Page 49 of Conveniently Wed
He was ready for her to move.
She turned forward in the saddle and carefully squeezed the horse’s flank with her knees the way he’d briefly shown her. The animal plodded forward.
She held the reins as loosely as she dared, using her other hand to wipe a hank of bedraggled hair from her face. She felt like a drowned cat, soaked to the bone, but that wasn’t important. Getting Emma back was.
The rope pulled tight, and she craned her neck to look back. At first it was only the rope, tight with tension, then a glimpse of Edgar’s hat, then one arm thrown over the jutting bluff.
And then they were both above ground.
She wanted to jump down from the horse but was afraid what it might do without a rider. Would it drag Edgar and Emma with no direction?
Waiting on the back of the horse was excruciating as Edgar pushed to his knees, and then stood. Emma was limp against his chest, and Fran’s heart thundered in her ears. This was all her fault. All of it.
If Emma was all right, she would do anything,anythingto make things right for her sister.
9
Edgar knew what he would want most if he’d been the one forced to wait.
Reassurance.
So the first thing he said to Fran as he neared the horse was, “She’s okay. Twisted her ankle a bit and is shook up.”
And when Emma raised her head from his shoulder with a trembling smile, he was rewarded as Fran’s eyes welled with tears.
He felt like a hero—in contrast to the heel he’d felt like after their shooting lesson. Had it only been that morning? It seemed so long ago now.
He held the reins while Fran dismounted and embraced her sister. After they were done with their hysterics, he boosted Emma into the saddle.
Shock held him immobile when he turned back and Fran threw herself at him, her arms coming around his shoulders tightly.
His chin brushed the top of her head, the wet, loose strands sticking to his beard.
And he held on.
He didn’t mean to encourage her if she was developing affection for him, but he was still reeling a little himself. There had been a moment, when his boots had hit the muddy bottom of that wash, with the water roaring against him, that he’d thought he might be swept away himself. Maybe he needed a little reassurance of his own. A firm grip on the fact that he’d done it, he’d made it out of that predicament alive.
That remaining frisson of fear still zinged through him, and that was the reason he let her cling to him now.
And after she had moved back with a quick swipe of her eyes, he kept her hand as they trudged back to the wagon with Emma in the saddle.
By standing up on the wagon seat, he was able to see the herd through the pouring rain when lightning lit up the sky. The boys were circling, trying to keep the animals from stampeding.
He should get back out there, pull his weight.
He looked down on Fran and Emma, huddled together next to his horse. He had a responsibility here, too.
All this responsibility could wear on a man, especially when he had a job to get done.
He started to climb down. Before he got both boots on the ground, Fran said, “You must need to return to the other cowboys. Emma and I will get in the wagon and do our best to dry off. We’ll wait for you to come and tell us when to move out.”
He turned a raised eyebrow on her. So far she hadn’t complained at the man’s share of work he’d given her, hadn’t argued when he’d told her he would set her up in Calvin. And now this. It seemed she was doing her best to be a compliant little wife, but…. “Woman, it’s a little late to try and not cause me trouble. From the moment you stepped off that derailed train…” He shook his head.
She looked so bedraggled, with her dark hair plastered against her skull and neck in ringlets, those doe brown eyes looking up at him, that he couldn’t hold back a smile.
“You’re soaked to the bone,” he said.
Her teeth chattered, and Emma wasn’t any better, maybe worse with her weight all balanced on one foot.
