Western Spring Weddings

by Lynna Banning

  This being his first time here since his release from prison, Gabe surveyed the dusty town while Riley shopped. Although the trees had grown, the place looked much the same as when he’d left—a handful of wooden buildings built for purpose rather than beauty. A few were whitewashed. He figured that would ward off the heat from the strong sun once summer arrived, but now the spring rains made the oaks that shaded the town look green and inviting—as inviting as a town could be so long as you weren’t a convict or an Indian.

  Riley swished past the doorway holding something draped over her arm. She sure had matured into a striking woman. The blue dress she wore brought to mind the feel of her small waist when he had helped her into the wagon. She might be older, but she wasn’t much bigger than a mite and that hadn’t changed.

  “Here now!” a man bellowed. “I see what you’re doing. You get on outta here!”

  Gabe straightened in the seat and listened.

  Brody stormed out. An angry expression twisted his face and his hands were clenched. He took hold of the wagon and hauled himself up, climbing into the back with the travel cases.

  Gabe’s first thought was for Riley. Was she all right?

  He jumped down and strode to the doorway. Riley stood at the counter paying for her items. Her cheeks were stained a deep pink. She and the shopkeeper appeared to be the only ones in the store. Gabe headed inside to help with her packages.

  The stout owner, a man in his forties with gray streaks in his wavy dark hair, moved sideways a step and reached out to let one hand settle on a rifle propped in the corner. “No Injuns allowed. Especially murderin’ ones.”

  So word had hightailed it through town about him. “I don’t want trouble. I work at the Golden R and I’m just here to help Miss Rawlins with her packages,” he said cautiously. He had no idea whether she was a miss or a missus, but now wasn’t the time to ask.

  On hearing the name Rawlins, the shopkeeper looked closer at Riley.

  Gabe took that moment to heft the box under one arm. “All set?”

  She nodded, a bit flustered, and headed for the wagon.

  Gabe set his jaw and followed her. He had earned his freedom. The owner had a right to do business with whoever he wanted, but Gabe had done his time. He would make sure to use the small store in Santa Ysabel from now on rather than come back here. He sure didn’t want any of his trouble rubbing off on Riley...or Mr. Rawlins for that matter. He’d come to realize no one else in the valley would have hired an ex-convict and although he didn’t like being grateful to Frank Rawlins considering their past history, he was beholden to him for the job.

  He deposited the box in the back of the wagon. Brody sat there with his arm draped over his luggage. The boy darted a look at him that said to leave him alone. Gabe wondered what had happened in the store but figured it was better to keep quiet. It wasn’t any of his business. He helped Riley onto the wooden seat, then walked around the flatbed and climbed up. He glanced sideways at her. She sat prim and proper, her gloved hands in her lap, looking straight ahead, her cheeks still aflame from whatever had happened in the store.

  He snapped the reins and turned the horses toward the road that led out of town. “Sorry about that back there,” he muttered. He wasn’t apologizing for the storekeeper’s attitude or his own past...just that Riley had to be buffeted by any of it.

  They rode in silence until the town was nothing but a speck the size of a flea behind them. About the time he began to relax, the wagon jostled over an uneven patch and his leg rubbed against hers—rough denim against heavy cotton. Tingles scattered from his hip down to his knee. He moved over a mite at the same time that she tucked her skirt beneath her thigh and scooted away from him. It wasn’t long, however, before the jostling of the wagon had them touching again. He tried to keep himself from thinking on it. Riley adjusted the folds of her dark blue dress, first one way and then another, several times. He began to think that maybe she was as uncomfortable at being thrown together as he was.

  “This is my first trip back since...” She pressed her lips together. “Never mind. It’s not important. Has the ranch changed much?”

  “Some.” He didn’t miss the quick corralling of her thoughts. The sound of her voice brought back a multitude of memories he didn’t need to be thinking about now. She looked a bit wilted, what with all the traveling she had been doing. Wearing that fancy dress, she sure didn’t look like the Riley he remembered—especially with the bonnet. The Riley he knew had worn a Stetson. And if he remembered correctly, after she’d outgrown pinafores, she had stubbornly held out for split skirts instead of dresses so she could ride astride. That had caused some friction between her and her mother. He snorted softly to himself...friction was too pleasant a word for the tension he felt coming from her direction at the moment. She sure wasn’t acting anything like the Riley he remembered.

  The buckboard jostled—a quick violent jerk as the wheel rolled into and then out of an unavoidable rut in the road. Taken unaware, Riley suddenly gripped his thigh for support. “Oh, my!” she gasped, and then immediately let go.

  He yanked at his neckerchief, loosening it up some. Day was getting hot.

  “What do you do at the ranch?” Brody asked.

  So the boy could talk. Had to be an improvement over the dagger looks he’d been firing. “Everything. Cutting, roping, branding, riding fence.”

  “You ride a fence?” Brody repeated sarcastically.

  Didn’t the boy know anything about ranching? “Ride along the fence line to make sure no wire or posts are down. If they are, I fix them. Can’t have cattle getting through.”

  “Think Grandfather will make me do that?”

  Gabe couldn’t speak for Rawlins and he wouldn’t try.

