No One's Bride (Escape to the West Book 1) (14 page)

Amy folded her arms on the top of the stall door and rested her chin on them. Clementine stared at her.

She stood looking almost relaxed, no longer pressed into the corner. She wasn’t entirely comfortable, but three days of apple slices had at least got her away from the wall.

“Well, Clem,” Amy said, keeping her voice low and soft, “are you ready for the next step in our friendship?”

Clementine’s ears flicked back and forth, signalling her uncertain interest.

“Because we are going to be great friends, you and I.”

The horse’s expression was impassive.

“So I’d appreciate it if you didn’t kick me or anything,” Amy said, pushing away from the door.

She opened the stall and placed the stool inside. Clementine took a step forward in anticipation of the apple, but instead of placing a slice onto the stool Amy walked into the stall, closed the door behind her, and sat.

Clementine backed into the corner, her ears flattening. She gave a soft whinny. From the adjoining stall, Stride answered her. Strangely, Amy was put in mind of Adam’s voice, always there when she needed reassurance.

She cut a thin slice of apple and bit into it as Clementine watched. Finishing the half a slice, she placed the rest into her mouth and cut a second slice as she ate. Under Clementine’s unwavering scrutiny, she ate that one too. And then a third. As she chewed her fourth slice, she cut another and silently held it towards Clementine on her palm, keeping her eyes fixed on her lap.

After a couple of minutes of inaction her arm started to ache. She was about to lower it when Clementine took a step forward. Amy tried to appear relaxed while tensing her arm which was beginning to tremble. Clem took another step towards her and Amy held her breath. Finally, another two steps brought her within range. The horse tentatively stretched her neck forward, paused, then plucked the apple from Amy’s hand and backed away. Ignoring the tear trickling down her cheek, Amy cut another slice of apple and held it out again. Clementine immediately came forward and took it, this time staying within reach as she ate.

Slowly, slice by slice, Amy fed her the rest of the apple. By the time it was finished the white horse was standing just two feet away, her ears perked forward as she followed Amy’s every movement.

Amy put the knife into her pocket and folded her hands on her lap. To her complete surprise, Clementine lowered her head and nudged her muzzle against her arm.  With tears running down her face, Amy almost burst out laughing.

“I don’t have any more apple, girl,” she whispered.

She raised her left hand. The horse lifted her head, looked at Amy’s hand for a moment, then lowered her face towards it. Amy gently touched her fingertips to the silky hair of her neck. When Clem didn’t recoil, she moved her hand onto her face. Clem pushed against her palm for a moment then raised her head, looking at the door.

“Well, I’ll be.” George was standing outside the stall, his eyes wide.

Amy wiped the moisture from her face and stood, slid her hand down the horse’s neck, and then picked up the stool and left the stall. Clementine kept her eyes on George, but didn’t move.

“I...” He looked as if he’d seen a rock get up by itself and walk. “How in the world did you get her to do that?”

Amy smiled at Clementine who was watching her from the centre of the stall. “She wanted to trust me. She just needed to know that she could.”

She took the sack of hay from George’s unresisting hands and filled Clementine’s feeding rack. Clem immediately walked forward and started to eat, not even flinching when Amy ruffled her mane.

“I never thought that horse would ever let anyone near her again.” A smile stretched George’s rugged face. “You must have a magic touch, girl.”

Amy smiled back. “No, just patience. And lots of apples.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to do it?” George said, for the sixth time.

“Or me,” Adam added. “You could take Stride.”

“She’ll be calmer if it’s me,” Amy said, tightening the cinch on Clementine’s saddle. “I’m not handing her off to someone else after she’s trusted me this far, even you two.”

George puffed out a frustrated breath. “You’re too stubborn for your own good, girl.”

She moved forward to where Clem could see her. “I know you’re a little nervous, Clem,” she said softly, “and to be truthful, so am I. But you know I will never hurt you. We’re both going to have fun, you’ll see.”

