Passing Charlie on the way, he switched his empty bucket for the boy’s full one and took charge of filling the kettle, catching glimpses of Cora scrubbing away on the washboard. His shirt, his trousers… Taking care of his things like—he cut the thought off before it had a chance to sprout.
Six more trips, and not only was the kettle well on its way to boiling, the rinse water brimmed near the top of the oak tub.
“Charlie and I will head off soon.” He cleared his throat and stepped clear of a bee buzzing on a clover blossom.
“Good idea.” She straightened. His soaking-wet shirt dangled from her hand. “I’ll fix you some bread and cheese to take. And be careful. Keep a look out for rattlers and raiders.”
“We’ll keep our guns handy.” He exhaled. Did he dare venture his question? “I’ve been thinking…” He flexed his hands at his sides. “Although I’m willing to negotiate with Goodnight or Loving and work on a deal, maybe you’d prefer to be there too. In case there’s anything we need to discuss before finalizing an agreement. I’m fine acting on your behalf, but I figure you might want a say so.”
What was he doing handing her half of the reins, when he’d had them firmly in his hands? He ought to have his head examined for inviting Cora. He should meet with the men on his own. Quicker trip, more decisive with fewer potential objections—not to mention the impropriety of traveling overnight with a woman who wasn’t his wife. He didn’t know how they did things out here in Texas, but back East, that’d be a marrying offense, regardless of the nine-year-old chaperone. He stuffed his hands in his pockets.
Cora tossed his shirt into the kettle of boiling water and wiped her hands on her canvas apron. “I’ll think on it.”
He shrugged. “Suits me fine either way.” Right. That’s why his pulse strummed in his wrists. He pivoted toward the corral without another word, his only tell the tapping of his fingers to his leg.
“Ben?”
He turned. Their gazes met, her irises the shade of bluebonnets, a field of spring in one look.
“You find out where one or both of the men are”—her voice wavered—“and I’ll go with you and Charlie to negotiate with them. No use sending you all the way across the county and have you come back to consult with me before taking care of business.”
He sucked in his cheeks, squashing the smile which threatened to erupt. “Makes good sense. Don’t want to waste time.” He tipped his hat and walked off.
Around the corner, he smacked his gloves against his trousers as he strode back to the corral, trampling grass and a pile of ants in his wake. She had said yes. It was about time she got away from this place and thought of something other than chores. A song buzzed through him?—
Whoa. His feet stopped moving, almost toppling him on his face. Realization struck. He was falling for Cora Scott.
He scrubbed a hand over his jaw. Mercy. Couldn’t be. He started forward, drifting toward the well. Once there, he leaned his hands on the cool stone wall, beneath the shade of the small roof. For a whole year, after he’d returned from the war, he’d delayed proposing to Olivia, his feelings mired in mud. And here he was…a whistle on his lips and a spring in his step.
It had to be the laudanum, or the lack thereof. The brown liquid had dulled his heart and his head. Now that he was free of its talons, any bit of sunshine felt like the Fourth of July.
He cranked the bucket up, lifted the dipper from its hook on the side post, and poured the water over his face and downhis shirt. That should bring him to his senses. He didn’t have to worry. This infatuation—if it was even that—was just his first breath of freedom from the dungeon which had enclosed him ever since Andersonville, or even before that in Belle Isle. Besides, Cora Scott wanted nothing to do with him. No danger there. It’d be a tall order just to earn her respect and friendship. That was his goal. Best not forget it.
CHAPTER 14
The next day, Ben squinted in the midday sunlight as he stepped out of the livery stable. A carriage clicked past headed for the main part of town. The stink of manure from the livestock yards a block away stung his nose. Carried on the breeze, the bawling of a calf rang out above the moos.
Charlie plodded up. “They won’t kill the poor calf, will they?”
“Why would they do that?” Ben shifted his gun belt for the holster to strike farther back on his hip—not that he needed to be armed in town, but the road between Weatherford and the ranch was a different story.
Charlie’s brow furrowed. “I’ve heard that the ranchers sometimes kill the calves on the trail because they slow the herd down. It doesn’t seem fair.”
Ben ruffled the boy’s dark hair. “Good thing his mama birthed him here before they started out on the drive. The owner will probably take him back to the ranch and give him a chance to grow up.”
“Maybe he belongs to Mr. Goodnight.”
“I don’t think so.” Ben placed his hand on Charlie’s shoulder and steered the boy toward the saddle and harness shop.
Mr. Dawkins at the livery stable had been helpful. Goodnight had been in town a couple of weeks back, outfitting for a cattle drive. Last Dawkins heard, the rancher had headed north by way of Elk Creek to round up more cattle. Rumor had it Loving had amassed a couple thousand head but seemed content to sit tight.
Charlie hurried to keep up as they stepped into the rutted street. Dust flew as a mule-drawn wagon rumbled by.
“Can we go to Hammer’s today?” Charlie coughed. “The place with all of the hides. We didn’t get to go last time.”
“Maybe. If we have time before we head home.” Ben led him onto the boardwalk in front of the blacksmith’s.
“Cora sure liked the deer we brought her yesterday.”
