Her Western Heart_Seeing Ranch series

by Florence Linnington

  “Go on!” Mitch heard Beau shouting from behind him. A bang went off and he turned Lady just in time to see Beau pointing his pistol at the clouds. The moose turned tail and ran through the tall grasses.

  For a moment, Mitch struggled to get a good breath in. His vision swam from the excitement and beads of sweat ran down his temples. In front of him, the woman shook.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Yes,” she thickly said. “Thank you.”

  Beau galloped over, putting away his pistol as he did so. “That was a real hair-raiser.”

  The young woman only murmured something Mitch couldn’t make out. She still trembled like a leaf, her shoulders hunching over and her arms holding tightly to her bag.

  Mitch nodded at Beau and they silently guided the horses to the river bed, making camp in the shade of some trees. Carefully, so as not to assault the other person on Lady, Mitch dismounted.

  “Water?” he asked, reaching for the canteen attached to the saddle. A pair of deep brown eyes fell on his and his hand stilled on the canteen’s flap. Those eyes… they were so familiar. And that hair… that soft, wavy blonde hair. Many nights, he’d fallen asleep thinking of the face in front of him, and now, here it was.

  “Gemma Campbell,” he breathed.

  Her eyes went wide, dark lashes fluttering above them. “Yes.”

  Realizing he was just standing there staring at her, he cleared his throat and took a step back. “Mitchell Reed, Miss Campbell.” He removed his head and gave her a nod.

  Her tongue flitted out, licking her bright pink lips. She was pale, but he couldn’t know if that was because of what had just happened to her or not.

  “P-Pleased to make your acquaintance,” she stuttered, sounding nothing but plumb terrified.

  Realizing she was in shock shook Mitchell from his reverie. Here he was, standing there staring at her like a piece of art when she was no doubt still scared out of her wits.

  “Here.” He offered his hand and she slipped her delicate one against his palm. His fingers loosely closed around hers, securing their touch. Something akin to lightning ran up and down Mitchell’s arms, making his skin dance and his heart leap.

  Too soon, Gemma was on the ground, her hand sliding out of his. Mitchell forced himself to speak. “You need to rest.”

  She only nodded, allowing him to guide her over to the shadiest spot under the trees. Unscrewing the canteen’s cap, he passed her the container and waited while she took a few sips.

  “Where are the others?” Beau asked from right next to Mitchell, the sudden question making him nearly jump out of his skin. For a minute there, he’d almost forgotten Beau even existed.

  Gemma leaned against a tree trunk. “They’re at the stagecoach. A wheel broke and the driver is fixing it.”

  “Whereabouts?”

  Gemma pointed. “Not even half a mile.”

  He nodded. “I’ll get on over there and give him a hand. Nice to meet you, Miss Campbell.”

  “The same to you,” she answered in a hushed voice. Beau hurried away from the riverbed, Gemma watching him go. “I didn’t get his name,” she slowly said when he was gone.

  “Beau Johnson. He’s worked for me for years.”

  Gemma’s gaze was back on Mitch, making him feel once more like he was being turned upside down. “Oh.”

  “Are you all right?” Mitch reached a hand out to her, then withdrew it. He didn’t want to overstep his boundaries, but she seemed to be in such an awful state. He couldn’t just stand there and make small talk.

  “I’m fine.” She swallowed hard and nodded. “It came out of the grass so fast. It was so big, yet I, I didn’t...”

  “They don’t usually pay humans much mind, but female moose can get pretty surly in the summer.”

  “And then, you...” Her eyes widened. “You came and saved me.”

  Mitch rubbed the back of his neck and ducked his head. It was hard to look into Gemma’s eyes for long—as much as he wanted to. “What else was I supposed to do?”

  She dryly laughed. “Let me die, I imagine, would be the only other option.”

  “Now, why would I do that?” he seriously asked.

  All humor fell from her face. “You wouldn’t, I suppose,” she whispered.

  This time, Mitch found it impossible to break the intense eye contact. Gemma stared right into him, taking hold of a part of his soul he didn’t even know he had—the part that talked softly and wanted to do things like take her hand again or brush the stray hair from her cheek.

  “You’re even more beautiful than your picture,” he found himself saying.

  Gemma’s lips parted and she sucked in a quick breath. “So are you.” Her cheeks quickly colored. “I mean handsome. You’re even more handsome than in your photo.”

  Mitch chuckled. “That was taken quite some time ago. I was afraid you’d get here, find out that you’re betrothed to an old man, and turn right back around and head home.”

  “Oh, no!” Gemma straightened up from the tree and looked right into his eye. “No, not at all.”

  Another silence fell between them. Mitch knew it should have been uncomfortable, but it wasn’t. He didn’t even know what to say. All of this had happened so fast and he’d been so distracted by the ranch’s problems. With Gemma finally there, her mere arrival was too much to absorb.

