“Very good,” Gus said, settling back in his chair and making a steeple of his fingers beneath his chin.
“Darby...” she repeated thoughtfully. “Why didn’t I think of that?”
Curious.
“Miss McKenna?” Adam asked, feeling left out of half the conversation—a half he couldn’t hear. He didn’t like it. Didn’t like Mandy having secrets with Gus. If she had secrets, he wanted to be the one to know them. Not that he had any claim on her, he reminded himself, but the feeling remained.
“I’m ready to go whenever you are,” Mandy said, her expression expectant, as if that was why he’d spoken. As if there’d been no strange exchange between her and Gus.
And truly, what “secrets” could she and Gus have? It was obvious to Adam—at least now, having seen the way they behaved together, close up—that there wasn’t the slightest spark of attraction between the two. He’d had to keep from grinning earlier when he realized how absolutely unaware of one another they were. Why, they acted more like an employer with an employee.
He didn’t have to worry about Gus Proctor. But there was still Russell Girard to consider. So did Adam have any reason to hope?
Well, she’d spoken to him—Adam—today. She’d asked him for a ride. She’d even said the word courting... In a hypothetical context, of course, but still. Most importantly, she was the one who’d responded to his ad. Why would she do that if she was involved with any other man, including Russell Girard?
She was the one who’d written the letter.
Adam wished he could pull it out of his pocket and read it again right then.
Chapter 23
Mandy sat on the seat of Adam’s wagon with her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Beside her, Adam guided the vehicle on the road out of town toward the MacKenna ranch. As he steered the horses around a particularly nasty rut in the dirt, he appeared a mite bothered by her skirt brushing up against his chaps. But there was little she could do about that. There just wasn’t that much room on the seat for the both of them, and this particular skirt had a wider bell shape. Plus with the fullness of her petticoats underneath it was quite a lot of fabric.
He glanced down again with a peculiar expression—very nearly like he hadn’t had a proper meal in some time—and she felt her cheeks grow warm.
Perhaps bothered wasn’t the best word.
He had drafted an ad for a mail-order bride.
Maybe he was lonely? Did he long for female companionship?
Dare she hope he was interested in her companionship?
The thought brought a nervous little flutter in her stomach. She’d thought of herself as Too Tall Mandy MacKenna for so long the idea of any man looking at her with romantic interest had trouble catching hold.
Adam was likely simply famished and wanted to get back to his place for a hearty meal. She was reading too much into an innocent glance. Of course she was. She wanted him to see her that way. She wanted him to like her. So why wouldn’t her mind create a reason for him to look at her with more than polite interest?
“You said you’d explain about your letter?” Adam asked, coming to the point rather suddenly.
“Well, I—when I came across your ad—”
“How?” he interrupted. “I never meant to post that ad. I’m surprised you found it at all. Where did you find it?”
“Oh,” Mandy said blankly. How to explain that? He hadn’t intended to submit his ad for a bride, after all. It had been crossed out, so she’d considered the possibility at the time. And now she had to answer for her rash actions. She moistened her lips. “I just did. It came into the office and I—I happened to come across it.”
That was true up to a point, wasn’t it? His letter to Ask Mack—with the ad crossed out on the back—had indeed arrived at the Gazette. And, in a manner of speaking, she had “come across it” among the other letters to Ask Mack. Nevertheless, her words still felt like a lie.
“But you didn’t show it to Gus?” Adam glanced at her, keeping his hands steady on the lines as he guided his horses.
“That...is quite true.” Mandy gripped her hands together in her lap. She’d known there’d be repercussions to her writing a reply to his ad. She hadn’t thought it through properly in the middle of the night, granted, when she’d woken so late, still half-drugged from her bad dream. She simply hadn’t been thinking clearly at all. If she had, they wouldn’t be here in his wagon together having this conversation, that was for sure.
He waited, but she had nothing more to say.
“So, you saw my ad...” he said leadingly, as if he’d decided to allow her to skip over that part, for now.
