Moon Racer (17 page)

She lowered her head and her hair fell forward,
masking her face. One black boot came into view.
"You are blocking my light," she mumbled as her
hand flew across the tablet, making bold strokes.

He moved to her other side and crouched down
beside her. "What have you done to your hair?" he
asked with quiet intensity.

She allowed herself to look at him only at chin
level. "I asked Glory to cut it for me."

He reached out and took a black strand and
tucked it behind her ear, suddenly tormented by the
thought that she had cut her hair to please Grant. He
tilted her chin up and looked at her closely. "I like
it. But I'll miss that saucy little braid."

She ducked her head and reminded herself to
concentrate on her drawing and not on the
thundering of her heart.

"Let me see what you are doing." He took the
pad from her and studied it, then flipped back to
other pages and marveled at her talent. "You are
good, Abby. You captured Moon Racer's muscles,
and you managed to make horsehair look real
enough to touch."

She felt uncomfortable under his praise and
wished he would just go away so she could breathe
again. "I always draw when I'm irritated." She
raised her gaze to his. "Or when I'm mad."

He watched her eyes flame with indignation.
"Who has made you angry, Abby?"

"Quince. He wouldn't let me go with them to
search for the mustangs. He thinks I would be in
danger just because someone shot at Moon Racer."

His fingers slid through her silken hair, but when
he realized what he was doing, he pulled them away
and reached into his inside pocket. "That's
irrelevant now, Abby." He handed her the telegram.
"This came this afternoon. The mustangs have been
found."

She read it quickly, but the sentences were short
and choppy and made little sense to her. "What
does it all mean?"

"A man called Buddy Pratt, who apparently
helped rustle the horses, was caught trying to sell
them in Scurry County," he told her, filling in the
blanks. "Pratt admitted that the horses had come
from the Half-Moon, so he was arrested. I think
Quince should send someone to Scurry County to
drive the horses back and question this Pratt."

She stood up slowly, and he stood with her.
"Jonah, you did this for us, didn't you?"

"It wasn't difficult. I have the resources to reach
out to the authorities all over the state. It was
Quince who mentioned that whoever took the
horses would probably try to sell them. It was just a
question of waiting and having others keep watch."

He was near enough that she could reach out and
touch him if she wanted to, and she did want to.
"You have helped my family once again, and I
don't know how to thank you."

He smiled slowly, that devastating smile that
turned her insides to a quivering mass.

"You could reward me by giving me that picture
of Moon Racer, and we'll call it even."

Her eyelashes swept upward, and she perused his
face discreetly, trying to gauge this new and lighter
mood. This was a side of him she had never seen
before, and she had no defense against it. She
nodded and handed him her sketchbook. "Take the
whole thing. I have others."

He laughed and tucked it under his arm. "One
day, when your talent is hailed by one and all, and
you are famous the world over, people will beg me
for these drawings."

She carelessly brushed her hair out of her face,
and her laughter joined his. "Thank you for what
you did about the mustangs. Only a friend would go
to so much trouble."

"Am I your friend, Abby?" His tone deepened.
"Am I?"

"Yes," she admitted. "A good friend."

He stared at her for a moment. More had changed
about her than her hair. There were other subtle
differences. She was still wearing those damned
trousers, but she looked more feminine somehow.
She was so small, he wanted to protect her. He
wanted to make her days happy and her nights-

"I was on my way to tell Quince about the
mustangs, and I thought I would detour to tell you
first. I know how distressed you have been about
the horses."

"Will you be coming back to stay with us?" she
asked, hope creeping into her voice.

He nodded. "I would like to very much, if it's not
too much trouble."

"You'll always be welcome with us."

"Then I'll take you up on your offer tomorrow
night. I don't want to be seen too often in town.
Certain people are starting to notice and ask
questions."

"Consider Matt's room yours anytime you want
it."

"Matt is the only one of your brothers I don't
know. What is he like?"

She thought about Matt, who had been wild in his
youth, and had always been in trouble. Of course
she would not say this to Jonah. "I think Matt took
our mother's death even harder than the rest of us."
She smiled up at him. "I miss him so much. I just
want our family together again."

"Family is important." He took a long breath. "I
have to leave now if I'm going to ride by the
Diamond C and tell Quince about the horses.
Afterward I have something to do in Diablo."

"Jonah, what can you be doing in town that you
don't want people to know about? Everyone is
talking about you."

"There isn't anything I can say at this time." He
was anxious to tell her about the cattle ranch he had bought, but instead he said, "I'll see you when I get
back."

Kane was skulking about in the shadows, watching
the major and Miss Hunter. He liked nothing better
than to torment Edmund with tales about the young
Hunter gal and the army officer. He might even
embellish some when he explained today's situation
to the banker. In truth, nothing had happened
between those two that could be considered
intimate, not as he understood intimacy. But
Edmund didn't have to know that.

He watched Major Tremain ride away, and
shortly thereafter the woman left, too. He waited a
bit until she was out of sight before he mounted his
horse and rode to the tree stump where she had been
drawing.

He dismounted, smiling. The two of them must
have had something else on their minds, because
they'd left the telegram behind. He read it quickly
and then frowned, wadding it in his fist. He hadn't
expected the telegram to concern him-he was
getting careless.

He had little doubt that the Hunter brothers would
make tracks for Scurry County; he would have to
get there ahead of them and permanently shut
Pratt's mouth.

Frances was kneading bread dough when Abby
walked into the kitchen, still wearing her trousers.
"Don't tell me you're wearing that garb to the dance
tonight."

Abby opened a jar, removed a pickle, and bit into
it. "Since you asked so politely, you might like to
know I'm wearing one of Glory's gowns."

