Chapter Seventeen

Proctor eased the splint off Blair’s leg, held his hands beneath the calf muscle. “Can you lift it?”

Gripping the edge of the exam bed, Blair strained to raise the leg from Proctor’s hands. Muscles in his arms and thighs bulged with the effort, and Rowena strained with him. Allowed in the exam room because Blair insisted, she had promised not to say anything.

Outside the window, snow had begun to fall. It looked like they might have to stay over. There was a room for them at the fort hospital, if they did.

The leg moved just a little, then fell back into Proctor’s hands. Blair tried again, sweat beading on his forehead and a grunt swelling from deep inside his gut.

“That’s enough for now, son.”

“Isn’t it going—?”

“Hsst,” Proctor said, shaking his head at her. “Let him ask his own questions.”

“Isn’t it going…?” Blair glanced at her. “What were you going to ask? I can’t think straight. Is it always going to hurt like this?”

“With time and a lot of exercise on your part, it will begin to work again. I can’t say how much use you’ll regain, and it’s going to be painful, as well. The brace will help, but you’ll have to take it easy. You start running around like some young buck, you’ll do more damage than good.”

Proctor opened a cabinet and removed a leather cuff with buckles. He sat on a stool and fastened the brace snugly around Blair’s lower leg from just below his knee to his ankle.

“There, how does that feel?”

“Odd. Can I stand with it?”

“Not for a while. I want you to keep using the crutches and gradually practice putting weight on that foot, but not all your weight. It’ll let you know when to ease off, believe me.”

Disappointed, Blair gazed at the ugly contraption. “I’d like to stand with the crutches, if you don’t mind.” He couldn’t keep the frustration from his voice.

Proctor handed them to him. “Easy now.”

The damn thing hurt like fury when he slid from the table. The brace must’ve weighed several pounds. Concentrating and breathing through the pain, he put his right foot on the floor. Air spewed through gritted teeth and he saw stars. “Good Lord.”

Foolish of him to have expected to put the thing on and walk away, but he’d so looked forward to getting out of that splint and off the crutches. He kept the disappointment to himself.

“Walk as much as the pain allows, but I can’t stress enough that you don’t put your full weight down for at least another month. And I’d like to see you before you do. Just baby steps.”

“Baby steps,” Blair fumed, rage growing. “May I at least remove it to sleep?”

Proctor nodded. “Oh, yes.”

Drawing in a deep breath, he put the foot down gently, Rowena rubbing his arm. She smelled of lemons and cinnamon, a fragrance so familiar to him that anytime he caught a whiff of either, he thought of her. By now he was aware that when he hurt she suffered. Further, when she suffered he felt ashamed for having caused it.

Hilda said he was doing much better, after only four visits with her. Sometimes he poured out thoughts that had festered so long he marveled they hadn’t made him ill. And in a way, he supposed they had. She rubbed his head, read the signs of who he was and who he could be, and showed little reaction to the ugliness that spewed from his mouth. Since the fire, he’d been doing better. Yet there was no sense in celebrating as yet. He was learning to handle the feelings and share some of them with Rowena. If he could just finally stand on his own two legs and be the man he yearned to be, everything would be perfect.

But on really dark nights, when bloody creatures crept into his nightmares, he feared he would never be whole again. And that it was just a matter of time before the rage that lay curled like a snake, deep inside him, exploded once again.

****

Rowena’s Journal, April 17, 1876

It has been several months since I shared my thoughts on these pages. There have been good times and bad, but we have survived and are both the stronger for it. Blair’s nightmares continue, though not so often. Sometimes I wonder how he can abide them, yet he does. He continues to warn me not to awaken him or get close until I am sure he is awake. Then, if I am so inclined, would I please take him into my arms. He does not need to ask that, as I do it readily, and much more. First I assure him that I love him and that he is safe. If he wishes, we make love, and most of the time he does. He says Doctor Proctor told him it’s the adrenaline from the bad dreams. I simply take him inside me. In spite of his warnings, he is never violent with me.

The episodes themselves have lessened as he learns to control his reaction to the return of his mind to the war. I credit Hilda, as he calls her, for helping him through the worst times, but he says I am as much responsible as she, if not more. We have grown to trust each other completely.

Spring is now upon us, and I pray with all my heart that he will soon be able to ride. I want this for him as much as he does. Yet his leg refuses to heal any further, though he can now walk on it with the leather brace Doctor Proctor applied.

As for me, while he and Grady spend their two hours a day in the exercise room, I am refurbishing our home. Fairhaven was much too dreary and old-fashioned, and Marguerite has helped me choose bright fashionable fabrics for the windows and other décor to brighten it up. Nellie eagerly sews the curtains, drapes, pillow covers and bedding and reluctantly allows me to help where I can. We have many sessions of hilarity over my efforts to stitch neatly, but I enjoy her company.

