An Improper Proposal

by Spencer, Davalynn

  Cade’s ire rose. Rustlers or squatters, with no clear link to MacGrath. Either way, Mae Ann had no business out by herself.

  Deacon rode on to check a section of fence, and Cade turned for the house, taking the trail up to the hilltop and a clear view of Parker Land and Cattle.

  Twin crosses stood in the ponderosa’s shadow, and as he approached, the wind sighed through its branches, big-voiced and as heavy as a whole forest rather than a single tree. It had amazed him as a boy and it still did—the lone survivor his grandfather had left standing after harvesting other trees for building.

  He stopped near the graves and stood in the stirrups, stretching his legs. There was no easing the ache in his heart.

  His pa had known better. But knowing and being bullheaded were two different things. The colonel’s determination to beat the storm home rather than spend the night in town had cost him his life as well as Cade’s mother’s. That one bad decision changed the course of everyone’s future and taught Cade a hard lesson.

  Pride could kill a man and destroy everything he held dear.

  Was it pride chewing at him, making him distrust MacGrath? Or was it a common sense warning? Either way, he had to allow that there could be more players in these high parks than he first figured.

  He turned Cricket downhill, mentally spurring his own hide instead of his horse’s. If he hadn’t been out courting Alexandra that wintery night, he might have convinced his stubborn father to wait out the storm.

  He still didn’t know which man he resented more. The colonel or himself.

  ~

  Mae Ann woke to thin gray light teasing at the window, and it drew her to peek through the lace curtain and watch. Cade and Deacon slipped like shadows among the buildings. Blue trotted close behind.

  “Thank you, Lord.”

  The words were her first each morning, and as the days had turned into weeks, she meant them more and more. God had used a horrible tragedy to redirect her life along a path that would have been otherwise undiscovered.

  Life at the rooming house, narrow and constrained by lack and loneliness, held nothing of the anticipation that energized her as she dressed and tied back her hair. By the time she descended the stairs, dawn had turned up the wick and brightened the eastern sky with another fresh promise.

  May had stretched deep into June, and Cade still kept a polite distance. But he took her riding in the long, lazy evenings, and truth be told, she looked forward to those rides all through the day. Whether cooking or baking or washing or cleaning, she projected herself into the solitude of those side-by-side encounters, scouting the countryside, enjoying the sunsets that often blazed silent and bold above the mountains. Cade rarely spoke, but he would sometimes rein in and cross his arms on his saddle horn and heave a sigh. Worried, she supposed. Or something else?

  Still, she held those moments as sacred between the two of them, as if they really were man and wife. As if he wanted her beside him.

  But they never rode to the farm.

  Maybe she’d just go by herself. After today’s expedition.

  She tied on her apron and set the table with transferware plates and tin cups for the men’s coffee. Hotcakes and eggs kept her hands busy while she mentally mapped her journey. Today she would visit Todd’s mother, Travine. On one of their rides, Cade had pointed out the deer trail that skirted the ranch on the west. Follow it until it cut down to the creek, he’d said a bit grudgingly. She smiled at the memory. Turn left, watch for the windmill, then keep it in view. Within a mile and a half, she’d be at the farm.

  The men rounded into the kitchen, and Deacon went to the sink. For some reason, Cade always let the old cowboy wash first. He poured himself a cup of coffee and stood as if taking in the room. Mae Ann’s neck warmed, a sure sign that he was taking her in as well.

  She offered him a cheery smile. “Good morning.”

  He peered at her over the edge of his mug. “You braided your hair.”

  Called out by his observation, she reached behind her neck and touched the plait that hung to her waist. Perhaps he suspected her plans. Now was as good a time as any to let him know. “As soon as breakfast is finished, I’m riding to the Prices’.”

  Showing no reaction at all, he took his turn at the sink, exchanging a look with Deacon as they passed each other.

  She had no idea of the message, nor did she care to know. She was going to see Mrs. Price even if she had to walk. She brought the coffee from the stove and sat down. “Would one of you gentleman please saddle Ginger for me when you’re finished eating? That way I can get an early start and be back in time for supper.”

