Once Upon a Mail Order Bride - Linda Broday Page 0,49
didn’t you tell me about the bounty hunter stalking us?”
“Because I didn’t want to worry you. All right? So shoot me. You have enough on your mind at the moment.”
“I have a right to know if I’m in danger.”
“Of course, you do, and I’ll tell you when I have something solid.”
“You’re treating me like a child. Stop. I’m a grown woman, and I deserve to have your full consideration.”
Ridge pushed back his hat, and a nearby lantern revealed the anger creasing his face. “Look, I haven’t actually seen the man, only evidence a trespasser left behind. I think it was the bounty hunter, but if so, he’s after me, not you.”
His spurs jangled each time he moved, seeming loud in the stillness.
“But it could be the men hunting me. Either way, you should’ve told me.” She jabbed a pointed finger into his chest.
His irritation built, deepening the lines, and something else was there…hurt? He dragged the evening air into his lungs. “I vowed to protect you, and I mean to keep that promise. What would you have done differently if you’d’ve known? What?”
Good question. Likely nothing, but still!
“Let me decide for myself. Don’t shelter me, tell me what to think, or how to feel.”
“Believe me. From now on, I won’t.” He picked up the bridle from where it’d dropped and flung it over a stall rail.
Guilt rose at his anger. They had to find some way to coexist peacefully without these spats. She hated arguing, and it should have no place in their marriage—only love. Whatever elusive thing that might be.
What else was he not telling her? Did it have anything to do with the woman in the tintype that he kept near his bed? If only she had the courage to ask.
Maybe it was better not to know.
She went to the barn door and looked out at the growing shadows, dark and broad enough to hide a man intent on killing them. Her rigid shoulders and back relaxed, anger gone.
An arm slid around her waist, and she swiveled to meet Ridge’s whiskey-colored gaze. “I’m sorry, my love. I should’ve warned you to be on your guard. Old habits die hard, but I’m trying. Don’t give up on me.”
She tenderly laid a hand against his stubble and nodded. The scent of leather blended with an abundance of sage, alive in the night mist, bringing hope and joy. She was home. This was her land, and she’d fight to the last breath to keep it.
A noise drew her attention, and Bodie limped from the darkness, a rifle on his shoulder. He’d made himself scarce during their argument, forgetting his crutch, and shame filled Addie. She owed the kid better than bickering. He had nowhere else to go except to people who didn’t want him. She didn’t want to make his life more miserable.
“Anything out there?” Ridge asked.
“Nope. All’s quiet.”
“How far did you go?”
“To the big stand of mesquites.” The kid propped the rifle next to the barn door.
That thicket was the best place for someone to hide near the house. Since no one was there, it meant they were safe. At least for now. Addie relaxed and shooed them toward the windmill to wash. Their argument forgotten, she ran into the kitchen and started dishing everything up and setting the table.
Her men were hungry, and she couldn’t wait until bedtime to get her kiss and feel Ridge holding her, his heart beating next to hers—such a small thing, that had come to mean so much.
* * *
With supper over, Ridge and Bodie made another turn around the property while Addie sewed in the parlor. The cats played chase, jumping first into her lap, then out. She stomped her foot and shook her finger, and they settled down.
The back door opened, and Ridge strolled in, carrying some books and a slate. “I went by the school today, and Denver loaned me these.”
“I hope you don’t think I’m too dumb to learn.” Bodie scooped up the kitten and scratched it behind the ears, worry on his face and lining his voice.
“Is that wishful thinking, son?”
“I just want to make you proud is all.” His voice lowered as though he was too timid to say the words. “No one ’cept my folks ever said they were proud of me.”
Addie’s heart stilled, and tears hung in her throat. She watched the interaction between the man and boy, saw their deep respect for each other. More importantly, heard what they didn’t put into words.