“I saw your ad.”
“Crossed out?”
“That’s right.” She moistened her lips again. “But I was able to read it.”
“And you thought...”
It was worse than she’d imagined it would be. Invisible hands seemed to have wrapped themselves around her throat, making it difficult to breathe properly.
“I need to marry, Mr. Booker. Adam,” she amended quickly, seeing his rather sour expression. It was one thing for them to call each other by their formal names in front of Gus Proctor, for appearances, given the circumstances, but they’d exchanged first names at the social. She had no intention of going backwards to the way things were before.
“You need to?” Perhaps that had been the phrase that had made him go sour and not the name she’d called him. He seemed fixed on her choice of words.
Oh.
She blushed furiously. “Not for...that. I mean.” She took a breath.
He waited, concentrating on the road, but in that way of giving more than half an ear to what she was going to say next.
“You see,” she explained in the most practical tone she could muster, “my mother—and father—have decided to send me to live with my aunt and uncle in Denver. To find a husband.”
“I see. Go on,” he said, his voice a little strange, as if they were driving on a pencil-thin ridge and not on this wide dirt road, with gently sloping banks on both sides and tall green grasses that swayed gently in the breeze. It was really a rather lovely day, if the sun weren’t quite so high or quite so hot, burning through the top of her straw bonnet. The stream below to her right was so pretty today, bubbling over the rocks and further up, beyond where she could see, spilling into the glassy lake.
The idyllic setting of her beautiful home, Cross Creek, reminded her of her greater purpose, her heart’s desire to stay here forever.
One small breath in and out settled her rattled nerves enough for her to continue, “And I don’t want to leave Cross Creek. I want to stay here. This is my home, and I don’t ever want to leave. I definitely don’t want to go to Denver.”
“What’s wrong with Denver?” Adam asked in a guarded manner, and she belatedly remembered that was his home, where he’d grown up.
“Nothing,” she said quickly, hoping she hadn’t offended him. “I like Denver, in a way. I’ve visited my aunt and uncle there several times. And it was lovely. But...I couldn’t live there. I’m a small town country girl. I need this.” She nodded to the view. “Rolling hills and streams. Mountains so close you can almost touch them. Horses. Long rides in the saddle. And barns. I love the way a barn looks on the horizon. Barns with natural plank siding and low roofs. I even love how the fences look, how the paddocks are all cobbled together like a patchwork quilt. You know?” Mandy worried that her passion for the topic was making her talk too much, so she worked to rein her words in. “I belong on a ranch, Adam. I belong here in Cross Creek.”
“So...you answered my ad because you want to stay in Cross Creek?” Adam said, his voice a bit strained. “That’s why?”
“Well, not precisely.”
“Because you didn’t have any other options?”
“Well...” she said cautiously. Adam’s face had flushed a dark red. He was gripping the lines so hard, she could hear his leather gloves creak. She’d upset him. Was he angry? He d
idn’t seem angry precisely.
“So, I was your last choice,” he said tightly, no longer asking so much as stating the facts. He seemed to have something—or someone—very particular in mind when he said what he said, but she had no idea what or whom he meant.
“That’s not what I meant,” she protested, too embarrassed to tell him the truth—that he was her first and only choice. If she said that, he’d know precisely how she felt about him. He’d know that she had feelings for him.
No, she couldn’t admit to that—to her affection, to her feelings of attraction to him. That she dreamed about kissing him. That she’d even thought ahead to children. She couldn’t admit she wanted him like a woman wanted a man.
The mere thought was beyond mortifying.
“Like I said,” she told him evenly, though her heart was pounding out of control, “my mother intends to send me to Denver. She told me so. I have to leave by the end of the summer.” The idea of it was absolute pure panic. Surely, he’d have to understand that this was a disastrous threat. “And I saw your ad.”
There, that should be simple enough. Hopefully.
No messy talk about feelings.
