The Horseman (9 page)

*

“And when I think of the manner in which I
just tossed all propriety to the wind, Bethanne,” Briney said,
slapping one hand to her forehead in consternation. “I mean…I rode
off with my skirt and petticoats clear up to my knees! What he must
think of me!”

But Bethanne only giggled. “I think the
Horseman was quite impressed with you, Briney,” she said. “I mean,
look at it the way he must’ve—a very proper lady arrives at his
stables dressed in her very proper attire.” Bethanne paused as she
struggled to comb a knot from Briney’s long, very tangled hair.
“And what does this proper lady do? Does she wilt like a spring
violet in the summer sun? No! She finds a horse fitted to her and
rides off confidently, careless of pride and prissiness…rides off
to a three-hour adventure all on her own.”

“Do you really think so?” Briney asked.

“Of course!” Bethanne struggled with another
tangle of hair and then said, “I’ve known Gunner Cole for near to
five years now, and I’ve never seen him display such obvious
admiration toward a woman as he did you today.” Bethanne smiled
coyly. “And the way he lifted you from his buggy…as if you weighed
no more than a butterfly.”

Briney smiled, warmed all over by the memory.
“And yet I was too miserable to really enjoy the moment.” She
glanced at the mirror in front of her where she sat at the small,
simple vanity table. “I look like…I look like…”

“Folks around here would say you looked just
like somethin’ the cat dragged in,” Bethanne finished for her.

Briney’s smile faded. “I do! Oh, I do look
just like a drowned rat! In truth, a somewhat roasted drowned
rat.”

“Oh, you do not!” Bethanne giggled. She
smiled at Briney in their reflection in the mirror from her place
behind Briney. “You’re as lovely as ever you were. Just a little
more pink.”

Briney laughed, and Bethanne joined her.

Running the comb through Briney’s hair one
last time then, Bethanne said, “There now. It’s all untangled, so
let’s braid it loosely and put you in bed for a nap. I’ll wake you
in time for supper. In fact, why don’t I just bring supper up to
you tonight? That way, you don’t even have to dress for the day
again if you don’t want to.”

“Oh, that would be so kind of you, Bethanne!”
Briney admitted with a sigh. “I feel so tired and sore, and…my face
feels like leather.” Briney touched the hot, sensitive skin of her
cheek, wincing—for it was truly painful to the touch.

“It will get better quickly,” Bethanne
assured her. “I’ll bring some more of Mama’s aloe vera plant up for
you. It really does work miracles on soothing sunburned skin.”

“Thank you, Bethanne,” Briney said, capturing
one of Bethanne’s hands as she finished braiding Briney’s hair.
Turning to face her, she added, “You have been so kind to me. Your
entire family has! And though it sounds rather morbid, I suppose…I
am so glad that, if Mrs. Fletcher had to pass away and leave me all
alone, I’m thankful she left me here in Oakmont with you.”

Bethanne leaned forward, throwing her arms
around her new friend’s neck and kissing her cheek. She was glad
Mrs. Fletcher had died and left Briney there with the Kelley family
too! For one thing, Bethanne had never had a close friend. Already
she felt more akin to Briney than she had to any of the other girls
of her age and acquaintance.

There was something
deep
about Briney;
that’s the only word Bethanne could think to describe what she felt
when it came to Briney’s character and heart. Briney had traveled
the world, to places Bethanne could never imagine traveling to.
Briney owned the beautiful, dazzling wardrobe of a wealthy
debutante. Yet Briney didn’t want to travel—possibly she’d never
wanted to. All she’d ever longed for was a home and family.
Furthermore, it was obvious Briney was more suited to the less
stringent fashions of the American West than the fancy, frilly
clothes Mrs. Fletcher had dressed her in. Otherwise, Briney
wouldn’t have ridden off on her own—skirt and petticoats up to her
knees and careless of it for the joy of riding astride, and for
three hours.

As much as Bethanne enjoyed riding her
family’s horses, the very idea of a three-hour ride struck her as
being the stuff of boredom. So she figured Briney Thress had a
tendency toward needing to feel free somehow—a feeling Bethanne
didn’t understand, for she’d always been free.

Yes, Briney Thress was deep to Bethanne’s way
of thinking—the kind of deep Bethanne had always heard her father
use when talking of Gunner Cole. Furthermore, judging from the way
Briney had unconsciously babbled on and on and on about Gunner the
whole of the time Bethanne was combing her hair after her long,
soaking bath, Bethanne’s romantic heart had the sudden notion that
perhaps the two very
deep
people in Oakmont might well be
meant for one another.

