Educating Abbie: Titled Texans -- Book Two

by Cynthia Sterling

The look Maura gave him now was an outright glare. “It’s hoping I am that you haven’t done anything to hurt the young lady.”

  “We had a. . . a misunderstanding.” He swallowed hard. “Maura, please. Tell me where she went and I promise I will apologize at once.”

  She hesitated, then gave a curt nod. “She went to the stables, to rent a horse.”

  The clerk at the hotel desk informed him that the closest stables was J&B livery. Reg walked the three blocks to this establishment at a rapid clip, rehearsing in his mind what he would say to Abbie when he saw her again. He only hoped he could locate her before he lost his nerve.

  After determining that Abbie had indeed procured a riding horse from the livery, Reg paid double for the fastest mount in the place and rode out toward the edge of town. He had a feeling Abbie would head for open prairie and the kind of terrain that looked like home.

  He found her on a creek bank south of town, drumming her heels against a piebald mare’s flanks and cursing under her breath. The animal paid her little heed, but continued to move along at a slow walk. “Good morning,” Reg called when he was still a little ways from her. He still recalled the gun she’d pulled on him during their first encounter. Depending on how angry she was over last night, she might try more of the same.

  She looked up and her frown deepened, but she made no move toward a weapon of any kind. “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  “We need to talk,” he said, reining in beside her.

  She nodded, and turned her attention back to her horse. “I thought a ride would clear my head, but then the only horse they’d rent me was grandma here.” The horse rolled its eyes back toward them, and continued chomping grass. “And they made me use this dad-blamed sidesaddle.”

  Reg bit back a smile at her tone of disdain. Abbie looked quite the lady, perched on the western sidesaddle, but it obviously did not suit her.

  “I notice they gave you a decent horse,” she said.

  “I paid double.”

  “So would I have, but the man said this was the only horse suitable for a ‘lady.’“ She scowled. “I tried to tell him I’d been riding since I could walk, but he wouldn’t hear of it. He said a woman riding astride would be indecent.”

  “Perhaps you should have tried another stable.”

  “I was so anxious to get out of town for a while I couldn’t wait.” She leaned forward and stroked the mare’s neck. “Reg, about last night–”

  “I handled the situation poorly,” he said. “I want to apologize.”

  “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  He stared at the ground. “I never should have kissed you. I should have controlled my passions –”

  “I wanted you to kiss me.”

  He swallowed hard. “Nevertheless, I shouldn’t have taken advantage of your innocence.”

  “I’m not as innocent as you’d like to think, Reg. I didn’t want to stop.”

  She looked at him, her eyes dark with desire. His heart began to pound. “Surely you realize we could not have continued.”

  “Why not?” She leaned toward him, until her face was only inches from his. Her lavender scent washed over him, intoxicating. “We’re both adults. Why did we have to stop something we both enjoy?”

  He could feel beads of perspiration forming on the back of his neck. He gripped the reins until the leather bit into his gloved hands. “Abbie, as much as I am . . . attracted to you, you must realize a relationship between us is impossible. You have been clear about your intentions to marry Alan Mitchell, who is also a friend of mine. I could never betray his friendship. And you know I have an obligation to return to England when my year here is over. I am patently unsuited for life as a rancher, while you are the consummate cattle woman.”

  She nodded, cool and calm as ever. “Those are all sensible reasons why we cannot marry,” she said. “But I don’t see why that should keep us from becoming lovers in the time you have remaining here.” She smiled. “After all, you promised to teach me.”

  The breath went out of him, as if he’d been struck. “I promised to teach you the things a lady needs to know.”

  “And a wife – doesn’t a wife need to know those things, too?”

  He could feel the heat of his face burning red. “It is a husband’s privilege to teach his wife such things,” he said stiffly.

  Her smile broadened. She appeared to enjoy his discomfort. “And where do husbands learn what they teach?”

  “That is beside the point.”

  “No it’s not.” She thumped one foot against her saddle. “The idea that men can do anything they want before marriage, while a woman can’t have any fun is as ridiculous as that livery stable owner making me ride sidesaddle.”