No having to bare her heart.
“And?” he prompted.
“And I thought...”
“You thought you’d use me.” He finished for her, obviously offended.
“No!”
“Well, that’s sure what it sounds like.”
Too late, Mandy remembered her mother’s comment about manly pride. Had she stung Adam’s pride? Had she shamed him?
Should she confess her love for him—her regard?
Expose her heart?
Or was that just digging a deeper hole to fall into?
“I grew up on a ranch...” Mandy struggled to gather her thoughts, to say something to repair the damage she’d caused. “Nearly all my life. And I’ve helped my father for many years. I know you’re looking for a ranch manager...”
“And you thought what?”
“That I could help you. Find someone, I mean.” Actually, after the last batch of letters to Ask Mack, she knew more than a few men—even some from out of town—who’d be candidates for the job. Good men, by the sounds of it. Though she couldn’t tell Adam that. “I’m also good with the business end of things, scheduling, ordering supplies...” Mandy let her voice trail off as Adam simply stared at her with the most stunned expression she’d ever seen. “It seems a...good match. You could use my help. And I need to get married.”
“You need to get married,” he repeated, his voice flat, disbelieving, as if he still couldn’t wrap his mind around it. Understandably.
“And...you’ve been thinking about a...a bride.” His ad for a mail-order bride was a tender subject to bring up, but she felt it needed to be said.
“I am not going to marry you to—to help me on my ranch,” Adam said flatly. A muscle flexed in his jaw. He seemed upset.
And he’d just said no to her proposition, straight out, no discussion.
“You’re not?” Mandy echoed quietly, disappointed.
“No. Absolutely not.”
Well, he didn’t have to say it like that.
“Oh.” Mandy was sorely tempted to cry. She’d let hope take hold of her. Let it blossom and grow. She should have known better. “Why?”
He looked down at his hands as if they’d give him the answer. Why was it so hard to say?
“Because I’m me?” she asked. “Mandy MacKenna?”
Too Tall Mandy MacKenna.
He nodded once, sort of like he had to think about it first. The way he was staring at her with those blue eyes of his made her squirm a little. It was like he was the one looking for answers. What could he possibly want to know? She’d spoken plainly enough, hadn’t she?
Mandy couldn’t bear to look at him. She stared out at the horizon, not really seeing the restful beauty of the mountains in the distance. All that mattered was the fact that he’d agreed. He wasn’t marrying her because he didn’t want to marry her.
“I see.” Mandy planted her heels into the wagon floor. She gripped the edge of the seat, digging her fingertips into the wood plank so she didn’t pitch forward.
She’d let herself hope.
She’d hoped Adam saw her differently.
She’d even let herself love him.
Foolish girl.
Adam’s fingers clenched around the leather lines. Had Mandy asked Girard first? They’d met together after church on Sunday, hadn’t they? In private. Adam had seen them both come out. Had she asked him then? Had he said no?
So she’d been forced to settle.
For Adam.
“You asked Russell Girard first, didn’t you?” Adam’s temper rose. Hot as butter spattering in a fry pan. “After church on Sunday. You met together after church.”
“What? Russell? No.” Mandy wrinkled her nose in the most charming way, but Adam was past noticing. Mostly.
He barely heard her reply. It didn’t much matter what she said. She’d only asked him because she was interested in a marriage of convenience—in staying in Cross Creek—she wasn’t interested in him.
It was...insulting. Demeaning. Empty.
Not nearly enough.
Especially when he felt so much. Especially when his chest nearly split open whenever he looked at her.
Lord, he prayed, unable to get out more than that.
A movement off to Mandy’s right captured her attention, setting her senses on alert. She had a quick impression of tawny fur. A big cat, the size of two of her father’s herding dogs combined. Nearly the weight—a swift estimate—of a man. It was slinking through the deep grasses with a lithe grace.
“Mountain lion?” Adam asked, already alert to the danger.
“Cougar, I think.”
