Stormy Hawkins (Prairie Hearts Series Book 1)

by Ana Morgan

  Stormy’s stomach roiled as if she’d just discovered the bloated carcass of a lost steer. Blade might know some fancy, wild-west show tricks, but his attention span was shorter than a maggot on a cow pie. He didn’t have the grit to run hundreds of cattle.

  Six milk cows were more his style. And, ogling Emma.

  She did an about-face and tramped outside.

  In the shade cast by the Schultz’s barn, Running Bear squatted next to her gelding and checked the bandage she’d wrapped around his leg.

  “Can Odin make it home?” she asked.

  Her gelding nickered.

  “He doesn’t want to stay here.”

  Stormy didn’t question the authenticity of Running Bear’s translation. He had a way with horses. She also agreed with Odin. The sooner they went home, the better.

  “He says Blade’s mare has been many places, seen many things. She’s tired and would like to thiyúha.”

  “Settle down?” Stormy patted Odin’s long neck. “That’s not going to happen, old friend, at least not with us. Blade’s after bigger wicháazes.” She jerked her thumbs at her breasts and then turned them down like a Roman emperor.

  “A man may wish for big wicháazes, but a wise man knows that wishes are granted with conditions. Sometimes it is smarter to refuse them.” His eyes turned mischievous. “Some day you will be the one wishing.”

  “Me?” she scoffed. “Never.”

  “Yes, you will. In fact, I think you are wishing right now.”

  “Maybe for Zed to ask Emma to name all thirty-eight states. You know she couldn’t do it.”

  Running Bear hooted. “That’s because she thinks only with her wicháazes.”

  Bending down, Stormy hugged him. He always cheered her up.

  His expression turned serious as he stood and mounted his roan. “Odin is ready now.”

  “Aren’t you going to ride with me?”

  “That’ll take too long. I need to throw more wood in the cook stove.” He raised his hand in a wave and trotted off.

  ~ ~ ~

  The mid-morning sun toasted Stormy’s back and shoulders as she led Odin, hobbling down the earth-packed lane. It wasn’t hard to imagine she walked in front of a lumbering elephant. Not that she’d ever led one, but she’d read the Chronicles of Dustypore when she’d studied about India. The comparison seemed apt.

  Zed and Brownie caught up to her. Riding alongside, Zed studied Odin’s leg. “Looks like you’ll have to walk him the whole way.”

  “You’ll stay with me, won’t you?” she asked hopefully.

  “Are you crazy?” Brownie cackled. “Emma’s cake was terrible. Running Bear made cornbread for breakfast.”

  “And, I have to take my medicine,” Zed said. “Just keep moving, slow and steady.”

  With a discouraged sigh, Stormy watched as they rode on ahead. When she reached the ranch’s southeast gate, she stopped and pulled her shirt free of her denims. The rush of air across her sweaty back felt good. She rolled up her shirt tails, knotted the ends under her breasts, and picked up the reins again. At this pace, home was another thirsty hour away.

  Odin raised his head, jerking the leather straps from her grip.

  Startled, she turned to see if something was wrong and spotted a familiar horse and rider, heading her way.

  Blade, coming to fetch his things.

  He had no reason to stop. She and Odin were getting along just fine.

  In fact, if he passed her again, on his way back to Schultz’s, she’d wave farewell. But, right now, he could keep on riding.

  ~ ~ ~

  As he closed in on Stormy and her limping gelding, Blade’s mouth went dry.

  Stormy had hiked her shirt high on her back, revealing hourglass curves more alluring than Candy’s most risqué French corset.

  Willing himself to ignore the sway of her hips, he reined up beside her and held out the flat Veterinary Cure-All bottle he’d filled from Schultz’s well. “Bet you’re thirsty.”

  After a quick glance, she tugged the brim of her hat low on her brow and kept walking. “That stuff is for horses.”

  “Trust me. It’s water.”

  “Trust you? That’ll be the day.”

