Love Inspired Historical January 2015 Box Set: Wolf Creek Father\Cowboy Seeks a Bride\Falling for the Enemy\Accidental Fiancee (31 page)

Marybeth hurried to his side. “I'll help you.”

“No, ma'am. You're my guest today.” Finding a shady spot, he moved a few rocks and branches out of the way. “I'll take care of everything.”

Nonetheless, Marybeth reached for the blanket and helped him spread it out. She started to follow him back to fetch the basket, but he stopped and gently gripped her upper arms. “You don't mind very well, do you? Now go sit down and let me manage the rest.”

Despite his crooked grin and teasing tone, a shiver went through her.
No.
She would not feel this way. He was just being nice, just taking care of her, as any gentleman would. She tried to return a playful grin, but it felt too wobbly to be convincing. Turning from him, she did as he said and made herself comfortable on the old woolen blanket. Or as comfortable as one could be on the rough ground. She reached beneath the blanket and pulled out a few more rocks.

He returned with the basket just as she threw aside a large sharp stone. Instead of the charming grin she expected, his expression twisted into something she couldn't even describe. Fear? Anger? Because she'd moved a rock instead of waiting for him?

He slowly set down the basket, slowly pulled his gun from his holster and slowly pointed it straight at her. “Don't move, Marybeth. Don't move an inch.”

* * *

The rattler was just pulling itself up into a coil not three feet from Marybeth's hand. Yet the fear written across her pretty face wasn't from the danger she hadn't even noticed. She was afraid of
him.
In spite of his confession, she still didn't trust him. But this was no time to sort it all out. She had minded his order and sat like a statue on the blanket, her widened eyes squarely focused on his gun.

Dear God, don't let her move. Let me kill the rattler without hurting her.

Gunfire exploded several yards to his left. Snake parts flew in all directions. Rand's knees threatened to buckle. He glanced at Laurie, whose rifle bore a telltale curl of smoke around its barrel.

Now he was just downright annoyed. Saving Marybeth's life would have made him a real hero in her eyes. Yet honesty demanded that he hand the honors to a fourteen-year-old girl.

“Good aim, Laurie.” He needed to downplay the situation, make it sound like an everyday occurrence to calm Marybeth's fears.

“Looked to me like Marybeth was in your way.” Laurie shrugged as she returned her rifle to the leather holster on her horse's saddle. “I had a better shot from over here.”

Rand nodded his agreement. “Let's see now. Shall we move the blanket to a nicer spot closer to the river?” Someplace far away from the dead snake. “I don't know about you ladies, but I'm as hungry as a bear coming out of hibernation.”

He grinned at Marybeth about one second before she fell over on the blanket in a heap.

Chapter Four

M
arybeth had never fainted in her life. She'd always refused to surrender to the frailties of the silly society girls she'd known at the academy. But now she found herself looking at the world sideways and trying desperately to reclaim reality. The first thing to register in her mind was Mrs. Foster's scratchy straw hat, one side now crushed between her face and the hard ground. Her eyes couldn't quite focus on two round brown objects in front of her: Rand's bent knees? Laurie's voice reached her through a dull roar inside her head. Or was the roar from the nearby river?

“I dunno, Rand. You sure you want to marry a gal who can't handle a little incident with a snake?”

“Hush. Don't be rude.” He tugged on the ribbons holding the hat in place and moved it back from her head. “Marybeth?” His work-roughened hands felt gentle on her cheek. “Are you all right?”

Air. She desperately needed air. Dragging in the life-giving oxygen so scarce at this high altitude, she whimpered with relief as her lungs expanded. Oh, mercy. What a baby she was. This was far from the most frightening thing ever to happen to her.

“'M fine.” She tried to infuse the words with confidence, but they came out on a strangled whisper. This really must stop. She pushed herself up on one elbow, with Rand's support under her arm providing the strength she lacked. After another gulp of air, she expelled an awkward laugh. “Gracious.” No other words came to mind, so she just looked up at Rand and gave him a tremulous smile.

He shoved his hat back from his forehead and returned the same, his relief obvious in his eyes. “Would you like a sandwich?”

His playful smirk sent a giddy feeling shivering through her. In spite of Laurie's impertinent question concerning her apparent lack of fortitude, his gaze bore no censure.

“Yes. Thank you.” No, not at all. Not with her stomach twisting inside her at the memory of the gory snake remains.

Dismissing the dreadful sight from her mind, she placed a hand in his offered one and they stood as one. Once again she had to draw from his strength, this time to gain her footing, and now she couldn't look away from him. For untold seconds they stared at each other as she tried to read his soul, as her minister used to say. Unlike Da's darting, half-penitent looks, Rand's gaze held no deception, nor did any manipulation or anger emanate from his eyes' green depths. Only kindness and concern and sweet gentleness. Cautious trust welled up inside her accompanied by a sincere liking for this cowboy, this good, decent man. Surely he would help her find Jimmy. And while she had a lot more to learn about him, she might just think more about their marriage bargain. She quickly shoved aside that hasty, dangerous thought, replacing it with another. At least now she understood why Rand carried a gun. She might even get one herself if snakes were a constant danger.

