his shirt, and she could see the sweat gathered in the hollow of his throat.
What was there about him that made her feel such anguish and uncertainty?
She lay back in the grass, watching the sun peeping through the branches of the tree. All around her were familiar sounds and smells: the scent of wild-flowers, a mockingbird trilling in a nearby live oak, the scrabbling of squirrels playing tag up the thick oak trunk.
Once again she looked at the major, watching the rise and fall of his breathing. A woman could feel safe with her head resting against that broad chest. She looked at his beautiful lips and wondered what it would feel like to have them pressed to hers.
She was startled when he opened his eyes and gave her a lazy, provocative smile, as if he had known she had been studying him.
There was not enough breath in her to do more than whisper, "You were sleeping, and I didn't want to disturb you."
"I wasn't asleep; I was thinking."
"What about?"she couldn't help asking.
"What would it take for a man to start a spread like the Half-Moon?"
She spoke without thinking. "Good land and prime stock."
He sat up. "That's not what I mean. What would it take for a man like me, who has a limited knowledge of ranching, to become a rancher?"
"Hiring a good foreman and wranglers who knew what they were doing-land, water...."
"I don't see myself raising horses." His voice took on an excited tone. "I would be more interested in cattle breeding."
She sat up straight in shocked surprise. "You can't be serious."
"Probably not." He looked at her for a long moment before he spoke. "When I arrived at this ranch yesterday, it just felt right to me." He didn't know why he was telling her how he had felt, but he wanted her to know. "Does that make any sense to you?"
"Not really. You are a high-ranking officer, and your slightest wish becomes a command, while we work hard just to hang on to what we have. This is the West; you are from the North-"
"East."
She looked as if she would like to argue the point, but relented. "I don't understand why you would even consider giving up what you have"-she waved her hand around-"for this."
&
nbsp; "Wouldn't you?"
"I belong here-you don't."
"Yes." He glanced into the distance. "It was just a fleeting thought."
Abby tried to imagine him as a rancher, but she just didn't see it. From their first meeting she had felt that he was the most authoritative man she had ever met, and nothing that had happened since had changed her mind. He was a commander of men, not a cattleman.
"What would the lady you are to many think about moving to Texas?"
He looked as if he were pondering that thought. "She probably wouldn't like to live anywhere but Philadelphia."
For reasons she couldn't understand, Abby instantly disliked his fiancee. She frowned, knowing she had no right to feel that way about a woman she had never met. And, after all, she didn't even like Jonah Tremain.
"Miss Hunter," Jonah said as he pulled on his blue jacket and buttoned it, "which of the two horses you showed me this morning do you recommend for Patricia?"
"The white mare is spirited, but I can gentle her down. The Arabian gelding, however, has an inclination to be willful, so he will need a firm hand. He also has a tendency to be nervous, and shies when he's startled. I would recommend the mare for your bride-to-be."
He looked at her for a moment. "Which horse would you choose for yourself?"
She knew that he expected her to say she would choose the Arabian. "Neither of them would suit me. The mare is too tame, and the Arabian is not spirited enough either."
He remembered the sight of her astride Moon Racer, a memory that would always be with him. "That's pretty much what I thought."
"Have you decided which horse you want?"
"I'll take the mare, if you will train her for me."
"Yes. I said I would." A pain shot through her heart at the thought of training a horse for his lady, and she did not understand why.
Why should she care that he was going to marry some Yankee and raise other little Yankees? she thought bitterly.
Jonah caught a glimpse of blue sky through the gently swaying branches overhead. He couldn't explain to her how he felt because he couldn't even explain it to himself. He had the feeling he had finally found what he had been missing in his life. If he had not come to the Half-Moon, he might never have known there was an emptiness inside him.
He had sensed something extraordinary about the Hunter family the night before. He hadn't missed Quince's pride in his sister, or Brent's inflexible misgivings about her recklessness, and his fear that she might have been hurt. The Hunters had survived a terrible tragedy that would have torn most families apart, but it seemed to have bonded those three together. Even though they might disagree among themselves, they held on to each other and they fought to hold on to their land. The father was another matter-he was a pathetic figure, on the outside looking in, but that was to be expected.
A strand of hair had come loose from her braid, and she pushed it impatiently out of her face in an innocent movement that fired Jonah's blood. He ached inside for something that was just out of his reach, something he could never have.
"It's getting late. If you want to see the mustangs, we had better leave now," she told him.
When Abby stood up, she innocently stretched her arms over her head, a move that pushed her breasts tightly against the front of her shirt. It was such a tantalizing sight that it was almost Jonah's undoing. He turned his back to her, and his eyes closed. "Yes, we should leave now."
Every move she made was provocative-she was half wanton and half woman. Abby seemed to have no knowledge of how easily she could torment a man; she was totally at peace with who she was, while he felt as though someone had just slammed a fist into his gut and twisted his heart into a knot.
It was an hour later when they arrived at the pasture where the mustangs should have been grazing. At first Abby was not concerned when she didn't see them; she just assumed that they were probably grouped at the water hole. She nudged her horse forward, and Jonah followed her down the hill.
When they reached the water hole, Abby drew back on her reins and shook her head. "They are not here!" she said in stunned amazement.
"Could one of your brothers have moved them elsewhere?"
