The Genuine Lady (Heroines on Horseback) (35 page)

I will not let her get to me,
Cherry promised herself, or commanded herself, whichever worked. “It is true I am a better rider than most women. I was very fortunate to ride from a young age. Not all young ladies have such good luck.”

“Maybe we should have a race,” Hope suggested. “I’m a pretty good rider.”

“The lame horse in the barn over there suggests otherwise,” Cherry said acidly, pushed beyond politeness. Animal cruelty was simply unacceptable. “I would not wish to test my skills against someone of your questionable talents.”

Hope pursed her lips. The barb had struck. But that was all the encouragement she needed to get to the point. “You’re not getting Jared, Englishwoman. He’s always been in love with me, and I intend to keep it that way.”

Percival chose that moment to plunge sideways, gaping his mouth against the bit as he fought for his head, and Cherry had her hands full. Unfortunately he shoved his big body in such a way that it looked as though she intended to ride Hope down. The other woman jumped out of the Thoroughbred’s way with a little shriek.
 

“Why, you bitch!” she shrieked, retreating to the safety of the toolshed. “I might’ve felt sorry for you, too, because he’s a good man and I know you’ll hate to lose him. But you’re nothing but a crazy person. You and your wild horses are welcome to each other. I’m taking Jared back to Texas, and don’t think running me over with your damn horse can stop me!”

Cherry wearily kicked the explosive horse into a canter and let him go bounding around in circles for a while, hoping to burn off a little excess energy. She didn’t bother to turn back and see if Hope was still watching her. What did it matter? She said she had come to take Jared back. Well, Jared wasn’t here. The joke was on both of them, wasn’t it?

***

When the whistle blew for Bradshaw, Jared was already standing in the train corridor, waiting impatiently to disembark. He was leaning against a window, staring out at his little town, when a harsh hand shoved him against the wall. “Get outta my way, cowboy,” a familiar voice growled, and Jared realized it was the mean-looking cowboy from the train compartment. He recovered himself, rubbing at his shoulder where it had crashed into the wall, as the cowboy barreled past, dragging a white-faced woman in a faded brown traveling dress behind him.
 

Jared was just about to shout after him when the old Englishman put a finger on his shoulder. “Be a good chap and let me pass, won’t you,” the gentleman suggested in cultured tones, but his eyes were cold and his manner imperious. Jared looked him in the eye, ready to give him a piece of his mind, about how he
wasn’t
going to get out of his way until he was good and ready, and he could sick his damn fool guard-dog down there on him if that was what he wanted, but he wasn’t about to go on being treated like an inferior in his own town, and so on and so forth and more like that, when he realized with a start that he recognized those blue eyes glaring down at him. He’d seen those eyes before, with exactly that glacial expression, from a different face.
 

Jared furrowed his brow. “Just a minute there,” he drawled, pretending he wasn’t at all put out by the rough behavior. “You know a girl named Charlotte Beacham?”

The old man started, his blue eyes widening, and though he quickly tried to cover up his emotions, it was too late. “I haven’t any idea who you’re talking about,” he tried to demur, pushing past Jared and continuing down the corridor.

“Now hang on a minute!” A terrible suspicion was forming in Jared’s mind.
Cherry’s got troubles of her own,
Matt had said.
Trouble from home,
Matt had said. His mind counted over the weeks. Was six weeks enough time for an interfering Englishman to get from London to Bradshaw? He wasn’t sure. It didn’t matter. The cowboy with the pistols gleaming at his belt, the nursemaid, those crystal-clear blue eyes that matched Cherry’s: this was the trouble from home. He was sure of it. “You stop right there!” Jared hollered, running down the swaying corridor. But the door was already sliding shut behind the Englishman: he was following the other two into the next car. Jared reached for the door just as the train’s brakes began to squeal, and the sudden slowing of the train threw him slam into the door. He hit his head on the wooden door and slumped to the ground, momentarily dizzied.