Tyra and James Lee left for his family’s home in Victoria, Texas, where they plan to begin their own ranch. Annie and Grady will marry next month and move into their chambers here.

Rowena laid down her pen and went to stand at the window of the study. Spring came and went sporadically. Flowers brought from England would have to learn to abide this type of weather. Even as lilac blossoms hung heavy on the young bushes, a snowstorm blew in that built drifts as high as the windows, and the beautiful, fragrant flowers turned brown.

The study had been her first project, and the windows were now hung with soft pastels that let in the light. Once Blair could manage the stairs, they moved to rooms in the west wing, where they could watch the spectacular prairie sunsets from their windows and bask in afternoon sunlight when it existed. Despite his occasional nightmares, she never returned to her own bed chamber, for she would not leave him alone at night.

This morning, a brilliant sun shone and wildflowers peeked bravely out to test the warming wind. She was brought out of her reverie when she heard him coming down the hallway, the peculiar tilt to his gait obvious on the marble floors. He halted in the doorway, dressed for riding, his dark hair a bit shaggy. The time spent with Grady had broadened his shoulder muscles, thickened his chest and upper arms. His smile lit his eyes, and she went to him eagerly for a kiss and a chance to be held close.

“You look wonderful.” She flicked at the open collar, a look that became him, then tugged playfully at a handful of hair. A cut would soon be in order.

“Thank you, love. Going on an errand. Would you like to accompany me?”

“Of course, if you’ll wait until I dress.”

He held her at arm’s length, checked out her pale blue morning attire. “Perhaps you should wear that riding habit we bought last year for Christmas. And boots. You look exquisite, but where we’re going, you’ll need something more suitable to the outdoors.”

“Blair, you’re wearing your riding breeches. Doctor Proctor said… I mean, I’m sorry, but I know how stubborn you can be. We don’t want you hurt again.”

“I know. Don’t worry, I just feel good in this, that’s all. Creates the mood I need for today’s, um, errand.”

She studied him closely, saw no bulge where the brace should be, the breeches hugging his legs to the ankles. He cut her a sharp gaze, so she asked instead, “Where on earth are we going?”

He grinned again. “You talk more like Annie and Grady every day. My western woman.” He pulled her close and kissed her again, this time quite thoroughly, arms tightening to press her so close she felt his hard thigh muscles through the tight pants.

When he finally turned her loose, she drew in a breath. “You keep that up and we’ll be late.”

“Ordinarily I’d say to hell with it, let’s be late. But this is very special. When we return, however, I’d be happy to take you up on the offer.”

“That’s a deal. I’ll go change.”

“Now that is definitely Grady speech.”

Before she reached the top of the stairs he called to Grady to bring around the wagon. Simmons’ voice joined the conversation, and he and Blair laughed about something, she could not hear what.

Odd. They usually took the buggy or carriage. When she came running eagerly back downstairs, in a blue split skirt, white shirt with a bow under her chin, and waist-length jacket, Annie waited with a basket of food, but Simmons had gone on his way. No doubt to check on one of the new young people he had hired to help keep the windows and floors washed.

“I thought since we were going out, we could make a day of it.” Blair’s demeanor was so carefree she ran to him and threw her arms around his neck.

How exciting, to be getting out at long last. But if he planned on horseback riding, she would have to do her best to dissuade him. Of course, since they had only the bobtailed ponies, that would not be in his plans. He hated riding them, with his long legs.

He continued chatting. “Annie had fried chicken, and she stuck in some cheese and bread, all sorts of good things, including a container of tea, which she claims is delicious cool with lots of sugar. Never heard of that. Must be an American thing.”

“It’s worth a try. After all, her fried chicken is something we’ve learned to like a lot.”

Altering her pace to suit his, she strolled, him leaning a bit on her. So many times she’d wished he could be rid of that hateful brace. He could walk without it only with the cane or her to lean on. Today he chose her, but she didn’t mind. Not at all. Being by his side, touching him, completed her happiness.

They were halfway across the portico when Grady drove the wagon up, pulled by two bobtailed ponies. “Captain, d’you need me to drive you somewhere?”

“No, not today, Grady. Thank you, though. We may not return till late this evening. You could run that errand for me, though, if you don’t mind.”

Grady saluted and hopped down.

Climbing into the wagon was difficult for him, even with the brace. Today he did his best to show off his ability to do so without the hated leather cuff strapped to his leg. His arm strength had improved over the winter, and he used those muscles to swing himself off the ground and into the seat. Grady gave Rowena a hand up, having learned not to help Blair unless asked. He settled her, then set the picnic basket in the wagon bed behind them and stepped back. Blair threaded the reins through his gloved fingers and slapped them gently on the ponies’ butts.

