Naomi sniffed. “Norman always did have to prove his wife was better than the rest of us.”
“I thought you liked your cousin.”
“I love Sibyl. It’s Norman I could do without. She wouldn’t have married him if her father hadn’t forced her.”
Naomi immediately looked like she’d said more than she wanted. Colby decided to act like he hadn’t heard it.
“If you can manage the courage to go against convention and split your skirt, I can teach you to ride astride.”
“I’ve never heard of a woman doing such a thing.”
Her expression showed so much consternation Colby had to laugh. “You’ll get used to a lot more shocking things before long. Riding astride with a split skirt is a practical solution when using a wagon or buggy isn’t possible.”
“I’ll stick to the sidesaddle, but I’d prefer that we wait until every wagon has passed us. I don’t like being stared at.”
“Then you shouldn’t be so pretty.” Good God! What was he thinking to let something like that slip out? She’d either suspect he had some romantic notions or some ideas that weren’t so commendable.
Naomi appeared to have been taken off guard, but she recovered quickly. “If you think I look pretty in the conditions this trek across the wilderness has reduced me to, then all I can say is you haven’t seen any attractive women. I’m surprised I don’t scare your horse.”
“I’m sure my horse would agree with me that you’re a very attractive woman. However, I didn’t mean to get started in that direction.”
He tried to assume a businesslike tone, but it was unexpectedly difficult. It was almost as though he hadn’t noticed she was attractive until he said the words. But having said them, he couldn’t stop thinking about it. She was a damned pretty woman. If she thought she was dowdy now, heaven help the male gender if she ever got turned out to her satisfaction.
He was determined to control his wandering thoughts. “I don’t know how much you know about a sidesaddle, but since you don’t ride astride, you need a way to keep yourself in the saddle even when a horse jumps over some obstacle. That’s what these two pommels are for.”
Naomi looked dubious. “They look dangerous.”
“It’s the way women have been riding for centuries.”
Naomi eyed the saddle with disfavor. “I’d rather walk.”
“Don’t lose your courage now.”
“Look at that thing!”
Naomi turned to see Reece Hill’s youngest boy pointing at the saddle and laughing. His father jerked him up and said some sharp words that wiped the grin off the boy’s face.
“I agree with the boy,” Colby said, unable to hide a grin. “Are you sure you don’t want to try riding astride?”
“Watching me make a fool of myself with this saddle is more than enough. Come on. Let’s get it over with.”
“When I lift you, you have to throw your leg—”
“When you lift me?”
“The proper way, I’m told, is to have a set of steps so you can climb up and settle yourself in the saddle without assistance. Since we don’t have any steps, I have to lift you into the saddle.”
Naomi didn’t look pleased.
“I could ask someone else. Do you want me to call your father?”
“No. Just tell me what I’m supposed to do with those things.”
Colby stifled the impulse to chuckle. “You have to throw your right leg over the upper pommel, and tuck your left leg under the lower one letting your foot rest in the stirrup.”
“That sounds terribly uncomfortable.”
“I’m told it’s not.”
“Who told you all this?”
“You’re not the only woman I’ve known in my twenty-seven years.”
Naomi got an I’m trying hard to keep a rein on my temper look. “Never mind. Lift me onto that thing, and don’t dare let go until I tell you.”
“I promise. Now stand next to the horse and let me know when you’re ready.”
Naomi took her position, closed her eyes for what Colby expected was a moment of prayer, then said, “I’m ready.”
Colby placed his hands around her waist. It felt too small, too fragile, for a woman of Naomi’s height. “It’ll be easier if you bend your knees and jump as I lift you.” He wasn’t used to lifting women into a saddle or anywhere else. If there was a proper way to do it, he didn’t know it. Dammit! He was nervous. He never got jittery about anything so he didn’t understand why this time was different. Okay, he had his hands around the waist of an attractive young woman, but he was immune to women. Done with them. Would never trust them again.
“What are you waiting for?” Naomi asked.
To stop feeling like a fool he told himself. “I’m ready. Lift.”
As he guessed, there had to be a certain way to do this because nothing seemed to go right.
“How do I get my leg over this pommel?” Naomi asked. “My skirt is in the way.”
How the hell was he supposed to know? He’d never worn a skirt or used a sidesaddle. “Lift your leg up,” was all he could think to say.
“Set me down in the saddle but don’t let go.”
That wasn’t as easy as he expected. In order to place her squarely in the saddle and hold her there, he had to lean forward until his chest pressed against her left leg. She may have been too involved with arranging her skirt so she could get her right leg over the pommel to be aware of what was happening, but he wasn’t. His entire body suddenly became keenly alive. From his upper chest to his waist, he could trace every point of contact from the heat generated. Someone might as well have taken a hot poker and traced a line down his body. He started to tremble. It was embarrassing, but he couldn’t stop it.
“I think I got it,” Naomi said, “but if you don’t do something about my left leg, I’m going to fall off.”
Breathing a sigh of relief, Colby let go and stepped back. “You’ll be fine once I adjust the stirrup. Just let me know when your leg rests comfortably between the lower pommel and the stirrup.”
