by Debra Glass
“Good afternoon,” he greeted. The blush tinting Cathleen’s cheeks sent a tendril of triumph coursing through him.
“Do you want me to take care of Asteroid?” Charles asked eagerly.
The puppy let out a sharp, high-pitched bark. Ransom bent and scooped the little mongrel up in his arms.
“Would you like that?” he asked Charles.
“Yes sir,” the boy said, reaching for the reins.
“Wait!” Jenny interrupted. She pushed herself up and turned in the direction of Ransom’s voice. “Could I…could I ride him?”
“Oh, I don’t know—” Cathleen began.
At the same time, Ransom said, “Asteroid? Are you out of your mind? Even as skilled as you were before…before the war, and even given this old boy’s age, he’s not the horse for you.”
Cathleen closed her book and stood as well. Her gaze scrutinized him and he struggled to keep from flinching lest she see too much.
“Is there perhaps another horse she might ride?” Cathleen asked.
“What about String Bean?” Charles asked.
Jenny scowled. “That old bony bay couldn’t run if he wanted to.”
“That’s the idea,” Ransom remarked.
“Want me to saddle him up?” Charles offered.
“It’s String Bean or nothing,” Ransom declared.
Jenny huffed and folded her arms over her chest.
“What if Miss Ryan rides him too?” Ransom said with a wink.
“Miss Ryan? On String Bean?” Jenny laughed.
Cathleen smirked. “I’m afraid I’m not very adept at horse riding.”
“We know,” the trio said in unison.
“You could teach her,” Ransom directed at Jenny.
Cathleen’s humor turned to a scowl. “I don’t know about that…”
Ransom turned to Charles. “Put a saddle on String Bean, and not that side saddle, mind you. I won’t have either of these gals falling off.”
Charles bolted toward the barn.
“Now, Mr. Byrne—” Cathleen began.
“You can’t live in Tennessee and not know how to ride,” Ransom said.
Jenny’s demeanor had changed and now she seemed excited about the idea of returning to the saddle.
“But astride?” Cathleen objected.
“I always rode astraddle,” Jenny chirped.
Ransom laughed. “Yes, much to Sissy’s chagrin.”
“Aunt Chloe’s face that time you let me ride astride to Spring Hill with you!” Jenny blurted and burst into laughter.
“I thought she would skin me alive,” Ransom said. “If I hadn’t been two heads taller than her, she’d have taken a cornstalk to me.”
Their mirth didn’t appear to reach Cathleen, who kept turning anxiously toward the barn. She worried her bottom lip, a little habit Ransom had grown to appreciate.
His fingers itched to tear down that severe chignon and release her inky locks. Her gaze flicked to his. She drew in a quick breath and then looked away.
Charles emerged with String Bean. The gangly animal looked dumbfounded, but enthusiastic to finally be wearing a saddle. With his abundance of buck teeth and two overly large mulish ears, the horse reminded Ransom of one of the Bumpas brood that lived down toward Mt. Pleasant. None of the Bumpases were known for their looks—or their smarts. Neither was String Bean. But the animal was eager to please and had never bucked a rider.
Ransom glanced at Cathleen. There was always a first time for everything. Hopefully, today would not be one of those firsts for String Bean.
“Oh heavens!” Cathleen exclaimed. “He’s beastly!”
“Now, don’t go hurtin’ his feelings,” Ransom drawled.
Jenny frowned. “I hope Andy doesn’t come riding up. I’d be mortified if he were to see me on that nag’s back.”
“Ride him down!” Ransom called to Charles.
With delight, Charles climbed into the saddle and String Bean loped toward them. Ransom forced himself not to sneer at the horse’s ugly gait. He’d been sired by one of their most sought-after trotters, but alas, String Bean had gotten none of his father’s grace or speed. Neither army had wanted the gelding so he’d remained at Byrne’s End to live out a carefree life.
A good-natured beast, String Bean seemed blissfully oblivious to his ungainly appearance. He didn’t stop until he’d reached Jenny, where he nibbled her with his horse lips as if he were reuniting with a long lost friend.
