Читать книгу The Bride Wore Spurs - Janet Dean - Страница 12

Chapter Four

Matt held up his palms and took another step back, tripping over a tree root, but managed to stay on his feet. Barely. What the tarnation had just happened?

Assistance with the coming roundup he’d expected.

A helping hand on the Lazy P, sure.

But marriage?

Nothing could’ve been further from his mind. Hannah Parrish, that gangly girl from the neighboring ranch, his kid brother Zack’s tagalong, had proposed?

To him?

“Did you just say...marriage?”

“I did,” she said.

His gaze swept over her slender yet curvy frame, wide blue eyes, wind tossed red-brown hair. That gangly girl had grown into a fine-looking woman. Still, the idea of marriage was crazy. Why, Hannah could barely tolerate him.

Not that he hadn’t been at fault for raising her hackles. Since he’d laid eyes on her at the depot, he’d teased her about her finery, her debutante days in Charleston, her elocution. He’d done it to keep her attention on him and off her father.

He bit back a sigh. Why not be honest? He’d become an expert at holding women at arm’s length. He had no intention of falling for a woman, especially a female with an iron will.

A scowl on her face, Hannah folded her arms across her chest. “You look like a man sentenced to hang.”

An apt description considering his throat had constricted with the pressure of a squeezing noose. He took a step closer. Lifted a hand toward her. “I’m sorry, I...ah, you surprised me.”

She whirled out of his reach. “Forget it!”

“Wait.” He shot after her, taking her by the arm. “You can’t blame a man for being taken aback. A request for help doesn’t usually include a marriage proposal.”

“These aren’t usual circumstances.”

He released a gust of air. “No, they’re not.”

“I don’t want marriage any more than you do.” Her eyes flared. Then drifted in the direction of her house where disease and worry dwelled. “I don’t see another option.”

“Reckon marriage to me means you get help with your pa, an experienced cowhand and a husband all rolled into one.”

“Husband?”

“That is what you call the groom once you tie the knot.”

“I...” Her cheeks bloomed. “I hadn’t thought about a husband.”

“A husband does come with the wedding band,” he ground out.

That chin of hers shot up. He hadn’t meant to sound testy, but matrimony was sacred, not to be entered lightly. If they wed, they’d be hitched for life. With that stubborn streak of hers, marriage would feel like a life sentence, too.

Her gaze dropped away. She fiddled with the sleeve of her dress. “We’re not in love so we’d, ah...well...”

“Have no proper marital...union, is that what you’re trying to say?”

“Yes.”

Why didn’t he feel relieved by her answer? If he married, a marriage without love was what he’d want. Even four years later, Amy’s death haunted him. He clamped his jaw. He’d never again risk that kind of anguish.

Tears brimmed in Hannah’s eyes. Eyes filled with desperation. Disquiet. A host of emotions he couldn’t handle. A damsel in distress. How could a man look into those eyes without wanting to save her?

But, at what cost? “What do I get out of this marriage?”

Her eyes widened. Like the question surprised her. “You?”

“Yes, me. I’d be half of the man and wife.” He didn’t mention her opposition to a proper man and wife relationship, but the arrangement hung over them just the same.

“Well, you’d, ah, get a home. Good food. Rosa’s an excellent cook. And—” she wrinkled her nose that cute way she had “—you wouldn’t have to ride to the Lazy P twice a day to help Papa and...” Her words trailed off. “That’s not much.”

Without a doubt, Hannah wouldn’t have turned to him if she’d had another candidate for the position of husband. “What I’d get is another ranch to run.” He removed his Stetson and slapped it against his thigh, raising dust and his ire with each whack. “You’ve resented what you called my interference. Now you’re asking for it?”

She straightened her shoulders, but didn’t look him in the eye. “I’d prefer you not interfere. I’d make the decisions on how to run the Lazy P. I will work on my ranch. None of that nonsense about leaving the job to the men.”

Mercy, if he married her, he’d have to put up regularly with this spitfire. One thing he’d give Hannah, she had bravado, more like audacity, considering her lack of alternatives.

“All I need a husband for is...” Her brow furrowed, groping for the word.

“Respect,” he finished for her.

She nodded. “I’m seen as an upstart, not a boss. With a husband—” She shot him a defiant stare. “In name only, well...if you showed your support, the hands would listen to me, figure the instructions came from you.”

