Free Lynna Banning by Wildwood

her wrists. At least it buttoned decently over her chest
    Cinched up with the wide black leather belt Otto handed through the curtain, the jeans hugged her bottom and thighs. The boots he thrust after the belt scrunched her toes together, but the storekeeper insisted the leather would soften and stretch with use.
    “Too loose, will make blisters,” he admonished. “These just right.”
    Jessamyn took a tentative step and winced. Just right? Maybe for someone who was used to such contraptions. Had she gotten them reversed—the left boot on the right foot? She glanced down. Her boots looked like all the other boots she’d seen in town. She’d bet they didn’t feel like all the others, though. Or did people in Wildwood Valley simply smile through their daily suffering?
    Otto beamed at her. “I put on your account, Miss Jessamyn. And will send your other clothes over to your home.”
    “Thank you, Otto.”
    “What now you do?”
    Jessamyn smiled at the concern in his eyes. “I—I guess I’ll walk over to the livery stable.”
    The storekeeper bobbed his head and headed for the front of the store. Taking a last look at Jessamyn, he disappeared out the door, the bell over the entrance jangling as the sound of his steps receded down the board walkway.
    Anna-Marie lumbered to the candy counter and emptied a scoop of ginger drops into Jessamyn’s trembling hand. “For luck,” she whispered.
    Jessamyn slipped the candy into her shirt pocket. On impulse, she hugged the bulky young woman. With all her heart, she wished she could trade places with Anna-Marie at that moment. She would gladly waddle about the mercantile with a swollen belly, even endure the pain of labor and childbirth, if only she wouldn’t have to climb up on a horse.
    A cold sweat started between her shoulder blades. Horses terrified her. So frightened she could barely swallow, she spun on her heel and clumped out the door in boots that squeezed her toes like pincers.
    After a half-block walk toward the stable, she knew why cowboys always rode horseback. They’d do almost anythingto take the weight off their cramped feet! She worked at not limping.
    The main street appeared to be deserted. Both the doctor’s and the undertaker’s offices had Closed signs in the front windows. Even the barbershop was empty, the door shut and bolted. How odd, she thought as she strode onward. It was Monday afternoon. Didn’t men usually visit the barber for haircuts and shaves before a night in town?
    Oh, Lord, you don’t suppose…
    A gangly boy of about ten raced past her. “Hey, mister,” he yelled. “That tenderfoot lady from back East’s gonna try to ride a horse! Everybody’s gonna watch—come on! You’re gonna miss it!”
    Jessamyn groaned out loud. Word of mouth spread like wildfire in a town this size. How she longed for the anonymity of civilized, populated Boston.
    A vision of the coming ordeal flashed into her mind. A crowd gathered—like the ancient Romans at the Colosseum—to watch a spectacle. Only this wasn’t Rome, it was the livery corral in Wildwood Valley, Oregon, and she was the spectacle! She wondered if Ben Kearney had spread the word about town just to make the challenge harder for her. Would he stoop so low?
    He would, she decided. She recalled the satisfied grin on his lips when he sauntered out of the sheriff’s office in that maddening, unsettling walk of his. That snake! She’d lambaste him the first chance she got. She’d blister him with words he’d never forget. She’d—
    She’d learn to ride a horse, that’s what she’d do! That would show him. She wasn’t going to let Ben Kearney have the last word. Even in jeans and torture-chamber boots, she was still a Whittaker.
    And a Whittaker, she reminded herself with a little half sob of fear, never gave up.

Chapter Six
    B en eased his back against the split-rail fence around the stable corral and crossed one boot over the other. Satisfied with the private arrangement