A flash of anger gripped her. Why was this constant battle in her own mind her lot in life? Would it ever be over? She’d felt so much better in recent weeks, but there were times when her mind had other ideas and refused to let her be happy or relaxed.
Ben’s hand reached out and touched her wrist. His horse moved so close that his thigh brushed against Clara’s.
“Is everything all right?” The concerned look on his handsome face nearly brought tears to her eyes. She swallowed and forced a practiced smile, then nodded.
“Of course. Everything is wonderful. Thank you for bringing me out here today.” She couldn’t look at him. Saying that everything was fine was easier than trying to explain the turmoil inside her. It would only make things worse, and she’d have to explain why his mention of Yellowstone caused such panic in her.
“We’re almost to my place.” Ben removed his hand from the top of hers, leaving an instant feeling of loss.
Clara mentally shook her head. What was she thinking? Going with Ben to see his farm, along with his invitation to supper – although that had been more Sally’s idea – seemed like much more than a friendly outing. An unfamiliar feeling of happiness shoved aside the anxiety, but quickly lost the battle. If Ben wanted to court her, she had to tell him the truth, and that would cost her the only man she’d ever cared about.
Ben’s horse came to an abrupt halt a few silent minutes later. Clara’s mount stopped next to the other gelding without any signal from her.
“Here we are,” Ben announced.
Clara blinked. She glanced around. Other than a few broken fence poles, there was nothing here that resembled a farm. She’d squinted into the distance, but more tree-covered hills obstructed her view of anything but the vast grassland.
Ben must have seen the confusion on her face. He laughed. “We’re on my land, now,” he explained. “The house and buildings are just over that rise.” He nudged with his chin into the distance. He seemed nervous about something. Was he apprehensive that she wouldn’t like his home?
Clara smiled. It required less effort this time. “I can’t wait to see it. How can you stand to live among such beautiful scenery?”
Ben chuckled. “The scenery might be nice, but the rest of the place needs a lot of work.”
Minutes later, a house, outbuildings, and several fenced corrals came into view. Ben brought his horse to the front of the house and dismounted. He limped around Clara’s mount and raised his arms, reaching for her waist to help her dismount. He didn’t let go of her immediately after her feet touched the ground. His cane rested against her horse’s shoulder while he stood close to her. He didn’t seem to have any problem standing without the aid of the cane, but walking clearly gave him some trouble.
Clara lifted her hands off his shoulders. She inhaled a deep breath and stared up into his dark eyes. He smiled, and her heart began to flutter. This time, it wasn’t the precursor to one of her attacks. She stared up at him. The last stretch of the ride had given her time to think and calm her inner turmoil.
She’d never met a nicer man. Ben was kind, considerate, he had a sense of humor behind his serious and quiet exterior, and he was handsome to boot. Whenever he looked at her, his eyes shone with admiration.
Every time he’d come for a visit at the Mallorys, he’d looked at her with interest, as if he saw something desirable in her. For too many years, she’d been told she was worthless and ugly, and that no one would ever want her. She’d heard it so often, it had become her reality, yet in Ben’s presence, it was easy to forget her uncle’s words.
“Well, this is my farm.” Ben finally released his hold on her and took a step back, sweeping his arm in front of him.
He smiled, his eyes lingering on her, and cleared his throat. He reached for his cane, then took her hand, and led her to the house. Clara stiffened slightly at the unexpected gesture, then gave herself over to the wonderful feeling of Ben’s strong hand holding hers.
A tingling sensation moved through her palm and up her arm, and it felt nice. She shook off her negative thoughts that any moment, the dreaded fear and panic would manifest itself again. She took a deep breath and held her face into the breeze, then focused her mind on Ben, and the safe and secure feeling of his hand holding hers.
“I plan to raise a few horses. It’ll take a few years to get established, but I guess I’ve got nothing else but time.”
