The Horseman's Bride (14 page)

Stepping back, Annie looked her up and down. “You’re as beautiful as ever, dear. But something…” Her thoughtful gray eyes narrowed slightly. “Something’s different. Never mind, we’ll talk later.” She turned back to Hannah, who swept her into the house, chatting all the way. Quint and Daniel trailed behind with the bags while Judd drove the buggy back to the barn to unhitch the horses.

A little before lunchtime, Mary arrived to join them. More than a year had passed since she’d last seen her second daughter, and they had a world of catching up to do. But from time to time, as the two of them chatted on the parlor sofa, Mary’s wise blue eyes flickered across the room to her granddaughter, and Clara knew she was thinking about the man in the cabin and the fearful secret they shared.

At Rosa’s summons, everyone gathered in the dining room and took their seats. Judd sat at the head of the big family table with Hannah at the foot and the others arranged along the sides. As luck would have it, Clara found herself seated directly across from Quint. An unaccustomed shyness crept over her as she sensed the warmth in his gaze. She had adored him all her life—her laughing, loving, indulgent uncle Quint. He’d been
her confidant, her comforter, her partner in fun and mischief. She’d always been aware that she held a special place in his heart, but until a few days ago, she hadn’t understood why.

Now that she knew, she couldn’t meet his eyes.

After a brief moment of grace, they began the ritual of food passing and small talk. Rosa had been cooking for the ranch for as long as Clara could remember. Her pot roast was tender enough to cut with a fork. The carrots, potatoes and gravy melted in the mouth, and the salad was crisp with freshly picked lettuce from the garden. Everyone was so hungry that conversation stilled for the first few minutes of the meal. Then Quint tapped his knife lightly on the side of his glass, bringing the family to attention.

“If you’ll excuse the interruption, I have an announcement to make.” He was beaming from ear to ear. A pink-cheeked Annie was staring down at her plate. “I know some of you thought this might never happen, but in about six more months, God willing, there’s going to be a new little Seavers in the family!”

There was a hush of surprise, then everyone seemed to be talking at once, filling the room with sounds of laughter and congratulations. Hannah sprang out of her chair to rush around the table and hug her sister. Judd was raising his glass in an informal toast to his brother. Only Clara remained silent—thrilled, of course, but stunned as the realization struck her. She would be both a cousin and a half sister to Quint and Annie’s child—
as closely related as she was to Daniel and Katy. That idea would take some getting used to.

“We didn’t know about the baby till after we got off the boat in New York,” Quint explained. “We thought Annie’s queasy stomach was just seasickness. But when it hadn’t gone away after three days on land we went to a doctor.” He reached for his wife’s hand. “What a surprise! We were bowled over!”

“That’s why we decided to return to San Francisco,” Annie said. “We both wanted to be where I could get good care and plenty of rest.”

“And speaking of rest,” Quint added, “this little mother-to-be is under orders to lie down and take a nap as soon as lunch is finished. When she’s bright eyed again, we’ll unpack and you can open the presents we brought you.”

Only after the last crumb of apple pie had been finished, the dishes cleared away and Annie settled in the guest room did Clara get a chance to talk with Quint alone. She hadn’t planned it that way. She’d stepped out onto the front porch for some air when he came outside to stand at the rail beside her, gazing across the yard.

“It always feels good, coming home,” he said. “Your father’s done a fine job with this place, better than I would’ve done if I’d stuck around.”

“His whole life is here on this ranch, with his family,” Clara said. “And now you’ll have a family of your own. I’m so happy for you and Aunt Annie.”

He took her arm, lightly guiding her down the steps. “Let’s take a walk. When I tucked her in, Annie said
she’d noticed something different about you. Maybe it’s just that you’ve grown up. But if it’s something you feel like sharing, here I am.”

Now’s the time
, Clara thought.
Just say it. Five words—I know you’re my father
.

But her throat choked around the words, and she couldn’t make herself say them. Maybe later, but not yet.

Quint was angling their path toward the barn. “Why don’t you show me your horses? That chestnut yearling I saw last time showed a lot of promise—what was it you named him?”

A lot of promise
. Clara ached, remembering. “Foxfire. He was a beauty. But we lost him just a few days ago.”

“Damn it, I’m sorry. Rotten luck.”

Knowing Quint would want the whole story, she told him about Katy’s escapade and the tragic accident in the bog.

