The Proposition. Kate Bridges

as he walked around the stalls. “Mighty fine horse,” she said about the beautiful bay in the corner. Its muscles glistened reddish brown.

      Travis didn’t respond, but she saw him grow rigid.

      “I said, it’s a mighty fine mare.”

      He cleared his throat, but his head didn’t turn in the bay’s direction. “She’ll bring in a fine dollar.”

      “What kind of horse is it?”

      He blinked but still didn’t look at it. “Some people call them running horses, some call them quarter horses.”

      “On account of their speed, ma’am,” said Shamus the stable boy, passing with an armful of straw. “Their muscular legs and rump make them excellent at racing the quarter mile.”

      Travis’s gaze followed the boy. A muscle in the man’s cheek quirked. “And also at maneuvering through cattle, which makes them excellent on cattle drives. This one’s sold to a rancher.”

      She found it odd that he wouldn’t look at the horse. “Ah, one of the broodmares you’re selling.”

      That seemed to make him angrier. He scowled. “Let me make myself clear, Miss Haven. I don’t care what you’re up to, who your friends are or what you do with your time. Leave me alone.”

      She felt dizzy and wavered on her feet. She knew his response stemmed from Caroline, and Jessica was sorry that she’d caused the woman any grief. But it was unfair of Travis to blame Jessica for everything.

      “I’m sorry to hear about your wife,” she murmured.

      He didn’t respond. His mouth tightened.

      “I said, I’m sorry to hear about Caroline’s passing.”

      “Hmm.” The pain that settled in his eyes was enough to stop her heart.

      “Poor Caroline,” she continued. “It was a terrible way to go. I—I know it happened months ago, but I heard it only last week when I arrived on the train.”

      “Did you now?”

      She flushed at his insinuating tone.

      His body stiffened. “Let’s not coat things with honey. You never liked Caroline and she never liked you.”

      A flash of tears pricked her eyes, but she blinked them away. It was too difficult to keep begging him face-to-face. She whispered as she left, “A person can change.”

      Later that evening when everyone had left the stables for supper, Travis leaned against the stall and slid his arms over the boards. “Happy anniversary.” The pain of despair gripped him. “Twelve months today.” He cocked the hammer of his revolver and aimed it between the two eyes. “What makes you think I’m going to allow you to live while Caroline died?”

      Standing in the stall, the quarter horse looked straight back at him, dipped its head into the feeding bucket and chewed.

      A year ago, witnesses had told Travis that it hadn’t been the broodmare’s fault. The raccoon had spooked Caroline more than it had the horse as they’d jumped the fence, but Caroline had lost control. Riding sidesaddle, she’d slipped off and had fallen to her death. With Caroline’s foot caught in the stirrup, the horse had immediately stopped. The mare was a sound animal that had done what it’d been trained to do, but Caroline had died from internal bleeding. Killed on impact, the fort’s surgeon had told Travis, and not the horse’s fault.

      Travis looked into the mare’s dark eyes. “Son of a bitch.”

      It was more a curse at himself than the beast. He could no more shoot a viable horse than he could shoot a child. The joke was that everyone thought he was a tough leader, always in control of himself and the situation. And so he harbored his grief.

      And his rage. It simmered below the surface, ready to jump at the slightest trigger, as it had earlier today at the sight of her.

      “Miss Haven says you’re a mighty fine horse.” Travis wiped his mouth on the cuff of his sleeve and smirked. “A mighty fine horse that killed my wife.”

      The horse shifted. Straw rustled.

      Travis couldn’t stomach looking at the mare, yet it drew his gaze at the oddest moments. He hadn’t once touched its coat since the accident, fed, watered or saddled it, although God knew this wasn’t the first time he’d pressed a gun to its head.

      And always, always, he fell short, coward that he was.

      Since he allowed the Mounties to train with his horses, they allowed him the use of the stables and it’d been easy to ignore its care. He planned on continuing to ride for the police and training new recruits in tracking and horsemanship, but he’d sell every goddamn horse he personally owned. The fact that he’d dreamed of and acquired a ranch of his own had in effect snuffed out every blissful dream Caroline had held.

      They’d only been married for three short months, but those few weeks had filled him with such a glorious anticipation for what life had to offer that he had feared it would someday shatter.

      He stared at the horse. He’d already sold his land and six stallions. It’d taken him months to find the right buyer for his broodmares. He’d received other offers, but the bidders all lived in the area, which meant he’d forever be haunted by this broodmare’s offspring. Taking it to Devil’s Gorge in the middle of the mountains, where they traded more with folks from British Columbia than Alberta, would cure that sorry problem.

      Tomorrow morning he’d be leaving without Jessica Haven. Thank Christ he wouldn’t be bearing the responsibility for the safety of another woman.

      Crazy fool, some had called him for keeping the horse this long. Frankly, he’d fallen into a numb pit for the past year, coldly going through his duties, never raising his voice. Only since the beginning of this week had any sentiment returned—he’d felt the rage building for days, anticipating the year’s anniversary with rising gloom. A thundercloud churned within him and he wasn’t sure he could control it if it spewed. He was grateful he’d be alone to handle it.

      He slid his revolver back into his shoulder holster. Stepping back into darkness, he glared at the mare. He softened and whispered, “I miss you, Caroline.”

      He heard footsteps in the straw and spun at the intrusion.

      “Roughrider,” called one of his friends. “I’ve been told to remind you that your sister’s expecting you at her pub and the commander and his wife are waiting. He needs to speak to you about something urgent first. Something about the mayor’s daughter.”

      With a looming premonition of trouble, Travis sensed he hadn’t seen the last of Miss Jessica Haven.

      Chapter Two

      Remorseful that she’d had to go to such lengths to get to Devil’s Gorge, but nervously praying her tactic had worked, Jessica opened her wardrobe chest and removed an old shawl. She’d done the thing she knew the sergeant major would despise most. She’d used her father’s status to manipulate Travis.

      She walked down the hallway, peered into her younger sister’s bedroom and smiled. “Are you coming, Eloise? The pub social begins at eight.”

      Lamplight danced around the room. Her sister’s sixteen-year-old best friend, Bessy, sat perched on the iron bed. Eloise was tall and blond, Bessy round and dark. They shared a love for clothing, and laughter.

      Rubbing glaze on her lips, Eloise peered up from her dresser mirror. “Our stepmother says it’s not good to appear eager around men.” She giggled on the velvet stool. “And the place will be filled with Mounties.”

      “My purpose in going isn’t to impress a man. I’m going to speak with the commander to arrange tomorrow.”

      Eloise sighed. “Do you have to go away again so soon?”

      “I won’t be as long this