Reckless Desire by Madeline Baker Read Free Book Online
Authors: Madeline Baker
attention, and many of the women came to Lydia with their problems, feeling more at ease discussing private matters with a woman instead of a man.
Yes, Lydia looked happy now. The dark shadows were gone from beneath her eyes and the tension lines had disappeared from her face. It was obvious she adored her husband, and I was glad that her life had turned out so well after all.
It was amazing how our little valley had grown over the years. Once I had known everyone by name, but now, looking around, I saw many people I did not recognize. Though we were still just a Western town without many modern conveniences, we were a thriving community. Many families on their way to Oregon or California passed through Bear Valley and decided to stay. I couldn’t blame them, for it was a lovely place to live. Still, I was glad that our homestead was a good distance from town. I liked the feeling of solitude it gave us, liked being able to look out my front door and see only the river and the mountains and pine forest. I cherished the feeling of space around me, the sense of privacy that came from being the only family for miles around.
The afternoon passed quickly. There was a pie-eating contest, won by Gene Smythe, a potato-sack race, a baseball game. Ruth Tippitt won the blue ribbon for the prettiest quilt, Mattie Smythe won first place for the best apple pie. Carol Simpson won a prize for her strawberry preserves. As usual, the blacksmith won the arm-wrestling contest. Blackie and Monica Sullivan won the three-legged race.
I studied my son more closely than usual as the day wore on. Shadow was right. Blackie was growing up. As I watched him share a slice of chocolate cake with Monica, I caught a glimpse of the man he would become, kind, considerate, affable, slow to anger and quick to forgive.
Except for Shadow, no man in the valley could match Hawk’s riding skills, and he easily won the bronc-riding contest and the bull-riding contest. Victoria cheered loudly, her face beaming with pride as the judge awarded Hawk an enormous blue ribbon. I glanced at Shadow, standing beside me, and frowned at the melancholy expression on his face. What was he thinking?
“Is anything wrong?” I asked, touching his arm.
“No. I was just thinking how quickly the years have gone by.”
I nodded. They had passed quickly. It seemed like only yesterday that Hawk was riding a horse made of wood, and now he was a grown man, with a wife and children of his own. Mary was away in Chicago with her husband, and Blackie looked as though he was well on his way to being in love.
I was feeling suddenly melancholy myself when Shadow gave my hand a squeeze. “I did not intend for you to grow sad,” he chided. “Nothing lives long but the rocks and the mountains.”
“And my love for you,” I said, smiling. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready for the big race?”
Shadow nodded, and we walked hand-in-hand to where Heyoka was tethered to our wagon. As usual, Shadow would ride bareback, and after brushing the stallion, he slipped a bridle over the horse’s head and vaulted lightly onto its back.
We had left Jason and Jacob with Rebecca, and now I followed Shadow to the starting line. There were sixteen horses in the race. I recognized Gene and Henry Smythe and Jeremy Brown among the riders.
A few minutes later, Hawk rode up on the blue roan. Like Shadow, Hawk rode bareback. He made a handsome sight, sitting straight and tall, easily controlling the roan as it pranced nervously beneath him.
I glanced at Shadow, saw the excitement dancing in his dark eyes as he waited for the race to begin. Heyoka stood quiet, his nostrils flared, his eyes wide, his fox-like ears constantly twitching back and forth.
Pa, Victoria, and Rebecca came to stand beside me. One of the Simpson girls was taking care of the twins so Victoria could watch the race.
The horses were all at the starting line now. Sheriff Bill Lancaster raised his gun and the riders leaned forward,
Yes, Lydia looked happy now. The dark shadows were gone from beneath her eyes and the tension lines had disappeared from her face. It was obvious she adored her husband, and I was glad that her life had turned out so well after all.
It was amazing how our little valley had grown over the years. Once I had known everyone by name, but now, looking around, I saw many people I did not recognize. Though we were still just a Western town without many modern conveniences, we were a thriving community. Many families on their way to Oregon or California passed through Bear Valley and decided to stay. I couldn’t blame them, for it was a lovely place to live. Still, I was glad that our homestead was a good distance from town. I liked the feeling of solitude it gave us, liked being able to look out my front door and see only the river and the mountains and pine forest. I cherished the feeling of space around me, the sense of privacy that came from being the only family for miles around.
The afternoon passed quickly. There was a pie-eating contest, won by Gene Smythe, a potato-sack race, a baseball game. Ruth Tippitt won the blue ribbon for the prettiest quilt, Mattie Smythe won first place for the best apple pie. Carol Simpson won a prize for her strawberry preserves. As usual, the blacksmith won the arm-wrestling contest. Blackie and Monica Sullivan won the three-legged race.
I studied my son more closely than usual as the day wore on. Shadow was right. Blackie was growing up. As I watched him share a slice of chocolate cake with Monica, I caught a glimpse of the man he would become, kind, considerate, affable, slow to anger and quick to forgive.
Except for Shadow, no man in the valley could match Hawk’s riding skills, and he easily won the bronc-riding contest and the bull-riding contest. Victoria cheered loudly, her face beaming with pride as the judge awarded Hawk an enormous blue ribbon. I glanced at Shadow, standing beside me, and frowned at the melancholy expression on his face. What was he thinking?
“Is anything wrong?” I asked, touching his arm.
“No. I was just thinking how quickly the years have gone by.”
I nodded. They had passed quickly. It seemed like only yesterday that Hawk was riding a horse made of wood, and now he was a grown man, with a wife and children of his own. Mary was away in Chicago with her husband, and Blackie looked as though he was well on his way to being in love.
I was feeling suddenly melancholy myself when Shadow gave my hand a squeeze. “I did not intend for you to grow sad,” he chided. “Nothing lives long but the rocks and the mountains.”
“And my love for you,” I said, smiling. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready for the big race?”
Shadow nodded, and we walked hand-in-hand to where Heyoka was tethered to our wagon. As usual, Shadow would ride bareback, and after brushing the stallion, he slipped a bridle over the horse’s head and vaulted lightly onto its back.
We had left Jason and Jacob with Rebecca, and now I followed Shadow to the starting line. There were sixteen horses in the race. I recognized Gene and Henry Smythe and Jeremy Brown among the riders.
A few minutes later, Hawk rode up on the blue roan. Like Shadow, Hawk rode bareback. He made a handsome sight, sitting straight and tall, easily controlling the roan as it pranced nervously beneath him.
I glanced at Shadow, saw the excitement dancing in his dark eyes as he waited for the race to begin. Heyoka stood quiet, his nostrils flared, his eyes wide, his fox-like ears constantly twitching back and forth.
Pa, Victoria, and Rebecca came to stand beside me. One of the Simpson girls was taking care of the twins so Victoria could watch the race.
The horses were all at the starting line now. Sheriff Bill Lancaster raised his gun and the riders leaned forward,