by West, Everly
Clint pushed the brim of his hat up, then crossed his arms with a grin. “I’m just getting a peek at what’s coming my way in the not-so-distant future,” he said with a smarmy wink.
Tildie wished she had something to throw at him. She also wished she was just a little bit of a bad girl, enough to invite him into the bath with her. But she wasn’t, so all she could do was splash water at him.
“You get out of here too,” she said, pretending to be angry but grinning in spite of herself. “I can’t get up and dry off with you standing there studying me like some trinket you’re about to purchase.”
“If you say so, ma’am,” he said with a mock sigh, opening the door and stepping out. “But you know you wish I was in there with you,” he finished before closing the door.
Tildie’s cheeks burned hot. If Clint could see those sorts of thoughts in her eyes, they’d better get married in a hurry. She was even more warmed by the fact that he stood guard outside the bath partition as she climbed out of the tub, dried herself off, and dressed in the clothes Greta had loaned her. He really would look out for her, no matter what happened.
That feeling stayed with her through an afternoon of napping and resting up, and at supper that evening. Since it was a balmy, May evening, and since Greta had to feed a huge number of people, tables were set up in the yard beside the house instead of trying to cram everyone inside. Tildie helped Greta prepare and bring out plates of fried chicken and biscuits, three different kinds of beans cooked in butter and herbs, and the most amazing casserole of creamed corn that Tildie had ever tasted.
“I’m going to need the recipe for this before we leave the day after tomorrow,” she told Greta, spooning more onto her plate.
“I’d be happy to share it with you,” Greta answered.
“And I’ll be happy you did,” Clint added with a knowing wink.
From several places down the table, in between two of Mr. Yates’s ranch hands, Jay grumbled, “Like you’d be able to cook something this good without burning it or worse.”
Tildie clenched her jaw but told herself she wouldn’t bother replying. There was no use giving Jay the attention he was trying to get when his nose was so out of joint. And his nose was literally out of joint, thanks to the blows Clint had landed. His whole face was swollen, though someone had put a bandage over his nose.
“I’m a fair cook.” Tildie shrugged, ignoring Jay. “I’m sure I can piece this together if I have the recipe.”
After supper was finished, as the ranch hands swapped stories and Simon and Joe chattered along with them, after Tildie helped Greta clear the table, Clint took Tildie aside.
“Let’s go for a walk,” he said with a broad smile, gazing off toward the most astounding sunset on the horizon. “It’s a beautiful evening for a walk.”
“It certainly is,” Tildie said. Something went shivery in her heart. Clint had a new sort of look in his eyes, a look that spoke of decisions made and plots about to be hatched. And he offered his arm to escort her on their walk, which he didn’t usually do.
Butterflies ran riot in Tildie’s gut as they headed out along the long road that led from the ranch house, past the stable and corrals, and on toward the junction with the main road to Billings. There were a few trees along the road—more than there were in Wyoming, at least—and the mountains rose up on the horizon, still topped with snow. It was all magical, as far as Tildie was concerned.
They stopped at the edge of the barn that was most distant from the house. Clint made a gentlemanly gesture for Tildie to sit on a long hay bale stacked against the barn wall, then sat beside her. Close beside her. He slipped an arm around her waist and tugged her close.
“Mighty pretty territory, Montana,” he said, his lips twitching as though he were trying not to grin while pretending to make small talk. Tildie could see clear as day that he had something much more important to say.
“Yep, it is,” Tildie said, playing along with the feigned nonchalance. “If I wasn’t already settled in Laramie, I might think of moving up here.”
“You don’t say.” Clint grinned at her.
“I do,” she answered with what she hoped was a mischievous spark in her eyes. “After all, a woman could start a whole new life in a place like this. Especially since Greta tells me there aren’t enough women to go around. I’d have no trouble at all finding a husband up here.”
“You won’t have any trouble at all finding a husband in Laramie either,” Clint said.
“Really?” She pretended to be surprised. “Because I haven’t found one yet.”