  “Not at first,” Riley answered. “First you’ll have to learn to ride. And before that you’ll need to learn something about the horses. He won’t want you near them otherwise.”

  That stopped Gabe. Riley’s son not knowing how to ride? “How old are you, Brody?” At the question, Riley stiffened beside him.

  “Just turned fourteen.”

  Gabe counted back mentally. The numbers worked. He glanced at Riley, but she kept her eyes on the road, and her pert, upturned nose pointed straight ahead calm as you please. He couldn’t imagine that she would keep it from him if he had a son. They might not have parted on the best of terms, but she would have gotten word to him somehow. Wouldn’t she?

  The only other possibility was that Riley married a man the first year she went back east to that finishing school. That thought left a rancid taste in his mouth. To think that she had gone right ahead and found somebody new that quick made him angrier than a Mexican bull.

  So where was her husband now? She always was a princess. Always had gotten her way with her father up until he found the two of them together and the whole world blew up in Gabe’s face.

  “Mr. Coulter, would you teach me to ride?”

  Spending time with Brody—or with any of the Rawlins—didn’t sound wise at all. “I answer to Mr. Rawlins.”

  Rebuffed, Brody immediately clamped his mouth shut and pulled back, sitting stiff and drawn into himself.

  Gabe could feel the tension and figured he’d had a hand in at least part of it. Guess it wouldn’t hurt to say something to the boy. “For a woman, your mother was the best rider I ever saw. She even won a couple of awards. She will make a fine teacher.”

  Brody looked at his mother. “She never told me.”

  Gabe took a deep breath and let it out, keeping his eyes on the road. “There’s a few things she never told me either.” And he’d be asking her about them the minute he got her alone. He clicked his tongue at the horse and flicked the reins, urging a faster pace. The sooner he got these two to the ranch, the sooner he could breathe free again.

  * * *

 
The sound of Gabe’s voice stirred memories that taunted Riley. She had once loved the deep baritone, the spare words, even the silent stares he’d once directed her way. But no more. She sat on pins and needles, listening to his conversation with her son, worried that Gabe would ask an embarrassing question of her. He had to be wondering about a lot of things right now—not all of them complimentary to her.

  But she had her reasons! He was the one who had wronged her. He had used her for his own private revenge. She would never forget that and never forgive him. The passage of time didn’t matter. It was the same today as it had been fourteen years ago—he didn’t deserve to know the truth about Brody. And if the shopkeeper was right? Then Gabe had been sent to prison because he killed someone! If that was true, she didn’t want Brody anywhere near him and his volatile temper!

  It was with relief that they turned down the lane to the ranch and he finally stopped the buckboard before the ranch house.

  The place had changed from the way she remembered it and yet much was still the same. The two-story, rambling house had a new coat of pale yellow paint with the trim now a darker gold. The half circle of pine trees edging the yard at the back of the house were taller with thicker trunks. The oldest tree on the property, the oak at the side of the house, still held the swing she’d used as a child. Seeing that, her throat clogged with memories.

  She drew in a shaky breath. “I’m home.” She could feel it deep inside. She splayed her hand over her heart in an attempt to quiet the rush of feelings. She had blocked this place from her mind for years because the yearning only made her hurt inside. Now the memories bombarded her. She had loved living here. This just had to be the new beginning she needed for herself and her son.

  She closed her eyes and breathed in the smells and sounds surrounding her—the pines rustling, the sage in the air, the flowers in the field, even the cattle lowing in the meadow. The stiff, dusty hair on their hides would be warm from the sun beating down on them this time of day. She could imagine the flies bothering them and the lazy swish of their tails as they chewed their cud.

  At the dip and creak of the seat, she opened her eyes. Gabe walked around the buckboard and waited to assist her. She studied his face, just as he did hers. Not a whisper of a whisker studded his square, hard chin. Under thick black brows, tiny lines fanned out from the corners of his eyes. He had once meant so much to her. She had loved him unreservedly. Being this close...feeling his strong hands on her waist...it was unnerving. Did he have a family? Someone who cooked for him, mended his clothes? Did he have other children? What was his life like apart from working for her father, and after all this time...was it any of her business and did she really want to know?

  She held on to his shoulders, feeling the hardness of his muscles ripple against her palms as he helped her down. “Thank you,” she murmured and stepped back from him.

  He pressed his mouth into a determined line, and then turned to remove her luggage from the wagon. Carrying it to the porch, he left it alongside the ones Brody had deposited and then tipped the brim of his hat to her. “I’ll get back to work now.”

  He seemed anxious to leave.

  Before he could, the front door banged open and her father strode out, the sound of his boots loud and deliberate on the expansive wooden porch. He paused when he noticed Gabe. “Take the bags upstairs, Coulter,” he barked.

  “Sir.” Gabe passed behind her and followed orders, disappearing into the house.

  Without sparing him a second glance, her father turned to her. He didn’t say anything at first. Just stood there looking her over like a field marshal surveying his troops.

