by Linda Broday
“News to me. What’s Todd going to do?”
“He met a young woman back East, and they’re going to marry, but she refuses to come here.” Clay chuckled. “You know how that is.”
No, not really. Ridge resented Clay talking like all women were the same. If Addie objected to something, she usually had a reason. “How soon is he leaving?”
“End of next month.”
“Guess we’d best look for another teacher, then.” He filed that away and turned to an issue that had been on his mind. “Before you go, we need to discuss opening up the back entrance to town. It’s time, and the sooner the better. Hope’s Crossing is suffering growing pains.”
Clay nodded. “Call a meeting, and we’ll hash it out with the citizens. It’ll mean a lot of backbreaking work, hauling off those huge boulders.”
“Worth it, though. The stagecoach won’t have to turn around and go back out the same way, which means less congestion. I think it’ll help sell more lots,” Ridge pointed out.
“I agree.” Clay stood and moved to the door. “See you later.”
Ridge finished his coffee and took the cups to the dishpan. Addie had enough to do without picking up after him. He glanced out the window toward the barn, the sun still high in the sky. Plenty of time for a ride.
She had the buckskin out of his stall and had found the brush to groom him with, her strokes long and smooth. Watching from the lid of the grain bin were Miss Kitty and Squeakers, taking it all in. Addie must’ve heard his boots striking the ground and turned.
“I thought I’d find you here. From the looks of things, you’re about to put your poor horse to sleep. His eyes are getting awfully heavy. How about we ride instead, and wake him up?”
Panic washed over her face, and through the flurry of gestures that followed, he figured out she’d never ridden a horse.
“Don’t worry. I’ll teach you.”
Addie’s smile almost blinded him as she signed a thank-you.
“It’s easy, and you’ll soon get the hang of it. I’ll start with saddling him.”
Ridge explained every step of tacking up. She listened to every word and sometimes leaned closer to see. When she wanted to try her hand, he let her.
Finishing with hers, he saddled the spotted pony for himself. “I need to see how well behaved he is,” he explained. “Okay, let’s get you on the buckskin.”
He made a step with his hands and boosted her up with a palm on her backside. Heat crawled up his neck to touch her in such a familiar way, but she seemed too enthralled with the horse for it to register. That was a relief.
But when he stood up, he was confronted by a very exposed and very shapely leg, reminding him of the unsuitable nature of riding astride in a dress. Very casually, as though he did so every single day, he rearranged the fabric over her bare skin.
Hopefully, one day he’d be more at ease with these things.
After a quick lesson in how to steer and stop, they meandered out, with Ridge riding next to her. “We’ll take it slow until you feel more comfortable.”
Gradually, she relaxed her grip on the reins, and they moved to a trot. The buckskin was a pro and required very little direction. The horse seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to his rider, which relieved Ridge’s mind.
“Having fun?” he asked.
Addie nodded and wiped her eyes. She seemed overcome with emotion, and he imagined she’d yearned to ride a horse for a very long time. Her father, the one who ruled everyone, probably kept her from it. Maybe it was on his rule list. She must’ve lived in pure hell.
And then gone to prison—for something. His lips tightened, and a muscle in his jaw worked. Clearly, the woman wouldn’t harm a flea—unless it was trying to hurt her. That night in Fort Worth, when he’d run across her beating her assailant with her shoe, popped into his mind, and he chuckled at the memory. For all her quiet thoughts, she was certainly no daylily.
But until she could speak or decide that she was ready to write down answers to his questions, everything else would remain a mystery.
Seven
A sense of unbelievable freedom enveloped Addie as she rode across the uneven ground, the breeze on her face and sun on her back. And it was all due to Ridge.
The buckskin was an amazing animal and responded to the lightest touch. An odd feeling had come over her the moment she’d rested a hand on his neck—a deep connection she couldn’t explain. A sense of sadness and pain had passed through her, but had it been hers or the horse’s? Maybe he could read her also. She didn’t understand but knew she would always treasure him.