Clementine nuzzled against her arm and Amy gave her a pat before moving back to her side.

“Now I’m sure, judging by the way she took to that saddle, that she’s been ridden before,” George said. “So she’ll know what to do. Just take it nice and gentle.”

“I only do nice and gentle,” Amy said. “Just ask Stride.”

At the sound of his name, Adam’s horse hooked his head over Clem’s back to look at her. Amy laughed and rubbed his nose.

“Come on, Stride,” Adam said, tugging him back. “Let’s show Clementine how it’s done.”

Standing Stride where Clem could see them, he used one of the livery’s mounting blocks to climb on, then guided him in close to the white horse in an attempt to keep her calm.

“Please be careful,” he said to Amy.

“Well, girl, if you’re determined to go through with this, now’s the time,” George said, holding tight onto Clementine’s bridle.

Amy stepped up onto her own block, gave Clem a quick rub on her neck, and carefully pulled herself into the saddle, praying all the time.

Clem immediately tensed and took a couple of steps back, jerking her head up and snorting. Stride nickered and looked around for danger.

“Calm down, girl,” George said, hanging onto the reins.

Amy wasn’t sure if he meant her or Clementine. Her heart thumped as the horse flinched beneath her. She leaned forward and pressed her hand onto the side of Clementine’s neck. “It’s all right, Clem,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. “It’s just me. I’m not going to hurt you. You’re safe.”

Clementine twisted her neck to look back at her.

“It’s all right,” she repeated.

A few seconds passed while Clem stared at her, then she lowered her head and Amy felt her relax. Stride nudged the side of her face with his nose.

“Right,” George said, breathing out. “Good.”

Adam looked pale, but he gave her a tremulous smile. He appeared more shaken by the experience than she was.

Amy let out a long breath and sent up a silent ‘thank You’. “Do you think I could ride her around the corral a bit?” she said to George.

He scratched the side of Clementine’s jaw and she leaned into his touch. Once she’d realised she could trust Amy, she’d warmed to him too. “I’ll lead her first, but she don’t seem overly bothered by you being up there.”

They walked a couple of laps of the small area before George let go and allowed Amy to ride by herself. Despite all the time Adam had spent teaching her how to ride and the practice she’d had on Stride, Amy still lacked the confidence to take things too fast. But Clem didn’t seem to mind. She was remarkably calm as she walked with Stride at her side and after a few minutes George left them to go back inside.

Adam was quiet as they continued to ride at a leisurely pace side by side around the corral, his eyes fixed on the horses.

“Is something wrong?” Amy said after a while.

“No, it just scared me a bit, watching you do that with Clem. If she’d panicked...” He shrugged and blew out a breath. “If you could hold off on doing anything else life-threatening for the next few days, I’d be grateful.”

“I’ll do my best.”

He gave her a small smile and went back to watching Clementine. Amy got the feeling he wouldn’t relax until she was back on solid ground. He was worried for her safety. It shouldn’t have made her feel good, but it did.

“Can I ask you something?” he said.

“Anything.” Where had that come from? She never told anyone
anything.
What if he asked her something she couldn’t tell him? Like how she felt about him.

“Why San Francisco?”

She breathed out in relief. That was an easy one to answer. “About three years ago I found a magazine Mrs Courtney had thrown away, on one of the rare times she was home. I never got to read that kind of thing so I took it and read it from cover to cover over and over. There was a feature article inside about San Francisco hotels and they were all so fancy and grand. I dreamed about what it would be like to work in one of them as a maid, maybe work my way up to housekeeper one day. I never really thought I would, but just to be able to see them... I guess it became like a symbol of everything I wanted and didn’t have; independence, safety, a future. And then when I read your advertisement and found out you lived so close to there, I just thought maybe this was my chance. It wasn’t much of a plan, I admit.”

