Chapter 11

© Copyright 2008 by Elizabeth Delayne



Maybe it had been petty, but it had been worth the look on James’ face to set the plate of small and slightly scorched potatoes before him. He looked at the plate, then at Rachel, who had gotten the pleasure of serving him for herself.

And despite her … frustrations with him, he could have turned the situation even worse. Matt noticed the hacked potatoes on his father’s plate.

Instead of complaining, James seemed to take it in stride.

“Miss. Lynne cooked them how I like them,” he’d said, meeting her gaze.

Rachel’s heart had tumbled over, for whatever reason. Maybe it was the knowing gaze, maybe the obvious affection for his son … maybe the teasing glint in his eyes, if it was a teasing glint.

Still, he was perplexing. One minute he treated her as he wouldn’t even a stranger, then seemed to acknowledge his own failings. Maybe. Or maybe she couldn’t read him at all.

So was he saying he was aware and didn’t care… or was he saying he was sorry?

It was enough to drive a sane woman … insane.

Or at least make a girl question her leanings against a man so … disgruntling.

Rachel was laughing later though, as Matt and Jeff each tugged one of her hands and pulled her into the barn.

“All of this excitement just might scare those puppies away,” she teased.

Matt shook his head. “We don’t need to see the puppies yet.”

“Oh, that’s right. A surprise.”

“I made Pa and Grandpa promise not to tell.”

Rachel rolled her eyes. She wouldn’t have said so to Matt, but his Pa hadn’t needed to be warned.

Beside them Jeff was giggling as Matt pulled them down the long row of stalls. When they stopped, Matt simply pointed. Rachel took a step and looked inside.

“General Washington,” she said.

“Grandpa said no—“

”Cause it’s a lady horse,” Jeff chimed in.

Rachel watched as the horse stumbled back ... confused or alarmed by the excitement in Jeff’s voice.

“But we got a good name. Me and grandpa looked it up. He has a big book of old stuff,” Matt said much more quietly, far more used to being around skittish animals—animals at all, really, she amended, thinking of Jeff’s desire for a dog. “General Washington was married.”

“To Martha,” Rachel said reverently and held her hand out to the little colt.

It stumbled forward toward her.

“Hello, Miss. Martha,” she continued softly as she let the horse sniff at her hand. “Such a beauty. Yes you are.”

“She never does that.”

Rachel looked from Jeff, who’s said it, to Matt who seemed stunned.

“Does what?”

“Come to you without work. Lots of work. Pa says she’s skittish. That means afraid.”

Rachel looked back at the horse. The wide eyes just watched her, curious, as she stroked its soft mane.

“You better go get Pa, Jeff.”

“Oh, I don’t think—“ Rachel pulled back and turned to the boys, but Jeff was already streaking out the barn door.

The colt, missing her touch, stepped forward again and pressed against her hand. Rachel laughed softly and turned back to stroke the colt.

“She’s so very beautiful.”

“When she gets old enough and we get her trained, you get to ride her some because you helped to name her.”

Once again, Rachel kept her mouth shut. That, she supposed, Matt would have to work out with his Pa.

“And what did your Pa think of the name?”

Rachel looked back to see Matt scrunch up his nose.

“He said horses ain’t named Martha. But Grandpa said horses can carry whatever name they like, and Grandpa said he reckoned Martha liked her name. Pa said he didn’t think she liked much of anything at all.”

Rachel laughed.

“But she likes you.”

“I guess she does.”

James rushed in through the barn doors at that time and stopped. Martha, sensing the newcomer, stiffened.

Rachel looked back at young horse. “It’s alright, Miss. Martha. Mr. James is just here to see if you’re okay. Which you are, aren’t you,” she said, hoping James would take the hint and go back to the house.

“Jeff,” James said calmly, but still very softly, from just inside the door. “I thought you said something was wrong.”

“Oh ... I don’t think anything’s wrong.” Rachel answered for them. “They were just surprised Martha was feeling so friendly. She’s just shy, aren’t you sweetheart.”

James walked toward them, his footsteps so carefully placed, Rachel barely even heard them. He stood at the stall door and watched Martha as the little horse watched him. Still, she continued to accept Rachel’s hand and didn’t move or jump back.

“She was born during a winter storm,” he said as if he was soothing the animal instead of talking to Rachel. “We were having to fight to get some of the horses settled. There was a lot of noise and shouting. One of our mustangs kept kicking at the barn door and maybe we were blasting the old man a little too much. And then, there she was ... had no idea what you’d gotten herself into, did you, girl?”

He held out his hand and the colt, and urged it toward him instead of approach. Still the colt only eyed him wearily. James coaxed softly. The colt moved toward him, waited, then stumbled the rest of the way, still reluctant to the touch.

“Such a beautiful girl, aren’t you?” he said to the colt. “Such an independent thing. You want to be out there, on your own. And you’re stuck here with us men.”

The colt seemed to understand, somehow, Rachel thought. She looked towards Rachel as if the girls somehow shared a secret.

Rachel smile and patted the young mane.

“She’s beautiful.”

“She’s a treasure all right,” James agreed, then lifted his eyes from the colt to Rachel.

He seemed so ... open. No blinders. No animosity.

No sadness.

He seemed suddenly young.

“Ah–“ For a moment Rachel froze. Unsure what to say. Unsure how to respond.

She turned to find Matt and Jeff watching the young colt, seemingly undisturbed by the interchange that had sent Rachel’s heart into a gallop.

She pulled back her hand from the colt, suddenly so aware of how close she was to James, of how close their hands were ... of how crowded and hot it was in the barn.

“Matt ...” she said, and had to clear her throat. “Where are those puppies?”

Matt looked to his father. “Martha’s okay, Pa?”

James took a step back—physically and mentally, it seemed. His face hardened. Gone was the connection, so stark and wide open that had surprised her.

There, Rachel thought. That was better. She knew and understood this James.

“She’s fine, son.”

“Martha’s a fine horse,” Rachel said, noting that James had not called her by her given name. “And she has a beautiful choice for a name.”

Matthew laughed and took Rachel’s hand, and James shot her a knowing, censoring look.

There ... that exasperation on his face that was directed at her.

The look was what she expected.



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