An Improper Proposal

by Spencer, Davalynn

  Cade coughed suspiciously and palmed his mouth. “You’re giving her mixed signals.”

  “I am doing exactly what you told me to do.” She didn’t need to learn to ride a horse. What was wrong with the wagon? Or walking, for that matter?

  “Yes, you are.”

  She glared at him.

  “But you’re also tugging on the reins and you didn’t click your tongue. Push the reins forward and click your tongue.”

  “I don’t know how to click my tongue.” She was certain she could hear his eyes snap with hilarity.

  “Sure you can. Like this.” He made the noise again, but this time he drew one side of his mouth back. He looked as if he was having a fit.

  She tried it.

  “Good.”

  The only thing good was his effort to not laugh outright.

  “Do it again, but push the reins and heel her all at the same time.”

  Mae Ann would do this or die. Again, she made the ridiculous sound, lifted her left hand, and kicked the horse. It leaped forward, jerking her backward until she nearly fell from the saddle.

  Cade was at her side in a heartbeat, his teeth showing themselves in a full-fledged grin. He reached over and tugged on the reins until Ginger stopped. “Whoa there, girl.”

  The light in his eyes betrayed his enjoyment. “Good,” he lied.

  Mae Ann’s face burned and she dipped her head to hide her embarrassment. Cade leaned over and looked under her hat brim. “You’re doing fine.”

  “You, sir, are a horrible liar.”

  He laughed aloud.

  After several more stops and starts, she relaxed somewhat, and when she got the hang of reining Ginger to the right or left, a shy confidence settled within her. Perhaps she really could be a rancher’s wife.

  An odd endearment rose in her breast toward the horse who so patiently endured her awkward attempts. Not once did it buck or run off with her. It shook its head, no doubt in exasperation, but its patience was exemplary. An apple was in order, right after dinner.

  Cade rode up next to her again and assumed his relaxed arm-on-the-saddle-horn pose. “You up for an easy walk through the near pasture?”

  How could she say no to his warm regard? “Certainly.” Already she knew her legs would betray her once she dismounted, and she wanted to put off that humiliation for as long as possible.

  Cade set his horse into a slow walk, and she signaled Ginger to do the same. Thankfully, the mare was content to walk beside him and not vie for the lead. A horse race she did not need. The easy gait relaxed her shoulders and back, and she took note of the land rolling around them like a green blanket. A clear, brief melody rang out from her right, answered a moment later from Cade’s left. A third matching call broke ahead of them, and her delight escaped in a small laugh.

  “They’re meadowlarks. They sing like that all spring and summer, especially in the morning.”

  “It’s lovely. But where are they? I don’t see any birds.”

  He looked across the pasture beyond her and lifted his hand toward a scraggly bush. “There’s one,” he whispered. “On the highest point of that sagebrush.”

  The little gray bird tilted its head and let loose a flutelike call. Again another answered, and then a third. Such a strong, clear voice from a creature no bigger than Mae Ann’s hand. And with no particular beauty other than its yellow breast and black collar.

  But as she had already come to see, everything was beautiful here—from Ginger’s shimmering coat to the blue sky behind the mountain’s jagged peaks. What glory she’d not known existed. What life even her dreams had never imagined.

  ~

  Cade hadn’t ridden for pleasure since he and Betsy used to take off as kids, not a care in the world other than staying out of their pa’s way when he was in one of his tempers. When Cade lost them both within a week—plus his ma, and soon after, Alexandra—life had gone sour.

  The ranch had saved him, its demands flowing into all his open sores and making him forget the pain. It required daylight-to-dark work that ensured sleep, and with Deacon’s help and a few extra hands each fall and spring, he’d made a go of it.

  Until last week, the ranch had been enough.

  Then that gunslick shot Henry Reiker and everything turned inside out.

  Mae Anne made him realize he hadn’t been living, that he’d left behind the simple pleasures of riding across the land and seeing it like the way she did right now. Teaching her to ride filled him with a sense of companionship that he didn’t have with Deacon and had never shared with Alexandra.

