He dangled the bucket against his leg. “It means I put my future with Olivia on hold because I wanted to come here and fulfill my promise to Jeb before I entangle myself in an even deeper commitment.”
“Entangle?” The word fluttered across her lips before she could stop it.
“Excuse me?” He arched his eyebrows.
“Nothing.”
“You said something.”
“Just that you should go call Charlie to supper. It’s time to wash up.”
Entangled. That was the word he used. That didn’t sound like a man eager to marry. Didn’t sound like a man in love. The thought should worry her, but it didn’t. Instead, it was like the first strike of dawn to a morning glory’s enclosed petals.
Ascattering of oak, hickory, and hackberry dotted the outskirts of Mr. Gary’s yard amongst a swath of brown and green grasses. Hopefully, Goodnight hadn’t moved on from here in the couple of days since Ben had ridden into town to inquire of his whereabouts. He glanced at the gathering of cowhands by the corral beyond the barn and held his arm out to Cora. “Why don’t you hold on to me for now, show them we’re together? Otherwise, they might swoop over to see you like honeybees to a blossom.”
“I hardly think so.” She lifted her gaze to him, blue eyes deep as a sunset sky today, shaded beneath the brim of a neatly woven straw hat. A red ribbon fluttered down the back against her hair. A small crease formed between her eyebrows.
“You don’t know how long they’ve been out on the range thirsting for a lady’s smile.”Or how you outshine them all.
She rolled her eyes. “Well, to be safe…” She curled her fingers ever so lightly around his elbow.
His heart skipped a beat at her touch.Steady, McKenzie. Two-thirds of a day riding at her side had definitely gone to his head, despite the fact the conversation had focused on the business of ranching. The barrage of questions from Charlie about the battles Ben had fought in had been the only verbal detour. Nothing personal on Cora’s part, and nothing touchingon Andersonville. Or Philadelphia. A subject to be avoided as much as his days at the prison camp.
Along the railing, men clapped and cheered as one of their number tried his hand at a bronc. A cowhand shot up above the crowd’s heads every few seconds as the horse beneath reared and bucked. According to the lady at the main house, Mr. Goodnight was supposed to be amongst the spectators.
Charlie ran ahead, plowing his way through tall grasses reaching almost to his hips rather than detouring to the worn path.
Thud. A collective groan arose from the men, and the horse galloped to the end of the corral beyond the crowd, a stout blue-gray beauty with fire in its eyes and a muscular frame built for strength, unusually large for a quarter horse. No saddle, only a rope rigging and a bridle. The rider must have been insane to try to master such a creature with so little gear.
“Howdy, miss.”
“Howdy, ma’am.” A couple of fellows made way as Ben led Cora to an empty spot at the railing next to Charlie.
The boy dangled over the second rung halfway to his waist as if he might decide to scurry into the action at any moment.
“Whoa.” Cora slipped her hand from Ben’s arm and grabbed ahold of the boy’s suspenders, tugging him back a foot. “You need to stay put.”
At the corral center, a man stumbled to his feet and limped across the hard-packed dirt. Dust and dirt marred his checkered vest and tan trousers.
A fellow hooted from the crowd. “Don’t forget your hat, Simmons.”
“Why don’t you give it a try, Harry?” Simmons huffed and bent down to retrieve his hat, wincing as he stretched back up.
“I’ve got more brains than that.” The short, squat one named Harry chuckled.
The blue roan galloped toward the populated end, and Simmons quickstepped to the railing. Another laugh erupted amongst the crowd.
“Anyone else care to prove their metal?” A man with gray streaks in his rust-colored beard called from atop an unhitched wagon just outside the arena. Mr. Gary? A wide-brimmed hat protected his eyes from the glistening afternoon sun of mid-May.
The men shuffled and nudged each other.
A few more took notice of Cora, the only lady at the corral, and gave her an appreciative smile or nod.
Ben caught her hand and drew it back to the sweet spot in the crook of his arm. His treasure. If only that were so. Warmth spread through his chest as her fingers fell into place without protest.
The man atop the wagon stood. “No one brave enough?” He hitched his trousers. “How about you, Charlie?”
Charlie shot up from his lookout between the second and third rungs. “Me?” The wood jarred as he bumped his head. “Oww.”
