The Wayward Heart by Jill Gregory

Author:Jill Gregory [Gregory, Jill]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Jill Gregory
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

The days slipped by. May arrived, and the giant saguaro cactus, so prominent in the region, gave forth its beautiful white blossoms, filled with the long, purplish fruit that the Indians had long used for food. The flat, sandy desert grew more exquisite daily, adorned with its yucca trees, greasewood, jumping cholla cacti, flowering organ-pipe cacti, and barrel cacti, from whose trunk, Bryony learned, candy was made.

In the valley, the grass-covered rangeland was dotted with pink-blooming ironwoods. Geraniums, violets, snowberry, and fernbush carpeted the mountains and their foothills, and dazzling, sun-golden poppies spanned the mesas.

Each day Bryony was greeted by a brilliant, sapphire-domed sky and hot sunshine, and the air was always scented with pine, mingled with the citric aroma from her own orange groves.

As ever, the mountains loomed deep blue and purple in the distance, a pinkish haze tinging their stark, jagged edges.

Bryony reveled in the magnificence of her surroundings. Her days were full as she occupied herself with the running of a large and prosperous cattle ranch, aided in her efforts by Judge Hamilton, who showed her how to manage the books and payroll, and by Shorty Buchanan, who kept the wranglers in line and handled all matters of daily management, reporting to Bryony several times each week.

She frequently visited her father’s grave in the cemetery outside of Winchester. Though she managed to find time for horseback riding occasionally, most of her hours were spent helping Rosita with the cooking and housework, writing up supply lists, and balancing the books. One thing she never missed, however, was her daily shooting lesson. Her derringer had been chipped by Jim Logan’s bullet, but it was otherwise in good working order, and Bryony saw to it that she and Shorty Buchanan rode out into the foothills for a practice session every afternoon.

She had grown quite fond of the feisty little cowpoke, though she soon learned that he was anything but a patient teacher. His grizzled face often screwed itself into an expression of exasperation when she didn’t follow his instructions exactly, but he knew more about shooting a gun than most men knew about breathing, and under his tutelage, she became surprisingly proficient with the weapon. Her aim was good, her hand steady, and her reactions were quicksilver. Though he never admitted it in words, Shorty seemed proud of her.

Matthew Richards called frequently at the Circle H, and his attentions to Bryony had become quite marked. At first she thought he was merely being kind to her because of his friendship with her father, but eventually she came to realize that_he was attracted to her, and she couldn’t help but feel flattered and pleased.

With his dark-haired good looks, his vast cattle holdings and impressive Twin Bars ranch, he was considered to be the matrimonial catch of the valley. He was a man respected by everyone in Winchester, and here he was, dangling after a girl fresh out of boarding school.

It was a compliment indeed. Bryony did enjoy his company, and

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