“Fine, it’s not practical, I understand that, but not everything has to be practical. And not everything has to work with horses. You can ride sidesaddle, you know.” Sarah propped her hands on her hips and faced off against her sister. “There’s no call to make a noise like that, sidesaddle is perfectly acceptable. Why a lady can even jump a horse that way.”
“It’s not the same,” Amanda muttered, going back to her carrots. “You don’t have the control, horses are trained by knee pressure, you have to start over on a horse to teach it sidesaddle, and that just looks silly.”
“Dressing like a man looks silly!” Sarah snapped back. “Some young officers are right now coming into town to oversee the construction of the fort. They’re taking rooms in town, and I have to explain that my sister is parading around town in trousers.”
“You don’t have to explain anything about me to anyone. It ain’t none of their business anyway!”
“I don’t! I stopped! I just tell people I don’t know you!”
Amanda scowled. That actually stung a little. “Well, that’s the first thing you got right yet! You don’t know me! You don’t have a clue who I am!” She blinked back sudden tears.
“I’m not the only one! You can’t tell either!”
Rachel bypassed her aunts, took the bowl of peas and headed for the stove. She dumped the vegetables in the pot and looked around for a match.
“I know who and what I am, and I am proud of who and what I am!”
“Well, I hope you like those horses of yours because it’s gonna be just you and them and no one else in your life if you insist on living your life this way!”
“If that means no you, then I am looking forward to the silence!”
Rachel took the knife from Amanda’s lax fingers and finished chopping the carrots, adding them to the stew water in silence. She struck a match and started the fire in the stove.
“You don’t have to wait, you know. You can just move into the barn with those smelly horses and live there for all I care!”
Rachel added the meat cuts and pulled out a half-dozen potatoes. She rinsed them, but left the skins on and cut them into large chunks.
“Why should I have to go? You go and live with one of those smelly little officers you’re always drooling over. At least the horses are better than that!”
“How dare you!” Sarah screamed, hands on her hips. “You take that back!”
“You take back what you said.”
“I will not!” Sarah pushed her, hard. Amanda lost her balance and grabbed her sister’s arm for support, unbalancing her as well. Sarah fell with her sister, her hand flying out to catch something, anything to avoid the fall.
She grabbed the edge of the cold pot. It flipped in mid-air and sprayed in an arc, peapods, carrots, potatoes, and meat flying freely through the kitchen. A gobbet of raw meat smacked wetly on the door frame as Sheriff Addams opened the door. He watched as it peeled off the wood and curled up, hanging for a moment before falling to the floor in a small expanding puddle.
He took in the two sisters, both drenched, covered in cold vegetables and looking at him with wide eyes.
“Hi Daddy,” Amanda said quietly, biting her lip, looking anywhere but at her sister.
“Hi, Daddy.” Sarah’s echo was no less awkward.
“Just tell me what I need to do right now,” he said in the back of his throat. It was as much a growl as a question. For the girls that were raised by him, they recognized it for what it was. He was willing to do his part, if there was any, to make this end. But it was going to end. Right now.
Sarah looked at Amanda. Amanda nodded once. As one they turned to their father.
“Hire a cook,” they both said at the same time.
“That would be a really good idea.” Rachel said, pulling a bit of pork from her hair. She looked at it and sighed, dropping it into the bowl.
Chapter 2
Amanda fumed the entire next day. She left as soon as she could to tend to her horse. Horses identify and react to emotions. Despite the agitation and rage she still held against Sarah, she had to force herself to be calm and even happy. Approaching a horse with a full head of steam was only asking for trouble. An agitated spirit would make him wary and pull back. But give him a cheerful smile, and he would quickly settle in for a scratch at the ears, or a good brushing.
Acting calm did a great deal to help her mood. In pretending, she found peace. She spent the morning cleaning out her horse’s stall and grooming him. By the time she had his hooves trimmed to a respectable level, her back ached and her legs hurt, but she was ready to face her sister again.
