Educating Abbie: Titled Texans -- Book Two

by Cynthia Sterling

  She was turning away when she heard a voice calling her name. “Miss Waters! Miss Waters!” Abbie looked up to see a man riding toward them at a gallop. As he drew closer, her eyes widened as she recognized Cam Worthington.

  “I say, so glad I managed to find you.” He reigned in beside her and doffed the new Stetson he wore.

  “Reverend Worthington, what can I do for you?” She suppressed a smile. The formal title seemed absurd for one so full of youthful exuberance. Reverends should be old and solemn and rather plain, not young and handsome and decked out in the gaudiest Eastern ‘dude’ clothes available. She swept her gaze from the top of the coal-black Stetson to the pointed, shiny toes of his boots. In between, he wore tan ducking trousers and striped shirt, with a red bandanna tied jauntily at his neck.

  “I wanted to personally respond to your kind invitation to dine with you tomorrow evening,” he said.

  “I hope this means you and Reg will be coming.”

  His face took on a somber expression. “I’m afraid my brother sends his regrets.”

  Abbie tried not to let her disappointment show. She had not seen Reg at all in the two weeks since they’d returned from Amarillo. She’d decided to use his brother’s visit as an excuse to invite him for dinner. And now he wasn’t coming. Did he have such a low opinion of her that he’d decided not to associate with her again? “Well, perhaps some other time –,” she began.

  “I, however, would be delighted to accept your hospitality,” Cam interrupted. “I’m looking forward to getting to know you better.”

  Abbie felt herself blushing, even as she looked away. She didn’t quite trust Reg’s charming brother. He was almost too nice. Reg might be arrogant and overbearing at times, but at least he didn’t hide his opinions behind polished manners. “I’ll look forward to seeing you tomorrow evening, then,” she said.

  “Do you mind if I ride with you for a bit?” He turned his horse in line with hers. He was riding a gleaming black stallion. Along with the black hat, it gave him a particularly dashing look. Abbie was certain he had chosen the horse and the hat exactly for that effect. Cam Worthington struck her as a man who always set himself to the best advantage.

  She shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

  She headed out across the pasture, Cam at her side. “I say, when your maid told me you’d be wearing men’s trousers and hat, I couldn’t quite picture it. But you do look smashing.”

  “A dress would hardly be practical for herding cattle and mending fence.”

  “So you really do a cowboy’s job, right alongside your, uh, ‘hands’?”

  “It takes every person doing their share of the work to run a ranch, Reverend Worthington.”

  “Please, call me Cam. Or if you insist, Rev. It’s what the cowboys call me.”

  “Have you been enjoying your visit to Texas, uh, Cam?”

  “Immensely. The people here are delightfully friendly.”

  Abbie smiled and leaned down to open the pasture gate. “Maybe it’s because you’re so friendly yourself.” She’d already heard talk in town of “Rev’s” largess in the local saloons, and his compliments to every lady he met. He was a ready audience for any story, and a willing donor to any cause. “I hear you’re becoming just about one of the most popular people in town.” She motioned for him to ride through, then followed.

  He gave a deprecating smile and shook his head. “I doubt my brother would agree with you. Reg would certainly cheer my return to England.”

  Abbie had noticed that there seemed to be no love lost between Reg and his younger brother. “Why do you say that?” she asked.

  “He is convinced our father sent me here to spy on him and interfere in the management of the ranch.”

  “And is that why you’re here?”

  He shook his head. “I needed to get out of England for a while for, um, personal reasons. My father suggested I stop in and see Reg as long as I was here. But it was never my intention to interfere.”

  His voice held a tinge of regret. Abbie glanced at him and saw that his smile had faded. “I’ve always had a great admiration for my brother,” he added. “While I have remained home and led a life of staid decorum, he has gone adventuring throughout the world.”

  “Have you told him that?” she asked.

  “He would never believe me.” He sighed. “As it is, he is hardly speaking to me these days. He’s absorbed in his work.”

  “Reg is very determined to be a successful rancher,” she said.

  “He says he has things to prove to our father, but I think rather he has things to prove to himself.”