  He couldn’t just stand there looking at her all day, though. Pulling his hat forward, he collected his scrambled thoughts. “Let’s get you back to town.”

  Gemma’s smile lit up her face. “That would be nice. There aren’t any moose there, though, are there?”

  “No,” Mitchell laughed. “Not during the day, anyway. They could sneak in after nightfall, I suppose.”

  “If they’re babies, that’s quite all right. The little one I saw was delightful.” She sighed and wistfully looked up at the sky. “I almost got to pet him, too.”

  Mitchell’s brows bunched together. “You tried to pet the calf?”

  She smiled. “Oh, yes. He wanted me to pet him. I think he was wondering if I might have a treat in my carpetbag.”

  “That was a silly idea.”

  The smile fell right off her face. Mitchell instantly regretted the words—especially the gruff way they’d come out—but it was too late.

  “How was I to know?” she cried. “I had never seen a moose before.”

  Mitchell took a sharp inhale. He hadn’t meant to offend Gemma, but her thinking that she could just walk up to a wild animal and touch it wasn’t right at all.

  “Look,” he carefully said. “This isn’t New York.”

  Gemma folded her arms in indignation. “Well, now, I think I understand perfectly that this isn’t New York. I don’t see Lord Taylor or Brooks Brothers anywhere.”

  Mitchell could feel the frown tugging on his lips. He had no earthly idea who Lord Taylor or the Brooks Brothers were, but he could tell Gemma was greatly upset. “It’s just not safe to be traipsing around in the wild, touching any animal you see. I understand that it might be appealing...”

  He trailed off, not sure where to go with the thought. They’d been having such a nice moment, and all of a sudden, it had been turned upside down. He wished he knew how to right it once more.

  Gemma’s lips were pursed tight. “Thank you. I see your point.”

  Even though her words were polite, the tone was strained, and he could tell from her face that she was still anything but happy.

  Mitchell’s chest twisted around itself. “Let’s get back to town and get you calmed down some.”

  Her eyebrows flew up. “I’m perfectly calm, thank you. Your insistence at my not touching wild animals has been duly noted and has not perturbed me the least bit.”

  “I meant calmed down from the moose attack.”

  “Oh… Y-Yes...” She blinked and dropped her arms at her side. “Yes, thank you. That would be nice.”

  Her face to the ground, she walked back to Lady. With Gemma’s back turned,
Mitch took a moment to himself to breath in deep and look up at the sky.

  Were women always like this? It had been so long since he’d been in the real company of one, excluding Clara. Maybe he’d forgotten what they tended to be like. But he hated that he’d upset Gemma and knew he had to make it right.

  Lord, guide me. He sent his prayer up to the heavens and went to help Gemma onto Lady.

  11

  11. Gemma

  Chapter Eleven

  The horse took them from the bank and back to the flat area, leaving the coolness of the river behind. Each step had Mitchell’s chest rocking against Gemma’s shoulder just the slightest bit, making her intensely aware of his presence.

  The allure she’d immediately felt upon first setting eyes on him was now mixed with an aggravation she could not get rid of.

  Why had he spoken to her in the way he had? Of course, it hadn’t been the warning itself about wild animals, it had been the manner in which he chose to share his thoughts. He had told her to stay away from animals as if she were a petulant child who needed to be reminded of something several times.

  It was the way her father always spoke to her. It was the way William Picoult had spoken to her, whispering to her to sit up straighter during tea, or cutting her off in the middle of a sentence. It was one of the very things Gemma had run away from.

  Or, rather, that she thought she had run away from.

  Nausea rose in her and she pursed her lips. Suppose Mitchell Reed was just like the men she sought freedom from? Suppose he treated her as nothing but an object, something that had no use beyond looking pretty and following orders? She knew that it was important to be loyal to one’s husband, but she also knew that many women were completely obedient, taking whatever abuses were given to them.

  Was that the life she was headed into? If so, what would she do then? Run from Mitchell as well? Where would she go?

  She had enough money left to take a train back east, but New York was out of the question. If she contacted the agency and asked them to place her with a different husband, would they do that?

  “My housekeeper set you up in the master bedroom,” Mitchell suddenly said. “I hope you’ll be comfortable there. It’s the biggest room in the house.”

  Gemma’s mouth felt bone dry. “Thank you. That’s very considerate of you.”

  At least there would be another woman where she was headed. That was something to look forward to.

  They fell into silence again, with Gemma wondering if he would attempt to make amends for the harsh way he had spoken to her. After a few more minutes without any apology coming, her heart sank even further. Her future husband, it seemed, had no regrets.

  At least he was brave. He’d rushed between her and the moose, risking his own safety to rescue her. Gemma chewed on her lip. Her mother always told her to focus on what was right in a situation. As, for the time being, Gemma was stuck where she was, perhaps it was time to follow that advice.

