Betina Krahn Read online

  With a glance at Bear, Robbie squared his shoulders and made himself approach the horse. He fixed the hook in the ring at the bottom of the halter, and in moments was leading the little horse around the corral. He seemed more confident with each step, pausing now and then to give the horse’s neck a pat.

  She flicked a look at Bear from the corner of her eye and couldn’t help noticing his tanned skin … the prominent line of his jaw … the tilt of his hat over his eyes. From his head, her gaze wandered down his shoulders, to where his big hands had pushed his coat back and were propped on his hips. Even in ordinary clothes, he still possessed a lithe, casual grace.…

  “When the lesson is over”—he turned to her with another bit of advice and caught her looking—“you ought to have him brush down his horse and give it water. Make him responsible for the animal’s care. That’s a big part of—”

  “I know what he needs to do,” she said, glaring, reddening at her own thoughts. “I have been riding and caring for horses since I was a young girl.”

  “Oh? And how much do you know about boys?”

  “Children are children, Mr. McQuaid.”

  “Well, that could be your problem, Miss Wingate.”

  “My problem?”

  “In my experience, boys are more like horses than children. Training them right requires a strong hand and a strong stomach.”

  “Just what sort of experience produced this fascinating insight on boys?” she demanded, crossing her arms.

  He smiled. A smug, male, trump-card sort of smile.

  “I was one once, myself.”

  Diamond drew her chin back, feeling as if she’d been sucker-punched. The next instant she found herself visited by a spontaneous image of him as a young boy … shoulder high with cowlicks and missing teeth … dirt everywhere … probably an endless sweet tooth … big, lively copper eyes that would melt pure granite. He had probably wormed his way around and into the heart of his poor old mother. And every other female he ever met. No doubt he had left a trail of broken hearts from here all the way to Montana.

  The sound of a horse fast approaching caused Robbie’s mount to jerk its head up and prance nervously. Diamond looked up, past Robbie and around the corner of the stables. “Hold on to him,” she called. “He needs you to be steady and in control. Show him it’s nothing to be alarmed about.”

  Bear followed her gaze and they spotted the rider in the same moment. The same thought registered in both of their minds: Oh, no.

  “There you are!” Morgan Kenwood called as he reined up by the corral and dismounted. She climbed down from the fence and turned, clamping her hands securely on a fence board behind her. “Well, I certainly didn’t expect to see you out and about, my dear.” Then he spotted Bear, looked questioningly at Diamond, and then nodded at Bear. “McQuaid, isn’t it? What are you doing here?”

  “The same as you, I imagine.” Bear gave him an equivocal smile.

  “As you can see, we’re in the middle of a riding lesson,” she said.

  “You are? Excellent.” Morgan tied up his horse and came to stand by Diamond, watching Robbie fingering the lead rope and looking uncertain. He frowned. “What’s the boy doing?”

  “He’s leading the horse around the ring, getting accustomed to it before he has to climb aboard it,” she answered in clipped tones.

  Morgan laughed. “Getting accustomed to it? There’s only one way to do that. Put the boy on the horse and take him out into the orchards. That’s the way you learned to ride, if memory serves correctly. Or have you forgotten everything I taught you?”

  Before Diamond could react, Morgan was striding through the gate. “Here, boy.” He reached for the saddle perched on the fence rail near the stable door. “It’s time you learned to handle your own tack.”

  With equal parts effort and frustration, Robbie managed to saddle the horse and then, at Morgan’s insistence, used the fence to climb aboard. Diamond watched from nearby, her mouth taut and her eyes bright with irritation. Every instruction she gave Robbie was quickly countermanded by Morgan, until she finally intervened and declared that was enough for one lesson.

  “Enough?” Morgan laughed. “Don’t be silly. The boy is just coming to the fun part.” He looked up at Robbie. “He needs to take the horse out … get the feel of the reins and saddle … use his heels a bit.”

  “Really, Morgan, I think we’ve had quite e—”

  But Morgan had brushed aside her protest and was striding to the door and bellowing for a groom to saddle her horse. She gave him a furious look and headed to the stable door herself.

