Although at the moment Jacob couldn’t think of any.
“Really?” Abigail’s pulse quickened. “You know where this is, Rocky?”
“Yep. I do.”
“Can you tell me how to get there?”
“Better than that, I can take you.”
“You would do that?” Abigail swallowed past the lump in her throat. Tears stung. “I’ve dreamed of going home ever since I can remember, but I’ve not known how to make it happen. All I have is this picture.” She laughed through her tears. “But you’ve seen it. Do you know who lives there now?”
Rocky rubbed his chin, narrowed his eyes, and gazed upward as if trying to recall.
“I remember I had a Grandma Kandoll. Was it anyone with that last name?”
“Yep, that was it.” He nodded and smiled. “Slipped my mind for a bit, but that was it.”
Abigail wanted to jump up and down. “Are you sure you could take me there?”
“As sure as there are fleas on a dog.”
Sitting next to this daring young man, taking in his grin and the sparkle in his eyes, sent pinpricks pulsing through her body. His scent of leather, dust, and horses filled her senses. Rocky removed his hat and leaned into her.
Was he going to kiss her? Right there with Sammy in the room? Abigail turned her head.
Rocky stood. He pulled her up, brought her into his embrace.
No. She wasn’t ready for this. She tried to step away, but his arms held her fast. Her heart pounded like a blacksmith beating a hot horseshoe. Rocky had made no declaration of love. She couldn’t let him kiss her. What kind of woman did he think she was? She put her hands on his chest and pushed. “Don’t.”
He let go and she dropped onto the bed. Breathless, she bowed her head, ashamed of herself, but not sure why.
“My apologies.” Rocky put his hat back on and stomped out of the room. He closed the door harder than necessary, then clomped through the kitchen.
Gradually Abigail’s breathing returned to normal, but she remained shaky, her thoughts a muddled mess. Had she misled him? Did asking him to take her home give the wrong message? She liked him, and maybe later would want a kiss. But not so fast. Not until they knew each other better. Not until he loved her and she loved him. A first kiss would be remembered forever.
She had dreamed of it, a first kiss, not really believing a man would be attracted to her. It would be a romantic and magical moment. Sometimes she imagined the kiss on a moonlit night in a secluded garden. Sometimes the moment happened as they rode horses together, topped a hillock, and watched the sun rise across the desert. All unrealistic fantasies, but it didn’t stop her from dreaming.
As she looked out the window into the night, her face reflected back at her. She smoothed her mussed hair. Had she missed her chance?
Jacob ran into the doctor near the outhouse and got the news about Sammy. He sent up a quick prayer of thanks and went back to take care of the rabbits. The sight of Abigail and Rocky plagued his mind. Even after he deposited the cleaned meat in the outdoor icebox, his thoughts were of them.
He perched on a corral railing until Rocky left through the kitchen. Drawn like an ant to honey, Jacob jumped down and headed to the house, then stopped. It was late, and besides, why torment himself? She was interested in Rocky, not him, and he couldn’t compete. He’d never be a dashing, devil-may-care hero. She barely knew he was alive.
It had been a long day, and morning would come with a slew of chores whether or not he got enough sleep. Jacob turned back to the barn and his room. He sat on his cot and opened his Bible. His trek into the desert had helped his mood, but perhaps words from the Good Book would help more. He read aloud from Colossians: “‘If ye then be risen with Christ, seek those things which are above, where Christ sitteth on the right hand of God. Set your affection on things above, not on things on the earth.’”
Jacob stopped reading. Was this his answer? To keep his mind on heavenly things? His heart constricted. “Thou gracious Almighty God, to please Thee, to follow Thy plan is my heart’s desire.” He drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly.
His prayer was artificial, repeating an obligation, not what he felt. He wanted to please God, but he ached to pray that Abigail could be part of the plan, that God intended blessings for them together. But Paul said, right there in 1 Corinthians 7, “It is good for a man not to touch a woman.”
To thrust her from his heart would be like ramming himself against cacti needles.
