Marrying the Major. Victoria Bylin

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      Just as Tristan hoped, the two of them quickly developed an easy rapport. Thirty minutes later, a packhorse was bearing all the women’s possessions.

      The time had come to mount up. Tristan leveraged to his feet and offered Bessie his hand. Together they ambled to the horses where Jon and Caroline were standing in front of Grandma. Jon was stroking the horse’s nose, but it was the woman at his side who needed comforting. Looking tentative, she raised her hand to pet the horse.

      Surprised, Grandma raised her head. Jon controlled her, but no one was there to control Caroline. She skittered away like a leaf in the wind.

      The terror in her eyes reminded Tristan of Dora and how she came to him in tears after Molly’s death. Dora expected people to help her. Caroline clearly had no such hope. She was staring at Grandma as if she were looking at a mountain. He felt sorry for her, but she had to get on the horse.

      Jon motioned to Bessie. “Let me help you up first.”

      Leaning on Tristan’s arm, Bessie limped to Jon’s side, gripped the horn and put her good foot in the stirrup. With Jon’s help, she landed gracefully in the saddle. Grandma didn’t mind at all.

      Jon looked at Caroline. “Are you ready?”

      She looked close to tears, but she marched back to the horse like a soldier facing his second battle, the one where experience replaced ignorance and a man discovered his true mettle. Looking at her, Tristan wondered if she’d been thrown before. He could understand her reluctance to try again. He’d felt that way about love after Louisa rejected him.

      Molly had mended that hole in his heart. It had threatened to open again with her passing, but she’d been adamant with him.

       Don’t you dare leave our children without a mother! I want you to marry again.

      He’d made the promise, but he’d done it halfheartedly. He would give his children a mother, but she’d be Jon’s bride, not his. Never his. The malaria had seen to that.

      He studied Caroline as she listened to Jon, noting the tilt of her chin and the way she held her shoulders. Her demeanor struck a chord of admiration. So did the way she swung up behind her sister in a flurry of petticoats and courage. When she rewarded Jon with a quiet thank-you, Tristan felt a surge of jealousy. Jon had his health. He had a future, and if the woman’s smile was any indication, he’d have a wife as Tristan hoped and now envied.

      Annoyed with himself, he lifted Cairo’s reins from a tree and swung into the saddle as if he were a healthy man and not a feverish weakling. Frowning, he called to Jon. “Let’s go.”

      He led the way, keeping the pace slow for the ladies but itching to nudge Cairo into a run. He wanted to leave his weakness behind—the illness, his worries—but he couldn’t. All he could do was ride at a leisurely pace, listening to a pretty woman laugh at Jon’s banter. The pleasantries should have given Tristan comfort. Instead he had to grit his teeth against the urge to one-up Jon with stories of his own.

      For two hours he said nothing. When they arrived at the downed bridge, he turned to look at the women. Bessie had a steady way about her, but Caroline went chalk-white at the sight of the trail zigzagging down the canyon wall. Without a word, he led the way on Cairo with Grandma following and Jon at the rear with the second packhorse in tow. He could hear Caroline’s unsteady breathing, but she didn’t utter a word.

      When they reached the water’s edge, Tristan turned again to look at the women. Bessie had the stalwart expression of a veteran soldier. He suspected she’d experienced more difficult challenges than crossing a river. Caroline, however, could have been looking at a man-eating grizzly. Tristan followed her gaze to the rushing current. The knee-high water hadn’t gone down since yesterday. Cairo could handle it, but Grandma would be skittish.

      He slid out of the saddle. “I’ll ferry the women across.”

      It was the first time he’d spoken in two hours. Caroline stared as if she’d forgotten him. “Are you sure it’s safe?”

      “Positive.”

      Jon dismounted, then lifted her off Grandma’s back. She landed in front of him with her hands resting lightly on his shoulders. Envy poked at Tristan again. Next Jon assisted Bessie, and the four of them stood in a square of sorts. As if the women weren’t present, Tristan addressed Jon. “I’ll take Miss Bradley first. You’ll wait here with Miss Caroline. When I take her across, follow on Grandma with the packhorses.”

      To Tristan’s consternation, Caroline took a step back and turned away from them. He followed her gaze to the river and saw a tree branch floating by. Bessie put an arm around her sister’s waist and murmured something. The younger woman murmured back loud enough for Tristan to hear. “I can’t do this,” she said. “It’s just too much.”

      Bessie patted her back. “I know, but it’s just a river. You can do it.”

      “But I don’t want to!” Her voice rose in volume and pitch. “First we get robbed. Then you sprained your ankle and the wolves kept howling—” She shuddered. “When is it going to stop?”

      Tristan ached for her because he felt the same way about his illness. It wasn’t the river that had Miss Bradley in a knot. It was days, weeks, maybe years of frustration.

      He stepped up behind her. Wondering if he’d lost his mind, he touched her shoulder. “Caroline?” He deliberately left off the “Miss.”

      She startled like a deer, then faced him. “I’m sorry, Major. It’s just—”

      “I understand.”

      He could have been speaking to Dora, but his daughter wouldn’t have tried to be brave. She’d have reached to be picked up, fully expecting him to protect her. Caroline had no such expectation.

      Her doubt challenged him. “The river isn’t deep. I’m confident Cairo can handle it.”

      “Who’s Cairo?”

      “My horse.”

      She turned to look at the stallion. In the shadows of the canyon, his coat glistened black and his muscles were deeply defined. Poised and ready, the horse towered over Grandma.

      “He’s huge,” Caroline murmured. “And he looks fast.”

      “He’s practically a nag,” Tristan said, joking. “The old boy can barely walk.” He meant the horse, but she looked at him.

      Anger flared in her eyes. “You’re making fun of me.”

      “No,” he said gently. “I wanted to make you smile. You can be assured that you’ll be safe.”

      “I just don’t know.”

      “I do,” he said, deadpan. “No one disobeys me. Not even Cairo.”

      Jon laughed out loud. “Tell that to Dora.”

      “Well, yes,” he acknowledged. “Dora has a mind of her own.”

      “So do I.” Caroline squared her shoulders. “But there’s no choice.”

      She’d СКАЧАТЬ