Gerrity'S Bride Read online

  She would ride alone this morning, always within sight of the house and barns, she had promised at the breakfast table. Matt would be working with horses in the corral, unable to join her. She watched as Claude tightened the cinch and dropped the stirrup into place, ready for her to mount.

  Leading the horse, one hand on his bridle, she walked with him until she lined him up with a mounting block Claude had placed for her use next to the barn. She could manage without it, but the gesture had pleased her, and she knew he watched as she stepped up onto it, smiling in his direction in silent thanks.

  The horse edged away as she put her weight in the stirrup, and she spoke quietly to him, swinging her other leg over the saddle and gathering the reins into her left hand.

  Like a demented animal, the cow pony flung his head back and snorted, then bowed his back and kicked out with his hind legs. His loud whinny rang out, and then, in a surprise movement that had her clutching at the saddle horn and dropping the reins at the same time, he leaped with all four legs off the ground, slamming once more against the hard sand, jarring her teeth together.

  “Whoa...whoa there, Brownie!” Claude’s hoarse voice rang out in near panic as he watched the young woman clinging for dear life to the animal she rode.

  From the corral, three men came running to the scene, Matt Gerrity at the front, his booted feet eating up the ground in long strides, his eyes focused intently on the drama before him.

  She was holding her own, he’d give her that. But the reins trailing and whipping through the air seemed to spur the horse on to even greater effort as he sought to dislodge the slight weight on his back. He leaped once more into the air, and this time skewed sideways as he returned to earth.

  It was too much. Her body flew off at an angle and Matt was there, between bucking horse and fallen woman. Moving quickly, he scooped her from the ground, even as the two other men captured the horse. Brownie stood, spraddle-legged, blowing and wheezing while he shivered and shuddered beneath the empty saddle.

  “What the hell happened?” Matt’s voice boomed out in anger. He stood just out of reach of the animal, holding Emmaline’s inert form against his chest.

  Claude shook his head, his wizened features perplexed. “Don’t know, boss. He was fine just a minute ago. Miss Emmaline was pamperin’ him, and he was havin’ a good time, just eatin’ it up. Then I swung his saddle on and cinched it up good, and she clumb up on her block and got on. Just like yesterday and the day before.”

  “Well, something happened,” Matt growled, “and you’d better figure it out, old man.”

  Matt turned with his burden and stalked toward the house, leaving the three men staring in his wake.

  “Do ya ’spose she’s okay?” asked the man who held Brownie firmly.

  Claude shrugged and shook his head, perplexed. “Who knows, Tucker? She shore did bang herself a good one... ‘Peared to me she was out like a light.

  The third man, Earl, was busy with the cinch, working at removing the saddle Claude had just moments before put in place. “Let’s get ol’ Brownie dried off,” he said. “We’ll get a good look at him.”

  Tucker picked up the halter from the ground. “This one Brownie’s?” And without waiting for a reply, he slid it over the horse’s ears and into place, removing the bridle in a reverse motion.

  Claude watched silently as Earl disappeared into the barn with the saddle, and his sigh of disbelief was deep.

  “I shore can’t understand that’n,” he muttered, his gaze following Matt’s tall figure through the double doors into the house. “Nope, I shore can’t figure that out at all.” His gnarled hands ran over the animal who stood before him, quiet now, a far cry from the bucking cow pony of moments ago.

  * * *

  “She’ll be fine, Mr. Matthew.” The words were confident and softly spoken, and Emmaline heard them through a painful haze.

  Maria, she thought, recognizing the woman’s voice. And then she spoke the name.

  “Maria.” It was loud in her mind, but the sound that passed between her lips was but a whisper. Two heads bent low, but Matt’s fingers reached to grasp her hand, and it was to him that her head turned, her eyelids fluttering open for just a moment.

  “Emmaline?” He sat gingerly on the edge of the bed, still carefully holding her hand, his index finger slipping up to the inside of her wrist. His other hand lifted to brush her hair away from her face, and the fiery tendrils caught and curled about his fingers.