  He frowned. “But you might become pregnant.” There was an argument she couldn’t counter.

  She looked him in the eye. “You’ve traveled all over the world, Reg. Surely you’ve learned a thing or two in that time to prevent that.”

  He gasped. Was the woman completely without inhibition? “Well, yes. . . there are ways,” he admitted.

  “Then I don’t see what your problem is.”

  “Sex is not a game,” he snapped. “Despite what men, and yes, I include myself, have sometimes made it.”

  “Then what is it?” Her expression grew solemn. “Is it only for breeding, like with animals?”

  “No. It is. . . “ He struggled for words. He’d never thought about it much before last night. He’d had long sleepless hours to consider why he had pulled away from Abbie there on the stairs. He had had affairs before, even a mistress in India. But none of those women had touched him the way Abbie had. She was more to him than a casual fling. Some part of him realized he could not join himself to her without committing part of his soul to her care – a part of himself he could not afford to surrender, only to leave it behind when the time came for him to go. “When a man and a woman come together, it can be the deepest commitment they can make,” he said solemnly. He looked away from her pleading eyes. “I can’t make that commitment right now, Abbie.”

  “Not to me.”

  The words were a statement, not a question. Sadness weighted him down at the words. “I haven’t done a very good job of apologizing,” he said. “This has nothing to do with you.”

  “I wish I could believe that.”

  “Believe it.”

  “We won’t talk about it anymore.” She turned her horse onto the road back to town. “Come on. I think we have a train to catch.”

  * * * *

  The trip home was more solemn than the journey to Amarillo, though no less civil. Abbie and Reg managed to act as if nothing unusual had passed between them while they were away. If Maura was puzzled by their behavior, she made no comment, though Abbie caught the maid studying her with a curious expression on her face.

  Abbie sat on the Chesterfield sofa and stared out the window at the darkened countryside rolling past. She felt as if her life was moving by just as swiftly; she had as much chance of slowing it down as she would stopping the train.

  Her conversation with Reg this morning hadn’t ended the way she’d hoped; he was no closer to admitting any feelings for her, and he steadfastly refused to deepen their relationship, even temporarily. He’d said his decision had nothing to do with her, but how could she believe otherwise?

  She wouldn’t try to deny the truth, no matter how much it hurt. Reg didn’t love her. All his talk of protecting her virtue and respecting his friendship with Alan was just another way of saying that.

  She swallowed tears and jerked the curtain shut. Fine. If that was the way he felt, she wouldn’t beg for his attention. She’d go on as she always had, running her ranch, looking after herself. She didn’t need a man’s help or a man’s company. She didn’t need Reg.

  * * * *

  The train arrived in Fairweather early the next morning. Abbie felt her spirits lift as she stepped onto the platform. She inhaled deeply of the sage-tinged air and smile
d. Home. It was as if she left part of herself behind every time she went away from this place. Coming back was like putting all the pieces together again.

  “I’ll see about your trunk,” Reg said, stepping off beside her.

  “I can get it. I have to check on those two bulls I bought anyway.”

  His expression clouded and he gave a curt nod. “As you wish.”

  Confound it, she thought. Now he was going to take offense. Were all men this impossible?

  “Reg. I say, Reg Worthington!” A man in an ink-black frock coat and striped trousers, hailed them from the station.

  “What the devil –?” Abbie glanced at Reg and saw that he’d blanched white as a ghost. His mouth was set in a grim line.

  “What is it, Reg? What’s wrong?” she asked,

  The stranger strolled up to them. He was a strikingly handsome man, with golden hair, brilliant blue eyes and a dazzling smile full of good humor. He slapped Reg on the back. “Don’t know when I’ve been so glad to see anyone,” he said.

  “What are you doing here?” Reg growled. His face was flushed red now, and Abbie could see the pulse throbbing at his temple.

  “Just got in last night,” the man said. “The overseer at your place told me you’d gone traveling.” He took a step back and grinned. “I must say, this ranching business agrees with you. You’re looking jolly well.”

  “What are you doing here?” Reg asked again.

