by Kit Morgan
He smiled. At least Grandma Waller was on his side. “Very well, then – let’s be off.” He helped Miss Cooke to stand, then, just because he wanted to, swept her into his arms.
She wrapped her own arms around his neck, a mischievous gleam in her eye. Uh-oh. “What happened to, in case you have to carry me, Mr. Comfort?”
Two could play at this game. “But I thought you liked being in my arms, Miss Cooke.”
She gasped.
“Faker.”
Now she growled!
“Oh, stop acting so perturbed, Honoria,” Grandma scolded. “How often do you have a handsome man carry you to your horse?”
“Grandma!” Bowen said as if thoroughly scandalized, but winked at Major. Aha, so the doctor sided with him as well. This was getting better by the minute!
Miss Cooke, sensing she was outgunned, stayed silent until they got outside. Once on the porch, she looked up and groaned.
“Am I holding you too tight?” he asked. All teasing aside, it was a genuine concern.
She turned her head into his shoulder, as if trying to hide. “No, but we’re in for it now. Look over at the mercantile.”
Major looked … and saw Fanny Fig standing in front of the mercantile, staring right at them. “Oh dear.”
“Exactly. Who knows what she’ll say about this.”
He shook his head, walked down the steps and headed for the horses. “If – or should I say, when – she starts any rumors, I’ll take care of it.”
Miss Cooke blinked a few times. “You will?”
He stopped and looked at her. “Of course I will,” he said, his voice tender. “I’ll not see anyone damage your reputation.”
She gave him the tiniest hint of a smile. “Thank you.”
He smiled back, then began walking again. “Think nothing of it. As I said before, dear lady, these are things any gentleman would do.”
She looked away, and he knew he’d embarrassed her. True, she’d been raised by English gentlemen for the most part – but English gentlemen transported to the frontier, far away from high society. He and his brothers had been an integral part of polite company in Savannah until earlier that year. The ruggedness of the prairie and surrounding mountains had yet to beat it out of them. “Let’s get you on my horse,” he told her. “Do exactly as you did before, and let’s see what kind of reaction we get from Mrs. Fig.”
She snorted in laughter, then winced. “She might well faint.”
“Good – if she does, she won’t be able to spread rumors around about us.”
“Until she revives. Then she’ll probably hurry to make up for lost time.”
“Then I’ll have to do my best to stand by you, won’t I?”
She stared at him in shock.
“What’s the matter?”
She shook her head. “N-nothing.”
Clearly the woman in his arms was used to doing things on her own, including defending her reputation. Not much of a task when she was younger, perhaps, but now that she was of age … “We’d best be off.” He positioned himself next to the horse, just as he’d done before. “Ready?”
“Yes.”
He helped her mount, took the reins of her horse and handed them to her, climbed up behind her and positioned himself as before, one arm around her waist, his free hand taking the reins from her so he could lead her horse behind them. “Once again, Miss Cooke, you’re in charge. Take us home – and please, no racing.”
She sighed and nodded. “As you wish, Mr. Comfort.” Her voice had a slight edge to it, but he didn’t blame her for that. She was still in pain – and probably smarting over her own headstrong behavior as well. He gave the horse the kick and she directed the animal back the way they came.
Right past Fanny Fig, as it happened. “Honoria Cooke!” Fanny huffed. “What do you think you’re doing?!”
“She’s injured. I’m escorting her home,” Major answered before his riding companion could.
Fanny’s mouth opened and closed a few times, looking more than a little flustered. Finally, she managed to shout, “Why, it’s indecent! I would think a Cooke would know better!”
“Would you rather she die on the trail trying to make it home by herself, Mrs. Fig?” Major asked calmly but firmly.
“Of course not!” Fanny shot back.
“Then I suggest you thank the Almighty that I’m taking the time to escort her home properly so no more harm comes to her.”
“Well … what’s her father going to say about this?!”
“Something like, ‘thank you, Mr. Comfort,’ I should think,” he called over his shoulder as they continued. “After all, that would be the proper response after saving his daughter, don’t you agree?”
