Love's Silver Lining

by Julie Lessman

  Gert cut loose with a healthy grunt. “Nor age, evidently.”

  “Unfortunately.” Maeve sighed as she studied the board.

  “Sorry,” Shaylee said in a distracted tone, rubbing her hands together for what Blaze could only presume was a wish for good luck. Eyes squeezed tight, she spun the teetotum as hard as she could, finally emitting a loud whoop when she was able to move her marker to the “Humility” square, which in turn, sent her to the Mansion of Happiness. “Holy bug bones!” she shouted, “I won, I won!”

  Blaze grinned when Maggie’s face went pale, another groan trailing from her lips.

  “Blaze, you’re home!” Shaylee shouted as he ambled into the room. “Guess what? I landed on the ‘Humility’ square and beat the boots off everybody!” she announced with far more pride, he was certain, than the ‘Humility’ square allowed.

  Aiden chuckled. “Ah, an apt expression for what I’m doing to your uncle as well,” he said, his next move making Finn groan.

  Blaze laughed as he sidled over to massage Shaylee’s shoulders. “So, are you telling me the ladies at this table are now shoeless?”

  “Literally,” his Aunt Libby said with a subtle hike of her stockinged foot, “for which I am most grateful since someone forced me to walk all over God’s creation today.” She cast an evil look in Finn’s direction, which made Sheridan and Shaylee giggle while Maggie and Maeve grinned.

  “I heard that,” Finn said without a glance. “Told you to wear decent shoes.”

  “I did wear decent shoes,” she shot back, “for a civilized walk, not traipsing through fields of cow biscuits and cactus for your idea of a ‘little fresh air.’” She wrinkled her nose while she leaned in to slide Shaylee and Sheridan a wink, her voice barely a whisper. “Fresh air, my boot! Not sure what smelled more—the cows or your uncle.”

  “Heard that too, Liberty Bell,” Finn said with a casual move of his rook, causing his nieces to giggle again, “and you need to know that I’m keeping score, darlin’, so you owe me one.”

  It was Libby’s turn to go pale as she glanced over her shoulder, and Blaze laughed out loud when she stuck out her tongue, thinking that sometimes his aunt and Shaylee had a whole lot in common.

  “Two,” Finn said without turning around, the humor in his tone evidence of just how much he thoroughly enjoyed teasing Aunt Libby. He finally shifted in his chair to stare her down. “Because sure as the sun is in the sky, Miss Bell, I’m betting you stuck your tongue out at me, didn’t she, Shay?”

  Libby’s eyes expanded as she silently pleaded with Shay via a little shake of her head.

  “Uhhhh …” Shaylee chewed on her lip in a stall.

  Blaze saved Libby with a quick tweak of his sister’s shoulders. “You do realize, Shay,” Blaze said with a wink at his aunt, “that your win makes tonight’s riding lesson with Maggie all the worse since she tends to get crabby when she loses.”

  “Ha! Wrong again, cowboy,” Maggie said with a smile as thin as the look she gave Blaze before offering Shaylee a handshake. “Congratulations on the win, sweetheart.” Her gaze returned to Blaze with a definite glare. “And what riding lesson? Dash said you’d be at the Ponderosa tonight.”

  “Nope, Rachel’s under the weather,” he said, shooting a quick glance out the window where enough daylight remained for a quick lesson. “Although I might be, too,” he said with a wince, leaning to loudly whisper to Sheridan with a hand to his mouth, “after Miss Cranky gets done with me.”

  “Which one?” Finn teased, tossing a grin at Aunt Libby.

  “This one,” Maggie said in a clipped tone Blaze hoped was just for show, rising so abruptly, he actually took a step back. “Ladies, forgive my departure, but the sooner I learn to ride a horse, the sooner I can be free of your bossy brother.”

  “I beg your pardon, but I am not ‘bossy,’ Miss Nightingale. I’ve just learned one has to be firm when dealing with so-called ‘independent women.’”

  “Which one?” Finn said again.

  Aiden laughed as he moved a pawn. “I’d say it’s a bloomin’ epidemic, my boy, in this very room alone.”

  “One can only hope,” Libby muttered.

  Blaze headed for the door. “Well, let’s get a move on, Miss Mullaney, daylight’s burnin’.”

  “How’s Rachel?” Maggie asked as she followed Blaze down the porch steps, her voice considerably softer.

