The Horseman

Effie’s attention drifted to the window. “Was there any reason you wanted to know about Dillon Hennessey?”

Was it Katelyn’s imagination, or did Effie sound unusually pleased? “It was idle curiosity. So much has changed since I’ve been gone.”

“True. You were married how long?”

Effie knew full well how long. “Five years. A lot has changed. I wondered if my stepfather has been any more successful in keeping his hired men.”

“Not a bit. If Pete wasn’t your mama’s cousin, we’d be long gone ourselves. Cal Willman is a tough man to work for, I’ll grant you that. A man like Hennessey, he’s a drifter. He moves from ranch to ranch. Gets paid well, I hear. We had a year and a half wait for him, he’s got that much work. That ought to say something good about him, wouldn’t you say?”

“I suppose.” Katelyn stared at the eggs in front of her. She never should have asked a single question about the horseman.

Effie snatched the pot from the counter, moving casually, but there was nothing the woman did without purpose. “He’s pleasing to the eye, wouldn’t you say? A woman can’t help but notice Dillon Hennessey’s about as tough as a mountain and good-looking to boot.”

“I hadn’t noticed.”

“You are a terrible liar, dear heart.” Effie sounded as pleased as a new mother as she tipped the pot, warming up Katelyn’s cup. “Even at my age, a handsome man still catches my eye. He’s not truly handsome, though, is he? Rugged. Striking. That describes him better. He looks like a man who could protect a woman from any threat. Any danger. Now that’s what a woman needs in a husband.”

Katelyn groaned. “Stop, please. I’ve had one husband. I will never want another.”

“But whatever will become of you?” Effie set the pot on the table and drew up a chair. The sharp scrape of the wooden legs against the floor came as harsh as the fear on the woman’s face. “I’ve heard what they’ve been saying, the two of them, when they think no one can hear. They intend to find a situation for you, and it won’t be a pleasant one.”

“I don’t need them to find anything for me. As soon as I’m well, I can leave.”

“What if they ain’t planning to wait that long? And where would you go? This is a cruel world for a woman alone.”

“It can be a cruel world for a married woman.”

“No, only if the woman marries the wrong kind of man. I promise you, you could do much worse than Dillon Hennessey.”

“What? Effie, I asked you to stop. I can’t stand it.” She laid down her fork and rested her aching head in her hands. She was still weak from one man’s beating. Did Effie think that she couldn’t wait to give control of her life to another man?

“There, there.” The cook’s hand lit on Katelyn’s shoulder blade, a gentle, comforting touch. “Didn’t mean to overset you. But keep in mind, you need a situation better’n the one your stepfather will find for you. The best way to get out of here is to marry a man of your own choice. One that’ll treat you good, the way you deserve.”

“Oh, Effie.” Tears burned behind her eyes, blurring her vision, and Katelyn blinked hard, refusing to let them fall. What would she do without Effie? She’d be all alone. Utterly, completely alone. “The food will get cold. You’d best go. You know how my mother gets.”

“Well, I do.” With a dramatic roll of her eyes and a heaving sigh, Effie hauled her bulk from the chair. “Now you think on what I said. Mr. Hennessey has never married, at least that’s what they tell me. At his age, a man wants to be settled and have sons to pass on his wisdom to.”

With a smile of approval, Effie hustled from the room, snatching two platters of food on her way out.

I can’t give him sons. Effie knew that. Everyone did. Hadn’t it been the topic of gossip around the ranch for the past month? The doctor had told her she couldn’t give any man a child. Not that she wanted the horseman-she never wanted to be at a man’s mercy again-but the fact that she would always be completely alone without a child, without a family, hurt like a mortal wound.

She opened her eyes. There was no use in spending the morning in sorrow. Sadness couldn’t change the past. Nothing could. The only course open to her was to move forward. To make what she could of today and of the solitary future ahead of her.

Resolved, she stirred the tip of her fork through the fluffy scrambled eggs. They’d tasted delicious, for Effie was a remarkable cook, but she wasn’t hungry. How could she be? She felt dead inside and nothing, especially a plate of food, was going to change that.

But food would help her regain her strength. She wanted out of this house more than anything. Determined, she took a bite of eggs and chewed, even as her stomach recoiled. She fought to swallow and keep it down.

When she was done, she sipped her tea and watched the snow fall. Now and then she thought she saw a movement in the relentless shower of white, a dark shadow, his shadow.

But she was wrong. There was no formidable man riding through the storm like a legend born.

Why was she thinking about him again?

She didn’t need another man in her life. What she wanted was to be left alone.

She rubbed the space on her fourth finger, where a slight indentation was the only reminder that she’d worn a ring. That she’d made vows to honor and cherish and obey. What a mistake that had been. A mistake she would never make again.

She drained the last drop of tea from her cup and set it down with a clink. She was stronger today. Better.

Maybe she’d go spread some grain in the field. That should draw out any animals, and then she could enjoy the peaceful sight of the beautiful creatures. Perhaps the serenity of it would ease some of the ache from her soul.

And keep Dillon Hennessey from her thoughts.

As he had expected, with the snow falling hard and heavy, Dillon saw no further sign of the stallion. Still, he’d had to try. A true horseman couldn’t let a stud like that slip out of his fingers.

Something told him that the horse would return. So, he may as well head back and grab a hot cup of coffee from the stove in the bunkhouse. That sounded mighty good, seeing as how he was frozen clear through.

It was hard to give up the hunt. Hard to nose his gelding toward home and turn his back on the chance of finding that stallion. What a magnificent animal. He couldn’t forget him, the same way he couldn’t forget the woman, Katelyn Green.

How could he? She’d looked like an angel come to earth this morning, framed by the window and brushed with a golden radiance by the lamplight. She was beyond beautiful. She looked like goodness in a woman’s form, with that softly spun blond hair she wore down so it cascaded around her heart-shaped face. A face dominated by eyes a rare, exotic blue, a small, delicate nose and a mouth so perfect it would shame every rosebud in existence.

If he closed his eyes, looked deep into his being and pulled out his vision of the perfect woman, it would be Katelyn Green. He’d never seen anyone like her, and it wasn’t her beauty that drew him. That was the plain truth.

It was something else. Something about her, and her alone. He didn’t know what it was, and he wasn’t a man who was good with words or feelings, but he did know people, the same way he knew animals. When he’d locked gazes with Miss Green through the snow this morning, he’d seen the quiet gentleness inside her. Rare, indeed.

Back on the acreage he owned next door to his brother, he had a mare like her with big scared eyes and it had taken nearly two whole years of work before she’d let him stroke her neck without flinching.

Not that a woman was like a horse, but it was horses he knew and not women. Yep, women were pretty much a mystery to him. His ma had died when he was a small boy. He had no recollection of her, and that left only his pa and his five brothers. Pa had never remarried, never tried to replace the love of his life, and so there was no woman’s influence in Dillon’s life as a boy.

And as a man, he was bewildered to think about beauing one of those pretty creatures in soft dresses that swept the floor whenever they walked, giving the impression their dainty feet did not touch the ground like mortals. Women were different entirely and far too fine for the likes of him.

Even if he could catch a lady’s attention, what would he do then? He wasn’t given to fancy language and insincere flattery to make a woman like him. Hell, it would probably take more than a mountain of flattery to do that. Even if he could manage to speak instead of remain tongue-tied, what would he say? He wasn’t citified and he