  Abbie looked at him in surprise. “And I think, Cam, that you aren’t as frivolous as some people might believe.”

  He straightened his shoulders. “You think so, eh? Well, this ‘shallow’ personality has seen me through more than a few scrapes in my day. If Reg was destined to play the martyr in our family, then surely I must be the one to play the fool.”

  “I’d hardly call you foolish.”

  “And I’ll thank you for that.” He tipped his hat. “I’ll take my leave of you, dear lady. Until tomorrow.”

  “Until tomorrow.” She watched him turn the horse and race across the pasture. Cam was turning out to be as big an enigma as his younger brother. Were all men so contrary? Or had the Worthingtons really cornered the market?

  * * * *

  Reg clenched his jaw and stared at the thin parchment envelope in his hands. His father’s missives were shorter these days, and increasingly demanding. Send a report on the status of the ranch, or suffer the consequences.

  Come, father, why be so subtle? We both know the ‘consequences’ you allude to. There’s nothing you’d like better than to see me fail and be forced to come home with my head hanging. It would once again prove your assessment of my character. He tucked the letter into his pocket unread and stepped out onto the sidewalk in front of Pickens’ Mercantile.

  “Hey! Better watch where you’re headed.” He felt a hard shove against his shoulder and looked up into the angry, bloodshot eyes of Tuff Jackson. “Folks around here don’t clear a path for you British lords and ladies,” Jackson drawled.

  Reg bit back a groan. As if he didn’t have enough problems to deal with. “Excuse me, Jackson, I have business to attend to.”

  He started to step around the cowboy, but Jackson blocked his path. “Think you’re too fine to waste time with the likes of me, do you?” Jackson jutted his chin in the air. “Well you and me are equal now, Lord Worthington. I’m done workin’ for other folks. I’m a rancher now, same as you.”

  Reg’s gaze flickered over his former foreman. Jackson had added a black suitcoat to his wardrobe, a coat very similar to Reg’s own. Were anyone else involved, Reg might have been flattered by this bit of imitation. But Jackson’s malevolent stare negated any possible feelings of good will. “I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other again, then. Now if you’ll excuse me –”

  Tuff grabbed his arm and held him in a crushing grip. “Where are your manners? Didn’t your mama teach you if you meet a neighbor on the street, you should stop and pass the time of day?”

  Reg took a deep breath and let it out slowly. For whatever reason, Jackson wasn’t willing to let him pass on. His gaze flickered to the hip-level bulge beneath Jackson’s coat. Word around town was that Jackson had taken to carrying two loaded revolvers. Some suspected he’d crossed the line from cowboy to criminal.

  A few minutes stilted conversation was preferable to a bullet in the back. “Is there something particular you wished to discuss with me?”

  “I hear you’ve got Donnie Best doing my old job.”

  “Yes. Mr. Best is my new foreman.”

  Jackson snorted. “Can’t send a boy to do a man’s job. But then, I suppose the likes of you can’t do any better.”

  “The ‘likes of me.’?” Reg slipped easily into an attitude of royal disdain. “What a curious expression. Some local colloquialism, no doubt.”

&n
bsp; Confusion flickered across Jackson’s eyes, then his expression darkened once more. “Go ahead. Make fun of me now. But you won’t be laughin’ when this drought starts killing off your stock. Them foreign stockholders you represent are gonna be left with nothin’ but a bunch of dead cows. That’s what they get for trusting an upper-class ignoramus to look after their investment, instead of someone like me who knows which end of a cow the chips come out of.”

  Reg’s stomach clenched. How often had he had that very thought? Though he detested Jackson, he couldn’t deny the fact that the man knew a hundred times more about the cattle business than Reg could even begin to absorb in the short time he’d been allotted to turn the ranch around. The drought only complicated matters more.

  His face betrayed none of these thoughts, however. He tipped his hat to Jackson and gave a regal nod. “Thank you for that totally unsolicited opinion. Now if you’ll excuse me, I really must be going.” He shoved past Jackson this time, refusing to be held back any longer. As he strode down the sidewalk, he could feel Jackson’s eyes boring into his back, and he steeled himself for the slamming impact of a bullet.

