High Plains Wife

“Mariah?” Nick’s horse halted at the side of her wagon. His shadow fell across her. “Are you okay?”

“I told you, I’m fine.” She had to be. What choice did she have? She wasn’t Georgie—she couldn’t lean into Nick’s arms and find comfort. She had no comfort anywhere in her life. The last thing she intended to do was to admit it. “Where did that blasted rein go?”

“Here. It’s on the ground.” Nick leaned forward in his saddle, leather creaking with his movements, and reached for the thick strap.

His big, sun-browned fingers snatched it, the movement masculine and commanding, and she hated noticing it. Noticing him.

He straightened, looking her up and down with his steel-blue eyes. No emotion flickered in their depths. “You’re in no shape to drive. Maybe you ought to rest a spell. Let me take you up to the house.”

“Sitting here isn’t going to get my laundry delivered.” Pretending that his concern didn’t matter, she snatched the leather strap from his gloved fingers. “You go back to Georgie and keep her safe this time.”

“Still as prickly as ever, aren’t you, Mariah?” His jaw tightened. “Fine. Have it your way. Sure you’re all right?”

“Positive.” She snapped the reins. “Goodbye, Mr. Gray.”

To his credit, Bad Boy moved forward, leaving Nick in a wake of dust. She glanced over her shoulder and saw the outline of him through the chalky cloud—lean and wide, all man.

She couldn’t help longing just a little. It mortified her to think that she still hid a yearning for him after ten long years. Time had changed her, drawn lines on her face and given her a shield around her heart. But inside she was still that young woman who wanted to believe in love. In possibilities. Who dared to wish that the handsome, dashing Nick Gray would fall in love with her.

But he would choose another.

It doesn’t matter. It’s all in the past. She tried to be sensible. She was no daydreaming child, so why did she feel the same as she had so long ago? Because when Nick looked at her, he probably saw what everyone else did. A cold, hard-hearted woman who’d never been courted.

Not once.

Bad Boy drifted to a halt in the middle of the road and she didn’t have the strength to scold him. She reached under the seat and found the gunnysack by feel.

“Mariah.” A broad warm hand lighted on her shoulder.

She jumped. An apple shot from her grip and rolled across the wagon floor. Why couldn’t he just leave her be?

Nick’s shadow fell across her, towering between her and the sun. “That was a real fight you put up. You have the right to be shaken up.”

“Me? Those coyotes didn’t want me. They wanted your daughter.”

“I know, Mariah, and like I said, I’m obliged to you.”

“You should have been watching her. You left her alone and she wasn’t safe. Georgie could have been killed.” She realized his hand was still on her shoulder, hot and comforting, and she shrugged away, breaking the connection. “What kind of father are you?”

“One who isn’t going to let that happen again.”

“See that you don’t.” She snapped the reins again, and this time Bad Boy moved, slow and stubborn.

“Your ox could use some training.” Nick rode past her to take the animal by the yoke and speed up his gait. “I’d be happy to work with him. Don’t know what else to offer you for rescuing Georgie like that.”

“I don’t want anything from you. That isn’t why I helped your little girl. Anyone passing by would have done the same.”

“Either way, you still need help with this ox.”

“That’s none of your concern.”

“So, you don’t want my help. That’s nothing new.” Bad Boy slowed down and Nick gave a hard tug on the yoke. “The trouble with you, Miss Scott, is that the rumors are true.”

Rumors? What rumors? Fury rolled through her, hot and fierce. See what came from trying to have a civil conversation with the man? Nick was bold and overbearing and couldn’t mind his own concern if she paid him to. “Let go of my ox.”

“I’m trying to thank you for saving my daughter’s life, and you won’t accept it.”

“I’m not uncharitable. I simply do not require any assistance.” It hurt her that he still thought so little of her.

Her chin shot up and she sent Bad Boy into a lope. Dust rose up to sting her eyes and the bouncing wagon rattled her bones, but it felt good to leave Nick Gray behind in the dust where he belonged.

She refused to feel sorry for her harsh words. Or for losing her temper. Nick had a real life, and he had children of his own to love.

She had no life at all, just her laundry business and a house that echoed with loneliness.

When she looked over her shoulder, he was still in the middle of the road, watching her, the dust settling around him like mist.

The trouble with you, Miss Scott, is that the rumors are true. Nick believed that and so did nearly everyone in the entire county. Oh, she could probably figure out what people thought. She was strong and iron-willed and prickly…and far too independent for any man to show any interest in her. Well, that was true enough. She didn’t need any man. She was getting along just fine. She had her own business, her own home and her own ox and wagon.

You should have let Nick help you, Mariah. She closed her eyes briefly against the glare of the sun and certainly not because of the stinging sensation behind her lids. Nothing good would have come from letting Nick Gray train the ox. Not one thing.

She had to be practical. Had to accept the kind of woman she was. She was meant to be alone. Not everyone had a heart that could love.

So it couldn’t be her heart that was hurting as she turned the wagon toward the Dayton ranch, late for her next delivery.

Chapter Two

H olding his gelding steady, Nick watched Mariah disappear in a trail of dust. That woman could get his dander up like no other, that was for sure. Not even his late wife could get him het up so fast as the Spinster Scott could. Maybe he didn’t like independent-minded women, but what other woman would have battled coyotes to protect his little girl without wanting so much as a thank-you?

Hell, it would have been civil of her to accept his gratitude. She could have taken him up on his offer to train her young ox. But, no, not Mariah.

He swept off his hat in exasperation and raked his fingers through his hot, sweaty hair. The air felt good, almost as good as the relief of knowing his little girl was safe and sound and in his brother’s care.

The wind warmed him, but that wasn’t enough to stop his shivering. The image of hungry coyotes circling Georgie and Mariah chilled him to the meat of his bones.

“Darn lucky she came along when she did,” his brother Will commented as he handed Georgie over. “No other woman in the county could do what she did. Miss Mariah Scott is tougher than a bad-tempered grizzly. Even those danged coyotes know it.”

“So they say.” Grim, Nick cuddled his little girl to his chest. What would have happened to her alone in this field? He was damn glad he’d come along when he did. Glad his son had run to him, telling of Georgie’s escape.

Best thing to do would be to head home and give Georgie that serious talking-to she needed, but there was Mariah’s wagon, tiny in the distance. He could still barely make it out, a small brown dot rolling along the expansive prairie. As he watched, her vehicle dipped down a rise and out of sight.

Mariah Scott. He hadn’t cause to think of her in a long while. But he thought of her now.

“Pa, I want down. That lady said I could go with her and her ox.”

“I’m here now and so I’ll give you a ride on my horse.”

“But you don’t love me.” Georgie’s sob rattled through her. “My mama does.”