Montana Sky_Hearts In Rhythm Page 4

  At his question, her wide mouth turned downward, and she glanced between him and the horse at her side. Her neck stiffened, and her body angled away from the chestnut.

  Signs of avoidance. “What’s wrong? Don’t you ride?”

  Gazing toward the fields, she shrugged. “Not since leaving home.”

  “This ride will be a good chance to refresh your basic skills. Which you’ll need before attempting more advanced ones.” His compulsion to get her agreement surprised him. “Only a couple hours.

  Biting her lip, Savina glanced back at the house. “I need to return to p-prepare d-dinner.”

  His pulse tripped. The ride had turned into something more than preventing a repeat of her stunt. He wanted to spend time together. “I’ll see to it. So, may I saddle the chestnut?”

  “Cinnamon is her name.”

  Ten minutes later, the horses slowed from an easy trot into a walk through the foot-tall prairie grass. Estefan watched Savina’s hands and noticed her soft touch on the reins. She perched in a requested side saddle, and her seat was balanced. Even if years had elapsed since her last ride, the woman was a natural athlete.

  “As you see, my skills have returned. Learning to ride b-bareback will just take p-practice.”

  Had he been that obvious about his observations? “Not without the proper equipment.”

  “I’m riding b-bareback. My equipment is the horse.” She waved a hand toward Cinnamon’s head. “What else d-do I need?”

  Good question. This situation was one he’d not encountered before. He scratched his chin and winced at the rasp of thick stubble. Tomorrow, he’d have to allow more time after he woke to shave. “Possibly a training saddle with places for you to grip.”

  “Like straps?”

  “Right, so your feet don’t slip.” His thoughts went to her position on the horse. “Plus, you’ll need reins. Longer ones. Maybe the set Trent uses for his buckboard.”

  “I agree.” She glanced his way and grinned. “When shall we g-go to town to order them?”

  Estefan narrowed his gaze. How did he get roped up into her scheme?

  ~**~

  If only Estefan weren’t so bossy, she could think of him as a friend. Even if most of her friends didn’t set her heart racing when they looked her way. So far he’d been right about her need to refresh her riding skills. She’d almost forgotten the joy of being carried on a powerful animal and moving through the countryside. Although her left foot protested a bit from supporting her leg in the stirrup, the ache was manageable—no worse than after a long dance rehearsal.

  They crested a hill, and a grazing herd came into view. The horses stood in a field of pale green prairie grass dotted with yellow and pink wildflowers.

  Cinnamon tossed her head and neighed a greeting.

  A few horses jerked up their heads and glanced their way.

  Savina looked at the short, compact animals that displayed a wide array of coloring—from white coats with black or red spots spread over their bodies to reddish or gray coats with an overlay of white containing spots on the hindquarters to solid brown and red coats with white splotches covering the hips. Somehow, they appeared wilder than the solid-colored mare she rode, like these horses fit in the wide open spaces.

  “Ah, que linda.” Estefan leaned a forearm on the pommel as he gazed over the horses.

  Whatever those foreign words meant, the emotion was recognizable. His dreamy expression displayed the same yearning as when her dancer friends passed a bakery shop window. Sitting tall, Savina looked again at the gathered horses, this time picturing herself on the back of each one as she rode into an arena. Her costume would need to accent the horse’s coloring and, if she were honest, her own, because the audience would be paying attention to her movements.

  “Will you hold onto Tronar? I want to see how close I can get to the horses.” Estefan extended the leather strips.

  Nodding, she accepted them and watched him dismount.

  He rubbed both hands over his horse’s neck and then on his own exposed skin. Next, he pressed his chest and back against his horse’s damp shoulders and hips.

  To keep in her horrified gasp, she covered her mouth with a gloved hand. Normally, she avoided the stink of warm horseflesh, like most people did. Estefan must have a good reason for practically bathing in the stallion’s strong odor.

  With his hands held a few inches away from his hips, Estefan approached using a diagonal line, his chin tucked close to his chest.

