Black Hills Bride (6 page)

God might not be here to help Dixie out with her problems, but Erik was, and he was of a mind to help her himself. He could—
would
—do something about those stupid, ignorant fools. They had a lot to learn about how to treat a lady.

Especially a lady boss.

He adjusted his hat low over his eyes and stepped out of the shadows, marching decisively toward the stable boys with a frown on his face. He had a few choice words for each of them, and each word was going to hurt like the dickens.

But they were going to hear him out until he was sure they got the message.
Loud and clear.

The only reason he hadn’t intervened when they challenged Dixie was that he didn’t want to undermine her authority, not to mention her confidence in herself, by taking over. He recognized her volatility, and how threatened she was when he tried to help her, however well-intentioned his efforts.

But the men needed to understand who held the reins in this particular operation.

Dixie Sullivan.

And now that Dixie wasn’t around, he was going to make good and sure the stable hands weren’t laboring under any misconceptions.

“Ellis,” he barked at the belligerent cowboy. “You and the rest of the men, front and center. Now.”

He leaned both elbows against the rough-hewn wood of the newly fashioned corral fence and waited, knowing the men would comply.

As he expected, as unjust as it was, the stable hands immediately left the tasks they’d been attending after their confrontation with Dixie and gathered around him, their expressions intent and respectful.

Erik’s fists begged to speak louder than his voice, but he clenched and unclenched his hands until the itch to do physical harm passed. He wasn’t going to roughhouse them unless necessary, but he wouldn’t hesitate if they balked against what he had to say. He’d dealt with stubborn calves before.

If the boys thought they could treat Dixie like some kind of department store mannequin, and then turn around and muster up to Erik like nothing was wrong, just because he was a man, they had another thing coming.

Loud and clear.

“I understand you men gave Miss Sullivan a hard time.”

A scowl of annoyance creased Ellis’s face. “What’d she do, go crying to you, boss?” He barked a laugh and chucked Erik on the arm. “Just like a woman to go all to pieces, ain’t it?”

The other boys snickered, until Erik stopped them short with a single look. They sobered immediately, looking contrite and uncomfortable, except for Ellis, who looked as if he were ready for a fight.

“Let’s get one thing straight,” Erik ground out, eyeing each man in turn, and at last resting and holding his gaze on Ellis. “Miss Sullivan is your employer. And she’s also a lady. You’ll treat her with due respect as
both
—your boss lady.”

The boys nodded, wide-eyed with apprehension.

All except Ellis, who grunted skeptically. “I don’t take no orders from—”

“That means,” Erik interrupted, not allowing the younger man to finish, “you will remove your hat in her presence, speak to her quietly and with respect, and you will do exactly what she tells you to do. Without complaining. Is that clear?”

Again, four of the boys nodded.

“Ellis?” he challenged, his pulse pounding in his ears. If the young man was itching for a fight, he was going to get more than he bargained for.

The young man shrugged and glared over Erik’s shoulder, murmuring something incomprehensible under his breath.

“And if I ever hear foul language coming from any of you—at any time, on- or off-duty—you’ll be history. This is a Christian retreat. Respect that fact or pack your bags and git.”

He met each man’s eyes one last time, then turned away. The urge to hit something still pulsed through him, barely restrained by the strength of his will.

He’d scarcely gone two steps when Ellis began complaining loudly to the other cowboys about the unfair working conditions they were under.

Erik bristled but walked away, allowing the young man to vent to his own satisfaction. The battle wasn’t over, not by a long shot.

Ellis was a troublemaker, and he knew beyond a doubt there would be a one-on-one confrontation between him and the boy before long.

If Ellis didn’t force it, Erik would.

But however it happened, he wanted to keep Dixie out of the middle of it. She wouldn’t stand down from today’s challenge, and she’d be furious if she knew Erik had reinforced her battlements without her knowledge.

He still wasn’t sure why, but he already knew Dixie’s pet peeves. Funny. He hadn’t known her that long, but he already felt he knew her better than anyone he’d known in a good, long time. Maybe ever.

