Gerrity'S Bride by Carolyn Davidson Page B

trot, she managed well, he thought with silent admiration.
    “I watched the trainers work, from the time I was a child,” she said, and her mouth tilted in a smile of remembrance. “I used to sneak out to the barns whenever I could. And when I was older, our head trainer, Doc Whitman, let me help.”
    “I’ll bet your mother didn’t know,” he surmised with a lifted eyebrow.
    “No.” Her smile faded as she straightened in the saddle. “How much farther?” she asked briskly.
    “A ways yet,” he returned, acknowledging her retreat.
    The level land began rising in a gradual ascent, and her pony chose his way without her guidance, moving at a steady pace that ate the ground beneath them. She followed just a few feet to Matt’s rear, aware now of the value of the high-backed saddle as she settled into the rolling gait. Her eyes scanned the land about her, yet returned like a compass pointing north to the man who rode before her, his back straight, his shoulders held proudly as he traveled the land he’d been entrusted with.
    The highest of the sprawling hills was ahead, and Emmaline felt the hot rays of the midmorning sun penetrate her white shirtwaist even as the breeze kept her reasonably cool while they rode. Matt had handed her a wide-brimmed hat to wear when they began this trek, but she’d left it hanging down her back. Now she tugged it into place.
    “You’re ‘bout guaranteed to have a sunburned nose tomorrow,” he told her, casting an assessing glance over his shoulder. “That’s a case of too late, you know.”
    “I’ve never been very concerned with a lily-white skin.” Her nose wrinkled, and she laid fingers against it. “I suspect you’re right this time. I can feel the heat there already.”
    “I’ll warrant you were a trial to your folks, growin’ up,” he suggested mildly, taking in the sight of her rosy complexion.
    “You’d be right. But I cleaned up really well, once I grew up,” she added with wry humor.
    His mouth pursed at her words, and he grunted in agreement. “Yeah, I’d say so.”
    The horses traveled a narrow path as they neared the crest of the hill, moving along ridges that had not been apparent from far off, but had obviously been used for trails regularly. Single file, they moved along at a quick pace, Emmaline a few yards to the rear, until they broke onto level ground. Their pace picked up and the horses settled into an easy lope.
    Then, with a scattering of small pebbles and dust, Matt drew his reins and held out a hand to halt her next to him. “Look, out there,” he instructed her as his other hand swept the horizon.
    Before them was a valley that led into a canyon between two roughly hewn hills. A stream trickled down the center of the valley, coming from the side of the rocky heights above.
    “Is that the beginning of the mountains?” she asked as she tried to trace the canyon out of sight.
    “Just foothills,” he said. “The mountains are farther north, where the stream begins. It dries up down here during the hot spells, but up north a ways, it flows year-round. That’s where we send the horses.”
    “It’s desolate, isn’t it?” Her eyes swept the horizon, where not a moving shadow or creature caught her gaze.
    “Some folks would say so.”
    She looked at him quickly. “But not you?”
    He shook his head and swung his horse about with a quick movement of his reins across the cow pony’s neck. “Time to get back. Maria will have dinner gettin’ cold before we show up.”
    It was gone. The sense of closeness she’d felt with him had vanished.
    His glance was quick as he nudged his horse into a trot. “Can you keep up?”
    She bristled and urged her own horse along. “Try me,” she called challengingly.
    “One of these days, city lady,” he drawled. “One of these days, I’ll take you up on that.”

Chapter Six
    T he rounded flank of the horse shone in the sunshine like warm mahogany, and with each stroke of the currycomb, Emmaline