  “It’s a long story, really. Bit of a dust-up back home, you know. I needed to get away for a while and, well, I’d never been to Texas. We can talk about it later, but say, aren’t you going to introduce me to your lovely traveling companion?” He beamed at Abbie.

  She turned to Reg. “Yes, please introduce us.”

  His scowl darkened. “Abbie, may I present my brother, Camden Everett Worthington. Reverend Worthington, that is. Cam, this is Miss Abigail Waters.”

  Reg scowled as Cam bent low over Abbie’s hand. “Delighted to meet you, Miss Waters,” Cam said. “And here I thought all the tales I’d heard about the beauty of Texas women were mere fantasy.”

  Abbie smiled and blushed prettily. “How nice to meet you, Reverend Worthington.”

  “And who is this lovely lass?” Cam turned to Maura, who actually giggled at the onslaught of Cam’s infamous smile.

  “This is my maid, Maura O’Donnell,” Abbie said.

  “Pleased to make your acquaintance, sir.” Maura executed a curtsy worthy of an audience with the queen.

  “The pleasure is all mine, ladies.”

  Reg stifled a groan. Women were always falling all over themselves around Cam. His combination of impeccable manners and flawless good looks had proved deadly to more than one unfortunate young woman’s heart.

  “I believe Miss Waters was just leaving,” Reg said abruptly. He put a hand on his brother’s arm. “We wouldn’t want to keep her.”

  Abbie frowned at him. “Yes, I suppose I shouldn’t keep the stock agent waiting.” She smiled at Cam. “Perhaps I’ll see you again soon, Reverend Worthington. Are you planning to stay in Texas long?”

  “Oh yes indeed. I intend to have a nice long visit with my good brother, here.”

  They watched the two woman walk away, then Reg turned on his heels and headed toward the baggage cars. He’d cabled ahead that he was arriving with the dozen cattle he’d purchased in Amarillo and was pleased to see Donnie Best already at work unloading the new stock.

  “Mornin’ Reg. Mornin’ Rev.” Donnie tipped his hat to them. “I see you two found each other.”

  “I take it you’ve already met my brother?” Reg asked.

  “Yes, sir. Rev rode up to the ranch last night. Had supper with me and the boys.”

  Reg rolled his eyes. Like their older brother Charles, Cam had the knack of making friends with anyone and everyone. Men liked him and women swooned over him.

  “Your man Best here was telling me about the new cattle you bought at auction.” Cam propped his foot on the bottom rail of the loading chute and surveyed the livestock rushing past. “Splendid looking bunch, Reg.”

  Reg waited until Best was out of earshot before he turned to face his brother. “Cam, why don’t we dispense with this fiction that you are merely here on a friendly holiday and admit what we both know – the Earl sent you here to spy on me.”

  Cam raised his eyebrows. “Spy, Reg? Don’t you think that’s a bit harsh?”

  “You don’t deny it, then?”

  “I won’t deny Father was a tad concerned when he failed to receive reports from you for two months in a row. For all we knew, you might have been shot by some desperado, or scalped by red Indians.”

  “I seriously doubt my scalp was Father’s chief concern.”

  “You underestimate the old man, Reg, you do. Now about these cattle –”

  Reg sighed. “Really, Cam. The only thing you know about cattle is how it tastes cooked medium rare and served up on a plate with bearnaise.”

  Cam smiled, as if delighted with a good joke. “Ah, but I’ve no doubt you can teach me, dear brother.”

  Reg gave no answer, but walked purposefully toward the wagon yard. Cam kept pace beside him. “Where are you going now?” his brother asked.

  “Home.”

  “Ahh. Then we’ll ride together. I took the liberty of selecting a mount from among your stable, though I must say, these Texas horses would hardly pass muster with the Hunt Club.”

  “Horses here are bred for work, not beauty.” Reg spotted Mouse among the saddled mounts along the hitching rail and suppressed a smile. Like Cam, he’d been unimpressed with Texas horses when he first came to the ranch. Interesting, how his opinion had changed in so short a time.

