Moon Racer (11 page)

"Frances likes you," Abby said matter-of-factly.
"Because of you she gave us enough food to feed
ten hungry men."

He smiled. "It's always wise to please the cook."

Later, when they had both satisfied their hunger,
and Abby had packed away what remained of their
lunch, Jonah leaned back against a tree and closed
his eyes, contented for the first time in so long he
could not remember.

After a while, Abby wandered to the top of a hill
and shaded her eyes against the sun as she glanced
at the valley below. There was a restlessness in her
that she couldn't understand. She looked back at
Jonah, who appeared to be sleeping, then walked
back down the hill, knowing she should wake him
soon if they were going to see the mustangs while it
was still light.

She dropped down on the grass; her gaze
eventually turning to him. He had an aristocratic
profile and a strong jawline, and he was so handsome
she wondered if he were spoiled by the attentions of
the ladies. She had an almost overwhelming urge to
touch him, to lay her face against his, to feel his arms
encircle her. He had removed his coat and
unbuttoned his shirt, and she could see the sweat
gathered in the hollow of his throat.

What was there about him that made her feel
such anguish and uncertainty?

She lay back in the grass, watching the sun
peeping through the branches of the tree. All around
her were familiar sounds and smells: the scent of
wild-flowers, a mockingbird trilling in a nearby live
oak, the scrabbling of squirrels playing tag up the
thick oak trunk.

Once again she looked at the major, watching the
rise and fall of his breathing. A woman could feel
safe with her head resting against that broad chest.
She looked at his beautiful lips and wondered what
it would feel like to have them pressed to hers.

She was startled when he opened his eyes and
gave her a lazy, provocative smile, as if he had
known she had been studying him.

There was not enough breath in her to do more
than whisper, "You were sleeping, and I didn't want
to disturb you."

"I wasn't asleep; I was thinking."

"What about?"she couldn't help asking.

"What would it take for a man to start a spread
like the Half-Moon?"

She spoke without thinking. "Good land and
prime stock."

He sat up. "That's not what I mean. What would
it take for a man like me, who has a limited
knowledge of ranching, to become a rancher?"

"Hiring a good foreman and wranglers who knew
what they were doing-land, water...."

"I don't see myself raising horses." His voice
took on an excited tone. "I would be more
interested in cattle breeding."

She sat up straight in shocked surprise. "You
can't be serious."

"Probably not." He looked at her for a long
moment before he spoke. "When I arrived at this
ranch yesterday, it just felt right to me." He didn't
know why he was telling her how he had felt, but he
wanted her to know. "Does that make any sense to
you?"

"Not really. You are a high-ranking officer, and
your slightest wish becomes a command, while we
work hard just to hang on to what we have. This is
the West; you are from the North-"

"East."

She looked as if she would like to argue the point,
but relented. "I don't understand why you would
even consider giving up what you have"-she
waved her hand around-"for this."

"Wouldn't you?"

"I belong here-you don't."

"Yes." He glanced into the distance. "It was just a
fleeting thought."

Abby tried to imagine him as a rancher, but she
just didn't see it. From their first meeting she had
felt that he was the most authoritative man she had
ever met, and nothing that had happened since had
changed her mind. He was a commander of men,
not a cattleman.

"What would the lady you are to many think
about moving to Texas?"

He looked as if he were pondering that thought.
"She probably wouldn't like to live anywhere but
Philadelphia."

For reasons she couldn't understand, Abby
instantly disliked his fiancee. She frowned,
knowing she had no right to feel that way about a
woman she had never met. And, after all, she didn't
even like Jonah Tremain.

"Miss Hunter," Jonah said as he pulled on his
blue jacket and buttoned it, "which of the two
horses you showed me this morning do you
recommend for Patricia?"

"The white mare is spirited, but I can gentle her
down. The Arabian gelding, however, has an inclination to be willful, so he will need a firm hand. He
also has a tendency to be nervous, and shies when
he's startled. I would recommend the mare for your
bride-to-be."

He looked at her for a moment. "Which horse
would you choose for yourself?"

She knew that he expected her to say she would
choose the Arabian. "Neither of them would suit
me. The mare is too tame, and the Arabian is not
spirited enough either."

He remembered the sight of her astride Moon
Racer, a memory that would always be with him.
"That's pretty much what I thought."

"Have you decided which horse you want?"

"I'll take the mare, if you will train her for me."

"Yes. I said I would." A pain shot through her
heart at the thought of training a horse for his lady,
and she did not understand why.

Why should she care that he was going to marry
some Yankee and raise other little Yankees? she
thought bitterly.

Jonah caught a glimpse of blue sky through the
gently swaying branches overhead. He couldn't
explain to her how he felt because he couldn't even
explain it to himself. He had the feeling he had
finally found what he had been missing in his life. If
he had not come to the Half-Moon, he might never
have known there was an emptiness inside him.

He had sensed something extraordinary about the
Hunter family the night before. He hadn't missed
Quince's pride in his sister, or Brent's inflexible
misgivings about her recklessness, and his fear that
she might have been hurt. The Hunters had survived
a terrible tragedy that would have torn most
families apart, but it seemed to have bonded those
three together. Even though they might disagree
among themselves, they held on to each other and
they fought to hold on to their land. The father was
another matter-he was a pathetic figure, on the
outside looking in, but that was to be expected.

