Authors: Siara Brandt
“After I came back and started riding again, I could barely move for the first few days until the stiffness went away,” Hetty informed him.
“I tried to talk her out of it,” Pierce said and turned as the front door opened.
“You practically challenged her with those stories of wild women cowgirls,” Hetty said with a shake of her head. “Really, Pierce. I think you actually enjoy provoking her.”
“Well, she does kind of ruffle my feathers sometimes,” he admitted.
They both turned as Will came out of the house. He was carrying a little box in one hand.
Hetty turned back to Pierce. “Now he believes a horse hair can magically poof into a snake.”
“Aw, Hetty, kids just naturally believe in magic. You’d agree that snake was worth it if you could have seen the look on his face this morning when he came to the porch to check. It won’t hurt him a bit to go on believing for a while. You read him stories about fairies and giants, don’t you?”
“I suppose you’re right, Pierce,” Hetty conceded, pulling on her leather riding gloves.
Pierce had fixed Will the little box for the snake so that he could take it with him to the new house.
“Well, you certainly frightened Lieta with that snake.”
“I did, didn’t I?”
Hetty glanced quickly at Pierce’s face, just in time to see his grin suddenly disappear.
“You don’t feel even a little bit of remorse over that, do you, Pierce?”
He immediately looked repentant. “I do for a fact. But I didn’t expect her to find it first. She never gets up that early. At least she never has before.”
Pierce scratched his cleanly-shaven jaw thoughtfully for a moment. “I don’t think she’s ever seen a real snake in her life. I imagine you don’t see them crawling down the streets of Boston.”
“I never saw one,” Hetty remarked dryly, recalling the ear-splitting scream that had brought everyone
running to the front porch, followed by the thump and jangle of Pierce’s spurred boots as he ran up the steps.
By the time Hetty had stepped out onto the porch, Pierce was standing there with the snake dangling from his hand, apparently not having enough sense to get the snake as far away from the terrified woman as possible.
After everyone had gathered in the yard, Pierce helped Rachel and John into the wagon. Then he lifted Emma and Delia. He jumped down from the wagon bed and walked over to Lieta who was pulling on her own riding gloves.
“Nice mornin’, isn’t it, ma’am,” Pierce said with a quick glance at Hetty to make sure she heard. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather ride in the wagon?”
Lieta, finished with her gloves, watched Will skipping gaily across the yard, carrying the little box with the snake in it. Rachel and Delia lifted both the boy and the boxed snake into the wagon.
“No,” Lieta assured him. “I’m quite certain that I would prefer making the trip on horseback.”
Pierce smiled. “Well, it is a mighty fine morning for a ride,” he repeated. “I’ve been looking forward to this trip,” he said as he helped Lieta mount her horse.
As Hetty settled herself in her own side saddle, adjusting her skirt and petticoats, she glanced down at Pierce suspiciously. Hetty had been anticipating nothing more than a pleasant ride, but something in
Pierce’s eyes made her narrow her own as she watched him.
She kept watching him as he rubbed his hands gleefully together while he walked to his own horse. After mounting, Pierce flashed her a boyish grin. It seemed to Hetty that Pierce was anticipating the ride a little too much.
They started out with an escort of two cowboys besides Pierce. They would meet up with Jesse who was to be waiting at the cabin with another wagon which would carry the Forbes’ possessions to the new house.
When they arrived at the cabin, Jesse was already waiting with a wagon piled high with chairs, beds and trunks. He was leaning lazily against as porch post, arms folded across his chest. He smiled a pleasant greeting to Rachel and the others. As for Hetty, his gaze skittered quickly across her with only the briefest nod.
He stepped down from the porch and laid a hand on his waiting horse’s neck, idly caressing the animal as he talked to Rachel in the wagon. After mounting his horse, Hetty heard him sasy to Rachel, “Don’t get your hopes up too high, ma’am. When you see how much work the place needs, you may be cursing me instead.”
After they set out, almost helplessly, Jesse’s gaze strayed to Hetty. In a glance he had taken in the way the sun touched her face and picked up the gold in her
hair, was aware of how the blue of her riding habit nearly matched the color of her eyes.
Damn
. He pulled his hat down low over his eyes. She had nearly taken his breath when he first laid eyes on her in the early morning sunlight. It was going to be, he thought, a very long ride.
It couldn’t have been a more perfect morning for a ride, Hetty thought. She was enjoying the wild beauty of the woods they were riding through. The sunlight was warm. The wind was mild. They sky was a deep, cloudless blue.
“I saw a deer, Pierce!” Will exclaimed excitedly. “A white-tail.” He stood in the bed of the wagon to point to a stand of trees to their right.
Pierce had been entertaining everyone with a running account of cowboy adventures. At the moment, however, Hetty observed a change in him. He had grown quiet. It was, perhaps, his silence that alerted her first. She watched as he pulled the brim of his hat lower against the sun. She didn’t know what Pierce had planned, but she knew him well enough to know that something was about to happen.
And Jesse, apparently, had figured it out as well. She caught a glint of white teeth behind an amused smile as Jesse kept his face straight ahead.
And then a smile curved her own mouth. She anticipated that Pierce’s horse would start bucking. It did. It was just a few crow hops but it looked impressive. It was a common ploy for cowboys who
wanted to impress young ladies with their riding abilities.
While Pierce worked on getting the attention he felt he deserved, Hetty, meanwhile, concentrated on keeping her own horse under control. The mare had wanted to run all morning. Hetty had had no trouble holding her back, but at the moment, the mare was tossing her head and prancing restlessly beneath her.
