Chapter 20
The wind ripped Ben’s newly boiled and rinsed shirt from Cora’s hand and slung it toward the dirt. She snatched it in midair and pinned it to the clothesline. If the breeze picked up anymore, she’d have to hang the clothes inside the hallway to save them from a coating of sand.
Charlie ran around the corner from the garden with Jack at his heels. “Ben’s home. He’s coming through the gate.” The boy charged past.
Ben. Home. Her pulse strummed. Thank God, he’d made it back safely.
How many cattle had he been able to round up?
He’d be at dinner, telling stories of his trip…
if he wasn’t too busy reading his newly arrived perfumed letter from Pennsylvania.
She’d had Charlie take it to the stables before she threw it in the woodpile.
She glowered as she flipped strands of hair from her face.
The chignon at the back of her neck hung loose.
She should have braided her hair this morning.
Puffing her cheeks out, she yanked the ribbon off.
A couple of hairpins tumbled to the ground.
She’d bother with them later. Smoothing a hand over her wayward hair, she left it to fall free over her shoulders.
Throwing her shoulders back, she strolled to the front of the house.
Ben McKenzie should have a chance to see what he was missing.
Dressed in a walnut-colored shirt and leather chaps, Ben dismounted at the hitching post.
Charlie wrapped his arms around the dust-covered man. “You made it back.”
“Missed you too.” Ben squeezed Charlie’s shoulders as Jack yelped at their heels. “No one to ask me any questions.”
Cora’s steps faltered to a halt. They looked so much like a father and son—the type of father she couldn’t even remember. The kind of father Charlie needed. Her heart swelled.
Ben lifted his gaze to hers. Deep hazel irises drank her in. A thin covering of dark beard shadowed his usually clean-shaven cheeks. His lean muscles filled out the shirt more fully now than a month ago when he’d emerged from his sickbed.
Her belly fluttered all the way to her chest.
Ignoring Charlie’s questions, he smiled at her. “I got you eighty-seven cattle. Your family’s brand and their mavericks. Hired a couple of locals to help drive them to Goodnight’s herd.”
“That’s wonderful.” She beamed and clasped her hands to her mouth.
“That’s a whole big bunch.” Charlie scooped Jack up and wiggled as the dog licked his face. “Did you have to lasso any?”
“Thank goodness, no.” Ben held out his fingers to Jack’s eager tongue. “I probably need to practice on a fencepost before I try it on a longhorn.”
“You probably just gave them orders, and they fell in line like your cavalry troopers,” Cora teased as she drifted closer.
Ben nudged his slouch hat off his forehead. “I know it’s nothing compared to the herd your family used to have.”
“You did better than I dared imagine. After all these years, and too many stray cowhands helping themselves, I’m thankful to have any. I’m sure Mr. Goodnight will look after them well and get us a good price at market.”
His nose twitched, not quite a flinch, but still enough to destabilize his smile for a second. A reaction to her use of the word us? More likely to the mention of Goodnight. How would he react if or when he learned Arthur had come calling?
She should have told Charlie not to mention it.
At least not right away. She could still do it.
Tell him to keep secrets from Ben? What kind of example would she be setting?
Besides, Ben had that perfumed letter waiting for him up in his room.
What right did he have to get his back all arched up over her having a gentleman caller?
“Did you see any buffalo?” Charlie set the squirming dog down.
“No, but Juan, the cowhand who helped me, told me about how he’d seen miles of them last spring, west of here in Young Territory. Hundreds of thousands. Watched them from a mesa.” Ben unwrapped his canteen strap from his saddle and took a swig. “Maybe we’ll see something like that someday.”
“On a cattle drive.” The boy bubbled. “I have to stay around the ranch and help Cora this summer, but next summer, I could come with you.”
Ben’s gaze jerked to Cora. His smile dimmed.
Her swallow stuck in her throat. Ben wouldn’t be here next year. He had a life to get back to. Did he want her to say it? Correct Charlie before he built his hopes further? But his lips didn’t move, and neither did hers. Charlie’s voice faded into the background.