Rowena laid a hand on his thigh, the muscles quivering under her touch. But she said nothing. He hated to be reminded of what he could no longer do. So she settled for leaning close and nibbling his earlobe.

“That will get you in trouble,” he said, and mimicked a shiver that set her to laughing.

Something was going on today, something special, and he was enjoying it. She could hardly wait to find out what he was up to. That reminded her of what he’d said to Grady about running an errand for him. Mighty secretive, the both of them.

Instead of turning toward town at the main road, he reined the ponies in the other direction. Mud sucked at the broad wheels, at times touching the hubs, the ponies straining against their harnessing.

“Beautiful day if it weren’t for the mud,” she said. “I can see why you brought the wagon instead of the buggy.”

“Yes. By the way, I’ve intended to ask, have you heard from Wilda? How are she and Calder doing? And when is that baby going to arrive?”

“No, nothing, and you know I would have told you immediately had I heard.”

He nodded, and she squeezed his thigh and slid her hand a bit higher up.

“Be careful there, or we’ll be out there rolling around in that prairie grass.”

“Oh, my. Aren’t you randy?”

“Randy? Where on earth…?”

“From Grady, of course. I like it. He was watching the sheep and called the ram a randy old goat, which I thought very funny, if not exactly correct.”

Blair laughed, leaned toward her, and kissed her just below her ear.

“I’m thinking of making a list of all the words he uses that I enjoy, so I can remember their meanings and use them with regularity. It amuses me to listen to myself speaking western lingo.”

“My sweet one, you manage to entertain me all the time, and I love you for it.”

“Do I? I want always to entertain you, because I would rather hear you laugh than any other sound in this entire world.”

He was quiet for a moment, then said softly, “I love you, Rowena. I truly do.”

“I know. And I love you too. So much.” She snuggled against him, her head at his shoulder. She wanted everything for him, but most especially she wanted him to find peace.

They had ridden for nearly half an hour when he turned down another road deep in mud. An arch announcing the name Bar D Ranch spanned the narrow boggy lane that curved over a small rise between white board fencing.

In the pastures on either side, magnificent horses grazed on thick spring grass. As one they raised their heads to watch the wagon pass by. They were large, thick of chest and long of leg, all of a deep reddish hue, some almost black in the morning sun, full manes and tails swirling with the wind.

“Oh, Blair, aren’t they superb? What are they?”

“Horses.” He cast her a devilish sidelong glance.

“Stop that. You know what I mean.”

“They are Morgans. You remember Sarge, lost in the blizzard? He was a Morgan. They are one of the first breeds to be introduced to the settlers in this country, though technically they haven’t yet been declared a breed.”

“Are they for riding?” she asked, a catch in her throat.

“That, yes. They have a most gentle gait, but they also work, pull buggies or a hay wagon. They are versatile, strong, and of the sweetest temperament. I had heard a lot about them when I bought Sarge. He proved to be a fine animal.”

“We are going to buy a horse, aren’t we? And you’re going to ride despite Doctor Proctor’s warning.”

He stared straight ahead and would not look at her for anything.

“I love you,” She leaned to kiss his cheek. “I’m sorry. I know you would rather ride than almost anything else in the world, and I regret that you cannot.”

“Wait until we get there. Just wait.” She glanced up to see him watching her, those expressive eyes so intent she felt embraced.

She smiled and held her tongue against any further caution. Of all things about him, she understood his need to do this thing and was determined to trust his judgment. He was not a child. He needed a wife, not a mother.

At last they arrived at the ranch house, built in the rambling fashion popular with westerners.

“Wait. I’ll come around.” He vaulted down onto one leg, limped around the wagon, using it for support, then reached up to lift her to the ground.

“Thank you, kind sir,” she managed to say brightly, touching away the pain on his face with her gloved fingertips.

A tall, lanky man with a shock of sandy hair came out the door, pounded across the porch, and headed toward them. One hand held a brown Stetson. He stuck out the other. “Marcus Daniels. Pleasure to see you, Lord Prescott. James Lee told me you’d be by.”

Blair shook his hand. “This is my wife. We are looking for some horses. We have a little place over near Victoria. Heard you had the best in the state.”

We have a little place? The phrase floated through her. Had he really said that? And talk about sounding western…

Daniels’ grin made him look much younger. His face was tanned, the sapphire-blue eyes brilliant in the sunlight. “My Morgans are the finest in all the West. Let’s go take a look. I have a few choice animals in the barn waiting for your visit, sir.”

“Please call me Blair.”

“Will do, Blair.” Pushing the Stetson down on his head, Daniels slogged out across the muddy barnyard, slowing his pace to match Blair’s and Rowena’s. By the time they reached the barn, it was evident Blair wished he’d worn the brace. He leaned against the door jamb and lifted his weight off the right leg.