  The warm breeze carried snatches of his voice singing and speaking in his native language. His volume was low and calm, and the tonal qualities reminded her of the heartfelt desire evoked by a well-played violin. Like the lyrics spoke directly to her heart filled with unbestowed emotion just waiting for the right man to receive them.

  What? She jerked and glanced around, hoping she hadn’t made a noise, as in letting loose a wistful sigh. Where had that thought come from? Romantic notions had no place in her plan to join the roster of a major entertainment exhibition. She shook her head and felt perspiration prickle her scalp. The day’s heat must be too much. While fashionable in the streets of the state’s capitol, her hat with its clutch of silk roses and accenting feathers didn’t offer much protection from the sun.

  About twenty feet to her left stood an oak tree with a wide canopy, and she urged the horses in that direction. Once they reached the patch of shade, she blew out a breath. As she watched Estefan inching his way among the horses, she was vaguely aware the two animals near her moved a step now and then to graze. A good way to keep them from getting into mischief. She could well imagine how the unsuspecting beasts fell under the spell of the dark-eyed man with the deep voice. Even from this distance, she was enthralled.

  Chapter Four

  Following the midday meal, they set out. The sun had passed it zenith, but the air was still quite warm. Insects buzzed, and the horses flicked away bothersome flies with their swishing tails. With Savina at his side, Estefan drove Trent’s buckboard along the ridge next to Morgan’s River. On this route, he took advantage of whatever spots of shade he could find beside the path through the grass. Off in the distance stood the house, corrals, and barns of the S Bar D Ranch. He’d met cattle ranchers Paul Slater and Johnny McCreary on an earlier trip. Nice enough men, as non-horse breeders went.

  The town of Morgan’s Crossing had been a surprise on his first visit. With her injury, she probably hadn’t made the trip yet. Maybe he should let her know what to expect. He cleared his throat and glanced to the side. From under the brim of a straw hat, she gazed at the surrounding area with an alert look, like everything was new and different. “Trent said you used to live in Helena.”

  “I d-did. For almost two years.”

  “Well, the town where we’re headed is nothing like the territorial capitol. The self-appointed mayor, Michael Morgan, won the gold mine in a poker game before I started visiting here.” The story brought a chuckle to his lips. That type of luck with the power to spin a man’s life in a new direction had never happened to anyone Estefan knew. “For several years, Morgan built and maintained only what was needed to keep his workers fed and housed.”

  “Winning a mine sounds exciting.”

  “Except the part about being responsible for the welfare of a town full of people. That accountability would weigh too heavily for my tastes.” He thought of Rancho del Cielo and the operation his father oversaw that provided for at least a dozen workers and their families. He didn’t envision that type of life in his future for many years. Although, he wondered how many of the mares had dropped their foals safely and how the mix of genders tallied.

  “Estefan, I see rooftops ahead.” Savina shifted forward, pointing.

  Her words broke into his ruminations, and he jerked his gaze where she indicated before easing back on the reins. “Whoa.” When the horses stopped, he set the brake. “To the west, you can see the road leading to the mine. The blacksmith has a home up there. Workers walk to and from
town to work their shifts at the mine.”

  “West?”

  He cupped a hand under her chin and eased it to the left. Her skin was soft and smooth against his rough fingers, but he fought the urge to caress.

  “I see the road and what looks like a two-story house.” With a gentle move, she eased back, away from his grasp.

  “That’s Morgan’s place, and it’s the nicest one in town. The boarding house serves meals and provides sleeping for most of the bachelor miners. Morgan owns both the mercantile and the saloon.” He straightened his arm and indicated the structures as he detailed the town’s layout. “That big building has been put to several uses—a church when the reverend or Catholic priest visit, a meeting hall, quilting bees, and has probably held a party or two. Married miners lived in one of ten individual cabins. See them with spaces for gardens behind? The tents toward the east end are home to the Chinese workers who also tend the pigs.”

  He moved his arm to point toward the other end of town. “The leather shop where we’re headed is across from the boarding house.” Because he couldn’t resist, he leaned toward her until their shoulders touched. He inhaled the spicy scent that reminded him of a pomander hanging the mantel at the holidays. “That structure on the close side of the main street.” A wagon with a strange shape like he’d never seen was parked alongside.

