by Debra Cowan
“Hey, Riley,” Matt said.
“Riley.” Russ grinned.
Susannah nodded primly, her gaze on a point past his shoulder.
“I didn’t expect to see you here today,” he said.
Rather than look at him, she smiled at both Baldwins. “I couldn’t say no to two such charming invitations.”
Matt switched the parasol to his other hand. “Even though I asked first.”
“Did not,” Russ said pleasantly, arms crossed over his chest.
“Ever been to a horse race before?” Riley asked her.
“No.”
“I thought you didn’t like horses—”
“She’ll like the race,” Matt interrupted with a grin. “I promised she would.”
Susannah’s lips curved as she glanced at the big man, who was standing a little too close to her for Riley’s liking. So far she hadn’t looked at him once.
“They’ll start down by the church, race through town and around twice,” Matt explained. “The winner takes home a money prize, the total of the entry fees.”
Riley was starting to feel like a spare wagon part. He glanced around. “Where’s Cora?”
“She isn’t feeling well.” Susannah finally looked at him, her blue eyes concerned. “I think she’s missing Ollie.”
Riley nodded, his gaze meeting hers in sympathetic understanding. “What about J.T.? Surely he’s around. He doesn’t miss a race.”
“He’s on watch at the other end of town.” Russ hooked a thumb toward the smithy. “Your brother needed another deputy.”
On his way into town, Riley had seen Davis Lee at the smithy, and had stopped. Since the McDougals had hit so close to town, Davis Lee wasn’t taking any chances. He’d posted a guard at either end of town for the race today.
“Are you racing today, Riley?” Matt asked.
“Yes.”
“On Whip?”
Riley nodded.
“I’ll put some money on that.” The younger Baldwin turned to Susannah. “Excuse me, Miz Susannah. I’ll be right back.”
As he moved behind her and into the store, she glanced at Riley, then Russ. “Is he betting?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“On Riley?”
“Yep.” Russ chuckled. “Riley always gives Banker Dobies a run for his money.”
“Banker Dobies? From Abilene?” she asked.
“That’s the one.” Riley set his teeth at the memory of her ill-advised trip to Abilene. He needed to get inside and pay his entry fee. “He’s a good rider. We’ve traded off winning this race the last four years.”
Susannah’s gaze scanned the people hurrying across the street, the groups already in place on the other side. “There he is.”
She nodded toward the east end of town, where Francis Dobies sat astride a gray-white gelding lined up with several other horses and their riders.
Riley flicked a look at her dewy skin, the sweet curve of her neck. That damn gold band gleamed on her finger. No doubt the Baldwins now knew her as a widow. For her baby’s sake, he hoped her masquerade worked. Of course, the best thing for both of them would be for Susannah to realize she didn’t belong here. Not his affair, he reminded himself. Slamming the door on the thought, he tipped his hat to her and walked inside the store to pay his fee.
Several minutes later, he took his place in the line that stretched across Whirlwind’s main street in front of the church. Susannah’s hair, gleaming like cornsilk, made her easy to pick out. The Baldwin brothers dwarfed her small frame.
Pete Carter limped to a spot in front of his saloon and raised a pistol. “Take your marks!”
The riders lined up.
“Get set.” After a few seconds, Pete fired the pistol.
At the gun’s crack, Whip leaped off the start. Riley automatically leaned into the gelding, blanking his mind of Susannah and keeping his gaze fixed ahead. The ground blurred beneath his paint’s hooves. He and Dobies were neck and neck down Main, around the first turn at the smithy and behind the stretch of buildings. Just as they turned to circle through town again, a black horse streaked past on Riley’s right.
He cut his gaze to the side, then back. He didn’t recognize the animal. He leaned forward and let Whip have his head.
Riley and the banker tied for second. The rider on the black horse, whose face was covered by a brown slouch hat and a dark bandanna, came in first with a modest lead. Amid the cheering, Riley slowed his mount, catching a glimpse of the banker’s face.