It was late morning, and she was just returning her horse to his stall when the new lawyer arrived. He greeted her warmly as he rode up on his magnificent horse. “Well, Miss Addams.” He said tipping his hat to her and sliding down off the horse. “it is a pleasure indeed. Is this your horse?”
“Yes. His name is Oliver.” Amanda admitted breathlessly, pleased that she had taken the time to groom him and clean the stall. Still, much as she loved Oliver, he was a sad comparison to the lawyer’s horse. She felt guilty about even thinking that. Her love and loyalty should have been to Oliver, but the truth was simply undeniable. He had seen a good many years already and admittedly hadn’t been equine perfection even in his youth.
The lawyer’s horse on the other hand… She caught her breath. The chestnut gelding he rode looked as though he was made of water running over burnished copper. Never had she seen such a magnificent animal, even at the annual Founders Day Horse Race – and that attracted people from miles around interested in the hundred dollar prize money.
“Miss… Addams?”
Amanda blinked once and turned to… name… name… She could not remember for the life of her what the lawyer’s name was.
“Very sorry.” She coughed and smiled. “I was admiring your mount. I did so when you came to the reception to introduce yourself. He’s a magnificent beast.”
“Yes.” He chuckled a bit and turned to regard the horse who was, in turn regarding them with dull disinterest, ears twitching in irritation at a persistent fly. “Yes, he is rather. His name is Champion.”
“A fitting name,” she murmured. She clawed at her memory, squeezing her brain, she would have gladly slammed her head into a pole if only it would release the man’s name to her. The errant memory stayed buried, probably under a recipe for pot-roast or one of the other endless culinary challenges Rachel was patiently trying to teach them.
Which had admittedly been an unmitigated disaster. As she was leaving the house she’d overheard Sarah yelling, “Where did you learn all this?”
To which Rachel actually snapped back at her with, “From your sister! Why didn’t you?”
Thus, the lesson had continued without her, but all the memory gave her was a headache and a hole where this man’s name should have been.
“I understand that you’re a bit short-handed,” she blurted out as he turned to loosen the girth on his saddle.
“Ah… yes,” he said, glancing at her, distracted, but nodding politely all the same, “We are. We’re needing someone to help us get set up, organized. Someone to do a little filing, a little organizational…”
“I’ll do it,” She said, with a firm nod. Why it hadn’t occurred to her earlier was a wonder. It seemed absolutely perfect. Her hand reached out to touch Champion’s velvety soft muzzle. He nuzzled her fingers, looking for treats.
“Ah. I see.” He blinked and rubbed his nose thoughtfully. “The problem is, we don’t actually have any funding at the moment, it takes time for the territory offices to get set up and to…”
“That’s the beauty of it. I don’t want money.” She said with a grin. “I want to ride him.” She pointed at the horse, a grin of delight creasing her face.
He looked back at the horse as if he’d forgotten that it was there. “You want… to ride my horse…” he said, looking from horse to her. The horse cocked one ear at her and
gave the man a long look. Images of windswept plains and flying through endless fields focused and slid neatly into those dark eyes.
“Yes.” She nodded and rushed on before he could poke holes in her plan. “I’m good at all that. I helped daddy set up office at the Sherriff’s office and get all the paperwork organized.” She stood proudly and announced, “I even caught the first drunkard ever to sleep it off in the new jail.”
He blinked. He looked at her horse and back again. He seemed to be thinking. She watched him puzzle it out, thinking he had nice eyes, and that when he smiled he had a dimple in his right cheek that gave him a boyish look. The boyish thing made her think that maybe he’d give her ridiculous plan any consideration at all. It was a lot to hinge on one dimple.
“Ok…” he said slowly as if trying to understand what had just happened. He was frowning and seemed a little unsure. “So long as you take good care of him.”
“Oh, I will,” she said, having all she could do to not start jumping up and down, clapping her hands, like a little girl. “I’ve been tending horses since I was eleven and I’ll brush him down and see to his feet… you can count on that. If you want, you can even draw something up in writing to that effect. Being a lawyer and all.”
