He'd had nowhere else to go.
When his half-sister Mindy had arrived on Rob's doorstep months ago with a letter and news of Nathan's inheritance, it had been a shock. Rob had advised him and come up with the plan to put Nathan's funds to work. He’d believed in Nathan when no one else ever had.
"Miss Bennett, can I have a dance?" A cowboy in a simple blue shirt and denims stood beside them.
Nathan realized he'd wandered off in his own thoughts and that her smile had faltered further.
And then an older woman, a mama with a gleam in her eye who made him want to recoil, approached from Nathan's other side.
"Mr. Bingley. Oh, Mr. Bingley, allow me to introduce my daughter…"
Politeness dictated that he smile at her. Over her shoulder, he saw Janie glance back at him, and he nodded to her.
He wanted to dance with her again.
Wanted to have a longer conversation.
Wanted her all to himself.
* * *
"What a dreadful event,” Mindy said. “I've had enough of rough cowhands."
Rob agreed. After two hours of making small talk, his patience was used up. Give him a lariat, branding iron, or shovel. He excelled at ranching. He'd never gained mastery over social graces. He blamed his upbringing—too many years spent isolated on a ranch when he was young.
Miss Liza Bennett had kept a good distance between them since that horrid introduction.
He'd felt a keen, queer sense of loss when she'd slipped through the crowd, drawing her mother away by the arm. As if she'd escaped with most of the room's light in her smile. It was dim without her near.
Until now, he'd been acutely aware of her presence in the room. She danced almost as often as she laughed. She had a distinct, tinkling way of expressing her merriment. She swirled through the large room, effervescent with joy.
It made him feel old.
He was likely a decade her senior, but the difference seemed starker in light of her joy.
Once, he'd almost gathered his courage to ask her to dance.
Which was patently ridiculous. If her gold-digging mother got any hint of his attraction to her daughter, he’d be like a horse pursued like a persistent horse-fly. Bad enough that Nathan had danced with her sister. Multiple times.
Nathan didn't seem to think the night had been wasted. He couldn't seem to tear his eyes away from Janie Bennett. Janie was indeed nice to look at, but she was nothing compared to her sister.
Not that Rob would do anything about it. He might have a large, beautiful spread, but he had nothing to offer a woman like Liza Bennett.
Better to focus on Nate, the reason he'd come.
Mindy snagged her brother by the arm and dragged him through the door. Nate seemed surprised to find the crowd dispersing out of the dance hall and into the street, where they were waving goodbyes and heading back to their homes.
"What fun!" Nate crowed. "I think I danced every dance." Most with Janie Bennett. Rob had yet to determine if that was a good or bad thing.
"You did." But Rob couldn't begrudge his friend a good time, even if he'd been miserable. That's what he got for thinking so much.
Nate grinned. "No wonder I've got a blister inside my boot." He slapped Rob's shoulder. "You should've danced more—"
"Or at all," Mindy mumbled.
Rob ignored her. She was Nate's problem, not his.
"There were an awful lot of pretty girls," Nate continued, seeming not to hear his sister. "Like Janie's sister." Nate smiled slyly.
For a moment, Rob wondered if Nate had seen the instant connection between himself and Liza Bennett. Which made him wonder if she'd noticed. Surely not.
But a glance at Nate showed he was lost in thought. Probably thinking of Janie. Redirection was definitely called for.
"She was passable. Maybe if she'd been more of a temptation, I would've danced with her."
Mindy's eyes cut behind his shoulder, and Rob turned his head—just in time to lock gazes with the very girl he'd just spoken of. The Bennett family must've exited the dance hall just after the Bingleys had.
He winced as the tic in her jaw made it clear she'd heard every word, though none of her sisters or mother seemed to be paying attention.
Even he knew that insulting the fairer sex was uncouth.
He braced himself for a tearful scene, but she only turned her face away and walked down the boardwalk with her family.
He stared after her as Nate handed Mindy into the buggy.
This was further evidence of what he already knew. He wasn't gentle enough, had no social graces to woo a woman. He'd given up on making a match long ago. Right after he'd nearly killed his younger sister.
He didn't understand women. Never would.
Better to keep a safe distance.
Chapter 3
"...And then he said I was passable." Liza laughed, though she hadn't found the insult amusing last night. Someone so conceited deserved to be laughed at.
Obviously, the attraction she’d felt for Rob Darcy had been one-sided. She'd told Janie all of it last night in the privacy of their tiny bedroom above the shop, whispering so Lydia and Kitty wouldn't hear from their bed wedged just across.
Now, morning sunlight streamed through the front windows of Papa's store. Liza bent over Papa's accounts ledger, wishing Mama would take the younger girls upstairs and leave her in peace. Attempting to decipher Papa's scribbled handwriting made her head hurt enough.
And she wanted to get Janie alone to talk about Nathan Bingley.
"It's too bad,” Kitty lamented. “We heard the Darcy ranch is as big as half of Converse County." She fiddled with the sleeve of her dress, ignoring the boots behind the counter that needed to be re-shelved.
"Land and cattle aren't everything," Liza chided. "Imagine waking up to a bear like him every morning."