Hard and set, Francis Dobies’s eyes followed the unfamiliar figure on the black horse as the pair disappeared around the blacksmith’s barn.
Riley stuck out his hand to the banker. “Good race, man. Maybe we’ll both have better luck next time.”
“Who is that?” Francis ignored Riley’s outstretched hand and swung down from his saddle.
“I don’t know.” He lowered his hand, dismounted. “Never seen that horse before.”
“Neither have I.” A flush rimmed the banker’s jaw and he strode over to Haskell’s.
Francis must’ve been set on winning that money, Riley guessed. He left Whip at the hitching post and started for Haskell’s to congratulate the winner and introduce himself.
People on either side of the street poured into the middle, talking and cheering. More than once Riley caught the same question that Dobies had asked about the stranger. Whoever the man was, he’d collect some nice winnings today. At least twenty people had paid the dollar entry fee. Anyone who’d bet on the stranger would have made a nice haul, too.
As he neared the store, Riley caught sight of the Baldwins talking to Jake Ross and Tony Santos. All four men were shaking their heads.
“…couldn’t see his face.”
“Didn’t know that horse at all.”
Where was Susannah? Ah, there, against the plate glass talking to Miguel.
Riley stepped up under the awning. Color flagged her cheeks as she smiled at something the boy said.
Dobies stalked out of the store. “Haskell said the winner already picked up his money and left out the back. Not very sociable, is he?”
Riley shrugged, slightly annoyed by Dobies’s attitude. “He did beat you fair and square, Francis.”
The banker gave him a flat stare and stepped into the street, elbowing his way through a crowd of people still standing there. All around, voices chattered like squirrels. Riley caught smatterings of conversation, all about the identity of the mystery rider.
“Hey, Riley,” Russ called out. “Who was the winner?”
He shrugged. “Don’t know.”
“That horse didn’t have a single marking,” Matt observed. “Like pure midnight.”
The other men murmured agreement.
“Yeah,” Riley said.
“That just beats all,” Jake Ross said quietly.
“It’s the fastest horse I’ve seen in a while,” Tony Santos added.
From the corner of his eye, Riley saw something flutter. He turned his head and spotted a piece of paper tacked to a post in front of the store. He stepped closer to read the neat print and his eyes widened.
Susannah Phelps will offer an eight-week charm school on manners, dancing, courtship and other matters of etiquette. A distinguished graduate of Miss Elmira Wentworth’s Finishing Academy For Young Ladies in St. Louis, Missouri. For more information, see Mrs. Susannah Phelps, now residing in the home of Mrs. Cora Wilkes.
A charm school? And who the hell was Elmira Wentworth?
Riley looked up in time to see Susannah squeezing her way through a throng of people in front of Haskell’s door. He yanked the paper down and stepped over to her.
“You’re offering a school?”
“Yes.” She looked startled, then caught sight of the paper he held. A tinge of pink warmed her skin.
He bit the inside of his cheek. “You created your own job?”
“I can’t take all the credit. Cora and I came up with the idea together.”
> “Cora.”
“Yes. She suggested I consider my strengths, and when I did, a charm school seemed like a good idea.”
Very resourceful, he admitted. And persistent, though he didn’t hold out much hope for her success. “Good luck. I hope some people will show up.”
“I think they will.”
“Where you planning on having this school?”
“Cora’s house. She’s also offered the barn if I need more space.”
Riley didn’t figure she would. “How many women do you expect?”
“Oh, I expect both men and women,” she said pleasantly.
“Men?” He couldn’t see many of these men showing up to learn how to eat with fancy utensils and flutter napkins around.
“Yes.”
“Will there be any women there?”
“At least Cora and I. What about you? Don’t you need lessons in at least one of my subjects?”
He raised a brow. “I don’t have any trouble getting food in my mouth. I already know how to dance, and I’m not courting anyone, so I guess not.”
Matt and Russ drifted away from the other men and closed around Susannah like guards.
