High Plains Wife. Jillian Hart

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      Nick went on, unaware of the blow he’d dealt. “You turned down my offer to train your ox, and so I thought you might appreciate more business.”

      “You thought?” It was amazing the thoughts—or lack of them—that went on in men’s heads.

      “I was just trying to be nice, Mariah. I should have known you wouldn’t want my business. No hard feelings. Hope you have a real good evening.”

      “Wait, I—” A thousand different emotions warred for words, but she didn’t give in to the anger or the hurt.

      What was the point? Times were hard, and she could lower her pride. Making a living was important, and she would always be a spinster. No doubt about that. It looked as though nothing could change it.

      She straightened her spine, stood on her own two feet and approached the porch rail. “I charge more than Mrs. Gunderson, but I iron and she doesn’t. I’ll put you on Monday afternoon delivery. Will that be all right?”

      “No complaints.” He appeared relieved. “That settles it, then. Good evening to you.” His smile was as slow and smooth as pure maple sugar.

      Desire swept over her as she watched him go. The polish on his surrey reflecting a soft purple hue in the light of the setting sun.

      She’d always held a softness for Nick. She couldn’t deny it. It would be hard watching him tonight as he danced with other women. Younger women. Prettier women. Harder still to do his laundry and deliver it punctually every week, while he courted and married a more suitable bride.

      She tucked away her disappointment and hurried inside. The pies were cool enough to pack into her last basket. The Ladies’ Aid was waiting. She had important work to do and didn’t have the time for wasting on thoughts of Nick Gray. Or her regrets.

       Chapter Three

       “Y ou blew it, brother,” Will commented from the back seat. “I didn’t think I’d live to see the day when the perfect son, Nicholas Gray, would make a mistake of this magnitude.”

      “You think I should have went with Mrs. Gunderson?” Try as he might, Nick would never understand his younger brother. He gave the reins a snap when the horses slowed on the busy main street.

      “It isn’t about the laundry, man. The woman thought you were going to ask her to the dance.”

      “Mariah? Don’t be ridiculous.” Mariah was a practical woman. Sensible. She wasn’t given to romantic foolishness, and he knew that from firsthand experience. “Mariah wouldn’t have me if I begged her.”

      “I wouldn’t be so danged sure. You didn’t see the big, bright moon eyes she was giving you?”

      All he’d noticed was the way she’d been standoffish, leaning against the door, more beautiful than the day they’d met. “Moon eyes? Mariah?” The sky had a better chance of falling to earth.

      “I’m telling the God’s truth.”

      “Is that so? Then why hasn’t a lightning bolt struck the back seat of my buggy?”

      “It isn’t gonna. I mean it. You were bumbling around saying things like ‘I kept thinking about you’ and ‘You look pretty.’ What was she bound to think?”

      Maybe Will did have a point. But this was Mariah they were talking about. “She wants to be a spinster. She tells anyone who asks.”

      “When a man tells a woman that he’s been thinking about her and shows up at her place right before the big town happenings, she expects an invitation to the dance. Heck, brother, you even had me thinking you were gonna ask her.”

      The reins slipped between Nick’s fingers. No. How could it be? Mariah hadn’t wanted him ten years ago, at least her father hadn’t. In the years that passed, she hadn’t so much as given him a polite greeting in public. She’d just march past him on the street as if he didn’t exist. As if he were dead and buried to her.

      No, Will couldn’t be right.

      The schoolhouse came into sight, so he reined in the horses and parked the surrey. Folks were everywhere. His neighbor called out a greeting across the busy crowd. Nick waved back, taking stock.

      Looked like the ranchers were gathering in the shade, smoking and discussing wheat prices. They’d fallen again. Not good news for the local ranchers. He set the brake before climbing to the ground. Headed toward the grounds with his brother in tow.

      A pretty young woman cut in front of them, carrying a wrapped platter balanced just so, and damned if Will didn’t look his fill as she sauntered up to the schoolhouse steps.

      Nick knew trouble when he saw it. “You behave yourself with the ladies. No kisses in the moonlight. I don’t want some angry papa coming after you with a shotgun.”

      “Aw, it ain’t my fault. I sometimes get carried away by a woman’s beauty and lose all sense. You’re a man. You’ve got to know how that is.”

      Only too well. “It’s called willpower. Use it. That’s my advice.”

      “With that outlook, you’re never going to find a new wife.”

      Nick ignored the jesting. He was no fool. He wasn’t going to get trapped into marriage a second time. He’d keep his male needs under steely control. If he chose to wed again he’d choose a woman using logic and not his…

      Mariah Scott caught his eye. Could anyone explain to him why his gaze shot straight to her? There had to be fifty women milling around, carrying baskets and platters from their wagons to the schoolhouse. Why couldn’t he notice one of them? Why didn’t his gaze stray to their bosoms?

      He kept on walking. The other ranchers had gathered near to a keg of homemade ale that smelled like heaven on the breeze.

      “Been waitin’ for you, Gray.” Al Ludgrin thrust a foaming tankard in Nick’s direction.

      “Just what I need.” No truer words had ever been spoken. Nodding in greeting to the other ranchers, young and old, he took a sip and noticed Mariah again.

      She was climbing down from her wagon, dressed all in black. The high proud curve of her bosom sure did look fine. Desire stirred in him. No doubt about it—she was surely a finely made woman, hard and tough, true, but soft where it mattered.

      Alone, she tethered her ox. Alone, she lifted two heavy-looking baskets from the floor of her small wagon. Had she always looked that sad?

      He didn’t know, but it was on her face plain enough for anyone to see. The straight line of her mouth, down-turned in the corners. The town’s formidable spinster wove her way through the crowd of children playing, a tall and slim shadow touched by the last rays of the setting sun.

      Nick took a long pull from the tankard. The ale was bracing, just shy of bitter, but not strong enough to make him forget the troubled feeling churning in his guts.

      Mariah squeezed between the table rows in the crowded schoolhouse when she saw Rayna Ludgrin bringing a fresh pot of coffee. Finally! They were sending in the reinforcements. She was dead СКАЧАТЬ