Clara listened intently as he showed her the house, and then the barns and the fields. The place was modest, not unlike Sally and Ethan’s farm, and it showed that Ben had put a lot of work into it. The porch had a fresh wooden railing, new shutters were on the windows, and shingles had been replaced on the roof.
Several new fences had been put up near the barn, and Ben had dug a new well. It was a nice place, and her mind wandered to what it might be like to live here, permanently. She quickly shook her head. Ben had made it clear that, in order to keep people from gossiping, he didn’t want her living on his farm. There was only one way she’d live here, and the possibility of that seemed too far-fetched to even dream about.
“It sounds as if you know a lot about horses.”
Ben chuckled. “I grew up on a horse farm in Kentucky. I guess you could say it’s in my blood.”
“You don’t miss it?”
They walked from the barn back to the horses that were waiting patiently tied to the porch rail, and Ben stopped to face her. A twinge of sadness appeared in his eyes.
“When I graduated from West Point, I was sent to Yellowstone National Park. The army was setting up a fort there to protect the area from poachers, and to keep law and order for the people visiting.” He paused, and a faraway look came over him. “I fell in love with the area, and I figured I’d be stationed there until they didn’t need me anymore, and then settle somewhere and raise horses.” He glanced down at his leg and smirked. “Fate had other plans for me, so here I am.”
Guilt washed over her as she listened to him. That familiar feeling of dread crept up inside her again. Because of her uncle and her cousin, his dreams had been destroyed. He had no idea that she’d been to Yellowstone, or that her uncle had shot him, or that she’d been the one to remove the bullet from his leg and cut away his britches to put flour on his burns. If he found out, that warm look in his eyes would turn cold as ice for sure.
“Is something the matter?”
Clara blinked, her eyes focusing on the man who stood in front of her, his face inches from hers.
“I’m so sorry for what happened to you,” she whispered. If she spoke any louder, her trembling voice would reveal her guilt. “Your dreams shattered like that.”
Ben shook his head. He chuckled. “As much as I would have liked to remain a soldier for a while longer, it clearly wasn’t meant to be. Sometimes one thing leads to something much better.” He straightened, and squeezed her hand. His eyes darkened and the tone of his voice lowered to a sensual rumble. “I wouldn’t have met you.”
Clara held his gaze. She forgot to breathe. Conflicting thoughts raced through her mind. He was right. They wouldn’t have met under different circumstances, and she would still be living with her relatives if it hadn’t been for Ben’s discharge from the army. At the same time, her family was to blame for what had happened to him.
“Are you having a feeling of panic, Clara?”
The look of concern in his eyes nearly brought tears to her own. He released her hand to wrap his fingers around her arm. His touch seeped through the fabric of her dress, warming her all over. She shook her head and pressed her lips together.
“No. No I’m fine.” It was the usual lie.
Ben leaned toward her again, taking a step closer. “Clara, I have a confession to make. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.” His hand came up, hesitated, then cupped the side of her face. Slowly, his thumb stroked along her jawline while his gaze drifted over her entire face, as if he tried to memorize every detail.
“I’ve been afraid to ma
ke my feelings known because of the way I thought you might react. The last thing I want to do is give you cause for worry or apprehension.”
Clara’s eyes locked on his. Her body reacted as if she was having an attack, but the accompanying fear wasn’t there. Her heart raced, a lump formed in her throat, preventing her from taking a deep breath, and a feeling of anticipation swelled in her.
“I’ve been thinking a lot about you, too,” she whispered, leaning her face into his touch. From the first time he’d held her in his arms to chase away her terror and panic, she’d thought of him. Ben was a safe haven. With him, nothing would happen to her, yet she was being selfish for keeping the truth from him. Once he found out, he’d hate her.
His face inched closer to hers. His gaze locked on her eyes as if searching for any kind of resistance or apprehension. Clara forced air into her lungs. She breathed in the scent of leather, horses, and something else that was unique to Ben. It was like a drug that subdued her and lulled her into a sense of peace and contentment. Overwhelming feelings rushed through her. The symptoms were the same as when she was in a state of panic, only this time, there was nothing to fear. Anticipation and longing for the unknown gripped her instead.