Jenny’s grimace turned into a smile as she cradled String Bean’s knotty brown head and ran her palms over his face.
Ransom lifted Charles down from the saddle. “Miss Ryan?”
Cathleen eyed the animal and shook her head. “I couldn’t possibly.”
Ransom held out his hands. “I’ll help you.”
Her lips pursed. “No thank you. Besides, I could never ride astride.”
At that, Ransom burst into laughter so hard he sagged against String Bean’s side. “You? Not attempt something forbidden to women? I’m disappointed in you, Cathleen.”
Her eyes widened when he let slip her given name, but she judiciously said nothing as she tilted her chin down to peep at him over the rims of her spectacles. Despite his familiarity, defiance sparked in those black pools. He widened his arms, and failing at suppressing a grin, Cathleen walked toward him.
“See,” he said, putting his hands on either side of her waist. “I told you I’d have you on horseback before long.”
“Oh, just hush up and put me on that infernal thing’s back,” she admonished, though the light never left her eyes.
With ease, he lifted her off the ground, hooked a hand around one leg and tossed her onto the horse’s back. She landed with an “oomph” and an errant lock of hair escaped her bun. She didn’t bother to sweep it back. Instead, she gripped the pommel with both hands.
Ransom slid one of her feet into the stirrup before skirting the horse to find her loose foot toeing blindly for its hold. With a chuckle, he guided her foot in.
“This is indecent,” Cathleen complained, but also refused to let go to adjust her rucked up skirts.
Yards of white-eyelet-trimmed petticoat stood out in vibrant contrast to the dull black of her mourning gown. Ransom warmed at the memory of seeing her bared last night.
“Well, I can’t say as you look like a seasoned horsewoman, but you’ll manage,” he jibed. “Jenny, tell your teacher how to ride like a Byrne.”
Jenny felt her way around the horse and placed a hand on Cathleen’s thigh. “Goodness gracious, Miss Ryan, you’re tense as can be. Relax. String Bean’s not going to hurt you.”
She groped for the reins and then offered them to Cathleen. “Lean back slightly and don’t keep too tight a grip on the reins.”
“This is not for me,” Cathleen protested, trying to hold the reins and the pommel at the same time.
Ransom laughed. “You’re up there. You might as well give it a go.”
Cathleen shot him a nasty look. “How does one maintain one’s balance?”
“One uses these,” he said—and squeezed her thigh.
Her jolt rippled all the way down through String Bean. The horse shook and blew.
“I know you’re capable of it,” he added, teasingly.
Her gaze clashed with his but she couldn’t quell a knowing smile. “All right. Might I get down now?”
“Down?” Ransom asked. “You’ve yet to ride.”
“Lean back a little,” Jenny instructed, but Cathleen seemed intent on remaining hunkered over the horse’s neck.
“Snap the reins and cluck to him,” Jenny said and stepped back.
Cathleen shook the reins. “Go, String Bean.”
The horse remained in his spot. He dropped his head and began nibbling the grass. Cathleen’s eyes rounded and she stiffened as if she might topple over the front of the animal.
Ransom chuckled. “Like this.” He clucked his tongue. String Bean’s rangy head lifted. “Dig your heels in.”
/>
Cathleen wriggled in the saddle, barely scraping her heels on the animal’s flanks. It was enough.
The horse took off.
Surprise rattled Ransom as he watched Cathleen bounce, doll-like, on the galloping horse’s back.
“Shit,” he muttered under his breath and took off. “Pull the reins, pull the reins!”
Cathleen tried to look back, but instead ended up bending completely over to cling to String Bean’s neck.
“Pull the reins! Make him stop!” Ransom coached. Who’d ever have thought String Bean had such a streak in him? Finally, and completely of his own accord, the horse loped to a halt and began munching grass again.
Cathleen threw one leg over and dangled across the saddle, backside up. Ransom tried not to snicker at her attempts to climb down before he gathered her into his arms and set her on the ground.
Her glasses hung loose from one ear. Locks of black hair waved wildly around her flushed face. Her lips formed a straight line, matching her lowered eyebrows.
Ransom’s lips twitched as he tried not to smile. Instead, he tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear and reset her spectacles. “I guess String Bean doesn’t like Yankees.”
