The Horseman (7 page)

“Water!” Briney sighed, screwing the cap back
onto the canteen and handing it to Gunner. “There’s nothing like it
in all the world.”

Gunner smiled, agreeing. “You’ll get no
argument from me on that point, Miss Thress.” Reaching back to put
the canteen of water on the floor of the buggy, he asked, “Are you
ready to get on home then?”

“I am,” Briney said, smoothing her dress as
she hobbled to one side of the buggy. “This is a lovely buggy, Mr.
Cole. And I thank you for the ride into town.”

Gunner barely restrained a chuckle as he
watched Briney trying to lift one small, booted foot onto the
mounting bar of the buggy. It was so painfully obvious that her
legs were stiffening worse by the moment, that her sunburn was
deepening by the second, and that she was attempting to appear as
if absolutely nothing at all were discomforting to her.

“I’ve got your hat and gloves sittin’ there
on the seat,” Gunner said as he reached out, taking her waist
between his hands and lifting her up so that her legs didn’t have
to bear the weight of her body. “You might wanna be careful not to
smash them.”

“Thank you,” Briney said—and Gunner knew that
if her cheeks could’ve been any redder for the sake of blushing,
they would’ve been.

A quiet groan escaped her lips as she sat
down on the buggy seat, and again Gunner had to silence the chuckle
rising in his throat. He’d been sore on occasion after a long ride,
and he could imagine how much worse the feeling would be to a soft,
genteel young woman who had never experienced that particular pain
before.

Taking his seat beside her in the buggy,
Gunner clicked his tongue and gently slapped the lines at the
horse’s back. He heard Briney sigh with relief as the buggy lurched
forward and they were on their way.

“I…I know my unsteady gait might seem to
indicate otherwise, Mr. Cole,” Briney began awkwardly. “But I
enjoyed my ride with Sassafras today more than…well, more than
anything I can remember in a very long time. Please do be assured
of that, and of my sincere intent to purchase her…if you will allow
me to, of course.”

Gunner grinned. “Well, I’m mighty glad you
and Sassy took to each other the way you did,” he assured her. “And
I will allow you to have her.” He glanced to Briney and winked with
guarantee. “It’s been too long since she had another woman around
to care for her.”

Briney smiled with radiant joy, and Gunner
was further struck by how amazing it was—the fact that she looked
so becoming when her face was as red as a tomato and her hair still
a bit frazzled.

“Oh, thank you so much, Mr. Cole!” Briney
exclaimed with exuberance. “How much are you asking for Sassafras?
I assure you, I am well able to pay for her and her keep in your
stables.”

Truth be told, Gunner would’ve gladly given
Sassy to Briney—and fed and stabled the animal for free. Still,
from what he’d heard, he knew the young woman was on her own and
wanting to make a life for herself. Therefore, although he could
not bring himself to name the true price of the worth of Sassy, and
her saddle, gear, and stabling, he did manage to say, “I’ll give
you ol’ Sassy for forty dollars, throw in her saddle for another
twenty, and charge you a dollar fifty a month for stablin’ and
feed. Does that sound fair?”

“More than fair!” Briney exclaimed, clapping
her hands together with triumph and excitement. “I can pay you as
soon as we get to the boardinghouse,” she continued. “I wouldn’t
want to risk someone else buying her, being as I may not be able to
return to your stables to claim her for a day or two because of
my…because I…I probably should wait that long before coming to ride
her again…don’t you think?”

Gunner’s grin broadened. “Well, it might be a
good idea to rest up a bit. And that’ll give you a chance to get
yourself a ridin’ skirt and things too.” He looked at her, winked
again, and added, “And I would never go back on a promise of sale,
Miss Thress.”

“But what if someone else takes to Sassafras
before I get back?” Briney asked, her concern still blatant.

“I don’t operate my business that way,”
Gunner told her. He offered a hand to her, adding, “Will a
handshake convince you that I’m in earnest?”

Briney’s pretty smile appeared again. “Yes,
indeed,” she said, taking his hand.

