The Western Dare (Harlequin Heartwarming) (10 page)

“Uh, Mark,” Camp muttered. “How many times—exactly?”

“I sat on a plow horse once,” the boy said eagerly. “A farmer Toby knows owned it. But I can ride. I know I can.”

Camp straightened fully, his gaze flying to Emily. He did indeed see worry shadowing her deep-blue eyes, and he reached out automatically, wanting to soothe it away. But her eyes went darker. She flinched and ducked to avoid his hand.

“What? Emily...I...” Camp slid his palms against his thighs.

“Sorry.” She reddened a bit and looked sheepish. “You startled me.” Tugging her son with her, she ran to where Maizie had stopped to shorten the stirrups on the smaller of the two horses. “How gentle is he?” she inquired.

Camp stared after her. She didn’t look back. He noticed that Emily rubbed her upper arms as if to ward off goose bumps, even though the sun had bloomed fully and the day was warming. He swallowed a growl. Had there been more to the fear he’d seen in her eyes—more than just the fact that she was “startled”? In addition to sleeping around, had her no-good husband abused her?

Again the pieces didn’t fit. She wouldn’t have stayed in an abusive relationship. The more he saw of Emily Benton, the more puzzling she became—as if she were two different women.

Maizie whistled, jolting Camp from his thoughts. He jogged over to the trio.

“I gave Mark Silverbelle. She’s a honey. Has a gait like a rocking chair. The boy’ll do fine, and you’ve already got a feel for this bronc.”

“Mincemeat and I are old friends.” Camp stroked a hand down the pinto’s nose. “Aren’t we, boy?” Rechecking the cinch for himself, he turned to Maizie. “Is it possible to make the round-trip in one day?”

She nodded. “Pour on the coals going. Easy on the return. Follow the river coming back. You’ll cut off a lot of miles. Water the horses often. Mark will beg for stops. Expect he’ll be hurting. You’re probably broke in by now. But I’ll ask Robert to go, if you’d rather.”

Camp studied Mark. He saw that both the boy and his mother expected him to jump on Maizie’s offer. “Thanks, but no. Mark and I will see this through. Will you have Jared drive my wagon?”

Maizie dug in her pocket and pulled out a chunk of chewing tobacco. Suddenly aware of Camp’s grimace, she tucked it away again. “We Boones are Kentucky hill people,” she said by way of explanation. “My daddy smoked and my mama chewed. Out here chewin’s safer. The least little spark can set off a prairie fire that’ll burn a thousand acres of grass almost before an eye can blink. Lost my brother and two cousins to one of them fires.” She patted her pocket. “Seein’ how you’re paying most of the freight, I’ll have to say the customer is right. But old habits die hard.”

“I appreciate your trying.” Camp relieved her of the pinto’s reins and nodded as she drew his attention to a packet of beef jerky and a few apples she’d stowed in his saddlebags. As he boosted Mark into the saddle, Camp said, “At college there’re a lot of farm kids who’ve already started to chew. Last year alone we lost two young men to throat cancer. Death by fire or cancer, it’s all a waste. I’d hate to see the kids on this outing go home with the wrong message.” He pulled himself into the saddle.

Maizie slapped Mincemeat on the rump and stepped aside. “Be off with you. Anybody ever tell you that you missed your callin’, boy? You shoulda been a preacher.”

Camp had his hands full keeping a rein on the crow-hopping pinto.

Sherry joined Emily at her campfire as Nolan and Mark melted into the distance. Maizie had already gone about her business.

“Did that doofus brother of mine lose another horse?” Sherry shaded her eyes.

Emily sighed. Reluctantly, she told Sherry the whole story.

“He’s being noble? Did someone slip something in Nolan’s morning coffee?”

Emily bristled. “You know, Sherry, I don’t see him as the man you described. Are you aware that Brittany sneaked into his wagon the other night? He asked me to flush her out, but he could’ve run or treated her like dirt. Instead, he stuck around and talked with her, careful not to hurt her feelings. And he didn’t let Mark wiggle off the hook the way Dave would have, and Toby does.”

Sherry cocked a brow. “So, are you saying I misjudged Nolan’s attitude about women? That it’s all my fault we’re out here busting our backs, frying to a crisp?”

“You said yourself it had to do with sibling rivalry. Remember that I’ve lived with a genuine old-fashioned man who really disrespected women. So far, I haven’t seen anything about Cam—Nolan that compares.”

