Betina Krahn (12 page)

“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 face 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.”