Wild Horses, Wild Hearts 2 Read online

  And as the sun dipped low in the west, bringing each lesson to a close, Leyla and Chase shared another kiss with one another. Each day, the connection that gripped the two of them grew. Though both of them knew that time was against them, neither of them wanted the happiness they were bringing to one another to end.

  WITH A SMILE AND A delighted sigh, Leyla put the finishing touches on her plan: a picnic basket full of sandwiches, fruit, and a bottle of wine she’d managed to coax Uncle Fergus into giving her. She intended to have a lovely picnic with Chase beneath a grove of trees further along the creek that ran through the eastern pasture near the ridge.

  Good thing Maggie said she needs the southern pasture today, Leyla thought thankfully. That means the eastern pasture will be nice and empty, perfect for a long afternoon relaxing with Chase.

  The young redhead sighed once more as her mind was flooded with hopes of lying against Chase’s taut body in the shade, the two just enjoying the presence of one another and the feel of their bodies pressed so close.

  Granted, Leyla knew that if Maggie caught them in such a compromising position—and in broad daylight no less—that would put a swift end to Chase being welcome to the ranch. But despite the risk involved, Leyla didn’t care. She was learning new show-riding techniques from a handsome man who returned the affection she gave him while craving more in return.

  Maybe, she prayed, maybe I could convince him to stay here longer rather than travel on with the show.

  Deep down, Leyla knew that hope was flawed at the roots. If her sister was any indication, the roar of the crowd was as addictive a thrill as any drug was, if not more so. The fact that Maggie hadn’t abandoned the ranch to pursue her own career as a traveling show rider was a testament to the strength of will she possessed.

  Still, a girl can dream, Leyla thought forlornly. A girl can dream.

  CHEYENNE, WYOMING TERRITORY, August 1885

  “Son, you are dreamin’ if you think the professor will give you the go ahead on that.”

  “Oh, come on, Bull, what’s the harm in having a special guest rider for one measly show?” Chase retorted.

  Bull Beauregard shrugged his shoulders before taking a pull from a glass jar full of his family’s homemade moonshine. “I’m not sayin’ I have a problem with you bringing out your little filly for a night,” he said, sucking in a breath of air through his nose as the alcoholic concoction touched his tongue. He choked it down while maintaining the expression that he was enjoying the stuff. “All I’m saying is that Professor Monro will never give you the okay to do it.”

  The two show riders were currently perched on the top of one of the show’s boxcars, passing the jar back and forth between them. It was around midmorning, and Chase had pitched an ambitious idea to his southern-bred friend: he wanted to bring Leyla on as a guest rider for the final performance on the following night.

  Bull scratched the stubble on his chin as he continued to contemplate the idea that Chase was going to try to sell to the professor. “I mean, sure, a skilled show-ridin’ lady is nothing to sneeze at, but it sounds like the one you’ve picked out is part of a well-known family hereabouts. Plus, I think you’ve used up a hogshead of good will with the professor already this week with your hangin’ about there every afternoon.”

  Chase gave his friend a light punch on the arm despite his more than likely accurate assessment of the situation. “Aw, hush up, ya cottonseed,” he teased. “The professor knows I know the routine backwards, forwards, and sideways. And I haven’t exactly been hearing you and the others complaining about actually having some time off in a town for once.”

  “I admit to nothing,” Bull replied, taking another draw from his jar of moonshine, though the corners of his lips were drawn upward in a smirk. “But if you plan on tossing this idea at the professor—”

  “Then I believe opportunity has come knocking,” came the ever jovial sound of Professor Monro’s voice from below.

  The two show riders jolted, both nearly falling from their perch atop the boxcar as they looked down to see the professor beaming up at them, a smile spread across his corpulent face.

  The professor wasted no time in getting down to business. “So, Chase my boy, I understand you’ve a vested interest in this young woman who has been occupying the lion’s share of your attention the past few nights. And given the amorous look I spy across your rough and tumble countenance right now, I would venture that you’re planning on trying to utilize the talents you’ve bequeathed to her within our grand finale tomorrow evening. Am I on point so far, young Chase?”