“Poor, fool kid,” he muttered. “I’m guessing she was pretty broken up.”

“It could’ve been much worse, of course. Katy could have been hurt, even killed. But Grandma’s hired man caught up with them and yanked her out of the saddle just before the colt went down.”

Clara gave herself a mental slap. She hadn’t planned on mentioning Tanner, but it was too late to bite her tongue. Now Quint would be curious. And being a reporter, he wouldn’t back off until he knew all there was to know. The trouble was, there was so much she couldn’t tell him.

“The hired man caught up with that colt?” Quint asked. “What the devil was he riding?”

“He had an amazing stallion, a Thoroughbred. I talked him into staying long enough for his horse to breed my mares. If it took, we should have some great foals next summer.”

“I wouldn’t mind meeting this fellow. Seems odd that a man doing menial work would own such a valuable horse.”

“I’m afraid he’s gone. He left last night.” She was telling him too much, Clara knew. But Quint would likely ask Mary about the man she’d hired. It wouldn’t do to get caught in a lie.

“Why would he just up and leave? Was he in some kind of trouble?”

Clara shrugged, feeling as if she’d just stepped into quicksand and was sinking deeper with every word. “He was a drifter. I don’t think he ever meant to stay long.”

“I see.” Quint’s handsome features were creased in a scowl. Groping for some distraction, Clara flung out the first question that came to mind.

“Uncle Quint, how do you know when you’re in love?”

He stared at her, then burst into a chuckle. “So it’s that old question, is it? Annie was right. There
is
something different about you! So, are you going to tell me about him?”

Clara shook her head. “Not yet. Not until I know what’s going to happen.”

Quint laid gentle hands on her shoulders, turning her
to face him. “But is he good for you? Because if he isn’t I’ll whip him within an inch of his life. You know what I’d do to anyone who tried to hurt you.”

“He’d never hurt me.”

“But do you love him, girl? Lord, you’re so young.”

“I’m almost twenty. And you haven’t answered my question. How do you know when you’re in love?”

“Why are you asking an old fogy like me?” Quint teased. “What makes you think I’d know?”

“You love Aunt Annie. I can tell by the way you look at her.”

And you loved my mother once—at least, I hope you did
. The words trembled on Clara’s tongue but the courage to give them voice failed her again.

Quint studied her, his eyes narrowing. “I can tell you this much about love—when it’s real, you won’t feel the need to question it. And I can tell you something else. The heart’s a tender thing, sweet girl. It’s all too easily broken. But it can heal. Believe me, I know.”

They resumed their walk, laughing as they parted to step around both sides of a big rain puddle. Clara was lost in thought. Had Quint’s own heart been broken when Hannah chose to stay with Judd instead of marrying the man who’d sired her child? Was that what he was trying to tell her?

They had reached the shadows of the open barn. The two mares were dozing in their stalls, tired, perhaps, after last night’s romp in the paddock. Clara thought of the stallion locked in Mary’s barn and the dangerous errand she planned for tonight. Would she be able to get
away without being seen? Would she find Tanner safe at the cabin?

How could she say goodbye to him, knowing it would be forever?

“What if I told you I
knew
I was in love? What sort of advice would you offer me then, wise Uncle Quint?” Clara spoke in a teasing tone, but her question was a serious one.

He was silent for a moment, thinking. “First, ask yourself if he’s really the one. If the answer’s yes, then give it your all. Fight for him, if you have to. Love him with all your heart. You may get that heart broken, but if you do, you’ll be stronger and wiser for it, and ready for the next time.” He quirked one eyebrow. “Not quite the advice you’d expect from your stodgy old uncle, is it?”

“Not what I’d expect from a different sort of uncle. But from you…somehow it fits.”

“Just don’t tell your parents what I said. They’d ride me out on a rail.” He gave her a conspiratorial wink.

Clara felt a surge of warmth. Whatever had happened twenty years ago, she knew Quint cared deeply for her. Maybe if she told him everything he might help her, or at least cover for her while she took the stallion back up the mountain.

Weighing the idea for a moment, she decided against it. If she were to tell Quint about her secret plan, his desire to help her would come up against his need to keep her safe. In the end, his desire to protect her would most likely win out, and he would go to her parents. She
didn’t dare tell him. Until Tanner was safely gone, she didn’t dare tell anyone but Mary. And even Mary didn’t know all of it.

