by Sara Jolene
Sophia felt the anxiety welling in her. Her heart was beating fast, her mouth was dry, and a lump was forming in her throat. She had to say it before she wasn’t able.
“I’ve never ridden a horse. I don’t know how.” She all but screamed the words at him. She watched him closely for a reaction. He didn’t seem surprised, but the crinkle in his forehead smoothed away. Sophia took that as a positive sign.
“I had a feeling. I could teach you. Maybe you’d be better off just riding into town instead of having the buggy? It would be faster and less work.”
Sophia had actually already had the same thought, but not knowing how to saddle and ride was an issue. Every day that she left the cabin on foot, she thought about how much Marigold and Midnight would both probably enjoy coming with her. But she was far too scared to try on her own. Riding a horse without instruction was too foolish. But Otto was offering to help her figure it all out.
Sophia couldn’t help but bounce. The anxiety that had been suffocating her transformed. It became happiness, and instead of feeling heavy and burdened by it, she felt light and unencumbered. She rushed at Otto without thinking and wrapped him in a hug. “Oh, would you? I’d so love to learn. I never had a chance back home.”
The word home, even from her own mouth, caused her to freeze. She had really put herself in a predicament. She quickly realized how inappropriate she was being and immediately let go of Otto, taking several steps to put much-needed space between them.
“Please forgive me. That was horrifically inappropriate. I got caught up in the excitement. It won’t happen again.” She took a few more steps back, all while staring at the ground. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him. She knew what she’d see if she did. She held her breath.
The barn was quiet for too many moments. The anxiety was back. It was threatening to crush her again, but faster this time.
“No apology needed. We were in a private place, and no harm was done. Please, Miss Perkins.” Sophia heard him come closer. She wouldn’t lift her head still. He’d be able to see her, really see her in that moment if she did. She would show him that shame. Her past.
“Miss Perkins, I do hope you’ll allow me to teach you to ride.”
Sophia could see the tips of his boots as she stared at the hard-packed dirt floor. She wanted desperately to say yes. She also wanted him to know how incredibly sorry she was. The fear that had been welling up started to dissipate as he spoke to her and she considered his words. He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t embarrassed, not that she could tell anyway. Maybe she could still learn. It was wildly inappropriate for her to be alone with him. She’d known it all day, but in the house, there was Mrs. Sanderson. Out here in the barn and after what she’d just done, she wasn’t sure she should. She didn’t want the townsfolk to find out what she used to be.
“All of this has been inappropriate. I’d hate to have our reputations soiled. I’ve already been far too forward. I think it would be best if I continue to walk to town. If you could just close the barn door as you leave. I must go check on Mrs. Sanderson.”
Sophia hated each and every word as they left her mouth. She hated apologizing. She’d never cared about propriety before. She’d never had to. She’d never had a chance before she’d left Denver. She’d been so young when she’d left Arizona to be placed in her uncle’s care. She’d been soiled before she’d had a chance to bloom.
“I understand, but I won’t go. I’ll just be out here with Marigold and Midnight. We’ll be talking, if you change your mind.” Sophia still wouldn’t look at him. She watched as his boots disappeared from view, then she inhaled deeply. What she wanted and what she knew to be right were opposing ideas in her already scattered brain. She wanted desperately to ride a horse. She’d never felt more at peace than she had in the time she’d spent in the barn since coming to the cabin. Getting to town would be so much faster … but she was a lady now. She was trying to build a new life for herself, and she couldn’t be seen alone with men—or unseen alone and hugging them—especially without invitation. She shook her head. An invitation didn’t matter. She had to hold herself to new standards. Take herself back to before her parents’ accident and remember what her mother had taught her about how to be a proper lady.
The thought made her sad. Had her parents lived, her life would have been so different. She’d never have left Arizona. In fact she’d probably be properly married now, maybe even have a child in tow. She could almost picture it. She conjured her parents’ faces in her mind’s eye, which she did often in an attempt to not forget them. She had no idea what her uncle had done with all of their things—or all of hers, for that matter. Probably sold them.
It didn’t matter. She’d spent too much of her life without choices, and now she was free. Free to choose what she did and when she did it. Free to choose who she was. She would not be that scared, soiled girl that had no power anymore. She would be strong and do things for herself.
She lifted her chin. “The saddles are behind that door.” She pointed to the corner behind Midnight’s stall.
Otto had been shocked when Sophia wrapped her arms around him. He hadn’t known what to say or do, and then the chance had been taken from him when she’d dropped her arms and backed so far away from him he thought she might be afraid. He didn’t want her to be afraid of him. Thinking she could be made him sad. He needed to let her know her touch wasn’t unwelcome without her thinking that he was propositioning her. She was a fine lady and deserved to be treated as such. So he acted like it never happened. If she felt comfortable enough, maybe she would still allow him to teach her to ride. He had to fix it.
His thoughts went back to the strange man who kept appearing unexpectedly. He hadn’t admitted it to himself yet, hadn’t even been able to think the words, but he was pretty sure he was losing his mind. The other day in the livery, he knew he hadn’t seen or heard anyone enter through the big barn doors, and today, there was no way he’d come into the cabin without anyone seeing him. He was imaginary. Had to be.