  Drops of blood were smeared on her forehead, and already a lump had risen. A quickening of emotion thickened his throat as he recognized the vulnerability of this woman. So easily she could have been taken from him, even before he’d come to fully know her, before he’d had a chance to claim her as his own.

  The thought startled him. It was a stranger to his solitary existence, this yearning to claim another human as part of himself. Not as he’d taken other women in casual encounters during the past several years. They’d been like falling leaves, held for a few moments and then released. And with the thought, he dismissed the memory of them from his mind, as if they were whisked away by the winds of chance. For chance encounters were all he’d ever known...until now. Until this mercurial creature had come into his life and wiggled her sassy little self into his plans for the future.

  The fact that old man Carruthers had dictated that same future no longer seemed nearly as important to Matt Gerrity as he sat by the side of the woman he was determined to marry. What was important now was that she be guarded against any further mishap, that he keep her safe and secure.

  He bent lower and whispered her name again. It was a low, breathy sound that called to her from the dim edges of awareness.

  “Yes...” She spoke the single word and once more attempted to lift heavy eyelids, but the effort was too much, with the pain that sliced through her head and the bright light that shone from the window.

  “Head hurts.” She blinked, her free hand lifting to rub at the offending spot.

  “I’ve sent for the doctor from town.” Matt’s large palm spread over her forehead and temple, his eyes inspecting the swelling and bruising beneath the dust and smeared blood that clung to her skin.

  “I’m all right,” she managed to say, silently trying to assess her own injuries as she shifted against the mattress. Her feet and legs seemed fine, and although she sensed she would be lame and a bit stiff and sore, the only thing that concerned her was the pain radiating from her head.

  “Lie still, Emmaline.” Though spoken softly, it was a command nonetheless, halting her movement as she turned her head on the pillow.

  “Can’t...it hurts,” she murmured, closing her eyes once more, shielding them from the bright sunshine flooding her room.

  Immediately his hand released hers, unclasping it from the firm hold he had taken. Her limp fingers twitched once, as if they searched for his touch, and then stilled against the coverlet. His palm enclosed the base of her skull for a moment, and his long fingers carefully and tenderly worked their way through her curls, searching out the contours of her head.

  She grunted when he touched a swollen area just above her ear. “Ummm...right there.”

  “Yeah, that’s quite a knot you’ve got there, honey.” Bending closer, he brushed the hair aside. “The skin’s scraped up a little, but that lump’s not bleeding.”

  “I’m fine... Need to rest.” Her words were slurred, barely audible to the two watching her.

  Maria shook her head, her worry evident as she bent low over the bed. “We need to wash her up and put on her nightgown, so the doctor can look her over.”

  “No...” Emmaline whispered, her forehead wrinkled against the ache and stinging pain. “Lemme rest...call me for dinner.”

  “Fat chance,” Matt grumbled beneath his breath. He bent lower, until his lips were at her ear, and he blew in it gently. “I don’t want any arguments. Let Maria help you, like a good girl, or else I’ll have to stick around and do it myself.”

/>   Emmaline glared at him for a moment through slitted eyes, then, with a sigh of resignation, relaxed against his big body. For just a few minutes, it was easier to let him take charge, she decided. For now, she’d surrender gracefully.

  “Just need a nap,” she breathed in a final sally, aware for a fleeting moment that his chuckle followed her into the dreamless sleep that claimed her.

  Maria stood by the bed, hands clasped at her waist. “What happened, Mr. Matt?”

  He shook his head. “I’m not sure. Brownie threw her. Bucked like a new bronc out there for a minute. Doesn’t make sense to me.” He eased to his feet and stood watching the even breathing of the woman on the bed.

  “You can bet your boots I’m sure going to find out what happened. You’d better believe that, Maria.”

  * * *

  The sharp piece of iron had been wedged into the leather of the saddle, underneath, where it would not be seen, and toward the center, where no one would touch it during the normal movements it would take to lift it onto a horse’s back.

  “Who found it?” Matt’s voice was harsh as he tugged at the almost hidden object. “It’s a good thing she’s not heavy,” he said as he managed to loosen it and pull it from its place. “A man’s weight would have jammed this thing in good.”