How was she going to manage tonight? So many things could go wrong. What if she couldn’t find a safe time to slip away? What if her family discovered her missing and telephoned the marshal? What if her grandmother became concerned and spilled the whole story?

She’d told Quint she was in love. That much could work in her favor. If her absence was discovered, he’d likely assume she’d stolen out for a rendezvous. Hopefully he’d be able to reassure the family that she was safe—unless he got into a serious conversation with Mary and figured out where she’d really gone. Would he remember his advice then, how he’d told her to give herself over to love? Would he condemn her for following it?

“You’re awfully quiet,” Quint commented as they strolled back to the house. “What’s going on inside that pretty head of yours?”

“Just thinking about your advice.” Clara gave him a smile, imagining what Quint would say if he could read her jumbled thoughts.

A week ago her life had seemed so simple. Now she was drowning in a deluge of unanswered questions.

B
y the time Clara dared to leave the house, it was almost midnight. Mary had gone home after supper. Katy, Daniel and the women had retired by ten o’clock, but Judd and Quint had stayed up playing cards and visiting until the clock struck eleven. Lying awake, Clara had heard the familiar thud of their boots dropping to the floor. Even after that, she’d waited a very long hour before slipping into her clothes and stealing down the stairs.

By the time she returned, she was liable to be in a great deal of trouble. But as long as Tanner got away safely, nothing else mattered.

She’d left Tarboy loose in the paddock, but before she could ride him, she needed to get the saddle and bridle out of the tack room. Taking a route that couldn’t be seen from the house, she circled the yard and entered the far end of the barn. Earlier she’d stuffed a flour sack with provisions from the kitchen and hidden it under
the clean straw. Loading everything in her arms, she carried it out to the paddock.

The well-trained cow pony came at her whistle. A few minutes later she was in the saddle and headed across the fields to her grandmother’s place.

Tonight, the moon was waning, its fullness marred by a razor-thin shadow along its west side. The stars were icy pinpoints in the clear black sky, the breeze erratic and gusty, like the breath of a wounded animal. Clara felt the tension as she rode—in the night, in her horse and in herself. Nothing she could see or hear seemed out of place. But her instincts told her some danger was afoot.

She tried to dismiss the feeling as she rode into the farmyard. Mary’s house was dark and quiet, as was the barn. The two geldings drowsed in the corral, their breathing deep and even. Everything seemed fine.

Dismounting, she led Tarboy into the barn. Galahad nickered softly as they came inside. Clara had thought out this part of her plan carefully. She would saddle the stallion to ride up the mountain, with Tarboy on a lead rope. If trouble threatened, she could turn the black gelding loose and have the advantage of Galahad’s speed. Tarboy knew the trail and could find his way home.

But nothing was going to happen, Clara reassured herself. She’d been careful. She’d checked again and again to make sure no one was following her. All she had to do was get the horse to Tanner, kiss him goodbye and ride home. What happened after that would be up
to Tanner. He would be beyond her help, beyond her reach.

How could she learn to live with that—never hearing from him, not knowing whether he was safe, or even alive?

Still on foot, she led the two horses through the shadows, into the orchard. When they’d reached the far side and emerged in the open, Clara took a moment to scan the moonlit landscape. Seeing nothing, she mounted Galahad and headed toward the foothills at an easy lope.

Skirting the bog to where the trail began to climb, she slowed the pace to a walk. She was in a hurry to reach the cabin, but she couldn’t arrive with exhausted horses or chance a slip on the muddy trail.

Uncertainty gnawed at Clara as she rode. She’d laid out her plan, taking every precaution. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right. Maybe she should turn around and go back. She hesitated, then decided against it. If she didn’t get to the cabin, she’d be leaving Tanner stranded. He’d be faced with the risk of hiking back to the farm to get his horse. She had little choice except to keep moving up the trail.

She could only pray he’d be there, safe and waiting for her when she arrived.

Jace stood in the shadow of the moonlit porch, ears straining to catch every sound. After three months of running for his life, he’d developed the instincts of a
hunted animal. The swish of a branch, the nicker of a horse, anything out of place would be enough to set his nerves on edge. But tonight he wasn’t listening for danger. He was listening for Clara.

With the whole day to wait, he’d spent far too much time thinking about her—remembering last night and the feel of her trembling against him, the baby softness of her skin, the smell of her, the taste of her juices as his tongue brought her to shattering climax.

