Straight For The Heart

by McDonough, Vickie;

  Quinn guided a handsome black surrey with a folded leather top into the yard, pulled by one of the prettiest horses Sarah had seen. She couldn’t help thinking how she had arrived on an old buckboard filled with supplies. Two men sat in the backseat, but Sarah’s gaze was drawn to the beautiful woman in the front, leaning against Quinn’s shoulder. Her neatly styled blond hair was covered by a small hat that held no purpose other than decoration. Her frilly lavender dress looked out of place against the browns and greens of the valley.

  “Whoa, Charlie. Hold up, boy.” Quinn hopped down, hurried around to the other side of the buggy, and offered his hand to Florinda. The woman gave him a coy smile then set her hands on top of his shoulders, forcing him to take hold of her thin waist and lift her down. She giggled and took his arm, ignoring everyone on the porch as she gazed longingly at Sarah’s husband.

  Sarah clenched her teeth. How could she endure this preening woman for two full weeks? Quinn glanced at her, and she lifted one brow and stared back. He looked down, as if watching the steps to make sure he didn’t trip—steps he dashed up and down a dozen times each day.

  The two men climbed out of the buggy. A tall, thin man looked around the ranch, but the shorter, balding man, who looked twenty years older than the other man, made a beeline for Martha.

  “Oh, John. I can’t believe you’re actually here.” Martha held out her arms.

  He hurried up the stairs as soon as Florinda’s skirts had cleared them and wrapped his arms around the older woman. “I was so sorry to hear about Ellen. I would have come if I hadn’t been in New York.”

  Martha patted his chest. “It’s all right. She was probably buried before you even received our telegram.”

  “How are you doing?” he asked.

  “Fine. Much better now that I’ve moved to the ranch. I needed to be with family.”

  Florinda narrowed her eyes and curled her lip as she regarded Sarah. Her hazel gaze darted from Beth to Ryan before settling, adoringly, back on Quinn. Sarah couldn’t help wondering if Miss Phillips thought they were the hired help.

  Mr. Phillips joined them on the porch and stood beside his daughter. He had kind gray eyes, and a thick head of light brown hair. He stood about three inches shorter than Quinn.

  Sarah’s husband wriggled his arm away from Florinda’s and stepped toward Martha. “You remember my grandmother, Martha Miles. You two met three or four years ago in Bismarck.”

  Florinda’s smile would have won a grinning contest, if there were such a thing. “How nice to see you again.” She gently shook Martha’s hand.

  “It’s a pleasure to have you visit the Rocking M.”

  “Yes, well. . .thank you.” Florinda’s gaze flitted over the front of the house, and Sarah felt like the woman would rather be just about anywhere except an isolated ranch in the Badlands.

  Quinn crossed over to stand beside Sarah. He cast a quick glance her way and cleared his throat. “Uncle John, Mr. Phillips, Florinda, I’d like to introduce my. . .wife, Sarah.”

  Sarah couldn’t help taking a small pleasure in the way Florinda’s brows shot up. At the same time she hadn’t missed how Quinn had hem-hawed when he introduced her. Was he ashamed of her?

  “Well now, this is a surprise. Congratulations, my boy.” Uncle John slapped Quinn on the shoulder and gave him a rough hug. “It’s about time you married.”

  He turned to Sarah. “Welcome to the family.” Before she could shake his hand, he engulfed her in a bear hug, making Sarah feel loved and accepted. She already liked the man. “And are these your children?”

  Martha slapped her brother-in-law on the arm. “Oh for heaven’s sake, John, she’s far too young to have children that age. They are her siblings, Ryan and Beth.”

  With introductions completed, Uncle John followed Martha and Mr. Phillips inside. Florinda seemed to have gathered her composure and grasped hold of Quinn’s left arm, giving Sarah a derisive glare. Quinn glanced from Sarah to Florinda as if unsure what to do. He shifted his feet, looking uncomfortable with Florinda’s overt attention. Sarah wasn’t about to let the woman get away with such an action, and she took hold of Quinn’s right arm.

  “Will you please escort us into the house, husband?” If Quinn seemed surprised at her overly emphasized spousal reference, he didn’t show it.

