The Horseman (15 page)

“See there?” Gunner asked, pointing out the
open loft doors to the north. “See that big thunderhead out there?
It’ll be here soon enough and drench us. We sure can use the water
too.”

Off in the distance, Briney could see the
dark, roiling clouds slowly billowing out in every direction. Yet
in a mere matter of moments, the thunderhead’s boil turned from
blue and ominous to a golden warm as it seemed to somehow envelop
the sun in its powerful embrace as it rose up.

Briney startled, surprised by the bright
strike of lightning that leapt from the clouds, sending thunder to
echo off the nearby mountains. It was a sight Briney had never
witnessed before, and it was purely awe-inspiring—magnificent in
its simple power.

She closed her eyes a moment, deeply inhaling
the scents of fresh hay and rain hitting dry dirt and grass. There
were no other sounds—just the rain on the roof of the stables and
the thunder in the distance.

“I’ve never seen the like of this,” Briney
said, opening her eyes to see Gunner staring at her through
narrowed, blue smoldering eyes.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” he asked in a
low, syrupy voice that caused a thrilling quiver to travel over her
spine. “But not near as beautiful as you are.”

Briney blushed. She was delighted by his
compliment and flirting but also somewhat scared, for she truly had
no experience with men—and she wanted this man more than anything
in all her life.

“Flattery isn’t necessary, Gunner. I’ve
already promised you I’d leave the peach pie,” she teased.

A bold, brilliant lightning strike sent more
thunder echoing over the valley. The air was indeed cooler than it
had been only minutes before, and Briney rubbed at the chilled
goose pimples on her arms.

“You’re chilly,” Gunner said, reaching out to
take Briney’s arms in his strong hands. “And here I am with no
shirt to offer you for warmth.” He winked at her, lowered his
voice, and said, “I really ain’t much of a gentleman, now am
I?”

“I…I th-think you’re a very fine gentleman,”
Briney stammered. “After all, you did notice I was chilled.”

She was mesmerized by Gunner’s mouth for some
reason, her heart leaping in her chest when she saw him slightly
moisten his lips.

“Well, I don’t know about that,” he mumbled,
“'cause I don’t know if a gentleman would be thinkin’ about doin’
what I’m thinkin’ about doin’ right now.”

Briney was breathless! She felt her mouth was
overly moist and as if her knees were not to be trusted to keep her
standing.

“And what’s that?” she managed to ask in a
whisper.

Gunner released her a moment, taking his hat
from his head and tossing it to the pile of hay nearby.

“Oh, I’m thinkin’,” he began, taking her
waist between his hands and pulling her closer to him, “I’m
thinkin’ I’m gonna kiss you.”

Briney gasped with elation.

“And I’m thinkin’ that I ain’t even gonna ask
your permission,” he added, pulling her tight against his body.
“What do you say to that, Miss Briney Thress?”

Briney had never been kissed. She’d never
known one boy or man long enough to want to be kissed by him—never
been alone long enough with a man for him to try to steal a kiss
even if she hadn’t wanted to kiss him. But the one thing she
knew—even without any experience—was that she wanted, more than
anything she’d ever wanted, for Gunner to kiss her.

“Hmm,” Gunner breathed when Briney didn’t
answer him. “I’ll take that as you ain’t against the idea, all
right?”

Briney was trembling like a newborn foal! He
could feel it in her—the nervous anxiety, the fear, and yet the
desire. She wanted him to kiss her; Gunner knew she did. And
because he owned a knowledge of her past and guessed at the lack of
experience it would’ve afforded her in dealing with men, he knew he
must be careful with her, gentle, especially at first, lest he
traumatize her somehow with the power of the passion he was feeling
for her—and send her running from his arms forever.

“There ain’t a whole lot to it, you know?” he
said in a low, calming voice. “Instinct is all you need,
darlin’.”

Gunner felt Briney’s body tense as he cupped
her chin in one hand. “You ain’t afraid of me, are you? You know
you can trust me, Briney. You know you can. You can trust me,” he
whispered as he pressed his lips lightly to hers.

He felt her knees begin to buckle and was
pleased, for it was an indication she was not averse to him.

Taking her arms, he placed them around his
own neck. Then wrapping her in his arms and holding her firmly
against his body to help support her weight, he kissed her again,
this time allowing his lips to linger against hers, until he felt
her faint, tentative response—until he felt her kiss him in
return.