The housekeeper wiped her floured hands on a
dish towel. "I'm glad you decided to cut your hair."

It had been three days since Glory had cut her
hair, and it had taken Frances this long to mention
it. "Do you really like it?"

"I surely do, and you know it. And I'm glad you've
decided to go to the dance with Grant. He's such a
nice young man." Frances watched Abby's face
closely as she said, "The major came in with Quince today. He's going to stay a couple more days. But
he rode off, saying he had a meeting with someone
in Diablo."

"Did he say if he would be going to the dance
tonight?"

"He didn't mention it to me," Frances answered.
"But then why should he? I ain't going."

"I didn't really want to go to the dance myself.
But Grant left me no choice. I'm not sure how
everyone will react to my being there," Abby
admitted, remembering painful times when she had
been all but ignored. "If you had a son, would you
want him to dance with me?"

"If I had a son, I'd be proud to have you for my
daughter-in-law."

"I'm not going to marry anyone-it's merely a
dance."

"And it's about time you had some fun." Frances
looked Abby over, and her voice softened. "When
those hateful women whisper behind your back,
they'll only be jealous, because you'll be the
prettiest one there."

"I don't think they will be commenting on how I
look."

"Seeing you standing there with the light shining
on you, it strikes me how much you favor your
ma's picture."

"Why do people always say that to me? Mama
was beautiful, and I'm certainly not."

"Because you not only have her inner beauty,
you also have her features," her father said, entering
the kitchen and lingering in the doorway.

Abby gave him a half smile. Sometimes, like
now, she caught an expression on his face as if he
were asking for some small show of affection and
kindness, so she moved forward and put her arm
around his shoulder. "How was your day, Papa?"

"Busy, as always," he said, hugging her to him,
then releasing her almost too quickly.

"Jack," Frances said gruffly, pointing one doughcovered finger at him, "if you don't keep that dog
out of my kitchen, I'll be serving you dog meat
stew one of these nights."

He laughed, something he had rarely done since
he came home from prison. "I can't make that
hound do anything. He's useless and a pest." He
winked at Abby. "But I guess I'm stuck with him,
and he's stuck with me."

Abby took another bite of pickle and moved to
the back door. "When Glory gets here, tell her I'm
in the stable with Quince."

Quince was hunched near one of the mares, with
her foreleg resting on his knee. He glanced at his
sister when she approached. "She's been limping,
and it looks like she picked up a stone." He ran his
pocketknife around the horseshoe and nodded in
satisfaction when the offending object popped out.
"That should do it. Make sure you tell Navidad not
to let anyone ride her for a few days; it looks like
she's got a slight bruise."

Abby bent down to hold the mare's leg while he
applied ointment. "Did you get the horses back?"

"Curly and Red just sent word that they found
them. They said the mustangs were skin and bones,
and we would probably lose some on the drive
back." He screwed the cap back on the ointment
and stood. "It's a funny thing-Jonah got word that
the man who helped rustle the mustangs was found
dead in his cell in Scurry County. Someone shot
him right though the bars of the jail."

"Who would do such a thing?" Abby asked in
horror, standing and giving the mare a comforting
pat.

"Someone who didn't want him to talk to the
sheriff, I should think," Quince told her.

"It's a fine thing that Jonah has done for this
family. I don't know why I didn't like him when we
first met."

"I don't understand it either." He watched her
closely. "Have you started training that mare to the
sidesaddle?"

"I... have been gentling her down first and
gaining her confidence." She couldn't tell Quince
that the thought of training a horse for the woman
Jonah was to marry was extremely painful for her.

"Don't let yourself care about Jonah too much,
Abby," he said with a brother's insight into his
sister's feelings. "Jonah will marry that woman in
Pennsylvania, and I don't want you to get hurt."

She knew it was already too late for his warning.
"I'll start saddle training the mare Monday."

Quince nodded. "Patricia Van Dere and Jonah's
pa will be arriving in Diablo in two weeks' time.
He'll want the mare trained by then."

"Don't worry about me. I'm a Hunter, and
everyone knows Hunters are uncrushable."

The lunch hour found Grant and the Hunter family
members gathered around the kitchen table.

"Abby," Grant remarked with his fork halfway to
his mouth, "why did you cut your pretty hair?"

"She didn't," Quince spoke up.-"My wife here is
the culprit."

"I like it," Crystal said. "Don't you, Brent?"

Both her brothers looked their sister over.
"Yeah," Brent said at last. "But I liked it the other
way better."

Quince agreed with a nod until Glory jabbed him
in the ribs with her elbow. "It's just that you don't
like change."

Quince smiled down at his wife. "I like you just
the way you are, and my sister was all right before
you cut her hair, too."

"It makes Abby look too old," Brent said, adding
his assessment.

Abby bent toward him. "I am old, Brent. Frances
keeps telling me that most women my age are
already married."

"Not all," Crystal injected. "Melinda, the mancrazed Barton, is still single."

"Abby is just fine the way she is," Brent said with
certainty, knowing his wife's barbs had been meant
for him because Melinda had once had her eye on
him as a potential husband.

Crystal rolled her eyes and looked at Glory. "They
want to keep Abby as their baby sister forever."

Grant quietly watched the happy banter among the
family, his gaze straying to Abby's face. He had
often wished that he could be a part of this family.
He had never had much of a family life himself,
since his pa had died and his ma left him to be raised
by his aunt Dora. Now his aunt was dead, and he
didn't know where his ma was. For three years he
had severed all ties with Diablo. He watched Abby's
face light up with laughter. If she would have him for
a husband, he would become a part of this family.