Briney tried to keep the tears brimming in
her eyes from spilling over. She’d never, ever had a true
friend—not in all her life while living in the orphanage and
certainly not in all her life in being the ward of Mrs. Fletcher.
Yet the whole of her soul knew she’d found an everlasting friend in
Bethanne Kelley—a true and loyal friend—and the sudden knowledge
struck heart her with incredible force.

“Thank you, Bethanne,” Briney said. “Thank
you for…for everything…but most of all for being my friend.”

“Oh no! You’re not cryin’, are you, Briney?”
Bethanne said, holding Briney away from her and using the hem of
her apron to gently dab at the tears in the corners of her own
eyes. “Your face is already red enough, don’t you think?”

Briney giggled, “I suppose so.”

Sniffling, Bethanne stood up from the chair
she’d been sitting in to comb Briney’s hair. Taking Briney’s hand,
she said, “Now you just lie down a bit and rest. You’ll still be a
bit sore and stiff when you wake up, but you’ll feel better by the
minute, all right?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Briney teased.

“I’ll bring supper up at six,” Bethanne
promised.

“And if there’s any of your mother’s peach
pie left…” Briney hinted.

“Then I’ll bring that too, of course,”
Bethanne giggled.

“I really am sorry to be such a bother,
Bethanne,” Briney began.

“You are no bother, Briney Thress,” Bethanne
assured her. “Now get yourself some rest. I’ll be up at six o’clock
sharp.”

“Thank you,” Briney said.

“You’re welcome,” Bethanne said as she left
the room, closing the door behind her.

Raising herself from the chair she’d been
sitting in, Briney winced as her sore muscles made themselves well
known once more.

“What in all the world was I thinking?” she
muttered to herself as she hobbled toward her bed. “Riding for
three hours when I’d never ridden astride before?”

Yet when Briney was resting comfortably on
her bed a minute or two later, she sighed with satisfaction. As she
closed her eyes, all that met her were visions of the beauty of the
day—the feel of the warm sun on her face and the cool breeze
through her hair, the scent of wild grasses mingled with saddle
leather, and the rhythm of Sassafras’s gait. It had literally been
a dream come true for Briney—to ride out astride into pastures and
hills where no one else was near.

And then—then there were the visions of the
Horseman, Gunner Cole. As beautiful as her ride with Sassafras had
been, not even the green vistas that met them had been as handsome
and awe-inspiring as the blue of the man’s eyes when he looked at
her. All the warm sun on her face and wind in her hair hadn’t felt
as thrilling as the simple handshake she’d shared with him on the
buggy ride home.

Squirming a bit until she felt as comfortable
as possible, Briney lingered in memories of her first free-spirited
ride, and of the man who had afforded it to her. She hoped her body
would heal quickly—for as heavy as her longing to ride Sassafras
again was, her yearning to again be in the presence of Gunner Cole
was purely insatiable.

*

“Mmm!” Briney sighed with satisfaction as she
swallowed another bite of cream-slathered peach pie. “Your mother’s
pies really are heavenly, Bethanne. Ambrosia for the soul.”

“Oh, and don’t I know it,” Bethanne agreed,
smiling. “My own pies are comin’ along, but I can’t get my crusts
to be as soft and flakey as Mama’s…no matter how hard I try.”

Briney shrugged. “It’s probably just because
she’s had so many more years of practice,” she offered.

“Probably so,” Bethanne agreed. She paused a
moment, and a mischievous grin spread across her face. “Gunner Cole
was just in at the restaurant for supper, and he asked Mama if he
could buy a whole pie to take home with him. Seems he promised
Charlie Plummer a piece and figured he might as well take a whole
pie.”

“He’s downstairs in the restaurant? This very
moment?” Briney asked as her heart began to race. She wondered if
he would linger outside on the boardwalk under her bedroom window
before heading home—converse with one or two of the other men in
town the way he sometimes did.

Bethanne laughed. “Yes! But settle down or
you’ll pop your bloomer buttons! I do think your face just turned
three shades darker of pink when I mentioned his name.”

“Did I?” Briney said, putting her hands to
her warm cheeks. “Is it that obvious that I find
him…intriguing?”

Bethanne laughed. “Of course it is! At least,
to me it is. But don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me.”

