The Independent Bride (12 page)

“How old were you when you moved?”

“Nine. I rode bareback.” Abby had been affronted when Bryce chose a horse barely able to canter.

“It won’t take you long to get used to a sidesaddle. We can ride toward the mountains.”

“Why don’t you want us to stay here?” Abby asked.

“See those men?”

The parade ground in the middle of the fort measured more than a thousand feet on each side. It seemed that everywhere she looked, men were standing, watching, but that didn’t surprise her. There were more than two hundred men at the fort. “What about them?”

“You’re a beautiful woman.”

“I’m only pretty.”

“Okay, for argument’s sake, let’s say you’re only pretty in St. Louis. Out here, you and your sister are spectacular. Nearly every man at this fort is unmarried. Nearly every one of them is starved for the company of a lovely young woman. Letting you ride around this parade ground would be like holding raw meat under the nose of a starving wolf. Let him look at it too long and he’ll go mad enough to do anything to get it.”

“You’re scaring me.”

“It’s one of the reasons I urged you to go back to St. Louis. You’ll be safe as long as you’re careful, but don’t forget you never know who may be watching you.”

Abby had been viewing the men as a wall of protection against the unknown dangers of the West. She didn’t like having to add them to the list of hazards. It left her feeling very vulnerable. “Remind me never to turn to you for reassurance,” she said.

Bryce laughed easily, and she felt something go soft inside her. There was something about this man that captivated her against her will, and it wasn’t his looks, wonderful though they were. The feeling had started the moment she set eyes on him and hadn’t let up since. She could say he was kind, thoughtful, and helpful, that he loved his daughter and was too handsome for words, but none of that reached down to the depths where this attraction was seated. She had thought this was a momentary attraction based on looks and thankfulness for his support. She was beginning to fear it might be more threatening than that.

“I wouldn’t have told you if I didn’t believe you were strong enough to handle my advice,” Bryce said. “Now, let’s ride. Ask questions about anything you see.”

Abby adjusted quickly to the sidesaddle. It didn’t take long for her to remember how to communicate with the horse, but it took a little longer to convince the horse she knew what she was doing.

“Some of these horses know more than the recruits who ride them,” Bryce explained. “The recruits find it easier to let the horse make the decisions.”

“That won’t work for me.”

“I didn’t think it would.”

Abby turned sharply to look at him, but Bryce’s expression betrayed nothing. “I will want a horse of my own.”

“You’ll be safer in a buggy, and you can’t leave the fort by yourself.”

Abby bridled. “Says who?”

“This is still untamed country. There are wild animals out there; snakes, wolves, bears, mountain lions. But even more dangerous are the two-legged varmints. No woman is safe alone.”

“Can you protect me from all these dangers?”

Bryce smiled at her in a way that made her wish she hadn’t asked the question so blatantly. She really shouldn’t see so much of him. It made it harder to get over this attraction that wouldn’t go away.

“Only if you help by doing what I ask.”

”Tell me about what your soldiers do.”

For a man who’d grown up in the East, Bryce knew an incredible amount about the country he was charged to protect. He had apparently made it a point to get to know as much about the Indians as he could. He made regular visits to the reservation to talk to the chief. He was equally concerned about the civilians—farmers, ranchers, townspeople, miners, trappers—anyone who lived inside the area of his responsibility. He seemed most concerned about his soldiers. So many of them were young, inexperienced, lacking in knowledge and basic skills. He spent most of his time training them.

“They’re awfully green when I get them,” he said. “If I do the rest of my job right, I’ll have time to train them before they face combat.”

He told her about the land itself. He showed her that it could be beautiful as well as awe-inspiring and terrible. He showed her a bird’s nest in a willow by a stream. They passed a herd of pronghorn antelope that watched them with calm indifference. Rabbits sprang from under the hooves of their horses with alarming regularity. She was delighted to see a chipmunk, even more taken as a colony of prairie dogs dove into their burrows at the approach of a pair of hawks. But the most fun was a pair of male sage grouse competing for the favors of a female.

“I’ve never seen birds that could puff up like that,” she said.

“They’re trying to impress the female.”

“How stupid to be impressed by a bag of air.”

“I’ve known some women to be mighty impressed by a windbag, though not one covered with feathers.”

Abby saw the gleam in his eye and burst out laughing. The grouse, apparently thinking the laughter was aimed at them, turned and walked away with great dignity. That caused Abby to laugh even harder. “I think we’ve hurt their feelings.”

They rested in the shade of an ancient cottonwood by a stream.

“In a month or two the prairie will be covered with new grass and flowers,” Bryce said.

“I thought this was desert”

“We get most of our rain in the winter and spring. By the end of the summer, you’ll think it’s a desert. Some days it’s over a hundred degrees. Next January, when it’s been below freezing every day for a week, you’ll think wistfully back on those one-hundred-degree days.”

“Are you sure you’re not trying to scare me into going back to St. Louis?”

“No. I’m reconciled to your staying here. As proof, I’m going to teach you how to shoot.”

This day wasn’t turning out the way Bryce had expected or planned. The words were out of his mouth before he realized what he was saying, yet he knew at once they were true. Maybe he even
hoped
she would stay. Something about Abby had bewitched him, something beyond her looks, beyond the undeniable physical attraction he felt for her. He didn’t yet know what it was, but it was like a magnet drawing him closer, holding him tighter. The more he knew about her, the more he wanted to know.

