Linda Ford - The Cowboy's Convenient Proposal

They marched bravely onward until Belle dropped to the edge of the trail.

“We’re lost. And I’m hungry.” Silent tears trailed down her pale cheeks.

Red hated those tears and that silent cry, even though she felt like sitting at Belle’s side and joining her in a good wail. Her leg hurt even though she’d looked at it closely when Linette changed the dressing last night and knew it was a minor injury. Her head pounded like a thousand horses kicking to be released. “We’ll be okay.”

Belle shook her head. Not that Red blamed her for not believing. She had no plan. No options. “Come on. We can’t sit at the side of the road feeling sorry for ourselves.”

Belle didn’t move.

Red dried her sister’s tears on the skirt of the brown cotton dress. “Something will work out. It always does, doesn’t it?” Even though she said the words, she could think of too many times when things had gone wrong to be convincing.

“Can I call you Grace now?”

Red looked past Belle to the low bushes beside the trail. “I’ll never be Grace again. Continue calling me Red.” She yanked on a lock of hair. Why had she been cursed with hair that drew unwanted attention?

Belle sprang to her feet. Her eyes widened as she stared down the road. “Someone’s coming.” She bolted for the bushes.

“Belle, wait.” But Belle didn’t slow until she was well out of sight.

Red shared her sense of panic. Had Thorton escaped? She squinted at the approaching rider. He led a second horse. That fact alone sent shivers up and down Red’s spine. Slowly she backed away, aiming for the opposite side of the trail as Belle. That way if Red was caught, Belle might hope to escape.

To what? Starvation in the wilds?

She spun about. Her head did not like the sudden movement and dizziness made her stumble and fall to her knees.

“Red. Hold up. It’s me.”

She recognized the voice. Ward. Interfering again.

But her annoyance was laced liberally with relief. Surely he’d give her a ride.

To where? She had no place to go.

* * *

Ward was too far away to do anything but kick his horse to a gallop, and watch helplessly as Red fell to the ground. The woman seemed to have a knack for getting into trouble. But right now he didn’t have time to analyze that observation. He had to take care of Red and her little sister. Where had Belle disappeared to?

He jumped from his horse and trotted over to Red who now sat on the ground, her legs drawn up, her face buried in her knees. He squatted at her side. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Just turned too fast and fell.” She eyed him with squinting disfavor. “Could happen to anyone.”

He chuckled. “Yup. Happens to me all the time.”

She snorted. “Sure it does.”

“Well it does every time I have a blow to my head that leaves a lump the size of a turkey egg.”

She stared away.

He looked in the same direction. Saw nothing of interest. Some scraggly bushes along the trail, poplars with their lacy leaves dancing in the breeze, and further off, dark green spruce and pine. In the distance, the blue-gray Rockies. “Where you going?” Seemed to be nothing much out there for her to aim for.

“To freedom.”

“Yeah, sure. But where will you hang your hat?”

“No hat to hang.”

He guessed she had little of anything to hang. She’d left without pausing to collect her belongings. All she took with her was her little sister. Who—if he had to guess—hid from the sight of a man. No doubt men represented danger in her young mind. Maybe in Red’s not-so-young mind as well. “Even without a hat, you need a place. You can’t survive out in the open. Do you have any family?”

She didn’t shift her gaze. “Just Belle.”

“Uh-huh. Friends? Anyone who would give you a home?”

The look she gave him dripped disbelief. “Do you think if we did, we would have fallen into the clutches of a man like Thorton?”

“Guess it was a stupid question.”

“It sure was.”

He sank to his backside and drew his knees up in a pose that mirrored hers. Together they stared down the trail. “I got a place. Ain’t much. Just a tiny cabin. Someday it’s going to be more. Got plans for a big house.”

“What you want with a big house? You got a girl?”

“I got a mother and two brothers. It’s for them.”

“No pa?”

“He died.”

“Where are they now?”

Her question unleashed a tornado of memories, infiltrated with regrets and pain. “Back in New Brunswick. Travers is three years younger than me...” When he and Travers said goodbye, Travers swore he would come and join Ward when he thought Hank could take care of himself. The Travers he remembered never went back on his word. “Hank is ten years younger,” he continued. “He’d be thirteen by now. I ain’t seen him since he was six.”

She shifted to see his face. “How come?”

“I left.”

“Who is taking care of them?”

“My stepfather.” The man had vowed he loved Ma and the boys. Love! A word easily spoken. It meant nothing. Taking care of others was all that counted. That and kindness.

“Oh.” Her voice was small, tight. “That why you left?”

Something in her tone drew him. He met her probing gaze. “He didn’t care for me. Just me being there made him angry.”

Understanding flickered through her gaze. “He used a belt? Fists?”

He nodded, and in that moment they formed a bond—one based on the shared experience of abuse. He looked deep into her hurting soul, found a reflection of his own. He knew then what he must do. “I’ll take you to my cabin. You can stay there as long as you need.”

“What about your family? Aren’t you expecting them?”

He closed his eyes, shutting out her gaze, as a newer, fresher pain surfaced. “They aren’t answering my letters.” He’d had but three letters in the years since he left—two from Ma and one from Travers. Nothing in almost three years.

“Oh. I’m sorry.” A cool hand touched the back of his, and he jerked his eyes open. She pulled her hand to her knee and looked into the distance, but she’d touched him. Offered comfort. That tiny gesture slipped into his troubled heart and mind like a warm summer breeze full of sweet scents.

“So you’ll accept my offer?” He hoped she’d agree willingly. Let him help her and Belle.

She developed a keen interest in the blade of grass plucked from nearby. Her hesitation gave him plenty of time to reconsider, but rather than withdraw his offer, he silently begged her to accept it.

Slowly she turned and faced him. “What would you expect in return?”

The question sliced through him like she’d used the ax she’d threatened the circle of men with. Then the meaning of her words hit him with peculiar force. He sprang to his feet and backed away three steps. “I am not that sort of a man. I made an offer out of concern for you and Belle. I have no ulterior, despicable motives.” What had Thorton demanded of her? His cheeks burned to think of the sort of things that went on in the back rooms of a saloon. Some would see Red as soiled, ruined. But all he saw was a woman who needed help to escape a bad situation. He could offer that.

She didn’t lower her gaze, nor did her silent demand ease.

“If you accept my offer, it will be clearly understood that I—” he could think of no gentle way to say it “—I do not want repayment of any sort. My only concern is making sure you and Belle are safe from the kind of treatment you received at Thorton’s hands and that you have a place to live.”

Still she considered him, looking up from her seated position. He felt her careful examination of his words. Of him. As if she probed his thoughts, his heart. His very soul.