by Jillian Hart
“You got conned, Neilson. Horses can’t avoid what they can’t see or don’t know to look for. You’ll have the same problem when you move your cattle into these fields. Try tying red yarn on the wires a few feet apart.”
“Yah. What a big help you are.”
The mare tried to lunge beneath Seth, kicking hard, fighting with all her strength. Seth forced back a curse and spoke soft soothing words. The mustang stilled, stiff with panic, waiting for the opportunity to try again.
“Suppose she might be worth something at the stockyards,” Neilson grumbled on, not caring how his rough, angry voice was affecting the mare. “They shoot her for the meat. Maybe I make more than it costs to haul her.”
Seth strengthened his hold before she could begin to struggle again. With the wire wrapped around her back fetlock, she could lame herself permanently. This fine, beautiful animal didn’t deserve that or a trip to the slaughterhouse.
“Neilson,” he growled. “I’m only going to say this once. I’ll fix your damn fence, but I’m taking the horse.”
“This is my land.”
“Too bad. Walk away before I get really mad.”
The old man grumbled, and Seth felt the horse weakening. She was losing too much blood.
“Linnea!” he called when he saw her gray hood rise over the top of the small rise.
She climbed over the fence, her hood dangling from her shoulders and her blond curls tangling down her back. Her skirt hems were wet and muddy, but no woman had ever looked so good to him.
She slowed to a fast walk, gathering her skirts to keep from further panicking the mare. Concern bracketed her rosebud mouth as she knelt beside him.
“Here.” She withdrew the cutters from her cloak pocket. “Do you want me to hold her?”
“No.” The mare thrashed, and it took all his concentration to hold her down. “You’ll have to cut the wires. Move slowly, but you’ve got to work fast. I can’t hold her for long. She’s tiring, and I am, too.”
Linnea moved like morning sunlight, gentle but sure. She tore off her mittens with her teeth. Her slender hands seemed soothing to the mare as she tugged at the snarl of wire wrapped around the mustang’s back leg.
The cutters snipped, the wire snapped with a twang as it broke free, and Neilson started up again, rattling on about the price of his fence.
The mare, sensing she was almost freed from the painful wire, thrashed, kicked and bucked, fighting hard to lift her head. Seth pressed her against the ground, hating the white rim of fear in her eyes. Lather slicked them both.
“Easy, girl. We aren’t going to hurt you.”
Linnea knelt at his side, holding a coil of rope. “I’ve cut away all the wire I can see.”
“You’ll have to tie a halter and hobbles for me. Do you know how?”
“No, but I’m good at embroidery, and that requires a lot of knots. Tell me what to do.”
“Tie a slipknot,” he began his instructions, his words raw and rough to his own ears.
Linnea didn’t seem to notice as she knelt among the new shoots of grass and asked for Neilson’s assistance in catching and holding the mare’s rear legs.
She worked quickly and competently, her voice kind, her hair gleaming like new gold, her blue-violet eyes dark with sympathy.
Maybe it was the care she showed in tearing a strip of cotton from her petticoat to bind the mustang’s bleeding fetlock. Or maybe it was just his sorrow for this majestic animal so badly injured.
Whatever the reason, his heart began hurting, keen-edged and fierce.
A hurt that came from feeling in ways he hadn’t in a long while.
* * *
Linnea’s stomach felt weak as she watched the frightened mustang limp through the plowed field. Freshly turned earth made the ground soft for the injured mare’s foot, but she seemed too busy fighting against the makeshift halter to appreciate it.
The bandage was already bright crimson and dripping. “She’s bleeding so badly.”
“I can do something about that. If I can get her to the barn without dislocating both of my shoulders.” Seth struggled to hold the mare’s head low. The muscles in his arms and neck corded with the effort. “She’s still got a lot of fight left in her.”
“Can’t blame her for being unhappy. Her family is running free on the horizon, and she’s our captive.”
“That she is.”
“Will you have to put her down?”