She continued to surprise him. He had expected her to be nervous and awkward around horses. After all, what city girl knew anything about horses except what she could learn from watching them pull wagons and carriages through the streets? He doubted she’d seen a sidesaddle more than three times in her life. Not only did Abby adapt to the sidesaddle quickly, she was at ease with her mount from the first. It took her only a short while to convince the animal she intended to tell him what to do, not the other way around.

What Bryce had expected to be a wholly wasted half hour had turned into a very enjoyable ride that had taken them several miles from the fort. He pleased himself explaining what he’d learned about the plant and animal life that inhabited the plains and foothills. He surprised himself at the pleasure he derived from seeing Abby’s enjoyment of this totally alien world.

He’d seen the sage grouse courting ritual before, but he’d never enjoyed it as much as he had while sharing Abby’s laughter. Her fascination with the unfamiliar plants and animals, her awe of the mountains that towered in the distance, brought home to him the fact that these sights had been no more familiar to him three years ago than they were to Abby now. How had he missed the excitement of discovery, the joy of seeing things he’d only heard about before, the feeling of awe when every morning he woke up to see soaring mountains that dwarfed anything in Pennsylvania?

Because he’d focused all his efforts on doing his job well and on getting back East, he’d ignored the magnificence of the land. That focus had kept him from realizing he had begun to like what he saw, to feel comfortable in this environment so unlike Philadelphia. It gave him a freedom unlike anything he’d ever been able to enjoy. Odd that it should take Abby, another city dweller, to make him see what lay all around him. Her excitement in discovering something new, seeing something unexpected, fueled his own. He’d even gotten to the point of looking for things he thought would please her. A brazen little chipmunk, as fascinated by them as they were by him, had sent her into peals of laughter.

It was laughter that did it. He’d had no intention of teaching her to shoot—women were much too nervous around weapons. But he found himself looking for some way to prolong their ride. The words were out of his mourn before he had time to give the idea proper consideration. Abby looked so surprised and pleased, he wouldn’t have withdrawn the offer even if he’d wanted to.

“I’m flattered you trust me with a weapon,” she said.

“I don’t. That’s why I’m going to teach you how to use one.”

The idea had been all right in conception, but he soon discovered the execution caused a lot of problems. There seemed an inordinate amount of body contact required. He couldn’t remember this ever happening when he worked with the soldiers.

“We have to dismount,” he said. “I can’t teach you how to handle a dangerous weapon perched atop a horse that’s stamping its foot in impatience or moving about in search of grass.” Dismounting required that he help her down from the saddle. That required him to put his hands around her waist while she rested her hands on his shoulders and practically slid down his body on her way to the ground.
That
required that he step back and take a few steadying breaths.

“Let’s stand in the shade of these trees,” he said. “It will cut the glare and make it easier to see.” Too late, he realized the cottonwood grove offered nearly complete concealment on three of its four sides, producing a feeling of intimacy as unexpected as it was unwelcome. He actually felt nervous, a reminder of his schoolboy days.

“Let’s start with a pistol,” he said. “It’s probably the most frequently used weapon in the West.” He explained how to load it, how to aim it as an extension of her hand, and how to squeeze rather than jerk the trigger. But when he handed the pistol to Abby, she handled it so badly she nearly dropped it.

“Here, let me show you how to do it,” he said.

That was when the touching started. The only way to show her how to hold the gun was to take her hand in his and fold her fingers carefully around it, explaining as he did why she should do it this way and not some other. That took minutes, not seconds. He couldn’t stand in front of her, so he stood beside her. He brushed against her shoulder and upper arm several times. By the time he finished he was feeling very warm.

“Now take careful aim and fire at that prickly pear cactus,” he said.

“What part of the cactus am I supposed to aim at?” Abby asked.

“It doesn’t matter. You won’t hit it.”

He didn’t intend to be cruel, but he was angry at himself. He couldn’t remember having any difficulty controlling himself around women in the years since his wife had died. His relationships had always been calm and controlled. It didn’t mean they were without passion, but nothing happened until he decided he
wanted
it to happen. He had never been a man to take chances with life. Always know what you’re doing, why you’re doing it, so you can make sure the results are what you want.

He watched Abby take aim, shift her position, and aim again before walking a couple of steps to the left. He had to smile. If his troops took this long to aim, they’d all be dead. So what was different with Abby? An old military saying sprang to mind:
Know your enemy and you can defeat him.
He didn’t consider Abby his enemy, but he didn’t like not feeling in control when he was around her.

The sound of the pistol shot interrupted his thoughts. A pink bud shot up into the air and spiraled to the ground.

“I missed it,” Abby said.

“No matter. You were lucky to hit anything at all.”

“I guess I need more practice.” She handed him the pistol with unaccustomed meekness. “Now show me how to use a rifle.”

“A pistol is all you need to protect yourself.”

“I’m not talking about protecting myself. I’ve got to sell rifles. I need to know the
differences, the strengths and weaknesses of each kind of gun.”

“There are men at the fort better equipped than I am to explain all of that.”

“Didn’t you use a rifle during the war?”

He decided not to explain that generals made decisions instead of fighting. It made him sound as if he’d hidden behind the courage of other men.

“Let’s see what you remember,” he said. “Show me how to load the rifle.”

Abby remembered his lessons even if she was a bit awkward. With a little practice she’d be able to load a rifle as quickly as any man.

“Most of the time you don’t use a rifle for close-up targets,” Bryce said. “Unless you’re mounted on horseback, you use a sword, pistol, or shotgun. Even on horseback, a pistol is best for short range. It’s also easier to use.”

“Then why do they make so many rifles?”

“For any target over fifty feet away, you need a rifle. Some rifles are accurate for thousands of yards. That’s the only way we can bring down deer, elk, and moose.”