Stepping inside the shadowy barn out of the bright morning was like plunging into total darkness, and it took a moment to adjust. Here the air was rich with the smell of hay and horses and leather. Slowly her eyes grew accustomed to the dim light. In the first stall a deep red horse arched a graceful neck over the stanchion and whickered. Daniels rubbed the broad forehead.

“Oh, he’s beautiful. May I?” She held out her hand.

“Of course. They love to be handled.” Daniels indicated a bucket hanging nearby. “Get a handful of feed. Hold it in your hand, fingers uncurled. He’ll take it from you gentle as can be. But he can’t tell fingers from a carrot sometimes, so that’s why you spread them away from the feed. You’ll notice his big ole teeth.”

She removed her glove and did as he instructed. The velvety nose snuffled, then lifted to reveal those large teeth as he lipped the grain from her palm. “Oh, look, Blair. Isn’t he gorgeous?”

“Indeed he is,” he said, but remained leaning for a bit more, then limped around to rub the horse’s neck. “Let’s look at all of them. I want you to have your pick.”

“Me? I don’t know anything about choosing our horses.”

“Your horse, love,” he said. “Mr. Daniels, which one would you recommend for a lady who has yet to take riding lessons?”

“But I thought we were buying them for work, and for you and Grady to ride.”

“We are buying several. One will be yours and only yours. I want you to be completely happy with the choice.”

“Come down here, Mrs. Prescott.” Daniels gestured and headed for another stall. “I have one a tad smaller you might prefer. He’s gelded, and was a bit of a runt, and since I presume he’ll only be for riding, he will suit you better because of your size. Let’s take a look. He’s a fine animal, marked beautifully, and possesses the gentle spirit of the breed. And best of all, he’s looking for a good home.”

She glanced back at Blair. “Go on, love,” he urged. “Take a look. I’m fine, don’t fuss.”

Before going to check the horse she went to him and kissed his cheek. “I’ll fuss if I want to. Mr. Daniels, is there somewhere Blair can sit down for a while? He’s—”

“Oh, sure. I heard about the accident. Here you go.” He grabbed a small, handmade bench from inside one of the empty stalls and placed it near Blair, who lowered himself with a sigh.

“Now, don’t you worry, I’ll take good care of her,” Daniels joked, and led Rowena about halfway down the long aisle, while horses hung their heads out to watch.

He stopped and rubbed a curious nose. The animal, a bit smaller in stature than the others, was a deep chestnut color, with a white blaze on his forehead and a soft brown gaze that locked on her and immediately captured her heart. Daniels opened the stall, slipped a loop over the nose and perked ears, and led him out into the center of the barn. “This one will follow you with just a string around his neck. Come and get acquainted. Just remember a horse sees out of the sides of his head, and so can spook easily. Lay your hand on his neck and start talking to him, then approach so he can see you. Don’t startle if he swings his head around to get a better look. He’s gentle as a kitten, but horses are large animals and can hurt you if you aren’t careful, even if they don’t intend to. He won’t normally step on you. And don’t be afraid. They can sense fear immediately, and even the best trained will test your mettle.”

While he talked Rowena followed his instructions, placing her hand on the warm, arched neck. When she reached the horse’s head, Daniels handed her the rope and stepped back, leaving her in total control of the animal. Or so she hoped. Quaking a bit, she drew in a deep breath, and rubbed the velvety nose. The gelding lipped her hand and up her arm, snuffling till she laughed.

A horse in the next stall whinnied and hers answered back, like they too were laughing about something. How delightful, the touch, the smell, the beauty of these animals.

“What is his name? Is it proper for me to kiss him?”

Daniels laughed, and from his seat Blair did too.

“Yes, you have permission to kiss him. I call him Brandy because when the sun hits his coat just right he’s a deep rich red. He’d like that kiss on the softness of his nose, but watch out. If he throws his head up suddenly you can get bumped hard.”

“There’s a great deal to remember, isn’t there?” she said after kissing the soft nose. “Oh, I love him already. Blair, I want this one,” she called, sending the Morgan into a little dance sideways. She clutched the rope. “Oh, he’s trying to get away.”

“He doesn’t want away from you. You’ll learn quickly how to handle him. Do you have someone to teach you to ride?”

Blair rose slowly from the bench. “I will do that, but we also have a hired man who is good with horses, so he’ll help.”

“If you’d like to see the others, I’ll bring them out where you can get a look at them.”

“Yes, I’d like that very much.” Blair moved along the stalls and leaned there watching Daniels.

“Ma’am, you might just take Brandy back into his stall.”

Blair watched her lead the horse, her face flushed with happiness. He had definitely chosen the right gift for her. For a long while now she had been a bit sad and did not smile as readily as she once had. He feared it was because of his problems. That was clear by her reaction when he was in trouble. And he was sure she also missed Tyra and Wilda. He had learned to hide much of what bothered him, but sometimes it wasn’t possible. Today he had her worried again because of the brace. But that would be remedied as soon as Grady returned from Victoria.