Damn!
He’d wanted her then. He wanted her now, under him in the bed, her legs clasping his hips, her breath coming in hot gasps as he slid into that wet sweetness, thrusting deep, again and again.

But he wanted more than that. He wanted a lifetime with her. He wanted to wake up to that beautiful face every morning for the rest of his days, to show her the world, to build a loving home together and fill it with their children.

He could have it all, Jace reminded himself. Everything he wanted was within his reach. But the price he would have to pay, even for a lifetime with Clara, was unthinkable.

Tonight, whatever happened, he would say goodbye to her and ride away. And no matter how he might want to, he wouldn’t look back. This flicker of time together was all they would ever have.

Faint on the wind, he heard the snort of a horse, then another. His pulse leaped, but he suppressed the impulse to rush into the open. The cabin had been here a long time. People in the community, including
McCabe, would almost certainly know about it. Anybody could be coming up that trail.

The cabin was dark, the fire out. Jace slipped back into the trees and waited, scarcely daring to breathe as the horses approached. His pulse raced as they came closer. He was armed, but he had no desire to kill innocent people. And if he had to outrun mounted riders with guns, he wouldn’t stand a chance of getting away.

The trees moved. Jace’s knees buckled with relief as Clara appeared in the clearing, riding the stallion and leading her black pony. She reined up, staring at the darkened cabin. A sob broke from her throat. The sound of it tore at Jace’s heart.

“Here I am, Clara.” He stepped into sight, speaking softly.

She made a little broken sound. Then she was out of the saddle, plunging through the trees to fling herself into his arms.

He held her tightly for a moment, kissing her mouth, her cheeks, her eyes, knowing all the while what had to be done. “Are you sure you weren’t followed?” he asked her.

“I didn’t see or hear anyone. If I had I wouldn’t have come.”

“We don’t have much time,” he said. “I need to be well away from here before daylight, and you need to get home.”

“I know,” she murmured against the hollow of his throat. “I wish things could be different.”

“So do I. But we have to accept reality. I can’t stay.”

Her arms tightened around him. “I love you, Tanner,” she said. “I’ll never love anyone else.”

Jace swallowed the tightness in his throat. He felt the same way, but telling her would only make things harder. “Don’t say that. Someday you’ll meet someone else—the right someone, God willing. You’ll get married, have a family and forget all about me.”

“No—I’ll never forget you.” She was fighting sobs now. “I’ll wait for you. You can send for me if you get to someplace safe, like Mexico or South America. Wherever you are, I’ll come—”

“Stop it, Clara.” The words sounded harsher than he’d meant them to. “That’s no kind of life for you. I have to leave. I have to leave
now
, and you have to return home. That’s all there is to it.”

She drew back, looking as if he’d slapped her. Her jaw tightened. Her nostrils flared slightly as her temper rose. “Fine!” she snapped. “I’m not going to get on my knees and beg you. Go, if that’s what you want to do. Just go!”

She spun away from him, her spine rigid with hurt pride. This was what he’d angled for, Jace reminded himself as he gathered his gear off the porch and carried it to the waiting Galahad. He’d been deliberately cold, knowing an angry parting would be easier for them both, even though he was bound to hurt like hell later on.

As he lashed his bedroll into place, he could feel the pain radiating from her like the heat of a fire.
Go!
he told himself.
Staying won’t make it hurt any less. Just go!

He put a boot in the stirrup, eased his leg over the horse’s back and sank onto the saddle. When Clara didn’t turn around, he swung the stallion toward an overgrown trail he’d scouted earlier, one that appeared to lead up the canyon and over the ridge.
Get it over with
, he told himself.
Let it end, once and for all
.

Lord help him, dying couldn’t be much worse than this.

Clara turned her head in time to watch him start up the trail. Her heart felt as if she’d just taken a shotgun blast to the chest. How could she say goodbye this way, sending him off in anger? What if the words she’d just spoken were the last ones he ever heard from her lips?

Anguish welled in her, building until she could stand no more of it.

“Tanner!”

The cry ripped from her throat. He must have heard her. But would it make any difference? Would he stop and turn around or would he just keep riding until she lost sight of him?

Scarcely breathing, she stared at his proud shoulders. He’d halted the horse, but even at a distance, she could sense his inner struggle. Just when he’d finally managed to tear himself away, she’d called him back.