“Haven’t you?” he asked, a new, rich depth to his voice. He rested a hand on her cheek, turning her to face him. “Because I think you have.”
Warmth swirled through Tildie as Clint stared at her with longing in his eyes. Part of her wanted to make another joke, but an even bigger part of her suddenly felt as serious as the earth itself. Clint leaned toward her, bringing his lips close to hers. She could feel the heat of his body, smell the scent of the soap he’d used to wash up that afternoon. Magic filled the air.
With his lips mere inches from hers, he asked, “Matilda Masterson, will you—”
“What do you two think you’re doing out here?”
Jay’s sharp question caused Tildie to gasp and jerk away from Clint. Her heart pounded hard in her chest, but for an entirely different reason than it had just moments before.
Clint jumped to his feet, rounding on Jay with a dark scowl. “What the hell are you doing here?” he snapped, balling his hands into fists.
“I’m looking out for the two of you,” Jay said with offense that was so fake it made Tildie furious. “Mr. Yates said there are wolves and things out here at night.”
“I only see one wolf,” Clint growled.
Jay took a step back, holding up his hands. “I’m just trying to help you out. Some thanks I get.”
“Go away,” Tildie warned him, standing by Clint’s side.
“Yes, ma’am,” Jay said with mock respect. “You two go back to whatever you were doing.” He chuckled as he strode around the barn and went on his way.
The mood was completely shattered. Tildie huffed a breath and hugged herself, remembering the creeping way he’d made her feel during her bath. Clint sounded equally irritated. He shoved a hand through his hair and muttered something under his breath.
At last, he sighed and offered Tildie his arm once more. “Well, at least we can still enjoy a walk.”
Disappointment filled her. She knew exactly what Clint had been about to ask her—the all-important question that, in spite of everything, had yet to be asked. But the perfect moment had passed, and there was nothing either of them could do about it. At least they were still together. There would be time for questions and answers later.
Chapter 6
Clint was perfectly happy to spend two full days at the Yates ranch before gathering up Mason’s horses and setting out for Laramie. Two days gave him time to get to know Mason’s new horses well, to know which ones might bolt on the trail and which ones needed to be kept separate. It gave him a chance to figure out which of the mares he would keep an eye on and possible ask Mason to give him as payment.
The short visit with the Yates was also just what Tildie needed, if Clint’s observations were right. Tildie had spent so much of her life up until that point working hard on her family’s sheep ranch, which meant she was more used to the company of her brother and little sisters and hadn’t been able to socialize with grown women much. Greta Yates was exactly the sort of woman Clint would have picked for Tildie to befriend too. She was strong, took no nonsense from the young ranch hands that worked for Mr. Yates, and had a sense of humor. It warmed Clint’s heart to see her laughing and smiling so much, to see her looking relaxed and confident. Every time she glanced his way and winked, Clint prayed for the miles on the trail to fly past so that he could get home to Laramie and marry her.
But the extra two days at the Yates ranch was also ju
st what Clint needed to plan how he would deal with Jay on the way home. He would have left Jay with the Yateses to fend for himself if he hadn’t needed all the hands he could get to guide the young and fiery horses along the trail.
“Good work with the roan stallion,” he complimented Jay halfway through their second day on the trail again, even though the words stuck in his throat as he did. Mr. Yates had advised that an encouraging word went a long way to settle restless ranch hands, so Clint decided to see if it worked with bitter, arrogant turds as well.
“I don’t need you patting me on the head like I’m a schoolboy,” Jay grumbled from the back of one of the mares. He, Joe, and Simon each rode one of the new horses, as did Clint, while Tildie drove the wagon.
“I’m just giving credit where credit is due,” Clint said, his shoulders and back aching with defeat. If he was truly going to run a business and hopefully employ men one day, he needed to learn how to deal with difficult people.
Jay’s attitude didn’t improve at all as the days passed and the trail seemed to go on and on. Worse still, he and Joe spent most of their time riding close together, too far ahead of Clint for him to hear what they were talking about. And they were talking. Too much. The whole thing gave Clint a terrible feeling.