Ben broke eye contact and reached into his saddlebag. “I brought you something.”
Who was he talking to?
“What is it?” Charlie tried to peak around Ben’s back.
“Close your eyes,” Ben commanded and placed a length of greenish-tan scales into the boy’s outstretched hand.
Charlie’s eyes flew open. “A rattlesnake skin.” He smoothed a finger over it as if it were silk. Silver-like fragments shimmered in the sunlight. “Did you shoot it?”
“You better believe it. The thing tried to crawl into my bedroll one night. Thankfully, I saw it before I stuck my feet in.”
Cora shivered.
Ben pulled a grayish stick-like object out of his pocket and shook it. The hiss-like rattle jarred against her nerves.
“Is that for Cora or me?” Charlie eyed it.
“Definitely not for me.” Cora waved it away.
Ben tossed it into the boy’s hands. “For you. I brought Cora something else.”
“If it’s a tarantula, I’m running for the house.” Cora placed a hand on her hip.
“I might have to chase you, then.” Ben chuckled.
Her lips curved upward. “I’d beat you inside and bolt the doors.”
“We’ll see about that.”
Charlie shook his rattle. “You two could race. Cora’s pretty fast, but I bet you could beat her.”
“Another day.” Ben turned back to his saddlebag. “Sadly, I didn’t find any tarantulas this trip, but I did find…”
A small object wrapped in an almost-white handkerchief lay in the palm of his callused hand.
Her throat tightened. Whatever lay beneath the cloth, even if it was simple as a thimble, would likely outshine anything Arthur had given her.
If she had any sense, she’d yank the book off the parlor table and hide it before Ben set foot in the house.
He unfolded the hankie.
Cora’s breath caught. A wooden hair comb, engraved with Indian blanket flowers across the top.
The one she’d been eyeing in the glass case at Miller’s for months.
How did Ben know? Of course, he’d spent too much.
He was already going to have to buy supplies on credit.
“We…the money…we can’t afford…” She should shush before she spoiled the moment.
The man deserved a hug, not a scolding. “Thank you.” A smile broke across her face.
He toed the dirt. “I figured one little impractical trinket wouldn’t break the ranch.”
“Trinket?” She caressed the fine craftsmanship. “It’s a beautiful treasure. And you know it.”
He cocked a glance her way. “I know a treasure when I see it.” His eyes twinkled. As if he were talking about more than the comb.
Ben stood in the cool overhang of the stable roof, weaving the curry comb in circles along Penny’s neck. He’d had enough of the scorching sun for the day. Flecks of embedded dirt loosened from the sorrel’s copper-colored hide.
The way Cora’s face lit up at the sight of the hair comb had sent his head sailing in the clouds.
She glowed as she caressed the engraved flowers—Indian blankets, she’d called them.
Giving her anything personal was stepping over a line.
He’d planned on waiting to give it to her—a day, a week, maybe even a month—but before he knew it, he’d whipped the present out of his saddlebag. She needed to know how special she was.
He’d momentarily lost track of every word in his head when she came around the corner to greet him with her hair cascading over her shoulders and down her back, like spun honey.
Was it possible she’d worn it loose with him in mind?
Not likely. She’d probably just been in a hurry to get to the laundry this morning and hadn’t bothered to braid it. Still… He smiled to himself.
The back door of the stable swung open, and Charlie plodded out with a bucket of water.
The boy had already asked him a couple of dozen questions about his two-week adventure of scouring the county and beyond for the VS cattle brand.
“I finished filling up your tub in the back stall. Are you sure you don’t want to ask Cora to heat the water over the fire first? ”
“I have no intention of troubling your sister. What’s the full bucket for?”
“I figured Penny might want another drink.”
“I’m sure she does.” Ben swiped his forearm across his sweated brow. “What’s Cora making for supper tonight?”
Charlie set the bucket in front of the mare. “Venison, turnip greens, and sweet potato pie.”
