Spring Blossom (4 page)

He turned his head briefly and smiled.
“Yes,” he said softly.

“Is that all you have to say? Yes?”

“Yes.”

“Are there times when you don’t like to
talk?” she ventured.

He nodded his head.

“Is this one of them?”

He laughed, startling the mare and having to
pull her back to a sedate walk. “Are there not times when you don't
wish to talk?” Hunter asked.

“Not many,” she admitted.

“All right, little one,” he said softly.
“What would you like to talk about?”

“Well, I have wondered…” She frowned over
her hesitation. “You’re not what I expected.”

Hunter’s smile slipped momentarily but
looking into her soft questioning eyes, he decided that there was
no malice in her comment. “What did you expect?”

“I’m not certain,” she said truthfully.
“I’ve never known an Indian before and I thought you would be much
different.”

“You expected me to ride in half naked and
threaten to take your scalp?”

Maggie didn’t care for his tone and drew
herself up, shoulders back in indignation. “Well, if you cannot
tolerate my natural curiosity…”

He laughed ruefully at his own ineptitude;
he had overreacted with a child. Curiosity was healthy as long as
it was not malicious. “I apologize, little one.” He reached across
the short distance between them to pat her hand to indicate his
sincerity. “You may ask whatever you wish.”

“I simply did not know what to expect, and I
suppose you…surprised me,” she returned quietly.

“Why is that?” He gave her his full
attention now, turning in the saddle to face her.

“I’m not certain,” she admitted, clearly
puzzled by her inability to sort the matter out. “You….well, you
have gentle ways.”

He smiled again, patiently. “You don’t know
many men who have gentle ways?”

“Some,” she said after a moment’s
thought.

“And do you not consider an Indian a
man?”

Blushing furiously, she burst out, “Of
course!”

He laughed softly and reached out, this time
touching her cheek. “There, little one. You have addressed your own
concern.”

“I feel silly,” she confessed.

“Don’t, Maggie,” he said firmly. “Not with
me.”

Maggie stared at him, swallowing heavily as
her mind raced around the possible meanings of his statement. But
he had turned back and was facing straight ahead as he encouraged
the mare into a gentle canter. She could not see his eyes, could
not guess the true intent of his words, but Maggie hoped he meant
she held some special place within him…just as he held a special
place within her.

She did not understand this attraction, this
feeling of being drawn toward him, for it was all very new to her;
new and unique.

Urging her mare forward, Maggie caught up
and turned the conversation toward something with which she was
more comfortable. “I have a new calf,” she said “Would you like to
see her when we go back?”

How could he refuse?

*

Maggie had difficulty maintaining her adult
calm and reserve as she pictured her new friend’s possible
reactions to the clever little calf that was her pride. The Downing
girls did not lack for much but Alastair insisted they attend to
their studies each day and be responsible for the things he
entrusted into their care. And he considered pets an excellent
means of teaching responsibility.

Most girls would have requested a kitten or
a pup, but Maggie had insisted she could care for the calf from the
moment the creature was old enough to leave its mother’s side. And,
secretly, she looked upon the animal as a way to demonstrate her
own cleverness.

“I’ve spent hours with her,” she boasted now
as she led Hunter down the long, dim stable corridor. “And she’s
very clever,” she added as he smiled indulgently.

Maggie stopped at the last box stall in the
row and reached up to remove a lead rope from a nail beside the
door. She peeked over the top of the closed lower half of the door
before allowing it to swing open. “Hello, Boxcar,” she called,
entering the dusky stall. “I’ll bring her out,” she called.

Hunter stepped forward, resting his elbows
on top of the gate-like door, knitting his fingers together as he
grinned. “What did you call her?”

Maggie wrapped her arms around the small
light-brown and white calf’s neck. “Boxcar,” she said, kissing the
calf gently above its left eye.

He laughed. “Where on earth did you get such
a name?”

“From trains.” She snapped the lead onto the
calf’s halter. “You’ll see when I bring her out.”