“Don’t worry,” Tildie told him from the wagon’s seat, snapping the reins and whistling to the horses to bring them in line. A fierce wind had kicked up and all of the horses, old and new, were unsettled by it. “What can they do? We’re way out in the middle of nowhere, probably close to the border between Wyoming and Montana Territory. They’re all talk.”
“I’m sure they are,” Clint said, smiling even though he wasn’t certain at all. He didn’t want to worry Tildie. He didn’t want her to worry ever again, for the rest of their lives. “I’m just in a hurry to get back to Laramie is all,” he said with a wink.
Tildie grinned from ear to ear, her already sun-pinked face blushing deeper. “Me too,” she said with a low chuckle. “Because I miss my brothers and little sisters, I mean,” she added with a mischievous glint to her eyes.
“Is that all?” Clint said, his shoulders relaxing as he put more effort into flirting than worrying about Jay and Joe. “Nothing else you’re looking forward to when we return?”
“Well,” Tildie began slowly, “I miss Kelly too. And the Fourth of July is right around the corner. I’m looking forward to the fireworks.”
“I’m looking forward to the fireworks too,” Clint said with a flicker of one eyebrow. “All those sparks and surprises. Lying out on a blanket under the night sky. Excitement all around.” One look told him she knew full well he wasn’t talking about the annual fireworks display that Mayor Bailey organized every year.
“I can think of someone I wouldn’t mind sharing a blanket with,” she said, pulling on the reins to keep the horses in line and grinning while she did.
Clint wanted to make a saucy reply, but Tildie’s grin turned into a frown as Daisy, one of his wagon horses, whinnied and jerked against her harness.
Daisy wasn’t the only restless one. One of Mason’s new stallions reared into the wind, then broke into a run. That agitated the other horses. Joe’s horse reared as well, but he managed to stay in the saddle. Simon had his hands full with the mare he rode and the one who had been walking beside him without a saddle. That mare attempted to bolt after the stallion. Simon moved to stop her, but Clint had to wheel his own, restless horse around to help.
“Go after the stallion,” Clint shouted at Jay. The other advice Mr. Yates had given him was to entrust troublesome employees with responsibility to keep them focused.
This time, it worked. Jay and Joe both kicked their horses into gallops, darting after the runaway stallion with all they had. But the wind sent dust devils swirling around them, which kicked up dirt and small stones. Clint had to blink dust out of his eyes while attempting to help Simon calm Mason’s mare.
That would have been hard enough, but before they had really gotten the mare to settle, Tildie let out a shriek that had Clint’s blood running cold. A heartbeat later, the wagon lurched forward, picking up speed at an alarming rate. His old horses had bolted, taking the wagon with them.
Clint’s stomach clenched as he left Simon to deal with the mare and charged after the wagon. He didn’t know what he would do if anything happened to Tildie or if she were hurt in any way. He leaned low over the borrowed mare’s neck, urging her on.
It was his luck that the excitable, young horse had speed that his old nags didn’t. He was able to catch up with the wagon fairly easily. The hard part was getting his horses to slow and calm with so much chaos swirling around them. He rode level with the wagon seat, debating whether he was fool enough to attempt to jump from the back of his horse to Tildie’s side, but quickly ditched the idea. He would risk killing himself and losing the mare he rode, not to mention putting Tildie in danger as well.
But Tildie seemed to be holding her own, even though the wagon’s horses were out of control. Her teeth were clenched and her hair whipped wildly around her, but she still held the reins. Whether she had enough strength to keep hold and to bring the horses in line was another question.
Clint kicked his mare to go faster, enough to bring him up to Daisy’s side. It was too dangerous for him to reach out and grab her or any of the harness yet, but if he could coax Daisy into slowing down….
“Whoa, girl,” he shouted, bringing the mare he rode as close to Daisy’s side as he dared. “Whoa. You’re okay.”
