As for the wife, she was as harsh as a Montana blizzard. It was clear in the way she ignored her own daughter.
Dillon wished he knew what had happened. He couldnt help feeling sorry for Katelyn. He didnt seem able to stop wondering about her. Maybe hed round up enough courage to ask one of the hands what had happened to return her childless and wounded to her parents home and what would become of her next.
Not that he had a chance, but he was a man. He noticed a pretty, available woman. He was lonelier than he wanted to admit. Hed been wanting to get married for a long time, but hed never been able to talk to a lady, much less court her.
That proved a terrible problem. He had a house he didnt live in. A bed he didnt sleep in. A life he didnt live because he had no one to share it. He would give anything for a kind, gentle wife to call his own.
He would give his soul and more to marry a woman like Katelyn Green.
But even if she was recovered from her loss, shed hardly glanced at him. Hed lay down good money that she didnt know his name. And if she did, what could come of it? He would be gone in a few weeks, when his work here was done.
The new stallion-a pale comparison to the magnificent black stallion-was progressing fine. And the problem mares were responding to him. Theyd come around soon. His work here would be done and he would leave, as he always did, with a pocket full of cash, heading in the direction of the next ranch in need of him.
He didnt like the notion of leaving at months end. Not that he was fond of the place. The truth was, he couldnt stand Cal Willman or his wife. What he would miss, even more than the horses here, was the pretty blond woman who made him very aware of being all man.
Was it his imagination, or did he hear something?
A females voice lilted on the wind as sweet as a song. Thats it, dont be afraid. Come closer. I wont hurt you. I promise.
That had to be Katelyn. Who else could it be? Not Effie, the cook-the tone and cadence were too soft for her. Not Mrs. Willman, who talked with enough venom to poison a rattler. Not the housemaids, for both were Chinese and spoke very little English.
Thats right. See? Youre perfectly safe.
Katelyn had to be just beyond that rise. Ten yards away. He jerked the horse to a stop and ignored the geldings protest. Normally he was steady with his horse, trustworthy and calm, but the thought of seeing Katelyn Green was enough to make him break out in a cold sweat.
She was here alone. What should he do? He could keep on riding and wave at her as he went by. Or he could stop and talk with her. Hmm, that could work. But what would he say? The thought made his throat close shut. His tongue had become paralyzed and wouldnt work. Dang his shyness.
He could picture the impending disaster. Hed ride on up to her, stop his horse, brace his fist on the saddle the way hed seen other men do to look tough, and stutter and stammer like a fool.
Wouldnt that impress her?
A rugged man like him shouldnt be shy. He ought to be bold. Be brave. He should talk to her the way he talked to anyone.
He was tough. Hed faced down killer stallions and an attacking cougar. Hed been kicked, bit, stepped on, bucked off, crushed against fences and thrown to the ground more times than there were numbers to count with. He was one of the best at what he did.
A pretty, delicate little woman shouldnt terrify him.
You can do it, Hennessey. Just ride on up to her and smile. Then say howdy.
The wind seemed colder as he pressed the gelding into a fast walk. The ground was too uncertain and the snow too deep for anything faster, but if he could, hed gallop full tilt past the beautiful woman and never think of her again.
She came into view as he rode over the rise. He eased the gelding to a halt at the crest, gazing down the gently sloping field of white to the slim woman wearing a dark blue cloak, buttoned tight from ankle to throat. A small feed pail dangled from her left hand.
What a sight. Joy filled him. Snow dappled her like a Christmas angel, clinging to the woolen cap and the rippling sheen of golden hair flowing down her back. White flakes hugged the delicate line of her shoulders and the rise of her breasts. Snow clung to the curve of her waist and hips and caked the long hem of her cloak, a womanly shape of grace and loveliness that made his chest tight. Awe swept over him, sweet as a morning breeze.
Just then came the slightest movement in a grove of trees tucked into the lee of the slope. A predator? God knows cougars didnt like to hunt in the snow. Dillon had spied cat tracks a half mile to the north. They preferred their warm dens on days like this, but that didnt mean, if a lone cat was hungry enough, he wouldnt go in search of a meal.
And that meal wouldnt be Katelyn. She was all alone out here, unprotected. With that pail on her arm, she was probably putting out feed for the birds and unaware of the danger stalking her.
Fierce protectiveness surged through him, spilling hot in his blood. Careful not to make a sound, he eased the Winchester from its holster and covered the cocking action with his free hand to hide the chink of metal. A cat would hear it and bolt, and that was unacceptable. There was a threat to Katelyn Green and, damn it, Dillon Hennessey would stop it.
