Blackstone's Bride (22 page)

Eli Catron, the blacksmith, hooted. “Hell, let ‘em stay in the game. They ain’t no competition if Jarrod can’t handle what Abby throws.”

Laughter rose from the spectators as Jarrod took her arm. “I’d like to speak to you, Abby.”

“I was just funnin’, Jarrod. I didn’t mean anything—”

“The hell you didn’t,” he said, his voice low and angry as he wiped his face.

As he led her across the meadow to an oak tree on the far side, Abby looked into his eyes, gray and stormy with anger. Had she gone too far? She hadn’t thought beyond her need to wipe that gloat off his face. She’d put egg there instead, and a good portion of the population of Hollister had seen her do it.

After pulling Abby to the far side of the wide oak trunk and away from the amused glances of the milling crowd, Jarrod pressed her against the bark of the tree. He stood in front of her, tall and strong, and as imposing as the inflexible oak behind her. She had about as much chance of moving him as she did that tree.

“What did you want to speak to me about?” she asked, trying to ignore the flutter in her stomach.

“I’ve never met a more contrary female in my life.”

“Me?”

“For Pete’s sake, Abby, that egg didn’t slip out of your hand, and everyone knows it. You let fly, hard as you could, right at my face.”

“So?”

“Why?” he asked, his breath coming fast and harsh, the way it had when he’d kissed her. The thought made her pulse race.

“You let Henrietta Schafer think there’s something of a personal nature between us.”

“She knew I was joking.”

“She knew no such thing. It’ll be all over town before you can say hogwash and horsefeathers.”

“No one will believe her. And what if they do? Who will it hurt?”

“Me. The children. I don’t want them to get any ideas about us, Jarrod. After that kiss—”

He pointed at her. “That’s it, isn’t it? You’re still sore because of that kiss.” He raked a hand through his hair. “Dammit, Abby, what’s it going to take to get you to admit that I matter to you?”

“Of course you matter. We’re friends—”

“The hell we are. It’s more than that and you know it.”

“I don’t know any such thing.”

“You do or you wouldn’t have thrown that egg in my face in front of the whole town. You don’t have the guts to own up to it. This is more than just being mad because I teased you in front of Hettie.”

“A lot you know about it.” Anger welled up inside her. She knew she was being unreasonable, but for the life of her, she didn’t understand why and couldn’t stop herself. “Teasing wouldn’t bother me. I’m mad because you talked like a man who’s sparking me, and you said it in front of Henrietta. Everyone knows she’s the town gossip.”

“So what if she tells them we’re sparking?”

Her eyes grew wide. “We’re not, that’s why. If you can’t see that, I’d have to say you’ve been out in the sun too long without a hat.”

Shaking his head, he moved closer and braced his palms on either side of her, trapping her between him and the tree. “There’s nothing wrong with me. Except you.”

Abby didn’t like the intensity in his eyes or the closeness of his body. He was too big, too masculine. Too much for her addled state of mind.

“Don’t you kiss me, Jarrod Blackstone,” she warned.

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “What makes you think I’m going to kiss you?”

“That look on your face. It’s just like last time—”

“I knew it! You can’t forget about it either, can you?”

“Haven’t given it another thought since you promised you wouldn’t do it ever again.” A ripple of need wavered
through her, undermining her resolve to ignore her weakness for him. “You’re a man of your word.”

“What if I did it again, Abby? What would you do? Would you wrap your arms around my neck and press yourself close like last time?”

“You’re imagining things. I never did—”

“You did, Abby. I liked it too. A lot.”

“Don’t say that.” She bit the corner of her lip to stop the trembling.

“I’m a man of my word, and that’s the Lord’s honest truth. So why are you scared?”

“I’m not.”

“And I’ve seen snow in July,” he scoffed. “Is it because of the way I make you feel? Do I make you want me, Abby?

“Don’t be silly.” Her whispery voice robbed the words of the sting she’d intended.

“That’s it, isn’t it? You liked it when I kissed you. You wanted more. That scares you more than anything.”

“Ridiculous,” she said, trying to duck under his arm.

“Then don’t run away.” He caught her and pulled her back. “You’re afraid that if you admit you care for me, you might have to give up your dream.”

She drew in a sharp breath, feeling raw and exposed—and cornered. “What if you do matter to me? What if I say it? Nothing changes.”

“Everything changes.”

She shook her head. “You and I—we can’t ever be.”

