Testaments on the way.” Heedless of the grass stains on his hands or the blades that clung to his clothes, Micah curled his hand around Deborah’s arm and towed her toward the front doors. They stood wide open to allow the breeze to cool off the house, but once Micah had her inside, he slammed both doors shut. “You sit on the settee. What’re you stitching?”
She held one of his shirts that had frayed cuffs.
He nodded approvingly. “Keep working on that.” Micah pushed her around the screens, into the parlor. “Grandma! We’re about to have callers.”
Grandma came out of the pantry. “Oh?”
“Testaments—the whole clan.” Micah gave her a steely glare. “Don’t let them near Deborah or Lou. Where is Lou, anyway?”
“Fishing at the creek.” Grandma pursed her lips. “Send Josh to join her. I can send Nehemiah Esther down to visit with them. They’ll bring back supper, and we’ll make this a friendly get-together whilst setting out the way things are.”
Micah turned around and waggled his forefinger at Deborah. “Don’t cook anything good. Burn it. Salt it too much.” Before she could formulate a response, he left.
Grandma was wreathed in smiles as she seated Deborah on the burgundy-and-blue striped settee. “Just play along, dear. It’s all for the best.”
About ten minutes later, someone halted a team of plodding horses out front. The folding screen kept Deborah from seeing Grandma open the door, but she heard the old woman greet the neighbors with gentility. When they rounded the screen, Grandma waved a hand at Deborah. “You just stay seated, dear. We wouldn’t want you to waste your strength. These are Exodus and Ruth Testament.”
“A pleasure to meet you,” Deborah murmured. Social convention forced that response, but she felt like bolting when she spied the rest of the family.
Grandma glided over to her as graceful as a swan, but Deborah was sure the tiny woman hadn’t walked that fast in ages. Grandma sat down beside her and patted the spot on her other side. “Ruth, I do believe there’s enough room for you here. Exodus, do make yourself at home in one of my grandson’s chairs. Deborah, these are the Testaments’ sons, First and Second Kings and First and Second Chronicles, and their daughter, Nehemiah Esther.”
“No Ezra?” she asked weakly.
“Pages in my Bible stuck.” Exodus’s cheeks went ruddy. “Family never skips a name. Ruth felt sorta bad for a girl getting saddled with Nehemiah, so we tacked on Esther.”
“And the good Lord above blessed us with twins on both the Kings and Chronicles,” Ruth gushed.
As if on cue, one of the big blond men shuffled forward. He yanked the sorriest-looking rose that ever bloomed from behind his back and stuck it out. “This is for you, Miss Deborah. So’s you won’t have no bad feelin’s about us funnin’ you when you first got here.”
The folding screen slammed multiple times as Sam pushed it back and made the dining room and the parlor into a single, huge room. Micah plowed across the floor. “What’s this about you funnin’ Miss Preston?”
“We didn’t do nothing wrong. Peas and gravy, Micah, she drew my blood with her knittin’ needle!”
“The Miss Preston I’ve come to know would never behave in such a manner unless she felt it necessary to protect herself.” Micah yanked over the dainty chair that matched the settee, planted it on the floor right beside Deborah, and sat in it. The delicate cherry wood piece wasn’t constructed with a strapping man in mind, and Deborah expected it to shatter into bits of kindling any second.
Micah glared at the flower, and Deborah watched as it seemed to wilt in First Kings’s—or was he Second Kings’s—hands. “I suppose Miss Deborah would allow you to put that on Dustin Travis’s final resting place.”
First Kings exchanged a bewildered glance with his twin, then shot a questioning look at his mother. “The rose is yourn, Ma. I reckon Travis won’t appreciate it much. You wanna keep it, or is it gonna go to waste, just like all the bacon and pork chops did when we all let Wally Foster plant that pig of his in the ground?”
Grandma pulled an ivory and silk fan from her sleeve, opened it with a whispered swish, and started to fan Deborah. “Dear, I’m afraid this is all too much for you.”
It was too much—in more ways than one. Deborah blinked and nodded.
Micah slapped his knees, shot to his feet, and swept her right off the settee. “I’ll take her on upstairs and let her rest.”
“But we was just starting up a nice, neighborly visit,” one of the Testament men said.
Micah charged past them, across the parlor, and headed straight up the stairs. He put her down just inside Lou’s room and bent so his breath whispered across her cheek. “Naming children after books of the Bible isn’t the only quirk of the Testaments. They come from a backwoods mountain clan that practices bride claiming—which is just a fancy term for kidnapping. Stay up here.”
Deborah grabbed the front of his shirt and whispered back, “Don’t worry. I have a derringer in my knitting basket up here.”
“Do you know which end the bullet comes out of?”
Deborah smiled sweetly and batted her eyes. “Well, I suppose while I’m waiting up here, I could take a look at the pictures when I take it out of the presentation box.”
“Go on upstairs and get that derringer,” Micah ordered the next morning at the breakfast table.
“After you convinced the Testaments I’m sickly and probably wouldn’t survive long enough to—as you so delicately phrased it—‘whelp a single man-pup,’ I doubt I’m in any danger from them.”
“Sugar, that little pop gun’s going in the kitchen drawer. Grandma can use it the next time she needs to butcher a chicken, because that’s about all it’s good for. I’ll teach you how to fire a pistol today.”
“I’m coming along!” Lou thumped her glass on the table and jumped up. “I’ll get some cans—”
“You’re not coming.” Micah stared his sister down. “The last thing I need is you getting winged because you distract Deborah or wander off.”
“You can go into town with me, Sis,” Sam offered. “I need more nails. Gotta reinforce the fence.”