Something was very wrong with Otto, but until he could travel all the way to Denver and get himself checked out by a doctor, he wanted to spend as much time with Sophia as he could. He also wanted to teach her to ride a horse. He’d never seen someone as connected to horses as he was. As a child, it had driven his parents to madness. He’d disappear for hours, and they’d always find him with the horses. When they’d traveled, that’s where he’d slept, too. Horses were his constant. They grounded him. They were friends. He could tell that Sophia felt the same. She should know how to ride. It would change her life, and not just because of travel time.
Otto let out a sigh of relief when Sophia pointed to the room beside him and said there were saddles in it. Trying not to ignite the situation, he stayed silent while he followed her direction and got two saddles from the small room behind the stalls. Immediately, he knew it had been a while since either horse had taken on a rider. The space was covered in dust, and some of the reins and straps were rotten.
There were only two saddles to choose from, and one looked as if the straps would crack just from trying to mount it on a horse’s back. Otto picked up the second one and went straight to Marigold’s stall. “If you come watch, you’ll be able to do this for yourself when needed.”
Otto went over each step of the process in saddling a horse with Sophia. She was attentive and did each action perfectly with swift movements and sure fingers. When they were through, he undid all their work and took the saddle back off the horse. He handed it to Sophia. “Now you try.”
He’d never been more proud … or shocked. She went through the procedure just as he would have, with all the skill of a thoroughly practiced rider. In no time at all, and without any questions from Sophia, Marigold was saddled and waiting to be ridden.
Otto smiled hugely, and in an attempt to hide it from Sophia, he left Marigold’s stall and freed Midnight from hers. “Guide her out of the barn. Once we’re outside, I’ll help you mount. Yo
u might need a stool or something for when it’s just you and Mrs. Sanderson here.”
Otto didn’t want to spook her and have her run for cover in the cabin, so he tried not to let her see him watching her. She was like a young colt—wild and eager, but not wanting anyone to know it. He showed her how to settle her boots in the stirrups and gave her a hand up. She was seated in the saddle in no time and looked more comfortable there than some seasoned ranch hands he’d met through the years.
Otto climbed onto Midnight’s back.
“But you’ve no saddle. Weren’t there others in the room?”
Otto nodded as he patted Midnight’s neck. “There were, but they weren’t safe. I’ve ridden since before I could walk. I’ll be fine without.” He decided he could tease her a little now that they were out in the open air. He felt different out there. In the barn, after she’d pulled him against her, he’d felt the darkness of the barn in a way he hadn’t before. Outside in the sunlight, it was easier to breathe. “Follow along. If you can keep up,” he said with a purposeful taunt to his tone.
The look on her face as she tightened her grip and watched everything he did was one he wouldn’t forget. She was so focused. Otto nudged his heels to Midnight’s side and kept doing so until they were running off into the woods behind the cabin. Otto was careful to keep Midnight on the trail in case Marigold couldn’t keep up or decided that having a rider after so long wasn’t worth her notice. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if Sophia got hurt.
It was an idea that made his stomach lurch and a pit form. Just a moment before, he’d been happily watching her quiet storm of determination as he’d taunted her. Now, all he could think about was getting her off the back of that horse so she could be safe. He had Midnight slow to a trot so he could turn and make sure that she was handling herself. He could hear Marigold’s hoof beats and knew they weren’t far behind. He turned—then almost fell from his mount.
Sophia had a smile stretched across her face almost from one ear to the other. She was laughing loudly and patting Marigold’s neck as she lifted herself off the horse’s back with the movement of its powerful body beneath her. She was a born rider. Otto couldn’t be sure, but things like that didn’t happen often. He’d never seen someone take to a saddle as quickly as Sophia had. He easily released the idea of getting her off the horse, his plans changing quickly as he turned back to the trail and drove Midnight to run faster. He wasn’t sure what Sophia thought her place in life should be, but he had a few ideas. He was going to do all he could to mimic her determination and make those plans happen.
Chapter Four
Gingerly, Sophia clamored off Marigold’s back. She‘d felt every muscle in the horse’s body as they’d ridden … but now that they’d stopped, her muscles were the ones she took note of. She had a feeling she now knew what it felt like to be rolled down a large hill of boulders. Everything hurt—but none of it mattered. The wind had tousled her well-kept hair, leaving a few stray tendrils to fall on either side of her face and against her neck. She straightened her skirt, making sure to cover her ankles. She couldn’t seem to stop smiling.
Marigold had been the picture of ladylike. She’d let Sophia go slow at first but never let Otto and Midnight out of their sight. Once she’d gotten used to the movement and feel of how their bodies moved together, Marigold had taken off, running toward their friends as they raced ahead. Sophia tried to look down as much as possible so that Otto wouldn’t see how excited she was. The last time she looked at him with excitement running through her veins, she’d overstepped and almost cost them both.
“Thank you, Mr. Clay. Marigold, Midnight, and I all thank you. It’s been a long time since we’ve felt that free.” Sophia pet both the horses on their noses. She started to lead them into the barn.
