by Jillian Hart
What was happening to her? She wasn't falling in love with him, was she? She balked at the thought, but unable to rip her eyes away from the sculptured lines of his handsome face. The line of his cheekbones, the straight blade of his nose, and the unsmiling set of his mouth drew her. His smile had disappeared too, and he didn't breathe or blink or turn away as their gazes deepened into each other and she swore she could feel the heart of him beating with caring and concern for her.
Or was it just her imagination? Or wishful thinking? A woman over thirty was well past her bloom, as more than one potential suitor had told her. Even her father liked to remind her of that so that she didn't get her heart broken and her hopes up for what could never be. No man wanted an old bride, not when he had his pick of so many younger, prettier and more financially secure ones.
So it was disappointment that wrapped around her heart, trapping her hope and desire for him inside, like the iron bars of a jail cell, holding her safely back and apart from the man who still did not seem to breathe or move, not even blink, as the moment that could have been closer faded into silence.
Well, maybe it's best if I just leave. Save myself the embarrassment of risking what I was feeling for him to show. She ripped her gaze from his, but his gloved hand reached out to touch the back of hers, stopping her.
"Where do you think you're going?" His rum-rich baritone rumbled like soft winter thunder during a snow storm, so booming and pleasant he startled her heart into beating for him again. "You just can't run off into the night. Not until we get one thing straight."
"Uh, I didn't know there was anything we needed to straighten out." She scrunched up her mouth in thought, drawn in shadow and night, in black and deep charcoal grays, rendered like a master artist's sketch of beauty, unaffected and made to be adored.
"Please allow me to take you to supper," he said, shocking her near to death. "Are you busy Friday evening?"
"F-Friday evening?" Her eyes widened with surprise. Her soft, kissable mouth scrunched up adorably.
Man, he wanted to kiss her. Frisco leaned in close enough for him to smell the vanilla scent of her hair. "A beautiful woman like you might already have plans and a suitor courting you, but if that's true, I'd like to get in line."
"In line?"
"Well, I've got to pass my time some way," he quipped, unable to tell the truth, to open his battered and scarred heart fully and honestly. But he hoped that she could read between the lines and realize what he was attempting to say. It wasn't easy taking this next step.
"Pa?" Aiden leaned forward on the back seat, one hand grasping the front seat back, his face bright with excitement. "Do we get to have supper with Jada?"
"Yeah," Austin chimed in. "Please come eat supper with us, Jada."
"How can you say no to that?" Frisco added, Strong, hard attraction fired through every inch of him. Every inch. "Come on, say yes. It may be a disaster and may be the worst mistake of your life. Everything could go wrong, but you never know what might go right. You might have a lot of fun having supper with us, or at the very least you might get some good food."
"Well, tasty food seems like reason enough to say yes, then."
"And not our company?" He arched one eyebrow.
"Okay, maybe both. I guess we'll see." Her eyes sparkled. She dipped her chin, and he swore she blushed rosily, and he sure hoped it was with pleasure. He sure hoped that she might come to really care. If his heart could take it.
The clouds chose that moment to part, letting a soft silvery sheen through, and a swath of moonlight. Jada smiled, really smiled with all the sweetness in her heart.
"Thank you for the ride." She hopped out of the buggy before he could leap up to help her, betraying what could be an independent streak. Or did she just think that no one would rush to pay her the respect and courtesy of helping her down? He surely would. She landed with an easy grace, hard to see in the dark with the brim of her man's hat bouncing a bit, framing her sweet face.
"It was my pleasure." What was wrong with him? He could barely breathe. His mouth felt wooden, not wanting to work right at all. It was all he could do to get the words out, a sure sign he was treading on dangerous ground with her. Sure enough, she had the power to break his heart to bits.
"You boys have fun with that baseball and bat. Let me know if you're short one for a team," she joked gently, giving them a bob of a curtsey. "Good night, Frisco!"