He lay back on his cot. Sleep eluded him as he rolled from his back to his side, then the other way. The hours lazed by. He dozed, but before the sun rose he found himself wide awake. He got up and pulled the pair of shoes he’d finished weeks ago for Abigail from under his bed. He hadn’t yet found a way to give them to her.
They’d never talked about her limp, and he didn’t want to embarrass her, but she struggled to walk fast, let alone run. He couldn’t count the number of times he’d seen her stumble and sometimes fall to the ground. He wanted to help her.
The top part of the shoes was of cowhide that he’d worked until it was soft and pliable. The soles were wooden, with one two inches thicker than the other to even out her gait. Sheep wool for cushioning covered the insides. To determine the size, he’d taken measurements from tracks she’d made here and there on the ranch. How much higher to build up the right sole was pure guesswork.
Jacob determined to give them to her in the morning. But how? He couldn’t say, “Hey, Abby, noticed you’ve got a limp. Try these.”
Could he leave them in the kitchen? She didn’t have to know they came from him. It would eliminate an awkward conversation.
He reclined back on his cot, the peace from his time in the desert returning as his eyes shut.
A woman’s voice intruded on his dream until he woke enough to realize Abigail was in the barn. By the time he dressed, she was riding out on Flash. The doctor’s horse was already gone.
He would have liked to say good morning, but her absence had an advantage. Jacob retrieved the shoes from his room and strode to the house. He put them beside the cookstove then knocked on the bedroom door before entering to check on Sammy. The boy was asleep. Frank dozed in the chair, his legs extended nearly across the room and his neck bent at an awkward angle. He looked anything but comfortable, but Jacob trod softly as he exited the room and returned to the kitchen. Best to let a sleeping dog lie. When riled, Frank could be cantankerous.
Jacob poured a cup of coffee and took it outside. From the barnyard, he watched Abigail on Flash galloping across the desert, her hair flying free behind her. What if he mounted up and joined her? The thought pounced on him. Well, what if he did?
His gaze drifted to the corral. Rocky had bridled a mustang paint. In seconds the Express rider mounted the pony and raced out of the barnyard.
Head down, Jacob plodded to the barn. Set your affections on things above, not on things on the earth.
Chapter Seven
A bigail’s favorite thing in the world, even ahead of sketching, was galloping across the desert on Flash. On horseback, she was equal to anyone. No limp hindered her movements.
She preferred early morning. Shadows created by the rising sun emphasized the jackrabbit holes and sudden drop-offs, making it easier to avoid them, and the morning’s cool air invigorated her. Soon enough she’d have to go back and tend to breakfast, but for now, she gave herself to this one delight.
Her pleasure this morning was especially gratifying after the events of the previous evening. Now, hours later, they felt borderline comical. Rocky had tried to kiss her. So what? Laughing, she replayed the shocked look on his face when she backed away. Dollars to doughnut holes, he didn’t get turned down very often. No harm had been done. Her heart fluttered. At least someone considered her kissable.
Flash’s ears pointed up. What had he detected? She glanced around, suddenly remembering the Paiute attack from the day before. She’d gone a fair distance from the ranch, although the lo
w stone buildings were still visible. Dust in the air showed a rider advancing at a fast clip. Perhaps it was time to head home.
She urged Flash into a canter then a full gallop as they circled back, but the rider adjusted his angle. Their paths would cross. He waved his hat and shouted something. As he neared she identified Rocky, and her nerves relaxed. She held Flash to a walk, allowing Rocky to draw close, then shouted, “Race you to the outcropping!” She leaned forward across Flash’s back. “Come on, boy, run!” The horse responded. A glance back showed Rocky had accepted her challenge, but he couldn’t catch her. She had an unfair head start on their fastest horse.
Plenty of chores had a claim on Jacob’s time, especially with Sammy laid up and Frank distracted by his only son, but Jacob stood idle. The sky was brightening with hues of orange and pink against which the horses and riders showed as dark silhouettes speeding across a shadowed desert floor. It was beautiful. Captivating. His belly flip-flopped at the sight of it.