Her sisters pealed with laughter, and their merriment was worth the slight humiliation she’d suffered last night.
In the grand scheme of things, it didn't matter. It wasn't as if she was likely to see him again. Maybe in passing, or as a customer in the shop. She was determined to forget about it, forget about him.
Concentrate on Janie, who'd come out of her bashful shell last night. Now Janie leaned her chin on one hand, absentmindedly ticking a pencil against the countertop, lost in her own thoughts.
"Mr. Bingley is so handsome," Lydia said slyly. "Don't you think, Janie?"
Janie straightened, cutting her eyes low.
"He danced with Janie more than anyone else," Mama reminded no one in particular. It was the fifth time she'd said as much this morning.
Before Liza could divert the conversation, a small boy banged into the store.
"Gotsa note for ya here, Miss Janie," he said, waving a folded paper above his head.
"Who is it from?" Kitty demanded.
"I want to see it," Lydia called out, dancing out from behind the counter.
"Girls," Mama admonished as she reached for the boy who now appeared overwhelmed and frozen where he stood.
Before any of the three of them could as much as get a finger on the missive, Janie had whirled between a saddle display and a shelf full of boots and snatched it from the boy's fingers. She pressed a penny into his hand. "Thank you."
"Who sent the note?" Mama asked the boy.
He shrugged, looking over his shoulder like he wanted badly to escape. "Someone out at the Parrott place. My pa was there earlier delivering some feed, and the note got sent back with him."
Mama gasped, giving him an opening. He ran for the door.
Janie unfolded the note, quickly scanning its contents.
"From Mr. Bingley?" Mama demanded before Janie could possibly have had time to read it.
The two younger girls looked on, wide-eyed. While Mama's speculation and outlandish expectations were one thing, this was real.
Liza's stomach tightened with nerves on her sister's behalf.
"It's from Mindy," Janie finally murmured
to the expectant room, eyes still on the paper. "She wants me to come for tea this afternoon."
"Tea?" Liza mouthed.
Mama hooted and Kitty and Lydia giggled.
"Her brother won't be present."
The room went silent at Janie's pronouncement.
"What do you mean?" Mama trilled, voice going high—a sure sign of distress.
"It only says he'll be busy with the ranch," Janie murmured. She tucked the note into the pocket of her dress.
"I didn't know you'd spoken to Miss Bingley last night," Liza put in, hoping to distract Janie from their mother's irrational frustration.
"Yes, a bit in between dances. She seemed friendly enough."
Liza couldn't agree. She'd thought Miss Bingley standoffish, and not just because she’d laughed at Rob Darcy's passable comment. But Janie always wanted to think the best of people, so Liza held her tongue.
"Mama, may I take the buggy?"
Their mother looked up from where she'd been staring out the front window, as if Janie's question surprised her.
"No. No, I don't think so. You can go on horseback."
"What? Mama, no." Liza touched Mama's arm. Janie could handle a buggy, but she wasn't terribly comfortable in the saddle.
"If Janie wants to go badly enough, she may go on horseback. Lydia, why don't you run down to the livery and have Will saddle up our mare?"
Janie had gone pale, but her mouth had firmed with determination. Liza knew that look. Her sister would go to the Parrott spread for dinner with Miss Bingley regardless of her own discomfort. But what was the point of Mama's insistence that she ride and not take the buggy?
"Liza, come help me dress," Janie said, grasping her arm with a tug toward the stairs behind the store.
Liza allowed one more look to her mother, hoping to convey her disapproval. Behind Mama, out the window, the sky above the Laramie Mountains had grown gray.
* * *
Buckles shifted nervously, and Janie clutched the saddle knob with both hands, the reins slipping in her gloved fingers. The ground was so very far away.
She must keep control.
She'd borrowed one of Liza's split riding skirts. The material felt heavy against her legs, pressing her limbs into the animal.
She hated riding.
Perhaps she should have insisted she be allowed to take the two-seated buggy. Or perhaps she should have used some of her meager allowance to rent a wagon from the livery.
Anything but this.
She should learn to be more assertive. Were there lessons for that sort of thing?
Clouds hung low on the horizon, and the air was oppressive and moist. Where was the crossing? She remembered the bridge. She’d been nervous the last time Papa had driven the family wagon across the rickety structure. This weather wasn't helping her nerves. The sooner she reached the Parrott's old ranch, the better.
Even if Nathan Bingley wouldn't be there.
She hadn't expected the way he'd made her feel last night. For two years, she'd kept a careful distance from men who wanted to come calling.
Until Nathan.
He'd swept away her fears, her innate shyness, without even trying. Made something indefinable roll through her entire body, like the rumbling thunder that was rolling through the sky now—
She'd lived on the Wyoming plain long enough to fear flash floods and rogue lightning strikes. She needed to reach the Parrott place, and thinking about Nathan Bingley was only a distraction.
Where was that bridge? There—
She urged Buckles forward, and the horse carefully picked the first steps over the rickety wooden structure. She didn't like the look of the water beneath them, boiling up, the color of brown clay. A tree limb floated past, and she swallowed hard.