“Shall I prepare a buggy for you to retrieve from Creede, Miss Perkins?”
Sophia wanted to laugh but knew she shouldn’t. All these new feelings were terrible for her. She wasn’t sure what to act on, or how. Nothing she remembered from how her mother had treated her father had prepared her for dealing with the way she was feeling in that moment.
She shook her head but didn’t turn around. “I don’t think I’ll be needing a buggy after all, Mr. Clay.” Sophia heard a strange noise come from behind her but didn’t dare turn around. She was going to tuck the horses back into their places before she went back to the cabin to tend to Mrs. Sanderson.
“Next time you’re in Creede, please come to the livery. There’s something I’d like to show you.”
Sophia didn’t respond. She didn’t trust herself to. She’d had a thrilling day … to think the lovely man who had made it happen wanted to see her again set her heart flying. She shouldn’t be allowing herself to respond in such a way. She was creating a new life for herself, and just as soon as she learned any of the lady chores her friends were trying to teach her, she was going to find a job so she could help Mrs. Sanderson more.
Sophia couldn’t wait to head out the next morning. She’d spent the rest of her afternoon tending to Mrs. Sanderson and trying to coax a decent meal from a single pot on the stove. It hadn’t gone as horribly as the time before. She followed Beatrice’s directions exactly, and though the sauce was lumpy, the stew had been edible, which was more than she could say for her previous attempt.
She sun was shining, and as anxious as she was to get to town and to see Otto, she knew she had things there to take care of before she could head out. Encouraged by the progress she seemed to be making in the kitchen, Sophia decided on attempting to cook some bacon and eggs for their breakfast. She tried to remember everything she’d been told about cooking eggs. She knew she had to cook the bacon first so she could use the grease to make sure the eggs didn’t stick. She was always burning things, so she thought getting the bacon into the pan as she lit the fire would be best. Maybe it could cook as the fire gained strength and wouldn’t burn.
She watched the pan carefully as she puttered around the kitchen. Before she set the eggs in the pan she called out to Mrs. Sanderson to have her sitting and ready to eat. Once she heard the old woman shuffling to the kitchen, she cracked two eggs into the warm grease. She waited what she thought was the appropriate amount of time before flipping them. When she managed to turn the eggs over without the yolks cracking and saw that the underside was barely turning brown she jumped with joy. She was doing it! She was actually cooking something.
“I’m going to town to stop in the mercantile. I need employment. We’re going to need extra money to give to Willie for cutting wood once winter comes fully.” Sophia talked to Mrs. Sanderson while they ate. She was always sure to tell her housemate where she’d be and what she’d be doing. It made the old woman feel safe, and let her know that Sophia would always return. Mrs. Sanderson’s fear and anger whenever Sophia had been gone for long stretches of time made the younger woman think that at least some of the rumors were true—maybe her husband had just picked up and left. But Sophia had never had the heart to ask.
After a filling breakfast, Sophia cleaned the dishes and set the kitchen to rights before making sure everything else in the cabin was settled for the day. She made sure Mrs. Sanderson was in her chair with a book before she went to the barn and saddled Marigold. Her body was still sore, but she craved to feel as she had the day before. The freedom she’d always thought she’d achieve by getting out of her uncle’s clutches … she hadn’t fully known what it had meant until yesterday. Freedom was more than the ability to choose, more than making your own decisions and taking care of yourself. It couldn’t be captured in even those liberating moments. Freedom was wild.
Sophia felt wild.
Her feet settled into the stirrups, and she nudged Marigold on her way. They took her usual route to town but alternated between walking, trotting, and running. Sophia used every moment to practice. She could feel the difference between how she rode and how Mr. Clay had. He was at ease on Midnight, like they were one being rather than two, and he
didn’t seem to control her. They thought as one. Moved as one. Sophia knew she had more learning to do.
When they’d reached the point where Creede came into view, her mind wouldn’t settle off the kind livery owner. He’d done so much for her, given her so much … and she was sure he didn’t even realize it. She mentally added him to the list of those she was becoming indebted to.
The view she had of Creede was the only one she could really remember—half-blackened and damaged from the fire that could have taken her life but instead returned it to her. That fire had burned a lot of the businesses in town, which made getting work seem impossible, but she knew she had to do something. Mrs. Sanderson had very little money, and they couldn’t continue to rely on others’ charity.
She rode down the hill at a good pace, eventually passing the charred old saloon, The Nugget. A sick feeling came over her every time she saw the building, but this time was worse than ever. She thought she’d have to stop Marigold but decided it would be better for her to continue on. It would be safer.
Everyone was staring as a lone female rode into town on horseback. The looks on their faces made Sophia proud, had her sitting higher in the saddle—until she got closer to where The Nugget used to sit and noticed a man watching her fiercely.
She watched him with confusion as his face went from one of desire to confusion to anger, finally resting on something that Sophia was afraid to name. He seemed more than dangerous, making her want to push Marigold into a run.
“Where ya headed, lady?”
Sophia slowed. The voice was behind her … but then again, it always had been. She knew who he was, even though she’d never seen his face. Archibald Grady, the man who’d ordered her and the others to be tossed into that cellar. She didn’t turn around.