And maybe one day he would learn why she was so desperate to prove her independence.

She’d step right up to the plate if she had the opportunity, and fight back with all she was worth.

Which meant he had to make sure she didn’t get that opportunity.

He’d have to be extra watchful and on his guard, to make sure nothing happened between Dixie and Ellis before he got to the belligerent young man first.

He didn’t want to examine the fierce need to protect Dixie. She was an obligation and nothing more. Ellis was his responsibility, since he’d brought the loud-mouthed boy on board as a stable hand.

Ellis was his responsibility and his problem.

He probably ought to have fired him right off, but he was afraid the other boys would walk, as well, out of loyalty to Ellis, which would leave him in the lurch.

There wasn’t time to find another crew and get the needed work done before the first guests arrived in a little over two months. He needed every second, and every man, to finish this project on time.

But Ellis was going to be a detriment to the work by staying on, and there was no getting around it. The boy was an uncouth, loudmouthed brat. With his childish attitude, he ought to be in the nursery, not running horses.

He’d come with references, but obviously from people who didn’t care what the young man said or did as long as he got his work done.

And until Dixie entered the picture, Ellis had been working hard. Now Erik doubted he’d get a good day’s work from the boy.

And he didn’t even want to think about Dixie and Ellis in a showdown. His insides stung as if a hive of killer bees had been let loose in his stomach.

Ellis was just stupid enough to push Dixie beyond her limit. She was a strong woman, but Erik didn’t want to be there when she
really
exploded. Erik had a feeling a tornado would be safer to watch.

A showdown between Dixie and Ellis wasn’t a possibility he cared to consider. But it wasn’t going to happen. Not if he was here to stop it.

And he was.

A
fter what felt to Dixie like a lifetime, but was in reality only six weeks from the day she stepped onto South Dakota soil, acquiring a horse of her own was finally, wonderfully, joyfully next on her list.

She’d been up to her ears in construction and renovation, overseeing a stable of horses for the ministry, hiring a kitchen and housekeeping staff, moving into her own small studio in the main lodge and avoiding the stable hands like the plague.

She was physically and emotionally exhausted from the whole ordeal, as much from all the blessings God showered her with as much as from the challenges she continued to encounter.

Erik suggested a day off, and she’d finally concurred. She hadn’t had a break since she’d started, other than the occasional peach-scented bubble bath in her new studio.

So this sunshine-filled Saturday morning, she’d called some phone numbers in the newspaper and set up appointments to see if she could find
her
horse.

She wasn’t a complete novice where horses were concerned, she thought with pride. That is to say, she’d ridden a horse a few times as a kid, and had been told even then that she was a natural horse-woman.

And she’d read every
How to Take Care of a Horse of Your Own
book the Denver Public Library possessed, up to and including the children’s books.

She was relatively certain she could groom, tack and mount her horse. It couldn’t possibly be any worse than the rivers she’d forged thus far in her pioneer journey.

All she needed was the horse to prove it.

Her heart raced with anticipation as she drove off the compound. She was especially looking forward to her first stop, a man named Needleson. He was her nearest neighbor with the exception of Erik. Needleson owned a large spread that bordered her own on two sides. From what she knew of him, his was one of, if not
the
most prosperous ranches in the area.

It would be good to finally meet her neighbors. Solitude was wonderful, up to a point, but she looked forward to getting to know others in Custer, most especially those who lived near her retreat. She’d just been too busy lately to seek out fellowship, other than on Sundays in a small Custer church.

Did John Needleson have a wife and kids? Would they be Christians?

She hoped so. Maybe they could be friends, get together for a cookout and perhaps even have a Bible study. She could offer the services of her retreat, once it was up and running, if they wanted a break from ranching.

She only realized how far distant her daydreams had taken her when she noted the large Bar N sign that indicated the entrance to the Needleson ranch. Laughing merrily at herself, she turned onto the Bar N road, noting it had the same bumpy washboard consistency as her own dirt road.