“You thinking about going to Miz Susannah’s school?” Russ pointed to the flyer in Riley’s hand.
“We are,” Matt added.
Of course they were. “I’m sure she’ll be plenty busy trying to teach the two of you a little polish.”
“Too bad you won’t be getting any of it, Holt.” Russ grinned. “You’re a little rough yourself.”
“It’s hard to polish a diamond, boys.”
Matt and Russ chuckled, each offering an arm to Susannah.
She tucked one hand into the crook of Matt’s arm and one into Russ’s. As they walked away, she said to Riley over her shoulder, “If you change your mind—”
“I won’t.”
“Classes start Monday evening.”
The possibility that more than one or two men might show up was slim. Riley hoped she wouldn’t be too disappointed.
Chapter Six
Riley Holt made her as nervous as any horse ever had, with all that muscle and power and intimidating presence. His blue gaze tickled something deep inside her. Something she’d tried to bury since Paul’s rejection.
Just before dark on Sunday, Susannah slid the basket handle over her arm, took a deep breath and let herself into the henhouse. Ugh! The sharp, dirty smell threatened to overwhelm her. Morning sickness had ended a month before she’d arrived in Whirlwind, but when she gathered eggs for Cora, her stomach rebelled, both in the morning and in the evening.
Forcing her thoughts in another direction would help the time pass faster and perhaps dull the pungent odor of the hens and their litter, but it wasn’t Riley she wanted lingering in her mind. After seeing him at the horse race yesterday, he’d been in her thoughts enough that she’d slept poorly last night. Even now, images of him taunted her. She hadn’t been able to take her eyes off him during that race. The talk about the winner, whose identity was still a mystery, had flowed around her, but all her senses were attuned to the man whose name had brought her to Whirlwind.
She might be afraid of horses, but she could admire someone who wasn’t. And Riley definitely wasn’t. The man probably wasn’t afraid of anything, she thought with wistful envy. He moved easily among the animals as if they were no danger, and Susannah knew from experience they were.
He and his horse seemed as one, a blend of masterful teamwork that illustrated a power and fluid grace she’d never seen. A power she wanted to get closer to.
She put her apron over her mouth to help cut the sharp stench of ammonia as she breathed deeply, then resumed gathering eggs. Why couldn’t this odor burn thoughts of Riley out of her mind? Just the way he looked at her made her pulse skitter. Neither of the Baldwin brothers did that. Only Paul had ever affected her that way. Which was why she was glad Riley had refused to marry her. She would never again let her heart overrule her head, and Riley Holt could make her forget all about common sense.
The slanting light inside the henhouse changed as the sun dropped lower in the sky. Fighting the onset of nausea, she choked in a deep breath and hurried to check the nests at the other end, even though the birds had laid this morning. Coming out of the henhouse, she latched the door, then rested her forehead against the rough wood, dragging in deep gulps of fresher air. Her queasiness slowly subsided.
She didn’t want to be involved with Riley, but she did want his good opinion. The amusement in his eyes when he’d learned of her school had told her he didn’t believe she would succeed. But she would.
Just then something hard hit her elbow and hot breath blew against her sleeve. She screamed, flinching. The basket flew out of her hands and crashed to the ground, eggs cracking audibly. Moving on adrenaline and instinct, she darted to the corner of the henhouse, horrified to see Cora’s mare toss her head and run the other way.
The horse galloped to the fence, and Susannah cringed against the weathered wood of the henhouse. Her heart kicking painfully against her ribs, she curved a hand over her belly. Why had Prissy come up to her? What had the mare wanted?
The horse slowed to a lope, her long legs carrying her up and down the fence line. She kept her dark eyes fixed warily on Susannah.
“Are you okay?”
She jerked at the sound of Riley’s voice. Her body shook, just like her voice, as she answered, “I think so. Yes.”
“Stay there for a minute.” He walked slowly toward the mare. “Shh, girl. It’s all right.”
