Gerrity'S Bride by Carolyn Davidson Page A

him to clear out.”
    “Did they get married then?” she asked quietly, almost unwilling to interrupt, but wanting to know the rest of the story.
    “No...she cooked and kept house for him until he heard that your mother had died, just ten years ago.” He scanned her with eyes gone hard and cold. “He thought you’d come back home then.”
    “I was only twelve years old,” Emmaline said, defending herself. “My grandparents were heartbroken, and I was all they had left of her. I couldn’t leave them.” Her chin lifted defiantly. “To tell you the truth, I didn’t want to. My father had never shown any interest in me, anyway.”
    His look was scornful. “We both know that isn’t true. I remember all the letters he sent, till he finally gave up on you.”
    Those letters again. Maria had told the same story, and she’d spoken with such ringing sincerity, the words had begun to raise doubts in her mind. She shrugged them away, her heart unwilling to release the anger she had clung to for so long.
    “Seems to me he had a family right here,” she said haughtily. “You and Arnetta filled the bill for him. He didn’t need a daughter.” As she spoke the words, a twinge of pain needled its way into her heart, and she recognized the envy that blossomed within her. “He didn’t need me,” she repeated stoically.
    “You’re wrong.” Matt’s voice was firm, adamant, as he denied her claim. “He felt bad every time one of his letters came back unopened. Then he finally stopped sendin’ ‘em.”
    She was silent, digesting the news he’d just delivered, tempted to admit her ignorance of the facts she’d just been faced with. But not for the world would she betray her grandparents, though dismay gripped her as she repeated his words to herself.
    His letters came back unopened.
    It was too late for mourning, she decided as her back stiffened. But unwanted tears burned against her eyelids, and she struggled to contain them. If he really wanted her, he’d have come after her, she reasoned painfully. She allowed herself one sniff, breathing deeply as she pacified herself with the thought, her eyes on the ground.
    “What did you want to show me?” she asked abruptly. “Surely there must have been a reason for this jaunt.”
    He glanced at the set expression she wore and scowled. One day he’d make her listen, he vowed. She was due for an eye-opener where her daddy was concerned.
    “Just thought you’d like to take a look at the near pasture, and then ride to the top of that highest rise ahead of us,” he answered. “You can see the stream over east of here, and from the high spot we can see all the way to the summer ranges, where the horses go for pasturing.”
    “You send them away?” she asked, relieved that he’d allowed her retreat.
    “Yep. We round up a good share of the stock and herd them north from here into the high country to graze. Leave a couple of men there for the summer to tend them. They stay in a line shack and watch for mountain lions and keep an eye on things.”
    “What about the young ones? Do you send them, too?”
    He nodded. “Except for the nursing foals and the ones we keep here to train for saddle. The rest we’ll sell off as we need to.”
    “To whom?”
    “Whoever,” he said. “Some go north, some to the army. We make most of our money from the ones we break and sell to ranchers or send east.”
    “Break?” she asked.
    “Well, eastern lady, what do you call it when you get a horse to let you on its back and give you a ride?” His tone was amused as he teased her.
    “I can’t imagine breaking an animal,” she said briskly. “Back in Kentucky, we train them, starting with a foal, just days old. By the time we’re ready to mount them, they’re used to being handled and are ready to be ridden.”
    “And I suppose you know all the tricks of the trade,” he suggested mockingly as he watched her roll with the easy gait of her horse. Once she got past the rough