That much was true.

“Well, will you marry me or not?” She crossed her arms over her bosom, trying to look in control, but her lips trembled like a terrified toddler.

As long as he’d peered into those pretty, haunted eyes, how could he expect to make an intelligent decision? Could any decision be called intelligent that involved marrying a woman he didn’t love? And who didn’t love him?

Lord, I need the wisdom You gave Solomon.

“I’ll think about it. Pray about it. This isn’t an agreement a man enters into lightly.”

With that assertion, he plopped his Stetson on his head, strode to his horse and rode for the Circle W, leaving Hannah behind, from what he’d heard, sputtering. Had she expected his answer on the spot?

He needed time to wrap his mind around her proposal. He supposed marriage to Hannah would mean no risk of entangling his heart and no more of Jenny Sample’s cakes. And, marrying Hannah would allow him to care for a dying man he saw as a second father.

Amy’s death had killed his capacity to risk his heart. A marriage of convenience would work for him, but didn’t seem fair to Hannah. She deserved love. Even if he could love again, he didn’t deserve her, any woman.

If only—

He refused to let his mind travel to the day of Amy’s death. As much as he lived with regrets, nothing could change the past.

* * *

A bright, sunny morning didn’t fit Hannah’s mood. As she and Jake finished the last of the chores, she’d prayed for an answer to her dilemma. Never thinking God would put words in her mouth, she’d never have spoken if she hadn’t been desperate to give Papa peace. Marry me, Matt, she’d blurted out. Yet marriage was the last thing she wanted. If Matt agreed, would the solution bring even bigger problems? If he refused, she’d have no recourse but to sell.

She felt out of control, swept along like the cattle she’d often witnessed in Fort Worth, driven through narrow chutes and onto waiting railroad boxcars that would deliver them to their final destination.

Annihilation.

She shivered. Surely marriage wouldn’t be that bad. She knew little about wedded life, had no more than an outsider’s view. Would a husband want to herd her into the narrow shoot of his will and destroy the freedom she held dear, freedom to work, freedom to run the ranch? To have purpose and meaning, be part of something bigger than her?

Across the way, Matt emerged from the back door, no doubt finished helping Papa shave and dress, the actions of a thoughtful, caring man. Why had she thought he had ulterior motives for his kindness?

With a strong, hardworking, no-nonsense air about him, Matt’s long legs gobbled up the distance as he strode to his horse. Where was he headed?

She caught up with him just as he took Thunder’s reins. “Heading back to the Circle W?” she said, trying to sound casual, when every muscle tensed with wondering if he’d come to a decision about marrying her.

He turned to her, a smile on his lips. The sight of that dimple winking at her and his dark eyes, soft, kind, whooshed the breath out of her lungs. Why couldn’t she stop reacting to the man? He saw her as a gangly kid to be teased, barely tolerated.

“Several of your cows will be dropping calves. Thought I’d ride out to check on them.”

Here was an opportunity to take back the reins of her life. “If you can wait while I change out of this dress and saddle Star, I’ll ride along. See for myself how the herd looks.”

And along the way ask a few questions about the ranch. Make sure he saw her as being in charge. Prove she wasn’t the debutante he believed her to be.

“I’ll saddle Star for you,” he said, then disappeared into the stable.

Within minutes, she’d told Papa her whereabouts, changed into denims and returned just as Matt emerged leading Star.

“That was quick,” he said, his gaze sliding over her.

“Papa’s determined to see me in a dress. I’ll change back before he sees me.”

With an impish grin on his face, Matt gave her a hand up. “I don’t understand Martin’s position. You look mighty good in pants.”

Her cheeks heated and the smile wobbled on her lips. At least Matt wouldn’t insist on her wearing dresses if they married, but would she lose the freedom she cherished?

Lose her identity like Belle, her married friend? Once she and Belle had shared the thrill of riding, of lassoing calves, of shooting tin cans off fence posts. Now Belle had turned into a lady, answering to her full name Marybelle, spending her days cooking and cleaning, washing and ironing, mending and gardening. Not that Hannah shunned hard work, but she’d find such confinement suffocating.

With maids and a cook to do the work, Aunt Mary Esther spent her days socializing and didn’t appear to have an independent thought from Uncle Clyde. That existence would be even more unbearable.

