Pemberley Ranch - Jack Caldwell [9]
“Who are you?” he demanded. “This is private property. Who gave you leave to ride across Pemberley?”
“Private?” It was clear he surprised her. “All this? I thought this was open range.”
“Not hardly. Everything this side of the Long Branch belongs to Pemberley Ranch.” He considered her. “You’re not from around here, are you?”
The girl raised her chin. “We are now. Our place is across the river. My father owns the farm there.”
Darcy relaxed a bit. “The old Thompson place?” She answered with a nod. “You’re one of Tom Bennet’s daughters? I was told he had a herd of them.” Almost immediately he recognized how his choice of words could be considered an insult, but it was too late.
The girl’s voice was ice cold. “Tom Bennet is indeed my father, sir, and I thank you for your kind observations about my family. Now, if you’ll pardon me.” She pulled her reins to return from whence she came, only to be halted by Darcy’s words.
“I’ll escort you back to the ford, miss, if you don’t mind.”
She looked over her shoulder at him. “I do mind. You’ve made it clear that I’m not welcomed here, and I can see myself home. Good day.” To her increased irritation, Darcy fell in beside her. “I see there was no cause for me to voice my preference!”
“The ground is uneven here, and as it’s unfamiliar to you, you might meet with misfortune.”
“So—I cannot ride my horse, is that what you mean?”
Darcy snapped back, “I truly don’t wish to offend, miss, but you’re being mighty stubborn! Your pony might fall into some gopher hole and break his leg and have to be put down. Now, I call that a tall price to pay for your pride!”
The girl said nothing, she only lowered her head. But Darcy could see the color rise on her cheek as she bit her lip. The two rode in silence for some time along the ridgeline before turning right and making their way down to the river. The trees grew more plentiful and thick next to the riverbank. Darcy tried to come up with some conversation, but the girl’s studied avoidance of his glance stilled his tongue. After a few more minutes, they reached a shallow ford across the Long Branch.
“Well, here we are—Thompson Crossing. Your daddy’s farm’s on the other side. I reckon this is how you crossed over?”
The girl’s sarcastic side reasserted itself. “It is. Thank you so much for assuring I didn’t cause Turner any injury. I am forever grateful!”
Darcy blinked. “Turner? Your horse’s name is Turner?”
A grin stole across her face. “It is, sir.”
“Strange. Most girls name their ponies Star or Brownie or Buster.”
Her grin turned into a mocking smile. “But I’m not like most girls, as I’m sure you’ve discovered.” With that, she spurred the paint across the ford, splashing water everywhere, leaving a bemused Darcy behind. He shook his head before turning Caesar back toward the Pemberley ranch house. It was only then he realized that he had neglected to introduce himself.
No harm done, he thought. It’s not likely we’ll meet up again.
The girl in the wide-brimmed hat had just dismounted next to the barn when she heard her mother’s call.
“Beth Bennet—there you are! Come inside and change this instant! There’s company for dinner!”
“Yes, Mother.” She led Turner into his stall and removed his saddle. Hill, the farmhand, assured her he would see to the paint, so Beth hurried to the house and into the bedroom she shared with two of her sisters.
“Beth, you’re late,” said Mary unnecessarily as she was putting her own hair up.
“I’ll help you,” said Jane as Beth tugged off her shirt.
In a few moments, Beth had changed from farm tomboy to countrified young lady. By then, Kathy had joined them, brushing her hair as Jane helped button up the younger girl’s dress.
“Hurry!” cried Lily. “George is just arriving!”
“Lily!” scolded Mary. “That’s Mr. Whitehead! You should have more respect for your elders!”
“Oh, pooh! He’s like family. He gave me leave to call him George, didn’t he, Kathy?”
“Oh, yes,” Kathy responded with a dreamy look in her eye. “Isn’t he the handsomest man?”
“I don’t know,” Beth said as she glanced