Once they were out of earshot, Miss Cooke giggled. “Oh my,” she said quietly. “What will she do with that?”
“Not much, I suspect. Especially since half the town probably heard our exchange.”
“Seems I need to thank you again, Mr. Comfort.”
“No need – you’ve thanked me enough. Now let’s get you home.”
Chapter 6
By the time Honoria reached the Triple-C, she had come to the startling conclusion that she liked Major Comfort. She’d already known she was attracted to him – he was a very handsome man. But she’d learned over the years that looks weren’t everything. She’d heard enough stories from her family and others in town about men, women and weddings, and knew it took a lot more than being attracted to one another to make a relationship work. Though looks did help.
For a time she’d had a crush on Eli Turner, when they were younger. But over the years it became apparent that they would never suit, even if they did like each other. There was always something missing with Eli. Everyone in town thought they’d court, but the truth was that Eli was no more interested in her than she was in him. Once he got a mail-order bride, that was that.
And thank Heaven he’d married Pleasant Comfort, or she wouldn’t be in the arms of her brother right now, cresting the rise to get that glorious view of the Triple-C with the setting sun as a backdrop. “Beautiful,” Major whispered behind her.
She brought their horse to a stop. “It is, isn’t it? I never get tired of this view. I never will.”
“Do you plan on living here the rest of your life, then?”
“I could live with that notion.”
“To live and die in the same place?”
She turned her head toward his shoulder. “If you hadn’t come west after Pleasant, wouldn’t you have done the same? Lived and died on your plantation in Georgia?”
He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “No. We were about to lose the plantation already. But I would have liked to.”
“Oh, I’m sorry – I didn’t realize. Was your plantation large?”
“One of the larger in the area.”
“Do you miss it?” It was a touchy subject, no doubt, but she was curious.
“In many ways, yes. Comfort Fields was very special to me, as it was to the rest of my family. It wasn’t so much a plantation, Miss Cooke. It was a … a different way of life, even after the war and emancipation. But we learned to cope, work, sweat to survive. It taught me how to be a real man.”
She faced forward again. “I’m glad to hear it.” And he was every inch a man. He didn’t put up with her nonsense – or rather, he didn’t take it too seriously and called her on it. She could spar with him, the same as she could with her father and uncle. He was a good match for her …
“Is something wrong?” he asked.
Honoria belatedly realized she’d started at her own realization. Major was a good match for her! But did he think so?
“Miss Cooke?”
“Oh yes … I mean, no. Nothing’s wrong.” She was glad he couldn’t see her flushed face.
He gave the horse a kick, and they began their descent toward the barnyard. She scanned their surroundings and saw no one around, which was a relief. She wanted to enjoy his company a fe
w more measly moments before they were interrupted – and to stave off the embarrassment and scoldings to come.
But the respite was short-lived. “What the Sam blazes happened to you?” Grandpa Jefferson barked as he came out onto the front porch of the main ranch house.
She steered the horse to the porch steps and stopped. “I had a little accident, Grandpa,” she said sheepishly.
“Again?” Grandpa Jefferson barked. “Oh, for cryin’ out loud – yer pa’s gonna bust a gut when he finds out!”
“Where is he?” she asked.
“He ain’t come back yet – still out workin’ the cattle with yer uncle and the rest of boys.”
“Thank heavens,” she muttered under her breath.
She felt Major lean toward her ear. “Pity,” he whispered. “I was rather hoping to chat with him.”
His warm breath sent a shiver up her spine and sent her belly into somersaults. “I suppose you’ll just have to wait.”
He slid off the back of a horse then carefully helped her down. Jefferson noted the way he was handling her and came off the porch to help. “What did ya do this time? You didn’t break nothin’, did ya?”
The questions did nothing for her mood. “If I had, Grandpa, would I be standing here?”
“Knowin’ ya, yeah, prob’ly.” He looked at Major. “Tough as nails, this one, but hain’t got a brain in her head sometimes.”