He felt her surrender to him then—felt her
body relax against his—felt her trust—and he kissed her a third
time, pressing his lips to hers and coaxing hers to part in meeting
his. Sensing that her knees were no longer threatening to give way
beneath her, he paused, caressing her cheeks with the backs of his
hands.

“I ain’t a rounder, you know,” he told her.
“I don’t go lurin’ beautiful women up to my hayloft so I can spark
with them just for the entertainment’s sake. You know that,
right?”

Briney nodded at him, and Gunner felt his
breath catch in his throat. For what he saw in Briney’s eyes as she
gazed at him, it was more than trust, more than desire—it was love!
The girl loved him already! No matter how implausible it should
seem, he could see that she did.

The evidence of Briney’s love for him, so
marked in her beautiful blue eyes, was his undoing somehow, and
Gunner found that he could not keep from claiming her kiss the way
he’d dreamt of doing from the moment he first saw her.

Gunner reached out, cradling Briney’s face in
his hands. She felt the warm caress of his thumb move across the
tenderness of her lower lip. And then, all at once, he pulled her
into a powerful, very possessive embrace—an embrace she wished she
could linger in forever! Instantly, Gunner’s mouth captured hers,
claimed hers—his mouth, not merely his lips. And Briney’s heart
threatened to leap from her chest with irrepressible rapture!

Briney could feel the heat of Gunner’s skin
penetrating her shirtwaist—even her camisole and corset—until her
own flesh felt warmed by it. The sense of his smooth skin beneath
her palms—the rugged contours of his chest where her hands
rested—served to send her into an almost frenzy of desire!

His mouth was hot and moist, tinged with a
flavor she could only determine was unique to him—a unique
ambrosial taste that created a mad sort of thirst in her she feared
could never be quenched.

A loud clap of thunder struck, startling
Briney so that she gasped, breaking the seal of their kiss. But
Gunner was undaunted by such things as the power of nature and
immediately drew her tight against him, raining such an
exhilaration over her as his mouth worked to savor hers that Briney
vowed never to give him up—never to be parted from him—not for one
moment for all the rest of her life.

As the gently falling rain turned to deluge,
Briney was no longer aware of the brilliant flashes of lightning or
the crashing of thunder as the storm overtook the ranch. To her,
there was only Gunner. She gasped when he unexpectedly swept her up
into the cradle of his arms, carrying her to a large mound of hay
and gently tossing her into it before lying down next to her.

“You’re gonna marry me, you know,” he told
her, grinning as he propped his head up on one hand and studied her
a moment. “If I have to tie you up and keep you up here until you
agree to it…you will marry me, Briney Thress.”

“You don’t even know me, Gunner,” she
reminded him, even as tears of joy trickled from the corner of her
eyes.

“Yes, I do,” he said. “I knew you the minute
I walked into this stable less than a week ago. I knew then I
wanted you…that I was already in love with you.”

He wiped a tear from her cheek with his
thumb. “I know you felt the same, that first day we met. I can see
it in your eyes now. You love me too, don’t you?”

“I loved you before I even met you, Gunner,”
she whispered. “I heard your voice most nights after I took to my
own room at the boardinghouse. My room is just over the Kelleys’
restaurant, and I could hear your voice when you were talking with
others in town. Your voice—it’s what made me feel safe when Mrs.
Fletcher lay dying. Your voice is what made me hope that all would
be well.”

“Briney! Briney Thress!”

Gunner frowned, quickly standing. “Who’s
there?” he called.

But Briney recognized the voice already. It
was Nimrod Fletcher shouting for her.

“It’s Nimrod,” she breathed with
disappointment. “He probably has some other ridiculous paper he
wants me to sign.” Briney grumbled.

“Who’s Nimrod Fletcher?” Gunner asked.

“Mrs. Fletcher’s son,” she quickly explained
as she rose to her feet and headed for the ladder leading down from
the loft. “His solicitor, Mr. Christensen, came to Oakmont
yesterday. Nimrod and his sisters accompanied him to ensure that I
signed a legal document promising never to contest Mrs. Fletcher’s
will.”