Hunter could see them in the dimly lit
stall, but Maggie and her calf were not about to make an entrance
into the brighter light of the corridor. The heifer had planted her
forefeet wide and was bawling miserably as Maggie pulled on the
rope, attempting to get the animal to move. “She does walk on
lead,” Maggie insisted. “I just have to get her started.”

He laughed softly, not wanting to dampen the
girl’s hopes; that calf was not about to budge.

Looking around, Hunter spied a wide harness
strap hanging from a peg on the wall. When he had it in hand,
testing its length, he entered the stall and stepped to the
animal’s side as he studied the stubborn creature. “I believe she
needs a little nudge,” he said. “Leave the lead draped over her
neck and go around her." As Maggie complied, the calf turned her
head to stare at Hunter. “Boxcar, you are a stubborn girl,” he
said. The calf turned her head back to face the open stall door and
quietly chewed her cud.

Hunter passed one end of the length of
harness across Boxcar’s back. “Take this,” he directed his
accomplice. “We going to put in around her rump and see if we can
nudge her forward.”

Maggie nodded and did as he directed. When
the wide leather strap was in place, Hunter and Maggie stood on
opposite sides of the animal’s head. “Hold tight to the strap,” he
said and Maggie, understanding his plan, smiled.

“It’s like putting her in a sling!” she said
gaily.

But Boxcar did not care for this treatment
at all. Almost as soon as she felt the pressure on her hind end,
the calf bolted forward and out the open door.

With immediate loss of tension on the strap,
Maggie stumbled and Hunter laughed as he, too, had to regain his
balance. But he simultaneously managed to reach for Maggie’s upper
arm and saved her from going down in the straw.

They were both laughing now, and Boxcar was
free.

As soon as Maggie realized her pet had
bolted far beyond the stall door, she was on the run. “I’ll get
her,” she called.

Hunter smiled as he gathered the harness
strap and stepped into the corridor. Maggie was racing out of the
stables.

A moment later he joined her in the noon
sunshine, where she was proudly promenading with the calf on a
lead.

She smiled as she walked toward him, leading
the now cooperative calf. “I told you she could do it,” she
said.

Hunter laughed, shaking his head at his own
ineptitude. “I apologize for setting her free. I confess to being
knowledgeable only about horses.”

Maggie merely smiled up at him; nothing he
could do would be wrong in her eyes.

“So, tell me,” Hunter questioned as he
placed his hands in the pockets of his breeches. “Why do you call
her Boxcar?”

The mischievous twinkle in her eyes made him
ways but Hunter complied when she said, “Walk around behind
her.”

He stood there, feeling a bit foolish as he
stared at the calf’s rump and high, bony hips. He looked at Maggie,
who was laughing, and then he looked again at the high, protruding
hipbones. Suddenly he understood; the calf was square!

“See?” Maggie crowed.

CHAPTER 4

The days of Hunter’s visit at Treemont flew
by until they numbered seven.

On the eighth day he would be leaving to
travel to his own home.

At dawn of the seventh day, Maggie had stood
at the foot of his bed, dressed only in her nightclothes,
breathlessly asking that he ride with her.

Hunter had stared into her earnest blue eyes
and wondered if he had miscalculated. Had he overstepped the
bounds? The last thing he wanted was to hurt her, but Maggie needed
to understand that hers was merely an infatuation. And yet, to tell
her so would wound the tender heart that tried so hard to beat like
that of a woman.

Perhaps it was unwise, but he decided to
ride with her one last time before he left. Within months she would
no doubt forget him.

He found that thought caused him some
dismay. He had stared at the pretty young girl who promised to
reflect her mother’s beauty in the years ahead. It would be
interesting to see how she turned out, how her youthful spirit
matured. In fact, as his dark eyes roamed over the untamed fair
hair that flowed over her thin shoulders his thoughts had begun to
gel. He had given considerable thought to his frequent encounters
with her since his arrival. He had enjoyed her company immensely on
each occasion. Her youthful nature was charming, her sense of humor
infectious, and her more serious side revealing. Her youth did not
negate her sense of responsibility which she had demonstrated on
more than one occasion. She was, in fact, the promise of a woman
who would one day be exceptional and he had begun to wonder if
Alastair would be amenable to his possible return in two or three
years.

