Over his shoulder, she found herself gazing directly into the beauty’s eyes. Birdie thought she detected a spike of jealousy there in those hazel depths. It almost made the pain of hearing herself addressed as Curly-Birdie by the man she’d adored, worshiped, and longed for since the age of four bearable. The flash of fire in Miss What’s-her-name’s gorgeous eyes dissolved in the blink of an eye.
Maybe she’d imagined it, Birdie mused, or maybe she’d hoped it. She didn’t care; the notion soothed her bruised feelings.
Savoring the feel of his arms around her, Birdie remained in Gabriel’s embrace as he brought her out to the edge of the porch to introduce her to Miss Gorgeous and her mother. Birdie found the exercise excruciatingly painful, requiring her to behave as if her heart were uninvolved.
Chapter Five
Gabe savored the feel of her in his arms and cursed Birdie-Alice Bollo for the effect she had on him.
This was Curly-Birdie, little Curly-Birdie, the goofy, pudgy, pest of his childhood. But within his arms, every one of her supple, womanly attributes inspired a lust that had him breaking out in a sweat.
The pure earthiness, the smell of her: dust, honey, sage, heat, but most of all her pure womanly essence, sent all politic self-control out the window.
Her full bosoms smashed easily, softly into his chest, conforming perfectly to his body. Not for a second did he think it his imagination that she craved his embrace, encouraged him to hold her, hold her tight. Oh, she wanted more than a friendly hug, and his body wanted to give her more.
Through the fabric of her dress, his fingers found no form-fitting boney stays or corset ties. He had no trouble believing his fingers were mere threads away from warm, soft, feminine flesh. Her firm, round breasts were pressed against his chest, and he could feel her nipples harden.
Finding Birdie there in the shadows behind the screen door set his heart into a wild, erratic rhythm. He buried his face in her curly, unruly shock of blonde curls. All the dread and grief he’d carried with him for the last three years melted away. His heart opened up to joy and light. Tears mingled with a deep-throated chuckle. Curly-Birdie had come to welcome him. Curly-Birdie, he could count on her to accept him, adore him. Unable to restrain himself, he picked her up off her feet, bringing her up to allow her to put her head on his shoulder. He drew her closer and found himself home at last.
Intensely aware of her body pressed against his, his hands roamed across her back and down over the curve of her waist to her rounded backside. He shocked himself into regaining his senses.
Everyone could see them; they weren’t alone. Not that he wanted to be alone with Birdie-Alice. God no—Birdie-Alice Bollo? She was like a sister to him. He shouldn’t be feeling her…her bosoms against his chest, getting lost in the smell of her hair, her skin, although she smelled of warm straw and sweet clover and yes, damn-it-to-hell, a female and all things forbidden.
The fact of his arousal hit him as a bucket of cold water. Abruptly, he lowered her to stand on her own two feet and shoved her away. Unable to look her in the eye, he took her by the hand and dragged her out to the edge of the porch. He set himself the sobering task of introducing her to Edditha, reminding himself he had a fiancée. He had Edditha, the woman he’d asked to be his wife.
Coming out from under the spell Birdie cast over him, one fact struck him like a lightning bolt: Birdie-Alice posed more of a threat to his happiness than any explosion ever could. Awash in guilt, he concentrated on Edditha’s face as he searched her serene face. He managed a smile of assurance and gathered his wits, grounding himself in reality once again.
Edditha, always gracious and socially correct, smiled sweetly when he introduced her to Birdie and reached out to shake Birdie’s hand. For a brief second Birdie hesitated. Gabe held his breath, half expecting Birdie to refuse. He didn’t think Birdie would go that far, but her jealousy showed in the way she put her nose in the air, the set of her lips, and the stiff way she stepped forward, her arms folded across her chest all mulish.
Jo and Birdie wore dresses of faded chambray, calico, and gingham, and for summer they wore straw hats and poke bonnets made from flour sacks. He knew his Curly-Birdie, he knew what she saw when she looked at Edditha, the pretty clothes, the stylish bonnet, the refinement in the young woman’s every movement and word. Gabe found all of these things intimidating. It was part of the attraction he’d felt toward Edditha. She’d been so very unattainable, which made it a challenge. No one could miss the contrast between the three young women, especially not Gabe.