  “Saddle Blackjack for Mr. McQuaid,” she told the groom when he appeared. Then she turned to Bear. “You will join us, won’t you?”

  “Mr. McQuaid is dressed for business,” Morgan declared, glaring at Bear. “He no doubt has pressing concerns elsewhere.” It wasn’t an observation so much as an order, and orders of that sort always grated on Bear’s independent nature.

  “Oh, I’ve ridden in worse gear.” McQuaid unfolded his arms and pushed off from the post. A wry smile played at the corners of his mouth as he removed his coat and hung it on a fence. Then he unknotted his tie and started on the buttons of his vest. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

  As they rode out along the paddock road, heading for the orchards, Kenwood maneuvered his horse between Diamond and Robbie, forcing novice Robbie to ride ahead of them on the narrow path.

  “Really, Morgan.” She reined aside, mentally consigning him to perdition for insisting the boy take the horse out on a trail and then abandoning him. “Someone should—I should ride beside Robbie.” Without waiting for his reply, she called, “Wait for me, Robbie!”

  But at that same instant, McQuaid’s horse shot by hers and took up the post beside Robbie on the path ahead.

  “It’s okay, I’ll ride with him,” McQuaid called back to her.

  Short of making a scene, she was stuck beside Morgan, who began droning on about some horse’s fancy pedigree. She took refuge in her own thoughts and in the contrast posed by Barton McQuaid’s broad back and ease in the saddle and Robbie’s small shoulders and tense perch on the horse.

  Bear was under no illusion as to why Diamond invited him to ride along with them. It was her way of retaliating for Morgan’s high-handed takeover of Robbie’s riding lesson. And, remembering Saturday night, it was very likely her way of keeping Kenwood at a distance, as well. Clearly, it was going to be a while before he would find an opportunity to broach the subject of his railroad loan. He decided to use the time to think of a way to raise the topic of railroads and the expense of building them.

  Riding horseback across the country takes weeks, but trains make it in only a few days. Trains don’t give you saddle sores. Ever notice the way the cost of steel rail just keeps going up? Maybe he should just jump right in with: From the sound of things, you’ve invested in crazier things than my railroad.

  Oh, yes. Very smooth. He stifled a groan.

  It was going to be a very long afternoon.

  As they rode, he caught Robbie stealing glances at the way he sat in the saddle and trying to copy the way he held his reins. After a while, the boy’s curiosity got the best of him.

  “What kind of hat is that?” he asked, scowling up at Bear in the brightness.

  Bear took off his hat and looked at its slightly worn black felt before putting it back on. “It’s a Montana hat. Out West, we have to wear real hats … the kind that protect a man from sun and wind and rain and snow.”

  “You’re from out West?” Robbie asked, looking down at his city shoes and shirt, then at his hat again. “You don’t look like a cowboy.”

  He gave a short laugh at Robbie’s assumption. “Well, I have been. When I first went out West I lived on a ranch and worked cattle.”

  Robbie turned to get a better look at him, and almost slid off his saddle. Morgan barked an order for him to sit straight and keep looking forward. Robbie shot a dark look over his shoulder, but
complied.

  “I seen cowboys in books,” he continued, examining Bear. “If you’re a real cowboy, do you have a gun, too?”

  Diamond, riding well behind them, listened in vain for his reply as Morgan launched into another dissertation on the differences in horseshoeing, and she had to settle for just looking at Barton McQuaid.

  His immaculately cut trousers were stretched taut over his muscular legs. His white shirt now hung open at the top, baring his muscular neck, and clung to the squared contours of his shoulders. He had removed his cuff links and rolled up his sleeves, revealing dark hair on sinewy forearms. Whenever he took a breath she could swear she saw the outline of the muscles in his chest and upper arms through the fabric.

  She had never seen anyone quite like him, so absorbingly … Western. Cowboy. Whether he had ever been one or not, it was the perfect word to describe him. She realized she was being a bit obvious with her stare and jerked her gaze away. It landed on Morgan’s heated face. He had asked something and she hadn’t a clue what. Smiling blandly, she transferred her attention to her cousin’s riding form.

  “You’re doing well, Robbie!” she called out. To her relief, he grinned and waved, seeming pleased to be on horseback.

