by Jeanne Allan
“You were right about one thing and wrong about another.”
Charlotte paused, her hand on the door handle. “Was I?”
“Back in Denver you said you weren’t a good enough actress to play the big deathbed scene. You’re right. You’d overplay the scene. As you did just now.”
She didn’t bother to deny it. “And what was I wrong about?”
“I didn’t say you were sort of pretty. I said you were pretty if a man likes red hair and freckles.”
Her fingers tightened on the handle. “Good night, Matthew.”
“Aren’t you going to ask if I do?”
* * *
Not in a million years, Charlotte thought as she slowly descended the staircase the next morning. She hadn’t answered Matthew or asked the question he’d wanted her to ask because she already knew the answer. Not that she was the least bit interested in his opinion of red hair. Especially since hers was strawberry-blond. Let Matthew Thorneton think he’d had the last word. He’d find out soon enough Charlotte wasn’t some naive country girl he could manipulate with a few kisses and threats. She was his employer, and he’d better behave accordingly. She looked forward to a day of reminding him. For a hired hand, he was entirely too outspoken and determined to have things his way. She entered the dining room, yawning widely.
“Gosh, Charlotte, what took you so long? I was ‘fraid I’d have to go before you got up,” Tim cried.
“Charlotte’s definition of early rising differs somewhat from ours,” Matthew said in a sardonic voice.
Helen tapped Tim’s shoulder. “Ten minutes until the school bus.”
“I want to show Snowball to Charlotte.”
“Snowball?” Charlotte sent a vague smile in the direction of a scowling Matthew.
Tim stuck his arm in her face. “My rat,” he said proudly.
Charlotte took one look at the tiny head peering out from Tim’s sleeve and put down her coffee. She sensed Matthew watching her reactions with keen anticipation. “He’s charming,” she said faintly, edging her chair back.
“You can play with him while I’m at school.”
“You’re very kind. Does he bite?”
“No,” Tim said in disgust. “He’s not that kind a rat.”
“How nice,” Charlotte said. “Hadn’t you better hurry so you don’t miss your bus?”
“Wanna hold him?”
“No. Thank you. Not before breakfast.”
“OK. See ya.” Tim tore from the room, his grandmother following more slowly.
Matthew chuckled.
Charlotte looked at him. “What’s so amusing?”
“Your face when Tim shoved the rat in it. How do you like country life so far, Charlotte?”
“I like it just fine. As for the rat, I’m sure he’s a delightful pet.”
“Wait until you see his tail. It’s long and scaly. Makes me think of a snake winding around your arm.” Matthew sipped his coffee, eyeing her over the rim of the mug. “Mom gets annoyed with Tim, the way he lets Snowball run wild through the house.”
“Run wild?”
The corners of Matthew’s mouth twitched. “He’s quite a climber. Once when Tim had him out, he disappeared and we turned the house upside down looking for him. Searched everywhere. We’d about given up when he leaped down on Mom’s head. You’ll never guess where he was.” He looked expectantly at her.
She obliged him by asking, “Where?”
“On top of the tall bookcase in Chick’s room, the room you’re sleeping in now.”
“The room I’m in,” Charlotte repeated hollowly.
“It was the darnedest thing. We never did figure how that rat got in there with the door closed. There must be some hole we don’t know about. He’d sure been busy. We could see where he’d climbed up on the bed and tunneled under the covers.” Matthew set his coffee down and stood up. “He’s a clever fellow.”
But not half as clever as you think you are, Charlotte thought as Matthew left. He was obviously annoyed about having his day conscripted by his new employer. Thus the petty attempt to frighten her with the rat. She sipped her coffee. Matthew’d better be careful his childish revenge didn’t backfire and scare her away before he was willing for her to go. One had to wonder when that would occur to him. She reached for a muffin.
“If you insist on seeing the place, I thought the best way to do so would be from the back of a horse.” Matthew stood in the doorway. “Of course, if you’ve changed your mind and would prefer to spend the day laying around the house, I’d understand. Riding can be a dirty and dusty business.”
“How sweet of you to worry about me, but I’d love to ride. Of course, I’ll have to change.”