  Chase looked bewilderedly at Bull, who mirrored his wide-eyed look perfectly. Neither of them had any idea how the professor had deduced Chase’s plan.

  The sound of the professor chortling merrily beneath them brought them back from their stupor, both looking down to see the mustachioed proprietor pressing a gloved hand to his strained waistcoat.

  “I have my sources, gentlemen,” he admitted cryptically before looking up toward Chase again. “Perhaps it is because I am a romantic at my core, but I think you’ve a marvelous plan, young Chase. However, have you parlayed the possibility of this grand performance with the young lady in question?”

  “Well I,” Chase began awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck as though the answer were hiding somewhere back there.

  Professor Monro simply continued smiling, fixing his star rider with a grin full of pearly white teeth. “In that case, I suggest you make hay while the sun doth shine, my boy! Go and extend the invitation forthwith!”

  Chase sat stunned for a minute before Bull started guffawing like a madman.

  “Well, you heard the professor, Yankee!” the Alabama boy crowed. “Go on and tell that little lady she’s fine to ride with us!” He punctuated his order by slapping Chase across the back, sending the man tumbling from the top of the boxcar.

  The show rider landed with the grace of a cat, bending at the knees in order to soften the blow of the impact. He turned and cast a baleful eye over his supposed friend, who continued laughing all the while.

  Still, this works out better than I could have hoped, Chase thought triumphantly, forgetting his momentary anger and making his way to the stock car where he would retrieve Cannonball and make his way to the McNeal ranch.

  I got a good feeling about today, he mentally cheered, his boots bouncing merrily with every step he took.

  MCNEAL RANCH LAND, Near Cheyenne, Wyoming Territory, August 1885

  Leyla watched the road leading to the McNeal home anxiously, her heart hammering away in her chest as she watched for Chase’s approach.

  She idly recalled that her father had once told her and Maggie that a watched pot never boils, but she just couldn’t help but keep a lookout for the handsome show rider.

  I’ve planned everything down to the last detail, she thought in a mixture of excitement and nervousness. All I need now is for him to show up.

  Her prayers were shortly answered as she spied a trail of dust rising up in the distance, a sure sign of a rider coming onto the ranch land. Leyla narrowed her eyes in an attempt to improve her long-range vision and her efforts were rewarded as she spied the familiar roan and white coat of Chase’s mount, Cannonball.

  Here he comes, Leyla thought, her grip on Whirlwind’s reins tightening.

  THERE SHE IS, Chase thought dreamily, spying his student already mounted atop her pale horse. To him, she looked beautiful dressed in a white blouse covered by a light range jacket and her loose trail pants tailored for ventilation and comfort. Even the way her long, red braided ponytail flowed down and draped across her shoulders was nothing less than a sign of perfection in his mind.

  “Afternoon, Miss Leyla,” he greeted, giving her the usual tip of his hat.

  She grinned in return, half-bowing at the waist while still seated in her saddle. “Good afternoon, Mister McAllister,” she replied. “I was thinking we might take a day off from today’s lessons and enjoy a nice picnic together in the eas
tern pasture.” She produced a wicker picnic basket from behind her, dangling it in front of him as though the action made it more attractive.

  She’s got something up her sleeve, Chase thought in half suspicion. But then again, so do I.

  “A picnic sounds mighty delightful, Leyla,” he answered. “If you’ll kindly lead the way, then I’ll be more than happy to follow you.”

  “Yes, I’m sure you would,” she said in what Chase thought could have almost been a mildly seductive tone. The kittenish grin she gave him did not help to dissuade him from the notion.

  But the promise of a relaxing afternoon, food, and time spent with the beautiful Leyla McNeal were more than Chase could reasonably turn down. As Leyla spurred Whirlwind toward the eastern pasture and the ridge that climbed in the distance, he did the same with Cannonball and followed behind her.