“I said gender rivalry. Nolan’s a historian, and the stuff they teach distorts women’s true role. Brittany is his student. Of course he’s going to handle her with kid gloves, even if she is a twit. By the way, she and Megan are palling around. I feel sorry for the kid, but I don’t think I’d want a daughter of mine sharing beauty secrets with her.”

Emily bent over her campfire and poured them each a cup of Earl Grey. Throwing a glance toward her wagon, she lowered her voice. “I wish you did have a daughter, Sherry. Maybe then we could compare notes. I could use some reassurance. Or advice. I’m not happy about the girls’ blossoming friendship. But something I’ve learned about Megan—she goes out of her way to do the things I object to.” Emily gripped the cup with both hands and breathed in the pungent bergamot. “I’m the counselor, yet your brother seems to know how to handle my kids better than I do. So, if you have any tips, Sherry, I’m all ears.”

A flush stained Sherry’s cheeks. “I’m sorry, Em. The last thing you need is a friend haranguing you and adding to your problems. The fact is, teenage girls are a mass of belligerence and hormones. I was. I imagine you were.” She sipped her tea. “Nolan’s a few years older than me. There was enough of an age difference that he had zippo patience dealing with me storming through puberty. Hey, why are we always discussing him? It’s not as if you’re interested in him romantically or anything. I know you’ve sworn off men.”

Sherry’s words created a rumble of tension in Emily’s stomach. Or was it hunger? “Look, Doris and Vi are packing to leave. Megan and I haven’t eaten yet. Our oatmeal’s probably dried in the pan. Mark disrupted our breakfast coming in with that tale of his. I’m not used to him volunteering information. Generally, I have to pry it out, or have it come back to me through some member of the community who isn’t under Toby’s and Mona’s thumb. And that’s very few.”

Sherry tossed out the last of her tea and gave her friend an impetuous hug. “If I had the money from my trust, I’d lend you enough to pay your in-laws so you guys could blow that popstand. What about your family, Em? Is there no one you can borrow from?”

“Over a hundred grand? That’s a big chunk of change. My family are all blue collar. They have mortgages and credit card debts like everyone else. Just hope I find a good job on the West Coast. If I got offered a higher salary, I don’t believe Toby’s toady judge could block my leaving. Do you?”

“I wouldn’t have thought he could, anyway. I’m afraid I don’t have any legal experience, Em. Not outside of referring needy students who come into the Hub to the Legal Aid Society. Do you think you could make an appointment with them at their Columbia office? How far does Toby’s influence stretch?”

“Throughout our county. Plus, he’s into politics at the local and state levels. Money talks everywhere. He always managed to get Dave off without consequence. I’m almost ready to throw caution to the wind and chance it.” She managed a humorless smile. “I’ll be old and gray before I pay Dave’s debts. If I don’t do something soon, Toby and Mona will choose a man for Megan to marry and pick Mark’s college.”

“What? They don’t believe in college for girls?”

“You know they don’t. According to Mona, if I hadn’t had two degrees Dave wouldn’t have felt inadequate and he wouldn’t have strayed.”

“Bah, humbug. How can you put up with them, Emily? I’d be in Leavenworth doing ninety-nine years of hard time, I’m afraid.”

“Don’t think it hasn’t crossed my mind. Luckily, I’m also a coward.”

“Well, pacifist, maybe. I wouldn’t call you cowardly. That’s one reason I thought of you for this trip. I can’t say what or how, but I predict—I feel it in my bones—one of us will do something heroic that Nolan will have to report in his article. Picture this, Em, we’ll have redeemed twentieth-century womankind.”

Emily inspected her chapped hands. “Wouldn’t it have been easier to write the article yourself, Sherry?”

“There’s still the old glass ceiling. I could write it. Or you. It wouldn’t carry the same weight as Nolan’s article. Have you been to conferences where papers are presented?”

“No. But Sherry, we outnumber men in academics these days. There must be lots of women professors who go and present papers.”

“Sure there are. They’re accorded about as much respect as you could stuff in a billy goat’s navel. When a woman gets up to read, the men in the audience go for coffee or take bathroom breaks. Or they steal her work. Well, I might be exaggerating a
little,
but...”

“In that case, I understand why this excursion is so important to you. I’ll try my best not to mess up, pal. And I’ll take more care filling out my daily data sheets. Rest easy, Sherry—I’ll do my part.”

“Good. We women have to stick together. Which reminds me...we’d better get our fannies in gear. Maizie’s ready to hit the trail.”