  • • •

  As the sun grew stronger, Bear noticed Robbie digging under his collar and shrinking from his scratchy new wool jacket and breeches.

  “Fancy clothes,” he observed.

  Robbie looked down at his pearl-buttoned vest and flaring jodhpurs, reddened, and gave his collar a resentful tug. “I—I’m just wearin’ these to keep her happy. She thinks she’s gonna make a gent outta me.”

  “I’d say she has her work cut out for her.”

  “Does she ever.” Bear’s sarcasm was lost on Robbie. “I ain’t gonna be no candy ankle.” Then the boy’s vehemence faded and he grew more thoughtful. “But livin’ with her ain’t—isn’t—half bad. She gives me whatever I want. All I have to do is ask for somethin’ and I get it.”

  “Whatever you want?” Bear said, raising an eyebrow.

  Robbie nodded. “My very own spyglass … three desserts at supper … a wind-up train engine … stories every night. She bought me two of them dime Western stories once when we were in town, an’ she even read ’em to me, a little each night. That’s where I learned so much about cowboys.” He slackened the reins and turned in his saddle, leaving his mount to direct itself.

  “Hardwell and Hannah, they say she ought to learn how to say no, but she can’t. Not to me, hot to anybody. That’s why those folks come to the house every day and follow her to church and all around town. They know she’ll feed ’em and give ’em jobs and buy stuff from ’em.”

  “Well, just because she gives things away, doesn’t mean she never says no to people,” Bear said, mulling over Robbie’s point of view.

  “But she don’t say no. Never. Hardwell an’ Hannah, they say she ought to get a man to say it for her. But she don’t want no man around. I tell you what I think.” He looked oddly adult as he pronounced his assessment. “I think she just likes givin’ stuff away.” He shrugged with youthful acceptance. “She just likes it. She’s a soft touch.”

  A soft touch. Saturday night he had scoffed when Vassar used those same words to describe her. It unsettled him now that her mercenary little cousin had the same take on her. She gave money and food and help to whoever asked. He had seen the proof himself, lined up outside her gates. A soft touch. But it didn’t fit somehow with her testy behavior toward him or her edgy observation of the other night. What does everyone want from her, she had asked, and supplied the answer. Money.

  “Say, mister—”

  Bear frowned. “Out in Montana, everybody calls me Bear.”

  Robbie stared at him. “How come they call you that?”

  “Could be because I outran a bear once,” he said with a menacing look. “Or because I always wake up like a grizzly bear in spring … slow and surly.”

  “Keep your back straight, Robert,” Kenwood called from behind them.

  Robbie groaned and glanced over his shoulder. “Can’t we go any faster?”

  Bear considered the boy and his eagerness. “So you think you’re ready to try a gallop, do you? We’ll see about that.” Then he turned in the saddle and called to Diamond and Kenwood, “We’re going to ride ahead.”

  Diamond was alarmed. “I don’t think—”

  “Just stay on the path and we’ll catch up,” Kenwood called.

  “Let’s go.” Bear and Robbie rode off along the path across the fields and through a stand of trees. Bear set a brisk but reasonable canter and, with advice from Bear, Robbie was able to maintain a surprisingly natural seat on the horse.

  “You’re doing okay, for a first time out. Now for some fun.” He gave his mount the knee and led Robbie into a light gallop.

  Soon the boy and the gelding were working together in a fluid motion that was a joy for a seasoned horseman to behold. By the time they reached the edge of the orchards and slowed to a walk, Robbie was breathless and grinning from ear to ear.

  “That was great!” he cried, petting his mount. “Now, let’s go faster!”

  “Give your horse a chance to catch his breath first. You should always remember … your horse is doing twice the work you are. If you’re short of breath or tired or thirsty, that goes double for your mount. Out in Montana, the country is pretty rugged and you don’t survive if your horse doesn’t. You learn pretty quick to take care of your horse. He becomes your partner.”

  “Oh, I’ll take good care of my horse, all right,” Robbie said adamantly. “Diamond … she said she’ll get me one as soon as I learn to ride. A big old stallion … black as jet and quick as a snake bite.”