He wanted to kiss her. It was written in his eyes. Before she could think any more about it, he already lowered his head and touched his lips to hers. Clara stood stiffly for a moment, then her hands came up to rest against his chest.
Ben’s arm snaked around her waist, and he drew her closer, while at the same time he deepening the kiss. His lips were firm yet gentle against hers, and nothing else mattered at the moment except feeling loved and cherished in his arms. A new sensation built up inside her, much like when her panic began to rise, but this was the opposite. Instead of feeling cold inside, she was bathed in warmth.
She panted when Ben finally drew back and released her slightly.
“Maybe we should go,” he rasped. “I didn’t plan for that to happen, Clara.”
She smiled. It came easily for once, and wasn’t forced or false. “About as much as you planned to take me to supper in town?”
Ben leaned back, his eyes widening. A slow rumble erupted in his chest, which turned to laughter. “I will confess, it wasn’t my idea. Sally is much better at thinking of those kinds of details than me. I’m afraid I’ve lived on a remote army outpost too long to remember my manners.”
Clara stared at him, then laughed, too. Her heart was light for once, and there was no tension or tightness in her chest. Giddiness filled her instead of the familiar dread. It was an odd feeling, but it was wonderful. If only it would last. She swayed slightly, and Ben reached for her arm to steady her.
“I’m glad I can make you laugh, Clara.” Ben’s face turned sober. “Ever since I first saw you, I was hoping to make you laugh someday.”
His hand came up to caress her cheek again. “I almost want to thank the men who left me to die, so I could meet my real-life guardian angel.”
Chapter 13
Ben entered Wilkes’ mercantile and hobbled to the counter. The proprietor glanced up from writing in his ledger and smiled.
“Good morning. What can I do for you, Ben?”
Ben handed him the list of supplies he’d written out earlier. “Just a few dry goods today.”
As he glanced around the store, his gaze fell to the fabric table prominently displayed in the middle of room. He turned away from the counter to take a closer look. A lavender gingham caught his eye. It was easy to imagine Clara in a dress that color. It would go well with her golden hair and blue eyes.
Clara. Just thinking about her brought a smile to his face, and a rush of warmth enveloped his insides. By now, it was common knowledge in town that Clara Youngblood, who’d been a traveling peddler, was a houseguest at the Mallory Farm, and that Ben Ferguson was courting her. Enough people had seen them together in town a couple weeks ago, eating supper at the hotel’s restaurant. No doubt Sally had confirmed it with several of the ladies in town.
“How’s the farm coming along?” Wilkes had his back turned to him and glanced over his shoulder as he reached for a sack of salt on one of his shelves.
“Coming along fine.” Ben fingered the soft fabric.
“You’ll be bringing up some horses from Kentucky soon, then, I suppose?”
“Next spring. Trace Hawley has some mares he’s willing to sell me, and I’ll most likely bring up some stock from Kentucky.”
“No doubt they’ll be fine animals. You’re all set to settle down permanently in the valley. A good farm, and perhaps a wife and kids someday.”
Ben glanced up to see Wilkes smiling at him. The owner of the mercantile and his wife, along with some of the other women in town, had perfected the art of nosing around in other people’s business.
He suppressed his smile. It was difficult to conceal his happiness much longer. Last evening, they’d strolled along the barns and corrals at Sally and Ethan’s place after supper. He’d reached for her hand, then pulled her into an embrace and kissed her.
Clara had returned his kiss before backing away from him. “What if Sally or Ethan see us?”
He’d chuckled. “What if they do? I think by now they know that I’m courting you, and I’m sure they know I’ve kissed you a time or two.”
Since meeting Clara and getting to know her better, he’d thought less and less about tracking down the poachers who had crippled him, and more about the kind of life he wanted from hereon. While he’d still had one or two nightmares that had left him lying awake, drenched in sweat, they had certainly lessened. All it took to chase away those demons was thinking about Clara, her soft and hesitant smile, and the tender way in which she kissed him.