Pierce’s horse suddenly decided a better show was in order and got a little more determined in his efforts to throw Pierce from his back. The rebellion was infectious. Hetty’s mare reared, nearly unseating her in the side saddle.
Hetty could have easily held the horse down. However, the same restlessness that had seized the animals was surging through Hetty’s blood. After seeing that a cowboy had a hold of Lieta’s horse’s reins, Hetty leaned forward and the mare thundered ahead of the wagon. Soon she was racing along at a full gallop.
It was a wild ride and it thrilled Hetty. The trees flashed by. The wind rushed against her. She let the mare continue her fast pace up a rise and then across a grassy meadow bright with wild flowers. She could smell their sweet scent all around her. They splashed through a shallow stream of water before Hetty finally reined the horse in.
It was a heavily-wooded spot. Hetty sat catching her breath and waiting for Jesse who was not far
behind her. Her cheeks were flushed. Her eyes were dancing. A smile played about her mouth.
When Jesse caught up with her, he reined his horse in beside hers. Hetty’s mare had worked off some of her restless energy, but she was still prancing around a bit. Jesse reached for the bridle strap. He used his boot heel to urge his horse even closer.
What in hell was he thinking? He wondered. As his hand closed around the leather strap, he realized he was no better than Pierce. Secretly digging his heel in to bring his horse closer to Hetty was hardly necessary. But he’d done it anyway. He’d suspected all along that she’d never lost control of the horse.
Sunlight pierced the canopy of leaves overhead and sifted over her features and the long glossy tendril of hair that had fallen across her lips. He reached out to brush the curl away from her face. It was an impulsive gesture. And a damned foolish one. She went so still that for a moment his hand froze.
Jesse was close. Close enough for Hetty to notice the subtle variations of color in his eyes. Close enough that the slight breeze carried his pleasantly-masculine scent to her.
Jesse leaned slightly closer to her. He knew better. But he couldn’t help himself. For a moment their gazes locked. And then she jerked her head around to look at Pierce who was approaching at a gallop.
Pierce’s horse came to a sliding halt before them. For several terrible moments, Pieerce stared at her. He seemed to have lost the ability to speak. Abruptly, he released the breath he had been holding.
“Wh
y- Why- I was to blame. I- ” Evidently Pierce believed himself guilty of nearly getting her killed on a runaway horse.
He suddenly frowned. He looked at Jesse’s face, then looked back at Hetty, who said, “You know you should warn me, Pierce, when you are about to spur your horse into bucking fits.”
“Hetty, you weren’t supposed to have seen that,” Pierce confessed. “But you’re right. I ought to have warned you.”
“No matter,” Hetty said with a smile. “I have found it out on my own. Anyway, it was a good excuse for a run.”
Pierce grinned back at her. “Hetty, you don’t scare worth a damn,” he drawled as the three of them turned their horses’ heads and started back to the wagon.
“Well, ladies,” Hetty heard Pierce say. “That was your first experience with a stampede. I don’t imagine that’s something you see every day in Boston.”
Chapter 14
Since her arrival at the McLaren house two days ago, Hetty had found her time, like the other women, completely occupied with getting the place in order. The house had been in desperate need of a thorough cleaning. It had been full of clutter, dust and cobwebs and the four women had wasted no time getting started.
Curtains were taken down and washed. The wooden floors were scrubbed down several times with lye soap. Rugs had been hung out and beaten. And the cobwebs that had festooned every corner and every piece of furniture were swept away. Several good cleanings had removed years of dirt and dust from the windows. They were now open and early sunlight streamed in.
It was a beautiful misty Spring morning. The birds were singing very sweetly in the trees and the sun was rising into a clear blue sky that was the color of a robin’s egg.
Hetty opened the kitchen door and stood at the edge of the weathered gray porch. A basket of laundry was balanced on her hip. She stepped down onto the stone slab that led into the backyard. Around the
stone slab, hollyhocks, irises and tiger lilies were pushing up above the weeds.
In the yard, she paused near a rusty iron gate that was half buried under a tangle of honeysuckle vine. There was a massive oak tree just beyond the yard and Hetty wondered if Jesse had climbed it as a child. It looked like a tree a boy would climb. Hetty, herself, would probably have climbed it.
There ought to be a swing on that tree, she thought as she set the basket at her feet and stood looking up at the far-reaching branches. She would keep that in mind. Will and Emma would enjoy a swing.
Jesse glanced up toward the east where the sun was rising on a new day. He had been working in the barn since the pre-dawn darkness, but the early light was now spilling through the open doors.
The barn was filled with the familiar scents of horses and leather and hay. There came a soft rustling and the munching of the horses eating the hay he had just tossed into the stalls.
He leaned against one of the stall doors and surveyed the interior of the barn. It was in need of some major repairs. There were missing slats in the roof. And like the house, it needed a thorough cleaning. But, eventually, it would make a decent barn for the Forbes.
His gaze ran along the shadowed roof and the edge of the loft. As a boy he had played in that loft and now, as he stared upward, there came a change in his face. He frowned as the back of one hand slowly rubbed across one side of his chin.
He remembered being on his knees, cold inside and out, his hands trembling as he reached into the rough burlap bag to touch the fur matted to each cold, lifeless body inside. Knowing they were dead, but needing to make sure anyway. Hoping against hope that his touch might warm and revive them. A child’s hope before he buried the four kittens together in a hidden place.