Lady Sundown (#1 of the Danner Quartet)

by Nancy Bush

A shiver slid beneath her skin. There were times, like now, when she realized how little she knew Tremaine. He was an enigma to Lexie — always had been. Most of her recollections of him were vague — dreamy visions of when she was a small child — but in all of them he was an autocratic, us authoritative monster who’d mercilessly run roughshod over his baby sister. Though she’d been only six when he left home, Lexie could still remember her joyous feeling of emancipation. Good riddance! she’d thought, glad that her fifteen-year-old nemesis was leaving Rock Springs for a better school in Portland.

  She hadn’t missed him at all, having more than enough younger brothers to contend with. As time passed, Tremaine became more a stranger than a member of the household, showing up at infrequent times, staying only a few days. His decision to study medicine had kept him away even longer, and over the years Lexie’s memory of the power he’d once exerted upon her faded. She could barely recall how much she’d disliked him.

  But now she remembered. Tremaine had a lot to learn about who could boss whom. And he was about to get his first lesson.

  “I’m draining Matilda’s wound,” Lexie said staunchly. “You’re not going to stop me.”

  “You little idiot, you could be hurt. You don’t even have her backside lashed down.”

  “She’s too weak to move.”

  He snorted in disgust. “She’ll move plenty when you jab her with that knife.”

  “You can’t stop me, Tremaine. I’m going to take care of Matilda and nothing you can do will make me change my mind.”

  “Stubborn wretch,” he muttered, climbing over the rail. With an economy of movement that Lexie almost resented, he dropped lightly to the floor beside her. He’d picked up the bottle of carbolic acid and made a sound of surprise. “Where did you get this?”

  “From your medical bag. Last time you were in Rock Springs.”

  He swore beneath his breath, half anger, half a kind of reluctant admiration. “Have you done this kind of thing before?” he demanded. “Don’t bother answering. I can tell by the look on your face.”

  Lexie turned away from him, her gaze on the Jersey. “Is it so wrong, Tremaine?”

  “Yes” he said flatly. “You don’t know what you’re doing and you could be hurt — or killed.”

  “I know more than Doc Meechum, only no one will listen to me because I’m a woman.” Her bitterness seemed to pool around them, a tangible thing, and a part of Lexie that Tremaine had never seen before. “The swelling’s grown,” she added, without much hope of being listened to. “Take a look.”

  Tremaine gave Lexie a searching glance, then bent down and examined Matilda’s leg. Straightening, he ran his thumb across his fingers. “It’s hot,” he said thoughtfully.

  “It’s infected.”

  “I thought Pa said she had hollow horn.”

  “That’s what Meechum thinks and Pa believes him,” Lexie said with a sniff.

  Footsteps sounded outside the box and Tremaine twisted around. Lexie instinctively moved closer to him for protection. If Pa caught her now…

  “Harrison,” Tremaine said, as Lexie’s brother walked into the circle of light, his blond hair shining. Lexie breathed a sigh of relief. Of all of them, Harrison was the best to learn what she was up to.

  “What’s going on?” Harrison demanded, peering over the rail. “I came to check on Matilda.”

  “She’s fine,” Tremaine said. “Lexie was — er — checking on her, too.”

  Harrison’s green eyes swept the stall, assessing the situation in a glance. “Lexie,” he said, his voice a warning, yet full of the understanding he shared with her. “Doc Meechum split her tail and you know that—”

  “Don’t sing the man’s praises, Harrison. Please! You and I both know the only way he cures an animal is by God’s will.”

  Her brother’s lips tightened. Though Harrison didn’t much like Meechum’s practices either, he had more respect for the man than Lexie did. “Meechum saved Kelsey Garrett’s horse when everyone thought it would die before morning.”

  “That was years ago. Think how many animals have died since then under his care!”

  Before Harrison could retort, Tremaine interceded. “Matilda’s leg is hot,” he said quietly.

  “Let me see.” Harrison, too, jumped into the stall and Tremaine stepped backward, giving him room and nearly pinning Lexie to the back of the stall. His shoulder touched hers and she could feel the heat radiating from his body, could smell his pleasant scent above the dusty barn odors. She breathed deeply, noticing the way his black hair brushed the collar of his shirt.