"It's—it's all right," she said softly to the horse.
The town council had spoken of rebuilding the bridge, but most of the time the creek was placid and low and it was easy enough to cross on horseback or even on foot.
Not so today.
She held her breath as the horse's weight caused the bridge to shift and creak.
Perhaps this errand was foolishness after all. With Mama's maneuvers, it could appear Janie was chasing the handsome rancher-to-be.
And after the accusations Albert and his mother had leveled at her, she couldn't afford—
Her roiling thoughts were broken as one of the support beams gave way and the bridge wobbled like it was made of children’s blocks.
For one prolonged moment, she was suspended in mid-air, atop the horse, her heart beating frantically as she sought a way to escape the inevitable.
And then the bridge crumbled.
She lurched to the side, trying to extricate herself from the horse.
She tumbled into the water without even time to take a breath.
Water closed over her head, so icy that it stole her breath.
The heavy split skirts tangled around her legs, their sodden weight making it impossible to kick. Her boots were filled with water.
Darkness surrounded her, the swirling current forcing her to contort in directions she couldn't fathom.
Her head broke the surface, and she gasped a desperate breath through her hair, which had fallen out of its pins and clung to her head like slimy, muddy tentacles.
Where was the horse? It might be her only chance to escape the floodwaters.
She pried her eyes open only to see a tangled mass of roots ahead, so close that she was flung against them.
She reached out, trying to grasp hold of anything that might save her.
The current pulled and yanked like a monster bent on its prize, but she caught hold of a branch.
Her arm wrenched, and she cried out as pain blinded her, sent stars over her vision.
She lost her grip on the branch. The weight of her skirts pulled her under.
Everything went black.
Chapter 4
Nathan considered himself an intelligent man, though most of his smarts had been obtained in the school of hard knocks.
He got through life well enough, especially since the day Rob had given him a job on his ranch.
But he was stymied with how to reach Mindy. Since their arrival in Calvin, his half-sister had complained about every little thing. The townspeople were country bumpkins. The ranch house was too rustic and run-down after years of standing empty. The brother she hadn't met until six months ago was a stranger to her.
That one wasn't his fault.
Nathan’s father had already been married when he’d an affair with Nathan’s mother. Neither had counted on a baby. In their tight-knit community in Pennsylvania, his mother had been ostracized not just by the townspeople but by her own family. Nate's father had only provided enough money for mother and son to move West, effectively abandoned them both. Mother had done the best she could, but she’d succumbed to a fever when Nate was sixteen. He'd had no choice but to join up with a large spread as a cowboy. He'd met Rob when he was eighteen, and Rob had done more than given him a job. He’d become a friend.
Nate had made a life for himself, simple as it was.
And then, six months ago, Mindy had arrived on Rob's doorstep with a letter and an inheritance Nate had never expected. Mindy’s mother had passed years ago of a fever and her—their—father had died suddenly of an unknown heart problem. Apparently, his father had regretted leaving Nate with virtually nothing. He'd left everything to Nate until Mindy's twenty-first birthday, when she would receive a portion of the family fortune.
And she was very unhappy to be stuck with him. He didn't know how to reach her, didn't want to send her back to the women's finishing school in St. Louis.
He'd been alone for so long. He wanted to know her. He had a sister. The two of them were all they had left. They could be a family.
But it seemed she found him lacking as a brother.
"Watch your horse's footing," Rob cautioned. "Creek looks like it's flooding the banks. Danna mentioned it's been a dry
season..."
They'd both worked out in the elements enough to know that dry ground would be packed to nearly solid, and if the rain had come on fast, it would run off more than soak in.
Nate reined in his mount. He hadn't even realized he'd come close to the creek's edge. "I apologize for my distraction."
He only had Rob for a few more days, a week at most, before the other man would return to his ranch up north. He should focus on his friend and not on his dark thoughts. Plus, today wasn't a day for distraction with a storm looming on the horizon. They'd already decided to ride for the ranch house, hoping to beat a soaking rain and dangerous lightning.
"I can't fault you for it," Rob said easily. "Miss Bennett was lovely last night."
Nate frowned. "I was thinking about a woman, but not that one. My sister."
"Ah." Rob nodded, squinting as he turned his face away.
"I don't suppose you have any advice to help ease my way with her."
Rob shook his head. "You know that sisters are not my expertise."
"Then perhaps I should pay more attention to our purpose today."
Rob chuckled and they rode on. They'd spent all morning and the early afternoon exploring the property, determining projects that would require Nate's immediate attention.
The land was beautiful. Everything Nate could've wanted, though he disliked the distance from Rob's spread, a day's ride by train or three on horseback.
How had he lucked into this? Except it wasn't luck at all. It was penance from the father who had never wanted him.
The fencing was in disrepair and the cattle were half-wild after being left on their own for over a year as the ranch sat vacant. The barn roof would perhaps last another year or two. But the stock horses were of good-quality.
He could be happy here.
"Is that...?"
He lifted his head at Rob's incredulous words, following the other man's stare.
"What?" And then he caught sight of the horse pulling itself from the creek.
Cowboy Pride Page 2