"Good night-" he began, but she spun around, took a few graceful steps and the darkness stole her from view. He sat speechless, his heart open and exposed. She'd actually agreed to have supper with him and she hadn't seemed to mind that the boys had invited themselves along.
Huh. Well, that might be a good sign, he thought, snapping the reins to send the horse walking forward into the evening's dark. And he felt really happy about it. He couldn't wipe the goofy smile off of his face. That had to be another good sign. She'd said yes and she could have said no. Looks like he had a chance after all.
* * *
"Jada!"
The soft whisper in the dark came softly but still startled her. Jada jumped back a step, heart thundering loud enough to drown out the gurgling noise of the nearby creek. "Wait, I know your voice, sister dear."
"I snuck out after you and took the short cut, not caring who saw me in trousers." Stella gave a shrug and opened a tin of matches. "You seem especially happy tonight." A match flared and she touched it to the wick of a lantern. "And don't try and explain it away. I saw you sitting in Mr. Frisco Hayden's buggy. He gave you a ride over! No wonder you've got such a spring in your step."
"No, I don't!"
"And a grin on your face."
"I do not, either. My face just coincidentally and accidentally looks like that."
"It's the man."
"It's the dream of the man." Jada pulled open the large tent's door and hardly noticed the damp chill of the evening as she crossed the plank floor Pa had built himself. She walked over to the potbelly stove, following the path of light from Stella's lantern. She knelt down, opened the door and savored the fire's warmth. She reached for the coal hod and scooped up a small scooper full. "It's not as if anything will come of it, but it's nice to think maybe, what if? It's nice to have a little bit of a dream of a man and his love again, even if it is just a little dream."
"Maybe not so little or impossible." Stella set the lantern on the nearby plank board table and narrowed her gaze to study Jada closely. "I don't know what it is, but there's something different about you. You're smitten, aren't you?"
"No comment. Let's get to work and stop trying to figure me out," Jada joked, winking as she reached for her pan resting on the shelf. She stared at the metal, at the curve of the bowl and not at her sister. If she kept her face down and her heart hidden, then maybe she could fool her. "That Frisco Hayden seemed to think I would go out to supper with him."
"Did he? What did you say to him? You didn't turn him down, did you?"
"No, I'm not that crazy," Jada admitted, catching herself humming. Oops. She handed Stella the rather dusty gold pan from the far end of the shelf. "I didn't trust my ears at first. I couldn't believe he'd asked me."
"Why wouldn't he?" Stella frowned, stepping back out into the night and bringing the lantern with her. "Just because it's been a long time and it feels like every opportunity for a suitor is over, doesn't mean that it's too late."
"Yeah, it just feels that way," Jada teased, letting the tent flap fall closed again as she followed her sister down the foot-worn path. "Forgetting about getting your hopes and mine too high. I'm going to keep my feet on the ground. I mean, I don't really know Frisco. What kind of man is he really, down deep? I'm not sure he's good enough for me."
"Ha! I saw that wink and that grin. Stop trying to make me laugh. Why wouldn't he be?"
"It takes a long time to really get to know a man, just like it takes for him to get to know who I am at heart, and you just never know what will come of that. Will I be impressed or disap
pointed? Will I disappoint him?"
"Don't even think about that," Stella protested. "The idea of having a man to fall in love with is pretty wonderful. I just want it to stay that way."
"I know that feeling." Jada paused at the river's edge and handed over Stella's pan, unable to pin down exactly what she wanted to say, but she did wish that she could baste together the ragged pieces of hope in her heart to make them bigger, stronger. "But at my age, I can't get my hopes up. I have to be sensible. Safe. It's safest to believe that nothing good is going to happen to me at this late point in my life."
"You aren't six hundred and eleven years old! You're still young. At least, I tell myself that, so I'm not so old feeling. I'm two years younger than you!"