Strangely, as she spoke, the familiar ache, the longing for the wonderful new life of her dreams, didn’t come as it previously always had. In fact, as she thought about her whole plan, she couldn’t seem to find any appeal at all in the idea of going to San Francisco.

Amy had carried the aspiration for so long that the sudden realisation of its loss shocked her. If she no longer had that desire to drive her, what did she have to aim for?

“It sounds like a fine dream,” Adam said, without looking at her.

It did sound like a fine dream, and it had been. So where had it gone? And what would she do now?

She looked at the back of Clem’s head as she walked calmly around the corral, ears perked forward, with Stride at her side. Only a week ago she’d been too afraid to let anyone near her. Now she wasn’t just allowing Amy to ride her, but she seemed to be enjoying the experience. All because she’d taken a chance and trusted Amy, even though she was afraid.

Amy glanced at Adam beside her. Maybe it was time she started trusting.

And stopped being afraid of opening herself to what she really wanted.

Amy reached up to adjust a saddle on its hook then stepped back to make sure it was straight. Satisfied, she took a couple more steps backwards to take in the full effect.

The display looked good, perhaps even as good as some she’d seen in the city. Gleaming saddles adorned the junction of two walls, their matching bridles hanging neatly from hooks beneath each one. George had brought an old, battered bookcase in from his own home and told Amy she could do whatever she wanted with it. She’d gleefully sanded it down and painted it white with some leftover paint she’d found when they moved everything, and now it displayed all the smaller tack items.

She was toying with the idea of advertising reduced prices on a couple of the saddles that George admitted he’d had for years. She was still working on bringing him around to agreeing with her on that, although she suspected he was being obstinate more out of habit than any real conviction that she was wrong. She didn’t mind. She enjoyed their arguments and she almost always got her way in the end. She’d already bought some red paint for the sale signs.

“Hey? Boy?”

At the voice, Amy looked round. A man stood just inside the open front doors. As she turned his eyes widened then travelled slowly down her body. A hand rose to rub at the rough stubble across his chin and one side of his mouth curled into a leer.

“Sorry, Miss.”

He stared at her for a moment longer before the hand at his chin moved to pull the hat from his scraggly brown hair.

Amy took an unconscious step backwards. “Can I help you?”

His leer grew. “I imagine you can. I’m lookin’ to buy a horse.”

She swallowed against her suddenly dry mouth. The way he was ogling her was digging up memories she would rather stayed buried. “I’ll go and fetch the proprietor, if you wouldn’t mind waiting.”

“Whatever you say, darlin’.”

His inappropriately familiar speech ignited a flash of anger, but she got the feeling he would only enjoy any chastisement from her so she ignored it and walked as quickly as she could to the back doors, stopping just short of running. She didn’t want the man to know he’d scared her.

Bursting into the sunshine, she raised a hand to shield her eyes and looked around for George. It took her a few moments to find him, across the paddock where he was cleaning out one of the feed troughs.

“Are you sure you can’t help me?”

Amy almost jumped from her skin, whirling around at the man’s voice right behind her. He grasped her arm and she stumbled back away from him, crying out and jerking from his grip. Her hand darted to her pocket before she remembered she no longer carried her knife with her.

The man stepped back, raising his hands and smiling. “Sorry, Miss, didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“
Amy?
”

Heart still pounding, she looked round to see George running towards her. The man took another step back.

“What’s going on here?” George panted as he reached them. Eyes fixed on the man, he stepped between him and Amy. “Amy, are you all right?”

“I...”

“I’m sorry,” the man said. “I came looking to buy a horse and I think I startled the lady here. She stumbled, I tried to help her.” He held his hands out in a placatory gesture. “I didn’t mean no harm. Forgive me if I scared you, Ma’am.”

“Is that what happened?” George said, looking at her.

Her eyes flicked between him and the stranger. Was that all it was? Her fear was all too real, but maybe she had just overreacted. It wouldn’t have been the first time. “I suppose,” she said slowly.