When Birdie at last responded by saying, “Very pleased to meet you, Miss Millican,” and took Edditha’s hand, Gabe exhaled with relief, able to complete the introductions to Edditha’s mother.
Birdie could be unpredictable, volatile even. Who knew what she would do? Gabe knew she’d had a crush on him forever. If she took it in her head to bare her claws, give vent to her hurt feelings, and allow her jealousy to take its revenge on Edditha, Gabe didn’t know what he could do to stop her.
Birdie-Alice Bollo would bear watching.
The introductions accomplished, Birdie retreated into the shadows. Gabe didn’t understand why, but her withdrawal from the gathering irritated him. He didn’t trust her maneuver, not one bit. Worst of all, he couldn’t forget she was there, not now. Birdie wasn’t shy. The Curly-Birdie he remembered and loved was full of life and fun, gregarious and outgoing. She didn’t hang back in the shadows, she led the way and charged her way through.
And yet, in a way, he found himself relieved she kept her distance. He couldn’t afford to let her get to him. She’d become a puzzle. He wanted to study her, look at her, see how she’d changed, become a woman. What had she done to herself to make him want to touch her? Surely if he could figure it out, he could get over it. He couldn’t lust after Curly-Birdie. To go down that road would lead to disaster.
He came out of his reverie with a start when Mrs. Millican asked, “Would it be possible to have one of the cabins rather than stay in the house? They sounded lovely and rustic in the brochure, with stone fireplaces and the swing arm. My mother cooked in her Dutch oven over an open hearth.”
Van assured her, “You’ll not have to do the cooking, Jo’s been baking today. All the cabins are available.”
“Van and I’ll get your trunks,” Gabe offered, putting all lascivious thoughts of Birdie-Alice aside. “Would you like a cabin close to the house or one closer to the bathing pool?”
Coming up beside him, Edditha suggested, “I think near the house, don’t you, Mother?”
Gabe hid his smirk, as the hot spring did emit an odor of rotten eggs, the bugs could be ferocious, and the frog’s chorus was a bit too loud if one wasn’t accustomed to it. Edditha, obviously, had missed none of the drawbacks.
However, her mother appeared game for almost anything and tipped her head to consider the possibilities before giving her consent. “Yes, perhaps it would be nice. I suppose if we should decide to go for a dip in the pool, after riding on the train and our long ride out here, a bit of a walk would be welcome.”
“I’d be pleased to act as your guide whenever you’re ready to do a bit of exploring,” offered Buck, taking Gabe by surprise. He offered Mrs. Millican his arm, leaving Gabe and Van to tote the luggage.
Standing on the porch, Jo assured everyone, “I’ll have supper ready in an hour.”
»»•««
After settling Edditha and her mother in their cabin, Gabe made his way to the barn and started to curry the hired hacks. He hoped things around the old place weren’t as bad as they seemed. He could put some money in the pot to keep the place going through the summer. He didn’t like it that Nils Norquist had his eye on the place. Norquist had a nose for making shrewd, lucky investments. Sometimes luck had nothing to do with the man’s success. More often than not, subtle coercion and convenient misfortune moved his business dealings to their profitable conclusions.
Evidently, Buck tried to make a bargain with the old devi
l out of desperation. If they could figure out what Norquist wanted to extract from the canyon maybe they could turn their finances around. Gabe spent hours and hours in the canyon, but he’d never found anything there except snakes, shale, and granite. Something up there must be worth a lot of trouble and sweat to Norquist.
“You better be careful, Gabe.”
Van’s warning startled the hell of out him, and Gabe dropped the currycomb. It bounced beneath the horse’s belly. The horse shied, his hooves barely missing his foot. “Jesus, Van, what’ya thinkin’ sneaking up on me? And why do I need to be careful? I’m standing here minding my own business, brushing this horse. Surely, I’m safe enough out here in the barn.”