Gunner’s hands were strong, and his firm,
reassuring grip was evidence of a man of high character. Briney
savored the feel of his warm, callused palm gripping hers and felt
let down somehow when he released it. The thrill that had traveled
through her when Gunner had clasped her hand was a sensation she’d
never experienced before—never! Of course, the soothing, safe
feeling she’d experienced on the nights she’d been able to drift
off to sleep while listening to the calming masculinity of the
intonation of his voice had had a similar effect on her—but the
pleasure of his touch was unmatched!

Briney found herself momentarily distracted
in trying, in vain, to concoct a reason that might make him grasp
her hand again. Before she could think of something, however—for
she was lacking in flirtation skills (being that Mrs. Fletcher had
forbidden Briney to flirt)—Gunner asked her a question, and her
thoughts of somehow tricking him into touching her again were
scattered.

“The Kelleys are mighty fine folks,” he said,
obviously offering casual conversation. “And they run a fine
establishment. I’m particularly fond of Mrs. Kelley’s cookin’ at
the restaurant.”

“Oh my, yes!” Briney wholeheartedly agreed.
“My room at the boardinghouse is so very comfortable, and Mrs.
Kelley certainly is a wonderful cook. Why, she baked a batch of
blueberry muffins the other morning; I swear I’ve never tasted
anything so heavenly for breakfast.”

“Yes, indeed,” Gunner agreed. “Though I’m
most fond of her pies…especially her peach pie this time of
year.”

Briney giggled with understanding and delight
in agreeing with him. “It’s too delicious for words! And when she
slathers it with fresh, warm cream…mmm! I can almost taste it now.
I must be hungry after that long ride with Sassafras.”

“I would imagine so,” Gunner chuckled.

There was silence between them for several
long moments, and then Gunner began, “I understand you lost your
guardian or someone recently.”

Briney nodded. “Yes…Mrs. Fletcher,” she
admitted. She felt a blush of humiliation rise to her already red
cheeks, but for some reason, she continued, “I suppose you know
then that I was an orphan and that Mrs. Fletcher adopted me to be
her traveling companion when I was just a girl.”

“No, I didn’t know that,” Gunner
admitted.

His handsome brow furrowed into a slight
frown, and Briney sighed with disappointment. It seemed the
handsome Horseman of Oakmont was as disgusted by orphans as most
city people were.

“People don’t like orphans,” Briney thought
aloud.

“They don’t?” Gunner asked. “Why not?”

Briney herself frowned—studied him for a long
minute before asking, “Are you in earnest, Mr. Cole?”

“What do you mean?” Gunner asked. He seemed
sincere in his ignorance to the general population’s thinking where
orphans were concerned.

“Most people, at least in my experience,
think all orphans are worthless, criminal types, not worthy of
befriending,” she told him.

His frown deepened. “Why would people think
that?” he asked. “It’s not a child’s fault if their parents are
lost…if they’re left alone in the world.”

Briney’s heart leapt with gratitude, and her
frown relaxed. “Well, your opinion is rare, Mr. Cole.”

He shrugged broad shoulders and said, “I
don’t believe in judging a body by what their parents did or didn’t
do. Everybody had different circumstances growin’ up. Some are real
tragic.” He shrugged again. “And there are those who grow up in
such bad conditions that they fall into the same type of life they
were born into. Still, there’s plenty more that don’t.”

Briney smiled as she listened to Gunner
speak—as she saw the sincerity on his face as he did.

“Take me for instance,” he began. “One of my
grandfathers was a Quaker, born and raised. And he married a Quaker
woman, also born and raised. But his wife was meaner than an ol’
wet hen and twice as cold…quite the opposite of the kind, nurturing
Quaker mother my grandpa had grown up with. So one day my
grandpa…he just up and ran off with the woman who ran a local
brothel. He divorced his first wife and married the scarlet woman
who’d owned the brothel. Of course, his second wife…she retired
from her profession the minute she married my grandpa, and she and
my grandpa had four sons, one of which was my daddy. Well, just
because my grandpa had run off with a woman who’d once run a
cathouse didn’t mean my daddy did the same. My daddy grew up and
married a preacher’s daughter, my mother, and they were happier
than any married couple I’ve ever seen since.”

Gunner paused a moment, his eyes narrowing
with near suspicion. “So do you think less of me because my grandma
was once a harlot?” he brusquely asked.

“Why…why, of course not!” Briney exclaimed,
although she was astonished that a man she’d only met that very day
would share such a revelation with her.