Matthew visibly ground his teeth. “Do you think you might be ready by lunchtime?”
“You’re such a tease, Matthew. It will only take me an hour or so to change.”
“An hour or so.”
She beamed at him. “I’ll hurry.” He turned on his heel and stomped down the hall. Charlotte buttered her muffin. She’d need to be well-fortified to face the day. She had a feeling Matthew hadn’t forsaken his plan to convince her to stay in the house—and out of his way.
Two hours later she picked her way carefully across a wide expanse of dirt and gravel. Matthew was waiting for her at the corral behind the barn. Charlotte regretted leaving her camera in her room. The stunned look on Matthew’s face when he saw her was priceless. “Here I am—” she gave him a wide smile “—and only a few minutes late.”
“What on earth are you dressed for? A Halloween party?”
“I know, the hat doesn’t quite go with the trousers.” Reaching up, she jammed a pin more securely among the huge lavender fabric flowers that decorated the wide-brimmed straw hat. “With my delicate complexion, I have to be so careful.”
“I told you to bring jeans.”
“These looked so much smarter.” Charlotte brushed an imaginary piece of dirt from her dark green jodhpurs. “The minute I saw some on a woman in a magazine—she was standing beside a horse—I knew they were exactly the thing to wear riding. Is that horse for me? It’s beautiful. Is it a girl?”
Matthew patted the large, muscular gray. “Jay’s a gelding, and I’m riding him.”
“Gelding?” She could hardly wait to hear Matthew’s answer.
“Let’s just say ol’ Jay here will never be a daddy.”
Charlotte schooled her face to remain blank. “Why? Doesn’t he like lady horses?”
Matthew frowned. “Didn’t you ever have a cat or dog while you were growing up?”
“No, but what that has to do with... Oh, I see.” She arched a supercilious eyebrow. “If I had, we certainly wouldn’t have discussed that sort of thing in polite company.” She could almost see the steam coming from Matthew’s ears. Before he could erupt, she changed the subject. “What am I going to ride?”
His eyes narrowed. “Have you ever ridden before?”
She smiled confidently. “I’ve watched lots of television.”
Muttering under his breath, Matthew wrapped the horse’s reins over the top rail of the corral and disappeared into the barn, his back and shoulders rigid.
The upcoming ride showed promise. Tamping down her anticipation, Charlotte stroked the gray’s velvety nose. Nearby a cloud of small cream-colored butterflies took flight. About twenty feet away a meadowlark sat on a fence post, puffed out his bright yellow chest and threw his distinctive song into the air, the trilling notes unimpeded by the huge worm hanging from his beak. Swallows swooped overhead and a pair of robins flew past. Shaded by tall pines, the ranch house crowned a knoll. The barn sat midway between the house and a cottonwood-lined stream, with various outbuildings scattered around. One picturesque, tumbledown shack had been taken over by a climbing rosebush loaded with yellow blooms. Charlotte lifted her face, soaking up the warm sunshine. Hearing Matthew’s voice, she quickly stepped away from the gelding.
A light chestnut mare followed Matthew from
the barn, placing her hooves daintily on the ground. Arching her neck, she neighed softly at the gray. Charlotte didn’t have to fake her response. “He’s beautiful.”
“She. Her name is Penny.” Matthew’s eyes didn’t quite meet Charlotte’s.
“Penny.” Charlotte giggled. “I see what Tim meant. We do have almost the same color of hair.” She slanted Matthew a quick look. “Did you hope that would annoy me?” She stepped quickly back as he led the mare toward her.
“She won’t bite.” He ignored the question.
“She looks much bigger close up,” Charlotte said doubtfully.
“She’s the sweetest-tempered horse around. Riding her is like sitting in a rocking chair.” Matthew slipped the reins over Penny’s head and handed them to Charlotte. Walking over to his own mount, he untied him and swung lightly up. Leather creaked as he settled into the saddle. “Well?” He guided the large gelding over to where Charlotte stood.
Charlotte retreated before the large horse. “Well, what?”
“I thought you’d watched a lot of television. Let’s go.” When she didn’t move, he said, “Put your foot in the stirrup, that thing there, hang on to the saddle so you don’t fall over. OK, grab hold of the saddle horn, that—” he pointed again “—and pull yourself up, throwing your right leg over.”