  “It is hot,” Harrison said in some surprise. He glanced at his sister. “The leg’s swollen.”

  “It’s infected,” Lexie said flatly. “It needs to be lanced and drained.”

  “Is that what you were trying to do?”

  “Yes,” she answered simply.

  “And you agree?” Harrison asked Tremaine.

  Lexie stiffened, regarding Tremaine with faintly veiled hostility. He was a doctor and knew more about medicine — any kind of medicine — than either she or Harrison did. But he was also arrogant and mule-headed and she didn’t trust him to side with her even now.

  “It’s swelling rapidly,” he said, as much to himself as Harrison. “It’s definitely filling with fluid or pus. Yes, it should be lanced.”

  Eyes shining, Lexie met Tremaine’s gaze.

  “But Lexie shouldn’t do it,” he added, dashing her spirits. “It’s too dangerous. If you don’t want Meechum to do it, I’ll handle it myself.”

  “Could I assist?” Harrison asked eagerly, forgetting Lexie in an instant.

  “You can make sure Matilda doesn’t twist around and kick me.”

  Lexie heard no more. She was so incensed she could hardly think. Her first instinct was to flee, but she refused to give Tremaine that satisfaction. Instead she stayed, watching as he made an incision in the knot on Matilda’s leg, draining out the offending fluids, rinsing the wound with carbolic acid, then stitching it up with catgut.

  When it was over, Tremaine wiped the cow’s leg with the bandana and then stepped back. “You make a darn good horse doctor,” Harrison observed with a grin. Belatedly remembering Lexie, he glanced at her apologetically. “Well, he does,” he said lamely.

  Lexie couldn’t answer. She felt the pain inside her so huge it threatened to swallow her up. First Miss Everly’s School, now this. She couldn’t imagine being treated with less respect.

  Tremaine glanced at her, his blue eyes narrowed in the uncertain light. Forcing her face into an implacable mask, Lexie met his stare evenly. She knew she should thank him for what he’d done, but she couldn’t. She hurt too much inside.

  Without a word she turned on her heel and left the barn.

  ¤ ¤ ¤

  The afternoon had deepened into twilight while she’d been in the barn. A glance at the house revealed warm squares of light shining through the parlor windows. Mother and Pa, and probably Jesse and Samuel, sitting down together as a family. Lexie’s chest tightened. She would have liked to be with them, to know what they were saying, even though they might be discussing her unladylike behavior. This was the time of day she enjoyed being with her family the most — but not tonight. Tonight she was going to meet Jace, and though it was long past the time she’d told him she would be at the stream, there was a chance he might still be waiting for her. It was a chance she was determined to take.

  She let herself into the stables, grabbed Tantrum’s bridle from a peg by the door, slipped into his box stall, and slid the thin straps over the horse’s tossing head. Tremaine, home for a brief summer holiday, had given the spirited gelding his name after Tantrum refused to be broken by anyone but Lexie. It had been one of those rare moments in her childhood when she’d realized she loved her older brother, appreciating his sense of humor. Right now she couldn’t spare him a kind thought.

  “Come on, boy,” she said to Tantrum, clicking her tongue as she led him from the
box. His ears pricked forward and he shifted restlessly, wheeling around in a tight circle.

  She saw his blanket and saddle sitting on the sawhorse right where she’d left them, but in her rebellious state of mind Lexie decided to ride bareback. She drew the gelding to the sawhorse and mounted him, smoothing her hand along the silken fineness of his neck. The door was still open and Tantrum pulled toward it eagerly, but Lexie kept a firm hand on the reins.

  “In a minute. Come on now. Be patient.” She rode him carefully through the opening, kicking the door shut behind her.

  Tremaine was standing outside the stable doors, his black hair damp from the misting rain. “Where are you going?” he demanded.

  “Out.” Lexie slapped the reins against Tantrum’s neck. The horse’s muscles bunched for a leap forward but Tremaine yanked on the bridle. “Let go!” Lexie yelled. “Get out of my way!”

  “You little hellcat! It’s nearly dark.”

  “You are not my keeper!”

  “No, by God, but someone should be. You’re not safe alone!”