  “Supper?” Cade hung the towel on the peg and joined them at the table.

  “Yes. I have sliced roast and bread for dinner. And I made extra gravy, so you’ll also have that while I’m gone. I’m sure you’ll do fine without me for one meal.” Secretly, she didn’t want them to do fine without her. She wanted Cade to need her, but she had to admit he’d been without her for quite some time prior to her arrival.

  He rumbled something deep in his throat and bowed his head for an abbreviated grace.

  Deacon tucked in to his meal. “You’re not taking all them gingersnap cookies to the Price place, are you?”

  “What a wonderful idea.” Mae Ann bit one side of her cheek to keep from laughing at Deacon’s dismay. He was much too fun to tease, so transparent where his stomach was concerned. “Thank you for suggesting it. I made a double batch, so there will be plenty to tide you over.”

  The man’s shoulders drooped, poor fellow. So protective of the sweets he enjoyed. Cade, on the other hand, scowled and said nothing other than, “I’d rather you didn’t go.”

  Well, she’d rather she did. If he wanted to pout like a child, it was no concern of hers.

  After breakfast, she cleared the table, washed the dishes, and wrapped a dozen gingersnaps in a napkin, wishing she had more to take to the neighbor who had been so generous. But this fall after harvest and canning, she’d have all sorts of preserves and pies and goodies. If she had excelled at anything growing up, it was cooking. Mama said she had a knack for it.

  She squirmed inwardly. Mama also said she had a knack for being stubborn. Mae Ann preferred to use the word determined, and today she was determined to ride alone all the way to the Price farm and back.

  She gathered the napkin and her hat from the door and found Ginger saddled and waiting at the rail in front of the house, a yellow slicker rolled and tied behind the cantle.

  Whoever had saddled the mare had thought enough to prepare her for rain, but the men and Blue were out of sight. Just as well. She could do this by herself and would. She set her hat and strode to the horse, who watched her with those kind eyes.

  Mae Ann pressed her cheek against Ginger’s neck, earning a deep chesty rumble in reply. “You dear girl. We’re going to do fine today, aren’t we?”

  “I expect you will.”

  Mae Ann spun to see Cade standing just beyond the railing. Where had he come from? “You startled me.” Her fingers involuntarily fingered her collar and she jerked them down, irritated by the annoying habit.

  “That’s how easy it would be for someone to sneak up on you.” He came around and took the bundle from her, then tucked it into the saddlebag. He loosed Ginger’s tether, led the horse away from the railing, and waited for Mae Ann to mount.

  She squared herself and reached for the reins dangling from his fingers. “Thank you.” Gripping the saddle horn, she hiked her left foot to the stirrup, but before she could grab the cantle with her right hand, Cade encircled her waist and lifted her lightly to the saddle.

  Tingling from the warmth of his hands, she pulled on Ginger’s reins, and the mare backed several steps before Mae Ann regained her wits. He hadn’t touched her once over the several weeks they’d ridden together. Why now, when she needed to concentrate on what she was doing and not the way he made her feel?

  He thumbed his hat up, planted his fists on his hi
ps, and captured her with a hard glare. “Take Blue. If something happens, send him home for help.”

  His tension was tangible.

  Even Ginger sensed it and sidestepped.

  “What could happen?” But she didn’t want to know. She wanted to lose herself in the wildflowers and grassland and drink in the meadowlarks’ songs. Cade was being protective again. Obligated. At least he hadn’t insisted on riding along.

  “If I send Blue back, will you call for the cavalry?”

  His eyes narrowed. “Where you’re concerned, I am the cavalry.” His graveled voice backed up his words and thwarted any possibility of lighthearted conversation.

  She gathered the reins in a tighter hold and turned Ginger away before she said something completely foolish.

  CHAPTER 12

  Cade snapped his fingers and gestured toward the departing horse. “Blue, go.”

  Obediently, the dog trotted away.

  Cade shoved his hands in his pockets and watched Mae Ann ride across the yard, no longer awkward atop the trustworthy mare. Sending Blue was the best he could do for now, other than following her himself.