“Cougar?”
Mandy nodded. Though, perhaps it was the same thing? She’d always heard the name cougar growing up. Not that she’d seen one close up—close enough to see the breeze ruffling its fur. Close enough to see it panting ever so slightly, as if they’d interrupted her after a long walk. Perhaps she’d come down from the mountains, here to the creek, where the water was clear and cold. That was why the first settlers had established a town here. The mountains were beautiful, the pastureland sweet, and the water almost seemed to have healing powers.
And now a large mountain cat was lounging by its banks, gently panting. Probably eying them and thinking it was getting hungry.
Mandy swallowed
“Gun or lines?” Adam asked quietly, his voice steely and determined. She’d never seen him like this. He was a guard protecting the fort. The fort, she supposed, being his wagon, his horses—her.
She shivered, surprised and impressed at this new side of him. She’d always respected him, but she knew he’d grown up in the city, and she knew what Denver was like. She never imagined a man like Adam would have experience with wild animals or skill with a gun. When had he learned? Who’d taught him—his father? Maybe his uncle? Perhaps he and his uncle had gone hunting together or done some target shooting.
“What?” she whispered, her thoughts still flying, quick as that.
“I can’t do both. Not readily.”
“Oh, right. Of course.”
Gun or lines?
Could he shoot? Mandy tried to recall from his letters to Ask Mack, her mind still spinning. Time seemed frozen. Her eyes remained fixed on the cougar. It hadn’t moved, but its eyes were on them. No, Adam hadn’t mentioned guns in his letters, but as he reached behind his seat and swung a rifle into his grasp, he seemed so confident. Practiced, even.
She hesitated only the briefest moment, then said crisply, “Lines,” determined to be as calm as he was. They needed to act. She was a good driver and a decent shot. But she didn’t know if she could actually shoot a living creature. Could she? They’d been here first, long before any settlers. Not that she cared to be mauled, or for Adam or his horses to be harmed. A gun was a necessity here. She k
new and accepted that fact, but that didn’t mean she would enjoy killing.
Adam passed the lines to her. “Nice and slow. No sudden moves.”
Even as he said it, the horses moved restlessly as they paced forward. Perhaps they sensed the cat. Perhaps they didn’t like Adam switching off with her.
Easy now, she thought, praying, hoping they’d pick up on her demeanor without having to call out to them. They didn’t know her though, and, from the way they pawed at the ground with their front hooves, they were frightened.
“Easy...” Mandy whispered. She kept a steady, light hold on the lines. The horses’ ears pricked back toward her, listening. She’d spoken so softy she didn’t know for sure that they’d heard, but they seemed to settle, if only just a little.
Adam stood, not quickly, but with the careful, practiced motions of a hunter. Deliberate. Powerful. And—hopefully for the cougar—intimidating. Not easy prey. He lifted the rifle to his shoulder and trained the weapon on the big cat. The wagon hit a rock and swung side to side. Adam wove on his feet, losing aim for a moment. Somehow, he managed to stay upright.
“Steady,” he said, regaining his balance.
“Sorry. I’m trying,” she said. If he fell because of her—if he fell and that big cat got him—she’d never be able to live with that. How could she? She peered at the road, trying to steer around the worst of the holes and rocks, but there were too many of them. How had she not noticed before? She and Darby came down this way earlier and it hadn’t seemed so rough.
“I know you are,” Adam said in a matter-of-fact tone, not coddling her, not simply saying what he thought she needed to hear. He obviously believed it. He trusted her. Amazing.
Mandy didn’t dare look at him, not directly, but she saw him out of the corner of her eye, balancing beside her, casting a shadow over her, his aim fixed on the cougar.
“She doesn’t look ready to pounce,” Mandy said, darting a glance down the embankment. That’s when she caught another movement in the grass, a much smaller bundle of spotted tawny fur, not much larger than a large, well-fed barn cat.
Only the Heart Knows Page 19
