by Natalie Dean
Shaking her head in frustration at herself, Adeline picked up a rock and skipped it across the bubbling water.
“Nice aim there,” a voice said behind her.
She jerked around, surprised to have company. When she saw who it was, she was even more surprised.
“Mr. Swinney.”
“Afternoon,” he said, dipping his hat. “I see you found my favorite after-church spot.”
“You come here too? I’ve never seen you here.” She’d found the spot a few weeks prior and had made it an after-church habit.
He stepped forward, plunking down on the bank next to her but not too close. As he proceeded to pull off his shoes, she felt the blush creep up her neck at the sight of his bare legs.
“It’s been a while since I’ve had the freedom to come down here. Been so busy up at the ranch, but I do fancy quiet time to think after the Sunday message.”
She could relate but was his comment about quiet time a hidden jab at her presence?
“I feel the same way,” she said, her gaze trailing to the other side of the creek and then back.
They sat in silence for a time, the only sounds that of the bubbling brook and the occasional chirp of a bird. It was peacefulness personified, and Adeline almost forgot that she had company until he spoke up again.
“What’s your story, Miss Miller?” he asked, giving her a side glance.
“My…story?” She shook her head. He wanted to get to know her now?
“Yeah. We’ve all got one. Me, the rancher. You, the…what? Bride? Is that it?”
The way he said it made her send him a sharp glance. “It? Do you think there’s nothing more to me or my character than becoming a bride?”
“I didn’t say that.” He hunched his shoulders. “I’m just…curious.”
He looked away quickly, and for a brief moment, Adeline had a spike of hope. Curious, hum?
“Well, if you must know, it has not always been my aspiration to be a bride. In fact, I was mostly opposed to it and all but forced into coming to the West.”
“Really?” Shock registered on his handsome features.
“Yes. I lived in Richmond, Virginia and have wonderful parents, two sisters—both married—and enjoyed an active and fulfilled life.” Odd how she was now speaking her thoughts from mere minutes ago.
“So…why go to a matchmaker? There had to be plenty of fellas back East looking for a pretty girl.”
Pretty? She swallowed and looked away. Had he just called her pretty?
“I wasn’t exactly interested in suitors…to my parents’ chagrin.”
“Why not?”
Now was the time. She could tell him about her love of writing. She could share with him one of her deepest desires. But what would he think of it? Or her dream?
“I had other things to occupy my time.”
“What? Buying dresses and gossip?” He laughed and tossed a large rock into the center of the brook. It landed with a plunk and a splash that splattered the front of her dress. He had the decency to look as though he felt bad about getting her wet. “Sorry.”
“Actually,” she said, meeting his gaze with a pointed one of her own. “I wrote a column for the local newspaper. I had aspirations to become a journalist, or to at least use my writing for good.”
“A…journalist?” He looked at her as if she’d spouted another head.
“Yes. I am very passionate about writing and found investigating stories and their veracity to be a highly entertaining endeavor and—”
“Can a woman even do that?”
His words, and the following laugh, took the breath from her and her eyes widened to the size of saucers. “Can…a woman…what do you think? That no woman can think for herself? Well, Mr. Swinney,” she said, jumping to her feet, “I can see that all the time you’ve spent around cattle has affected not only your mind, but your manners. Good day.”
She spun on her heel, tears prickling her eyes.
“Oh, come on now,” he said. She heard him splash around to get off the ground, the sound of his bare feet slapping the mud. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Then,” she said, spinning to face him, “how did you mean it?”
She was breathing hard when she turned to look up at him only to realize he’d slid to a stop closer to her than she’d anticipated. They were caught in the moment, eyes glued to eyes, bodies nearly touching, breaths comingled between them.
“I—” he began. Then swallowed. Then started again. “I just meant that I didn’t think women could be journalists. That’s all.”
“Women are adequately prepared to do many things men don’t think them capable of. Some men understand that. I’m sorry to see you are one of the many who do not.”
And with that, she left him standing there, the masculine scent of strong soap tingling her nostrils as she sucked in another breath. And then another. She had to get him out of her mind. Though, the way he’d stood so close to her, his hair falling over his forehead and those mysterious gray eyes boring into hers, she’d almost felt something from him.
She had likely invented it. He clearly had no respect for her or women in general. How had she made the mistake of thinking he was the man for her?
Harley watched Adeline’s lithe frame tromp up the path from the river. He would have gone after her again, but he’d left his boots, and soon the wet mud would turn to sharp rocks on the path. No sense bruising up his feet just to set some woman’s mind at ease.
Then again, she wasn’t just some woman, was she?
He fisted his hands as he made his way back to his boots, nearly sliding to his bottom a few times. He rinsed his feet in the water and pulled on his boots, yanking his pant legs down. When he stood, he surveyed one of his favorite spots. Was it ruined now that this petty argument had happened here?
Then he remembered the way the light had sparkled off of Adeline’s hair and the indignant look she’d worn when he asked her about just being a bride. He hadn’t meant to rile her, but he had to admit she was cute when she was fired up.
Cute and pretty.
He shook his head. Nope, he was not going there.
