Читать книгу The Parson's Christmas Gift - Kerri Mountain - Страница 11

Zane dismounted without his usual ease. That fall would have him stiff tomorrow but no lasting harm done. With a pat to Malachi’s flank, he took off his tack and led him into his stall. After taking care of his mount, he moved to check on the other two horses he kept.

When he had heeded the Lord’s call to the ministry, he thought his dreams of owning his own horse ranch were gone. It was a trade he’d been willing to make, but it didn’t mean he wouldn’t miss it. Sarah had been the one to encourage him to do both.

It hadn’t been easy on a pastor’s wage to get started, but he and Sarah had both made sacrifices enough to give them a start. He looked around now at the barn with the three horses. Not a grand beginning but room to grow. Without the horses to focus on after the fire and to fill those few hours when he was forced to be alone, he might’ve lost sight of their dream altogether.

He rubbed his tired eyes, wincing when he nudged the lump on the side of his head. He’d gladly trade it all to be rebuilding his dream with Sarah, rather than continuing it without her.

Zane made his way into the little house he’d built for himself. The Lord had called him to the ministry, and he had believed at one time that Sarah had been the one to be his helpmate in it. But hadn’t the Lord shown him otherwise by taking her so soon from him? He’d failed somehow—failed to protect his family when they needed him most.

He rubbed his face and moved his hand back to his neck. He needed to wash up and finalize his sermon notes, then make a visit to the Culpeppers’ and see how Agnes was faring with her gout. Then he’d ride upstream a bit and practice his sermon before turning in.

It would be a productive day. It had been a productive week. But it didn’t change the fact that he’d come home to an empty house tonight.

Journey gave the ropes a final tug, securing her bedroll to the saddle. The horse sidestepped and pranced. Journey watched the evening sun drip into the horizon behind the peaked hills. She pinched her lips and let go a long breath, then nudged Gypsy toward the west.

Her cheeks ached from holding a tight smile for the better part of the afternoon. It took a firm hold to keep her horse at a walk tonight. They crossed the bridge leading out of town.

“I thanked her for the offer, of course, Gyp.” She used low tones to calm the skittish horse. “But there’s no way we can stay here. It wouldn’t be right to drag her into our mess. Besides, her nephew is the law in Virginia City. We can’t risk being caught. I’m not the fool I was when we first left Georgia.” Her horse skittered and neighed. “Well, not quite.”

Gypsy tossed her black mane and whinnied. “I know. I liked the lady, too. I think we might have gotten a fair shake from her.”

She felt guilty taking supper with the Norwoods, but Abby had all but tied her to a chair. Besides, she knew she’d do well to fill up before hitting the trail again. She excused herself before Abby brought out the pie, saying she wanted to explore the town before dark. But the wide, friendly streets and small, boasting businesses didn’t attract her as much as the gurgling river and mountain views. They gave her space to breathe. She could appreciate Miss Rose’s desire to be away from Walten’s streets. There was no way she could stay. But she thought again of Miss Rose’s ranch. Was there?

“We’ll try the next town,” she said. “We can’t expect comfortable. Maybe when things have settled down more, we could come back. Everything is too messed up now.”

She stroked the horse’s brown neck. There was no time to be looking back. She’d had her chance. Stupid, stupid, stupid…]Leaving Hank at the start would’ve been so much smarter. There’d been no reason to stick around after that first slap. There probably hadn’t been much of a reason to stick around before it, for that matter.

She shivered, rousing herself back to the moment at hand. With the glow of the sun in the twilight sky being all that remained of the day, the cool of night drew up a breeze. It would be cold sleeping out on the trail tonight. She thought a moment of the airy upper floor of that ranch house. She could picture Miss Rose poking the fire, banking it for the night.

Journey buttoned her coat up to her chin and shifted in the saddle. She’d cut through toward the bluff and camp in the stand of pines there, then keep heading west at first light. Quiet sounds of the night echoed over the bluffs—the hoot of an owl, soft wind from the hills. Her arms and legs lost some of their tenseness. The trail narrowed, but the trees brushing overhead gave the comfort of shelter.

Her eyelids drifted closed until her horse balked, refusing to move on. “A little farther, Gyp, and we’ll bed down.” She dug her heel into the flank.

But the horse reared back, snapping her fully awake, fingers tensed over the reins. She grabbed the saddle horn before she slid too far. Just as quickly, the forehooves clapped the packed dirt. It jarred the breath from her. The horse raced farther into the trees, heedless of the commands she bellowed. She stretched her arms as far as they’d reach around the horse’s neck, muscles pulling as she hung tightly.

She bounced, her vision rattled as she tried to stay mounted and, at the same time, watch the direction the animal was taking.

The horse squealed, then lurched to a stop. Stars, leaves and dirt tangled before her. She felt weightless for an instant, then all of gravity’s force came back to her with a crunch. The dimness of sunset faded to dark.