  He snorted. She’d have a wild-horse fit. The idea was almost worth her ire—watching her eyes snap like firecrackers on the Fourth of July. He dismissed the idea and marched for the barn.

  How was he supposed to concentrate on his chores with her gone?

  The same way you did before you brought her here.

  He dragged his hand down his face and reset his hat. Nothing would be the same as it was before he agreed to her infernal business proposition.

  Deacon stood at the barn’s open doorway, leaning on a pitchfork, watching him with his mustache cocked up on one side. If he said one thing about anything, Cade was liable to knock the grin right off his smirking face, friend or no.

  By dinnertime, Cade had the barn stalls as clean as the kitchen floor. He’d replaced two worn poles in the round pen and restrung the barbed wire around the garden patch. Mae Ann was still gone—just as she said she would be.

  At the water trough, he stuck his head beneath the pump’s cold flow and plastered his hair back. Then he climbed up to the hayloft, skipping a broken rung that dangled from the barn wall, and scanned the long park that spread between two cedar-covered ridges. The Sangre de Cristo’s snowcapped peaks cut above the horizon, surprising him as always with their snowy shroud so late in June.

  His scrutiny returned to the grassland where the sun glinted off the Prices’ windmill, a tiny flash from this distance. Still, it gave him a sense of bearing. Of knowing which way Mae Ann would be coming from. But there was no sign that she was headed home.

  The word burned a hole through his sweating chest. This was her home now too. At least he wanted her to feel that way about it. He climbed down, hoping Deacon hadn’t seen him up there. The old man would never let him hear the end of it.

  He headed for the house, not because he was hungry but because he couldn’t think of anything else to do.

  Deacon already had the gravy bubbling and sliced bread on the table. Cade washed with soap—another change Mae Ann had brought. Through the window the garden lay like a quilt patch, the soil rich and dark where she had worked it and watered it every day. Smart rows of corn lined up like soldiers guarding hills of beans and squash. The rosebush and pieplant thrived from her care.

  A chair scraped across the floor. “You eatin’ or you gonna stand there all day mopin’ like an orphaned calf?”

  Cade joined him, took a slice of bread and beef, and smothered them with gravy. “Not unless you figure on eating it all yourself.” He still wasn’t hungry, but he could take only so much ribbing from the old codger.

  Deacon guzzled his coffee and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. No napkins. “I figured you’d gone after her by now.”

  “Well, you figured wrong.”

  Deacon grumped. “Then that’s my one for this month.”

  Cade shoved the gravy-swamped bread in his mouth to pack the words down. He didn’t need to say what he was thinking.

  “I’m takin’ an iron up to the north section after dinner. All them mamas got a calf by ’em. Don’t need some poke to slip a sticky rope on ’em and mother ’em up to one of their cows ’fore I get a Lazy-P burned on their hide.”

  Cade huffed. “You got that right.” He sopped the rest of his gravy.

  Deacon downed his coffee and took his plate to the sink. “A quick fire and hot iron’ll do the trick. But I’ll be wearin’ my piece just in case.”

  Cade’s blood chilled. Time was a man wore a sidearm in this country only for rattlers—and not the two-legged kind. “Drive them down this way when you’re done. We’ll keep ’em in the Pine Hill section.”

  When the wind kicked up late afternoon and a gray front tumbled over the mountains, Cade saddled Cricket and headed out, though not to help Deacon. He’d get those cow-calf pairs home just fine. But Mae Ann didn’t know to come in before a storm.

  He turned south at a fast trot. She should have been home by now. Plus, he’d not told her to keep an eye on the horizon. Summer storms had a way of rolling up in a matter of minutes, and her first brief hailstorm wasn’t enough to warn her of the danger. He’d lost cattle to lightning strikes over the years, even a horse standing too close to the fence line. Images of the charred animal swamped his worry over Mae Ann, and he kicked Cricket into a lope.

  He rode a mile along the deer path, relieved to find Ginger’s trail and even Blue’s tracks in the soft dirt alongside. At the creek, he veered left but rode closer to a line of scrub oak above the trail so he could keep an eye on the horizon. And then he saw her.