The train whistle shrilled — they were coming into the station. Jared managed to get himself up, rubbing at the knot on his forehead and cursing. He’d hit the ground plenty coming off rank horses, but it was a damn fool who hit his head riding on a train. Shaking it off, he shoved open the door and ran between the cars, but when he came into the next carriage, they were nowhere to be seen. Worse, people were filing out of their compartments, eager to get off at Bradshaw and stretch their legs, and the train corridor was impassable with waiting passengers. Jared leaned against the door and pounded his fist quietly against his thigh, frustrated beyond words. He’d have to get off as quickly as possible at the siding and find them in the crowd. And by the looks of things, half the damn train was getting off at Bradshaw for a little stroll. They’d be hell to find.

By the time the wooden siding of Bradshaw was rushing up to meet the train, Jared was already standing on the bottom step. He jumped off onto the platform, legs rolling a little under him as the loss of motion threw off his balance, and then he straightened and looked down the siding.

He saw them right away: the cowboy had already jumped down and was reaching up for the nursemaid. She was frightened, shaking her head; she wanted to wait for the train to stop, Jared figured. But the Englishman was not going to wait for her: he gave her a shove and she shrieked as she went stumbling onto the platform. By now the train wasn’t moving very quickly and she wouldn’t be hurt, but it was still a damn mean thing to do to a woman, Jared thought. He took off running, brushing past the astonished Mr. Morrison and a very disapproving postmistress, who were both there waiting for deliveries.

The Englishman was off the train next, followed by a stout woman; the train was nearly stopped, and a conductor had followed them, shouting, but the Englishman was ignoring him imperiously, not even looking over his shoulder. A porter ran up the steps and the Englishman put out a hand to stop the boy, addressing him in a few short sentences and passing him a dollar bill, presumably to collect his bags. Then they went marching down the steps and into Bradshaw.

The station-master saw Jared running after them and stepped in front of him. “Here now, what’s going on? I have these folks acting crazy and now you?”
 

“I can’t stop now, Riley,” Jared growled, shoving past him. “You haven’t even seen crazy yet.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” The station-master grabbed him by the arm. “Jared Reese, explain yourself.”

Jared sighed. The Englishman and his party were looking all around them expectantly, turning their heads this way and that while the citizens of Bradshaw were scurrying about, too busy to notice any newcomers. He supposed they were all in a tizzy to lay in stores before the blizzard hit. The wind picked up as if in accordance with his thoughts; he and Mr. Riley both looked up at the threatening northern sky. Then Riley let go of his arm.

“Bad day for tomfoolin’, Jared. Gonna be stormin’ before nightfall. This train has to unload and get out of here fast. They’re not even tryin’ to go on west; turnin’ here and going back to Opportunity. Don’t have time for this, man. Are you okay?”

“I need to know where Mrs. Beacham is,” Jared said urgently. “It’s gravely important.”

“It must be. She’s at the Barnsley’s, I guess. Oh, Jared?”
 

“Yeah?” Jared had already started walking away.

“Your horse is there, too.”

Jared stopped dead. “My horse?”

“That roan horse of yours. Some woman rode it in last night. Admitted it was yours. Said you gave it to her. Matt didn’t believe her, though, and he took it back.” Mr. Riley paused. “She’s at the Red Rose, I hear.”

Jared wondered if he was perhaps going to have a stroke. His head was pounding, there was a roaring in his ears, and he couldn’t seem to make his throat work. He swallowed, looking for words.
 

“You okay?” Riley asked again.

He managed a nod. First things first. Walk down the steps, down the street, and straight to Matt’s. Whatever happened between Cherry and Hope last night — and he was pretty sure he didn’t want to know — he needed her to know that the baby had to be protected from her relatives.

***

Cherry was rubbing down Galahad with a rag while Eddie played with a bucket and a brush. He was beating the bucket with the brush, to be more exact, and with every
thud
Cherry gritted her teeth and Galahad nodded his head a little. “Sometimes you just have to let the little tykes make their noise,” she told the pony apologetically, but he just swished his tail and ignored her.
 

She couldn’t really blame him for his mood. She’d given him a hard ride, pushing him for perfect behavior after Percival had given her so much trouble, and he was tired. The sweat mark on his back was soaking wet, and she had to get it dried out before he could go back in his stall and work on his hay. It was too cold to let his back stay wet for any time at all. She stood back for a moment appraising her work, and then leaned back into his back, rubbing with the towel as hard as she could. The wind howled outside, rattling the door back and forth on its hinges. A few errant snowflakes had hit her cheeks before she had brought Galahad and Eddie back in from their pony ride. It was certainly coming, she thought unhappily.

