by Jillian Hart
“You looked surprised, Miss Pennington. You didn’t think a rural mountain man like me would be literate?”
“No, that’s not what I meant at all.”
“I might be nothing like the men you’re used to in your fancy social circles back home, but I assure you I’m not as dumb as you think.”
“And exactly how do you know what I think, Mr. Brooks?” She didn’t know what she’d done to arouse this man’s dislike or to earn his derision, but she was starting to think it was a malady of men who couldn’t easily find themselves a wife. There seemed to be a proliferation of them in the world, self-important and easily callous and quick to put a woman down. What a relief she wasn’t naive enough to imagine all sorts of romantic and empathetic reasons behind his behavior. At least her experience with Derrick’s attempts to court her had taught her something about life.
“I’m not sure women think at all, as a matter of fact.” He didn’t seem embarrassed by his outrageous statement. “In fact, I reckon most women are rather like cattle, content to be cared for and herded by much wiser men.”
“Gabriel!” Across the well-appointed room, Mary appeared shocked and horrified as the full weight of his words sank in. “I cannot believe you would say such a thing. Jake, did you hear what your son just said?”
“I heard,” returned the older man, who was looking longingly at the folded newspaper on the small table beside him, as if desperate to escape behind its pages. “I’ll give him a talking-to later.”
“You’ll talk with him right now!”
How easy it would be to have been horrified right along with the parents, Melody reasoned—except for the quick flash of amusement in Gabe’s midnight-blue eyes, a flash that was there and gone so fast she almost thought she’d imagined it. She gaped at the man doing his best imitation of a stoic, unyielding statue of carved granite, which could not be real. Maybe she had imagined that glimpse of humor. It did not look as if the briefest spark of life could survive inside such a man.
“A talking-to won’t change my mind, Ma.” His deep voice rumbled like the most terrible thunder, and when he unfolded his big muscular frame from the cushion beside her and drew himself up to his full height he looked formidable indeed. As he towered over her, she could well imagine the most vicious of outlaws quaking at the thought of Gabe Brooks on his trail. He set his iron shoulders and thrust out his carved jaw. “I’m over thirty and set in my ways.”
This time there was no flash of humor, no inkling that he was anything aside from the hardest of men. Except for a sensation she could not explain—it was as if she could feel his unspoken jest even when he trained his dark unflinching gaze on her. She would have believed he harbored a great dislike for her except for this feeling, and suddenly she knew. He was asking for her help.
“I pity any woman who becomes smitten with you, Gabriel Brooks.” Not that she could imagine it, and she could imagine a great deal. “For you would break the poor girl’s heart with such attitudes.”
“It’s a shame, but the last time I looked this was a free country, and a man can believe what he likes.”
There it was, that flicker again, brief and quick and straight to her heart. She felt the punch of it behind her breastbone. What was it? And why, when she didn’t like Gabe at all?
“I’m afraid he’s a lost cause, Mr. and Mrs. Brooks.” It was only the truth. Oh, she knew the type of man Gabe was—commitment shy, too tough to be vulnerable, an embittered type who refused to believe in love. “I hope you have not written away for a bride for him.”
“No, we have been afraid to,” Mary admitted, shaking her head sadly, disappointed in her oldest son. “Can you imagine bringing a lovely young lady out all this way only to have him behave like this?”
“It’s no use, Mary,” Mr. Brooks muttered as he unfolded a newspaper. “It’s not going to work.”
“I know.” Mary sighed heavily and blinked a tear from her eye. “Come, Melody, I’ll show you the piano I wrote you about. We might as well have a pleasant evening and not waste your visit here.”
Not waste her visit here? Whatever could that mean? She stood, her knees surprisingly trembly as the answer came to her. Since her commitment with the younger brother had not worked out, had the Brookses meant to match her up with Gabe instead? Had he figured it out and was that the reason for his disagreeable behavior?
“You ought to be a stage actor,” she tossed to him in a low whisper. “I almost believed you.”
His warm chuckle followed her out of the room, and the sound lingered in her memory long after he was out of her sight.
“You must excuse my son,” Gabe could hear his ma explaining as he reined the carriage horse, Bucky, to a stop near the front door. Over the clatter the wheels made on the frozen ground, the jingle of the rigging and the clink-clop of the horse’s steel shoes, he could pick out only pieces of the rest of what his mother was saying. Something like “complete embarrassment” and “why I didn’t dare write away.”
Good. What a relief. Satisfaction punched through him at a job well done. His disreputable act had worked. Looked as if he didn’t need to worry about winding up with a leftover mail-order bride.
“Thank you so much for an enjoyable evening.” Melody’s musical voice could warm the chill from the high mountain air. “I can’t tell you how much this meant to me, and how sorry I am our arrangement didn’t work out. I would have loved having you for a mother-in-law.”
“Poor dear, orphaned and all alone.”
His ma was a sympathetic sort, but when he saw her wrap Melody in a warm embrace and hold her tight as if she didn’t want to let go, he knew the feeling was mutual. Good thing he’d had the sense to nip any matchmaking in the bud.