“Sure…” he said, a little confused. “Well, we’re located right down…”
“I know right where it is.” She grinned. “That used to be the old bank before it was robbed too many times and old man Smithers put in a new bank with a stronger safe.” Then realizing how such a statement could be taken, she added quickly, “That was under the old Sherriff, a’course.”
“Of course.” His grin grew larger as he spoke to her.
“Yeah. Stuff like that happened a lot before Da… before Father took the job. But that’s a good building you got there. Solid. I think they patched the bullet holes in the ceiling, didn’t they? I heard that they had to change out the floorboards by the old safe area, sometimes you can’t get blood out of wood, no matter how hard you scrub.”
“I expect not.” He was openly grinning now. “I say, since you’re rather enamored of my… horse… would you like to put him up? I won’t be using him anymore today, but we’ve had a run and…”
It took him a minute to realize he was talking to the rear end of the horse. By the time he’d gotten to the word “up,” she’d snagged the reins and was halfway to the stalls. The horse looked back to his owner, who could only shrug.
“What was that?” she asked over her shoulder.
He seemed bemused. “Never mind.”
She tied the horse, pausing to rest her cheek against his neck. Truly he was a beauty. She closed her eyes, inhaling the sweaty animal smell. This was her perfume. Heaven itself. “When do you want me?” she asked, stepping away to find her grooming kit and bring it over.
“Excuse me?”
“To do the filing.”
“OH!” he shook his head as though he’d just woken up. “Tomorrow morning is fine.” He’d been leaning against the doorjamb and had a somewhat dazed look on his face. He must have ridden further and harder than he’d been letting on.
“I’ll be there at six. You…might want to get some rest.”
“Rest? No, I’m fine, why would you…Wait. Six? Then you’ll be waiting for three hours. We open at nine.”
“If you say so.” It seemed late to her, but lawyers were strange folks. If they wanted to start work with half the day gone, that was their business. “Maybe I’ll swing by in the morning and groom him again.”
“Thank you, Miss Addams,” Mr. Richman said. He seemed to be trying not to laugh as he walked away.
Wait! RICHMAN! PHILLIP RICHMAN!
“Ok, Mr. Richman, see you in the morning!” she called after him, hoping he heard. She set down the bucket that held her brushes and looked at the horse. Really looked at him. Gosh, he was the prettiest thing she’d ever seen in her life. “Hey there, beauty. How would you like a nice rub-down?” She worried the saddle hitch off and unstrapped the girth, pulling the strap on that side over the saddle horn and moving around to the other side of the horse. She lifted the saddle off in one smooth motion, draping it over the stall partition. The blanket was next. The sweat pattern of the blanket betrayed the effort horse and rider had put into the morning ride. They’d apparently gone far.
She twisted a length of straw and used it to absorb some of the sweat and then set to work with the brushes and hoof picks, stopping now and again to stroke the horse’s neck and shoulders.
“Yeah,” she murmured to the horse, whispering little nonsense words to help keep him calm. “You do like this, don’t you? He’s a good man, is he? Takes care of you? Treats you nice? Hmmm? Yeah, that’s a good boy, yeah, he’s damn cute too, isn’t…” she straightened up quickly and looked around, afraid she’d been overheard. With the exception of a half-dozen horses, she was thankfully alone. She looked into Champion’s eyes and chuckled. “Now, don’t tell nobody I said that. Promise?”
The horse winked at her and stretched his neck, needing more attention with the brushes. She was more than happy to oblige. With a contented sigh, Amanda settled into work.
In her secret heart, this was her favorite place to be. There was something about moving the brush in rhythmic circles, the drowsy horse, the sweet smell of hay. Lulled into a happy quietude, Amanda let her mind wander. Oddly enough she found herself thinking less about the horse she was brushing and more about the rider.