  “I never thought I’d see the day when you’d be riding such a singularly ugly beast.” Cam swung up onto the back of a black stallion that had been groomed until it shone like obsidian. Reg would lay odds Cam had not been the one to do the grooming.

  “Mouse serves me well,” Reg said. He leaned over and patted the gelding’s neck. Mouse twitched his ears and stamped his feet.

  “Mouse?” Cam laughed. “Reg, Reg – what have these Texans done to you?”

  They’ve made me think differently about a lot of things. But he didn’t share this with his brother. “Come along,” he said. “I’ve got work to do.”

  They had not ridden far when Cam spoke again. “So, are you going to tell me about the young lady, or do I have to pry it out of the servants?”

  “They’re not servants, Cam, and you won’t win friends by addressing them as such.”

  “Come now – who is she? Some neighboring rancher’s daughter?”

  Reg laughed, and was rewarded by a look of confusion from Cam. “Abbie Waters owns the neighboring ranch,” he said. “She can out-ride, out-rope and no doubt out-shoot most men in the area.”

  Cam raised one elegant eyebrow. “Oh? You sound proud of her – as if she were your protégée.”

  “Well, I. . . I think Abbie can speak for herself.” He’d started to tell Cam about the bargain he and Abbie had struck, but it was none of his brother’s concern. Besides, he didn’t trust Cam not to relay every word he said directly to the Earl.

  “I’m sure she can.” Cam grinned. “In fact, I’ll have to pay a call on your beautiful neighbor at the first opportunity. You did say she is unmarried, did you not?”

  Reg shot Cam a warning look. “Abbie is not the sort of woman to be interested in the likes of you.”

  “And why not?” Cam straightened his collar. “Many woman find a clerical collar gives a man an added appeal. Though that in itself can present certain, shall we say, problems, if it’s the wrong woman.”

  Something in Cam’s voice told Reg the truth. “I take it the wrong woman found you attractive?”

  Cam looked sheepish. “My patron’s sister. Put my living quite in danger, I tell you. Lord Eversole obviously had his sights on better prospects than a clergyman and a third son for his sibling.”

&n
bsp; He glanced at Reg again, as if gauging his reaction to this announcement. “So you see, there’s good reason for me to be taking a sabbatical, as if were, in the states, and it has nothing to do with you.”

  Reg eyed his youngest brother warily. Cam had a talent for presenting only the most advantageous side to any story. “And the earl made no mention of your checking up on me, did he?”

  Cam’s fair skin flushed. “I wouldn’t say that, exactly. After all, I had to do something to persuade him to pay my passage. . . “

  “I knew it.” Anger tightened his throat. “Leave me alone,” he lashed out. “I didn’t ask for your interference and I won’t stand for it.” He dug his heels into Mouse’s flanks and shot forward, not waiting for his brother’s reply.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Hyahh! Get along there.” Abbie edged Toby up alongside a heifer that was determined to break away from the herd. Given half a chance, the cow would dash back into the dry brush along the draw. Toby skillfully cut off the heifer’s path and forced her back into line. Up ahead, Miguel swung open the gate and began driving the herd into the adjoining pasture.

  Abbie reined in her horse and watched the herd amble past. Using the tail of the bandanna knotted at her neck, she wiped the dust from her face. July heat had scorched the land to little more than rocks and dirt. With little replenishment from scant spring rains, the water holes and creeks were rapidly drying up. She and her vaqueros were forced to move the herds often in search of water and grass.

  “All through, mijita.” Miguel rode up, calling her by the name he’d used since she was a child. “You think we should move the steers next?”

  “Let’s wait a few more days on them,” she said. “The creek over there still has some deep holes with water.”

  “Not much grass, though,” he said.

  “We can always burn pear.” She hoped it wouldn’t come to that. Burning the spines off prickly pear with kerosene torches was hot, dangerous work. Yet if it came down to it, the fleshy cactus leaves could save the lives of cattle when there was nothing else to eat. “All right, Miguel. I’ll ride over to Spanish Creek and check on the yearlings. You see to the heifers over in the canyon.”