Brides of Idaho (5 page)

“He was resting. Widow Kish said she’d go check on him. Thanks for your help this morning.”

“He’s one of us, and you’re a stranger. Why wouldn’t I help him?”

Words of protest raced to his tongue, but he bit them back. Soon enough she’d see he meant to be one of them, too.

“What can I do for you?” Right words, begrudgingly spoken.

“My horse needs his hooves trimmed.”

“Great. Put him in the corral, and I’ll tend to it.”

“Uh.” She was a farrier? Not that it surprised him all that much. He had about figured out Glory could do anything she set her mind to, no matter how unconventional. “I was hoping you’d lend me the tools so I can do it myself.”

She shook her head. “Don’t lend my tools.” She stuck a rasp in her back pocket, lifted the nippers in one hand and the hoof knife in the other, and headed for the side door opening to the pen. “Bring him here, and I’ll do it.”

“’Fraid not. You see, my horse is particular about who gets close to him.”

She strode past him to stand looking at Billy Bob. “Nice-looking horse.”

“Yup. Many have admired him. Few have ridden him.”

She turned, her eyes flaring with interest. “How’s that?”

“He’s a one-man horse.”

Her gaze shifted from Levi to the horse then back to Levi. “Really?” Her voice rang with doubt.

“Take my word for it.”

She reached out for Billy Bob’s reins and headed for the gate. “He’s coming along fine.” She closed the gate after the horse and put her tools on a stump obviously used for that purpose. “Now let’s get at this job.”

“Glory, listen to me.” He rushed forward and took the reins before she could do anything more. “He won’t let you touch him.”

“I never met a horse I couldn’t handle.” She positioned herself in front of Billy Bob.

Knowing what would happen, Levi pushed the horse away.

Glory turned and glared at him. “Let me do my job.”

“Lend me your tools, and I’ll do it. If it’s the money you’re worried about, I’ll pay the same as if you did it.”

Her chin jutted out. “I don’t lend my tools. Now hold his head so I can look at his foot.” She again stood, her back to Billy Bob, and leaned over to touch his leg.

Levi moved as fast as he could, but Billy Bob was faster and got a chunk of Glory’s rump between his teeth.

Glory yelped and jumped away.

Levi pulled at Billy Bob’s head. “Stop it, you blockhead.” He kept a firm hold on the animal as he glanced over his shoulder at Glory. “Are you okay?”

The surprise in her face shifted to defiance. “I’m fine. Why didn’t you tell me he bites?”

“Glory Hamilton, you have got to be the most cantankerous woman alive. I warned you he wouldn’t let you touch him. But you wouldn’t listen. Now all of a sudden it’s my fault? Just stay away from my horse and give me the hoof pick.”

Still she hesitated. All kinds of names came to mind. Foolish. Ornery. Stubborn. Headstrong. “I’ll pay. Just let me deal with this.”

Reluctantly she handed him the pick.

He bent over and took a hoof and set to cleaning it.

“I see lots of horses who have bad attitudes. Usually there’s a reason. What’s the story behind Billy Bob’s behavior?”

“Bought him off a farmer a few years ago. He was in pretty bad shape. The farmer shouldn’t have been allowed to have animals the way he treated them. Hand me the nippers, would you?”

She seemed reluctant to put the tools where he could reach them himself but at least handed him what he needed without further argument, for which he was grateful.

“I tended his wounds and gave him lots of good feed. In return he is as loyal as one could ever ask. Just won’t let anyone else touch him. The rasp, please.”

She handed it to him and took the nippers in exchange.

Seemed she meant to hang about and watch his every move. He meant to take advantage of it. “Where’s your pa?”

“Guess you heard my ma is dead. My pa is off looking for gold in the Kootenais.”

He had Billy Bob stand so he could check the hoof was level then took up the next foot. “Why do they call you the Buffalo Gals?”

“Why do you ask? You planning to write a book or something?”

“Don’t get all prickly. I’m just making polite conversation.”