Still, he was beginning to wish he had waited to take the damned thing off until Grady’s trip had been completed, for his leg was not only hurting like hell, it threatened to give way when he put full weight on it. He certainly did not want to end up flat on his face in the mud.

Moments later she joined him, eyes alight. Behind her, Daniels opened several stalls and allowed a half dozen horses out. They milled about, patiently allowing Blair to check their teeth and hooves and run his hands over their bodies.

“Will you accept a draft on the Victoria bank?” Blair asked when he finished.

“Of course. Come on up to the house, and we’ll take care of our transaction.”

He started to follow Daniels, but she could tell he was in trouble. Going to him, she took his right arm, draped it over her shoulder and hugged his waist.

“Just a little help there, cowboy,” she teased in a lighthearted manner to keep from embarrassing him.

Daniels made a point of trying not to notice his difficulty.

Walking along beside her, he said, “I’d like to take Brandy and the one in the first stall with us. I can send a man for the other four in a few days.”

“That will be most agreeable. Oh, by the way, his name is Whiskey.”

That brought laughter all around.

“I’ll bring them to you when we finish our business. Would the lady be interested in a western saddle? My daughter has no further use for hers. Moved off to Kansas City to marry a lawyer. I believe it would be a perfect fit. Unless, of course, she prefers to ride sidesaddle.”

“You might need to ask her,” Blair said.

Both men burst out laughing. “Sorry. Ma’am?” Daniels arched an eyebrow at her.

Rowena felt her face flush, glanced between the two men, then said, “I’d like that a lot, if it’s not considered wicked.”

More laughter. What an enjoyable day this was.

A while later, on their way back down the road with the two Morgans tied to the wagon that now held a saddle as well as a picnic basket, she scooted close to him and hugged his arm.

“You couldn’t have given me anything I would like more. Thank you so much.”

“You are quite welcome, my lady. It’s warm. Let’s find some shade for our picnic. I’m starved.”

She glanced around. “Shade is sort of scarce out here on the Kansas prairie. I believe I saw a tree about a mile before we turned in here.”

“Oh, a real tree?”

“Yes, a real tree. But it’s pretty muddy. Why don’t we have our picnic right here in the wagon? I can’t imagine trying to sit on the soaked ground.”

She didn’t fool him for a minute, but he let her think she was. If he had to climb down and then back up one more time, he’d be done for the day, and she knew it. A few minutes later he pulled up under the lone tree and wrapped the reins around the brake handle. She lifted the basket and set it between them in the seat. New leaves of the cottonwood whispered in the wind, sprinkling bits of sunlight down on their picnic.

“So you are going to teach me to ride?” She hid her huge grin behind a piece of fried chicken.

“What? You do not think I can do that?”

“I look forward to it. I hope it is not me who cannot do it. Ride, I mean. Perhaps we could both sit the same horse until I grow accustomed to how to manage.”

He took a bite of bread and chewed, regarding her with a wicked glint. “My wife who never ceases to amaze me with her ideas for instigating sex.”

“I beg your pardon? That would be love and pleasure, not simply sex.”

He laughed so loudly Brandy whinnied back at him, which made his horse do the same. “I think they understand,” he said.

She rubbed his inner thigh.

“Look out, woman, or we’ll be rolling around in the back of the wagon. And we would not want to upset the horses.”

“Sounds fine to me.”

A gust of wind lifted her long, loose hair, the pale strands glowing in the sunlight. Oh, Lord, how beautiful she was. But no more so than she was sweet. How blessed he was to have her love.

Grady had returned from his errand by the time they arrived back at Fairhaven. Without asking Blair, she beckoned to him. “Before you take the rig and horses to the barn, would you kindly give his lordship a hand? He bit off more than he could chew today.”

Her using that phrase was so funny to Blair that he forgot to be annoyed that Grady had to practically carry him into the house.

“Did you get them?” he asked Grady after she left to take the basket back to the kitchen, leaving them to navigate the stairs.

“Sure did, Captain, and I’ve got to say he did a fine job. I’m sure even your doctor what’s-his-name will approve.”

“Won’t matter, because I don’t intend to ask him. First thing in the morning, in the barn. And are you available tomorrow after breakfast for our beginning riding lesson?”

“I sure am.” Upstairs, Grady helped him sit in the loveseat beside the window. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d better get to work ’fore my boss fires me.”

“Thanks, Grady.” Blair grasped his hand and shook it hard.

“You betcha.”

“You betcha,” Blair mimicked, and they both laughed.