The man lowered his hands and pushed them into his pockets, smiling. He seemed to smile a lot, but she could hardly convict him for being cheerful.

George studied her for a moment before turning back to the man. “So you’re looking for a horse?”

“Yes, Sir.”

George indicated the paddock. “Well, come and take a look.”

The man lifted his hat from his head to Amy then headed towards the paddock, George following. Amy retreated to the door, watched them for a few seconds, then went back inside.

She went to her bag, took her knife out and stared at it. She hadn’t carried it on her since her first Saturday in Green Hill Creek and it was only still in her bag for when she needed it to cut up apples. She pushed it back in and closed the flap. She wasn’t that person anymore, the girl who was afraid all the time, and she didn’t want to go back to being her. She’d merely been startled, like the stranger said. That was all.

Leaving the bag on its hook, she returned to her work.

Ten minutes later, George came in.

“Is he gone already?” she said. “Didn’t he want any of the horses?”

George pursed his lips. “I told him to try elsewhere. Something about him didn’t sit right with me. Couldn’t bring myself to let him have any of my animals.” He ducked his head to look into her eyes. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. I just overreacted, like he said.” She gave a small laugh that didn’t sound at all convincing.

“Well, I’m finished outside,” he said, “so how about you explain to me again why I should charge less for those saddles?”

Amy knew he was staying for her benefit and she wanted to hug him for it, but she was certain it would just make him feel awkward. So instead she took him to the display and regaled him with her impeccable logic as to why her ideas would work.

This time, he didn’t disagree.

~ ~ ~

“I need to take the money from the sales today to the bank before it closes.” George walked up to Amy where she was filling the racks in each stall with hay in readiness for bringing the horses in for the night.

“Should I start bringing them in or wait until you get back?”

“Wait until I get back. And I’m going to close the front up while I’m gone.”

“Why? We don’t usually close until after they’re all in.” She walked out of the stall and looked towards the back doors. They were shut. “Is this because of earlier?”

“No. I’d just feel better if everything was secure while I’m gone.” The slight frown creasing his already creased forehead said otherwise.

“So it is because of earlier. I told you, I just overreacted. I’m fine.”

“I know you’re fine. I just want to, that’s all.” He flicked his hand at her, waving her away. “Stop arguing with me, girl. I’m the one in charge here.”

“That’s what
you
think,” Amy said, smiling.

He shook his head and headed for the front door. “Get all the stalls ready. We’ll bring them in as soon as I get back.” He looked back when he reached the door. “I won’t be long. Bolt this behind me.”

“Yes, Sir,” she said, putting down the hay she was carrying and jogging to the barn’s entrance.

She watched George stride away in the direction of the middle of town for a few seconds before closing and bolting the door and returning to fill the rest of the racks.

She smiled to herself as she worked. Today had been a good day, apart from the episode with the stranger. They’d sold two sets of saddles and matching tack plus a few other items, and all the sales had been to people who liveried their horses there and saw the new display in passing. And this was just the beginning. She had more ideas to tempt people into boarding their horses at Parsons’ Livery rather than the larger place on the other side of town. At the moment they were only a little over two thirds full. She knew they could do better.

Outside in the paddock, a horse neighed. Amy stopped what she was doing to listen. After a few seconds, the neigh came again, this time from a different horse. She’d heard them neigh before on occasion, to call to each other, but this sounded different. She leaned the fork she was spreading straw with against the side of the stall and went to the back door. She could hear the horses’ hooves thumping against the ground, accompanied by sharp snorts. She was no expert, but she was certain this wasn’t normal. Something was wrong.

There were no windows on this side of the building at ground level and she considered climbing up to the loft to look from there.

A horse screamed in fear. Clementine.

Amy tore at the bolts holding the door closed and ran outside.

Someone grabbed her. One arm locked around her waist, pinning her arms to her sides, while a hand clamped over her mouth. She was yanked backwards into the building.

