The Express Rider's Lady. Stacy Henrie

her knees as tightly as she could, she managed to stay in the saddle, despite the horse’s wild dash across the grass. The skin on her inner thighs stung with the effort. She tried to slow the mare by pulling back on the reins, but the frightened beast would have none of it. If anything, their careening pace increased.

      Delsie held on, her fingers and hands aching, her pulse pounding as hard and as fast as the hooves below her. Would the horse eventually slow down or would she be forced to jump off in order to save herself? She peeked at the ground rushing dizzyingly beneath her and gulped. If she broke a bone, or worse, how would she manage to keep riding for the next seventeen days?

      Oh please, Lord.

      It was the shortest prayer she’d ever prayed, but she figured God understood why and what she was asking.

      Off to her right, huge brown masses began turning tail and running at the approach of the runaway mare. Buffalo! Delsie managed only a quick look at their giant wooly frames, dozens of them, before they fled over a rise in the prairie. At least she could say she’d seen them, before it was too late.

      The buffalo interrupted the mare’s path of retreat, causing it to angle back toward the river instead of the open plains. Ahead Delsie spied another thick grove of trees. If the horse made a dash through them, she’d surely be knocked off or struck in the head.

      Time to jump, then. She eyed the ground again. The thought of striking the earth at this intense speed made her want to vomit with fear. But it couldn’t be helped.

      She pressed her eyes shut, hoping the temporary blindness might squelch her nausea and ignite some confidence. She took a deep breath and leaned to the side. If she lived through this, she planned to share a few choice words with Lillie, though she instinctively knew her predicament was no one’s fault but her own.

      Just as she was about to release the reins and leap to safety, or to her death, something jerked the mare hard to the right. Delsie scrambled to keep hold of the reins and opened her eyes. Myles rode next to her, his hand gripping her horse’s bridle in a firm fist. He didn’t let go, even as the mare tried to shake off his grasp. Eventually the scared creature was forced to slow its pace in order to follow Myles and his mount.

      When her horse, at last, came to a shuttering halt, Delsie realized she was shaking.

      “Are you all right?” Myles asked, still keeping a hand on the animal’s bridle.

      Her teeth were chattering too much to speak, so she settled for a quick nod. When had it gotten so cold? She shivered and forced her fingers to release the reins. They would hardly uncurl from their clawlike grasp.

      “Let’s get you down.” Myles finally released the mare’s bridle and dismounted. He talked soothingly to the horse, all the while rubbing its nose and patting the side of its head, before he circled around to help Delsie off.

      For some unknown reason the sight of him calming the mare, instead of her, sparked anger inside her. His next words didn’t help. “You’re shaking, Miss Radford,” he said as he set her on her feet.

      The tiny flame of anger roared to life. She’d come so close to being maimed or nearly killed. Her legs and skin hurt horribly from hours and hours in the saddle, and her face and neck were tender from the hot sun. And now this man had the audacity to turn his nose up at a little shivering after all she’d been through?

      “Yes, I am, Mr. Patton,” she snapped. “Unlike you, I’m not accustomed to riding a hundred miles a day or dealing with frightened horses or having my skin clawed by that uncomfortable saddle.” Her voice hitched with unshed tears and she swallowed hard.

      “I didn’t mean—”

      “Please. I just need to...” She caught sight of Amos riding up. She didn’t want to dissolve into tears before them both. “I think I need to walk...”

      Without waiting for Myles’s reply, she marched past them and the horses, heading west. At least if she was slowing them down, she was moving in the right direction. She walked as fast as she possibly could, in spite of the tremors that still shook her body. Folding her arms, she tried to ward off the cold inside her. A sob raced up her throat and she covered her mouth with her hand, willing the tears back. She was alive—no use wasting tears on what might have been.

      Delsie spied a flat rock in the grass and sat down on it, her eyes on the western horizon. She’d only been on this portion of her journey for a day and a half, but already, it felt like months ago since she’d left Aunt Cissy’s house or her own home in Pennsylvania.

      Measured footsteps approached. Delsie cut a glance in their direction, surprised to see it was Myles walking toward her and not Amos. What did he wish to say now? Probably more comments about how unsuited she was for this trip.

      She turned away from him and set her jaw. If she didn’t speak, maybe he’d take the hint and leave her in peace to finish working through her earlier fear and adrenaline.

      Something warm and leatherlike in smell settled over her shoulders. She recognized the buckskin jacket Myles wore. “Thank you...” she admitted begrudgingly. Her shivers began to subside as she pulled the jacket tighter around her.

      He circled the rock and stood watching her from beneath his hat. “It gets easier.”

      She tilted her head to give him a quizzical look.

      “The riding, the soreness. You might want to get a pair of leather trousers, though.” He kicked at a clump of grass. “That’ll help with the chafing.”

      Her cheeks flushed at his words, but she didn’t break eye contact. “I will not be wearing trousers, thank you.”

      One side of his mouth lifted. “I meant under your dress.”

      The heat on her face intensified. She ducked her chin and stared at the ground, hoping he would leave.

      “Look, I didn’t mean anything unkind back there.” Myles removed his hat and ran a hand through his hair. She’d seen it mussed more times on their short journey than lying flat or slicked back like Flynn wore it.

      Myles squatted down in front of her, his hat dangling between his knees. “I only mentioned the shakes because...well, because I wanted to be sure you really were all right. That horse was going mighty fast when I caught up.”

      “Yes, it was.” Delsie toyed with the hem of his jacket, her anger deflating in the wake of his explanation. “Thank you...for coming to my aid. I was about to jump.” She gave a nervous laugh, grateful again she hadn’t been forced to fling herself from the mare.

      His chocolate-colored eyes glinted with respect before he looked away. “You kept a level head, that’s for sure.”

      “Is that another compliment, Mr. Patton?”

      A deep chuckle erupted from him as he shook his head. “You are not what you seem, Miss Radford.”

      “And neither are you.” She spoke the words so softly she wasn’t sure he heard, especially when he made no reply. The question she’d been asking herself all day resurfaced in her mind. “I know what you think of me and my privileged upbringing, so why are you helping me?”

      He fiddled with the brim of his hat. “I need the money. For the land I want to own someday. A lot of land, out West maybe, where there’s fewer people.” His face had softened with his answer, its usual hardness transforming into earnest vulnerability for a brief moment.

      Did she have a dream? Delsie wondered. Something to work toward? Right now it was reaching Lillie, of course, and continuing to fulfill her promise to her mother, but what about beyond that? Did she want to return to the sameness of her life at home? The thought brought another shiver of cold sweeping through her.

      “You ready?” Myles asked as he stood and offered her his hand.

      With a nod, she placed her hand in his. He pulled her gently to her feet, which brought her nearly toe-to-toe with him. Delsie peered up at his shadowed face. His gaze had lost its guard, if only