  Her simple delight in their surroundings was childlike. She drank in the high park like a soul dying of thirst, and it made him proud of what he and his family had worked so hard for. She hadn’t looked down her nose at one thing he’d shown or offered her, not even his sister’s clothes. Alexandra would never have ridden anything but a sidesaddle, nor worn any clothing other than her high-dollar habit and fancy hat.

  Relaxed, with the breeze tossing her hair, Mae Ann had a beauty that surpassed that of any woman Cade had ever known, including Alexandra. Maybe he should be thanking God for San Francisco dandies.

  He turned them toward the house, and as they neared the barn, a rider approached from the opposite direction. Todd Price. Cade figured Mae Ann was sore from riding, though he doubted she’d admit it. She’d done fair today. Hadn’t quit or whined or run off. At the hitching post, he dismounted and dropped the reins on the rail, but she sat stone still, a wrinkle between her brows.

  Stepping in close to Ginger, he thumbed his hat up. “Gettin’ off is just like gettin’ on, only in reverse.”

  She cut him a look that said she didn’t quite trust him. He bit back a laugh, and let her make the first move. She did fine until her boots hit the ground, and then she buckled like a newborn foal. He caught her about the waist until she got her legs under her. Holding her like that, so close her hat brim crushed against his chest, he forgot all about their visitor.

  “Mr. Parker!”

  Todd Price had a very poor sense of timing.

  The old plow horse clopped to a halt, and the rail-thin boy slid down. “Ma sent some dried apple fritters along with the milk.”

  Cade let go with one hand but slid an arm around Mae Ann’s waist as he faced Todd. She pulled her hat off and picked at her hair.

  Todd drew a jar of near-clabbered milk from his saddlebags and a cloth-wrapped bundle that Cade hoped hadn’t squashed on the ride over. Travine Price’s fritters were the next best thing to yesterday’s chocolate cake.

  “Mae Ann, this is Todd Price, the neighbor I told you about with the milk cow.”

  “Nice to meet you, Todd.”

  “Ma’am.” The boy looked between the two of them a couple of times, fritters in one hand, jar in the other.

  Cade leaned close to Mae Ann’s ear. Her disarrayed hair tickled his nose and he lowered his voice. “You got enough to invite him to dinner?”

  She nodded and answered his whisper with her own. “If I can make it to the house without falling.”

  Her lips pulled into a tight seam. He stepped back, and she grabbed his arm. “Not so fast. Just give me a minute. Have him help you do something out here while I get to the house.” She scorched him with a frown. “You didn’t tell me I wouldn’t be able to walk afterwards.”

  His chuckle escaped of its own, but the way she held on to him knit him to her in a peculiar way. “Do you need my help getting inside?”

  “I do not.” She let go and reached for the rail. A couple more steps and she was on her own to the front door.

  Cade turned to the boy. “Help me with these horses while Mrs. Parker gets dinner on the table.” The proper title rolled out before he gave it any thought, and it felt odd on his tongue.

  “Sure thing, Mr. Parker.” Todd tethered his horse, set the milk jar on the stone pathway, and gathered Ginger’s reins. “Don’t mean to be rude or nothin’, but when did you get hitched?”

  Cade co
ughed and dragged a hand down his face as they led the horses away. “Recently.”

  “She sure is perty.”

  He smiled, a little proud. “Yes, she is.”

  “Shucks. I didn’t know you were sweet on anyone.” At the corral, Todd dropped Ginger’s reins, hooked the stirrup on the horn, and loosened the cinch. “You weren’t last time I was here, least not that I could tell.”

  The boy had a lot to learn about such things, sweet or not, and Cade wasn’t about to be his teacher.

  “She’s not from around here, is she?”

  He hefted Cricket’s saddle and set it on the top rail. “Nope.”

  “Did you order her out of a catalogue?”

  He stopped and glared at the boy.

  Todd flushed girl-pink and hung his head. “Beg pardon, Mr. Parker. Heard my folks talking about the mail-order bride from Missouri that Henry Reiker was waitin’ on.”

  St. Louis, Missouri. That was the only thing Cade knew about her background, and apparently, other folks knew near as much. Guilt snaked around his collar. “When was your family last in town?”