John Needleson said he’d be waiting for her in front of his stable with the horse he had in mind for her. He’d almost sounded excited when he told her about the feisty brown-and-white Appaloosa gelding.

She couldn’t help but allow his enthusiasm to raise her hopes. Wouldn’t it be lovely if the first horse she “shopped” for was the right one?

She shook her head and chuckled. There she went again, daydreaming in a very real world, where daydreams could be dangerous.

A fiftyish-looking man with white tufts of hair that stuck up in every direction on his head waited for her outside his very large, very modern-looking stable. She didn’t notice another thing about him, except that he was holding on to the most beautiful horse she’d ever seen.

She had looked at a million pictures of horses in books and on-line, but the one before her beat them all in looks and style.

She quickly parked her truck and rushed to the horse’s side, not caring that her anticipation and delight were showing. John Needleson had been right on the mark for her in choosing a horse.

Her heart pounded as she looked the gelding over. The Appaloosa tossed his head as if protesting the halter he wore, then whickered softly.

He was spirited, she realized, which enchanted her almost as much as his wavy mane. Equally attractive was the gentle nature of his eyes as he nuzzled her hand, looking for a treat.

“He’s a fine horse, ma’am,” said Mr. Needleson, speaking for the first time. “As soon as I spoke with you on the telephone, I just had a feeling this young fellow was the one you were looking for.”

Startled, she remembered her manners. “I beg your pardon, Mr. Needleson. I’m Dixie Sullivan, your new neighbor.”

The man smiled, but for some reason it didn’t appear to reach his eyes. He looked rough and hard, but she supposed career cowboys would look that way. Perhaps she was judging too harshly.

“John will do, ma’am.”

She reached out her hand, determination to make him her friend welling up in her. “And of course you’ll call me Dixie.”

He mumbled something under his breath and nodded, directing his gaze to the horse.

She didn’t need any prodding to turn her attention back to the horse. “I’m sure you noticed how charmed I am by your pony. He is everything I’ve ever dreamed of.”

John chuckled. She snapped her gaze to his, but his eyes were shaded. Was he laughing at her?

She felt heat rise to her face, knowing she was showing far more enthusiasm than she should, as the buyer. She wondered if buying horses was like buying cars, where only a fool paid the full price.

But this horse, which she’d already mentally named Victory, was worth whatever price she paid. Besides, the price John named was reasonable. Cheap, even, if the ads she’d perused were anything to go by.

“How many horses have you seen this morning, Miss Sullivan?” John drawled, running a rough hand through the chaotic tips of his hair.

She noted he clung to formality. She hoped it didn’t mean he distrusted her, or wouldn’t be willing to sell Victory to her.

“To be honest, Victory—I mean, your gelding—is the first horse I’ve looked at,” she admitted. “I suppose I ought to see the rest of the horses on my list before I make my final decision.”

She already knew she’d choose Victory, no matter how many other horses she saw today or any day. She was decisive, and that’s how it went when she had her heart set on something.

Still, she thought she probably ought to go through the motion of shopping around, at least, in case anyone asked her.

“Nonsense,” John replied promptly. “You don’t buy a horse like you buy clothes or groceries or something.” He thumped his chest with his fist. “It’s a heart thing.”

A heart thing.

An odd idea to come from a tough cowboy like John. There must be more to the man than what appeared on the surface, she decided, her heart discerning a story underneath his words he wasn’t willing to share.

In any case, John was right. It
was
a heart thing. She could feel it—she and Victory were meant to be together. Like peanut butter and jelly.

She ran her hands over the horse, noticing once again how skittish he was around his head and legs. But John quickly explained that away, saying he was still young and not used to strangers. That was probably all there was to it. Surely nothing out of the ordinary.

John walked the gelding around the corral a couple of times, allowing her to look him over. He had a nice, easy gait, pleasant to the eyes. He would be a joy to ride, she just knew it.