  Claude nodded in agreement. “As it was, ol’ Brownie just got a good scratch out of it. ‘Nough to set him off, though.”

  “I found it, boss.” Tucker stood in the doorway of the tack room. “I was wipin’ down ol’ Brownie and saw blood on the rag. Took a look at the underside of his saddle and thought you’d better take a look.”

  “Anybody been around?” Matt asked as he thumbed the sharp object he held.

  “Dunno,” Claude answered. “Not that I saw. But then, I been out with the colts this mornin’.”

  “Can’t imagine who’d do such a thing,” Tucker said mildly. “Could have really...” His voice trailed off as Matt shot him a glance.

  “Well...someone did it. And when I find him...” Matt’s jaw tightened, and his eyes darkened with anger.

  * * *

  “She is a very stubborn lady.”

  “You don’t mean Emmaline, by chance, do you, Maria?” Matt’s worry lines were soothed by the doctor’s pronouncement that Emmaline would be fine, and was in a mood to be agreeable.

  But the woman standing just outside the closed bedroom door, holding a supper tray, did not appear nearly so pleased with the state of affairs.

  “Mr. Matt, she says she will get up for supper tonight. And when I told her the doctor wants her to stay in bed for the rest of the day, she just said, ‘Pooh on him!’ And that’s no way to talk about our doctor.” Her indignation was simmering, but Maria had backed off from the battle, aware that Matthew Gerrity was much more capable of waging this war of words.

  His grin bespoke confidence, and Maria gladly surrendered the tray to her employer. She hurried down the passage toward the front of the house, her head bobbing in time to the words she muttered.

  “More like her papa every day. Just as redheaded and just as bullheaded.”

  Balancing the tray on one hand, Matt turned the door knob and eased his way into Emmaline’s room. One knuckle rapped on the opening door as he called out a greeting.

  “Emmaline, I found Maria in the hallway with this tray of food. How about sharing it with me?”

  “You could have knocked before you opened the door,” she stated haughtily from her perch on the side of the bed. Slender white feet hung below the bedding, several inches from the floor, and the cotton gown she wore covered the rest of her admirably. Only her hands and face were left to his view. One hand had scabs already forming across the knuckles, the other wore a bruise that covered its palm and ran up beneath the ruffle that cuffed her sleeve. She was pale, and her mouth was pinched against the headache still plaguing her, but her face was unmarred. Her hair, haloing her head, was the sole spot of brightness against the white bedding and gown she wore.

  “Do I look that bad?” she asked. “You’re frowning.” Her mouth formed a pout as she glowered at him from eyes that wore faint violet shadows beneath their lower lids.

  “Yep, you sure do look like the very dickens, lady. And you sure as hell don’t look to me like you ought to be threatenin’ to climb out of there and trot right down to the dining room for supper.” He examined her for a moment. “In fact, I’d say your best bet is to lay back down on that bed and behave yourself.”

  “Well, I would have been dressed and ready for supper in just a few minutes,” she said defensively, only too aware of the pillow behind her that beckoned her to return to its comfort.

  “Not a chance, honey.” His smile was cheerful, but his stance belied his good humor.

  She opened her mouth and closed it. Suddenly the thought of moving from the bed had lost its appeal, even though her pride was making demands.

  “I’ve never been thrown from a horse before,” she admitted, brushing at the scratches on her fingers, unwilling to meet Matt’s eyes while she made her confession.

  He relaxed. She was giving in, almost without a murmur. Lowering the tray to the table next to the bed, he paused for a moment to absorb her words. A smile twisted the corner of his mouth as he turned to her, one long finger lifting her chin, the better to see her face.

  “Wish I had a nickel for every time I’ve eaten dust in the corral,” he admitted.

  Her eyes swept open and widened as she gauged his words. “Really? You’ve been bucked off?”

  Matt’s chuckle was rich with humor. “Honey, when you break horses for a living, you might as well figure on hitting the ground once in a while.”

  “I didn’t mean to cause all this fuss.” One hand waved at the supper tray, even as the other tugged the sheet up higher to cover the front of her nightgown. “I’m sure the doctor told you I’m just fine.”