  “About a month back. Ma and Sophie went in for some cloth goods.”

  Cade didn’t want to discuss his marriage with a kid when he was just getting his balance on the whole matter himself. But news was important to folks who lived out from town. Neighbors depended on one another to keep them posted on important events.

  “When you get home, tell your folks that Henry Reiker passed on. He was shot during a bank robbery Monday afternoon.”

  Todd stilled, and his blush faded at the news. “Yes, sir, Mr. Parker. I’ll be sure to do that.”

  “Sheriff Wilson has word out about the two men, and they’re probably a couple counties over by now. But just the same, you keep your eyes peeled on the way home.”

  The youngster puffed up like a skinny toad. “I can handle myself. Got my grandpa’s pistol in my saddlebags. But thanks just the same.”

  Cade headed for the house, the boy on his heels. It didn’t exactly brighten his day to know that Todd Price thought he could hold off cold-blooded killers with his grandfather’s flintlock.

  CHAPTER 11

  “Please thank your mother for the milk.” Mae Ann laid a healthy slice of chocolate cake on the boy’s plate, keenly aware of Deacon’s jealous glare.

  Todd dug in and rolled his eyes. “This is even better than what Sophie makes.”

  Deacon huffed.

  “More coffee?” Mae Ann held the pot above Deacon’s cup and gave him her warmest smile. She also filled Cade’s and caught his enjoyment of the foreman’s cake-grudging discomfort.

  “How far is it to your farm, Todd? I’d love to ride over for a visit.”

  “About three miles if you cut across the pasture.” He washed down his last bite with coffee and laid his fork and napkin across his plate. Manners.

  Mae Ann nodded approvingly.

  “But don’t tell Sophie what I said about your cake or she’ll get her feathers all ruffled and quit baking.”

  Mae Ann laughed. “We can’t have that, can we?” She reached for the plates. “Did Cade show you our new milk cow?”

  Disappointment dropped the boy’s head. “Guess I won’t need to come anymore.”

  A bit remorseful, Mae Ann feared she’d taken something important from him. Independence, perhaps. Mornings away from chores, carrying milk to a bachelor neighbor. “I’m sure you’re welcome anytime.”

  He scooted back from the table. “I best get a wiggle on. Ma’ll be lookin’ for me. Thanks for dinner and the cake.”

  Deacon mumbled in his mustache, and Mae Ann squelched a laugh. “You are most welcome, Todd. We’ll enjoy your mother’s fritters at supper tonight.”

  He paused and addressed Cade. “Do you have the other jar I brought last time?”

  “Sure do.” Cade went to the pantry and returned with a clean quart jar and lid. “Tell your ma I appreciate her keeping us supplied in milk for so long.”

  Mae Ann followed Todd to the door and watched as he stashed the jar in his saddlebag, then mounted his big-boned horse and rode away. Cade came up behind her, close enough to brush her skirt. For a moment she felt like a proper wife standing at the door with her husband, seeing a traveler on his way. A fanciful thought, and fleeting.

  Deacon squeezed by. “Thank you kindly, ma’am.”

  “It’s my pleasure, Deacon.” And it was. Simple appreciation lifted her spirit more than almost anything. The old cowboy had cleaned up his mustache and his manners in the last few days, and Mae Ann liked to think it was on her account. His spurs jangled an odd cadence as he strode toward the barn, one of his steps longer than the other.

  “About riding to the Price place.”

  Cade’s throaty comment brought her around, and his brows snagged on a disagreeable thought she was certain she wouldn’t like.

  “You can’t be goin’ off alone in this country.”

  She tilted her chin and headed for the kitchen. “If a twelve-year-old can do it, I imagine I can as well.”

  Cade followed, boots thud-clinking his argument against the plank floor. “Not until you get better acquainted with Ginger.”

  Mae Ann cleared the remaining dishes. “I thought you said I did well today.”

  He stopped behind his chair and gripped the back of it. “I did. You did. But it’s not as safe as you might think in these high parks. You know there are rattlers.”

  “And lions.” She couldn’t resist a sarcastic tone.

