Dreaming Of A Western Christmas. Carol Arens

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СКАЧАТЬ out here, just rough trails. If we’re lucky.”

      “Perhaps a wagon, then?” She eyed the growing stack of clothing Jase was collecting and raised one eyebrow.

      “Look over there on the counter, ma’am. See those boys’ duds? That’s what you’ll be wearing.”

      “Surely you are joking?”

      Brand clenched his jaw. So, Miss Fancy Drawers wanted to ride in style and wear dresses and corsets, did she? Tough luck. So what if her eyes still looked kinda funny—made his chest go tight—he still didn’t want to do this.

      “We’ll be traveling on horseback.”

      Her mouth sagged open and then snapped shut. “Horseback! You mean I will be riding on a horse?”

      “That’s what horseback means.” His voice sounded exasperated, even to him. “You ever been on a horse?”

      “No, I have not. Where I come from, ladies do not—”

      “Well, they do out here, Miss Cumberland. So if you’re in such a lather to get to Oregon, you might as well get used to the idea.”

      She just stared at him with that hurt look in her eyes. Then she stared at the pile of shirts and jeans Jase had loaded up on the counter. “I do not think...”

      “Take it or leave it,” he said. “Or you could go back east, like I said.”

      She bit her lower lip, considering the matter, and Brand tried not to think about how lush her mouth was.

      “Very well,” she said at last. She stuck out her hand. “I agree. We have a bargain, Mr. Wyler.”

      Without thinking he gripped her hand and shook it. Never in his life had he shaken hands with a woman. He’d waltzed with them, flirted with them, kissed them, made love to them. But shaken their hand? This one was so proper she squeaked.

      But her hand felt small and warm and womanly in his. Maybe not squeaky, just stiff and overproper.

      “Ya wanna try on them boots, miss?” Jase said from behind the counter.

      “Boots! I have proper shoes, thank you.”

      “Boots,” Brand snapped. “Winter’s just around the corner and on the trail you’ll want all the warmth you can get. Might hold those other duds up to you, see if they fit.”

      Again she stared at him, her eyes even wider and greener than before. Kinda slow in the brain department; you’d think she’d see the clothes and put two and two together.

      She dropped her gaze and very tentatively fingered the shirt on top of the stack, a red plaid. Jase shook it out and held it up to her frame. “Too big,” he muttered. He snaked it and two others out of the pile and replaced them. The jeans looked about right.

      She disappeared behind the door curtain with the boots. Jase grinned at him and added a wool poncho, a wide-brimmed black hat and a leather belt to the stack.

      “You got her between a rock an’ a creek, Brand. Don’t think she’ll be too happy till she’s broke in them boots.”

      Serves her right, Brand thought. She’d maneuvered him into this—he could maneuver right back.

      She stomped back through the curtain, slapped the boots on top of the pile and propped her hands at her waist. “What else?” she demanded.

      He turned to Jase. “Ammunition. Coffee. Bacon. Jerky. Couple cans of beans and tomatoes. And a blanket.” He’d borrow a saddle for the mare she’d be riding, along with saddlebags and an extra canteen. Didn’t figure they’d go five miles before she caved in.

      “Put it on my tab, will you, Jase? Better yet, send the bill to Colonel Clarke.” Yeah, he liked that idea.

      “I prefer to pay my own bills,” Miss Cumberland said, her tone frosty. “I have adequate funds on my person.”

      Brand studied her, wondering where she’d stashed it. “Best keep that fact under your hat, miss.”

      “But—”

      “And,” he couldn’t resist adding, “start learning to take orders. Here’s your first one—take these clothes over to the colonel’s quarters and pack ’em up in the saddlebag I’m gonna bring over. Colonel’s wife will help. Be ready at dawn.”

      Her eyes rounded. “You like giving orders, do you not?”

      “Got any objections?”

      “I most certainly do. It is rude and officious behavior.”

      Brand studied her flushed cheeks. Good. He’d made her good and mad. Maybe she’d give up this whole insane idea.

      “Well, like I said, ma’am, take it or leave it. You ride to Oregon on my terms, or you don’t ride at all.”

      The look she sent him could bake biscuits.

      * * *

      First thing the next morning, he gobbled Jase’s overfried eggs and bacon, outfitted his gelding and a sure-footed mare he’d picked out with bedrolls and his saddlebag, and strode over to Colonel Clarke’s quarters to collect Miss Suzannah Cumberland.

      She was waiting on the front porch, and he had to look twice to be sure it was really her. The red plaid shirt was filled out in all the right places, and the jeans clung to her saucy little butt like they’d been washed and shrunk on her body.

      He looked at her hard and his mouth went dry. She looked crisp and clean and brand-new. And damn pretty. She’d caught her shiny wheat-colored hair at her neck with a red ribbon, and the wide-brimmed black hat he’d picked out rode jauntily on the top of her head.

      He swallowed and led both horses up to the porch. “Here’s your mount. Name’s Lady.”

      She nodded. Brand picked up her saddlebag and slung it behind the saddle, then waited.

      She didn’t move.

      “Come on, Miss Cumberland. We’re wasting daylight.”

      “I—I did not expect the horse to be so large,” she said. The quaver in her voice made Brand’s gut tense. Oh, for cryin’ out loud.

      “All horses are ‘large.’”

      “Yes, I see.” Still she didn’t move.

      “You want to change your mind?” he prompted.

      “N-no. I will adjust.”

      Adjust! Riding a horse took a lot more than “adjusting.” What she needed to do was get on the damn horse.

      Slowly she descended the wide porch steps and edged over to where he stood holding her mare’s bridle. “How do I... I mean, is there a method for mounting?”

      “Yep. Put your left foot in this stirrup and grab СКАЧАТЬ