  He halted midway and turned. “You know Rachel?”

  “I treated Rachel,” she said with an edge, bypassing Blaze altogether to march to the barn in a fast clip as if propelled by anger. “I was mortified when I saw what happened to her.”

  He caught up, his tone bordering on a hiss that would have made Frannie proud. “Yeah, well, I ‘treated’ Murdock—the one who started the fight and clipped Rachel by accident—and I guarantee he’ll be ‘mortified’ when he looks in the mirror.”

  Maggie slowed as they entered the barn, her sideways glance pinched with sympathy. “Is that how you got this bruising here?” She reached to lightly skim the crevice beneath his eye. “It’s just reddish now, but it’ll be black come morning.”

  “Yeah,” he said as he entered Snowflake’s stall, patting her mane before leading her out. “Had dinner with Rachel, then dessert at Murdock’s, giving him a licking he won’t soon forget.” He grabbed the grooming brush from the hook on the wall and handed it to her, satisfied when she proceeded to groom Snowflake in the methodical manner he’d taught her last week.

  “I sure hope the owner of the Ponderosa won’t allow him back.” Maggie finished grooming Snowflake and replaced the brush, then headed for the tack wall to retrieve the Western saddle she’d been using.

  Blaze fought the urge to help her as she lugged it, finally hefting it over the horse’s back with a grunt. But she needed to know how to do everything herself if she was going to ride, and he’d learned all too well that Maggie was nothing if not fiercely independent. “He won’t,” he said as he cocked a hip to the stall, arms in a casual cross while he watched her go through the paces. “Murdock has been banned from the premises, and JR has been given a warning since he was actually trying to defend Rachel from Murdock’s advances.”

  She cinched up the saddle just like he’d shown her, making sure the girth was good and snug. He then held Snowflake’s head while Maggie took both reins in her left hand and gathered them with a tuft of mane, hooking a boot into the stirrup. He grinned when the woman hopped up into the saddle so efficiently, Blaze actually felt a surge of pride. Maggie Mullaney was not only a quick study for someone who’d once had a fear of horses, but she looked like she’d been born to ride from the start.

  “I should have worn Sheridan’s split leather skirt,” she mumbled while she tugged on her dress to cover beautiful legs Blaze had enjoyed glimpsing now and then during their lessons. She arched a dark brow as she settled in, huffing out a sigh. “But someone failed to mention we’d have a lesson this evening.”

  “Sorry about that.” He strode out of the barn, leaving Maggie to follow while he headed for the paddock to saddle up, tightening Minx’s girth before he mounted. “But it’s Rachel’s night off, and I promised to take her to dinner.” His tone turned acidic. “Only I sure didn’t expect to be dining in her room because Murdock bruised her up. It was all I could do not to storm right out and hunt him down after we ate, but she wanted me to stay till she fell asleep, which wasn’t long with the awful day she’d had.” He nodded toward the front gate. “I think you’re ready for a ride outside the ranch to experience different terrains.”

  They trotted to the front gravel drive where they broke into a gallop. Maggie’s chestnut hair instantly fell from its pins to stream behind as wild and free as Snowflake’s mane. Approaching the gate, they slowed to a canter on the packed dirt road that led into town, finally easing the horses into a natural walk.

  Silent for a good, long mile, a peaceful calm surrounded them along with graceful ponderosas and yellow pines flanking the dusty ro
ad like a verdant wall, helping to still Blaze’s anxious soul. He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath, the scent of butterscotch or vanilla drifting in the air like Sheridan had just baked a fresh batch of cookies.

  “Goodness, what’s that wonderful smell?” Maggie breathed in deeply, lips pressed tightly as she took in a full breath, nose in the air like a deer on the scent.

  “Yellow-belly ponderosa pines,” he explained.”

  She glanced over, two ridges digging in at the bridge of her nose. “What?”

  He smiled, the lazy rhythm of his horse lulling him into a strange contentment that had a whole lot to do with the lady beside him. “When a ponderosa pine reaches 110 to 120 years old, which is about Sheridan or Shaylee’s age for a tree, it begins to shed its black bark to reveal an inner bark of yellow, which is why the locals call it the yellow-belly phase. Believe it or not, if you stick your nose into a crevice of the bark during this phase and take a big sniff, it smells like someone’s baking cookies.”