“Is he what you’re looking for?” John asked when she didn’t speak. “I don’t mean to sound pushy, but as it happens, I’ve got another buyer who is extremely interested in this gelding. He’s coming by this afternoon, in fact. I’ll let you have first dibs at this fine fellow, but I can’t hold him for you until you make a decision. I hope you understand.”

She nodded, then mentally faltered. Faking another buyer was the oldest salesman trick in the book. Was she being conned by this sweet yet gruff old man?

“I think I’d…” She wished she’d invited Erik along. He’d know for sure if she was making a wise choice.

She didn’t even know what other questions to ask, what else to check out, other than his gait and any obvious outward faults.

Erik would know.

Should she ask to ride the horse before she bought him? What if Victory had some inward, hidden fault she couldn’t see with the naked eye? Something a true horseman like Erik would recognize.

“I wondered if I could—or you, I guess—could ride him for a minute?”

John immediately shook his head. “Sorry, ma’am. Can’t do.”

He lifted up one of Victory’s legs, slapping the horse on the neck when he shied away. Gripping Victory’s leg between his knees, he pointed to the bottom of the hoof. “He’s not shod. You’ll have to have that done before you can ride him.”

“Oh.” She was both disappointed and embarrassed at not knowing better. A real horsewoman would know such things.

Heat flared to her cheeks as she mentally stammered over what to say next.

But then she realized it didn’t matter whether or not she rode the horse now, or even whether there might be some sort of fault with him. Even if she never once rode this horse in her lifetime, he was
her
horse.

She’d have him shod this afternoon, and then she’d learn to ride him, no matter what quirks he might have. Even if it took her a year to become proficient in the basics.

It didn’t matter. She already felt a growing love for Victory, and sensed instinctively he would return the affection she gave.

Since she didn’t bring Erik to check the horse out, she’d have to follow her heart on this one and trust in God for the rest.

Maybe it was foolish, but there it was. She’d waited her whole life for this moment.

“I want to buy him.”

Her heart lightened the moment the words were out of her mouth. Everything was going to work out. It had to. God had brought her this far. He wasn’t going to let her down now, not with the fulfillment of a lifelong dream right here in front of her.

John smiled, this time the genuine article. He looked years younger, the hard lines on his face fading.

“What does Mrs. Needleson think of this beauty?” she asked, lightly probing about his personal life.

His mouth immediately became a thin, hard line that matched the ice in his gaze. She sighed inwardly, wishing she’d kept her big mouth shut and left well enough alone. But she was only trying to be neighborly.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“It’s okay,” he said gruffly, interrupting her apology with a wave. “Cathy died two years ago. This is her mare’s foal.”

“I’m sorry,” she said again. “Really.” Her heart broke for the man. He obviously missed his wife desperately. Even the birth of his wife’s mare’s foal brought back painful memories.

She reached out, placing a gentle hand on his forearm, wanting to lend whatever small comfort she could. “It must be very hard for you.”

He snatched his arm away and glared at her. “It’s okay. Now, do you want this horse or don’t you?”

She opened her mouth to speak, but her throat was dry.

Raising one eyebrow, he looked at his watch and shrugged.

Dixie decided to ignore his harsh tone and narrow attitude, writing it off as inner pain he wasn’t ready to deal with. It was only natural he’d have misgivings when faced with so many tender memories.

“I’d like to buy your horse. And I can promise you he’ll have a wonderful new home with me. I have lots of land, and a wonderful new stable to house him in.”

John snorted. “Yeah. A wonderful new home.”

Dixie pulled her hard-earned money from her pocket and counted out the crisp, new hundred-dollar bills with shaking fingers. “I’ll have one of my stable hands pick him up this afternoon.”

He took the money and pocketed it without looking at her. “Got yourself a real nice spread over there, do you?” The words were angry, derisive.

She raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Very. I hope you’ll visit sometime.”

She made the offer without expecting him to hear the words, never mind respond.

He grunted. “I’ll do that.”

She looked up at him, taken aback by his casual statement. “You will?”

“Believe me, Miss Sullivan, you can bank on it.”