  “It’s still cold.”

  “Mister, I don’t know what you’re peddling, but I’m definitely not buying.”

  “It’s water. I’ll prove it.” He dismounted quickly and darted in front of her, forcing her to stop. Then, he yanked out the cork, wet his lips, and thrust the bottle toward her face. Several drops splashed out. One landed on her chin.

  Her eyes sizzled with anger. She snatched the bottle from his hand and sniffed its mouth. “You swear it’s just water?”

  “Cross my heart, on my mother’s nose.”

  After a tentative taste, she guzzled half of the liquid and poured the rest over her shoulders. Her faded blue shirt darkened as it absorbed the moisture. Without looking up, she handed back the bottle. “Thanks.”

  He slipped it back into his vest’s inside pocket. “How often does that happen?”

  “Evaporative cooling or high tea with Emma?”

  “Stormy, I’m serious. How often do the Schultz’s cattle get out?”

  “A lot, lately.”

  “That’s unacceptable. Sultan is dangerous.” He stripped Odin’s reins from her hand and looped them over Belinda’s saddle horn. “Hop up. We’re riding double.”

  Stormy clenched her fists. The top of her head barely reached his shoulders and yet, she appeared bigger and meaner than a full-grown she-bear defending her cubs.

  So, she didn’t like being bossed. Truth was, neither did he, but standing still and arguing about it was pointless. “Odin needs to get home, and you have a promise to keep.”

  “What promise?”

  “Training in exchange for room and board.”

  “You quit.”

  “I did not.”

  “You stayed at Emma’s after Zed and Brownie left.”

  “The Schultz’s wanted to talk. I was being polite.” This wasn’t the complete truth. He’d lingered when they’d started gossiping about Stormy’s tomboy nature. And, her immoral mother.

  “Oh.” Her shoulders slumped. She probably knew Albert and Gertrude would say hurtful things behind her back.

  He swung up into his saddle, kicked his boot from the stirrup, and extended his arm.

  She scowled for several long seconds. Then, she stepped into the stirrup, grabbed his hand, and let him pull her up.

  To his surprise, as she settled behind him, on Belinda’s rump, her hands locked around his waist. His johnson twitched like an alcohol-starved roustabout approaching a dockside saloon.

  Blade was stunned. His body hadn’t reacted to any woman since his last time with Candy, the night before his brother announced she’d consented to become his wife. His body had gone dead with his blessing. He never wanted to get blindsided by a female again.

  He bent and reached for Odin’s reins.

  Stormy’s hand slid down his belly and landed in his lap. She jerked back like his belt had turned into a rattlesnake.

  Keeping a straight face, he turned and handed her the reins. “You can hold on.”

  “Don’t worry about me,” she snapped. “I know how to ride double.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He tapped his toe.

  Belinda started to walk. Odin hobbled after her. His mare slowed to match the pinto’s pace, a nose away.

  When Blade was sure Stormy swayed safely, he said, “Emma will make some man a good wife. She’s very domestic. And, very friendly.”

  “More like a heifer in heat.”

  He turned to look at her. “You don’t like her very much, do you?”

 
“It’s hard to like someone who’s always out to prove they’re better than you. It’s even harder when they do it by spreading lies.”

  “Are you always this blunt?”

  “I call it like I see it.”

  “Thanks for the tip. Now, explain again how we’re supposed to unroll those heavy spools of barbed wire.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Stormy had ridden double countless times behind Zed and Brownie, but she’d never felt this unsteady. As her body swayed with the rise and drop of the mare’s hips, her insides fluttered like a night moth around a hot kerosene lamp.

  “How far apart do you nail the strands of wire?”

  She struggled to focus on Blade’s question. Her hand still tingled from his touch. “Twelve inches.”

  “If you could live anywhere, where would you go?”

  “Boy, you sure know how to change the subject.”

  Blade turned to face her again, and she leaned back in the nick of time to avoid being hit by his shoulder. The color of his eyes reminded her of Christmas chocolates.

