you?" he
growled. "You damned little icicle, do you think the touch of those
slender young hands, untutored as they are, could send a man into a
web of uncontrollable passion?"
She flinched at the anger in his deep voice. He rolled away from
her to sit up, curbed violence in the way he put a cigarette
between his lips and lit it.
"Put your boots on, little miss purity," he said roughly, "and
I'll see you safely home with your honor intact."
"Clint, I'm sorry, please don't…!" she began tearfully.
"You heard me." He got to his feet, making a swipe for his hat
on the ground and slamming it on his head. He moved through the
underbrush to the horses, leaving her to follow.
She tugged her boots on over the damp socks, fighting tears, and
blindly made her way to the little mare. She swung into the saddle,
refusing to even look his way. She turned her mount and kicked her velvety flanks, startling her
into a gallop. "Maggie…!" Clint called after her.
She leaned over Melody's neck, her fingers clinging to the
soft mane, and urged her on recklessly. She wanted nothing more
than to get away from him, and in a haze of pure panic, she forced
the mare into a run.
It happened with incredible speed. One minute she was firmly in
control. The next, she caught a glimpse of blue sky, a glimpse of
green grass, and her body came into shuddering contact with the
hard ground.
She was vaguely aware of a voice calling her, of a touch
that was none too gentle. She was too winded to answer, and
her head hurt. She moaned as she opened her eyes and the sky, along
with Clint's dark, tight face, came into blurry focus above
her.
"You damned little fool!" he thundered at her, and the look in his eyes was frightening.
"I…fell," she managed in a winded whisper.
"And it's too damned bad you didn't break your stupid neck," he
growled mercilessly. "I just may do it for you. Where do you
hurt?"
Her lips trembled shakily. "My… head," she
murmured.
His hands ran over her helpless body, feeling surely for breaks.
His face was lined as she'd never seen it, emphasizing his age, and
there was a pallor around his mouth that hinted of strain.
"M…Melody?" she got out.
"She's all right," was the terse reply. "No thanks to you," he
added.
That was the proverbial straw. Tears began to flow down
her cheeks in agony, her chest rising and falling jerkily with
suppressed sobs.
"If you cry, so help me, I'll hit you, Maggie," he threatened
darkly.
"You…big bully!" she wept. "I hate you!"
"That's no news." His arms went under her knees and her back,
lifting her gently against him. "If I put you on Melody, can you
hang on until we get home?"
"Yes," she replied doggedly. She'd hang on until hell froze
over, just to spite him.
"We'll go slow," he said quietly, easily lifting her onto the
small mare and making sure she had the reins firmly in hand. "Can
you make it?"
She glared down at him with fierce green eyes. "You can bet on
it," she said icily.
He ignored the anger, and the ice, and swung into the saddle
himself. "Let's go."
It was the longest ride she could ever remember, and she was
bathed in sweat when they reached the ranch house. Clint reached up
for her just as she swayed diz-zily in the saddle and carried her upstairs yelling for Emma as
he went.
"What in the world…?" Emma asked in concern.
"Annie Oakley fell off," Clint said roughly. "Stay with this
stupid child while I call Dr. Brown."
"I hope you trip and fall down the stairs!" Maggie called after
him tearfully, wetness burning her eyes as she lay panting
and disheveled, sore and miserable on the coverlet of her bed.
Emma sat down beside her and smoothed the wisps of hair out of
her eyes. "Oh, my poor baby," she cooed, frowning in quiet empathy.
"Does it hurt much?"
She began to cry, burying her face in Emma's apron. "I hate
him," she sobbed. "Oh, I hate him, I…"
"I know," Emma said gently. "I've always known. Men can be
so very blind, Maggie, and so hurtful. That one more than
growled. "You damned little icicle, do you think the touch of those
slender young hands, untutored as they are, could send a man into a
web of uncontrollable passion?"
She flinched at the anger in his deep voice. He rolled away from
her to sit up, curbed violence in the way he put a cigarette
between his lips and lit it.
"Put your boots on, little miss purity," he said roughly, "and
I'll see you safely home with your honor intact."
"Clint, I'm sorry, please don't…!" she began tearfully.
"You heard me." He got to his feet, making a swipe for his hat
on the ground and slamming it on his head. He moved through the
underbrush to the horses, leaving her to follow.
She tugged her boots on over the damp socks, fighting tears, and
blindly made her way to the little mare. She swung into the saddle,
refusing to even look his way. She turned her mount and kicked her velvety flanks, startling her
into a gallop. "Maggie…!" Clint called after her.
She leaned over Melody's neck, her fingers clinging to the
soft mane, and urged her on recklessly. She wanted nothing more
than to get away from him, and in a haze of pure panic, she forced
the mare into a run.
It happened with incredible speed. One minute she was firmly in
control. The next, she caught a glimpse of blue sky, a glimpse of
green grass, and her body came into shuddering contact with the
hard ground.
She was vaguely aware of a voice calling her, of a touch
that was none too gentle. She was too winded to answer, and
her head hurt. She moaned as she opened her eyes and the sky, along
with Clint's dark, tight face, came into blurry focus above
her.
"You damned little fool!" he thundered at her, and the look in his eyes was frightening.
"I…fell," she managed in a winded whisper.
"And it's too damned bad you didn't break your stupid neck," he
growled mercilessly. "I just may do it for you. Where do you
hurt?"
Her lips trembled shakily. "My… head," she
murmured.
His hands ran over her helpless body, feeling surely for breaks.
His face was lined as she'd never seen it, emphasizing his age, and
there was a pallor around his mouth that hinted of strain.
"M…Melody?" she got out.
"She's all right," was the terse reply. "No thanks to you," he
added.
That was the proverbial straw. Tears began to flow down
her cheeks in agony, her chest rising and falling jerkily with
suppressed sobs.
"If you cry, so help me, I'll hit you, Maggie," he threatened
darkly.
"You…big bully!" she wept. "I hate you!"
"That's no news." His arms went under her knees and her back,
lifting her gently against him. "If I put you on Melody, can you
hang on until we get home?"
"Yes," she replied doggedly. She'd hang on until hell froze
over, just to spite him.
"We'll go slow," he said quietly, easily lifting her onto the
small mare and making sure she had the reins firmly in hand. "Can
you make it?"
She glared down at him with fierce green eyes. "You can bet on
it," she said icily.
He ignored the anger, and the ice, and swung into the saddle
himself. "Let's go."
It was the longest ride she could ever remember, and she was
bathed in sweat when they reached the ranch house. Clint reached up
for her just as she swayed diz-zily in the saddle and carried her upstairs yelling for Emma as
he went.
"What in the world…?" Emma asked in concern.
"Annie Oakley fell off," Clint said roughly. "Stay with this
stupid child while I call Dr. Brown."
"I hope you trip and fall down the stairs!" Maggie called after
him tearfully, wetness burning her eyes as she lay panting
and disheveled, sore and miserable on the coverlet of her bed.
Emma sat down beside her and smoothed the wisps of hair out of
her eyes. "Oh, my poor baby," she cooed, frowning in quiet empathy.
"Does it hurt much?"
She began to cry, burying her face in Emma's apron. "I hate
him," she sobbed. "Oh, I hate him, I…"
"I know," Emma said gently. "I've always known. Men can be
so very blind, Maggie, and so hurtful. That one more than
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