Briney was furious! She’d signed the document
demanding she never seek anything at all from the Fletcher heirs.
Yet there was Nimrod, shouting as he ever did—shouting up from the
stables at her and spoiling the most wonderful moment of her entire
life.

“Briney, wait,” Gunner said as Briney began
to descend the ladder before him.

“He probably just wants to threaten me in
some other such way, or call me an ugly orphan duck. How dare he
intrude like this! And who does he think he is to come marching
onto your property—”

Briney felt the tug at the bottom of her
skirt—felt herself slip from the ladder rungs and fall flat on her
back onto the stable floor.

The fall knocked the breath from her, and she
could only stare up into the enraged expression of Nimrod
Fletcher.

“What was in that box Constance gave to you
yesterday?” Nimrod growled. “Money? A property deed? Jewels?
Whatever it was she gifted you, it does not belong to you! It
belongs to we Fletchers!”

Briney couldn’t draw breath, and the
sensation was terrifying! She couldn’t move to defend herself. She
was at Nimrod’s mercy!

“You signed a legal document forfeiting any
claim on anything!” Nimrod raged. “Promising never to contest—”

But Nimrod’s furious rant was cut short when
Gunner leapt from the loft, knocking Nimrod to the floor next to
Briney.

“And who the hell are you?” Gunner roared.
Reaching down and taking hold of Nimrod’s collar, Gunner pulled the
man to his feet. Without another word, Gunner let go a devastating
fist to Nimrod’s jaw, knocking him to the stable floor once more.
“You don’t touch Briney! Do you hear me? And you don’t walk into my
stable and—”

Briney’s breath returned only an instant
before the gunshot split the air. “Gunner!” Briney screamed as she
saw Gunner’s hand go to his right shoulder—saw the blood beginning
to trickle from the wound.

“Why, you filthy, yellow—” Gunner growled as
he moved forward toward Nimrod.

Another shot rang out, and Briney saw blood
begin to soak Gunner’s blue jeans at his right thigh.

“Stop! Nimrod! Stop!” she cried, pulling at
Nimrod’s arm in an attempt to capture the pistol he held in his
hand.

But Nimrod was mad with rage, and he pointed
the pistol at Briney, growling, “What was in the box? Tell me!”

“I won’t tell you, not while you’ve got that
gun!” she cried. “Put it down, and I’ll tell you! Put it down if
you want to know what Constance gave to me!”

Nimrod began to lower the gun, but Gunner
rushed him, and another shot rang out!

“No!” Briney screamed, scrambling to her
feet. Without pausing to see who had been shot, Briney ran to
Sassafras’s stall, and flung the door open. Quickly climbing the
stall door, Briney took hold of Sassafras’s mane, mounting her
bareback, forgoing a bridle altogether and taking time only to pull
a loose lead rope around her neck.

“If you want what’s in the box, you’ll have
to catch me, Nimrod! You’ll have to catch me!” she screamed as she
rode Sassafras from the stables at a full gallop.

Crying, sobbing with fear for Gunner’s life,
Briney rode away from the stable, praying aloud, “Oh, God! Let him
follow me and leave Gunner alone! Please, God! Save my love! He is
my life now!”

The rain was torrential, and Briney could
only trust that Sassafras knew where she was going. And then, over
the sound of the rain pummeling the ground, came another noise—a
rhythmic pounding. Briney glanced back to see Nimrod astride a
massive black stallion and riding after her as if the devil himself
had escaped hell to pursue her.

Briney knew Sassafras could never outrun the
stallion, and so she reined in—leapt from Sassafras’s back and
turned to face Nimrod.

Nimrod reined in before her, his face red
with rage.

“Do you want to know what was in the box,
Nimrod Fletcher?” she shouted to him. She was drenched, cold, and
still jarred from her fall from the ladder.

“I do,” Nimrod said, leveling his pistol at
her.

“One silver dollar, Nimrod,” Briney cried out
over the rain. “One dollar—that was all Constance gave me.”

Briney wanted to know. She wanted to know if
Nimrod Fletcher were truly as greedy as he appeared to be—so greedy
and heartless that even the thought of Constance’s giving Briney
one dollar would keep him enraged.

“One dollar that belongs to me!” Nimrod
shouted.

“You would kill me over one dollar?” Briney
yelled.

“It’s my dollar!” Nimrod growled, cocking his
pistol.