Chapter 18
Ben tossed a tiny leg bone into the waning fire and wiped the rabbit grease from his hands onto the patchy grass. They’d put an hour’s distance between them and Mr. Gary’s before picking out a campsite.
A faint hue of pink hovered on the western horizon. The rippling chirp of a tree frog sounded from the nearby cedar trees.
Charlie leaned forward, elbows on knees, gnawing on a hindquarter. “I can’t believe I shot him right through the heart. I got a squirrel before and a couple of groundhogs, but never a rabbit.”
Ben grinned. It’d been worth the gamble of losing the meal and eating dried venison in order to allow Charlie a chance to make the kill.
“You did a mighty fine job, Charlie.” Cora dabbed a little water on the corner of her neckerchief and wiped her mouth.
Her straw hat lay on the log beside her.
The length of the day and the breeze had taken its toll on her now loosely bound braid.
Wisps of chestnut hair fluttered about her face with its traces of auburn.
She’d removed the white undersleeves and rolled the sleeves of her blue-green plaid dress halfway to her elbows. Back East, a man rarely caught sight of so much of a woman’s arms.
Ben tugged his gaze away from her and fished a biscuit from beneath the folded cloth on the ground between them. He leaned back against the rock, grinding a spider into the sand with his boot toe. His taste buds rejoiced as he bit into the buttermilk biscuit. He flickered a glance at Cora.
She jerked her attention to the horizon. Realization hummed through him. She’d been looking at him.
Had he really referred to himself as a knight today?
Sometimes he didn’t know what was going to pop out of his mouth.
There’s more to being a hero than breaking a horse.
That’s what she’d said, with a blush on her cheeks.
A complete about-face from her doubt and discouragement a couple hours before.
She was gifting him her trust. All he had to do now was make good on the plans he’d laid out before her.
Easier said than done.
He savored another bite.
Rounding up what was left of Cora’s cattle in the next two weeks across several hundred square miles was the least of his problems. Goodnight had given him a list of the water holes to check.
The real task would be purchasing the widow’s herd at a rate he could afford and getting them to market.
The money sack he had stuffed in an empty spittoon in his room over the stable wasn’t guaranteed to be enough.
A wiser plan might be to bring Garret Ramsey in on the deal for a share.
Ben would pay Garrett out of his half later.
Cora would have her half just as he promised.
But who would drive the cattle? He rubbed the back of his neck.
Charlie finished off his rabbit. “Tyler thought we might stay the night at his house.”
Ben swallowed his last bite. “His pa did offer.”
Cora’s eyebrows edged upward. “What’d you tell him?”
Draping his arm over his knee, Ben tipped his face toward Cora. “I thanked him kindly but told him we’d best head toward home as soon as possible.”
She blinked. “We could have stayed and left before sunup.”
A smile tugged at his lips. “You should know, Cora, I’m as determined to protect you from wild cowhands as you are to protect me from wild broncs.”
She gaped at him. “I don’t need protect… I… Good—”
A chuckle rumbled under Ben’s breath.
Charlie’s brow furrowed. “What would a wild cowhand do?”
“After all those weeks on the trail, they forget what a girl looks like. They might stare at her or talk to her all night long and not let her get any sleep. We couldn’t have that. Or they might drag poor Blue or one of the other broncs out to show their riding skills.”
“Hmmm.” The boy tossed his scraps into the embers.
Ben stirred the fire, avoiding Cora’s blatant gaze.
Charlie’s head jerked up, eyes bright. “Is that why you wanted to ride the bronc, Ben?”
Heat crept up Ben’s neck. “No, I mean…” Had it been so obvious that even a nine-year-old could see it? The boy needed a neckerchief tied over his mouth at times.
Cora squirmed. “Ben has a…someone…a gi...”
Ben shot her a look.
“What do you mean, ‘someone’?” Charlie stroked the rabbit fur at his feet.
Cora bit her lip.
“I don’t remember if I tethered the horses tight enough.” Ben stood. “I don’t want them getting spooked if a mountain lion comes by in the night.”
“If a mountain lion attacks in the night, I’d better have my shotgun by my side.” Charlie jumped up. “I’ll help you check on the horses.”
Ben stuck his hands in his pockets. Sage and juniper scratched at his trouser legs as he strode to the brush where they’d hidden the horses.
Charlie followed a step behind. It was Cora’s idea to hide them there in case of Indian raiders.
She knew this country. Wise woman. Wise enough to discern the truth in Charlie’s comment about the bronc, and unlike Charlie, not liable to forget the conversation in favor of a mountain lion.