Gunner nodded with approval. “Then why should
people think less of you because you were once an orphan girl,
hmmm?”

“Well…well, because they’re…they’re…” Briney
stammered.

“Because they’re malicious in nature
sometimes…always trying to make themselves feel better about
themselves by defiling the character of others. Ain’t that the
truth of it?” he stated.

Briney smiled. “So…you’re not only a superior
horseman and a fair businessman with a rare streak of integrity,
but you’re also much wiser than would be expected for a man under
the age of eighty,” she noted aloud.

Gunner chuckled. “Oh, all that flattery ain’t
necessary, Miss Thress. I already offered you a good deal on Sassy
and her stablin’.”

“No, I really do mean it,” Briney said. “I
admire your wisdom…what you’ve said about not judging everyone by
the circumstances they were born to. It seems few people consider
things as you do…as I do.”

“Oh, I’m pretty certain you’ll find that most
folks in Oakmont think different than what you might be used to,
Miss Thress,” Gunner assured her. He laughed then, apparently to
himself, and began, “Still, it’s probably a good thing you fixed up
your hair and things after your ride. Otherwise folks might suppose
I had had my way with…”

When he paused, appearing as if he wouldn’t
finish his thought, Briney prodded, “Might suppose you had had your
way with what?”

Gunner shifted uncomfortably in his seat and
then answered, “Folks might suppose I hadn’t done right by you
where horse business is concerned.”

Gunner figured the old crone that had adopted
Briney when she was a girl had made sure her traveling companion
had stayed pretty innocent to the ways of men. Otherwise, Briney
probably wouldn’t have ventured out to Gunner’s stables by herself
in the first of it. Still, things were a bit different in Oakmont
than they were in most cities. If a woman went out and bought her
own horse—especially alone without a chaperone—well, folks didn’t
really see anything improper about it.

Hell! He’d sold Widow Murphy a horse just the
week before, and she’d come out to the ranch all by herself, and no
one had thought a thing about it. Yet the Widow Murphy was
gray-haired, with children already in their adolescence. Still,
things were a bit different in Oakmont. People worked hard, and
they gossiped less.

Gunner glanced at Briney. Besides, he
thought, she was sunburned to near a crisp. It was obvious she’d
been out for a ride in the sunshine—for hours. And folks in town
knew Gunner was good man who valued his integrity and good
character above all else. No one would think anything was
suspicious about his returning Briney looking like she’d been
dragged over the countryside with one foot caught in a stirrup. And
if anybody asked him why Briney looked like she’d been ravaged,
he’d simply set them straight about what happened: she came to buy
a horse from him and got lost in the beauty of the day.

But when Gunner pulled the buggy to a stop in
front of the boardinghouse—when Bethanne Kelley and her mother both
gasped in horror when they saw the condition of Briney’s face,
hair, and clothes—he wondered for a moment if, for the very first
time, his spotless reputation was about to get dragged through the
mud.

“Briney!” Bethanne exclaimed. “What on earth
happened?”

Again, a blush of humiliation that was
entirely indiscernible because of her sunburn rose to Briney’s
cheeks.

“You look like you’ve been baked to a crisp!”
Mrs. Kelley unnecessarily noted.

“Seems Miss Thress is a real horsewoman,”
Gunner said. “She found the horse she liked, rode out, and Charlie
and I were thinkin’ we’d better saddle up and go lookin’ for her
three hours later. But she come back on her own.”

“Three hours in the sun? Didn’t you have a
hat with you, honey?” Mrs. Kelley asked. Her expression was that of
deep concern.

“I did,” Briney admitted. She watched as
Gunner hopped down from the buggy and made his way to her side of
it. “But I wanted to feel the sun on my face, so I intentionally
left it behind. It was careless of me, I know.”

Briney groaned as she stood up from the buggy
seat. It seemed the idleness of sitting, even for the space of such
a short distance as three miles, had caused her already strained
and sore muscles to stiffen so badly she wasn’t sure she could step
down from the buggy at all!

Having obviously accounted for the fact that
the buggy ride would find Briney all the more miserable and sore,
however, Gunner simply reached up, taking her waist between his
strong hands, and lifted her down from the buggy.