  Sarah clung to him, ready to do battle for the man who didn’t want her. Maybe she just needed to prove to the flirty woman that Quinn belonged to her, even if he didn’t realize it yet.

  Eleven

  Sarah set the sugar bowl on the table and then stopped in front of the open window. She allowed the wind to cool her body, hot from helping Elke in the kitchen, while she struggled to calm her emotions, equally as steamy. Fortunately, this evening’s breeze was from the north and not the south, where the cattle were currently grazing. She took several deep breaths and then took her seat between Quinn and Beth. Florinda sat across from them, alternating glares at Sarah with cocked-head smiles at Quinn. Did the woman not realize how obvious her flirtations were?

  Learning that Quinn was married and unavailable seemed to have no effect on Miss Phillips. Sarah had worked to catch the eye of a few boys back during her school days, but this was different. What could Florinda hope to gain?

  A cold shiver snaked up Sarah’s spine. What if Florinda discouraged her father from buying cattle from Quinn if he didn’t shower her with attention? Surely Mr. Phillips wouldn’t allow something so petty to keep him from making a wise business decision.

  “I thought we’d ride out and look at the cattle tomorrow, if that’s all right with you two. The weather’s not too hot yet, so it shouldn’t be a hardship for you city slickers.” Quinn grinned at the men and then sipped his coffee.

  “Perhaps they would like a day to rest from their travels,” Martha said.

  Elke set a platter heaping with fried chicken on the table. Sarah’s mouth watered as she eyed the golden crust. She knew it was tasty, because she’d sampled the little crispies that had fallen off as Elke took the chicken from the skillet. At least their nauseating guest hadn’t affected her appetite. She couldn’t help grinning the next time Florinda glared at her.

  “I feel fine and would like to see the cattle tomorrow. How about you, John?” Mr. Phillips looked at his friend.

  “Sounds good to me as long as it doesn’t rain.”

  At Martha’s request, John said a quick prayer, and the food was passed. Florinda took one chicken leg and a tablespoon of potatoes, minus the gravy, and green peas. Sarah didn’t let the other woman’s puny appetite affect her and filled her plate. She was famished. She’d worked hard all day preparing the rooms, cleaning house, and cooking.

  While the men talked weather and cattle prices, Martha attempted to engage Miss Phillips in conversation. “What have you been doing with yourself lately, Florinda?”

  Ryan, sitting to Miss Phillips’s left, finished off a thigh and licked his fingers with a smack. Sarah lifted her brows at him, and he ducked his head and retrieved his napkin from the floor where it had fallen.

  Miss Phillips scowled at the boy as she dabbed her lips with her cloth napkin. Her expression softened when she turned her gaze on Martha. “Oh, the usual. Last year I completed finishing school at Miss Muriel Murdock’s Academy for Fine Ladies. We learned culture and sophistication.” She lifted her nose and looked at Sarah’s plate. “Something you most likely know nothing about.”

  Martha cleared her throat, obviously displeased with the comment. Sarah nearly bit clear through the chicken bone. She glanced at Quinn who was engrossed in his conversation and completely missed how she had been insulted.

  “Some people have to work for a living and can’t go to those fancy schools.” Ryan squinted at Florinda; his lips looked as if he’d sucked on a lemon.

  Sarah wanted to run over and hug her brother for defending her, but she stayed in her chair and took a bite of potatoes—with plenty of gravy.

  “Well, things are different out West.” M
artha took a sip of buttermilk. “Most young ladies around here marry early. People don’t have money for such luxuries as finishing school. You’re a fortunate girl to have been able to attend such a fine academy.” Martha caught Sarah’s eye and smiled at her as if letting her know she understood how Florinda irritated her.

  Sarah endured the rest of the meal, grateful to leave when it was time to help the children get ready for bed. Florinda smirked as Sarah stood, and Sarah didn’t take time to analyze the crazy thought that sprinted across her mind, but she leaned over and kissed Quinn on the cheek, all the time looking at Florinda. The line in the sand had been drawn.

  Quinn jerked around and looked at Sarah with confused eyes. She leaned her arm across his shoulders, her soft cheek rubbing against his bristly one. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment, I’m just going to put the children in bed. I’ll be right back, so don’t you go anywhere.”