He’d come to his favorite spot for some peace and quiet. He’d come to think about life and the ranch and…to not think about Adeline Miller. Imagine his surprise when the subject of his thoughts sat on the bank right in front of him. He’d have turned around, but something drew his steps forward. What could a little conversation hurt?
Apparently, a lot. He’d been surprised by her admission of contentment working as a journalist, or whatever it was she’d done. He didn’t think women were like that. Didn’t they all just want to get married and have babies? Then again, what she’d said was true—women were capable of a lot more than men gave them credit for. He’d seen the strength in his own mother, getting up before the sun, working all day, staying up late to darn socks and shirts. She’d been a powerhouse, and she’d had a passion too.
He smiled now as he made his way up the path toward the bluff overlooking the town. His mother had loved to read. It had been her passion first and foremost, though most of her life had been dedicated to her work on the ranch and to him. He’d often caught her sitting on the back porch in the early evenings with a novel between her hands. Her chores were always done, and supper was always on time, but he knew she would be on the back porch the moment after the day was done to catch the fading rays of the sun while immersed in her book.
He sighed, feeling shame weigh down his shoulders. He shouldn’t have reacted the way he did to Adeline’s passion.
Grimacing, he crested the hill and placed his hands on his hips, surveying the town just down the sloping hill. He could just make out her blond head turning the corner onto the main street.
He ground his jaw and set down the hill toward where he’d left his horse. This was foolishness; he felt bad for saying what he had but was it now going to stick with him for the rest of the day? He had chores to get back to and things to take car
e of on the ranch.
And yet, part of him wanted to go after the young woman he’d offended and apologize to her. As if stating a fact had somehow been the worst thing he could have done. He rolled his eyes, unlooping the reins from the hitching post, and climbed onto his horse. He turned the mount firmly away from the Redburn house and set off for his ranch.
Yes, he felt bad, and perhaps he’d say so if he saw her again. Maybe.
Still, he had ranch business, and no woman would get in the way of that.
Chapter 7
Can a woman even do that?
Even now, walking toward town with a basket over her arm and list of groceries to get, Adeline steamed from Harley’s words and subsequent laugh. How dare he judge what a woman could and couldn’t do, as if writing something of importance was too great a task for the female mind.
She passed by a young woman from town and only after she’d passed her did she realize she hadn’t returned the kind greeting.
Harley was taking over her thoughts—and not in a good way. She had to reclaim them. Refocus on what was truly important. Aside from picking out the right items while shopping, finding another potential for a husband was rapidly rising to the top of the list.
She hadn’t yet told Chance that she was open to that, but she would. Soon.
It was just…
Pretty.
The word lodged in her mind and wouldn’t let go. Like a stinging nettle gripping your skirt, she couldn’t detach the word. He thought her pretty, and he had sat with her at the creek for quite some time before she’d stormed off. Perhaps she should have stayed to unearth what his true feelings were in regard to women, but she’d judged him rather harshly for what he had said.
Moving toward the step up onto the boardwalk, Adeline picked up her skirt and raised the hem an acceptable height to safely maneuver the stairs. Once she was off of the dusty ground, she refocused her thoughts to her shopping list and away from Harley Swinney.
“Good morning, Miss Miller,” the grocer said.
She smiled toward him and set off to pick out a few fabrics for one of the young women to make new dresses for some of the girls. Not everyone had the opportunity—nor the luxury—to have their wardrobes filled with nice dresses as Adeline did.
While she hadn’t been compensated much by the paper, she did have a bit of her own spending money, and she’d offered to buy the fabric for the ladies. Now, seeing the selection, she allowed her creativity to take over and lost herself in the process.
When she’d indicated what she wanted, she began to search for a few other items in the shop when, upon turning around, she nearly ran into a tall figure behind her.
“Oh, my,” she said, stepping back, hand to her collar bone. “My apologies.” Her eyes met those of the young man from Harley’s ranch.
“Not at all, I’m afraid I’m at fault.” He whisked the hat from his head and pressed it against his chest in an overly dramatic way. “Can you ever forgive me, Miss…?”
It was a coy way of finding out her name, but she allowed it. “Miss Miller,” she said with a smile.
“Ah, Miss Miller. Lovely to see you again. We never did formally introduce ourselves at the ranch. Name’s Earl Peters. Though I know rules dictate we continue on in this Miss this and Mr. that, could I convince you to call me Earl?”
His forthrightness surprised her, but she wasn’t put off by it. “I suppose I could if you’d agree to call me Adeline.”
“With such a lovely name as that, how could I refuse?”
This man, obviously a ranch hand on the Swinney Ranch, had audacious manners and a smile to match.
“Thank you,” she demurred.
“And what is it that I have caught you doing today? Shopping?”
She nodded. “Yes. I had to pick up a few things.”
“For your…husband?”
She laughed. He was fishing for information in a very bold way, and he knew it.
“For the house where I am staying. Mr. Redburn’s home.”
“I don’t believe I know it.”
“He, uh,” she knew this might come across sounding odd, “he took in his aunt’s clients when she passed. She was a matchmaker.”