  “Reg, how are you?” He started at the sensation of a gentle hand on his arm and looked up to see Abbie beside him. She peered into his face. “Is something wrong? You look upset.”

  He shook his head. “No. I’m quite all right.” The lie felt awkward on his tongue; Abbie of all people deserved the truth from him.

  “I haven’t seen you in a while.” She took her hand away and shoved it into her pocket. “I guess you’ve been busy.”

  He nodded, trying not to stare. God, he’d missed her. Just seeing her again gave his spirits a badly needed lift. His eyes traced the gentle arch of her neck. How could he have forgotten how delicate her features were – how incredibly graceful she looked even in her mannish clothes? The curves beneath those clothes – how many times in memory had he traced them again?

  Don’t go there, Reg, he told himself. Nothing good will come of such thoughts.

  “Reg, are you sure you’re all right?” She was staring at him, a frown creasing her brow.

  “I am perfectly fine. Why do you keep asking?”

  “I’ve been talking to you for a full minute and you look as if you don’t understand a word I’ve said.”

  He reached up and rubbed his eyes. “I apologize, Abbie. I have a lot on my mind right now.”

  “Is there anything I can help with?”

  “Thank you, but no.”

  Her frown deepened. “I thought we had a bargain,” she said. “Are you backing out already?”

  He sighed. “I think we’ve both gained all we can from our previous arrangement,” he said stiffly.

  She put her hands on her hips and glared up at him. “So you think you know all there is to know about ranching already?”

  He glanced around, suddenly aware they were attracting an audience. Taking her arm, he pulled her aside. “I would not deign to consider myself an expert,” he said. “But you are hardly in need of my tutelage any more.”

  She held her left hand in front of his face. “Do you see a ring on this finger?” She waggled her ring finger at him.

  He frowned. “I hardly think –”

  “You agreed to help me win Alan for a husband,” she said. “I haven’t had a proposal yet, and your year here isn’t up, so I’d say our arrangement is hardly at an end.”

  Reluctantly, he took his hand from her arm. Touching her was too keen a reminder of how much more contact he craved with her. “Abbie, you don’t need my help to attract Alan or any other man,” he said. “You’re a beautiful, intelligent young woman whom any man would be proud to call wife.”

  She raised her chin, her eyes sending him a challenge. “A bargain is a bargain,” she said. “Or is an Englishman’s word not as good as a Texan’s?”

  He stiffened. “How dare you question the sincerity of my word? I am merely pointing out that you no longer need my assistance –”

  “That doesn’t mean you don’t need mine.”

  “Donnie Best is helping me.”

  “And you think Donnie Best is a better rancher than I am? I’ve been herding cows since before Donnie Best was born.”

  “Really, Abbie, this argument is pointless. I would help you if I could, but I see no point –”

  “Then come to dinner tomorrow night.”

  He sighed. He might have known Abbie would not be put off easily. “I appreciate the invitation, but I really don’t have time. I have a lot of paperwork to do.”

  “Alan is coming. You can give me pointers on how to handle him.”

  “Has it ever occurred to you, Abbie, that Alan might not be the right man for you? I agree, he is a fine man, but I am beginning to have grave doubts about his potential as a suitor. He seems to have missed seeing what is right beneath his nose for far too many years.”

  “Fine.” She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. “Your brother, Cam, is coming. Maybe he’ll help me.”

  “Cam is coming?” Reg choked out the words. “I didn’t realize he was even invited.”

  “Well, of course he’s invited. I’m giving the dinner as a way of welcoming him to Texas.”

  “He’s already been here over two weeks.”

  “I needed time to get ready,” she sniffed.

  “He never said anything about it when he told me about the invitation.”

  “He probably didn’t want to interrupt your precious paperwork.” She started to turn away. “Don’t worry. Cam and Alan and I will have a wonderful time without you. Do you think Cam would like the blue taffeta dress better, or the purple silk?”