  “Oh my goodness, it does!” she exclaimed, the little-girl glow on her face making him smile. “It smells like cinnamon or coconut, maybe.”

  “Or butterscotch or vanilla like it does to me.” He nodded toward a break in the trees at a wildflower meadow, where the late-day sun glimmered gold on a faraway fishing pond he and Dash had frequented as boys. “How ’bout we take a rest over by that pond, and I’ll let you sniff one firsthand.”

  Her hazel eyes lit up, pert near the color of fire in the shaft of sunlight that washed over her face. “Really?”

  “Yes, really, Miss Mullaney. That is”—a slow smile slid across his lips—“as long as you can keep up with me.” Shortening the reins, he gave her a wink before squeezing Minx’s flanks in a forward lean. “Yah!”

  Minx flew like the wind through the meadow, her hooves pounding in rhythm with Blaze’s hammering heart while adrenaline coursed through both his and the mare’s veins. Sweet mother of mercy, how he loved spending time with Maggie! The thought was rudely interrupted by Rachel’s face, battered and bruised, and his good mood suddenly slowed to a halt, along with Minx’s stride as they neared the edge of the pond.

  He glanced over his shoulder, pulse sprinting at the sight of Maggie wild and free, as graceful and magnificent as the animal she rode. He grinned at her stern concentration while she bent low over Snowflake’s neck with a nasty scowl, and was pretty sure he’d riled her but good because he’d challenged and then stolen a lead. Even so, she and Snowflake were flying, their speed blowing Maggie’s skirt clear up to her thighs. A dangerous heat kindled low in his gut, reminding him once again she was only a friend. He swallowed hard. But friend or no—he had a sinking feeling that either way …

  He was in a whole heap of trouble.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Maggie was panting as hard as Snowflake by the time they reached Blaze. He was lying against one of those yellow-belly ponderosa pines, hands propped behind his neck and Stetson low over his eyes, as if taking a nap. Long legs sprawled out with boots crossed, he slowly nudged his hat up with a lazy smile. “Blue blazes, Miss Nightengale, what took you so long? I’m about done with my nap.”

  “You’re done all right,” Maggie said with a mock glare, sliding off Snowflake so fast, her skirt billowed up. “Soon as I get my hands on you!” Marching over, she slapped two palms to her hips and glared him down.

  His grin took a tilt as he peered up, hand shading his eyes. “Is that a promise, Nurse Flo? Because I do believe I am feeling somewhat poorly.” He put a palm to his forehead, the cocky grin skewing into a pained look.

  “You haven’t seen ‘poorly,’” she threatened, voice cracking when she tried to suppress a chuckle. Plucking his Stetson off his head, she began whacking him with it. “You are not only a cocky cowboy, Blaze Donovan, you’re a cocky cheat!”

  Jumping up, he tried to fend her off, but he was laughing so hard, she whopped him all the more. “And you’re a poor loser, ma’am,” he teased, snatching the hat back before bolting to the other side of the tree. “Although I will admit, a mighty cute one when you’re all fired up.” Hands latched to the tree, he taunted her with a white flash of teeth.

  She jerked one way then quickly the other, but he was too fast, dodging her for several turns. “Look, you want to smell the bloomin’ tree or not?” he finally asked, tunneling fingers through disheveled curls before reseating his Stetson with a firm tap.

  Finger aimed his way, she scorched him with another glare for good measure. “Yes, but if you ever cheat on a challenge again, mister, it’s two bags of butterscotch candies whether you win or not, understood?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said with a brisk salute. “Come on over here, Miss Prickly.”

  Smile pursed, she marched to his side of the tree with arms crossed. “What?”

  Leaning one palm to the tree, he gave a nod toward the trunk where snaky lines of dark gray bark flanked a patch of golden-red swirls that looked like The Judge’s burlwood desk. “Go on, take a sniff.”

  Eyes closed, she bent forward and breathed in, immediately transported back to better times with the scent of her mother’s homemade Christmas cookies. Tears instantly brimmed.

  “So, what’s it smell like to you—butterscotch and vanilla or cinnamon and coconut?” Blaze asked, still casually propped against the tree.

  Blinking to clear the wetness, she looked up at him, somehow managing a tremulous smile. “It smells like home,” she whispered, feeling a bit silly as she swiped at the moisture in her eyes.