  “Let go!” She jerked Tantrum’s head backward, out of Tremaine’s grasp, turning him so hard he half-reared. Swearing, Tremaine tried to hang on but the gelding trampled his foot and with a howl of pain and anger he let go.

  “Lexie!” Tremaine yelled, as Tantrum, suddenly realizing he had his head, surged forward at breakneck speed across the field toward the back fence.

  Lexie clung to him, not knowing whether to attempt to turn him, or just let him run. He was heading straight for the fence at the back of the barn. Beyond were sweeping fields, leading toward the Cascade foothills and a circuitous route to the Garrett property. Tantrum could jump the fence. He’d done it before. But never with someone on his back.

  She had a sense of Tremaine running after her. Praying hard, she buried her face in Tantrum’s neck. She was going to risk it. The horse’s steps shortened as he neared the fence, his muscles tensing. Lexie held her breath and squeezed her eyes shut. She heard Tremaine’s angry yell, felt the horse spring from the ground. For a moment her heart stopped, but then she was sailing upward, her hair streaming out behind her, the wind whistling past her ears. Tantrum’s hooves gently brushed the top rail before he landed in perfect stride on the other side.

  “Lexie! Damn you,” Tremaine bellowed, his voice faint as Tantrum bore her ever farther away.

  Jubilation filled her. She laughed, glad that she’d thwarted him. “Oh, you sweetheart,” she said to Tantrum, the horse’s ears flicking back and forth. “Thank you. Thank you.”

  Tantrum homed in on their favorite route — running beneath the stand of maples near the stream. Wet branches clutched at Lexie’s hair, the night’s gloom gathering around them like a cloak. It was intimate and somehow right. She was with her one and only friend, and she was on her way to Jace.

  The gelding raced across the sloping fields, eating up the distance with ground-devouring strides, running with the freedom Lexie would soon be denied. But she wouldn’t think about that. Not now.

  Only when the Danner house was long out of view and the wind-flatten fields stretched endlessly toward the horizon did Lexie finally lift her head, bringing in the reins a bit, slowing the wildly galloping horse. Just because she was in the mood for speed didn’t mean Tantrum should work up a lather.

  Fighting her, the spirited horse tossed his head, unwillingly slowing to a trot and finally a walk. Lexie sat up straight and glanced behind her, aching inside. She wanted to hate them all but couldn’t. They only wanted the best for her; she understood that. But she knew she’d die if she had to go to a school that specialized in corset cinching and coquetry. Her mother couldn’t have picked a more dreaded fate for her.

  The silvery stream that marked the westernmost boundary of the Danner property appeared on Lexie’s left. She walked Tantrum toward it, thinking back to when Tremaine had seen her with Jace. It must have been where the stream cut near the lane that led to the Danner house. There was nowhere else he could have seen them.

  She would have to be more careful in the future.

  Tantrum splashed through the crystalline waters. Lexie wrapped her fingers in his black mane as he climbed up the small hill that led to the plateau where most of the Garrett land lay. Giving the horse his head once again, Lexie let Tantrum gallop across the damp knee-high grass, catching onto the trail that angled through the woods on the far eastern side of the Garrett property.

  She rode to a stand of cedars whose lower trunks were ringed by a canopy of low, sweeping boughs, perfect for keeping out the rain. She and Jace had met here often.

  Sliding from Tantrum’s back, Lexie waited, her eyes squinting in the darkness as she searched for Jace. Her heart pounded, both with fear and exhilaration, and her breathing was rapid and shallow.

  She swallowed. “Jace?” she whispered.

  There was no sound save for the wind soughing through the upper branches. She glanced skyward, to see the treetops dance and shimmy, bending to and fro, as if waving at some far distant traveler.

  Lexie waited as long as she dared, then climbed upon Tantrum’s broad back, turning him in the same direction they’d come. But she wasn’t ready to go home yet. She couldn’t face all the recriminations.

  With a boldness she’d never dreamed she possessed, she guided the gelding toward the Garrett home. She would call on Jace herself — as a friendly neighbor. There was no harm in that, and it made good sense to keep up relations with the wealthy family.

  ¤ ¤ ¤

  Jace Garrett raised his whip to the churning bays pulling his carriage, snapping it across their sturdy hindquarters. Surging against their harnesses, the team of horses tried to meet his ever-increasing demands, but Jace was a driven devil. The whip cracked and sang, a sharp accompaniment to the murmuring rain.