The train whistle hooted from down at the siding, and she glanced up without thinking. But there was nothing to see but the wooden wall of the barn beyond her pony’s back. “Silly,” she chided herself. “What did you think you’d see? You’re in a barn. If you’d wanted to go to the train station you would have.”

“Twain’s heah,” Eddie remarked casually. “Heah twain.” He banged on the bucket a bit harder.
 

“Yes, that was the train,” Cherry replied. “Train in the station.” She changed arms; her right one was getting tired. Galahad shifted his weight and glared at her.

“Eddie ride twain,” Eddie suggested hopefully.
 

“Maybe in spring, darling.” Cherry didn’t have any idea where they’d ride the train to, but he’d certainly think it was an adventure. “The trains will be stopped by the snow.”
 

“Snow?” He turned. “Snow?”

“Snow is coming. White, cold, snow. Like in your picture-book. The one with the kittens.”
 

“Oh
snow!”
Eddie resumed banging. “Like snow!”

I wish I did,
 
Cherry thought wearily. She had once. But now, snow was just reminding that she’d have to put all of her dreams — including the foolish ones that involved Jared returning to her — on hold until the spring thaw. And that seemed impossibly far away.

She had moved on to the other side of the pony, and Eddie had not yet tired of his bucket drum, when the barn door opened and someone came inside in a gust of cold wind and a scattering of loose straw. “Patty?” she asked, looking over Galahad’s back. The person she saw there made her knees go weak with shock. “Jared?” she whispered.

He came into the barn and shut the door behind him, moving slowly and deliberately. Then he took off his hat and smiled uncertainly at her, and Cherry’s heart wrenched at his beloved face. How she had missed him! How she had longed and longed for him to come back to her!
 

The roan whinnied, coming to the front of his box stall, and Jared reached out and gave his horse a rub on the forehead. She could see his mind working, trying to decide what must have happened the night before, how much Hope had told her, just
what
Hope had told her. He turned back to her, a hand still in the roan’s striped forelock, and smiled again. She thought she would die of love.

Then she threw the rag at him and covered up that apologetic smile. It would be easier to be mad at him if she couldn’t see him, she reasoned. And she really ought to be mad at him. He had abandoned her, ignoring his own marriage proposal, and spent a month with some sort of dancer he’d been in love with years before. He was the worst sort of cad.
 

He pulled the rag off, though, and there was his stubbled face, his dark-blue eyes, his mahogany hair all on-end after being unleashed from his hat. And the expression on his face… he was scared to death of her, she knew. But she didn’t say a thing. She waited.

He opened his mouth, but no words came. And then, finally, he managed to speak. “Cherry, I’m so goddamned sorry,” he choked out.
 

“Goddamn,” Eddie announced cheerfully. “Jawed. Goddamned Jawed.”

Cherry burst into nervous laughter. “Out of the mouths of babes,” she said at last. “Eddie, darling, run along and tell Patty your new word. Not the Jared one, the other one. She’ll love it.”

“Goddamn!” Eddie exclaimed, leaping up. Cherry came around from behind Galahad and straightened his coat and helped him with his mittens. Then she turned away, leaving him to find his own way to the house, and stared at Jared.

“So,” she breathed, unable to pretend that she was unmoved by his reappearance. “You probably have some things to explain to me.”
 

“Can I just do one thing first?”

“What’s that?”

He stepped close to her and reached both arms around her waist. Before she could protest Jared dipped his mouth and caught her lips in a sweet, lingering kiss. She moved a little, whether to escape or to deepen the kiss, she could not have said, so confused were her emotions, but Jared took it as encouragement and opened his mouth, his tongue pressing her to do the same, and it became a devouring, hot, passionate kiss that left Cherry’s legs trembling. When he finally released her, slowly, and with his fingers trailing hotly across her flushed cheeks, she felt ready to forgive him everything.

Which was certainly his intent.