What would her sisters say if they knew she thought he was cute? Handsome even. Wealthy judging by the horse. Not that money made any difference to her. Right? She considered that honestly. Money bought horses like this one. But, no, it wasn’t everything. She had been fairly content with her Oliver for a long time. She still loved him.
Assured that she still had her head on straight, she returned to grooming the horse.
Of course, if she was going to spend her days locked up inside, she might as well have a good view. Mr. Phillip Richman was a very good view.
Very good indeed.
The brush stilled. That smile…that dimple. Funny how a dimple could make a person’s pulse race so. Or the way the corners of his eyes crinkled when he laughed. Why, her heart fluttered even now as she considered his shoulders…
She shook herself. Ridiculous. For the second time today, she was being ridiculous. Even if being ridiculous had gotten her a job. And a promise to ride this amazing horse, who was letting her know that he was getting bored while she stood about woolgathering. He chewed aimlessly on the bristles of her brush, held out in a hand gone lax. “Richman, huh?” she asked the horse, yanking the brush away before he ate it down to where it was no longer useful. “I need to keep Sarah away from this one, as man-crazy as she is. Oh, sorry, boy, sorry. I didn’t mean to pull your mane like that. I’ll go easier. That’s better….”
Chapter 3
Never had the simple act of grooming a horse left her so elated. Grooming Champion had been everything she’d dreamed it would be. He leaned into the scratches and practically purred for the currycomb. By the time she was done, he glowed. He was also asleep. To think someday soon she would ride him!
She slipped out of his stall, one large brown eye watching her pass, and retreated to the entrance when a familiar whuffle greeted her.
“I’m sorry, Oliver.” She went to pet her horse’s head, but he shied from her hand. She sighed. “It’s nothing against you. You’re a great horse, you really are.”
He snorted and looked at her. She hung her head and reached for the apple she’d taken for her lunch today. She cut it in half and shared it with him. Mollified, the horse munched the apple, Amanda thought he looked contemplative.
“Fine.” She sighed and offered him the other half. This time, he didn’t shy from her caress and happily leaned into her tough scratching over his forelock and digging down to the poll. “Do you forgive me now?” He snuffled and blew and tried to reach over the stall door to nose her pants.
“Don’t
have more,” she said, stroking the velvet nose. “You already ate my lunch. Do you forgive me yet?” she patted his neck and turned to leave. She couldn’t resist one last look at the chestnut down the way.
The walk home disappeared under her feet as she dreamed of flying on Champion through open fields, the powerful animal responding her to commands. It was a luscious daydream, and later, if she’d been asked, she couldn’t have told a soul a single thing she saw on the way home.
“And I’m not gonna ride sidesaddle!” she swore under her breath, as she dashed through the gate of her house, pausing only to pat the stray cat that had been nosing around the yard for weeks now. Thinking about Mr. Richman, she could kinda see what her sisters were saying. He was cute, in that dimpled smile way. Well, more than that. The rider and horse were well-matched. He seemed to have a very muscular frame under all those fancy suits he wore, and if a square jaw was any indicator of personality, then he was as solid and headstrong as his mount.
It was the eyes that really set him apart though. They shone like a brand-new knife, steel gray and with the same sparkle steel gives in the sunlight. He moved like he was on a hunt, all sinew and prowling like that cat that had already proven how fickle it was and was even now skulking through the grass in search of prey.
She was on her porch when she realized that she’d spent more time thinking about Mr. Richman than his horse. And that open field suddenly involved a picnic blanket and a bottle of wine. She stopped herself and stood for a moment blinking in the sunshine. This was… strange. It wasn’t something she’d thought of before about any man. Yet, she couldn’t make herself stop. Every time she would take her thoughts and put them back on the horse, he was there, smiling up at her, riding beside her, in front of her on the chestnut, her arms around his broad chest and lowering down to his…
“I need to wash up,” she schooled herself sharply and walked into the house before her traitorous brain got her into any more trouble. “Hello!” she called from the living room.
At First Sight (The Sheriff's Daughters Book 2) Page 2