If he didn’t turn around, she would wish herself dead.

Seconds crawled past before he moved, turning, his body and the horse in one motion. If he came back to her, she would have to let him go again, Clara knew. But this time it would be with her love and support.

He dismounted, leaving the horse next to the cabin. Only then, as he walked toward her did she see the torment in his eyes. She rushed toward him, stumbling as she flung herself into his arms.

He caught her and crushed her close, his mouth brutal with need. Her response flared like tinder, flaming downward into her belly, then downward further still. She returned his kiss, her hands furrowing his hair, her body melting into his. This time there would be no holding back. She was his woman, and there was nothing she wouldn’t give him. She wouldn’t let him leave until he’d claimed nothing less than all of her.

Scooping her up in his arms, he mounted the porch and carried her in through the front door. Clara heard the click of the bolt as the darkness closed around them. She clung to him in a fever of yearning, wanting his hands on her, his mouth on her, his flesh thrusting hard into her pulsing core.

Tonight there was no need for talk and no time for preliminaries. A button broke loose and bounced across the floor as she tore at the front of his shirt. By the time he’d laid her none too gently on the bed, he was already yanking her belt buckle open. The boots came next, thudding to the floor, with her jeans sliding down her legs to fly after them.

He took a moment to remove his gun belt and lay it on a nearby chair. Then, still dressed, he straddled her with his knees, leaned over her and worked her blouse open down the front.

Arching upward for his kiss, she pulled him down
to her. His mouth devoured her, lips grazing her breasts as his hand ranged downward to her belly, then to her dripping cleft. She bucked against his fingers, wanting that sweet sensation, wanting it all.

He muttered half-mouthed curses as he kissed the flat of her belly, then shifted to move downward. Seeing what he intended, she checked him with a touch. Her hands groped for his belt buckle and wrenched it undone. He groaned as she fumbled with the buttons, but he didn’t stop her. There was no stopping either of them now.

“I want you inside me, Tanner,” she whispered.

Without a word, he shifted off the bed long enough to shove his jeans and drawers off his hips and let them fall over his boots. Through the small, high window, a shaft of moonlight outlined his taut body and jutting arousal. He wouldn’t undress all the way—with the chance of danger afoot, that wouldn’t be smart. But to Clara that didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except that she would be his.

Moving from the foot of the bed, he pushed forward. Ready and eager, her legs parted to welcome him. “I love you,” she whispered into the darkness.

“And I love you, too, Clara. Wherever life takes you, remember that.” He leaned forward and kissed her, lingeringly, tenderly. She could feel his drumming pulse, hear the low rasp of his breathing. His fingers stroked her, parting the moist folds and opening the way. She felt an intimate push, a pause; then, in one forceful stroke, he entered her.

She felt the slight tearing, but the pain was lost in the wonder of having him inside her. The sensation of fullness was exquisite. She moaned, raising her hips, deepening the penetration. “Yes…” she breathed.

Gently at first, he began to thrust, his shaft gliding in and out along the sensitive inner surfaces that sheathed him like a glove. The pressure triggered iridescent sparks that shimmered through her body like fiery little rainbows.

Her hips arched upward, pressing against him, matching her strokes to his. Her hands clawed his shoulders as the sensations mounted. He was breathing hard, rasping like a stallion as his loving carried her toward the brink of something she couldn’t even imagine. She gasped—and then suddenly she was there, bursting like a rocket against a black sky. Again and again the tremors took her. Then Tanner shuddered in her arms. She felt the jerk of his body, the sudden spurt of wetness, and then they lay in a quiet embrace, spent and drifting.

“We have to go now, love.”

His voice startled Clara as she snuggled against his chest. Her heart plummeted. It couldn’t be time. Not already.

“You have to get home before daybreak. And I have to get out of here.” Easing her from his arms, Tanner sat up and lowered his boots to the floor. Getting dressed again took him mere seconds.

Clara’s hands fumbled with her shirt buttons. Her
eyes stared at him in dismay as he buckled on his gun belt. She’d promised herself she’d be brave, but their time together had been so short and so precious; and now it was almost over.

“What if I find out I’m with child?” she asked him. “Isn’t there some way I can let you know?”

He shook his head. “I’m sorry, but there won’t be any way to keep in touch. And if we do have a child, it’ll be better if the poor little mite doesn’t know his father. Make up some pretty story. Any story you want.”