“No. Polite conversation is, ‘How are you? Nice weather we’re having, don’t you think? Did you enjoy the sunshine yesterday? Suppose we might get rain?’”

He laughed, earning him a scowl. “Do you?”

“Do I what?”

He straightened and grinned at her, undeterred by her annoyance. “Suppose we might get rain?”

She lifted her hands in mock frustration. “Mud just dried up from the spring runoff. I would like to enjoy a few days mud free.”

“What about the sunshine? You enjoy it yesterday?”

A smile lifted the corners of her mouth. “Sure did.”

Curiosity about how she spent her days crowded all else from his mind. “What did you do?”

“Let’s see. I had a race with two men off the ferry who thought they could ride better’n a girl. I proved them wrong.” She laughed. “I took care of three horses a man had neglected to trim hooves on for some time.” A teasing light flashed across her eyes. “And of course, I spent time in the saloon.”

He knew a challenging tone and expression when he saw it. For a moment they did silent battle with their eyes. He decided to let it pass. After all, he had lots of time to find what drove her to defy all sense of what was right as if she resented being a woman. “So why do they call you the Buffalo Gals?”

She blinked, and he knew she’d been expecting him to say something about her being in the saloon. “Because of Pa.” She scowled as if she’d said more than she meant to. “Pa was a buffalo hunter, among other things.” Before he could ask what other things, she guessed his question and provided an answer. “Gold prospector, Indian hunter, guide, railroad worker—” She drew in a deep breath. “There isn’t much he hasn’t tried.”

He heard a “but” in her voice and waited, but she seemed inclined to say no more and fiddled with the nail nippers. Levi turned his attention back to Billy Bob’s feet, but his mind twirled her words about, trying to find the “but” in them. “Sounds like he’s a wanderer.”

“Suppose so.”

“He take you girls with him?”

“When Ma was alive, she followed him, and after she died, we just continued to follow him like she’d taught us.”

Again he mulled over her words, looking for the meaning beneath them. “When did your ma die?”

“Eight years ago, when I was eleven.”

He put Billy Bob’s foot down, done with the hoof trimming, and studied Glory. She stared off into the distance, and Levi wondered if she even remembered he was there. Was this the pain she tried to kill with her outrageous behavior?

He shifted his gaze to the end of her shop, saw a F
OR
R
ENT
sign. Saw the flicker of red gingham at a window next to the sign, caught a glimpse of a table and stove. Let his gaze go further, to the blue sky, the distant purple mountains.

But what he saw was inside his heart. The way Matt had run from the pain of their parents’ deaths. His refusal to follow any rules—those laid out by their grandparents who took them in and gave them a home or those made by man. And look where it had led him.

Levi felt the same angry desperation in Glory as if she, like Matt, didn’t know how to deal with the way life had turned out. He feared her path would take her perilously close to the same destination it had for Matt—a prison sentence.
God, I’m here to do Your work in Bonners Ferry, and I trust You to do Your work in Matt’s prison cell.
“Glory, you can’t fix your disappointment in life by defying all the rules.”

Her gaze hit him with the blast of a blacksmith’s fire. “Who appointed you judge and jury of me? Besides, I am not disappointed with life.” Her laugh was bitter. “Shows what you know.” She spun on her heels. “Pal, come.” The horse trotted over to her. She swung up on his bare back and guided him toward the gate where she leaned over to unhook it and throw it open. “Put the tools away. Leave your money on the table.” And she kicked her horse into a gallop, clinging to his back without saddle or bridle, like some kind of wild Indian.

Levi stared after her, his throat tight. It was dangerous to ride in such a fashion. But he understood she cared nothing for the dangers involved. Whether or not she knew it, she was trying to outrun some kind of pain. But he’d pushed too hard, too soon, and now he’d lost ground that would take precious time to regain.

Glory didn’t allow Pal to slacken his pace until they reached the spot where her other horses munched on grass.

Three of them whinnied at her approach and ran toward the fence to greet her. Big Gray headed for the far side of the pen. The other two only lifted their heads to watch her.