  “Get on,” he hissed through his teeth. Lexie was waiting for him. He’d been late once before, and he’d stumbled all over himself with apologies — an intolerable position to be in, as far as Jace was concerned. Though Lexie hadn’t guessed the reason for his tardiness, she was a smart woman. Next time — this time! — he might not be so lucky.

  Rain ran down the brim of his silk hat, ruining it. But Jace had been in too much of a hurry to employ one of his drivers. Besides, when he met with Betsy, or any of his former mistresses, he didn’t want anyone to suspect. As far as he knew, his dalliances were a fairly well-kept secret — as unpublicized as his dead father’s had once been. Those who knew weren’t likely to tell. After all, the Garrett name carried a lot of weight in Rock Springs. Jace could make life difficult for anyone who chose to go up against him.

  He set his teeth, wondering how long Lexie would wait for him. Thinking of her brought a smile to his lips. Her innocence sometimes amazed him. The way she kissed him was so soft and sweet. He didn’t kid himself that she would be the same way after they were married; no wife ever was. But if all went well he could still have Betsy — or some other discreet, willing female — and Lexie might never suspect. Anyway around, he was going to make Lexie his wife. She was everything he needed: beautiful, quick-witted, from a good family — a family possessed of some of the finest acreage around — acreage that abutted the Garrett property.

  Jace’s eyes narrowed against the drizzling rain. He’d been careful with Lexie. He hadn’t rushed her. Anytime she lifted her luscious mouth for a kiss he brushed her lips lightly and carefully, never revealing the lust burning through his veins. There was a kind of excitement in holding back. It made her beg for him more! Sometimes he didn’t know if he could wait until she was eighteen to make her his, but wait he must. The Danners weren’t keen on him already. If he tried to steal her away before they deemed it was proper, he would never achieve the peace so necessary for his future plans.

  It was Jace’s dream to one day own both parcels of land. That would ensure the Garretts remained the wealthiest, most powerful family of Rock Springs — a goal Joshua Garrett, Jace’s father, had achieved, one Jace meant
to keep.

  Ahead he could see the turnout to their meeting place. Jace drew up the panting team and pulled the carriage to a stop. He stepped down and eyed the dripping cedars with annoyance. Cupping his hands around his mouth, he called, “Lexie!”

  The wind shook rain off the neighboring trees, dousing him. He swore. “Lexie! Are you there? Come to the lane. It’s too wet.”

  Once again there was no answer, and Jace concluded she’d gone. Swearing again, he climbed back to the driver’s seat and drove the horses up the rest of the lane to the Garrett home.

  ¤ ¤ ¤

  Lexie sat astride Tantrum, who stood stamping and fretting in front of the white fence and gate, which led to the Garretts’ formal grounds. She was filled with misgivings. The imposing Garrett mansion was directly in front of her, its shadowed peaks and gables staring and monstrous to Lexie’s fanciful mind. Swallowing, she imagined what Lucinda Garrett might make of her unexpected visit; Jace’s mother, the matriarch of the Garrett family, was not known for her warmth and understanding.

  Lexie glanced downward. Her clothes were bedraggled, wet, and boyish — certainly not the proper attire of a fashionable young lady. Lexie had never wanted to be a fashionable young lady, but with the daunting prospect of facing Jace’s family, and possibly enduring their scorn and ridicule, she suddenly wished she’d taken more care with her appearance.

  You can always leave.

  Tantrum tossed his head and snorted impatiently. Lexie slowly dismounted, tying the reins to the ghostly white rail of the fence. The rain had lessened somewhat, but it gathered and ran down Lexie’s nose. The wind snatched gleefully at her hair. She longed for a brush. She was crazy to be here, but her desire to see Jace was too strong to ignore.

  Hesitating, she bit into her lower lip, staring at the rambling blue stone manor in front of her. The Garrett home was one of the finest in the county; a reflection of the wealthy family that owned it. Even as a young child, Lexie had sensed that the Garretts and the Danners ran in somewhat different circles; a fact that had made Eliza’s privileged attitude all the more perplexing.