“Ah. Another expert.” He shook his head and shoved the hunk of bread into his pocket. Fuming, he threw the blanket, then the saddle over his horse. The horse’s ears went back and his nostrils flared, as if sensing his owner’s fury.
Sweat dotted Tori’s forehead as she lifted her saddle. “Well she certainly had it right when it came to James.”
He tugged on the cinch. “Tori, this is beginning to sound like a bad play with an ever increasing cast. Who’s James?”
She avoided his eyes, heat diffusing her face. “My fiancé.”
Jesse whipped his head around. “You’re engaged?”
She raised her chin in the air and looked him in the eye. “How dare you! Do you think I would do this with you if I had a fiancé? No. Not engaged. Anymore.”
Ah, damn. That really made him feel like a heel. He walked to her, and placed his hands on her shoulders. All these revelations gave him some clues into who was Tori Henderson. “What happened?”
She glanced away, her lips thinning. “Nothing.”
“Come on, Tori. If you’re no longer engaged, something must have happened.”
She sighed. “He left town.”
His heart gave a thump at her expression. “When?”
“The day before our wedding.” Eyes downcast, she fumbled with a button. “He left me a note.”
Jesse pulled her into his arms. “I’m sorry.” He rested his chin on the top of her head. “A real man doesn’t sneak off and leave the woman he claims to love with only a note. You’re better off.”
She pulled back and looked at him, one eyebrow raised. “That’s what Aunt Martha said.”
He bit back a retort about what he really thought of Aunt Martha and her words of wisdom. Tori needed his support right now. He planted a kiss on her forehead and, without further conversation, they set out for the McRae house.
Chapter 8
Jesse’s mind churned. So Tori had been raised by a woman who didn’t care for men. Then engaged and deserted. No wonder she bristled when he suggested marriage. Of course his inner voice reminded him he could have worded his proposal better.
His jaw tightened. In his youth, he’d had his fill of women who gave themselves for sport. And he’d also spent enough time around the respectable types to know which category Tori belonged in. He glanced at her. No, this woman would never give her body freely. Hell, she’d been engaged and had remained a virgin. Despite her protests, she had to have feelings for him. Her type of woman didn’t have sex without some connection. Do you think you can stop ruminating about sex for a while so you can have a comfortable ride?
They approached the house at the end of a long, winding street. Nearby, a man yawned and scratched as he stumbled from his house to the barn. Jesse grinned at the sight of small children skipping along as they clutched baskets used to collect eggs for the family’s breakfast from the hen house.
The door of the house they headed toward opened and a young woman carrying a basket stepped out. Jesse didn’t need to hear Tori’s gasp to know she’d spotted Rachel.
“Rachel!” Tori jumped from the still moving horse and, grabbing the saddle to balance herself, ran toward her niece.
The girl spun around and paled at the sight of her
aunt. Rachel dropped the basket and hurried toward Tori, throwing her arms around her. Tears ran down her young cheeks, and she mumbled incoherently between sobs.
“Rachel, you had us so worried.” Tori wiped a few tears of her own. “Why did you do this?”
“I’m so sorry, Tori, I thought coming back here would make me happy, but it’s horrible. I want to go home.” She collapsed in a bundle of trembling tears. Tori hugged her tighter and kept crying.
Jesse approached them. He’d had enough female hysterics so early in the day. He put his arms around the two women. “All right, ladies, I suggest we take this show inside, we’re attracting a crowd.”
Tori blushed as she glanced around. She took Rachel’s hand in hers, and they all walked to Mary Jane’s house.
Rachel opened the door, and peeked around the edge, her body radiating tension. Mr. McRae rose from the breakfast table, wiping his mouth on the sleeve of a well-worn shirt. A large man with a scowl and a belligerent stance, his diminutive wife stood next to him, wringing her hands around a small kitchen towel. She radiated the beaten down expression of a woman used to being either ignored or abused. The pale yellow remnants of a black eye shadowed her cheekbone.
His lips curled as he took in Tori’s clothing. “I’m glad you finally came for your niece, Miz Henderson. I sent a wire to your town days ago, that you can repay me for.”
Tori squared her shoulders. “I never received your wire, sir. We left as soon as we found Rachel missing. We’re here to bring her home.”