Part 4 (1/2)

Not that she thought that was bad. After all the times she had waited for her father, or some other man, only to have him say he'd forgotten, or got busy talking, she would appreciate it. But she was irritated that Madison should be the one to be punctual.

Of course she didn't know he was punctual. That was just a guess. He could be hopeless when it came to keeping appointments.

But he wouldn't be. He wasn't the type.

Thirty minutes later Fern found herself pacing back and forth in front of the barn. She told herself it wasn't time for him yet, that she was too busy to worry about him, but she couldn't keep her mind on her work.

Just as she started to catalog all the terrible things she was going to do to him, she saw a rider in the distance. A short while later she recognized Madison. It couldn't be anyone else. Not even his brother could present such a lean, immaculate appearance.

The second thing that caught her eye was the horse. Madison was riding Buster, the best horse in the Twins Livery Stable. The big bay gelding was Tom Everett's favorite horse. He didn't hire him out to just anybody. He was a strong animal and not always easy to manage, but he seemed to be going easy enough for Madison.

The next thing to catch her eye was the way he rode in the saddle. Absolutely erect. He looked extremely handsome in his city clothes, but she couldn't imagine anyone who looked less as if he should be on a horse. She could think of several men she might call handsome, but they weren't a spot on this dandy. It was a pity he was a Randolph.

But he could ride. Not that riding a horse along a clear trail at a canter was anything to write home about, but it was the way he did it, with negligent ease. She didn't know how or where he'd learned, but he was used to being on a horse. Just how used she meant to discover soon enough, but for the time being she had to revise her opinion of him. He might dress like a useless dandy, but he didn't ride like one. Maybe he wasn't one.

But he had to be. He was from Boston, wasn't he?

Whatever he was, she'd never find out by standing around arguing with herself. She mounted up and rode out to meet him.

Chapter Four.

”We're going to have to travel fast,” she told him, making certain not to look into his eyes. His forthright gaze disconcerted her. ”Follow me.”

He didn't move. ”I thought I had arrived on schedule.” He consulted his elegant gold timepiece. ”I have two minutes to spare,” he said, returning the watch to its pocket.

”I have a lot of work to do today.”

”Ah, yes, those unfortunate bulls whose future you are determined to blight.”

A bubble of laughter stirred in Fern's chest; she choked it back. It wasn't her habit to go around laughing all the time. She had noticed that the people who were most respected always looked somber or actually spent a large part of their lives frowning. She had achieved her perpetual scowl only after considerable effort, and she didn't intend to let this dandified lawyer bring it to naught. ''Steers gain weight,” she snapped. ”And bulls cause trouble. Even a lawyer from Boston ought to know that.”

”Yes, but it has never been my ambition to gain weight.”

”You prefer to cause trouble?”

”Are those the only two choices you're offering?” Madison asked.

He brought his horse to a stop alongside hers. They were only inches apart. She was sure he'd done it intentionally so she couldn't avoid looking directly at him.

”I'm not offering you any choices.”

”How disappointing.”

She was certain he meant something different from the words that came out of his mouth. Maybe he was flirting, but she couldn't be sure. His wasn't the direct way of Western men; neither was it the formal manner she thought would be favored in Boston.

Her chest constricted at his nearness. Even her breath seemed to shudder as it left her lungs. She told herself not to be stupid. He was baiting her. He'd like nothing better than to confuse her.

Now he was smiling at her, but there was something unfamiliar in his gaze. She didn't know what it was, but it made her uneasy. She felt intimidated. It infuriated her that he would try to overawe her, even more that she would allow him to succeed.

”Do you always talk nonsense?” she asked.

”If you were a man, you wouldn't consider castration nonsense. Do you know what they do to men in Turkey, the ones they use in the harems?”

”I don't know anything about the habits of heathens,” Fern stated, ”and I don't want to. If you want to see the Connor place, follow me. If you want to stand around talking about outlandish people in places I never heard of, you can go back to town.”

She dug her heels into her horse's sides, and he bounded away. He was a swift, short-coupled horse, one more suited to cutting work than long rides across the prairie, but she felt more at home on him than on a big brute like Buster.

She was surprised to find Madison at her elbow almost immediately.

”I gather you don't approve of foreigners.”

His comment made Fern painfully aware of her threadbare education. She had learned as much as she could, but she was certain that Madison knew more about everything than she did. That made her feel even more intimidated. And angrier.

”I have no doubt you know much more about foreigners than I do, especially barbaric ones, so I shall leave it to you to decide whether I would approve of them or not.”

”How can I do that when I don't know anything about you?” he replied. ”For all I know you might approve of castrating men.”

”Do you always talk about such awful things?” she demanded, twisting about in the saddle.

”I'm not the one taking a knife to those poor bulls,” he pointed out. ”The way you mentioned it so offhandedly was quite callous. I would have thought that even here in Kansas, women would have had that kindness of heart, that gentleness of spirit that”

”You didn't think any such thing,” Fern contradicted, rounding on him once more, much to the confusion of her pony who was at a loss to interpret the continual stops and turnings, particularly when there were no cows about. ”You were just looking for anything you could say to annoy me.”

”It seems I've succeeded.”

”You certainly have,” she replied, turning her horse back up the trail and digging her heels in again. ”If you want me to take you to the Connor place, stop talking and ride.”

Once more she set out at a gallop, and once more he was at her side in a matter of moments.

”You don't have to run from me,” he said. For a moment she almost thought he sounded apologetic. But that was impossible. Men like him never apologized for anything.

”I wasn't running. You just made me mad.”

”I won't do it again. Is this what your prairie looks like?” he asked, looking about. I thought it was supposed to be as flat as a spinster's chest and as dry as her humor.”

”You are a truly disgusting man,” Fern said. ”Isn't there anything you respect?”

”Truth.”

His reply nearly floored her. She had expected him to mention power and money. He exuded both.

”Everyone respects truth,” she replied.

”That's where you're wrong. Most people are afraid of it. They actually depend upon lies, or at least false appearances, to protect them. The truth would ruin most of us.”

”I should have expected something like that from somebody like you,” Fern shot back. ”You don't know anything about real honesty.”