Part of him yearned to join Abigail, but part anguished for her to slow down—to ride more sanely. He watched the magical scene until the enchantment dissolved as he recognized jealousy at the sight of Rocky riding with her. Jealousy was not a virtue. If he loved her, shouldn’t he be glad for her? Loved her? Where had that thought come from?
He continued watching and did the only thing he knew to do. He prayed for blessings for Abigail and everyone around—including the Paiutes and Rocky.
Abigail reined in Flash at the outcrop, but didn’t have long to wait for Rocky to join her. Joy filled her spirit as she laughed. “Slowpoke,” she teased.
“Wow, girl. You can ride!” Admiration shone in his eyes. “You could be a Pony Express rider—if they hired women.”
“It’s easy when you have a horse like Flash.”
“He’s a good horse. I’ve ridden him. But it takes more than a good horse to ride like that. You’re amazing.”
No one had ever praised her. Sometimes she got a thank-you, but that was it. Rocky thought her amazing? Well, wasn’t that pretty close to a declaration of love? She giggled. “Want to ride back to the ranch with me?”
“You have to return already?”
“Last night’s stagecoach will want to set out, and I have to finish breakfast.” Abigail turned Flash toward home. “But we can ride back together.”
Rocky smiled at her. “I’d like that.”
His smile and the blueness of his eyes smote Abigail’s heart. She giggled again and her face flushed. If she rode next to him, would he try to kiss her a second time? If he did, she’d ride off, but she wished he’d try. Was she as kissable now in daylight as in the dimly lit bedroom?
“I’m glad you rode out this morning.” She glanced at him.
“I’m glad I did, too. I wanted to apologize for last night.” Rocky flashed a grin at her.
“I thought you might be angry.” Abigail paused. “Will you still take me home?”
“You better believe it. Whenever you’re ready.”
Rocky kept his horse to a trot and Abigail followed suit. “Don’t you love mornings like this?”
He nodded. “Doesn’t get any better. Perfect horse. Perfect blue sky. Perfect girl.”
“Bet you say that to every woman.” She smiled to take the sting out of her mocking words.
“Nope, just the ones who beat me in a horse race.”
“I cheated.”
“Okay, just the ones who cheat me in a horse race.”
They reached the corral and dismounted. Abigail uncinched the saddle and hefted it off Flash, then carried it to the barn. “Same time, same place tomorrow?” she asked, thinking Rocky was next to her, but he didn’t answer.
She stopped and turned. He had his saddle in hand, but he stood staring at her. No smile. Pity in his eyes.
Jacob stopped mucking the stalls as Abigail rounded the corner.
“Hey, let me get that for you.” He put down the pitchfork and took the heavy saddle from her. Why was she crying? If that profligate, no-account rider had done something—“What is it, Abby? Who upset you?” His muscles tensed. He was twice that rider’s size. It’d be nothing to lay him out.
“I’m fine.” Her watery smile flooded his heart. “I’m a foolish girl who ought to know better.”
“What did Rocky do?”
“Nothing, Jacob, really.”
“Somebody mention my name?” Rocky entered the barn.
“I need to finish breakfast.” Abigail turned her back on the men and headed for the kitchen.
Jacob watched her a moment then turned back to the Express rider. “She’s upset.”
“Is she?” Rocky shrugged. “She was okay a minute ago.”
Jacob wanted to push for more, but he let it drop. What could he say? The men took the saddles into the tack room. Rocky set his down first. “How’s Sammy?”
“Don’t know. He was still asleep last time I checked. By the way, thanks for getting the doctor.”
“No problem.” Rocky leaned against the stall. “I’m not leaving until later. How about if we go hunting now?”
“I went last night.” Jacob returned to mucking an empty stall. The yahoo had made Abby cry; he wasn’t going to stand around and parley as if they were friends. He feared he’d say something he’d have to apologize for later. The tension within him needed a release, and working his muscles served as an antidote for his bad attitude. He didn’t notice Rocky leave, but when he pushed the wheelbarrow full of horse manure outside, the Express rider wasn’t in the barn.
Jacob glanced toward the house. If he delayed any longer, he’d miss breakfast. But the stagecoach driver would be eager to get on his way. He separated four Thoroughbreds from the herd in the north corral and hitched them to the singletree. He’d barely finished before the driver called for the passengers to load up.