Hell! The man who invented this damned contraption must have been senile. How was he supposed to concentrate on adjusting the stirrup when her bare ankle was practically in his face? There must be something wrong with the way she was sitting that kept her skirt from hanging low enough to cover her ankle. Fumbling with the buckles, he finally got it adjusted to what he hoped was the correct length. “How is this?”
She swung her foot forward but missed the stirrup. She couldn’t lean over far enough to see without losing her balance. “You’ll have to put my foot in the stirrup. I can’t find it.”
Colby gritted his teeth. This would teach him to tease a woman into doing something she’d rather not do. Next time, she’d have to convince him. Only he’d make sure there was no next time. What was it about a woman’s ankle that had the power to turn a normal, sensible, coordinated man into a mindless bumbler? He was being ridiculous. Everybody had ankles. He should hardly notice Naomi’s. Thank God it was encased in a boot. If her foot had been bare, he’d probably have keeled over in a dead faint that would have mortified him beyond hope of recovery. Telling himself not to be an idiot, Colby guided Naomi’s foot into the stirrup and stepped back.
“Is that a good length?”
“No. It’s too long.”
Damn. He had to go through it again. There was no point in backing down now. His only option was to get it over as quickly as possible and get on his own horse. Admitting that it was a cowardly thing to do, he closed his eyes and readjusted by feel. When he had time alone to reflect, he would figure out why he was behaving so foolishly, but right now he had to get through any way he could.
“How’s that?”
“It’s too high.”
“It’s on the next hole. There isn’t one between.”
“I can’t help that. It’s too high. If I rest my foot on it, I feel like I’m about to fall over backwards.”
“Which is better, too high or too low?”
“Too low I guess.”
“Then you’ll have to make do with that until I can find a punch to make a new buckle hole.”
“I don’t understand why any woman would want to ride a horse. How am I supposed to keep my balance?”
“The top pommel will keep you from falling to the left, and your foot in the stirrup will keep you from falling to the right.”
Colby readjusted the stirrup length, placed Naomi’s foot in the stirrup, stepped back, and took a long slow breath to release some of the tension. Nothing like this had happened to him since the early days of his courtship of Elizabeth. Embarrassed by this unforeseen show of weakness, he stepped away. Maybe if he didn’t look at Naomi for a few moments, his senses could return to normal. He walked over to his own horse and fiddled with his stirrups. Next he readjusted the cinch. Once that was done, he looked for something else, anything that would give him time to regain his senses. He’d assumed he would have his usual reaction to an attractive woman—polite interest that would fade when she was out of sight. He was sure that would be the case with Naomi. He’d just had a weird reaction, a momentary—
A frightened whinny snapped his thoughts. He spun around to see Naomi’s horse bound away from three wolves that followed close behind.
Six
Colby cursed himself. Naomi was on a runaway horse she didn’t know how to ride and was struggling to stay in a sidesaddle that offered no handholds. How could he have been so affected by her that he could miss the approach of three wolves? He turned to where his own horse had been ground hitched, but the Appaloosa had snorted and dashed off.
Colby whistled softly. “Steady, boy.” He had trained his horse to come whenever he heard that signal. The stallion snorted loudly and trotted in a half circle facing Colby. Looking wildly about, he shook his head and caracoled nervously.
Colby refused to let himself think of what might be happening to Naomi. Instead, he concentrated on catching his horse. He kept talking, hoping his voice would soothe the horse enough that he could catch up the reins. He approached slowly until he was able to grab the trailing reins. In the time it would take the average person to take a deep breath, he was in the saddle, yelling, and jabbing his heels into the Appaloosa’s flanks. Within five jumps, the stallion was in full stride.
Naomi’s horse was running away from the caravan. She was still in the saddle, but she lurched from side to side. Colby was thankful the grass was tall and thick. It had little effect on his mount’s speed, but the wolves, powerful predators that they were, labored through the grass. Colby closed on them quickly. Once within range, he drew his rifle from its scabbard, took aim, and fired at the closest animal. The wolf stumbled and somersaulted through the grass before coming to a stop, blood oozing from a wound in the back of its head.
The two remaining wolves turned, snarled with bared teeth, but Colby swept by them. Now that one of them was dead, the others wouldn’t follow.
Colby’s stallion was powerful and swift, but Naomi’s mount appeared to skim over the grass on winged feet. She was still in the saddle, but he knew that couldn’t last. Her strength would give out, the horse would make a sudden change of direction or stumble.
The horse jumped some small obstacle Colby couldn’t see. Naomi pitched forward on her mount’s neck before being thrown backward, but by some miracle she managed to stay in the saddle. Colby was gaining ground, but not fast enough. He wanted to shout for her to hold on. He wanted to apologize for forcing her to ride against her will, for being so affected by her physical presence he failed to notice the wolves. Teaching her to ride wasn’t part of his responsibilities. If he managed to rescue her, he’d keep his mind on his job—and not on Naomi.