  Suddenly she felt ten years old again and not sure if she was to get a scolding. Frank Rawlins had always made her knees tremble just a bit, he’d been so big and so powerful. But he’d never raised a hand to her. And he had taught her to ride and to judge good cattle stock. She had confided in him in a way she had never been able to with her mother—especially when Gabe left. He was protecting her even as he put her and her mother on the train headed east—even though she knew his own heart was breaking. She loved him for that.

  Now the rich, dark brown hair he had once had was streaked with silver. His skin was weathered and ruddy, and his crystal-blue eyes now sported deep lines at the outer corners. His nose was the same...a curved beak.

  “You change your mind about that snake pit of a big city?” he asked sharply.

  Taken aback at his brusqueness, she responded in kind. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

  He didn’t move to hug her, didn’t move at all. She swallowed her disappointment and darted a glance at her son. Would Brody understand it was just her father’s way to be direct and uncompromising? But then his eyes softened, surprising her. “What took you so long?” he finally said.

  “Perhaps I’m as stubborn as you.”

  He huffed at that and then surprised her by shaking his head. “Dagnabit, we’ve both been stubborn fools. Don’t ever let it happen again, daught—”

  Before he could finish, she rushed to him and hugged him. “I’ve missed you so!”

  His arms wrapped around her in a quick hug, ready to back away immediately. But when she wouldn’t let go, he relaxed and hugged her back. “Well,” he said gruffly. “Well.”

  After a moment, he set her from him and turned to look Brody over from his flat cap to his brogans. “So this is my grandson. Nearly grown.”

  “Yes, sir. Brody, sir.”

  They eyed each other, sizing each other up.

  “I put you upstairs in the room next to your mother’s. You’ll figure out which one it is. Go on up now.”

  Brody shot a dark look at his grandfather and then stormed into the house at the same time that Gabe stepped back outside. “I’ll get back to my work now.”

  “Wait.” Her father turned to Gabe. “Who told you to pick Riley up at the station?”

  “Johnson.”

  Her father’s lips tightened. “He mention who you were collecting?”

  “No, sir.”

  “All right. Go on about your business.”

  Gabe took one more look at her, tucked his hat back on his head and strode away.

  Riley watched him until he disappeared inside the stable.

  “Not much in your letter to go on,” her father said, his gaze pinning her. “What’s this all about?”

  She had informed him that she was coming; she hadn’t asked. And she hadn’t mentioned her recent troubles with Brody. “Is it too much to simply want to come visit you?” she hedged.

  “Been waiting a long time for you to come to your senses. I was beginning to think I might have to head east to fetch you.”

  She didn’t believe him for a minute. He hated the city. How he ever had enough in common with her mother to marry her was a question Riley had asked herself a number of times. He would have never come east. No...she was the one that had left the ranch—it was up to her to come home. But one of the reasons she’d finally returned was because she thought Gabe Coulter had left the area. “What is Gabe doing here?”

  “He needed work.”

  She put her hands on her hips. “Why can’t he work somewhere else?”

  “He just got out of prison. No one is going to take him on. Not around here.”

  Having Gabe around would be difficult for her. There had to be another solution. “So he’s staying?”

  Her father studied her, his right brow quirking up ever so slightly. “Coulter is a hard worker. Knows ranching. I was hard on him at first, thought he wouldn’t fit in with the men, thought that he would cause trouble, but he is doing a good job. Either he is trying mighty hard to change or he already has. He needed a chance, and I owe him that much.”

  “Owe him?” She didn’t understand. “Even after what he did to me?”

  “You both had
a hand in that.”

  She took a step back, rebuffed. “You don’t mince words, do you?”

  He blew out a breath. “Riley, I knew you wouldn’t like him being here. I have my reasons for taking him on. Give it a few days. We’ll talk again when you are settled in more.”

  He was serious about Gabe remaining on! “Father, he has a prison record.”

  “Maybe you should ask him about that before you go judging him.”

  “Do you know the details?”

  “Appears it was over a woman.”

  A lead weight dropped in her stomach. A woman! “Perfect,” she said derisively. “I don’t want him anywhere near Brody. My son is difficult enough to manage.”

  “So you never wrote to Coulter? Never told him?” He watched her closely. “That had to be one interesting wagon ride.”

  “He didn’t deserve to know anything. He left me. Remember?”

  “I remember,” he said in his deep, gruff voice. “That was a long time ago. Might want to leave it in the past. Start new.”

  She glared at him, her temper getting the better of her. “Start new, you say. That’s what I had hoped for in coming here, but now you’ve thrown Mr. Coulter into the mix and I don’t see how I can!”

  He huffed and even looked slightly amused when he headed toward the door. “Good to have you home, daughter. It’s been too tame around here these past few years.”

  Riley stared at his back as he walked up to the porch and through the front door. Things certainly hadn’t been tame for her, and if today was any indication, things were only going to get wilder.

  She looked over her shoulder at the open stable door. Gabe had moved farther inside and out of sight. This was to be a new start, a new beginning for her and her son but it seemed old wounds were already opening and threatening to swallow her hope. She hadn’t missed the challenge in her father’s voice. It sounded as if he wanted her to bury the hatchet and let go of what had happened in the past. How could she possibly do that? Every time she saw Brody, she was reminded that Gabe had used her. She would never get close enough to him to let it happen again.