The door slammed shut.

“You know, I was just going to take the white horse the old man wouldn’t let me have earlier,” a voice hissed in her ear. “But then that would be a terrible waste with you right here, all alone.”

Amy squirmed frantically against the iron hard grip, screaming into the hand over her mouth.

Hot breath skittered like a swarm of ants across her neck. “Ain’t no use struggling, darlin’.”

Panic pounded against the inside of her head.
Help me, Lord!

The man lifted her off the ground, carrying her towards one of the stalls. Amy used the only part of her she could move, kicking her feet back hard. One heel connected with a shin. The man shrieked, throwing her away from him, and she stumbled and fell to the straw-covered floor of the stall.

She flipped over to see the stranger from earlier advancing, face twisted into a glare. Amy shuffled backwards on her elbows until she hit the end wall of the stall and screamed louder than she ever had in her life.

“
HELLLPPPPP!”

“Ain’t no one gonna hear you this far out,” he said, bending towards her.

Grabbing a handful of dusty straw, Amy threw it into his face.

He brushed it away, laughing. “That’s not gonna help...”

Still half on her back, she drew in one foot and drove it into his groin.

The man howled, staggering backwards and clutching at his crotch. “Damn!”

Amy pushed to her feet and lunged for the stall door. If she could get to the shotgun George kept hidden behind his desk...

The man grabbed at her as she passed, latching onto her wrist and spinning her around. His other hand drew the revolver at his belt and swung clumsily, catching her face with a glancing blow.

Pain exploded in her cheek. For a moment, her head spun.

Still clutching her wrist, he swung her back against the stall door. A grunt of pain wrenched from her lips. He pressed the barrel of his revolver to her temple, his face inches from hers.

“Stop fighting or I’ll kill you,” he rasped.

Close to gagging at his rancid breath, Amy stiffened.

Stop fighting?

Never
.

Forcing her body to relax, she nodded. He backed off a little, lowering the gun.

“Good girl. Now...”

Amy brought her knee up between his legs, hard.

The man screamed.

She lunged for the gun, trying to wrestle it from his grasp. A deafening bang sent her heart into her throat.

“
Amy?!
” It was George’s voice. The front door shook as something pounded on it.

“George! Help!”

The man grabbed her around the waist. She managed to wrest the gun from his grip, but it slipped from her fingers and spun away across the floor. Amy threw herself after it. The man, clutching onto her shirt, plunged after her. All the breath exploded from her lungs as she crashed onto the floor. The man landed on her legs.

Her outstretched hand brushed against metal. She wrapped her fingers around the revolver and twisted onto her back.

“Don’t!” she shouted as the man reached for her, jabbing the gun into his face.

He froze, his bloodshot eyes crossing as he stared at the weapon. One hand held his crotch. His face was red.

Through the fog of terror, Amy barely heard the back door crashing open.

Then a voice roared, “
Get off of her!
”

A shadow loomed up behind the man and he was hoisted into the air. George’s fist slammed into his face and he flew backwards, hitting the edge of a stall and dropping to the floor, unmoving.

Amy lay on her back, panting for breath, the gun still extended in front of her. The barrel shook. George moved to the side out of the line of fire and knelt beside her, gently removing the gun from her grasp.

“Amy, are you shot?”

She swivelled her eyes to his face. Shot? The memory of a gun firing surfaced through the pounding in her brain. Was she shot? She shook her head a little.

He nodded and slid one arm around her back, helping her to sit up. A groan from across the way made her start.

“Will you be all right here?” George said. “I have to tie him up.”

She nodded mutely.

“I’ll be right back.”

He stood, took some rope from a hook on the wall and knelt by the man, blocking Amy’s view. From the grunts and complaints that followed, George wasn’t being gentle.

Amy drew her legs in, wrapping her arms around them. Her whole body was trembling.