“Why not?”

“Because you don’t want a wife and I don’t want to get married. Ever. Where does that leave us?”

“At least our cards are on the table. It’s better than hiding behind anger.”

She leaned away from him, feeling the rough bark of the tree as she pressed against it. “Why is it so important for you to know? Why do you have to be right, Jarrod? Because you were wrong about Dulcy?”

He jerked back as if she’d struck him.

She wished she could call back the words as soon as they were out. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that.”

“Yes, you did.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “I suppose I had it coming. And you’re right. I’m not good at failure.”

She pulled air deep into her lungs. “Then let it go. I told you from the start that I can’t stay. Don’t make me hurt you.” Her voice caught for a moment. When she was sure she could control it, she looked at him. “I couldn’t stand to hurt you, Jarrod.”

He sighed deeply and his head fell forward for several moments. When he looked at her again, one corner of his mouth lifted in a sad smile. He dropped his arms, freeing her, although she couldn’t have moved even if a pack of ravenous wolves were after her. Then he reached out and stroked a wisp of red hair near her cheek.

“Sweet Abby. All fire and spirit. And honesty.” He shot her a wry look that put her at ease.

The want and the need were gone, tucked away as if they’d never been there. But she knew as long as she lived, she would never forget how he had looked at her. It had touched something deep inside her, a pocket of longing she hadn’t even known was there. She couldn’t forget, but she had to set aside her feelings. It would have to be enough that her friend Jarrod was back again. Not the man who wanted more from her than she could give.

“Anyone ever tell you you’re too damn honest, Abby?”

“Only you.” She smiled at him, and breathed a sigh of relief when he smiled too.

They stepped out from behind the tree and saw Katie running toward them. Her hair hung wet and limp on either side of her face. The embroidered bodice of her dress was soaked as well.

“Uncle Jarrod! Abby! Look what I got.” Breathless, she stopped and held out the blue satin ribbon.

Jarrod went down on one knee and took it from her. “What’s this for?”

“First place!”

“I mean what did you do to get it?” he asked, grinning.

“I bobbed for apples. Tom said it’s ’cause I got a big mouth, but he wasn’t really mad when he said it. See, Abby?” she said, taking it from Jarrod to show her.

“It’s a beauty, sweetie.”

“Do I truly have the biggest mouth?” she asked Jarrod. Without waiting for an answer, she asked, “What’s that stuff on your shirt, Uncle Jarrod?”

“Egg,” he said.

Katie looked sympathetic. “If your egg broke, I guess you didn’t win. I’m sorry you didn’t get a blue ribbon.” Her face brightened. She took the strip of satin from Abby. After looking longingly at it for several moments, she held it out to him. “Here, Uncle Jarrod. You can have mine.”

Abby glanced at Jarrod. She thought he couldn’t have looked more pleased if someone had given him a first-rate parcel of land. “Thank you, Katie. That’s mighty nice. But you won it. Wouldn’t be right for me to take it. I’ve got to win my own. Means more if you do.”

“I did feel awfully proud.” She looked at him. “You could hold it for me.”

“I’d like that,” he said, and stuck it in his pocket.

Katie took Abby’s hand, then Jarrod’s, and stood between them. “Come with me. They’re getting ready for the three-legged race. Maybe you can win your own ribbon.”

“You game, Abby?” Jarrod asked.

She nodded. It was hard to keep from being swept along with his excitement, his enthusiasm. Harder yet not to enjoy being a part of this family, being with Jarrod.

“Before we get in the race, let’s see what everyone else is doing,” Jarrod said.

Katie tugged them along. “Tom tried to catch a greased pig.” She giggled. “He looked so funny. He almost had it once, but it got away and he fell in the dirt.”

In the meadow, tables were set up with pies lining the edges of both sides. Along with Joe Schafer and Paul Shemanski, Tom stood waiting. He was covered with dirt and axle grease from head to toe. His gray eyes looked like two pale circles in his filthy face.

When Abby and Jarrod stopped in front of him, he looked from them to his ruined clothes and back again as if he half expected a tongue-lashing. Abby noticed a jagged rip in one of the knees of his trousers.

When she glanced at Jarrod, she saw that he was grinning at the boy, who had an identical expression on his face.

“How bad does the pig look, son?” Jarrod asked.

