No Longer a Stranger by Joan Johnston

Author:Joan Johnston
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pocket Books

13

The sounds of creaking saddle leather and the muffled crunch of horses’ hooves on the thick layers of dead brown pine needles imposed upon the quiet dignity of the mountains. An occasional warble or chirrup issued from nests hidden in the towering trees. The mournful wail of the wind through the thousands upon thousands of pine branchlets raised goose bumps on Reb’s skin, which were smoothed by the wafting currents of billowing air that surrounded her like a comforting bath of whirling warm water. She could almost forget that Kincaid followed close on her trail.

A small doe and its dappled fawn paused curiously as she and Kincaid rode by them, but didn’t flee. It was unusual to find such fearlessness in the forest creatures anymore, and Reb knew that the days of seeing such a rare occurrence were numbered. Even dumb beasts learned quickly that death followed when men invaded their sanctuary.

She and Kincaid had made steady progress since leaving Blue’s cabin after lunch and had just emerged from a narrow, shadowy path through a stand of blue spruce into a small, sunny open meadow that sloped sharply downhill. With her eyes receptive to the wonders around her, Reb couldn’t help admiring Kincaid’s mount when he rode up beside her.

The glossy, coal-black animal stood seventeen and a half hands high at the withers, so tall that even the willowy Reb had been forced to stand on tiptoe to see over his back when she’d brushed him down earlier in the day. Satan hadn’t lived up to his name, quietly tolerating the strokes of the currycomb through his inordinately long mane and tail without biting at her or trying to kick. Nor had he yet this afternoon proved to be the devil on hooves. Kincaid hadn’t had any trouble controlling him. In fact, the two seemed to go together like a pair of well-made buckskin riding gloves.

“That’s a beautiful stallion,” Reb said.

“My father bought Satan for me as a gift on my twenty-first birthday,” Kincaid replied.

“He’s your horse? I thought the army sent him.”

“I’ve owned Satan for about five years, but I had no chance to ride him during the war. I only started working with him again after I’d recovered from my leg wound. Guess my father wanted to surprise me by having him brought out here.”

“You could have bought a horse for a lot less than it probably cost your father to do that.”

“He can afford it.”

Reb had discounted Kincaid’s reference to being rich made during his delirium, since he’d so obviously appeared to be a soldier. Soldiers weren’t rich. If you were rich, you paid someone to fight in your stead.

Reb had never really considered what her competition would be for Kincaid’s attention once they left the mountains. Suddenly it dawned on her that not only could she not compete with the feminine wiles of the women she felt sure must be attracted to Kincaid’s masculine charms, but as a rancher’s daughter, she might not meet the social criteria that a rich man expected from his wife.

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