  He is brave, she reminded herself, starting a list in her head. And handsome… and has his own ranch…

  Mitchell abruptly spoke again. “I thought you would like some space to yourself while you get settled and we become acquainted, so I’ll be staying in one of the empty ranch hand cabins for a while.”

  The sudden news warmed her heart. How could a man who so willingly gave her space be anything like William Picoult, a fellow who felt he could put his hands on a woman whenever he pleased?

  “Thank you,” she gratefully said. “That sounds very nice.”

  He murmured his acknowledgments, then another thought struck her.

  “The master bedroom… is that yours? I hope I’m not intruding upon your space.”

  “Not at all,” he quickly answered. “I’ve been sleeping in the smaller room at the end of the hall. And don’t worry about me. The cabins are good enough for my men, so they’re good enough for me.”

  “Ah.” The road took another turn, with still no signs of town. They’d passed a farm a while back, but that had been all. “I’m sure I will love the master bedroom. Thank you again. I’m honored that you’ve set it up for me.”

  “It was my parents’.”

  “How lovely. Did they move away from Wyoming?”

  “They died about five years ago.”

  “Oh.” Gemma tried to speak again, but found it difficult. She’d only just met Mitchell, but hearing about his parents’ deaths had an unexpected effect on her. Perhaps it was because she had left her own behind. And now, close to marriage, she had just discovered she had no in-laws to speak of.

  In a way, it almost felt like losing a mother and father twice. Gemma didn’t know if she would ever see her parents again. She knew she was far from an orphan, but in that moment, she couldn’t help but feel like one.

  “I’m so sorry,” she found herself saying, her voice cracking over the words.

  She wasn’t sure, but she thought she noticed Mitchell’s arms tense, his hands tightening around the reins. “Thank you. It was quite a while ago.”

  “I miss my parents,” she softly said.

  “Have they passed as well?”

  “No, they...” Gemma paused, unsure of what to say next. Mitchell knew almost nothing about her, as in her ad she’d only written that she had a desire to escape the city. She couldn’t tell him the truth. Not the full truth, at least. She had only just met the man, and had no clue if he would fully understand the peril she had fled. Perhaps he would think it immoral that she had disobeyed her parents and left a fiancé in the dust. Perhaps he would be so outraged he would put her on the next stagecoach headed east.

  She swallowed hard. “They are in New York. They could not find a proper husband for me there, and as I always wanted to come west...”

  “Here you are,” he finished for her.

  “Yes,” she solemnly agreed. “Here I am.”

  She’d told him the truth, just not all of it. Her mother and father had indeed not been able to find a proper husband for her. Instead, they’d selected a pure scoundrel.

  Gemma nibbled on her bottom lip, praying desperately that Mitchell wouldn’t ask any more questions about her life in New York. Say he wanted to know what her parents thought of her becoming a mail-order bride? What could she say then that would be the truth, but that would not enrage him?

  The answer, unfortunately, was mostly likely nothing. She would have to figure out just what to do about the situation, and sometime soon, before Mitchell asked any further questions about her parents.

  “There’s town,” he said, his warm exhale pushing against the back of her neck, sending a shiver through Gemma.

  She quickly shut her eyes. “Oh,” she murmured, staring into the darkness. The feeling of his breath against her skin had nearly driven her mad. Never before had any man had such an effect on Gemma, and, thanks to her parents, she had been introduced to many a man.

  When she felt she had calmed somewhat, she opened her eyes, ready to take in Shallow Springs for the first time.

  “It’s...” The next words died on her tongue. What lay in front of Gemma was not what she had expected at all. The town—if “town” was even a good word for it—consisted of nothing more than a few rows of staggered buildings, many of which were only one story.

  “Small,” she finished.

  “It’s still pretty young,” Mitchell agreeably said.

  She sucked in a breath and held it. Was she being too quick to judge the town? Small as it was, it could still be full of plenty of interesting characters and jovial events. Also, wasn’t this what she had signed up for? An adventure in a small western town?

  But I did not think ‘small’ was this… small, she grimly thought to herself. Out of all the towns the train had gone through, none of them had been so tiny as Shallow Springs.

  The horse continued, carrying them past a general store and a jailhouse. The few people in the streets nodded their hellos to Mitchell, who waved back at them. Each and every head turned Gemma’
s way, inspecting her with interest. She felt her cheeks heat under their gazes. What did people here think about Mitchell Reed ordering a bride from New York? In the circle Gemma grew up in, such a practice for a woman from her kind of family would have been laughed at. She had no clue where it stood here in Shallow Springs.

  “The hotel is right up here,” Mitchell announced, reaching around Gemma and pointing toward the end of the street.

  “Oh. Lovely!” The thought of a hotel immediately conjured warm thoughts. Back in New York, her father owned a share of one of the most popular hotels. Gemma had her sixteenth birthday party there and had attended many more events in its jungle-themed party room over the years. If Shallow Springs’ hotel was half as nice, she would be quite delighted.