“Matchmaker?” Earl’s eyebrows rose. “Are you to be…matched?”
“I am,” she said, but felt a rush of heat to her cheeks. Why it should bother her telling him that she was to be married made no sense. Though the thought of admitting to him that she had been intended to marry his boss made the heat intensify.
“Soon?” he asked.
“Not that I know of.”
“Good.” There was that smile again. “I believe we met, though briefly, at the ranch I work at. Do you have business with Mr. Swinney?”
“Of a sort,” she admitted. “A payment on some meat the house bought.”
“I see.”
“I didn’t see you at church on Sunday, though I did see Mr. Swinney and his other hands.” It wasn’t so much a judgment as it was her curiosity getting the best of her.
“I was away visiting family, though if I’d known I’d see you there, I may have skipped going to see my mother.”
She laughed, the sound light and slightly flirtatious. “Since you skipped church to visit your mother, you are forgiven.”
“Those words area balm to my heart.” He flashed her an utterly roguish grin, and she found she had to dip her eyes from the intensity of his gaze.
“Sadly, Adeline, I must say goodbye. Boss sent me here to pick up an order, and I don’t think talking with a beautiful woman would incline his kindness to me upon being late.”
“I understand,” she said, thinking that his boss would certainly not understand that seeing as how his view of women was so poor. “It was nice to meet you, officially.”
“The pleasure was all mine.” He bent toward her in a silly type of bow that was wholly charming and then turned to leave. Right before he got to the door, he turned to her, that smile still in place. “Perhaps—should God smile upon me—we’ll meet again.” Then he was gone.
Adeline fanned her face with the shopping list. Handsome, confident boarding on cocky, and a flirt. It was obvious to Adeline that Earl Peters was dangerous, but part of her didn’t mind his attention one bit. At least there was one man in this town who wasn’t playing hard to get.
Harley ground his teeth. This was a foolish idea, though he was positive that no one would see through his ruse. At least, he wanted to be positive they wouldn’t. Instead, he was only mildly certain.
He glanced behind him at the meat in the bed of the wagon. Would Chance buy his excuse that he’d assumed it was a bi-weekly order? It was a little thin, he’d admit that, but Harley had decided that he couldn’t go on thinking he’d insulted Adeline.
Whether he had to leave the meat and dash, so she’d bring him the check or if he had to ask Chance to see her, he was going to apologize. It was thoughts of his mother that had brought him to this place, remembering that she would have insisted he go apologize and make things right.
That and the reality that he could not get the blond woman out of his mind. He hoped that, once he apologized, he could rest easy knowing she was no longer upset with him. That and, should he run into her again, he wouldn’t be having this conversation on the street. He cringed at that idea as he pulled his horse to a stop outside of the Redburn house.
Climbing down, he made his way around back and knocked on the kitchen door. As he’d expected, Beans was there. “Got a delivery for Chance.”
“Ya…do?” Beans looked confused.
“Yep. In the wagon.”
The older man looked at him then shrugged as if to say, What do I know? I’m just the cook.
Then Harley made his way to the front of the house again and knocked. It took almost a minute before he heard footsteps coming toward the door. When it swung inward, Harley almost grinned to see it was Adeline. He managed to hold it together, offering her a quick nod.
“Miss Miller.�
�
“Mr. Swinney,” she said, her displeasure at seeing him nearly tangible.
“May I come in for a moment?”
“Mr. Redburn is in a meeting with a client, but he should be out soon. You can wait in the sitting room.”
“Thank you.” He followed her in and then turned to face her. “I—I was wondering if I could talk to you for a minute as well.”
She registered surprise but tried to hide it as quickly as it had appeared “Yes?” Her coldness wasn’t shocking but what was startling was how pretty she looked in the morning light.
Harley blinked. He needed to snap out of this, do what he came for, and leave.
“I’m sorry.” He blurted the words and then cringed.
“You’re…sorry?” Her look was at once suspicious and curious.
“Yeah. About the other day. I…you shared something that was important to you, and I made fun of it. I didn’t mean to, mind you. I was just surprised is all. But I’ve been feeling really bad about it and…” He looked down, twisting his hat in his hands. “I just wanted to make it right.”
At her silence, he finally forced himself to look up. Her gaze registered shock as well as the hint of a smile.
“Mr. Swinney, did you just apologize to me?” she said.
His expression soured in a good-natured way. “Come on now. Give a man a break.”
“I’ll do no such thing,” she said, raising her chin. “Say again how wrong you were?”
Now he laughed, the sound full and bold. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? For me to say I was wrong?”
“It wouldn’t hurt. In fact, it would go well toward me forgiving you.”
“You mean you don’t forgive me already?” The light teasing made his chest swell with relief.
“I suppose it is the Christian thing to do.”
“That it is,” he reminded her.
“Fine,” she said, placing her hands on her thin waist. “I suppose I do forgive you.”
“I’m a happier man because of it,” he said, resting his hand on his chest as if he felt relief.
They stood there, amused expressions locked in a good-natured gaze until the full weight of her deep blue eyes penetrated the humor and ran past the wall of defense he’d erected.