  His brows drew farther down. “I’m serious. What if Ginger spooked and threw you? What if you came upon—”

  Mae Ann lifted the kettle heating on the stove and stopped to face him. “Came upon what?”

  His frown deepened. “Men could be out there. Men that Sheriff Wilson is still looking for.”

  Her chest seized. The men who robbed the bank and killed Henry. Shamed for mocking Cade’s concern, she set the kettle down and smoothed her apron. No one but her mother had ever cared about her safety or warned her of possible danger.

  His voice gentled. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

  Unsure what to do or say, she picked up the kettle again. In spite of his valid worries, she’d not be kept a prisoner in this house. “That is very kind of you. But I am a grown woman and perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I cannot live shut up each and every day without the freedom of the outdoors.”

  He let go the chair and took a step toward her, his face awash with dark irritation. “I promised to take care of you and I intend to do so. But you sure make it all-fired hard.”

  She sagged inwardly. Of course, obligation. How addled could she be to forget their business arrangement? She carried the kettle to the sink.

  Cade stomped from the room, and she held her breath until the front door slammed behind him.

  Steam rose as she poured hot water into the dishpan, fogging the window. She wiped the glass with a towel and frowned out at the garden. Filling the role of dutiful wife was one thing, but living fenced in like a delicate rose was quite another. She had little to go on where men were concerned, other than the infirm or aged who had found shelter at the rooming house. Her father’s abandonment was a faint memory, but it had driven desire deep into her breast. All she’d ever wanted was a real home, and the bridal advertisement in the Chronicle had seemed a chance in that direction.

  She shaved soap into the hot water and sloshed it around, recalling Henry’s straightforward letters. Her harbored hope that love would grow in time melted away like the thin shavings. How naive she had been.

  Gripping the edge of the sink, she weighed her determination to be her own woman against her vows and recent prayer for graciousness. How these things would ever work together was indeed a miracle that only God could enact.

  ~

  Cade clenched his hands as he walked to the barn. Every woman who’d ever meant anything to him had left him behind. He hadn’t been able to hold onto any of them.
Alexandra. His sister. His mother—though she’d not left by her own choice.

  Now Mae Ann insisted she could ride off whenever and wherever she wanted, in spite of his warnings.

  She had a mind of her own—that was clear from the moment she’d asked if he needed a wife. A grim laugh rolled through his chest, and Ginger swung her head to look in his direction. He turned the mare out and resaddled Cricket. Blue trotted up as if sensing adventure, and Cade took off for the west end.

  A ride would do him good, hard and fast, not pussyfootin’ along as he had with Mae Ann. He ground his teeth against the way she made him feel, screwed his hat down, and kicked Cricket into a gallop.

  Cresting a small rise, he came upon his band of saddle horses, startled by his wild approach. They watched him, heads high, tails swishing. Blue charged ahead, circling the band in expectation of bringing them home. Cade reined in and whistled the dog back, but not before he made a quick lunge toward the lead mare and drew flying hooves and a near miss. As Blue trotted to him, tongue hanging out and grinning like a kid, it hit him.

  He’d get Mae Ann a dog.

  Not a cow dog like Blue, but one to shadow her, defend her if need be. She would ride to the Price Farm, and Lord knew where else, whether he wanted her to or not. Of that he was more certain than the price of beef come fall.

  Blue’s ears perked toward the north, and Cade reined around. A rider headed his way at an easy lope. Deacon.

  Cade rode that way and met his foreman at the draw behind Pine Hill.

  “Something’s been gnawing at me since I checked them late heifers up north the other day, so I swung up by Reiker’s to have a look-see.” Deacon tugged his hat brim lower and looked in the direction he mentioned. “I just come from there.”

  The back of Cade’s neck prickled. “Find anything?”

  “’Fraid so. Someone’s been there, and recent. Fresh hoofprints in the corral say about a half dozen head been holed up there at least one night.”

  If MacGrath was moving one of his hands in to squat on Reiker’s place, it’d mean another trip to town to see the sheriff.

  Deacon turned cold blue eyes on Cade. “Weren’t no one around, but I found tracks of two horses in the yard. Neither of ’em was MacGrath’s black.”