Fortunately, Naomi’s horse had either begun to tire or had realized the wolves were no longer following, for it began to slow. When it came to a dry streambed and its hooves sank into the soft sand, it slowed even more. Colby caught up when it climbed the opposite bank. The sensible thing to do would have been to grab the reins and lead the horse back to the wagons, but Colby suspected Naomi had had enough challenges for one day. He lifted her out of the saddle and onto his lap. He might as well have hauled in a wildcat.
“Put me down!”
“Relax, we’re nearly a mile from the wagons. No one will see.” She struggled so hard he had to hold her more tightly against himself.
“Good. Then no one will see me haul off and hit you. And then I’ll walk back to the wagons.”
Colby laughed. What a woman! Was she frightened? Not that he could tell. Was she thankful he’d rescued her? Not in the least. Was she proud she’d survived a dangerous ride on a runaway horse? He doubted the thought had crossed her mind. All she wanted to do was hit him as hard as she could. “I think I’d better hold on to you.”
She punched him in the chest, but she couldn’t draw back far enough to make the blows effective. “In the future stay as far away from me as you can.”
“Why are you so angry? You stayed on that horse when half the men I know would have bailed out or fallen off. You’re not hurt, and you certainly aren’t frightened. You’re a natural rider. Give yourself a week, and I doubt there’s any horse that could unseat you.”
“Save the flattery.” She punched him again. “I’m never going near a horse again.”
“I guess that means you’ll be driving Cassie’s wagon from now on.”
She punched him again. “It’s just like you to think of that.”
“Just doing what I’m paid for. Ethan will need his horse so he can help with the stock, look for game, or search for wood.”
“I can do that.”
“Not on foot.”
She stopped fighting. “You mean I can do all those things if I learn to ride a horse?”
“That’s not all, but—”
She didn’t give him a chance to finish. “Put me back on my horse.”
“What?”
“You’re not deaf. Help me catch my horse. I intend to ride the rest of the morning. If I haven’t learned to ride by then, I’ll ride this afternoon and every morning and afternoon until I am good enough.”
Colby took a moment to catch his breath. He hadn’t foreseen this turn of events. He doubted her father would allow her such free rein, but he wasn’t going to be the one to stop her. She had grit. The question was whether she understood how to use it.
It took several minutes before he was able to catch her horse, but each time he looked back at her sitting astride Shadow her gaze was locked on him.
“Are you sure you want to ride him?” Colby asked when he returned with her horse.
“How would I get back to the wagons otherwise?” When he didn’t answer immediately, her gaze narrowed. “You can’t believe I would be seen riding in your lap.”
That’s exactly what he had been hoping.
“Can you imagine what people would say? They would say it to my face, too. That’s one thing about family. Everybody feels free to disapprove of anything you do and to make certain you know it.”
Colby couldn’t imagine people feeling free to make his business theirs. “Let me help you into the saddle.” Determined to avoid a recurrence of his earlier reaction to touching her, Colby lifted her into the saddle and immediately stepped back. “Can you find the stirrup?”
Naomi settled herself in the saddle and hooked her leg around the pommel. “I can’t see it. How can I find it?”
Steeling himself against the inevitable, Colby placed her foot in the stirrup and backed away. “Is that okay?” Why did he sound out of breath? This was absurd. The woman didn’t even like him, yet he couldn’t touch her without his heart racing. He wasn’t sure what was going on, but he didn’t like it. He’d
acted like this with Elizabeth, but he’d been young and foolish then. A lot had changed since.
Naomi flashed a daredevil grin. “I’m just waiting on you.”
The cheekiness of it enabled him to regain his equilibrium. He swung into the saddle and turned to face her. “Is that a challenge?”
Her brash grin retreated until only a friendly smile remained. “Definitely not. Staying in the saddle when this horse went crazy was challenge enough. What happened?”
“Your horse was panicked by three wolves. I’m sure they were attracted by the remains of the buffalo we killed yesterday and have been following us hoping for more.”
“Would they have attacked my horse?”
“They can bring down a full-grown buffalo. I doubt a horse is much different.”
“I’ll feel a lot better when we catch up with everyone else. How do I make this horse go?” Her mount was cropping grass. “He won’t lift his head.”
He’d forgotten that he’d just settled her in the saddle when her horse ran off. She didn’t know the first thing about riding, yet she’d managed to stay in the saddle. She’d probably end up a better rider than anyone in her wagon train.
“Pull gently on the reins. If he doesn’t lift his head, pull a little harder.”
Responding to the first attempt, her mount raised its head, still chewing a mouthful of grass.
“You tug the left or right rein to change direction. To make him go faster, you can cluck to him, nudge him in the flank with your heel, shake the reins, or use the end of the reins to whip him on the flank.”
“Wouldn’t that make him mad?”
“No. He would run faster, but we’re not going to gallop today. I think a gentle canter would be best.”
She eyed him suspiciously. “That sounds like you’re trying to baby me.”
It amused Colby that she was determined not to be treated differently just because she was a woman. “Trotting can be very uncomfortable unless you know how to do it, and you’ve had enough galloping for one day. A canter is in between those two.”
To Have and to Hold (Cactus Creek Cowboys) Page 8