  One of his brows lifted, but he quickly schooled his expression as if he was onto her. “I’ll be right here waiting.” He grinned and winked as she straightened, sending her stomach into spasms. Maybe she had eaten too much.

  Martha and the men chuckled. Florinda’s perpetual scowl deepened. Feeling lighter than she had all day, Sarah took Beth’s hand and helped the yawning girl out of her chair. “Come along, Ryan.”

  Her brother snagged another biscuit and stood. “ ’Scuse me,” he mumbled. He shoved the bread into his mouth and walked around the table.

  Sarah considered how being so close to Quinn had affected her. He smelled fresh, having bathed in the creek before going to town to fetch their guests. He had a scent all his own, a manly one that never failed to stir her whenever he came near. His dark blond hair, which was normally covered with his western hat, swirled in appealing curls. His forehead was a shade lighter than the rest of his tanned face. She’d tried not to like him too much, but he was a good, kind man. He worked hard, cared for his grandmother—even loved Martha enough to marry a woman he didn’t know just to make her happy. At least that’s what Sarah had decided was the reason.

  She sighed as she walked into Beth’s room. Having to stake her claim on her husband was exhausting. Still, there was something exciting about shamelessly cuddling him like she had. She couldn’t help smiling. Maybe she’d just have to kiss him again.

  A plan formed in her mind. If she laid claim to Quinn and showed more affection, maybe he’d start liking her more. What could it hurt?

  ❧

  Quinn led three horses out of the barn and looped their reins over the hitching post in front of the house. John and Tom stood on the porch talking with Martha and Florinda. Quinn double-checked his rifle, making sure it was loaded. He didn’t expect trouble, but he would be prepared just in case.

  Florinda looked past her father, and her face lit up when she saw Quinn. He pursed his lips. He’d never liked her blatant attention and always wondered what game she was playing. Every time she visited the Rocking M, she would sidle up close and try to get him to notice her. Oh, sure she was pretty, if you liked fancified women. Her blond hair reminded him of his mother’s, and her clothing resembled something Mariah, his sister-in-law who was from Chicago, might wear. But that was the only way Florinda was similar to the other women.

  Instead of joining them on the porch, he checked the saddles on each of the horses, even though he knew they were fine. A shadow darkened the ground behind the horses, and Quinn sighed. Looks like there was no avoiding Miss Phillips this morning. At least they’d be gone all day.

  Quinn glanced up and saw Sarah standing four feet behind the horses with a bundle in her arms. A shy smile graced her lips, and he remembered again how she’d kissed him the evening before. He’d be as stupid as a prairie dog to not realize what she was doing, but the thing that surprised him was how much he liked her attention. He’d never had a woman cuddle up to him, other than one of his relatives and Florinda, and that was not the same thing. Not even close.

  Sarah’s cheeks turned red, and he realized he’d been staring. He patted the horses’ rumps as he walked between two of them toward his wife.

  “Elke packed a lunch for you men. I thought I’d bring it to you so she wouldn’t have to. She’s busy in the kitchen.” Sarah studied the ground then looked toward the porch. Her thin brows dipped down, and she refocused on him.

  “Thanks. We’ll appreciate the food later on.” He took the bundle and tied it over his saddle horn then walked back to Sarah. Florinda glided down the steps and aimed for them.

  Something like panic crossed Sarah’s face, and she visibly swallowed and stepped closer to him. His heart thumped at her nearness. He wasn’t sure what had gotten into her last night at dinner, but he liked it. Whatever it was hadn’t carried over to their bedroom, though. By the time he finished talking with the men and had retired, she was sound asleep on the settee with a quilt wrapped tight around her. He’d watched her for a few minutes before taking off his boots. In her sleep, she looked younger, innocent. A desire to protect her surged up through him with the speed of a barn fire.

  She reached out and fiddled with a button on his chest. He took a deep breath and stood still. “Have a good day, and come back safely.” A soft smile pulled at her lips, and she peeked up at him as if she had more on her mind. Sarah stood on her tiptoes, leaning closer to him. He bent down, and she placed a gentle kiss on his lips then awkwardly wrapped her arms around him in a hug. He squeezed back, shocked at the sensations racing through him.

