Chapter 12

Neelie watched as Caleb held up his last horseshoe. His first throw had been close enough, hooking the post and dropping just past it.

Davonna had volunteered her and Ian to participate in the Independence Day horseshoe tournament. Caleb and Anna had outscored the captain and his wife, Caroline. According to Boney Hughes, trail hand and unofficial announcer, Anna had leaners on both throws.

Unless Neelie and Ian could get at least one ringer, they’d lose.

Clang.

“It’s a ringer!” Boney held up two fingers.

Waving his derby like a victory flag, Caleb dashed across the makeshift court and pointed at the shoe that encircled the stake. He wore the grin of a Cheshire cat.

“Show him what you’re made of, Neelie.”

The deep burr turned her head. Ian stood behind her, his eyes greener than Tennessee spring grasses. A smile lifted the corner of his mouth. She hadn’t seen him smile since she’d taken the chestnut out for the ride last Sunday. By the time she and Caleb had returned that night with Whistle, Ian was helping the captain repair a wheel. He seemed surprised to see her and hadn’t said much to her since.

“Throw good, Miss Neelie.” Duff waved his coiled rope. The children’s cheers spurred her on.

Boney stood beside the closest stake, holding two horseshoes out to her. As she reached for them, he bent toward her. “If I was a gamblin’ man, I’d place my money on you and Ian, ma’am.”

For the game? Horseshoes wasn’t something southern belles in Nashville or outlaws in the Wild West engaged in, and she doubted Ian had ever thrown horseshoes. But he did have a wheelwright’s arm. She couldn’t help but notice that much when she had braced his arm for the shooting lesson. Just thinking about their time at the embankment warmed her neck and face.

Perhaps a friendly game of horseshoes would ease whatever was troubling him.

Horseshoes in hand, Neelie stepped up to the stake and looked down at the blue skirt Anna had given her. After Sunday’s discussion with Caleb, she’d decided she was done with hiding from her past. She’d donated the oversized trousers and shirt to Caleb.

She grasped a horseshoe in her left hand then used the other one to pull the skirt tight to her side. The first shoe grazed the post but bounced off.

“One point.”

“That’s okay, dear.” Davonna’s voice rose above Boney’s. “You’ll do better on your next throw.” Her mother-in-law’s confidence in her warmed Neelie’s heart.

Neelie held the second horseshoe up like she’d seen Caleb do, then swung and let it go.

Clang. One edge of her horseshoe lay against the stake, like Caleb’s first throw.

“A solid leaner! Two points.” Boney turned her way. “Some mighty fine throwing.”

Ian stepped up beside her. “I was sure you said this was your first time playing the game.”

“It is.” Neelie patted his solid chest. “Now let’s see what you’re made of.”

He looked down at her hand. “I hope it’s enough.”

Neelie swallowed hard and reached for her skirt to step out of his way.

Ian took both horseshoes from Boney. He sighted his target through the first shoe and let it fly. Straight to the stake.

Clang!

“It’s a ringer! And now a two-point game.”

Cheers erupted, including her own. Ian looked back at Neelie and gave her a wink that weakened her knees. He turned back around and got into position with the second horseshoe.

Clang!

“Another ringer!” Boney’s voice rose over the thunderous cheers. “The winners—Ian and Neelie.” He reached out to shake their hands. “Congratulations! Go pick out your pie.”

When they’d stepped away from the horseshoe pit, Neelie looked up at Ian. “You never said you’d played before.”

“You didn’t expect me to give away all my secrets, did you?”

“I suppose not.” She certainly hadn’t revealed all of hers, although she finally wanted to.

“The fellows down at the docks in Saint Charles had picnics and tournaments every summer.”

“Well, it paid off. You gave us the win.”

But she doubted he’d be able to give her what she really wanted. His heart would probably always belong to Rhoda. Neelie let out a long sigh. Wearing a dress and a bonnet instead of a sombrero wasn’t going to change that.