“Not if I can help it. She injured herself pretty good, but she’s strong as hades.”
“That’s a good sign.” Lucky mare, for tangling herself up in a fence when Seth was at hand.
He was good with her. Strong and firm, but kind. More admiration burned in Linnea’s chest, bright as a brand-new flame. “We aren’t taking her to your barn?”
“Can we keep her at your place? She’s going to need care, and I hate to take her home. Ginny’s mad at me as it is.”
“Over me?”
“Well, she did find out about the sewing. She wasn’t happy about that, but she’s really mad at her husband for leaving her. And for being forced to depend on me.”
“I can see that would be a hardship.”
He grinned at her teasing. “I’m an unworthy brother, but I do my best.”
Lucky Ginny.
Seth paused to reach for the latch, but Linnea beat him to it and swung open the heavy gate. “Looks like you need both hands to hold her.”
“She’s tiring herself out. Look. She likes the sound of your voice. See how she’s watching you.”
“She’s just getting too tired to struggle.”
“No, she’s figuring out which one of us is likely to help her out. I don’t think she’ll try to bolt if you come closer.”
“You mean for me to touch her?”
“Sure. Let her feel it in your hands, how you only want to help her.”
“How do I do that?” Linnea relatched the heavy gate.
“You’ve a gentle touch, Miss Holmstrom. This mare might be a wild thing, but she’s got a heart. She’s a herd animal and she’s used to having someone around her she can trust.”
“Other horses.”
“True, but she’ll settle for anyone kind in a pinch. Trust me. Come closer.”
The mare seemed as large as the sun, and Linnea walked in her shadow, daring to edge closer. Such a beautiful animal. And a wild, powerful mare who stood much taller than Linnea was.
The mare turned her head a fraction and in those dark chocolate eyes she could read the mare’s fear. And pain.
Seth was right. Trusting him, she pressed the palm of her hand against the mare’s cheek.
The mustang’s eyes widened. Her ears flattened against her skull. Her muscles tensed, but she didn’t lash out.
Linnea stroked her again. How soft she was. Like sun-warmed velvet. It was like touching heaven, knowing this creature raced the sun and chased the horizon, and knew freedom like the wind.
“Linnea? Is that you? Goodness, dotter, you are nearly late for our noon meal.” Mama clung to the porch rail. “I was beginning to worry. Is that the major with you? Is his horse limping?”
“It’s not my stallion, ma’am. A mustang tangled herself up in Neilson’s wire fence.”
“Wire? Why, Lars Neilson never did have a lick of sense. We have room to spare in our barn.”
“Mama, you shouldn’t be out in this wind without a cloak and you know it. It’s not warm enough.” Linnea moved away from Seth and the wild mare, feeling Seth’s gaze as heavy as a touch on her back as she hurried up the porch steps. “Come inside, and I’ll get the soup warming.”
“Warming? Why, I have everything ready. I only need to set another place at the table and the major can join us.”
“He’ll be with the horse for a while.” Linnea could just see him through the corner of the window, leading the golden mare through the shadowed barn doors.
How strong he looked, and how gentle. Amazing that a man could be both. The
sight of him made her pulse run fast and hot.
“Then we will pack a meal and you can take it to him.” Mama breezed across the room, already making plans. “It is good luck that we made two whole pans of cinnamon rolls yesterday.”
Linnea checked on the soup simmering on the stove. The fire was fed, the bread cut, the table set. She should have been here helping her mother. “Mama, this is too much.”
“I am not helpless, flicka. The major likes coffee, does he not? Let me set a pot to boiling while you go see if he needs your help with that poor animal.”
Why did Mama look so happy? Unmistakable sparkles lit her eyes. Was she smiling? Awfully suspicious, Linnea decided, and she wasn’t going to feed Mama’s hopes for a son-in-law.
“Seth is only here for the summer. I think you should know that.”
“Seth, is it? Where is the knife?” Mama rummaged around in the pantry. “Here it is. I shall keep the meal warm, for tending an injured animal takes time. When you and the major finish, I will have extra bread cut and his coffee ready.”