Slowly, painfully slowly, Daisy slowed, and Jock, his other wagon horse, with her. Clint didn’t rush things, didn’t force them to stop, but as they raced along, their pace slowed. He knew the minute Tildie regained control of the horses with the reins. They suddenly seemed to remember who they were and what they’d been trained to do. Their gallop turned into a run, which slowed gradually to a walk. At last, they stopped all together, snorting and shaking their manes as best they could.
Relief spilled off of Clint, but it was short-lived.
“Are you all right?” he asked Tildie, panting.
Tildie was panting herself and had to press her hand to her chest and swallow a few times before answering, “I think so.”
Clint could have hugged and kissed her within an inch of both of their lives, but there still wasn’t time. He wheeled his horse around and glanced back up the road, searching for the others.
What he saw had his stomach dropping to his boots. Jay and Joe had caught the stallion, all right, and they’d returned to the road where Simon was. But rather than settling everything, they appeared to be picking some sort of fight with Simon.
“What in the—” Clint nudged his horse into action.
“Wait, what’s going on?” Tildie called after him.
He didn’t have time to stop to explain. He rode as fast as his exhausted mare could take him to what was clearly turning into some kind of confrontation. As he grew closer, Clint could see that Jay had taken the reins of Simon’s horse and Joe was busy trying to separate the unsaddled mare from the group.
Simon saw Clint approaching first. “Clint!” he shouted, turning toward him.
It was the wrong move to make. Jay took advantage of the moment to shove Simon out of his saddle. Clint kicked his horse to pick up speed, his heart pounding in his throat. He had almost reached the group when Jay pulled a pistol from his belt and shot at Simon. Simon roared in pain and clutched his leg.
“Simon!” Clint reached the group just as Jay turned and fired at him. The shot went wide, giving Clint the opening he needed to reach out and strike Jay, yanking him off his horse. As soon as he could, he pulled his mare to a stop and jumped down to tackle Jay as he tried to get up. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Joe galloping off without the unsaddled mare.
“I’m through with you,” Jay growled, kicking and writhing to throw Clint off. He was stronger than Clint would have imagined and managed to get his gun arm free, but the shot he fired went nowhere.
“Enough of this,” Clint said, muscling himself above Jay enough to punch him as hard as he could in the face. Jay’s nose was already broken from his blow a few days ago, and it was Clint’s hope that he could knock the man out.
For a moment, he thought he had. Jay went limp, but he was only stunned. It was enough for Clint to snatch the gun out of his hand, though, and to pull a second pistol out of Jay’s belt. Once he had those, Clint stood.
His focus was instantly split, though. On the one hand, Simon lay, writhing and bleeding, on the road a few steps away. On the other, Tildie was racing toward them in the wagon.
“Stop!” Clint shouted to her. The last thing he wanted was for her to come close when Jay might still be a threat.
Tildie didn’t hear him, and Simon seemed to be in more distress than Clint had first thought. Clint lunged toward him, still holding onto the guns.
“What happened?” Tildie yelled as she pulled the wagon to a stop. She jumped down, rushing forward to where Clint knelt by Simon’s side.
“Jay shot him,” Clint said, standing as Tildie crouched over Simon, looking as though she knew what she was doing.
Any relief Clint was tempted to feel at her apparent confidence was cut short as Jay dragged himself to his feet. He did more than that, though. His strength returned, or at least enough of it for him to mount his horse.
“Stay right where you are,” Clint warned him, but he might as well have told the man to turn into a tree.
Jay settled in his saddle and kicked his horse, but instead of galloping off after Joe—who was still visible in the distance, riding hell-bent for leather, Jay wheeled around and came at Clint.
Only, it was clear in an instant that it wasn’t Clint he was after. He pushed right past Clint, his teeth bared, and bent low, grabbing Tildie’s arm as she reached up to indicate the wagon. Whether she had been about to direct Clint to do something or to ask for supplies, Jay caught her arm and yanked her into the air.