Now, as he prepared for the day, he threw
off the thought, more concerned with the problems currently
surrounding his leave-taking. He had smiled at Maggie, agreeing to
her request before she had happily raced out of his room. By the
time he had emerged from the house, she was waiting at the stables
with the roan mare he had purchased ready to ride, standing beside
Maggie’s own little mare.

*

At the moment Maggie was obsessively happy,
blatantly ignoring the fact that he would be leaving in the morning
and might never return. This was their last private time together
and she intended to enjoy each moment for she felt an important,
and painful, phase of her life fast approaching.

They had ridden some distance from the house
before either spoke but Maggie had become more comfortable with
these periods of silence between them. It gave them time to enjoy
the things around them, each enjoying their individual appreciation
of the breathtaking beauty of nature. She actually felt that
finding companionship in silence between two people was a very
adult thing.

It was Hunter who broke the spell. “Maggie,”
he said softly, “we must talk,”

Shaking her head in a fashion that reminded
him of her youth, she refused to look in his direction. “I don’t
want to talk,” she said firmly.

He smiled sadly, understanding. “I know.”
And then, spying a pretty pond, he led her in that direction and
dismounted at the water’s edge.

Maggie’s mare stopped beside Hunter’s mount
without any signal from her rider; but Maggie kept her seat,
refusing to join him.

“You cannot avoid the inevitable, Maggie, my
girl,” he said firmly as he stepped up beside her mare and reached
up to grasp her waist with both hands. “Come down now.”

Maggie had no choice but to turn, leaning
toward him and bracing her hands on his shoulders as she stared
into his dark eyes. “I know what you’re about to say and I don’t
want to hear it.”

He laughed shortly and lowered her to the
ground. “And what am I about to say?”

“That I am just a silly girl and you are a
man.”

The small pout that had formed around her
mouth made him smile. “You are not a silly girl, little one. You
are a delightful young woman.”

“But too young,” she whispered.

“Yes, too young for some things.” He cupped
her elbow in one hand and led her toward a fallen tree.

When they were seated side by side, Hunter
leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees and thoughtfully
lacing his fingers together.

“I shall wait for you, you know.”

With that firm comment, he suddenly realized
her infatuation was even stronger than he had suspected. Hunter
turned his head until he could see her profile. She refused to look
at him; instead she was sadly staring across the pond.

“You will soon be meeting many, many young
men, Maggie. You will go to parties and picnics and make many more
friends as you grow up. You’ll soon forget me,” he added
gently.

She turned her head abruptly and he could
see moisture gathering in those bright blue eyes. It was a look
that would haunt him, Hunter was certain.

“I will never forget you,” she said
adamantly. “You must promise to come back.”

“I have enjoyed my time at Treemont,
Maggie,” he said evasively. “And I shall miss your company. But now
it's time for me to go.”

“Why did you stay in England for so many
years?” she asked, blatantly changing the subject.

He straightened, studying her expression in
hopes of gleaning some purpose to the question. “I was getting an
education.”

“And after that?” she asked, returning her
gaze toward the pond. “You stayed for many years after that.”

Clearly perplexed, Hunter responded warily.
“I visited farms to learn about planting various crops and their
advantages, and about breeding fine horses.”

“You have been away from your home for many
years,” she said quietly.” A few more days will not matter.”

“Oh, Maggie.” The tender way he spoke her
name seemed to be more than she could bear.

She jumped to her feet and moved quickly
away to stand staring out over the small pond, although seeing
nothing. “This was one of my mother’s favorite places.” She
flinched when his hands settle lightly on her shoulders

“Maggie, look at me.”

“I know it’s hopeless,” she whispered as her
head fell forward, “and I’m sorry, Hunter. You think I’m just a
girl but I don’t feel like a girl. This is all very confusing. I’ve
never felt this way before about anyone and I can’t seem to help
myself.”