Van grabbed a comb off the shelf to the side of the stall and started combing the other hack. “Here in the barn, sure, but around Birdie, I’d say look out. You better be careful, or extra careful, maybe is what I’m suggestin’. I don’t know much about women, but it seems to me if a fella is engaged to a woman, he shouldn’t latch onto another woman and start makin’ love to her in front of God and everybody, including the woman he’s engaged to. At least, not if he wants the woman he asked to marry him to go ahead and take him at his word. I think the fella should at least wait a decent time, say a year or better before he starts fooling around on her…on his wife…don’t you?”
Gabe muttered a curse under his breath, but Van kept pecking away. “I’m just sayin’, I think you should be careful. Miss Millican doesn’t strike me as a woman who’d stand for a man fooling around on her. No, I’m thinkin’ she’d want her man to have eyes only for her. And I also think she’d expect her man to keep his hands, and his thoughts, for her and her alone.”
Gabe folded his arms on the mare’s rump. Van had a point, but he couldn’t very well admit he had any idea what his brother was talking about. He had to bluff his way through this one, he had to. “I have no idea what the hell you’re trying to say, little brother. I have every intention of being a faithful and dutiful husband. When I make a promise, I keep it.”
“Yeah, well, you could have fooled me,” Jo said from the open barn door. She marched over to the stall, her hands on her hips and a scowl entrenched on her face. “I think what Van is trying to say, is, it isn’t fair, Gabe. It isn’t fair to hug Birdie the way you did,” Jo said, coming up beside him. Nearly the same height, her gaze met his straight on. “It isn’t fair to Miss Millican, and it was downright cruel of you to hold Birdie and whisper in her ear when you know very well how she feels about you. She loves you, Gabe. She always has. Your fiancée is a lady. She might be willing to give you the benefit of the doubt today, but I won’t. Birdie is my friend. I will not allow you to play fast and loose with her heart.”
“Fast and loose? That’s a bit of an exaggeration, don’t you think? I’m not playing at anything,” Gabe said, finding it difficult to meet his sister’s accusing stare. “I love Birdie. I do. I love her like a sister. And yeah, it took me by surprise to find her here. She completed the homecoming. Excuse me if I got carried away. I’m sorry if my actions were misunderstood. I don’t want to hurt her. I don’t believe Edditha thought it unusual for me to give Birdie a hug. I told her about Birdie-Alice, how she’s part of the family. I hugged you too, Jo.”
“You did not feel my fanny,” Jo said, scowling at him.
Blushing, he said to Van, “I’ll be careful.” In return, his little brother shook his head and resumed brushing the horse’s neck.
“I will, I promise,” he said to Jo. “I respect Edditha too much to give her cause to doubt my regard for her.”
»»•««
Buck stood on the porch until Jo disappeared into the dark recesses of the barn. He had little doubt Jo had a bone to pick with her brother. He felt like taking the boy out behind the woodshed himself. From around the corner, he heard Birdie setting the table they kept outside on the porch off the kitchen. When the weather was good, they liked to have their meals in the open air under the shade of the porch overhang.
He cringed with every clack and clink of dinnerware. He figured Birdie was crying. He could hear her sniffling. He hesitated to get involved in the young people’s romances, but damn it, he might have to make an exception this once, just this once.
Inside, Birdie had taken up a position before the wash pan. She appeared to be giving it a good wipe down with a tea towel, but Buck suspected her of using the towel to mop up her tears.
“I don’t think I’ll stay for supper,” she said, her head down looking into the dishpan. “I think I’ll go home. You were right.” Bringing her head up, she cleared her throat and sniffed back her tears. “It’s time I saw to my future. Cornell would give me a good life…if I let him. Any girl would be lucky to have him.”
Buck moved up behind her, turned her around by the shoulders and gathered her into his chest. “Now, you can’t head home, it’s too late. You wouldn’t get home till almost midnight. Your mom and dad would give me hell. No, you’ll have to stay the night at least.”
Pushing out of his embrace, she swiped at her cheeks and blew her nose on the towel and then tossed it into the dishpan. “Well, I’m not hungry. I can’t sit at the table, I just can’t. I’ll go upstairs, stay out of sight, and light out in the morning for Aunt Maria’s.”
Buck pressed his lips together to keep from grinning. “So you’re gonna run?”
