"I can't sanction something like—"
Mariah dropped down onto the bed to sit beside Hattie. "Do you love your husband, Mrs. Lochrie?"
Hattie stared at her as if she'd lost her mind. "Well... of course I do, but—"
"—And if he were ill," Mariah pressed on, "desperately ill, and there was a way you could get to him to help him, you would do anything to get there, wouldn't you?"
Hattie's eyes seemed to take on a faraway look as she considered this. "I—"
"Mrs. Lochrie, I must get to Seth. I can't go back or wait here when I could be with him. You of all people can understand this, can't you? Mr. Devereaux doesn't know me, or what I'm capable of. I'm not afraid of hardship or an untraveled road. I... I've come a long way to be with Seth and I'm duty bound as his future wife to be there."
Hattie's eyes met hers and Mariah knew in that moment she'd found an ally.
"Miss Parsons—"
"Please... it's Mariah."
"Mariah. I sympathize, but even if I do sell you a horse, Mr. Devereaux will never change his mind about letting you come. I'm afraid he's dead set against it."
Hope tightened Mariah's throat. "You leave that part to me. I can handle Creed Devereaux. Does that mean you'll do it?"
Hattie let out long breath and her steady voice faltered. "I've loved my husband for more years than I care to count, dear. The thought of losing him... is more than I can bear to consider. I understand what you're going through." She glanced down at her work-roughened hands atop the clean white sheets. "John will think I've lost my mind... but this business belongs to both of us. I can sell you a horse if I'm of a mind to. And,—" she took Mariah's hand in hers—"if you're as determined as you say... then I'm willing to help you. Something tells me you can do it."
Impulsively, Mariah threw her arms around Hattie and squeezed her in a hug. "Oh, thank you! Thank you!" She sat back. "You can't know what this means to me. I'll have to hurry, though. I heard Mr. Devereaux leave the house a few minutes ago. I think he's planning on sneaking off before I know what he's up to."
Hattie got up and threw an old wrapper around her shoulders. "Can you ride, Mariah?"
Mariah swallowed hard. She had ridden once with Seth when she was much younger. He had found her abilities more hilarious than disastrous, but then he wasn't the one who had ended up at the bottom of a hollow, covered head to toe with leaves and too sore to walk straight for days. Still, Mariah reasoned, she'd seen enough men ride to know she could do it if she had to.
"I can ride," she lied, collecting her tapestry bag. "But, um... if you give me one of your gentlest mounts, I... well, I won't be disappointed."
The older woman gave a knowing shake of her head. "Well, then... Petunia should do. Be quiet now," she said lifting the latch on the bedroom door. "If we wake John, the jig will be up before it's begun."
Mariah touched the woman's arm. "Thank you Hattie. I'll never forget this."
"Mind you," Hattie returned with a fierce smile, "don't you give me cause to regret it."
* * *
"Whoa, Buck."
Creed's roan ground to a halt at the sound of his voice. The gelding's sides glistened with sweat and his sharp hooves pawed at the grassy slope of sweetgrass and goldenrod. The cool breeze tugged at them, erasing even the rushing sounds of the Sun River only a few hundred yards to the south.
Creed turned in the saddle once more to look at the ground he'd already covered. Like some bothersome gnat buzzing near his ear, the feeling that he was being followed continued to plague him, even though he could see no one.
The stands of lodgepole pine and aspen grew thicker with the altitude. To his right, a huge outcrop of granite rock stood sentinel over the valley.
Below the tree line rolled the sea of grass-covered foothills, undulating in the ceaseless prairie wind. Like a painter's canvas, the landscape below them was a boundless green, splashed here and there with the riotous colors of
Mariah dropped down onto the bed to sit beside Hattie. "Do you love your husband, Mrs. Lochrie?"
Hattie stared at her as if she'd lost her mind. "Well... of course I do, but—"
"—And if he were ill," Mariah pressed on, "desperately ill, and there was a way you could get to him to help him, you would do anything to get there, wouldn't you?"
Hattie's eyes seemed to take on a faraway look as she considered this. "I—"
"Mrs. Lochrie, I must get to Seth. I can't go back or wait here when I could be with him. You of all people can understand this, can't you? Mr. Devereaux doesn't know me, or what I'm capable of. I'm not afraid of hardship or an untraveled road. I... I've come a long way to be with Seth and I'm duty bound as his future wife to be there."
Hattie's eyes met hers and Mariah knew in that moment she'd found an ally.
"Miss Parsons—"
"Please... it's Mariah."
"Mariah. I sympathize, but even if I do sell you a horse, Mr. Devereaux will never change his mind about letting you come. I'm afraid he's dead set against it."
Hope tightened Mariah's throat. "You leave that part to me. I can handle Creed Devereaux. Does that mean you'll do it?"
Hattie let out long breath and her steady voice faltered. "I've loved my husband for more years than I care to count, dear. The thought of losing him... is more than I can bear to consider. I understand what you're going through." She glanced down at her work-roughened hands atop the clean white sheets. "John will think I've lost my mind... but this business belongs to both of us. I can sell you a horse if I'm of a mind to. And,—" she took Mariah's hand in hers—"if you're as determined as you say... then I'm willing to help you. Something tells me you can do it."
Impulsively, Mariah threw her arms around Hattie and squeezed her in a hug. "Oh, thank you! Thank you!" She sat back. "You can't know what this means to me. I'll have to hurry, though. I heard Mr. Devereaux leave the house a few minutes ago. I think he's planning on sneaking off before I know what he's up to."
Hattie got up and threw an old wrapper around her shoulders. "Can you ride, Mariah?"
Mariah swallowed hard. She had ridden once with Seth when she was much younger. He had found her abilities more hilarious than disastrous, but then he wasn't the one who had ended up at the bottom of a hollow, covered head to toe with leaves and too sore to walk straight for days. Still, Mariah reasoned, she'd seen enough men ride to know she could do it if she had to.
"I can ride," she lied, collecting her tapestry bag. "But, um... if you give me one of your gentlest mounts, I... well, I won't be disappointed."
The older woman gave a knowing shake of her head. "Well, then... Petunia should do. Be quiet now," she said lifting the latch on the bedroom door. "If we wake John, the jig will be up before it's begun."
Mariah touched the woman's arm. "Thank you Hattie. I'll never forget this."
"Mind you," Hattie returned with a fierce smile, "don't you give me cause to regret it."
* * *
"Whoa, Buck."
Creed's roan ground to a halt at the sound of his voice. The gelding's sides glistened with sweat and his sharp hooves pawed at the grassy slope of sweetgrass and goldenrod. The cool breeze tugged at them, erasing even the rushing sounds of the Sun River only a few hundred yards to the south.
Creed turned in the saddle once more to look at the ground he'd already covered. Like some bothersome gnat buzzing near his ear, the feeling that he was being followed continued to plague him, even though he could see no one.
The stands of lodgepole pine and aspen grew thicker with the altitude. To his right, a huge outcrop of granite rock stood sentinel over the valley.
Below the tree line rolled the sea of grass-covered foothills, undulating in the ceaseless prairie wind. Like a painter's canvas, the landscape below them was a boundless green, splashed here and there with the riotous colors of
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