  “Not quite. The doctor said you probably have a mild concussion and need to stay in bed for a full day. If your head still hurts by the day after tomorrow, he wants to know about it.”

  “He said that?” Her eyes blinked against the prickly tears forming, and she pulled away from the finger he’d propped beneath her chin. She’d turned down the tray Maria offered because she didn’t want to be a burden to anyone, but Matt certainly didn’t act as if she was a problem at all, if the concerned look he wore was any indication.

  “Emmaline?” He squatted at the side of the bed, his face on a level with her own. “You’re not crying, are you? Do you hurt anywhere? Does your head pain you?” He eased her feet back up beneath the covers, his big hands warm against her ankles. And then he rose to lower her to the pillow, relieved when she offered no protest.

  “No, I’m not crying. I never cry,” she said stiffly, blinking furiously at the evidence of her lie.

  He settled at her side, within easy reach of the tray of food, and considered the problem. Then, with careful hands, he lifted her in his arms, her face buried against his chest and propped two more pillows behind her head, until she was elevated to his satisfaction.

  She inhaled once more, catching a last whiff of his shirt, which held the faintly musky, male scent of him. “Do you know that men smell different than women?” she whispered whimsically, relaxing against the pillows.

  His hands, ready to lift the tray, stilled suddenly as he glanced at her, his eyebrows raised in surprise. “Well, I reckon I knew that, honey. But I wasn’t sure that you did.”

  Suddenly weary, she nodded solemnly. “I do now. Your shirt smells sort of like leather and horses and lye soap, but I could smell your skin, too.”

  “Well...” He lifted the tray and held it on his lap, the grin he’d worn earlier returning to twitch his lip. The thought of that straight little nose sniffing at his chest brought to life another problem, and he gritted his teeth against the fullness he felt in his groin.

  “I like having you take care of me, Matthew.” Emmaline blinked again, and then her eyes closed for a moment.
“I can’t believe I’m saying such things to you. My head feels all muzzy inside again.”

  “Probably the medicine Doc gave you,” he murmured. His hands were busy with the food, uncovering the soup Maria had prepared, unwrapping the napkin that held the thin slices of bread she had buttered and cut into narrow wedges. “You can chatter all you want, sweetheart,” he told her with a wry grin. “But I suspect you won’t be happy with yourself tomorrow, if you talk too sweet to me tonight.”

  “I’m not talking sweet. I gave Maria a hard time, didn’t I?” she asked wearily. “Tell her I’m sorry.”

  He grinned agreeably. “Yeah, you were a real pain in the patoot, honey. Now open wide.” Bringing the soup spoon toward her lips, he waited for her to obey, one hand holding a napkin beneath it.

  She obeyed and savored the chicken broth for a moment before she swallowed it, murmuring her approval.

  “Here, let me fix this.” With one hand, Matt spread the napkin across her chest, easing one edge beneath her chin and lightly smoothing the cloth into place. Beneath his palm he felt the rise of her breasts and her sudden intake of breath.

  “Shhh...it’s all right,” he said quickly when she cast a startled look at him. “Just making sure your gown doesn’t get splattered with soup.”

  “I think you’re taking advantage of me.” Choosing her words carefully, she peered at him from beneath heavy eyelids. “I’m not sure you should even be in my bedroom, you know.”

  “Here.” He quieted her with another spoonful of broth. “We’re going to be married, Emmaline. I’ll be sleeping in your bedroom before long.”

  She swallowed quickly. “My grandparents each have their own room. I think that would be a good idea for us, too. I’m not used to sharing a room with anyone, and I’m certain you would sleep better without me taking up half your bed.”

  He held the spoon before her lips. “Quit arguing with me, Emmaline. We’ll settle it another day. Right now, I just want you to eat your supper. How about a little of Maria’s fresh bread now?”

  She nodded slowly and accepted the narrow slice he gave her, biting and chewing with precision. “Hmmm...don’t you think it’s about time for me to win an argument?” she asked, waving her hand at him imperiously as she savored the fresh bread.