“Not as bad as me,” Tom admitted. He pulled a green ribbon out of his grimy pants. “I couldn’t hang onto the pig, but I got this for being the dirtiest.”

“Good for you,” Jarrod said approvingly. “I guess you’re fixing to eat pie now?”

“Yes, sir. They got strawberry and peach. My favorites.”

“At least you don’t have to worry about getting any on your clothes,” Abby said. “Who will notice?”

“Ain’t I somethin’?” Tom asked, looking down proudly.

“You sure are.” Abby smiled at the pure pleasure on his face.

Katie jumped up and down. “Is this the best Fourth of July you ever had, Uncle Jarrod?”

He picked her up. “Yes. And do you know why?”

“Why?” she asked, sliding her arm around his neck.

“Because of you, and Tom, and Oliver and Lily.”

“And Abby?” Katie asked.

When his gaze met Abby’s, his eyes had darkened to pewter, the shade of clouds before a storm. “And Abby,” he agreed.

“When are the fireworks gonna start?” Katie asked, tugging on Jarrod’s pants as he and Abby danced. “You told me after dinner, and we finished that hours ago.”

“It hasn’t been hours. And they’ll start when it’s good and dark,” he told her, loosening his hold on Abby.

He knew how anxious the little girl was, but he was mighty content for the moment. Katie might like the fireworks, but music and holding a woman in his arms were his favorite part of the festivities. He wasn’t quite ready to let Abby go. They were good together, he thought. She felt
good, just right against him like this. He was surprised she had accepted his invitation. Pleased, but surprised.

After their angry words earlier, he was sure she would never get that close to him again. But the sight of her dancing with other men had put the jealousy shoe on the other foot. He’d had to try. Now here she was in his arms.

“But Uncle Jarrod, it’s dark now,” Katie protested.

He glanced beyond the light created by the lanterns hung on the trees. The sky wasn’t the inky-black that was the best time to see the explosives. As the strains of fiddle, guitar, and squeeze box created a slow tune that surrounded them, he adjusted Abby in his arms. “Katie, you won’t be able to see the fireworks unless it’s dark enough.”

Abby smiled up at him, then looked at Katie. “Why don’t you look for Lily and Joe? See what they’re doing.”

“If I do, will the fireworks start sooner?”

“No, but it will feel like it,” she said, then winked at Jarrod.

“Oh, all right,” the little girl said, and grudgingly turned away.

Beside them, Earl Whittemore laughed as he danced with his wife Jane. “That little girl of yours is a pistol, she is. Never seen a young’un get so all-fired excited over fireworks. And ours used to get pretty worked up over ‘em.”

Jarrod grinned. “Yup. She’s been looking forward to it so long, I hope she’s not disappointed.”

“She won’t be,” Jane said. “Are you and Abby having a good time?”

“Can’t remember ever having such a good time on the Fourth,” Jarrod said, looking down at Abby. “Not since I was Tom’s age, I think.”

Abby’s eyes sparkled so brightly, he didn’t need to see fireworks. He was glad they had talked. The air was cleared even if things hadn’t been settled. For now, it was enough that they had recovered their friendship.

From behind, someone tapped on his shoulder. He was about to tell whoever it was to go to hell. He hadn’t finished dancing with Abby and he had no intention of giving her up.

“Hi, Joe,” she said.

Jarrod half turned so he could see the boy. “Evening, son.”

“Mr. Blackstone? Could I speak to you for a minute? Alone?” he asked, glancing at Abby. “Sorry, Miss Abby. But this is something that needs to be between menfolk.”

“Is it Lily? She’s all right, isn’t she, Joe?” Abby stopped dancing and pulled out of Jarrod’s arms. “If anything’s wrong—”

“Don’t fret, Miss Abby. I’d never let harm come to Lily. She’s over there,” he said, pointing to the far side of the clearing, where Katie stood talking to her older sister.

Jarrod relaxed and saw Abby do the same.

“I just need to talk to Mr. Blackstone about somethin’.”

Abby nodded. “I’ll go see the girls, and leave you men to your talk.”

Jarrod watched her walk away, admiring the proud set of her shoulders, her trim waist, the flirtatious sway of her skirts—

“Mr. Blackstone?”

Reluctantly, he pulled his gaze from Abby and looked at Joe. Jarrod and the young man walked off the dance floor and over to the side, where they could talk without being jostled. “What is it, son?”

“Thought you should know somethin’, sir. Gives me a real bad feelin’.”