In comparison with the alternatives, marriage to Matt looked tolerable.

They rode out toward the north range, the view from horseback exhilarating. But then the realities of life invaded her mind, dashing her pleasure like a deluge doused in hot coals.

“How does Papa seem to you?” Hannah asked.

“Having you home has lifted his spirits.”

If Matt agreed, Hannah knew their marriage would give Papa peace. And her the certainty of staying on the land she loved. He hadn’t broached the topic, probably still praying about his answer. She wouldn’t press for his decision, for fear that pushing him would raise his ire and he’d give a hasty no.

Instead she’d focus the conversation on the ranch and look for ways to resolve the problems. “Did we lose many cattle last winter?”

“Nope. Mild winter. Another year or two like that and the herd will come close to its size before the winter of ’86–’87.”

That was a terrible winter and spring. Cattle that survived the blizzard were swept away in floods. They’d lost half the herd, more fortunate than some, but still they’d taken a serious punch in the pocketbook.

Ahead of her, the cattle dotted the fenced pasture, their large frames of every imaginable color. Their horned white faces bent toward the grass. “Crossbreeding longhorns with Herefords makes an interesting herd.”

“Yep, the offspring are the best of both breeds, even-tempered, early maturing and mighty fine eating. They fatten up fast and handle drought. The cows make excellent mothers.”

At the entrance to the north pasture, Matt guided Thunder alongside the fence, opening the gate from horseback, letting her ride through before closing it behind them.

Up ahead two calves bunted each other, then stopped to stare as they rode slowly through the herd, counting calves. A few of the babies were overcome with fear and rushed to their mamas to nurse and be comforted.

Hannah grinned at Matt. “Aren’t they cute?”

“Yep, better yet, they’re profit on legs. I—”

He rose in the saddle, then with a nudge of his knees, urged his horse forward. Hannah followed. Up ahead, away from the herd, a cow lay on the ground. At their approach, she staggered to her feet, took a few steps then lay down again.

Matt frowned. “She’s calving and in distress.”

When they were a few yards from the animal, the cow rose, scrambling away from them, revealing the emerging calf’s snout.

The first time Hannah witnessed the birth of a calf she’d been a tyke riding in front of her father. She knew the front legs should appear before the head. Head first meant trouble.

Matt grabbed the lasso draped on his saddle horn, twirled it overhead, then released the line. The loop settled around the cow’s neck. He tightened the hoop, then hauled the cow toward a fence post. She trotted a few steps, then lurched to the side, attempting to get away, but rider and horse cut off her escape.

At the post, Matt dismounted, heaved the lariat around the wood and, using the leverage, pulled the animal closer, then knotted it, holding her in place.

Breath coming fast and shallow, the cow bellowed as a contraction slithered through her. Matt strode to her hindquarters. “Front legs are folded back.”

Hannah tethered the horses, then moved to Matt’s side. “Poor thing.”

“I’ve got to fish for the front legs.” He didn’t look up, merely unbuttoned his cuff, then jerked his head toward the horses. “Stand by Star. Turn your back. Can’t have you fainting on me.”

“I’ve seen calves born countless times.” She jerked up her chin. “Besides, I’m not the fainting type.”

One arched brow said he doubted her claim. “Suit yourself, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Hannah may have seen calves born, but had no idea what to do in this situation. She bit her lip, grateful Matt didn’t hold back, and took fast action. He tried to slide his hand past the calf’s head. Once. Twice. A third time. “My hand’s too big.”

“I’ll try. What should I do?”

Matt’s eyes lit with something akin to admiration. “See if you can find a small flat surface right below the jaw. That’s the calf’s knee.”

Lord, help me. She slipped her hand in. “Found it.”

“Follow it back till you find the hoof. Bring it forward.”

“Oh, no, the calf pulled his leg away.” Perspiration beaded her brow. “Wait, the legs are straight now. Got ’em. Slippery.”

The sweet scent of amniotic fluid filling her nostrils, she hung on, guiding first one leg, then the other, producing the calf’s fully extended front legs and head. With the next contraction the body followed in a whoosh of fluid and slid out onto the grass, a slick dark speckled lump.

A motionless lump.

