Rider's Desire Page 12

  Their wait for the carriage to be brought to where they waited gave her time to think. Clay wanted a chance for them to be alone for a talk. So, she tried to think of excusable and appropriate places without being overheard. After a glance at her sister, she smiled. “I’d like to give Mr. Winslow a tour of our stables. I’m sure someone who’s been to both ends of the Pony Express would love to see our horses.”

  “I would, actually,” Clay added while helping first Abigail, then Claudette, into the buggy.

  Mr. Sterling beamed. “I have some of the finest horses here, and several on the farm.”

  “You have a home in town and out in the country?” he asked.

  “We do. A storm came through last month and the farmhouse had roof damage,” Abigail replied. She’d caught the slight expression cross his face and understood his discomfort at their differences. He was a Winslow, one of the town’s poorest families. “Are your parents doing well in California? I suppose everyone has a gold mine they withdraw from at will.”

  He laughed. “Not quite. They do well without needing to burrow underground.” Clay glanced at her. “I mean, I’m sorry.”

  The reminder of Richard did hurt. She’d loved him, after all. “Thank you. He was kind enough to write a reply to my every letter.”

  Claudette leaned forward. “It is so romantic and tragic.”

  Their parents exchanged a glance. Abigail waited for them to resume their protest of her befriending a gold miner out west. She hadn’t quite worked up the nerve to tell them about marrying him. “Yes, very to both.”

  Her sister leaned back into the buggy’s cushions. “I suppose one could be glad you didn’t marry him.”

  She glared at Claudette. “I would never marry someone without father’s permission.” A hush filled the buggy before her sister and parents began laughing. Even Clay grinned at her. “Well, I’d ask him first and then do what I wanted.”

  Mr. Sterling nodded and said, “I expected nothing less, my dear.” He looked at Clay. “I raised my daughters to be independent women and expect my sons-in-law to be strong enough men to accept them.”

  “I would agree with your beliefs, sir. Any woman who ventures west of the Missouri needs to be tough and able to speak her mind. Any man who wouldn’t let her is a fool, in my opinion.” He turned to Abigail. “I think if a man loved his wife, he’d listen to everything and anything she had to say.”

  “I feel ill,” Claudette said, and made gagging noises.

  The carriage rolled to a stop and Mrs. Sterling said, “Are you ill enough to be put to bed with a poultice?”

  “Oh, heavens no.” Claudette followed her parents and Clay out of the vehicle. “I’m never going to be sick enough for another one of those.”

  Abigail let Clay help her down and nudged his arm with her shoulder. “Mother has a poultice guaranteed to heal anyone reluctant to get out of bed.”

  Mrs. Sterling removed her hat and pulled out the pins. “My theory has been if you’re feeling poorly enough to stay in bed with one, you’re poorly enough to call the doctor.”

  She liked how his eyes twinkled when he smiled. Feeling the need to have all of his attention focused on her, Abigail said, “It’s early yet. I’d like to show Mr. Winslow our horses. We won’t be long.”

  Claudette and Mr. Sterling continued on up the steps while arguing about who had it worse during their last cure from Mrs. Sterling, who joined in, defending her methods. No one stopped to object to Abigail’s idea, so she turned to Clay. “I suppose that means go ahead and show off the stables.”

  “I’d like that.”

  She led him around the house and to the side yard. “The stables here are smaller than ours on the farm.” Abigail opened the door and stepped in before she turned to him. For such a slender young man, he was tall enough to leave her feeling delicate. “I’d take you out there to see our home there, but I suppose you’ll have to return to California sometime.”

  He nodded, examining the building around them. “Eventually. I liked Missouri when we lived here, but California, Sacramento specifically, is my home.”

  “All of my family is here.” She leaned closer. “I couldn’t leave them, even if I wanted to.”

  Clay looked down at her with a slight frown. “You were ready to leave everything behind for Crandall.”

  He had a point. She had been ready to run away with Richard, yet now? Her parents had been right. Not everything about a person could be conveyed on a page. She shook her head. “None of that seems real right now. As if I were in a play and he was a fictional character.”