  Can’t help but wonder what she’s planning, he mused, but I doubt she expects what I’m going to ask her.

  BENEATH THE SHADE OF a grove of trees placed along the burbling creek, Leyla laid out a patchwork quilt upon which she and Chase could enjoy their picnic together. Their horses were grouped together a few trees away, their reins tied off to a sturdy low-hanging branch.

  Once the two were settled onto the quilt, Leyla began unpacking the picnic basket, smiling as she saw Chase’s eyes widen at the veritable bounty she had packed within. Even the bottle of wine, along with the two tin cups she had brought along for drinking it from, were met with an approving gleam in the show rider’s dark eyes.

  As the two ate their food and drank the wine, they began talking. Leyla told Chase about life out on the plains of the Wyoming Territory and how her father had started the cattle ranch with virtually nothing. Chase told Leyla stories about his travels with Professor Monro’s show and his life with the other show riders while delighting her with stories of the sights he had seen in the cities east of the Mississippi.

  “You’re lying,” Leyla accused Chase as she took a bite of an apple. She swallowed before she continued. “There’s no way anyone could build anything that big.”

  “I’m telling you the truth!” Chase defended. “In Chicago they have a building that must be over a hundred feet tall, maybe more! Saw it with my own eyes and I even touched it.”

  “And I think you’re telling tales out of school, Chase,” Leyla replied with a giggle, teasing him regardless of whether she believed his story or not.

  Chase folded his arms across his chest, setting his jaw in determination. “Alright, fine, if you don’t believe me you can go ask the Professor, Bull, and all the other show riders who saw it too!”

  “You mean the other people who make a living amazing crowds with fantastic stunts and sights too incredible to truly believe?” Leyla countered with a cheeky grin.

  “I’m telling you it’s real and they’re making more of them!” Chase said in good-natured exasperation. “But I guess you’ll just have to see these things for yourself one day before you’ll believe me.”

  Leyla laughed at his mock irritation, finding it reminiscent of the playful banter she had seen Maggie and John engage in time after time.

  “Well, the only way I’ll be able to do that is if I make my way out of Cheyenne and see these marvels you speak of,” Leyla giggled as she took another sip of wine.

  Chase went quiet at that thought, his countenance suddenly looking unsure. For a moment, Leyla thought she might have offended him somehow. However, it looked more like he was trying to make up his mind about something.

  “That may be possible,” Chase said quietly, his usual confidence seeming to have evaporated in an instant.

  “Chase?” Leyla queried, her voice giving credence to her own sudden confusion.

  Slowly, Chase repositioned his body so that he was right next to Leyla, his eyes staring directly into hers. Without looking down, he reached out and gently clasped one of her hands in his.

  “Leyla,” he began, still sounding unsure, “I want to ask you something. How...how would you feel about performing in the final show with me tomorrow night as a guest show rider?”

  LEYLA’S HEART SKIPPED a beat as the full meaning of his question raced through her mind.

  He wants me to ride with him in the show? she thought, her mind still trying to comprehend everything.

  Chase continued forward, unable to keep his own anxiety about what he was asking of her down.

  “I talked it over with the professor and the other show riders,” he admitted, “and they think it’d be fantastic if a local joined us for our final performance.

  “Really?” Leyla’s eyes welled up.

  The show rider reached his free hand over and joined it with his other hand clasped around hers. “Leyla, I want you to ride in the show with me,” he whispered, as though he were afraid that voicing his desire any louder would cause it to fail spectacularly.

  All was quiet for a moment, the only sounds present being the slow rustle of the leaves in the trees and the gentle trickle of the nearby stream. The two riders continued to stare into one another’s eyes, looking for some indication that this moment wasn’t some wonderful dream.

  He wants me to perform in the show with him, she thought over and over again. The knowledge that he thought she was a good enough show rider to perform in front of all of Cheyenne was too much for her mind, but her body felt a growing warmth spreading throughout, one that would not be denied.

