“Hope you didn’t pay much. She’s nothing but a sugar-eating Sunday horse. Aside from that, being a Cayuse, she’s probably as contrary as they come.” He arched a dark brow at her. “Like someone else we know.”
Since they had no common acquaintances besides his sister, that narrowed the list down considerably.
Choosing to overlook the barb, Elizabeth refastened the saddlebag and began to stroke the mare’s flanks. “I really don’t think it’s any of your concern how much I paid for her, Mr. McKenzie!”
He was standing just over her shoulder now, and though he hadn’t touched her, Elizabeth could feel the heat of his body.
Or was it her imagination?
Her flesh prickled, and her heart picked up its tempo, skipping erratically. More than anything, she wanted him to leave her in peace... and yet her brain worked feverishly for a way to keep him with her.
How could she want both things at once—so desperately?
“It is if I’m gonna be your guide, Miz Bowcock,” he said softly, mocking her.
Elizabeth was certain this was as close to offering his help as he would ever come again.
His breath was warm against the sensitive skin of her neck and she had to fight the dizzying desire to lean back into his broad chest. A shiver passed down her spine, but she covered it quickly, turning to Cutter slowly, her emotions rioting.
So he meant to help her after all?
She felt an incredible burst of euphoria and fought the urge to cry out in joy and hug him. Despite her thankfulness, she didn’t dare touch him again. There was no telling what might happen if she did. As it was, her imagination was going haywire. She kept recalling the way he’d looked at her last night. The hunger in his eyes.
Lord, she felt warm, and her cheeks were burning just thinking about it. But she hated the fact that she needed him. “I didn’t pay much for it,” she conceded grudgingly. “The owner gave me a good price because... well, he said there were a few inconveniences I’d have to overcome.”
“Such as... ? Don’t tell me—the blamed animal’s barefoot?” His glance shot down to the animal’s hooves.
Elizabeth gave him an exasperated shake of her head.
“Uneducated?”
“Nothing like that,” Elizabeth assured him, her tone carefully subdued, her temper suppressed. “It’s just that she’s... well, she’s Indian-broke.”
Cutter cocked a brow at her. “Is that all?”
His tone was patronizing. “Well, not quite,” Elizabeth confessed, though reluctantly. “She’s a few years old. But aside from that, she’s perfectly sound.”
“Just a few?” Cutter asked, inspecting the animal more closely. And then he suddenly lost his nonchalance. “Damn it, Lizbeth, the fool horse is buzzard bait! You’ve been buffaloed! Who sold it to you?” He seized her by the elbow. “Come on, we’re gonna get your money back!”
Twisting her arm, Elizabeth freed herself from his grasp, stepping away defensively. “No, we’re not! I wasn’t cheated—and his name is none of your concern! For your information, Mr. McKenzie,” she rushed on without thinking, “this horse was the last one Mr. Monroe had in stock! He hasn’t had any new blood in for a while, and the only reason he sold this one to me was because Mr. Rutherford kept running his mounts into the ground!”
Cutter’s expression remained disbelieving, and Elizabeth bristled.
“He did not cheat me!” she insisted, realizing belatedly how her tale must sound. “In fact, he wouldn’t even have sold her if his cousin from the trade store hadn’t recommended me to him.” That, she feared, sounded even worse. Still, she couldn’t simply let it lie. He was looking at her as though she were three kinds of fool. “Anyway, he commanded a very decent price, and I am perfectly satisfied with my purchase! It is my money, after all—and if I am pleased, then it shouldn’t concern—”
“How much?”
“None of your—”
“Fine,” Cutter snapped, cutting off her explanation.
Her heart leapt as he turned from her and headed back up the stairs, back into the hotel lobby. She knew an instant of incredible panic. She couldn’t let him go this time. She just couldn’t! “That’s it, Mr. McKenzie—walk away! Again!” she shouted a little frantically at his back. “Seems to me it’s what you’re best at—dynamic exits!”
He halted on the top step, his back to her, and stiffened. The powerful set of his shoulders unnerved her. Again, it struck her how tall he was. As she looked up at him from this angle, he towered over her. After a long moment, he whirled to face her, thrusting a hand into his pocket with a sigh of resignation.
“Fact is, Doc, if I had even half a brain, I’d do exactly that.” He seemed to consider that statement earnestly, and then he spoke again, putting her mind at ease. “But it seems I mislaid my good sense all of a sudden.” He shook his head regretfully. “No, I’m not gonna walk away—just going in to collect my belongings—unless you care to do it for me?” Removing his hand from his pocket, he adjusted his hat, giving her a harsh look. “I expect you’ll be ready to ride by the time I return.”
It wasn’t a question. It was a command if Elizabeth had ever heard one, but she chose to respond anyway. “I’ll be ready,” she told him sourly.