  He put his hands on her shoulders. “And me? When I go back to California will I be fictional, too?”

  “No. You’ll be missed,” she whispered, and leaned forward to kiss him. Their lips met and her breath caught. Clay wasn’t a daydream. He was a warm man holding her in his arms. She gave a little hum, wanting to ignore propriety and not worry about anything but how he felt in her arms. He groaned in response before ending the kiss and backing away from her.

  “No, you’re a lady. I shouldn’t have kissed you.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I mean, you deserve moonlight and flowers, not hay and horses.”

  “I’d rather have the hay and horses if it means I get to have you, too.”

  He kissed her again, surprising Abigail with his intensity. When they broke apart, she stared at him. How could it be possible for someone to fall in love so fast? But she had, and as hard as a boulder down a deep well. Terrified his answer might be a lie, or worse, a truth that didn’t include her, she asked, “Do you have plans for the rest of your life?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Mr. Sterling put the napkin on his lap and helped himself to a dinner roll. “No. No courting. I forbid it.”

  Abigail glared at her father. “So all this talk about my independence was just that. Talk.”

  He paused while cutting his potato. “You know better than that.”

  “Not at the moment, I don’t.”

  Mr. Sterling put down his fork. “Look, it’s one thing to have a schoolgirl crush on a pen friend. Even being smitten with a Pony rider is understandable, but you can’t run off with the first man you meet.” He glanced over at Clay. “No offense.”

  “None taken. I’m just glad she met me first.”

  “Oh, don’t encourage him, Clay.” She tried to ignore how he smiled when she said his name. The man was so distracting. “Father can be a rascal at times.”

  Claudette snickered despite the warning stare from their mother. Mrs. Sterling said, “She’s right about how you raised them, you know. You did tell us just now about your letting the girls choose for themselves.” She smiled at Clay. “He seems like a fine young man, even if he is a Winslow.”

  “Mother!”

  Mr. Sterling frowned at his wife. “Sophie, be reasonable. They met two days ago. No one falls in love so quickly and…” He broke off at her grin. “All right, most people don’t. We’re the exception.”

  Abigail jumped at the chance to press home a point. “See, Father? I’m just an acorn next to your tree. I was meant to fall in love at first sight.”

  “Very well, let’s be serious for a moment.” Mr. Sterling examined Clay. “You want to marry her, son?”

  “Yes, sir; after a respectable engagement.”

  “What future do you have planned so my daughter is adequately cared for?” He gestured around the room. “She’s used to all this. Can you provide something similar?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Do you plan to stay employed as a Pony Express rider?”

  “For as long as I must.”

  Mr. Sterling peered at him for a moment, as if rethinking his next words. He shook his head. “Here’s what will happen in your future. The Pony Express is hemorrhaging money, and I don’t see how the situation will improve, ever.”

  “Nothing lasts forever, good or bad, sir. I’m prepared for both outcomes.”

  “All right. You have a plan for
the railroads stretching from east to west, making the Express obsolete? Leaving you unemployed and living with my daughter on whatever you managed to save up?”

  “I do. I will be buying my own land after six months of riding. After that?” He looked at Abigail. “My life will be lived with her.”

  She blushed and looked down at her plate. “I’d like that, too.”

  “Six months is a long time. What happens if you’re killed by Indians or injured early on? I don’t want my daughter to be a widow before she’s twenty.”

  Clay tilted his head for a second. “You make excellent points, Mr. Sterling. Anything could happen, and the last thing I want is for Abigail to be alone.” He scooted his chair back before standing. “While I have solid goals for my life, prosperous ones, I also didn’t figure in falling in love with her. Everything has changed.”

  Abigail stood. Had her father goaded Clay into denying his feelings for her? She couldn’t ask, because what if he didn’t think she was worth the bother after all? “Are you leaving, then?”