"Then you should know how I feel!" She grinned wider, shaking her head, and knelt at the water's edge. The earthen bank felt muddy soft beneath her boots, but the night was not growing colder. How did she keep her heart from caring for the man, she wondered. How was she ever going to resist Frisco Hayden? He was going to break her heart, she just knew it. He has too handsome and fine, so far out of her league. "Back when we left Indiana to come here, I never thought the day would come that I'd be glad that we were here."
"Or that we would be happy in our rooms above the shop, and that we would have to pan gold in secret to make ends meet."
Stella squatted down too, dipping her gold pan into the cold water. "Or that we would have the chance for some good savings, if only Pa would not spend it as fast as we pan it."
"Don't worry. I'm starting to get the knack for this. Look." She held up her pan where a fragment of platinum moonlight reached it, giving a shadowy shine to the dull collection of minuscule tiny gold flecks, just a dark gold cloud of dust, and her heart soared. "I've been working this part of the bank so long and almost gave up, but look at this. This is actually starting to get better. This is usually a week's worth."
"Wow! This is exciting! Maybe it's the weather and snow melt changing things. Who knows? Or maybe it's because we're finally moving enough of this sand bar and the rocks around it. Who would have thought that we would have good luck like this? Do you think it's a sign that things can get better?"
Oh, how she heard the hope in her sister's voice, how she heard the need for that hope, for times had been hard in Indiana and life, in its own mysterious way, did not always turn out like you planned. So many dreams they'd lost along the way, she thought, watching the dance of the brief, bashful moonlight on the dark rippling water and dared to hope that their luck in life could change. That like this metal prospector's pan holding sandy mud and a tiny bit of gold, the treasure in life was up ahead waiting for them. Maybe it had been hidden just out of sight, that was all, but there and waiting, just waiting for all of them. Maybe it was all about the timing, huh?
It felt encouraging as the night wind touched her face and she remembered how Frisco had made her grin, how it felt to be seated beside him on the buggy seat, to feel the substance of him like warmth on a breeze.
And she could not deny the bubble of physical heat, the thrill of attraction that warmed her veins. How would Friday evening go? What if it went well, and he made her care even more for him, made her like him even more keenly? Her heart felt vulnerable, and she felt with every piece of it, with places that ached to be alive, places she didn't even know she had. Was there love like that, so full of depth?
And that changed her. She felt whole, she felt a whisper of hope so bright it could outshine the moon. She couldn't wait for Saturday night. Frisco's face, that dimpled smile of his, those sparkling eyes twinkling at her popped into her mind and the image made her heart skip a beat, drumming faster until she felt warm and tingly everywhere.
Oh, was it a weakness that she wished for the man so much?
* * *
Hopeful moonlight peered between fluffy parting clouds as Jada hugged her sister, left her with what was an over-inebriated Pa who had wobbled home to his tent full of sorrow for the gold dust he'd lost at the poker tables, unable to have been lucky enough to win it back. After a hot, sugary cup of coffee and homemade kettle biscuits with plenty of butter to soothe him, he'd fallen asleep, snoring on top of his cot in the corner.
Stella pointed out it was her turn to stay with him, tend the fire and make sure he didn't wake up with pneumonia, judging by the sound of the cough he was fighting. So it was much later than she'd counted on when she left the warmth of the tent behind her and much lonelier without her sister keeping pace with her. Without Stella to talk to, the lonely, cold night sounded enormously loud, the gusting wind roared through the trees, rubbing branches together and waving boughs.
Not exactly the safest way to get home, but she would be careful, keep to the shadows and, so far, she'd been unharmed on these late night walks from Pa's creekside claim back to their rooms. She just didn't enjoy the solitary treks, like tonight, when she had more than what might be twenty dollars of dust and tiny nuggets tucked in the depth of her coat pocket. A whole twenty dollars and then some! In one evening's work! Maybe Pa's claim was not such a bad idea after all.
What if there really was a lot more gold to be found? She would keep trying even harder. Maybe she could turn their lives around. Wouldn't that be nice?
