Page 52 of Falling for the Cowgirl
He had to say something more, but as usual, he didn’t know what. He could barely admit the truth about how he was feeling toward her, much less converse about it openly. Besides, what good would it do to talk about it? It would only dredge up more feelings that didn’t need dredging.
On the other hand, not acknowledging anything between them would hurt her again. “I meant what I said before at the church, Ivy. None of this is your fault. It’s mine for getting carried away.”
“Carried away? Is that all this is to you?”
He didn’t have to ask what she was referring to bythis. He knew she was talking about everything that had happened earlier along with the attraction that was raging into an inferno between them more with every passing hour. “Yes, I’m sorry—”
“You ain’t gonna give me an explanation?”
“I wish I could.”
“But you’re not, and you’re aimin’ to ride out of my life again, just like that?”
“You’re better off without me.”
“Fine.” She sat up straighter in her saddle and gripped the reins tighter. “You’re right. I am better off without you.”
Protest stirred inside him, but he held it back.
Her mare shied, as though feeling the rising tension. “Go ahead. Leave. But this time I mean it. Don’t come back.”
“Hold on, Ivy. I don’t want to part ways on bad terms.”
She nudged her horse forward. “And I’m serious. I don’t wanna see you again.” With that, she dug in her heels and urged her mare into a trot that rapidly shifted into a gallop.
He wanted to yell after her to stop, to come back, to let him explain. But he stood mutely watching her ride away into the darkness, a sense of despair settling over him so thickly it was suffocating.
When he’d signed on with Pinkerton, he never expected to experience something like this—being torn in two by his desire to finish the job and a strange longing to walk away from it to be with a woman.
He lifted his hat off and palmed his forehead. Ivy was driving him to the brink of insanity.
With a growl, he slammed his hat down, spun, and stalked toward the hotel. He had to stick to his plan and couldn’t let anything get in his way. Especially not his feelings for Ivy.
Chapter
16
Rock formations in the shape of a rattlesnake? Ivy knew of at least two areas that might fit the description.
The sky in the east was tinged with brilliant orange and red over the Kenosha and Tarryall Mountains, and the smoky haze from the forest fires to the north draped it all in a veil. Windy Peak stood at the forefront of the others, its bald head a shade of purple in the glow of the rising sun.
Bristlecones, ponderosa pine, and blue spruce covered the mountainside along with the enormous granite outcroppings that made the area a perfect place for hiding treasures.
She breathed in the cool air that would soon burn away in the heat of the July day. The earthiness of evergreens filled her nostrils along with the scent of smoke, which had grown more prominent the higher in elevation they’d climbed.
Behind her, Hance and Otis rode quietly, letting her lead the way up into the rocky areas she’d traversed plenty during the years she’d lived in South Park.
Ever since the Independence Day celebrations, she’dknown she had to strike out and search for hidden gold. Wyatt and Flynn had made it mighty clear they wouldn’t tolerate her competing as Buster Bliss any longer in the cowhand contests. And without the prize earnings, she had no choice but to join the hunt for treasure or lose out on Steele’s land.
She bit back a sigh. She’d probably lose the land anyway. Finding hidden treasure in the mountains was about as likely as locating a sober man in a saloon. But it didn’t hurt to have a look. It was a heap better than sitting around waiting for gold to fall into her lap.
And it was a heap better than sitting around moping over Jericho.
At the thought of him, another piece of her heart crumbled away, just as it’d been doing ever since the other night. As she’d urged her horse across the barren prairie outside of Fairplay, she’d hoped and waited for the sound of him galloping after her, shouting her name, telling her he was being a pig for letting her go.
But only the lone howl of a coyote had resounded in the night above the pounding of her horse’s hooves. By the time she’d ridden the five miles home, the truth had driven into her harder than a mule’s back kick.
Jericho didn’t want her.