  “A stallion?” Bear wagged his head, thinking of what Diamond would say to that news. The next minute he became aware of a familiar sound and paused to listen. “Is that water I hear?”

  “Yeah. There’s a creek down there.” Robbie pointed to a string of trees growing along a slight depression, then apparently had an idea.

  “Race you!”

  Robbie dug his heels hard into the horse’s sides and jerked back hard on the reins at the same time. The startled horse reared, then exploded beneath him and headed off across the intervening hay field at a dead run. The boy let out a yelp, flailed, and finally succeeded in grabbing the front of the saddle.

  Bear raced after him, calling to him to hang on. The field blurred by as Bear concentrated on the horse’s panicky movements and the boy’s frantic cries. He could see the reins dangling well out of Robbie’s reach and realized he would have to use his own mount to slow Robbie’s … a solution that carried some risk. He raced just ahead, so that Robbie’s horse could see his and then leaned in to seize the runaway’s bridle. As he reined up, both horses gradually slowed.

  “You all right?” Bear demanded, panting.

  Robbie was as pale as parchment all the way to his fingers, which were clamped around the edge of the saddle. “I—I—los-st the reins an’ he jus-st started runnin’ wild …” His blue eyes were huge with fright and Bear had the oddest feeling that he was looking at Diamond. Frowning, he recovered the reins and handed them to Robbie, who shrank back. “Awww, no—I’m gettin’ off!”

  “No you’re not,” Bear declared, grabbing his arm and holding him in place. The boy was trembling. “You made a big mistake back there, but you lived to tell the tale. If you get off that horse now, you’re making an even bigger one. A man has to learn to conquer his fears. He has to learn to admit his mistakes, learn from them, and go on from there.”

  Robbie’s eyes filled with tears, and he lowered both them and his head in shame. After a moment, Bear loosened his grip. His voice became as low and compelling as thunder.

  “Take the reins. We’ll ride down to the creek and you can practice your dismount.”

  By the time they reached the creek and Robbie had dismounted, much of Bears annoyance had drained. He watched Robbie’s shame-stained fac
e and remembered too well how it felt to disappoint someone you wanted desperately to please … worse, to disappoint yourself. He waited for Robbie to look up.

  “In time, I think you’ll make a damn fine rider,” he said with a wry smile. “But you can already hang on to a runaway horse with the best of ’em.”

  EIGHT

  That was where Diamond and Morgan Kenwood found them, some minutes later, standing at the edge of the grass-lined stream, giving their horses a drink. Neither Diamond nor Morgan Kenwood mentioned Robbie’s narrow scrape, which could only mean that they hadn’t seen it. More than once, Robbie cast a pleading look at Bear to persuade him to keep silent about what had happened. But he needn’t have worried; Bear sensed that keeping the incident between the two of them would drive the lesson deeper into the boy’s conscience. For some reason, that seemed more important than the fleeting satisfaction he might have gotten from Diamond’s reaction to her charge’s reckless behavior.

  Diamond noticed Robbie’s subdued behavior. “Robbie, are you all right?”

  “Sure,” Robbie said with a scowl. Then he glanced at Bear and gave his head a serious scratching. “Just wanna get back on that horse and ride, is all.”

  When they started off again, she didn’t wait for Morgan to dictate riding arrangements. As soon as she was in the saddle, she insisted that Robbie ride beside her. Bear was left to contend with Morgan Kenwood’s visible irritation.

  The men rode in silence, neither tempted to indulge in a conversation that could easily slide past civility. It was only when the stable came in sight that Kenwood turned to him.

  “I think you should know, McQuaid, and I would save you the ignominy of discovering it in a more embarrassing manner … Miss Wingate and I have something of an understanding. She has given me to know that a certain ‘announcement’ will be made in a few weeks, on her birthday.”

  “She has, has she?” Bear studied the aristocratic Kenwood, whose exaggerated posture on horseback made him look continually like he belonged in the middle of a park with pigeons perched on his head. In a pig’s eye, he thought. Women didn’t do their best to escape being in the same room with men they intended to marry. And Kenwood must be desperate indeed to perceive a threat to his matrimonial aspirations in him.