The Genuine Lady (Heroines on Horseback) Read Online Free

Edward alone seemed delighted by this sudden turn of events: things had seemed frightening when he first awoke, but the sudden swiftness of action by his ordinarily slow and always tired mother, the rushing swoop through the air as she shifted him to her hip and leapt for the shanty’s front door, was truly the best thing Little Edward could imagine, for he had his mother’s adventurous heart, and as yet knew not what calamity such a trait could bestow.
    Edward squealed with delight as he found himself propelled through the door and into the oven-heat of the prairie evening. But his pleasure did not register with the other two players on the wind-swept stage. The stranger was making for his horse with all speed, and Cherry was determined to give him a piece of her mind. She darted after the cowboy — he was surely a cowboy, in that weather-beaten Stetson they all wore like prizes of war, and in that plaid shirt and worn leather chaps — and as soon as she was close enough, snatched at his sleeve. He whirled around, his chest nearly touching hers with stunning swiftness, and she stopped abruptly, tilting her defiant chin up to meet his gaze.
    Then their eyes locked, and Cherry saw stars.
    For a brief moment, her rage faded; his dark-blue eyes were like the Atlantic waters after a storm, and they held hers with fierce intensity; she could not tear herself from his gaze. The very air seemed to crackle around them. Her breath caught in her throat.
    They stared at each other, speechless, until Little Edward squirmed and said “Baaaaaah,” to the cowboy’s horse.  
    The cowboy started and then looked at Edward and laughed.
    Cherry found her breath again, and remembered that, charming eyes or no, this fellow had been staring in her window at her. Trespasser! Pervert! She glared at his tan face, so crumpled with mirth.
    “Whatever is the meaning of this?” Cherry demanded of the stranger, scarcely remembering to cover up her accent with the patched-together patois she imagined to sound like an American accent. She had no idea what a startling garble her voice actually sounded like.

    ***

    Jared, who just a moment ago had been having something like a religious experience in the strange woman’s eyes, now eyeballed her like a horse that’s seen a snake.   What the hell had she just said to him? “Are you alright?” he asked, hoping she wasn’t taking some sort of fit. He had a brief vision of being left there alone with a baby and no one to care for it. What on earth would he do with it? He eyed the baby with some discomfort, which only seemed to egg the woman on. She definitely wasn’t taking a fit, he decided. That was a relief.
    “Filthy backwoods pervert!” the woman raged, now sounding like a West Indian who had spent several years amongst the Cajuns of the bayous. “How do you dare spy upon me?” (This sounded rather Scottish.) “I shall report you to the authorities!” (Now she slipped back into an accent he recognized as English, as if she had been sailing eastward this entire time.)
    “Wasn’t spyin’,” Jared muttered, as shame-faced as a boy caught with his hand in the jam-jar. 
    “You were!” she insisted, and the toddler in her arms waved his hands to punctuate the exclamation.“Spying on me, common gutter-trash! I shall have you arrested!”
    “Now ma’am,” Jared began in a mollifying tone, feeling alarmed at the mention of bringing in the law. He’d managed to stay out of jail, but he’d bailed Matt out more than once and knew it wouldn’t suit him at all. The men in jails didn’t tend to bathe, and Jared had a sensitive nose. “Now ma’am, this is all a misunderstanding, and I’m mighty sorry for peeking in your window like that. I was just worried on account I didn’t hear no one around the yard. Folks can get hurt easy and you got to check on your neighbors from time to time.”
    “Well, you may be sure I will not be checking up on you in such a fashion,” she huffed, but