Mama turned away, her hands busy as she began slicing fresh bread.
She’s trying to fix me up with Seth. The realization hit Linnea like a snowball right in the middle of the forehead. What was Mama thinking? How could she even believe that Seth would want her?
Poor Mama, always wanting the best for her daughter. She didn’t understand. Linnea filled an empty pail with clean rags, grabbed a healing ointment from the pantry and the teakettle from the stove.
“Eat, if you get hungry, Mama. I won’t be long.”
“Don’t hurry on my account. The major may need your help.”
How cheerful Mama looked.
Linnea turned away, sadness filling her, brimming over so that she shivered from skin to bone. How did she break Mama’s hopes? And how could her mother even imagine such a thing?
Seth swung two empty buckets over his shoulder as he met her at the barn door. “First thing I’m going to do when I’m done plowing the fields is build you a windmill.”
“To pump our water? Are you serious?”
“Dead serious. How much water do you pack in a day?”
“Some days fifty gallons.”
“We’ll put an end to that.” He said it the way a friend might, as if he cared about her welfare. “I’ve got the mare cross-tied and hobbled in one of the stalls. The barn’s a scary place for her, since she’s used to being able to scent the wind and look in all directions for danger. Move slow and talk to her, so she knows you mean no harm. Just go on in and wait for me.”
“I’ve come prepared.” She lifted the bucket she held.
“Good. I could use some help.” His smile was slow and lopsided, and friendly. Not a smile from a man looking to charm a woman. Or planning to come courting.
But a smile that made her feel less alone.
Mama was going to be sorely disappointed, Linnea realized as Seth disappeared down the path. She was going to be disappointed.
A curious moo from her milk cow greeted her the instant she stepped inside. The Jersey leaned over the rails and swiped her tongue at Linnea’s sleeve. Dark eyes pleaded, and she couldn’t resist giving the animal a quick pat.
Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the mustang watching, sides heaving, ears pressed flat against her skull.
“You’re being quiet but you’re angry, aren’t you, girl?” Linnea moved on to the next stall, slowly, lowering her pail and teakettle to the ground so it wouldn’t startle the mare. She stayed on the safe side of the gate. “You’re bleeding, but Seth will take care of you.”
The mare didn’t move. Seth had her securely tied and hobbled so that she couldn’t harm herself or them. Blood ran in rivulets down the mare’s barrel and sides. Her left hoof was cocked off the ground, blood pooling beneath it.
Seth’s shadow fell across the threshold, wide and masculine. His presence set Linnea’s blood racing. She kept her eyes low and watched him secretly through her lashes.
He’d rolled his sleeves to his elbows. His skin was sun-browned and dusted with dark hair. Muscles corded as he carried the ten-gallon buckets easily. “How’s our girl doing?”
“She’s hurt worse than I thought.”
“We’ll have to see how deep that cut is to her fetlock.” He upended one bucket into the small tub.
The mare startled, her fear wild. The ropes held, but her panic remained.
Seth eyed the mustang as he emptied the second bucket. “Think you can hold her for me?”
“I can try.”
“Good.” Approval flickered in his eyes. He moved toward her, so near her skin prickled as if they’d touched. He opened the gate.
One more step brought them so close she could hear him breathe. He towered over her, and she could feel his heat radiate through her. She couldn’t move, which made no sense at all, because she was able to blink and breathe. A sensible woman ought to step away. He was far too close for respectability.
He brought his gloved hand to her face and she didn’t care at all about what was proper. His gloved knuckles grazed against her left cheek, and she closed her eyes. The caress of the butter-soft leather was as gentle as the man’s touch.
Her skin tingled and she felt the woman in her, dormant as if sleeping through a long winter, softly stir to life. Like new shoots to the sun, like the first buds of spring, she felt her heart opening.
“You should wear your hair down more often.” His gaze traveled over her windblown locks, tangled around her shoulders. “I’ve never seen such beautiful hair.”