A large fly buzzed past Charlotte’s nose. Penny twitched and swished her tail. Charlotte jumped out of the way. “I don’t think she wants me to ride her.”
“She’s shooing away flies. Do as I said and you’ll be fine. She won’t move away.”
Charlotte grabbed the saddle horn and tightened the reins in her hand. Penny sidestepped. “She won’t hold still.”
“That’s because you pulled on the reins.” Matthew swung down from his horse and dropped the reins to the ground. “Put this hand here and grab the back of the saddle with your other hand. Give me your foot. Not your right one. Your left one. OK. Up you go. Uh, Charlotte, you’re supposed to put your other leg over the horse, not your head and body.”
“Don’t just stand there laughing, do something.” Penny stood patiently, looking back at her strange rider. Charlotte was positive the mare was rolling her eyes in disbelief.
Taking firm hold of Charlotte’s belt, Matthew pulled her upright. She flailed the air with her arms as he threw her right leg over the saddle. Capturing her windmilling arms, he anchored her hands firmly on the saddle horn. “Stand up so I can see if your stirrups are the right length. OK, sit.” He adjusted each side. “Relax.”
“It’s awfully far down.” She waited until he’d remounted. “Matthew, I lost my hat when I was getting on.”
Back on the ground Matthew scooped up her hat and handed it to her. Charlotte draped the reins over the mare’s neck, and holding the hat with one hand, searched with the other for the pins to skewer the hat in place. Matthew vaulted into his saddle, and his horse moved forward. Penny followed. “Whoa, horse, whoa!” Charlotte shrieked, grabbing for the saddle horn with both hands. “Matthew!”
Halting the gray, he turned around, resting one hand on the back of his saddle. “What’s the matter?”
“I’m not ready to go yet. Tell her to hold still.”
He reached for the reins. “Fix the damned hat.” When she’d finished, he slapped the leather reins against her palms. “Use these to guide her and pull back when you want to stop. Gently. Penny has a soft mouth. You’re not stopping a runaway train. OK. Give her a little nudge with your knee. Easy. We’ll just walk ‘em, now.” He set off.
“Matthew. I hate to bother you...”
“Now what?”
“I dropped one of the leash things.”
“They’re called reins, Charlotte.”
An hour later as she followed Matthew down a faint trail, Charlotte conceded she’d underestimated him. That he hadn’t shoved her off a cliff long ago testified to a stubborn nature that refused to accept defeat. Or to enormous patience. Tim came to mind. “I’ll bet you’re a good father,” she said without thinking.
Matthew turned his horse in a circle and reined in beside her. “What did you say?” he asked warily.
Darn. She hadn’t meant to express the thought out loud. Matthew was waiting for an explanation. “You heard me,” she said tartly. “Tim is obviously a healthy, happy boy who’s friendly and outgoing, so that makes you a good father. Under the circumstances, it can’t be easy for you.”
“Circumstances?” His voice was tight.
“Being a single parent. I know your mother must be a tremendous help, but you have to make all the difficult decisions.” Annoyed she started this conversation, she added awkwardly, “Being the child of a single parent, I have some idea of the difficulties...” She shrugged and urged Penny on.
Matthew guided his horse beside her. “I suppose you had it pretty rough as a kid.”
“Certainly not. Illegitimate children love feeling different.” In the blink of an eye Matthew presented her with his back and Jay’s rump. Which she deserved, Charlotte admitted. Her past wasn’t his fault. “Matthew,” she said tentatively.
He didn’t stop his plodding horse. “Those flowers are lupine, and I’ve already picked you some.”
She urged Penny up beside the gray. “I guess you could say I’m a tad sensitive about my parentage.” It was as close as she could come to an apology.
Matthew rested his hands on his saddle horn. “I never heard how Chick and your mom met.”
