Carolyn Davidson - The Wedding Promise

“There’s enough food in the wagon to keep us for a while. We’ve got a barrel of water and two good horses to pull the wagon. It’ll be a cold day in you-know-where when we can’t figure out some way to keep body and soul together without a bunch of busybodies pokin’ into our business. Just hike yourselves into the wagon, boys.”

Her dark hair swung in a long braid down her back and slim legs were briefly exposed as Rachel Sinclair scrambled atop the high seat. Her brothers joined her in seconds, even as a rangy lawman sauntered from his office to head in their direction.

His hand lifted in a silent gesture and his mouth opened, only to snap shut as the trio huddling on the wide seat ignored his beckoning fingers. Shaking his head in puzzled resignation, he watched them go, until they were just a speck on the horizon.

The line of clothing snapped in the brisk west wind. Four small shirts billowed, the sleeves filling like the sails of a boat. Next to them hung overalls, one pair a little larger than the other. Stockings draped over the line in a dark parade, and his gaze followed their lead, beyond the pale assortment of undergarments to where a skirt caught the breeze.

“Damned if there isn’t a passel of nesters squattin’ on my doorstep!” Talking to himself had long been a habit, and Cord McPherson was more than comfortable with the sound of his own voice.

His hands rested on the pommel of his saddle and he slouched just a bit as he leaned forward to better view the small valley that rimmed the north side of his property.

He’d ridden this far only once this spring, more than a month ago, and nothing unusual had caught his eye. Only the leafing out of the trees along the stream and the greening of the meadows had pleasured his vision. This was another thing entirely.

His gaze narrowed on a small figure just beyond the ramshackle building at the edge of a patch of trees. Dark haired and slim as a reed, a young boy scampered into full view, his voice a piping song.

“Rae! Listen to me! I can whistle just like that bird over there,” he called, and then proceeded to do a creditable imitation of a robin.

Cord’s mouth twitched, amusement and annoyance vying for a place there. “What the hell is that kid doin’, prancin’ around in my back forty?” he grumbled beneath his breath.

And then his eyes caught sight of another figure, this one not nearly so reedlike…slender, but well rounded. A female, no doubt of that, he decided quickly, what with the curves that threatened to spill over the front of her petticoat.

“Jay, I sent you to the stream to fill a bucket with water. I need to finish the washing.”

She’d turned, coming to a halt with her back to him, and for a moment Cord silently urged her to turn around. He’d thought her to be but a child at first glance, but the sight of rounded hips beneath the clinging petticoat and the memory of curves he’d caught only a glimpse of sent that thought scampering.

“I’m gonna!” the child answered cheerfully. “I just was watchin’ the birds for a minute, Rae.” The dark head turned, the small face scrunched against the morning sun as he faced the woman, and even from a distance, Cord caught a glimpse of terror in the boy’s hurried movements.

“Rae! There’s a man watchin’. Over on that rise, there’s a big man lookin’ at us!” His bare feet were a blur as the boy ran to the woman and she clutched him against herself in a protective gesture, her head bending low over his.

And then she turned. With one hand she swept the youngster behind her, facing the unknown with a measure of bravery that brought an admiring chuckle from Cord’s throat. Even as he eyed her stance, his heels tapped the sides of his big gelding and he sat deeply in the saddle as the horse picked his way down the shallow slope of the hill.

“Go in the house, Jay,” the woman said, her voice carrying in the morning air. Low and steady, yet with an authoritative quality he could not miss, her command sent the boy running. She waited, unflinching in the brilliant sunlight as Cord approached, her eyes shaded by the hand she lifted to her forehead.

“Morning, ma’am.” He hadn’t forgotten his manners, even when faced with a half-dressed female in his own backyard, so to speak. His gaze on her face, he was only too aware of her state of dishabille, and his treacherous eyes narrowed as they widened their focus to include the lush curves she made no attempt to hide.

“What do you want?” She lifted her head as he neared, her eyes remarkable in their fearless daring. Not a twitch of muscle in that suntanned face betrayed her. Nor did her hands tremble as she lowered the right to meet the left at her waistline. Her chin was a bit too firm for his liking, but the mouth that spoke a challenge in his direction was soft and full, her flesh clear, her cheeks flushing a bit as he rode close to where she stood.

“I was about to ask you the same question, ma’am.” His words were mild, his senses instinctively lulled by the sight of a defenseless woman and a small child.

She shrugged with deliberate defiance and her jaw tightened. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean. I don’t want anything from you, mister. Just to be left alone.”

Cord McPherson was a man of few words, but the ones that came to mind this morning weren’t what he could in all good conscience spout in her direction. His hands itched to circle that narrow waist. His body twitched in a too long neglected fashion as he allowed his gaze to openly scan her form.

Not for the life of him could he be so blunt as to tell her she was about three feet from a randy man.

He shifted in the saddle, discomfort a reality now. “I’m wonderin’ just what you’re doin’ on my property, ma’am.”

Over her shoulder, a taller version of the small boy she’d sent scampering peered around the corner of the shack.

Cord nodded at him. “Another one of your bunch?” he asked politely. And then his eyes glittered with a dark menace as the youth lifted a shotgun to his shoulder.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, boy.” As far as from dawn to full dark, his voice plunged to a low, growling threat, the affable visage only a memory.

The woman spun about, her head shaking a warning. “Henry, put the gun down!”

The barrel wavered and fell, its weight pulling it almost to the ground, and the boy glared, a passionate threat, unhampered by his compliance. His dark hair gleaming in the sunlight, he waited, as if one movement from the horseman would bring his heavy weapon into line once more.

The young woman turned to Cord again, as if caught between two opposing forces. “He’s only a boy and no threat to you.”

“Hate to gainsay you, ma’am, but any hand holdin’ a gun is a threat in my book. I’d suggest you have him put that shotgun on the ground, or I’ll have to see to it myself.”

“Put down the gun, Henry. Right now.” Without looking back over her shoulder, the woman issued the order, her tone of voice speaking confidence in his obedience.

And he obeyed. Without hesitation, he leaned forward and deposited his weapon on the grass. His mouth twisted in a mutinous grimace and his eyes burned with a thwarted gleam, but he obeyed.

Cord swung from his saddle, dropping his reins to the ground. With two long strides, man and woman were in touching distance and Cord’s mouth twitched as he caught sight of the alarm she could not hide at his approach.

She stepped back, her hands rising distractedly to spread across her breasts, a purely female gesture, honed by the instincts inbred in women, and he recognized it for what it was. She’d only now remembered her state of undress, her vulnerability to his masculine strength.