  “Yes, I’m afraid so.” Clay turned to Sophie. “Mrs. Sterling, thank you for the best meal this side of the Pacific.” To Mr. Sterling, he added, “Sir, I appreciate being your guest today and your sound advice. And Claudette, it was a pleasure to meet you.” He addressed Abigail. “Do you mind seeing me to the door?”

  She hurried over to him. “Must you leave so soon?”

  “So soon? We’ve spent the morning together.” He held out his arm for her to take. “I have a few tasks to take care of before tomorrow.” After they’d left the dining room, he pulled her to him. “Your father is right about my future. I can see how the Express might not last forever.”

  “What will you do?”

  “Railroads will make my job obsolete before long. I want to be on the cutting edge of invention, not waiting for an industry to be dead. My, or rather, our future depends on me being adaptable to the latest innovations.” He glanced toward the dining room before giving her a quick kiss. “Do you trust me?”

  “Completely.”

  “Then be patient. I have some business here in town to do, things I want to accomplish before asking you to marry me officially.”

  “You could ask Father for help.”

  “I could, but I want to secure our future on my terms.” He pulled her toward the door. “One more kiss to last me until I return?”

  “Of course,” she replied. “Since Richard… I don’t mean to be overly nervous, but since losing him and after what Father said in there? Please be careful, whatever you decide. I couldn’t bear to lose you, too.”

  Clay took her in his arms. “You won’t. Not now, not ever.”

  He kissed her, his lips firm against hers. Never mind the August afternoon. He’d melt her in the middle of winter. Clay held her close and Abigail broke off their kiss. “You’d better go before I say forget asking my father anything and let’s elope.”

  “No. We do this right. I love you.”

  “I love you, too.” She waited until he stepped out the door before going to the window. She watched him walk down the street until she couldn’t see him anymore. She smelled her mother’s perfume when she stood behind her. Abigail smiled and said, “Should I miss him so much already?”

  “I missed your father as soon as he was out of my sight.” She went to stand by her daughter. “Now that we’ve been married nearly two decades, I can say the longing eases. I don’t miss him until he’s been gone a day or two.”

  “And then?”

  “Then I miss him like you do Clay.”

  “Oh, for Pete’s sake,” Mr. Sterling boomed from the doorway. “You’re not mooning over him so soon, are you?” He came over to where they stood, Claudette beside him, and said, “I’ll bet he’s halfway to Sacramento by now.”

  “Father!” She turned to him and grinned at the twinkle in his eye. “Stop it.”

  “What do you suppose he’ll do?”

  “He didn’t want to elope,” Abigail said, and grinned when her mother gasped. “So, I guess I won’t be continuing that tradition, Mother.”

  “Yes, well, I’d prefer neither of my children do what we did,” Mr. Sterling said. After a while, he asked, “Does he need my help with his plans? Anything I can do in helping him benefits you.”

  “No, he said he wants this on his terms.”

  “Hm, independent little cuss. I like that.”

  “So do I, Father.”

  ***

  The hours into the next day dragged by like a three-legged donkey pulling a full coal car. Abigail counted every molasses drip of a minute until noon. They had been apart for over twenty-four hours now. Where on earth could he be?

  Claudette came over to where she stood at the foyer window. “Why don’t you just go to the end of the walk and whistle for him?”

  She smiled and shook her head. “Believe me, I’ve considered doing so if he would appear.”

  “I’m glad I’m not in love. Looks like a miserable business to me.” She nudged her sister. “Want to know a secret? Clay asked me what your favorite flowers were yesterday. I told him stinkweed.”

  “You wouldn’t dare.”

  Giving her sister a cheeky grin, Claudette said, “Wouldn’t I?”

  The little terror would do such an awful thing. Abigail went back to looking out of the window for Clay and muttered, “I seriously hope he doesn’t have any delivered here.”

  “I’d better go tell Mother to have our best vases prepared. He might also be sending you poison ivy, since you love the color and all.”

  She laughed, remembering the fiasco of picking the beautiful red leaves several summers ago. Abigail still had nightmares. “Rotten child.”