“Grandpa!”
“What? We all know it. What’s wrong with this fella knowin’ it too? Not that he couldn’t figger it out himself. What’d she do, jump a fence? Run headlong into a tree?”
“Believe it or not, it wasn’t Miss Cooke’s fault,” Major said in her defense. Would wonders never cease?
She gaped at him for a second before she straightened and added, “It was a fox.”
“It darted from underneath some juniper trees and spooked the horses,” Major further explained. “Miss Cooke was thrown and came to a rather jolting stop. Mine did too, as a matter of fact, but I managed to keep my seat.”
“At least one of ya did,” said Jefferson. “I’m glad – otherwise ya’d both still be out there. Lord knows she couldn’t have hauled you back.”
Major looked at her and their eyes locked. “Yes, it is a good thing.” They both knew it was true. If he’d been the one injured, she’d have had to leave him there and gone to fetch help. And if she couldn’t …
“Well, get on inside and let’s get this over with,” Jefferson said.
“Over with?” Major echoed.
“He means my mother,” Honoria said.
“Oh. Is she as … protective as your father?”
“It’s a coin toss,” Jefferson put in. “Harrison gets louder, but Sadie puts in her fair share.”
Honoria sighed and stared at the porch steps. Hopefully it wouldn’t hurt too much climbing them, as she’d need all her strength to face Mother. Well, no use stalling. “As Grandpa said, let’s get this over with.” She let Major and Grandpa help her up the steps and into the house.
Once inside, they discovered the house was relatively quiet, which she took as a good sign. “Yer ma’s prob’ly in the kitchen,” Jefferson informed her before heading down the hall. Honoria and Major slowly followed.
Sure enough, they found Sadie stirring a pot of something on top of the family’s enormous stove. “Great Scott,” Major exclaimed. “Look at the size of that!”
“What’s the matter, Mr. Comfort?” Honoria said. “Haven’t you ever seen a cook stove before?”
“Not one that size.”
Sadie turned to the newcomers. “There you are, Honoria – I was wondering when you were going to get home. I need that cinnamon …” She paused to look at Major. “Hello. You look familiar.”
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Cooke. Or should I say, good evening?”
“About that.” She arched an eyebrow at her daughter. “Where have you been? You should’ve been home hours ago.”
Honoria took a deep breath and grimaced. It still hurt to do that. “I had an accident on the way home.”
Sadie stopped stirring and stared at her. “Accident? What kind of accident?”
“A fox jumped out in front of her horse and spooked him,” Major explained. “Your daughter unfortunately parted ways with her saddle.”
“She fell off?” Sadie looked her daughter over. “You didn’t land on your head again, did you?”
“Partly,” Honoria said. “This time around my midsection took the brunt of it.”
“Doc Drake says she has a few bruised ribs,” Major added.
“Bruised ribs!” Sadie put one hand on a hip. “Honoria Alexandra Cooke, just what were you doing?”
Honoria knew she wouldn’t get out of this easily. “I suppose it was my fault.”
“You suppose?” Major chided.
Sadie closed her eyes a moment and gritted her teeth. “You were racing again, weren’t you?”
“Yes, Mama. I was,” Honoria said and stared at the floor.
Sadie set down the spoon and put her other hand on the other hip. “And you let her?” she accused Major.
“Me?” he said in surprise. “Allow her? As if I could prevent her. Mrs. Cooke, your daughter took off on her horse as if someone had called for a cavalry charge! I gave chase to try to slow her down.”
Honoria fumed. He’d betrayed her as easily as that!
“So you fell for it, eh?” Sadie turned back to the pot on the stove. “When will people ever learn?” She gave the contents another quick stir and set the spoon down again. “Well, Mr. Comfort, since you’re here, you might as well stay for supper.” She arched an eyebrow at him. “Unless, of course, you feel the need to leave. Immediately.”
“You had best take that as a warning,” Honoria hissed.