  His chest cinched and his fingers tightened on the reins, pulling his horse to a shorter stride. He stopped to watch her, letting his breathing slow to normal. Thank God, she was all right. But she was in no hurry. Her braid must have come loose, for her hair flapped free below her hat brim like a horse’s mane. She sat easy, as if she’d ridden all her life.

  Blue’s head shot up and he sniffed the wind. Cade reined Cricket around a thick sagebrush and trotted away from them. Upwind, if Blue got a whiff of him, it would tip off Mae Ann. He didn’t want her to think he didn’t trust her ability. But neither did he want her completely on her own.

  Confounded woman had him so hobbled he didn’t know what he wanted.

  He loped home and into the yard against a strong headwind. Deacon’s horse was in the corral. Cade unsaddled Cricket, gave him a quick brushing, and turned him out. Then he scuttled up to the hayloft.

  He’d spent more time up there today than he had since he was a kid dreaming about running the ranch on his own with a wife and family to carry on the Parker name. He could just make out Mae Ann coming in from the creek, and he shuddered like the loft doors as a sudden gust blew a thought across his heart.

  What if it wasn’t his decision to bring Mae Ann home that had changed his life so drastically? What if it had been God’s plan all along?

  The revelation charged him like lightning as he shot down the ladder. A rung gave way beneath him, and if not for the grip he had on either side, he would have fallen. Sobered but still surging with the new perspective, he promised himself he’d come back later and reinforce the ladder that clung to the wall.

  Blue’s yap announced their arrival, and Cade ran from the barn. Mae Ann had dismounted but still held the reins.

  Thunder cracked and lightning crashed into the pasture. Ginger danced on her back feet, head high and eyes wild.

  “Let her go!” The wind caught his words before they reached Mae Ann.

  Another clap sent the horse straight up, jerking the reins free. Mae Ann threw her arms over her head. Why didn’t she run?

  He grabbed her and whirled away. Ginger’s hooves slammed down behind him. His heart slammed into his throat.

  Mae Ann turned into his chest, fisting his shirt in her hands as the sky opened up. He wrapped his arms around her trembling body and pressed her close. Let Ginger settle h
erself. Mae Ann was worth more to him than his entire herd of horses.

  The truth struck him square in the chest. As shocked by the realization as he was by the next lightning bolt, he scooped her into his arms and ran for the house.

  ~

  They crashed through the front door, propelled by another explosion so loud that Mae Ann’s ears rang. She pressed her face against Cade’s neck, her hammering heartbeat answering his. Never had she heard such a storm. Her skin tingled and a metallic taste settled on her tongue.

  He dropped into a chair, his arms still clutching her close, his head against hers. “Are you all right?” His voice rumbled from his chest into her shivering body.

  “I am now.” She touched her head. “I lost my hat.”

  His hold eased some, and he stroked loose hair from her face. “I’ll look for it. Stay here.”

  She caught his hand. “Where are you going?” Surely not out in the storm.

  “I won’t be long, but I have to check on the barn, in case it was hit.”

  Fear squeezed her voice into a whisper. “What if you’re hit?”

  Her plea drew longing across his features, and again he fingered her hair back. “Stay here. Please—this time—do as I ask.”

  How could she not?

  The door slammed shut behind him and a blinding blue flashed through the windows. Oh, Lord, have mercy on him! Eyes squeezed tight, she groped toward the sill and chanced a quick peek to see Cade at the rail, his shirt soaked through already, only steps from the door. Rivulets streaked the yard, and hail splashed here and there. He pulled his hat down farther and raced to the barn.

  The garden!

  Mae Ann ran to the kitchen window and found more than a rivulet rushing through her hard work. The hail would strip the rosebush, just beginning to bloom. She looked around for something to cover it, but her unspoken promise to Cade stilled her search. His urgent tone pressed her feet to the floor and her heart to her throat, so she watched from inside as the hail increased, growing in size, pelting her fledgling plants into the earth.