“A girlfriend of Mom’s talked her into going to the Denver Stock Show. Mom was trying on cowboy hats and Chick Gannen walked by and asked why a pretty girl like her didn’t have a beau. He talked her into letting him buy her a cola, and one thing led to another.” Charlotte drew circles on Penny’s neck with the ends of the reins. “He was on leave before going to Vietnam, and he was at the rodeo hazing as a favor for a steer-wrestling friend whose regular hazer had a family emergency. You probably know a steer wrestler needs a hazer to keep the steer going straight, but all my mother knew about cows was hamburger comes from them. Mom had never been on a horse and didn’t like Western movies, but she went to the stock show every night that week.” Charlotte watched some crows flying raucously overhead. “Mom was hardly the person one would expect a cowboy to fall for. I’m sure his fiancée was more suitable.”
Matthew shrugged. “Chick and Connie Maywell grew up together. Mom says they got engaged because their folks pushed them into it. She said Chick and Connie liked each other but they weren’t in love.”
“Love.” Charlotte smiled tightly. “I think Mom fell in love with the romantic image of a cowboy. Mom insisted Chick Gannen looked better on a horse than John Wayne.” She ran her fingers through the mare’s mane. “Mom has a photograph of him on that horse. It wasn’t his horse, but his friend’s.” Penny twitched, shaking off a fly. “When I was little, I was always asking Mom the horse’s name, but she couldn’t remember.” Almost to herself, Charlotte added, “It’s silly, but I used to hate not know—” She caught herself. Matthew Thorneton would think she was a complete moron if she confessed how much it had bothered her not knowing the horse’s name. Penny swished her tail, and an unseen hummingbird whistled shrilly past. The air smelled of pine and sage and sweet clover.
Leather creaked as Matthew shifted in his saddle. “Chick used to haze occasionally for Bud Adamly. Maybe Bud will remember the stock show and the name of the horse.”
“Don’t be silly. It’s childish. You don’t need to bother.”
“It’s no bother.”
“He probably doesn’t even remember.”
“Probably not.”
Charlotte looked around for a new topic. “What pretty blue flowers.”
“They’re flax. You have some there.” He nodded toward the bunch of wildflowers tied to her saddle. His eyes narrowed as he caught sight of her right hand resting easily on her thigh. His gaze moved to her left hand holding the reins as she guided the mare with a slight flick of her wrist. “You’re doing pretty g
ood for a greenhorn.”
Inwardly cursing herself for being so preoccupied with their conversation that she’d totally forgotten her role, Charlotte visibly preened. “I guess I’m a born rider. If only Penny didn’t keep growing wider.” She stood gingerly in the stirrups to stretch, at the same time unobtrusively nudging Penny with her heel. Penny obediently moved forward. Charlotte squealed and clutched at the saddle horn, pulling on the reins at the same time. Penny stopped abruptly, and Charlotte pitched forward over the horse’s neck.
“You’re a born rider, all right,” Matthew said solemnly. “You OK?”
“Certainly, I’m OK.” Charlotte sat up and pushed her hat off her forehead, settling it firmly atop her head. “I was merely checking to see if I could ride and floss my teeth with Penny’s mane at the same time. If you’re interested, the answer is no.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. Ready?” At her nod, he rode off slowly.
Penny looked around and tossed her head. “Don’t tell me you’re shaking off a fly,” Charlotte said to the horse. “That’s a look of disgust if I ever saw one.”
Matthew was already at the corral loosening the cinch on his saddle when Charlotte rode up. “To get down, just reverse the process.” He didn’t look up.
“I wish you’d mentioned that sooner,” Charlotte said in a plaintive voice.
Matthew turned around, saw her and immediately swung back to face his horse. His shoulders were still shaking as he ducked under Penny’s neck. “I’m afraid to ask.”
“It wasn’t easy,” she tartly defended herself. “I swung my leg around and both legs were on the same side of Penny, but I had my back to her looking down at the ground and that didn’t seem right so I swung one leg over and...” She clutched the back of the saddle, looking at the mare’s tail in vague surprise.
“I can’t remember the last time I had such an—” Matthew rested a hand on Penny’s withers and looked at Charlotte “—interesting ride.”
“Very amusing. Help me down.”
“Swing your leg around, and grab on to my shoulders.” When she’d followed his instructions, he reached up and clasped her around the waist. “I hope you won’t be too sore to ride again with me tomorrow.”