  “Thank you.”

  Abigail turned to glare at her sister while she left the room before smiling. “Spoiled brat,” she muttered before a knock at the door startled her. “I’ll get it,” she said.

  She opened the door to find Clay there, holding a huge bouquet of pink roses. “Oh my! We were just talking about my favorite beau and flowers.” She took the bundle from him, the thorns trimmed from the stems.

  He wore the same nice suit as he had yesterday. She looked him up and down, impressed by how stylish he appeared. “They’re as beautiful as you are handsome.”

  “Thank you.” He caressed the side of her face with the back of his hand. “I had to settle for mere flowers as a gift since there’s nothing to rival your beauty.”

  Her face hot, she smiled and said, “Come in and I’ll find a vase for these.” She turned toward the kitchen, stopping when he grabbed her arm.

  “Wait, please. I have a few things to say, and might jumble the words if you leave right now.”

  “Oh?” Her heart skipped a couple of beats. She motioned toward an elegant chair in the parlor. “Do you need to sit down?”

  “No.” Clay took the roses from her and placed them on a small table between two lanterns. He faced her, taking her shoulders. “You need to know. I’ve been to several places today, getting ready to start a life with you. I collected my final pay from the Express this morning. I’m also set to begin work on a railroad’s survey team, creating a route to Sacramento. After that, I’ll buy our farm.”

  Tears filled Abigail’s eyes. He’d ridden so far and so hard to get to her. Richard had sweet words, but Clay? He used actions to show his love. “And then? What happens after you start farming?”

  “I want to be successful, but no one can predict the future. All I know for sure is I need you in every minute of my life for as long as it lasts. Whatever you ask me to do so you’re happy is my main reason for everything. Will you marry me?”

  A discreet cough caught her attention, and she saw her parents and Claudette in the hallway. “Father?” she asked.

  His voice rough with emotion, her father answered, “You have my permission.”

  “We will insist on a long engagement,” her mother added. “I want plenty of time to plan your engagement and give hi
s parents time to travel here.”

  Abigail laughed before hugging Clay. She relaxed enough to hold his face in her hands. “I want you, too, my love. You’re my future and I’m yours.”

  Thank you for reading Clay and Abigail’s love story! If you enjoyed this book, please consider sharing the love and leave a review. Check out the About the Author section for more information on keeping in the loop on new books for you.

  Continue reading for an excerpt of Santa Fe Woman, the third book in the American West series.

  Santa Fe Woman-Bonus Material

  The American West Series

  Chapter one

  Rachel Stewart stood and stretched her neck, wincing at the resulting cracks. Long shadows outside the west-facing storefront let her know she was long past closing shop. She folded her customer’s half-sewn dress. Unable to finish her work disappointed her.

  Miss Ellie, the store’s owner, already suspected the dress wouldn’t be finished by tomorrow morning. Unwilling to leave a task for someone else, she planned on coming down after dinner to complete her work.

  She stood and went to the door to turn the lock. Weston, Missouri was just as busy during the early evening as any other time. A new surge of settlers heading west after the Civil War gave the city a better purpose these days. She stared at the early evening haze. Any reason was much better than burning other peoples’ property just because they might be Confederate sympathizers. Yes, she might be a wee bit bitter still.

  Rachel reached for the ‘Open’ sign and stopped after a knock at the door. After firmly setting the sign to ‘Closed’, she turned to the new arrival. The man, a handsome devil, smiled at her. He held up folded fabric with a clear and pleading expression. Spending the day sewing a dress too delicate for her to ever wear left Rachel unwilling to be charitable to anyone. She was tempted to turn him away until tomorrow. Let Miss Ellie help him with whatever he needed.

  Except now, the gentleman had his hands together as if begging, the garment under one arm held close to his side. She narrowed her eyes. He used the adorable cowlick in his dark hair, deep brown eyes, and scruff of a dark beard to his advantage. Rachel sighed. He was probably a terror to his mother and any other woman in his life. She turned the lock and opened the door. “Yes?”