  “Oh, I see it. With a smaller b-building b-behind it.” Smiling, she turned his way then her eyes widened.

  “The stable.” He was close enough to see long triangles of yellow-green radiating from the middle of her irises. Maybe the yellow was more vivid because of the reflection from her palomino-yellow blouse with the white stitching at the collar’s edge. His pulse raced, and he straightened and forced his gaze to again scan the town.

  A flash of color showed among the trees of what had been an open green space last year. “And I spot a new building that wasn’t there on my previous visit. Town’s growing. Let’s go see.” Moments later, he pulled the buckboard next to the railing in front of the shops boasting “Andrews Saddlery” and “Cinnia’s Dressmaking.” So Nic’s idea of building a second business space had paid off. His friend obviously had a renter.

  Estefan hurried around the back of the wagon to assist Savina. Her foot was better, but she’d probably worked it harder than normal during their morning ride. “Allow me.” Plus, he didn’t mind spanning her waist to help her down or feeling the heat from her hands resting on his shoulders. During those few seconds, he was lost in her gaze and only aware of his heart rate beating in his ears.

  Footsteps on wooden planks drew nearer. “Well, Estefan del Vado, you’re back.”

  The sound of his friend’s voice broke his concentration. With a careful move, he set her down. Then he turned, keeping his left hand at Savina’s back. “Nic Andrews, I see you survived the horrible blizzard I read about.” After climbing the three steps, he extended his right hand in greeting. “I don’t envy what you and the rest of the town must have gone through.”

  The tall, blond man with piercing blue eyes smiled, wiped his hands with a rag, and gave a strong handshake. “The townsfolk pulled together, and we all survived. Thank the Lord.” He glanced to the side and then back to Estefan. “Although now most people call me by my real name, Nicolai Andrusha.”

  What did his friend say? A different name, and one that sounded foreign? “Must be a good story there.” Estefan urged Savina closer. “May I present Savina Lombard? She’s Trent Melbyrne’s cousin and is staying at the Rolling M.”

  “Details to come later about the name.” Nicolai grinned then lifted his pointer to his forehead. “Miss Lombard.”

  Savina curtsied. “P-pleased to meet you, Mister Andrusha.”

  “Do you have time to come inside?” Nicolai waved a hand toward the open shop door. “Or are you using my fine parking space before conducting your business?”

  Estefan clapped a hand on Nic…Nicolai’s shoulder. “We’re here to do business. In fact, we’re placing a special order.”

  “I appreciate the sound of those words.” Nicolai waved a hand toward the doorway. “Miss?”

  Savina nodded, crossed the boardwalk into his shop, and sucked in an audible breath. She looked back over her shoulder, grinning, before she stepped out of sight.

  That had been his reaction the first time he stepped into the saddlery. The leather Nicolai tooled possessed the most wonderful scent, which was only surpassed by his friend’s excellent workmanship. Estefan followed and took a quick look around the business. Saddles sat on wooden blocks on one side of the shop, and harnesses hung on the adjacent wall. A glass display case held small items like wallets, watch cases, knife sheaths, and a white belt buckle with black markings. The shop’s workbench ran along the interior wall. Tools hung from hooks. Hides of various shapes and colors draped from rods on the back wall and above the workbench. New shelves to the left of the entrance held a row of pre-made boots and satchels. “Looks like business is good.”

  “I’m not complaining, but sales could always be better.” He crossed his arms and rocked back on his heels. “How did that set of hobbles I made fare?”

  “Great. They’ve become part of my training arsenal.” Estefan glanced Savina’s way and smiled at the awed expression she wore. “In fact, I should have you make two more sets.”

  Nicolai grinned and turned toward the workbench. “I’ll get my notepad.”

  “First, tell me about the name thing.” Estefan followed and leaned a hip against the counter.