He held the rifle steady, aiming just at the edge of the trees, anticipating that first glimpse of a shadow. He hugged the trigger, ready and alert, as the shadow nosed toward Katelyn.
It wasnt the fast strike of a cougar. Dillon took a breath, waiting, as Katelyns melodic voice lifted up to him on the wind.
Thats it. See? No ones going to hurt you. Youre safe. Come closer. Thats right.
Sweet as a hymn. She could coax the wildness out of a cougar, he figured, with a voice like that. It wasnt just the voice-it was her, the goodness in her, the heart of her. He could see it as plain as the woman and she waited while the first doe broke from her cover and eased forward to eat the grain Katelyn had spread on the ground. Grain, not birdseed.
Dillon couldnt believe it. The wild deer came right up to her. Two smaller animals joined her-yearling fawns, he figured, judging by their size and markings. Young, not fully grown. They, too, scented the air, considered Katelyn standing as still as a statue and bent their dainty heads.
Shrouded in snow, like poetry and fairy tale, the woman watched the delicate creatures eat. The wind gusted, ruffling Katelyns long gold locks against her back, caressing the curled ends like a lovers fingers.
What would it be like to touch her hair? Dillon lowered the rifle, thunderstruck by the notion. He imagined lowering his fingertips to that lustrous fall of gold, and he knew she would feel as soft and fine as silk, the fancy kind in the stores only the rich could buy. She would be like that, and satin everywhere
Whoa, now, that was not a respectful thought. He took a deep breath, banishing further inclinations from his mind. He was a man and he couldnt help desiring her, but that didnt mean he ought to give those thoughts free rein. He had no right to look upon her like that. She was not his wife.
She never would be.
No, shed find herself courted by one of the rich dandies in town. The kind with an enormous house on Elm Street, the finest lane with the fanciest homes. The sort of man who sat inside all day, didnt wear Levis and smell of horses and leather. The sort that sipped brandy after dinner in the parlor.
Not the kind of man who drank a pint of ale in the bunkhouse.
It saddened him. If he had a dream, then it would be Katelyn Green.
Chapter Three
Dillon couldnt talk to her. The tightness was working its way up from his chest into his throat. By the time he made it to her side, the tightness would have worked its way up to his paralyzed tongue, and there would be no way in hell he could make an intelligible sound.
Hed be best to keep quiet, turn the horse around and ride the long way back before he made an embarrassment of himself.
The saddle creaked as he shifted his weight to draw the gelding around, and the sound traveled like thunder above the whisper of the falling snow.
Katelyn jerked in his direction, her eyes wide with the same surprise and fear as the deer, frozen, ears pricked, heads high, scenting him. Woman and animals stared as if he were evil incarnate.
Katelyn Greens gaze scorched him like blue flame. What do you think youre doing?
She sure sounded mad. She looked it, too. Dillons mouth opened, but nothing came out. And it was a good thing, too, since he didnt know what to say anyway. Did he apologize for intruding? Was that why she was so angry?
How could you? What kind of man are you? She marched toward him, pure fury, and he had no notion what hed done.
I, uh Damn it, Hennessey. You can do better than that. Im, uh, sure am s-sorry, maam.
Sorry? For trying to kill the deer when I was feeding them? What did you think? That I wouldnt mind if you just started shooting?
No, uh- Dang it all, but he was tongue-tied. She flustered him worse than any woman ever had, the way she was flying up the hill toward him, focused anger and indignation.
She was pure beauty, with her face pinkened from the cold and high emotion, her small fists clenched, her hair flowing out behind her like a mare in full gallop. The passion in her showed.
No wonder he was speechless.
Then he realized he was holding the rifle still aimed in the direction of her deer, which had already fled into the trees and disappeared. There was only the two of them, and, flushing, he eased the hammer back and slid the weapon into its leather casing. S-sorry about that, maam.
Youre sorry? She looked ready to hurl sharp objects at his head. Good thing there werent any handy. You ought to be ashamed of yourself, taking advantage like that. Youre a man. I guess I shouldnt be surprised-
He knew what she thought. Youre wrong, maam. I s-saw some cat tracks back a ways and thought He couldnt find the right word. What the hell was he going to say? She lifted her chin, staring at him expectantly with those fiery blue eyes accusing him of being the worst sort of man, and he just couldnt think.
I, uh, didnt want to see you get hurt, maam, he finished, but it wasnt what he intended to say.
Had she noticed? All that stammering had to make him look bad.
A cougar? She seemed to be debating whether or not he was telling the truth.