Her heart stopped beating. Her lungs stopped drawing air. Everything within her silenced.
He didn’t really mean it. He was being kind, that’s all. She refused to take his words to heart. It was more likely that the stars would tumble from the sky than it was that Seth Gatlin would fall in love with her, a plain woman who was old enough to know better.
* * *
“I’ve got this as clean as I can.” Seth didn’t like the look of the cut, but he’d seen worse. “Linnea, do me a favor and loosen the knot holding her head. Not the ones to the cross-ties, but the hold keeping her nose to her knees.”
“Is she going to be able to run again?” As she released the knot, Linnea’s gaze met his.
In their blue depths he read her fear for the horse, fear that she might never be able to gallop the plains. He liked the sympathetic brush of her hand across the mare’s neck. He liked it a lot.
The mustang snorted, her ears flat to her head, but she didn’t try to bite. Linnea didn’t look afraid, but awestruck. Her wonder touched him.
“She’s such a beauty,” she breathed, as if she were lucky enough to find a star shimmering on the ground in front of her. “I love her coat. She’s as golden as morning sunshine when it first touches the plains. And her mane is as white as moonlight.”
“It’s called palomino.” Seth straightened, deciding to leave the wounds uncovered for now. “I figure she’s about ten years old. She’s got another month before she foals.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“No, I didn’t.” Seth regretted the truth, but what good was a lie? “The cut’s shallow enough to give us hope.”
“Good.”
He watched lines smudge Linnea’s brow beneath the windblown tangle of her bangs. The gossamer curls framed her oval face and his fingers itched to touch the golden strands. He knew they’d be as soft as they looked.
He shook his head at his foolishness, a man his age noticing a woman so young and beautiful. She could have her choice of men.
He shut the stall door and latched it tight. “Better to leave her alone for a while. Let her get some rest. That’s the best way for her to heal.”
“Should we leave her something to eat?”
“No. I’ll be back later after she’s calmed.” He knelt in the aisle and placed the crock of Mrs. Holmstrom’s healing salve into Linnea’s pail. “I’ve got to get to town and pick up a coi
l of barbed wire before the day’s end. Or I figure Lars Neilson will have my head.”
“He put that wire up on purpose.” Anger flushed her cheeks and drew up her slim shoulders. She was all fight and soft woman, and he really liked it.
“Course he did. He’s not as bad as a man comes. He could start shooting the animals instead of shooting at them. Plenty of farmers do. He took the easy way and figured a few injured mustangs would teach the rest of them to stay out of his haystacks.”
“You’re siding with him?”
“That’s not what I said. I’m only saying we’re lucky she’s not dead from a bullet, that’s all. I don’t like an animal being hurt. Never have. Never will.”
“Okay. For a minute there, I thought I might have to knock some sense into you.”
“A little thing like you?”
“I’m stronger than I look.”
“Sure, if you’re packing ten-gallon buckets full of water to the barn every day.” He grinned, he couldn’t help it.
Linnea made him smile. It was that simple. And unexpected.
So he tipped his hat and headed straight to the door where sunshine and the safety of loneliness beckoned. “Looks like you got a horse.”
“You saved her.” Linnea breezed after him, her steps whisper soft on the earthen floor, her skirts rustling. “When she’s healed, you should keep her.”
“I’ll be moving on soon. What would I do with her? You’re the one who could use a horse.”
“I could never break her spirit.”
Linnea said the words wisely, as if she knew all that taking a saddle would cost the mare. His chest hurt as if the ice around his heart was breaking away.
“Here.” He thrust the pail at her. The muddy hem of her blue dress edged into his line of vision and he turned away. It was the smart thing to do.
But he couldn’t shut out her presence, the feel of her to his senses. Her soft lilac scent made his skin ripple. The sound of her breathing so light and gentle set his teeth on edge. Her shoes brushed the earth as she stepped back, and the hair on the back of his neck pricked, as if she’d pressed her hand to his nape.