Blair was still laughing when Rowena entered a few minutes later and softly closed the door at her back. “Well, we had quite a day.” She untied the bow under her chin and began to unbutton her jacket. He sat at the window, a silhouette against the flame of the setting sun. Burnished streaks of purple crossed the blazing sky as if some huge finger had slashed open the fire to reveal the coming night.

By the time she reached him, the jacket lay in a nearby chair and her fingers had worked open the buttons of her blouse and dropped it in a pile on the floor. Next came the long, split skirt, and she stepped out of it to ease down beside him on the seat.

“One thing I’m sure of, if I’m to ride astride, I’ll need something less flamboyant. Flapping in the wind, that outfit could very well spook my horse.” She mimicked Daniels’ phrase but put emphasis on “my horse.”

He chuckled and touched her cheek with his knuckles. “I’m seeing britches, perhaps such as our darling Tyra wears.” His fingers trailed beneath the loose chemise to the crevice between her breasts. “I do like what you’re wearing now. Or not wearing.”

She hooked the top of one stocking and began to peel it down her leg.

“Go slower with that.”

“You are a shameless voyeur.”

He chuckled. “And who would blame me? There, give me the other leg. I want to take that one off myself. You want to see how shameless I am?”

She turned on her bottom and stretched her leg across his lap.

From her thigh, over her knee, down her calf to her ankle and then her foot, he followed the stocking with moist kisses, nibbles that sent ripples of pleasure through every inch of her body.

“That feels so good I can’t stand it.” Though she hadn’t much experience with men, this man had to be the best lover in the world. She never knew what he would come up with to give their lovemaking an unexpected pleasure. By the time he finished removing her stocking, she was throbbing eagerly.

Eyes glazed with passion, he gazed up at her.

She leaned forward and kissed him, first on the chin, then on the mouth.

“Let’s get me out of these boots before I take care of the remainder of your clothing.”

With reluctance, she slipped to the floor, straddled his leg, her firm buttocks facing him. “Right one first. Get it over with.”

He closed his eyes and grabbed the seat on either side. “Okay. Go.”

The boot clung stubbornly for a moment, then began to slide off in her firm grasp. His breath hissed in, then out, but he made no other sound. When she glanced back at him, his face was pale, the only sign of the pain.

He might be the toughest man she’d ever known.

Gently she massaged the throbbing calf. “Sorry, but you have to admit you asked for it.”

“Indeed I did,” he rasped, “and I knew you wouldn’t let it go without comment.”

“I’ll rub some warming salve on it, if you would like.” She continued to caress the leg and pulled off his stocking, glancing up, then kissing his ankle. “Other one now?”

“Fast learner. And the salve can wait, but I will take you up on it a bit later.”

He was still hurting, but the worst was over. With little trouble she removed the other boot and stocking, set them both aside, and slipped back onto the seat next to him.

“Take off your pants, Mister. I’m not waiting any longer.” She turned her back. “First get me out of this corset, so I can feel better, as well.”

His fingers in the laces were deft and the corset came loose. “Oh, my, what a relief.” From behind he slipped his hands beneath the stays and over her breasts, and she hummed under her breath.

“Breeches.”

He obliged. “Want to get in bed?” he asked, breath hot against the back of her neck.

“Yes, let’s.”

She helped him to his feet and supported him the several steps to the high-canopied bed, where they crawled in. The remainder of their clothing came off with haste.

Much later, she opened the drawer of the table and took out the tin of salve.

“Roll over on your stomach,” she said, screwing off the lid. The acidic aroma tickled her nostrils. On her knees next to his leg, she leaned and kissed him behind the knee, moved down over his calf. Fingering a glob of salve into her palm, she rubbed her hands together until the salve grew warm, then spread it over the damaged muscles.

“That feels so good,” he said, his voice softening.

His body relaxed and his breathing evened out. He was asleep. She massaged the leg a while longer, then pulled the covers over him before spooning her body against his.

Pale morning light lay across the bed when Rowena awoke to find Blair gone. Simmons had left tea on the side table, and Blair’s cup held a bit of liquid in the bottom. He’d gotten out of here early without waiting for her to awaken. That hardly ever happened, and she hurried into the water closet, came out to splash her hands and face with cold water from the wash pan, and dressed in her morning frock. Still tying it closed, she ran from the room on slippered feet, down the stairs and twirled round the newel post at the bottom, swinging out like a kid.

What a glorious morning, the sun golden and warm creeping across the windows to the east. The only sound came from the kitchen, where low conversation accompanied the rattle of pans. The preparation of breakfast was just beginning, for there were no delicious smells yet. She ran full tilt down the hallway and through the door to find only Nellie, Annie, and Lizza.

“Where are Blair…and Grady?”

“In the barn,” Annie said. “You’re supposed to wait here. They’ll be in to eat in a little while.”