She turned on him then, her chin up, brown eyes blazing. “You damn right I’m gonna run. I’m gonna run and run until I can’t…see…can’t feel…can’t run anymore.”
“There’s no place for you to go, sweetheart. You can’t run away from this. I think this time, Birdie, you should stay and fight.”
“Fight?” She laughed in his face. Shaking, tears streaming down her flushed cheeks, she screamed at him, “Fight Miss Oh-my-God-beautiful-sophisticated-stylish-refined? With what? I know when I’m outclassed. I can’t fight Edditha Millican, Uncle Buxton. I have no weapons.”
“You underestimate yourself, Birdie. You’ve got weapons you haven’t even tried. Now, you go upstairs, get cleaned up, change your dress, comb your hair. The first weapon you’re gonna use is the one you know how to do the best—you’re gonna make friends with Miss Oh-my-God-beautiful.”
“What? Friends? Why?”
“Why? ’Cause it’s the complete opposite of what everyone will expect you to do. It will confuse the enemy or in this case the dumb clod.”
She stared at him, her mouth hanging open. Shoving out of his embrace, she huffed and took a swipe at the hair that had fallen down over one brow.
For several seconds she stood quiet, eyes glazed, her lips tucked between her teeth. “Uncle Buxton?” she whispered. He saw the light beginning to come back into her red-rimmed eyes. Soon there were devilish sparks of hope shining brightly through the unshed tears. “You…you are a genius.”
“Yes, I know,” he conceded. “Hurry up. We’re gonna eat soon, and you’ll want to begin your campaign right away.”
Chapter Six
Birdie retrieved her carpetbag from the porch. Entering the house, she tried to recall what she’d packed. She’d packed light and in a rush, knowing whatever she brought with her would have to be tied to her saddle horn.
On her way upstairs, she heaved a sigh of dismay. She’d only brought two dresses, neither of them new. She decided on the robin’s egg blue dress. She liked the low, heart-shaped neckline. It would show off her ample bosom. From what she could tell, Miss Millican didn’t have much of a bosom.
Up to now, Birdie thought her ample bosom a bother, all the time bursting buttons and bouncing around when she spurred her pony. Her mother wanted her to wear a corset, but Birdie absolutely refused. She couldn’t breathe in those things. Stays and whalebone had to be unhealthy. Men appreciated a fine bosom, or at least that’s what she’d heard—she’d heard they found a pair of plump bosoms enticing. Today she really wanted to be enticing, not to any man, certainly not to Cornell Norquist, but to one particular man.
Although, it might not do any harm to entice Corney a little bit since he took far too much for granted. If she could ignite a spark, a bit of jealousy in a certain party could work.
Birdie shed her gingham dress, scrubbed her face and neck with soap and water, and then sat down before the vanity mirror to experiment with her hair. She wanted it off her neck. After a number of attempts, she realized combs and pins alone could never tame her unruly locks. Next, she tried to braid her hair, thinking to make a coronet. When Jo walked into the room, Birdie sat swearing at the tangled mess she’d made of her hair, frustrated that she couldn’t even get a brush through it. “Do you have a snood or something?”
Jo stood behind her with her head tilted to one side and her fingers working to comb out a big snarl in the back of Birdie’s head. She asked, “What is it, exactly, that you’re trying to do?”
“I want this mop of mine up off my neck. It’s hot.” Their gazes met in the mirror.
“I have a white lace snood. I’ve never worn it. It makes me look like a nurse or a nun or something, and besides, it washes out my complexion. It’s in the drawer there in front of you, in the back. What dress are you wearing? Did you bring anything with you? I know you travel light.”
Birdie eyed Jo, still in her old blue dress, and took note of the dark circles beneath her eyes. “You need to change your dress, too, Jo. I have my robin’s-egg-blue dress in my bag. It’ll have to do.”
Searching the drawer at the front of the vanity, Birdie located the snood and started to stuff her hair into it. Jo lent her a hand to get all the curls in the fine net lace and helped her tie the satin ribbon at the top of her head. When their gazes met in the mirror, they both nodded in approval. Her springy wisps of blond curls escaped all around her face and neck, and Birdie appeared transformed, the effect becoming, delicate.
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