She rolled her eyes. “Fine.”
When the horses were saddled and they had mounted, since Callie wasn’t with them, she decided she was in the mood for a bit of adventure. “I’ll race you.”
Before he could agree, she urged her horse into a gallop and soon after heard the pounding of his stallion’s hooves. She pressed her mount to go faster. The moon and a thousand stars provided enough light to guide them.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw he was gaining on her, his grin flashing in the night. A subtle rivalry had always existed between them, and she’d appreciated that he’d never felt a need to let her win, had always considered her a worthy competitor. Tonight she drew comfort from the competition, grateful to be easing back into doing something with him that was as natural as breathing.
He beat her by half a length, whooping as he brought his horse to a halt. Sweeping his hat from his head, he waited as she eased her horse over. “What’d I win?” he asked.
“Bragging rights.”
He laughed, the deep timbre of his joy circling on the air and landing on her heart as gently as a butterfly on a petal. “I’ll take it.”
She dismounted. He followed suit and helped her see to her horse. When they were finished, she walked to the porch, placed her hands behind her, and leaned her back against the beam that supported the eaves of the cabin where tonight she’d sleep alone. Even though they’d built on an extra bedroom for Callie, Faith was always aware of her daughter’s presence, imagined she could hear her breathing, noted the creak of the bed whenever she rolled over. Faith would often wake in the middle of the night and go stand in the doorway, watching as her blessing slept. “I guess you’ll head into town for a bit of revelry now. It’s not that late.”
“Wasn’t planning on it.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I was thinking of going for a swim in the river. Want to come?”
She smiled, shook her head. “I can’t remember the last time I went swimming.”
“Sounds like it’s been too long then. Grab a couple of quilts. I’ll resaddle your horse.”
“Don’t be silly. We can walk.”
“It goes against a cowboy’s grain to walk. I’ve seen men mount their horses just to cross from one side of the street to the other.”
“Which I have never understood. It’s not that far. Give me a minute to change.”
By the time she returned wearing pants, a shirt, and boots, with her hair braided, he was holding a lit lantern he’d obviously taken from the peg outside the front door. She handed him a bottle of whiskey and hugged the quilts close.
He lifted the whiskey. “A woman who knows the way to a man’s heart.”
That was a misstatement if she ever heard one, but rather than arguing about it, she simply set off at a brisk pace, the light from the lantern giving her confidence she wasn’t going to run into an unexpected critter. “Speaking of being too lazy to walk—”
“I’m not lazy,” he interrupted her. “But I don’t see the point in using my legs when another set will work just as well.”
“I like walking. There’s a peacefulness to it. Have you seen these automobiles that Ford fella is making?”
“Rode in one once.”
She stared at him. “You did not.”
“Sure did.”
“What was it like?”
“Rattled a lot. Nearly shook my teeth loose.”
“Some fella came through in one a few months back. He said someday everyone will be driving one.”
“I’ll stick with my horse.”
“Still, I’ve been thinking we need a place in Leighton that sells the gasoline that folks who aren’t as closed-minded as you will need.”
He chuckled low.