"There you are." A man's deep rumbling voice interrupted her thoughts, and she stubbed her toe on a rock on the pathway between the cedars and nearly cried out in fear at the wide set, powerfully-shouldered silhouette charcoal gray against the black background of night. Then he took a step into the soft outer reach of a shaft of moonlight and took on a familiar form.
"Frisco?" Heated skittles tingled through her veins as she stumbled a few steps closer. His amiable grin turned into a friendly smile, pleasantly crinkling the laugh lines around his eyes. Whew, he was handsome. And, boy, was she attracted to him.
He held out his hand for hers. "I've been waiting for you, Jada. Can I see you home?"
"I can't believe you're here." She felt shaky until his much bigger, much wider hand closed around hers. Then everything within her stilled. "Frisco, I can't believe you."
"Oh, I was just worried around you getting home in the dark all by your lonesome, so I thought I'd do something about it. Up you go." His free hand cupped her elbow and helped her up onto the seat. "What do you do while your father isn't there?"
"You must have noticed when he staggered home. I wish he was, um, in a different part of him life, believe me."
"I do, too. He doesn't look like a happy man." Frisco circled around the horse and settled onto the seat beside her with a slight bounce of the springs, and his nearness blew through her like a hot summer breeze. "What about you, Jada?"
"What about me?" She gulped in air, too mesmerized by the curve of his smile and the intoxicating heat of his presence to make her brain attempt to think.
But when his gaze fastened on hers and held, unblinking, so intense and wonderful, she felt a kick deep in her heart, a kick of recognition, of like finding like, of the seeds of friendship starting, and a fire newly lit.
Being with him was like basking in the glow of a crackling fire, warm and safe at night, but it was also like standing on the edge of a cliff, feeling ready to come fully alive. It was like being awakened for the first time, her body on fire with desire. Then her heart just opened up, like a spring flower letting the first daylight touch it.
"What makes you happy? You came here with your father, but you don't seem close to him."
"We have a good relationship, Pa and I, as long as we keep a certain distance and a certain understanding. I guess no one's perfect, but it's hard on a girl when her pa is far from perfect and too in love with the poker table when he should have been home working. My mother is living with her folks, never having gotten over his financial failure to support her."
"He didn't chose to keep working, huh?"
"He tried too many times, but I think the failure broke him. So, we just accept him as he is, that's all we can do. Nothing else seems to work, and o
nly hurts everyone."
"I understand what you're saying." He took hold of the reins and gave them a slight snap to send the buggy rolling forward over the dark, uneven ground. "It isn't lost on me how fortunate I've been in life."
"You are fortunate, but you're a man who's earned it, too."
"I'm used to working hard, but it's an easy thing to do. I'm in love with Montana Territory, so I'm happy man taking care of my land and spending time with my horses. Happiest I've ever been."
"I'm glad for you. Being a cowboy looks good on you. Thanks for understanding about my pa."
"I'm a lucky man when it comes to my father. You would like him, and he liked your cookies and that pie very much. Big hit. You are thought greatly of in my family. You even seem to like the boys, and that's a rare sentiment." His grin deepened, revealing dimples on his shadowed face before the horse pulled the buggy around a curve and the moonlight's faint glow vanished.
She thought of the twins and bit back a smile. "I have no notion why anyone would not like your boys."
"Believe me, the pony incident was one of many mistakes my sons have made, and folks in this town and in the one before this were quick to say that I'm a bad father. And that my twins are worse." He chuckled, amused and as if a bit embarrassed, too.
"What? That can't be. I see quality when I look at your boys, and doesn't that say the same about you?" Her eyes twinkled, since she knew good and well her heart and high opinion of him were showing far too much but felt too enormous to hold back.
Frisco chuckled again, rich and deep, making little skittles of heat trickle across her skin, all over and everywhere. She shivered, surprised and pleased, both at the same time. Was he feeling this, too?