Three hours later, after relay races and a feast fit for the founders of the nation, Neelie went to the wagon to tidy it while Ian, Davonna, and the children helped clean up after the big picnic.

She knelt in front of the small trunk Anna had given her along with some skirts, blouses, shoes, and bonnets that had belonged to her mother. She’d said she couldn’t bear to see them mold in a trunk or be used as rags. Neelie pulled back the corner of a shawl and slid an envelope out from beneath it. Things had changed a lot since she’d written the letter to Buckskin Joe. She’d changed.

So had her plans.

After tucking the envelope into her waistband, Neelie climbed out of the wagon and added a buffalo chip to the campfire. A smoky fire seemed the only thing anyone could do to discourage the mosquitoes. She pulled the letter from the envelope. Only twelve days had passed since she’d penned the words. Twelve days that had changed her life forever.

“Neelie.”

She hadn’t heard Ian walk up. He was alone.

“Where are the children? Your mother?” she asked.

“They’re going to stargaze with Caleb and Anna.” Instead of settling on a stool, he stood on the other side of the fire and removed his cap. “I wanted to talk to you.”

Good. He was no longer avoiding her. She had something to say to him, too.

The dried droppings crackled under the heat, and white smoke danced between them.

Ian glanced at the paper she held.

Neelie drew in a deep breath. “It’s a letter I wrote to the owner of the Wild West Show I was headed to.”

“Must admit, I’m curious. What did you tell him?”

“I’ll read it to you.” Breathing a prayer for courage, Neelie unfolded the parchment and read the message she’d written to the man who had promised her a job.

When she finished, Ian reached for the back of his neck and rubbed as if the tension had settled there. “You’ve been delayed. That’s what you told him, not that you’d married?”

“I wrote this letter nearly two weeks ago.”

“I can’t live life not being able to trust you. Thinking that at any moment you could leave and never come back.” The pain in Ian’s eyes seared her heart. That was why he’d been avoiding her since last Sunday.

“You thought I had run and my brother brought me back, like you did?”

“I was only thinking of my family’s needs. I should’ve known it would be too much to ask you to settle down.” Ian slapped the palm of his hand with his cap. “I’ll make sure you have the supplies you need. Go to that job, if that’s what you want.”

She didn’t want that job anymore. But did she have the courage to tell Ian what she really wanted?

Neelie tossed the letter and the envelope into the fire then took slow steps toward Ian, their gazes locked on each other. “The day I wrote that letter, your mother had fallen and you were angry with me. I didn’t feel like I belonged here.”

His gaze lingered. “And now?”

Neelie untied the straps on her bonnet and let them hang. “Now I’m wearing skirts and bonnets. The shooting exhibitions, the job in San Francisco, the men’s clothing—all of it was me hiding from past hurts. Avoiding any commitments that could lead to future disappointments. After Archie was done with me, I vowed I’d never be that stupid again. I’d trust no one.” A pop drew her attention to the campfire, and she watched a spark fly up and burn out. “That was before I met you. And before I had a long talk with God on my ride back to camp the other day. That’s not the life I want now, Ian.”

His eyebrows arched and his mouth fell open slightly.

“Would you like to know what I want?”

Ian nodded in slow motion, never looking away from her.

Neelie pulled the bonnet off and let it fall to the ground. She looped her hands around his neck and pulled him close. She closed her eyes, kissed his mouth. And he kissed her.

“I want more than a marriage of convenience.” She cupped his whiskered cheek. “I love Maisie and Lyall and Duff and Angus and Blair. I love your mother. And I love you. I know you still—”

He pressed his finger to her lips. “That’s the best news I’ve heard in weeks. I love you, too, Neelie Kamden.” Bending, he scooped her bonnet from the ground then captured her hand. “Would you like to know what I want?”

“I would.”

“I want to make you my blushing bride.”

When he bent to kiss her again, she giggled and pulled him toward the Conestoga, a prayer of thanks giving her heart wings.