  “I thought the purple silk was ruined.” He spoke through clenched teeth, a sudden image of purple silk being peeled back from lush breasts clouding his vision and making it difficult to breathe.

  “Oh, Maura was able to salvage it after all. Do you think Cam would enjoy it?”

  Cam didn’t deserve the purple silk. He certainly didn’t deserve Abbie. “What time should I be there?” he snapped.

  An altogether too self-satisfied smile spread across her lips. “Seven o’clock will be fine,” she said. “I’ll look forward to seeing you.”

  She turned and strolled on down the sidewalk. Reg stared after her. He had the distinct feeling he’d just lost an important battle before he could even fire the first shot. For a woman who had so little experience with courtship, Abbie certainly seemed to know how to handle men – him in particular.

  * * * *

  The next evening, Reg emerged from the Ace of Clubs ranch house to find Cam already waiting with their horses. “Hurry, big brother. We wouldn’t want to be late at a dinner where I’m to be the guest of honor.” Cam grinned and flipped Mouse’s reins toward Reg.

  Reg caught the reins and swung up on the gray’s back. He scowled at Cam, who was more dapper than ever, in a blue-striped silk waistcoat, and midnight blue suit. His eyes came to rest on a paper-wrapped bundle draped across the saddle in front of his brother. “What’s that?” He pointed at the bundle.

  Cam grinned and folded back the paper to reveal brilliant yellow blossoms. “Flowers. For our hostess.”

  “Abbie doesn’t need your flowers,” he growled.

  “Ah, but she does.” Cam smiled. “A beautiful woman always needs flowers. Abbie is beautiful, wouldn’t you agree?”

  “She’s beautiful, and too smart to fall for your tricks and flattery.” Reg turned his horse toward the Running W Ranch.

  “Maybe. But I’ll have such a splendid time furthering my acquaintance.”

  “I won’t allow you to play fast and loose with Abbie’s affections.” Reg glared at him.

  Cam’ grin grew. “And what will you do to stop me, brother dear?” He laughed and spurred his horse forward, leaving Reg choking in a cloud of dust, cursing the day Cam had stepped off the train in Fairweather.

  Reg reached Abbie’s house in time to see Cam presenting his bouquet to her with a swe
eping bow. Reg noted, with some relief, that she was dressed in a plain white shirtwaist and tailored skirt. But even in these simple clothes, she was beautiful. He couldn’t deny she made his heartbeat quicken whenever he was in her presence.

  She blushed and took the flowers from Cam. “Well, how kind of you, Reverend Worthington.”

  “Ah, ah, ah.” He shook his finger at her playfully. “You must call me Cam.”

  “Why not discard convention altogether and address him by his childhood nickname?” Reg walked across the porch to them. He gave Cam a challenging look. “Hello, Stinky.”

  Cam’s cheeks flushed a satisfying scarlet, but he recovered quickly. “Pay my brother no mind,” he said, turning to Abbie. “His slavish devotion to business of late has left him addled and ill-tempered.”

  Abbie gave Reg a curious look. “Perhaps we should all go inside.” She held open the door.

  “After you, dear lady.” Cam put his hand on the door and motioned her ahead of him. Reg started to fall in behind Abbie, but Cam stepped neatly in front of him. “You’ll get the door, won’t you, Reg?” he said as he followed Abbie into the house.

  Maura and Alan were already inside. Alan was carrying a platter of sliced beef from the kitchen; Maura followed with a bowl of potatoes. “Hello Reg, Cam,” Alan said. He set the platter on the table and came forward to shake hands. “Good to see you both.”

  “Um, why don’t we all sit down, since the food’s all ready.” Abbie motioned toward the laden table.

  “Allow me.” Reg and Cam spoke simultaneously, and rushed to pull Abbie’s chair away from the table. Alan grinned and held Maura’s chair for her, while the two brothers awkwardly pushed Abbie’s chair in behind her.

  She sat at the head of the table, with Alan at the other end, Cam and Reg on either side of her, and Maura to Alan’s left. “Oh dear,” she said, surveying the seating arrangement. “I suppose to be proper, I should have invited another woman. I wasn’t thinking.”