The Express Rider's Lady. Stacy HenrieЧитать онлайн книгу.
Amos glanced over at her and chuckled. “You want me to wake her?”
An unfamiliar twinge of protectiveness rippled through Myles, then faded. “No, I will.” He released Elijah into the sky to hunt.
“I’ll go explain our situation to the owners,” Amos said, dismounting. “See how much they’ll charge for room and board for the night.”
Myles nodded and climbed off his horse. Taking the reins of both his and Amos’s animals in hand, he approached Delsie. “Miss Radford,” he called quietly so as not to startle her. “We’re here, at Liberty Farm. You can get down now.”
When she remained still, he crossed to her side and gave her arm a gentle shake. “Miss Radford?”
At his touch, her chin rose and her eyelids blinked open. She stared in confusion at the yard around them and the still-bright sky of the summer evening, then down at Myles. Her blue eyes lit with recognition and a smile angled one side of her lips. “Did I fall asleep?”
That smile, combined with the soft expression on her face and the way her hair had come loose in places beneath her hat, sent a jolt of feeling through him. Watch it, Myles, he warned himself. Money and a pretty face only lead to trouble.
“We need to get the horses in the stable,” he replied in a slightly gruff tone. “I’ll help you down.”
She complied, swinging her skirt over the side of the mare and allowing Myles to help her to the ground. Once her feet struck the dirt, she peered up at him, her lips parted as if to speak, but instead she remained silent. The open, earnest look on her face matched the one she’d worn earlier on the prairie after he’d rescued her. Awareness of her, both then and now, along with their close proximity, quickened his pulse and dulled the warning still ringing in his mind.
A strange terror had seized him as he’d watched Delsie and her horse burst from the trees and go charging at reckless speed over the plains. He kept imagining her being thrown and injured. His heart had beaten with as much fear as adrenaline when he’d jumped on his own steed and gone after her. Thankfully, he’d reached her in time, especially after hearing how close she’d come to leaping off.
Why should he care that much for a complete stranger, though? He mentally shook his head. Maybe stranger wasn’t the right word anymore—not after spending two full days together. He’d told himself he’d saved her today out of human decency and the money she’d promised to give him at their journey’s end. And yet, his logical reasoning didn’t explain the bizarre need growing inside him to look after her. Though truth be told, there were moments when he wondered if she needed his protection at all.
A smile curved his mouth at the thought. This tiny woman, regarding him solemnly, had the courage of a hundred trained soldiers. She hadn’t let out a single scream as her mare had spirited her away or fallen into uncontrollable sobs afterward. Myles couldn’t help but think if it had been Cynthia in that situation things would have gone much differently.
“What are you smiling about?”
Delsie’s innocent question broke whatever trance he’d been under. Myles stepped away from her and added her horse’s reins to the others in his grip.
“Nothin’,” he said over his shoulder as he walked toward the stable. “Amos is inside the house. You can join him in there.”
He didn’t wait to see if she’d listen or not. Instead he entered the structure through the open doors. The smell of hay and horses greeted him with all the familiarity and comfort of a friend. Memories of working with his stepfather at the livery stable rushed over him, clearing his mind of a certain dark-haired beauty.
As a young child, he’d trailed Charles everywhere around the spacious barn, doing the small jobs he was given. Myles had loved looking at the horses, feeding them, riding them when he could, even mucking their stalls. His stepfather had taught him to respect the power inherent in such creatures but also their fear and stubbornness.
There were other lessons Charles had imparted to him, ones he’d largely ignored since his stepfather’s death. Things like looking for God’s hand in his life or keeping his heart open and receptive to God’s will. His jaw hardened at the turn of his thoughts. God didn’t care any more for him than Cynthia had.
“Howdy, stranger,” a young man called out to him from the other end of the stable. He held a pitchfork in one hand.
“Evening.” Myles stopped the horses and quickly explained they were passing through and would pay to have the horses cared for tonight.
The boy, for he couldn’t be more than fourteen or fifteen, agreed to feed and groom the animals, if it was all right with the station owners. “For now, put them in those empty stalls.”
Myles did so as Amos appeared. “Everything’s taken care of,” the older man said. “For us and the horses.”
“Where’s Delsie?” Myles kept his voice devoid of interest.
“Inside, starting on supper. You coming?”
He wasn’t ready to be near her again, not until he had a stronghold on this growing attraction for her. Eying the three horses, Myles shook his head. “No, go ahead. I’ll help settle them in.”
Amos studied him for a moment, while Myles fought to keep his expression impassive. Finally his friend shrugged. “We’ll try to save you some.” With that he left the barn.
The young stable hand offered to help, but Myles encouraged him to join the others inside. He wanted the comfortable solace of a quiet barn, with no one else around except the beasts in the stalls.
Once the boy showed him where the tack and feed were located, he started in on grooming Amos’s horse. He ran the brush down its chestnut-colored sides, talking soothingly as he did so. When it gleamed as fresh and new as a colt, he brought the beast some hay, then started in on his horse next.
Soon his thoughts moved back to Delsie. That was the trouble with doing something so familiar—his hands stayed busy but his mind didn’t.
He had to remind himself, hourly if needed, that this journey to California was nothing more than a business arrangement. Acting on any possible attraction he felt for Delsie would be entirely futile. Her father, like Cynthia’s, wasn’t likely to approve of any interest in someone as poor and unconnected as Myles. Besides, a life out here in the West, with him or any other horseman or farmer, would likely drain her of whatever vitality and beauty she currently possessed. His life was about survival and weathering hardship, not choosing whom to invite for tea or which social engagement to attend on the weekend.
“Business,” he muttered to himself, causing the steed’s ears to flick backward. Myles reached out and ran a hand down its nose. “That’s all it’ll ever be.” A measure of relief filled him now that he’d gotten his head in the right place. But the tiniest sliver of disappointment cut through him all the same.
* * *
Delsie slipped inside the stable. Though she was growing more accustomed to the smell, the trapped heat and scent of manure still had the power to make her wrinkle her nose in protest. Down the line of occupied stalls, she caught sight of Myles standing next to his horse.
“You missed supper,” she said as she walked toward him.
He flinched as though struck, but he didn’t glance at her. “I thought I’d see to the animals first.”
Guilt trickled through her at his explanation. She’d been half-asleep when they’d arrived and had momentarily forgotten about the horses.
Delsie came to a stop beside the stall where he stood. Tentatively she lifted her hand to the steed and let it smell her.
“Where’d you learn to do that?” Myles asked, his voice bordering on sharpness.
She pulled her hand back. “Is that wrong?”
He’d removed his hat, giving her a full