She stood in the stirrups, shaded her eyes, and looked all around. "No, they haven't been broken yet. And we always keep them here and don't let them mix with the other stock until Brent has them examined for disease."
Abby had a sick feeling inside; she didn't want to believe what her eyes were telling her. "Lately there has been some trouble with rustlers, and some of our neighbors have been hit hard." She frowned. "My brothers aren't going to like this."
She whirled her mount around. "I have to get back to the ranch and let them know at once!"
"Wait!" he called out, stalling her, the commander in him taking over. "I need to look for evidence while it's still light. If we take the time to ride to the house, we'll lose the light, and the trail might be cold by tomorrow."
"Quince will be able to track them."
He gave her a brief glance before he rode slowly forward, his head bent while he studied the ground intently. "Were they shod?"
She' maneuvered her horse beside him, looking down for signs. "No. This was a new string that the hands drove in last week. They wouldn't be shod until they were ready to break."
"I see signs here of some twenty-odd unshod horses."
"That's right. Twenty-three."
"I see something else," he said, dismounting, bending down to touch a broken blade of grass and rub it between his fingers. Then he traced a hoofprint with his finger. "There were at least three shod horses among the stock. Whoever was driving the mustangs took them toward the west, and it wasn't more than an hour ago." He stood and gazed about him. "We just missed them."
Abby trusted Jonah to know what he was talking about. "We must let my brothers know as soon as possible!"
Before he could mount his horse, two shots rang out in quick succession, kicking up dust in front of Abby and causing Moon Racer to back away. Two more shots followed, and the stallion reared, his eyes wide with fright.
Without thinking, Jonah rushed to her and lifted her off the horse. He shoved her toward a nearby oak, then pressed her against the trunk, shielding her with his body.
He lightly touched her shoulder. "Don't move."
She tried to squirm away from him, but his grip tightened. "I have to get my rifle."
He unsnapped his holster flap and drew his gun. "You aren't going anywhere. Whoever fired those shots is either a bad shot, or he was aiming at you. He shot too wide to be aiming at me."
Another shot rang out near Moon Racer, and Abby watched helplessly as the giant horse backed away. "Jonah," she cried, "they want to shoot my horse. I have to do something to help him!"
Another shot rang out, and the roan shied, tossing his head in defiance.
She frantically cried out, pushing against Jonah's chest. "Don't you understand-he won't leave me! He'll stay until they kill him!"
His grip on her tightened. "Abby, listen to me. I don't think the rifleman is trying to hit the horse. It appears he only wants to frighten it, or maybe draw you out. I am not going to let you be a target." He tensed, his attention on the next hill over, where he saw the sun reflecting off the barrel of a rifle. His keen sight picked up the dust from at least one rider.
"Let me go," she said, wiggling against him, trying to slide past his body.
"Don't move." He pressed his body tighter against hers. "He's still out there."
"I can't just do nothing while he shoots Moon Racer. What kind of twisted person would want to hurt a helpless animal?"
"If we knew the who, we might know the why." He glanced down at her. "Do you have any enemies you know of?"
"Not anyone who would want to kill me."
The man must have reloaded, because shots rang out again; this time Moon Racer edged closer to Abby.
Jonah glanced down at her. "I'm going to have to shoot close to Moon Racer to make him leave. He's
too easy a target."
She nodded, trusting his aim. "Do it quickly."
Jonah turned slightly so he could take better aim and shot three quick rounds near the stallion's front legs, but still the animal would not leave. Jonah aimed closer, and the stallion reared on his hind legs, his front legs pawing at the air. Another shot from Jonah's gun sent him galloping away.
Abby held her breath until she saw him at the top of a hill, and then he disappeared safely behind it.
Her legs felt so limp they could scarcely bear her weight, and she collapsed against Jonah.
He grimly studied her face. "We can't leave until we know the gunman is gone."
Jonah arched to removed bullets from his belt, and his body ground against her. She caught her breath as he loaded the pistol, suddenly feeling the heat of his body. She felt the wall she had erected around her feelings begin to crack and crumble. She moved her head the merest bit to rest her cheek against the roughness of his jacket. "I've never had anyone shoot at me before," she managed to say.
"I have." Jonah released the hammer of his gun and rested his chin on the top of her head, his arms going around her. "Don't be frightened. I won't let anyone hurt you."
When she tilted her head and looked into his eyes, the rifleman was forgotten, and all she could think of was the male body pressed against hers. Sweetness, raw and deep, wound its way through her, and she wanted to hold on to the moment forever.
They heard the sound of hooves as the gunman rode away, the noise growing fainter in the distance. Then she sensed a sudden change in Jonah. His hand clamped around her waist, bringing her closer to him. She moved her head at the same moment he lowered his, bringing his mouth near hers. If she moved the merest bit, their lips would be touching. In a movement that took her by surprise, he laid his face against hers, and she closed her eyes while her breathing became shallow.
She felt an urge to slide her fingers into his thick black hair, but resisted it.
His breath became trapped in his throat, and his arousal was so quick and violent it took him by surprise. He wanted her so badly his hand moved to the clip that held her braid in place. Strong emotions stirred within him as he fought to resist the temptation. Even battling with himself as he was, he brought her tighter against him, and she did not object. He touched her face, trailing a finger across her lips, and his breathing caught even tighter. He had the strongest urge to touch every part of her satiny body.
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