  He’d been a loner for so long that he hadn’t realized how lonely he was. “You don’t have to worry about Florinda,” he murmured in her ear. “I tolerate her because I need her father’s business.”

  Sarah’s eyes widened, and a shy smile graced her lips. She nodded and darted away like a spooked bird. Florinda approached with her arms crossed and narrowed her eyes. Was she suspicious about his relationship with Sarah? What did it matter if she was?

  “I was hoping to talk to you. Hoping that we could spend some time together.” Florinda’s expression softened, and she batted her lashes at him. “It’s been so long since I last saw you.”

  “I’m a married man, Miss Phillips. I don’t think it would be proper for me to escort you around the ranch like I have in the past.”

  “But—”

  “You’re free to walk around the ranch yard alone. Just don’t venture farther than you can see the house.” Quinn tipped his hat to her and mounted his horse. He knew Florinda would try to persuade him to change his mind if he gave her the chance. Even though his sister had volunteered in the past, his mother had always made him escort Florinda on walks whenever she visited, probably hoping he’d fall for the pretty gal. But she was too shallow for him, too obvious in her attentions, and someone like her would never be happy stuck on a ranch for months at a time. He’d thought the same thing about Sarah at first, but she seemed to love it here.

  Quinn cleared his throat. The men laughed at something his grandmother said and then they stomped down the steps and mounted their horses. Quinn glanced at Florinda, still standing where she’d been observing him and Sarah. Was she jealous?

  He smiled at that thought. She’d never had competition for his attention before. He could imagine Florinda’s shock if she knew the truth about his marriage. Her astonishment would only last a moment before it molded into smug superiority. Miss Phillips already looked down on Sarah, although he had no idea why.

  Sarah was as sweet as the day was long. She treated his grandmother with kindness and respect, and Martha seemed much improved having Sarah around to help her and the children to pamper. Marrying her had been a wiser decision than he first realized. Too bad he’d wanted to keep things businesslike.

  He rode up the hill and looked back over his shoulder to see if his wife was still outside. Sadly, she wasn’t. Her sudden attempts at affection had been a pleasant surprise. Did she think if she treated him more like a husband that he’d let her stay after his grandmother was gone?

  The id
ea sounded better and better.

  “Which way, Quinn?” Uncle John stared at him with raised brows, and Quinn felt his neck warm as if the men could read his thoughts.

  “Let’s keep heading south. Just follow that trail.” John and Tom rode ahead of him, and Quinn thought he heard one of them mumble, “Newlywed.” He nudged his horse into a canter and passed the men.

  He thought again how Sarah had pressed her hands against his chest as she leaned up to kiss him. His heart had pounded like he’d just run a mile-long race. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t liked her advances. Her cheek was so soft, and her lips warm.

  But was Sarah’s behavior simply an act for the sake of their visitors? To prove to Florinda that they were truly married?

  He pressed his lips together. If that was the case, he would be sorely disappointed when his guests left.

  Twelve

  Sarah stepped onto the porch and covered her eyes, looking for Ryan. The boy had wanted to ride with Quinn and the men, but Quinn had said no since they’d be discussing business. Her brother had stomped off to the barn, pouting. The tenseness in her shoulders relaxed when she saw him sitting on a bale of hay, just outside of the barn, mending tack with Claude. The old man had taken a shine to Ryan and had been a good influence on him.

  Beth was in the kitchen helping Martha roll buns for supper. Florinda had retreated to her room after Quinn left. Sarah would love to know what conversation had passed between the two of them, but it mustn’t have been pleasant since Miss Phillips had been puckered up like a prune when Quinn rode out. Sarah shook her head. How could any woman be so flirtatious with a married man? It was shameless and obviously a topic that had been overlooked at that fancy school.

  She was thankful to have a few minutes to herself and headed to her bedroom to do the dusting. With company coming, she hadn’t cleaned it, knowing no one would venture in there. At least she’d be away from Miss Phillips’s scowls. She crossed through the empty parlor and into the hall.