The horse wasn’t the only one who seemed to be able to sense her feelings. Both Miss Kitty and Squeakers reacted to her moods. Maybe all animals had this ability and she’d never noticed.
In some strange way, upon pledging her troth to Ridge, her world had opened up like an unfurling rose to all sorts of new ideas and sensations.
He rode a length ahead, allowing an unhindered look at the man she’d married. Ridge sat tall in the saddle, alert, scanning the land ahead. Muscles played across his broad shoulders with the slightest movement, his arms stretching the fabric of his shirt taut. He breathed in the fresh outdoor air as though he took it all the way down to the bottom of his lungs.
This man who lived outside the law seemed to care for her and had seen to her comfort. Ridge treated her as an equal, as someone of worth. Her stomach quickened.
Be careful, she scolded herself. You don’t know him. His kindness could be a trap to get you to let down your guard. He could be just as ruthless, and trusting him could bring more pain.
Addie tried to keep herself focused on her buckskin and the amazing ride but soon found herself studying her husband again. Ridge was a part of this land, at home in the barren vastness, rocky ravines, and craggy mountains in a way she might never grow to appreciate. She missed trees and lush greenery, but she wouldn’t trade what peace she’d already found for anything.
Ridge dropped back beside her. Shadowed by his worn black Stetson, his face seemed carved by the wind and sun—or maybe it had simply been chiseled by hardship. “A little creek lies just ahead. We’ll stop there for a spell. Our northern-most boundary is a half mile beyond that point.”
Adeline nodded. She loved how he included her as owner of this parcel. She hadn’t just gotten a husband; she’d become a landowner too. Something—and someone—that was hers to keep. She finally had a place to be. Despite her need for caution, a thread of happiness curled along her spine.
She was still contemplating that when Ridge stopped. Alarm knotted in her stomach as he slid one of his guns from the holster. Two figures stood near some horses about fifty yards ahead. No, it was three people, counting the one sitting on the ground.
Ridge’s whole demeanor changed. He stiffened and stared at the intruders through narrowed eyes, his grip tight, back rigid. A cold and frightening chill went through her. Whatever was wrong, she had to be ready to react.
“Wait here and stay in the saddle. I need to find out what they’re doing on our land. If they shoot, ride to town as fast as you can.” He pulled the other gun from his holster and handed it to her. “If they get past me, shoot to kill.”
Addie swallowed hard, taking the weapon. The unexpected weight pulled her hand down and she almost dropped it. She’d never shot a gun, much less killed a person. But if the strangers harmed Ridge or came at her, she’d try her best to send them to eternity.
Her gaze followed him as he trotted away, and fear tightened in her chest until she could scarcely breathe. Two of the men raised their weapons at his approach. Addie sucked in her breath and held it.
Would this be the day when her world collapsed yet again?
* * *
“Howdy.” The hair on the back of Ridge’s neck stood as he stared at the two heavily armed strangers and the three ho
rses tied to the branches of a scrub oak. Then his gaze shifted to the wounded man on the ground. He was young, barely looked old enough to shave. “I’d like to ask what you’re doing on my land. And you can lower those weapons anytime.”
“Didn’t realize we’d left open range, mister, and we needed water.” Dirt and blood caked the speaker’s trousers. The interloper, his long hair tied back with a narrow leather strip, hesitated for a moment before pointing his rifle at the ground. The other rough-looking cowboy followed suit.
To show good faith, Ridge returned his pistol to his holster, although he eyed the pair’s every move. “I don’t begrudge anyone water. Who’s the boy?”
“Prisoner. Taking him to Mobeetie for trial,” snapped the second trespasser. He spat a stream of tobacco juice on the kid, drops beading on his unkempt beard, and laughed when the boy cowered. The coltish kid had a gag in his mouth, and his dull eyes wore a look of defeat.
Bounty hunters. Ice filled Ridge’s veins. Dirty, stinkin’ bounty hunters.
“What’s his charge, if I may ask?”