“Oh, really? Who issued that edict?” Sounded a bit pompous, but she couldn’t help it. It was that secret errand of Grady’s, and she hated to have anything kept from her.

“He said please.” Annie turned from the stove, gazed at her. “It’s a surprise, but don’t tell them I told you.”

She had to laugh. “Told me what? I still don’t know anything.”

“And that’s as his lordship wants it. I have tea steeping. Would you like a cup while you wait?”

Dropping into a chair, she sighed. “Yes, of course. Thank you, Annie.”

****

Grady handed Blair the custom-made boot. He sat on a bench against the inner stone wall of the barn and inspected the fine leatherwork.

“Looks good to me. Is it what you wanted?” Grady asked.

“I’ll have to try it on and see.”

“See here, the leather brace, put together just like your old one, is built right into the leather of the boot, and it’s this metal bracing that should help you the most. It extends up both sides and across the bottom of the sole. Gives you extra support without being too bulky or heavy. Smith said if it’s not right comfortable, he can adjust it, but it’s the same size as the brace and boot you took him, only it’s all in one, plus the extra bracing. That’s the most important thing.”

“The man’s a genius. I’m happy he decided to return to Victoria after running off with Calder and Wilda.” Blair pushed his foot down into the boot with a grunt, taking extra care to ease it over his calf until his foot settled in. Felt a bit odd, but no worse than that blasted brace alone. He stood, tottered a bit, then took a step, Grady insisting on holding on to his arm.

“Why not put on the other boot first, before you try walking?”

Blair sat back down. “Yes, yes, of course you’re right.” The other boot, designed to match in every way it could, slipped on easily. “Fine looking pair of boots. The leather is soft and supple. Can’t hardly tell the difference except the metal brace on the outside of this one.” He lifted his right foot.

“He’s danged sure you can ride and support yourself in the stirrup without worry. Who knows what the good doctor will have to say.”

“Well, for now, we’ll just keep this a secret from him. If it works out for me, then how can he object?” He walked around in the center of the barn, then strode the length from one door to the other, a limp barely discernible. “It’s fine, Grady. Damn fine.”

“Any pain?”

“Some, but not anything I can’t handle. Today, we have our first riding lesson. You, me, and sweet Rowena. Isn’t she going to be surprised?”

“Captain, just one thing. You be careful. Don’t you get hurt. That lady of yours would skin me alive if anything happened to you over this.”

Blair laughed heartily. “I promise to be careful. I want to thank you. You have no idea how much I appreciate all you do for me, but this, this is the best thing you could’ve ever done. Finding a boot maker, getting Smith to build this brace. Fine idea, my friend.”

Eyes shining, Grady grinned and accepted a hearty hug and back slapping from Blair.

On the way to the house, Blair felt more confident with each step. The thing was a bit heavier than the left boot, but the support was so much better than the old one, he had no complaints. Next time he was in town he’d have to go by and personally thank Smith for all the time he’d spent with him, measuring and discussing what was needed for the brace, then consulting with the boot maker.

In the kitchen, the two men found Nellie, Annie, Lizza, and Rowena drinking tea. All four glanced up when they entered.

“Blair?” Rowena said, looking him up and down.

He went to her side grinning.

Speechless, she hugged him. “What? How?”

“This is our surprise,” he said indicating the boot. “And it works. Get your britches on, woman. After breakfast we’re going to have our first riding lesson.”

Everyone laughed, except Rowena who laid her head on his shoulder and cried.

“Why, honey. Why are you crying?”

“I’m happy, you clown. I’m happy.”

Everyone laughed heartily.

Simmons joined them for breakfast, and he was shown the boots. His normally somber features spread into a broad grin. “That’s fine, really fine,” he told Blair, then hugged him soundly.

After breakfast, Rowena dressed in a plain white blouse and a pair of britches Tyra had left in her wardrobe. “If anyone comes while we are out riding, I’m going to hide in the barn.”

“That will not be necessary, not at all.” He held her at arm’s length and studied her.

The sun warmed the air and a breeze out of the southwest smelled sweet with growing things when they stepped outside. Grady went with them to the barn, where he helped them saddle Brandy and Whiskey with western saddles, all the while making small talk about their use.

“Takes a bit of getting used to,” Grady instructed Blair. “The main thing is you’ve got more support, the stirrups are longer, allowing your legs to be in a more comfortable position. Personally, I don’t see how anyone rides in comfort on one of them little bits of leather you English call a saddle, and with your knees, plum up to your butts, so to speak.”

He held Whiskey’s head while Blair experimented with the stirrups, finally placing his left foot and swinging gracefully into the saddle. The heavier boot knocked against Whiskey’s side and he snorted, took a step sideways. Grady rubbed the horse between the eyes, while Blair shifted his weight and spoke softly into the laid-back ear.