Prissy wasn’t the one who’d had the life scared out of her, Susannah wanted to snap. But she kept her mouth shut.
The horse stopped pacing and watched Riley approach. He continued to talk softly to her. When he reached her, he put one hand on the white star in the middle of her nose and the other on her neck.
Susannah trembled, her emotions swinging from fear to relief to disgust. What about Cora’s eggs? She glanced over and saw a mess of yolk and shells. Oh, no!
Tears burned her eyes. Hugging the small building, she edged toward the basket, picking it up gingerly, then eyeing the mess of broken shells at her feet. Selling eggs was how Cora made a living.
“No, no,” Susannah whispered. Clutching the basket, she knelt and tried to salvage at least one egg.
“Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Cora’s eggs. They’re completely ruined.”
“It’s fine—”
“No! It’s a day’s wages.”
“Susannah.” Riley reached down and took her arm, gently pulling her to her feet. “Cora will understand. It wasn’t your fault.” His gaze skipped over her before he studied her face. “You’re sure you’re fine? And the baby?”
She nodded, then frowned at him. “What are you doing here?”
He dropped his hand from her arm, the absence of his warm touch making her aware of the slight chill in the air. “Davis Lee and I thought we should check on Cora. We didn’t see her at church this morning, and yesterday you said she felt poorly. Pearl wanted us to take her some pie, too.”
“I’m sure Cora appreciates it.” Susannah’s gaze swept the bits of egg at her feet. “I don’t know how I’ll pay her for these. I can’t believe I dropped them.”
“It was a natural reaction.”
“You saw?”
“Yes, from the side window. Prissy was just being friendly.”
“She scared me to death.” Susannah placed a hand on her chest, urging her heart to slow down. “I feel like a ninny.”
“There’s no need.”
“I wish I could be as calm as you.”
“You just need to get comfortable around horses.”
The memory of nearly being run down when she was nine flashed through her mind, and she shook her head. “I don’t think that will ever happen.”
“Look.” He walked over to Prissy and smoothed a broad hand down her neck. The mare stood motionless beneath his touch. “W
hy don’t you come over, just touch her?”
“I don’t think so.”
“I’ll be right here holding her. She won’t hurt you.”
Susannah’s shoulders knotted up. She didn’t want to, but she and the mare both lived here. What if she were alone with Prissy sometime and got startled again? Or what if something happened to the baby or Cora and Susannah needed to go for help?
“I promise I won’t let anything happen.” Riley smiled, setting off a flurry of sensations in her belly.
The mare stood placidly. Even Susannah felt herself responding to Riley’s soothing presence. “What should I do?”
“Just stroke her. Start slow. Here, come closer.”
She took a step.
“It’s all right.”
She set the basket on the ground and walked slowly over to him.
“Good.” He used the same reassuring tone with her that he used with the mare. “First, hold your hand under her nose and let her smell you. Like so.”
He demonstrated with his palm up, and Prissy dipped her head, her nostrils flaring as she took in his scent.
Muscles snapping tight, Susannah held out her hand. When the mare leaned down, she reflexively jerked back.
“It’s all right,” Riley said quietly. “Just take your time.”
She nodded, extended her hand again. The mare sniffed, her velvety muzzle brushing Susannah’s palm. The horse stared at her.
Susannah glanced at Riley.
“Very good. Now, why don’t you touch her?”
“Where?”
“Her neck.” He stroked a hand down the mare’s sleek black hair. “Like this.”
Susannah’s stomach was barely settled from the henhouse, and standing this close to the horse threatened to unsettle it again. But she replayed the image of eggs crashing to the ground, Cora’s money gone. She took a deep breath, reached out.
The horse shifted, muscles rolling beneath silky flesh. Susannah’s hand hovered inches away, trembling. “I’m sorry.”
“No need. We can stop if you want.”
If she did, she was afraid she might not try again. “I’ll do it.”
Her hand still shook and she clenched it into a fist, trying to calm herself.