He drew the horse to a stop and was halfway out of the seat before he stopped himself. If he got down to help Melody into the buggy, he might look more gentlemanly than was wise, at least in front of his ma, the woman who had a hard time taking no for an answer.
Choosing self-preservation, he sank back into the cushioned seat, rescued the buffalo rope that had fallen to the floorboards and cleared his throat for good measure. Too bad it was so dark, or he could use his worst scowl to his advantage.
He didn’t hurry the women along, especially since a prickle snaked down his spine, the way it did on an assignment right before it went bad—a deep-set intuition that signaled danger. He gulped, glancing around in the darkness, glad for the revolver always at his hip. He might be off duty, but the truth was he’d hunted down dangerous men for a living and now and then those men escaped prison and wanted revenge. Hadn’t it happened to him before?
The memory burned like an inferno in his stomach lining as he searched the dark shadows bordering the garden fence and the edges of the grazing land where the forests stretched ink-black for miles. Was there someone there? Or was this gut feeling due to something else?
“Gabe, where are your manners?” His mother’s admonishment came from far away as he snapped his attention back to the buggy. His mother glared up at him as she had when he’d been a boy being threatened with a switching.
He chuckled. He wasn’t worried. His ma was all bark and no bite, no matter how unhappy she was with him.
“It’s cold out,” he explained, staying firmly on the seat. “Miss Pennington can climb up by herself.”
“If you were any younger, young man, I’d take a strap to you.”
“Empty threats.” Never once had she come close to such a thing. “Which is probably why I turned out the way I did.”
“The parents aren’t always to blame when their child turns out poorly.” A hint of mischief shaped the rosebud-pink of Melody Pennington’s soft lips. “Sometimes there’s no one to blame but the man himself.”
“You’re not the first female to tell me that.” He reached across the length of the seat and offered her his hand.
“I’m not at all surprised. I can imagine women right and left of you constantly taking offense.” Her china
-blue eyes twinkled up at him, as if he wasn’t fooling her one bit.
Her palm melted against his and her slender fingers twined around his much larger ones. Like a flame to kerosene, light and heat blazed up his arm. Shocked, he could only stare at her, gasping as if for breath, as she landed on the seat next to him. Time froze. The bite of the bitter wind, his worry of danger in the dark and his plan to convince his mother that he would never be interested in Melody Pennington faded from his mind. All that remained was the rustling sound of her movements as she settled her skirts, her rose fragrance and the ghostly fall of her hair, shades of platinum in the night.
“This is for you, dear.” His ma broke the silence, unaware that anything had changed. She cast him a deeply disappointed look, tugged something out of her cloak pocket and pressed it into Melody’s gloved hands. “Train passage for wherever love takes you next.”
“Oh, I couldn’t.” She stared at the envelope, and then her chin came up. “It’s not your fault this didn’t work out, Mrs. Brooks. I took too long deciding if I should come or not, and so this is squarely on my shoulders.”
She was turning down the train ticket? It had to be worth more than several hundred dollars. His hand still burned where Melody had touched him. He flexed his fingers, but the fire did not fade.
“Nonsense,” his ma argued. “I made you promises I intend to keep. We will cover your expenses at the hotel until you are ready to leave.”
“No.” Spine straight, shoulders set, she pressed the ticket into the older woman’s hands gently. “I have to pay my own way. You know what I’ve been through. I can’t be beholden to anyone ever again, even when the motive is kindness.”
“I do.” His ma’s face fell, and Gabe knew she had been counting on helping Melody to make things right. He knew she felt a strong responsibility for the young lady. It was easy to do.
What had happened in Boston? He knew darn well she couldn’t pay her hotel bill, so how exactly was she going to survive? The heat in his arm continued to creep along, aching in his biceps and inching into his shoulder, as if trying to worm its way into his heart.
This was the danger he’d sensed. He gave the reins a snap, Bucky leaped to life, the buggy rocked forward. He vowed never to say another word to Miss Melody Pennington again.
Chapter Three
Melody watched dawn come to the high mountain country from the window seat of her hotel room. She’d never seen anything quite as beautiful. The golden crest of the sun broke above the craggy, snow-capped peaks, bringing light to a dark world and painting the first strokes of color—the palest blue to the sky, deep lavender to the mountains, the darkest green to the forest. Soft rose gilded the underbellies of shadowed clouds, and bird-song, which had been as loud as any symphony, silenced as if in reverence. Awed, she felt a world away—no, two worlds away—from the life and the problems she’d left behind.
What must it be like to spend one’s life in such a place? She sipped her sweetened tea, her mind taking her back to last night at the Brooks home. Dinner had been a casual affair with the most delicious pot roast beef and buttermilk biscuits she’d ever tasted. Mary and Gabe’s father chatted and bantered with good humor, making the atmosphere merry and covering Gabe’s stubborn silence well. She’d hardly noticed him glowering over his plate, his brawny shoulders set with great determination. Gabe’s father had a sense of humor that kept them laughing until the last drop of tea was drained and the last crumb of apple crisp consumed.