He couldn’t afford to let the past haunt him. He had a lot to live for, and he wanted to take care of Clara. Given time and understanding, she might someday be rid of her own terrifying affliction. She already seemed so much happier whenever he was with her. He would be the man she needed to lean on during her bouts with uncontrollable dread, and there was hope that one day she’d be free of her irrational thoughts and fears.
Ben ignored Wilkes’ comment. If all went according to his plan, he’d be asking Clara to marry him soon, but Wilkes didn’t need to know that. More than likely, if he let his intentions slip to this man, she’d hear it from someone in town before he had the chance to ask her himself. He already had the perfect place and time in mind where he wanted to ask her. Ben picked up the bolt of fabric and brought it to the counter.
“I’ll take enough of this to make a lady’s dress.”
Wilkes’ smile increased, and he nodded knowingly. “My wife ordered some new patterns straight from St. Louis. Do you think Miss Youngblood might be interested in those?”
Ben shrugged. Clara was a good seamstress. Whether she wanted patterns for a dress or not was up to her. He had no experience with these things.
“I’ll let her know and she can come in and look at them.”
Wilkes measured and cut the gingham, wrapped it in brown paper, then set it with the rest of Ben’s purchases. Ben reached for the items when Wilkes ducked behind the counter.
“Oh, I almost forgot, Ben.” He straightened, and held up a small, folded piece of white linen.
“Sally Mallory was in the store the other day, and Clara Youngblood was with her. Quiet girl, but I suppose that’s better sometimes than a woman that’ll talk your ears off.” He chuckled at his own joke.
Ben eyed the handkerchief, which was embroidered with flowers. He looked at Wilkes, raising his brows expectantly. What did this have to do with Sally and Clara’s shopping?
“I think Miss Youngblood dropped this. I was hoping you could take it to her and find out for sure that it’s hers, you know, since I imagine you’ll be heading to the Mallory place sooner or later.”
Ben set down his packages and took the handkerchief from him. “I’ll ask if it belongs to her and bring it back if it doesn’t.”
He glanced at it, and a
t the intricate flowers. Something about the pattern seemed vaguely familiar. The lettering stitched in the corner caught his eye.
C-A-Y
His heart slammed against his ribs. He blinked, and something jabbed him in the gut. It couldn’t be, could it? He shook his head. C-A-Y . . . C-Y . . . Clara Youngblood. His guardian angel? She had been real, after all. All this time, he’d jokingly referred to Clara as the woman from his imagination, the one who’d saved his life. It really had been Clara.
Ben mentally shook his head. How was that possible? Several linens with the exact same embroidery and letters were stashed away in the top drawer of his dresser in his bedroom. They’d been wrapped around his leg as a bandage to cover his bullet wound and burns. Whenever sleep had evaded him, and the panic had threatened to take hold during his recovery at Fort Yellowstone, he’d reached for those pieces of cloth and held them tight.
There was no explanation other than they belonged to Clara. But how? How was it possible that she had been there, and why hadn’t she said anything to him? Surely, she would have recognized him. Whenever he’d spoken of Yellowstone, she hadn’t said a word that she’d ever been there. If she’d been the one to save his life, she would also know who had shot him and left him to die.
“Ben, are you all right?” Wilkes leaned over the counter and stared at him with wide eyes. The merchant’s forehead was scrunched, leaving deep furrows in his forehead. “Something bothering you?”
Ben cleared his throat and blinked. He tore his eyes off the handkerchief he held in his hand.
“Everything’s fine,” he answered absently. The sudden urge gripped him to leave the store and head out to the Mallory Farm. He needed to talk to Clara and find out what was going on.
Confusion marred his thinking. Why had she kept this secret from him? A twinge of annoyance began to build, but it quickly vanished. Did he even need to ask such a question? Clara, who was consumed by terror and fear at the slightest provocation, would only think the worst.
In His Thoughts Page 10