  He immediately stood up tall. “You’re crying …” Concern laced his voice as he reached to graze a gentle finger to her cheek, halting the trail of her mourning. The tenderness of his touch unleashed a grief she’d fought so hard to resist.

  “I guess I miss my mother,” she whispered, totally stunned at the sob that broke from her lips, almost as if it belonged to someone else.

  “Aw, Maggie …” She was totally unprepared for the warmth of his body as he bundled her in his arms, surrounding her with caring and comfort and that musky citrus scent that never failed to flutter her stomach. The warmth of his breath caressed her neck as he bent his head close to hers, and like a floodgate that had been opened wide, she wept uncontrollably against his chest. “That’s okay, darlin’,” he said quietly with a gentle massage of her back, “you go right ahead and get it all out.”

  And she did. All the grief over missing her mother, all the pain that David and The Judge had inflicted, all the worry over Aunt Libby’s apparent unhappiness. It all came gushing out against the blue silk of Blaze’s vest, the firm warmth of his body providing yet one more reason for her angst …

  The swirl of heat deep in her belly.

  The tingling sensation that weakened her knees.

  The dryness in a mouth that suddenly ached to be kissed.

  Breathless, she jolted from his arms, her words stuttering as quickly as her pulse. “G-Goodness, all this over the b-bark of a s-silly tree,” she said, tempted to fan her face for all the heat steaming her cheeks. “You must think me a perfect goose.” She whirled around, intent on escaping to the edge of the pond.

  He stayed her with a gentle hand. “You got the ‘perfect’ part right, Maggie,” he said quietly, gently tugging her to face him once again. She swallowed a hard knot when he lifted her chin with a finger, completely unsettled by the tender look in his eyes.

  Taking a step back, she hugged her waist against the onslaught of feelings he stirred, pinning her gaze to his boots rather than his face. “Thank you, Blaze, for your kind concern.” Her eyes rose to meet the deep blue in his, and the intensity she saw unleashed a scatter of goose bumps all over her body. “You’re a good friend,” she emphasized, determined not to give in to impossible feelings for a man of no faith.

  Especially one with a girlfriend.

  She held his gaze with a lift of her chin. “At least Rachel is a lucky girl in that respect, if none other.”

  The tenderness in his
eyes dimmed with a squint. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Maggie turned and walked to the edge of the pond, arms still crossed in a barricade, both against the emotions he evoked and the anger suddenly simmering over his relationship with Rachel. “I mean, yes, she’s lucky to have you as a friend, Blaze, but I think her luck ends at the door of the Ponderosa Saloon, where girls who work there are constantly exposed to danger.”

  He joined her at the shore, his gaze lost in the scarlet-gold shimmers of dusk as they rippled over the water. “Not really. What happened to Rachel was a fluke, Maggie. Clyde takes good care of his girls. Gives ’em a place to stay, food, security, and a paycheck.”

  “Yes, but at what cost?” She stared at his hard-sculpted profile, some of her anger bleeding into her tone.

  His jaw compressed as he snatched up a pebble, hurling it across the water with enough force to skip it four times before plunking into the water. “Before Clyde took her in, Rachel and every other girl there fled from true danger, be it abuse at the hand of a relative, husband, or beau, or even just plain starving on the streets. Trust me, Maggie, until Clyde, none of them felt they had a life worth living.”

  “And they do now?” Her harsh tone drew his gaze.

  “Yes, as a matter of fact they do, Miss Mullaney.” He scooped up another stone and pelted it even farther before scowling at her out of the corner of his eye. “Because despite the fact these girls work in a saloon, Clyde’s is one of the few in Virginia City that requires them to entertain customers with singing or dancing rather than other less desirable pursuits. Unless they choose to do so.”

  Heat scorched Maggie’s cheeks, suddenly incensed over the unfairness of it all—men defiling and using women for their own pleasure. “Oh, and I suppose Rachel ‘chooses to do so,’” she said in a tight tone, “at least with you.”

  It was his turn to blush as he turned to gape, blood gorging his cheeks. “That’s none of your blasted business, Maggie,” he hissed, “so butt out.” He hurtled a stone across the water with a grunt, singeing her with a look of warning. “You can just button down your dad-burned morality because regardless of what you think, lady, I care about Rachel a great deal.”