Through the fog of her musings, she became aware of Laurie's soft giggle.

“Guess I'll move the blanket.” The girl grabbed an edge and tugged, forcing Marybeth and Rand to break their visual connection and hop off onto the grass.

While Laurie gave the blanket a shake and dragged it to a shady spot several yards closer to the river, Rand stepped away from Marybeth to pick up the basket and offered her an arm.

“Miss O'Brien, would you do me the honor of accompanying me on a picnic?” He winked and waggled his eyebrows, probably trying to cheer her.

With a giggle of her own, or maybe it was a laugh of relief, Marybeth set her hand on his arm. She would show young Miss Laurie Eberly
and
Rand just how brave she could be by making as little of the snake incident as possible. “Why, Mr. Northam, I would be delighted.”

* * *

At Marybeth's sassy response, Rand almost fell over in relief.
Thank You, Lord.
She might have fainted, but she got right back on her feet. More than that, as they'd stared into each other's eyes for those brief seconds, he could see her determination to overcome the incident. Was he flattering himself to think he'd helped in some way? Not that it mattered. This little city gal had spunk, and it made him all the more resolute to keep on courting her. Even if they didn't end up getting married, he wanted to be her friend.

Yet as he held her hand to help her kneel back down on the blanket, he remembered her real purpose in coming to Colorado was to search for her brother. Had she deliberately lied to his parents so they would pay her traveling expenses? He mustn't let her pretty face and nice manners hide a lying heart, something he refused to bring into his family.

How odd that in the past few years he'd fended off a half dozen local gals who'd tried to capture his interest, honest Christian girls he just didn't happen to care for enough to court. Yet the bride his parents had chosen for him could end up being a disappointment to them. He already felt a little disappointed that she hadn't inquired about Susanna's health today.

On the other hand, he couldn't imagine how it would be to have only one family member still living and yet not know where he was. Rand loved his brothers and sister more than words could say. Even when they fought or just disagreed, they were always there for him. Dad and Mother, too. From what Marybeth had said about her father, her family hadn't been blessed in that same way. Maybe if Rand learned more about her and them, he could unravel the mystery of her character.

One thing was sure. After he took Marybeth back to Mrs. Foster's house, he would start his search for Jimmy O'Brien by writing to the sheriffs in Wagon Wheel Gap and Del Norte. In fact, if he had a little more confidence in his ability to avoid temptation, come Monday morning he would ride over to Del Norte and speak to Sheriff Hobart in person.

Laurie took charge of the picnic basket and dug out a sandwich to hand to Marybeth. “You ever go fishing?” She handed one to Rand before taking a bite of a third one.

“Ahem.” Rand gave her a scolding look. “Shall we pray before we eat?”

Laurie had the grace to bow her head without protest, while Marybeth, who hadn't taken a bite yet, gave him an approving smile. “Yes, please.”

After a quick argument with himself over whether to mention the snake, he decided the Lord deserved their thanks for keeping Marybeth safe. He should have prayed right after Laurie shot the varmint. Dad said a Christian man needed to take spiritual leadership in any situation when a minster wasn't present. Rand and his older brother tried to follow Dad's example now that he was away from home.

“Father, we thank You that Laurie shot the snake before it could cause any harm.” No need to belabor the point, so he hurried on. “We thank You for this food and the hands that prepared it. And thank You for making this beautiful day for us to enjoy. In Jesus' name. Amen.”

He opened his eyes to see Laurie chowing down, while Marybeth was staring at him with teary eyes...and a smile. A feeling as warm and pleasant as the day spread through his chest.

“Let's eat.” He bit into the sandwich, and flavor burst in his mouth and set it to watering. “Oh, man,” he said after he'd chewed and swallowed. “I don't know what Rita puts into her mystery sauce, but nobody can beat her roast beef sandwiches.”

“Not even Mrs. Foster?” Marybeth raised one eyebrow and gave him a teasing smile.

“Shh.” He held a finger to his lips. “Don't tell her I said that.”

She gave him another one of those cute smiles and he felt a slight tickle in his chest that he couldn't quite identify. “I can see that cooking is a source of great competition among the ladies.” Turning to Laurie, she said, “How about you? Do you like to cook?”

“Not much.” Laurie shrugged. “It's more of a chore than fun. I'd rather be fishing.” She glanced over at her pole, still stuck in the riverbank with its line trailing downstream. “Or breaking horses.” A glint in her eye warned Rand that mischief was coming. “Do you ride? 'Cause if you do, I have just the horse for you. Name's Malicia.”

“How kind of you.” Marybeth's expression was pure innocence, except for a slight twitch of her lips, revealing to Rand that she wasn't fooled by Laurie's offer. “Unfortunately, I've never had the pleasure of learning to ride.”