After the coach left, Jacob went inside. A few coffee mugs remained in the dining room. He gathered them and brought them into the kitchen. “Abby,” he began as he entered the room, then halted. She was elbow deep in dishwater. Tears wetted her cheeks and dripped off her chin. He set the cups down. “Abby, what is it?” He took a handkerchief from his back pocket and dabbed at her face.
She took the hanky from him and finished the job herself. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Is it Sammy?” He wanted to blame Rocky, but Sammy’s condition might have worsened. On second thought, maybe he shouldn’t ask. All he wanted at this moment was for the tears to stop. What should he do?
Abigail shook her head, swiped at her eyes with his handkerchief, then handed it back. “Give me a minute and I’ll be fine.”
“How can I help?”
“You already have.” She lifted the hem of her skirt and looked down. She wore the shoes he had made. “They fit perfectly. And look.” She walked from the sink to the stove and back. Without a limp.
He smiled. “They work.”
She nodded and her eyes watered again.
More tears. Great. He hadn’t intended to make her cry. Leaving the shoes in the kitchen had been a bad idea after all. Did she suspect he thought less of her because of the limp? How could he explain he meant to help? “Um, how did you know I made them?”
“Because you are Jacob and who else would have?” She pecked his cheek. “Thank you.”
His heart galloped at the softness of her lips on his face. “But they made you cry?”
“Yes, but these are good tears, happy tears.” She wrapped her arms around him and squeezed. Dampness from her wet hands soaked through to his back. Every nerve heightened.
She pressed tighter. “They are perfect. Absolutely perfect. I can’t thank you enough.”
He patted her shoulder, afraid to hug her in return. Fire coursed through his body. He could think of nothing except how much he wanted to kiss her. He wouldn’t. Shouldn’t. He fought for control. Only when she stepped back was he able to breathe again. She took both his hands in hers and looked into his eyes. “This is the best th
ing anyone has ever done for me.”
Joy washed over and through him. He laughed. “Your tears—I thought I’d done something wrong.” It was befuddling not knowing the difference between happy and sad tears. They looked identical.
“Jacob, I never dreamed this was possible. Plenty of times I’ve wished I didn’t limp, but it never occurred to me a shoe could make the difference. You are a genius.”
Heat flushed Jacob’s face, even as he stood a little taller. “I’m glad you like them.”
“I can’t wait for Rocky to see me walk now. Do you think he’ll forget about the limp?”
Chapter Eight
Jacob’s smile faded as the light in his eyes dimmed. Was it something she said? Did she not show sufficient gratitude for the shoes? Abigail hiked up the hem of her skirt to the top of the new boots again. “I love them, really, Jacob. The leather is beautifully done. Did you work it yourself?”
Jacob nodded, but he looked away, neither at the boots nor her face.
She dropped the hem of her skirt. He’d been cheerful enough when he came in. What had changed?
He poured a cup of coffee, glanced at her, then away. “How is our invalid this morning?”
“He still can’t see. I thought the doctor’s confidence would encourage him, but he’s pretty melancholy.” She took a plate from the shelf. “Are you hungry?”
“Yep.” Conversation stopped as Abigail dished up fried potatoes, scrambled eggs, sausage, and biscuits. Why was it suddenly difficult to talk to him?
Jacob drained his coffee. “How about if we get Sammy out of bed? He could sit in the dining room, maybe. Or outside. He’s not used to being cooped up. Might lift his spirits.”
“That’s a great idea.” Abigail handed Jacob the filled plate. “How do you do it? How do you know what everyone needs?”
He finally made eye contact with her, his face a question mark.
“I’m serious. It isn’t just the shoes or tending Sammy’s wound. It’s knowing where to look for Sammy when Uncle Frank wanted him. Knowing Rocky was the best one to fetch the doctor. It’s never coming back empty-handed when you hunt. Carrying my saddle for me. How do you know?” She wanted to add, And why am I just now seeing it?
The Pony Express Romance Collection Page 4