  Leyla, rather than voicing her answer to Chase, leaned forward and captured his lips. Her breathing picked up as she did so, the blood in her cheeks pumping full bore and coloring them with a rosy hue.

  Chase appeared momentarily stunned, his dark eyes clouding with uncertainty for a brief minute, but one of his hands reached up and delicately pulled Leyla’s hat from her head, allowing a few sweat-drenched strands of lustrous red hair to fall across her pale forehead.

  For a moment that seemed to stretch into an eternity, the two paused, the only sound between them being the matched rhythm of their breathing.

  Leyla pressed her body against Chase’s and captured his lips for another fevered kiss. Chase couldn’t help but return her passionate gesture, his arms wrapping around her trim waist and pulling her close.

  The two simply let the rest of the world fall away as they shared their brief act of passion beneath the late afternoon sun on the Wyoming plains.

  Chapter V: Trouble Looms

  CHEYENNE, WYOMING TERRITORY, August 1885

  The morning sun shone brightly on the streets of Cheyenne as the town came to life. The shop owners opened their doors, the citizens busied about the streets, and the hustle and bustle of horses, wagons, and carts moved in a grand display of commerce.

  Among the horse riders were a man and a woman, one mounted on a beautiful chestnut-hued steed while the other rode a horse as black as pitch. The two rode in unison, never letting one get ahead or behind the other as they rode through Cheyenne’s streets.

  John Baldwin looked over at his fiancé with a nervous smile. “Now you’re sure you want to do this, Maggie?” he asked for what had to be the thousandth time.

  Margaret beamed teasingly at him, her cool and professional façade absent for once. “Sure about what, dear John?” she queried in return. “If you’re talking about marrying you, then yes, I’m still sure. Unless, of course, you can think of a reason I shouldn’t?”

  She laughed as she watched him huff in mild annoyance at her playful teasing.

  “No, I have no plans for withdrawing my offer of marriage,” he defended. “I’m talking about this: are you sure you want to announce your engagement in the newspaper?”

  Of all the things John Baldwin had come to expect of Margaret McNeal, her insistence that she announce her engagement in Cheyenne’s leading newspaper was not one of them. The fact that Margaret, despite her show riding, was a fairly private lady ran completely contrary to what she was proposing. This complete change in character on her part more than unnerved John to a degree.

&
nbsp; “Yes, I am, John,” she answered simply, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. “Don’t tell me that you want to keep it a secret.”

  “If I could, Maggie, I’d climb all the way to the top of the Kentucky Appalachians and tell the whole blazing world that I was marrying Margaret McNeal,” he said proudly, leaving no doubts to his claim. “I’m just kind of surprised that you wanted to announce it in the paper, that’s all.”

  Margaret smiled and gave John a wink. “I think it will come as a nice surprise to the folks of Cheyenne, and it may finally drive off any lingering suitors who think I’m up for marrying anyone other than you. No, I want all of Cheyenne, blazes, the whole Wyoming territory, to know that I love John Baldwin and that we’re getting married.”

  Despite his rough and tumble exterior, John blushed at her admission, once again thanking whoever was watching over him for leading him to this marvelous woman.

  “Well, Maggie, if that’s what you want, then I’m all for it,” he affirmed genuinely.

  Apollo and Longbow both gave huffs at the way their riders were acting.

  “Aw, hush you,” John and Margaret said in unison to their respective horses. The act caught them both by surprise, but they soon took to laughing at what had happened.

  Before long, the two riders reached the building that housed Cheyenne’s largest newspaper. After tying their horses’ reins to the hitching post, the two strode through the door and into the office.

  The rhythmic click-clack and ring of typewriters hammering away greeted the two as they entered. Several desks situated further back in the office were occupied by various journalists crafting stories to put in the upcoming newspapers. One desk, situated at the forefront, was Margaret and John’s destination.

  Behind the desk sat a small man in a weathered derby, but his slight frame belied a strong spirit and a mind sharp as a bear trap. When he spied the two visitors, he stood up from his wooden chair and extended a hand forward in welcome.