Cathleen appeared as if she were trying to stay angry, but at that comment, she burst into laughter. “Well, String Bean,” she said to the horse, “the feeling is mutual.”
“My turn!” Jenny cried as she traipsed across the grass on the arm of Charles.
“Do you really think that’s wise?” Cathleen asked.
“Even without her sight, Jenny’s a far better rider than you,” Ransom said as he took his sister’s hand and placed it on the horse’s side.
Jenny found the stirrup as if it were second nature and swung easily into the saddle in spite of her skirts.
“Just here in the yard,” Ransom told her. “Listen to the sound of my voice and try to circle. There aren’t any trees with low branches. Be careful or I’ll have to answer to Sissy and Aunt Chloe.”
Jenny’s laughter pealed as she seized the reins, kicked the horse’s flanks and bounded away. Her hair trailed behind her and the back of her skirts billowed, but to Ransom, the most beautiful thing was seeing her smile.
“It pleases you to see her this way,” Cathleen said.
“Immensely.” He watched Jenny for a moment more. “I didn’t think she’d ever forgive me.”
“Forgive you?”
“She contracted the fever that blinded her from me.”
Cathleen reached for his arm. “That’s truly unfortunate, Ransom, but she could never resent you for it.”
“I resent myself for it,” he bit out as he took two steps toward Jenny—two steps away from Cathleen’s attempt to comfort him. “Back this way, Jen!”
Guilt snaked through him that he’d spurned her. He glanced back over his shoulder. “Will you come to me tonight?”
But before she could answer, a group of riders turned off the pike and headed down the drive. He counted seven. Ransom tensed. “Charles!” he called. “Take String Bean back to the barn.” He turned to Cathleen. “Take Jenny in the house.”
“Why? Who are those men?”
“Now, Cathleen.”
* * * * *
“Who are those men?” Cathleen asked as she peered out from behind the drapes. Ransom, Mr. Byrne and Morris Hunt had armed themselves and approached the riders, rifles aimed.
Aunt Chloe squinted. “I ain’t sure. But from the looks of ’em, they ain’t up to no good.”
Sissy’s hands fluttered like wild birds. “Oh, where’d Sally leave my tonic?” she asked, searching frantically.
Face still flushed from her ride, Jenny stood in the middle of the room, wringing her hands. “Listen. They’re talking about you, Miss Ryan.”
Cathleen held her breath as she cocked an ear to hear over Sissy’s warbling.
“We don’t want no she-Yank down here agitatin’ our womenfolk.”
Cathleen’s heart skipped a beat.
“You men turn around and go back where you came from.” Mr. Byrne’s voice boomed.
“Not ’til you give us yer word you’ll keep that bitch in her place.”
One of the horses turned and Cathleen spied a whip coiled and hanging from his saddle. The man in the saddle spat.
Bile rose in Cathleen’s throat. She’d heard tales about groups such as this, but she’d never really imagined she’d be the target of one. Her gaze flicked to Ransom, who held his rifle trained on the lead rider.
A cold shudder racked her. She’d put the Byrnes in danger.
One of the men eyed the house. “Nice place ye got here, Byrne. It’d be a shame to see it burned to the ground, seein’ as how it survived the war and all.”
Ransom aimed his rifle over their heads and fired. The shot split the air. Sissy screamed. Jenny gasped.
“Take your men and get the hell off our land,” he said.
The leader leaned low over his saddle and said something Cathleen couldn’t make out before he wheeled his horse around. A cloud of dust kicked up in the wake of the riders as they left Byrne’s End.
Cathleen released the breath she’d been holding. “They’re gone,” she said to Jenny.
“What did they want? Why were they talking about you?” Jenny asked.
Cathleen’s gaze clashed with Aunt Chloe’s before she turned to Jenny. “I’m not sure.” But she knew it had everything to do with the talk she’d given in Spring Hill.
Chapter Seven
Cathleen went to Ransom almost nightly. No mention was ever made of the riders or the reason for their visit.