The tobacco-chewer cut his sharp eyes to Ridge. “Nosey people are apt to get shot.”
The man’s long-haired friend moved closer, squinting at Ridge. “I think I know you, mister.”
“I doubt that,” Ridge answered evenly. He stole a quick look to check if Addie had kept her distance, relieved to find she had.
Long Hair slid his hand into an inside vest pocket and yanked out several crumpled wanted posters. He handed them to his partner. “Hiram, look through there for this fellow. I know I saw that face.”
Ridge measured his opponents. Two against one wasn’t bad odds, but definitely raised the stakes. He could take down one, no problem. He wasn’t sure about the second. “Look, get your water and go about your business and we’ll all leave here alive.”
Just then Hiram froze in mid-chew, clutching Ridge’s wanted poster. He jerked his rifle up. “Ridge damned Steele. Drop your weapon!”
Ridge went for his Colt, but Hiram’s bullet tore through the fleshy part of his upper arm before he could draw. Dammit! Pain burst inside him and ricocheted through his body. He ignored what he could, jerked out his Colt, and took aim at Long Hair.
A look of surprise froze on the man’s face as he collapsed in the dirt, clutching his bloody chest.
A flurry of sudden shots came from behind Ridge. He turned to see Addie riding toward him, firing wildly. He assumed she was aiming at the second bounty hunter, but it was impossible to tell. The bounty hunters’ horses skittered nervously at the sudden burst of noise.
At the moment, he had no time to worry about that. He bent low and swiveled, turning his weapon on the man who’d shot him. Orange fire leaped from Hiram’s rifle as he fired at Ridge again.
The projectile missed by a hair. Ridge returned fire and caught the bounty hunter in the upper thigh. The man ran to his horse and leaped into the saddle. Teetering over, hanging half off, he raced away in a cloud of dust. Hell! Ridge emptied his Colt at the fleeing man without stopping him.
Ridge bent over Long Hair and found him already dead.
The boy had thrown himself flat on the ground when the shooting started and sat up slowly. Ridge cut his ropes and took the gag from his mouth. “You all right, son?”
“Need water.” The kid was scrawny and looked to be all legs. If he ever grew into them, he’d be a man to reckon with. His straight, sandy hair hadn’t seen a comb in a month of Sundays, and his face was bruised, his lip bloody.
“Sure.” Ridge removed his hat and filled it from the creek, then brought it back. The boy took long gulps.
A shadow appeared on the ground behind him. Ridge jerked around to find Addie, the Colt at her side. Concern filled her green eyes.
“Addie, I told you to ride when shooting started. And what was the deal with you firing that weapon? You shot everywhere but at the damn bounty hunter.” Lashing out was the wrong thing to do, but his drumming heart hadn’t yet settled. Blood still surged through his veins like a runaway train.
Anger tightened the delicate lines of her face. She sidestepped his reach and touched his blood-soaked shirt.
Ridge forced a calmer tone into his voice. “I’m all right. It’s not bad.”
Her temper showed in the way she jerked up her dress, tore a strip from her petticoat, then went to the creek to wet it. She wrapped it around his arm. Though her dander was still up, it didn’t reflect in her gentle touch. He’d not felt the like since he was a boy.
In the loud silence, he met her stony glare with one of his own. After a moment, he spoke. “Appreciate the caring, but next time I tell you to ride when there’s trouble, I expect you to do just that.” He hated the bite of his sharp words, but she had to understand.
Anger darkening her eyes, she frowned, threw back her shoulders until her spine was ramrod straight, then pointed toward their home and shook her head as though to say “not hardly.” She kept shaking her head and waving her arms wildly to drive home her opinion of the matter. She’d march off a few steps then march back and continue her heated gestures, obviously too riled to settle.
Damn, but she knew how to argue without uttering a word!
“Stop it. My job is to keep you safe, and I can’t do that if you won’t follow instructions,” he barked.
