Elizabeth Lane – The Horseman's Bride (страница 3)
“That she is. And my family would kill anybody who tried to take advantage of her, or harm her in any way.”
“I take it that’s a warning.”
“You can take it any way you like.” Her arms tightened around him as the horse jumped a shallow ditch. The chestnut colt had raised its head and was watching their approach. Jace slowed the stallion to a walk.
Jace hadn’t planned on keeping the stallion. But he’d come to realize that traveling on horseback through open country was safer than going by rail or road. And, for all his resolve to remain unattached, he’d developed a fondness for the big bay. As long as Galahad understood who was boss, he was amiable company. The fact that he could outrun any horse west of the Mississippi gave Jace even more reason to keep him.
“Stop.” Clara’s fingers pressed Jace’s ribs. The chestnut colt watched them warily, poised to bolt at the slightest perceived threat. Jace halted the stallion, holding steady as she shifted behind him. “Stay here,” she hissed, easing to the ground.
Jace watched her walk away. Despite his teasing, he had to admit she had a horsewoman’s grace, an easy way of moving like the sway of long grass in the wind. Her mud-streaked denims—made for a boy, most likely—clung to her hips in a most unboyish way, outlining her firm little buttocks. Her hair fluttered down her back in a glorious tangle of mahogany curls.
Clara had an hourglass figure, her womanly curves offset by a tiny waist. Jace couldn’t help comparing her with Eileen Summers, the governor’s niece he’d been courting back in Missouri. Eileen was as lean as a saluki, her champagne hair flawlessly sculpted, her usual silken gown skimming her elegant bones. In her slim, white fingers, she’d held the key to a world of power and influence—a world that, for Jace, had vanished with his sister’s frantic telephone call. He’d had no chance to tell Eileen what had happened and why he had to leave. But that was likely for the best.
He had no doubt that word had spread like wildfire after he’d left. And the very proper Miss Summers wouldn’t have wanted anything to do with an accused murderer on the run.
“Easy, boy …” Clara walked toward the nervous colt, the tall grass swishing against her legs. One hand held the small apple she carried for such emergencies. The stranger sat his horse, his cool gaze following her every movement.
Tanner. Was that his first name or his last name? No matter, it probably wasn’t his name at all. He had the look and manner of a man with something to hide. She would need to have a serious talk with her grandmother. Mary Gustavson was far too trusting.
Maybe she should talk with her father as well. Judd Seavers would probably run the stranger off the place with a shotgun. But then the stallion would be gone. She would lose the chance to add his splendid bloodline to next spring’s foals.
Her father had enough on his mind. She wouldn’t trouble him about the stranger. Not yet, at least.
“Easy.” She held out her hand with the apple on the flat of her palm. Foxfire pricked up his ears. His nostrils twitched. He took a tentative step toward her, thrusting his muzzle toward the treat. “That’s it. Good boy!” As the colt munched the apple, Clara caught the bridle with her free hand. Moving cautiously, she eased herself back into the saddle.
The man who called himself Tanner was grinning at her. “Right fine job of horse-catching, Miss Clara,” he drawled. “Couldn’t have done it better myself.”
“You needn’t patronize me, Mr. Tanner. There’s not that much to catching a horse that
“Not a bad suggestion. But I’ll need to get the boss’s approval and see what’s in the shed that I can use.” He pulled his horse alongside hers. “Meanwhile, as long as we’re going the same way, I hope you won’t mind my company.”
Clara bit back a caustic retort. Tanner’s high-handed manner made her bristle. But she’d made up her mind to learn more about the stranger. Here was her chance. She slowed the colt to a walk.
“You seem to know plenty about me,” she said. “But I don’t know anything about you. Where did you come from?”
Tanner’s narrowed eyes swept the grassy pastureland, looking everywhere but at her. In the silence, a meadowlark called from its perch atop a fence post.
“I grew up in Missouri,” he said at last. “But whatever kept me there is long gone. Drifting’s become a way of life for me. Can’t say as I mind it.”
“No family?”
He shook his head. “None that I’ve kept track of. My parents died years ago. The rest moved on.”
The question burned on the tip of Clara’s tongue. She bit it back. Confronting Tanner would only put him on guard. Let him go on feeding her lies. He’d already confirmed her suspicions that he was holding something back. Give him enough rope and he was bound to hang himself.
All she needed was a little patience.
But he wasn’t making it easy for her.
Why did the man have to be so tall and broad-shouldered? Why did he have to have a chiseled face and eyes like twin blue flames? Right now those eyes looked as if they could burn right through her clothes. Any town boy who looked at her like that would be asking to get his face slapped.
The man was dangerous, she reminded herself. He could be a fugitive, even a murderer. She’d be a fool to let him get too close.
“You don’t sound like a trail bum, Mr. Tanner,” she said. “You speak like a man who’s had some education.”
“Any man who can read has the means to educate himself. And it’s just Tanner, not Mr. Tanner.”
“But do you have a profession? A trade?”
“If I did, would I be out here mending fences?” He gave her a sharp glance. “Would you care to tell me why you’re being so nosy?”
Clara met his blazing eyes, resisting the impulse to look away. “I’m very protective of my grandmother,” she said. “She’s an old woman, and she’s much too trusting.”
“But I take it you’re not so … trusting.” He was playing with her now, brazenly confident that he could twist her around his finger. Damn his lying hide! He’d probably charmed her grandmother the same way.
If it weren’t for the stallion, she’d run him off the property with a bullwhip!
“Let’s just say I’m not a fool,” she snapped.
“I can see you’re not. And neither is your grandmother. She doesn’t keep that loaded shotgun by the door for nothing. If she thought I had any intention of harming her, I’d be picking buckshot out of my rear.”
“We’ll see about that!” Out of patience, she kneed the colt to a gallop. Tanner didn’t try to follow her, but as she shot across the pasture, Clara became aware of a sound behind her. Even without looking back, she knew what it was.
The wretched man was laughing at her!
Jace watched her ride away, her delicious little rump bouncing in the saddle. Miss Clara Seavers was one sweet little spitfire. He’d enjoyed teasing her, but now it was time to back off and leave her alone. The last thing he needed was that bundle of trouble poking into his past.
Mrs. Mary Gustavson was a fine woman. He would miss her conversation and her cooking. But as soon as he finished the work she needed done it would be time to move on. There would be other towns, other farms, other pretty girls to tease. As long as there was a price on his head, nothing was forever. Not for him. It was keep moving or face his death at the end of a rope.
At least his sister Ruby and her two little girls would be all right.
Hollis Rumford had been considered a fine catch when she’d married him ten years ago. Heir to a farm equipment company, he’d been as charming as he was handsome. But his infidelity, drunkenness and abuse had made Ruby’s life a living hell. Jace had seen the ugly bruises. He had dried his sister’s tears. Lord help him, he wasn’t the least bit sorry Hollis was dead. But he would always be sorry he hadn’t acted sooner. Maybe if he’d taken Ruby and her daughters away from that monster, he’d still have his old life—his friends, his fine apartment in Springfield, his work as a field geologist and engineer and a future in politics that might have taken him all the way to the Missouri Statehouse or the U.S. Congress. Marriage to Eileen Summers, the governor’s niece, would have opened many doors. Now those doors were closed to him forever.
But he hadn’t acted in vain, Jace reminded himself.
Now Ruby would be a respectable widow with a fine house and plenty of money. After a proper mourning period, she’d be free to find a new husband—a decent man, God willing, who’d treat her well and be a good father to her girls.