The other two horses at the end of the corral lifted their heads and moseyed toward the water.
“I love sweet potato pie.” Ben worked the comb toward Penny’s shoulders.
“Me too.” Charlie unrolled the snake skin from his pocket. “She didn’t make it for Dr. LeBeau when he was here.”
The curry comb paused in mid-motion. “The doctor was here while I was away?”
“Yep.” Charlie stretched the snake skin along the top rail of the corral.
The bulge in his throat wrenched up, then down. “Was somebody sick?”
“No.” Charlie ran his finger along the scales. “He just came to visit. Twice.”
“Twice? In two weeks?” Ben pivoted to face the boy.
Charlie shrugged and scuffed his shoe against the short grass. “I got home from hunting right before he left the first time. I had me a squirrel.” The boy brightened. “Cora cooked it for supper.”
Ben ground the comb against Penny’s hide. “Did Dr. LeBeau stay for the meal?”
“No.” Charlie lumbered over to the tack shelf attached to the back of the stable.
“But he did the second time. We had to eat early so he could head back. I thought he ought to take it in a sack with him and eat along the way. And before that, Cora made me stay around the yard while they played chess on the porch.”
“Chess?”
“Took a long time too. Cora wanted me to watch and learn, but I could tell he didn’t want me to.”
Ben clenched his jaw. “Sounds like the man needs more work to do.” In another county. Away from here.
“Gave her a book too.”
“What kind of book?”
Penny flicked flies away from her tail.
Charlie fingered a hanging bridle. “Poetry by some guy named Shakespeare. A bunch of flowery, romantic stuff. The man doesn’t even know how to talk right. But Cora has it on the parlor table.”
Love poetry. Ben spit a wad of saliva on the ground. LeBeau didn’t waste any time. Cupid needed to have his arrow bent. Ben clamped his mouth shut. He wouldn’t ask more questions. Shouldn’t stoop to using the boy as a spy.
Flakes of dirt flew beneath the scouring rake of the comb.
He might have known that weasel doctor would set his eye on Cora—the way he’d driven her out in the buggy that day when she could have just ridden her horse home.
The whole house call was likely nothing more than a charade on LeBeau’s part, an attempt to impress Cora.
Charlie picked up a second curry comb and came along the other side of the mare. “I don’t like him.”
“Your sister is free to keep company with whom she pleases.” His voice ground like pestle to mortar.
Before dinner, Ben took a bath, cold water and all, then donned a clean set of clothes.
No frock coat. He wasn’t a guest. This was partly his home, for now.
But he wore his white cotton shirt and royal-blue waistcoat.
After shaving, he would have slapped on a sprinkle or two of bay rum, but he hadn’t seen the need to bring along such frivolity when he’d embarked on his mission to rescue Jeb’s family.
He had no right to be jealous. No right to object to LeBeau calling on Cora. After all, he was the one with a girl back in Pennsylvania, an unannounced fiancée. But his heart and his temper had thrown logic out the window.
Ben stuck his watch into his waistcoat pocket and straightened his collar.
He glared at Olivia’s letter, lying on the bunk right where he’d found it when he’d walked in.
Fit to be tied after his conversation with Charlie, he’d torn open the envelope and quickly perused the contents.
Parties. Eager beaus hanging around the piano as Olivia played.
Charity visits. A severe scolding for him even thinking of spending months in a dried-out wilderness chasing cows.
A warning that these people might be trying to leech off his good heart.
An insistence that he turn the matter over to an attorney, leave enough funds for the sister and brother to move into town where they belonged, and get himself on a stagecoach headed east. She was already looking at houses where he and she might live as husband and wife, a cozy neighborhood between his and her family’s well-endowed homes.
He’d given his word to her. She wouldn’t wait forever.
Her final words. Except for a p.s. of whispered allusions to their once-heated kisses.
He expelled a breath and tossed the letter toward the bed. It skidded across and fell to the floor. Olivia’s world was a lifetime away.