  “When we met last summer, I was living under an alias to stay one foot ahead of those who would have stolen the family’s trade secret for how to tan hides. Both of my brothers were, too, but in different territories while our father went through the legal process of getting the method patented. A break-in occurred at Papka’s store. In a panic, he sent us far from San Francisco.” He shrugged. “We three all travelled with Americanized versions of our real names.”

  “Sounds tough.” Going on trips away from his family had always been Estefan’s choice. How would he have reacted to being essentially banned?

  “We do what we must for family.” He gave a crisp nod. “Besides, my oldest brother sought me out here in Morgan’s Crossing not long ago.”

  “That’s great.” Estefan punched Nicolai’s shoulder. “You had the appearance of a loner. During our conversations while you were building the shops, you gave away nothing about that kind of dangerous situation.” His thoughts rambled back a year to the end of the summer. As he remembered, he watched Savina walk over to the shelf displaying an array of boots and hold one next to her foot. “If I remember right, I placed my order while you were in the midst of shingling the roof.”

  “True.” Nicolai laughed. “You, Estefan, were one of my first customers in Morgan’s Crossing. I have the ledger entry to prove that.”

  “Speaking of ledgers…” Estefan reached around to his back pocket and pulled out a square of folded paper. “Let me show you what item brings me here today.”

  Savina stepped close and leaned forward. “B-brings us.”

  Her last word hung in the air, and he watched Nic’s eyebrows wing upward. “Not what you’re thinking, mi amigo. Escorting a friend’s cousin is all.” After unfolding the paper, he spread it on the workbench and set a small hammer across the top edge to keep it flat. “Here’s what we need.”

  Nicolai used a foot to pull his tall stool close and sat. Scratching a hand along his jaw, he squinted. “The design is straightforward, but I’ve never seen a saddle like this. How will it be used?”

  “You see the sketch is a saddle?” Savina leaned against Estefan’s arm to peer at the sketch. “Oh.”

  At the surprise in her voice, he hastened to explain. “I added to what you drew, Savina.” He met her gaze and tipped his head toward Nic. “Go ahead and tell the man your intentions.” Maybe if she heard from a virtual stranger about the craziness of her plan, she’d reconsider. Then he could return all of his attention to
his horse breeding and training. His next project was getting a couple of the horses started on the harness.

  Her brows crinkled, and her mouth pursued. Then she licked her lips.

  How he wished she wouldn’t do that before speaking because of the jump in his heart rate. But he thought the process somehow helped with her stuttering.

  “To assist me learning to trick ride. For B-Buf…” Savina hesitated and looked at the floor. “Wild west show.”

  “No kidding.” Half-turning, Nicolai glanced between the two. “My sister-in-law, Nola, aspired to perform in that show, too. She had a pair of trained dogs.”

  Estefan struggled to put the pieces of Nic’s story together. “So the brother who arrived is married?”

  “Nope.” Nicolai dug his fingers into his shirt pocket and pulled out a gold ring. “I am.” Chuckling, he shook his head. “That’s another interesting story. A vaudeville troupe arrived last fall and put on several performances before disbanding. By the end of the week, I’d married one York sister and my buddy, Torin, married the other. Thinking back to those times, I might have seen their other vaudeville friend Dorrie practicing tricks on a horse.”

  “All this happened here…in this small town?” Savina stared wide-eyed.

  “Da, er, yes.” Smiling, he jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Go next door and ask. My Cinnia is the dressmaker.”

  Estefan watched as Savina scurried out of sight along the boardwalk. Then he turned on Nicolai with a faked scowl. “From you, I’d hoped for a common sense statement about Savina’s venture being crazy.”

  With both hands raised, Nicolai leaned back and shook his head. “Not me. I’m surrounded by ex-performers. I’m not about to say a bad word against the profession of being an entertainer.”

  ~**~

  Excitement fueled Savina’s steps to the door of the dressmaker’s shop. She peeked through the window and spotted a shop with a similar layout of display areas and a work spaces. On a long wall hung a painted covering that looked like a parlor with a fake fireplace, two upholstered armchairs, and a table between them. Quite elegant. At a table in the middle of the shop sat a pretty red-haired woman. She opened the door and stepped over the threshold.