Major glanced between her mother and Jefferson – and called the bluff. “I’d love to stay,” he said, a forced smile on his face.
“Good,” Sadie said after a moment’s surprise. “I’m sure you and Honoria’s father will have all sorts of things to talk about.” She gave Honoria a pointed look. “Won’t they, precious?”
Honoria forced her own smile. “I’m sure they will.”
Sadie grunted, picked up the spoon and turned back to the pot. “Why don’t you take Mr. Comfort into the parlor, Honoria?” She abruptly turned to face them. “Nothing else is hurt?”
“Just the ribs, Mama. I’ll be fine.”
Her mother visibly relaxed and leaned against the worktable a moment. “Thank the Lord for that.” She looked at Major. “And thank you for bringing her home.”
Major smiled reassuringly. “It was my pleasure, Mrs. Cooke.”
“Well, that wasn’t so bad,” Major said, taking a seat in one of two matching wing chairs in the parlor.
Honoria glared anew. “We got off easy – and only because she’s waiting for my father. Then we’re in for it.”
“We are hardly schoolchildren, Miss Cooke.”
She was about to comment when Grandpa Jefferson entered, a cup and saucer in his hands. He offered it to Major. “I figgered ya might like a cup of coffee. What kind of hosts would we be if’n we didn’t offer ya somethin’?”
“Thank you, sir.” Major took the cup and saucer from him. “Tell me, do you know when Mr. Cooke will be home?”
“Harrison? Should be back about suppertime.” He smirked and looked at Honoria. “Cain’t wait for tonight’s conversation ‘round the table.” With a snicker, he turned and headed for the foyer. “I’ll be in the dinin’ room settin’ the table – holler if’n ya need me.”
“I will, Grandpa,” Honoria said.
“Need him?” Major remarked.
“He’s playing chaperone – setting the table so he can keep an eye on us.”
“Chaperone … oh yes, of course.” Major reminded himself that, frontier or no frontier, he wasn’t dealing with savages. But the irony was palpable – he had ridden with her flush against him, carried her in and out of Doc Drake’s
house, ridden close to her again to the Triple-C, and now they had a chaperone? He had to chuckle.
“What’s so funny?”
“Oh, nothing.” He took a sip of coffee. “Would you like some? I could go into the kitchen and ask your mother to pour you a cup.”
“No, I never drink coffee before supper. Maybe a cup of tea now and then. Grandpa knows– that’s why he never offered me any. Besides, I had that cup at the doctor’s house, remember?”
“Oh yes, while the doctor was wrapping your ribs. Are you sure you’re warm enough?”
Honoria glanced around the room and smiled in amusement. “We’re inside now, Mr. Comfort – I’m quite warm. But thank you for asking.”
He took another sip, then quietly sat back in his chair and admired her. “You ride well. For a woman.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I’d like to see you ride sidesaddle at a full run.”
He held up his free hand and shook his head, chuckling all the while. “I won’t argue on that, Miss Cooke. You are clearly the better rider, at least as far as sidesaddles go.”
“I can ride astride as well as any man,” she said matter-of-factly.
“You know, I have no doubt of that – perhaps you can show me one day. That is, if your father doesn’t lock you in your room for the next decade.”
“No thanks to you,” she grumbled. She sat quietly for a moment, her hands in her lap, then without looking at him asked, “What are you going to do about Miss Lynch?”
“That’s really none of your business, is it?”
She shrugged as she glanced up. “You looked after my welfare today, Mr. Comfort. I’m looking out for yours.”
Her words warmed him and he had to smile. “Thank you, Miss Cooke – I appreciate your concern. But don’t fret, I can handle Miss Lynch.”
She nodded. “I’m sure you can.”
He studied her a moment. There was something in her voice that gave him pause. She wasn’t jealous, was she? Hmmm. “Perhaps I’ll have lunch with her tomorrow and find out how she likes Clear Creek.”
She swallowed hard but said nothing.
“I’ll have to speak with her father, of course…”
“Her father?” she said. “Whatever for?”