Holding her breath, Hannah slid away the sack, waiting for the calf’s chest to rise, fall. Nothing. She ran to Star, jerked her bedroll from behind her saddle and wrapped the blanket around the glistening calf, rubbing the fibers over its hide.

“Come on, baby. Breathe,” she said, warming the calf.

The calf jerked and sucked in air. Its eyes opened and stared up at her. Hannah peered into those dark eyes. “Well, hello there, little guy.”

The cow lunged against the rope, determined to reach her calf. Matt grabbed Hannah’s hand, pulled her out of harm’s way, then untied the rope and removed the lariat. The cow paid them no mind, merely circled to the now bawling calf and proceeded to lick every inch of him. Within minutes the calf staggered to his feet, swaying against the pressure of his mother’s tongue, keeping his balance, barely. A quick maneuver by the mother and he found nourishment.

His grin as wide as the outdoors, Matt met her gaze. “Looks like they’ll both make it, thanks to you.”

“And you. You told me what to do. If you hadn’t decided to ride out here and check on the cows dropping calves...”

“Most likely they’d have both died. We’ll head to the south range.” He winked. “Maybe next time, you’ll help birth twins.”

“I’ve had enough excitement for one day.”

With a chuckle, he swept a hand toward her. “No debutante would be caught looking like that.”

Hannah glanced at the damp smears streaking her shirt and denims. “I’m no debutante, remember?”

“I’m starting to believe it. You and I make a good team.” The mischief left his gaze. A gaze that suddenly turned tender. “You love this land, the ranch, the cattle. Everything.”

“I do.”

“I do, too.” He touched her hand. “Reckon with all those I dos, we’d better get hitched and keep you here.”

Her gaze locked with his. She lost herself in his eyes, dark, mysterious, full of life and offering marriage.

“See something you like?” he said, dimple twinkling.

Heat surged to her cheeks. Nothing about the man met her disapproval. “No, nothing much.”

When had she uttered a bigger lie?

Matt’s self-assured, relaxed posture said he was sure of himself—and of her, most likely. Why wouldn’t he be? She’d done the proposing. First.

“With the six-year difference in our ages and your year away, we don’t know each other all that well. But, we’re alike in our bond with this land.” Expression earnest, Matt leaned toward her. “I can think of far worse reasons to marry.”

Just like that, with few words, the bargain was sealed.

“We need to do this right,” he said, taking her hand and sending a shiver along her spine. He moved as if to get down on one knee.

With a gasp of protest, she snatched her hand away. “This marriage is business only. No need for a proper proposal.”

“Is it really? Just business for you?”

Her gaze settled on those eyes searching hers, as if peering into her soul. She wouldn’t get swept up by a handsome face and fall for a man. Not even a man with a dazzling smile and a dimple begging for her touch.

At her silence, he took a step back, erect, formal. “Hannah Parrish, will you marry me?”

A lump rose in her throat. Once she agreed, there’d be no turning back. Yet what choice did she have? “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

“We’ll need to marry soon.”

Hannah stiffened. “How soon?”

“Today’s Monday. Can we get it done by Thursday?”

Get it done. As if marriage was on his list of chores. Her stomach clenched. How could she be ready in three days?

“Martin’s a very sick man,” he reminded her. “He’d want to see you wed.”

For Papa she could do anything. “Yes,” she said in a voice that wobbled.

“I’ll do my best to be a good husband.” His soft tone matched the kindness in his eyes.

She had no idea what constituted a good husband...or for that matter, a good wife. Could she fit into a husband’s expectations? Especially a mature man like Matt?

One thing Hannah knew, she could never abide a bossy spouse. Papa seldom gave her orders. Until now. She’d grown up making her own decisions and had felt stifled under Aunt Mary Esther’s thumb. She couldn’t imagine a lifetime of being dictated to by a man. Would Matt allow her the freedom she needed?

Her gaze swept the land. To remain on the ranch, to keep her way of life and to give her father peace, she’d marry.

If only they had more time.

If only Papa wasn’t dying.

If only they were in love.

She thought of the tenderness that had fleetingly appeared in Matt’s eyes. Perhaps love was possible...eventually.

No, that expectation was a foolish peg to hang her heart on. A fairy-tale ending wasn’t what she wanted. She would deal with the real world. Papa was dying. To run the ranch and remain on the land she loved, she’d marry a man she didn’t.