“Too bad.” Laurie finished her sandwich and excused herself to tend to her fishing pole. When she was out of earshot, Marybeth rolled her eyes.

“Malicia, eh?” She laughed softly. “Malice? I don't need to speak Spanish to figure that one out.”

Rand chuckled. “The Eberly girls don't have any brothers, so they have to do all the work around their ranch, including breaking horses and mucking out barns. They don't think much of women who can't keep up with a man. They do everything from herding cattle to cooking mainly because they don't have the luxury of being pampered like city girls.”

The instant the words left his mouth, he knew his mistake. Marybeth's eyes dimmed briefly and her lips pinched together into a grim line. “Hmm.”

Before he could correct his mistake, Laurie whooped.

“Got a big one on the line.” She gave the pole a little jerk to set the hook, struggled briefly with her unwilling prey and then pulled the large trout up on the grassy bank. “Will you look at that?”

Marybeth got to her feet, snatching up a knife from the picnic basket and striding toward the scene. “That's a fine fish, Laurie. Must be at least two pounds. I'll be glad to clean it while you catch another one.”

Laurie stared at her briefly, gave Rand a quick glance and held out her still hooked catch. “Sure. Here you go.” Her tone of voice was friendly, but her eyes held a challenge. Rand wanted to tweak her nose for being so contrary with this city girl who'd already shown a healthy bit of grit by dismissing the snake episode.

Marybeth deftly unhooked the squirming silver trout and plunked it down on the grass. With the skill of a butcher, she gutted it in no time, tossed the innards into the river and scraped off the heavy scales that marked it as a fairly mature fish. “Did you bring a creel?”

Her eyes already wide with surprise, Laurie gave a brief nod. “On the back of my saddle.” She tilted her head in the direction of her horse.

Marybeth hesitated only two seconds before approaching the large gelding. After putting the fish into the wicker creel, she untied the basket from the saddle and carried it to the river, dunking it into the water as though she knew exactly what she was doing.

Laurie once again glanced at Rand and nodded her approval.

Rand lay back and rested his elbows on the woolen blanket, content to watch the girls, whose cooperative efforts suggested they were having fun catching and cleaning the fish. Marybeth had surprised and
impressed
him in a big way. In spite of her city upbringing, she didn't appear to be the least bit pampered, and if he knew what was good for him, he'd better not make any more remarks to suggest that she was.

* * *

Marybeth studiously avoided letting her face reveal the triumph she felt over showing she wasn't afraid of unpleasant tasks. Pampered, indeed. Maybe she couldn't ride a horse or even feel comfortable going near the large beasts beyond riding in a buggy. Yet before enrolling in the academy, she'd spent her entire life doing whatever honest work she could find to survive in a city not always kind to poor Irish immigrants. As to the cooking competition of the local ladies, she had a recipe or two she'd put up against the best of them. But again, she'd learned at Fairfield Young Ladies' Academy not to brag, a challenge to anyone of Irish descent. Her people had long been great storytellers and she'd learned the art at her parents' knees.

“Where'd you learn how to clean fish?” Rand asked later as they packed up to leave.

“In a Boston fishery when I was eight years old.” With a cool look, she dared him to think less of her for her hardscrabble life.

Instead he nodded and grinned with seeming approval. “I was mucking out stalls when I was that age. Don't know which one's a harder job, but they're both pretty messy.” After securing the picnic basket to the back of the buggy, he offered his hand to help her climb up.

“And smelly.” She wrinkled her nose, which brought the hoped-for laugh. “Boston Harbor usually stinks from all the fish and other seafood, and I wore the smell home with me every night. Not like this river. Everything here smells so fresh and clean. Even the fishy odor is mild and washed off my hands right away.” She accepted Rand's help into the buggy and settled comfortably on the leather-covered bench. This moment of camaraderie encouraged her. He wasn't looking down his nose at her.

Maybe she should have trusted his parents enough to tell them everything about her childhood. They'd assumed she came from a middle-class home just because she attended a fine church and was a student at an academy for young ladies, but that was far from the truth. Yet Rand wasn't bothered by her working at a lowly job. Maybe he just didn't understand that only the poorest people took jobs cleaning fish at the fishery.

“I never thought about the smells of Boston.” Rand settled beside her on the bench and grasped the reins. “I was born there, but we moved out here to Colorado when I was about ten, so I can't remember much about it. All I remember are the stories about the city's part in the American Revolution. My brothers and sister and I played Minutemen.” His eyes took on a faraway look as if he were reliving those long-ago years. “Paul Revere's ride. Bunker Hill. Boston Tea Party.”

“All the heroic events.” She and Jimmy had also played those games with other children in their neighborhood. Better to reenact a war the Americans had won than the tragic Irish Rebellion her people had lost. Or the war that had been going on between the States during her childhood. Many a father hadn't come home from fighting for the Union, and her own da had suffered wounds that had plagued him until his death.