Spitfire Sweetheart: A Four Weddings and A Kiss Novella
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Authors: Mary Connealy
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Spitfire Sweetheart
A
Four Weddings and a Kiss
Novella
Mary Connealy
© 2014 by Mary Connealy
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, scanning, or other—except for brief quotations in critical reviews or articles, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
Published in Nashville, Tennessee, by Thomas Nelson. Thomas Nelson is a registered trademark of HarperCollins Christian Publishing, Inc.
Thomas Nelson books may be purchased in bulk for educational, business, fund-raising, or sales promotional use. For information, please e-mail [email protected].
Scripture quotations are taken from the King James Version of the Bible.
Publisher’s Note: This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. All characters are fictional, and any similarity to people living or dead is purely coincidental.
ISBN 978-1-4016-8856-1 (eBook)
ISBN 978-0-5291-0200-3 (eSingle)
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Four Weddings and a Kiss : a Western bride collection / Margaret Brownley, Robin Lee Hatcher, Mary Connealy, Debra Clopton.
pages cm
ISBN 978-1-4016-8854-7 (softcover)
1. Weddings—Fiction. 2. Love stories, American. 3. Christian fiction, American. I. Connealy, Mary. Spitfire sweetheart II. Hatcher, Robin Lee. Love letter to the editor. III. Clopton, Debra. A Cowboy for Katie. IV. Brownley, Margaret. Courting trouble.
PS648.L6F755 2014
813'.08508—dc23
2013049755
To my newest grandbaby. A little boy whose name I don’t know yet because he’s going to be here right about the time this book comes out.
Contents
An Excerpt from
Love Letter to the Editor
Saurita, New Mexico, 1879
M
AIZY
M
AC
G
REGOR LEANED HER HEAD BACK AGAINST
the rocks, accidentally knocking her Stetson off. She grabbed it as it fell, then tossed it aside in disgust. She had on men’s clothes—the hat, britches, shirt, boots, even a six-gun she wore on her hip. It had never bothered her before Rylan Carstens.
She wiped her eyes. It was sure enough bothering her now.
The water roared beside her, cascading down in a rush. She came here when she needed to be alone. And she really needed that now.
Tossing aside her buckskin gloves, she pulled her red handkerchief out of her hip pocket—no lace kerchief tucked up her sleeve for Maizy—and wiped her eyes again, then blew her nose in a completely unladylike way.
How had she
let herself get this upset? And over a man, of all things.
Over the neighbor whom she’d long ago accepted would never see her as anything but a child, and an unattractive, annoying child at that.
She was used to it, and she ignored it mostly, but today it stung. He’d found her walking among his Angus cattle.
Maizy looked to her left and watched the sleek black herd spread out along the downhill slope. Usually she didn’t go near them. Instead, she’d just slip into this spot. She’d been using it for a getaway since childhood. But this morning, not for the first time, she’d walked among his herd. They were gentle cattle, not a horn on a single one of them. They weren’t tame enough to touch—they gave way if she got too close. But they didn’t run for the hills one day, then attack the next like longhorns tended to do.
She’d heard they were gentle, even the bulls. And she was savvy about cattle. She knew how to judge their tempers and stay clear of them when necessary. Her eyes rested on one especially young calf that might have been born just today, long after cows usually threw their calves.
Maizy knew better than to go near a new mama, no matter how easygoing she’d been before her calf was born.
She’d told Rylan all that and tried to make him see she was in no danger. He’d thrown her off his land anyway and even followed her home to complain to Pa, like she was a misbehaving child. He’d forbidden her to trespass ever again.
But the minute she could get away, she came here, to her
special place. The river was the border between his property and her pa’s, and it was true she was, right this minute, on the trespassing side. She barely had a toe over the line, and she was completely safe from his placid, fat cattle, so surely he wouldn’t complain about that.
She took a little pleasure in defying him. And it was a harmless defiance, especially if he didn’t know she was here.
Her horse was tied well across the river, on MacGregor land, cropping grass. She couldn’t see the brown-and-white pinto from here and neither could her neighbor.
Hoping to get control of her hurt, she let herself soak in the peace of stone and water and air, loving the way this rocky ledge cut off the world. She couldn’t hear anything other than the rushing water. Her spot was curved into the rocks, and she could only see straight ahead and to the left. Water cascaded down from the mountain peaks on the right. Her almost-cave hid her from behind and overhead.
She was in her own world, alone with her thoughts.
Then a gunshot cut through the air, and she sat up straight and banged her head.
Looking for the source of that gun, she turned and saw
him
.
Rylan Carstens.
And he was coming straight for her, galloping on his big chestnut stallion. Even at this distance she could tell he was looking right at her. How had he known she was in here?
Another gunshot echoed from his Winchester.
Rylan bent low over his horse, coming as fast as he could
on the rocky ground that rose to this bluff along the river. Was he trying to kill her? If so, he was doing a poor job of it. The bullets were missing, going way over her head. But even on her worst day, she’d never done anything to make the man killing mad.