Quite a different experience from her own family. Although Mother had been gone five years, she still winced from the pain of her loss. And as for her father—Papa’s more recent loss had been enough to break her heart. He’d shielded her from his illness the best he could for as long as he could, but he had no notion that what he’d done to try to save her had not only destroyed him but left her at the mercy of vultures. The bruises had faded, but the terror of the past remained. The old school friend she’d turned to for help, Derrick, had wanted a great deal more in return and didn’t like taking no for an answer.
In traveling here, she’d hoped for safety from that danger with the warm and loving Brooks family. That was a closed door now, but watching the stunning paradise surrounding her, she hoped she would find a safe harbor in this peaceful mountain town.
A knock rattled her door, startling her from her thoughts. Cold tea sloshed over the rim of the cup she held and she realized the sun had climbed into the sky while she’d been ruminating. On the main street below, businesses had opened for the day and she ought to be out there trying to bargain a fair price at the jeweler’s for her grandmother’s pearls.
“Just a moment,” she called, climbing to her feet. She hoped it wasn’t Mr. Owens come to give her more grief about the bill. Gabe had tossed a wad of money at him yesterday, but there was no telling if it had been enough. Either way, she intended to find less expensive lodgings today.
She set the teacup on the bureau and opened the door. Instead of kindly, gray-haired Mr. Owens in his overalls standing at the threshold, a tall, dark-haired man with piercing blue eyes and a fierce scowl glared down at her.
Gabe.
“What are you doing here?” The words were out of her mouth before she could think to stop them. Whatever reason could he have for darkening her door two days in a row? Her fingers curled tight around the door handle. “Come to insult me some more?”
“No, I think the impact of my insults so far has been enough.” A wry quirk lifted one corner of his severe mouth, reminding her of her revelation last night in the Brookses’ parlor.
“Your mother is not here to fool, and since I’ve figured out you were acting, there is nothing to be gained by insulting me further. I certainly don’t want to marry you.”
“Lucky me.” He swept off his black Stetson, revealing tousled dark hair and dimples that flirted with a hint of a grin. “I’ve got my mother convinced. I’d be grateful if you didn’t tip her off.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Great. The last thing I need is for her to try finding me a wife. You know that’s why she invited you to supper?”
“I realized that in the parlor about the same time I saw through your act.” She left the door wide open and retreated into the room. “Did you want to come in?”
“Uh…” He hesitated, glancing past her into the small space. His gaze focused on the bed, which she’d neatly made after she’d arisen, and a deep flush spread across his sun-browned face. “This won’t take more than a minute.”
“Good.” It wasn’t exactly proper to invite the man in, but she didn’t want him standing there in the doorway for any passersby to see or to overhear. She settled on the window seat, smoothing her skirts while he closed the door and crossed to the only available chair.
The deep red remained on his face, and it surprised her. Gabe might be gruff, rough and harsh, but he was also a gentleman. After what she’d endured before fleeing Boston, she appreciated that trait in the mountain lawman very much.
“My ma has sent me to talk you into taking the train ticket.” From his jacket pocket he withdrew the same envelope she’d refused last night. “Something tells me you aren’t any more interested in it this morning.”
“I’m not.”
“You’re having financial problems. You can’t deny it.” His dark blue eyes softened—a man of might but of feeling, too.
“No, but I didn’t come here to take advantage of your family. I knew in coming there was a risk my marriage to Joseph might not happen.” She set her delicately cut chin—powerful determination in spite of her diminutive size. “My life is my responsibility. I love your mother for caring about me so much. She was the reason I chose Joseph out of all the letters I received from my advertisement.”
“You liked her interfering with his life?” That was a shock, he thought as he slid the train ticket back into his pocket. He couldn’t think of one woman who would want a sometimes intrusive and meddlesome mother-in-law.
“My mother has been gone many years and I’ve missed her,” she continued. “Mary’s letters felt like finding what I’d lost. To have a caring mother in my life again seemed priceless and worth the risk of traveling so far.”
“You came because you fell in love with my mother?”
“Don’t be angry. I only meant that I came with hope of finding a little of what I had lost.”
“I’m not angry.” He swallowed hard against a hot, tight knot of emotion at his Adam’s apple.
He wasn’t moved by her honest confession. He’d been a Rider long enough to spot a liar. Everything about her—from the emotion raw in her voice to her relaxed body language to her open heart—told him she spoke the truth. Somehow he could feel the pain of her grief, a wound that had taken a piece out of her. He thought of what it would be like to lose his ma—his meddling, caring, dear mother. “I’m sorry for your loss. Are you alone, then?”
“My father passed away a year ago.” She drew herself up straight as if gathering her strength and fighting to rein in her emotions.
Did she have any notion how vulnerable she looked? The effect she had on a man? He doubted it. He fumbled with his hat, worrying it with his fingers to give his hand something to do and a place for his gaze to go instead of noticing her. “And you’ve no other family?”
“Yes, but none I want to acknowledge as such.” Strength laced with sadness made her ever more beautiful, and the tug of it on his heart unbearable. “Father’s estate was quite sizable and his brother and my cousins swooped down like vultures, with lawyers and so-called good intentions.”
“I’ve seen that before.” There was in fact very little of human baseness he had not witnessed or had to see the consequence of in his line of work. “So you had no choice but to find a husband to support you?”