She wondered if he continued to see her so she’d remain out of the public eye, or because he, too, enjoyed their encounters. Each time practically mirrored the one before. He waited for her in near darkness and, for the most part, remained silent as he pleasured her with his fingers and his mouth. Though she achieved orgasm, his touch left her reeling, wanting more.
But as soon as they were both sated, he encouraged her to return to the big house. She reluctantly left the warmth and comfort of his bed in order to keep their trysts secret. It wouldn’t do for her to be gone if Jenny needed her.
They spent their days at their respective duties and both maintained their distance lest someone realize how familiar they’d become with one another.
Cathleen found it was best to stay as busy as possible. When she was idle, her stolen nights with Ransom haunted her thoughts.
She’d gone into this thinking her curiosity would soon be quelled and she could get back to her cause of educating women about voting rights. Every night, she told herself that it would be her last encounter with Ransom, but each new dawn her resolve wavered and she found herself drawn once more to his bed.
* * * * *
“Where is Miss Ryan?” Ransom demanded. He’d known something was up when Charles hadn’t appeared in the barn that morning.
Sissy looked up from her darning. “Charles took her into town,” she replied blandly.
Warning bells pealed in Ransom’s head. “And you let her?”
“Let her?” Sissy asked. “Son, I can hardly stop her from—”
“Don’t you fret,” Aunt Chloe interjected, stepping out from behind the burgundy portieres that separated the parlor from the foyer. She shook her feather duster at him. “I gave her a rough talkin’ to before she set out fo’ town.”
Ransom bit the inside of his cheek. He doubted Cathleen would heed Chloe’s “rough talking to”. Or anyone else’s for that matter.
He hated to think what might happen to her—or worse, little Charles—if those night riders were to come upon her. Cathleen Ryan was not the kind of woman who’d walk away without telling those men what she thought of them.
He huffed a sigh and hurried to the barn to saddle Asteroid.
As if sensing his urgency, the horse took the bit and stood patiently as Ransom hoisted the saddle onto his back, tightened it down and then swung into the saddle.
&nb
sp; With a high-pitched nicker, Asteroid shot toward Spring Hill, covering the distance with the swift precision of his trotter bloodline.
He recognized the Byrne rig outside the church. “What the hell?” he asked as he climbed down and then looped the reins around a hook on the back of the wagon. How much trouble could she get into in a church? But then, he reminded himself, Cathleen could court trouble anywhere.
Bracing himself for whatever atrocity she might have started, he skipped up the steps and looked in the open door.
His heart warmed at the sight he beheld.
Five war veterans sat scattered in the first few pews. Ransom recognized them at once. Louis Hardison, who’d been blinded by grapeshot. Peg Stutts, who was stone deaf since charging an artillery battery at Chickamauga Creek. One man sparked a sliver of guilt in Ransom. Tommy Moncrief. He, too, had fallen ill with the same sickness that blinded Jenny. Now, Tommy could neither hear nor see.
Cathleen sat next to him, tracing her finger on the boy’s palm.
A smile stretched across his face and he nodded and then began similar finger markings in Cathleen’s hand. Realization inundated Ransom. Cathleen was teaching him to communicate by spelling words into his hand.
Unexpected moisture dampened his eyes and Ransom blinked it away. He’d come here to admonish her, only to discover her compassionately helping men who’d fought against her country. He leaned against the doorframe and watched for several minutes before she lifted her head.
Their gazes met and his stomach did an odd sort of flip.
“Don’t mind me,” Ransom mumbled and hurriedly ducked out the door. He suddenly felt like an intruder. If only she hadn’t seen him…
He clenched his fists as he stalked back to Asteroid and hefted himself into the saddle. She infuriated him as no woman ever had and then she surprised him by doing something so completely against…
He glanced back at the church. No. He was wrong about that. Helping anyone, no matter who they were, was not against Cathleen’s nature.
He chuckled to himself, wheeled Asteroid around and rode away.
* * * * *
Cathleen had balked when Sissy insisted that Charles accompany her on her walk. She’d gone on many such walks in Boston, completely by herself. In fact, she’d longed for the solitude so she could sort out her reaction to her feelings about Ransom being gone for several days.