And Maizy knew, even though Rylan seemed like a mighty cranky man, that he wasn’t the type to shoot a young woman, especially not for just being annoying.
He fired again and again, working the levered handle on his Winchester, and she finally realized he was firing warning shots. But warning who—about what?
She scrambled out of the little overhang and took a few running steps to make sure he saw her and wouldn’t fire in her direction.
That’s when she heard the growl . . . and the bellow.
Spinning around, she looked up. On the ledge that formed the roof of her little cave, standing on its hind legs, was the biggest grizzly she’d ever seen.
Movement to her side forced her to look, though it was madness to turn away. The huge Angus bull that lorded over this part of Carstens’s herd pawed the ground, and like all bulls, guarded his herd fiercely. There were only two things between that huge bear and that angry bull.
The shining black calf, born out of season, still wobbly.
And Maizy.
The bull might be threatening the bear, but the bear only had eyes for Maizy. The rest of the cow herd, save the frantic mama, turned and stampeded away.
The bull charged.
The bear dropped to all fours and crouched to attack.
Pound for pound there was no meaner animal on the face of the earth than a grizzly. Maizy had a Colt in her holster, but a bullet wasn’t enough to bring one of these huge beasts down. Maybe a perfect shot right into the heart or brain would do it . . . but mostly . . . getting shot just made ’em mad.
The bear’s beady, bloodshot eyes were riveted on Maizy.
The bull bellowed and turned the grizzly’s attention.
Maizy saw her chance and ran.
A shout and another blast of gunfire sent Maizy running straight down the grassy slope for Rylan. Her eyes locked with his and she saw horror. She thought he’d seen her, but she could tell he’d been out here riding herd and seen the grizzly.
A thud from behind told her the bear was off the ledge. Another growl seemed to blow hot breath on the back of Maizy’s neck. Or maybe that was just the hair on the back of her neck standing up in pure terror.
The bull charged, putting itself between the bear and the calf, then stopped to paw the earth with its front feet.
Rylan fired again and again.
Sprinting to get out of the middle, Maizy heard the thundering hooves ahead, the scratching claws of the grizzly right behind, and the deep-throated threats from the bull.
The calf bawled piteously. The anxious mama cow rushed to her baby and began leading it away as fast as its unsteady legs would carry it.
Judging from the growling behind her, Maizy knew the grizzly was more interested in her than a belligerent Angus.
Running, hoping the bear would give up, she raced straight for Rylan.
She saw his eyes take in the danger, then go to his bull, then come back to her. He kept firing and racing forward.
Sprinting flat out, her boots thumped out a desperate beat.
He jammed his rifle back into its scabbard on the saddle and drew his six-gun. He couldn’t shoot the bear—Maizy was right in the way—but he kept up the gunfire, probably hoping he’d scare the grizzly into breaking off the attack.
It wasn’t working worth a hoot.
“Maizy,” Rylan shouted as they closed the gap, “grab my hand.”
He kicked his foot out of one stirrup to give Maizy a place to land. He holstered his pistol and took a firm hold of his pommel. Their eyes locked. He nodded at her. She tightened her jaw in grim determination and nodded back.
His hand extended. She slapped her hand into his and he caught her. The grip slid. He clamped onto her wrist with the other hand, leaving the horse without a hand on the reins. He swung her up and she aimed to end up behind him. In the rush, she didn’t get a good swing, and Rylan made a desperate heave to keep her from falling to the ground. She landed facedown in front of him, her belly right on the pommel of his saddle. She was glad to be wearing britches.
Rylan pulled hard to bring his horse to a stop, and he unloaded his gun on the bear. The horse tried to rear and
tossed its head in fear. The iron bit jingled as the horse fought Rylan’s control.
Maizy turned to her left to watch the bear wheel to face the bull. The bull must’ve thought better of fighting now that his herd was out of the way. He turned and ran.
The bullets were little more than stinging wasps to the bear and only served to turn its attention back to Rylan.
The powerful red horse pivoted, and on its first stride leapt into a full gallop.
Grizzly bears, huge as they were, were mighty fast. Maizy knew that from growing up in the mountains of New Mexico and meeting up with a few, though never this close. But their speed was short-lived—or so she’d heard.
She sure as shootin’ hoped that proved to be true. If the horse could outrun the monster for a few yards, they’d make it.
Maizy, head down, clung to Rylan’s right leg. The pommel cut into her gut, and her own legs dangled off the other side. She wanted to search for that empty stirrup but was mindful not to jar Rylan or distract him from getting the most out of his thoroughbred.
Those thundering front hooves kicked up nearly to Maizy’s face. She lifted her head enough to peek around Rylan’s boot and saw the bear gaining on them. Its jaws gaped open. It closed in on the horse even with the stallion going at full speed.
“Hang on.” Rylan kicked his horse and the valiant chestnut, already wild with fear, dug deep and found more speed. The bear lunged forward and a huge paw, claws bared, took
a swipe and snagged the horse’s tail. That swipe broke the bear’s charge.