  “Everyone and everything I love is here on this ranch,” she said finally. “Why would I want to leave?”

  “You could make new friends. See the ocean. Shop in a big city and visit art museums.”

  “When I was ten, Zed took me to Yankton. It was crowded and noisy. I wouldn’t know what to do if I lived in a place like that.”

  They passed under the big black-walnut tree and crested the hill that overlooked the ranch yard.

  When Odin let out an ear-splitting whinny, Blade’s mare spooked and leaped abruptly to the right.

  Caught off guard, Stormy pitched sideways. She flailed for the back of Blade’s saddle, trying to keep from falling under the mare’s heavy hooves. She missed.

  Time slowed as she prepared to hit the ground shoulder first. If she was lucky, she’d be able to twist and roll out of the way. If not, she’d probably dislocate her arm.

  A warm hand clamped around her bare midriff. Swung her up and around. A heartbeat later, she straddled Blade’s lap. His chin pressed against her temple, and his chest smelled like brawn and fine leather.

  Her heart pounded ferociously. She’d never met anyone with reflexes quicker than Brownie. Like Zed, he was fast with a comeback. Running Bear judged people by their horses, and so far, he approved.

  Blade had brought her water. He was naturally thoughtful, but a tiny voice inside her whispered that he found her attractive. Almost wishing they’d never reach the corral, she found his hand, laced her fingers between his, and squeezed.

  He shook her hand off. Half a breath later, he lifted her like a child and plopped her squarely on his saddle. Then, he scooted off his mare’s rump and walked beside her, undoubtedly happier to be on the ground than sitting close to her. “Is Zed’s heart getting better?”

  Blade’s voice might have been husky, but she wasn’t sure. What was clear was that he didn’t welcome her caress. He hadn’t looked at her longingly when he caught up with her at the gate. Riding double was just a practical necessity. She was a fool to think anything more was happening.

  No handsome cowboy would ever fall head over heels for her. She wasn’t a ranch hand’s idea of a mate.

  Forcing cheer into her voice, she replied, “Yes, he is.”

  Blade didn’t say anything more until they entered the ranch yard.

  “We made it.”

  “Go inside,” she said stonily. “Running Bear will feed you.”

  ~ ~ ~

  As soon as Stormy threw open the barn door and led her gelding inside, Blade made a bee-line for the water trough.

  After Candy betrayed him, he’d vowed two things. One was to work non-stop until he could afford his own spread. The second was never to get involved with a woman again.

  So far, he’d stuck to that plan with no problem. He’d done business with attractive widows. Turned down two marriage proposals and a dozen invitations to share a soft bed. All were easy to walk away from.

  While Belinda drank, he reached through the rails of the corral, lifted the pump handle, and bent down. A gush of frigid water splashed over his neck, cooling both his heads. His clarity and control returned.

  He knew why his johnson had twitched. His body was wound tight after risking his life spelling Sultan. His cocky energy had needed an outlet. Next time, his leg would probably twitch. Or, the arch of his foot would itch.

  Squeezing water from his hair, he straightened. He couldn’t have feelings for Stormy Hawkins. She was engaged. If he managed to convince her to break it off with Vance, it wouldn’t be to keep her for himself. He wasn’t a fiancée stealer.

  He lifted a knee-tall bucket from a hook on the fence, dipped it into trough, and carried it into the barn for Odin.

  The interior of the barn was dim and cool. In one pen, the milk cow chewed her cud. Her calf slept nearby. Odin stood in front of a second pen.

  Inside, Stormy fluffed straw ferociously with a three-pronged pitchfork, creating a cloud of dust and chaff. Her head was down, and she talked to herself.

  Blade heard his name. Curious, he set the heavy bucket in front of Odin and stepped closer.

  Odin slurped the water greedily.

  Stormy whirled around. “I told you to go in and eat.”