A strand of hair had come loose from her braid,
and she pushed it impatiently out of her face in an
innocent movement that fired Jonah's blood. He
ached inside for something that was just out of his
reach, something he could never have.

"It's getting late. If you want to see the mustangs,
we had better leave now," she told him.

When Abby stood up, she innocently stretched her
arms over her head, a move that pushed her breasts
tightly against the front of her shirt. It was such a
tantalizing sight that it was almost Jonah's undoing. He turned his back to her, and his eyes closed. "Yes,
we should leave now."

Every move she made was provocative-she was
half wanton and half woman. Abby seemed to have
no knowledge of how easily she could torment a
man; she was totally at peace with who she was,
while he felt as though someone had just slammed a
fist into his gut and twisted his heart into a knot.

It was an hour later when they arrived at the pasture
where the mustangs should have been grazing. At
first Abby was not concerned when she didn't see
them; she just assumed that they were probably
grouped at the water hole. She nudged her horse
forward, and Jonah followed her down the hill.

When they reached the water hole, Abby drew
back on her reins and shook her head. "They are not
here!" she said in stunned amazement.

"Could one of your brothers have moved them
elsewhere?"

She stood in the stirrups, shaded her eyes, and
looked all around. "No, they haven't been broken
yet. And we always keep them here and don't let
them mix with the other stock until Brent has them
examined for disease."

Abby had a sick feeling inside; she didn't want to
believe what her eyes were telling her. "Lately there
has been some trouble with rustlers, and some of
our neighbors have been hit hard." She frowned.
"My brothers aren't going to like this."

She whirled her mount around. "I have to get
back to the ranch and let them know at once!"

"Wait!" he called out, stalling her, the
commander in him taking over. "I need to look for
evidence while it's still light. If we take the time to
ride to the house, we'll lose the light, and the trail
might be cold by tomorrow."

"Quince will be able to track them."

He gave her a brief glance before he rode slowly
forward, his head bent while he studied the ground
intently. "Were they shod?"

She' maneuvered her horse beside him, looking
down for signs. "No. This was a new string that the
hands drove in last week. They wouldn't be shod
until they were ready to break."

"I see signs here of some twenty-odd unshod
horses."

"That's right. Twenty-three."

"I see something else," he said, dismounting,
bending down to touch a broken blade of grass and
rub it between his fingers. Then he traced a
hoofprint with his finger. "There were at least three
shod horses among the stock. Whoever was driving
the mustangs took them toward the west, and it
wasn't more than an hour ago." He stood and gazed
about him. "We just missed them."

Abby trusted Jonah to know what he was talking
about. "We must let my brothers know as soon as
possible!"

Before he could mount his horse, two shots rang
out in quick succession, kicking up dust in front of
Abby and causing Moon Racer to back away. Two
more shots followed, and the stallion reared, his
eyes wide with fright.

Without thinking, Jonah rushed to her and lifted
her off the horse. He shoved her toward a nearby
oak, then pressed her against the trunk, shielding
her with his body.

He lightly touched her shoulder. "Don't move."

She tried to squirm away from him, but his grip
tightened. "I have to get my rifle."

He unsnapped his holster flap and drew his gun.
"You aren't going anywhere. Whoever fired those
shots is either a bad shot, or he was aiming at you.
He shot too wide to be aiming at me."

Another shot rang out near Moon Racer, and
Abby watched helplessly as the giant horse backed
away. "Jonah," she cried, "they want to shoot my
horse. I have to do something to help him!"

Another shot rang out, and the roan shied, tossing
his head in defiance.

She frantically cried out, pushing against Jonah's
chest. "Don't you understand-he won't leave me!
He'll stay until they kill him!"

His grip on her tightened. "Abby, listen to me. I
don't think the rifleman is trying to hit the horse. It
appears he only wants to frighten it, or maybe draw
you out. I am not going to let you be a target." He tensed, his attention on the next hill over, where he
saw the sun reflecting off the barrel of a rifle. His
keen sight picked up the dust from at least one rider.

"Let me go," she said, wiggling against him,
trying to slide past his body.

"Don't move." He pressed his body tighter
against hers. "He's still out there."

"I can't just do nothing while he shoots Moon
Racer. What kind of twisted person would want to
hurt a helpless animal?"

"If we knew the who, we might know the why."
He glanced down at her. "Do you have any enemies
you know of?"

"Not anyone who would want to kill me."

The man must have reloaded, because shots rang
out again; this time Moon Racer edged closer to
Abby.

Jonah glanced down at her. "I'm going to have to
shoot close to Moon Racer to make him leave. He's
too easy a target."

She nodded, trusting his aim. "Do it quickly."

Jonah turned slightly so he could take better aim
and shot three quick rounds near the stallion's front
legs, but still the animal would not leave. Jonah
aimed closer, and the stallion reared on his hind
legs, his front legs pawing at the air. Another shot
from Jonah's gun sent him galloping away.

Abby held her breath until she saw him at the top
of a hill, and then he disappeared safely behind it.

Her legs felt so limp they could scarcely bear her
weight, and she collapsed against Jonah.

He grimly studied her face. "We can't leave until
we know the gunman is gone."

Jonah arched to removed bullets from his belt,
and his body ground against her. She caught her
breath as he loaded the pistol, suddenly feeling the
heat of his body. She felt the wall she had erected
around her feelings begin to crack and crumble. She
moved her head the merest bit to rest her cheek
against the roughness of his jacket. "I've never had
anyone shoot at me before," she managed to say.