Micah gave Sam a questioning look. This was open range; they had only one fence other than the two surrounding the gardens out back. That fence corralled their two prized bulls, Hercules and Mercury. The pair were far too foul-tempered and dangerous not to keep penned up.
“Herc’s been charging the fence, and Merc’s leaning on his sector. I need to reinforce it.”
“Fine. While you’re in town, find out when Goodman’s passing through again.”
Deborah’s jaw jutted forward. “If that inquiry is regarding me, you can spare yourself the trouble. I’m not about to travel with that man. He hated me.”
“Wally and Bently already got an earful from Happy.” Lou shook her head. “None of it was good.”
“I can’t imagine the man can do more than grunt or growl. He barely spoke five words the whole three days I rode here with him, and he has the uncouth habit of pointing out a stone or plant and expectorating his tobacco to hit it.”
“Happy does have genuine talent in that direction,” Josh agreed.
Sam snorted at the pun while Lou gave her a you-poor-dense-thing smile. “You didn’t praise his skill. It hurt his feelings.”
Josh shoved away from the table. “Happy said he won’t haul fancy folks and vows if they tried to hire a seat for you, he’d never haul anything to Petunia again. I can promise you, no one’s letting you get near a Goodman Freight wagon.”
“I didn’t do anything wrong!”
Micah figured he’d better not remind her that coming here was wrong. He’d be putting a gun in her hands in a few minutes. The last thing he wanted was to rile her. He stood and pulled out her chair. “Do you know how to ride?”
“Of course I do. I can also drive a buggy.”
“Fine. I’m heading out to clear a few things with the hands. Josh can bring you out to Cherokee Creek. We’ll do some practice shooting there.”
Grandma gave them a sweet smile. “That’s a good choice. I can see that sector of the sky from the kitchen window. If I notice buzzards wheeling in the sky, I’ll send the hands to rescue what’s left of you.”
Deborah decided it would be acceptable for her to stop wearing mourning attire. When she wasn’t in mourning, Father directed her to be “a lady of solemnity,” which meant he expected her in stylish attire of somber browns and grays. White shirtwaists with stylish lacework received his grudging approval, much to her relief. She didn’t have a riding skirt, so she needed to wear the gray day gown with the fullest skirt. By foregoing the bustle, she had a little extra room.
Doug and Pete were mucking out stalls when she entered the stable. Josh and Slim stood in a corner, chuckling. Slim walked past her and tipped his hat in that mannerly, wordless way cowboys seemed to have ingrained.
“Here’s your mount.” Josh walked up.
Deborah bit her lip and shook her head.
“Tulip’s gentle as they come. Grandma even rides this mare.”
“I need a lady’s saddle.”
Josh tilted his head to the side and smiled patiently. “This is a special saddle—a western woman’s saddle. See the fancy stitchwork on it?” He lifted her into the saddle and turned his head a moment so she could smooth down her skirts. “You tell me when you’re ready for me to adjust the stirrups.”
“They’re about right.”
A quick peek, and he nodded as he handed her the reins. He led her out into the sunlight and swung up onto Sultan. “Slim needs some help from me. If you feel safe enough, I’ll get you most of the way there, and then you can follow Cherokee Creek the last little bit.”
Deborah had a difficult time riding. The saddle chafed and felt awkward. For being gentle, the mare seemed rather skittish, too. Josh kindly set a slow pace and gave her an occasional word of encouragement. Finally, he pointed ahead. “See that red speck? It’s Micah.”
Micah whistled, and Deborah thought he waved, so she waved back. Her mare continued to walk sedately toward him. Unwilling to look like a child who had to be minded every moment, she said to Josh, “Since I can see him, you’re welcome to go back and help Slim. I’ve already taken up enough of your time.”
“You sure, Miss Deborah? It’s no trouble.” He almost looked disappointed.
“Positive.” She sat a bit straighter in the strange saddle. “I’ll be off Tulip and shooting that pistol in no time at all.”
“If you say so. Follow right along the creek. The ground’s softer—easier on the horse,” he quickly tacked on.
Deborah laughed and continued alone. Once he couldn’t see her face, she grimaced. Riding the rest of the way was going to challenge her, but she refused to give up or show any weakness. The Staffords made her sound downright feeble yesterday, and she wondered if it was all an exaggeration to keep her safe from the Testament twins or if they truly counted her as delicate-unto-death. Well, she’d show Micah Stafford she could do anything his sister could do.
Micah had his hands propped on his lean hips as she came to a swaying stop. His scowl would make midnight look light by comparison. “I thought you said you can ride.”
“I’m accustomed to a different style saddle.”
He snorted. “Do you need help, or can you dismount?”
She’d secretly hoped he’d help her, but this was an opportunity to prove her abilities. “I’ll manage, thank you.”
“Oh, for cryin’ in a bucket!” Micah reached up and grabbed her arm. “Swing your … ahem … limb over the back of the horse not over her neck!”
Deborah could feel heat fill her face as she looked down at him. “You forget, I’m in a lady’s saddle.”
He grumbled something under his breath, gained purchase on her waist, and swept her out of the saddle. Her boot caught the back of the saddle, causing the mare to move. Only Micah’s strength and quick reflexes kept them from falling.
Feeling clumsy as could be, she brushed her skirts and gave him a perky smile. “Well, now. I’m ready for that pistol.”
“Not a chance, princess.”
“What? I rode all of the way out here for a lesson.”
“There’s no way I’m going to put a gun in the hands of a woman who can’t tell she’s saddled her horse backward!”