  “Two things to know about me,” Blade said firmly. “Animals come first, and I eat when the work boss eats. Not before and not after.”

  “But, you said you—”

  “We’ll take care of Odin first.”

  ~ ~ ~

  After setting her and Blade’s dishes in the kitchen sink, Stormy slipped into the pantry and rose on her tiptoes to reach Zed’s special bottle of Abbey de Lambeau brandy. After a quick peek to make sure no one had followed her, she filled a shot glass to the rim.

  Sitting across from Blade a few minutes ago, eating in awkward silence, they’d both reached for the butter bowl. His hand had grazed hers, and she’d jerked back.

  He’d held the bowl out to her, smiling a smile that softened his eyes and made her wish again, like a fool, that he felt something more for her than ‘ladies first’ chivalry.

  Angry that she had any feelings at all, she tipped back her head and tossed the amber liquid into her mouth.

  The roof of her mouth burned. When she couldn’t stand it anymore, she swallowed and left the pantry.

  She heard laughter. Zed, Brownie, and Running Bear had joined Blade at the dining table. Zed was telling the story of how, at age four, she intended to prove she could ride solo.

  “She stood atop the corral fence right by the water trough and waited ten minutes for the old mare, Freyda, to come up for a drink. She lunged for Freyda’s back and missed,” Zed said.

  “Fell right in,” Brownie hooted. “Came up sputtering, mad as a cougar in a cage.”

  “Damned if she didn’t climb right up and try again,” Running Bear said.

  “And, I did it.” She stepped from the kitchen. “Been riding solo ever since.” She picked up her gloves and squared her hat on her head. “Story time’s over, gents. Wire awaits.”

  Chapter 8

  Sitting on the porch that night, savoring the last square of Running Bear’s honey-glazed cake, Blade waited for Zed to make his next move. He wasn’t losing on purpose. Zed was a better, albeit slower, chess player.

  The kerosene lamp next to the chessboard hissed. The sound of a horse’s snort drifted from the corral. Zed lit his pipe and rocked.

  Blade heard a soft snore and leaned back to see past Zed’s head.

  Stormy’s cheek rested against the side of her rocker. With her eyes closed, she looked innocent and sweet, incapable of cussing a blue streak, rebuking him with a look, or jumping off a moving wagon to keep a post from crashing into Brownie after he lo
st his footing.

  Zed was the brains on the Hawkins ranch. Brownie was the brawn, and Running Bear, with his attentive cooking and caring, was its heart.

  Stormy was trying to fill six big boots with her own brains and brawn and heart, an impossible task for a saint, let alone a single cowgirl. She didn’t see it yet, but he was doing her a kindness by ushering her into a different life.

  On Founders Day, she’d wear her new dress, and he’d show her off by spinning her around the dance floor until Vance clamored to take his place.

  He drew a sharp breath. He hoped Vance recognized how special she was.

  ~ ~ ~

  Blade stood at the mail counter in Farber’s General Store the next morning and crumpled the wire he’d just written. For the past five years, he’d communicated with his parents only about quit-claim deeds and prices-per-acre.

  Now, for some reason, he’d added a line about spelling the bull. And, another about how Running Bear’s biscuits rivaled Corinda’s, his family’s long-time cook.

  He could not forget he was writing to a family that had clapped when Jared slipped a gaudy ring onto Candy’s finger.

  He could excuse Mary. Thirteen years old, raised to act like his mother, she didn’t know any better. However, his parents did. Or, should have. His mother delighted in social matchmaking, and his father prided himself on his ability to read people. Forgiving them was impossible.

  Nor could he forget how Candy had insisted on keeping their engagement secret until his family “got to know her.” He’d agreed because he loved her, because he’d opened his heart. He’d never make that mistake again.

  Gripping the pen, he reached for a clean form and wrote a new, terse note.

  June 20 Sam & Olivia Masters

  Land Deal imminent.

  Will be my last.

  Sell my shares.