“Feels a bit awkward. Perhaps the right stirrup needs to be a bit longer.”

Grady handed him the reins and went around to adjust it. Blair continued to talk soft and low to Whiskey, patting his neck. Finally satisfied, he leaned forward a bit. The leather of the saddle creaked with his weight shift.

“Let’s give this a try, boy.” He hugged with his knees and urged Whiskey forward.

“Easy, Captain, you go easy now. Let me get Miss Rowena settled, and we’ll take a slow turn round the barnyard.”

Whiskey pranced under Blair’s guidance, and he tested his weight in the stirrups. The pain could be endured if it meant he could be in the saddle again. “Isn’t he beautiful?”

“That he is.” Grady went to help Rowena mount, and adjusted her stirrups. “Now, I’m just going to lead him around till you get used to the feel. Weight on the balls of your feet, knees firm against his sides. Sit back and relax. Like rocking in a chair.”

He led the Morgan out into the yard, Blair riding a few paces ahead. Without warning, he touched his heels to Whiskey’s sides and trotted off. Settling into the comfort of the saddle, he sent Whiskey into a gallop, the wind in his face, the feel of freedom embracing him.

“Captain, don’t—”

Rowena interrupted. “Let him go, Grady. Leave him be.”

Blair smiled, hunched low along Whiskey’s neck, and urged him forward. The leg began to object after a while, so he slowed, turned, and trotted the gelding back into the barnyard.

There Grady led Brandy and gave Rowena instructions, but watched Blair all the same. He reined Whiskey around to ride beside Rowena.

“How does it feel, love?”

“Oh, it’s scary but wonderful. Could you teach me to ride like you do?”

“Ten easy lessons,” Blair joked.

After instructing her in using the reins to guide Brandy, Grady handed them to her. “Now remember, you are the boss.”

“You hear that, Brandy? I’m the boss. Now let me try.” She urged Brandy forward, Blair riding along next to her, Grady walking on the other side. “Turn loose the horn, missus. You’ll make his shoulders sore. Hang on with your legs.”

Smiling broadly, she glanced at Blair, her face flushed, eyes shining, tied-back hair blowing in the wind. The warm sun kissed her porcelain skin. Brandy’s hooves kicked up little clods of mud. Across the pasture tiny blue flowers formed a carpet as if nature had laid it down just for them. He’d never felt more intense joy than at this very moment. He touched his heels gently to Whiskey’s side, and Brandy followed along. Rowena made a satisfied “oh” and Grady ran along between, seeing to the both of them.

After a while Grady held up and let them go. Blair reached out and took her hand. She gave hers readily and sat straight in the saddle, smiling at him. A natural. He imagined them riding full tilt out across the prairie, sun on their shoulders, wind in their faces, chasing their dreams and leaving all the nightmares behind.

Author’s Notes

The disorder which Blair suffered from is today referred to as Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, or PTSD. It is marked by a re-experiencing of the trauma of battle, as if the combat veteran has been thrust back into the actual war in which he fought. This extends to paralyzing nightmares in which the dreamer imagines he is awake and experiencing the horrors of war.

According to the Veteran Website, “Combat veterans experiencing PTSD suffer from depression, loss of interest in work or activities, psychic and emotional numbing, anger, anxiety, cynicism and distrust, memory loss and alienation, and other symptoms.” Rarely do they shoot up malls or commit otherwise violent acts.

It was no different in wars prior to the recognition of this disorder, such as the Franco-Prussian War in which Blair fought, except that doctors were at a loss as to how to characterize or treat such reactions. This book is fiction, but the symptoms Blair suffers from are all too real.

Diaries written by men who fought in wars, up to as much as thousands of years ago, mention many of the symptoms combat veterans experience today. This disorder was assigned various names over the centuries, including insanity and malingering.

During Blair’s time, in the years following the Civil War, the names assigned to his symptoms were “soldier’s heart” or “nostalgia.” Many Civil War veterans suffered from this psychological disease. The solution was often either to send them to insane asylums or simply refuse to treat them and turn them out onto the streets and roads to starve or die of exposure, a sad ending for the men and boys who fought for their country.

Those with a strong support group and people who love them, were and are more apt to survive and build themselves a traditional life. Though most suffering this disorder never completely recover, they can learn to control and deal with their reactions.

We ought to realize that wars are destructive in other ways than in body counts.

A word about the author...

Velda Brotherton writes of romance in the old west with an authenticity that makes her many historical characters ring true. A knowledge of the rich history of our country comes through in both her fiction and nonfiction books, as well as in her writing workshops and speaking engagements.

She just as easily steps out of the past into contemporary settings to create novels about women with the ability to conquer life’s difficult challenges.

Tough heroines, strong and gentle heroes, villains to die for, all live in the pages of her novels and books.

Visit her at:

www.veldabrotherton.com