Her eyes narrowed to mere slits. She jabbed a finger into his chest, then into hers, and crossed her index and middle finger.
“I get that you think a wife has to be by her husband’s side, but I—”
She whirled and plopped down beside the boy, folding her arms and turning her head away, evidently dismissing what he was saying.
“What’s wrong with her, mister?” the kid asked.
“Not a damn thing except she can’t talk, although as you can see, she can speak her mind as good as any man. And then some.” Grumbling under his breath, Ridge stomped to the bounty hunters’ two remaining horses for one to tote the dead man. The angry clank of his spurs reflected the rage burning in him as he loaded the bounty hunter on a mangy brown gelding.
This had come far too close to working out for the other side, so close, it scared the bejesus out of him. Any of those flying bullets could’ve hit Addie, the possibility buckling his knees. And on top of that, he had another death on his tarnished soul.
Dammit to hell!
Footsteps alerted him, and he whirled to find Addie behind him again. Rage at his hopeless situation and what he’d just been forced to do brought scathing words spilling that he couldn’t stop. “This is why I can never preach again! I have blood on my hands, not just this man’s, and I’m wondering why the hell I burdened you with marrying me!” He stalked to his horse and rested a hand on the saddle, taking several deep breaths, thinking it would help cool his temper. It didn’t. He spun. “I’m a wanted man, and those bounty hunters would’ve taken me alive or killed me, then I shudder to think what they’d have done to you. I’ve only put you in danger, drawn to you the same damn thing I’m forced to live with. Truth is, I’ll only get you killed.”
Not waiting for her response, he strode angrily to the creek and stared into the clear, fresh stream. The minute he stepped in, it’d stir up the mud and turn brown.
That was his life. Brown and dirty and ugly.
“I’m not good or decent or kind!” he continued. Shame kept him from looking at her, because if he did, he couldn’t say what he had to. “I’ve done things you wouldn’t believe. Ride as far as you can get while you have the chance. Find someone who’ll treat you right. I’m too far gone.”
She placed a light palm on his back. Unclenching his jaw, he swung around. Her anger had cooled, but she stood there as though waiting for something—an apology? He owed her one for sure.
Releasing a sigh, he studied her for a long moment, then pulled her against him and buried his face in her golden hair. “I’m sor
ry. I’m so sorry. For all of it.” Most of all for the lie that started everything and led him straight to the outlaw trail.
Movement behind them loosened his hold. The young man was attempting to stand, only to drop back to the ground. “I need to help the boy, Addie. I think he’s hurt.”
She stepped back, dried her eyes, and was all business again. Matching his stride, they went to the kid.
“What’s wrong? Is your leg broken?” Ridge squatted down beside him.
The kid sniffled. “I don’t think so, but those bounty hunters tried. They kept hitting me, said they’d make sure I didn’t run.”
Typical. “What’s your name, son, and how old are you?”
Addie untied a dirty bandana from around the young man’s neck and went to wet it in the creek.
“Bodie. Bodie Nix. I’m fifteen.”
“Nice to meet you, Bodie. I’m Ridge Steele, and this is my wife, Addie. There’s a town called Hope’s Crossing not too far from here. I’m going to take you to the doctor there, and then if you’re not opposed to it, I’ll offer you a place to stay with us.”
“Don’t you want to know what I did to get brought in?”
“Can’t have been too bad. Want to tell me?”
“I stole some food and a hog to feed the kids at the orphanage. They were starving.” Bodie glanced toward the creek, his Adam’s apple bobbing when he swallowed.
Thickness lodged in Ridge’s chest. The bastards! The kid did nothing to warrant the bounty hunters’ treatment. He looked away, taking a deep breath.
“Are you really an outlaw like Hiram claimed?” Bodie asked.
“Yep.”
Addie returned and wiped the boy’s face with the damp cloth. Her mouth tightened into a rigid line when she saw the severity of Bodie’s bruises. Her light, gentle strokes appeared to have touched something inside the boy. He closed his eyes, a soft sigh escaping his mouth.