She’d left in such a huff she’d neglected to bring oats for them. “I’ll bring your treat next time, for sure.” She enjoyed talking to all of the horses and giving them attention. Big Gray wouldn’t let her near without oats.

She sank down in the warm grass and leaned her back to a tree. Powers was so annoying. Unsettling. She’d been surprised twice by his willingness to help those in need. Of course, what better way to give people the impression he was a preacher. But shouldn’t he preach, maybe try and close down the saloon, instead of rolling up his sleeves and washing laundry?

She allowed herself a grin at the thought of his laboring over the washtub. For a moment, she’d almost liked him. Or at least, respected him. And then he got all… all… Well shoot, she didn’t even know how to describe it. Preachy. Judgmental. And none of his business in the first place. Or the last.

She would do what she wanted so long as she broke no laws. And not because, as he seemed to think, she was disappointed with life. She loved life. She raised her arms to the sky and whooped. Life was good. Made for enjoyment. And she intended to enjoy it as never before.

Joanna had once taken them all to a circus with coins handed to her by their pa. They’d watched a man in tights do trick riding. It looked like so much fun. Joanna had noted her excitement, and the moment Glory opened her mouth to say she was going to do that, Joanna had grabbed her by the arm. “Pa holds me responsible for you and Mandy. If either of you gets hurt, it will be on my head. Promise you won’t try such foolishness.”

At first Glory had refused and tried to squirm away, but Joanna had a grip like a vise and wouldn’t let her go until she promised.

But that was when Glory was a child. Joanna was no longer responsible for Glory. She answered to no one but herself and God.

She’d learned several of the riding tricks. Pal had turned out to be such a trustworthy mount, she had a great deal of fun standing on his back while they raced down the trail. It always made her heart beat fast. It was exhilarating. She had done the death drag several times. At first, it frightened her to see the ground so close to her head as she hung from the saddle by one leg, but conquering her fear, gaining confidence, was worth every risk.

An idea burst into full bloom. One of her horses was proving to be gentle and easy to train. She’d stood on his back and ridden around the corral. If she worked with him and Pal together, she might be able to have some real fun riding them both side by side, standing with one foot on each back. No time like the present.

She caught up the horse she had in mind—a beautiful blue roan that should have been treated as the special animal it was. She’d decided to call him Blue Boy. When she got through with him, anyone would be able to touch him. Not like that stupid horse of Preacher Powers. If he was a preacher. She sure wasn’t convinced of it.

A glance at the sky later revealed she’d been out there for hours. Joanna would be wondering if she meant to help with the chores, and likely Toby needed dragging from the saloon before he could get falling-down liquored up.

She rode back to town, satisfied with the afternoon, and jumped from Pal’s back in front of the saloon, glancing to the right and the left and over her shoulder. No sign of Powers. Annoyed with herself that she’d let him make her feel guilty, she pushed the swinging doors open and strode in.

Toby nursed a bottle.

She wondered if it was his first. But it was definitely his last. “Come on, Tobe. Time to leave.”

He drained the bottle and wiped his mouth on his sleeve and gave her a bleary-eyed look bordering on defiance.

“Toby, I need your help.” She’d long ago learned to make him think he did her a favor by leaving. She grabbed his hand and urged him to his feet.

He staggered, but she steadied him. It was her fault he was so far gone. She’d stayed with the horses too long.

Gently, she guided him to the door, swung the panels open with her hip, and half dragged Toby through them. Her attention on keeping him going in a straight line, she wasn’t watching where she went and bumped into someone holding the door ajar. “Sorry.” She spared the man a glance and instantly her apology died. Powers. Could she never escape his challenging stare?

She gave him silent defiance for a full ten seconds then turned back to Toby and navigated him toward the stopping house, Pal in their wake. She had done nothing wrong. No reason she should feel guilty just because a man who called himself a preacher commented about the presence of a lady in the saloon. Like she’d told him, she was no lady. Following Pa from one frontier place to the next wild town had taught her to be otherwise.