She’d probably seen it from the moment Ben opened his mouth at the corral, unlike him who’d acted without thought, hot under his collar over the way her eyes lit up over Goodnight.
What did it matter to him what Cora thought of anyone?
If he’d been thinking straight, he would have introduced her to the rancher.
Right. About as appealing as swallowing cactus needles.
Footfalls silent, Charlie crept along beside him. “I’m glad we didn’t stay at that ranch. This is more of an adventure.”
Ben held back a scraggly branch for Charlie to enter the grove. “Day after tomorrow, I’ll have to head out on the trail to round up those mavericks we were talked about earlier.”
“I could come too.” He held out his palm to Lightfoot, his mare.
The horse nickered and turned its nose at the rabbit smell.
Ben tugged on the rope securing his new quarter horse, Penny. “No. This time, you need to stay at the ranch and help your sister. You’ll be the man of the family while I’m gone.” He winced. Family. Where had that come from?
“I like that we’re a family.” Charlie dug a carrot stub from his trouser pocket.
Of course, the boy would latch onto that word. “It’ll be your duty to look out for Cora.” Ben rubbed Penny’s neck and moved on to the other horse.
By the time they returned to the campsite, Cora had cleaned up from their meal, except for the tin coffeepot which rested on a flat stone by the embers.
Ben’s breath hitched.
Braid unraveled, she sat raking her fingers through her hair which flowed over her shoulders and halfway down her back.
Beautiful silk. What would it feel like to touch the lush tresses?
Snap. Charlie stepped on a twig.
The spell broken, Cora startled. “You’re back.” She swept her hair over her other shoulder. “I figure it’s time we turn in for the night.” Her ribbon slipped from her fingers, and she snatched it from the dirt. “I have to comb it out at night, or it gets tangled.”
Ben shrugged. “I’ve seen a woman’s hair before.” He’d seen hers the other night. Loveliest he’d ever laid eyes on. Maybe if he didn’t pay much notice, she’d leave it down. “I’ll put the fire out.” He kicked sand onto the embers. The fire she kindled within him was a different story.
“I reckon you ought to.” Cora stood and turned to the boy. “Charlie, you’ll sleep over here next to me.”
Bedrolls unfurled, Cora bedded down close to Charlie, with the boy and several yards between her and Ben. In response to Charlie’s request for a bedtime story, Ben told about a fishing trip he’d taken with his grandfather. Propped up on her forearm and her head resting on her hand, Cora listened.
Beneath the canopy of stars, her eyes shone like embers in the night, catching him up short in the middle of his story, making him forget whole lines.
“…the cat stole the last fish.” His voice trailed off.
Charlie’s breathing shifted to the quiet puffs of sleep.
Cora glanced away and whispered across the distance, “Maybe we should take turns keeping watch.”
“Why?”
“In case there really are cougars. Or other things that sound like mountain lions. It wouldn’t be impossible for Comanche to come this far east.”
Ben straightened. He shouldn’t have said anything to spook her.
Even back in the security of her fortified ranch, a howl was enough to set her on edge.
“We should be safe. There’s several settlements between us and the Comanche and Kiowa trails.
” Or so he’d been told. “Besides, I’m a light sleeper, and I have my gun right here.
” He tapped his hand to the Spencer rifle at his side.
“My Colt’s even closer.” He nudged the bottom of his holster which poked from beneath his folded coat, a makeshift pillow.
“All right.” She rubbed the corner of her blanket between her fingers. “I reckon it’s just been a while since I camped out.” A heaviness settled across her features. “I used to go with Jeb to look after the cattle, days on end. Long time ago.” Her words faded.
His chest deflated. “I’m sorry Jeb didn’t make it back.” His voice wavered. A shiver ran down his spine. The last time he’d slept in the open had been at Andersonville. Bile rose in the back of his throat as he shoved the memory aside.
“Those were good times.” Cora laid her head on the crook of her arm. “Having him gone is like a hole in my heart.”
What could he say to that? “He was my best friend.”
“Mine too.”
They fell into silence. The staccato chirp of katydids filled the gap.
“Cora?” He ran his hand over his hair. “I made up the line about mountain lions to distract the boy.”
Her voice wafted on the breeze. “I don’t mind you protecting me from wild cowhands.”
He blinked wide. Goodness. Enough to knock his knees from beneath him if he’d been standing.
She tugged the blanket up to her ears and rolled over.
“Good night, Cora,” he whispered. “Looking out for you is my pleasure.”