Briney sighed with joy and relief. “Just as
your secret is safe with me.”

Bethanne frowned, curious. “My secret?”

“Oh, I see you’ve already forgotten that you
told me earlier today that Mr. Charlie Plummer sets your heart to
racing the way Mr. Cole does mine, hmm?” Briney explained.

“Oh, I did! I had quite forgotten that I’d
let that slip,” Bethanne said, blushing.

Briney reached out, placing a reassuring hand
on Bethanne’s arm. “But it’s all right…because neither one of us
will tell anyone else each other’s secret.”

“That’s true,” Bethanne agreed. “Now, you
just finish up that pie. I’ll come get the dish and fork in the
mornin’. You need your rest.”

“I’ve been resting all afternoon, Bethanne,”
Briney reminded. Yet as she shifted her position in her chair, she
knew her muscles would complain if she didn’t just rest through the
evening.

Bethanne smiled with understanding. “It’s
pretty miserable, isn’t it? But you’ll feel somewhat better in the
mornin’. Once you’re up and moving around, the stiffness won’t be
so bad.”

“What an imbecile I was today,” Briney
grumbled. “Riding out like that for so long…and never having ridden
astride before.”

“Oh, don’t worry so much about it, Briney,”
Bethanne encouraged. “The past is the past, and everybody does
silly things once in a while. I’m just glad you didn’t get lost or
somethin’.”

“I don’t think I could’ve if I’d wanted to,”
Briney said. “I think Mr. Cole’s horse would’ve known her way home
from anywhere.”

“I still can’t believe he’s agreed to sell
Sassafras to you,” Bethanne mused aloud. “Everyone thought he’d
never sell his mama’s horse. It’s a miracle.”

Briney smiled as she thought of the sweet
horse waiting back at the Horseman’s stables. “She just seemed to
take to me the moment we met…and me to her,” she explained. “It was
rather strange, even to me…that she somehow chose me just as I
chose her. Strange.”

“Well, whatever it is, Gunner Cole must’ve
seen it too. His mother loved that horse, and when she passed away,
he wouldn’t sell it to anyone who asked…no one. Of course, maybe
two years makes a difference. Maybe Gunner has mourned as much as
he needed and can let the horse go now.”

As Briney considered Bethanne’s reasoning,
once more she wondered if she had mourned sufficiently over Mrs.
Fletcher’s passing. Oh, certainly she had shed tears and
experienced a measure of loneliness of sorts. But the truth was,
she didn’t really miss Mrs. Fletcher, and she surely didn’t miss
being told what to do every minute of her life.

“Do you…do you think there’s something wrong
with me, Bethanne?” Briney asked.

“What?” Bethanne asked in return. “Whatever
could be wrong with you?”

Briney shrugged. “Well, I still feel as if I
should be more mournful over Mrs. Fletcher’s passing. But I’m more
relieved than anything…and continue to wonder if I’m just too
heartless.”

Bethanne exhaled a heavy sigh. “Well, your
situation with Mrs. Fletcher wasn’t one that anybody would miss.
And maybe it’s not even that. After all, you had to pull yourself
up by your bootstraps and forge your way ahead in your own
life.”

Briney nodded. “I know. I just keep
experiencing these flashes of guilt at not feeling worse about her
death.”

“Briney!” Bethanne sighed with exasperation.
“She was as old as Methuselah, for pity’s sake! She’d lived longer
than most folks, and you took good care of her for the last ten
years of her life! Don’t beat yourself so. You mourned plenty and
in your own way. Move on. Ride your horse, eat your peach pie, and
sleep when you want to! That’s my advice, anyhow.”

Briney’s spirits were lifted once more, and
she nodded. “You’re right…you’re right. Her death wasn’t my fault,
and she was unfairly strict with me. She didn’t beat me, but she
didn’t treat me well at all. So I suppose it’s natural that I
should feel some relief at her passing. I just had to be conscious
of it is all. It does make me feel—”

“Enough,” Bethanne interrupted. “You’re
beatin’ a dead horse, and you need to stop. You’ve had a very
tirin’ day, and days like these tend to wear out a mind as well as
a body. You need some rest and to let that sunburn heal a bit.
You’ll feel better in the mornin’.” Bethanne’s eyebrows arched with
a rather daring appearance. “And when you’re ready to ride out to
the Horseman’s stables to officially purchase your horse, perhaps
I’ll accompany you this time…just to give my regards to Charlie
Plummer, you understand.”