“It’s so dusty I’m going to put a little distance between my wagon and the teachers’. It’s not as if a straggler can get lost. This country’s so flat you can see all the way to Oklahoma.”

“Kansas City, at least.” Sherry screwed up her face. “You’re one hundred percent right about the dust. Did you see that road sign advertising Itchy’s Flea Market? I’m itchy from all the cottonwood blowing around. I guess we’re spoiled in Columbia, with our rolling hills and pine and maple trees. What do you suppose kept pioneers trekking through this desolate land?”

“The promise of Spanish money. I tell you, money rules the world.”

Sherry chuckled. “Not my world. Work rules my world. If my boss retires...a big
if.
No sense counting on a promotion. Anyhow, in four years when I come into my trust, I’ll be able to afford a house.”

“Or you could marry someone who owns a house.”

“Emily, I’m shocked! That’s no reason to walk down the aisle.”

“I didn’t mean you’d marry to gain a house. It goes without saying that you’d love the man who owned the bricks and mortar.”

“I’ve decided to remain a happy bachelorette.”

“Sure. The tougher they talk, the harder they fall.”

“Yeah, yeah!” Sherry waved at Emily over her shoulder.

Emily smiled long after Sherry had boarded her wagon and pulled into line with the main caravan. Sherry was tall, willowy and possessed the most luminous peaches-and-cream complexion of any woman in Emily’s acquaintance. She also had a sharp mind and a wonderful sense of humor. It was easy enough to imagine men falling crazy in love with her. Emily knew Sherry hadn’t met anyone who made
her
feel that way. But if ever the right man came along, she’d be a goner.

As for herself, well—she was the more likely of the two to remain single. Except that widowed and single were different. Still, the prospect of living alone once the kids flew the nest sent a trickle of dread down Emily’s spine. All those years, all by herself... It wasn’t the physical intimacy she missed. Long before Dave’s death, his philandering had driven her into sleeping in the spare bedroom. No, she couldn’t say she’d missed what Dave had called lovemaking. But she did miss the aftermath. The quiet time after he’d fallen asleep when his body warmth reached out, cocooning her in the darkness.

Winter nights were the hardest to get through alone. It was dark by the time she got home from work, and cold. To save money, she lowered the thermostat during the day.

She felt foolish wrapping herself in flannel sheets and dragging out her tattered childhood teddy bear. He sat like a lump on the empty pillow, neither breathing nor exuding warmth; all the same his presence comforted.

After Dave’s plane had crashed, so much nonsense came her way from Toby and Mona that Emily took her comfort whenever she could find it. A cup of tea with a friend. Rereading a favorite book. Watching a TV game show with the kids. Her teddy bear...

Emily might have daydreamed the morning away had Jared Boone not called out that she was being too slow.

“If you’re in a hurry, go around me, Jared. I don’t mind bringing up the rear.”

“Gram wouldn’t like that. She wants a man covering the rear of the train.”

“Gram? Oh, you mean, Maizie. Why on earth...? Never mind. I get the message.” Emily stewed, until it dawned on her that Jared’s directions had probably come through Robert rather than Maizie. It didn’t sound like Maizie’s philosophy. “Hold your horses, junior,” she told him. “I’ll get under way when I’m ready.”

The boy, who wasn’t much older than Mark, gave a long-suffering sigh. “Yes, ma’am. Only, I’m not ‘junior.’ The Boones have enough juniors without me.”

Ah,
she thought,
even the management’s a little touchy this many days out.
Emily made mental note to add that to her data sheet. She also vowed to remain pleasant throughout the entire trip, even if it killed her.

As the day wore on, that promise grew harder to keep. Mile after endless mile, they slogged past fields of waving grain and red-crested tassels of milo. Twice their path ran parallel to Highway 56. Truckers hauling baled hay to market honked their horns. The noise made the horses skittish and difficult to handle. The few cars that passed all slowed down; people opened their windows and cheered the trekkers on. A man on a tractor pulled up next to Emily and chatted. He thought the reenactment was great. He’d lived near the trail his whole life, he said, yet had never found time to drive the route. He warned of thunderstorms brewing in the Texas gulf, and in the next breath wished her a fast journey.

It seemed as if they had traveled at a snail’s pace for the last five miles. Emily frequently found herself looking back over her shoulder, expecting to see Mark and Camp overtake them at any minute. Funny, how she thought of him as “Camp,” although Sherry always called him “Nolan.”